roachpatrol:

ok so has anyone thought about afrofuturist designs for the lion king… in space

pride rock as like, an asteroid mining cooperative. mufasa as the director, scar frustrated and jealous— he wants to turn the venture into a proper corporation, make some money, earn power and fame, control the whole of local space. iron is the lifeblood of a fleet, iron is power, iron is strength. but mufasa only cares for his wives, for his friends, for his gardens. mufasa sits on the bridge of his flagship— the petty manager of an insignificant fleet— and he plays and laughs with his wife and son and he thinks that’s enough.

‘long live the king,’ scar purrs as he cuts loose his brother’s safety lines, kicks him off the rock and away into the endless night. ‘run,’ scar says to his grief-mad nephew, opening the door of a tiny, understocked shuttle. ‘you killed your father, little boy, now run or die.’ 

and once scar takes over the running of pride rock, the shifts are too long, the quotas too high, the maintenance cycles too infrequent. mistakes mount up, people start to get hurt, to die, pride rock is turning more of a profit than ever but why are things getting rougher and harder for its crew? who are these grinning security contractors, striding through the corridors, snapping at the crew’s heels, reporting to scar— what does everyone need to be protected from? 

pride rock has been nala’s entire world but it is dying, rotting from the inside as its crew, as her family starts to cough up grey dust, as they amputate frozen fingertips, as they patch their ragged exosuits and coax just another cycle of work out of rattling deathtrap power tools, as their greenrooms rot for lack of clean air or water, for lack of anyone with the time to care for them. 

‘we’ll start over,’ nala says. ‘there’s another field of good rock out there in the dark— somewhere— i’ll find it and claim it and come back. we can be a co-operative again. we can be happy.’

sarabi kisses her forehead, patches her exosuit, collects her the best of every valve and gasket, the sturdiest oxygen tanks, the cleverest HUD interface, the most efficient water reclamators. sarafina adjusts the inventory system, marks one of their skippers down as destroyed, lays her shawl across the pilot’s seat, something of home to carry out into the dark. goes through the search and navigation programs line by line, grooming out every little tangle or bug. 

their daughter— their princess, their hope— sets forth, out into the endless darkness between stars. as mufasa did, so many years ago. 

but she’ll come back.