#hfy

Humans are space orcs idea where other aliens don’t do that so looking at human eyes constantly shaking is real unsettling. Theres a lot of fun to be had about the intensity of eye contact, the almost hypnotic effects of their gaze, the difficulty in ambushing them, ect.

Which is very odd to the galactic community.

Rest comes in all sorts of forms across the galaxy, some having sleep similar to ours, some having hibernation/brumation cycles, some going into meditative states, some retreating to cocoons, some photosynthesising, some even being technologically advanced enough to simply just plug themselves in and literally recharge. But the seeming inescapability of human sleep is…a little concerning.

If a human is tired enough, they will be able to sleep just about anywhere. Bed, sofa, armchair, the floor, a table, three chairs lined up, propped up like a doll against the wall, on top of another person, on a rock that’s even vaguely flat, on a gnarled tree branch, sometimes even floating in water or suspended by a harness. Wherever. So long as we can breathe, we can and will fall asleep.

The same can’t be said of aliens, they’re a bit more picky by comparison, or they can stave off their exhaustion through emergency chemical reactions long enough to find somewhere appropriate to rest. Some are so specialised that they require their environments to be utterly perfect before their body allows them to rest. Those aliens are deeply jealous while waiting around at the Spaceport for their shuttle to start boarding and seeing humans clumped together on a bench in a very uncomfortable looking pile, snoring away.

And then, an alien species named the Khak’Cthrax, a species known for their aggressive behaviour and bodies covered in rocky scales and dangerous barbs, discovering this aspect of humans.

One Khak’CThrax soldier being deployed to assist in saving some human civilians from a war zone and ending up having to carry a teenager for a while due to there not being enough gurneys. The juvenile human ends up nodding off in the soldier’s hands and at first he thinks the teenager has perished because the Khak’CThrax are not the type of person you would consider comfortable to rest on much less feel ‘safe’ around inherently, but after the field medic explains that the child is only asleep, unsurprisingly from the day they had had, the soldier practically becomes a broody mother hen for the human. This little one trusted him??? Enough to rest while held in his arms??? They are his baby now???

Are treated almost like... PETS??

Hear me out, NONE of them actually work like they are supposed to. One has a cracked wheel and makes horrible noises, other one will lower itself randomly, a lot of them lift only if you wiggle them in specific ways–

The point is, you rather quickly pick a favorite. And will look out for it CONSTANTLY or else it gets snatched within minutes.

That leads to me finding some interesting quotations written over these guys. Like:

"I will BREAK YOUR LEGS if you touch him."

"This one belongs to Matt. TO MATT."

"My precious boy."

They were supposed to be dogs. They really were.

See, there’s this joke going around among the other civilized species of the galaxy about the way humans have domesticated this one animal into so many different types that it’s hard to tell which Earth animals are, and are not, dogs. So I really felt like someone must have been messing with me when I looked at the large crate of animal cargo that we were supposed to deliver.

“Captain,” I said slowly. “These aren’t dogs. Well, one is, and it’s not the one you’d think.”

Captain Sunlight looked up at me, concern on her lizardy face. I could see how reluctant she was to ask me, “Are you sure?”

“Very,” I said, pointing at the Chihuahua. “That one’s a dog, one of the smallest kinds. But that is a ferret, that is a capybara, and that is a bear cub, and none of these should be in the same cage. Please tell me they’re going somewhere with an accredited zoo?”

Captain Sunlight turned to look at the client who had brought us the crate. He flicked his antennae and flexed pincher arms, giving away nothing but annoyance. Which wasn’t unusual for a Mesmer. “I was told they were dogs,” he insisted.

“They are not,” I said, pointing at the bear cub. “When that one grows up, it will be bigger than you, and able to rip the door off this ship.”

Humans have an entire rogues gallery of animals on our planet we do interspecies cooperation with. Our social grooming instinct is so strong we are famously driven to pet anything and it is so advanced we instantly know where "the spot" is on every animal we see, even of species we never interacted with before.

We domesticated parasitic bacteria in our guts before we discovered fire!

Clark was just watching the remains of the building that had collapsed when a sea of humans—his fellow reporters—came running toward him, despite their imbalance and comparative slowness, weaving around rubble in stiff shoes and heavy coats, clutching microphones and cameras to their chests.

They shouted his chosen name as they approached.

“Superman!”

“Superman, were there any fatalities?”

“Can the audience get a comment on the incident?”

“Superman, over here!”

He could not help smiling as he lowered himself the rest of the way to the ground.

Immediately they crowded around him in a dense, warm cluster of bodies and noise, each one trying to angle themselves nearest without actually touching him—though several did, briefly.

Clark’s smile widened.

Rao! They were adorable!

He could see every tiny movement inside them. The pull and release of tendons under soft, soft, soft skin. The frantic contractions of little hearts hammering away in narrow ribcages. Lungs filling and emptying and filling again.

He felt like he was drowning in kittens. Tiny baby kittens.

One of them shoved a microphone so close to his face it nearly bumped his chin. Clark went a little cross-eyed trying to focus on it before looking back down at the reporter holding it.

The man froze immediately under direct eye contact.

Clark has to hold himself back from squeezing his cheeks.

Batman was exhausted.

Most humans were exhausted all the time, he’d noticed. Their little bodies weren’t built well. Too much stress weakened them quickly. Bad sleep patterns. Poor nutrition. Everything hurt them.

Clark, naturally, lifted Batman to put him to rest in any nearby surface. He trashed in Clark’s arms initially but otherwise didn’t protest.

Batman was, to Clark, the equivalent of a particularly hostile alley cat. Tiny. Violent. Malnourished. Feral beyond belief.

And somehow convinced he could fight things thousands of times larger than himself.

Did Batman sometimes forgot that he was just as human and fragile as the villains in Gotham?

Well, no harm done. Clark was not interested in fighting Batman at all.

Human: It really is an amazing coincidence...

Ztsaxhi: Hey guys, the food replicator glitched out and gave me way more food than it should. Want some? It's kind of like human "chips."

Käfavayarlop: Is it safe for my species?

Ztsaxhi: Let me check... no poisons but...oh damn, the food guide says it has capsaicin that's painful for you. Sorry.

Human: Ooh, Let me have some then!

Ztsaxhi: Go ahead.

Käfavayarlop: But wait, weren't we just saying that Käfavayarlopen and humans have weirdly similar taste buds—

Human *bites into chip*: Wow! Hggh, that is— REALLY spicy! You were not kidding about capsaicin.

Ztsaxhi: Are you okay?

Human: Fine! It's actually good, I swear. *eats the rest of the chip*

Käfavayarlop: Your face is turning red.

Human: Yeah, capsaicin does cause pain, that's the spiciness, but it's a good kind of pain. It adds to the flavor. *takes another chip*

Ztsaxhi: So "spiciness" is just pain?

Human: Kind of. It's—It's an acquired taste.

Käfavayarlop: ...I want to try.

Ztsaxhi: No!

Human: Let them! Though I will warn you this is not beginner friendly.

Käfavayarlop: *bites* Sacred Gonork! My mouth is on fire!

Human: You good?

Käfavayarlop: No. *takes another bite*

Ztsaxhi: No, don't keep eating it!

Käfavayarlop: But it's good.

Human: Is bovine milk safe for them? We probably need it.

Ztsaxhi: I'll check, yes it is. Wait, is this what all those jokes about humans pairing Ztsaxhi cuisine with milk are about?

Human: Yeah, it helps with the pain.

Ztsaxhi: Why would you even eat food that hurts you?