gyzym:

It is a tale with many names–you may have heard it once or twice. They speak of Snow White and the dwarves that loved her well; they speak of Snow White and the huntsman who could not bear to kill her; they speak of Snow White and the Evil Queen, and expect you to nod along. Snow White, that paragon of virtue, that beautiful, beautiful girl, felled by an apple and saved by a man (and oh, isn’t than an old story). 

Lore is kind, isn’t it–well, isn’t it? Is it better that our children smile at the end of the story, that their dreams are unmarred with the trail of blood that might be more honest, that they grow up around that which is gentle, instead of that which is true? They say history repeats itself, and there is certainly no arguing that; perhaps lore isn’t kind. Perhaps, in fact, it is dangerous. 

Whatever the case, this is the tale of she who came to be called Snow White, and the tale of the woman who loved her. Be not fooled by the trappings history has provided: this is an assassination story. 

Keep reading

mynuet:

jewishbookwyrm:

dangerouscommiesubversive:

robotversusmars:

humans-are-seriously-weird:

Ok but imagine how the aliens would react to the idea of the “mom friend”. Like the crew is losing their mind over the fact their human is reckless, doing so many dangerous things that would have killed any other race but of course it’s fine because it’s a human and those things are so hard to kill anyway.

The only planet that is a danger to a human is the one it came from.

So when the human-Kat comes into the control room with that adorable hopeful face a lot of the crew members are instantly on guard. The last time Human-Kat had that expression they almost lost Xe’rex to the waves of that one planet that Human-Kat just had to “Surf”.

“Can my friend Lola come meet us for the 34-OJ mission? She’s right in our pathway to that new planet? Please?” Huamn-Kat says and though they want nothing more then to say no, the crew of 626- Launch can’t say anything else other then yes.  They know how humans react when left alone for too long. Humans claim that their greatest criminals are placed in “solitary confinement” as punishment which goes very far to show how much bonds affect their life spans.

Human-Kat needs human interaction to stay alive and sane (or as sane as humans can be)

So the crew  agrees to have Friend-Lola on the voyage, slightly terrified of having two humans. But when the new human arrives it is not what they expected.

“Kat, have you finished your paperwork? Come on man, you know it’s due in like a day. Get on it.”

“Whoa dude, I love you ok. But no. You are not going to go surfing down there. It’s for your own good.”

“Girl you got the promotion?! Yes! Ok Ok! We need to celebrate with girls night in!”

“Hey I have some tissues in my bag somewhere hold on. There ya go.”

“Look at this game I picked up on RE-vr’. It’s just like Cards against Humanity but space!”

“Go. To. Sleep. Kat.”

“Remember that pact we made in high school? The one where I would stop you from doing something that will get you arrested or killed? Yeah well I’m calling it into action and saying that you do not lick anything on a unknown planet!“ 

This Human…holds common sense? That is possible for that race?!

After Friend-Lola leaves they ask Human-Kat about this and she merely laughs while swiping through photographs she had taken with the other human.

“Well Lola is the mom friend.”

And the crew of 626-Luanch are so confused because they have already seen photos of Human-Kat’s birth givers and they look nothing alike not to mention Human-Kat already has a Mom. Do humans have more then one “Mom”?

“Oh you know a mom friend is the one friend in a group that keeps everyone else from dying.” Human-Kat jokes.

But the crew is amazed. They have learn the reason humanity haven’t killed itself off. They send a message to every out post in the area.

If xe have a human on-board make sure that they are accompanied by a Mom Friend. These are the humans in charge of keeping other humans alive and well-behaved. 

@dangerouscommiesubversive

Oh my god

@ginger-mum

The human classification system is in constant evolution, but the addition of Mom Friend has helped with establishing parameters for the care and well-being of human crew members. There have been cases of incompatibility, especially with sub-class Asshole of the designation Cranky, but the provision of a designated “Ship Mom” has generally created greater stability for vessels with multiple humans on board.

An important note for Mom Friend humans is that they must be provided with designated human crew to care for. Even with said provision, some will expand their interest to monitoring and nurturing all sapients on board. Such monitoring may include anything from restructuring the mess to provide optimal nutrition with occasional “treats” to engineering a way to ease molting with the application of a warm, nubby cloth and soft cooing. Some Mom Friends can be stopped from this; there is a ritual surrounding the phrase “I was just trying to help” that is still being investigated for potential use after it is properly translated and understood.

Care should be taken to ensure that Mom Friend sub-class “Mama Bear” is kept away from weapons storage if there is any interest in survivors after a ship is boarded. 

Any Mom Friend designated human using “that’s it” in a declarative manner should be treated with level III diplomatic protocols. If the phrase is accompanied by some variation of “had enough,” evacuation of the immediate area is advised.

dalekteaservice:

radioactivepeasant:

On the topic of humans being everyone’s favorite Intergalactic versions  of Gonzo the Great:
Come on you guys, I’ve seen all the hilarious additions to my “humans are the friendly ones” post. We’re basically Steve Irwin meets Gonzo from the Muppets at this point. I love it. 

But what if certain species of aliens have Rules for dealing with humans?

• Don’t eat their food. If human food passes your lips/beak/membrane/other way of ingesting nutrients, you will never be satisfied with your ration bars again.
• Don’t tell them your name. Humans can find you again once they know your name and this can be either life-saving or the absolute worst thing that could happen to you, depending on whether or not they favor you. Better to be on the safe side.
• Winning a human’s favor will ensure that a great deal of luck is on your side, but if you anger them, they are wholly capable of wiping out everything you ever cared about. Do not anger them.
• If you must anger them, carry a cage of X’arvizian bloodflies with you, for they resemble Earth mo-skee-toes and the human will avoid them.
• This does not always work. Have a last will and testament ready.
• Do not let them take you anywhere on your planet that you cannot fly a ship from. Beings who are spirited away to the human kingdom of Aria Fiv-Ti Won rarely return, and those that do are never quite the same.

Basically, humans are like the Fair Folk to some aliens and half of them are scared to death and the others are like alien teenagers who are like “I dare you to ask a human to take you to Earth”.

We knew about the planet called Earth for centuries before we made contact with its indigenous species, of course. We spent decades studying them from afar.

The first researchers had to fight for years to even get a grant, of course. They kept getting laughed out of the halls. A T-Class Death World that had not only produced sapient life, but a Stage Two civilization? It was a joke, obviously. It had to be a joke.

And then it wasn’t. And we all stopped laughing. Instead, we got very, very nervous. 

We watched as the human civilizations not only survived, but grew, and thrived, and invented things that we had never even conceived of. Terrible things, weapons of war, implements of destruction as brutal and powerful as one would imagine a death world’s children to be. In the space of less than two thousand years, they had already produced implements of mass death that would have horrified the most callous dictators in the long, dark history of the galaxy. 

Already, the children of Earth were the most terrifying creatures in the galaxy. They became the stuff of horror stories, nightly warnings told to children; huge, hulking, brutish things, that hacked and slashed and stabbed and shot and burned and survived, that built monstrous metal things that rumbled across the landscape and blasted buildings to ruin.

All that preserved us was their lack of space flight. In their obsession with murdering one another, the humans had locked themselves into a rigid framework of physics that thankfully omitted the equations necessary to achieve interstellar travel. 

They became our bogeymen. Locked away in their prison planet, surrounded by a cordon of non-interference, prevented from ravaging the galaxy only by their own insatiable need to kill one another. Gruesome and terrible, yes – but at least we were safe.

Or so we thought.

The cities were called Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In the moment of their destruction, the humans unlocked a destructive force greater than any of us could ever have believed possible. It was at that moment that those of us who studied their technology knew their escape to be inevitable, and that no force in the universe could have hoped to stand against them.

The first human spacecraft were… exactly what we should have expected them to be. There were no elegant solar wings, no sleek, silvered hulls plying the ocean of stars. They did not soar on the stellar currents. They did not even register their existence. Humanity flew in the only way it could: on all-consuming pillars of fire, pounding space itself into submission with explosion after explosion. Their ships were crude, ugly, bulky things, huge slabs of metal welded together, built to withstand the inconceivable forces necessary to propel themselves into space through violence alone.

It was almost comical. The huge, dumb brutes simply strapped an explosive to their backs and let it throw them off of the planet. 

We would have laughed, if it hadn’t terrified us.

Humanity, at long last, was awake.

It was a slow process. It took them nearly a hundred years to reach their nearest planetary neighbor; a hundred more to conquer the rest of their solar system. The process of refining their explosive propulsion systems – now powered by the same force that had melted their cities into glass less than a thousand years before – was slow and haphazard. But it worked. Year by year, they inched outward, conquering and subduing world after world that we had deemed unfit for habitation. They burrowed into moons, built orbital colonies around gas giants, even crafted habitats that drifted in the hearts of blazing nebulas. They never stopped. Never slowed.

The no-contact cordon was generous, and was extended by the day. As human colonies pushed farther and farther outward, we retreated, gave them the space that they wanted in a desperate attempt at… stalling for time, perhaps. Or some sort of appeasement. Or sheer, abject terror. Debates were held daily, arguing about whether or not first contact should be initiated, and how, and by whom, and with what failsafes. No agreement was ever reached.

We were comically unprepared for the humans to initiate contact themselves.

It was almost an accident. The humans had achieved another breakthrough in propulsion physics, and took an unexpected leap of several hundred light years, coming into orbit around an inhabited world.

What ensued was the diplomatic equivalent of everyone staring awkwardly at one another for a few moments, and then turning around and walking slowly out of the room.

The human ship leapt away after some thirty minutes without initiating any sort of formal communications, but we knew that we had been discovered, and the message of our existence was being carried back to Terra. 

The situation in the senate could only be described as “absolute, incoherent panic”. They had discovered us before our preparations were complete. What would they want? What demands would they make? What hope did we have against them if they chose to wage war against us and claim the galaxy for themselves? The most meager of human ships was beyond our capacity to engage militarily; even unarmed transport vessels were so thickly armored as to be functionally indestructible to our weapons.

We waited, every day, certain that we were on the brink of war. We hunkered in our homes, and stared.

Across the darkness of space, humanity stared back.

There were other instances of contact. Human ships – armed, now – entering colonized space for a few scant moments, and then leaving upon finding our meager defensive batteries pointed in their direction. They never initiated communications. We were too frightened to.

A few weeks later, the humans discovered Alphari-296.

It was a border world. A new colony, on an ocean planet that was proving to be less hospitable than initially thought. Its military garrison was pitifully small to begin with. We had been trying desperately to shore it up, afraid that the humans might sense weakness and attack, but things were made complicated by the disease – the medical staff of the colonies were unable to devise a cure, or even a treatment, and what pitifully small population remained on the planet were slowly vomiting themselves to death.

When the human fleet arrived in orbit, the rest of the galaxy wrote Alphari-296 off as lost.

I was there, on the surface, when the great gray ships came screaming down from the sky. Crude, inelegant things, all jagged metal and sharp edges, barely holding together. I sat there, on the balcony of the clinic full of patients that I did not have the resources or the expertise to help, and looked up with the blank, empty, numb stare of one who is certain that they are about to die.

I remember the symbols emblazoned on the sides of each ship, glaring in the sun as the ships landed inelegantly on the spaceport landing pads that had never been designed for anything so large. It was the same symbol that was painted on the helmets of every human that strode out of the ships, carrying huge black cases, their faces obscured by dark visors. It was the first flag that humans ever carried into our worlds.

It was a crude image of a human figure, rendered in simple, straight lines, with a dot for the head. It was painted in white, over a red cross.

The first human to approach me was a female, though I did not learn this until much later – it was impossible to ascertain gender through the bulky suit and the mask. But she strode up the stairs onto the balcony, carrying that black case that was nearly the size of my entire body, and paused as I stared blankly up at her. I was vaguely aware that I was witnessing history, and quite certain that I would not live to tell of it.

Then, to my amazement, she said, in halting, uncertain words, “You are the head doctor?”

I nodded.

The visor cleared. The human bared its teeth at me. I learned later that this was a “grin”, an expression of friendship and happiness among their species. 

“We are The Doctors Without Borders,” she said, speaking slowly and carefully. “We are here to help.”

magic-and-moonlit-wings:

In the heart of the fairy mound, there were two identical
cradles, each with an identical infant inside.

“One of these babies is the one you bore,” said a fairy.
“The other is the changeling we left. You may leave our hall with whichever
child you claim as your own. Choose wisely.”

“But they are both
my children,” the human mother protested indignantly.

The fairies whispered amongst themselves in surprise and
confusion. At last, one asked, “How do you mean?”

“I came to get back the child you stole from me, the one who
is mine by blood. I never agreed to give my adopted child back to you.”

Perhaps her words touched the fairies’ hearts; or perhaps
her stubbornness impressed them; or perhaps they simply found the argument
amusing, novel enough to merit a reward.

She left the fairy mound, an infant in each arm, and brought
them home.

shanastoryteller:

shanastoryteller:

the phrase “a fish and a bird may fall in love, but where will they live?” is literally begging me to write about an angel that falls in love with a mermaid

ok SO

the mermaids name is cora which is short for coral because some people just aren’t creative (THANKS DAD) and she’s the guardian of this tiny piece of salt river because the thing is mermaids aren’t creatures, not truly flesh and blood things. they’re water spirits, and some are old as time itself and others only live as long as a single season, born when a winter lake melts and they die when it freezes over again. cora is something in between, born from a dalliance between the Lady Ocean herself and a swamp merman a couple hundred years ago.

and there’s a war (there’s always a war) and she doesn’t like the blood in her river, the hoards of men messing up her precious ecosystems, the bodies decomposing in her river

and there’s this man, he comes carrying yet another rotting body to throw into her river and she has had enough. she’s not the styx, there’s no gate to the underworld in her depths, and if this pathetic excuse for an ape thinks he can continue tainting her waters unharmed he’s got another thing coming

so she raises herself up, and he cannot see her but he will feel it when she rips out his throat with her claws, and she grabs for his jugular when there’s a hand around her wrist, a burning grip that’s just below painful and it’s the middle of the night but she feels like she’s looking into the sun itself when she turns her face up to the thing that’s stayed her hand. “i would be much obliged,” a voice as deep and large as a whale’s call says, “if you restrained yourself. this man is under my protection.”

“well this river is under mine,” she snarls, “and it will last far longer than your man.” and she still can’t see a face, can’t make out anything through all the light, and she tries to tug her wrist away but the burning grip doesn’t budge.

“most spirits would be in considerable pain from my touch, mermaid.”

“i’m not most spirits,” she says, and the river twists and whirls around her. she creates a tidal wave in smooth flowing river, and most mermaids can’t affect their water this way, can only make a river act like a river or a pond a pond, but she is the daughter of lady ocean and exceptions must be made. that colossal wave encompasses and shoves this being from her and topples it to shore.

when the wave recedes there’s a soaked and blinking man staring at her from flat on his ass. “indeed you are not.” and then there are the dripping wings coming out of his back, large and almost white and contained in this small man is a power as terrible and deadly as her whole river. she’s already summoning another wave when he scrambles forward, arms raised, and he’s smiling at her, which is strange enough that she lets her river calm

that’s how she meets ramiel (”please call me rami”) and he’s a warrior angel that’s been put on guardianship duty. “punishment?” “ah, vacation, actually.” and this poor confused idiot who’s somehow got conscripted into a war is actually one of heaven’s prophets, which is like, unfortunate and all but doesn’t change that fact that this stupid war is polluting her river. for this, they must die.

and rami could probably smite her and call it a day, but she wouldn’t go down easily and the ocean would be quite upset with the messengers and warriors of the skies for harming her daughter, so all in all killing her is probably more trouble than it’s worth. so rami offers a bargain instead – as long as they fight and march along her river, he’ll help her keep it clean and her creatures safe if she’ll not kill them all. and it’s not a fair bargain really, because he’s an angel so his help is almost useless because what does a being of air and light know of limnology? but she accepts, for no real reason that she can think of, and thats how cora and rami pass the days of a human war side by side and slowly, unfortunately fall in love

immzies-adventures-through-books:

immzies-adventures-through-books:

 Once upon a time in a land far away, there was a girl with hair as silver as the starlight.

Every day she crept out of her village and walked to the hills just behind, to watch a flock of six swans fly above her and on towards the great river. And while she watched she collected nettles and stitched them into shirts. Every night when she crept back home, her hands red and itching, there were villagers there to tend to them.

She never spoke, this girl. She hadn’t spoken a word in the six long years she had lived there.

But to each person in the village she showed kindness. To each of them, she had shared a smile, and every person who saw it knew behind the gentleness there was a sadness.

So they looked after her without question, and they hoped that one day, she would trust them enough with her secrets, trust them enough to break her silence.

But she never did.

Sometimes when she was up on her hill, the children of the village ran around her, their laughter dancing in the air. She always kept an eye on them, the smile on her face, and she let them braid her hair while she worked.

But still, she never spoke.

Sometimes the young men who thought it upon themselves to give her their hearts strolled up the hill when the sun was high, baskets of food in one hand and a blanket under the other. The girl would smile and nod to them, and carry on with her task.

And still, she never spoke.

The villagers never knew what to do- but other than her hands each evening, the girl never frowned or looked hurt, she never cried or screamed. So they left her to her task- maybe when she finished it, she would speak.

The day she finished the fifth shirt, a stranger rode into the village.

A King from a distant land, one who had heard of the beautiful girl with silver hair and sorrow in her eyes. He believed himself smart enough, handsome enough to break her silence and get her to talk.

He walked up to her on the hill and sat down beside her.

Come and be my wife he said and you will never need to wear anything like this.

Her only reply was a frown.

Come and be my wife he said and you will never need to work like this again.

Her only reply was to turn back to her work.

Come and be my wife he said, and this time it was an order from a man not used to being refused.

And how could she refuse, the girl who never spoke?

He took her hand tightly in his, and stood up, pulling her down to the village where his horse was waiting.

And when the girl tried pulling back to her house, he only laughed.

You need nothing from there anymore he said.

And, tears dripping from her face as she thought of the shirts she had left behind, the girl was dragged from her home and to a Kingdom she did not know.

The swans followed. Each day on their travels she would look up, to see the six not far behind. But she could never say what she wanted- to the king that had stolen her or the swans that kept her secrets.

And when they got to the strange and distant castle, the girl was thrust into plans she had no words to stop.

What colour would you like the dress? What flowers do you like? What month do you want to wed? What vows would you-

The last one stopped the question, much to her relief, but they did not stop the other plans the King had ordered.

He loved her, he told her, he was blinded by her beauty.

But how could he love her when he did not even know her name, how could he love her when he did not know her voice? To him love was a sight, an object on his arm, and that was all he wanted- not her voice, her thoughts, her heart.

The day before the wedding, no one noticed her slip out of the castle, and run to the forest around it.

Her swans met her there, and she cried into their feathers, still careful never to make a sound. Then she met their eyes, and in her own was an apology that would never end.

Until one plucked a feather from his wing, and handed it to her.

She needed no words for this- she remembered the vow she had taken six long years ago, to never swap one life for another, but to break a curse the slow way, the long way, the way that never cursed another.

But she was as trapped as they were, more lost than she had ever been. She wanted her home back, her fire, her friends that never asked for more.

So she held her hands out, wordlessly, and the six swans filled them with their feathers.

And long into the night, she hid, her back against a tree, to make a shirt of swan feathers, not knowing if it would work.

But as the sun rose, on the day she was to become a queen, she clutched in her hand a shirt that was as soft as a cloud, and weighed little more.

She crept back up to the castle, and made her way to the King’s great rooms. No one stopped her- why would they- as she knocked on the door and was let in.

Her eyes went first to the window where she could see the swans gathering, then to the man stood by the bed. She held out her gift to him, a smile on her face- a smile she knew no man could resist.

You made it for me? He asked her, enchanted as he took it. I will wear it today, and treasure it forever.

She waved her hand to his chest, and he understood without words what she meant- to try it on now to make sure it fitted.

And he did. She turned away as he took off his shirt, and she heard his low laugh as she did. So modest, she heard him mutter as she walked to the window and opened it.

Then she turned back. She waited, worried nothing would happen.

But with seven blinding lights- one in front of her, six behind- she knew her curse had been broken.

You stole me She cried, her voice music even in anger You took me from all that I knew. You didn’t care for my sorrow, my tears, my secrets, you didn’t care for me at all. You wanted my beauty and nothing else. But here, King, is what I wanted. I wanted my voice back. I wanted my life back. I wanted my brothers back from who they were. I was so close when you took me- but you never even asked… and time was running out.

She heard the steps behind her, and hands on her shoulder

Little sister. Six voices as one, and she turned to smile at her brothers- who, for six years had been trapped in the bodies of swans- before turning back to the King.

To the only swan now in the room.

I had one more year and one more shirt to make, when you took me from my home. The curse was going to be broken forever. But you took me without asking what I wanted. So now, the curse is yours.

@marissaalyn , this is because of you, I hope you like it! 😀

 At first, the girl had been happy.

She had her family back, the only people she had ever cared about, the only people she had ever wanted. She had a home big enough for them- and for the villagers she went back for who had shown her so much kindness.

She was not just the beautiful caring silent girl- she was a Queen with land and family and power.

Power that meant she could outlaw magic, outlaw the evil that had cursed her and her brothers to start with.

But still there was something that felt missing. Something that just felt wrong.

Three short weeks after the curse had been broken, she was out riding in the woods when he came to her.

A swan with feathers as white as snow, with a rose as red as blood in his beak.

He laid it down at her side before giving her a look, one that stabbed her heart in a way she could not explain. The look said so much he could not say in words. I understand. I forgive you. Forgive me.

And a part of her- she felt cruel. After all, was she not just doing what he had done to her- changed her and taken her without a question?

But what she had done was worse. He had cared for her, about her, seen that she was happy as much as he could. She was safe in the castle and they loved her. Everyone loved her.

For her beauty. Not for her.

The next day, she ventured out once more, and once more the swan came to her, a bright flower in his beak.

But this time when he placed it beside her, she took a breath and said wait.

The swan pause.

And she spoke.

She told him of a distant land, with a king and a long dead queen. She told him of an evil witch who took her fathers heart and twisted it to ash. She told him of six princes, each who would one day try to fight for the crown, and their little sister, the princess, who would have to watch them. She spoke of how none of them wanted to fight. How they loved and adored each other too much to care for a crown and a throne and a title.

Come back. Tomorrow. She told the bird. And I will tell you the rest.

And the day after, she did. She spoke of the evil witch who wanted the power herself, who stole the prince’s lives and turned them to swans, and she told of how the princess begged and begged for a chance to get them back. She told of the loophole- the silence, the shirts, and the ticking time she had to break it in. And she told of the other- darker- loophole, of exchanging their lives for another.

And still the swan looked at her, without judgement and without hate, and still it came to her day after day, with a gift in its beak for her.

Seasons changed. And with it, the gifts. Flowers turned to golden leaves, then to the last blade of grass to survive.

And in the winter, its wings dripping with rain and snow, the swan still came back to her,

Until, three days before his year was up, one of the brothers found the girl sobbing in her room.

Break it. He urged her, hating her sadness, knowing the cause and the problem. Bring him back, little sister. For him and for you. He comes to you day after day, after all this time. Is that not what love is about? Forgiveness and patience, no matter what? Break it.

And so, for three days, her brothers helping, the girl searched the land for the right kind f nettle. And then she sewed and sewed, her hands red and itching and burning, until one shirt was sat in her lap.

And she waited.

And waited.

The swan did not come to her, not that day or the next. But still on the last day she waited, refusing to give up her hope.

And as the last rays of sunlight were dying, he landed by her side.

And she threw the shirt over him.

Light flooded the land around them, and she covered her eyes. And then she heard the laughter, felt cool hands covering hers, pulling them down- though she closed them once she realised the boy- King- in front of her was naked.

Thank you he whispered and I’m sorry. Forgive me? Stay with me?

And the girl smiled, saying words that once she would not have thought of, but ones that meant she had a choice. Yes. I’ll stay.

tosety:

eyeslikejules:

humans-are-seriously-weird:

I was thinking about the post suggesting humans would be to aliens like mythical Fae creatures, and this idea popped into my head.

So we’re stuck on the very outskirts of the intergalactic community and we’re a young race and very little knowledge about us has reached the main players on the intergalactic political stage. We’ve only had contact with our closest neighbours, who are a friendly enough bunch and have helped us along with technology and such, but we’re still working out some internal violence between nations, and having befriended us this little neighbouring Galactic race mostly leaves us alone to sort out our shit. But we like them so we give them the means to contact us with an offer to help them if we ever can.

A century or two later and we’re still not very involved outside our own planet but we’ve basically fixed our infighting and we’re working on building our fleets to go further and discover more. Our friendly neighbours get attacked by a warlike race bent on controlling this Galactic back water to use as a base for greater conquests, and things are going badly for them. In a last ditch effort to save themselves, they call the humans. They think that at least they can evacuate their weaker members to earth so not all their race will be enslaved or killed.

Queue a full on “the beacons are lit, Gondor calls for aid” moment – the newly formed coalition of human nations remembers the kindness of this species that was their first encounter outside their own planet, and they send an army.

And so our friendly neighbours find to their astonishment that they accidentally befriended Space Orcs who arrive on the Galactic stage in spectacular fashion by totally annihilating their fearsome attackers, and suddenly all the other Galactic nations want to ally with this backwater so the can get on the humans good side because damn they don’t want those scary humans to turn on them.

Haha imagine basically having no frame of reference for what intergalactic weapons should be so we just do what we can and we go into it going, “well hopefully we can help but honestly their weapons will probably be way more advanced” but like, by accident we just have these ridiculously powerful, unstoppable machines and blasters and weapons. And everyone is just like wtf these weird fleshy things(humans) are terrifying. But then all the other alien nations try to do research into our cultures and our origins and they find the Star Wars movies. And they see the Death Star. And they all come to the conclusion that humans have come from a different universe where they were conquerors and they have now moved on to this universe.

Nah, we would ask for every scrap of info they have on their attackers.
What size are their ships?
What kind of weapons and how many do each class of ship have?
Are they using standard ftl and how fast can they go?
What sensor arrays do they rely on? Do they have any blind spots? Are there senses they don’t have?
How do they respond to requests to parlay/threats/surrender?
Do they wipe out other species or enslave them?

“Why do you want to know? All we are asking for is your help evacuating our planets.”

“Why wouldn’t we want to know our enemy? How are we supposed to help if we don’t know about them?”

Then, having formulated a battle plan, the humans seem to have become an entirely new species overnight. They send ambassadors to the invaders and offer an alliance. Have they betrayed us?

Nope, but this species who has always valued honesty and fair play apparently lies through their teeth when angry.

Human warships appear out of hyperspace alongside the invaders, but before anyone can even process what’s going on, the human ships open fire on the invaders.

It’s a complete rout and we now are thankful for the humans, but also scared shitless because “what if they’re lying to us?”