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Who| Jason and the Beachwarmers
What| Going camping! Making friends! A mixed thing, just do whatever and have fun.
Where| On a private island owned by R.J. Brande.
When| Post Naltor and Mystery Plots, pre-next plot
Warnings/Notes| None yet

All in all, the beach itself is gorgeous. Clear waters, a perfect temperature, white sand, some nice, shady woods deeper in on the island... It all looks fantastic, like it came off of a postcard. There's not a hint of land off in the distance, but they can get a threshold gate if the need arises.

Jason honestly didn't plan much out. He's packed for different activities, like food (sadly lacking in hot dogs), sun lotion, drinks (though if you wanted something alcoholic, you'll be disappointed), a beach ball, a volleyball with a net setup, some tents, and some snorkeling gear, all pre-staged on the island. He tried to cover a bunch of activities, but he really didn't have much of an idea of how many people would be showing up or what they'd want to do, so he just prepped for the most possible.

If they day is crisp and beautiful, the night is something else entirely. Still perfectly warm, by the time the Legionnaires have worn themselves out, the stars are out in force. With no light pollution around, the night sky is full of colors and stars, with the visible portion of the Milky Way cutting a majestic arc across the sky. Night swimming is still available, the water's fine and the camp fire is visible for a long way.

[[Whoops, I'd meant to post this on Saturday, but time got away from me. I thought about setting up activities and such, but decided that it'd be best just to let people come up with whatever. If it involves gear of some kind, feel free to handwave that Jason took care of it. There's a few different activity headers put up, so feel free to tag around or post a separate starter if you have any further ideas or want to do something else!

If you didn't tag here, don't worry about it. We can handwave any of that in favor of the main action here.

and now posted in the correct community. Whoops again.]]

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Dipper walked over and poked at the cooler.

"I don't want to drink it," Dipper protested. "My Grunkle Stan says alcohol is what paves the nightmare road to the worst things in the world: thinking you're funnier than you are and marriage. I just want to see if alcohol is as flammable as it is on TV."

No lie, that was actually why he wanted one.

"It's for science." A pause. "And also possibly zombie defense. I want to know what I can use to create a reliable Molotov cocktail in a pinch. I have a list of different substances."

Edited 2016-05-14 01:08 (UTC)

Nick took a deep breath and let it out.

"Hot dog." He held out a paw. "A hot dog for answers. And I get to ask questions about your weird one-species human Earth, too."

Edited 2016-05-14 01:05 (UTC)

Grif considers the bargain carefully, more carefully than most people because it's Grif bargaining with food, then nods. "Alright. But they're not hotdogs. I don't know what I'm calling them yet, but I know I'm not going to let them steal away one of my sweet, sweet memories of home."

He puts one into a bun for Nick. "Condiments are in the cooler there. So tell me, giraffes: special cars? Or do they stick their heads out the moon roof?"

"I think the last time I've done something like this was..." Hal frowned for a moment. "God, must've been before Barry died. Let's go with a long time and leave it at that."

Sometimes he had trouble remembering exactly how much time had passed from now to then. It hadn't meant much to Parallax or the Spectre.

"It was with Barry, though. And Alan and Jay. And somehow, every possible thing that could go wrong did, because Alan decided that was the best way to make a point to me when I was being too hardheaded to just listen to it." He sounded fond, not irritated.

He leaned back in his chair and took a long sip of his beer. "When you think of how many times we've almost lost it..." He didn't bother counting threats to the entire planet. There'd been too many to even start, and he figured it had to be the same for Rich. "But here it is."

"So you're the designated driver. But with no cars."

A sad way to live.

Nick did not say thank you. Aside from not being the type to say thank you, it was all part of a deal. One thing for another. You didn't thank people for their half of the deal. He got up to get some mustard and relish out of the cooler and piled it on.

"Giraffes do have special cars. Mice and elephants get along fine, although mice do get a little nervous when they're around each other, but that's the same with most large herd animals. They're just afraid to get tripped on -- accidental stamping deaths do happen, even though they're rare because the infrastructure is set up to help prevent it. Cats and dogs live together occasionally. They're both predators and while interspecies romances are a little uncommon, they still happen. Usually they happen most often between predators and other predators or prey and other prey."

Mmm, hot dog. It was a perfectly good and delicious soy dog, thank you very much.

"Dragons are better than cars, anyways." Hiccup replied confidently. "And nothing you say will convince me otherwise."

"I don't really have an argument for that, anyway," Hal admitted.

Flying always beat driving, and how cool was a dragon?

Long pause.

But no, that...was exactly what he'd expect from a kid like Dipper. For some, that would've been a weak excuse to try and cover their butt, but this time, Hal could absolutely believe it.

"Your uncle sounds like he knows what's what." Marriage was absolutely the thing of Hal's nightmares.

"And powers?" Judy asked. She could've jumped high enough to play without them, but she couldn't exactly turn them off now.

"I can tweak it down to make it fair, but I can't get rid of mine."

When she started her senior year of high school, Videl had been convinced that there was nothing life could throw at her that she hadn't seen before. She'd seen it all, knew it all. She was at the top of her game, champion of justice, protector of her city, darling of the police force. But that was before she was a member of an intergalactic peacekeeping force in a completely different universe, sitting on a log in front of a campfire on who knows what planet next to a mutant turtle complaining about cell phone reception.

Life has its way of pulling the rug out from under you, was the quaint cliché that drifted through Videl's subconscious as she opened a can of soda.

"What kind of deserted island have you been to that has a cell phone tower smack dab in the middle of it?" she asked.

Judy glanced up from her grilled vegetables, and gave Grif an unimpressed look.

"...are you actually looking for things to complain about now?"

Edited 2016-05-14 21:37 (UTC)

"Uh." That's something he hadn't considered. Jason floated up to the top of the net and held his hand about four feet above it. "Sure, but no higher than this. And only use the ring for short bursts, like for a jump. No hovering at net height for the entire game."

He settled back down and spread his hands. "Does that sound fair to you guys?"

"Grunkle Stan is a surprising and unlikely fount of old guy wisdom. But he's right about most things."

Definitely not all things, but most things.

"The only advice I tend to ignore is the advice about committing different types of fraud, but that's because of his other advice about how to break out of Columbian prison."

Dipper would prefer to not have a criminal record.

"Yes. It's kind of what I do around here," Grif replied with complete seriousness. "I complain, other people complain about me complaining... it's the gift that keeps on giving."

"See," says Grif, "it's weird because we don't have talking animals, but we have all this stuff we've made up about what animals would be like if they talked anyway."

"Like... one day some guy decided elephants would be scared of mice, and I guess everybody agreed and then it's in all the cartoons. And cats and dogs are enemies."

That reminds him of something.

"Do you guys say "fighting like cats and dogs" or is that not a thing?"

None of these details are important, but they're somewhat interesting. "Somewhat interesting" conversations have sustained Grif through years of the soul-sucking boredom between stupid firefights with Blue Team. Talking at length about things that don't matter much is comfortable.

"Well, I can't speak for Columbian prison, but you're better off avoiding having to break out in the first place." Hal had Stories. Breakouts were not easy.

"Sounds about as fair as you can make it in a crowd like this. And other powers are just out period, yeah? Like no shoving the ball with telekinesis."

"Well, cell phones are a good comparison for the functionality, but not so much for the infrastructure..."

Uh-oh. Nerd mode activated.

"The signals actually aren't reliant on towers, since they need to be operable on any planet we visit, with no guarantee that they'd have that kind of a network already in place. So since they need to work off a more robust system that doesn't require any extra structures in place -"

Please stop him, Videl. Before it's too late.

He was the perfect target. Sitting in a beach chair with his sunglasses on, ignoring everyone by messing around with his omnicom.

They didn't even have great reception and anyone he could've talked to was there at the beach, yet there he was, refusing to look up at everyone.

That total lack of attention to his environment was perfect for someone getting the jump on him. He had those enhanced senses but that meant nothing if he was that heavily focused on something else.

They'd come here to have fun, and Nick was apparently doing everything he could to avoid that. This would not stand. So, after careful consideration and weighing her options, Judy decided on a course of action.

That decision was what led to a water balloon sailing through the air and impacting on his head.

He heard the sound of the balloon flying through the air, and the thought that it might be directed at him came just a little too late.

After it hit, Nick froze, all of his fur standing up, holding up his arms, and then slowly turned to see who had thrown the balloon, his expression pure outrage.

When he saw it was Judy instead of one of the kids, his eyes narrowed.

Then sat back in his chair, ignored his wet Hawaiian shirt, and went back to messing with his omnicom.

"No," he said. "And before you ask 'no what?'" He shook his head. "Just no."

He refused to rise to the bait. Refused!

Clearly, this was going to take more water balloons.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not prepared to take no as an answer."

She wasn't sorry in the least. Which was why she did, in fact, follow up with a second balloon. And yet another after that.

That was enough to leave him pretty much soaked from head to toe. Fortunately the omnicoms were waterproof.

Nick drew in a long, deep breath and let it out.

"Okay," he finally said, taking off his sunglasses and placing them and his omnicom down on the cooler next to his chair, his voice very calm. "I hope you realize this means war."

And with that he darted to his feet and instead of lunging at the bucket of filled water balloons, he lunged at her. Knowing that she was quick enough to hop out of his way, he created an illusion that he was coming at her from one direction as a feint, while covering himself with invisibility as he came at her from another angle. He was careful to make the illusion look as nonthreatening as possible, making sure it had the same smug grin he had on his face for real.

His goal? To grab her around the waist and toss her over his shoulder. She was small enough for him to do it.

Edited 2016-05-15 23:50 (UTC)

Judy darted out of the way of the illusion, and was successfully nabbed. There was a very put-upon look on her face as she realized what had happened.

"Very funny," she grumbled, "I know, I deserved that. Now put me down, please."

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