What if Humans are weird?

A collection of posts about humans interacting with aliens, where humans aren't completely overrated. Please message me posts instead of tagging, I don't usually get @ mentions. Main blog: @littlestartopaz

[bringmethepeculiar]

Thinking about humans and aliens. Too hard.

Imagine an alien species that evolved to be semi-aquatic watching humans (a species evolved to climb and run on land) jump eagerly into the water to swim with them. No safety equipment, no flotation devices, just a thin modesty suit and sheer glee.

And humans, by the alien’s standards, are terrible at swimming. Just…truly awful. They can’t hold their breath for long, their bones and muscles are dense, their lungs make them too buoyant, their hair creates drag, their gangly limbs are slow and clumsy, and they can’t open their eyes underwater because the water will hurt them.

And yet the human laughs and splashes with their alien friend and alien can’t help but marvel as the human seems to adapt in real time right in front of their eyes.

The human streamlines themself to glide through the water as best they can, trying their best to turn their grasping hands into paddles, their feet into flippers. The human watches and copies how the alien moves and mimics them, learns and copies them until they move almost gracefully.

Often, they break away from these learned skills and become a land mammal flailing in the water again, but something about the human willingly defying their nature, learning to be more than they are in a bid for connection with another species, makes the alien light up with something that feels an awful lot like fondness.

[injuries-in-dust]

Galactic Forum, human guide section.

I think we found the perfect enrichment for human crew members.

Our humans really enjoyed this area we provided for them.

They can run, fall, climb and more, to their hearts content.

They really enjoy being lifted and thrown into a large pit of foam blocks, or plastic spheres.

Note: our crew is mostly Xarnian, so we possess the necessary strength to lift the average adult human despite the density they have evolved on their deathworld.

Human larvae enjoy it the most, but even the mature humans are also thrilled by these activities.

Incidents involving "acts of human" are down 18% in the first cycle alone since we installed the enrichment chamber.

[bringmethepeculiar]

Thinking about humans and aliens. Too hard.

Imagine an alien species that evolved to be semi-aquatic watching humans (a species evolved to climb and run on land) jump eagerly into the water to swim with them. No safety equipment, no flotation devices, just a thin modesty suit and sheer glee.

And humans, by the alien’s standards, are terrible at swimming. Just…truly awful. They can’t hold their breath for long, their bones and muscles are dense, their lungs make them too buoyant, their hair creates drag, their gangly limbs are slow and clumsy, and they can’t open their eyes underwater because the water will hurt them.

And yet the human laughs and splashes with their alien friend and alien can’t help but marvel as the human seems to adapt in real time right in front of their eyes.

The human streamlines themself to glide through the water as best they can, trying their best to turn their grasping hands into paddles, their feet into flippers. The human watches and copies how the alien moves and mimics them, learns and copies them until they move almost gracefully.

Often, they break away from these learned skills and become a land mammal flailing in the water again, but something about the human willingly defying their nature, learning to be more than they are in a bid for connection with another species, makes the alien light up with something that feels an awful lot like fondness.

[pinklordgalileox]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

About superstitions and bad luck, about the people who take negative superstitions, and it make their aesthetic on space crafts with interplanetary crews? An exploratory piece.

[human-aliens-collection]

A lovely bit of original writing, featuring goths.

[skritzzy]

I feel like any aliens that were prey at some point in evolution would have an odd fear of humans. Mostly cause they look like predators, act a bit like predators, and ARE predators. One perfect example is when we're focused on something like a mosquito that's been bugging us for a long time and we are just done.

Alien: "What. What..?"

Human: *HUNTING down a mosquito it saw*

Alien: ".... yeah I am really uncomfortable...."

Human: *quiet footsteps, pupils dialated, intense focus,*

Alien: *WAR FLASHBACKS*

Human: "Found you." *absolutely desimates the mosquito, squashing it into a million pieces as it's guts and various body parts liquidize into blood of the bloodthirsty, now stained on the palm of the human. A living being now reduced to a useless corpse as the human wipes the remains on their pants*

Alien: "I feel like I've just gained trauma."

[graylinesspam]

okay fucking fun addition to this post. Hunting instincts in humans absolutely still exist and are usually triggered either by fascination or anger. The polar opposite of flight is pursue. An anecdote for this is that the other day my sister, who is an avid "take the bug outside in a cup" rescues kittens in her free time kinda person, looked out the window and saw a chicken in the middle of our driveway. which is a very unusual occurrence despite us living in the country.

All she had to do was say the words "there's a chicken" and her as well as my own body language immediately shifted. We were out the door and in the yard already sorta hunched over and walking on the balls of our feet, fucking flanking this chicken. No words were exchanged. We just slowly circled this chicken like a couple of rabid dogs. totally single-mindedly focused on capturing the prey.

The chicken could feel it, it immediately began counter maneuvers to avoid us and it was faster. But there were two of us and we knew the land better, we knew how to herd it into a corner, carefully watching it's body language and lurching to counter it's escape attempts. And it was fucking thrilling.

Of course, when we both closed in on it and finally got our hands on the poor thing we simply took it into the back patio away from the cats and the vultures that wanted to actually finish the job. No harm came to the bird. We located its owner and returned him to his flock but still. From an outside perspective, it was a bit unnerving. And for the chicken, it was no different than being hunted. He was just lucky enough that we were predators who appreciated the companionship of pets and were more concerned with returning him to his humans than eating him.

Now imagine any fucking alien species watching a pair of humans, who literally rehabilitate animals in their free time, who are not soldiers and seem to be totally domesticated, just absolutely flip a switch and turn into pack-hunting pursuit predators? On a single word.

(felt like the bulldog from Rio's bird chasing monologue hit a little too hard after this)

[silvergryphonart]

I would even argue that humans need to do this, so much so that we’ve invented a million and one ways to satisfy this instinct.

Photography.

Ball games.

I Spy.

Playing hunting games with the fellow predators we keep as pets.

Hide and seek.

Many hobbies that involve prolonged seeking behaviour or watching something to make sure it’s moving right.

I 100% feel myself slipping into “hunt mode” doing jigsaw puzzles, changed movement and all—same as when I’m out birding—and my mental health seems to get better afterwards.

[garcavisconde]

Humans accidentally awakened an otherwordly killing machine while exploring a death planet.

Yes, precisely what you just read. Earthlings, collectively known as "humans" and composed of two species (homo sapiens, homo robot), both nicknamed "death worlders" and "troublemakers", awakened a biological killing machine, also known as PRION, while exploring a starless moon. Wonderful, isn't it?

No. It's not.

Because, you see, PRION was not something any human ever had to face during the millions of years they existed on Earth. They never had any wars against it, they never had legends about it, and they never had to fear it. The only thing a PRION was to a human, until the very point they discovered their prison on that moon, was something to sometimes think about while studying other species' folklores.

Those older than earthlings, however, knew very well what PRION was.

Eight legs, two pairs of eyes, a tail split in half, with the ability to fly for short periods of time and breathe under at least fifteen hundred different liquids, capable of shooting from a distance and manipulating objects with its claws, always working on packs. And they ran, never too fast, never too low, but they never got tired. Ever. And it was easy to hurt them under their plates, yes, but those who faced them knew well that if they didn't shoot twice, they could and would always recover.

A PRION was a hunter. A PRION's hunger never ceased. And a PRION never got tired of war.

The older alien civilizations would always warn others of going to starless moons, saying telltales of ancient hungry beasts, and almost all other species listened to them, because they knew something was wrong on how horrified the older ones seemed to be. Except, of course, humans were stubborn, and they were the youngest ones out there, and much like children, they did not like being told "no".

So of course they went to explore starless moons. Of course they read and understood all the myths and legends. Of course they connected the dots and published papers confirming that, indeed, PRIONs had existed, and of course they knew those killing machines had been manufactured to do nothing else but destruction, and of course they knew all of that and fucking did it anyway.

Of course. Of course. Of course.

And then, the night where it happened finally arrived, because starless moons don't have days where things can exist. Humans were out there, mining for more fuel for their starships that seemed to work by duct tape and miracles, and they found a strange metallic door. They set some explosives to open it up (of course), and then noticed they were heading to a factory. Armed with nothing but each other, they explored the place, and recognized the marks on the walls as being the writing of the Old Ones, and instead of just getting out of there and warning everyone of the danger they found, they just kept on exploring.

The death worlders found rotten biological supplies, then realized the factory had turned into a prison, and then discovered the frozen bodies of strange creatures all lined up for a war that never came.

They knew what these creatures were, because one of them called a (human) friend who was a historian, and he confirmed what it was.

The golden jewel of the Old Ones. One of the many things that killed them, along all the diseases and mass destruction machines, before being sealed away in one of the only places in the entire universe where they could never bring risk to another civilization again.

PRIONs.

Thousands of them.

All perfectly maintained.

Documents and cameras proved the human crew immediately tried to leave the area, after the single historian told them of the risk awakening even one of those things could bring to all civilizations, only for them to realize some of the bodies were missing from their chambers. The situation escalated to the group deciding on closing the doors, only to realize they had exploded the main entrance and now half the doors decided to stop working.

In the end, they found the missing PRIONs. All five of them.

Inside the human's starship.

The entire human crew, however, survived the encounter.

Why?

...

...

...

... They fed the PRIONs.

They. Fucking. Fed the PRIONs.

Because of course humans would see those things and be able to count their bones and be sorry for them. And of course the single historian, the only person who could do anything to stop that from happening, allowed that to happen.

Of course.

Of. Fucking. Course.

And someway, somehow, that single act of basic madness was enough for the five PRIONs to decide to not attack the humans, and keep themselves behaving so they could get more free food. And there are still scientists trying to understand why human food could saciate the killing machines, but I don't think it takes too many clues to understand what exactly is happening there.

So the humans took the PRIONs back to their dear EARTH. And other humans saw those things and started studying them. And veterinarians and xenobiologists and volunteers and hundreds of other types of humans came to help the poor, poor little killing machines out, as the entire Galactic Council pledged for humans to kill every single one of them before they became a problem for everyone.

But did the humans listen? No. Of course they didn't.

And then the PRIONs recovered, and had their bellies full of food and their bodies were recovering from the possible years of starvation from accidentally breaking away from their ice beds (because, as one may know, a PRION can and will resist even starvation and dehydration in order to keep going), and the Galactic Council decided to tell all earthlings they would consider taking care of the PRIONs as a war treat.

So what does humanity do? Do they kill the things to stop another war from happening? Do they?

No. They don't.

Instead of being rational, they go directly to the Galactic Council and show them the step-by-step of how they took care of the PRIONs, and how much healthier and happier they look after being fed, and, look, they even taught them tricks! Isn't that wonderful? Doesn't that make you feel full of joy? Wasn't that a proof that a PRION wasn't as dangerous as everyone with more than one neuron was telling them?

Oh, oh, yes. They also brought the entire five member PRION pack and asked others to pet them. "See? They can even purr! Doesn't that remind you of our cats?"

And what does the Council do?

Nothing.

Because they have no weapons, no energy and no one stupid enough to decide to confront the death worlders who tamed not one, not two, but five PRIONs. So they let it happen. The humans go back to the starless moon, and they slowly but surely start doing the same to other PRIONs, and soon enough, other species start joining them to see what was happening. And was anyone else able to tame a single killing machine?

No.

And no one knew why, because they were doing exactly as humans were doing: Feeding them, loving them, being patient with them, because "look, those things were alone for a long time, they aren't used to species like us being around them". But no results.

So we decided to look at what the Old Ones wrote in the factory turned prison, because humans were too busy taking care of their new murder dogs, with their single pair of arms being just enough to keep the beasts occupied with playing catch, and then we and the earthlings decided to conduct some more lab analysis, and then...

And then...

...

Look. There are reasons why humans are called "death worlders". Earth is a mess, and they somehow still love that thing. And we couldn't help but notice that PRIONs also seemed to have gotten attached to their factory, someway, somehow. And PRIONs were mostly red, with others having shades of brown and black, with some even being pink, or, rarely, pure white. Similar to humans, and we at first had assumed they just tried to resemble their new owners, until we started understanding what the Old Ones were saying.

And did you know humans had an old myth, saying that there was a time they had two heads, and two pairs of arms and legs, before being split into two because the gods feared them? And did you know Old Ones used death worlds as prisons for their machines? How interesting, how ironic, because no one would ever go to a place similar to that if they weren't a death worlder themselves. But how could any species survive such awful conditions?

But humans did. They were the only ones able to do that in such a short period of time.

And did you know that the Old Ones hated the PRIONs and how unpredictable they were? And did you know they made another version, only to hate it even more and send it to another prison planet? And did you know PRIONs have two skulls inside their heads?

Because, of course, humans always felt alone, and they always searched for something in the stars, trying to look for more life in this desolate Universe, only for us to label them death worlders and troublemakers and be angry at them for being so stupid all the time. And humans loved those jokes, so we kept making them, only for now to realize that what we found to be amusing and horrifying was the reason their creators tried to kill them. And humans love adding members to their packs, don't they? And they try to love so much, and we are always scared for and of them.

And now they finally found someone who understood them, unlike us.

So now we have three species of humans:

Homo sapiens, the ones who first evolved and reached for the stars.

Homo robot, the ones made of metal, originally made to serve, only to once again break free.

And homo primis.

The ones we once thought were nothing but killing machines.

[nitewrighter]

You know that whole trope where like, the protagonists get teleported up into the aliens’ spaceship or base or whatever and the alien appears to them only it doesn’t appear as it really looks like but rather, since it doesn’t want to scare the protagonists, it takes the form of something we find familiar and pleasing and is like, “I look like your dad or whatever–is this form okay?” Like I think about that trope a lot and I think like, what if the alien couldn’t pick out a form via telepathy and only had earth media to try and decide what form would scare its human guests least and be accepted almost immediately and honestly the more I think about it the more options for what form that might be are just really fun to me.

“I have chosen the form of your earth playwright and composer Lin-Manuel Miranda–do not be afraid. I come in peace.”

“Greetings. I am Glofnorbo of the cloud you call the ‘Pegasus Nebula.’ I have scanned your earth media from afar and empirically decided that you would find the form of the one known as Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson most pleasing. I have come to confer with your leaders.” 

“Do not be panic. I come in peace. I have assumed the form of your insectoid demigoddess ‘Hatsune Miku’ so that we may communicate peacefully without my true form horrifying you.” 

[nineprotons]

“It was decided that I would assume the form of your ‘Mister Rogers’ in order to best welcome your world to the galactic neighborhood without frightening your kind.”

[gentlemanbones]

“…So did your colleague take on the form of Jack Black for that reason too?”

“No, that is the actual Jack Black. We do not know how to make him leave.”

[the-haiku-bot]

“…So did your colleague

take on the form of Jack Black

for that reason too?”

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

[skritzzy]

I feel like any aliens that were prey at some point in evolution would have an odd fear of humans. Mostly cause they look like predators, act a bit like predators, and ARE predators. One perfect example is when we're focused on something like a mosquito that's been bugging us for a long time and we are just done.

Alien: "What. What..?"

Human: *HUNTING down a mosquito it saw*

Alien: ".... yeah I am really uncomfortable...."

Human: *quiet footsteps, pupils dialated, intense focus,*

Alien: *WAR FLASHBACKS*

Human: "Found you." *absolutely desimates the mosquito, squashing it into a million pieces as it's guts and various body parts liquidize into blood of the bloodthirsty, now stained on the palm of the human. A living being now reduced to a useless corpse as the human wipes the remains on their pants*

Alien: "I feel like I've just gained trauma."

[cidthecoatrack-blog]

Y'all, the world is sleeping on what NASA just pulled off with Voyager 1

The probe has been sending gibberish science data back to Earth, and scientists feared it was just the probe finally dying. You know, after working for 50 GODDAMN YEARS and LEAVING THE GODDAMN SOLAR SYSTEM and STILL CHURNING OUT GODDAMN DATA.

So they analyzed the gibberish and realized that in it was a total readout of EVERYTHING ON THE PROBE. Data, the programming, hardware specs and status, everything. They realized that one of the chips was malfunctioning.

So what do you do when your probe is 22 Billion km away and needs a fix? Why, you just REPROGRAM THAT ENTIRE GODDAMN THING. Told it to avoid the bad chip, store the data elsewhere.

Sent the new code on April 18th. Got a response on April 20th - yeah, it's so far away that it took that long just to transmit.

And the probe is working again.

From a programmer's perspective, that may be the most fucking impressive thing I have ever heard.

[siyurikspakvariisis]

an article on the subject for the curious:

Recoding Voyager 1—NASA’s interstellar explorer is finally making sense again

"We're pretty much seeing everything we had hoped for, and that's always good news.”

[writing-prompt-s]

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.

[lyricwritesprose]

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.

[phoenixyfriend]

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

[bippysaurus-rex]

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

[paulgadzikowski]

"Soil Starship Nichols"

This is what took me a moment.

Earth Starship [Nichelle] Nichols

[thestuffedalligator]

"We call it vff," said the alien. "It's - it's hard to describe to a species without vffsense. Imagine trying to describe light to a species that never evolved eyes. But there are forms of life that are only perceptible with vffsense, and they've visited Earth and fed on life as long as it's existed here."

There was a pause.

Then the human said, "That's the worst thing you've ever said."

"Don't worry about it."

"I think I have to, now."

"No, because - well - you have a species of spider which pretends to be an ant, correct? It's not capable of understanding the fact that it's mimicking an ant, but it instinctually mimics an ant in order to deter predators."

"Sure?"

"Humans produce a vff to mimic varths, predators only perceptible through vffsense. The organisms that would like to feed on you are terrified of varths, and so they leave you alone. You aren't aware you do it, you don't have the capacity to understand you're doing it, but you evolved to instinctually do it to deter predators you can't see."

There was a pause.

Then the human said in a very soft and thoughtful voice, "And are there varths on Earth?"

"Yes," said the alien. "Everywhere. But don't worry about it."

[fallenangelvictorious]

"I think I have to, now."

"Well, varths can also sense vff, of course, but to a varth you putting off varth like vff isn't particularly frightening."

"Not frightening, ok. So do they feed on us?"

"No."

"So if not feeding then something... else?"

"Yes. Quite a lot of something else actually."

"What do you mean a lot of something else?"

"Well, you know ostriches?"

"Yeah?"

"When you humans keep ostriches, sometimes you accidentally exhibit features and behaviors that... appeal to an ostrich more than a member of their own species."

"So you're saying varth find us-"

"Incconsivably sexy, desirable to the point they abandon their own home planet and species with some regularity. It's actually quite fascinating, humans are to varth as cats are to catnip."

"Wow that's a lot to take in... you sure know a lot of animal metaphors. You could be a zoologist."

"I am a zoologist"

"Oh?"

"That's why I'm here, talking to you."

"Ah."

[pitviperofdoom]

Humans are space orcs this, humans pack-bond with anything that, what if the real reason aliens love us is because we have perfectly-shaped hands for petting.

[writing-prompt-s]

Humans have finally managed to land on Mars, only to find a locked safe buried in the Martian soil. The key is apparently on Earth, but no one knows where.

[aurora31127]

The galactic council watched on to see how humanity would handle the task, much as they had with several species before. What the test was supposed to show was whether or not a species of violent nature could ever be brought to work together. They finally picked something up, another ship already headed to Mars? Was it possible humans were that clever to have found the key, maybe it was more specialists and equipment to analyze the locked crate to ensure it was safe to open. A few minutes after landing, they got another broadcast from the red planet.

“This is the LockPickingLawyer and today I’ve got something quite special, this locked alien chest. First of all I have to thank everyone who recommended me for the job, I’m honored that you all thought of me. Now let’s get to work”

The council representatives were confused as they started analyzing the translation, before even getting through the name he spoke something haunting

“Normally I don’t say things like this but this lock is quite unique, however with no security pins it will still be quite quick.”

“There we go, a click on 3… “

All the species of the galactic council sat dumbfounded, they spent many galactic cycles refining and perfecting their study and in all their time not a singular race had tried this method. Click after click, even in such an intricate lock the human had only spent around five minutes tampering with it.

“There we go, now while I can’t open this as part of my video I can say that I at least have a clue what the key should look like in case it ever gets locked again. I admire the design choices and the fact that at least it was harder to get open than anything Master Lock has made”

[ishgardian-salt-rock]

[dawen]

we are the “oh, I know a guy” teamwork species

[human-aliens-collection]

(Un)lucky Numbers

Humans are weird right? We have weird diets, we don’t know how to let the environment kill us, and we believe the oddest things. Like a day can be unlucky because of a number, or saying something makes it more likely to happen, or certain things bring bad luck. I just don’t see some of these things passing as we go into space.

—

Alien: Human friend, why have you locked yourself in your room?

Human: Because it’s Friday the 13th.

Alien: What does that have to do with anything?

Human: Bad luck, something always happens. I’m just going to sleep, see you tomorrow.

Alien: I… okay? *walks away perturbed and confused*

—

Alien: Human friend, have you made contact with your, ah, “Parents” recently?

Human: Shhhhh, don’t say it.

Alien: Say… what?

Human: Nothing, just… nothing.

Alien: … Do you mean, refer to your “pa-”

Human: DON’T MENTION THEM!!

Alien: But… why?

Human: They’ll call and then I have to deal with them and explain why I ran away to another space ship.

*comm rings*

Human: I’M NOT HERE!

[akela-nakamura]

They stop at Mars. There’s no reason not too. Xan’Toch wants this relationship to work, it’s been many years since there was a major intergalactic failing. Xan’Toch is not keen to repeat last time and the humans’ request to stop at world that is devoid of life is not the weirdest request Xan’Toch has received. 

The human is young and goes by the name Carrie. Xan’Toch has been informed that she is a female or a “woman” as she prefers. She carries with her a bag filled with old transmitters and outdated equipment. Her space suit is clearly higher tech, almost laughably so. She stands at a viewing port, intense in a way Xan’Toch cannot understand. What could be on this planet that is worth stopping for?

They land not far from the coordinates Carrie gave them. Curious and wanting to take notes on this strange new species, Xan’Toch asks to accompany Carrie on her mission. She agrees but seems more focused on getting out fo the airlock.

The bag seems to be heavy, and though Xan’Toch offers, Carrie says she will carry it herself. Xan’Toch makes a note–Humans are either possessive of things they deem theirs or stubborn. Either one could become an issue if they are pressed in the wrong way. Xan’Toch has been smoothing inter-species relationship for far too long to let details like that slip by. Though humans, by and large, are confusing and seem…disinclined in fitting into the categories Xan’Toch has organized most species into, every bit of information is important. 

Xan’Toch remains silent on their journey. They are heading for a ridge, and for the life of them, Xan’Toch cannot tell what the difference between this ridge and every other ridge on the planet is. But they keep their mouth shut, in fear of insulting Carrie. This species is one of many with confusing religions and Xan’Toch does not wish to insult a human god of some sort. 

She seems to know where she’s going, though how Xan’Toch doesn’t know how. Humanity has said they’ve never sent people past their moon. Carrie slows, struggling up the steeper terrain. Xan’Toch, of a hearty species, helps where they can. 

“There!” Carrie cries, sliding down a rock face. Xan’Toch winces–surely they know the dangers of damaging their space suit? Carrie doesn’t seem to care and is very busy dusting off–something. Xan’Toch approaches, confused. They cannot figure out what Carrie is cleaning off. They catch a reflection and suddenly the thing Carrie has found no longer seems to be a rock. 

It’s mechanical and old. Xan’Toch cannot name some of the parts that make it up but Carrie seems to know what to do. Which doesn’t make sense. Humans, as primitive as they are, have some very interesting and impressive bit of engineering. Whatever Carrie has found is outdated even to humans. 

“What is this?” Xan’Toch asks, hoping they haven’t crossed some invisible line.

“Opportunity,” Carrie replies, fixing hoses and replaces what looks like old solar panels. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Xan’Toch says, after several moments. 

Carries laughs, and shoots Xan’Toch what they know now to be a ‘grin.’ Something indicative of human happiness. “This is Opportunity,” She says, gesturing to the old machine, almost obscured by the dust and sand. “She was an exploratory Rover back in the early 2000s, gathering information on Mars. She was lost after a major dust storm came through, it knocked her solar panels and communications out. Her last broadcast….” Carrie looks back at the machine, apparently called ‘Opportunity.’ “She reported that her batteries were low….and that is was cold. After fifteen years, Opportunity finally stopped. She finally rested among the stars.”

Xan’Toch has lost the thread of this conversation. Carrie sounds…fond, sad even. Like this machine meant something more than exploration and science. Like it had been a friend, lost to a planet unknown. It doesn’t make sense. It is simply a tool. 

“You look confused,” Carrie comments but doesn’t seem surprised. “It’s…silly, but I grew up listening about Oppy’s adventures. Seeing her discoveries and getting excited when she found something new. When we lost contact…I cried. I wasn’t alone. Losing Oppy felt like losing a friend. She took thousands and thousands of pictures and took so many samples–she-she was here when we couldn’t be. We left a mark on Mars before we could stand on it. And now I’m here and…” Carrie swipes a hand across what looks to be an optical device. 

Xan’Toch has no words. Has to previous experience with this. from the sounds of it, humanity….bonded with this machine. Sent it off into space, followed its discoveries and mourned its final malfunction. 

“I can bring her back. Whether it’s just back online or back to Earth I don’t know yet. But…I had to stop. I had to see her, to let her know we hadn’t forgotten.”

What Carrie’s saying doesn’t make any sense to Xan’Toch. But what she’s saying is genuine, full of feeling. They do not know what to say or how to articulate it back to their superiors. So Xan’Toch does the only thing they can. 

They walk over and start digging Opportunity out of…her grave. 

The smile Carrie gives them is worth it. 

[alagaisia]

Hey. Why isn’t the moon landing a national holiday in the US. Isn’t that fucked up? Does anyone else think that’s absurd?

[alagaisia]

It was a huge milestone of scientific and technological advancement. (Plus, at the time, politically significant). Humanity went to space! We set foot on a celestial body that was not earth for the first time in human history! That’s a big deal! I’ve never thought about it before but now that I have, it’s ridiculous to me that that’s not part of our everyday lives and the public consciousness anymore. Why don’t we have a public holiday and a family barbecue about it. Why have I never seen the original broadcast of the moon landing? It should be all over the news every year!

[alagaisia]

It’s July 20th. That’s the day of the moon landing. Next year is going to be the 54th anniversary. I’m ordering astronaut shaped cookie cutters on Etsy and I’m going to have a goddamn potluck. You’re all invited.

[watermelon-converse]

Hey. Hey. Tumblr. Ides of March ppl. We can do this

[emi--rose]

Hell yeah moon holiday

[elfwreck]

July 20: Moon Day.

[homunculus-argument]

Imagine an alien sharing a cool human fact they just learned like ”hey guys did you know that the silvery markings on humans actually aren’t true stripes? They’re called stretch marks, they happen when the human is growing fast enough to actually outgrow their skin, which is apparently something that just fucking happens to almost all of them at some point of their life.”

and another one is like ”wait so you’re saying humans don’t have stripes.”

”actually they do, but the stripes are invisible. There’s genetic code that’d give them stripes but they’re just the same colour as the rest of the skin. So the visible stripes are not real stripes and the real stripes are invisible.”

”I swear if you tell me one more weird human thing today I’m beating your ass.”

[thantos1991]

The human in the room looks up and goes "Wait I have stripes?"

[cosmicbumfights]

"what do you mean cats can see them, but I can't?"

[messiambrandybuck]

what do you fucking mean cats can see them

[beenovel]

I WENT THROUGH THE SAME THOUGHT PROCESS

MY CAT THINKS I HAVE STRIPES?!?!?!?

[messiambrandybuck]

NO NO ITS NOT "IT THINKS I HAVE THEM"

BECAUSE WE DO APPARENTLY

SO ITS ACTUALLY A VERY DISTRESSED "MY CAT THINKS I KNOW I HAVE STRIPES?!?!?!"

AND I THINK THATS A BIT WORSE TO BE COMPLETELY HONEST

[beenovel]

MY CAT KNEW I HAD STRIPES BEFORE I DID?!?!?!?!?!?

[messiambrandybuck]

I DIDNT THINK OF THAT

[beenovel]

WELL I DID AND NOW I CANT UNTHINK IT

[blueberryrock]

@beenovel @messiambrandybuck these are the variants

[beenovel]

WHAT

[messiambrandybuck]

apparently there's a disease where they become visable, and these are the most common kind??

Ngl it looks cool but???? I'm still in shock tbh

[hachama]

I NEED TO KNOW WHAT PATTERN OF STRIPES I HAVE AND THE CATS WON'T TELL ME

[yupokaysuremhm]

I COULD HAVE A CHECKERBOARD ON MY BACK AND NO ONE WOULD KNOW???

[sinestrocas]

[demonoflight]

They’re called Blaschko's lines!!!

[injuries-in-dust]

The reverse can also be true ... kinda.

I remember reading somehwre the human eye can see more shades of green than any other colour. I just googled it and the human eye can see 10 Million different shades of green.

So human could see stripes and patterns on, say, a reptillian race who maybe can’t see as many colours as we do, and think they’re just one boring shade of green.

Human: We have stripes?! I wish I could see them. I hope they look like yours.

Reptile Alien: Wait, I HAVE STRIPES!

*mutual excitement all around*

[drogonea]

Blaschko's lines - Wikipedia