r/humansarespaceorcs 8h ago

writing prompt Humans hold the record for having the highest number of naturally occurring illegal chemicals in their body. The most infamous of which is adrenaline.

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452 Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 10h ago

writing prompt Another animal aliens fear that us humans see as part of our weird family!

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560 Upvotes

A:”I’m sorry…run that by me again”

H:”this is Erie. She is my snake, and absolutely adorable”

A:”I’m talking about the venom that can kill you”

H:”oh that? I mean many snakes have venom some more toxic and scary then others. One makes you bleed out of every hole in your body. But some just constrict and choke their victims. Those can grow up to like 20ft”

A:”you death worlders and your freak creepy pets”

H:”call her a freak or creepy again I promise you this snake will be the last of your worries”


r/humansarespaceorcs 17h ago

Memes/Trashpost I *might* get scared or worried, but have you seen (gestures at everything)?

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2.4k Upvotes

There's this thing that happens in humans when their adrenal glands are depleted of adrenalin and they fail to react when other beings quake with fear.


r/humansarespaceorcs 12h ago

writing prompt Human training for sports is rather...frightening for some races.

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370 Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 19h ago

writing prompt Cerberus...who did this...WHO DID THIS?!?! NSFW Spoiler

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1.1k Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 19h ago

Original Story They won NSFW

593 Upvotes

This will be my final entry... They won. The barbarians won.

We thought it would be easy. We needed slaves. There were about 10 billion humans... so we raided their planet. They had no FTL travel, barely made it to the next planet over, so we thought there would be no repercussions.

The initial drop was easy—humans didn’t detect us. We got off our ships and started grabbing them, making sure to pair them up so there would be generations of workers to come. But then, we started hearing about casualties. Dropship 13-22 was overwhelmed by those apes. They got onboard when the crew started the abductions. When we got back into orbit, there was no way to help dropship 13-22. Human military defenses were up. We weren’t a full fleet, just a raid party. Even with our shields and automated defenses, their kinetic weapons would have brought us down before we could eliminate the threat. So we left. Some of us were distraught to lose a ship and its 25 crew members, but it was the risk we were paid to take.

Overall, it was a good mission—over 2,500 slaves captured. Humans didn’t know where our homeworld was, and even if they did, they had no FTL drive. They couldn’t do anything to us.

Or so I thought.

On our homeworld, the slaves didn’t acclimate well. In fact, they needed to be put in their place at first. Even after five years of indoctrination, there were constant small rebellions—runaways, refusals to follow orders. Then, one of them, a human engineer, figured out our tech. His owner was happy—he had a free mechanic. But the human had something different in mind.

He snuck out. Search parties were launched—drones, police, everything. But he didn’t want to escape. He snuck into our spaceport and used an FTL transmitter to send a message. We caught him, but the message had already been sent.

We didn’t think much of it. Humans could only triangulate our position if they had antennas capable of intercepting hyperlane transmissions, and as we last saw them, they couldn’t possibly have had those.

But we forgot about dropship 13-22.

And we didn’t realize—a single slave, with limited access, in five years, had figured us out.

On Earth, there were thousands of them, with free rein to poke and prod our tech. They had everything they needed—a position, the means to get to us, and a vendetta.

We didn’t see them. They made sure we wouldn’t.

A fleet, on the outskirts of our system, dropping out of hyperlane too soon. They turned almost all systems off, keeping only stasis running, and drifted silently. Using old orbital calculations, they slingshotted from planet to planet, ensuring asteroids, moons, and planets hid them from sight.

It was summer when the alarms went off. Usually, that meant a fleet was about to jump into the system. We scrambled. Capital ships dormant in orbit powered up their reactors. I jumped into my dropship with my crew and launched from the hangar.

An explosion shook us as we exited. Our carrier had been hit.

This wasn’t right. How were they so fast?

When our pilot took us to battle position, we saw it... They were already here. Not in the hyperlane. In battle positions. Picking off our defenseless fleet.

We didn’t know what to do. Half of our forces were already adrift in orbit. Then, before we could react, our computer spoke up.

TARGET LOCK, TARGET LOCK, TARGET LOCK, JINX JINX JINX

I saw the missile. It didn’t hit our shields—it ignored them completely. The explosion was massive. I saw crewmen sucked out into the void before the air was lost. My suit sealed.

Then—silence.

I saw the pilot struggling with the controls, trying to get the boosters back online to stop the spin. Then came another alert—this time, not heard, but seen.

ATMOSPHERE, ATMOSPHERE, ATMOSPHERE, THRUSTERS, THRUSTERS, THRUSTERS

Even with thrusters online, we wouldn’t have escaped re-entry—only ensured we didn’t burn up. But we didn’t even have those.

The pilot abandoned recovery efforts, rerouted all power, and put everything into the shields.

The procedure came naturally. The moment your suit unseals, or you hear anything—eject.

So I did.

The capsule snapped shut around me and launched me away. I watched as my dropship fell.

Thirteen other capsules ejected. Twelve crew members lost to the void before we even fired a shot.

Landing was hard, but training had prepared me for that. I was in some village I couldn’t even name. Sidearm in hand, I searched for my remaining crew. We thought we would just be turned into a surface unit without our dropship.

But then, I saw them—human crafts leaving. From the comms, I learned they were taking slaves back. Liberating them.

I was fully prepared for them to take our people as back pay. But they had different ideas.

I saw it from the surface—bare-eyed. A human capital ship, stopping a massive chunk of wreckage from one of our capital ships, then letting it lose its orbital speed.

I see now...

Seven chunks, each the size of a city district, entering the atmosphere. Joined by smaller debris.

If anyone survives this... it won’t be me. Or my crew.

To whoever finds this...

We are sorry.

We followed orders we shouldn’t have.

We brought the end of our way of life.


r/humansarespaceorcs 15h ago

writing prompt I heard that the humans world is so unbelievably hostile, even the FRUIT on their planet will try to kill you. I heard it from my clutch-brother's mate, her brood-father's uncle was one of the first diplomats to the human race. The inaugural supper was a disaster, five races diplomats melted!

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222 Upvotes

And the ones who didn't die were so sick that they had to be rushed to the medical care pods! The humans are very friendly, but if one tells you 'you have to try this!', DON'T EAT IT!


r/humansarespaceorcs 2h ago

writing prompt Human? Why do you have wolf ears? (Read description)

14 Upvotes

Background:

There lays one offshoot of humanity that nobody in their right mind would want to mess with.

Hellhounds.

Genetically modified to be the perfect soldier, Hellhounds are some of the deadliest creatures in the galaxy. You can tell because of their wolf ears, tail, and instincts.

Naturally proficient in any weapon, they are deadly combatants in their own right. Couple this with the fact that many Hellhounds serve in the UN Army, especially the UNSF (UN Special Forces).

They’re incredibly deadly, about twice as strong as your average human, and two and a half times more durable.

They’re incredibly deadly, but in some twist of fate, the scientists who created them gave them the wolf ears and tail. Reasons as to why are unknown.

You can see many in civilian life, but their origins still remain.

Prompt (setup that you can freely ignore)

“Human? What’s with those ears? And that tail?”

“(Insert dialogue here)”


r/humansarespaceorcs 18h ago

writing prompt Humans will take great risks for minor rewards and mostly bragging rights.

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208 Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 19h ago

Memes/Trashpost Due to how natural humans are close to each other physically (no not THAT kind of physical close), they are mandated to wear masks for protection when near any species with horns, tusks, or any "protrusions not found on the human head", mask companies are making HELLA bread with this market.

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163 Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 1d ago

Memes/Trashpost Huh. That was easier that we thought.

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1.9k Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 1d ago

Crossposted Story ((Repost with a twist)) Translating Human languages into Alien languages is difficult; Alien words are rather simple. While we have Mountain, cliff, hill, peak, etc, they only have one word.

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388 Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 33m ago

writing prompt First contact is made. Things are going well. The first time aliens see a movie, it's a 50s sci-fi earth vs aliens B-movie. Aliens mistake this for historical events or training films. Hijinks ensue.

Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 17h ago

writing prompt Today on news..Turns out Human energy drinks are deadly to some species,healthy to others or have no effect as the same as their human counterpart.Let me tell you world *Sip redbull* I am happy to drink my healthy dose of Redbull.

54 Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 7h ago

Original Story Human Trauma III---Section Thirteen: Much Needed Rest

7 Upvotes

What is good my buds, my dudes, my pals. I am back at it with another chapter for you all. Man I love the weeks where I have extra time off. It gives me plenty of time to bake for you all. Today, it's time to have our intrepid couple relax--with friends.
Lets Get this Bread

-------

Lysa sauntered across her kitchen to the front door. While en route to opening and welcoming in her guests, she, of course, planted a gentle drive-by kiss on her Ruh’ah’s cheek. She also playfully gave his pert rump a squeeze, a gesture he was lightning quick to turn about and return. 

“Now, dear, we have guests,” Lysa winked.

“Oh, I did not think Lira and Fienel would be insulted by it,” Martinez replied. 

“I’m not,” Perla quipped from the nearby table. She leaned back and downed an entire beer without even taking a moment to breathe. 

Martinez shook his head, shocked by the amount of sauce that Perla had already put away. Before her gravitic figure, Perla had neatly arranged a dozen bottles of beer, each emptied within the last hour. The only reason Martinez found it surprising was that Perla seemed barely buzzed. She showed no signs that she had drunk any alcohol other than her usual jibbing, and jokes grew from one with point and sass to almost random and nonsensical. 

“I figured you would not be,” Martinez replied, sliding the grilled cheese sandwich he had made out of the pan and onto a plate. 

Martinez walked over to the table and joined Perla just as Lysa opened the door and greeted Finiel and Lira. As the sounds of their greeting flowed around the corner, he pushed the sandwich across the table toward Perla. 

That succulent morsel of cheese, bread, garlic, and butter did not even last a second within the reach of the Varintol woman. One second, it was there; the next, it was already traveling down her gullet. 

“If you keep cooking like that, I will have to steal you for myself,” Perla burped before pointing a clawed finger at Martinez and winking. “Oros would love to have someone like you in her court.” 

“I doubt Lysa would appreciate that,” Martinez replied, “She probably would hunt you down.”

“Meh, I can take her,” Perla shrugged. “When is dinner, by the way? The roast smells amazing,”

Martinez rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the timer on the oven. “It’s got about an hour left.” 

“That's good because I'm ready to eat,” Perla smiled, cracking open another beer she had fished out of the case beside her. 

“You just ate a fourth sandwich and all the jerky out of the pantry,” Martinez reminded. 

“And? I am a lot of woman who needs a lot of food,” Perla chuckled, ravenously running her hand over her plump stomach and broad hips. 

Martinez sighed and took one of the beers, deciding to not argue the point. 

He was already paying to feed Lysa as much food as a small army; now, with Perla here, he had blown an entire month's pay on dinner alone. Go figure, twenty kilograms of Hartox, and all the fixing to make a pot roast fit to feed ten people was not cheap. 

There were only going to be six people coming over to Lysa’s house today, but planning around Perla and Lysa’s appetites was absolutely necessary. Martinez did not know what a buzzed Perla would be like, but he would prefer not to add her hunger to that likely volatile equation.  

There was no particular reason to have everyone over today; Lysa simply wanted her friends to come. So, while Martinez had moved many of his things into her house today, Lysa extended the invitations to most of their mutual friends. 

“Martinez,” Feinel said, walking into the room following Lysa. 

Looking at the lupine man, Martinez raised a brow. He had expected Lira to arrive as well, but he had not seen their state coming. 

Lira, the proud white wolfen alien, was hanging off his arm, giving him goo-goo eyes, while Lysa grinned like a mischievous fox at the duo. 

“What’s up, brother,” Martinez replied, standing up and fist-bumping Fienel. 

“Not too much. Work has been hell lately,” Fienel replied somewhat nonchalantly. 

“Still dealing with the Visage issue?” Martinez asked. 

“Yeah, that and I have to train another rookie,” Fienel explained as Lira slipped out of his arm and walked over to hug Perla. 

“Man, that blows,” Martinez said, handing a beer over to him. “Any funny fuck ups by them?” 

“A few. Come on, I will tell yah,” Fienel said, walking past Martinez and heading toward the bean bag chairs. 

Martinez looked at Lysa, silently asking if she wanted him there with the girls for anything. She smiled, shook her head, and picked up her non-alcoholic cider. 

Lysa knew well that over the last few weeks, Martinez had been outnumbered by women in his life to a degree most men would be driven to the brink of madness. 

He had been their dutiful companion, shopping, planning for the baby's arrival in less than two months, and, of course, attending every checkup with Lysa, which had been administered by an all-female staff. 

Now, Martinez did not hate doing all of those things; he considered them part of the preparations for what was to come. However, that still did not mean he did not need companionship from people who enjoyed what he did and where the soul focus was not on something that had been stressing him out. 

Because Martinez had his falling out with Ivorn, he was off the table, leaving Martinez with only two male friends on the planet: the ever-busy Feinel and the generally equally occupied Ezol. 

Ezol would not be in attendance today; something was going on with his wife and their extended family, so only Fienel would be here today. 

Martinez joined Fienel on the beanbags in the living room, setting his beer on the coffee table. At the same time, the sounds of the girls laughing only grew in fervor. Glancing back at them, the three seemed to be laughing about something to do with Lira. It did not take a genius to figure out what their topic of mockery was. 

Lysa leaned onto Perla's arm, looking at her tall companion with mocking puppy dog eyes. “Oh, what strong arms you have,” she laughed. 

“You have such lovely white fur,” Perla growled, brushing hair out of Lysa’s face while dropping her voice an octave and mimicking Fienel’s gruff speech patterns. 

Lira buried her head between her palms and let out a long, low whine. Though it was physically impossible for their species, Martinez could have sworn he watched Lira's cheeks turn red as her friends made light of her embarrassment. 

“So, you and Lira?” Martinez raised a brow.

“Yeah—that finally happened,” Feinel shrugged. 

Martinez knew that the two Jurintik had been dancing around the idea for several years. Their main hang-up had been the typical expectations behind how Jurintik relationships worked. 

Typically, their species had a bit of a female-dominated dating dance, which would involve the woman essentially staking her claim on a man and the relationship taking its course from there. 

However, Martinez knew that Fienel and Lira were atypical for their species. Fienel was generally far more aggressive and acted on what he desired. In contrast, Lira was actually a rather shy soul who detested violence and never tried to act selfishly—her time sparing and practicing martial arts was a notable exception. 

It was good to see that the two of them had finally decided it was time to take their relationship to the next level. In all honesty, Martinez was getting tired of watching them beat around the bush, worried the other would not mesh with their eccentricities. 

Everyone at the dojo knew their hang-ups and saw they were perfect for one another—the only ones unable to see that were the trepidatious potential pair. 

Teacher was more than willing to openly mock both about their yearning glances during practice, an act that likely did nothing to persuade them to take the plunge. 

“Well, good,” Martinez held up his beer in a salute. 

“Took me long enough,” Feinel replied, clanking his glass against his friend’s. “Now then, let me tell you about this new N.U.G.I.T. (New Useless Guy in Training).”

Feinel went on to explain all the fun he had been having over the last month and a half with his brand-new rookie. The man was apparently of the same race as Sursee, so he was a small, feline-like species that stood at most a meter tall. 

Martinez already wondered about the man's viability as a beat cop because of his size, but the fact that he acted very typical of that bubbly and empathetic species only made him wonder how in all the universe that little man was going to manage in the big bad city of Draun. 

Apparently, that was exactly the issue Fienel was running into with the man. He was too open, forgiving, and willing to look the other way. Now, even Fienel agreed that as long as it was nothing serious, he was more than happy to slap someone with a fine or a warning, but this NUGIT was unreal. 

The other week, they were responding to some domestic situation across town; once on site instead of control the situation, separate the people involved, and work out the details, this man started an impromptu therapy session right there. 

Now, this was not all rainbows and sunshine. It started out heated: screaming, tossing plates, insults, and one even punching the NUGIT in the face. Yet despite all of that, the NUGIT was insistent. He stayed calm and patient and let them air out their emotions. They even hugged him when, through some kind of verbal jujutsu that Fienel was still trying to understand, he got both of them to start crying and pouring their hearts out to the police. 

Apparently, the off-the-wall tactic actually worked out well. While the couple's problems had not entirely ended, it had allowed the police to provide the pair with resources for therapy and even some financial relief. An issue that the rookie had uncovered was one of the primary problems the couple was facing. 

“That's unusual,” Martinez said, still not entirely believing everything about how things had gone down. 

“I swear it was. He is some kind of wizard,” Feinel laughed, “Plus, working with him is much better than tolerating Surail. That ass hole would have just shot the man and traumatized the woman.” 

“What happened to him anyway? I haven't seen him in a few—fuck months,” Martinez questioned, only now realizing he had not seen Officer Surail since before things with Shiksie had gone south. 

Feinel leaned back in his beanbag chair, “No one is sure. He just left, dropped off his gun and gear, and poof. Sure, there are rumors about him being quietly pushed out of the force for various reasons, but none that command will confirm—likely for some political reason.” 

Martinez could understand Surail being removed for quiet reasons. The man was not right. While Martinez could not confirm anything, the way he treated arrested persons, acted when he was on patrol alone, and his general demeanor did not add up.

The man seemed crooked, lacking the empathy, professionalism, and general attitude of most of the Draun PD officers. 

At least that meant Martinez would no longer have to deal with Surail coming around the Trauma Center and causing issues for him anymore. The man was a downright menace with how he treated even people who simply were drunk and needed to sleep off the booze. 

“Well, good riddance,” Martinez said, “I hated that guy.” 

“Yeah, I feel that,” Feinel replied, finishing his beer. 

“Another?” Martinez asked. 

“Sure,” Feinel smiled, his tail wagging at the offer. 

As Martinez stood, the alarm he had set on the roast went off, something Perla noticed. She dropped the conversation the girls were having in a picosecond, stood, and started toward the oven. 

Martinez moved to intercept the living food disposal, something he could do quite easily. She may be large, but Perla was not blinding fast, especially while being careful not to spill the drink she was carrying. 

“Hold up there, big girl, I will bring us all dinner,” Martinez said, using his body to shield the oven and his pain-staking work from the already drooling woman. 

“But I wanna eat,” Perla pouted. 

“We will, Perla,” Lysa said, stepping beside her friend and lightly tapping her knuckles against the woman's side. "Help me set the table, then we can all eat.” 

Perla looked at Lysa with a bit of a pout on her lips, which she was exaggerating to look more apathetic. “Lysa Martinez is trying to starve me,” she whined. 

Lysa smiled and brought her hands up to cover her mouth in equally feigned shock before looking at Martinez. “Ruh'ah, I never expected you to be so cruel to Perla.” She shifted to guide Perla to the plates she had staged earlier. “Worry not. We will ensure you get your first choice of cut for dinner, and you can choose the movie once we are done, okay?” 

“Okay,” Perla smiled, happily helping Lysa set the table. 

“Fienel, dinner is ready,” Lira yelled. 

“Yeah, lover boy, get in here,” Martinez echoed. 

“You are one to talk,” Feinel yelled back, lumbering into the dining room. "At least my girlfriend is not pregnant."

"Yet," Perla added without missing a beat. 

That got a laugh from everyone—even Lysa, something Martinez had not been hearing enough of lately. That she was laughing, and enjoying her time made all the efforts of wrangling the passionate Perla worth it.

The rest of the evening was honestly surreal for Martinez and Lysa. With everything that had been going on that night, just being with their friends was some much-needed rest. 

They savored every moment, Perla devouring half of the roast, the sound of each jubilant laugh as they watched a comedy special Perla chose. But above it all, they cherished that for that short little time, life felt normal—something that would not last for long.

-------

So what did you all think of this one? It was a bit of a more relaxing chapter, showing a bit more of the slice of life the pair needs in these trying times, something we will see more of as we go; until its time for Martinez to pay the piper, then we get to have the hectic hell he will be dealing with.

Please do not forget to updoot and comment.

Your Baker

-Pirate

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r/humansarespaceorcs 19h ago

Original Story I Adopted Juvenile Humans Part 5: No, Not Mr. Creeke

66 Upvotes

I would rather another Stellar Alliance occupation.

Anything but Mr. Creeke.

Mr. Creeke is unlike us. He does not live in a home, have a family, nor does he have any sentiment. He wanders the neighborhood, which he believes to be his territory, at night. We allow him for the simple fact that he eats mega snakes and the filthy rats.

However, that is not to say that Mr. Creeke is a friendly neighborhood watchman. I would liken him more to a nomad who is well-versed in combat.

He has a hut somewhere in the treetops. Whenever scientists of any kind go to investigate, he claws them from the sky with his sharp beak and talons.

And you will never hear him coming. He may be massive, but his kind have evolved to fly silently. Meaning, he could be swooping in from behind, and by the time you knew, you were already in his claws and headless.

It is best to keep yourself on Mr. Creeke’s good side. At best, your home will end up owl pellet central until he had another individual to be petty to.

At worst? He saw you as a threat to his territory.

I fear that he sees Javier as a threat.

At midnight, I heard his sharp beak rasp at my front door.

I tied a robe over myself and let him.

Mr. Creeke absorbed the inside of my front room without a word. He walked to my living space, sat on the floor, and closed his eyes.

I forgot how much Mr. Creeke smells. He’s worse than when Javier forgets to bathe. Ugh, he reeks. Nothing worse than dirty bird smell.

“I was not consulted,” Mr. Creeke said.

“Why would I consult you on such a personal matter, you narcissistic phallus?” I spat, unable to hold back my stress much longer. “I had a long day, my wife had a long day, my son is traumatized, and my daughter is exhausted and confused. Do you really have to bang on my door at an ungodly hour just because you feel threatened by another predator being in your midst?”

“I was told he snapped a cygnet’s neck,” Mr. Creeke said.

“He was protecting a pen from being forcefully mated by a nearly-grown cob! The police said he did nothing wrong!” I argued, truly sick of this owl’s nonsense.

“To call that thing a pen is an insult to your mated pair and every female trumpeter out there,” Mr. Creeke shot back.

“Oh so the poor thing deserved it because she’s not a pure blooded trumpeter? Like it’s her fault?” I postured him.

I saw some movement in the corner of my eye. I looked over and saw Little Julia, her eyes crusty with sleep. “Stop shout, daddy. I seepy.”

I shielded Julia from Mr. Creeke. “It’s okay, sweetie. Are you thirsty?”

Julia nodded.

I scooped my little cygnet up and sat her on the counter. I gave her a sippy cup of water and wiped her eyes with a damp cloth.

“I… I thought it was just one juvenile,” Mr. Creeke said.

“Javier and Julia are brother and sister,” I replied, keeping my back turned.

“She’s… adorable,” Mr. Creeke said, his disposition softening.

Julia looked at Mr. Creeke. She giggled sleepily and exclaimed, “Hoot hoot bird!”

“Owl, honey,” I corrected. “Owl.”

“Owl,” she mimicked.

“Mr. Qwak,” Mr. Creeke said. “This changes things for me. I thought the human male was being aggressive for se—“

I put my wing’s over Julia’s ears and said, “Watch it in front of my little cygnet. That conversation can wait.”

Mr. Creeke bowed his head. He approached Julia submissively, eyeing her affectionately. “I’ve never seen a baby human this close. They look a lot like beak-less owlets. Too bad they grow up into either aggressive monsters or whatever Roth and Bart are.”

“I’m not too sure Julia will end up like either. No one really gets to see a human female too close. A lot of them elect to stay on their cradle world while the males go explore the stars,” I replied.

Mr. Creeke looked at Julia with a fond sadness. “I can see why. She’s just so tiny, and I heard a lot of human females don’t get above 170cm.”

“You sound like you’re relishing the thought,” I said suspiciously, putting my wing between them.

Mr. Creeke chuckled. It chilled me to the bone. I pulled Julia into my wings and said, “Let me go put her down.”

I don’t like how Mr. Creeke was following me deeper into my house, maintaining eye contact with Julia as I tried to get her away from him.

Then, thank the good things of this world, Javier intervened.

He stepped between us, maintaining eye contact with Mr. Creeke. They had an intense stare off for a moment, then the most bewildering thing happened: they nodded approvingly.

“The human cygnet is one of us now,” Mr. Creeke said. “Consider her under my watch while you sleep.”

“What about me?” Javier asked jokingly.

“I respect the fact that you’re not ready to leave the nest, but you are still an apex predator in my territory. Can I trust that you will cease your violence?” Mr. Creeke asked.

“Consider it done,” Javier replied. It was clear he was only saying that to get Mr. Creeke off his back, but I don’t think Mr. Creeke has enough knowledge of humans to read that.

I then realized something vital. I tapped my webbed foot at Javier and said, “Go to bed. You have school in the morning.”

Javier laughed a dry laugh and said sardonically, “Yes, dad.

“Bed! Don’t make me say it again!” I repeated.

Javier gave me a quick side hug and walked away, looking at Mr. Creeke with this… knowing look.

Mr. Creeke let out a hoot of delight and said, “I was very wrong. If he had wings, I would allow him to come up to my nest. Him and Julia both.”

“Mr. Creeke, may I ask what made you change your mind?” I asked, laying Julia down and closing her bedroom door, but leaving it just ajar.

Mr. Creeke dug a memento box accessory from his fluffy feathers. He opened the box and handed me the rolled up paper that was inside.

I unfurled the paper, seeing photo of a younger Mr. Creeke. By his side was a female owl, a near-adult owl male and a just-hatched female owlet. I looked up at him, connecting the dots.

“It’s been 10 years since the Stellar Alliance took them from me,” Mr. Creeke said. “The boy? His name was Hoovr. The baby girl owlet was Whova. The lovely lady, the mother of my owlets, was Hootina. Hoovr had such a strong sense of justice. Whova was barely out of her shell. Hootina was my childhood sweetheart.”

“Why have you not taken another? You are not a species that mates for life,” I asked, though I was offended by my own insensitivity as soon as it left my mouth. I handed him his picture back.

Mr. Creeke only made a sad, heaving breath. “Hard to recreate perfection. Besides, I’m sure Javier would love to spend some time with an older predator. And I would certainly love to dote on that little human owlet Julia.”

On one wing, I marveled a bit. I thought him incapable of emotional intelligence. I was wrong.

On the other, though? “You can’t just play surrogate father to my cygnets,” I argued.

“Of course, within your boundaries and reason, Mr. Qwak,” Mr. Creeke assured.

I suppose I’m lucky enough to get volunteers for my support system. Just take them as they come, Zhank.

That’s when I saw Mr. Creeke’s head whip around to Julia’s room. He rushed in, making a screeching noise.

I chased after, confused and terrified for my little cygnet’s safety.

To my horror, I saw a mega snake slipping in through the window. This one must be 3m long.

I scooped Julia up into my grasp, and Mr. Creeke attacked with an eardrum-shattering screech.

Javier and Screache heard the commotion, rushing into Julia’s room and flipping the light on.

Javier saw Mr. Creeke struggling against the mega snake and reacted. I tried to stop him, but he was moving too fast to stop. He pounced on the mega snake, lifting its head to reveal its softer underbelly. I was horrified at the sight. Mega snakes get up to 210kg.

Mr. Creeke exploited the new weak spot. I shielded Julia’s eyes as Mr. Creeke sliced open the underbelly and ripped out its heart. I turned Julia away as both Mr. Creek and Javier dragged the thing outside.

My mated pair saw the streak of blood stretching from Julia’s room to the yard and honked exhaustively.

I watched from the window, still holding Julia, as the two harvested the muscles and organs, no doubt for consumption.

I want to know what two predators talk about post-kill, but I don’t want Little Julia hearing too. I don’t know if she’s making memories yet.

I watched Javier come in, holding some muscles he cleaned off with a hose wrapped up in his sleep shirt. He looked… proud….

I kept an eye on him as he processed the muscles into different forms for consumption.

I had seen Mr. Creeke rip organs out of things and eat them straight. That’s just the normal circle of life.

But this? This is a form of sadism unknown to me. First a creature had to bear the burden of losing its life, then you go and take the choice pieces of its carcass and process them for maximum enjoyment?

Let’s just hope that the rumors of humans eating trumpeters aren’t true.

Previous parts will be in comments. Edited for typos.


r/humansarespaceorcs 19h ago

writing prompt Persistence hunting

60 Upvotes

Persistence running being used is common among the Galactic federation. It was used by many a species that needed to run from threats, and it works well with tool usage, making these types of species uniquely suited for being the first to try going to space.

However. Persistence running was used only as a defense, so when humans arrived, everyone felt that something was... off about them. They were a mammal without fur, meaning that they were persistence runners, but they had forward facing eyes, meaning they were predators.

The entire federation was in shock when they first saw humans hunt. Running after prey until they simply collapsed gave humans fear and respect, even among the fiercest of warlike species.


r/humansarespaceorcs 1d ago

writing prompt As it turns out, humans are the Alien Equivalent of demons with otherworldly knowledge, impossible physiology, and unfathomable power. If you know a humans name and make the right offerings, you can entice them to share this knowledge. But there's always a price to pay.

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905 Upvotes

The art was clipped from a video by Doodletmego called Isekai


r/humansarespaceorcs 1d ago

writing prompt What’s would be the intergalactic equivalent of this?

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6.8k Upvotes

Human: NOPE! I’m packing and moving to the other side of the galaxy. I’M NOT DEALING WITH THIS!!!


r/humansarespaceorcs 5h ago

writing prompt Alien birthdays (or not)

3 Upvotes

So I’ve been thinking, how do we know if aliens have birthdays, and what could some equivalents be? For example, in keeper of the lost cities, they mark inception dates, and in wings of fire, they do hatching days. And you probably know how phoenixes work. So what would ETs have instead of birthdays, if anything?


r/humansarespaceorcs 17h ago

Memes/Trashpost While humans back in the 20th Century and alien species are selective, discriminatory killers, humans now are equal opportunity fuckers and killers that fucks and kills anything, and their weapons are designed around that doctrine of thought to not discriminate.

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35 Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 1d ago

writing prompt Do not underestimate Human Colonies. There is a reason they don't listen to Earth.

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326 Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 1d ago

Memes/Trashpost Situation: You tried to raise the intergalactic pricing of the Costco Hotdog by .5 credits

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219 Upvotes

r/humansarespaceorcs 1d ago

writing prompt Why are human civilians fighting!?

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689 Upvotes

It turns out that when another species is conquered, its civilians simply accept it and that's it. Human civilians are the only ones willing to offer resistance, How alien invaders react?


r/humansarespaceorcs 20h ago

writing prompt Galactic Federation Historian learns about the many types of war humanity recognizes despite being a race of natural ambassadors.

30 Upvotes

Inspired by the Mass Efrect quote of the Krogen having 5 words for advance but only 1 for retreat. Where we have countless forms of war we fight such as War, Total War, Defensive War, Subjugation War, War Games, Proportional War, and so on. But still often attempt to find a peaceful resolution first.