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Have you seen the movie “Encanto”? If not then anything with Jiang Cheng is fine 🎊

If Alma had been anything less, then Encanto would not have survived. Alma did not just receive a miracle, but she has to perform one too. She had to lead their new village and settle their people all while raising her three children without the love of her life. If Alma had been an inch softer, an ounce more unyielding, all would have been lost.

Casita knows this. Casita loves her.

But the circumstances which Casita was born of will not be what sustains her, what sustains the family within its walls, what sustains Encanto.

Things are different now. They need to be different now.

Alma will not live forever, and Casita loves her, but she is no longer what Encanto needs.

The triplets are too young and it is not time. First Isabella, then Dolores, Luisa, and Camilo. Casita is proud to have them, but they are not quite right for this.

Alma pulled off a miracle to protect and nourish Encanto along the miracle she’d been given. Her replacement must be able to lead differently, but just as well, just as strongly, with enough conviction to cleave a home out of the earth and stand as tall as the mountains that surround it.

Then Mirabel is born.

Sweet, darling Mirabel, who dances to the beat that no one else can hear, not even Dolores. No one except Alma.

The difference is Alma does not dance to it.

Mirabel is born and Casita knows.

She waits.

Mirabel stands in front of her, waiting for her door, and she is so small and so young and Casita makes it as clear as she can, tries to make it so Alma and their people will understand. It is too soon. Mirabel’s room is now Alma’s, but it’s not time, yet, but it will be. Casita dissolves the door and flickers the candle in Mirabel’s direction.

But things go wrong.

They do not understand.

Casita tries to speak to Alma, but even her Alma cannot understand her like Mirabel can, and no one listens. Bruno hides within her walls and Mirabel cries herself to sleep and Casita does not understand how it could have gone so wrong, how they can look at her Mirabel and think Casita has no gift to give her.

Casita gives her everything.

She gives Mirabel herself.

She gives her Encanto.

It is not a gift that can undone, but they do not understand, and Alma does not let Mirabel lead as Casita hoped she would. Cracks shift around its walls and it does it’s best, but now the miracle is stretched thin, pulled between Alma and Mirabel.

It would have all pulled apart so much sooner, except.

Except Bruno lives in her walls, hiding himself away to protect her Mirabel, and patches the cracks no one can see. Except Mirabel loves her family and loves Alma and does her best to walk in step with her even as her feet yearn to move to a different beat.

Casita worries about Antonio.

Without Mirabel’s blessing, she cannot give him his door and his powers, but Mirabel does not know that she has to give it.

Thankfully, Mirabel walks Antonio to his door, and it is enough.

But at the same time, it is not enough.

Mirabel can’t help but feel as if she doesn’t belong and Alma holds tightly to a power she doesn’t know she can safely relinquish and it all comes apart. Everything is tearing itself apart, Encanto is tearing itself apart, and all Casita wants is to get everyone to safety, to get them as far from the center of disaster as she can.

But her Mirabel tells her to bring her to the candle, and she listens.

Alma screams at her to stop, and she does not listen.

Encanto is Mirabel’s now. Mirabel’s to protect, Mirabel’s to love, and Mirabel’s to break.

Casita falls to pieces and folds herself around her Mirabel. She is sad, but she is not disappointed, not upset, not capable of anything besides love for her Mirabel.

It will take a miracle to bring her back, to heal her broken family and restore magic to Encanto.

Casita would not have chosen Mirabel if she wasn’t capable of miracles.

giraffepoliceforce

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.

splintercellconviction-deactiva

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.”

artdeactivate2025

This is giving me the biggest, creepiest grin I might have ever grinned

skeletonmug

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.

jabberwockypie

One word: Moose

myurbandream

“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.”

morebadbookcovers

Wolverines.

Also.. dolphins.

ohgodshesloose

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?“

majingojira

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.

lyricwritesprose

“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.”

petermorwood

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.”

miracufic

@kryallaorchid, you guys really lost a war to emus? Why was it necessary?

kryallaorchid

oh, mate, you never mess with the emus.

kawaguardian-blog

(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…”

lemon-embalmer

“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.”

murkymuse

“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.

ehyde

“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

catbountry

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.

invaderdrey

Or fire ants

eeyore9990

No one even MENTIONED snakes yet…

breelandwalker

This thing gets better EVERY FUCKING TIME I SEE IT.

fir-trees-unite-deactivated2017

“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.

grimm-fairy

Somebody do sharks or sea creatures next. Giant squids would wreak havoc on their ships.

lady2828

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.”

endangereduglythings

I’ve seen this post go around a few times, but this time I have some thoughts: 1) This is more or less the plot of Animorphs.

2) Earth has Poison Dart Frogs, we’re clearly a Death World.

3) I’m now imagining them deciding to set up a base on the poles, because life on this planet is clearly dependant on plants. So, that frozen wasteland should be safe of any dangerous megafauna. Cue Polar Bear out of nowhere.

iconuk01

The squad was three days out on patrol when they lost the first member. The hellhole so awful that even the natives term for it frequently translated as “Dirt underfoot” was now seen as a place of punishment for many of the Legions, but there were still some who viewed it as a challenge.

Such a one was Sarcal-<clik>, respected Third Claw of the 87th Legion. Not only an admired leader and a feared warrior (They had led the assualt on Urpga-9 after all), but one whose exo-skeleton and mist sacs were amongst the most elegantly beautiful of their generation (though they were apporpriately modest about such things). In every respect they were a warrior to aspire to be like, resplendent in the finest, hand-polished ceramic body armour, guaranteed (so the makers claimed) to be able to resist the claws of even the “tyg’er”, though no one was too keen to put that one to the test. They had volunteered for this duty, partly out of a love of the challenge, partly out of a desire to excel… There was a Dirt-ian song which included the lyrics “If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere” and this was being generally applied to the surivors of more than one tour of duty.

Simply having them on Dirt (There HAD to be a better name) was a source of pride for many, and relief for others (in the hope that a bad report from Salrcal<clik> would be enough to get Command to evacuate this godsforsaken planet.)

So it was a cause of great concern when Sarcal-<clik> could not be woken when it came time for their watch that night. Like any good soldier, they slept in their armour when sharing watch duty. Swiftly, an officer was called and when the visor was raised, it was not that they were dead which was the greatest shock, but the look of horror frozen on that noble visage.

The field surgeon performing the cursory autopsy could not identify cause of death beyond poison of some sort. The humans bearers on the squad hadn’t been near them, so they were in the clear, but beyond that, it was a mystery.

The prized armour was passed to the next in command, as Sarcal<clik> would have wished, and though the sqaud were not nearly as inspired as once they might have been, they continued the patrol, determined to honour their comrade’s memory. There would be poems composed of this mission on the Homeworld in Sarcal<clik>’s honour, and their behaviour would reflect on them all in the telling.

It was not long, however, before the second in command convulsed and collapsed. Not as stoic as Sarcal<clik> their death was just as horrific, but less restrained and though the surgeon was still not able to identify how such a powerful neurotoxin could have entered their system.

There was some understandable reluctance on the newly appointed second in command to take on the armour. it may have been beautiful and gleamed in the even the unpleasantly yellow Dirt-ian sun, but it now had a reputiation.

And it was one that was well earned. The scream of the dying soldier was heard by all. They took longer that the previous victims, and their last contorlled movement was to point to their hindfoot, but the armoured boot was perfectly intact.

After that no one would go near the armour, it had a bad reputaiton, it would be boxed up and returned to the Homeworld for display in some museum or other. Thus is was only two human bearers cleaning it before transport who were present when the small shape fell out of the toe of the boot.

“Careful matel! Funnel web!”

“Dead now. That explains a lot though. I guess tiger proof doesn’t mean spider-proof, and they LOVE dark spaces to hide in. Doubt the bite would show up on mottled skin like theirs.”

”Should we tell our high and mighty masters in case there are any more about?”

They exchanged a gleefully malevolent look and shared a smile.

“Why trouble them with such a trivial little matter.”

They saluted the remains of the spider as they left. If they noticed the egg sac that was hidden in the depths of the boot as they put it into the transport, they said nothing.

humansarespaceaussies

This is version one out of the two best I’ve found. I’ll combine them into one later, I think. The next one will be up soon.

fatcr0w

Having learned their lesson from the dirt continent from hell, the aliens attempt to try an ecosystem a hemisphere away, knowing the wildly variable fora and fauna should be different and therefore safer. They even chose a sub colony that the humans named ‘friend’.

After a month it was exceedingly clear that the human concept of friendship was NOT a state of mutual trust and support but perhaps fear and subjugation from nature. Perhaps it was one of those clever tricks the humans used to lure each other to death, just like the fabled ‘greenland’

You see, having learned their lessons in “Australia” they chose to settle in near the old human civilization, where the humans had razed the landscape to set up personal habitats, driving the wildlife back.

How were they to know that driving back meant only about 10 feet, because after a rain, a massive beast heralding from millions of earth years came out of the water and ripped Lieutenant Grakshw into pieces in broad daylight. Attempts to recover his plated insignia for his family was met with a CONFLAGRATION of about 20 vicious writhing snakes that were very soon found to be venomous, as the loss of Captain M'gbrak soon proved.

Immediate restructuring of the fence separating the encampment from the ‘bayou’ seemed to work for precisely one week…

Like most of this death world, the area was prone to hurricanes and tornadoes for most of the year. The human built habitats seemed to weather it poorly, with many having bits blown off, exposing their vehicle ports or bathing dens to the elements.

The exploratory team did not account for what the humans kept in their homes. There were many canine and feline miniatures that they of course had protocol for.

They did not have protocol for the beasts with claws the length of their chest that were very hungry after their human handlers were removed

According to the human guide of sub class “control officer” many upstanding human homes in human sub colony “texas” kept full size predators (lions, tigers, and bears, …..no home) as pets and as it was legal in this dont as long as the animal was fed, there was no documentation on where or how many were hidden away.

The final transmission from settlement group Xyytar-B came from their designated human actually HOLDING several of the venomous beings that slaughtered M'gbrak in a flimsy plastic tub. Her accent was as hard to translate as ever:

“Yea y'all really fucked up when ya tried to poof us all. Now the tigers are hungry and the wolves are breaking out of their yards. Try watching animal cops before picking a habitat next time. Animal control out”

With such overwhelming evidence, by order of the council the texas sub colony was marked as 'completely inhospitable’ and added to the 'hellspot" list right next to Australia.

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