#I feel like an orc

[lilachour]

look@how pretty this nail color is

[boopjuice]

Humans are Space Orcs: Melons.

Okay, hear me out. Humans are omnivores, and this is widely known throughout the greater Galactic Alliance. They have insane tolerance to things most would consider poison, and can eat just about anything deemed nonlethal by most other races (there are, of course, some exceptions).

Anyway, there's no need to wait for an animal to be ready to eat. Sure, a deer that's too young or too old won't have as much nutrition, but there's nothing stopping you from eating it. Fruits and vegetables have to grow and ripen before humans can eat them, and are often determined ripe based on color and size.

Now imagine, if you will, an alien crew visiting their human's home in Earth during the summer. Some of them are drastically overheated and have to stay in the ship, while the more heat tolerant species are out and about with the human at a grocery store.

"Human- I mean, Sarah, your parent mentioned requiring a 'watered melon's for the third meal, yes?"

"Watermelon, Chi'l'zak, but yeah, Dad did ask me to pick some up. Why?"

"Well, there appear to be some over there to choose from."

"Oh, nice spot! Let's see here..."

And the alien's watch in as their human picks up the biggest melon in the pile and observes it for a moment, presumably checking the color, only to smack the large fruit, frown, and set it back down.

"Hu- Sarah, why did you put down the fruit?"

"It's just not quite ready yet." The human picks up another melon, smacks this one a few times, and sets it down.

"But I thought these 'grocery stores' only sold ripe foods?"

"Well, everything here is technically ripe, but that doesn't always mean it's ready. I mean, the avocados they sell are ripe, but they aren't usually ready to eat. They don't taste as good, or they're too hard. You just have to know how to pick your produce. Ah, here we go!" A few smacks to a new melon, and Sarah looks pleased. The melon doesn't appear any different from the others.

"How are you certain that one is the best? It is colored the same as the other fruits, and is smaller than some. Surely this fruit isn't ready, as you said."

"Of course it is, Chi'l'zak. Here, listen."

Sarah smacks the watermelon they'd picked out a couple times, then smacked the first melon they'd picked up. "See? They sound different. That's how you know this one's good."

"But Human Sarah, those sounded exactly the same."

"No they didn't."

"Well, how were they different then?"

"I dunno. They just don't sound the same."

They ended up bringing home the ready and unready melons to display the difference. Anthropological notes were updated that night in the ship's log.

"Ripeness of human fruits: Some fruits on the human Mother Planet can be identified as 'ready to eat' by sound. The preferred method seems to be to smack the fruit known as 'melon' with an open appendage and listen. While most of the team were able to notice any significance between a ready and unready melons, human participants were able to easily distinguish ready from unready melons and select accordingly."

[sugarcoatednightshade]

thinking about how Humans Are Space Orcs stories always talk about how indestructible humans are, our endurance, our ability to withstand common poisons, etc. and thats all well and good, its really fun to read, but it gets repetitive after a while because we aren't all like that.

And that got me thinking about why this trope is so common in the first place, and the conclusion I came to is actually kind of obvious if you think about it. Not everyone is allowed to go into space. This is true now, with the number of physical restrictions placed on astronauts (including height limits), but I imagine it's just as strict in some imaginary future where humans are first coming into contact with alien species. Because in that case there will definitely be military personnel alongside any possible diplomatic parties.

And I imagine that all interactions aliens have ever had up until this point have been with trained personnel. Even basic military troops conform to this standard, to some degree. So aliens meet us and they're shocked and horrified to discover that we have no obvious weaknesses, we're all either crazy smart or crazy strong (still always a little crazy, academia and war will do that to you), and not only that but we like, literally all the same height so there's no way to tell any of us apart.

And Humans Are Death Worlders stories spread throughout the galaxy. Years or decades or centuries of interspecies suspicion and hostilities preventing any alien from setting foot/claw/limb/appendage/etc. on Earth until slowly more beings are allowed to come through. And not just diplomats who keep to government buildings, but tourists. Exchange students. Temporary visitors granted permission to go wherever they please, so they go out in search of 'real terran culture' and what do they find?

Humans with innate heart defects that prevent them from drinking caffeine. Humans with chronic pain and chronic fatigue who lack the boundless endurance humans are supposedly famous for. Humans too tall or too short or too fat to be allowed into space. Humans who are so scared of the world they need to take pills just to function. Humans with IBS who can't stand spicy foods, capsaicin really is poison to them. Lactose intolerance and celiac disease, my god all the autoimmune disorders out there, humans who struggle to function because their own bodies fight them. Humans who bruise easily and take too long to heal. Humans who sustained one too many concussions and now struggle to talk and read and write. Humans who've had strokes. Humans who were born unable to talk or hear or speak, and humans who through some accident lost that ability later.

Aliens visit Earth, and do you know what they find? Humanity, in all its wholeness.

[everchased]

at least it'll be wonderful while it lasts.

(a little post-game downtime discussion, when they have the time and space to talk about these things. also in my canon, scratch gets to stay. :/)

[stubz]

"Human Kim's mate is dead?!" cries Calis.

"What?! Kim has a mate?!" cries Max

"She is your comrade! How did you not know she has-had a mate?!?"

"But what about Fenrir-wait is Fenrir dead???"

"Human Kim had her bonding band before courting Fenrir, I'm talking about her other mate."

"She's cheating?? Fenrir is the other man...orc???"

"Do humans not have multiple mates?"

"I mean...not usually no...but wait lets back up a minute. How do you know Kim's mate is dead and what do you mean by bonding band, do you mean a ring that goes on a finger?"

"I cannot believe you, her comrade of 5 years, have not noticed her longing rubbing her ankle. How she no longer has the bright orange band on her left ankle. How she looks at her communication device...phone? and looks at what I guess is a photo."

"...wait the orange band? Made out of fabric? Like string?"

"So you have noticed, why have you not consoled her then??"

"...hold on a sec. I'll be back in a moment."

"Are you getting her? Bring her to the command room then, we shall have something for her."

"....how many people think her mate is dead!?"

.

"Why are we going to the command room?"

"Just keep walking. I have a question for you but I need you to answer in front of a lot of people."

"Ookay?" the humans enter the command room and see it decorated dark and somber. Friends and close co-workers are there dressed in black or their respective mourning attire. Calis steps forward.

"Hu-Kim...Kim we are so very sorry for the loss of your mate...may they join the galaxy as a brilliant star and may you both reunite someday in the great beyond..." They slowly grab her five fingered hand with their four fingered hand.

"...If anything were to happen to Gala...I can't even begin to imagine what you are going through. If there's anything you need, anything at all, just ask."

"...Calis...thank you so much...but I don't have a mate?"

"That's what I was saying!" exclaims Max. "If she did then she would've told me, her work best friend!!"

"...but the band on your ankle and your sadness?"

"...Kay I did not notice that but yeah what's up? You alright?" he turns to his short friend

"Ohhh, you mean my friendship anklet?"

"Friend-ship anklet? ...not a bonding band?"

"It was made by my best friend, no offense Max, on Earth the last time I saw her in person 'bout...almost 2 years ago? Anyways it finally fell off since its string and I just miss having it."

"None taken."

"So no one died? She's still alive?"

"Yeah, I just texted her yesterday about the anklet and she said she'll just tattoo one on me cause it'll ward off Max...no offense Max...she just can't accept that I have more than one best friend."

"Again none taken...wait is this the friend who hated you at first and you didn't know so you kept being friendly to her until eventually she accepted you and you've been best friends for like almost 10 years?"

"She...hated you?"

"Oh yeah, she thought I was really annoying but I'm pretty dense so I just kept being nice and going to eat lunch with her throughout high school until after like...2-3 months she gave up and accepted my friendship. Oh! and I didn't know any of this until like this year." she grins

"That's a beautiful friendship right there...makes me jealous about how boringly we met and bonded over anime and musicals."

"On most planets beings would maul you over your annoyance...would you like some of the cake we got you before we knew no one died?"

"Yes please! Also thank you everybody but sadly...and luckily no one died!!" she calls out to the dozen or so aliens and humans in the command room.

"...wait you thought I was having an affair with Fenrir!?" cries a horrified Kim

"That's what I was saying!!" screams Max

[jeeaark]

Alright. So. I'm not making this triangle conclusion because I like triangles

But because it's the only. the only conclusion I could make

For the morning after. After noticing Babe-

YOU'D THINK it'd go that Lae'zel and friends would never find out because even though I wanted to tell Lae'zel, A SHAME IT DIDN"T GIVE ME THE OPTION. A SHAME THE GAME WANTED ME TO KEEP THIS A DANG SECRET FROM MY TEAM AND JUST HAVE SOME SIMPLE-ASS INTERNAL CONFLICT.

But ohnononono, this magical patch 0 playthrough had other plans. Because for some reason. Babe was talking like we were in ACT 1 again. Babe became a killer coconut again

Babe knew. BABE KNEW ABOUT LAST NIGHT. AND BABE WAS CRANKY (understandably so of course)

And yet. Babe was also still allowing kisses. so. not. not OVER. BABE STILL LOVED THIS IDIOT HALF-ORC.

So. I could only conclude this. This is why.

and totally not because apparently it was a glitch (that they now fixed) all along pff

SO. Maybe just. This once. With this Tav. This playthrough. A Godsdamn Love Triangle friggin' happened alfdjkkasdj

Bonus (Because Greygold had to tell somebody):

[bacchuschucklefuck]

species medley ft. gorgug and riz

[gortrash]

Say what you want about the elder scrolls but it’s the only game series where american accents don’t sound jarringly out of place in a fantasy setting

[carionto]

What Humans call the "Thousand Yard Stare"

As more and more Humans interact with and integrate within Coalition stations, reports, closer to hushed whispers really, began to circulate of some Humans being... discomforting... to be around.

Initially we thought it was just rudeness or passive aggressive behavior or any number of subtle actions or choice of words, no matter how advanced or civilized there will always be some assholes.

However, when some of these "offenders" were presented to us peacekeepers, we found them to be perfectly polite and reasonable. As our conversation continued and shifted topics, whenever there was a lull or the focus was on another speaker for a longer time, the Human's gaze drifted somewhat.

Sometimes she would look to the side and it was harder to tell what her exact expression was, but every so often she would be looking at one of us, but... not. It was as if she was staring at something behind us, through us even. Beyond the walls of the station, it even felt as though beyond space and time itself.

It was one of the most unnerving and chitin-chilling feelings we've ever felt, but then the Human seemed to notice our change and became that friendly and cheerful person once again:

"Sorry, my mind drifted there for a bit. What were you saying?"

And the conversation continued as if nothing was out of the ordinary for the Human.

Upon our return to our office, one of the Human peacekeepers heard about our impromptu assignment and offered this explanation after we told him what happened:

"Oh yeah, I think that person was a retired firefighter or rescue worker of some kind. Professions like that can be dangerous and you'll eventually encounter something horrible at a disaster site or crime scene. Probably saw someone die, or a person they rescued later didn't make it, or it was a kid... It's the toughest when you're the last one a child sees before..."

There it is again. That look, but with a tinge of sadness this time. We didn't know he was carrying such memories. The untimely death of anyone is a difficult time for those that survive, especially when it is the young whose life was still just starting. It seems Humans with their heightened senses and sensitivity to the feelings of others these kind of experiences imprint a far stronger memory than for most.

"Anyway, we've got a bunch of names for such things, but typically we call it the thousand yard stare. It's an old measurement unit, don't worry about it. I think the meaning may have changed a bit over the years, but basically some people go through traumatic stuff and they decide, consciously or not, to sort of... detach themselves from reality. It's a coping mechanism.

A few people thrive on horrible things, but they're the exception. Most of us would go crazy or depressed or any other infinite bad possibilities our brains can go in if we don't find a way to separate ourselves from certain realities. It can get real bad otherwise. It's rare, but a few go truly nuts and try to inflict their pain unto others. Most end up suffering alone for a long time. And some can't take it anymore and decide to end it themselves.

Thankfully therapists and support options are widely available, so those kind of scenarios are really rare, like... suicide accounts for about three out of a hundred thousand deaths last time I saw those charts. Plus drones and automation take care of most of the dangerous tasks, leaving the vast majority of cases to be caused by interpersonal relations actually. A broken heart is one of those traumas we'll never get rid of it seems. That's just life, I guess."

[rockatanskette]

Semi-related to my post on how human conservation practices, but I have a cold today, and it's got me thinking about biological altruism—the biological imperative to put other creatures ahead of yourself, to benefit the group.

When talking about possible interactions with other species, we talk a lot about humans being crazy and thrill-seeking and impossible to kill. Never use a warning shot as an incentive to keep humans out of a fight; it'll just make them angry. And that's true. But a valid criticism I've seen in the "Earth is a death world" community is that according to our understanding of evolution, every planet must be some form of death world. Competition fosters evolution—the wolf with sharper claws survives when its litter mates die. You can't reach space travel without some casualties along the way.

But the dog survives because it makes friends with the strange ape carrying a sharp stick. And the strange ape survives because it befriends the wolf. Underneath the death world is an inextricable and undeniable layer of the bond world; the love world; the world, together.

I imagine some worlds are not death worlds. They're peaceful and tranquil. I suspect there are worlds far more deadly than Earth, where the skies rain diamonds, harder than any substance we know with the species to match. And I imagine that they are united in their confusion at the duality of humankind.

Today is a great example: I have a cold, and I want someone to take care of me, but the people who would are immunocompromised, also sick, or live 8 hours away, respectfully. I also want no one within the walls of my apartment or I will eat them. I feel gross, I feel tired, and I don't want a single human being anywhere near me, even if they did bring soup.

In my constant scrolling through my phone today, I decided to look up why the hell I feel so bad—why everyone feels so bad when they're ill. And the answer surprised me. I always thought it was because your immune system is active, so it's using a lot of your energy. That is part of it. Another part is that your brain and body are communicating across the blood-brain barrier to fight the infection, which is rare and energetically expensive.

But that doesn't explain everything, and according to more current research, it could also be what's called the Eyam Hypothesis: that we feel so gross, so we instinctively isolate from other people. We're too tired to deal with others, and so we don't infect them. Misanthropy for the good of the species. Of course, it can also backfire: one of the criticisms of the Eyam Hypothesis is that humans also instinctively care for each other. If my brother has a headache, I drive to the store for Advil.

Personally, I think it's a little bit of both: biological altruism. Either way, the majority live on. The first thought I had this morning when I woke up wasn't "I feel gross" it was "there's no way I'm going to work today." And while that might not be everyone's first thought, you don't even have to be a particularly altruistic person to not want to leave your home or your bed when you're sick. It's inborn.

And so when the human named Ismail comes down with a case of the interstellar common cold, his alien friend Dyos grows very concerned. Ismail is usually intensely social, almost off-puttingly so. Some crew members joke about how his quarters are for sleeping and prayer only; if he's home alone? You should be worried. But when Dyos demands an answer to the severity of Ismail's malady, the other humans just nod knowingly.

"Nah, he's okay, the medics already cleared him. It's not a severe infection."

"But there are so many...fluids. And his body has changed color."

There is a moment of confusion there until they remember that Dyos's species can see in the infrared color spectrum.

"Nah, that's just a low-grade fever. It should break in the next couple days."

"But he doesn’t want to play chess today," Dyos insists.

"Ohhhh," says human Claudia, finally understanding. "No, that's normal. Humans don't like being around other people when they're sick, it's supposed to be one of the major evolutionary advantages. Protect your community from your illness and the genes live on."

"So we're just going to leave him alone?" Dyos is troubled by this. He can go for weeks without speaking to another life form, but he has seen Ismail grow despondent when unable to participate in social gathering.

"Oh, no," human Claudia says, laughing. "We're going to employ one of the other most longstanding human evolutionary advantages."

There are many to choose from and Dyos settles on, "middle age?"

"Sort of," human Claudia opens up a small shipping container and holds up a brown paper bag tied with a colorful ribbon. It glows brightly in Dyos's vision, almost as brightly as human Claudia's smile. "His nanni's hot soup, express delivery."

[anghraine]

It's interesting (if often frustrating) to see the renewed Orc Discourse after the last few episodes of ROP. I've seen arguments that orcs have to be personifications of evil rather than people as such or else the ethics of our heroes' approach to them becomes much more fraught. Tolkien's work, as written, seems an odd choice to me for not wrangling with difficult questions, and of course, more diehard fans are going to immediately bring up Shagrat and Gorbag.

If you haven't read LOTR recently, Shagrat and Gorbag are two orcs who briefly have a conversation about how they're being screwed over by Sauron but have no other real options, about their opinions of mistakes that have been made, that they think Sauron himself has made one, but it's not safe to discuss because Sauron has spies in their own ranks. They reminisce about better times when they had more freedom and fantasize about a future when they can go elsewhere and set up a small-scale banditry operation rather than being involved in this huge-scale war. Eventually, however, they end up turning on each other.

Basically any time that someone brings up the "humanity" of this conversation, someone else will point out that they're still bad people. They're not at all guilty about what they're part of. They just resent the dangers to themselves, the pressure from above, failures of competence, the surveillance they're under, and their lack of realistic alternative options. The dream of another life mentioned in the conversation is still one of preying on innocent people, just on a much smaller and more immediate scale, etc.

I think this misses the reason it keeps getting brought up, though. The point is not that Shagrat and Gorbag are good people. The point is that they are people.

There's something very normal and recognizable about their resentment of their superiors, their fears of reprisal and betrayal that ultimately are realized, their dislike of this kind of industrial war machine that erases their individual work and contributions, the tinge of wistfulness in their hope of escape into a different kind of life. Their dialect is deliberately "common"—and there's a lot more to say about that and the fact that it's another commoner, Sam, who outwits them—but one of the main effects is to make them sound familiar and ordinary. And it's interesting that one of the points they specifically raise is that they're not going to get better treatment from "the good guys" so they can't defect, either.

This is self-interested, yes, but it's not the self-interest of some mystical being or spirit or whatnot, but of people.

Tolkien's later remarks tend to back this up. He said that female orcs do exist, but are rarely seen in the story because the characters only interact with the all-male warrior class of orcs. Whatever female orcs "do," it isn't going to war. Maybe they do a lot of the agricultural work that is apparently happening in distant parts of Mordor, maybe they are chiefly responsible for young orcs, maybe both and/or something else, we don't know. But we know they're out there and we know that they reproduce sexually and we know that they're not part of the orcish warrior class.

Regardless of all the problems with this, the idea that orcs have a gender-restricted warrior class at all and we're just not seeing any of their other classes because of where the story is set doesn't sound like automatons of evil. It sounds like an actual culture of people that we only see along the fringes.

And this whole matter of "but if they're people, we have to think about ethics, so they can't be people" is a weird circular argument that cannot account for what's in LOTR or for much of what Tolkien said afterwards. Yes, he struggled with The Problem of Orcs and how to reconcile it with his world building and his ethical system, but "maybe they're not people" is ultimately not a workable solution as far as LOTR goes and can't even account for much of the later evolution of his ideas, including explicit statements in his letters.

And in the end, the real response that comes to mind to that circular argument is "maybe you should think about ethics more."

[2000dragonarmy]

HEY GUYS OH MY GOSH I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS

KATYDID AND ZYLA SWEETBEAN MADE A DFO FIC WHERE THE HUMANS ARE SPACE ORCS AND WHEN I FOUND OUT I WAS MELTING IN MY SEAT FROM EXCITEMENT

They have been so awesome and let me in on the writing process and AKDHSKAJHD LET ME TELL YOU ITS SO GOOD

But anyway here's some art and a link!!! please read you will not regret it!!!!!!!!

[marlynnofmany]

Squishy Cybernetics

“Hello!” I said. “Where would you like this?” I waved an arm at the large pallet of boxes, bags, and miscellaneous other packaging. It was on one of our biggest hoversleds, and accompanied by some of the biggest crewmates.

The Waterwill at the loading gate burbled thoughtfully, sounding like a water jug given sentience. She extended what passed for an arm of her own and pointed indoors. “You’d better bring it all the way in. Over here.” She glided inward, moving in that mysterious way I’d never figured out. Someone shaped like a column of jello had no business scooting forward that quickly, no matter how much their lower end rippled against the floor.

But I didn’t have time for galaxy-gazing; I had to help steer the hoversled. Regulations said we needed someone on all four sides for a load this big, just in case of antigrav mishaps. Didn’t want it slamming into something breakable at this client’s facility — or slamming into anything at all, really, but this place was some sort of high-tech manufacturing plant, and I didn’t want to think about what kind of damage a crash could do.

No mishaps today, though. The Frillian twins paced along on either side, all muscles and tight clothes (they’d left the flowy silks behind today; a solid choice). I couldn’t see Zhee in the back, but I heard the quiet click of his bug feet. My own feet were silent in proper Earth shoes as I tugged the steering handle and followed the Waterwill.

I thought we’d just take the thing to the far side of the big loading dock, unload it in an out-of-the-way spot to be unpacked later. But the Waterwill kept going. We passed hovercars and wheeled carts, storage cabinets and bins, along with a baffling arrangement of pipes along one wall. Windows showed glimpses of the busy manufacturing facility. I had no idea what they were making. Maybe I’d get a better look on the way back out.

Oh hey, a human, I thought in surprise as I passed a bigger window. With a Strongarm on his back? What in the world are they making together? I was already moving past, and could only speculate about intricate manufacturing projects that needed hands and tentacles at the same time.

I was still wondering why the Strongarm hadn’t just pulled up a chair next to the human when the Waterwill signalled me to stop. “Stopping,” I announced for Zhee’s benefit. We all came to a halt, and nobody crashed into anything. Hallelujah.

“Here, please,” the Waterwill said. She stretched her arm out into a long tendril to pick up a scrap of something blue that had fallen on the floor, and pointed at an empty space near several foam-topped tables. “I’m needed out front. Heeme, can you oversee?”

“Sure thing,” said a voice from nowhere, then a Strongarm climbed out from under one of the tables. “Found the last of the broken bits, by the way.” Two of his tentacles were curled around pieces of the same blue stuff the Waterwill had picked up. The blue stood out against the dark red of his skin, but not as much as the four mismatched tentacles on other side did. They were a transparent blue-green much like the Waterwill’s own tendrils. I tried not to stare, and failed.

“Thank you,” the Waterwill said. “I’ll be back in a bit.” She set her broken piece of whatever on the nearest table, then scooted through a door that was apparently soundproofed, because a cacophony of whirs and whooshes filled the air until it closed.

“Right,” I said. “Over here, then.” I steered the hoversled into position, then we all worked together to guide the detachable gravity platform onto the ground. That part always made me nervous, since it looked like the giant pallet that could crush me was floating through the air with just a touch of technological magic to make it go. I understand other models of industrial-sized hoversleds have more mechanical-looking gravity platforms, or regular forklift arms. Ours was the glowy magic kind, and it deposited the giant stack of objects with all the precision of the best fairytale enchantment.

“Perfect,” said the Strongarm. “We’ll unpack it from here. Thanks.”

“Our pleasure,” I said.

Zhee, finally able to see over the hoversled, got a good look at who I was talking to. “Oh, I’m sure you’re fast at unpacking,” he said, pointing with his pincher arm. “Does that model form into blades?”

“Sure does!” the Strongarm said, holding up a see-through tentacle that instantly flattened into a shape like a steak knife. “Good for packaging, stubborn latches, and all manner of other things.”

“And stabbing!” Blop put in, to be immediately shushed by his sister.

“No stabbing on the job,” she told him.

The Strongarm laughed. “Yeah, just respectable tool use. They don’t give these out to anyone who’s going to do violence with them.”

I asked, “Is that Waterwill tech? I haven’t seen one before.”

“Yup.” He turned the knife back into a tentacle, then into a variety of other shapes. “One of the perks of working here, for sure. They’re cagey about sharing tech. This is the best prosthesis I’ve ever encountered.”

I thought of the hard metal-and-plastic replacement limbs that were standard on Earth. They would be wildly out of place on this guy’s squishy octopus body. And no amount of interchangeable attachments would be able to beat this kind of easy shapeshifting. I said, “That looks really useful.”

“It is!”

The loud door opened to admit a wall of sound, along with the human-and-Strongarm pair. Which I realized with a start was actually just a human wearing more transparent tentacles on his back.

“Here’s the new set,” he said to the Strongarm, placing a clear box on the table that was full of a stack of more flat blue things. They appeared to be cut into very specific shapes. I might have been curious about what they were for if not for the much more interesting thing to be curious about.

“Hello,” I said. “Does everyone who works here get extra limbs?”

The tan human grinned. “If they want ‘em! And they pass the screening, of course. But you’ve got to leave them here each day if they’re the bonus kind, as opposed to replacements.”

The Strongarm wiggled his tentacles in a taunting manner. “I can open packages and slice food so easily at home.”

The human made a face and wiggled the tentacles on his back. “Yeah yeah, we’re all jealous. Someday I’ll convince the bosses that there’s an actual market for these, and I’ll be the first in line to buy my own.”

“They think there isn’t?” I asked in shock. “Those look so useful! I can’t list the number of times I’ve wished for more hands. Using teeth and feet only goes so far.”

Zhee made a disparaging hiss. “You have that many fingers, and still want more? Greedy.”

“I’m just saying that re-weaving a cargo net would go much faster if I could hold all of the fibers at once,” I told him, then turned to the Frillians. “Back me up. Two arms just isn’t enough sometimes, right?”

Blip and Blop looked at each other and shrugged. “I guess?” Blip said. “But that’s just when it’s time to get another person to help.”

Zhee clicked a pincher. “Exactly so. Or approach the problem differently.”

The human told me, “I’ve had this conversation more than once. Apparently not all species grow up imagining what it’s like to have bird wings or monkey tails or whatnot.”

“Surely other people want to fly,” I said. The expressions around me were dishearteningly blank. “Surely!”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” the human said. “See why I couldn’t convince the bosses?”

“But even on a practicality standpoint!” I exclaimed. “They have you using them here; why wouldn’t they think you’d want to use them at home?”

He shrugged, moving the tentacles in a graceful wave as he did. “Alien brains. I’ve given up trying to fully understand.”

The Strongarm spoke up. “If there are actually a large number of humans who would buy these, then it couldn’t hurt to put together a request from outside sources. The bosses don’t listen to random employees who are probably biased, but they might take an interest in actual buyers.”

I shook my head slowly. “Our courier ship isn’t going to be that kind of buyer, especially not at the scale they’d probably need.”

“What about big human ships?” Blip asked. “We could suggest it to the next one we meet.”

“Or human colonies,” Blop said. “Or large groups at space stations.”

Zhee said, “I heard Captain Sunlight talking about a delivery to Basal Station soon. There are plenty of humans there. You could suggest it to them, if you think this is really that widespread an interest.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” I said, thinking. There was indeed a significant human population on that space station, which might even include the crew I’d met from the droid jousting ship Hold My Beer. They were definitely the type to appreciate some extra arms. Both for working on finicky electronics and general slapfight shenanigans.

“Here, we should have something with the contact information,” said the Strongarm. “Jon, is there a notepad over there?”

“Yeah, got it.” The human leaned over a table and used his tentacles to lift a stack of books so he could pull out the small notepad at the bottom. That may have been showing off. “Here you go!” He handed it to me with his regular hand.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see if I can find the right ears to whisper into.”

“Best of luck!” he said. “My partner has asked me no less than half a dozen times if I could sneak my set home to play around with, but I’m not gonna risk the job.”

I laughed, hoping I wasn’t blushing. “Oh man, I wasn’t even going to mention the bedroom applications.”

Of course Zhee had to ask, tilting his head with faceted eyes shining. “The what?”

“Remember how most humans find tentacles a little creepy?” I asked him, pocketing the notepad.

“I recall. It makes this insistence all the stranger.”

“Well, some humans aren’t creeped out at all. Kind of the opposite. They like them a lot. In a, uh, private fashion.”

Jon the human spelled it out for him. “Mating rituals.”

Zhee’s antennae did a complicated dance, then settled in something that looked like disgust. “I was about to ask why, but I’ve decided I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, best not to,” I agreed. “Anyway! Very useful extra arms. Good for a wide variety of activities. Other humans will likely be interested.”

“Very likely,” Jon agreed.

I activated the hovercart with a nod, and we said our goodbyes. The employees wished me luck. They returned to work while we headed back toward our ship.

Zhee grumbled disparaging things about my species the whole way, but that was nothing new.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

PS: the story with the good ship Hold My Beer is here, if you're wondering about that. It's fun.

[an-eldritch-peredhel]

You are the daughter of an angelic faerie and an elven king. You have grown up inside the only magical safe-haven of an increasingly apocalyptic land outside. You have wanted for nothing, essentially leading the perfect life, suffering and death playing little role beyond the abstract. Your father will never die, and your mother will never leave, but for tradition you are still crown princess and are educated as such. You love to dance and to sing.

You meet some kind of monster inside your mother's borders, a monster not of her or your making. It stumbled across you, dancing in the forest, bloody and travel-worn and weary and wide-eyed as it stares. You are stronger than it, but you run rather than lunge for the kill. You feel pity, more than fear. And something about him makes the part of you that you inherited from your mother sing.

He tries to follow you, for a year and a day. You are stronger, and faster, and stealthier, and you let him see you sometimes anyways. You are not convinced that he is not a monster, but nor are you convinced that he is.

Spring blooms again to the tune of your song, and you let him get closer than before until you run.

But you hear him speak for the first time. He is a speaker, and perhaps to him you are the monster. You do not run, and you do not kill.

He calls you "Tinuviel"

He calls you nightingale- a little songbird, plain and brown, with a lovely voice. They are your mother's creation, but he does not know this.

He calls you daughter of twilight- perhaps for your skin and eyes and hair, but perhaps because that is when he has seen you most.

He calls you singer- creator of the very fabric of the universe, skilled enough to deserve the title.

You are the most beautiful creature the world will ever see, the daughter of an angel and a king. He does not call you beautiful, or angelic, or princess. He calls you a singer, plain and brown, dark and distant as the approaching night.

He is bloody and travel-worn and weary and wide-eyed as you dare to step closer.

He called you nightingale.

You don't know what to call him, but you hope to find out.

[stubz]

"Hey guys I got whooping cough."

"OH! OHOHOH! BEGONE SICKLY ONE! QUARENTINE RIGHT F*CKING NOW I CAN'T BE GETTING THAT."

"Woah calm down--"

"Do not tell me to calm down! Do you have any idea how contagious this shit is?!?!"

"Well, I heard but I'm wearing a mask and I'm literally on the other side of the glass wall, talking to you on the phone right now!"

"Like I give a rat's ass! I work at the child centre!! I. CAN'T. GET. WHOOPING. COUGH. BEGONE. NOW."

"Okay okay okay! I get it, going now! only like 8 of the kids could get it anyways...not even the same species."

"Love you!! I'll make you some cabbage soup!" with that she goes back to her lunch. Oblivious to the strange looks from her co-workers.

"Uh, what's whooping cough?" asked Op reaching for the salt with her tail.

"A very contagious human disease that gives you a nasty cough for several days to a few weeks."

"Oh, that doesn't sound too bad."

"Yeah but it can make you feel just awful and is actually very dangerous for infants, young children, and the elderly."

"How dangerous?" Fenrir asked

"Well...they could die."

*silence*

"Its not often though, usually rare, they're just more at risk. I mean I had it when I was a baby and look! I'm perfectly fine."

For a while no one said anything. Just eating. Until Fenrir asked another question.

"Why is it called whooping cough?"

"Because that's what it sounds like. The inhale sounds like a whooping noise. But according to my parents I sounded more like a barking seal."

"What does a seal sound like?"

"Hold on." she fishes out her phone and finds a video of a seal barking.

*Seal noises*

"...and what does whooping cough sound like?"

*Whooping coughing noises, which honestly sounds like someone coughing up their heart and soul*

"...how the f*ck are you alive???"

"I second that."

"My Dad tucked me into his coat and walked out in the winter air so that it would clear my lungs."

"That's it?!"

"Cold air is what saved you from death?!"

"...I mean I probably had some antibiotics but yeah. There's no real cure, just a vaccine."

"THERE'S NO CURE FOR THAT?!"

[jeeaark]

-old geezer voice- Back in my day, we didn't have no magic mirror, we had to make shit up in our heads about changes to our Tav's appearance while playing the game

No punchline to this one.

Just haircuts. Inspired by the lovely gift that is the magic mirror~ And Greygold slooooowly realizing that polyamory is not gonna be a Thing around here.