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triflesandparsnips:

rinneavicula:

captainarwenpond221b:

anexperimentallife:

frowningfoxbones:

agentquinn:

sepulchritude:

my fav trope is like, nonhuman characters not understanding human needs/customs but still being super supportive of their human companion

“look what I found while exploring this planet’s surface!” “kilrak please I’m trying to sleep” “ah yes your human circadian rhythm. *stage whispering* I am supposed to be quiet during this time in your rhythm, yes?”

“the book I purchased on ragnok V says humans require physical touch when upset. therefore, I shall engage in a ‘hug’ with you.” *supremely awkward five-armed hug ensues*

*human sneezes* “OH MY GOD SIL’EEN GET THE MEDIC OUR HUMAN IS DYING”

“this pamphlet I received recently says that humans require companions and packmates in the form of small earth creatures. you should have told me this before we departed earth, but it is no worry. we will have to stop at the next trade planet to get you one of these ‘cats’ or ‘dogs’.”

imagine the aliens really purchasing a kitten for one of their rough and world-weary scifi badass human companions and watching in helpless wonderment what ensues 

“she’s been cuddling that small animal for the past fifteen minutes just going ‘kitty, kitty’. did we – did we break our human?”

a more seasoned alien puts one of their tentacles around the younger one as the rest of the team gathers to watch their human make kissy noises. 

“no, kilrak,” the alien says. “we did good.” 

“Human-Steve! I have heard that today is the anniversary of your hatching! According to my human culture pamphlet, it is customary to set a sugary pastry on fire while chanting your species’ growth incantation and presenting sacrifices wrapped in shiny paper. I am afraid to ask, in case this ritual is sacred and this request therefor insensitive… but may I be allowed to participate? It sounds much more fascinating than molting.”

“Human Steve, I have read about your ritual dance called ‘The Hokey Pokey,’ performed mostly at mate-bonding celebrations after the guests reach an elevated level of intoxication. But Human Steve, how do I know WHICH left foot to put in, put out, and shake all about? I do not… Human Steve, why are you laughing?”

“Human-Steve, you are… you are eating, but it is not one of your ritual fueling times. Are you dying? Is everything alright? Have you not been receiving enough sustenance? Do I need to get you better things to eat? Human-Steve, why are you trying to hide that food?”

“Human-Steve, my research has informed me of a grave oversight in your care that I, as your companion, have made! Thus, I have gathered collections of fictional human literature to read aloud at the time of your bed. Which is more to your liking: “The Care and Keeping of Cacti” or “1001 Crossword Puzzles?” Human-Steve? Human-Steve, I am serious.“

“Surprise, Human-Steve! I have been reading my sensitivity manual, and I know that you have an important human celebration today! Please come to the commissary, where you will find eight combustible insect by-products, ritual recitations of religious significance set to a diatonic scale, artificial Leporidae and bird ovum, decaying coniferous plant life, displays of mutilated gourds and human decomposition cycles, and a meat-bird in a fruiting tree. We cannot wait to break open your sovereign pastry to locate the fortune-giving homunculus inside!”

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