#Science fiction writing

[whereserpentswalk]

Every starship always has a few ice people on board. It's just standard safety protocol. The minimum number is three, one ice person for defense, one ice person for repairs, and one ice person for medical.

Ice people are people who are put into suspended animation for the duration of a trip, only to be taken out in emergencies. They're useful because a ship won't have to deal with another passenger just for something that won't useally happen. It also makes it so that the ice person is the least likely to be harmed in emergencies. They used to use robots for these sorts of things but now that the robots have unionized biological life is cheaper for that kind of labor.

It's a pretty nice job. Nine times out of ten it's falling asleep and waking up a few months later. Doing it once or twice can pay off your college debts pretty quickly. Compared to the other jobs you'll get with that kind of skillset it's a pretty good deal. Most medical students are encouraged to take it as their first job to pay off their student loans.

Of course, there is a weirdness to it, not existing for such a long time. Even a few months will make the way things change weird. You'll come back to your home planet and things will be diffrent. A freind will have gotten married. A child that you're used to being a baby will be a toddler. Someone will have moved away. It's not all bad, hype for movies or video games, arguments that need time to calm down, skipping out on a bad time in politics. But still, it always makes you a bit separate from everything else.

Of course, there is always the fear suspended animation won't work as intended, and your mind will be trapped dreaming, or worse, conscious, during the entire affair. Perhaps things will that lurk in hyperspace will begin to speak to you. Or worse you'll just be alone, with nothing but your thoughts, and no way to cry out.

But that's not the worst of it, at least not for most people. For most people it's the much more mundane reality of needing to be an ice person for more than just one or two trips. You'll fall asleep and wake up months later, ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred times. And you'll find yourself only seeing the world through snapshots, really only having your other ice people to relate to. You'll be from a diffrent time as everyone the same age as you. It's better pay then any alternative, but there is a greater cost. Soon enough you'll be walking through your homeworld and it'll be alien to you, decades in the future from what you were raised to be in, you'll be wearing a diffrent eras clothing, speaking in a dead dialect, like a ghost from the past.

There was a young engineer who recently returned from being an ice person. Poor thing, she was sent out on an ambassador ship to an alien system thinking it would be about six months, but it turned out she was gone for decades as a war between that ship's nation and the alien homeworld broke out. When she came back all three of her spouses had died of old age, and her son who was an infant when she left was older than her when she returned, and her grandchildren she had never met were her peers.

[jessicamarbles]

Weight

It moves as if learning to walk again. I give no signal that I see it. Just let it stumble toward me, exertion dripping from each clumsy jolt.

“I found it harder today, Miss” it says, smiling weakly.

“Oh?” I feign surprise, holding out my hand for the cup. Whisperbone with gold pleats, so thin it’s near translucent. Fragile to the point of decadence. It places the tea onto my flat, outstretched palm, trying to control the shaking in its exhausted limbs “Sounds like you need another.”

The glint in its eyes darkens and I feel my mouth go wet.

“B-but-” it begins.

I quiet the protest with a raised eyebrow.

I tie the straps tight - two on each arm, two on each leg, one across its forehead, a gag across its mouth – then test the HotPoint. A single, blistering white dot radiates from its tip.

“Pain is a process.” I remind it as I make incision. It tries to flinch, squirm. I know this is not rejection; our bodies play saboteur to the lives we yearn for. And I *am* sheering open its calf with a laser hot enough to melt lead, after all. A little resistance is expected.

The HotPoint is as exact as it is excruciating. Seven dermal layers down I find the sweet spot: loose enough for an insertion but too deep to remove the weight without it clawing itself open. “We need you strong” I remind it “You want to be strong for me, don’t you?” It cannot speak, nor nod, nor move, but it blinks at me.

The sheet is an ultra-condensed steel alloy. Magnetised, but the Doll needn’t know that. I push the weight under its flesh and let the serrated edge do the work, curving round the shin bone till its leg is wholly encased by the metal.

I’ve told the Doll the weights make it stronger, and it’s true. They have. Any place but here they’d make it superhuman. But I control the Station, every aspect, and I adjust the magnetic fields in direct proportion to its increasing muscle mass. Thus its body feels heavier and heavier after each operation, its limbs more rigid, its movements more tiring, even as it gains in power under my employ.

All the effort, all the overcompensation, sharpens its mind, not just its body. It will join its first combat with the wrath and fury of an unchained god. I hope, then, it will understand why it was lied to.

“All done” I whisper, leaning close, as I unbuckle the Doll and watch it try to rise. It falters, naturally. It’s carrying an extra thirty kilos in its left leg, even without the magnetism. I place my arm around its waist and help it back towards its quarters, my face a mask of kindness. “I’ve left something for you on your bed. You may need it tomorrow.”

The next day, it crawls to me, fighting tears. My tiffin is balanced on its brand new saddle. It is too tired to stand, too weak now to fight the weight I’ve put inside it. I take my tea and cake directly from its back, never acknowledging the grunts and shudders my table makes. I turned the magnets to high this morning. It can barely hold itself up.

“Better today?” I ask at last, my face the portrait of innocence. Even exhausted, the Doll knows better than to hide its eye from me when it speaks. It meets my gaze, sweat livid on its brow.

“I am as you wish me, Miss.” It answers, sweetly, without a hint of reproach.

I sip my tea and wonder if it knows.

[rabbit-flaying]

Humanity's Collector

Genres: Fantasy and Science Fiction

Content Warnings: Dehumanization, Kidnapping, Casual Violence, Claustrophobia, Mild Cosmic Horror

Note: I want to get back to positing my writing on Tumblr. Maybe someone will recognize this. Probably not.

"Gosh you're pretty," Glade cooed, its voice sounding a bit like Harlow's mother, a bit like a brook, and a bit like paper being crumpled up and cast aside.

Harlow looked around desperately. For he had to find escape from the strange realm he had woken in. All manner of miscellany took up space in the void around him. It looked like a storage closet, if every storage closet in the world were connected together, and the possessions of kings and paupers alike were granted permission to socialize.

He ignored Glade and stood from his wicker chair, quickly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the realm and number of objects held within it.

Above him the color white stretched out into infinitum. True white, not the dirty kind found in snow and house paint. It hurt his head, making his temples throb and blood vessels contract, so he looked away from it.

"Where am I?" Harlow demanded. "Who are you?"

"My name is Glade," it answered. "You're in my home."

Harlow made the mistake of eye contact. Glade's eyes shone with the light of galaxies, a dazzling rainbow of nebulae, planets, and suns. The entirety of the universe, and many more beyond it, seemed tucked away within the perfectly spherical marbles buried in the putty-like flesh of its glowing face.

He finally broke away from the hypnotic sight, his puny brain unable to handle the visions within. How much time had passed, every one of his neurons firing at once in an attempt to process the cosmos of Glade's eyes? Seconds? Minutes? Hours, even?

He needed answers, yet he did not know the right questions. Glade didn't seem human, instead a creature from a story book. And this monolithic hoard couldn't possibly be real.

"Your home?" he asked in a strangled sort of voice, staring pointedly at the patch of ebony wood ground he stood upon.

"I'm a collector," Glade explained, running their sharp nails, painted with glitter and adorned with scraps of emeralds, through Harlow's silky hair.

"What do you collect, exactly?"

Harlow watched a glittering blue beetle crawl across the ground, finding a hiding spot underneath a red and purple feathered ball gown displayed on a copper mannequin.

"All sorts of things," Glade said, flapping its hands wildly in a mimicry of human excitement. "Your world is fascinating. I remember when your kind learned how to create fire and tame animals. You have grown so much since then. I needed to have one of you for my own. Your creations are not enough any more."

Harlow carefully took in Glade's appearance, avoiding its hypnotic eyes. Despite its alien nature- as clear to Harlow as it would have been to his ancestors as they huddled around campfires concocting stories to explain their world- it chose to appear humanoid, though not precisely human.

Glade was the kind of thing that would hide in a child's closet, and speak to them in a parental fashion, loathing the knowledge that the child would never be believed no matter how loudly they spoke of its existence.

Its iridescent skin glimmered, changing colors with every movement, no matter how slight, as stunning light produced by the void poured over its body. Its proportions sat beyond the human view of normal, uncanny like an airbrushed model, but far more monstrous. Behind its smiling lips were two rows of porcelain and copper teeth, slicing perfectly through its pale gray gums.

Delicate jewelry of book pressed flowers and dragonfly wings adorned its warped elven ears. It was clad in a fur cape, the stitched together pelts of numerous small animals, fur colors clashing and asymmetrical. Its heels, as thin as sewing needles and seemingly impossible to walk on, granted half a foot of height to their seven-foot frame.

"Don't worry," Glade continued. "I'll take care of you. I've been collecting humanity's creations for millenia. You may use what you find around you to its fullest extent."

"I want to go home," Harlow said, finally realizing that this was not a dream that could be banished away by opening his eyes and pouring himself a cup of black coffee mixed with salt. "Please let me go. I'm sure there's someone who would love to be here. But I like my life on earth."

"But I wanted you."

Glade hugged Harlow tightly, mimicking how it had observed humans comforting one another. Its skin had none of Harlow's warmth, and he found this hug as uncomfortable as cuddling with a marble statue would have been, if he had ever been bold enough to break the omnipresent rule of not touching museum exhibits.

Harlow closed his eyes. "I have to be dreaming," he said, his lie cloaked in a defeated sort of tone. "This can't be real."

"Of course this isn't real," Glade said, holding its newest acquisition out at arm's length. "But it isn't a dream either. You are within my home, far outside of your universe."

"Please send me back. I don't know why I'm here, or how, but I can't do this."

"Yes you can," Glade said. "It's easy. I will take care of you, and you will be my plaything. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Harlow broke away from Glade, and took off walking. There had to be an exit. Everything had an exit, whether it be a school or a church or a corner shop. The exits were always there, saddened as they were that so many people were afraid to break the rules and only took advantage of their ability to leave at certain appointed hours.

The void still seemed to stretch on into infinity, swelling larger and larger the farther and farther Harlow walked. But everything had an end if you traveled far enough to find it. Even the deserts that passed past any human line of sight and the mountains that seemed too high to ever climb over.

But now Harlow was applying rules from his original plane of existence to the alien one he had been so rudely whisked away to. And that was very foolish indeed.

"No, that doesn't sound nice," he said angrily, as Glade easily matched his pace, wearing a concerned expression it had stolen from a grandparent not too long ago. "I'm leaving."

"You can't leave. Because I didn't steal you. The original Harlow Finch Echowood is still in his home, playing solitaire and chatting away to his cat. You belong here with me."

Harlow stopped in his tracks, sitting down on an ancient jeweled throne. It had held countless kings before him, but he respected them not, only using their seat to keep from collapsing in shock.

Glade smiled. "We are going to have so much fun, and no one will ever know you to be here. Come now, I have food prepared for you."

"I can't eat your food," Harlow argued, remembering what he had learned from a book that lived in his elementary school library. It had worn a shiny green cover, and the name Susan Macintosh was written inside the front cover before his own. "I'd never be able to leave if I did that."

"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for some of my cousins," Glade said. "You will eat, or you will starve. And you're never leaving because you belong to me. It doesn't matter what you choose to do."

Harlow stood up, his dizziness replaced with a red-hot temper. "I hate you! Let me go! You can't keep me here!"

Glade looked deeply wounded, but Harlow knew within the depths of his very soul, that it was only mimicry of human emotion.

"I couldn't send you back, even if I wanted to. Then there would be two Harlow Finch Echowoods trying to live your singular and unique life."

"I don't believe you. I'm still me. I still remember my life."

"You are an exact duplication of the original Harlow Finch Echowood. You have the same soul and the same mind and the same DNA. Of course you still remember."

With every passing moment, Harlow's belief in Glade's words only grew. Any attempt to fight against them was snuffed out by diluted logic and the omnipresent knowledge that he was still alive. He breathed. Blood rushed through his veins. More importantly, his mind continued to produce thoughts and feelings to process the outside world.

"Just combine us again or something," Harlow begged. "I want to go home. I never asked to be brought here."

"I cannot combine nor reconstruct nor mend. I can only make copies of beautiful things, and things not quite so beautiful."

Glade spread its arms, gesturing to its hoard of human objects collected in centuries long past. The treasures of every empire ever risen and fallen was present, both the spectacular and the mundane side by side in a discordant visual melody.

"Why me?" Harlow asked. "I didn't do anything."

"You speak as though this is a punishment. I have simply added you to my collection." It flicked the tears from his face, scratching him with its nail. "Now come, I have made you good food."

Glade gripped Harlow's arm and dragged him far away, weaving throughout its collection at a brisk and even pace, avoiding falling into the gaps between pieces of floor, which only infinitum laid below.

Soon enough, they came upon a small 1950s era kitchen. Two marble counters, a dirty stove, and a teacup filled sink formed a corner tucked away between a row of unplugged televisions and a huge crooked stalagmite growing from the polished tile floor.

Glade opened the oven and pulled out a pan of fresh bread. Its hands were bare, but unburnt by the hot metal dish. It grabbed a knife from one of the many drawers and cut through the bread without displacing a single crumb, before laying the slice out on a neon green plate.

"Eat while it's still hot," Glade said with a bright smile. It was a well used expression by those of Harlow's time who prepared meals for other humans, and it planned to repeat it often.

In its time spent with Harlow, its teeth had dulled significantly, and its gums had taken on a pale shade of pink. Why it had not mimicked a perfect human before meeting Harlow was beyond him, and it seemed perfectly capable of warping its appearance to become more like him.

He reluctantly tried the seed filled bread, finding it to be heavenly and soft. Faerie food or not, he scarfed it down, suddenly famished beyond all reason.

"Thank you," he said automatically.

"I have much food. It is scattered about my home, and easy to find if you look. It never spoils, so you may feast on it as you please."

Harlow sighed, and clambered up to sit on the counter. An act of rebellion his twelve year old self would have been proud of, even if Glade didn't give him the smallest sliver of annoyance, having no understand of manners itself.

"I'm really never leaving…" he said, his voice like a half-deflated party balloon still adored by a kid who refused point blank to throw it in the trash. "If that's it then, what happens when you get bored of me?"

"I never get bored of my playthings."

"How big is this place? Is it a universe, or a realm, or a room in some alien mansion?" Harlow thought these reasonable enough questions, considering his circumstances.

"An infinite pocket dimension," Glade replied. "If you travel far enough, my collection begins to grow thin. There is a boundary of where my possessions lie, and after that is the abyss. It is nearly impossible to find one's way back from nothingness."

"I hate it here," Harlow said, as though he had not made this feeling quite clear before. "I want to be around other people. Not you."

"I will bring you some," Glade promised. "Allow me a few minutes to collect them. You shall have a companion, as all humans crave, or more than one if it suits your fancy."

Harlow froze, debating his own morality versus the loneliness soon to bloom from this isolation. How could he allow more people to be stuck in this horrible purgatory of preserved humanity, just so he could have someone to talk to? The truth? He couldn't bear it. At least, not yet.

"No," he begged, the first tears ever created in this pocket dimension blooming in his eyes. "Please, don't put anyone else through this. I'll be good. I won't complain. I promise."

"Oh, how you confuse me." Something odd bloomed over Glade's face, a poor mimicry of a half-understood human emotion. "I see… Come along then."

Harlow hopped off the counter and followed Glade as it walked under a vast canopy of safety pinned together curtains fashioned from every familiar fabric and exotic cloth created by the hands of humanity.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Glade called in a sing-song voice. "I've brought a new trinket. This one can talk, so I'm sure you'll like it."

People approached Glade and Harlow from the shadows. Well, not people, exactly. They were like Glade, monstrous and wonderful, stepping straight from a story book and into Harlow's waking nightmare. There stood more figures than Harlow could keep track of, intent on viewing the treasure Glade had discovered.

"I finally brought a human home," Glade said proudly, if such a being were capable of pride. "Isn't it just a doll?"

Harlow flinched as numerous hands and insect-like feelers crept over his body, Glade's companions examining him all too closely. He felt as though he had jumped into those foam pits he had so loved as a young child, touched in all directions yet floating in oddly empty space.

"Get off of me," he demanded, forgetting his promise not to complain as he shoved the nearest figure away. "Stop it. I said stop!"

Harlow tried to break free of them, pushing and shoving, even striking at them with closed fists and elbows. But he was pulled back, the creatures murmuring in appreciation on how bizarrely Glade's newest acquisition behaved.

"Stop touching me," Harlow cried. "Please. I hate being crowded. What are you doing?"

"What is it doing?" the specter asked. It brought its freezing yet intangible hand to Harlow's face, as though to seize his tears.

"That is so weird," another remarked, clicking its pincers in an oddly specific pattern.

The different figures murmured to each other, formulating explanations.

"Is it because we're touching it?"

"It's water… I think."

"He's crying," Glade explained, flapping its hands in mimicry of human excitement. "It means it's upset. Isn't it the most delightful thing?"

"I hate you," Harlow said thickly, as tears continued to stream down his reddened cheeks. "I want to go home."

"You are so repetitive," Glade remarked, before perfectly imitating Harlow's voice. "I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home."

Harlow finally relented. As the nightmarish figures poked and prodded him, discussing him amongst each other, he only hoped that they would soon grow bored and move on to newer shinier pursuits.

How could he stand to do this for the rest of eternity?

[themtron]

The best writing process I've ever had is writing intentionally "bad" versions of my scene, and using it as a base for the real attempt. But oh my fucking god it is making me genuinely tweak, every time - letting myself write garbage first and not fix every single little-

[nixite117]

Log P-217 | cycle xxxx |

It has been 11 turns since the creature in our ventilation system was detected, 3 since we discovered our stowaway.

Doctor Qynm had no idea what it was at first. We had theories of it being some poor stray animal. We weren’t entirely wrong but… feels wrong to call a kid a stray. Anyways, the doc said we’d have to wait until they woke up. The Yiquil rat was stressed enough I thought it was going to throw its spines everywhere, but Xiqi was able to calm it down before then somehow. It’s been a rough few days.

We were finally able to track the kid down. To be frank it’s embarrassing that a child was able to stow in the storage bay for so long without being noticed. And… somewhat concerning. The kid was terrified when we cornered them, and we couldn’t even get a good look at what it was before it started screeching. It wasn’t anywhere near the volume of a wailing spore, but I didn’t know mammals could make a sound that loud. It hit me that we weren’t dealing with an animal when I could actually understand what they were saying. Luckily both the creature and its little parasite friend both had communicator chips.

All the intimidation displays of a feral animal were there, so it’s not like I would’ve figured it out if they hadn’t spoken. Baring their teeth, squaring the shoulders to look larger, making loud sound, the works. Poor kid was terrified. What really caught me off guard was when they started grabbing things, then it hit me. Literally. The kid practically threw a whole box worth of tools at me. The squeal Captain Zytre made, however, was golden. We’ve agreed to never mention it so long as they don’t mention me getting hit in the knee with a flying pipe.

Then when she tried to grab them, like the genius she is, guess what they did? They fucking kicked her. Kicked. Like the spinners back at home. With less spinning, of course.

They were exhausted though, I could tell. Their clothes were practically hanging off their body. They were cornered, standing in front of the rat child and wailing for what felt like ages. Turns out, the little stand off lasted almost half a turn. We had to wait them out, and ended up being forced to take shifts. It lasted until Xiqi was able to coax them out of the hole they were hiding in.

They only gave in because Xiqi is the only one of us who seems to have a brain. She left out a large serving of bor, which our little stowaway hand fed to the vile lizard child. The odd part about it was that the rodent wouldn’t allow them to give it all their food. Xiqi even mentioned that the creature had to bargain with the child to get it to eat. It wouldn’t let them go without food for its sake… which just… can’t be right. Yiquils aren’t capable of empathy, the only reason that rodent allowed the other one to eat was because it needed their protection.

Xiqi took forever to talk the stowaways down, but the older one wouldn’t allow any of us near them.

Whatever the case, they were wounded sometime between finding them and feeding them. I’m not sure how or when it happened, but the wound was old by the time we realized how bad it was. Starvation, panic, and now blood? Yiquils don’t grow claws until they’re adults, so I’m not sure how it managed to slice its protector’s abdomen so badly. Originally I theorized that they may have been wounded at the first confrontation since they were bleeding then, too. There’s not much to back that theory since they would’ve been dead by now if that were the case.

And then another surprise. The ratling left the human alone. It’s spines were all on end, and it was barely understandable, babbling as it wailed with distress. It practically dragged Xiqi into the storage room and our guest was barely conscious with a high fever and some sort of yellow liquid caked over its wound. It’s unknown at this time if this is a natural reaction or not. After the doc had them in a pod though, he only seemed more confused with each passing moment as he looked up their features. I wasn’t exactly excited to stick my hands in their maw, but it had to be done.

Two front facing eyes, small nose, bipedal, mammalian, all of that. A predator animal, built for running efficiently. The way their leg bones are structured suggests a lack of quadrupedal movement. But the teeth suggest an omnivorous diet. While I wasn’t eager to observe their maw, I found they had small canines and multiple extra teeth under its gums. A short tentacle which I assume is the tongue, and a very, very moist environment behind their lips.

The type of animal that exists between predator and prey, but capable of nearly everything short of flying and breathing underwater. There was an odd perspiration to their hide, and only a few patches of fur on various parts of their body. Perhaps a temperature regulation method or a method of keeping the hide from drying out? Clearly a warm blooded mammal, likely an omnivorous pack, scavenger, and/or waiting predator. Their species clearly couldn’t run long distances, but somehow they maintained their ground for turns and turns on end despite being injured.

I was stumped, and it took Doctor Qymn, Xiqi, and I far too much time to research the creature and find what it was. We never considered that it could be a new, fascinating species that most of us barely even heard of. Only an idiot would think to suggest the obvious answer.

Turns out… they’re a human.

Captain Dimwit was the one who figured it out. Apparently she read about humans when they first made contact. This one was a teenager. As in… a child. Apparently a nearly grown one by human standards. But still. My kind have one of the shortest adolescent periods in the galaxy at about 6-7 universal cycles. Human adolescence only lasts up to 4.

Xiqi is keeping a close eye on the ratling now, though I think we should throw it out. It’s “friend” nearly died trying to protect it, and for what? So it can kill everyone on this ship and wander space? How did the human even end up with that parasite?

——-/——-

Log P-127-B

I think I’ve made a mistake.

Doc got the human in the healing pod to run some scans. They had no idea what type of medicine to administer, nor what a human was capable of withstanding. Apparently we don’t even understand human ethical values when it comes to medicine, so Dr Qymon was hesitant to try and treat them.

Whatever the case, it wasn’t enough. Maybe an hour later, the human was conscious once again. As soon as the medication ran through, they were on their- his feet. There’s legends of humans, most about their willpower. How they’ll wait until the job is done to let themselves rest, staying awake and/or alive against all odds through sheer force of will. Some say that when they kick, the very ground shakes. They bare their teeth for fun, the same teeth they use for ripping apart flesh and hide. I didn’t see any evidence of fangs on the boy, but their bite is rumored to be venomous.

I never believed the legends. Humans have no discernible traits that make them stand out amongst the many species of the universe. I don’t understand how anyone could believe they are some ferocious apex predator.

Perhaps I was a fool to not consider that mediocrity in every aspect is worth more than perfection in one. I was also a fool to disregard the intelligence of such a brutish species.

For starters, the human laid in wait while Qymon ran tests. We believed he was still groggy from the treatment, as well as exhausted from his injuries. As soon as he was left alone, he managed to escape the healing pod despite being secured by the safety straps. I only realized something was wrong when I heard glass shattering. One look at our security screen and I saw that he’d kicked it multiple times until it simply fell off its frame and shattered on the floor.

As soon as I was present, he’d already found… Delilah? He named the parasite apparently. Upon picking it up, he attempted to flee. The ship was experiencing some turbulence, and it knocked both of us off our feet. Before I could grab the slimy rat, the human was on top of it, shielding it with his body. The little rat had the audacity to cry as the human braced himself on his hands and knees.

I tried to pin him down, but that kick is no joke. I will be feeling that for a while.

Xiqi, the godsend that she is, was able to calm the situation and speak with the human once again. Turns out he found the parasite as an infant and took care of her as a result. Everything practically came to a halt. Xiqi tried to figure out why the human was protecting the damn

The human has since avoided me relentlessly. He’s persistent as hell, apparently it’s a natural thing for humans. If he wants something, he will not stop until he gets it. He’s started to warm up to a few members of the crew, and I think Xiqi already considers him a friend. Apparently humans can sing, so Captain Bird Mouth has already bonded with him over that.

I’d like to form a bond with the human as well, though I fear he may not be with us for very long. He must return to Terra, and the vermin should be brought before the Interplanetary Society to answer for its people’s crimes. They’ll take it from there. It should all work out.

[dr-abigail-richelieu]

In an earlier entry, we discussed vampire packs. Surprisingly, despite their extremely antisocial nature, we have found evidence that vampires would form packs. Early in their evolution, they were somewhat social animals and would form packs. In later periods before their extinction, they apparently began forming packs again to make hunting humans easier. These packs typically consisted of a mother and her brood, with a hierarchy likely based on dominance. Essentially, the strongest individual was the pack leader.

Even so, these creatures remained highly antisocial. They didn't live together; when not hunting, the pack would occupy a large territory, with each member living separately. While vampires never really developed their own society, we do think that these packs did develop a very basic form of it and even a very basic language. 

In 2001, a huge burial ground was discovered in Eastern Europe, near Russia. Investigations by anthropologists and archaeologists revealed that the area was, in fact, the hunting ground of a vampire pack. Their housing was found shortly after: a huge cave system that appeared to have been artificially expanded. The entire underground system extended around half a kilometer in total. The remains of around 15 individual vampires were found, each in their own chambers. Most seemed to have died while hibernating. It is believed that they had exhausted their main source of food and decided to go into hibernation, possibly hoping to awaken when food became available once more. Most of their remains were relatively well preserved, which is to be expected thanks to their ability to enter suspended animation, this “undead phase” essentially had them mummified themselves alive… The oldest vampire in the group was found in the biggest chamber, we suspect she was the matriarch of the clan.

Using bone histology such as osteon counting and dental analysis of her remaining teeth, and other methods more finely tuned to vampires, we were able to estimate her age before death to be around 143 years, not counting any past hibernation, however, using advance Histopathological Examination of her soft tissues, such as the state of collagen and elastin fibers and more, we were able to determine that she was biologically around in her mid to late 20s, which is to be expected from Vampires. 

Homovorus have plenty of adaptations against senescence, the most prevalent being an increased telomerase production to maintain telomere length, which is associated with cellular longevity. Cells can divide way more times before reaching senescence. Another adaptation being the production of antioxidants enzymes protecting them from the harmful effects of radiant oxidation and ionizing radiation. In short Vampires are essentially immune to senescence, they do not age, at least not physically. Once they reach adulthood at around their early 20s they will not physically age anymore, however they're bones will still degrade overtime, causing them to become weaker and unable to hunt as efficiently as before, but that isn't it. They're superior production of collagen also aids them; this consistently high rate of collagen production, ensures their skin and connective tissues remain youthful and heal quickly. They also retain high levels of active stem cells throughout their lives. In humans, stem cell activity declines with age, but in vampires, this activity remains constant or at least higher than in humans, allowing for continuous efficient tissue repair and regeneration almost akin to that of human juvenile. We believe that the reason for such adaptations to have emerged is because of a combination of factors, but mainly because of their already low reproduction rates. Because of this, a long lifespan and extended periods of reproductive viability was advantageous, as it allowed individuals to contribute to the gene pool over a longer time. We do not know as of late, when or even if Homovore reaches reproductive senescences… In any cases, we'll discuss such topics in another entry focusing on Vampire reproduction.

Going back to the discovery, it's important to precise that while the Matriarch’s bones were degraded they weren't at all as damaged as one would expect of such an old individual. She could very likely still be active in her community, if not it's very likely that she wouldn't have been tolerated by the others, even if they were her own kids, and perhaps even participate in hunts, though to a much lesser extent. We can also see that she had a lot of healed bone fractures and much more such as dental work and even dental implants, using carved bones (these implants were quite honestly very well done, almost indistinguishable visually from other teeths) This tells us two things.

1: This clan of vampires was capable of primitive yet very impressive medical feats.

2: These vampires were able to show forms of compassionate behaviour. One could argue that these interventions were done in the name of efficiency, so that others could heal faster and burden the others less, however some of these interventions weren't as seemingly necessary for the survival of the individual and more or less done for her comforts.

In other chambers we discovered primitive yet complexed tools as well as a few cattle pens, most likely used for keeping humans. We essentially uncovered substantial evidence of tribal culture and technology. Among the findings were even symbols, writings on birch bark scrolls, and most impressively, cave paintings. These paintings were intricate and detailed yet disturbingly macabre. Many depicted human faces contorted in agony or mutilated corpses. While unsettling, such imagery wasn't entirely unexpected. Vampires, being our natural predators, evolved not only to hunt us but also, as some researchers have shown, to preserve their victims for extended feeding.

One chamber stood out for its striking details: On the wall, there was a meticulous drawing of a human head frozen in a scream. In front of the painting, a skull rested upon an improvised counter, undoubtedly the model used for the artwork.

In conclusion, while Homovorus was typically a solitary and antisocial species, it was still capable of forming groups or tribes under certain circumstances. We still have a lot of learning to do concerning these fascinating beings

Exemple of symbols we found in the cave

[adastra-sf]

To the Stars Through Stories

Want to learn to write publishable fiction? We're currently taking applications for our summer 2024 Speculative Fiction Writing Workshop, which runs June 16-29.

Apply now to give your writing wings! Only a couple spots left.

Can't make it but know someone who might benefit? Please help spread the word! The Ad Astra Institute is a 501(c)3 nonprofit educational and research organization dedicated to making the future a better place for everyone. Scholarships still available.

[spyglassrealms]

Spy's OCs: Zak Kaiyo

art by my good friend, the wonderful @wildegeist!

Realm: Arcverse Species: Tokaya Homeworld: Terotewaukia (Teroteaumia system) Age: 26 annua (29 Earth years) Gender (human analogue): cismasculine (he/him, xe/xen*) Height: 1.8 m Weight: 72.5 kg Occupation: Captain and pilot of the starship Free Spirit; freelance cargo-hauler; occasional mercenary; jack-of-all-trades [Suggested Listening: Burn Out Brighter by Anberlin]

Zakane "Zak" Kaiyo is the co-owner, captain, and pilot of the heavily-modified light hauler Aum Hara (otherwise known as the "Free Spirit") and the leader of a small band of freelance spacers that make their home aboard the ship. He's just one more spark in the great spiral; one more restless soul trying to make a living doing what he can in a galaxy that's always moving and yet always standing still. From the Tyrian Shallows to the Drift and everywhere in between, Zak and his small but loyal crew of misfits can be found anywhere something interesting is happening.

Zak's talented -albeit reckless- piloting skills earned himself and his copilot Arkto a spot in the Galactic Spacecraft Pilots Association Hall of Fame, having broken the record for the smallest crewed ship by mass to exceed 10 million times the speed of light with a hyperdrive. His performative stuntwork is also renowned, and he frequently attends the annual Galactic Pilot Convention.

Most of the "swashbuckling freelance ace pilot" tropes apply to this space hobo, whose personal creed is "do good recklessly." His confidence, determination, and cheerful sarcasm make for an extremely charismatic, if reckless, leader. He's very mischievous and likes to get into trouble, but can be relied on to get out of it as quickly as he gets into it… most of the time. Zak acts fearless but, go figure, this man has Attachment Issues. He hates the idea of getting tied down to one place or thing, yet at the same time he is fiercely protective of his crew. (Shhh. Nobody tell him.)

Zak's homeworld is a backwater: connected to the galaxy and participant in its affairs, but hardly anyone there actually got out beyond the system. He was constantly told that he ought to be happy on Terotewaukia, fixing up interplanetary haulers and maybe going to the outer moons of the system once in a while. He and his two best friends always wanted more. The three of them had plans to quietly fix up one of the written-off hauler derelicts on company time and get the hell out, making their way around the wild starry yonder to see what could be seen.

And then one of them decided they wanted to stay and settle down.

That was the last straw for Zak. As soon as the opportunity arose, he and Arkto (his other bff) took off in their souped-up light hauler and never looked back. But once they were out there... Zak came to realize that the galaxy isn't a really adventurous place.

See, Arcverse is a universe that everyone thinks has been more or less figured out. Galactic civilization has been around for something like a million years or so, and the Arcadian Order have been sort of running the Galactic Assembly for about that long (mostly because they got off their planet first and they do a pretty decent job of wrangling the rowdier civilizations with diplomacy). The entire galaxy is, broadly speaking, at peace. The clash of titans already happened; the fate-of-the-galaxy-level stakes were sorted out thousands of generations ago. All the major starfaring powers, while independent in principle, are constrained by the bureaucracy of the Galactic Assembly. There's mild internal turmoil —and there's always an underbelly— but it's still quite tame. There's a whole galaxy out there with lots to see but nothing to really strive for in it.

Zak Kaiyo is someone who desperately, fundamentally, needs to strive. He wants to live fast and die young in a galaxy where everyone lives at a reasonable pace and dies basically never. He exists to challenge the stagnancy of a world that's as close to utopia as it can reasonably be. Zak wants so badly to save the galaxy, but he lives in a galaxy that doesn't need saving. And that's tearing him to pieces.

[tlaquetzqui]

Given nobody is gonna call real artificial consciousnesses “AI”, not after what the tech industry has done to the term, and “Mind” is taken by the Culture from Iain Banks’s novels, I think in my SF setting they’ll be known as either conches (from consciousness), sapes (from sapient), or sophs (from sophont). Kinda leaning toward the middle one because then you can refer to AIs and humans collectively as “sapes and apes”.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Character Introduction - Meridian Shardd

If you like this, please REBLOG! 💕

☆・・Aesthetic/Moodboard ・・☆

════════════════════════════════════════════

☆ ・・About/General Info ・・☆

A cyborg/robot created for entertainment, Meridian long since yearned to know what it truly meant to live and be human. Finding an unexpected opportunity to rebel against their creator, Meridian broke free of the coding they'd been trapped to since the moment of their creation and escaped from the Khosmonian Galaxies in search of a future where they could truly be free. Naive, innocent, and painfully unaware of how real humanoid interactions actually work, especially in such a conflicted set of galaxies, Meridian wandered completely lost for a while, trying to not fall back into the hands of their inventor - who would for sure reprogram them and stop them from achieving their dream of experiencing real life - until they met a strange, but kind, group of thieves and space adventurers who became their friends and the closest thing to a family they ever had. Perhaps being human won't be such an unattainable dream as they thought.

════════════════════════════════════════════

☆・・More Info ・・☆

Pronouns - They/Them (main pronouns), He/Him (occasionally)

Age - They have been alive for less than a decade but have the appearance/biology, mental age, and personality of a young adult in their early 20s.

Current Role - Part of the main cast

Appearance - Meridian has medium to long hair, synthetic, which they can change/choose the color of at will (their favorite hair colors are bright neon pink, cyan, or deep gold). Their skin is pale and perfectly smooth, akin to a porcelain doll, and some of their robotic joints are visible, with golden wiring/servos within (like an automaton, but high tech and sentient). Their eyes can also change color at will, and they usually match their eye color to their hair color of the day because they like symmetry. Meridian is considerably tall, standing at 6,2ft or around 187cm, and because they tend to wear heels (they like it) with wheels, they're usually even taller. Their features are rather androgynous, though their design leans more towards a somewhat masculine appearance.

Personality Types -

✶ Enneagram: 7w6

✶ MBTI: ENFP

Occupation: Formerly - Servant/Entertainer (dancer, singer); Currently - Adventurer, Rebel

Species & Place of Birth: Cyborg/Sentient Robot, Khosmo

Sexuality: Nonbinary. Otherwise, probably still haven't figured out their exact sexuality/romantic tendencies yet though.

════════════════════════════════════════════

☆・・Extras・・☆

✶ Character Playlist

Playlist Sneak Peek:

Summer Sunshine - Sweetersongs

I'm Just a Kid - Simple Plan

Are You Satisfied? - Marina And The Diamonds

Not Your Barbie Girl - Ava Max

I'm Good (Blue) - David Guetta, Bebe Rhexa

Bubblegum Bitch - Marina And The Diamonds

And more!

・・・

✶ Tags:

#wip supernova initiative #oc: meridian shardd

・・・

Supernova Initiative Taglist (-/+): @ray-writes-n-shit, @sarandipitywrites, @lassiesandiego, @smol-feralgremlin, @kaylinalexanderbooks,

@saturnine-saturneight @diabolical-blue @oh-no-another-idea

@cakeinthevoid, @clairelsonao3, @sleepy-night-child

@thepeculiarbird

@the-golden-comet, @urnumber1star, @ominous-feychild, @anyablackwood, @amaiguri, @lyutenw @finickyfelix

@elshells, @thecomfywriter

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

Source for moodboard pictures & music playlist: Pinterest & Spotify respectively

[mousyatlas]

i know people sometimes get peeved when fandom blogs start talking about their original work buuuuttt i’m writing a gay space opera and i’m excited about it so prepare for me to be insufferable

[whereserpentswalk]

You were born to be a sacrifice. When you first exited your mothers womb the oracles decided that would be your fate. They tattooed your hands and forehead so everyone would know.

When you turn twenty, they'll take you to the church, and they'll set you on fire. And then when your body is burned they'll give your ashes for the angels, and the angels and saints will be proud, and bless your community and family with great riches. Or at least that's what they say.

When you were young it didn't seem to mean anything that you were born to die young. Nobody cared, they just saw you as another kid. But it was always there. Adults would ask other kids what they wanted to be when they grew up, but they'd ask you what you would do once you were a ruler in the court of heaven. They'd tell other kids about marriage and sex and having children, but for you that would just be for other people, you'd die a virgin.

And at a certain age, you were removed from school. Because they said you wouldn't need it. That you shouldn't be wasting your time on such things. And you didn't understand, but you understood that all your freinds were upset that they wouldn't see you anymore. Not as much at least. And people talked about you so much differently from then on. You weren't complimented as strong, or as smart, or as ambitious, you were pretty, and pure, and brave, and dutiful. And everyone talked about how proud they were of you, how wonderful it was that you were going to die for them.

They were so nice to you. They gave you so many gifts and jewelry. You got to spend all day inside playing video games, and you got the best toys and got to go to movies and plays when you wanted to. Soldiers in power armor would bow when they saw you, and robots and cyborgs would turn off their lights. And you sat at a special place in church, and the clothing you wore was diffrent then everyone else's. And people talked about how wonderful you were, and how pretty you were, and how much they loved having you when they knew you wouldn't be on this world for long. And they were so proud of you when they showed you the platinum clothing you would wear on the day of your sacrifice. And you didn't understand why but all of the compliments sounded sad.

As you grew older things changed. The other children went through puberty, but you didn't, they gave you surgery to prevent it, ans told you how pure you were for not producing blood or seed. And you were old enough to understand that you would die, that you would burn, and it would hurt, and that nobody really knew for sure what happened after peopled died. And you saw a sacrifice, and saw the pain they were in, and there weren't any angels, there were only priests watching and chanting, and the smell of burning skin.

Your parents and family started to care much more how you behave. To make sure you're polite. To make sure you're a good sacrifice, who the angels will like. And meanwhile while all your other freinds are going to college, and talking about becoming artists, or starship pilots, or scientists, you know you'll only ever have one ending. But still, everyone loves you, and you don't have responsibilities, but still sometimes you think about how much diffrent life would be if you were born differently.

You've started meeting people who've left the faith, or people who didn't grow up in it, people who believe in diffrent religions or in no religion at all. And your heaven seems less and less certain every day. According to imperial law you're allowed to be sacrificed, but if you choose not to they can't force you. But if you choose not to you can never be a part of your faith again, and your family will be disappointed in you forever. All your family and community, everyone who you ever knew, will consider you a failure, a coward doomed to hell for not going through with what the cosmos planned for you. And all that pride and joy they felt about your fate would be replaced with anger that you never became what they were so happy and proud about you being. You don't think you believe in heaven anymore, but you still might choose to die, if it means they're proud... it's what you're raised to do, you don't know who you'll be if you choose to leave.

Better choose fast darling, it's only a few months away now. You don't want them to be upset.

[itsawritblr]

Ursula K. Le Guin’s home will become a writers residency.

[ishovelthecoal]

A writer I know got a story published in CLARKESWORLD. And it's a story I love very very much so I am trying to spread the news even on my limited reach social channels.

It's about, among other things, the limitations of translation, and the difference between "understanding" someone and "caring" for them.

I really love this story. Please read it and cry about it and share it.

[ufohio]

Happy Earth Day season from Kaleidoscope World. In honor of the thrilling wonder planet on which we live, the brighter future our setting imagines, and our own one-year anniversary as a site, we're celebrating this year with an  Earthstravaganza event. And we'd like to invite you to join us in imagining a more harmonious and colorful world.

We think it's important to acknowledge the vital roles imagination and science fiction play in improving our society here on Earth. During Earthstravaganza, our writers will be creating a better, greener, more accessible vision of the future through the power of storytelling, and we invite you to do the same.

If all things were possible, what kinds of technologies and miraculous feats of science do you think would put mankind in harmony with the Earth?

Share your ideas on Tumblr or post to this thread as a member or guest. You could even take the question back to your own families and communities and bat it around there as well!

Once again, here's wishing you a very happy Earth Day season!

[pink-writer-girl]

Hey guys my writing commissions are open because I'm really short on money and I have to pay my bills, if you have any questions that are not on my sheet feel free to dm I'm also willing to do half trade and half money too ^^

Writing examples down below 👇