#except they are NOT in human spaces

[bookwyrminspiration]

"we call these trees the Pures because their leaves filter the air" all trees filter the air dipshit it came free with its fucking being a tree

[buqbite]

My thoughts here mainly revolve around YSA as the mary sue/female lead type character:

She goes from being this perfect woman to. just being a woman. And my idea is that the weight gain isn't there to make her "unconventionally attractive," or whatever other dumb phrase you wanna use to avoid calling someone ugly, but to make her conventionally attractive, yet realistic.

Instead of looking like a skinny waifu character, she looks like a skinny human woman. Her hair swaying in the nonexistent wind isn't as perfect, her magic blush is missing and she has eyebags. She's still hot, just more human.

[dumb-ghost-child]

Humans are weird: lifespan

Clara had known the mission was a bad idea. That guess was reinforced when the ship crashed. The other members of her little crew had died on impact, but she’d only been injured. From her guess it was just a few broken or otherwise messed up bones- annoying, yes, but not irreparable. She’d tried communicating with her crew, sending out transmissions and mentally screaming for Indigo, but nothing came to her rescue.

By some miracle, the air was breathable. The climate was on the warmer side, reminding her of the Caribbeans. It was quite nice, and if it weren’t for the three moons, binary star system, and the lavender sky, she would’ve been able to believe this was in a familiar system.

She stumbled out of the ship, swearing to herself when she saw what a wreck it was; there was no way she’d be getting back into the air with that.

Instead, she looked around. It appeared that she’d landed in a field of sorts- on the horizon she saw what appeared to be a civilization, maybe a town, and around her were tall trees that had pear-like fruits on them. A quick scan said they were edible, so she grabbed one. It was perfectly at her shoulder level, which she appreciated. The fruit was tasty, reminding her of earth’s apples or the kalrin-fruits Indigo had introduced to her.

It took a few minutes, but soon Clara had made herself a splint for her broken arm and gathered what she could from the ship’s remains.

She was about to make her way towards the town when she heard a strange chittering noise behind her. The translator didn’t pick it up, which either meant this was an undiscovered language or it was broken- it was really a 50/50 chance. Turning around, she saw a small creature, maybe reaching up to her knees, chittering at her. It seemed to be a bit scared, but still interested. It gestured for her to follow it, which she did, being led to another small town. All around her were the little creatures, rushing about, some coming up to her. They were cute, in a way, with mint-green skin, four arms, fur down their backs, six large eyes- well, she assumed they were eyes- and a bipedal walking pattern. They led her to a building with what appeared to be a collapsed roof, which only reached up to her head. Easily enough she fixed it, and the creatures seemed happy, surrounding her and making those same chittering noises, much more happy-sounding this time.

The Chiri, as Clara called them, were a fascinating civilization. They had a complex language of clicks, chirps, and assorted chittering sounds that took Clara a while to learn properly. Their planet was far faster than earth, one of earth’s weeks was the equivalent of a month for them, and an earth month was the equivalent of a year. Most Chiri only lived for a few of their years, but their lives were filled with celebration. It felt like every week Clara got invited to a new celebration- either a wedding, a coming of age, a new harvest, or even a funeral. Even though Clara took only around six months to fully recover, by that point she had become known as a Chiri guardian. She’d been on the planet for a number of their years, becoming a guardian figure. Where her ship had crashed was turned into a shrine of sorts, new towns being built around it. In exchange, Clara protected them, guided them, and shared her knowledge with them. She’d even learned their language to the point where it was as fluent as any other, even without her translator, which she was fairly certain had broken.

The Chiri had given Clara a new name that they called her, Xi-Rai’du. Most of the children knew her as Xixi.

Clara trusted her friends, they’d taken her in and healed her. They felt like family just as much as her crew on the ship did. Despite their short lives, the Chiri were a people who valued learning. They passed down stories from generation to generation, and Clara would help to remember them as well. She taught them to write, transcribing their stories.

One of the young rushed towards Clara, a little girl who had only recently become old enough to talk. “Xixi! Xixi! There you are!” The little one, her name Si’ra, reached out her four arms for Clara to lift her up, making a high-pitched noise that was roughly the same as a laugh. “The celebration was about to start without you, come! Dari and Lixai want you there!”

Clara nodded, smiling. Dari and Lixai were getting married, and Clara didn’t want to miss out. Still carrying Si’ra, Clara made her way towards the town.

All around the town were banners decorated in vibrant colors, flowers in every windowsill and a clear trail of petals leading to where the wedding would take place. Clara had always loved the Chiri’s celebrations, they were all filled with laugher, music, dancing and festivities that could go for days. As soon as Clara showed up, she was surrounded by lively music, cheers from the Chiri who’d arrived for the celebration, and the greeting of Dari and Lixai, both wearing gorgeous formal attire. Clara bowed to them, smiling as she let Si’ra down, watching her rush towards the other children to join in there game.

“Lady Xi-Rai’du, welcome.” Lixai spoke first, joy clear in all six of her eyes.

Clara shook her head, “Today isn’t a day for celebrating me, it’s for you two.” She gestured to the crowd, “They’re all here for you- so go, celebrate! You’ve earned it.”

Lixai and Dari smiled, taking Clara’s hand and leading her into the crowd.

The wedding was a joyous one, and Clara couldn’t help but feel incredibly proud of Lixai and Dari. Weddings were a major event for both humans and chiri, although the chiri certainly had a more lively celebration all the way through.

The next day, Clara went to the cave where the Chiri kept murals of all their major events. She smiled as she looked, seeing paintings of herself defending the town from wild beasts, celebrating amongst them, and even when she’d first arrived, now over a year ago.

Deep down though, she knew couldn’t stay. Her crew still needed her, and she knew the Chiri had to grow into a full civilization on their own. She was torn out of her mind though when she heard what sounded like screams outside. Sa’ri rushed in, panicked. “Xixi! Help! There are- there’s something outside!”

Clara, admittedly, panicked. She picked Sa’ri up again, letting the girl lead her out. As soon as she left she saw the cause of the panic. In the sky above was a ship. Her ship.

As soon as it landed, Clara put herself between the ship and the Chiri. She faced the panicked crowd, trying to keep order. “All of you! Please, calm down. These newcomers mean no harm.”

The Chiri trusted her, more or less calming down. Clara sighed in relief, facing the ship as the bridge lowered. What she saw surprised her- another human.

It took a moment for Clara to realize they were speaking English- she’d become so used to hearing the chiri’s language of chirps and squeaks- but when she registered what they were saying she almost laughed. It was a declaration of peace, saying they were only doing a recovery mission. Apparently they’d finally gotten the distress signal Clara had sent when she first was crashing, tracing it back to her.

Clara approached the ship, Sa’ri in her arms, and faced the stranger.

“If you’re looking for the recon group that was sent out here a little over a year ago..” she sighed, “I’m all that’s left. I’ve been living on this planet for the past year, and the civilization you see have helped me. They nursed me back to health, gave me a place to stay, and trusted me.” Behind her were the people who she’d protected for what were generations to them. “My name is Clara.. but it is also Xi-Rai’du, and these are the chiri.”

The human seemed shocked, but they didn’t do anything agressive.

“The crew thought you’d died..” they muttered, “they hired me as a replacement. How are you even alive?!”

She couldn’t help but laugh, “I told you. The chiri took me in, and the planet’s atmosphere is breathable.” she put Sa’ri down, and she hugged my leg before running back to her family, as though sensing that this would be the last time she saw her. “I assume you’re here to bring me back now that you know I’m alive?”

They nodded, gesturing for Clara to follow them.

“Just give me a second,” Clara turned to face the Chiri, bowing to them and switching back to their language. “Thank you, all of you. Now I must leave.. but I will return. Reach for the stars, and perhaps we will meet in the cosmos one day.”

The chiri seemed to understand, solemnly accepting that their guardian was leaving.

“Xixi!” Sa’ri called up from the crowd, “I’ll find you again, I promise!”

She turned, nodding to the fellow human. “Bring me back onto the ship.”

Maybe, just maybe, part of the reason she’d turned was because she wanted to hide the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. But when she returned onto the ship, Clara was reminded of where she belonged, amongst her family in the stars. The chiri had been kind, but she had to go. Besides, when Indigo saw her again, xir expression just about made all of the time away worth it.

[ruporas]

lonely

[ID: A limited palette of green and pink, Vashwood comic. The first page serves as a prologue. The first panel shows Vash speaking to someone off screen while Wolfwood is lingering behind him. A black arrow is drawn pointing at him. In the second panel, Vash is buying donuts in the distance while Wolfwood is once again in view, lingering. and the black arrow is drawn pointing at him. In the third panel, Vash is leaving a cubicle and turning towards his right with a slightly peeved expression. He sees Wolfwood, leaning against the cubicle, waiting for him, and with the black arrow drawn, pointing at him, implicating the consistent hovering of Wolfwood’s presence during Vash’s everyday. At the bottom of the page, they’re drawn out of panel with Vash turning to Wolfwood and saying with an irritated expression, “You’re really following me everywhere, huh?” Wolfwood responds, “What, you got a problem?” Vash responds without hesitation, “Yeah, kinda...”

The second page starts with a new day. In the first panel, Vash is seen alone, weighing apples in his hands at a mart, with crowds passing behind him. In the second panel, he turns to his right and starts to say, “Hey, Wolfwood...” In the third panel, he’s startled from seeing a stranger, whom he’d accidentally called out to when he was expecting to see Wolfwood. He says, “Oh, you’re not him. Sorry!” In the fourth panel, the stranger walks off and Vash muses, “Right, he said he had something to do today...”

The third page begins with a close up of Vash's miffed expression, the continuation of Vash's thoughts, "Now that he's not here, this is just like how I used to be, but... It feels lonely somehow. Oh well, I'll see him again tonight, like always." In the second panel, it shows Vash walking through the marketplace crowd, alone. In the third panel, the door panel is a close up of the door opening with a peek of Vash's head. He says, "Wolfwood!" In the fourth panel, Vash is holding a bag of food with a bright smile and says, "Are you hungry? I got you something to eat today!"

The fourth page begins with a shot of the room, two beds being highlighted, one of them being made properly with the blanket draped over the bed and the other with the blanket folded and pillow sitting on top of it. There's no sign of Wolfwood. The second panel shows Vash with a disappointed look as he thinks, "He's still not here?" The third panel shows Vash putting the bag of food on the table. Stapled to the paper bag is the receipt with a written note "For Wolfwood." Vash's thoughts continue "He does like to stay out so, I guess there's no reason to worry..." The fourth panel shows Vash sitting his bed somberly with his thoughts continued, "It's not any of my business anyway..."

The fifth page starts with a close up his blank expression as he looks downwards, thinking, "Even if he left completely... That'd be understandable and better for him. I'll just travel alone again... like before... Huh?" The next panel shows Vash's composure break, tears welling up in his eyes suddenly, as he didn't expect to cry. He starts to sob, putting his hands to his face to quiet himself and wipe at his tears, as he says, "Ugh... Dammit... I miss h..." The last panel shows Vash leaning over into his hands, still crying, and in the back, the door swings wide open with a bam as Wolfwood walks through with the punisher swung behind him. He shouts, "SPIKEY! You in here?!"

The sixth page starts with Wolfwood confused, looking at Vash and Vash looks back, just as confused, with tears in his eyes and snot out of his nose. Wolfwood starts saying, "Ah? You..." No longer in panels, at the bottom of the page, Wolfwood takes the Punisher off of himself and starts to walk towards Vash, continuing with slight concern, "What's wrong with you? Did something happen?" Vash, hurriedly begins to wipe at his tears, denying immediately, "No! No, I'm fine! Nothing happened!"

The seventh page, Vash points towards the table, with a hand still wiping at his tears and he smiles as he says, "I uh got you food. On the table." Wolfwood looks towards to the table and responds, "Oh. I was getting hungry, thanks." He turns his head back to Vash immediately after with an uncertain expression, knowing the other wasn't responding to his concern, and says, "But, I know you're an idiot with this stuff, so I'm reminding you again. Don't brush it off if it's an issue, alright?"

The eight page, Vash's tears have dried and he looks to Wolfwood with a soft smile and responds, "Yeah. It's okay though..." A panel at the center shows a side view of Vash approaching Wolfwood. At the bottom of the page, with no panel, is a close up shot of Vash's hand, holding onto the edge of Wolfwood's jacket sleeve, as he says, "Because you're here now. Wolfwood."

The final page is a back shot of both of them standing next to each other, Wolfwood's head tilted slightly to the left, not fully believing Vash as he says, "That doesn't answer anything, Spikey." Vash responds, "There's no need to talk about it! You should enjoy your food. Let's have a drink too?" Wolfwood responds, "Tsk, tsk. Fine, yeah. I could use one." END ID]

[notpostingjustperusing]

I think what attracts people to humans are space orcs stories is not the inherent idea that humans are evolutionarily aberrant in the universe. Rather, it is the solution to the existential crisis of what if we are not alone in the universe. If we are alone in the universe, we are unique and able to make our mark on the universe unhindered. 

But if we are not alone, if there are countless other species, each identically unique, what is there to set humanity apart? How do we make the universe remember us after we have gone extinct. If all species are exactly like us, have things that make them unique and memorable, each grew up on a deathworld, each views themselves as a space orc, each has attributes about them but are multifaceted species, what difference does the existence of humanity make on the universe? Earth having evolved life will matter for the surrounding star systems and any individuals that come in contact with earthlings, but in a million years, will anyone care? Will we make a mark upon the universe, do anything to make the cosmos take notice of us?

And so in a universe of space orcs, what is it that humanity can do to separate ourselves? Space orc is not a prophecy, it is a promise to the stars. The only fear we have is not that we are not alone, it is that we are not unique.

[theriu]

Everyone was talking about how magenta isn’t real and our brains made it up, but can you imagine how COOL that would be if we encountered aliens who can’t see magenta? And THEY are confused because we keep talking about some mystery color???

Human: (points) That’s magenta.

Alien: Ah, see, we call that chauveltine.

Human: (points at another) And that’s a kind of dark magenta.

Alien: That’s… that jgorgilo… it’s a completely different color—

Human: And THAT one is HOT magenta—

Alien: ???????

Or EVEN BETTER, we humans are able to identify the aliens immediately because they can’t quite get their disguises right, they get something red a LITTLE off and the humans are like, “Oh hey another one, you’re looking very magenta today,” and the alien scientists are just BAFFLED

[thenixart]

Halflings

Halflings refer to themselves as ‘humans’

Halflings are mostly bald bipeds with only two sets of limbs. They are rather weak creatures and live in symbiosis with herds of asses that they call ‘horses’.

According to their folklore halflings come from a world beyond the stars and brought horses/asses, chickens, hooved sheep, and dogs with them.

Halflings are intelligent creatures and consider themselves to be people tho centaurs and sirens disagree. They are adept as using tools.

While capable of trading, halflings are known to rifle through trash and to steal small livestock and sometimes centaur foals.

Halflings are adept at using fire magic.

Halfings are picky eaters with sensitive stomachs so their food is bland and they don't eat most animals or vegetables.

Halflings are known to eat asses, hooved sheep, chickens, dogs, ferbs, and basilisk.

Halflings are mostly nomadic like their symbiotic asses. There’s rumors that they build settled villages in places that are difficult for griffs and centaurs to hunt in.

Halflings often wear clothes made of hide or woven fabrics.

As creatures that lack poison entirely, halflings are tasty prey for most predators.

If tamed at a young age halflings can have very agreeable temperaments. Taming adult halflings is nearly impossible, while they may behave they are terribly likely to escape and will rob the place on their way out.

[r0s3s-1n-th3-ra1n]

Andromeda, about capsaicin, menthol, alcohol, citric acid, etc: The humans keep consuming poison on purpose!

Johnny: I mean, yeah, but have you tried the poison? It's really good.

[deus-ex-mona]

if the trope works, it ✨works✨ y’know~

[theology101]

A Simple Financial Decision HFY - 1/3

Aboard the Command Ship Mother of Invention

>>> FTL JUMP SUCCESS

>>> BEGINNING SYSTEM SURVEY

>>> ERROR; INTERFERENCE

>>> ANALYZING INTERFERENCE

>>> CHEMICAL AND FISSION EMISSIONS DETECTED

>>> ERROR. PARAMETER ‘uninhabited’ NOT MET

Junior Commander Wa’l Hildnid was not having a good first night on duty. Despite serving on the bridge crew several times, tonight - or what passed for it in the carefully controlled light system meant to match their circadian rhythm - was the first night that Hildnid had command of the bridge. Which of course meant that the first (and hopefully only) unexpected problem came up on his shift. Although perhaps the Celestials were playing a joke on him - after all, the fierce and ruthless Foreman Wa’l Sonogth in charge of this operation, was his uncle. 

After a firm rapt on the door and announcing his presence, the door was opened from the other side. Already - or perhaps still - awake, he was hunched over with one of his three eye stalks on a different display. “Report,” he said simply.

“Capt-“ He cringed, reminding himself he was no longer in the Navy, “Master Foreman, - one of our long range probes has encountered an error.”

The question hung for a moment - Sonogth turned one eye towards his nephew. “And?” he asked dryly.

“Oh! Apologies uncl- sir. The system-“

“Which system, Junior Captain?” Foreman Sonogth interrupted, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and foremen’s pin. “Our charter is to strip mine any system within a hundred square parsec region. So far, we have sent out four hundred drones and most have already reached their secondary target.”

“Of course, sir, sorry sir.” 

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again - which system?”

Grimacing at failing to answer with his apology, Hildnid was pleased the correct screen was ready. “The star has been codenamed as ZN0-52081, sir, and the error was unexpected life form contact.” Songoth’s eyestalk returned to its central monitor at that.

“Two ice giants and gas giants, an asteroid belt, a habitable planet, and a deathworld, on top of a few dozen barren moons…” his uncle thought aloud, his voice sonorous as he dropped into a contemplative tone. “Too remote for pirates, too much work for colonizers, and not near anyone who could’ve taken it…” 

The eyestalk came back up. “Were the life signature Bioforms?”

“No, no sir.” He knew that one, at the very least. There were several ways to tell if one of the Old One’s children was lurking, and none had been present. “What little evidence we have at the moment suggests the usage of traditional, albeit old, spacecraft. No psionic resonance or evidence of interstellar gas manipulation.”

The eyestalk bobbed a nod. “Good, at least we won’t need to deal with any damned Citay.” Wa’l Sonogth sighed, leaning back in his chair and finally turning all three of his eyes to his nephew. “They’re either smugglers or political dissidents illegally occupying our territory. If it’s smugglers, we can pay them off and give them one of our empty systems, if they’re rebellious colonists…”

Wa’l Hildnid swallowed so hard that it seemed to travel through his neck and into his shoulders and chest. 

At that, his uncle laughed. “Don’t get squeamish on me, boy! Your mother told me about what a brave military man you are, don’t tell me you never killed before?” The black of his sclera seemed to grow even darker, “if it’s easier on your soul, I’ll make it an order. It’s a simple financial decision.” 

“Yes, Master Foreman.”

“Good. Send the probe to its next target, and…” The left eye moved back towards its screen, “order ED-3 to move in. Clan Gis also were a gang of firebreathers…”

“If that will be all, sir?”

“That will be all”

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

Captain Ghis Halnfur was looking forward to an extremely profitable day. 

In charge of “ED-3” - Excavation and Demolitions Team 3 - and the seven ships that made up that command. Two of them were traditional deep space mining ships, barely a hundred meters long, three more were of the wide bowed transport ships that would carry full loads for processing, two hundred and twenty meters long and capable of safely transporting its precious cargo without additional protection. And of course, his flagship, half again the size of the transports and the most heavily armed, was to act as the command and operations hub for the mining operation, as well as transporting any workers or engineers to ground-based projects - in this case, a legion of Galfrei-class combat units and a platoon of enhanced mining equipment retrofitted into combat-ready suits. And of course, the final ship, and Halnfur’s personal addition to ED-3 - the screening ship.

Taken from his days in the Navy, the idea of point defense protection against fightercrafts and gunships would also work when it came to asteroid mining. Halnfur himself captained the first one deployed, and saw to his immense delight that it could cut through those asteroid fields like air… it simply made it harder to collect them afterward - so instead his poor Lii’lya had been reduced to operations like this, where collateral damage was expected. 

Blinking out the white that always came from leaving faster than light, he kept his eyes on the stellar horizon while his communications officer began a survey. “Near distance, clear. Middle distance, clear. Far distance… occupied.”

“Occupied?” Ghis Halnfur’s second in command, Ak’no Jel, asked as he moved to take a better look at the display.

“Yes ma’am,” comms responded. “By… a battle, it looks like,” she paused, another bright flash of light from the viewport, this time significantly smaller and at range. “Yes, it’s a battle, ma’am. The fission signature we just picked up was equivalent to one of our class-4 explosives.”

“Who’s fighting?” Halnfur felt obligated to ask, if no one else would.

“It’s hard to tell from this range, sir, but I’m seeing two distinct ship design styles, maybe three.”

“Are you ready to go in, Captain?” Jel asked, back behind his command chair.

He surveyed the scene for a moment longer, tapping his chin dramatically. “Yes… I believe we shall. Navigations, plot me a skip-jump, pull back a hundred fifty kilometers from the plotted edge of the battle. I want them to know we’re there, but don’t fire yet.” He’d never believed Sonogth’s predictions - and he knew who was behind this whole damn thing - the Citayans. If he could get proof, solid evidentiary proof, that they had not only moved into the Celestia Republica Castelleum, and that they fired first, it would be the airtight justification they needed to finally wipe the Citayans off the galactic map, then their unevolved Citay vermin, and then all the other Bioforms. At least the Citayans didn’t use bloody animals for space-craft.

The flash was proportionally weaker this time - but the battle was not what he expected.

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

Aleksandrya Sokolov-Meyer of the United Nations of Terra and Venus Navy, and captain of the Zeus-class Antioch, was having a terrible day. “Status!” she barked, leaning over the massive command table and wincing at each new red mark on her ships. And they weren’t even supposed to be her ships! “I need those torpedo tubes unjammed!” she yelled to no one in particular.

“Torpedos still down, ma’am, repairs underway!”

“Rio’s Pride is requesting additional firing support!”

“Acknowledged, patch me over to the captain.” It wasn’t looking good for Rio’s Pride. The only destroyer she still had on her left flank, Rio was built for capital ship combat, and the swarm of Jovian Stinger and Biter drones that had just polished off her support ship. “Captain Holt,” Meyer said when she saw a flicker in her periphery. 

“Damn, Meyer, its a bloody mess that Gilly left us, isn’t it?” Despite herself, she let out a low chuckle, glancing up through the loose strands of red hair to look at her friend’s face on the screen. He wasn’t looking good, behind him the devastation of his ship was obvious, lights flickering and a disturbingly loud shudder. She was tempted to pretend that this was a simulation again, that this wasn’t real and she had enough time for a clever comeback.

But it was real this time. And with the death of Commodore Gilroy Faux and High Captain Tsoss, Aleksandrya was in command.

And she was about to kill a friend.

“Holt, we can’t send anyone to rescue you,” she said solemnly, turning back to her display and drawing her intentions. “If you yaw fifty degrees starboard and a few clicks further out-“

“I can hit the damn nest.”

“We’ll cover you for as long as we can.”

“Yes ma’am, over and out.” And just like that, exposing itself to more fire and making the battered destroyer even more of a target, Rio’s Pride followed orders. The swarm of drones saw that and gave chase, their hive programming convincing their fellows of better prey than the main battle group. No doubt some kid would notice and correct the mistake eventually, but it wouldn’t be immediate and every second counted.

“Comms Officer Henri, order picket group one to chase those fuckers, then patch me into the rest of the fleet.” The situation had already changed radically from the last time she checked - the enemy formation, surrounding them in a rough U, had begun to collapse inward on the port side as they moved in for the kill, while the automated Jovian ships - primarily their smaller ships though there were two cruisers in there. The Caliphate of Mars was stubbornly holding the rear line as a firing position, uncharacteristically cautious - especially compared to the Jovian Brillenschlangen, of all people - and the ship they were chasing, the only damn reason they were here, the Samel-Class Man of War Big Tex which should’ve been on death’s door, had yet to make an appearance. The only benefit to the situation was that another Jovian carrier had gotten speared through by a CAT-7 coilgun.

Again, the flicker in her periphery, again she began to speak. “Tighten up, those drones are going brainless in a few minutes and I don’t want any of them flying blind in between my ships, you hear? Good - keep your CAT-1s well-oiled, I want you all to coordinate on deflecting incoming projectiles” She glanced up, looking at the faces on her screen. Only thirty-three of the seventy-four ships that came out to Jupiter were still active, and soon it would be thirty-two. “Let’s see Rio be proud one last time and on my mark, I want complete offensive saturation on these targets,” Meyer selected them on her display for them.

Holt’s face popped up, his ship even more damaged with only the emergency lights active and a nasty gash on the side of Holt’s face. Meyer wondered how he got it - she figured that she’d never know. “On your orders, Admiral.”

Despite herself, she smirked. If she could manage to salvage this… but now was not the time to think of her career. Not when she was staring at the one who would give it to her. “Give ‘em hell.” And with a triumphant final firing of its massive primary canon, Rio’s Pride unleashed a two-hundred-ton rod of tungsten-depleted uranium alloy shell at a low, but not insignificant, percentage of the speed of light. The Nest - the hangar and control point for all the drones in the ether - was there one moment. The next, there was a blinding streak of white-yellow fire cutting straight through the thing, and then it began a cascade of errors as things meant to be held securely were suddenly and violently released.

Even knowing it was coming, she braced herself for the violent jerk of the main cannon. “Fire!” a second streak of light emerged, then another and another as dozens of missiles and high-category coil guns were launched at once - not targetting the battleships closest to them, but the undamaged secondary line. Expecting the luxury of a near-endless supply of drones the Jovians had programmed to make suicide rushes to intercept traditional and nuclear ordinance, the Martians were caught off guard by this sudden weakness in their defenses. Already, Aleksandrya could see their CAT-1s and teslogats ready for dealing with this, but not all at once and not nearly fast enough. And every second mattered.

And then, emerging off her starboard side, was a fleet of seven, massive ships. She had a moment of absolute shock and surprise. What? How did they move like that? But that quickly faded when the lead ship, a massive thing as long as her Zeus but much, much larger and heavier, rammed directly into Rio’s Pride.

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

“Blasted!” Captain Ghis Halnfur shouted, standing to his full two-meter height, his eyestalks pulled in tight to the skull. “Jel, I want to know what the hell is going on, Comms, tell the flotilla to open fire.”

“Captain-“ 

“They set a trap for us, Jel. I don’t know how, but they knew we were there...”

“Captain…”

“A damn trap, and Sonogth sent us-“

“Captain!” Jel said it forcefully enough that others stared - only for a moment before they risked one of her eyestalks finding them. “None of those ships exist in our records.”

“What?”

“They’re unknown configuration,” Jel repeated.

“I know what unknown configuration means, commander, what I meant was-“ One of the five ships closest, and turned directly to face Halnfur’s force, exploded as a few shots lanced from one of his transports. And at that, he grinned. “Ah, nevermind. We seem more familiar with their configuration now. No shields? How did they even make it through FTL?”

The Captain and Commander watched the battle for a moment, before Halnfur finally sat down in his chair, watching as the ships - and there were indeed three distinct designs, began to create a new line of battle. Clearly, whatever battle they had been fighting seemed to be forgotten against a superior enemy. A feral smile colored his face before Jel said something that made his heart stop.

“What if this is their home system and we made first contact?”

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

“I don’t care what you say, but that arschloch on this line, now!” Aleksandrya looked up just in time to see another CAT-9 shot get mostly disintegrated before whatever melted slag could be reformed in the coldness of space. “Come on you martian bastard, come on…”

“I assure you, ma’am, that Jamil MacCready is not here!” High General Sakira Morrison of the Jovian Coalition said. At least the fotze had picked up, which was more than could be said for that Martian Coward. “But the Martian troops have been placed under my temporary command while they recieve humanitarian repairs, as-"

“Humanitarian? He’s a murderer!”

“As we were given the right to by treaty. It was your forces under Commodore Faux that an illegal-“

“Halst den Mund! - Euphrates, Flaming Sword,” the two captains flickered on screen and this time, she did look at them. One clearly favored more of the Arab side of the “TexArab” people of Mars, while the other was more ambiguous - both were men, and oh what she wouldn’t give to hear them complain about being subordinate to two women. “One of those energy balls is coming at you both, nadir-starboard. I want to see how big of a coil shot it takes to defuse. General Morrison, are your crews in formation ready for a massed volley?”

“The battleships, yes, but it’ll take the drones-“

“Comms, patch me into all ships,” Aleksandrya said with certainty she didn’t have. Removing her officer’s cap to fix her hair, she instead tossed the damn thing away, pulled out her pins, and shook out her hair. If she was gonna die fighting an unknown evil from beyond God knows what, she wasn’t going to do it by regulation. “This is acting Admiral Aleksandrya Solokov-Meyer of the Antioch - on my first mark, coordinate Coil fire onto this target,” she tapped it on her display, “Upon my second mark, fire traditional ordinance - third fire nuclear. Ready… mark.”

There was the familiar lunge backward as the gun fired, joined in a loose arrowhead formation with the broken hulk of the Nest acting as their anchoring point. While not all ships could fire given the angle, the effect was all that she could’ve hoped for. As the first rounds made contact, they began to superheat, melt, and vaporize as before… but then the second, third, and fourth were all landing in the same spot too. And then, that etheric blue bubble that surrounded those ships began to bend inwards with a burning red fury… until it couldn’t bend anymore. The rounds hadn’t even all made their target before she called “Mark!” 

This motion was more subdued, as the still working torpedo bays launched too - straight into the hole they had just created in the shield, and not just the shield - somehow in that stream of light, they’d cracked the hull. Meyer imagined that the follow up missiles didn’t do much for the ship’s internals either, and this wouldn’t be much better. “Mark!” The barrier was already starting to close up, the cruiser was still opening fire… and then the nuclear missiles got inside the ship. Several dozen missiles exploded on the exterior of the shield in massive shows of light, but the dozen or two that made it underneath the shields before detonating?

For a brief moment, Jupiter had its own sun. And then the shield burst like an overfilled balloon.

“I want confirmation the second your guns are ready for another volley, we’re hitting him next.” She looked back at her display of Captains… having more faces with proportionally even more empty spots didn’t thrill her, but she knew the bastards could die. And that was good enough. “High General, I want an update on those drones, and for the love of God, someone get Jamil MacCready - or at least his ship!”

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

His flotilla was sent to pacify the whole system, Ghis Halfnur thought ruefully as he watched his last transport ship get destroyed. It was just him and the Screener left. “Jel?”

The woman had been trying to help coordinate fire with the weapon’s commander but came at his command. “Captain?”

“We never managed to do our full recon,” he said moreosely. It was his own fault, his own overconfidence. Removing his captain’s lapel from his uniform, he handed it to Jel. “Take one of our shuttles, take as much non essential personnel as possible, and then complete a survey of this system before reporting to your commanding officer.”

“Sir- that’s-“

“Foreman Wa’l Sonogth will want to know about this. And if you’re right about this being their native system…” Halfnur shook his head. They were doomed. No way about it now. Even if he could still win this fight - and given the numbers against him, he didn’t like those odds - as the commander on the scene who had belligerently initiated contact with a pre-uplift species, his life was forfeit. The Celestial Tribunal would ring him dry, probably most of his crew and commanding officer. “In your logs, write how you argued against my course of action, and wanted to file a report to the Castelleum and I countermanded you. Now go!”

Always a good sailor, Ak’no Jel did as she was told. He had confirmation that she and the evacuees made it on the ship, and waited another five minutes to make sure they were gone before he gave what would be his last, most bitter order. “We’re going in.”

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

The battlecruiser and spindly ships were the only two left - and for a moment, Aleksandrya had thought she had won. Or at the very least, was winning. For that act of pride, God decided that the placid, so far only supporting ships with its long-range fire. That seemed to be over now, now it was going to be a broadside. 

“Admira Meyer, the drones are online,” a both familiar and unfamiliar voice said over comms, the signal shakey and broken. 

“I want them running picket, sofort! If any fucking plasma gets through, it’s your ass!” Meyer was already turning to the weapons board, seeing that it was only at 90% charge… and the battlecruiser was getting closer with only missiles harmlessly bouncing off to show for it. But her secondary weapons… “Lower caliber until your main gun is fully charged, he’s not getting an inch without steel,” she ended that call, already having Comms initiating her second, “Admiral Meyer, do you read me Virgo I?”

“Loud and clear ma’am,” the voice sounded winded on the other side, the tight confines of a cockpit not allowing a view. “What can me and my jockeys do for you today?”

“That smaller ship, I want you to poke at it. Bring two squadrons with you…” she paused, thinking. With only teslogats and missiles, the hundreds of fighters wouldn’t do anything to the big ship. Short of just ramming it, she couldn’t see what the rest of the fighters would be doing. “Take as many as want to come.”

“Yes ma’am - think your Comms get can get me over to their jockeys?”

“She’s already on it - Henriette is very skilled.”

“Why thank you, Commander Henriette, over and out!” 

Meyer looked back at the display of the field - already she was down two of her bigger ships (a part of her wanted to add ‘thankfully, Martians’ but she restrained herself) and a dozen smaller ones. And her firing predictions still had it a click out from its maximum range. If those drones didn’t show up -

“Fighters pull back! Repeat, pull back!” It was a laser show over there. While having never taken a shot at any other vessels so far, it became abundantly clear why - it didn't have the range. The powerful plasma jets burned through any fighter unfortunate enough to get too close. “General, where are my drones? Fuck it, drones, this is your new primary target. Are all cannons ready? Good, on my mark - mark!”

Only this time, this time the brilliant display of light didn’t end with a hole. When the light cleared, it was the imposing blue of the shield bursting out through the debris cloud with only a few minor red spots, its impish friend chasing after her fighters untouched. “Prepare a second volley! Reroute power, shut down gravity for all I care, just get those damn guns ready or we’re all dead!”

“Don’t be so certain of it, Admiral,” the same voice from before, only far, far clearer now. And without the static and fuzz… she knew that voice. Thousands of drone ships came rushing by the viewport, creating a cloud of grey and blinking lights that covered the horizon before passing. “I apologize for arriving late but, my father always did teach me ladies first.”

“MacCready,” she snarled under her breath.

“Ah, so you remember me? As you can tell, my ship doesn’t remember either of ours from our most recent or first dance.” 

“Ma’am, a new signature just appeared as… leaving Jupiter’s upper atmosphere,” Henriette said hesitantly. “Samael-Class, and moving quickly. Designation-“

“Big Tex.”

“If you hadn’t done such a wonderful job damaging her, I might’ve been able to help from the beginning,” the man’s cocky voice echoed in the bridge speakers, Meyer’s face turning as red as her hair as his ship quickly advanced towards the enemy. She was going to kill that man. For his crimes, for the Moscow and her old crew, and for stealing her fucking victory! Already, she was watching as the drones broke against the enemy ship like the sea, dozens dying but always being just a few too many to get them all. And the shield was turning red. “Ganymede Spaceworks also added something new, I was hoping to surprise you at our next dance but… well, a Prince must make sacrifices for the good of the people, even if it scorns his lady love.”

All it took was a glance, and Henriette had cut off his comm. “Fucking prick,” she added for good measure.

Drifting into formation above the battered and broken Hive was a Samael-Class Man Of War. Over a kilometer long and with more than enough firepower to match three Zeus classes, the massive primary gun was its primary characteristic… only now it was even more massive, with two isosceles triangles coming from what should’ve been the barrel. And then, in a single shot, a massive round moved in an instant - she barely had time to see it before it had punched straight through the shield, the ship, and then out the other side of the shield. 

Not wanting him to get the last laugh, “Main gun on the spindly.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A rod of Tungsten later and Aleksandrya was mollified enough to call her query. The man she and all of Task Force Chancellor had been sent to capture in the first fucking place. “Jamil MacCready.”

“It’s customary to use my title when greeting me.”

“What was that?”

“Ah, you like my new tachyon-enhanced coilgun? It’s brand new! Honestly worked better then I could’ve-“ Aleksandrya ended the call herself. 

“Helm, take us to Venus Blue Dock. We’re going home.” To fix my ship, reconstitute my numbers, and figure out what the hell we’re going to do next. 

[tlaquetzqui]

Yes aliens would be super shocked by adrenaline. No other biosphere would have a need for a fight or flight hormone. All other biospheres would run by different thermodynamic laws and competition and predation would not be things. That is totally good speculative biology and in no way ignores the fact the laws of physics are the same everywhere.

Don’t you a have a father-daughter purity ball to attend? I ask because you are clearly a backwoods fundamentalist and think it is blasphemy to inquire into the evolutionary pressures that cause aspects of humanity. Or else you would have realized they would exist everywhere.

[italiantea]

also i know i kNOWW its not the point but the worldbuilding in alnst is so ridiculous and mysterious for no reason like.... wdym the guitar is an alien..... also like are they on a planet? a big ass spaceship?? how does the whole human in space thing work...like... physiologically... how long is a year where they are? how did those two guys bust in thru a window into a spaceship on a motorbikewhat was that about

[widowshill]

the people aren't ready to hear this but angelique arbitrarily picking quentin to decide to be in love with out of nowhere, bewitching roger into marriage and then absolutely not wanting him to touch her, and constantly pursuing men's (chiefly barn's) attention only when it's clear he doesn't want her, is soooo comp het of her.

[magpie-trove]

There’s something fundamentally kind of. sick? In the atmosphere of Buffy, but the characters manage to exist as goods in it despite it all, and maybe that’s what feels sick about it (sick as in ill, or not whole). It seems like all the bigger things are evil and all the original and fundamental things are bad and the only thing standing against them is a few people who shouldn’t have to. And are too small to. It’s about the crushing weight of responsibility without the relief of it being just a part of something bigger.

[landwriter]

2!

Hounds of Love by The Futureheads. Oh! What a gem!! I first loved this song when I was a wee bab and rediscovered it this past summer. It, along with all my top songs, was on a summer driving playlist which is why it is so insanely high haha. There's a sort of lovely pastoral wildness to this and I think that suits our lads so well.

An outdoorsy AU with competence kink out the wazoo, where Dream is a bird specialist at a wildlife rehabilitative centre, who becomes a minor TikTok celebrity (much to his enormous apathy) when the centre starts doing interpretive meet-birds events and the internet falls in love with this dour hottie who only smiles when he's talking about birds (Matthew, naturally, runs the account). Hob is a hunter - bow, mostly - who is regrettably very on TikTok, very on all social media - he hates the term but he is unquestionably an 'influencer'. He just likes sharing his knowledge and passion, alright? And the gear sponsorships are nice.

He sees Dream, and sees, mostly, a really great collab opportunity, so he messages him, and Dream (who is Matthew, and just shouted HOB FUCKING GADLING? IN MY DMs? at his phone when he got the message, immediately sets up a meeting at the centre. Then he breaks the news to Dream, specifically when Dream is holding Jessamy, so he can't be murdered.)

Dream, of course, expects Hob to be some like, swaggering font of red-blooded machismo talking points, and suspects Hob is only popular because he looks like an advertisement in Outdoor Living. (Matthew showed him pictures.) He disregards Matthew, who says Hob is actually super cool, because Matthew has terrible taste and would be the first to admit it. But his interest is piqued when Lucienne also knows who Hob is. It turns out Hob is deeply involved in nature and wildlife conservancy. Gives talks at schools. Gets involved with land protection initiatives. Teaches orienteering to youth. But everyone seems to expect him to hate Hob, which he would find faintly insulting except that he also expects himself to hate Hob. He doesn't. Not that much. Even when he shows up in a plaid shirt that is made of 'technical' fabric, because he's smart and excited to talk to Dream about birds, has an encyclopedic knowledge of the history of falconry, and most importantly, Jessamy takes to him immediately.

They run into each other again at a renaissance fair, another thing Dream hates but has been strong-armed into doing, and so they are both dressed in very silly clothes when it happens: the first time Hob watches Dream demonstrate falconry, the first time Dream watches Hob use a longbow made from a yew tree he fell himself, the first time they go from a wary sort of respect for one another to a wanting.

Dream, who has a recurring fantasy about running away from it all, listens to Hob tell tracking stories and thinks, If I went into the woods, you would find me. But he doesn't want to run from Hob - except sometimes, when he sees Hob chew on his lip consideringly before giving a thoughtful answer about the guiding industry, or when Hob grins wildly at the crowd after his archery demonstration, and most of all, when Hob phones him out of the blue one day - he doesn't text, he phones - sounding a little breathless with excitement, and asks Dream if he wants to come with him for a week in the mountains, on "probably a wild goose chase" and promises "all sorts of birds if nothing else." (Hob had meant to only share the news with Dream. Fuck, he thinks. I am so fucked.)

He says yes, for the birds, of course, and tells Matthew the next time he's at the centre.

"So what's the wild goose chase?" asks Matthew.

Dream plumbs his memory of the phone call and says, "Hob told me he received a bighorn sheep tag." Matthew gapes at him.

"Holy shit," says Matthew. "He's in love with you."

"He is certainly not."

"Uh, no, respectfully boss, he 'certainly' is. Lucienne!" he shouts, "Hob invited Dream to come out on his Dall sheep tag. What the fuck, right?"

Lucienne comes in and raises her eyebrows. "Oh dear," she says. She's smiling.

"What," says Dream. "It's a sheep. I don't understand."

Lucienne and Matthew exchange a glance.

"Him. I cannot believe Hob chose him," says Matthew.

"Love works in mysterious ways," says Lucienne.

"I am right here," says Dream.

Matthew turns to him, "Have fun in Alberta," he says.

this would ft. nights of wild stars, rugged terrain, type ii fun, sexual tension around a campfire, homoerotic form checks, tent sharing, dream glassing beautiful birds with hob's $3000 binoculars while hob stares at him in abject adoration, dream watching hob strip off his clothes and jump into an alpine lake, and refusing to join him out of pretended prudishness when it's really because he's suddenly so hard it hurts, camp coffee, confessions about themselves instead of confessions about their feelings for each other, sore muscles for a VARIETY of reasons, and lots of allegories about wildness and taming and running away from things, and SO MUCH COMPETENCE KINK, friends. so much. i would probably write it like - act one them leading their separate lives, their desires and aches etc., act two - meetcute and circling one another, act three - The Trip. this one has a very happy ending i can tell

[pikkish]

breaking news: surprising absolutely no one, pik has fallen in love with the fast paced fps game where the big, silent badass of a main character's sole goal is to protect the small, squishy innocents.