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V's Space Orcs

@vs-space-orcs

The humans are space orcs sideblog of @roboticchibitan Icon by @starlightstripes

Telepathic aliens enjoy that humans will "play music" for hours at a time. When it's too mentally quiet on deck, they just announce the catchiest song titles they know and the humans will start thinking about it automatically.

The humans hate this so, so much.

Zorf: Human Steve, can you please play that song I like, the one with all the females

Steve: what

Zorf: A little bit of Monica in my life

Steve:

Steve: mother fu--

I feel like this would get Space HR involved eventually

Humans entering space and realizing we are so small. We are mice compared to these giant races with their advanced machinery and technologies and experiences beyond us- except that we're humans. And our engineers dive into the new tech and once we learn the principles we also soon realize how Inefficient everything is. Their "microchips" are the size of cars, their storage drives are basically buildings, and they somehow store less data than ours. So, human companies take advantage, and tech starts rolling out. Massive and there's a lot of wasted space so that it can be managed with larger hands/pincers/claws/tentacles, but also so much more efficient than anything the galaxy has seen before.

Human technicians start hopping ships and upkeeping the general maintenance, the stuff that most aliens put off or don't notice because they never access the crevices of their ships. As human companies become more popular and lead the tech world in everything from warp cores to game stations ("it's so compact! How are the graphics so good?" Says a 60' tall grimbleback, holding a new VR headset that has all of its components included because it's so BIG by our tech standards), soon many things have accessibility ports for humans to be able to use as well. This means that these shiprats hoping ship to ship cause such a huge improvement in everything running smoothly, and there's a huge downtick in pests on ships because those "pests" are not only big enough and aggressive enough to bite a pitbull or a person in half, they're invasive to so many planets and humans hate nothing more than dog killing planet overrunning monsters.

All the while, from the Aliens perspective, humans are an elusive race that don't fraternize much with them. You almost never see a human as most places aren't exactly safe for the little things to run around in. They do export so much stuff though, and the custodial staff at the Central Galactic Outpost insists that there's more humans around than any other race if you just know where to look.

And sure it's somewhat known that some of the little daredevils hop ships and help out in exchange for room and board, usually without permission, but that can't be that common, can it?

Maybe your ship is running better this cycle ever since you stopped at the last station, that just means that tuneup was better than you thought. And maybe for some reason that program you were working on last night is finished when you wake up, but you're so tired maybe you finished it before you passed out. Somehow that faulty light in the galley has fixed itself as well, which is odd, but maybe the Engineer finally got to it. You'd know if there was someone else on your ship.

Right?

... You leave a little bowl of berries out as a thank you, just in case. You're not sure what humans like but you've heard they have a sweet tooth.

Humans getting to live their Borrower AU dreams

So, something I learnt the other day. So, you know how dinosaurs supposedly can't see you if you stand still? Well that myth is based on real-life lizards/etc and how eyes in general work. So, once my dad starts infodumping, here comes some other cool information. We, humans, can in fact, also not see something unless it's moving. We fixed this by having our eyes constantly shake. And then our brain compensates for us, so we don't have to have shaky vision.

What if aliens don't have this? Like. What if they find out when one of us was looking at something in the distance, and they walk around this thing that's in front of them, and the alien is confused so they bob their head and oh, there's a thing there, but how did the human know that, and then we explain and they're like, horrified.

Humans are apex predators. They can hunt in packs. They can hunt in pairs. They can hunt on their own. They're persistance predators, which is unheard of. They get stronger when they're mad or scared. They have this thing called 'body language' which acts like a type of hivemind, even if they'll claim it isn't. And. They can see you. When you're not moving. They can still see you. If you ever find yourself in a fight against a human, for whatever reason? Run. Run as fast as you can. And hope, pray if you have a religion, that they won't follow.

ok thats a really neat concept but what do you mean our eyes are always shaking

If you hold your hand at arms length and look at your thumbnail, thats approximately the size of area your eye can actually focus on. Everything else is a composite image generated by your brain.

Your eyes constantly dart around a little bit to fill in the composite.

the scary part? when your eyes move, you go blind. Your visual system has to cover up the periodic blindness but it does it "backwards" from how you'd expect: instead of "lagging" vision, it shows you what you see after the blindness, but makes it seem like you saw it the whole time.

You can see this by looking at a clock with a ticking second hand. The first time you move your eyes to it, the tick you see will seem to take longer than usual. That's because your visual system lied about how long you saw that tick, because you were blind for part of the time you thought you were seeing it. (fun fact: we don't see the same thing with moving objects, but only because our vision system "fakes the footage" of them moving while we were blind, because it understands consistent motion)

The human vision system is a marvelous clusterfuck of hacks.

I recently read a great sci Fi story about how fucked this is, called Blindsight. Highly recommend if you like being horrified by the limitations of your brain!

oh yes. Blindsight inspired the twitter version of that rant years ago.

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Science fiction is full of first contact stories, but is there a such thing as LAST contact?  Decide exactly what that means, and write about it.

It was too late, when the humans came. They were a young species, still exploring outwards, vital and thriving. 

We… were not. 

War had ravaged us, and sickness, and war once again, until our population dwindled beyond the point of recovery. We struggled against that, of course… we used genetic manipulation, and cloning, and even more desperate measures. None succeeded. When the humans came, we were sinking into apathy, only a few tens of us left. We had begun to discuss whether we should commit a mass suicide, or simply wait to fade away. 

And then the young species came, in their clumsy ships, and they asked us why we were so few. 

“We are becoming extinct,” we told them. “We have passed the point of recovery.” 

It is custom to avoid the races that are dying – once a species reaches the point of inevitable extinction, even war is suspended, and the fiercest enemy pulls back. The custom was born of plagues and poisons that could be carried forth from a dying world to afflict a healthy one, but it has the implacable weight of tradition now. After we are gone, after they have waited for the prescribed period of quarantine, there will be a fight for our world. Habitable worlds are few, and this is a good one, with plenty of free groundwater and thriving vegetation. It is a bitter thing to be grateful for the custom that allows us to die in peace, but we are grateful.

But the humans don’t know that custom, and they do not leave. They seem distraught, when we tell them we are dying, and try to offer their aid - but their technology is behind ours, and it is too late. When they realize that they can’t save us, though, they do something that bewilders us. 

There's the urban legend that some japanese companies will hire a "loud American." A person who is just there to voice complaints to the boss when others cant.

I had an idea today that alien ships might hire "The Human!" A person who is just there to just stand there and looks like the be the big, tough, indestructible threat of a being that the galaxy knows humans are.

Doesnt matter who the human is. Big or small, male or female, a tough soldier or more gentle than a newborn. They just have to be present and let the reputation of humans speak for itself.

Is the captain trying to enforce an unpopular regulation on the crew? Ask The Human to have a private meeting and voice the complaints.

Trying to sell some goods but the buyer wants to renegotiate the price to be more unfair to you? Ask The Human to be there at the negotiating table.

That jerk at the bar keeps pestering you with their mating display, because they want to be the one to fertilize your eggs wont take no for an answer? Ask The Human to escort you back to your quarters.

Not sure if the neighborhood where you're making the delivery is a safe one? Just ask that lovely human if they wouldnt mind putting down their crochet and coming with you. They might be extra thrilled if you mention they could take their pet with them, for a walk.

No one wanted to ask. Someone had to. It was terrifying. But it made sense.

Of course humanity finally abandoned its planet. Everyone was surprised they hadn’t abandoned it sooner. Still, the concern was there.

What made humanity abandon their planet in a mass event? What thing was finally found to scare them off their favorite death world?

Of course not every last human abandoned the planet, but enough did that Earth was no longer considered ‘inhabited’. Humans flocked to other worlds, most choosing death worlds with similar biomes to the ones they preferred. (And there was a suspiciously armored ship heading towards Disney planet.)

The concerning thing was the humans kept going back. Never landing. Never breaking the atmosphere. Just driving by.

Finally, a delegate was chosen to ask the human council member. Poor Laeri was nervous, but they had been called friend by council member Daryl before. Surely this question wouldn’t be an offense.

“Daryl, may I speak with you a moment?”

Daryl paused, and nodded, careful not to smile. He was well practiced in the art of not offending. “Of course Laeri. What is the matter?”

“Humanity has recently applied for habitation permits for a dozen planets. As soon as the permits were awarded, humans left very quickly.”

“Well sure. The permits took three earth years to be approved. Most of the planet had been preparing for over five years at that point,” Daryl explained.

“Yes, that is not my question. The question is why?”

“Why were they ready?”

Laeri shook their head. “Why did they leave Earth? Humans have made it a point to ‘stick it out’ despite better options being available. Why leave now?”

“Oh, that. Well.” Daryl paused. He knew he didn’t have to report officially yet, but his friend wanted to know. “Will you keep it a secret from the council?”

Laeri paused. The answer being a secret did not occur to them. What could the humans possibly be hiding? Would they be able to hide it as well?

“I do not think I can keep any dangerous thing a secret,” Laeri finally admitted.

Daryl nodded. “Nor would I ask you to. It’s not dangerous, just a little experiment more like.”

“If it is an experiment, then you should speak with-“

“No Laeri.” Daryl interrupted calmly. “This isn’t something we want help with. That’s why we haven’t mentioned anything to the Viyon Academics. We just need time to see if it works.”

Their curiosity finally got the better of them.

“If what works?”

“A new society. A new civilized species.”

Laeri didn’t speak, but either from awe or concern, they weren’t sure. Daryl continued.

“We believe a species evolves when they start to take care of their injured and impaired. It means they have compassion. Well an intelligent species on earth has been observed showing compassion. We simply want to give them the space they require to evolve.”

Laeri considered the intelligent species that lived on earth. They were suddenly very concerned. Had the humans been duped?

“The dolphi are showing compassion?” Laeri asked.

Daryl almost laughed. “Not even close. No, we wouldn’t break the agreement we made. They’re not escaping earth anytime soon.”

Laeri felt immediate relief. “Then which species is it?”

Daryl smiled. He couldn’t help it. He liked birds. “Corvids.”

“But, but they’re so small.”

“We know. That’s why some humans are still there, zoologist types to help them grow, learn, and show them the way.”

“What if another species wipes them out before they get the chance?”

Daryl shrugged. “Well that’s why we left some warriors behind, to help keep the corvids alive while they grow. And of course to keep the dolphins contained. We do take that assignment very seriously.”

Laeri was excited now. Another avian species may be joining the galaxy soon. They wanted to tell everyone.

“Promise you’ll keep the secret?” Daryl asked.

Laeri felt their excitement dash upon the cruel rocks of reality. “I will.”

“Good. Here.” Daryl held out a small computer drive.

Laeri took the drive. “What is this?”

“The live feed of the experiment. You really think we wouldn’t watch? As soon as they reach civilized status, I have to report them. Until then, they’ve been completing some very complex puzzles and problem solving lately. You’ll want to start at the beginning but they post new information all the time.”

Laeri clutched the drive to their feathered tunic. Suddenly the small drive was priceless. “I, must go now.”

Laeri took off as fast as would be ignored by others. Daryl watched his friend, surprised by how excited they were. His watch gave him an alert.

“Ooh, a group puzzle. Wonder if they managed it this time.”

Daryl walked off to his own private quarters to watch the newest update on the corvids.

Voyage Log 179: Our ship is due to receive a human crewmate. My colleagues are pleased. They have served with humans before. I've heard their stories and I must say, I have some concerns.

They're chaotic and messy and invasive. They talk. So much. I doubt I will become close to the new human.

Voyage Log 199: The new human arrived some time ago. They seem different from the way their species is typically described. They're..... quiet. They keep to themselves but aren't unfriendly when approached. I'm not sure what to make of them.

Voyage Log 210: Human Chris has taken sitting at the same table as me during meals. We don't speak and keep a respectable distance. It's... not unpleasant.

Voyage Log 219: Chris is fond of gardening as well! It is a difficult hobby to have on a ship. They have shared several tips as to how I can improve the health of my Hyacinths.

Voyage Log 241: I have been suspended from active duty for breaking Von's olfactory sensor. I assured the Captain that I did it on a whim and certainly not because Von destroyed Chris's Geranium. I am most definitely not attached to the Human.

Voyage Log 242: Chris has joined me in my temporary suspension. They kicked Von in his reproductive organ after hearing him calling me expletives. They told the Captain that they were definitely not attached to me either.

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.

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maxiesatanofficial

“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?”

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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.

as an individual: logical, organized as a species: hold my beer

I love that Stabby the robot has become part of the Canon of “human interaction with aliens”.

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The biggest warmongering race of Aliens declare war on the local Galaxy cluster. The opposing group of peace-loving Aliens, who had befriended most Alien races, are finally forced to reveal their secret weapon, a ‘classified’ species called Humans, and their tenacity as persistence predators.

“Ma’am. The V’afinog leader has sent a message.”

Rahn closes all six of her eyes, heart sinking into her thorax. A fine tremor starts in her vestigial wings. “So it’s true. They’ve returned to their bloodthirsty crusade.”

Undan nods miserably. The holo-pad in his hands shows the details of the crisis; six ships already attached to the planet holding their Boundary Station. A thousand V’afinog are holding the planet hostage. It’s only a matter of time before they assume complete control of the Boundary Station and can open the relay of shields between their galaxy and Rahn’s.

Rahn doesn’t bother with denial. Yes, there’s supposed to be a treaty between their Galaxies. Yes, the V’afinog are breaking that treaty and risking every trade agreement that keeps them alive in their barren corner of the universe. Yes, it’s beyond imagination, beyond comprehension.

But it’s happening. 

She makes a conscious effort to hold her wings still. “The Station?”

“Still unbreached,” Undan reports. He twists the pad around so she can see the glowing red dots that mark the V’afinog troops. “However, they’re making short work of our shields. Ma’am, I don’t think we have a choice. They’re too fast.”

“On my grandmother’s wings,” Rahn whispers. This is the worst possible scenario, a scenario so awful that there is only one course of action left. “All these years holding them back wasted because those bloodthirsty lizards can’t keep a single promise.”

Undan’s wings flutter uncomfortably. He doesn’t need to ask who this new they are. “Our relations with them are quite good, ma’am. I don’t think there’s too much cause for alarm. They’ll help us.”

Rahn stares at him in horror. “Undan, you befriended one, didn’t you?”

“That’s not– I’m just saying they’ll help–”

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Alien crewmate: human, what are you doing?

Human, chewing on their hand: my palm itches.

Alien crewmate: what?! You sure you haven't got space madness? You're putting your dexterous appendage in that venomous mouth of yours...

Human: it's fine as long as I don't break skin.

Alien, flabbergasted: but why teeth? You have another hand, don't you?

Human: human palms have very thick skin so it's difficult to scratch itches there. I'm chewing on it because my teeth can more easily apply enough pressure to get the itch.

Alien, unconvinced: alright but where's the human enrichment kit? I think we should get you tinkering.

Human: oh good idea! The wire brush can scratch my palm too!

Alien: then why didn't you try that first?

Human, shrugging: teeth were closer

Alien: remind me to always keep the human enrichment kit handy...

*a different alien who has been eavesdropping*

Alien: "human, what is this itching and why does it necessitate dental pressure?"

Human: "oh, its just irritated skin."

Alien: "so your solution to irritated skin is to irritate it further? And is such irritation not caused by exposure to caustic chemicals?"

Human: *shrugs* "it feels good, and it makes the itching go away. And yeah, chemicals can cause it, or splinter, or insect bites. infections can cause rashes that itch too. Oh and some plants have a toxin that causes painful itchiness if you touch them."

Alien: *eyes bugging out as he almost shouts at the idiot human* "you might have dangerous chemicals, or toxins, or infectious bacteria on your hand! And you put it in Your mouth? Go to sick bay!"

Human: "what? No! It's fine! It just happens sometimes. My mate reckons it's the demodex."

Alien: "the... What?"

Human: "demodex, microscopic mites that live on your skin and eat dead cells. Everyone has them."

Alien: "fleas! You have fleas and they irritate your skin so you eat them! Go to sick bay now! Or I will call a decontamination team!"

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Sometimes people come on my humans are space orcs posts and say stuff like "this isn't that weird lots of animals can do this too." My guy you have missed the point of humans are space orcs. Humans are space orcs is based around the idea "what if humans and our abilities are wild and weird and scary to aliens." Often coming hand in hand with the idea that earth is a death world and nothing here is normal. It's about what if what's normal to us is NOT normal to other life forms. You've entirely missed the point.

Humanity has finally reached the stars and found out why no one had contacted us. The universe is in a sad state. As such, Doctors without Borders, Red Cross, and many othe charities go intergalactic.

The thing the recruiters don’t tell you about space battles is that you die slowly.

Ships don’t blow up cleanly in flashes and sparks.  Oh, if you’re in the engine room, you’ll probably die instantly, but away from that?  In the computer core, or the communications hub?  You just lose power.  And have to sit, air going stale and room slowly cooling, while you wait to find out if the battle is won or lost.

If it’s lost, nobody comes for you.

It had been about half a day (that’s a Raithar day, probably a bit shorter than yours) and Kvala and I were pretty sure we had lost.  Kvala was injured, Traav and I were dehydrated and exhausted, and Louv was dead, hit by shrapnel when the conduits blew.

Most fleets give you something, of course.  For Raithari, it’s essence of windgrass.  I looked at the vial.

“It’s too soon,” Traav said.

Kvala gestured negation, shakily.  She had been burned when conduits blew, and her feathers were charred, and her leftmost eye was bubbly and blind now.  Even if we were rescued, she probably wouldn’t survive.  “You know we’re losing the war.”

They couldn’t deny that.  “It doesn’t mean we lost the battle.”

“Doesn’t it?  The Chreee have better technology.  Better resources.  And they have their warrior code.  They don’t care if they die.”

“We can’t give up!” Traav protested.  They were young, a young and reckless thar who had listened to a recruiting officer and still believed scraps of what they had been told.  “Any heartbeat now—”

There was a clunk.  Something had docked with our fragment of the ship.

“You see?!” Traav crowed triumphantly.

Kvala exchanged glances with me.  The Chreee never bothered to hunt down survivors.  What was the point, after all?

The Aushkune did.

There weren’t supposed to be Aushkune here.  They were supposed to hide in nebulas.

But if there were—

If there were, we were too late.  The windgrass couldn’t possibly destroy our nervous systems in time to stop the corpse-reviving implants, and once you were implanted, it was over—or it would never be over, depending on how you looked at it and whether Aushkune drones were aware of anything—

Footsteps.

Bipedal.  The Aushkune were supposed to be bipedal.

And then the blast door opened, and a figure stood in it.  My first thought was, robot?  That’s almost worse than Aushkune . . .  But no, it was a being in some sort of suit.

Who wore suits?

“Friendly contact,” the suit’s sound system blared, as the being moved over to Kvala.  “Urgent treatment.  Evacuation.”

“Who are you?”  Kvala struggled upright.

Despite the primitive suit, the blocky being was using up-to-date medical scanners.  “Low frequency right angle shape,” it explained—or maybe didn’t explain.  Two more figures came into the room and put Kvala firmly onto a stretcher.

“You’re with the Chreee, aren’t you?”  Kvala was not at all happy to be on a stretcher.

“Not Chreee,” the sound system said.  “You Man.  Soil Starship Nichols.”  The being hesitated.  “Rescue Chreee as well.  On ship.  Will separate.”

“You what?” I said faintly.  Who would do that?

“Oath,” the being explained.

“What kind of oath?  To what deity?”

The shoulders of the being moved up and down.  “Several different.  Also none.  For me, none.  Just—oath.”

I exchanged glances with Traav, who looked as unsettled as I was.  I had never, ever heard of groups cooperating when they couldn’t even swear to or by the same power.

The being scanned me.  “Have water,” it said.  “Recommend.”

Raithari have fast metabolisms.  I could—would—die of thirst quickly, and painfully.

“Where will you take us,” Traav asked, “after you give us water?”

“Raithari to Raithar.  Chreee to Chreeeholm.”

“Chreeeholm would kill them for failing,” Traav remarked.

The being hesitated, and then said, “War news sometimes bad.  Sometimes lie.”

We had learned long ago not to believe the recruiting officers, but what did that have to do with anything?

“And you—what?” I asked.  “Just fly around looking for battles and rescuing victims?”

The being seemed to consider this.  “Best invention of soil,” it said finally.

Most of what it was saying didn’t make any sense.  Did it worship soil?  But it had said that it had sworn to no deity . . .

Madness.

On the other hand—war was a deliberate, rational act by deliberate, rational people, and I wanted no more of it.  So why not embrace madness and see what happened?

“Soil Starship—Rrikkol?” I asked, stumbling over the word.

“Yes.  Soil Starship Nichols.”

I followed the being in the suit.

Took me well over a minute to realize "low frequency right angle shape" was Red Cross.

I love how this shows the weirdness both of language and of culture. Excellent writing!

"Soil Starship Nichols"

This is what took me a moment.

Earth Starship [Nichelle] Nichols

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This isn't space orcs related but it IS writing related. I have an original work I post to AO3 called A Cottage Witch and her Dragon that is about Serenity, a 24 year old witch and her dragon familiar, Dragon (he chose the name). Serenity makes a meager living selling enchanted teas and magical knitted and crocheted items at the local market. Her neighbors are all retirees and widows who come together to make a community that takes care of each other. There is a delightful old lady who took one look at Serenity and decided "yep, I'm adopting you. Can't be helped."

It's a cozy story about found family and being content with a simple life that started out as a joke I made on tumblr: what if there was a witch who knitted and her dragon familiar rode around on her chest in the form of a shawl pin? But it quickly became a love letter to lonely people. Sometimes I write messages of love and inclusion that I wish I could tell people I love that have died. But I can't, so I put them out in the world for people who are still here who may need to hear them.

If that sounds up your alley, you can find it here. I talk about it sometimes on my main (@roboticchibitan )

Okay, back to humanity and their space orc status!

By the way, the dragon is basically a toddler crossed with a cat and there is one episode written completely from his point of view, complete with toddler/cat logic. He plays pranks and is altogether too sassy for his own good

This isn't space orcs related but it IS writing related. I have an original work I post to AO3 called A Cottage Witch and her Dragon that is about Serenity, a 24 year old witch and her dragon familiar, Dragon (he chose the name). Serenity makes a meager living selling enchanted teas and magical knitted and crocheted items at the local market. Her neighbors are all retirees and widows who come together to make a community that takes care of each other. There is a delightful old lady who took one look at Serenity and decided "yep, I'm adopting you. Can't be helped."

It's a cozy story about found family and being content with a simple life that started out as a joke I made on tumblr: what if there was a witch who knitted and her dragon familiar rode around on her chest in the form of a shawl pin? But it quickly became a love letter to lonely people. Sometimes I write messages of love and inclusion that I wish I could tell people I love that have died. But I can't, so I put them out in the world for people who are still here who may need to hear them.

If that sounds up your alley, you can find it here. I talk about it sometimes on my main (@roboticchibitan )

Okay, back to humanity and their space orc status!

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( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

While serving alongside the human forces during the Torus Campaign I learned much of their strange culture.

Their need to stack foods in elaborate combinations which they call a “Sandwich”, their constant need to play “The Game” without ever explaining what it is unless to tell you that you have lost it, and even their obsession with petting anything within arm’s reach with an almost religious like dedication; but the strangest custom I only witnessed during the final stages of the war.

We had just deployed over the world of Obidon III and were launching a joint ground assault with the human forces. Enemy resistance was expected to be heavy and many would not survive the drop, but command believed that if enough forces reached the surface of the planet they could establish a beachhead and allow the rest of the contingent to be brought in.

During the decent to the planet all I could do was keep my eyes closed and hope beyond hope that we would survive. I was so lost in this trance like state that my friend Septem had to physically smack me on the helmet to get my attention and tell me to turn my radio channel to frequency 13.

I was confused at first since that frequency was being used for our human allies but he insisted that I would not believe what they were doing. So I reset my radio in my helmet to frequency and what I heard was something I had never expected on a battlefield.

They were singing.

The frequency was chalk full of voices in such volume that I had to turn down the volume but it seemed like every single human that was part of the attach was joining in the song. My translator unit was trying to keep up but the sheer intensity of the humans singing was causing it to drop in and out, picking up every other word.

I wanted to listen closer to them but the enemy flak began pounding the outside of our dropship. Each detonation sent the ship rattling side to side violently. I had just retightened my straps when a shell burst just beneath us sending a shockwave through the ship so strong it sent several of my comrades flying from their seats into the opposite wall. They hit the wall hard and did not get back up when their bodies collapsed to the ground.

All I could think about was how this was the moment I was going to die. This was the moment my existence in this universe comes to its conclusion and I return to the dust and atoms of the cosmos. And as I tuned myself to this reality all I could hear were the humans still singing over the radio.

They must have been going through the same amount of enemy fire as he was and yet still they somehow were still able to sing as if nothing was wrong with the world. I got so focused on their singing that I forgot about my worries for such a time that I was startled when the dropship landed with a loud thud against the planet’s surface and the boarding ramp lowered.

The following battle was a grueling six hour run and gun with the enemy as we tried to carve out a safe LZ for reinforcements. I got separated from my unit on more than one occasion and wandered into the human designated areas in the confusion.

To my utter surprise the humans were still singing.

Clad in their blue and gold armor, they broadcasted their voices from their helmet speakers as they advanced street by bloody street. One of them took shelter with me for a time as we prepared to rush a fortified courtyard which housed heavy anti air emplacement. I nodded a greeting to the human who replied in kind, yet their voice never ceased in song. I saw them rush around the corner and take several heavy rounds to their chest, but the shells ricocheted off the armor leaving only scratches on the paint.

I watched in disbelief as this wild singing human leaped over the barricade and slapped a detonation charge on the anti-air weapon before leaping back as it exploded the weapon. They stood in the smoldering flames to take a moment to catch their breath when a sniper’s round from down the street struck them in the head and blew out a large portion of their cranium. It was the first time during the entire battle I had seen a human die but I did not have long to contemplate it as the rest of the humans charged past, still singing, in the direction of the snipers shot.

Another hour of combat and the landing site was finally secured and reinforcements were brought in to take our positions. What was left of the initial landing force were sent back to orbit and recover and regroup from their losses. Out of my people’s forces I was one of twenty soldiers to have survived. I imagined the humans had lost equally as many until the pilot remarked that additional shuttles had been dispatched to carry their force back up. It seemed that despite the intensity of the fighting only three of their warriors had fallen in battle; one of them including the warrior I had watched fall.

I was beyond myself.

These reckless warriors had somehow survived one of the most intense battles the campaign had seen and only lost three of their number.

Once back on the ship the first chance I could I sought them out for an explanation. They were quartered in the lower reaches of the ship, isolated from the other contingents onboard.

Outside their area were two guards still in full armor that initially would not let me through until one of them recognized me from the fighting in the city. I was then led inside and found many of the humans feasting and laughing. Two long rows of had been setup facing each other; between them were several fires, each with a different animal being roasted over them. At the end of the rows stood three large pyres of wood which held three bodies atop each of them.

As I passed through the humans many ceased their laughter and looked at me, their eyes with suspicion. We made it half way through the throngs when a giant of a human stepped forward and blocked our path. They demanded to know why I had been let it in; going even further to say they will throw me out personally if the answer was not good. The guard who had recognized me said I had witnessed the last moments of one of the fallen and would speak of their deeds. There was a long pause as the large human glared at me, his eyes as cold as the crescent moon of my homeworld.

The human finally relented and let out a loud boastful laugh, clapping me on my shoulders and welcoming me to the feast. Those gathered around cheered and similarly welcomed me now as the ceremony proceeded once more. I could barely say anything as I was seemingly pulled into the celebration. I drank, I ate, I laughed, I even boasted of my own achievements during the battle.

At the height of the feast I was called forward to speak of the final moments of the human soldier I watched die. I learned their name had been Moris Yu, and had served in the human contingent since the beginning of the campaign. I spoke of his final moments, of how he charged the enemy alone and had single handedly destroyed their war machine. I spoke of the snipers bullet laying him low to which all the gathered humans spoke as one “To Odin’s fall he flies.”

With that pyres were set on fire and the bodies slowly turned to ash. I imagine it had some significant ritualistic meaning in human culture but it was beyond me.

After the funeral I asked one of the soldiers the question I had come to them with.

“Why do you sing in battle?”

The human took a long huff from a wooden pipe and blew a cloud of smoke before answering.

“Long ago, my people were raiders and conquerors of the sea.” They began, “Our gods watched over us and should be proved worthy we would be sent to them to join them in their halls and fight alongside them for eternity.”

“There was one warband led by a giant of a man called Osmond Frig. He loved song just as much as he loved fighting, so he made his warriors sing during every fight as it made him happy.”

“They agreed to such silliness?” I asked, to which the human grinned.

“They did after he felled the first three men who laughed at him with a single blow from his axe.” They finished before continuing with their story.

“What was truly surprising was not the sight of these warriors singing, but rather the fact that they were rather good at it. It was said they could make the Valkyries themselves shed a single tear with their songs.”

“Eventually one of the gods, Bragi, noticed Osmond’s warband and took a liking to them. Much like the Valkyries he too was moved by their song and decided to reward them with his patronage. He used ancient magic and made it so as long as the warriors sung they would be impervious to harm of all kinds.”

“So the warband grew in fame and glory as they went conquest to conquest, emerging from battles against impossible odds with nay a scratch on them. First across the northern seas, then across the continent of Europe, and then soon the entire world knew of Osmond; which is when they finally drew the attention of the king of the gods, Odin.”

“Odin watched these powerful warriors and wanted them in his hall for the eternal battle, yet despite every challenge they faced they emerged victorious. No matter what enemy Odin placed in their path or scheme he unleashed on them they refused to fall. Odin knew of Bragi’s patronage and tortured to god to reveal his secret and after seven days and seven nights Bragi told Odin of the spell he had cast and how it could not be undone.”

“But that was all Odin needed to secure his warriors.” The human said with a devil’s grin.

“During the midst of the most recent battle Odin took the form of a mighty warrior and stalked the fields for his prey. He waited for each warrior to catch their breath and cease their song before striking and slaying them, one by one. By day’s end only Osmond remained to fight Odin and though he sang long into the night he too eventually gasped for air and was slain.”

“So that is why you sing?” I asked the human. ‘Because you believe your gods will protect you?”

The human chuckled and nodded to the three pyres. “Did you not say that Moris was only slain after he ceased singing?”

I wanted to counter him with some logic, some reason grounded in reality, but I could not. I left that human area with a profound new perspective of myself in the grand scheme of the universe.

The next time I was in a combat drop my comrades laughed when I began singing. I wasn’t sure if it was good or not, but I hoped that in some way the human god would at least find me amusing and let me live another day.

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Alien crewmate: what is this ritual you do every evening and morning after you eat?

Human crewmate: I'm brushing my teeth!

Alien: brushing your mouth bones? Do they have hair???

Human: no, you remember how humans have bacteria in their mouths?

Alien, shuddering: yes, I remember.

Human: well if we don't clean our mouth bones the bacteria slowly destroys them!

Alien: your biology is truly unhinged.

Alien crewmate: what is this ritual you do every evening and morning after you eat?

Human crewmate: I'm brushing my teeth!

Alien: brushing your mouth bones? Do they have hair???

Human: no, you remember how humans have bacteria in their mouths?

Alien, shuddering: yes, I remember.

Human: well if we don't clean our mouth bones the bacteria slowly destroys them!

Alien: your biology is truly unhinged.

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