Today at after-camp daycare, we played Life and Death and God.

Basically, it’s the Game of Life but with some alterations created by the six 8-10 year old boys that were there.  I was designated writer of The List Of Stuff, aka the list in which anything we currently “possessed” (ie houses, children, pets, spouses, Gifts From God) was listed under our name so we could keep track.

God was played by the one boy who didn’t want to actually play.  When I asked him how God was going to fit into the game, he said that God worked in mysterious ways so he could randomly give people News From God whenever he felt like it.  We settled that if someone spun a three, they’d receive a miracle, and if they spun a seven, they’d get bad news, and at the end of every round (ie when everyone had had a turn) he could make a new rule for the world.

“Dude, you should’ve prayed more,” God told one boy as he spun a seven.  “Your dog got possessed by a demon and ate your baby.  You need to get an exorcism.  That costs $50,000 and a life card.”

“Aww man,” the unfortunate demon dog owner said.  “Not Shark Tooth Junior.  She’s my only daughter.”  Flips through his money  “What if I don’t want to spend money to get an exorcism?”

God shrugged.  “Then I guess you can keep a demon dog,” he said, “but it requires a human sacrifice every turn or it’ll eat you.”

The demon dog owner sighed and paid the money, and I crossed off both Shark Tooth Junior and Chicken Strip the dog off his List Of Stuff.

“Congratulations!” God said on another turn.  “You’re pregnant!”

“But I’m a man.”

“That’s why it’s a miracle,” God pointed out.  “It’s the next Jesus!  Also you have to name him Jesus The Second cause I’m God and I say so.”

I was blessed with the ability to turn water into wine at one point, and started a winery as a side business.  Both were added to my List Of Stuff.

At one point, not long after he’d had his first child, one of the boys’ mom came to pick him up.

“Come on,” she said.  “We have to go.”

“Give me a minute, Mom,” he called back.  “I’m dead.  We have to read my will.”

Thus proceeded the reading in which I read through his List Of Stuff one by one and he declared who each item/ability/person/animal went to and I then transferred each thing to other Lists Of Stuff.

“Your wife,” I read.  “Elizabeth.”

“I’m leaving her to,” he trailed off, tapping his chin as he considered his options.  “You, Kee.”

“You can’t give Kee your wife!” another boy protested, one who had already received three of the dead boy’s children.  “That’d make her gay!”

“Kee can be gay if she wants to be,” the dead boy pointed out.

“Yeah,” the boy agreed, “but she’s already got a husband.”

“She can have a husband and a wife,” God declared.  “It’s called being bisexual.  It’s allowed.  Plus I’m God, so that makes it double allowed.”

And that was how I ended up receiving everyone’s wives in their wills, and ended up married to my original husband, Lizard, and my four wives, Elizabeth, Lizzy, Eliza, and Shark Tooth (there was a theme that God had declared we had to follow in naming our spouses, a declaration which came after one of the boys had already married Shark Tooth).  I had no children of my own, but had eventually received dozens in wills, as I ultimately ended up as the last person left in after-camp.

And yeah.  Life and Death and God was definitely a fun time, and I feel like we’ll be playing it again in after-camp tomorrow.  It felt a little like dnd, tbh, with God being the dungeon master, and I would definitely recommend it to anyone wanting to spice up their Game of Life.  You could probably add in a drinking game aspect if you’re not playing with small children, or make like God Cards or something for people to pull from if no one wants to be God.

Can I get more details on how to play this? Bc I’m completely on board.

Someone had sent an ask wanting the rules, so I’ve given as much details as we had in this post here.  Admittedly there aren’t much more details, considering I was playing with small-ish children and we only had a fairly short amount of time to actually play, so it can definitely be developed more if anyone was wanting to!

okay thats one heavyass borderline spell of a song where the hell is it from?

We All Lift Together - Warframe

This genuinely makes me feel better about going to work.

#song tinged with sadness because this is a robot debt colony :(

-from @titanicus-mechanicus​

The video also cut off the start and end, which are the best parts:

Much better!!

This is an excellent song, but may I offer this as a companion?

imagine owning an independent bookstore with a cafe and bakery with a cat that sleeps on the windowsills and people like to pet her while they browse the shelves

Audrey says “fuck your gender roles”

This movie is super underrated.

Audrey is so underrated. How can you not love her?

I have a love-hate relationship with this movie. On one hand it’s got awesome PoC characters who defy racial and gender stereotypes. It also discusses colonialism and how people tend to destroy indigenous cultures to obtain land and resources (which is why the crew ultimately decided a to pretend they never found Atlantis because they don’t want anyone else to try and destroy the culture). But on the other hand, the whole plot is that Atlantis needs a white, cishet man to save it from extinction and for some reason he understand their culture and language better than they do.

hEY FUCK YOU OKAY MILO WAS THE ANTITHESIS OF WHITE SAVIOR HE WAS A NERDY USELESS LITTLE SHIT WHO WAS COWARDLY UNTIL OTHERS FORCED HIM TO ACT HIS ONLY STRENGTHS WERE HIS MIND AND HIS ETHICS HE WAS THE PERFECT DUDE FOR THE JOB AND THE REASON HE KNEW BETTER WAS BECAUSE HE RIGOROUSLY STUDIED TEXTS THAT HAD BEEN LOST OR DESTROYED IN ATLANTIS BECAUSE KIDA’S FATHER INTENTIONALLY LET HIS KINGDOM LAPSE INTO DECAY AND OBSCURITY DO NOT PULL THAT WHITE SAVIOUR BULLSHIT BECAUSE MILO WAS A DAMN GOOD DUDE

I’ve been trying to tell people this for years. Also, what differentiates Milo’s experience from the white savior complex is his expectation and his attitude. When looking for Atlantis, the last thing Milo expects to find are people. He says the most they thought that they would find are carvings and pottery. And he would have been happy with just that.

And even when he finds the Atlanteans, he treats the culture and people with the utmost respect (peek the scene where the crew has their audience with the king). He never tries to interfere in the people’s way of life nor change them. He’s merely an observer fascinated with the culture/people and just wants to know more about them.

In most movies, the white savior comes into the situation with an attitude of superiority and only through his interactions with the native people (and a lot of times a beautiful native woman) is he humbled and then eventually brought in as an honorary member of the people. Milo never asks for thanks or wants to make a name for himself. He does what he does because he loves it and it’s a way to keep his grandfather’s legacy alive.

Yeah. Milo was a damn good dude.

And another thing about Milo that’s made evidenced by this scene in particular? He’s got respect for women. He doesn’t ask why it’s a GIRL mechanic on the expedition, only why it’s a TEENAGER. Doesn’t question Kida’s leadership and knowledge when he meets her. (I can’t think of more examples off the top of my head but I’m sure they’re there).

Milo is a wonderful Disney protagonist, and this movie deserves the underground love it receives.

I was thinking about the post suggesting humans would be to aliens like mythical Fae creatures, and this idea popped into my head.

So we’re stuck on the very outskirts of the intergalactic community and we’re a young race and very little knowledge about us has reached the main players on the intergalactic political stage. We’ve only had contact with our closest neighbours, who are a friendly enough bunch and have helped us along with technology and such, but we’re still working out some internal violence between nations, and having befriended us this little neighbouring Galactic race mostly leaves us alone to sort out our shit. But we like them so we give them the means to contact us with an offer to help them if we ever can.

A century or two later and we’re still not very involved outside our own planet but we’ve basically fixed our infighting and we’re working on building our fleets to go further and discover more. Our friendly neighbours get attacked by a warlike race bent on controlling this Galactic back water to use as a base for greater conquests, and things are going badly for them. In a last ditch effort to save themselves, they call the humans. They think that at least they can evacuate their weaker members to earth so not all their race will be enslaved or killed.

Queue a full on “the beacons are lit, Gondor calls for aid” moment - the newly formed coalition of human nations remembers the kindness of this species that was their first encounter outside their own planet, and they send an army.

And so our friendly neighbours find to their astonishment that they accidentally befriended Space Orcs who arrive on the Galactic stage in spectacular fashion by totally annihilating their fearsome attackers, and suddenly all the other Galactic nations want to ally with this backwater so the can get on the humans good side because damn they don’t want those scary humans to turn on them.

If space travel doesn’t involve sea shanties then I think we’ll have missed an opportunity.

You see though, for sea travel you want big strong people who are capable of managing rigging.  For space travel you want small low-mass people who are technically educated, as they are called, nerds.  Your space shanties are going to be less booming and more squeaky.

in so far as there will be space shanties, they’ll be filk

I call shenanigans on the big strong people; sailors were young and malnourished by modern standards, and climbing around the rigging is easier if you’re small and light.

Like, I am 100% in favor of shanties in as many situations as possible, but I’m having trouble coming up with a mode of space travel that would require multiple humans to move in concert, thus necessitating songs with a strong beat to move to.  

Sea chanties were for providing a strong beat to move to.  Space chanties might very well arise just because we’re bored, out there between point A and point B for so long.

(Also yes, @gdanskcityofficial up there has the right of it.)

Space shanties are for warp piloting. Under warp drive, human time perception and time as measured by crystal or atomic oscillators don’t match. Starship pilots listen to a small unamplified chorus singing a careful rhythm while keeping their own eyes on a silent metronome that the chorus can’t see, linked to a highly-precise atomic clock. How the chorus and metronome fall in and out of sync tells the pilot how to keep the ship safely in the warp bubble and correctly on course.

Depending on route, a typical warp jump can last anywhere from one to ten minutes, and most courses consist of five to fifteen jumps before a necessary four to six hour break to check the engines, plot the next set of jumps, and give everyone a chance to recover. A good shanty team, with reliable rhythm, a broad, versatile, and extendible repertoire, and the stamina to do 3-4 sets a day over the course of a voyage, is just as vital to space travel as a pilot, navigator, or engineering team.

@tmae3114

YESSSSS

Other reasons Shanties will experience a revival in the space age:

An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.

It isn’t uncommon for this particular demon to be summoned—from exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more exhausting) ceremonies in forests—but it has to admit, this is the first time it’s been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed, creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful ‘Home Sweet Home’s hung across the wood-paneled walls.

It’s a mistake—a wrong number, per se. No witch it’s ever known has lived in such an, ah, dated, home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if they’d up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didn’t work that way. Not at all. Not if they want to survive the encounter.

It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacent—the kitchen, going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It moves—feels something slip beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top, as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger. It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into this strange place.

As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.

Now, to be fair, the demon wouldn’t ordinarily second guess being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless) grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.

“Todd! Todd, dear, I didn’t know you were visiting this year! You didn’t call, you didn’t write—but, oh, I’m so happy you’re here, dear! Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a heart attack. And don’t worry about the blood, here—I had an accident. My favorite figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didn’t go as expected. But I seem to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and ‘edgy’ stuff these days, so I don’t suppose you mind.” She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isn’t mocking, it’s sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. “Imagine if it leaves a scar! It’d be a bit ‘badass,’ as you teenagers say, wouldn’t it?”

She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear, because the demon is by no means a ‘Todd’ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only because it had been caught off guard.

The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. “Be a dear and make some more coffee, would you please? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues, while others discuss how many souls they’d swindled in exchange for peanuts, or how many first-borns they’d been pledged for things idiot humans could have gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic that little detours like this were a blessing—happy accidents, as the humans would say.

That’s why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. That’s why it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully, so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine with fresh grounds. It’s as the hot water is percolating that the old woman returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.

“I’m surprised you’re so tall, Todd! I haven’t seen you since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the time—you do love wearing all black, don’t you?” She takes a seat at the small round table in the corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. “I was starting to think you’d never visit. Your father and I have had our disagreements, but…I am glad you’re here, dear. Would you like some cake?” Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated with icing.

It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesn’t seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that smells like an antique garage that hadn’t had its dust stirred in years.

Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.

The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite ‘thank you,’ but it doesn’t suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners regardless.

“Oh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so deep, just like your grandfather’s was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? It’s alright, dear, I’ll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.”

The demon merely nods—some communication can be understood without fail—and drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. It’s ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love that must have gone into its creation.

“I hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You never write back—but I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime. I know of a wonderful little café down the street we can go to. I haven’t been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before he…well.” She falls silent in her rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind that.” Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. “I may as well give you your birthday present, since you’re here. What timing! I only finished it this morning. I’ll be right back.”

When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning circle is bundled in her arms.  

“I found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the library. I thought you’d like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the winter chill—I hope you do like it.” With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket over the demon’s broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders and patting its arms affectionately. “Happy birthday, Todd, dear.”

Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, he’s clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.

this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.

i had to

I WOULD WATCH SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE

Okay but she takes him to the little cafe and all of the people in her town are like “What is that thing, what the hell, Anette?” and she’s like “Don’t you remember my grandson Todd?” and the entire town just has to play along because no one will tell little old Nettie that her grandson is an actual demon because this is the happiest she’s been since her husband died.

Bonus: In season 4 she makes him run for mayor and he wins

I just want to watch ‘Todd’ help her with groceries, and help her with cooking, and help her clean up the dust around the house and air it out, and fill it with spring flowers because Anette mentioned she loved hyacinth and daffodils.   Over the seasons her eyesight worsens, so ‘Todd’ brings a hellhound into the house to act as her seeing eye dog, and people in town are kinda terrified of this massive black brute with fur that drips like thick oil, and a mouth that can open all the way back to its chest, but ‘Honey’ likes her hard candies, and doesn’t get oil on the carpet, and when ‘Todd’ has to go back to Hell for errands, Honey will snuggle up to Anette and rest his giant head on her lap, and whuff at her pockets for butterscotch.  Anette never gives ‘Todd’ her soul, but she gives him her heart

In season six, Anette gets sick. She spends most of the season bedridden and it becomes obvious by about midway through the season that she’s not going to make it to the end of the season. Todd spends the season travelling back and forth between the human realm and his home plane, trying hard to find something, anything that will help Anette get better, to prolong her life. He’s tried getting her to sell him her soul, but she’s just laughed, told him that he shouldn’t talk like that. With only a few episodes left in the season Anette passes away, Todd is by her side. When the reaper comes for her Todd asks about the fate of her soul. In a dispassionate voice the reaper informs Todd that Anette spent the last few years of her life cavorting with creatures of darkness, that there can be only one fate for her. Todd refuses to accept this and he fights the reaper, eventually injuring the creature and driving it off. Knowing that Anette cannot stay in the Human Realm, and refusing to allow her spirit to be taken by another reaper, so he takes her soul in his arms. He’s done this before, when mortals have sold themselves to him. This time the soul cradled against his chest does not snuggle and fight. This time the soul held tight against him reaches out, pats him on the cheek tells him he was a good boy, and so handsome, just like his grandfather.  Todd takes Anette back to the demon realm, holding her tight against him as he travels across the bleak and forebidding landscape; such a sharp contrast to the rosy warmth of Anette’s home. Eventually, in a far corner of his home plane, Todd finds what he is looking for. It is a place where other demons do not tread; a large boulder cracked and broken, with a gap just barely large enough for Todd to fit through. This crack, of all things, gives him pause, but Anette’s soul makes a comment about needing to get home in time to feed Honey, and Todd forces himself to pass through it. He travels in darkness for a while, before he emerges into into a light so bright that it’s blinding. His eyes adjust slowly, and he finds himself face to face with two creatures, each of them at least twice his size one of them has six wings and the head of a lion, one of them is an amorphous creature within several rings. The lion-headed one snarls at Todd, and demands that he turn back, that he has no business here.  Todd looks down, holding Anette’s soul against his chest, he takes a deep breath, and speaks a single word, “Please.” The two larger beings are taken aback by this. They are too used to Todd’s kind being belligerent, they consult with each other, they argue. The amorphous one seems to want to be lenient, the lion-headed one insists on being stricter. While they’re arguing Todd sneaks by them and runs as fast as he can, deeper into the brightly lit expanse. The path on which he travels begins to slope upwards, and eventually becomes a staircase. It becomes evident that each step further up the stair is more and more difficult for Todd, that it’s physically paining him to climb these stairs, but he keeps going.

They dedicate a full episode to this climb; interspersing the climb with scenes they weren’t able to show in previous seasons, Anette and Honey coming to visit Todd in the Mayor’s office, Anette and Todd playing bingo together for the first time, Anette and Todd watching their stories together in the mid afternoon, Anette falling asleep in her chair and Todd gently carrying her to bed. Anette making Todd lemonade in the summer while he’s up on the roof fixing that leak and cleaning out the rain gutters. Eventually Todd reaches the top, and all but collapses, he falls to a knee and for the first time his grip on Anette’s soul slips, and she falls away from him. Landing on the ground. He reaches out for her, but someone gets there first. Another hand reaches out, and helps this elderly woman off the ground, helps her get to her feet. Anette gasps, it’s Charles. The pair of them throw their arms around each other. Anette tells Charles that she’s missed him so much, and she has so much to tell him. Charles nods. Todd watches a soft smile on his face. A delicate hand touches Todd’s shoulder, and pulls him easily to his feet. A figure; we never see exactly what it looks like, leans down, whispering in Todd’s ear that he’s done well, and that Anette will be well taken care of here. That she will spend an eternity with her loved ones. Todd looks back over to her, she’s surrounded by a sea of people. Todd nods, and smiles. The figure behind him tells him that while he has done good in bringing Anette here, this is not his place, and he must leave. Todd nods, he knew this would be the case. Todd gets about six steps down the stairway before he is stopped by someone grabbing his shoulder again. He turns around, and Anette is standing behind him. She gives him a big hug and leads him back up the stairs, he should stay, she says. Get to know the family. Todd tries to tell her that he can’t stay, but she won’t hear it. She leads him up into the crowd of people and begins introducing him to long dead relatives of hers, all of whom give him skeptical looks when she introduces him as her grandson. The mysterious figure appears next to Todd again and tells him once more he must leave, Todd opens his mouth to answer but Anette cuts him off. Nonsense, she tells the figure. IF she’s gonna stay here forever her grandson will be welcome to visit her. She and the figure stare at each other for a moment. The figure eventually sighs and looks away, the figure asks Todd if she’s always like this. Todd just shrugs and smiles, allowing Anette to lead him through a pair of pearly gates, she’s already talking about how much cake they’ll need to feed all of these relatives. 

P.S. Honey is a Good Dog and gets to go, too.

snapchat, insta, and quidditch=games that gryffindor just can’t lose. 

amazing illos & hilarz captions created exclusively for SparkNotes by the awesome @sasmilledge

(Non-TF: Humans Are Weird/Earth is Space Australia) The Human Tests

It began as a joke among the xenobiologists. Cataloguing the flora and fauna of hitherto unsurveyed life-bearing worlds is both a tedious and terrifying job. Locating the large and numerous life forms is easy, and the processes of capture and analysis provide a pleasant challenge after prolonged journeys through transwarp space. However, after the easy life comes the small, the hidden, and the potentially dangerous. There are cautionary tales galore of survey crews that let down their guards, neglected a crucial isolation step, or were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and paid with their lives as a result. The mixture of repetitive, time-consuming work and perennial anxiety can lead to all manner of untoward and crude behavior, including humor in poor taste. Crews returning from survey missions are routinely put through re-socialization training to restore their moral and ethical standards.

Keep reading

Story 215: Cultural Exchange

The human steps onto the station from her shuttle, and walks into the scanner.  It flashes - no weapons.  I pity her, though there’s nothing I can do for her.  By tomorrow she will be a slave the same as me; the Gaunvans collect ambassadors like trophies. “Hello there!  Amanda Thorn, ambassador for the Empire of Humanity.  You’re a Ixian, correct?” Mimicking human body language, I nod my head.  "That’s correct.  Ix Malasan.  It is an honor to meet you.“ She smiles, reminding me again that she has somehow modified herself to breathe atmosphere suited to the Gaunvans rather than wear a respirator like myself.  Other than that she appears to be a standard human, something I am led to believe is less and less common as they pursue the bizarre compulsion humans have to alter their bodies.  Changing hair color, adding pigments to their skins in patterns and pictures, growing long tails or ears that mimic other species from their planet.  No other known species tampers with their bodies like this. “Not to be undiplomatic, she says, “but the Gaunvans enslaved your people.  Why are you here?” “We… reached a mutually beneficial agreement.  We would have lost in combat and been eliminated, so we chose to preserve what we could of our culture.  The Gaunvans are not naturally skilled at diplomacy, so they bring me along to assist and to show that peace can be made.” She nods.  "Understood.  I can respect that choice.  How much freedom do you have, personally?“ Smart of her, to start planning for her future. “A fair amount.  I have free reign on the ship when we are in transit.  At the homeworld I have reasonably comfortable quarters.” “Have you ever met the Empress, or…?” “Oh, no.  No, while on the homeworld I am confined to my chambers - but they’re quite spacious.” “Shame.  Okay, plan ‘A’ then.  Let’s get this over with.”

Despite my attempt at encouraging diplomacy, the Gaunvan commander starts with threats.  I don’t know why I bother.  He looms over the human, chitinous plates almost black in the dim light.  His pod of six is posted around the room, for show more than for actual security since she followed orders and came alone and unarmed.  "Failure to surrender will bring the full wrath of our army upon you.  Humanity will be crushed, and wiped from the universe.“ To her credit, she looks very calm.  "We live in a post-scarcity society.  Bloody conquest just seems silly, doesn’t it?” “It is for the glory of Gaun!” “Well, I’m not prepared to get into a religious debate with you,” she says, “since I doubt there’s anything I can do to change your mind.  Since you’re committed to this course of action, what are you willing to offer if we surrender?” Now he goes back on script.  Maybe I am getting through to him a little?  He talks about the benefits of being enslaved, mainly the protections for up to twelve designated culturally historical sites.  They’ve been mostly good on their word on my homeworld, though they did use the area just outside of the Hahhn Memorial as a waste dump.

She nods as she listens.  There was a part of me that was worried she would argue, because the humans are somewhat childlike.  They don’t understand the horrors of war.  Certainly they fought in the past, but the last time they had to battle was more than two of their generations ago, so these ones have all grown up coddled and soft.  They play games with each other instead, silly competitions.  They make art, and play pretend, and alter their bodies for fun.  They don’t have weapons anymore, and wouldn’t know how to use them if they did. “Well then,” ambassador Thorn says, “this is about what I expected.  On behalf of humanity, I would like to formally reject this offer.” Oh no.  Foolish humans.  The galaxy will miss your innocence.  The commander makes an excited clicking noise, looking forward to combat.  He reaches a blade-tipped hand towards ambassador Thorn, but hesitates as every device in the room bleats out an alert - we’ve all lost communications with the outside.

Like one of the dances humans do, she gracefully pivots around while taking his hand.  She ends up close to him and places her other arm against his thorax, then… oh gods. Gods, what… she’s ripped his arm off.  It’s not possible.  The commander is clearly thinking the same thing, staring in mute shock at his dripping limb. “I’d like to extend a counter-offer,” she says, and flips the arm around before jamming the bladed end into his neck.  The warriors around the room are fidgeting, uncertain.  They haven’t been told to attack, and don’t want to dishonor their commander by intervening in a fight with such a small creature.  She’s still holding the commander’s severed arm in his neck, but she rotates and heaves, lifting him off the ground with it for a moment… and then his head pops off, landing squarely on the conference table.  She allows the corpse to slide to the ground, and straightens her clothes as if they aren’t covered in ichor.

I don’t understand.

The warriors, now with no orders at all, finally act.  She smiles as they come for her, I suppose because she has done her duty to send this powerful message of resistance.  She can die in peace.  Or… no… She’s killing them.  She’s smiling because this is fun for her.  Though they’re partly killing themselves; if there had been two of them, prepared, strategic, they might have prevailed.  Watching six panicked fighters get in each other’s way while trying to stop a smaller, faster, and somehow impossibly stronger foe is almost hypnotic.  At least one is killed by the stab of a friendly lance due to pure confusion.  It’s over faster than I would have thought possible, severed limbs strewn across the room.  I’ve got some fluids splashed across my clothing.  Only one yet lives, and he is retreating.  She seems to be allowing it.

She follows behind, holding a lance.  The wounded and scared warrior scurries down the hallway towards his ship, looking back behind him as he goes.  She’s just… walking.  Calm.  And for some reason I’m following.  The last Gaunvan reaches the airlock and the second he enters his code she throws the lance - throws it! - and spears him. “Come on, we’re stealing their ship.”  She says it like this is the most normal thing in the world. “There are thousands more on board!  Thousands!  Almost all warrior caste!” She smiles again, and keeps walking.  I see errors on the screens that we pass, messages indicating communications have been lost.  They can’t tell anyone what is happening here.  Even the communicators within the ship are on nodes rather than being wired, so the warriors at one end of the vessel won’t be able to coordinate with the other end.  Do they even know they’ve been boarded? “How?”

We enter the bridge after she kills a handful of other guards with ease.  They’re too shocked by her presence to act in time.  Once the door are sealed and she is working on the control systems she starts talking to me again. “Well, you know, we do like to be prepared.” “But you… you ripped his arm off.” “Yeah, that was super satisfying.”  She looks at me appraisingly.  "Oh, come on.  Is it really that surprising?  You knew we were into changing ourselves, right?  Being strong enough to pop an overgrown bug’s forelimb off isn’t rocket science.“ "Your people are so peaceful…” “Oh, sure, most of them.  But we did that, too.  Tweaked ourselves over the years to decrease aggression and some of our tribalistic tendencies, increase empathy… all stuff that can be undone if needed.  Though for a good cause even the nicest of us can squish a bug or two.” “You bond with Ry'ling devourers!” “Those are the big fuzzy guys that look like cats, yeah?  Those guys are adorable!  But… look, liking some things that could kill us doesn’t mean we’ll sit back and get enslaved.  We didn’t put up with it well when we enslaved each other, and we certainly aren’t going to go for it now that we’re… finally… on the same page about slavery being unacceptable.  It was, uh, a longer time than we like to admit before the last hold-outs were convinced of that one.”

I can feel the ship un-dock.  We’re moving.  "What about all the warriors on board?  They’ll break through the doors eventually!“ "Not according to this control panel here.  Take a look.” It says there’s no atmosphere in the rest of the ship.  Life signs are negative on all but two of the warriors, presumably the only ones that got to their suits in time.  She disabled all the safety measures, somehow.  She just killed… I check the life signs readout again to confirm the number… three thousand, six hundred, and fourteen soldiers.  Wait, how is it tracking that unless… “Are communications back up?” “Yeah, I’m calling some friends.  The military is right around the corner, so to speak.” “But Earth doesn’t have a standing military.” She laughs.  Not just a little bit.  She’s actually doubled over for a moment, unable to catch her breath.  "Sweet Jeebus, you guys actually fell for that?  No standing military.  Have you read about us at all?“

Three ships appear seemingly out of nowhere, and one docks with the Gaunvan vessel.  Once the atmosphere is restored we head to the airlock to meet them, and I’m surprised by an entire platoon of Gaunvan warriors.  Speaking English. "Okay boys, send your last goodbyes!  This is in all likelihood a one way mission.  Commander Thorn!  It is an honor to see you again, and might I say you look exquisite drenched in the blood of your enemies!” She bows to him, blushing, and then salutes the Gaunvans.  Or… humans?  Can they change themselves this drastically? “You’ve got two holed up in here somewhere.  Bridge is clear, have the techs bring the new brain on board.” “New brain?” She looks at me like she’s forgotten that I’m here, and then turns back to the others.  "Men, this is our new friend Ix Malasan who has just been liberated from his captivity.  He’s going to be helping with our intel.  Malasan, yeah, a new brain for the ship.  Once this vessel is cleaned up and back in service with a new crew we’ll be able to take it over whenever we want even if all of our boys get killed.  We cooked up a really sadistic AI for it.“ "But how do you know the protocols?  This was your first contact with the Gaunvans, they’ve never lost a ship anywhere near here!” “No?  There wasn’t a mining colony disaster two years ago?” “But that was just an accident… and you weren’t even involved in the war yet… and…”

The faux-Gaunvans have finished boarding.  The one that was talking to them before puts a bladed claw on ambassador - commander - Thorn’s shoulder.  "You coming with?“ "Naw.  Orders said I could only come if they allow ambassadors near extremely high value targets.  Malasan here says they don’t, so I need to wait for my next mission back on Earth.” “It would have been nice having you with us, Thorn.  Well, maybe we’ll see each other again.  Suicide mission or not, I think I’ve decided to live through it.” “Bold choice,” she says, and kisses him next to his lower mandibles. He nods at me, then turns back to his men. “Okay everyone, we are now officially on the job.  And what is that job?” In unison, they start chanting.

“FUCK! SHIT! UP!  FUCK! SHIT! UP!  FUCK! SHIT! UP!”

For a moment I nearly feel pity for the Gaunvans.  Nearly.  Commander Thorn leads me off of the ship, and I start thinking about what useful information I can provide the ‘harmless’ humans.  Fuck shit up, indeed.

Humans are Weird: Spices

Alien: Today in my “Human Studies” book, I’m reading about human foods.

Human: Ooh, cool.

Alien: But I’m not sure this is accurate. It says here that humans purposely ingest a plant high in a pain-causing chemical, capsaicin.

Human: Oh, peppers? Yeah. Spicy.

Alien: But why would you want to eat something that causes you pain?

Human: Some people like the burn. I think it causes the same sort of reaction as drinking alcohol…?

Alien: That activity doesn’t make sense to me either. Can we discuss it after?

Human: Sure.

Alien: So, these “peppers.” Do you enjoy eating them?

Human: Me? Well, not by themselves. But I do like somewhat spicy foods. My brother, though, he likes them much hotter. He’s eaten some really spicy peppers, even ate a ghost pepper by itself.

Alien: Ghost pepper.

Human: Yeah, it’s the spiciest natural pepper. His face got pretty red, and he got the hiccups.

Alien: That… doesn’t sound like a healthy reaction.

Human: It just means that it’s a really spicy pepper. I mean, if I ate one of those, it might kill me, but he was fine.

Alien. Why would it kill you?

Human: Too spicy. You have to have a tolerance for capsaicin or it can literally kill you. And the ghost pepper is so hot that to handle it, you gotta wear gloves.

Alien: Your planet has plants that can KILL people, and which you can’t handle directly, and your brother ATE ONE, by ITSELF??

Human: Yeah.

Alien: …

Human: He says that when he gets desensitized to ghost pepper, he wants a Carolina Reaper.

Alien: I’m almost afraid to ask.

Human: …

Alien: What’s a Carolina Reaper?

Human: A pepper scientifically engineered for spiciness. It’s currently the world’s hottest pepper.

Alien: *stares at human in disbelief*

Alien: *stares at human studies book*

Alien: *stares at human again*

Alien: *whispers to self* How… how are humans real?

It’s early in the morning and nobody will probably read this but I just had the greatest ‘humans are space orcs’ idea

Imagine if humans are the only species that experiences impatience.

Think about it. Most prey animals are extremely patient. Ever meet a deer or a rabbit in the woods and hold still to try and out-wait the thing? I can guarantee your brain starts sending bored bored bored messages very quickly, and your instincts start telling you to give up and find something else to do. Humans can do the patience thing- as evidenced by our endurance hunting methods- but our instincts tell us not to. Correct me if I’m wrong, but this feels like a predator development. I have the idea that if aliens are mostly prey-based, and we’re predator-based, then the aliens will be very patient and we just aren’t.

As an evolutionary development, being impatient can be brilliant. It means that we didn’t sit around and wait for the ice caps to warm up, we knew we didn’t have the technology to survive that level of cold, but we did it anyways. We were trying to send people into the sky and then into space before we had fully figured it all out, simply because we didn’t want to wait and think it out, we wanted SPACE and we wanted it NOW. And personally, I tend to be extremely productive and inventive when I’m feeling impatient. Mechanic is booked for a few days? I’ll figure out how to change my oil and tires and tint my car’s windows myself. Strawberry season is still 4 months away? I’ll get a heat lamp setup and grow them myself. Friends can’t visit and help move furniture for a week? I’ll build a trolley out of some toy cars, tape, a chessboard, and do all the lifting myself.

This impatience is what made us design faster cars, faster computers, faster internet, faster communication, methods of growing food faster, of processing food faster, we’re always looking for the quickest and most efficient thing simply because we are not patient. 

Impatience leads to a type of creativity and persistence that patience just doesn’t have.

Imagine aliens starting to realize this.

“You got to your moon before you had developed LED screens??? You didn’t even have computers that could do basic math?!” “Well, what else were we gonna do, sit around and wait?”

“Your planes don’t have gravitational control? Don’t you experience discomfort from the acceleration and directional changes?” “Sure. But we needed to get on the other side of the planet in a decent amount of time.” “So… what you’re articulating is that you’d rather have physical distress than have to have a long journey?” “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Human____, our mechanical teams will be on site in several of your earth hours, so we won’t be going anywhere until then.” “Screw that. Where’s the manual for this thing? I bet I can fix it.” “But you don’t have any mechanical training.” “I also don’t feel like sitting around on this rock for ages.”

“You’re back already? I thought your medical representative told you to not be walking on that limb for another of your weeks.” “Ugh. I just can’t anymore. I’ve got to get up and move and do something, anything.” “But doesn’t that hurt to walk on?” “Absolutely.” “…You would choose pain over waiting?” “What can I say, I’m not a patient person.”

Like aliens just being baffled that humans would rather work hard or struggle with a problem or even experience pain and discomfort. They, as prey species, are used to just waiting it out. They don’t have the same impatience driving them to get up and go and to fight through things just because they can’t wait any longer.

Bonus:  Human: Ain’t nobody got time for that! Alien: Why don’t you have time? Is something scheduled soon? Human: No, I just don’t feel like wasting time. Alien: But… it’s not wasted. It’s time well spent. And you do technically have the time to spare for that. If there’s nothing scheduled, then you do ‘got time for that’. Human: No. No, I don’t. It’s just… no.

“Isn’t one of your most famous phrases ‘good things come to those who wait’ why do none of you wait?” “Because our response to that phrase is ‘fuck that’ so nobody actually says it unless they’re being a jerk who doesn’t want to help.”

okay, so, I love all the posts that run off the assumption that humans are the most ridiculous sapient species in the galaxy

but what if it’s just the other way around

what if humans are notoriously straitlaced and obsessed with protocol. the bureaucrats of the stars.

which is obviously something we would constantly try to complain about and disprove only for some Alpha Centaurian to be like “Captain, your species formalized spirituality, repeatedly, and a recurring theme therein is that the heavens themselves are run as a bureaucracy. Even your rebellions and revolutions are meticulously planned.”

it’s not a bad thing, per se, to have a human on your team — analytical minds, good diplomats (if only because one human etiquette system can be more complex and even contradictory than the vastly varied customs of an entire species) — but be prepared for them to call attention to moral quandaries and loopholes that never would have occurred to you.

and speaking of loopholes, do be careful, because the only thing worse than a human armed with an ironclad system of rules is a human who’s found a gaping hole in them.

“You’re telling me there was a mass movement to name a boat something dumb as a joke?”

“First of all, it wasn’t a mass movement, and second of all, the boat was by no means the first time nor the last.”

“…Exactly how much of Earth comedy is based on incongruous branding?”

Hear me out here: Humans as both.

Like most sapient species assume the above; humans are straitlaced, meticulous, and methodical. They follow strict rules which dictate their social interactions and even a slight variation is considered taboo. They are the quintessential bureaucrats.

Except when they’re not.

We’ve talked about humans method of scientific exploration and advancement involving a ridiculous amount of danger for all parties involved. But, ya know, we write it all down in a very orderly manner and get published and peer reviewed. And then other humans copy the incredibly dangerous experiment to see what happens for themselves.

Humans survived the volatile early years of their species rise through community-bonding. They put the needs of a group of individuals over all else; hunting as a group, eating as a group, raising families as a group, and sometimes dying as a group. This tendency to form strong bonds means that while a human’s signed contract can always be trusted. It also means that a human cannot be trusted to not rip that contract up and say “Fuck it” if an individual with whom they have a community-bond is in danger. Other species are baffled to discover that the individual in question need not be human, or even sapient. Stories of humans who have defended what would normally be considered prey animals by other omnivorous species, of humans who have killed to defend their non-human crew mates, even one story (surely just a story, it can’t be true) of an entire crew of humans who elevated a simple non-sapient cleaning bot to officer’s rank and threatened rebellion if it was decommissioned.

So, sure, humans are logical and awfully organized for such a diverse species. They make phenomenal bureaucrats and politicians. They’re highly sought after as strategists and advisors to royalty the galaxy over.

But, they’re also appear to take great pleasure in looking the rules dead in the eyes and very deliberately thumbing their nose as those rules. Because, the rules (and logic) say you probably shouldn’t jump off a cliff into unknown waters and humans have made multiple sports based entirely off that concept.

“Humans are weird” idea

It seems to always be the case that aliens have names that are “unpronounceable by the human tongue.”  But, y’know, humans are actually really good mimics.  We can do impressions of anything, and some of us are really good at it.  What if that was a special skill of ours that was constantly surprising the aliens?

Alien talks about human like s/he’s not there, only to be shocked when its own language comes out of that strange little mouth.

Alien can’t figure out WHAT that noise onboard is, only to find human crewmate pranking it.  (“As soon as he leaves, I’m gonna do the sound of a failing hover engine, okay?  Just see where he looks first!”)

Alien hears a different noise and a thud, then “Sorry, I tripped.”  (”But you squeaked.”  “Yeah, didn’t mean to.  Sounded kinda dumb.”)

Alien is alarmed to hear the sound of two Dangerous Animals coming from the containment room.  Thinks the one has multiplied.  Runs in, find human yowling back at it.  (“It seemed lonely, so I was talking to it.  Reminds me of a cat I had once.”)

The away team is threatened by a Large Animal protecting its young.  Alien Captain knows what to do.  Shoves the human up front and points.  “Make the noises that the little ones are making.  This is your time to shine.”

on the topic of humans being the intergalactic “hold my beer” species: imagine an alien stepping onto a human starship and seeing a space roomba™ with a knife duct taped onto it, just wandering around the ship

it doesn’t have any special intelligence. it’s just a normal space roomba. there are other space roombas on the ship and they don’t have knives. it’s just this one. knife space roomba has full clearance to every room in the ship. occasionally crew members will be talking and then suddenly swear and clutch their ankle. knife space roomba putters off, leaving them to their mild stab wounds.

“what is the point?” asks the alien as another crew member casually steps over the knife-wielding robot. “is it to test your speed and agility?”

“no it doesn’t really go that fast,” replies the captain.

“does it teach you to stay ever-vigilant?”

“I mean I guess so but that’s more of a side effect.”

“does it weed out the weak? does it protect you from invaders? do repeated stabbings let your species heal more quickly in the future?”

“it doesn’t stab very hard, it gets us more than it gets our enemies, and no, but that sounds cool — someone write that down.”

“but then what is its purpose?”

“I don’t know,” the captain says, leaning down to give the space roomba an affectionate pat. “it just seemed cool”

this is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard but I thought about it for five seconds and realized that if I were, say, a random communications officer onboard this ship and someone taped a knife to a roomba it would take maybe three weeks before even I was inordinately fond of Stabby. I would be proud of Stabby when I met up with my other spacefleet friends for space coffee, I would tell them about the time Stabby got the second mate in the ankle five seconds before the fleet admiral beamed on board and she swore in seven different languages in front of high command. 

also by the fourth day Stabby would be in the ship’s log, he’d have little painted-on insignia, people would salute him as he went by, and someone would hook up a twitter account to tweet maniacal laughter and/or a truly terrible knock-knock joke every time he managed to nick someone.

Omg so the ting I typed up might actually happen this is gold

I am suddenly astonished that Stabby isn’t Farscape canon. 1812 was weird enough.

Stabby’s little charging dock would start accruing cuddly toys and commemorative holo-vids of Stabby’s greatest stabs. Its insignia would start off at a fairly low rank, but soon, without anyone every discussing it, everyone would know that Stabby got to take the rank of the highest ranking crew member it stabbed. The ceremony for Flag Admiral Stabby was beautiful. The captain gave a speech. 

why am i proud of stabby this is irrational

INCIDENT LOG: 46-7-2 Action #45437: Desc: Covert enemy boarding attempt

Details: Six (6) members of a Mercenary/Pirate crew of little renown attempted to infiltrate ship in order to steal equipment and/or personnel.

Prior to being detained they had remained undetected for eight (8) hours and accumulated several high value materials (see attached log), and incapacitated and restrained several crewmen (see attached log) in dock #3, with the intention of using a life boat to exfiltrate.

Just prior to their would-be escape, the boarding party encountered the ship’s mascot. A cleaning unit which had been modified by crew members to mount a traditional Terran melee weapon, as well as an officer’s insignia (having been jokingly given a commission by the Captain the night before). Curious, one picked it up, before realising the mounted weapon had a nickel finish (highly toxic to their species) on the handle, and dropped it in a panic.

As the unit’s anti-impact sensors had been disabled, it immediately tried to right itself on landing. This caused it to flip over and slash the third knee of the boarder who dropped it, prompting the rest of the boarders to flee. In doing so, they tripped over a waste container, causing the unit to “chase” them, as it collected the trail of dust they left.

The security crew were alerted to the boarding party’s presence by an entry on “Sargent Stabby’s Hit List” - an account on an intership microblogging site which automatically logs any injuries caused by the cleaning unit in question - and quickly intercepted them.

Casualties: Four (4) crewmen treated for minor lacerations sustained after detaining boarding party, one (1) captured crewman treated for negative reaction to sedatives used by captors.

Belligerent status: Two (2) members of the enemy boarding party remain in stable condition in sickbay. Three (3) remaining surrendered peacefully and remain in the brig. One (1) refuses to leave the safety of a storage cupboard he went to ground in.

Recommendations/Actions:

Humans Are Weird

So there has been a bit of “what if humans were the weird ones?” going around tumblr at the moment and Earth Day got me thinking. Earth is a wonky place, the axis tilts, the orbit wobbles, and the ground spews molten rock for goodness sakes. What if what makes humans weird is just our capacity to survive? What if all the other life bearing planets are these mild, Mediterranean climates with no seasons, no tectonic plates, and no intense weather? 

What if several species (including humans) land on a world and the humans are all “SCORE! Earth like world! Let’s get exploring before we get out competed!” And the planet starts offing the other aliens right and left, electric storms, hypothermia, tornadoes and the humans are just … there… counting seconds between flashes, having snowball fights, and just surviving. 

To paraphrase one of my favorite bits of a ‘humans are awesome’ fiction megapost: “you don’t know you’re from a Death World until you leave it.” For a ton of reasons, I really like the idea of Earth being Space Australia.

Earth being Space Australia Words cannot express how much I love these posts

Alien: “I’m sorry, what did you just say your comfortable temperature range is?”

Human: “Honestly we can tolerate anywhere from -40 to 50 Celcius, but we prefer the 0 to 30 range.”

Alien: “……. I’m sorry, did you just list temperatures below freezing?”

Human: “Yeah, but most of us prefer to throw on scarves or jackets at those temperatures it can be a bit nippy.” 

Other human: “Nah mate, I knew this guy in college who refused to wear anything past his knees and elbows until it was -20 at least.”

Human: “Heh. Yeah everybody knows someone like that.”

Alien: “……. And did you also say 50 Celcius? As in, half way to boiling?”

Human: “Eugh. Yes. It sucks, we sweat everywhere, and god help you if you touch a seatbelt buckle, but yes.” 

Alien: “……. We’ve got like 50 uninhabitable planets we think you might enjoy.” 

“You’re telling me that you have… settlements. On islands with active volcanism?” “Well, yeah. I’m not about to tell Iceland and Hawaii how to live their lives. Actually, it’s kind of a tourist attraction.” “What, the molten rock?” “Well, yeah! It’s not every day you see a mountain spew out liquid rocks! The best one is Yellowstone, though. All these hot springs and geysers from the supervolcano–” “You ACTIVELY SEEK OUT ACTIVE SUPERVOLCANOES?” “Shit, man, we swim in the groundwater near them.”

Sounds like the “Damned” trilogy by Alan Dean Foster.

“And you say the poles of your world would get as low as negative one hundred with wind chill?” 

“Yup, with blizzards you cant see through every other day just about.”

“Amazing! when did you manage to send drones that could survive such temperatures?”

“… well, actually…”

“… what?”

“…we kinda……. sent……….. people…..”

“…”

“…”

“…what?”

“we sent-”

“no yeah I heard you I just- what? You sent… HUMANS… to a place one hundred degrees below freezing?”

“y-yeah”

“and they didn’t… die?”

“Well the first few did”

“PEOPLE DIED OF THE COLD AND YOUR SOLUTION WAS TO SEND MORE PEOPLE???!?!?!?”

My new favorite Humans are Weird quote

“PEOPLE DIED OF THE COLD AND YOUR SOLUTION WAS TO SEND MORE PEOPLE?”

aka The History of Russia

aka Arctic Exploration

aka The History of Alaska

Being from Alaska, this was sort of how I felt going to college in the lower 48′s and learned that no one else had been put through a literal survival camp as a regular part of their school curriculum, including but not limited to:

1. Learning to recognize all forms of animal tracks in the wild so you can avoid bears and moose and search out rabbits and other small animals to eat.

2. Extensive swimming and climbing on glacial pieces with competitions to see who could last the longest, followed by a group sit in the sauna so we wouldn’t get hypothermia (no, not kidding, I really did this many times as a kid!)

3. How to navigate using the stars to get back to civilization.

4. How to select the right type of moss from the trees to start a fire with damp wood (because, y’know, you’re in a field of snow. Nothing is dry.)

5. How to carve out a small igloo-like space to sleep in the snow to preserve body heat and reduce the windchill so you won’t freeze to death in the arctic.

“I’m telling you, I don’t think we need to worry about territory conflicts with the humans. You know all those deathtrap hell-worlds in the Argoth Cluster?” “Those worthless rocks? Yeah.” “80% of them are considered ‘resort destinations’ by those freaky little primates.”

This would be an interesting read if this was a book.

Like, an alien invasion is about to start and the book is a chronicle of how the aliens couldn’t handle both humans in general and the range of environments and ended up being destroyed through the eyes of one of the aliens.

Like a caption from the book would be something like

“So we sent a recon team to this place called Russia, but all we’ve heard back thus far is about the temperatures, giant monsters with fur the humans call “Bears”, and that once again, we have been reminded of how heavily well armed almost ever human settlement is.

Thus far we have lost more than a good chunk of our forces through experiments gone wrong, unsuccessful fire fights, and above all else, the humans seem to be more worried about these strange variation of their species calling themselves “Clowns”.

I don’t know what a Clown is, but sounds as if it is the dominant faction of this planet, and considering we only just found out humans practically poison themselves with this thing called beer and only get stronger and more violent, I don’t ever want to encounter such a being.

I believe this invasion was a mistake.“

I’ve been reading a bunch of these and all I can think about now is aliens finding out about our insane ability to walk away from accidents.

“Human Colony SDO435**, this is Gxanimi survey vessel 3489. We regret that we must inform you that the wreckage of your ship ‘Gecko Flyer’ has just been detected on planet F56=K=. We offer expressions of sympathy for this catastrophe.”

“Shit, thanks for telling us, we’ll be right there.”

“Why?”

“To find our people, of course.”

“… you wish to retrieve the corpses for your traditional death rituals, of course, we understand. We have sent the coordinates.”

“What do you mean, bodies? No survivors at all? There must be some.”

“Official mouthpiece of Human Colony SDO435**, the ship has crashed. It has impacted the planet’s surface at speed. Moreover, this might have happened as much as five vek ago. We do not understand why you speak of ‘survivors’.”

“Oh, there’ll be survivors. There always are.”

“(closes hyperspace voicelink) How sad that they are unable to accept the reality of their loss.”

“Hey, Gxanimi survey vessel 3489, thanks for letting us know about the Gecko Flyer. More than half the crew made it!”

“Made what?”

“They survived! A couple of lost limbs and so on, but they’ll be fine.”

“… but that vessel was destroyed! Images have been examined!”

“Oh, well, everyone in the fore-below compartment was crushed, obviously, but the others made it out.”

“… but the crash was vek ago! Excuse we… at least eighty of your ‘days’! How could they survive without a ship? Without shelter and supplies?”

“Well, the wreckage gave them some shelter, and of course the emergency supplies kept them going until they could start growing stuff. It’s actually a nice little planet, they said. Quite a lot of edible flora and fauna. T-shirt weather, in summer, too.”

“What is… t-shirt weather?”

“Oh, you know, when it’s comfortable to go around with only modesty covering over the epidermis. Exposed limbs.”

“That planet is so cold that even water solidifies in its atmosphere!”

“Well, in winter, obviously. But we like that. Listen, our people have been raising crops down there, and that’s usually how we rule a planet as ‘colonized’…. is anyone else using it, or can we call it?”

“Er… we have claimed the warmer planets in the system, but we believe we could come to some arrangement.”

It was really nice, the humans thought, how carefully most of the aliens kept an eye out for downed ships after that, once they found out that humans tended to survive anything less than explosive decompression or… well, explosions generally. They’d immediately inform the nearest outpost of a wreck’s location, or even ship survivors back themselves. It was very thoughtful.

They didn’t find out until a long time later that the Gxanimi had put out the word to every species they were in contact with. It was vital that everyone knew the things they had learned about humans after that first encounter.

1. Humans can literally walk away from an impact that renders a space-worthy hull so much scrap and would have actually liquefied a Gxanimi.

2. Humans will eat just about anything not immediately fatal to them - including, in extremis, the corpses of their dead crewmates. In fact, most human vessels keep a list of those willing to be eaten and those whose socio-religious scruples forbid it. They have a ridiculously high tolerance for dangerous substances, and if they can breathe on a planet they can probably eat something on it too. They also have something they call the ‘Watney Protocol’, which requires them to carry live soil samples, seeds, and simple tools that will allow them to start farming their own native foodstuffs on any remotely habitable planet immediately in the event of an accident.

3. Once they’ve farmed a planet, they bond with it. They’ll be polite, but it’ll take significant effort to get rid of them even so.

Conclusion: If a human ship crashes on a planet you like and want to keep, get other humans to come and get them immediately. Remove them yourself if you have to. Even the worst crash can result in a thriving colony in a few vek.

And don’t, for the love of gravitational regularity, try to solve that problem by killing off the survivors. Just don’t. It won’t work and it just makes all the rest of them mad.

The two Key’galeei heads of security just stared, dumbfounded, through the glass of the quarantine zone. Inside, seated on a stool, the human scientist awkwardly tried to stop giggling.

“You actually think this is humorous?” Setal asked, carefully forming the earth language through his mandibles. The scientist shook her head desperately.

“No, no, no! I don’t think that the front row of the audience needing medical assistance is funny. It was just so unexpected and we didn’t even think that…” The human stopped talking as she tried to quietly laugh again. Human laughter still put Setal and Jillank’s mandibles on edge.The roars and howls, the hissing and chittering. The open mouths and gleaming teeth. It was a primal display that meant happiness for them and unhappiness for whoever was watching them.

“You released a chemical weapon grade gas into a full auditorium.” Jillank spoke with reserved disbelief.

“It’s a natural part of human digestive process!” The Scientist half laughed, half cried. We all do it, and I mean it smells bad, and we’ve used it, as a species, to annoy our friends and loved ones, but it’s never actually hurt anyone before! we didn’t even think about it!”

“A natural part of human digestion…” Setal’s words echoed hollowly through the room as he looked at the report. Tweleve Delegates at the intergalactic symposium were undergoing medical treatment for methane inhalation. A toxic gas to the Key’galeei, normally used in extreme, large scale, crowd control. “So you mean to tell us,” said Jillank wearily, “That every human can create and dispense this gas as a natural part of your digestive cycle?”

“Yes! the scientist ran her hands over her face. “We dispense it at least eight to twelve times a day. Honestly, I don;t know how this situation hasn’t occurred sooner!”

Jillank waggled an antennae at Setal, unspoken communication asking if they believed her. Setal rasped tiredly and waggled that he did. It was a simple case of bad luck. The human scientist wasn’t one to try and off the committee that was granting her research facilities beyond her species current capabilities. It was an accident. An embarrassing accident.

“Dr. Breener,” Setal said into the quarantine mic, “The diplomats are on their way to discuss these events and work out some sort of solution. In the meantime I need to have a Decontamination unit come in and try to remove any traces of methane that might be lingering-” There was a small but distinct sound from the glass, like a cherub’s trumpet, and the human tried, with poor results, to not laugh again. “…and have a medical unit see if they can stop the dispersal.” Setal and Jillank’s antennae quivered in anticipated exhaustion. Adapting the humans into the galaxy had not been without its difficulties, and they just knew there would be still more incidents to come from these unsettling bipeds.

more "aliens being surprised by humans" stuff

our ability to belt out one entire three to five minute long song if we’re familiar with it like. suvi starts singing “hallelujah” to fill the quiet and is answered by liam all across the room in a p decent harmony. cora walks past and starts humming it enthusiastically even tho she can’t stay very long. gil joins in for the third refrain. ryder finishes it off with a passionate solo.

when they look around every alien is staring at them. vetra blinks and knocks her hands together. “that’s what you’re supposed to do when humans make those sounds right?” she asks kallo beside her, who mirrors her. everyone is a little stunned at the coordination and emotion in the performance and they all look equally moved. jaal might be crying. none of them know what a ‘hallelujah’ is, but they feel like they’ve come to understand it through this melody

they’re all extremely confused when all of the humans still continue on on their tasks without pause

edit; other songs include but are not limited to: bohemian rhapsody, mr. brightside, single ladies, no scrubs, and i will always love you

a good predictor of whether a species will end up being compatible with humans on long journeys is whether they are capable of understanding that ‘singing along’ is optional and humans do it because it’s fun. species that insist on assigning some biological or ceremonial importance to it will inevitably clash with their human crews sooner or later.

whereas species like the mertrans, who have their own infectious expressive behaviors, can integrate with humans indefinitely. on long-haul ships, a sort of hybrid culture evolves, where mertrans will thrum their throat sacs to provide percussion for human singalongs, and humans develop dance steps for mertran scratch/thumping episodes.

smart pirates avoid attacking ships where this has happened. despite being clownish, these species are also some of the most warlike, and offering violence to a closeknit mertran/human group provokes a reaction that is not only well-coordinated and heroic but prone to very bloody pranks.

there still are parts of the outer reaches where a mertran hand-signing “yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker” can clear a bar in seconds.

Alien: So you’re saying that human brains sometimes just… malfunction? And see threats that aren’t really there?

Human: Yeah basically?

Alien: And then the human keeps living and doing things anyways???

Human: Yup

Alien: Woahhhhhh. Woahhhhh. Humans are badass.

Aliens would probably have fundamentally different responses to trauma than humans would,like- their brains. would be so fundamentally different. at a basic chemical and structural level we’d have to relearn everything, in this scenario the alien species is REALLY BAD at continuing to function with even a slightly impaired brain, and deals with it with LOTS OF BABIES, Oh yeah great grandpa died three years back when he got really surprised and WHAT DO YOU MEAN,THAT A HUMAN GOT STABBED THROUGH THE HEAD AND CONTINUED TO LIVE I DON’T BELIEVE YOU THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE, I bet they are all pregnant all the time and when they randomly die the baby eats their way out of the corpse, they are insectoid and look a lot like praying manti and they REALLY FREAK OUT THEIR HUMAN FRIENDS THE FIRST TIME IT HAPPENS, there is a sort of generational memory that happens which is how they managed to develop tech at all being so fragile, so when the creatures get depressed or homesick or manic and die it’s not like their human friends have lost them forever, except for how it sort of is, (via @songofsunset)

PLEASE IMAGINE THE FIRST TIME AN ALIEN HAS ONE OF THEIR HUMAN FRIENDS DIE

‘so hey, that was a great funeral, cool outfits, always glad to learn more about your culture and stuff. So, when is she coming back?’

‘She- she’s not coming back’

‘Yeah, not as Megan, but when is her replacement coming back?’

‘We’re- not hiring anyone new for a couple weeks???’

‘no no no, you’re not getting what I’m saying- I want to ask her about that book she lent me- can I keep it for another week or two, or does her new version want it back?’

The humans stare at the alien and just. slowly start to figure out what the alien is saying. The alien shuffles nervously, their six spindly legs making a skritching noise that echoes in the cold chapel. Finally, the kindest of the humans takes the alien aside and-

‘hey. so. Us humans don’t come back when we die. Not like you do.’

‘what? No, but you clearly talk about reincarnation, and-’

‘Those are just stories, Six. When humans die, we’re gone. We don’t come back.’

The alien laughs ‘No, see, cuz that would mean that- that would mean. That Megan- Megan is-’ The alien cuts off the hissing noise that is their equivalent of a sob. ‘I have to go.’

The alien spends a week in their spaceship, the only place they can send communication to their Mother. When they come back, their carapace is a glistening new shade of red, and they’ve ended up as a different gender. When the lab adviser asks them how they are feeling about Megan-

‘Megan? Oh, yes, my previous version was very fond of Megan.’ The alien cocks their head, like a particularly thoughtful bird. ‘I suppose that I regret her loss. She was a valuable member of the team.’

The lab adviser lets this be- they are aliens after all. But later, when lab hours are done, the adviser notices Six double and triple-checking all the lab equipment, especially- well. The accident that took Megan will never happen again.  

The book is never returned.

Now imagine the flip side: Sevan finds out his human friend is due to have a baby in six months. Six months! He asks, and finds that no, there’s no way to delay a human birth. In six months, a new version of his friend will emerge. Will they still like space operas? What about visiting that smoothie place in quadrant 6? Will they even still want to be friends? His friend asks him to be visit the baby, after it’s born. Of course, of course he will. It’s the least he can do. There’s always that vulnerable phase after birth when you haven’t got the hang of the new motor controls, and everyone needs a helping palp for the first few months.  The night he hears that the new baby has been born, he wails quietly and recites the qualities of his friend that he will miss the most. Three days later, he gathers his resolve and knocks on the hatch of his friend’s place. Strangely, the access panel hasn’t been lowered - rude. He’ll make sure that’s one of the first things changed. His friends partner opens the door and lets him in and there - there is his friend,looking tired but well, a miniature copy of herself held in her arms. Imagine his joy when he finds out that not only will he get to spend longer with his current friend, but there will be another friend to get to know!

woa

good bug stories tbh 

Excellent bug stories

I am crying over space bugs don’t touch me

It occurs to me that as much as “humans are the scary ones” fits sometimes, if you look at it another way, humans might seem like the absurdly friendly or curious ones.

I mean, who looked at an elephant, gigantic creature thoroughly capable of killing someone if it has to, and thought “I’m gonna ride on that thing!”?

And put a human near any canine predator and there’s a strong chance of said human yelling “PUPPY!” and initiating playful interaction with it.

And what about the people who look at whales, bigger than basically everything else, and decide “I’m gonna swim with our splashy danger friends!”

Heck, for all we know, humans might run into the scariest, toughest aliens out there and say “Heck with it. I’m gonna hug ‘em.”

“Why?!”

“I dunno. I gotta hug ‘em.”

And it’s like the first friendly interaction the species has had in forever so suddenly humanity has a bunch of big scary friends.

“Commander, we must update the code of conduct to include the humans.” “Why? Are they more aggressive than we anticipated?” “It seems to be the opposite Commander. Just this morning a crewman nearly lost their hand when attempting to stroke an unidentified feline on an unknown world. Their reaction to the attack was to call the creature a “mean kitty” and vow to win it over. Upon inquiry it seems they bond so readily with creatures outside their species that they have the capacity to feel sympathy for an alien creature they have never seen before simply because it appears distressed. I hate to say this commander but we must install a rule to prevent them from endangering their own lives when interacting with the galaxy’s fauna.” “I see what you mean. So be it, from now on no crewman is allowed to touch unknown animals without permission from a superior officer. And send a message to supplies about acquiring one of these “puppies” so that their desire to touch furred predators can be safely sated. 

Ehehehe I love this! Every time someone adds a short story to my post it gets like 90% cuter and more epic

Lets be honest, the humans would ignore the hell outta that rule whenever alone.

“So I hear that you’ve just recruited a human for your ship.”

“Yes, it’s the first time that I’ve worked with these species, but they come highly recommended. Say, you’ve worked with a few, what tips can you give me? I’d hate to have some kind of cultural misunderstanding if it’s avoidable.”

“The first rule of working with humans is never leave them unsupervised.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m serious. Don’t do it. Things. Happen.”

“But wait, I thought that I heard you highly recommended that every crew should have at least one on board?”

“Absolutely, and I stand by that. Humans are excellent innovators, and are psychologically very resilient. If you have a crisis, then a human that has bonded wth your crew properly can be invaluable. Treat your human well and you should get the best out of them as a crew member. Their ability to get on with almost any species is legendary.”

“But Toks, didn’t you just say…”

“The trouble is that they will potentially try to bond with anything. If you leave them unsupervised, you have no idea what kind of trouble they can get themselves into. It was sheer luck that the Fanzorians thought that it was funny that the human picked up the Crown Prince to coo at him.”

“Crown Prince Horram, Scourge of Pixia?”

“The very same. Surprisingly good sense of humour. But don’t even get me started on that one time with the Dunlip. Al-Human wanted to know if they could keep it. As a pet.”

“A Dunlip? You mean the 3 metre tall apex predators from Jowun?”

“Yup. Don’t leave your humans unsupervised.”

“I’ll uh, take that under advisement.”

“Seriously. Get a supply of safe animals for the humans to bond with or they will make their own. I mean, they will try to befriend anything they come across anyway, but without any permanent pets they can get… creative. Don’t even get me started on the time one of them taped a knife to one of our auto-cleaners and named it Stabby. Three weeks in and when we finally caught the wretched thing, half the humans on crew tried to revolt about us “killing” Stabby by removing the knife. “How… how did you resolve that sir?” “Glaxcol made a toy knife out of insulation rubber and strapped that on instead. Quite a creative solution, I suppose.” “And that sated the humans? “Worse.” “Worse?” “They thought it was so funny they made a second one, strapped false eyes on springs to both and held mock battles. Then decided Stabby and Knifey were in love and now none of them will allow the others to stage fights between them any more.”

Stabby is an omniversal constant.

Oh my gods, we’re the Steve Irwins of the universe.

this is my fave thing. it can’t even be safe to assume humans would only attach themselves to only fuzzy, furry things. reptilian and even insectoid creatures are just as likely to be randomly selected as “this is a thing i love” by a human. “Excuse me, captain? Human-Rob requests that we … bring aboard … a Kilarn.” “A Kilarn? The giant poisonous and highly aggressive insectoid predator? Am I hearing you correctly?” “…. Yes ser.” “For the love of- WHY?” “I asked the same thing, to which they replied “he’s trying his best” in a distressed tone of voice.“ *captain sighs and holds head in hands*

Sometimes I just start singing and my mom joins in

Whoa…

#don’t trust this #they’re probably sirens

These two are singing “O magnum mysterium” by Tomas Luis De Victoria! It’s a very pretty piece from the renaissance that has a lot of different voice parts singing totally different melodies that mesh well together. I sung tenor for a song of his as well. It sounds ethereal in cathedrals and bathrooms alike my opinion. Its the room’s ability to bounce sound and make it resonate, giving it it’s “mermaid siren” like quality. It sounds great. Congratulations, you both! Sounds very pretty and seems like a fun time to clean with things like that.

That’s so prettyyy…