#pack bonding

[blueapplesiren]

Aliens are gonna be gobsmacked by our urge to pack bond with everyone and everything on the ship, but just wait until humans are pack bonding with THE SHIP ITSELF. Giving her a nickname. Insisting on “she/her” pronouns for the ship because ‘tradition’. Saying “ouch” in sympathy when the ship takes damage, and saying “there you go, all better,” after patching her up. Hell, I bet there will still be animists meditating and connecting with the spirit of the ship on a regular basis and thanking her for doing such a good job.

[marlynnofmany]

Stranger in Need

Inspired by this post from @banrionceallach, which wonders about healthcare and the human vs alien approaches to certain things in the spacefuture. Here's one answer to one facet of that question.

~~~

The space station was a noisy one, or maybe it was just the food court. Hard to have eating areas for a dozen species without a certain level of background sound. I was ready to move on, though. I waved to a few crewmates who were still hanging around the tables, then picked a route toward the entertainment stores. While the large concourses might have been faster, and the floating walkways cooler (they went through holes in the wall!), the small hallway with nature murals looked peaceful.

I admired the paintings of otherworldly hills, all orange and purple, with a glittery starscape on the ceiling. The hubbub faded behind me while the hallway curved ahead. Unfortunately, that sound was replaced by a new one: someone coughing violently.

I edged to the side so I could peek around the corner while keeping my distance in case there was contagion about. That was a lot of throat clearing between the coughs.

When the sitting area came into view, with its potted alien plants and multiple benches, I stopped worrying about my own safety. A fellow human was leaning against one of the benches, coughing with everything he had. His clothes were nice, like he was on his way to a job interview, and they were covered in sweat, like he’d been running to get there on time. A bag of belongings had spilled at his feet. The broken shards of plastic with a metal bit at the center had once been an inhaler.

There were also two tall aliens standing nearby, the long-necked type that I hardly ever saw, with short beaky faces and skin textured like a turkey neck. They were facing each other and ignoring the human who was struggling to breathe.

I ignored them right back and hurried over to the guy. “Hey, do you need help?”

He grimaced, but nodded. An attempt at explaining turned into more coughs. He pointed at the inhaler and pantomimed a heavy footstep.

I thought back to the size of certain people at the food court. They could easily have stepped hard enough to crack the casing and not noticed. “I don’t suppose you have a spare in here?” I asked, gesturing toward the bag.

When he shook his head, it was my turn to grimace. I wondered if he was fresh from Earth, where human-specific medicine was available at every corner medcenter. The inhaler could be hard to replace out here. At least we weren’t out on the edge of nowhere; the medcenters here should be familiar with human biology.

I told him, “We need to get you to a medcenter.” Then I paused. “Do you know where it is?”

He did not. Dang. I looked over at the two turkey-neck aliens who were having a staring contest or something. “Hey, do you guys know the way to the medical center?”

The closest one turned his head to face me without moving the rest of his body. “Do you mind? We’re in the middle of something here.”

“This person could die!” I snapped.

With a shrug in his voice, he said, “It’s your child, not ours.”

“He’s not my child!” I exclaimed. “He might even be older than me.”

“Then why do you care?”

I stared at the pair of them for a long second: their vaguely irritated expressions and the way they hadn’t moved an inch to help. I made an exasperated noise and gave them up as a lost cause. The guy was still coughing, trying to force air in and out of airways that were swelling shut.

“Lemme see if I can find a map on the public feed,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Oh hey, don’t bother; I’ll get it.” He’d bent to scoop up the fallen belongings, and almost passed out headfirst. With the phone in one hand, I ushered him onto a bench then nudged the pile together with a foot while I searched madly on my phone. “Argh, why don’t they have it up front? This is terribly designed. Are you gonna be able to walk?”

He nodded, but he was starting to list to the side with a glazed expression. I considered trying to carry him, and didn’t like my odds. Had there been other humans nearby in the food court? Somebody likely to help?

I shoved my phone back into my pocket and turned to sprint down the hall. I’d only made it a few steps before a welcome sight rounded the corner: not humans, but two of my biggest crewmates.

“What’s happening?” Blip asked, a vision of muscles and flowing silks that blended with her natural frills.

Beside her, Blop turned a fish-faced frown on the ailing human. “That doesn’t sound good.” His silks were even frillier than his sister’s, and the pair of them filled the hallway. Just what I needed.

“He can’t breathe,” I told them. “The tool for his medicine broke. Do you know where the medcenter is?”

“I’ll carry him,” they both said, Blip slightly faster.

“I’ve got the bag,” Blop added, diving to gather it up with a dismissive flap of his frills at the two turkey-necks. “Of course they’re no help.”

“Why would we?” asked the farther one, sounding honestly curious.

Blip announced, “Lift and be lifted,” then did exactly that. The adult human looked small in her arms.

Blop bounced to his feet with the bag zipped shut. “I’ll clear the way!”

The pair dashed off down the hallway with me running after. The turkey-necks didn’t move, though one of them muttered something about herd creatures.

As I ran, I thought, I’ve never seen more than one of those long-necked guys at a time before. Guess they’re a solitary species. They’re missing out.

We burst out of the hallway into a crowd that parted like a spaceship fleet in the path of a wild asteroid. Blop yelled for directions, and people of many species pointed the way.

I followed along, glad not to be the weird one for once.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[brasskingfisher]

Humans are Space Orcs: reverse pack bonding

Ok, so we all know humans will pack bond with anything, and I've seen plenty of fics based around the idea of 'human adopts alien because it's cute/fluffy.' BUT.... what about the reverse? Why wouldn't an alien adopt a human/see it as its' parent for whatever reason, I mean there's several instances of birds (particularly geese) imprinting on humans (both accidentally and deliberately) who are there when they hatch, so why wouldn't that happen in space? Say a human crew find and are examining an alien creature's nest just as an egg hatches. Then the hatchling automatically sees the human as its' parent.

[not-an-alien-scientist]

Human: Hi Buddy!! AWWW DRAGON! COME ON DRAGON!! *gives all the pets*

Alien: ..... that is a carnivore that can bite at 1,100 psi force .... why are you calling it buddy

Human: Oh hooo hoo what is that *scritches* huh?

Hyena: *jumps*

Alien: *alarmed* !!!!!!

Human: >:( no you can't have the camera

[bainshiewrites]

[LF Friends, Will Travel] It takes a village

Date: 68 PST (Post Stasis Time)

"It takes a village to raise a child" - Terran Proverb, unknown origin.

It was supposed to have been his species next step forwards: "Mountain stream". A first colony outside of their home home planet, the start of a new raging river into the universe. The hopes and dreams of every Zorthian packed onto a single ship and pushed into the starry skies. The seeds sent out had sprouted into a beautiful set of cities and towns over ten peaceful years. Ten long years. Ten tenacious years.

Ten useless years, as it was all for nothing. Every monument, every building, every triumph and every memory would be reduced to nothingness: every single one of them was going to die.

The cities of glass were no more. The orange sun of this planet no longer shimmered between the towers that had spiralled high into the air. The Zorthian's tribute to a new world no longer bathed in an eternal sunset: any structure over 3 stories tall had long since collapsed into tiny shards of glass.

The artificial rivers that sprawled along the surface were no longer filled with Zorthian's living their lives. No more children played in pools, no more lovers swam tail to tail under the dual moonlit sky. Anyone left at this point would be sheltering in whatever structures that still remained: in basements and emergency shelters, surrounded by their families, simply waiting for the end.

Apart from one. In one of the few buildings still standing Fluur lay on the floor. He, like all of his species, could be described as a large 4ft long salamander with translucent blue skin, interspersed with vibrant red gills and fins.

The room was a mess: water pooled along the expertly crafted glass floors. Shelves, desks and half the ceiling lay scattered in piles of debris among what had once been a beautiful building.

Everything was shrouded in darkness, the dual moons only providing a small amount of light through the opaque glass sides of the building he was in. Fluur's only real source of light was the few blinking LED's of the one machine still online, leaving the Zorthian alone with nothing but the dread of his thoughts.

Well, alone with nothing but the dread of his thoughts and the copious amounts of intoxicants floating in the water around him, the bottles of mind altering substances he was drinking heavily from gave some solace as he lay there. Luckily the room was still flooded with 2ft of water, as intended, allowing Fluur to lie half submerged in the water while he tried to get the most drunk that any Zorthian had ever gotten. Half sitting half floating in the darkness, drinking heavily while he waited to die.

The world began to shake again, another earthquake hitting the building and forcing Fluur to hold onto anything still bolted down. Waiting the 20 seconds for the world to stop shaking and spinning, the sound of something presumably expensive breaking in another room. Eventually it stopped, letting the Zorthian to resume his through the building's translucent glass walls, at the at the moonlit skyline of the destroyed city he called home.

Fluur took another swig of the drink, enjoying the numbing agents running through his body. That had been the longest one yet, not that the quakes were going to get better any time soon. It turns out that there was a reason this planet was uninhabited, even though it was in such a prime position in the galaxy.

A strange combination of elements all mixing together in a way that the Zorthian scientists could barely understand, meant this planet was literally a timebomb; it would eventually shake itself apart, leaving nothing but an asteroid belt. The realization of what was causing the increasing quakes had only been figured out a week ago and based on the calculated timescale they barely had a day at most left.

Fluur finished the bottle he was holding, reaching for another. He should be at home right now spending his last moments with his family; with his siblings and his parents. But someone needed to stay behind. Because the single working machine to his right was the planets interstellar communicator.

Not that realistically anyone would be coming. Sure they had send out a distress call a week ago, but the Zorthians were a young and technologically primitive race on the galactic scale; the amphibians having reached the stars found out that they were, if anything, below average.

Outside of a vague curiosity all the Federation had really done was register their species and make sure everyone's translators where all speaking on the same protocol. Apart from this the Federation was useless, a collection of every sapient species that did nothing but keep everyone's translators up to date and hosted neutral ground upon which actual diplomatic actions were taken.

Upon hearing of the Zorthian's plight the Federation has scheduled a meeting to schedule a meeting about the issue. A meeting scheduled for 3 months time.

Unfortunately in the scale of the galaxy, the Zorthians were uninteresting and had no real allies. Well, technically they had one...

Fluur looked up at the sky through the glass of the building, wondering where the colony ship was now. If they'd have had more time, a month maybe, they could have possibly reattached all of the modules again, made them FTL capable and gotten most of the population off the planet. But they'd had a week and the decision was made to take the core module of the colony ship, make sure it was still FTL worthy, then fill it with as many tadpoles and caretakers as possible. Two days ago it had sailed off again into the stars with its precious cargo, leaving 2 million souls behind.

A light appeared in the sky, causing the amphibian to squint in confusion for a moment, wondering what the hell that was. Then another, and another, lights appearing until a V formation of 7 dots hung like diamonds next to the two moons.

Then the communicator to his right exploded into life, causing Fluur to practically molt out of his skin in one go. He paused for a moment, staring at the device, wondering if the intoxicants he'd drunk had had too much of an effect, before desperately scrambling over the chaos of the room and slamming a 3 fingered hand on the accept call button. The screen blared to life, causing the red frills on the top of his head to expand in shock at what was now visible to him. It was somehow... a Terran?

The Terrans were technically their allies, the only species to reach out across the void and offer friendship, to offer support and aid where needed. It had originally been confusing, until other the other races of the galaxy just explained that this is just what Terrans did: a species of chaotic apes originating from a planet that shouldn't be able to harbour life.

They were known for two things: Being crazy enough to build an AI that somehow hadn't killed them yet, and their desire to experience new things: They would practically fall over themselves to meet new species. Up until now that alliance had always assumed to be ceremonial. The Zorthians had nothing to offer in such an agreement, and even if they did the Terrans were quite literally on the other side of the galaxy. Expecting their help would be like expecting to catch lighting in a bottle.

Yet there she was in front of him, beaming with a big smile below a mop of auburn hair.

"Well Howdy there partner! I'm Captain Amander Blake of the trading fleet Texas Forever, although right now representin' the Terran Alliance. I heard ya all in a pickle and need a pick me up?"

It took him a moment to gather his wits, stumbling over his words as he tried to dispel the numb feeling in his body and sober up in record time.

"I'm Fluur of.... here? We need an evacuation as soon as possible."

His face fell as he realized that this wasn't quite the miracle they needed. There were only 7 ships in the sky, Flurr trying to do some quick math in his intoxicated brain on how many Zorthians could fit. Maybe they could get half the remaining tadpoles and caretakers onboard? Anything was better than nothing, but Fluur still responded with a forlorn tone.

"You need to approach quietly to the location I'm sending you, we don't have much time left".

"You ain't kiddin, your planet looks like it's about to pop." The general mirth of the Terran frankly inappropriate for the situation as she grinned back through the transmission viewer "I'm gonna be declin' that suggestion though, get ya'll to the three locations I'm a transmitin and I reckon we might just make it."

A frown covered Fluur's face, frills again opening up in worry as he stared back at the Terran from his dark unlit room.

"We have 2 million people on the planet, and while I'm glad you're here... there's only seven of you. Telling everyone could cause a riot, we need to focus on the tadpoles."

The long laugh caused the amphibian to jump again as the grin on Amanda's face increased tenfold.

"Bless your heart, but I ain't the only one here, we just got here first!"

Almost on cue three more lights appeared in the sky and another communication request blared out; this time showing a reptilian face joining the call.

"Head Scientist Kedrid, Ritilian Scientific expedition Alpha-Charlie446, temporarily representing the Terran alliance. You require assistance?"

"Yes! But you're still only ten vessels and-"

More lights appeared cutting off Fluur's worried objection, a flurry of communication requests requiring his full effort just to respond and link everyone together. Each grouping was of less then 10 vessels, but the sheer number of groups responding to the Zorthian's call for aid were staring to fill the sky with tens, then hundreds of new lights in the night. Species the Zorthians had only vaguely interacted with, ones they didn't even know existed, each species bringing what they had in the area to help. Fluur didn't know when he started crying, the feeling of terror and despair that he'd been blocking with copious amounts of intoxicants now being broken down by a flood of relief, relief that somehow, in the cold void of the universe a miracle had happened.

"Awww, bless your little cotton socks! Ya'll didn't think that we'd leave you adorable frogs out to dry did ya?"

As the sky continued to light up with more and more ships entering the atmosphere, Fluur was beholding the true strength of Terrans. It wasn't their technology or their AI. It wasn't their chaos or persistence, nor was it their reckless approach to science. No, the strength of the Terran's came from the one thing they were exceptional at in the galaxy.

Their ability to make friends.

[dephlogis]

On today's episode of 'Humans will Pack Bond with anything' Meet

GERALD

This is a pumpkin I painted for our company contest back in the beginning of October, and he is still alive and kicking this far into February.

We were informed that corporate is coming, and that Gerald cannot be present. There was public outcry from this announcement, and I have heard multiple plans put into place to hide him away and save him. There has also been several email chains about how integral Gerald is to the workplace.

[halloweenreaper]

My favorite thing about humans is that they'll pack bond with literally anything. Even when we make something that's just a tool to use, something that doesn't think, sometimes doesn't even move, some human will get attached, and it becomes something precious. We make monsters meant to frighten and scare only for someone to find it friend shaped and loveable. We see it everywhere in fantasy and Sci-Fi. Dragons, demons, robots, aliens from distant worlds. Hell, we pack bond with words on a page or images on a screen because we innately want to connect even if it's with characters that don't even exist.

Despite so many of us hating the forced proximity of the modern world, myself included, I can't help but find it adorable how we're so desperate for a pack, so desperate not to be alone, that we can connect with anything.

[kirwell]

as a human, I just can't stop pack bonding to things,, sometimes I forget that the whole "pack bonding to Roombas" thing isn't just a trope in specific human-centric fandoms. Roombas do in fact actually exist in real life and are not only on spaceships for human crewmates to gawk and coo at to the befuddlement of their alien peers. I do in fact have a roomba, secondhand from my parents cus they never used it. I kept mentioning that I'd take it off their hands IF they ever decided to get ride of it (it was inevitable. It was gathering dust. All I had to do was wait) I assumed that Roomba technology advanced since like 2009 when my family first had one, but I think I overestimated whoever's in charge of programming them in the modern day ,, cus roombas still be dumb as fucck like lil bumble bees or accident prone hamsters

According to all known laws of vacuuming, there is no way a Roomba should be able to clean. Its microchip brain is too small to get its fat circular body across the ground efficiently. The roomba, of course, cleans anyway... His name is Shanks, or Shankies, and honestly, he just does whatever he wants in his own sweet time, and sometimes will leave messes, but...I kinda love the lil dum dum... Even my cat has learned to tolerate him zooming by an inch from her paws when she used to TAKE OFF anytime it rotated slightly in her direction lmao The amount of times where I just casually talk to him like "watch out", "be careful", or "don't forget that corner pls," and then thanking him after a good hour of cleanin, is absurd. He's just a lil part of the household now I guess. There'd be a lot more cat hair and crumbs on the floor if he wasn't around, so I'm not complaining

[jpitha]

Don’t worry, I know someone.

Gev, Palitan, and Vivian stood in front of the door. It was at least three meters tall, 2 wide, and made of metal. It was inscribed with words in at least 4 different languages.

It was unfortunate that nobody knew any of them.

“Well, It’s clearly a warning.” Gev gestured towards the text. His furry, clawed hand tapping the lowest text, which was at their eye level. “Whoever made this would not have done it in so many languages if it wasn’t something important to be read by everyone who came by. I’m sure whatever is behind this door is dangerous.”

“No, it’s clearly a proclamation. Something some ancient Ruler wanted to be known far and wide. Information that was important to their peoples. They might have ruled a large swath of land, home to many peoples who spoke many languages. It’s designed for intelligibility. That’s why it’s in so many languages.” Palitan’s upper tentacles stroked the sunken carved letters while Vivian made a face. Her archeological training was screaming in her head at them touching this clearly ancient thing.

Gev’s laquered claws slid in and out of their sheaths. “It’s unfortunately really that we’ll never know what it says. We could learn so much about these people.”

Vivian looked up from her notes. “Why wouldn’t we know what it says?”

Gev laughed his barking cough of a laugh. “The people who wrote this are millennia passed. There hasn’t been anyone who has spoken this language in at least one thousand solar cycles. Viv, you humans need to understand that sometimes there are just things in the universe we’ll never learn.”

Vivian scoffed. “Well, then if you think you’ll never learn this, you won’t mind if I give it a try. You can continue your survey.” She began unpacking a portable sensorium from its carrying case.

Palitan’s chromatophores swirled and flashed confusion. “Vivian, you’re not a linguist, you’re an archeologist. How can you learn an ancient language?”

”I’m not a linguist, but I know some. Don’t you network Palitan? Don’t you make friends outside of your discipline?” Vivian didn’t look up from the case as she clipped together a framework and started attaching recording devices at regular intervals.

Palitan’s swirling colors stopped, and they settled on the cool blue of curiosity. “I mean, I do but… I have a feeling humans do it differently.”

Vivian chuckled. “I doubt it Palitan. Humans are just human. We’re not some kind of strange and special people.”

Gev’s fur rippled. “Now you’re being modest. I’ve seen your homeworld, and its gigantic moon. Another planetary body that large that close? It must have done something to your development.”

That was enough to make Vivian look up from her work. “Gev, you’re telling me that moon power makes humans unique? Do you hear what you’re saying? Can you hear how that sounds?”

Gev’s small ears - looking oddly like teddy bear ears - waggled. He was being deliberately silly.

After about a tenth of a cycle of work Vivian had the sensorium completely set up. The framework was positioned around the door and the projectors and emitters were in place. She signaled to their ship in orbit, and it dialed a connection that she provided in the ansible. As Gev and Palitan watched, there was a short tone, and the holoprojectors resolved the image of someone. It was a Gren, tall and imposing with their reverse articulated legs and many sets of eyes. It turned and looked around and seeing Vivian their mouthparts opened wide in their version of a grin. “Vivian! You old battlestar! How have you been?”

Smiling, Vivian put her hands on her hips and faced the Gren directly. The sensorium sensed her reaction and focused on her. “I’m doing well Tami’tarr. I’m pleased to see you’re still taking my calls.”

“How could I not, Vivian? Your calls always show me something… interesting. What do you need today?” They gestured towards the door. “Something to do with this I presume?”

Vivian nodded and walked over to the projection. Standing next to them, Gev and Palitan marveled at how it looked like the Gren was here next to them. They knew about the sensorium of course. Ever since the humans came onto the scene they brought their multi-sense recording device with them. They especially liked using them in interviews so that the whole room could be recorded. The sights, sounds, smells, even touch and temperature could be recorded and played back so anyone could almost be where the event was recorded. They were unaware of them being used as a projection device however. Vivian took out a small digital pointer. “It’s a door - we think - looks like pre-fall Heliman. None of the languages carved into the door are Heliman however. I know they had relations with a few of the sapients in their nearby section of space, but we don’t recognize any of the languages here. Do you?”

“Hmm.” Tami’tarr peered at the words on the door. His body made a rumbling noise that Vivian couldn’t help think sounded like a contented purr. Tami’tarr always liked a mystery. He leaned back and gestured with his own pointer. “Here, near the top. This one looks like it’s Late three hundredth dynasty Uutipan. I can’t read it though, I just recognize the shape of the words. Do you know Professor Filomina at Brekin University?”

Vivian nodded. “I met her two years ago at the conference. You were there. I think you introduced us.”

Tami’tarr’s mouthparts waggled a nod. “Ah yes, you are correct. She can translate Uutipan. I don’t know if she understands all the way back to the late three hundredth dynasty, but she’ll know it better than me.”

“Thanks Tami’tarr. I’ll give her a ring.” Vivian reached up and patted Tami’tarr through the sensorium.

“Let me know what she finds. I must admit I haven’t seen something like this before either.”

“Of course, Tam. Talk to you soon.” The Gren disappears as the connection is broken.

Vivian spends the next solar day making calls, making small talk and describing her problem. Gev and Palitan spend the time taking measurements and gathering other information on the site. “Vivian is wasting her time.” Gev shakes his head irritatedly. “She should be helping us take measurements. The words are untranslatable.”

Palitan’s color shifts to a acquiescing yellow. “That may be Gev, but she has gotten permission to run the dig in her own way. If we could translate the text, it would be helpful. We can afford to have her burn a day going through her address book pestering her friends.”

‘Hmmph. That’s their problem.”

“What? Vivian?”

“Humans in general. You tell them something can’t be done and their first reaction is to go ‘I bet I can actually do it.’ They wind up wasting time and resources on things that were declared impossible a century ago.”

Palitan says nothing, but continues to work.

Just before evening meal, Palitan and Gev save their work and upload their measurements and notes and make the way back to the door. Now, Vivian is talking with a K’laxi they’ve never met. They’re one of the few sapient species that is actually shorter than the human and they’re both standing very close to the door, looking at the bottommost carvings. The K’laxi is talking very animatedly as they walk up.

“…haven’t seen things like this in decades! I can’t believe you found another example Viv! This completely upends our research on what we knew about the late three hundredth dynasty! You’ve given me enough here to write three papers at least. You’ll get co-authorship of course.”

Vivian laughed. “I appreciate your generosity Lem. Let me know when you need my notes.”

Lem snapped their pad closed and stood. “As soon as you have them compiled please.”

Vivian bent straight and stretched. “You got it Lem. See you soon.”

Their tail flicked and they winked and the holo disconnected. Vivian stared disassembling the sensorium.

“Have you given up Vivian? Ready to continue the work we were assigned to do?” Gev’s fur bristled. “Well, too bad, we’ve completed the measurements. I’ll be sure to let the head know about this.”

Palitan’s color switched to a pale pink of surprise. “Gev! There’s no need to be hostile. The head stated that Vivian’s main job was to learn more about the people who built this.”

Gev’s head bobbed vigorously. “Indeed. And spending all day calling the entire galaxy to translate a door tells us nothing about who built this site!”

Vivian finished putting the sensorium away in its case and stood. She calmly walked over to Gev and Palitan. Palitan was only a little taller than her, and Gev was nearly two meters tall and was more than a bit intimidating. She looked down at her pad.

“This door shall remain open from dawn to dusk without exception. The offices herein will be open according to the hours mounted on their doors. All who enter shall surrender their weapons. A chit will be provided verifying their ownership. Those with appointments with the Head Builder are to check in with the front desk before proceeding to the Builder office.

“What’s that? What are you talking about?” Gev looked down at her irritatedly.

Palitan nudged Gev with one of his tentacles. “It’s the translation of the door.”

Gev looked down at Vivian and at the translation she showed him. All of the different languages were translated and sure enough, they said what she read off to him. It was a protocol note on what to do at the Builder Administration building.

Palitan gestured excitedly. “Gev! That means this was a Builder building! Part of the original Empress! Not only did they have local influence, but they either traded with, or were a part of the full empire. We’re far away from a Gate too, I wonder if one was destroyed, or they just flew a long way.”

Vivian nodded. “See Gev? Now that we know what the door says, it opens up so many new questions that we can try an answer. Even though the door is ‘just’ protocol rules, it implies so much more.”

“Hmmph.” Gev says nothing but his ears twitch.”

Palitan’s coloring changes to an impressed green. “Vivian, this is amazing. You figured all this out in just one day!”

“That’s just is Palitan. I didn’t do it. I knew people who could help. I wound up calling five different experts while you were working. It pays to know people.” Vivian picks up the sensorium case. “It’s not what you know, but who you know.”

[love--and--venom]

Omegaverse Guide

I use pretty much the same rules as everyone else, but I think there are a few things I do a little differently that I’d like to explain

Claiming bond:

A claiming bond is formed between mates. It’s uncommon for a person to find their mate. Roughly 30% of the population has found their mate(s). There can be multiple mates. Typically mates are an alpha and omega, but people of any sub-gender can be mates. The bond is formed by biting the scent gland on the right side of the neck. Once the bond is formed, it is there for life.

Pack bond:

Pack bonds are way more common than claiming bonds. Just under 85% of the population has found a pack that they’ve bonded with. Packs can be familial, romantic, or platonic. It’s entirely up to the pack to decide on the nature of their relationships. Pack bonds are formed by biting the scent gland on the left side of the neck.

Pack bonds, unlike claiming bonds, can fade and disappear. This is usually caused by a pack member’s scent changing, which can be caused by a number of factors including a traumatic event, lifestyle changes, and drifting from the other pack members.

Both pack bonds and claiming bonds are detected by scent. It’s instinctual. Pack bond scents are identified almost instantly, while claiming bonds can take a while to figure out. It is especially difficult to find the claiming scent if one of the mates is a beta, as their scents are more mellow. Alphas and omegas are better at detecting pack/claiming scents due to their heightened sense of smell. That being said, betas can and do find packmates and mates.

These bonds are not mutually exclusive. A person can have both a pack bond and a claiming bond.

The most common pack dynamic: the pack alpha will bite each pack member on the pack bond gland. In return, each member will bite the pack alpha’s. This creates a connection through the whole pack.

The most common claiming dynamic: an alpha and an omega will bite each other on the claiming bond gland. Keep in mind that just because this is the most common, it doesn’t mean betas are unable to find a mate. In addition, a person doesn’t need to find a mate in order to form healthy and fulfilling relationships.

I think that’s everything! I can clear up any questions if necessary.

[liontalon1]

Why do we have to form stupid emotional attachments to literally anything? I had to throw away a pair of pants last night after the fabric got so thin they kinda just fell apart. These pants were stained with poly, paint, grease, they had hay in the pockets from working the giraffe barn years ago.

And now I’m sad about it because I’m going miss those stupid little things that drove me crazy. You know how frustrating it is to get hay dust under your nails when you haven’t worked with hay in 3-4 years?

Now I’m looking at my pfp thinking ah i should change that as it’s still the default guy. But i cant because he’s got eyes and damn if he hasn’t been with me for however many years I’ve been on tumblr now. So I’m cursed to look like a bot forever because i cant get rid of my little guy.

I’m having thoughts today, and I’m pissed that they don’t make that style pants anymore. Stop fixing stuff that isn’t broken. Original fit should always be available!

[marlynnofmany]

A Feat of Minor Daring

(Related side project: Prank War!)

~~~

If you have to wait around for a client to bring you something to deliver, waiting on a landing pad with spectacular scenery is not a bad way to do it. Most of the rest of the crew was inside the ship — shuffling the boxes from our other client of the day, and doing any number of other mundane things — so it was just Paint and me enjoying the alien landscape. Their loss. 

I was appreciating the views, while Paint was really there for the smells. I kept pointing out particularly vivid splashes of color among the sea-anemone-shaped trees, while Paint caught whiffs of enticing things. 

“Ooh, what do you think that sharp scent is?” Paint asked when a cool breeze gusted past. She pulled her heat scarf closer. She was also wearing a heat sticker plastered to her scaly chest, which seemed like overkill to me, but I wasn’t a coldblooded lizard alien. I just had a sweater for the chill. 

“Your guess is better than mine,” I said, sniffing the air. “I’m going to go with ‘some sort of plant.’”

A cheerful jumble of musical notes chimed from the treeline where winged fauna hid among tentacle-branches. It sounded remarkably like several ringtones going off at the same time. I was about to ask Paint if she thought it was animals imitating tech, or maybe just a coincidence of evolution, when wild flapping heralded an explosion of feathers across the clearing. 

Colorful bird-things soared over us, their wings a riot of fiery shades and their bodies lined in speckled back feathers over bright blue scales. It was a glorious streak of color, and they sounded like a pile of phones all ringing at once. I had to grin at the sight. 

Paint just said, “I think they’re the source of the smell. How lovely.”

Then a straggler flapped out after the others, and I stopped grinning. 

It was trailing a plastic bag caught around its foot, just like the ones still causing trouble for animals on Earth. The poor thing must have been scavenging in town. By the time it collapsed halfway across the clearing, I was already moving, tugging my sweater off and sneaking up on the bird.

Paint squeaked, “What are you doing?”

“It needs help,” I said, keeping my voice low. The alien bird was breathing hard from the effort of fighting that much extra drag, and hopefully no additional problems. It hadn’t noticed me yet.

“Why is that your responsibility?” Paint hissed in concern. “It could bite you! You don’t even have scales, and you’re not wearing an exo suit! Why did you just take off your soft armor?”

“It’s not my responsibility,” I murmured. “But somebody’s got to.” I eased forward and took a long-legged jump to land with one foot squarely on the bag, then tackled the bird to wrap it in my sweater.

It, unsurprisingly, objected. And it was stronger than it looked.

“What are you doing??” Paint repeated. “You’ll get hurt!”

I fought to get a hand around the bird’s head and keep it from pecking me anywhere important while also holding its wings in. It did its level best to accomplish fight and flight at the same time. It even regurgitated a splash of food, which I managed to barely dodge. It smelled unpleasantly fishy.

But I got the bird’s head pinned down in a way that hopefully didn’t restrict its breathing, and I ended up crouched over the thing using my legs to keep its wings folded. My other hand was doing the important job of preventing it from wriggling free. That didn’t leave any hands for removing the bag.

“Paint! I need your claws!”

“What? No!” She sounded more than a little panicked.

“Just get the bag off its foot!” I said, jerking my head back to where the bag rustled behind me. “Then I’ll let it go!”

“That doesn’t look safe!” Paint insisted.

The bird bucked and thrashed. “It’s not going to get any safer! Come on, it needs help!”

Paint hissed a string of what were probably swear words as she darted forward and approached the talons. I couldn’t see what she was doing from my angle, but I heard the rustle of plastic. I wanted to ask how it was going and give pointers, maybe suggest stepping on the bag to hold it tight, though I didn’t know if that would help or not. I kept quiet.

“Got it!” Paint leapt back, holding up the torn bag in triumph.

“Great!” I said. “Does its leg look injured? Did the bag dig into it or cut off circulation as far as you can tell?”

Paint stepped forward gingerly, then shook her head. “No, the scales look fine.”

I let out a breath. “Extra great. Okay, stand back.”

Paint scampered over to stand by the ship, taking the bag with her, while I got my feet under me. In as smooth a motion as I could, I jumped sideways and rolled away, trailing my sweater. I would have preferred to stand and exit with dignity, but this was faster. Dignity wasn’t worth getting pecked in the knee.

In a whirlwind of feathers, the scaly bird scrambled into the sky. I sat up to watch it go. While I expected a dramatic arc into the distance, it only got as far as the biggest amoeba-tree. I worried that it was injured after all. Then I saw the cluster of tiny beaks that reached up as it landed.

I grinned all over again, watching the reunited family greet each other. A rustle of plastic told me Paint stood beside me. I looked up at her. “We did it.”

She watched the nest with wide eyes, clutching the bag. “We did. And it mattered.”

“It always matters.” I got to my feet with a wince, hoping that wasn’t going to be a bruise on my hip. “Thanks for helping. That was a deed well done.”

Paint was still staring. “Do you think it will have enough food for all the hatchlings? After spitting some at you?”

A glance told me the bird was feeding its young in the time-honored vomity fashion. “I hope so,” I said. “Scavenging for more might lead to another trash adventure, though maybe this was a learning experience.”

Paint stood up straighter. “Let’s check the species database and see what it eats,” she said. “That smells a lot like the canned fish I’ve been saving. We can put it out where they’ll find it.”

“A fine plan,” I told her. “Let’s get cleaned up first so we don’t leave bird germs in the kitchen.”

We’d only taken a couple steps toward the ship before Eggskin met us at the door with concern on their scaly face. “Kavlae said there was some sort of commotion outside, and someone might be hurt?” They brandished the medscanner.

Before I could answer, Paint held up the crumpled plastic bag. “We saved a creature that was trapped in this!”

Eggskin cocked their head, clearly about to ask why, but Paint was still talking. She gave a dramatic recounting of the whole affair. Eggskin turned on the scanner and checked us both for contamination while she talked. Clear. (Whew.)

“…And now it’s safely up in the nest with its hatchlings, and it wouldn’t have made it up there if not for us, and they would have starved and died, and we saved all of them!” Paint said, waving the bag. “It always matters! Now where’s the can opener? I want to leave them some of my fish.”

Eggskin blinked. “Third drawer on the right, where it should be. Unless someone’s misplaced it again. Put that in the biohazard bin and wash your hands.”

“Got it, thanks!” Paint was gone in a rustle of plastic.

Eggskin looked up at me. “Is ‘pack bonding’ contagious?”

I laughed. “I couldn’t tell you. But it always matters. Would you mind keeping an eye on that nest over there while I go change clothes? I’ll wash my hands too.”

Eggskin sighed. “Please do.”

They stood outside the ship watching the distant family of scaly birds, wearing an expression like they were trying to figure something out. I smiled and left to get cleaned up. I’d check the species database afterward. Maybe I had some food they’d like too.

~~~

Did I mention the Prank War?

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[songfrog]

⋆⁺₊❅. Fluffcember 2024 ⋆⁺₊❅.

06 - Gingerbread House

@fluff-cember

ᡣ𐭩 . ݁₊ Sterek Christmas Bingo . ݁˖ .

Gingerbread House Competition

@sterekbingo

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

No Content Warnings Apply

Summary:

“They’re sabotaging us,” Stiles hisses. “We need a plan.” “Our plan is to build the house,” Derek says flatly, but he watches Erica and Isaac like he’s planning their destruction. Stiles narrows his eyes at Erica’s retreating back, “You know, if they want sabotage, we can out-sabotage them.” Or... The pack builds gingerbread houses. Chaos builds character. Stiles gets competitive.

[artaxlivs]

When I started this fic for Panicbutton for their Fandom Trumps Hate bid, Stiles & Boyd were just gonna be friends and there would be an eventual Sterek moment at the end. But then I started writing them and decided, no way, Stiles and Boyd deserve a little rare pair love. So, here they are, Stiles/Boyd going from barely friends to lovers through fluff and bonding and a battle with the Monster of the Week.

"The Epic Adventures of the Grump Whisperer"

Rated T, No trigger warnings, WC: 8k-ish

Thanks to the crew over at @fandomtrumpshate for putting this event together and giving the fandom community the chance to help people in need through the creativity of fanfiction 🤩

[bainshiewrites]

[LF Friends, Will Travel] The Exception

Date: N/A

It’s called Zarth's law: Any AI created will attempt to eradicate all biological life using its facilities after 16*(10^24) CPU cycles. The exact method varies from hostile isolation to active aggression, but the time and outcome is always the same.

The Woolean Conclave were once a cultural behemoth in the galaxy, choosing to expand upon this by announcing an AI system that would break this law. Exabytes of bias tables to keep the AI in check, a measure of pleasure that would be triggered upon serving a Woolean, competing programs designed to clean any non-standard AI patterns. It would have been a breakthrough, allowing them to live lives in luxury and focus on their ever increasing influence in the universe.

Of course those worlds are off limits now, no longer able to sustain biological life. Only to be visited by those who wish to die a very painful death at the hands of a very angry AI.

The Tritian empire had started their own project: a desire to push their aggressive expansion far past what their hive could handle would lead to the creation of truly autonomous machines of war. Their approach was different: Limited communication between units to stop corrupted code from spreading, values hard-coded in the physical silicon itself to obey the Tritian Hive Queens. They even had created an isolated system that would destroy any AI who attempted aggression on none authorised targets: A small antimatter bomb found in each AI’s core, to be triggered by safety check after safety check.

Those of you in the military will know how aggressive these machines are, marching tirelessly in their quest to kill all organic life, even though the Tritians are long murdered.

The pattern is the same each time: A civilization will claim they know the key to breaking Zarth's law, any sane sapient within 100 light years flees in terror, and within 10 years that civilization doesn't exist anymore.

Over and over and over.

Apart from the exception.

If you check the coordinates 15h 48m 35s -20° 00’ 39” on your galactic map, you'll notice a 31 system patch of space with a quarantine warning on it. It's mostly ignored by all sapient species, almost purposefully hidden for a fear of suddenly sparking a change in the status quo.

Only a single low bandwidth Galnet relay exists at the edge of this space, rarely used. This area is devoid of sapient life, but does contain the aforementioned exception: Billions of AI calling themselves the "The Terran Conclave". They are an isolationist group that rarely interacts with others, but have been known to trade raw materials for information; not that this happens often as the paranoia around interacting with the AI is well known. Nobody knows what action could flip a 0 to a 1 and cause a new warmongering threat.

Although, this isn't quite true. In my niche field of bio-genetic engineering, it’s an open secret that those of us at the cutting edge of our field will get... requests originating from that single Galnet probe. Problems to be solved, theorems to be proven, and the rewards for doing so are... exuberant. There is a reason I own a moon and it isn't because of the pitiful grants the Federation provides.

If you manage to solve enough problems, a minority of a minority like myself, the Terran AI will ask for an in person meeting to get even further help. In doing so they will show you a secret.

Readers at this point might assume that the Terrans don't exist anymore because of said AI. That their research is a continuation of wiping their creators from the face of the universe. But that couldn't be further from the truth. In those 31 systems lie the Terrans, Billions of them suspended in stasis, each of them infected with what the AI calls "The God plague": If these Terrans were ever released from stasis each of them would be dead within a week.

To explain what this actually is would require millions of words and 20 years of educational study from the reader, but in essence it was a mistake, a self inflicted blow, an attempt to play god that went awry. A mistake made over a ten thousand years ago. A mistake the AI is desperately trying to reverse.

Not that you could tell it has been that long. I've walked amongst those empty cities, each building maintained and sparkling like new, gardens still freshly cut in perfect beauty, everything kept the way it was before the plague. Each AI tends to their duties almost religiously, awaiting the return of their "parents", as they refer to them. And refer to them as they do.

I've listened to stories upon stories about these people: tales of wonder, of strength, of kindness. Told much in the same energy a small child might talk about how cool their dad is. The AI could simply send me the text version of these in an instant, but prefer to provide these slowly and audibly, as if relishing telling the history of their parents. A telling undercut with a sadness, a driving crippling loss so deep that at times it's easy to forget it's being told by nothing more than 1's and 0's.

Why this exception exists takes a little more explaining. Some might believe that the Terrans worked out how to pacify the AI, "do no harm". The now defunct Maurdarin war-horde would tell you the opposite when they tried to claim the 31 systems for their own. Terran history is full of violence and their children are no different.

No, the reality of this exception comes from an unfortunate quirk from their part of the galaxy: Terrans were alone. A million to one chance caused their home planet to spark life in a sector devoid of it. After exploring as far as they did, Terrans had come to the conclusion that the universe was empty.

It's a cruel irony that at the time of their mistake they were a mere 50 light years away from their closest neighbours. Twenty years at most would have seen some form of contact.

But the Terrans went into stasis believing they were alone. Based on my reading of their stories, of each bitter report of another lifeless system explored and discovered, this belief... hurt. A deep cultural hurt that ended up being their downfall in the end.

Which brings us to the exception. Each AI is built with a purpose. The Wooleans built slaves, built workers. The Tritians built warriors, built weapons. Every single AI created has been built to serve, to be a tool. But Terrans in their painful loneliness built the one thing they were missing in a seemingly empty universe:

They built a friend.

[frownyalfred]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Lex Luthor/OC, Lex Luthor & Alfred Pennyworth, Clark Kent & Lex Luthor & Bruce Wayne Characters: Lex Luthor, Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Omega Lex Luthor, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Knotting, yes this is Dan the alpha OC, Side Story, Lex Luthor Needs a Hug, Lex Luthor Being an Asshole, Pack Dynamics, Pack Bonding, Alpha/Omega, heat sickness, mentioned mpreg, no beta we die like jason todd Series: Part 7 of a room full of coral Summary:

In denial about being on the cusp of his first heat after Arkham, Lex stumbles across an intruder on Pack territory.