#human debris project

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 1: Here’s Your One Chance | Next | Ao3

MDNI

Vampire! Poly! 141 x Plus size! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A permanent darkness rests over the city. Cold, too. Despite living here your whole life you’ve never quite adjusted to the artificial nature of it - to the shadow hanging above the miles and miles of city and the constant chill on your skin.

Really, you aren’t meant to be here. This place isn’t built for humans despite the mass that live within the confines of the city’s dome. It’s made for creatures - beings of the night that stalk and rule. The air has become rotten in the lower neighborhoods over a century due to pollution and overpopulation. It will turn your lungs black before the age of five without the proper protection.

Apartment buildings are crowded and decent living conditions are hard to come by. Many have a waitlist longer than the human lifespan. Most operate on a dorm system - at least one person per room. Randomly assigned of course, based entirely on who can pay the rent. You’ve lucked out enough to earn a shitty studio to yourself. It’s cracked and crumbling but the locks are tight and it has a window - even if the view is just a building across the alleyway.

You squeeze into a black mini dress, tying your hair up to show off the double string of pearls on your neck. They’re the nicest thing you own - the only thing worthy of this club. The only thing that can project the image needed to get proper tips. Red lipstick as a final touch. It’s corny, you know, but the vampire clients are always suckers for it. Pun intended.

This job is important. There can’t be a hair out of place. This is your chance. Your one chance to make enough money to get out of the slums. To at least make it to the middle city. You can practically hear the grime on the sidewalk as you make your way toward the metro station. Dirt and debris so caked into the very air down here that you have to wear a respirator as you go. It’ll leave marks when you first take it off, but they usually disappear by the time you’ve made it from the depot to the club.

You don’t bother with sitting on the train. Hell will freeze over before you chance catching whatever new disease has grown in that Petri dish. Instead you join the rest of the patrons in awkwardly standing in the center of the cart, damn near falling over when the train lurches to begin its journey from the slums to the upper city. There are actual names for the two areas, but nobody uses them anymore.

The respirator makes a hissing sound as you remove it after stepping out of the train. The cool, clean air of the upper city fills your lungs. It’s satisfying in a way its sticky, filtered sister could never be. The faux fur of your cropped coat tickles a bit as you walk, blown by that strange breeze that never seems to stop in the upper city. The one that blows all the grime and smog downhill.

The club sits square in central downtown - the bottom level of a historical hotel. It’s an elegant building. Red with curled metal accents over the windows and doors. Modeled after the ancient art nouveau movement. It sparkles underneath the artificial LEDs of the city - all signs and glowing windows. You can always tell where the humans are, catching glimpses of that unmistakable glow only a UV light gives off.

You duck down the alley behind the hotel. Grimy and dark, the complete opposite of the front entrance. Your heels clack on the concrete loudly - echoing off the hard walls of the building surrounding you.

It’s easy enough to slip into the routine of your job. Going back and forth to the bartender, carrying various drinks and placating the egos of cowardly men and the vampires they lie to themselves about being equal to. You can see the hunger in their eyes when you tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to the light. When your wrists just pass their noses as you set down their glasses.

It’s hard work. Long hours and more days of the week than you would like, but it pays enough for you to afford your little apartment and save some for your future.

“Hey! New girl!” The owner barks at you as you gently set your tray back into the stack to be washed.

You whirl on your heel. Shit, did you fuck up? Ruin everything? Your mind runs through every interaction over the course of the night - every comment, every stilted moment. “Y-yes, sir?”

“Need you as a Companion.” He stands in front of you, the pinstripes of his suit warping over his massive crossed arms. The wrinkle in his nose makes his mustache twitch.

“C-companion!” You squeak. “I’m not-“

“We had a call out. Need you to take the private booth in the back.”

Your eyes are saucers - heart beating so hard you almost can’t hear his words. You don’t know what to make of this. His words are harsh and cut right though you, but the prospect they hold…

“You paying attention?” He grunts.

Your voice shakes. “Just… why me?”

“You match their preference.” Its blunt. Uncaring. Not that you would ever expect much sympathy from the owner of a place like this - feeding girls to vampires and their kin.

Generally, you’re not the type to be preferred - too big and soft for most. It’s what kept you as a server exclusively, you’re sure. Companion is such a major step up, too. You haven’t had any training. You never thought you’d get there - only a few girls make it from Server to Companion. To have it by happenstance…

With a deep breath you remind yourself that this is temporary. Just for tonight. You are acting as a replacement, nothing more. If you pull this off maybe you’ll get enough tips to finally replace the air filtration in your apartment. Maybe you can even get an overhead UV light. Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely!

Another tray is shoved into your hands. Is this… actual gold? Ornate designs line the outer rim - all weaving in and out of each other inlaid with iridescent mother of pearl. It’s cold on your hands and so shiny you catch your reflection in it before the bartender sets a bottle of wine and four glasses on it. You’re fairly certain between the wine and the tray you are holding upwards of four thousand dollars a in your hands. It takes everything to keep your hands from trembling.

You slowly head for the back booth - just beyond the main floor of the bar. It’s far more quiet here. The music from the floor muffled by distance. There are only a few private booths and they are only ever occupied by the city’s elite. The top of the top. You pause at the heavy, velvet burgundy curtain separating you and your clients for tonight. They could be anyone.

You hope they aren’t the type to get rough.

Balancing the tray on one hand, you use the other the push the heavy curtain to the side - entire body alert and tense as your eyes land on the four men sitting around the rounded booth. Their eyes meet yours, and you freeze. A shiver runs down your spine.

They’re beautiful in that way only vampires can be. Untouchable. Marble-esque. Eyes clear and bright even in the low light of the booth - that sheen of night vision apparent. Lions staring down their prey and you, who walked into the den willingly.

“Good evening.” It takes everything to keep your voice steady. To slip back into that comfortable customer service headspace you’ve curated over the years. “I’ll be your Companion tonight.”

“What happened t’ Cherry?” The man on the outer right side of the booth asks. His arm is slung carelessly over the back of the booth, body slack and comfortable.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You say softly, carefully sliding the tray onto the table. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” A man with an imperial beard smiles. It softens his face - makes him look less like stone. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” You murmur. It’s your chosen work name - based on a song your mother used to play from a century ago. One of your earliest memories is her lifting you into her arms and spinning around to the song. All the workers names are single words. Easy to remember. Easy to request for returning quests.

“Fittin’.” The man to your left grins, bright blue eyes sparkling. His fangs catch the light - your hands tremble for a brief moment.

“Do you know who we are?” The masked man beside him asks. His voice rumbles through your nerves, all the way into your bones. You can hardly look at him - the skull covering the top half of his face makes your gut churn.

Should you know them? Oh, fuck, you probably should. Vampires live forever - their names and legacies travel across centuries. Millenia. It’s going to give you away. You’re just a low class human from the slums. You don’t know Vampires from the uppers.

The illusion of luxury only goes so far.

“It’s not a trick question.” The man to your right smiles gently, tilting his head to the side.

“No, sir.”

“Well,” The one with the beard sits a little straighter. “I’m John Price and these are my… confidants. Cohorts. Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish and Simon Riley.” He gestures to each as he goes.

John Price… John Price… Nothing comes to mind. Nothing about any of them, for that matter.

“Lovely to meet you.” You smile pleasantly, slipping back into the script. Swallowing roughly and steadying yourself, you reach for the bottle and slowly pouring a tester amount into the four glasses. “Tonight we have a vintage red from 2089.”

John hums, swirling the glass before taking a sip. His eyes glow in the low bar light. “You remember the 80’s, Simon?”

“Which one?” The makes you pause. How many 80’s could there be?

John laughs, whole and hearty. Little crows feet appear in the corners of his eyes. “Which d’you think?”

“I remember the blood.” The masked man mutters. He doesn’t look at John - dark eyes locked on you. You keep up the well trained smile. Neutral, comfortable.

“Och, ye would.” Johnny scoffs, taking his own glass after John gives you a nod to fill the four properly. “Cannae ever remember the good.”

“Well what’s your finest memory then Johnny?”

“There’s was this lass… think her name was Cassandra. Had the biggest tits and-“

“Enough of that. Theres a lady present.” John waves his hand. To your surprise, Johnny actually listens despite looking muffed about it. You can’t help but snort. Lady. As if.

How old are they, anyway? They look young - especially Johnny and Kyle. Definitely below thirty when they were turned. John obviously leads but that doesn’t necessarily mean he turned the rest of them. They could have just come together over the years. Vampire covens vary heavily as to why they came together. Sometimes friendship, sometimes relation, sometimes just convenience.

Simon is still staring you down, hooking a thumb under his mask to raise it just over the end of his nose. Scarred lips sip from his glass.

“Come sit, luv.” Kyle pats the booth beside him.

You snap out of your thoughts at the prompt - moving to sit in the empty spot beside Kyle. The next thing you know hands are on your hips, passing you over until you’re sat square in the middle as if you weigh nothing. You know vampires are strong - you’ve gotten thrown around by your fair share in the slums, whether a mugging or fucking - but it still startles you. They could crush you with barely a flick of the wrist.

Fingers brush over your shoulders, tracing the shape of them before lowering to rest between your exposed shoulder blades. They’re cold and leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Tell us about yourself, hm?” John prompts.

“Oh, not much to tell.” You shrug and smile. “I’m from the city. Started here about a year ago-“

“How have we never seen ye then?” Johnny interrupts, eyes locked on your chest. “A bonnie thing like ye…”

“Well…” You raise your hand to your mouth like you would when whispering a secret. “I’m not supposed to tell but I’m actually a server, normally.”

“Oh, really?” Kyle leans his chin on his palm. “In a dress like that?”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” You huff, letting the pliant facade slip just enough to make yourself seem real. Just a little less doll like before you return to the script.

“Absolutely nothin’.” Simon hums beside you, eyes near black under the shadow of his mask.

Your face heats. Client compliments never get to you and you’re not sure what about his feels so different. All of their attention is so intense. It dives under your skin and burrows deep in your marrow.

“So, seeing as you implied I should know who you are-“ You tilt your head and meeting John’s eye, “who are you?”

John chuckles, leaning close. “Oh, no one important. Contractors. Independently employed.”

“Ah, so, criminals.” You laugh.

“If you say so.”

“I can’t exactly judge.” You lean in as well, shoulder pressing against his broad chest. The material of his suit is soft and thick. High quality. “I mean, look where I am, hm?”

“Are ye a criminal, lassie?” Johnny grins at you, tilting his head. How he makes a mo-hawk cute is beyond you.

“Shh.” You press a finger to your lips.

It’s easy enough to look sultry, to play the part, to mindlessly flirt. Easy enough to fall into the simple back and forth. Scripted. Basic. Nothing out of the ordinary. They’re just clients at the end of the day, even if they have more money and power than your usual crowd.

You carefully refill each of their glasses. You can feel their eyes on you - boring through your very being. It takes more concentration than you’d like to keep your breath from hitching when John’s hand rests on your upper thigh. You lean forward, pushing each glass back to their respective owners.

Johnny takes your hand before you can retract it, placing gentle kisses from your palm to your wrist. He sighs shakily, teeth catching your skin ever so slightly.

“Johnny.” The masked man rumbles in warning.

“Not gonnae bite, LT… she just smells incredible.” Johnny murmurs against your wrist.

“Have you ever been bitten, dove?” John asks, eyes half lidded as he stares you down. That feeling comes back.

Prey. You’re just prey.

“N-no…” You shake your head, voice smaller than you’d like. You’re not supposed to. Clients aren’t allowed to bite the girls here - it’s not one of those clubs - but in reality you’re at your mercy. To book one of these rooms they surely have the money to pay whoever necessary to do whatever they might want with you.

“Donnae look so afraid.” Johnny chuckles.

“We’re not goin’ t’bite.” Kyle leans forward. “Just curious.”

“Oh…” You whisper. Johnny drops your wrist and you pray that they don’t notice how quickly you retract it.

“Alright boys, time for business.” John sighs. He suddenly grabs your chin, turning you to face him. It’s a light touch, not too rough but solid. His pupils dilate and yours with them. “You’ll forget everything we say from now until I snap my fingers.”

The next thing you know you’re blinking blearily, sitting in John’s lap with your legs across Kyle’s. The younger man’s hand rests on your leg, thumb gently stroking your ankle as you come back to sentience.

It’s like coming up from the undertow and getting your first gasp of air.

“There she is.” Johnny murmurs, smiling softly.

You were compelled - you know that much. It’s disorienting. You rub the corner of your eye, purposefully evening your breath. At least your clothes are all still in place. You don’t feel… touched. Not bitten either. A choked sigh escapes you against your will, hands trembling in your lap.

“You’re alright, dove.” John coos, cold breath puffing against your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. How much time has passed? When… what… “Can be hard t’come out of it, hm?”

“I’m okay...” You whisper.

“Have some water.” Kyle pushes a glass toward you. The concern on his face feels foreign.

A large, empty decanter of scotch sits in the center of the table accompanied by several empty glasses. That’s the closest hint you have to how long you’ve been here. You take the glass of water shakily and sip, leaving an imprint of red lipstick on the rim.

John continues to coo and soothe down your hair. His other hand travels down to rest on your hip, holding you in place against him. It’s strange… this feeling. You’ve been compelled before briefly but it wasn’t like this. John has to be strong. Old. He’s been around a while to have that kind of power - for it to be this difficult for you to come out of the haze. It’s taking more concentration to keep from crying than you’d like.

Stranger, though, is the way they watch you. The way John works you back to reality. Most vampires would have been inappropriate while you were gone, wouldn’t bother with the borderline aftercare needed when coming out from under their spell. Most would have left you slumped in the booth - drained of blood and pleasure - laughing as they went.

You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter and gathering your wits. “Can I get you gentleman anything else?”

They share a look, one that you can’t quite interpret.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” John asks, voice low.

You look up at him with big eyes. Childlike, almost, staring up in wonder. It’s so strange how vampires aren’t quite white - they just lack the redness of life. The pink under the skin that signifies a beating heart and limited life span.

“I’m sure.”

John presses closer, breath caressing the shell of your ear. “Thank you for being so gracious f’us, tonight.

“Always…” There’s an honestly behind the word that startles you. A craving deep in your bones to prove yourself worthy of him and his men.

Strange.

“We best be on our way.” Simon rumbles, prompting Johnny to let him out of the booth.

John’s eyes flick between yours briefly before he moves you off of his lap with the gentle touch one might use when handling fine china. As much as you want to stay there, dazed and still coming down, you have work to do. So, you stand after them and begin slowly gathering the empty glasses on the tray. They feel heavier in your hand the normal.

A cold touch runs up your back and you freeze. Fingers trace the curve of your spine. You straighten, turning slowly only to meet those soft blue eyes again. John takes your hand, eyes alight with something you don’t understand. “I’ll tell the owner he’s wasting you as a servin’ girl. You’re made for more.”

Before you can even possibly decide how to respond, he’s gone. Disappeared through the curtain and into the forever night. Something crinkles in your hand. When you look down, slowly opening your fingers, the contents make your heart jump into your throat.

Cash. A massive roll of neatly banded cash.

How much is this? A thousand? More?

With frightened eyes and slippery hands you tuck the cash into the secret pocket of your coat. Having that much cash on your person is so out of your wheelhouse - out of the realm of possibility- you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t even get to say thank you.

Your mind whirls as you finish up your shift, eyes glazed over while slipping on your coat. The other girls look off put. A few whisper and stare.

What do they think you did?

Then again, you think as you brace yourself for the lurching and squealing of the metro, there isn’t any way to know what happened. Not unless one of the vampires tells you, and good luck prying any information out of one of them. Even if they tell you, they can just make you forget all over again.

How did you behave? Were you the same as always? Were you an entirely different person?

Some people forget themselves when under compulsion - every inhibition thrown to the wind carelessly. You need your inhibitions. They keep your job secure and yourself safe. You can’t afford carelessness.

The walk back home is tense. That small bulk in your pocket burns a hole though you as your mind runs with every possibility of what might have happened. What you might have done to earn such a massive tip. It can’t have been dignified, could it?

There’s no way they just like you. That’s not how vampires are.

It takes everything to motivate yourself to actually take off your clothing and jewelry before falling into bed. However long they had you, it drained you. Left you tired and shaky as you crawl under the thick bundle of quilts that make up for the lack of heating in your home.

Your eyes meet the wad of cash that barely fit in the inner pocket of your coat. It feels like a threat. Use me well or lose me forever! Make me count because you’ll never see me again!

For now, at least, you can bask in it.

[pretzel-box]

Idea for a reverse au fic?

Reader gets flashed by a passing Expendable. How would Sebastian (and reader) take it?

REVERSE AU MASTERLIST HERE

PART 6: RIGHT IN SIGHT

Tags: Light jokes, some action, reader and seb encountering a possible enemy

Words: 1,6k

The sterile, metallic halls of the Hadal Blackside stretched out before you and Sebastian as the two of you moved quietly, scavenging for any useful supplies. Despite the ominous setting, the atmosphere between the two of you was light and carefree as always. You tossed jokes back and forth between each other, your banter echoing softly in the cold, dimly lit corridor. It was rare to get moments like this, where the tension of your reality seemed to melt away and you could focus on the cute human right by your side.

“Look, if we don’t find any decent scrap soon, I’m just gonna start decorating our hideout with broken tech. Really give it that ‘desperate survivor’ vibe,” Sebastian quipped, a grin on his face as he glanced over at you. He liked to impress you with his crappy jokes, taking in the way your expression shifts every single time into one of laugher and joy.

You chuckled, your claws lightly tapping against the floor as you sifted through some debris. “Well, at least if we don’t find anything, we can hang up your terrible sense of humor for decoration.”

He shot you a mock-offended look, not expecting such a good comeback. “Wow. Harsh. And here I thought I was your favorite human.”

You smirked, glancing over at him, your sharp, artificial eyes glowing faintly in the low light. “Well, you are my only human, Seb. That makes you both the best and the worst.”

Sebastian laughed, his voice warm, and for a moment, the cold, underwater world around you felt a little less hostile. It was moments like this that reminded you why you stuck together, why despite all the dangers, you and Sebastian had found a strange, unbreakable bond in this twisted place. Human and experiment—survivors, somehow managing to hold onto something normal in the midst of the chaos.

As you continued searching, something caught your attention—a small device partially buried beneath a pile of broken tech. You crouched down, pulling it free and inspecting it. “Hey, think this could be useful?” you asked, holding it up for Sebastian to see.

He moved closer, studying it for a moment. “Maybe. Could be some old keycard or part of another similar thing. We can figure it out back at the shop.” He grinned again, leaning in just a little too close. “Or, you know, it could just be more junk for your decorating project.” His words hitting your ears, giving you a small shiver down your back, one of the good kind.

Before you could retort, a sudden flash of light exploded in the hallway, blinding you instantly. The sharp, searing brightness hit your sensors like a sledgehammer, causing you to stagger back with a sharp cry. You instinctively raised your arms to shield your face, but it was too late—the damage was done.

“Shit!” Sebastian cursed, his voice suddenly serious, filled with panic. He grabbed your arm, trying to steady you. “Hold on, I’ve got you—”

The flash beacon. You knew the feeling all too well. It was a device designed to disable experiments like you, to overload your optical systems and incapacitate you. Your vision flickered wildly, and the surge of light made your entire body feel disoriented, unstable. Whoever it was—they knew exactly how to neutralize you.

“Seb…” you rasped, struggling to regain control of your vision, but it was hard to focus, hard to even stand with your lack of balance. Your body felt like it was shutting down, forced into a state of emergency reboot.

Sebastian tightened his grip on your arm, his eyes darting around the hallway as he scanned for whoever had used the beacon. “Stay with me, okay? Don’t worry. We’re getting out of here,” he said, his voice full of determination. He quickly crouched, grabbing a piece of scrap metal as a makeshift weapon.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and you both knew that whoever was behind the attack was getting closer. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down, but you couldn’t help but curse internally—this was supposed to be a routine scavenging trip. A fun, light-hearted break from the usual dangers.

But now, everything had turned dangerous.

“Can you move?” Sebastian asked urgently, his arm slipping around your waist to help you stand.

You groaned, trying to focus through the buzzing in your head. “Yeah... I think so. Just... need a second.”

“We don’t have a second,” he muttered, glancing down the corridor again, his expression grim.

With Sebastian’s support, you managed to take a shaky step, but your body still felt off, uncooperative. It was taking longer than usual to recover, and the frustration gnawed at you. You were supposed to protect him, not the other way around.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though your voice was shaky, the lie obvious. “Let’s just... get out of here.”

But before either of you could move, another blinding light filled the hallway. You felt Sebastian’s body tense beside you, and through your still-fragmented vision, you could see the silhouette of a figure approaching—whoever they were, they were armed, and they weren’t here to help.

“Stay behind me,” Sebastian whispered, his voice low and tense.

Even in your weakened state, you couldn’t stand the idea of Sebastian putting himself in harm’s way for you. You were the experiment, the one designed to handle danger, not him. But as the figure drew closer, you realized that this time, it wasn’t going to be so easy.

“Seb...” you started, but before you could say anything more, a sound filled the hallway and three red dots pointed at you—a turret, aimed directly at the two of you.

The moment the turret whirred to life, its mechanical sound sent a jolt of adrenaline through your systems. The barrel locked onto you and Sebastian, a low hum signaling that it was ready to fire.

"Seb, get behind me!" you shouted, your voice cutting through the chaos.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate, ducking behind a pile of debris as you moved toward the turret. You felt your senses returning bit by bit, the effects of the flash beacon still present but waning. The danger of the turret, however, forced your mind into sharp focus.

The mysterious figure, cloaked in shadows, smirked before glancing up at the vent near the floor. They were quick, nimble, and clearly had the upper hand in this situation. You knew they were planning to escape, but you couldn’t focus on them right now—not with the turret locked onto you both.

The turret's motor clicked, and you heard it ready to fire. You dove behind a nearby crate as it began unleashing a barrage of bullets, pinging off the walls and scattering bits of metal everywhere.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath. You peeked out from behind the crate, your eyes locking onto the base of the turret. You could see it—a control panel just beneath the rotating barrel. If you could just reach it, you might be able to disable the turret before it turned Sebastian or you into scrap metal.

“I’ll cover you!” Sebastian shouted, grabbing a nearby chunk of debris and tossing it toward the turret. It clanged off the barrel, momentarily redirecting its attention.

Now’s your chance.

You launched yourself out from behind the crate, hurrying toward the turret as it recalibrated its aim. The whir of the barrel grew louder, and you could feel the heat of the bullets whizzing past you, narrowly missing as you zigzagged toward the base. Your claws dug into the ground as you slid to the control panel, your fingers immediately working to pry it open.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the figure climbing into the vent, the grating pulled aside. They paused for a split second, glancing back at you and Sebastian, a look of triumph in their eyes. Then, with one swift movement, they disappeared into the vent, the cover sliding back into place.

“No time to worry about them now,” you growled, focusing on the control panel in front of you. The wires were a mess of colors, tangled and confusing, but you didn’t have the luxury of being careful. The turret’s barrel shifted again, locking back onto you, and you knew you had seconds before it would fire.

With a sharp inhale, you jammed your claw into the circuitry, pulling a handful of wires free. Sparks flew, and for a moment, the turret seemed to stall. Its motor whirred in confusion, the barrel twitching as if trying to re-engage its targeting system. You ripped another cluster of wires loose, praying you hit the right ones.

Suddenly, the turret powered down with a groan, the barrel slumping to the side as its lights blinked out. The hallway fell into a heavy silence, the echo of the gunfire still lingering in your ears.

You exhaled in relief, leaning back against the wall as your systems tried to calm down from the sudden burst of activity.

Sebastian emerged from behind the debris, wide-eyed and impressed. “Holy crap, you did it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead. “But they got away.”

Sebastian glanced up at the vent, frowning. “Figures. Whoever they were, they knew this place too well. But I’m not worried about them right now.”

He crouched down next to you, his expression softening. “You alright? That was a close one.”

You managed a tired grin. “Takes more than a turret to take me down. But I must admit, I was almost as pierced as a slice of cheese.”

He chuckled, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “Good to know. Let’s just hope there aren’t more surprises like that waiting for us. Also…a cute slice of cheese.”

The compliment made you break into a smile despite the thoughts in your head.

As you both stood and began to gather yourselves, you couldn’t shake the lingering thought of the figure who had escaped. They were fast, resourceful, and clearly knew how to navigate the facility. But right now, your priority was survival.

[probablyasocialecologist]

If Plan Dalet was a settler-colonial script for the destruction of Palestine from 1948 onwards, it was preceded by – and had its conditions of existence in – the imperialist vision of an entity imposed on the land of Palestine for the protection of the interests of the core: access to raw materials and markets, prevention of subversive projects, buffer zones and counterweights against more distant rivals. In 1840, it was cotton, Muhammed Ali and Tsarist Russia. 127 years later, when the occupation was completed, it was petroleum, third world liberation and the Soviet Union. We are dealing here with an exceedingly deep structure, not an event or two; a ratcheting up and escalation across two centuries, a worsening and intensification of patterns first developed in the early nineteenth – also, not coincidentally, the temporal form of global warming itself. I have pointed very quickly and superficially to three further pivotal moments of articulation. In 1917 and after, the British occupation of Palestine was part of the transformation of the Middle East into a foundation for fossil capital, by dint of its oil resources. In 1947 and after, Western support for the new Zionist state was informed by the consummation of that order; in 1967 and after, by its defence. The steps along the way to the destruction of Palestine were simultaneously steps along the way to that of the Earth.

[...]

The destruction of Gaza is executed by tanks and fighter jets pouring out their projectiles over the land: the Merkavas and the F-16s sending their hellfire over the Palestinians, the rockets and bombs that turn everything into rubble – but only after the explosive force of fossil fuel combustion has put them on the right trajectory. All these military vehicles run on petroleum. So do the supply flights from the US, the Boeings that ferry the missiles over the permanent airbridge. An early, provisional, conservative analysis found that emissions caused during the first 60 days of the war equalled annual emissions of between 20 and 33 low-emitting countries: a sudden spike, a plume of CO2 rising over the debris of Gaza. If I repeat the point here, it is because the cycle is self-repeating, only growing in scale and size: Western forces pulverise the living quarters of Palestine by mobilising the boundless capacity for destruction only fossil fuels can give.

[andejoe]

What do you think would happen if humans are the only species that believes in luck.

What if aliens never correlated crossing fingers, walking under ladders, seeing melanistic felines, as things that can affect an outcome of a project (or life's) success? What if humans are the only ones who believe in that kind of stuff?

Even non-superstitious humans cross their fingers for good luck, just because that's what you do.

Human right before they're doing something dangerous: Cross your fingers.

Alien: *visibly confused*

Brall headed down the corridor, stepping lightly around the larger debris. The corridor was still under construction after last weeks’ earthquake shook loose a ‘hobby room’ the humans had installed against regulation and without permission. How the humans managed to get weighted iron bars as tall as they were onto the base was impressive in itself, how they managed to get them into the crawl space in between floors was even more so.

“Stop!”

Brall froze, a quick response he learned after being around humans for so long. He saw no danger, no problems, or any reason for his quick change. He turned around to face the human who’d called for him.

“Why can i not continue down the corridor?”

Thane was moving quickly towards Brall. He was trying to protect Brall from, something.

“The ladder.” Thane grabbed it and lifted. He carried it to one side, collapsing it against the wall. “You can’t walk under ladders.”

“It was sufficiently high enough. I would not have bumped it,” Brall assured him.

Thane shook his head. “No, it’s bad luck.”

Brall wasn’t aware of what luck was, or even the concept of it. He was in a hurry though. “Can you walk with me and explain what ‘bad luck’ is?”

Thane nodded. “Course.”

Brall kept going, but diverted half his attention to the human.

“Luck is an invisible force that can change the outcome of anything regardless of what actions have been taken. You can have good luck or bad luck. Good luck is when things work out for you for no reason. Bad luck is when terrible things happen for no reason.”

“But walking under a ladder causes bad luck?”

“Yes, because you can attract good or bad luck based on what you do. Black cats carry bad luck with them, so if you see one, boom, bad luck. On the other hand, horseshoes are good luck. Bad luck is easier to get though, so you have to be extra careful not to attract it. Good luck is a lot harder to manifest.”

They stepped through the doors and headed for the next building.

“But are humans not known for their preparedness and tenacity? Why would a species believe in mindless chance when they are, well, human. It seems counterintuitive that a species who routinely looks death in the eyes and laughs would allow themselves to fall victim to such a hollow belief.”

They stepped into the next building. It was much smaller, only two rooms large. The first room acted as a barrier to protect the sensitive equipment in the second. Another human, Vikram, stood there waiting for Brall.

Thane frowned. “It’s not a hollow belief. There are things that happen that can’t be explained. Despite everything that is prepped or done, sometimes things happen and people don’t make it. It’s bad luck.”

Vikram laughed. “Dude, stop filling his head with nonsense. Luck isn’t real. It’s a small mind ignoring the butterfly effect. Things happen and just because you don’t know what caused them doesn’t mean nothing caused it. The universe doesn’t have an opinion.”

Brall was now very confused. Thane spoke as if luck was a human constant but Vikram refused it outright.

“Oh yeah?” Thane challenged.

Vikram shrugged. “Yeah. Luck is for dummies.”

“Cool.” Thane nodded. “Then I’ll just go ahead and take the narwhal toy with me then.”

Vikram’s face changed so quickly Brall almost expected to see a weapon appear.

“You touch that narwhal and I’ll snap your finger.”

Brall took a step away from Thane first, distancing himself from the potential danger.

“Ha! Now who’s superstitious?”

Vikram frowned. “I’m not superstitious. But if you move that narwhal then Brall and I won’t be able to fix anything.”

“How does the piece of plastic help us?” Brall asked.

Vikram shrugged. “Don’t know, but it does. So don’t touch it.”

“Brall, if you need any more information about luck, I’ll gladly give you some reference material to look up later. Because at least I’m honest about my beliefs.” Thane left, smirking.

Vikram shook his head. “Alright, let’s just get to work.”

———————

“I still don’t understand why the repairs aren’t holding. We worked out all the bugs.”

Vikram had been complaining for the last ten minutes. Nothing they did was working.

“You didn’t touch anything, did you?” Vikram asked.

Brall couldn’t lie. It was an unknown quirk of he species that humans discovered. So he knew he was caught.

Brall pulled the narwhal from his pocket. “You said luck was not real so I wished to see for myself.”

Vikram lunged for the narwhal, frightening Brall. Brall flicked the toy into the air and jumped backwards. Vikram grabbed the toy with a hunter’s focus and immediately rushed it back to its rightful place.

“I told you not to touch the narwhal!”

Vikram began scolding Brall, but Brall was distracted. All the red, orange, and black indicators were shifting to blue and purple behind Vikram’s back. The human was going on about how personifying the equipment and placating it was important, but Brall was only partially listening.

“It’s working.” Brall was in disbelief. Replacing the toy somehow fixed everything.

Vikram turned and smiled. He exhaled all the pent up stress. “Of course it’s working. We gave the toy back. It’s happy now.”

Brall made the mental note to request the reading material from Thane later.

[styllwaters]

Figured it was time to stop putting it off so here's Kota (his new design, for veterans who remember him). I don't yap about my ocs nearly enough on here so I guess its time to change that

Very basic summary: This guy is a posthuman, the only surviving remnants of humanity in Vivere 44 (I'll make a big updated post for them later). When Earth was destroyed by Genizix the surviving humans were captured and used as test subjects for a digitised consciousness project. They managed to escape in ships, though their physical bodies were no more. Eventually they came across a wormhole and emerged into the Zhagaviit galaxy, where they were given refuge on the Arrow homeplanet of Hanidias.

(Longer backstory under the cut for textwall enjoyers)

EARTH

Kota was a highly successful and well-known astronaut working for Nasa back when earth was still intact. He was driven, determined, a good speaker, and more than prepared to take on any challenge. In his younger years he was a little impulsive and reckless, he liked putting on a show. He strived for the best at all times, and was known for great feats on Earth. He had grown used to the idea of being seen as a prodigy and had high hopes for his future and the future of his daughter. 

Kota pushes himself to the brink at all times, and is not known as someone who gives up easily. During the Genizix-Earth wars, he put himself at the forefront - doing the best he could with others to figure out what to do as Earth was bombarded by the weapons corporation. Though as time went on it became increasingly obvious that Genizix was toying with them and they were doomed from the start. Genizix used the survivors as test subjects for their new project which involved putting consciousnesses into digitized forms, creating the first beta-posthumans.

CAPTURE AND ESCAPE

When Genizix finally reduced Earth to floating space debris humanity was dead meat. Kota and his daughter Elise, who was a computer engineer, sought a way to escape their captors. Together with many other great minds they studied Genizix for months and managed to find a way out of the mothership they were confined to. In the ensuing chaos they lost many, including Elise.

The posthuman survivors escaped in Genizix ships, piloting them through space and trying to get as far as possible from their captors. The loss of Elise broke Kota, who felt responsible for it. This guilt would only grow and intensify as he led the exodus, unsure of where they were even headed. As the de facto 'leader' of the posthuman rebellion he was looked up to and turned into a figurehead of sorts, who shepherded them across the vast nothingness. This responsibility weighed on him like a mountain.

EXODUS

It was a lonely and painful existence, made worse by the fact that many people’s minds couldn’t handle their new digital forms. This is when Entropy began. Biological matter cannot easily be computerised. Many individuals entered what would be termed an Entropic state and ‘malfunctioned’ - they began to mentally deteriorate until there was nothing left of their mind except for snippets; repetition of voice, automatic status notifications placed by Genizix, and ultimately all functions shutting down.

Eventually the deterioration would get to a point where there was nothing but radio silence and the spacecraft would cease to move, lights permanently flickering out. There was nothing that could be done, even as they kept sending distress signals with no response. They were lightyears away from any other civilization that could possibly help them. For a while they were free floating with no direction, dropping off one by one, in the endless vacuum of space. All they could do to keep each other sane was to keep talking to one another.

CONTACT

They traveled for years until they came across a wormhole, and under Kota’s command they entered it with the hope that on the other side there would be salvation. It was an extremely risky and desperate move, but at this point they were willing to try anything. The fleet, which by now was less than half its original population, emerged on the other side into the Zhagaviit galaxy before the wormhole collapsed, alive but with damaged machinery. The first species that made contact with them were the Arrows, and like the other Zhagaviit sophonts they were a civilization recovering from their own war with Genizix.

First Light, an Arrow who was modified by Genizix as a weapon, saved Kota in more ways than one. It took a long time for him to warm up to the Arrows, having the worst possible experience with extraterrestrial first contact. He was guarded, distrustful, and hypervigilant. It took multiple days for him to work up the courage to leave his ship and transfer his consciousness to another medium - the blue c-particles which would house human consciousness from that point on. After gentle coaxing from Light, he began to open up. They shared their experiences, and bonded over them. Seeing Light, who was just as damaged as he was despite their differences - yet still able to smile, and laugh, and hope for a better future, gave him the encouragement to keep going. Kota distracted himself with work, figuring out accommodations for humanity on Hanidias and learning about Arrows. Eventually he and First Light joined the Beacon as ambassadors and diplomats for the Zhagaviit Galactic Community.

[northern-passage]

No Pride with Genocide!

You have probably seen the grotesque images of jubilant Israeli soldiers holding the pride flag on top of our scorched Gazan lands infiltrating social media feeds last week. The Israel State cynically publishes on its Twitter account, “The first ever pride flag raised in Gaza,” as it proceeds with its genocidal crusade and its concomitant Zionist propaganda campaign. We view these images with immense feelings of frustration and uttermost disgust, and we see through their despicable tactics of weaponizing homophobia and queer violence for colonial means. The following are notes from Queers in Palestine, elaborating on what such imagery tries to accomplish and what underpins their production:

1. Zionist Colonization is Anti-Civilization 

Colonial and Imperial powers have long used their fabricated lies of “civilization,” “rights,” and “democracy” to justify their plunder, military rule, and capitalist accumulation. We learn this from global histories of European colonization across Abya Yala, Asia, Africa, Turtle Island, Aotearoa, and Australia. The Zionist colonization of Palestine is no different. Oftentimes, the pretext of all of these bloodied invasions is that the “civilized” world is invading racialized communities to bring culture, education, and liberalism and instill it in societies it deems barbaric, immoral, and uncivilized. The images of the LGBT flag supposedly claim to bring rights and liberties to Gaza, but unironically, the soldier stands on top of the debris of hopes, dreams, and human remains of Palestinians he himself and the army he serves bombed moments before. The flag merely stands to reaffirm the simulacrum of colonization, death, white supremacy, and destruction. 

2. Israel Erases Palestinian Queerness

The images of the Israel Pride Flag and the other with the text, “In the name of love” send a clear message: Israel will not allow queer liberation unless it’s through its settler-colonial genocidal project. To that, we say No! We queer Palestinians have a vibrant, diverse liberation movement that is part of the Palestinian anti-colonial movement. For decades, we have been tirelessly working on carving up and maintaining a space for Palestinian queer life amongst our communities and not despite them. We are everywhere: in schools, streets, prisons, hospitals, and at the forefront of every confrontation in every corner of Palestine, from the river to the sea. What we are working towards is a Palestine liberated from colonialism, patriarchy, and capitalist exploitation.

3. Queer Opacity in Times of Hypervisibility

In a time when Palestinians are being prosecuted without trial, student movements shut-down and students in universities suspended and detained, and solidarity with Palestine and Palestinians at large are attacked and criminalized, visibility has proven itself to be a frontline of resistance against the erasure of Palestinians worldwide. In Palestine, Israel’s surveillance apparatuses hunt any expression for Palestine’s right to exist as grounds to attack, incarcerate, and murder Palestinian life. This over-fixation on the supposed lack of Palestinian queer visibility steers the attention from Israel’s campaign against all Palestinians – workers, activists, students, feminists, queers, and otherwise. Israel and its allies dangerously decontextualize the violence queers suffer from its historical colonial roots, and dissociate it from the impacts of current settler-colonial violence. This is an attempt to portray Palestinian society as unsafe for queers to legitimize the annihilation of our people, and in turn our annihilation as queers. Under Israel’s surveillance & police state, visibility, opacity and invisibility are survival and resistance tactics we use interchangeably, and aren’t always a matter of choice. None of us is safe under settler-colonization.

4. These Images Endanger Queer People Worldwide

The Pride Flag has long been hijacked and homonationalised. It represents a narrow and limited understanding of gender and sexuality and excludes the myriad of sexualities in the colonized world. This homonationalism renders colonized sexual and gender attitudes illegible to the liberal gaze and forces us to speak a language that compromises our experiences. Under nationalist and colonial regimes, our bodies and sexualities will always be regulated. What the pride flag has come now to represent is a commercial, imperialist, and white supremacist sexual ideologies, and this, in turn, puts us queer people in danger. This homonationalist project hinders our fight against anti-queer violence within our communities because our identities and sexualities are constantly being hijacked by the empires and colonies that brought destruction upon us. We need to reject such associations that only strengthen queerphobia in colonized societies, especially during this time in Arab and Muslim communities, when the soldiers and armies that are destroying our homes and killing our parents, siblings, friends, and children are doing so in the name of LGBT rights. 

5. Colonialism & Empire are Anti-Queerness

In the past, colonial projects sought to eliminate any sex-gender organization systems that fell outside of the European binary patriarchal model of man-woman. We learn this from the British criminalization of the Hijra in South Asia, or British and French social organizing efforts to enforce a binary sex-gender system in Yoruba Land, or Portuguese and Spanish efforts to eliminate “two-spirit” indigenous North Americans – deeming all uncivilized in need of external civilization. This was also the case in Palestine under British-Zionist military occupation, as same-sex relations and other diverse gender practices became criminalized and demonized. All the current laws in Gaza that criminalize queerness are, in fact, British and are upheld by Zionism. However, it becomes evermore absurd that rhetorics of bringing queer liberation to Palestine have been now hijacked by Zionists and, for the most brutal reasons, in service of annihilation of Palestinian life and mass destruction. We, Palestinian queers, position our movement for liberation alongside anti-colonial and anti-racist movements globally, and we stand firmly in objection to any attempt to hijack our movements, or exploit our bodies.

In the name of revolutionary love, a love which fuels our struggle for liberation and yearning for freedom, rooted in our love for our communities and our land; we tell you, there is no pride with genocide, and there is no pride in settler-colonialism.

Our pride can only come through true liberation for all, for us and for all the peoples fighting worldwide.

A Liberatory Demand from Queers in Palestine | Pinkwashing - Decolonize Palestine

[comicaurora]

What other mythological creatures would be fun in space? If the answer is "most of them?", Then limit the scope of the question to what becomes *more* fun in space?

Still "most of them," unfortunately.

Deep in the bowels of a derelict, drifting hulk, so battered with cosmic rays and space debris all sign of its original function have eroded away, something that could have been human roams the labyrinthine halls. Who knows what terrible crime or tragedy spawned it? It is huge, and hungry, and terribly, terribly alone. All anyone knows is that the drifting hulk that screams to the void in a hundred looping distress calls is to be avoided at all costs, for the maze is deadly and its lone prisoner even deadlier.

An enchanting woman knocks on the porthole with a broad smile, hair flowing in beautiful curls and mouth moving soundlessly in the boiling vacuum. She seems unaware of the inch-thick tempered plasteel, or perhaps unaware of its necessity for the mortal and the fragile within. As she stares unblinking, whispers begin to crackle over the ship radio, half-parseable snatches in many voices - surnames, stardates, coordinates. The knowledge is so, so tempting.

The astronaut is standing just outside the airlock. The sun is starting to sink behind the lunar horizon, cutting razor-sharp shadows across the silvery dust. He's been standing, patiently, for over four hours. The crew in the lander are huddled as far away from the door as possible, unconacipusly avoiding the astronaut's cold and vacant bunk. They had buried him, after all, three rotations ago, the special kind of dead you only get after decompression-induced exsanguination. And yet here he stands, looking better than ever, a healthy blush in his cheeks clearly visible without that bulky reflective helmet in the way. His eyes catch the setting sun strangely, almost red.

Space is an ocean, they say; the analogy is imperfect, and yet persistent in its poetry. The seafarers of old coasted along the surface of a vast and unknowable deep and called it sailing, and the spacefarers of the new frontier do the same. They speed between the stars or cut through wormhole gates for the occasional shortcut, skimming the three-dimensional surface of the vast four-dimensional space that wormholes can only tentatively pierce, and they are satisfied. But there are strange shadows in the stars, twisting and slow - distortions that ripple out from the hyperdepth and mostly pass without incident, barring the sensitive instruments left screaming in their wake. Nobody has ever seen the four-dimensional leviathans that cast these three-dimensional shadows. At least, nobody who's come back.

They call it a dragon because it flies and it's the scariest thing they've ever seen. It doesn't do it justice. If anything, trying to give it a familiar name only highlights its horrible uncategorizability. It flies, yes - or at least it undulates through atmosphere, seemingly irrelevant to its own mass. It has a golden hoard and breathes poison and fire, or rather the nuclear furnace that boils in its sinuous belly vomits out great gouts of poison fire that leaves stone and flesh as glassy slag and metals fused into radioactive gold. The land all around its lair is blackened and sick, a vile caldera of strange-colored swampland and twisted, fungal trees. In the absolute terror and devastation of its wake, the colonists fall back on old, bad superstitions and offer it a girl…

The sorcerer took out his heart long ago, they say. This is true, but inadequate. His true body is shattered in closely guarded pieces to protect himself from a total death; the form he presents is only a projection of his will onto and through the nanite colony his machinations spawned, a body crafted by the immortal mind and will of one who sacrificed everything to be deathless. His heart is concealed in a small life support capsule in a long-forgotten laboratory in a satellite orbiting the moon of a quarantined colony world; his nervous system wires itself through the vast, organic computer that has taken the place of the planet's core. Backups of backups of backups, redundancies laced through every stolen system. He knows there was a purpose to this, once; a goal to all this sacrifice beyond a simple extension of life. He will never remember who he wanted this for. To be truly deathless, one cannot have a heart.

It's retroviral, they think. No other form of infection could've rewired her cells this fundamentally. It's irreversible without gene therapy, but at least she isn't deteriorating, they say. At least she's holding together while they look for a treatment. She can feel it, though, no matter what the medic says; sub-cellular or not, she can feel it boiling under her skin, sharpening her teeth, burning out from the site of the bite on her arm. And she can feel, with absolute certainty, the planet's two satellites slowly shifting into opposition with the sun, right through the windowless walls of the quarantine pod. She doesn't know what she'll become when the moons are full, but she doesn't speak her suspicions. A part of her - perhaps even a part that's always been there - is very, very eager to find out.

A colony was here once, a long, long time ago. Terraformed and everything, but those were the early days, before they realized you needed a magnetosphere to keep all that air and water from being wicked away by the solar wind. The loss was so gradual it didn't make sense until over a century later, and there wasn't anything they could do for them long-term - wrong kind of core for a polarization op. They did evac, of course, but the priority was low - and it was centuries deep into social development. Everybody on that world had been born there, and some of them didn't want to leave. Way I hear it, some of them insisted on staying - strongly and violently - and the folks in charge eventually got tired of losing troops in a dessicating backwater that was gonna solve itself in less than a century, so they just fudged the paperwork and washed their hands of the whole thing. It's near airless now - stopped being a viable colony world nigh on thirty years back when the last of the ice vanished. But that's not why we steer clear. We don't land there because the locals didn't have the decency to die right, and it can be damn unsettling to catch their shadows sneaking across the sand. They're drawn to ships, you know? Poor bastards still think they can leave.

[gatitties]

Slippery

─One Punch Man x child!fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: a small part of the beginning of saitama's career as a hero and… you being there to annoy more than help

─Warnings: bad language for a child, typical violence in opm

so… this was going to be another of my fanfics on wattpad but I left it on hold, but I thought I would share here the little that I managed to write 👍🏻

"AHHHHH! A MONSTER!"

"Someone call a hero!"

"Evacuate the area immediately!"

You walked humming, swinging the worn wicker basket you held in your small hand, ignoring the terrified screams of the people, more focused on remembering the things you had to get to eat due to your poor memory and poor ability to pay attention to anything for more than two seconds.

"Bread, meat, milk and cookies."

You mumbled, counting on your fingers at the same time you said the food, you almost tripped over a crack in the asphalt, your attention was stolen when you saw how a small plant came out into the light from the broken cement, you shook your head concentrating on your errand.

"Bread, meat, milk…"

You frowned, putting on a sour expression at the missing ingredient, you continued muttering the now three ingredients to yourself, staring at the ground with such concentration that if you had lasers you would surely have destroyed the asphalt. So focused on remembering what you were missing while you looked down that you didn't realize you hit something hard, someone.

"Hey… aren't you lost, girl? There are monsters out there who like sweet girls like you."

You frowned, looking up to see some kind of monster with no eyes, a big toothy mouth on what seemed to be his face and he was only wearing pants, you made a disgusted face when you saw how he smiled, they always told you not to talk with strangers.

"Bread, meat…"

You began to sweat when the shadow of the monster you had ignored was projected over your smaller body, although your concern was that you had forgotten another of the ingredients again, you didn't even flinch when he lifted your arm a few minutes after you accepted that you would never remember what you had to buy again.

"Don't ignore someone when they talk to you, brat!"

"Shut up, shit, because of you I forgot the purchase."

"Huh!? You have a big mouth for a child, mmh, one of my favorites snacks…"

Your face contorted as you watched his large tongue move from side to side, starting to salivate, and you completely lost your nerve when his tongue grazed your cheek to taste you. You were going to kick him but before you could, the monster stopped, he turned away from you as if you had the plague.

"What the hell!? Bleagh- that's disgusting, you taste sour."

"Heh, die."

"What the hell are you- AAAAAHHHH-!?"

You covered your ears so as not to hear the screams of the idiot who had tried to eat you, if only he had looked closer he would have noticed your pointy ears as well as the small antennae that appeared when he caught you, antennae which you took care of hiding again. The guy's tongue started to melt as if he had licked pure acid, it wasn't really your fault, he was the one who activated your involuntary defense method.

You thought about leaving the area, since people had fled and the store you wanted to go to was just around the corner, but thinking about it again that could only mean one thing… free food! You were already struggling to get the money, either by stealing it or searching in some places where there might be money, you had been living on the streets for as long as you can remember, but it's not like you remember much of it either.

One day you simply woke up in a collapsed building, you were completely intact but covered in a slimy slime that avoided and withstood thousands of debris, how or what happened before that is a mystery to you, the only thing you know is that now you are what that people consider a monster, you don't remember being one before either, so you assumed that at some point you were human.

But you got used to it, that happened about two years ago, when you were eight years old, in that period of time you got used to wandering the streets of city Z, you found several shelters with some friendly monsters, but they always got into trouble and got caught by some hero, luckily you escaped from the social vigilantes because your appearance was still like that of a girl your age, not counting the antennae and pointed ears. For one thing, you learned to hide your antennae, and pointy ears weren't so uncommon in this world.

As for your strange viscosity, it was not a problem unless your body detected danger, if that were to happen ─like now─ your body would react immediately, covering you in that acidic and strangely hard slime when you tried to hit it, as if was a non-Newtonian fluid, you considered yourself a slippery person because of that, you always managed to escape from all the trouble you got into.

"Let's see… bread… bread and… oh! Pockys!"

Your mind completely forgetting the mental list you made once you entered the empty store, having the palate of a child, your mouth watered at the sight of all the junk food you promised you weren't going to eat, but who cares? You already forgot that promise you made with yourself.

You left a couple of hours later, taking the opportunity to eat and rest there, the night was falling when you walked with a bag of groceries, ─completely different from what you were looking for at first─ you swung your feet while humming, singing a random song in your mind until, for the second time that day you bumped into someone, this time you tripped over your feet, falling on your ass to the ground.

"Oh? What are you doing out so late? We agreed that you had a curfew." you puffed out your cheeks, hugging the shopping bag, looking away as if you were angry with the person in front of you, who turned out to be an acquaintance "Mmhh? Have you gone shopping alone? Don't tell me… have you stolen from my savings again?"

"Of course not! I have my own savings, baldy."

A vein bulged on Saitama's forehead, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt as he dragged you down the street like a scolded puppy, though your brow was furrowed by his accusation ─which could have been true another time─ you smiled inwardly.

Wandering around Z city wasn't as bad as you thought, at least not since a couple of months ago you met a man who had a bald spot brighter than your future, you became attached to him from the first day you saw him for several reasons. One, he didn't seem to care about your appearance as a monster, two, he's bald, you didn't need a justification for this reason, it was simply a plus point in your mind, three, they had a place you could stay the night.

Poor Saitama tried to get rid of you in various ways, but you seemed like a leech, clinging to him whenever you could, and deep down in his heart, he felt sorry for a child having to wander the cold streets without something to call 'home' or 'family', even though with each passing day he lost more ability to feel emotions, he was still human, and he thought that maybe some company wouldn't hurt, of course, he was grateful that you were completely independent of him most of it.

"And then I ran into a fucking ugly-as-a-bit monster-"

"Hey, hey! What did I tell you about using that language?!" Saitama choked on his ramen as he listened to you talk about what you had been doing while walking the streets, scolding you one of many times for using those types of expressions or words that someone your age shouldn't be using "Have you been watching that show again? I told you it was for older people."

"No I don't-"

Before you could continue speaking, you burped, making Saitama step back, looking at you with narrowed eyes, you clicked your tongue, pouting because you had been discovered, Saitama discovered that whenever you lie your stomach fills with gas and it usually comes out in the form of belch, there had to be something bad with being a monster.

You got up when you noticed how Saitama was stirring on his futon, looking amused at how he seemed to fight in his dreams, you decided to leave him to go back to sleep but your stomach growled, leaving sleep aside you went to the kitchen, grabbing a stool to reach the drawer where he told you that you could leave your food.

You returned to the living room to find that he had already woken up from his exciting dream, hitting the clock that went flying, shattering against the wall, voices outside the building made Saitama spring into action, jumping off the balcony looking excited as you picked up the remains of the poor watch.

"And there goes the fifth clock of the week… rest in peace."

You mumbled, closing the trash can, making a mental note to get another alarm clock at some point, if you don't forget, returning to see a Saitama completely devastated emotionally by another easily won battle, you patted him on the back to comfort him, he went to do his morning routine while you turned on the TV, hoping to find a good show.

After a while, you saw that Saitama seemed focused on watering the plants on the balcony, taking advantage of the fact that he seemed quite focused on his thoughts, you smiled maliciously, tuning into the program that you were forbidden to watch.

"What sons of bitches…"

"They've killed Kenny!"

You spent a while watching the program, even though you barely understood the jokes, or even the meaning of most of the words, but you were only doing it for educational purposes, knowledge is power and you needed to know more words to have a rigorous vocabulary, so even though you contradictorily only repeated the insults without knowing their true meaning or impact.

"Hey little bug…" you froze feeling the anger emanating from Saitama's body, you slowly turned your head with sweat running down your cheek, used to the man giving you the nickname 'little bug' because of your antennae "pass me the spray of mosquitoes, I don't know where I put it and I'm starting to get angry."

His teeth gnashed as he heard the sound of a mosquito fluttering around the living room. You ran for the spray, sighing in relief that he hadn't noticed the TV show which you quickly switched to the news, the anchor's voice covering the noise Saitama did when trying to kill the mosquito, although he was equally attentive to the television.

"Massive mosquito plague? Yeah of course."

You shrugged, you didn't care about the mosquitoes, after all you could eat them if they were too annoying, of course, unfortunately you partially lost your taste by turning into a monster, which bothered you a little but made it so you could eat any kind of thing, not only because you wouldn't feel the horrible taste, but because your gastric juices could melt anything.

You paid more attention to how there were more and more veins on Saitama's forehead when you saw that he couldn't catch the mosquito, you let out a snort of surprise when you saw how he was unable to kill the mosquito, you rolled your eyes, getting up from the couch.

"Watch and learn!" you patted the space right where that insect was, smiling proudly when you saw that the buzzing stopped, however just a second later your smile was erased "Huh?"

Once again the persistent hum echoed through the silent house, which became a battlefield to try to kill that small animal, you reached the point where you were not able to kill it either, getting on your nerves just like Saitama, so pissed off that you even went running down the street chasing it to kill it, although the only one who ran was Saitama, since you climbed on his shoulders while pointing and shouting at the fleeing mosquito.

However, while he concentrated on continuing to run after the insect, your eyes moved upwards, seeing a large black cloud, you grimaced in disgust as you heard the humming sound emanating from there.

"What is that cloud?"

The bald man stopped as he finally noticed the large black mass in the sky, your attention now directed towards what seemed to be a robot that was already there before, his expression was serious and analytical, he spoke with a bit of concern seeping into his words.

"You! hide somewhere safe, the mosquitoes are being controlled by someone, if she sees you I'm sure she will attack you."

"Oh Really…?"

Saitama sweated at the thought of the swarm, but before neither you nor he could react, the large mass of insects rushed towards the street where you were, however a great flash made you close your eyes, your body was covered in slime, although you slid off the man's shoulders because you had no hair to hold on to, ending up on the ground, admiring the robot's heroic pose, although your attention went elsewhere when you went to check if Saitama was okay, you stifled a laugh at the sight of his buttocks exposed.

"Hey, you saved me, you're great! how did you do that? Your laser is more effective against mosquitoes than the sprays I have."

The cyborg did not have time to say anything when he began to be attacked by the mosquito girl, almost destroying the poor boy until Saitama slapped the woman, killing her instantly, complaining about how the mosquitoes bothered him, leaving speechless to the blonde.

"W-Wait a minute!" you raised an eyebrow while Saitama turned his head to see what was left of the poor boy who continued talking "I'm a cyborg, I've been fighting in the name of justice! They call me Genos! Please tell me your name."

"Huh? I am Saitama why?"

"Let me be your disciple!"

"Ah… ok."

You put on a blank expression when you saw how the bald man left as if nothing had happened, stopping for a moment to see if you would follow him to return home, you sighed, shaking your head at his attitude, you knew that he had not heard anything of the cyborg's words, you already knew how was this going to end.

"Goodbye Genos, see you at home!"

You smiled at the boy, who seemed conflicted at the sight of you, his system detecting you as a monster but arguing with himself over the fact that you looked like someone harmless. He would have to look into it later, after all he wanted to eradicate evil and if you were, you couldn't be an exception.

You hid a smile as you saw how the young adult showed up at the apartment, Saitama in disbelief as he looked through the half-open door.

"Master."

"You really came… um, what's your name?"

"It's Genos, Master Saitama."

"Could you stop calling me master?"

"Teacher!"

"Don't call me that either…"

Saitama looked down at you, looking for silent help, you looked at him with a shrug, making him sigh completely exhausted, he opened the door letting the cyborg in, you smiled at his action, running towards the kitchen to grab three cups of tea, the two boys following you inside, Saitama pouring the tea into the cups while Genos analyzed his surroundings, glancing at you from time to time.

"Go home when you finish your tea, I don't want any disciples."

"Master, what kind of artificial parts do you use?"

"I don't use any."

"Huh? So what's that skin-colored armor on your head?"

You spit out the tea you were drinking, choking on laughter, coughing uncontrollably as Saitama patted your back with a blank stare.

"It's called skin…"

"But that means that you are bald even though you are young."

You spit out the drink again, choking for the second time, receiving more pats on the back a little more aggressively for Saitama's outburst at the mention of his baldness.

"So what if I'm bald?! What's your problem anyway?"

"My problem? Will you listen to me master?"

"Uh, no thanks."

Ignoring the lack of enthusiasm to hear his tortuous past, Genos gave a long sigh, beginning to tell his story, you tried to pay attention but halfway through the story your attention simply went elsewhere, ignoring his words until he was interrupted.

"You talk a lot! Summarize everything you have to say in a short sentence of about ten words maximum, you can't even get a child to pay attention to you."

Saitama pointed at you, completely oblivious to their chatter as you had grabbed some Legos to entertain yourself from Genos' boring story, the cyborg analyzed the situation, taking a few seconds with his eyes closed until he seemed to get the appropriate internal response.

"Master, summarizing this, what I want to say, please teach me how to become as strong as you."

"Genos."

"Yes, sir!"

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen, sir."

"You're young… I'm sure you'll surpass me easily."

"Really?"

"I am twenty-five but I started training at twenty-two in the summer three years ago, I have no problem teaching you… but it will be hard, are you ready for this?"

"Yes, sir!"

You blinked in confusion as you saw Genos moving quickly, crouching in the hallway of the small house as he muttered that he detected something approaching at high speed, you thought he was simply having a short circuit or something and continued building your Lego castle, unfortunately a monster shaped of mantis broke the ceiling, causing the pieces of your castle to scatter throughout the room, your antennae came to light due to your anger.

"My name is-"

You smiled as you watched Saitama destroy that monster before it could even introduce itself as some kind of villain.

"Pay my roof!"

"And rebuild my castle!"

You joined the violence by kicking the remains of the mantis corpse, angry at the intrusion that had destroyed your mood, you were prepared to spit acid at whoever had dared to destroy your work of art made of plastic pieces joined together.

"There are more of them outside."

Genos warned, they both left faster than you and when you arrived Saitama had already done all the work, kicking the butt of what seemed to be some frog and slug monsters, you sighed thinking that everything was solved, however something caught Saitama and buried him leaving only his head outside the ground.

"Ma-Master!"

"This feels weird… it's like I'm a plant growing in concrete or something."

You laughed at his comparison, ignoring the worried cyborg you pretended to water the bald man with an imaginary watering can, he smiled vaguely at you, the moment of tranquility was short-lived when a gorilla covered in armor appeared on the scene, without realizing it you were also buried on the ground when you were distracted watching the fight between Genos and the robot gorilla.

"Oh, a kitten."

You muttered carelessly as you saw how another Lion-shaped monster threatened Saitama with ripping his eyes out of their sockets, you also watched as a mole came out of the ground, probably the culprit for both of you being with your body underground. You enjoyed the strange sensation while the other two fought, almost falling asleep because of how comfortable it was, unfortunately Saitama and Genos finished off the enemies too quickly.

"Hey, can you get out of there alone? We are going to resolve some issues with a weird scientist."

"Yes, don't worry, can I go with you?"

The two looked at each other and shrugged, Genos did a quick analysis of your constants and abilities now that he could see your true form and knew that you would have no problem defending yourself, Saitama already knew that you were completely self-sufficient on your own. You took their indifference as an affirmation and covered your body in slime so you could better get out of the place where you were buried so you could go to that scientist's base.

After a brief interrogation of the robot gorilla, a few threats here and there to summarize the backstory of this whole situation, the boys got the exact location of that scientist called Doctor Genus. You climbed onto Genos' shoulders because at least you could hold on to his hair if you fell, it didn't take you long to reach that base of operations in the middle of the forest, although the cyborg destroyed the entire building as soon as he arrived.

"Dude, what are you doing so suddenly?"

"I found this most efficient way to eliminate them in one fell swoop."

"Yeah, well, but at least you could have given them the opportunity to try something…"

You nodded at Saitama's words, also because you felt like kicking someone's ass for destroying your Lego castle. You found a trapdoor in the floor that led to some underground tunnels and you entered without thinking twice. Your antennas began to move restlessly and the lights in the hallway began to go out while heavy, fast footsteps were heard getting closer. When you focused your sight, you saw a large beetle? With a guy in his hand, he was advancing towards you at full speed, although both you and Genos were pushed aside with a big slap.

"How rude, oh is this your right leg or your left?"

You whined even though your slime kept you from getting hurt, you were trying to pull the cyborg out of the wall but you accidentally ripped off his leg by pulling on it, his joints were twisted at painful angles if he were human, you put everything back together in place and you immediately went to the room where Saitama and the beetle were going to fight, but you couldn't care less, you knew what was going to happen so you decided to take a walk around the huge basement.

You didn't find anything really entertaining, at least not something that managed to hold your attention for more than a minute, except for a simple lava lamp that you found in a kind of bedroom, you stopped to look at the different experiments briefly and simply went back and hoping that they had ended the fight once and for all, you were beginning to feel tired and wanted to sleep if possible in a comfortable place.

"What the hell…?"

You muttered with a blank expression as you saw Genos' afro hair and how Saitama was being beaten, although it didn't take long for him to deliver his famous punch and destroy the monster into little pieces, while he screamed in frustration.

"Today is the special discount day!"

Of course, now you understand why the man's frustration, he couldn't miss a day of sales in the supermarkets, you didn't complain about the urgency when you left, leaving the doctor completely emotionally destroyed by the destruction of his most lethal creation, you walked towards Genos jumping with joy at coming home to take a nap, he looked at you in silence, crouching down since he knew you would ask him again if he could carry you on his shoulders. In this little time together he convinced himself that you wouldn't be a threat, despite being a monster, you had no evil in you, at least, not towards innocent people.

[carionto]

Everything gets recycled in Human space. Everything.

When we from the Coalition made first contact with Humanity, their space was a disaster in waiting - countless pieces of debris from jettisoned thrusters, random junk from individual space wannabes, and dead satellites that failed to enter a descent orbit, among other objects.

During the period before they and Earth vanished, it became an almost impassable barrier even without our containment measure.

From what the Humans have told and shown us, after they had that massive explosion that burst trillions of tons of the surface and mantle up, the sky was almost constantly dark. One of the first priorities they set was cleaning that up immediately or life on Earth was heading for a fatal ice age. And so they did, in spite of all other calamities happening at once, they put forth enough time, energy and resources to create their extraordinary Orbital Cleaner Crews.

For decades thousands of volunteers went up to man various harvesters, pilot drones, manage processing efforts, and often manually fix problems on the spot. The sheer chaos made predictive navigation and communication of any kind nigh impossible. It was suicide, as well as a complex and delicate task. Not to mention the fact that the Human population had been reduced to less than a billion, with all the associated challenges on the surface. Still, during a time of calamity and uncertainty for their future as a whole, some Humans stepped up to do what had to be done to preserve their future.

Most died on duty, only once most of the chaos had been dealt with did the mortality rate drop below 80%. The memorial for their sacrifice is a humble yet humbling small docking ring with all the surviving vessels and equipment they used parked and locked in stasis, and the names of each engraved on the outside hulls. If there is one thing that unites all civilizations across the galaxy, it is the culture of remembrance.

The result of their effort was an Earth that would not freeze to death, and their legacy is the unmatched professionalism and thoroughness of the OCC. Every object not planet-side is tracked. Regular scanner sweeps find anything as small as an iron atom that shouldn't be there, and within days any newfound junk is picked up and sent to the most relevant station for recovery, recycling, or reuse.

Even the maddening process of their planet crackers as they tear up moon after moon to be used in their insane projects doesn't leave a speck of dust afterwards. Everything has value, be it sentimental or practical, and nothing is left on the wayside.

When it comes to keeping their space clean of junk, Humans have become obsessively compulsive.

[little-orange-bastard]

CHAPTER 3: The Fall

@pepperonyscience @authortobenamedlater @thefinaljediknight @p0tat0-g0ddess

@ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask & @helix-enterprises117

The weary survivors, having gathered what meager supplies they can muster, gather about the Black Box. Instead of the avatar shimmering into existence, this image pops up with his voice narrating the projected images.

“It began in 1995 when SETI discovered an unknown object in the orbit of Neptune. This unknown object passed through the outer solar system, passing by and scanning the various outer planets before continuing on its orbital period out of the solar system with a calculated return in approximately 80 years.”

“This information was at the time classified as above Top Secret, but the occasional leaks still got out. You may remember the Heavens Gate suicide cult who thought that there was a UFO hiding in the tail of comet Hale-Bopp in the same year that they thought was there to rapture them to heaven? They weren’t entirely wrong about the presence of alien life. They were wrong about their intentions, and how a rapture works.”

The image shifts to this new one.

“After only 50 years, the alien starship returned in 2045. This time, it visited the inner planets and headed directly for earth. All communication and contact efforts failed as it approached our planet. The militaries across the globe manned their battle stations and prepared for the worst.”

The image changed again.

“As the visitor rocketed past earth, it released approximately one dozen smaller modules that impacted around the globe. In addition, it launched a flak storm into polar and counter-rotation orbits at varying altitudes. This flak and the shredded remains of space debris obliterated most communication and GPS-navigational satellites, crippling our response options. Watch the movie ‘Gravity’ if you want to get the idea of what ‘Kessler Syndrome’ is.”

The image shifts again showing a burned out hellscape.

“As the modules impacted earth, they simultaneously released a variety of biological weapons that eliminated almost the entirety of human life on the surface while discharging hunter-killer robots that laid waste to everything in their path. The remaining militaries of earth fought valiantly to fend off this new enemy, but conventional weaponry was ineffective against the alien tech.”

“We averted total annihilation by launching an overwhelming nuclear strike on the bases. While many missiles were shot down or shredded by the orbital debris cloud during the apogee phase of flight, ultimately the invasion was neutralized but the earth was ravaged. Overall, approximately 3000 megatons of whoop-ass were released.”

“There are a few pockets of survivors around, but by and large the surface is clear of human life. The alien bio weapon was terrifyingly effective but was only virulent for a short period of time before it burned itself out and died due to a lack of hosts…it also allegedly smelled like pumpkin spice by the victims before they perished.”

The avatar gives a sheepish look and crosses his arms before continuing.

“So, uh, I know this is a lot to take in but there’s more. The virus didn’t exactly kill every human it contacted. As turns out…well, the virus killed everyone but it also turned only redheads into zombies.”

“So…yeah. There it is. We got a post nuclear world full of redhead and ginger zombies and radiation mutated monsters while the rest of humanity was more or less eradicated by a pumpkin spice flavored super virus just in time for Halloween. Oh, and the zombies follow pretty much standard zombie rules, bonks to the head only takes them out.”

“Soooooo…questions so far or should we also discuss alleged safe refuge at ‘Candy Mountain’?”

[bylerbigbang]

Damsel (not) in Distress

Fic by @thegirldownunder | Art by Dr. Spoon Draws

Rated Teen | 15k words

Mike’s whole life is a big game of balance and chance. Balancing his college life and his responsibilities as Spider-Man as he makes it his mission to save people from a greater evil that he himself if unsure of. Great power and great responsibility yada yada yada…. But who saves him?

4 times Mike saves Will and 1 time Will does the saving

Warnings: Strangers to lovers, minimal angst, Spider-Man AU, Spider-Man!Mike, Damsel!Will, Guy in the chair!Max, canon typical violence, human experiments, minimal blood and gore

Read on Ao3 | View Art

Read an excerpt below:

“Hey, man. Are you alright?” Mike tries to deepen his voice so that it would not be easily placed.

He steps closer and takes a look at the boy and completely falters. His breath is momentarily punched out, stolen from him by this stranger. His brown hair looked a little disheveled but still a beautiful warm brown and caramel strands that fell into his tired looking eyes. His cheeks were puffed in an almost childlike pout. Mike’s heart stutters and so does he when he tries to ask the question again.

The stranger glares, his nose is scrunched just slightly and his green eyes burned into Mike even through the mask. “Why? Do I look alright to you?”

Upon closer inspection, this stranger is not really a stranger to Mike Wheeler. Perhaps to Spider-Man but not Mike Wheeler. Because the Will Byers who sits next to him in his English lit lectures and who is in most of his other classes is the same one sitting on the ground in a heaping mess.

“Oh no! You’re bleeding!” He winced aloud, as if Will hadn’t noticed the blood seeping through the tears in his own flesh.

Will must’ve hit the ground hard enough to have skinned the heel of his palms and his elbows. Mike reaches to help him but Will jerks away before he can touch him. He easily starts picking out the pieces of debris from his bleeding wounds himself without even much of a gasp or wince. And then he brushes off the blood over the thighs of his distressed jeans.

“Are you sure there’s not anything I can do to he-”

“I’m fine, thank you very much. You’ve done enough helping for today, don't you think?” Will huffs under his breath and looks him up and down with a nasty look. I saved your life, Mike wants to yell. “What are you supposed to be anyways?”

“Oh me? I’m the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!”

He looks him up and down again with a blank and uninterested look. “Right.”

Will ignores him shift on his feet uncomfortably and begins reaching down to pick up pieces of what looked like a school project that probably no longer looked the way it was intended to, what with it scattered about the pavement in a mess.

Mike stoops down awkwardly to help him collect parts of his project, and when he came to the now broken CD player with the disk dislodged and lying sadly on the sidewalk, sweat gathered in the collar area of his suit. “Uhhm-” is all he can manage and for Will to look at him.

A momentary look of disappointment and desperation flashes in his eyes before he sighs to himself and dumps the more broken parts of his project in a nearby trash can.

“Over here!” Comes the booming sound of a police officer. He rounds the corner and runs straight toward Mike.

He panics.

“Here take this-”

“Hey!”

“I am so sorry! I’ll make it up to you! Promise.”

He gets away before more policemen can come after him.

[whirligig-girl]

The aliens arrived in their toroidal flying saucers--enormous gossamer-like structures big enough to put Jupiter in the hole. They projected bodies down to Earth on long threads, and complained.

"What happened?" they pleaded with our planetary scientists.

An awfully open-ended question, but the planetary scientists threw up their hands and explained the current state of the field, about the theory of planetary aggregation and various hypotheses to explain how each of the planets ended up where they are today. The aliens nodded along skeptically at times, but they seemed especially disappointed by the Lunar geologists.

"Excuse us," their leader said politely, rising into the sky towards geostationary orbit on a great thread.

And so it was for the next few decades that the aliens set to work correcting what they saw as the great mistakes of the solar system's formation. Perhaps Venus never cooled down enough to avoid a runaway greenhouse effect, or maybe something about its specific volatile mass had been off. Either way, it was the first to be treated. By the time it was done, perhaps 20 years in, it was a blue world with brown continents and white clouds. While another saucer had come to work its magic on Mars, the first saucer returned.

"Eh, we'll need you to give planet two a good head start with the whole biosphere thing. We hadn't bargained on life starting up there halfway through the lifespan of the Sun. If it's no trouble, that is."

A new habitable planet provided the space program no shortage of funding!

Mars was finished, just a few years later, a comparatively simpler job. The aliens advised humans not to interfere with this one just yet, to perhaps give it a few hundred megaannum or so for the life to diversify and develop before contaminating it.

But the saucers didn't leave. They seemed to drift throughout the inner solar system. They took some curious expeditions to Europa and Enceladus--robotic NASA spacecrafts recorded deep probing threads piercing the ice--but didn't seem impressed.

They kept returning to the Moon.

At last, the aliens projected down on their long threads to a university. "You're sure that's how it happened?" they said.

The lunar-planetary scientists showed the alien ambassadors rocks from the Apollo and Artemis expeditions, computer simulations of various types of giant impacts, of synestias and hours-long instant formations and debris disks and gas instability, of an oversized iron core and large low-shear-velocity-provinces.

"We think the water on Earth may even have been delivered through a giant impact from a KBO, though there's some concerns about isotopic ratios."

"No, no," said the alien. "The initial coorbital hypothesis is the correct one."

The alien sighed--it had picked up human body language well over the past 35 years--"This just won't do," it said. It left the building, shaking its head. "It just won't do."

The planetary scientists ran after the alien, as it started reeling its thread back. "Wait!" they said. "What are you going to do?"

"This Moon thing of yours just isn't big enough to hold onto an atmosphere. I'm afraid it's not good enough."

The aliens rose into the sky.

Within a few months the Moon had been lost from the sky, and a years later had been relocated to the L4 lagrange point. The aliens came back, apologetically. "Terribly sorry," they said, "We're in the final phases of the plan," they said.

The Earth Emergency Government representative stepped forward. "Final… phases?" he said.

"Theia was always meant to be a trojan of your Earth, you see. Something must have gone wrong when the gas disk dissipated."

"I don't understand," the representative said.

"My apologies," the alien said, "I'm used to dealing with your planetary researchers."

Many masses of threads now fell gracefully from the skies. When they touched down, they effortlessly bored deep holes. The ground shook. The representative's heart rate skyrocketed.

"It's just that we're going to have to repossess the planet Theia now."

[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince; Hide & Seek

I don’t think you should look behind you, Lizzie.

The sea was dangerous. 

It was no place for a human.

Sheer cold winds howled as the waves crashed against each other. The sky was pitch black, only illuminated by the bright crash of lightning overhead. The torrential rain pelted the ocean around her, driving the waves higher and making it harder to see. Warring sounds of nature were the only thing the survivor could hear as she kept as still as possible, clinging to floating pieces of driftwood and debris to hide her frail body from the terrors of the deep. 

The survivor was drenched in water, barely breathing as she pressed her body down against the wooden planks as she tried to make herself smaller than she already was. She shivered, the freezing air surrounded her. Thunder rumbled overhead, and her blue eyes narrowed as she adjusted her blurry vision from the chaos around her. She shouldn’t be here. She should be on the island with her friends. She should be safe. She was supposed to be safe. The survivor took in deep breaths, her hands covering her head as she tried her best not to scream in fear. 

Don’t let them find you.

A blinding flash of lightning struck the sinking, burning vessel in front of her. What was once the ship that she and her parents had boarded was now nothing more than a wooden plaything for those monsters. She strained her ears, listening for any screeches or roars that bellowed from the deep, but there were none. Only then did she dare to move. 

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Her eyes were glued to the destroyed ship, the only thing left that provided her a sick sense of relief. It was a reminder of how lonely she was. She hated being alone. She moved the messy pink hair away from her face as tears began to form. Her fingers ran pulled at her hair as her breathing quickened and her vision blurred. 

She could feel her heart pounding out of her chest and her stomach twisted in pain as her head hit the wood below her. She had to be strong. Her parents told her to be strong. She had to be. She was the unshakable Elizabeth Shadow, inheritor of the Shadow Pearl corporation, nothing should scare her. Nothing should scare her. She was a big girl. Big girls shouldn’t panic. This should all be over soon. 

How did this all happen? Just a few hours ago all she saw was the clear, sunny sky and peaceful waves. Lizzie closed her eyes as she took in another deep breath, casting her mind back to the once-calm waves and breezy chill that danced across the ships. She needed to calm down. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

—————

The skies overhead were a beautiful baby blue, lazily hung with small specks of clouds and filled with the songs of migratory birds that passed by. How these birds flew across these long patches of ocean was baffling to her. Lizzie stood on the upper deck of a grand cruise ship, watching the birds fly in the distance. Her hands against the railing as the salty sea air blew through her hair as she cherished the view of the ocean. The ship was a fine white vessel used for transportation and leisure. It had several polished wooden floors with different levels to accommodate all the people on board. The ship rumbled with the vibrations of big engines propelling forward. The ship’s hull was lined in the typical metal plating meant to defend the ship from the sea monsters infesting the ocean. 

It was hard to believe this place was as scary as all the stories her friends had told her. She heard lots of stories of dangerous sea monsters, and while she did fear them as any kid did, the sea didn’t look like what she pictured in her mind. It was just a big pond filled with fish enough to feed the entire human race, all animalkind even! Ponds aren’t scary.

There was no storm. There were no tall sharp rocks to destroy ships. There was not even a hint of mist! Most importantly, there aren’t any vicious monsters coming for their ship. She didn’t think there would be any monster coming close to her ship. With their ship being a transportation boat, they were protected by several hunting ships that formed a circle around the big boat. No monsters would attack them, they’d be fine.

Hunters, Lizzie knew of the profession through Grian. His parents were hunters; trained and ready to kill any sea monster that comes their way. Grian described their ships as being covered in big weaponry and parts of the monsters they killed as trophies. Lizzie stared at the metal walls covered in spikes and harder material, showing some dents and bitemarks as they stuck to the passenger ship’s side. The hunter ships all had huge sails to carry them across the waters and an engine for a speedy getaway, all for the safety of fellow humans. 

Lizzie stared at the hunters’ ships as Grian’s words echoed through her mind. His parents were no longer in this world, but Grian was still excited about becoming a hunter. 

Lizzie could see the passion in Grian’s eyes as he spoke about hunting, full of wonder and amazement as he recollected what his birth parents had told him. Her friends all had different thoughts about hunters. She asked Martyn what being a hunter was like, given he was already training to be one, and he gave her a huge grin as he answered her: It was awesome.

 She remembered the look on Grian’s face as Martyn recounted all the cool tricks his parents had taught him, the sour expression on his face was priceless. He’d said, “How come you get to do all of that? Why can’t I?”

Lizzie visualized Martyn’s cocky smirk as he rustled with Grian’s hair, “That’s because my parents are actual hunters! Yours are smarty-pants hunters, you don’t do these sorts of stuff!”

When she asked Jimmy if he wanted to be a hunter too, his eyes had gotten big and he’d shook his head, “No way! That’s too much for me. I’d rather do what Mum and Dad do, it’s more my speed.”

Lizzie could practically hear the loud laugh Joel made when Jimmy had said that, causing a light chuckle to slip out of her. Joel had wrapped an arm around his taller brother, rolling his eyes, “He’s way too scared to do it. He thinks a monster is gonna come up to eat him or something. We’ll save him though!”

The memory of their shared laughter warmed her heart. She was excited to see them again.

Lizzie and her parents were on their way to meet with her friends and their parents, the adults planning on talking about some sort of deal she didn’t fully grasp yet. Eh, that was adult talk, she didn’t care for it. She wanted to be there to see her friends. 

Lizzie walked along the upper deck, one hand tracing the railing as she stared outward, passing small waves at hunters when they looked her way, smiling and laughing. She heard two voices up ahead, discussing something. There was nothing for her to do there other than to watch the ships go by, so Lizzie abruptly stopped walking to listen in. Two people were leaning by the wall, and to not look like she was eavesdropping Lizzie walked past them and ducked behind the wall. They wouldn’t notice her.

The two people were in a hushed conversation, one figure leaning towards the other as they spoke. It didn't seem to register to either stranger how loud they were being with their whispers. One of the voices was more frantic in their speech, stuttering, “What if they find us?” 

The other voice chuckled, soft thuds indicated they were patting their friend’s shoulder as they sighed, “They won’t. They’re not real.” 

What wasn’t real? 

The first voice spoke up again, their tone unchanging, “B-But they are! If not them, then–” 

The second voice sighed loudly, raising their voice and cutting the other off, “Then nothing, my friend. If monsters try to approach we’ll be protected.” 

The first voice spoke up again, much more quietly and less frantic. It didn’t seem like they were arguing anymore, “It’s not them I’m worried about, it’s–” If they weren’t arguing, Lizzie wanted to know why the first one was so scared.

The second one spoke up again, their tone in a low hiss, “The sea princes don’t exist, mate. They’re fairytales.”

Sea princes? Weren’t those the stories Grian and Martyn used to tell her? Her thoughts were interrupted as a low growl of thunder rumbled above, dark clouds began to form. Uh oh. Best to go downstairs with her parents. She didn’t want to get hit by the rain. Rain was scary. 

Her mind wandered back to the sea princes as she walked to her parents’ room, getting as far from the rain as possible. It was a popular story. As far as she knew, the sea princes were these big and ugly creatures who towered over all of the sea monsters. Mermaids fought them, which made Lizzie interested in the myths.

Lizzie walked down the staircase leading her down to her room. Which one was it? The third floor. It should be there. 

She shook her head, coming back to her thoughts. Mermaids, right. 

Mermaids were a beautiful mix of human and fish, guarding humanity from the evil sea princes as their sworn enemy. People sometimes caught sight of them as they stood on the edge of port towns or sailed on big ships. Lizzie gasped in realization. Big ships just like this one! Maybe she’d get to see a mermaid! Stories said seeing one was a blessing. It would be a magical moment for her to meet one on her very first ship ride!

The other thing was the treasures. The way Martyn described them made them sound so cool. There were ancient totems that could defy death, apples made of pure gold, even tomes and texts that could turn people into gods. Supposedly all those treasures existed somewhere in the ocean, surely giving anyone thoughts of what powers they could have with it. People could live forever, talk to fishes, make plants grow, anything was possible!

Lizzie visualized finding one of the treasures, a great and shiny orb that turned her into an axolotl mermaid queen that could fight off all sorts of danger to protect her friends. To her, it didn’t sound outlandish at all, it sounded cool. A lot of people wanted to find sea prince treasures, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to find it too. All sorts of cool things could be under the ocean, they just needed to look. 

Lizzie peered through a big wall of glass looking in on one of the lower floors. She saw plenty of people sitting on couches and talking. Some of them were noticeably hunters, looking out towards the open sea with weapons hung on their belts and scars marked on their bodies. 

They were fine, they were safe. That one person from earlier was wrong, they were protected from whatever danger came their way. 

She turned away, continuing down the stairs and into the hallways, pulling out a key with a tag of her room number. Three-four-one. It was somewhere down the corridor. She looked at each of the plates by the doors before stopping at one. Three-four-one, that was it! Lizzie inserted the key into the keyhole and unlocked the door. She greeted her parents with a smile, “I’m back!”

Lizzie’s father turned and grinned, crouching as his daughter ran up to give him a hug, “How was your little exploration? Find anything cool?” She looked at him with her big eyes, shaking her head. 

The room was spacious, but maybe it was because she was still so small, her parents looked big in the room. They didn’t seem to fit on the bed together, as Lizzie remembered her father offering to sleep on the couch. At the end of the room was a window overlooking the sea, a big bed, and a couch beside it. There was a small sitting area with a couple of bookshelves and complimentary snacks left with a desk. The door to the bathroom was next to the entrance of the room, with a closet off to the side. 

Lizzie sat on the couch, swinging her feet, “Nothing much! I did hear two big kids talk about the sea princes though.” 

Her mother looked up from the bed, closing the book she was reading as her husband sat beside her. The couple shared an amused glance, smiling at each other before looking at their child. Her mother tilted her head, “And you don’t look scared at all! What a big girl you are, Lizzie.” Lizzie giggled, her feet kicking faster. 

Her father sighed loudly, striking a dramatic pose, “Honey, she’s getting so old! We’re getting old!” 

Her mother laughed, rolling her eyes, “Ay, that we are. She’s brave enough to be out on her own, exploring the ship and reporting her findings. I remember how scared you were when we first told you about them,” she sighed, glancing to the side as she chuckled, “You’re growing up so fast.” 

Lizzie stuck her tongue out, furrowing her eyebrows, “But I don’t wanna be old yet! I still–”

Loud, piercing bells began to ring in the distance as the ship made a loud creaking noise and nearly went sideways with a sudden push, sending them sprawling. Lizzie gripped the bed as her parents reoriented themselves. Lizzie’s father approached the window and stuck his head out as her mother motioned for her to come to her. Lizzie shifted on the bed. She didn’t want to move, she just got there! The bed felt comfortable.

Lizzie could hear a low trilling sound from the open window, echoing as glass windows began to crack. The noise vibrated the ship. The bells continued to ring as voices of the hunters rang through the air. There were loads of hunters around the ship. She should be fine. They all should be fine. 

Her father shut the window, turning to his wife and child. His eyes were wide, but he tried to stabilize his breathing, “We have to leave. Now.” 

Her mother nodded as she shot out of bed and hastily gathered her things. Lizzie sat on the bed, shifting around as her parents paced around the room in haste. “Why do we need to leave?” she questioned, “The hunters should be able to stop the monsters!” That was their job, wasn’t it? There were four hunting ships in the area, they should be enough. 

It didn’t stop her father from continuing, “I know they will, but we also need to be protected. We have to stay safe.” 

The waves continued to jostle the ship, the gentle swaying became harsher as some kind of noise escaped from the ocean. Lizzie could hear the muffled sounds of the hunters firing their weapons, but there was no sound of a creature getting hurt. Lizzie’s eyebrows furrowed, “But the hunters–” 

Her mother was the one to cut in this time, carrying bags with some of their clothes hanging loosely out of the top, “Lizzie, no buts. You’re a big girl, but even big girls get scared when the threat is very real.” 

No. Big kids don’t get scared. She won’t be scared. Stories about sea monsters used to frighten her, but not anymore. She’d be brave. 

Lizzie hit her fist against the cushiony bed. Her voice rose as she firmly declared, “I’m not scared!” The light from the window had cut off before either of her parents could say anything in return, tossing the family into the pitch black darkness. 

Lizzie saw her parents walking backwards in fear, staring at the window. Their faces were pale and their eyes widened as they took shaky steps. She watched her parents’ breathing quicken as they sank to their knees. Lizzie cocked her head, raising an eyebrow with a frown, “What’s wrong?” 

Her parents didn’t look at her, staring at the window instead, but her mother spoke, “Lizzie. Walk to us, slowly.” Lizzie had the gut feeling to turn back. She shifted her body, starting to turn, but her mother caught on. “Don’t look behind you. Look at us. Me.” Why not look behind her? What could possibly– another monstrous trill resonated in the air, shaking the ground.

Something was blocking the window. 

Now her mother was staring right at Lizzie, her eyes wide as her breathing became loud and uneven. Lizzie got off the bed, slowly taking small steps before her mother took one second to glance back at the window. 

Lizzie looked behind her.

An eye. A huge one. The white of the eye was a pitch black abyss with a piercing orange and blue iris staring directly at them. The creature’s pupil was large and ice white. A sound emitted from its throat as it rumbled through the structure of the ship. Lizzie could feel it shake the floor beneath her feet, her body shook along with it. 

Time seemed to stop around them as they were locked in a staring match with a monster that could so easily tear them apart. Lizzie’s body shook, her heart was pounding out of her chest as she shakily took a step backwards, away from the eye. The eye moved along with her, as if following Lizzie’s every movement. 

The eye moved in closer as the ship began to tilt. Lizzie and her parents lost their footing, sliding across the floor and hitting the door as the creature made another low trill before a sudden shriek, distant from the ship, broke the air of silence. The white pupil suddenly narrowed into a slit as the massive monster produced an unholy roar that shattered the window. 

The creaking wood of the ship crumbled and cracked, metal bending and twisting before snapping open as water rushed in. Horrified screams and gasps came from the other rooms and were drowned out as the echoing trill resounded through the deep. Lizzie’s parents grabbed her and swam out through the shattered window. The beast was no longer in sight.

Lizzie learned an important thing that day; she didn’t know how to swim. 

Don’t panic. Panicking will make things worse. 

Lizzie could feel her mother’s arm wrap around her, hurriedly placed on a wooden door. Lizzie’s heart pounded out of her chest. Her parents were there, close to her. They weren’t on the door like she was.

Everything became a blur after. 

Rain started to pour. Hunters screamed in fear, “What is that thing?!” before their ships snapped open and bodies fell into the salty sea water below. 

There were people in the water. So many people were in the water. 

Thunder and lightning raged in the sky as the creature’s long tail pierced out of the water from time to time, slowly but surely circling around them. Lizzie didn’t know where the ship was; she’d lost her parents. They’d become separated as chunks of different ships had begun to scatter and crash into the water as two different beasts roared and shrieked. 

Lizzie could hear her parents call out to her. She flailed her arms, “Mom?! Dad?! Where are you?!” She looked around her surroundings in hopes of finding them. Please. She needed to see them again. She looked at the direction she had heard her parents. Where were–

The monster let out a bellowing roar, rattling the water as a gigantic red fin shot up from the depths swiftly knocked Lizzie into the water as it swam past. She was disoriented– where were her parents? She called out to them again. She needed to find them.

“Mom?! Dad?!”

She couldn’t hear their voices anymore.

Lizzie didn’t know where to go. She flailed her arms aimlessly while the cold waters tried to consume her, eventually finding something to desperately latch onto as she struggled to remain afloat. She remembered she had grabbed a wooden wall and stuck to it for dear life. More and more voices were drowned out by the rain. The only thing she could hear over the sound of the burning ships and the angry weather were the monsters. She prayed to whatever god was out there to spare her. She didn’t want to die.

The monsters disappeared, but not for long. They were coming back for her, weren’t they?

Lizzie had been able to wedge herself between two pieces of debris to hide. The monsters didn’t seem to have noticed her. The waves that used to crash against her only pushed her slightly. Lizzie looked up to see the long finned tail of the creatures sink below. 

Why had it been staring at her? Her parents? Was it some kind of sick game? She did not want to play. 

She was alone. 

Everything had been fine until now. Maybe if she never boarded the ship, her parents would be okay. She wanted them here with her. Maybe it was better if her friends visited her instead of the other way around. 

The waves rocked her shelter, as if trying to calm her down. It wasn’t working. 

Lizzie looked up from the piece of wooden wall beneath her, her vision blurry with tears, and saw a lot of the floating debris moving in the same direction. Lizzie wiped the tears away from her eyes as she tried to focus. The… the debris weren’t moving because of the waves. They were moving because the creature was circling them! Lizzie covered her mouth from screaming as a small vortex was created, her head becoming light as she heard the beast roar. 

Stay calm. Inhale. Exhale. 

The spinning got faster, making Lizzie want to puke, but the motions came to an abrupt stop as she was gathered with the other floating debris. Her eyes widened as she heard other people crying out in fear. She wasn’t the only one! There were others who were still alive!

The rain made it hard to see the looming figure rising out of the water before her. She saw faint hints of blue, its chest had stripes of other colors glowed faintly in the darkness. Lizzie heard shouts over the ocean, but the storm and the crashing waves swallowed the noise. She heard a rumble in the water before a second figure appeared, something blurry white and red bursting up. The other beast. There was another one.

What if they were looking for her? 

Lizzie could hear the beasts ‘speak’, grunts and guttural echoes boomed above, she wished she could shut her eyes but they were fixed on the monsters. She didn’t even have a clear look at either one, just knowing one of them was red and the other was blue. She heard something rise from the water as the terrified shrieks of the other people filled the air between rolls of thunder, “P-Please! Spare us! We have families– children to come home to!” 

Lizzie heard a loud crash of water, likely the monster was angry at their response. Did they even understand human speech? She didn’t need to worry about that. 

The air hung silent as thunder echoed. One of the humans began to speak, “Y-Your eye… we apologize for–” The red beast growled. Its sounds were different from the blue one, a rumbling echo instead of a rattling thrill, yet carried the same booming volume. Its tail swished, jostling Lizzie’s hiding spot, unknowingly giving her a better view of the creatures. 

One of the beasts was covered in shiny, golden spikes. Its tail was armored, red with a blue-green tail fin. The other beast’s tail was blue with colorful splotches, its fins were a red sunset-like hue with patterns of flickering stars. She couldn’t see the end of its tail, likely underwater. 

Something that stuck out to her weren’t the colors or the shape of their tails though.

She could be seeing things, but they looked human.

The blue one’s colorful stripes almost looked like tattoos along its back, Lizzie could see red fins coming from its head and she swore it had long teal hair. The red one had pearlescent white hair with brown streaks coming from it, unable to see much else other than that.

Why did they look human?

The men’s screams were tossed upward, the beasts thrashing and moving the debris, along with Lizzie, around. She swore the beasts were laughing, their bellowing unholy roars boomed as Lizzie braced for something. Anything. She was expecting the monsters to end it, to just kill them and leave. 

Yet…

“HUNTERS…” 

Lizzie shut her eyes. There was no way this was real. She had to be dreaming. This was just one bad dream, right?

“...DON’T BELONG HERE.”

It spoke.

Those were human words.

No ordinary beast can just talk, right?

This was all a bad dream. Lizzie just needed to wake up. She covered her ears, blocking out the dozens of screams as they were silenced by the sound of jaws snapping. Her heart began pounding and with one final crash of lightning, she shut her eyes for a long, long time.

—————

“Lizzie?” 

Where was she?

“Lizzie, wake up.” 

Was she dead?

“Are you okay?”

Are her parents alive?

“Lizzie, are you there?” 

Was she back home?

“Please. Wake up, Lizzie.”

…Those were her friends calling her, weren’t they? 

Lizzie shot up, breathing heavily as she grasped her chest. This wasn’t the ocean. It was bright and sunny. She could hear birdsong outside and the gentle brush of leaves against the wind. Sunlight filtered through the window behind her, looking around, she could see the expressions her friends were giving her. 

Joel was right beside Lizzie, clenching his fists with hunched shoulders, his eyes glued on her. Jimmy was on the other side, one of his hands held onto his head, gripping his blonde hair as he leaned over. Grian was beside Jimmy, his wide eyes stared at her as his eyebrows furrowed, biting his lip. 

They were here. She was here with them. Her parents. 

Lizzie took in a deep breath, “Where are my parents?” 

The three brothers shared a glance, exchanging mini expressions until Joel nodded, placing his hand on the bed as an offering. Lizzie placed her hand on top of his. Joel glanced at the floor as he sighed, “They’re… they’re.. How do I phrase this?” Joel’s eyes couldn’t meet hers. They were what? What happened? 

Lizzie glanced at Grian and Jimmy, who kept their heads low. Why was everyone acting so weird? Lizzie’s grip on Joel tightened as an air of silence washed over them. 

“Everyone was-.” 

His voice trailed off. Silence. If it weren’t for the birdsong outside, the silence would have been deafening. He didn’t finish his sentence. That only meant one thing, right? They were gone. Dead. Not in this world anymore. The last thing she did was be a disobedient child. She was the worst. Lizzie felt tears begin to well up in her eyes, her hands covered her face as she screamed. She screamed so loudly the brothers flinched, Lizzie’s chest heaving as she sobbed.

She wanted her parents.

She needed her parents.

This wasn’t fair.

Lizzie’s hands slumped on her sides as she laid on the bed. This can’t be real. She felt Joel hold her hand as he looked at her.

Joel rubbed his thumb over Lizzie’s hand as she gripped it tight. “But you survived. It’s… a lot to take in, but I promise, we’ll be there for you.” Joel looked back at her with a smile, tilting his head. 

Grian stood up from his chair, slamming his hands on the sheets, “We’ll find out what beast did it, and tear its heart out!” Grian’s enthusiasm for being a hunter was strong, surprising her now with how intense his gaze was, affirming his resolve. Maybe it was because his birth parents died, he felt something new towards Lizzie. She decided not to think about it. 

Jimmy placed a hand on her shoulder, “You need time to calm down, Liz. However long it takes, we’ll be there.” Jimmy was always the butt of the joke, always made dumb little quips, but he was an amazing friend. She was glad she met all of them. They were her best friends. She couldn’t imagine facing life without them. All of them.

Lizzie smiled, looking at all three as tears formed in her eyes, not of sadness, but relief, “...Thank you.” 

—————

She never did find out what beasts took her parents that day, but she would learn it eventually. Lizzie breathed the fresh salty air, it was just as she remembered. The waves rippled past the ship, birds called in the open air. All she needed now was time. Time to recover, time to heal. Time to figure out the rest of her life. She held the steering wheel firmly as she exhaled, closing her eyes. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and opened her eyes to see Joel with his hand on her shoulder, their engagement ring glistening in the sunlight.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, “Any attacks before we charter home?” She could see a glint in Joel’s eyes as he smirked.

Joel took his hand off of Lizzie’s shoulder and shoved it into his pocket, “Maybe. Let’s have one last hurrah before we head home, sounds good?” The mischievousness in his eyes faded as he tilted his head. Lizzie adored how much he cared about her. She’d be fine. She felt reassured with everyone on board supporting her recovery. She gave Joel a small kiss on the lips.

“Aye, captain. Love you.”

But maybe, maybe it was better to leave some mysteries unsolved.

[talonabraxas]

Ehecatl : God of Winds

Ehecatl: Ignite your Passion

Ehecatl-Quetzalcoal (Ehecat) is the Aztec God of invisibility and intangibility who oversees the mysteries of passion and love.

In order to fully understand adult love one must experience loss in a personal manner. This takes place at all levels in our life. Last week the day Winds of Spirit arrived by UPS, I experienced a few losses as well: the front gates which house my former Healing Arts Center were stolen; my boss who provided the space to write the book took a new job at another company; and a tenant is leaving. Winds seek balance, and intensity will always swing towards disappointment or lethargy, then back again.

Seeds of passion sometimes grow in the ashes of disappointment, and later blossom into fragrant spring lilies. Like the wind, love, passion and relationships are also mysterious forces.

Aztec cosmology is built on the framework that there are five suns. Each sun represents a creation story in which humans are born, sustained and destroyed by the elements of nature; earth, wind, fire, water, and earthquake respectively. Ehecatl is one of the many faces of the Quetzalcoatl, the famed feathered serpent deity. In Nahuatl, Ehecatl means four winds, referring to the four cardinal directions.

Ehecatl presided over the second sun of creation that was called, “4 Wind.” During this period, human beings fell from the grace of the Gods and were destroyed by a hurricane. As Ehecatl blew, it swept away the debris, and those who survived were transformed into monkeys. Ehecatl reappeared in the Fifth Sun after the world was destroyed by fire.

Ehecatl traveled deep into the underworld and persuaded Mictlantecuhtili, the God of Death, to give back some ashes and bone. Ehectal mixed the bone with blood from the Gods and created humanity.

According to Aztec legend, Ehecatl snuck into the lower world, abducted the maiden Mayahuel, and brought her to the middle world. Their passion was so great that they became one and merged into a tree. Upon awaking from sleep Tzetzimutl journeyed to the middle world, pulled the lovers apart, shredded her grand daughter Mayahuel into pulp, and then returned Ehecatl to his rightful place in the wind.

”Whenever the wind blows, the Aztec believes it is an expression of Ehecatl’s desire.”

If Ehecatl appears as a longing East wind, it is time to listen closely to your heart.

East

If Ehecatl appears as a longing East wind, it is time to listen closely to your heart. New projects, new lovers, art and/or music will ignite your passion.

As a contrary wind, Ehecatl can remove worn-out love stories and soured memories that are preventing you from experiencing a new cosmic order in your life. It is time to examine your beliefs regarding love.

South

Ehecatl is fanning the flames of your innermost feelings and hidden desires. A willingness to love again will arise from the ashes. You are worthy of love and passion. Allow the mysterious thread of the universe to carry you into the next cycle.

Unlike Ehecatl, who was molded from a stone knife, you are an emotional being who thrives on love. In the contrary position, a howling Ehecatl is prompting you to open your heart to love. There is a wind-stirring deep within asking you to soften your heart in order to forgive those who have harmed you. Now is the time to heal the emotional scars left behind by abuse, loss, or abandonment.

West

Ehecatl brings the rains to nourish your crops, signaling the end of the dry season. Wash away your inhibitions, and rejuvenate your body with physical activity. Celebrate by dancing, hiking, gardening, swimming or sex.

When Ehecatl appears in the reverse position you are being offered forbidden fruit, so be alert and cautious. The sun may set on your goals if you merge with the wrong energies, as in the tale of Ehectal and Mayahuel.

Misguided passion and intrigue might pull you from your true path if you do not establish clear boundaries. Ask Ehecatl to help you to sweep away any blocks that stand between you and a bountiful harvest.

North

When Ehecatl blows in from the North, it is a sign that invisible forces are at work in your life. A soul mate isn’t necessarily your lover; it might be someone who has your back, no matter what troubles you may be facing. Enrich your life by connecting deeply with the people you love, and with those who have your best interests at heart.

In the contrary position Ehecatl points out that you are neglecting certain daily rituals which prevent you from keeping your spiritual life in order. Ask Ehecatl to help you understand the deeper aspects of your true self. It might be something as simple as rearranging your altar, planning a vacation or going on a spiritual retreat. Ehecatl : God of Winds ART: Corazon Mexica @MiCorazonMexica

The creation of bats. This is a new painting, which is part of a cycle of paintings that tell the story of the birth of flowers. It begins with Quetzalcoatl, who is the wind and creation, pleasuring himself on the banks of a river. His seed falls upon a stone, and from the stone is born the first bat. When the bat emerges from the stone, he asks it to go to Tamoanchan, the 12th heaven, and bring him back the “flower” of Xochiquetzal, who is love and flowers. The bat is thus the child of the wind and of the earth, and the story goes on to describe this theft, and describe the origin of flowers and menstruation.

[probablyasocialecologist]

When thinking about forms of degradation it is important to understand that violence is not only an event but can become a material structure. A spirit of violence becomes built into the geography itself – in the qualities of neighborhoods and workplaces, and in the prevalence or lack of healthcare, educational facilities, transportation, sanitation, and electricity. Built environments perpetuate lifestyles and practices that either frustrate or cherish life, that keep people apart or bring them together. What we build in the world communicates what we think of the world, and what we value about its inhabitants. Consider just some of the defining material structures of the modern world: reservations that confine indigenous peoples to undesirable land the privatization and enclosure of agricultural land traditionally held in common “sacrifice zones” where mining companies leave their toxic waste massive hydroelectric projects that displace indigenous communities and alter ecosystems mountaintop removal mining that flattens peaks and fills creeks with debris vast fields of monoculture agriculture that depend on toxic herbicides and synthetic fertilizers to maximize commodity production the large confinement animal feeding operations (CAFOs) that mistreat livestock and pollute surrounding watersheds “cancer alleys” where people live on land or along waterways polluted by toxic industrial chemicals public housing projects that consign residents to inhumane living conditions massive slums in the world’s growing megacities that lack the infrastructure to meet the basic needs of residents the many “camps” – work camps, death camps, POW camps, internment camps, refugee resettlement camps – constructed in response to war, political persecution, and climate instability These sites are not accidental, nor are they located on the periphery. They are foundational structures upon which the modern world has been built and which it continues to develop. This grim geography alerts us to the fact that the young people of our time are inheriting built environments with considerably diminished fertility, biodiversity, and health. They are being asked to imagine their futures in a world that is increasingly polluted, ugly, and uninviting, while living in built environments poorly designed to facilitate flourishing. Can people live in hope if their homes and places of work do not nurture and celebrate life?

[kissingcullens]

“Life For Gaza: Each Cent Counts, Quenching the Thirst of Humanity in Gaza City

“The Gaza Municipality earnestly appeals for your support to help reinstate essential services, currently the foremost priority. In the northern regions of the Gaza Strip alone, over 500,000 individuals urgently require these services.

Where your donations will be directed:

- Water supply enhancement projects

- Maintenance of water wells

- Implementation of water desalination initiatives

- Management of waste collection and disposal systems

- Reconstruction of roads demolished during war

- Implementation of sewage water pumping and treatment schemes

- Execution of pest control and rodent eradication programs

With your support, we can:

- Enhance water provisions for residents and maintain consistency.

- Manage the collection and disposal of accumulated waste throughout the city.

- Address sewage overflow and sanitation issues across various areas of the city.

- Initiate the reopening of key thoroughfares to facilitate emergency vehicle access.

- Clear debris from the cityscape to restore ease of movement for residents.

- Provide aid to the personnel of the Gaza Municipality Emergency Committee.”