I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.
They were expecting military resistance. They weren’t counting on bears.
Imagine coming to a hostile alien world and being attacked by a horde of creatures that can weigh up to 3 tons, run at 30 km/h (19 mph), and bite with a force of 8,100 newtons (1,800 lbf).
By the time you realise that they can traverse water, it’s too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.
You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.
The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.
“Hippopotamus.”
This is giving me the biggest, creepiest grin I might have ever grinned
Imagine being the next crew to go down to earth and thinking “it’s fine, we got this. We have the weapons and equipment necessary to deal with bears and *shudders* hippopotamuses. We’ll be fine.”
And at first you are, you’ve learned how to dodge. You’ve learned where their territories are. You know how to defend yourself.
But then one night you are sleeping in your shelter. You’re in a tree covered temperate part of earth. It seems benign. There are been no sightings of the dreaded “hippos” around. Not even any bears. But there is a slight rustle of the undergrowth. You try and ignore it telling yourself it is just the wind.
Then you hear the rustle again. closer this time.
You peer out into the darkness but see nothing amongst the trees.
The rustle again and now you realise you can smell something. It’s musky and slightly foul. It’s the smell of an omen, a warning. But what of? Where is this smell coming from.
You sit up, but it’s too late. The foul smelling creature is on you. You are hit with 17kg of coarse fur and vicious bites. Long dark claws tear in to you and you are pinned down white the striped creature tries to bite your throat.
It takes some doing but you manage to wrestle free. Blood drips from your wounds and already they itch with the sign of infection. The creature has a bloodied snout, rust rad, mingling with the black and white hairs. It lets out a terrifying growl from the back of its throat and looks to attack again. It’s between you and your knife, so your only choice is to back away.
Eventually the creature gives up and snuffles off in to the undergrowth, down a hole near your shelter you hadn’t noticed before.
When you make it back to your base you once again consult the captive human.
“Badger.” they say, with a solemn nod.
One word: Moose
“Our vehicles are far superior to the local human models, in range, speed, armament, and any other metric you care to name! Nothing could possibly-”
BAMrumblerumblethumpcrash!!!
“That’s called a moose.”
Wolverines.
Also.. dolphins.
The invasion is going slowly. The humans have caught on and are actively destroying information on the planet’s flora and fauna before Intelligence can capture and process it. All that they have are survivors’ accounts. Bears. Hippos. Badgers. Moose. It is becoming obvious this mudball planet is a full-on Death World to the unprepared, and you are so very unprepared.
You lost Jaxurn to a plant. Not even a mobile or carnivorous plant, just one that caused a vicious allergic reaction on contact that killed him in less than a rai’kor. Commander Vura’ko died to an insect bite, a tiny local pest that sucked a tiny bit of her blood and apparently replaced it with a bit of its last meal, which was full of disease. Backwash. She died to bug backwash. And yet you honestly envy them after that… thing you encountered…
When you got back to base the quarantine officer refused to let you inside. They had to roll a containment tank outside to put you in, because you all knew there would be no chance of eliminating the smell if it got into the ship’s air ducts. Smell. You wonder if your nasal slit will ever recover from this stench.
And the smell would. Not. Leave. After incinerating your gear the Q.O. had you use every cleansing agent they could think of, including a few janitorial ones, and still everyone fled the stench if they were downwind of your tank. Desperate to protect everyone’s nasal slits from the smell the quarantine officer interrogated the humans. From them, a glimmer of hope: there was a cure. Somehow the juice of a certain fruit on this mudball was the only thing that could break up the chemicals in the little horror’s spray. Immediately the Q.O. sent a team to recover buckets of the stuff and made you bathe in it. That was hours ago and it didn’t seem to be working, though. All it was doing was turning your blue skin an interesting shade of purple.
Sighing in frustration you wave the med-assist on duty over, who only approaches after checking the wind direction. Annoyed, you flip on the tank`s vox speaker.
“The humans did say it was “grape” juice that removed “skunk” stench, right?“
Every night.
It came for someone almost every night.
Any soldier alone was a viable target for this native monster that moved unseen by any but the security viewers, usually only spotted in hindsight. They were taken as silently as this earth-monster moved. Sometimes they’d find the remains in the morning taken up a tree and hung there, mostly eaten, as if it were a grisly reminder that the monster was still there, waiting unseen, to strike again.
What little they saw of the monster on the vidfeed showed true horror. Yellow eyes that shone with all the light it could gather. It had fangs as long as his grasping digits. Claws half that size formed curved hooks that allowed it to climb up their fortifications with impunity. And in the underbrush, its spots made it almost impossible to see clearly in the undergrowth, if it could be seen at all.
Even the native sentients, the humans, had a healthy respect and fear for it.
The earth natives called the monster a leopard.
It was a constant fear that muddied the senses, and let the monster hunt even more effectively as the soldiers were always on edge. Sleep deprived with fear, it made them even better targets for the monster.
But rumor was that there was worse on this planet. Rumors of a monster like a leopard but larger, and bigger in every imaginable sense. Stripped instead of spotted, which leaped from the underbrush with a sound.
A sound that burst eardrums, paralyzed entire units, and let the monster kill with impunity. While the Leopard wrestled soldiers down and ripped their throats out. This other monster, the Tiger, killed with its pounce alone.
“We’ve been through this,” Group Leader 455 snapped. “The dissection of an Earth life form will help the scientists make weapons to combat the rest of this planet’s hellbeasts. And these are domesticated. Harmless.”
The troops were not-quite-looking at her in the way troops do when they don’t want to be seen to contradict a ranking officer, but can’t quite muster a correct Expression of Enthusiastic Assent. “The name of this species,” she pointed out, “is synonymous with dullness and slowness in the language of the Earth barbarians.” Well, one language out of several thousand—these creatures needed Imperial guidance more than any other world on record—but there was no point in confusing the rank and file.
More not-quite-looking. 455 bubbled a sigh and consulted her scanner. “That one,” she decided. “Alone in the separate pasture. Scans suggest that it’s a male, which means it’s probably weaker. Possibly it’s kept isolated so that the females don’t eat it before mating season. And yes, I know some of you are here on punishment detail, but you’re still soldiers of the Imperium. This squad is perfectly capable of handling a lone, helpless, pathetic male cow.”
I’m enjoying this immensely. Wait until the aliens try Australia for size…
It was a strange creature Tar’van glimpsed at on the vast island known to the humans as ‘Australia’.
“I would warn you not to fuck with us, mate.” Their forced guide, a prisioner, had warned with a chilling grin upon capture. “If you think a moose is bad, wait until you tango with a red back.” To this day Tar’van fears the creature known as the red back, and what horrors it would bring.
The prisioner turned out to be of little help,the stubboness of his people causing them to refuse the danger that the captured human warned of. Tar’van recalls a moment when one of his squad members approached a creature know as a dingo, insistent they had seen these creatures before and they were tame. They barely escaped with 5 of the original 7 members of his squad.
Another moment Tar’van recalls was the brutal mauling they witnessed by the hands of a creature called an ‘Emu’
“Don’t feel too bad,” the prisioner mocked. “We lost a war to the Emu’s as well.”
Now with only 4 members of their squad left, including themself, Tar’van had learned to listen to the prisoner, to be wary of the simplest of creatures. This human was of the sub-species of ‘Zookeeper’ after all.
The ‘Zookeeper’ looks off to the distance, where the creature is.
“It’s a kangaroo, leave it be and you’ll be fine.” Tar’van nods, a human signal of acknowledgement if they are correct. The human smiles a bit.
“That creature cannot possibly harm us.” Tar’van’s squadleader protests. “It is so docile. I will aproach it and bring back it’s head to show this human is a fearmongering liar.”
The human reels back, a look of disgust crosses their face and anger passes through their eyes.
“Fucking do it mate, I dare ya.” The human hisses. The squad leader puffs up their hoinn gland, a sign of pride to their species, and aproached the so called ‘Kangaroo’.
“This will be unpleasant.” A squadmate mutters as they watch their leader raise their fist and bring it down on the creature. The ‘Kangaroo’ looks a little stunned by the impact, before it raises itself upon its strong tail and uses its powerful heind legs to launch their squadleader backwards through the air.
Their squadleader lands upon the ground, unmoving with black blooded oozeing from them. It appears Tar’van is the squads leader now.
“I don’t know what they expected.” the human says, smugness filling their tone. “Kangaroos are fucking shreaded. 8-pack and all.”
Tar’van steps forward to the human, whom inches back in a sign of fear as Tar’van pulls their blade from its holster, and in their first act as leader, frees the human of the bonds around their hands.
“Please,” Tar’van bags. “Get us back safely.”
@kryallaorchid, you guys really lost a war to emus? Why was it necessary?
oh, mate, you never mess with the emus.
(Jesus christ. Dont get us started on kangaroos)
They had faced Emu’s. They had lost one in the battle but had experienced them. But this was no emu.
Looking to their guide, they all stare in horror as his face changes from calculating to fear. Pure, heart consuming horror as he stares at the large bird. “Cassowary…” They mimic him in fear. Squawking the horrific name as another joins the first in the mad run towards them.
The only ones to survive was the native guide and Tar’van. The guide was carrying the soldier over his shoulder as they made their way back to the settlement. Tar’van was a wreck. Periodically alternating between rocking in complete silence and whispering broken words in horror. When they consulted the native all he said was “Its spring…. Magpie season…”
“Listen up, troops. This armour upgrade has been tested both in the laboratories of the best Imperial military scientists and in the field. We are impervious to the stings of any insect on this hellhole of a planet, striped or not! We can brave the perils of its wildlife, and conquer it at long last! Revenge for our fallen companions! Glory to the Emperor!”
“Excuse me,” the native Terran guide speaks up in a tired tone, and the squad’s cheers die on their lips. “This is Japan. You haven’t seen what–”
“Silence, worm! No sting can penetrate this plating!”
The guide tries to warn them once again, merely earning a blow that throws them to their knees. The troops set out, morale high, certain in their ability to brave the wildlife now and thirsting for vengeance against the non-sentient native species. One soldier thumps his fist against a tree. A hollow sound follows.
In an instant, the soldier is the centre of a storm of the striped insects. At first, no one pays it any mind. Their little stings cannot penetrate the new plating, after all.
But then the soldier falls to his knees, and the squad stares in horror as the insects enclose him in layer upon layer of their own bodies, all moving. The squad’s medic yells a warning at everyone to stay back, watching the readouts of the unfortunate soldier’s armour on their diagnostic screen with undisguised horror. The insects aren’t even stinging. They simply keep moving, one atop the other, and the soldier’s body temperature is slowly rising until he drops to the ground, quite literally cooked alive. The insect swarm takes off, unharmed save for the ones that were crushed when the trooper fell.
Finally asked about what happened, the human sighs. “Japanese honeybees. They do this to wasps, too.”
“How?” You ask. “How has your species dominated this planet?”
The human bares its teeth. A smile, they call it. Something humans do when they are happy. Yet you can’t help but think of all the creatures with the their large fangs and sharp teeth. (What kind of species uses a threat signal as a sign of happiness?)
“Persistence and ingenuity.” The human answers, still smiling.
It doesn’t matter that this one is your prisoner. Humans, you decide, are as terrifying as their planet.
“And scattered about it … were the Martians–dead!–slain by the putrefactive and disease bacteria against which their systems were unprepared; slain as the red weed was being slain; slain, after all man’s devices had failed, by the humblest things that God, in his wisdom, had put upon this earth.”
– HG Wells, The War of the Worlds,1898
I’m picturing aliens going up against a hoard of Canadian geese, or a swan.
I think at that point they’d just give up.
Or fire ants
No one even MENTIONED snakes yet…
This thing gets better EVERY FUCKING TIME I SEE IT.
“Let us try the creatures that the humans keep for domestic companionship”
“Is that a miniature tiger?”
“Why does this human own a small pack of wolves?”
The aliens ask their human captive why small wolves live with them.
“Oh, you mean dogs? Yeah, they’re the only animals that can keep up with us.”
The aliens look at each other in fear. “What do you mean?”
“Oh well that’s why you guys ‘won’ is because humans aren’t super fast or strong. I think my middle school biology teacher called us pursuit predators? It means we evolved to hunt things by following them at walking pace until they had to stop to sleep and then catching up to them then. Dogs are the only animals that can keep up with us. Did you know one time a pack of wolves tailed a herd of caribou for three days straight?”
“Uh… okay, what about these small round things with big teeth?”
“Omg dude no if you give a hamster enought time that little fucker can chew through concrete :)”
The aliens wonder if the surrender of humanity was a trap.
Somebody do sharks or sea creatures next. Giant squids would wreak havoc on their ships.
The aliens have sophisticated technology which pretty much allows them to live underwater, which is something even the inventive humans have never managed. Submarines have nothing on alien submersion pods, which can withstand the crushing pressures of even the darkest depths of the oceans and seas.
The aliens aren’t expecting any difficulties with their underwater expeditions. Of course, that’s when four of the life signs on the central screen simply vanish, like they’d never been there.
Alpha turns on the direct communication lines to the remaining submersion pods, and the only thing they hear through the tinny speakers is screaming.
Alpha resists the urge to turn and stare at the shackled human standing behind them, but Beta, Gamma and Theta have no such compunctions.
The human shrugs. “I mean, we’ve never really been down there so we’re not entire sure, but we’ve heard stories of giant squids and stuff. No smoke without fire, and all that.”
“There can be neither smoke nor fire underwater, human, cease your prattling.”
The human snorts. “It’s a phrase. A metaphor? Man, I don’t know, I studied marine biology, not literature.”
The human is unable to tell them anything useful about what might have happened to the submersion pods, but retrieved footage later shows tentacled behemoths snaking out of the depths of disturbed silt and cold water, and crushing the submersion pods effortlessly, in full view of the outer-hull cameras. The monsters have giant beaks which rip through the organic alloy sheets, and into the bodies of the pod pilots within.
The outer-hull cameras register the blue of fresh spilled blood and gore, at the same time the on-board cameras register screaming and the red glow of critical power failure.
The last thing the aliens can see on the retrieved footage is thin, long, snakelike creatures appearing out of the darkness and gloom, creating their own light and descending upon the remains of their brethren. They are accompanied by creatures that look like plastic bags, but which feed upon the toxic remains of the organic alloy of which the pods were made.
The human appears completely nonchalant – there is no love lost between slave and master. “Wait till you see sharks.”
Every time it gets better
this is my take two, and i fucking love this post.
Dihesil cautiously followed their leader onto the terrain. It is rough, though patches here and there are slick and glassy. Their human guide is terrified. It strains against the soldiers holding it, muttering frantically under its breath. “We’re gonna die, we’re gonna fucking die.” Squad leader Tarhsis seems unconcerned. As the small group approached the top of the sloping terrain, a slight rumble shook the ground. The human yelped and struggled worse than ever, and the guards scowled and lifted it straight off the ground to carry it along. “Please!” The human cried. “We have to retreat now, if any of us wants to survive! Please, I’m a geologist, I know what’s happening! We’ll be killed!” Tarhsis laughed. “Silly human. Your fellows have tricked us before, and we will not be tricked again.” They pointed toward the top. “Advance.” “No!!” The human kicked its guards in the loikinin glands and ran, the two soldiers left coughing and wheezing. Dihesil reluctantly raised their blaster to strike the human down, but Tarhsis stopped them. “There’s nowhere for it to run. We have camps down there, and we’ll punish it properly after we’re done here.” The squad had taken only another two paces when the ground rocked beneath their feet and threw them down. A horrible gasping roar began at the top of the incline, and bright orange liquid spilled out. The heat slapped Dihesil in the face, making them realize that perhaps the human had been right to flee. In the end, only Dihesil made it back to the sip and to the camps in time to warn the others. The human who had run shook its head as it saw the burns lacing Dihesil’s body. “I told you so.”
~~~~~
Yunor had been on the first ship to land on the island chain, and had seen their good friend die at the hands of something the Terran had called “Japanese honeybees.” It made them furious that such a small creature could kill their friend. Now, they swore to explore these islands and discover, conquer, and catalogue all of its deadly features.
Their three hundred and twenty-second day began quite well. They were off to investigate the water creatures that lived around the islands. Curiously enough, no rogue Terrans were on the beaches, nor were there any complicit guides on recreation. They greeted one of their other friends cheerily, then began combing the beach for creatures.
An hour after arriving, Yunor had been pinched by several “crabs,” and was becoming irritated. A tremor ran through the sand, strong enough to knock them off balance. It continued for several seconds, then ceased. They picked themself up and laughed, returning to the search. The ocean seemed to recede as he walked towards it, further than normal, and far out, it was rising into a massive wall of water. The sea approached fast, growing larger and larger as it came, and Yunor gasped, tried to run, but too late—
“A what?” Piklono shook the bars of the Terran cage. “What was it?”
“A tsunami,” one Terran said.
Another shook its head. “We told all of you not to go out today.”
“You want to go out now? After a fuckin’ snow storm?”
“We’d like to get this over as quickly as possible human.” It was true. This human country, Canada was it? Was large and cold.
It took far too long to get ready and the vast expanse of it made exploring the country difficult. This and Russia had very little volunteers for these exact reasons.
“Fine then, I guess. If you wanna get frostbite and amputate a toe or three than who am i to judge eh? Lead the way.”
The human rolled his eyes but remained compliant. Good. Retily wanted it to be over as soon as possible.
He did not like the cold or the way his comrades appendages would turn black in it.
——–
“Human hurry up!” Squad leader Fargin yelled, brandishing his prod to help move the human along. The human, whose name was Michael he found out from his collar, stood at the end stiff.
“Don’t-, Don’t fucking move guys.” The human, or Michael really, hissed.
Only then did Retily notice his eyes were much larger than normal. Was the human experiencing the so called frostbite it talked about? Than why was he staring off into the distance at that certain spot?
“Hey uh, Fargin i think i just saw something move?” Comrade Yurien said, staring at the same spot the human was.
Huffing Squad leader Fargin brought out his binoculars and looked where the two were. A small excited noise came from the back of his throat as he brought his binoculars down.
“Ah Human! No need to fret. It is simply an albino version of a black bear. Do not worry i shall take care of it immediately!”
What was meant to be reassuring sentence, and one of Fargin showing off his might, made the human pale considerably. He took a step back and dread filled his face.
“No fuck we need to-, we need to get out of here immediately. It ain’t safe. Just-. oh fuck oh fuck” The human seemed afraid of whatever this thing was. And if the human seemed afraid than Retily didn’t think it was smart to go after whatever it was.
“Pull yourself together human!” Fargin said, “Yurien and Mastive come with me. We shall dispense of this creature at once!”
The three set off towards the animal and each step they took made the human shrink behind Retily. It was all going so well but then the animal turned around and attacked.
Yurien was the first to go, with a bite to the neck and claw marks to the chest he bled out immediately. Fargin came right after, his screams echoing around the frozen tundra. Mastive however made a mistake.
Mastive ran.
The bear chased after him and in the distance they could hear loud screams of pain. The bear had caught up to him it seemed.
“Wha-, what was that?” Retily asked, immediately turning towards the human.
“A polar bear. Largest, most vicious, bear of bears and we’re fuckin’ lucky it didn’t notice us.” The human replied, still shaking and pale.
“Why?”
“Because” The human started slowly, disbelief crossing his face at the thought of still being alive “It hunts humans.”
They trudged through the musky swamp, the humid air sticky, their clothes sticking to their skin due to the sweat, even though it was nighttime.
“Human, where are we now?” asked Kron, the general. The human, Josh, who didn’t even seem fazed by the heat, answered, “This is Florida.”
A few soldiers had already been killed off to panthers and black bears, so the remaining decided it’d be best to travel at night when the wildlife were asleep. Before, there had been a total of twenty soldiers. Now there were only six.
Something brushed against Neerin, causing him to yelp, only to realize it was moss dangling from a tree. The stems reminded him too much of jellyfish tentacles that they had encountered earlier, causing him to shudder as he scratched at the stings on his legs.
As they continued trekking deeper into the swamp, the water became less shallow until they were no longer wading and had to swim instead. The faint sound of ducks quacking in the distance was almost a relief to listen to. At least they’d have food if they needed to stop for the rest of the night.
Suddenly, there was noise.
Everyone stopped, asking each other if they all heard the same thing. They scanned the area, but it was too dark to see. Thinking it was probably a fish, they resumed their trail. Surely nothing would attack them at night on water, right?
Then, there was the noise again, only it was closer and sounded like a low rumble.
Everyone paused. Something was stalking them. But what?
“Oh shit,” Josh whispered in horror. “Human, what is that noise we just heard?!” Kron demanded. “I recognize that sound anywhere, I heard it before while I was kayaking,” by now, Josh’s voice sounded panicked. Kron grew impatient, “Well? What is it?!”
Josh gulped, “Its an alligator.”
Before Kron could ask what this ‘alligator’ is, one of his soldiers let out a bloodcurdling scream as something dragged him beneath the water. Everyone looked around frantically, calling out his name, when a dismembered leg with a noticeable bite mark floated up.
All soldiers froze in shock when the creature resurfaced, baring its rows of bloodied teeth lining the inside of its elongated snout in rows, hissing as it swam closer.
“SWIM AWAY!”
Everyone scattered, frantically swimming as fast as they could. Unfortunately, the ruckus only attracted more alligators, which were faster and bigger. There was no hope for survival.
Kron hadn’t even noticed Josh escaped, paralyzed as he watched his army be dragged underwater, the sounds of agonizing screams and the snapping of jaws as the gators devoured them.
Then, he heard it. The guttural growl as one approached him. Even in the dark, the reptilian creature looked like it was… Smiling. Sadistic and hungry.
Grabbing a nearby stick floating in the water, Kron tried swatting at the carnivore, only for it to bite the wood in half and clamp its teeth into his arm. Kron screamed in pain, tugging at his arm in a panicked frenzy. The gator was relentless, only biting down harder with each pull until Kron’s arm ripped off, the remaining swallowed whole by the beast.
Tears and snot ran down Kron’s face, stumbling backwards as the gator swam towards him again. When he was able to think rationally, Kron pulled out his combat knife and aimed for the reptile’s back, but the blade didn’t even penetrate through its skin, like it was made of its own scaly armor.
There was that dreadful hissing noise again, only this time it was behind him. Then all around him. Kron was surrounded by the alligators who had finished off his men and were now focused on him for their last meal.
Kron whimpered in defeat and all the gators pounced on him at once, above and below the water. His limbs ripped off and chunks of flesh torn out of his body, the water turned red with blood, his screams echoing in the marsh as the alligators ate him alive.
None of the aliens survived. Only Josh the human.
“Good thing I’m a native Floridian,” Josh laughed in relief when he was finally out of the swamp, “otherwise I never would’ve recognized the growl of a gator.”
If you’re a native Floridian, you know to stay away from swimming (or even wading) in the swamps at night at all. Namely because gators are fucking everywhere. There’s actually a saying about how common they are. “if there’s a puddle, there’s a gator.”
Aisrain stared questionably at the human as she stopped. “Why aren’t you proceeding?”, he questioned, and the human slowly gestured towards the ground, at what appeared to be a tree root. “Cottonmouth.”, she breathed.
Aisrain snarled at the word, “Is that an insult? Don’t make me remind you of what happens to disrespe-” “Shut up.”, the human stated curtly, and Aisrain huffed, moving himself to stand in front of the human-
Only to gasp in pain as the “tree root” came to life, boring its fangs into his legs as the crew gasped in shock and horror as the creature clung to their leader’s leg for a few moments longer, then releasing him and wiggling into the brush.
Aisrain growled as a burning pain began to spread through his leg, and he glared intensely at the human guide.
“What. Was. That.”, he hissed, and the human smiled.
“A cottonmouth snake. Well known here, in South Carolina, for their pale mouths. That was a baby, unluckily for you.”, she grinned, and Aisrain yelled out in pain before placing his hand around the human’s neck. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘UNLUCKILY’!?”
The human sneered.
“Unlike a mature cottonmouth, which will just bite you and deposit a bit of venom…”, she chuckled sadistically, and Aisrain’s pride melted away with her voice in her next words.
“A baby cotton will deposit ALL of its venom in one bite.”
The crew’s eyes widened, gasps filling the air, but the human held her hand up, silencing them. “It gets worse, Captain Aisrain.”, her words strengthened on the leader’s title, making him shiver under her sadistically happy gaze.
“Because you wanted to delve so deep into the forest for your research, we are no where near anywhere that can provide an anti-venom. I told you it was a bad idea.”
They’d been told not to deviate too far from their designated route but the squad had stumbled upon a small group of humans, it was only prudent that they were captured.
The humans ran, pelting across the long wooden walkway that ran parallel to the sea. One was shouting as if calling for someone ahead and, suddenly, another human stepped out from around the corner and threw something at the squad. Dozens of long, thin objects, yellowy and soft. They got stuck in the squad’s armor and rigging but did nothing more than smell vaguely of oil. The squad barred their teeth in triumph at having withstood the humans’ foolish attack.
And that was when the seagulls swooped in.
Fucking octopi tho…
Don’t forget honey badgers. They will fight Lions. Honey badgers are fearless and can be relentless killers. Stubborn and intelligent problem solvers.
When Brazilian graphic designer Carol Rossetti began posting colorful illustrations of women and their stories to Facebook, she had no idea how popular they would become.
Thousands of shares throughout the world later, the appeal of Rosetti’s work is clear. Much like the street art phenomenon Stop Telling Women To Smile, Rossetti’s empowering images are the kind you want to post on every street corner, as both a reminder and affirmation of women’s bodily autonomy.
“It has always bothered me, the world’s attempts to control women’s bodies, behavior and identities,” Rossetti told Mic via email. “It’s a kind of oppression so deeply entangled in our culture that most people don’t even see it’s there, and how cruel it can be.”
Rossetti’s illustrations touch upon an impressive range of intersectional topics, including LGBTQ identity, body image, ageism, racism, sexism and ableism. Some characters are based on the experiences of friends or her own life, while others draw inspiration from the stories many women have shared across the Internet.
“I see those situations I portray every day,” she wrote. “I lived some of them myself.”
Despite quickly garnering thousands of enthusiastic comments and shares on Facebook, the project started as something personal — so personal, in fact, that Rossetti is still figuring out what to call it. For now, the images reside in albums simply titled “WOMEN in english!“ or ”Mujeres en español!“ which is fitting: Rossetti’s illustrations encompass a vast set of experiences that together create a powerful picture of both women’s identity and oppression.
One of the most interesting aspects of the project is the way it has struck such a global chord. Rossetti originally wrote the text of the illustrations in Portuguese, and then worked with an Australian woman to translate them to English. A group of Israeli feminists also took it upon themselves to create versions of the illustrations in Hebrew. Now, more people have reached out to Rossetti through Facebook and offered to translate her work into even more languages. Next on the docket? Spanish, Russian, German and Lithuanian.
It’s an inspiring show of global solidarity, but the message of Rossetti’s art is clear in any language. Above all, her images celebrate being true to oneself, respecting others and questioning what society tells us is acceptable or beautiful.
“I can’t change the world by myself,” Rossetti said. “But I’d love to know that my work made people review their privileges and be more open to understanding and respecting one another.””
From the site: All images courtesy Carol Rossetti and used with permission. You can find more illustrations, as well as more languages, on her Facebook page.
Oooh. I reblogged a partial version of this recently but I didn’t know how many more there were! I LOVE these!
OK SO THERE ARE TONS MORE OF THESE OF THE ARTISTS FB PAGE. GUYS THESE ARE AWESOME.
LOOK
AT
THESE
LETS APPLAUD CAROL ROSSETTI EVERYONE
LOOK
Um, these are like the best thing ever.
Just slow clap it out. ;w;
So many more!
I love all of these so much. Every time I see them I smile.
Ppl be like “ I want an actual male gem, not just Steven.”
Jeez, it’s like having only one character
to represent your whole gender
in a group composed all of another gender
is a bit upsetting huh?
I wonder
what
that’s like
no really
can you
even imagine
what this lack of representation
MUST
FEEL
LIKE
This
post
isn’t
long
enough
none of the listed shows are named after the one female character, either
it’s actually physically impossible for me to not reblog this post.
I want to say I’ve reblogged this before, but I’m reblogging again for the brilliant addition of, “None of the listed shows are named after the one female character, either” because FUCKING THANK YOU.
mmmmmhm.
Every time I reblog this, there are new shows on the list.
Wow
it’s almost
as though
this happens
almost constantly
But normally you don’t notice, because it’s not about you.
The climactic scene of The Lord of the Rings, when Frodo and Sam reach the Cracks of Doom, is one of my favorite scenes in all of literature. So I was very interested a little while back when noted Tolkien scholar Stephen Colbert laid out a neat little analysis of the scene. Frodo seems to fail at his appointed task – rather than throwing the ring into the fire, he claims it for himself, and the ring is only destroyed by the coincidental intervention of Gollum. Colbert then notes that Gandalf should have known that Frodo would fail. Back in the second chapter, Frodo demonstrated to Gandalf his inability to throw the ring into the much cooler fires of his own hearth, after having only possessed the ring for a few hours. Therefore, one may assume, Gandalf must have intended for one of the other members of the Fellowship to intervene and ensure the ring’s destruction.
Colbert’s analysis is clever, in the same way that the theory that Gandalf had intended all along to use the eagles to reach Mordor is clever. In its cleverness, though, I think such analyses risk treating LotR as a D&D campaign and thus losing sight of the real literary themes of the story.
One of Tolkien’s key themes is the Augustinian view of evil. Most genre fiction takes a decidedly Manichean view of evil – a view that holds that evil and good are two great opposing forces in the world, like the light and dark sides of The Force. In a Manichean view, good must triumph by opposing evil, either to eradicate it or to restore a balance to the universe.
Manichean views of evil lead to a very common type of climax to stories: the contest of wills. Our hero confronts the villain, and through superior courage, grit, love, or what-have-you, they overcome the villain and their evil power. It’s Harry going wand-to-wand with Voldemort, Thomas Covenant laughing at Lord Foul, Meg breaking IT’s hold over Charles Wallace, Luke facing down Vader and Vader facing down the Emperor.
Any other writer could have given us a very typical Manichean Cracks of Doom scene. Frodo approaches the fire, and the ring’s temptation overtakes him. He puts the ring on and begins to claim it. But a tiny voice somewhere deep inside him insists that this is wrong. Sam cries out, and thinking about Sam’s love and devotion rekindles a spark in Frodo. His Hobbitish desire for food and good cheer wells up, and he tears the ring off and throws it into the fire. A dramatic ending and a nice echo of the moral of The Hobbit.
But that’s not what happens. Frodo’s goodness – even the innocent goodness of a little old Hobbit – can’t go toe-to-toe with Sauron’s evil. Indeed, Isildur proved it. He defeated Sauron by opposing him with the force of good, and defeated him. But Isildur couldn’t destroy the ring, and within the year it had destroyed him.
Tolkien holds instead to an Augustinian view of evil. Evil, according to St. Augustine, is not a force of its own, but rather is the absence or corruption of good. We see this most explicitly in the idea that Morgoth and Sauron can’t create anything of their own, but only corrupt and warp what has been created by others. We also see it when Gandalf and Galadriel describe what would happen if they took the ring – it would warp their own desire to do good until they became evil.
An Augustinian climax can’t involve a contest of wills between good and evil. In an Augustinian world, evil can only exist by leeching off of good. So evil must be given an opportunity to destroy itself, much like the self-defeating band of thieves described by Plato (on whose philosophy Augustine drew heavily). Good wins by renouncing evil, not by overcoming it.
And that’s exactly what happens at the Cracks of Doom. The ring isn’t destroyed because Frodo’s force of good overcame the ring’s evil. Nor is Gollum’s intervention a coincidence or deus ex machina (like the series of disarmings that happened to make Harry the master of the Elder Wand). Rather, the ring’s evil collapsed in on itself by drawing Gollum. The very corruption of Gollum that enabled the ring to escape the river drove him to wrestle desperately with Frodo for it and ultimately fall to his doom, ring in hand.
An Augustinian view of evil has definite moral implications, which are also shown throughout The Lord of the Rings. A Manichean world is a consequentialist world. To defeat the forces of evil, we need to think strategically. Sometimes we may even need to indulge in a little short-term evil in order to be able to achieve the greater good. But an Augustinian world can’t allow that kind of pragmatic approach. In an Augustinian world, any compromise with evil can only strengthen it, giving it an infusion of good that delays its self-destruction. An Augustinian world demands a deontological ethic, doing the right thing regardless of the outcome.
Again and again in The Lord of the Rings, we see that strategically pursuing the greater good fails, while remaining true to moral principles succeeds even when it looked foolish. On the cautionary side, we have Saruman and Denethor. Though they may point to the palantir as an excuse, they each ultimately made a thoroughly reasonable choice in the face of Sauron’s overwhelming advantage – to ally with him while playing the long game, or to give in to despair. Our heroes, on the other hand, repeatedly make foolish decisions based on hope. Aragorn is a good example – he decides to pursue Merry and Pippin because he owes them protection even though Frodo is the one who holds the fate of the world in his hands. Later, he decides to make a suicide attack on the Morannon rather than hunkering down in Minas Tirith, in the hopes of Frodo’s quest succeeding.
But the most important instance of doing the right thing despite the consequences comes from Frodo himself: he refuses to kill Gollum. Killing Gollum would have been an eminently reasonable idea – he’s a slinker and a stinker, and we know that he never redeemed himself or turned over a new leaf. Indeed, his main accomplishments were to lead Frodo and Sam into a death trap, then to try to kill them with his own hands at the Cracks of Doom. Both Sam and Faramir were right when they said that killing Gollum would have been a good idea!
But Frodo showed Gollum pity and spared his life because it was the right thing to do. And just like Gandalf could see Frodo’s unwillingness to destroy the ring back in Bag End, he also addressed this very issue. He instructed Frodo:
Frodo: It’s a pity Bilbo didn’t kill him when he had the chance.
Gandalf: Pity? It was pity that stayed Bilbo’s hand. Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many.
And in the end, that pity was what saved the world. Frodo’s pity made it possible for Gollum to be there at the Cracks of Doom to take the ring. Frodo refused to give in to the small, reasonable evil of killing Gollum, and so he left the great evil of the ring exposed to destroy itself. That was Gandalf’s backup plan, not Aragorn’s strength to take the ring and destroy it. And so Frodo didn’t really fail. He succeeded at his quest back when he saved Gollum’s life, when he did the right thing even though it seemed foolish.
willowfoot 