Humans Are Eldritch. They Can Sing A Thousand Voices, And They Only Started Space Exploration After More

Cody hugs his brother close, hoping it would be enough to stave off the nightmares. He knows it won’t, not when he can feel Fox’s fingers twitching against his chest, curling around his shirt in tiny bundles. He raises a hand to his vod’ika’s hair, brushing it back while shushing gently.

“It’s okay, Fox,” he murmurs quietly. “You’re safe now. It’s all okay.”

His brother’s hands never still but his breathing has evened out from the small gasping from before. Cody can’t help but tuck his brother’s face into his neck, pretending that the water on his face wasn’t tears. Maybe if he closes his eyes and wishes hard enough, he’ll wake up to them being cadets, before the war separated them, before Coruscant wore down his little brother to exhaustion, before they realized they were only pawns in a Sith’s play for power.

Cody wishes they could go back to when they were small, barely decanted for a day but already cuddling in a pile with their batchmates. At least then they still had faith in each other despite barely meeting for more than a couple of minutes, rather than distrust and hatred thrown around for no reason other than to separate them.

Cody stares across the medbay to where his other batchmates lay, wounded and exhausted from the fight but still alive. More alive than how they found Fox.

Wolffe sends a questioning look, a small sign with his hands and Cody nods. He squeezes his brother close and breathes out.

Fox’ika will be alright. Cody will make sure of it. After all, it’s his duty as Ori’vod and he has a couple of years to catch up on.

I'M DOING AN EXPERIMENT

To prove something to a friend, please

REBLOG IF YOU THINK ASEXUALS BELONG IN LGBTQ+ SPACES

LIKE IF YOU THINK ASEXUALS DON’T BELONG IN LGBTQ+ SPACES

Interviewer: So, how would you describe your relationship with your Jedi?

Rex: *long, long, long, long sigh* Idiot siblings.

Cody: don't get me started

Rex: to clarify, I'm not the idiot.

Colt: *wordlessly pulls up sleeve to reveal "I-heart-Mom" tattoo on his bicep*

Cody: I have sympathy for Rex because Skywalker just DOES things but Kenobi, he, he thinks things through, and then he STILL does those things even if they're HORRIBLE IDEAS—

Fox: *chugs coffee, slams cup down so hard it breaks* bold of you to assume I have a Jedi

Gree: Not family, but definitely close friends.

Cody: —reckless, ridiculously self-sacrificing, no regard for his own safety—

Grey, dead serious, no hesitation: caleb is my son

Whatever clones are in Master Tapal's battalion: *chanting, one of them holds Cal up like Simba* BABY BOY BABY BOY BABY BOY

Cody: —can't even leave him alone for two minutes because he goes and loses his lightsaber in the middle of a battle—

Ponds: I'd like to say we're blood-brothers bound through the heat of battle because that sounds neat, but honestly, Master Windu and I, we're—we're fire-forged coworkers.

Wolffe: I can neither confirm nor deny that I bought Master Plo a Galaxy's Best Dad mug

Cody, staring vacantly into space: I'm so underpaid

Bly: no comment

Obi-Wan giving his Eeopie a treat everyday.

Obi-Wan buying back his stolen part and joking about having it cleaned but not getting mad and paying for it anyway.

Obi-Wan saving up his money to buy little Luke a toy starship.

Obi-Wan giving the clone trooper vet money

Obi-Wan buying Leia fun gloves even though they're on the run.

Obi-Wan realizing Leia is attached to the droid and instantly changing his tune.

BUT ALSO

The Jedi saving the Bartender.

Owen staying silent.

The girl giving Obi-Wan free spice.

Haja not only sending Obi-Wan to a ship to escape but also facing down an Inquisitor.

IS THIS SHOW ABOUT KINDNESS? I'M SO HAPPY.

Reblog if you've found friendship because of your fandoms.

by far the best part of grocery shopping is the little babies. i was carefully selecting mushrooms when i felt upon me a piercing gaze and looked up to see a very chubby and very red-cheeked baby staring intently at me from a grocery cart with a slightly furrowed brow, hand clutching an apple for dear life. i wiggled a mushroom at her and she gasped and kept staring. i turned back to the mushrooms and heard a shriek. i turned around and the baby stared in anticipation. i wiggled another mushroom and she shrieked again in delight. she looked down at the apple in her hand, considering it for a moment. fair-minded as she was, she decided it would only be right to wiggle produce at me in return, and she held up the apple and shook it with all her might. i think i could live forever now

Humans are weird: Adaptability

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

The assembly hall at the institute of learning on Praxos III was one of the finest halls in the entire system. Easily able to handle over a thousand beings it was specifically designed to allow anyone up on stage the ability to speak to the very back of the rows without the need for technology to boost their voice. A rather convenient feature as today the hall was packed to capacity.

A dozen hushed conversations mingled together as those gathered waited for the speaker of the day. They had come from across the planet and even as far away as the outer colonies all for a chance to hear the subject that had captivated their entire species.

As the voices continued to rise and fall like the tide of the ocean the lights began to dim and a lone figure stepped on to the stage. The crowd’s conversations died away and were replaced by the thunderous roar of applause that shook the hall.

Upon reaching center stage the speaker raised up their hands for quiet and the applause slowly pattered out until once more the hall was silent.

“My name is Ozma Dalhime,” the speaker began as their voice echoed throughout the entire hall, “and I hold the position of head researcher of alien lifeforms here at the institute.”

Behind Ozma a large screen slowly descended from the ceiling and the lights of the hall went completely dark save for the lone light on the speaker.

“In my time here I have come to find many interesting and seemingly farfetched life forms that have been discovered across the galaxy, but none as fascinating and frustrating as the one we are here to speak about today.”

At this the projector turned on and a large image of a strange creature appeared on the large screen. Several oh’s and ah’s came from the crowd as the image came into full view.

“This,” Ozma said, “is a human.”

The images began cycling through several different pictures of humans. Some were male, some were female, some had long hair, some had short, some were pale as a ghost, and some were as dark as the starry skies. Dozens of different photos went by, each unique and different from those that came before, leaving many to wonder how such a chaotic species could have survived for so long.

“Born in the Milky Way galaxy on a rather hostile planet they have creatively called “Dirt”,” the professor continued to the amused chuckles of the crowd, “they have survived countless generations of strife to now become one of the most recognizable species carving their way through the cosmos.”

Ozma paused for a moment and looked over the audience.

“Can any of you tell me why?”

The crowd was silent save for a few murmurs between groups here and there, but no one spoke up.

“I hope when you came to my lecture you didn’t expect me to do all the talking.” Ozma replied happily as he walked back and forth across the stage. “Come on, why do you think humans have survived for this long?”

Ozma saw a lone hand rise from the third row and motioned for the holder to stand up.

“Because they can breathe fire?” they remarked, drawing a rousing laughter from the crowd.

Ozma gave no sign of similar mocking behavior and simply nodded.

“They certainly can seem that way when you make one angry, as I can attest from first-hand experience.” Ozma said. “Does anyone else have an answer?”

Another hand rose further back in the crowd and again Ozma motioned for them to stand up.

“Because of their barbarity?” the second speaker said, this time drawing hushed tones of agreement from those around them.

“You certainly are closer to the answer.” Ozma said, motioning for the crowd to quiet. “When provoked an individual human can draw upon fits of strength that often will destroy their own body, but in the moment they wouldn’t even notice it until their body collapsed completely like a puppet whose strings have been cut.”

Many of the crowd had heard stories of human soldiers lost in this blood madness on the battlefield and had continued fighting even after a majority of their body was covered in third degree burns, who showed no fear when facing down a hive swarm single handedly with nothing but a crude slug thrower and harsh language, that even could wrestle a Draxic warrior into submission despite being half their size.

“In my many travels there is one quality of humans that has superseded their natural, and at times unnatural, strength and is the corner stone of their very being and the reason they have thrived amongst the stars.”

The crowd leaned in as Ozma stopped himself for dramatic effect, smiling to himself before revealing his answer.

“What makes humans interesting, is their adaptability.”

Whatever the crowd had been expecting this certainly was not it. Through the bright lights Ozma could see a few of the guests in the front row showing faces of disbelief, full of questions they thought they knew the answers too already.

“Across my years of travel I have never come upon a species that was so capable of enduring the rigorous extremes that the universe had to offer.” Ozma began, pacing the stage once more.

“I have seen them create homes for themselves on planets with suns that could melt flesh from bone in minutes, on planets so cold that the liquid of your eyes would flash freeze if exposed for even a moment; even on planets devoid of sunlight and filled with creatures of such horrific nature one would believe they were taken straight from the pages of a children’s book have I found them sitting around camp fires laughing into the night.”

Ozma turned and sat on a waiting stool on the stage to catch his breath. He sipped from a water container under the stool for a moment before setting it back down and continuing.

“When I was in the Gamma Belt I found myself waylaid at a space station waiting for the next shuttle out of the system.” Ozma began, his mind reliving the memories as if it had just been yesterday. “I wandered the hallways for days while I waited and came upon many unsavory characters of questionable intent along the way; safe to say I kept my purse string held close for much of the adventure there.”

“During my third day aboard the station I came across one of the most interesting people I have ever met.”

Ozma couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he recounted that strange man. “Their name was Oliver Reid and he owned a small food kart that was nestled on the lower levels of the station.”

“A scruffy human for sure standing no taller than me and missing a hand and an eye, he served a dish made from fresh Razor fish he kept in a nearby tank and prepared right before your eyes.”

A couple gasps came from the crowd at this. Razor fish were some of the most violent of aquatic life that had been discovered so far. Their spines were covered in long protruding spines so sharp that they could cut through metal when provoked.

“When I first met Oliver I could hardly believe his notion that he could somehow provide a dish out of such a violent creature, which he seemed to take offense to and promptly challenged me to a wager.” Ozma continued. “He said if I liked the meal he prepared that I would pay three times what was asked, and that if I didn’t I could eat it for free.”

“Intrigued by the human’s confidence I agreed to the wager and I bore witness to one of the most extraordinary feats I have ever seen come from the creation of a dish.”

“Without skipping a beat the human pulled out a sharpened wooden fork as long as a forearm and strapped it to his missing limb as he approached the tank holding the razor fish; closing his eye for just a moment and without hesitating stabbed the wooden fork into the pot and skewered a razor fish, killing it instantly.”

As Ozma regaled the crowd with his story they could not help but notice the tinges of excitement dotting the professors voice here and there.

“Here was a creature dubbed one of the most lethal killers of the oceans and a human missing an arm and an eye was able to kill it without even flinching.”

“What was even more impressive was that they were indeed able to create a dish worthy of renown that I gladly paid three times for.” Ozma finished as he saw a hand rise from the crowd.

“What does that have to do with their adaptability?” the guest asked. “Truly it is an impressive feat, but I fail to see how it relates.”

Ozma took in the question before standing back on his feet. “As I was eating the dish I learned that the reason Oliver had lost an eye and a hand was from his previous attempts to prepare the razor fish.”

“The first time he had tried his would be entrée sliced through his hand like it was butter and swiftly ate it before he could recover and reattach the appendage; while he had lost his eye on the thirteenth attempt when a spine punctured his eye after getting too close.”

The crowd collectively gasped in horror, one near the back even vacating the contents of their stomach if Ozma heard right.

“I asked him after finishing my meal why he continued with a practice that had cost him so much,” Ozma said, “and he looked me after rubbing the stump that had once held his missing hand and said “If you give up from making mistakes, then clearly you didn’t learn the right lesson it was teaching you.””

Ozma paused once more for effect now that he had his audience in the palm of his hand. “To say I was astounded by such an inspiring insight and find it in the proverbial armpit of the universe was something of an understatement at the time.”

“He told me that through his trials and mistakes he had learned that the Razor fish was unable to comprehend let alone sense wood leaving itself exposed, and that one of its natural defense mechanisms relied on it looking into it’s would be predators eyes and reading the intent from eye motions.”

“Can you imagine that?” Ozma said. “That through his failures this Oliver had refused to give up and continued to adapt and study his situation to such an extent that he was able to overcome seemingly impossible obstacles as if they were nothing more trifling then crossing the street.”

“In an instant the core of humanity was made clear to me; that when presented with a challenge neigh impossible that rather than retreat from it humans would greet it with a devilish smile and continue to change themselves until the impossible became reality.”

The projector that had died down during Ozma’s speech sprang back to life again and showed a new series of pictures. Human settlements on the frozen moons of Jkin VI, roaming human tribes riding massive desert sliders as they crested the roaming dunes of Hava Prime, and even and most astoundingly of the professor standing next to the one handed one eyed human Oliver smiling together over a razor fish dish.

“Humans have the uncanny ability to adapt themselves to whatever situation they come upon and despite the odds rise above the challenge and claim victory; and that is why I find them the most interesting species to observe in the universe.”

req’d by @a-popcorn-kernel​

a continuing series

What if a human's singing voice is highly dangerous to other intelligent alien species? What if we're the sirens of space, and aliens can't resist our "heavenly" voices?

Tundi sees Jesse: omg you’re here you’re here I’ve missed… I mean… hi. (they hug and cry and all is good)

Pup, sees Thunder: you’re here you came you… stop fussing I’m fine. (Lots of hugs and deep convos and Bumble trying to trip Thunder)

Fox sees his batch: you… came? You’re here? You… you care? (confusion and a little bit of venting then immediate forgiveness and hugs)

Stone, seeing his batchmates: you know what you did… (Boulder does not know but he plans on working it out so he can get his brother back)

Hound, dancing: my batch died 3 whole years ago, doo dah doo dah, but they loved me when they died, do-da-do-da-day