#he was one poor movement away from becoming fried chicken. maybe it would have been a kinder death

[ashwayssunny]

macdennis prompts: - first kiss (very cliche but,,,) - the gang finds out 💕💕💕thank you

@bruisedandsweet here you go! thanks sm for requesting a prompt, i hope u like it 😌

1998. 

It was winter of that year, a particularly terrible winter that brought snow and winds that toppled half of South Philly’s power lines, snapped them in half like petty twigs. January had been mild enough to trick them, but February brought chaos with it, ensuring that the two of them were trapped in their apartment with no power until the plow trucks could get on the roads. Mac didn’t seem to mind. He’d constructed a light source of birthday candles from years’ past he’d found scavenging in their junk drawers. He made a mental note to visit a Bath and Body Works as soon as he could escape, sure that the light from a big three-wick candle, or any other light source, would be better than this. The birthday cake candles, however, were all they had. 

The gas heating kept them mildly warm, but the storm had weakened it, allowing the cold to creep in at the corners of their apartment and spread like fog. Dennis had grumbled that he had several heated blankets but no electricity to use them, and Mac held his tongue from replying that there were other methods of sharing heat. Instead, they sat in the middle of their still fairly empty living room, a thick quilted blanket from Dennis’s college dorm spread across both their shoulders, though they sat just far enough away to share heat without sharing skin. They faced the TV despite its uselessness and made room for the leftover bucket of fried chicken they brought home yesterday before the storm trapped them inside. Dennis found himself reaching for the remote every few moments or so before he remembered and folded his hands back in his lap to keep them from wandering. They sat in the dark like this quite often, he supposed, because they both liked to watch movies in the dark. Dennis had bought them a fancy new DVD player and a sloth of their shared favorite films, and it had become routine for them to come home from the bar – which they owned, he thought with a small thrill – and watch Predator. He wished they could do it now. 

Mac was speaking to him softly, strips of orange runaway light from the window laying like road lines across his smiling face. His eyes glittered in the darkness, and Dennis wondered what it was about this scenario that leant to such an expression. The tips of his fingers were far too chilled, and there was a dull thumping ache behind his left eye. Sugar and tequila, Mac tsked at him that morning. 

“… anyway, Dennis, I think a mechanical bull would be, like, a really cool way to get chicks into the bar, you know, and Charlie agrees with me –”

“A mechanical bull?” Dennis chuckled, tuning back in. 

“Yeah man, can you imagine how sweet it’d be to, like, have a bunch of chicks watch you conquer a bull? I mean, what could turn them on faster? That’s called primal arousal, dude.”

“Or it could be a total disaster,” Dennis retorted, “and then it’s a bunch of chicks watching you fall on your ass. Besides, I feel like mechanical bull upkeep isn’t cheap.”

“The thing will pay for itself, Dennis, I promise you.” Mac shifted, reaching down and grabbing a drumstick. They couldn’t warm them, of course, but Mac was enough of a savage to eat things cold on a regular basis. He brought it to his mouth and chomped intermittently, and Dennis had to look away. He hadn’t realized he’d been looking at Mac’s mouth. 

“I hope the storm lets up soon,” Dennis sighed, bringing the quilted blanket in closer to his chest. “I can’t deal with the no electricity thing much longer.”

“I’m sure the road people will be out in no time,” Mac said with total assurance, and Dennis smiled in spite of himself. The candlelight made him sleepy, and the shadows it cast on the wall made him want to dream. He wasn’t sure of the time; they hadn’t been able to move much more in on account of the bad weather, so their couches and various knick-knacks remained in storage. The frost had crusted so thickly on the window that morning that he feared they would have to pick it off to keep it from cracking the glass. Once they’d seen that, they settled in, playing board games, drinking, smoking a few joints, and repeating, until time was gone. “Mac,” Dennis said without meaning to.

“Mhm?”

“What time is it?”

“Uhhhh, I think it’s like two,” he said contentedly. Dennis noticed he’d scooted just a fraction of an inch closer. He didn’t mind. 

“Jesus,” Dennis said, glancing around the room. The candlelight didn’t reach the corners of the apartment, keeping them shrouded in darkness. If Dennis stared hard enough, he swore he could see movement. He completed the inch by moving just a fraction of a hair closer to Mac. 

“This place is really great,” Mac said, breaking the stillness.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, just…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the rest of their shared space. “I really like it here, you know? Good location, good price –”

“Not that you pay any of the rent,” Dennis interjected, though he was mostly joking. 

“Bro, don’t worry, I told you I’d get it to you! Once we install the mechanical bull…” Mac continued on, but Dennis found himself looking at his lips once more. It was innocent enough, he told himself. Mac was so warm beneath the blanket, radiating heat like an old furnace. In contrast, Dennis was cold most of the time, but Mac’s warmth was never far away. 

“I like it here, too.” Dennis said simply, pressing his shoulder to Mac’s with the lightest touch he could manage. When Mac didn’t flinch, he relaxed a little more, and his skin prickled at the points where their flesh made contact. 

Mac turned his body almost imperceptibly towards Dennis. “Are you cold, Den?” 

Dennis shrugged. “Always.”

Mac hesitated for just a second before reaching an arm around Dennis and drawing him in closer. Dennis could taste the thickness of the little space left between them like pea soup. Maybe just once, he thought, just to try. I won’t know if I never try, right? 

Mac’s eyes were round like the moon, candlelight dancing in his pupils, when Dennis leaned in, eyes drifting shut. Mac sucked in his breath, his heartbeat bursting into a sprint like a race horse fresh out of the gate. He felt outside of his body, watching Dennis inch closer until there was the faintest, softest brush of something –

Like the stab in his gut, Mac pulled back, releasing the breath he held in several shaky gasps. “W-Whoa, what –” 

Dennis blinked at him in genuine surprise for a moment before his face contorted into something more akin to scorn. “Well, I just –”

In an instant, the atmosphere was broken, and the meager candlelight served only to remind them that they were simply poor and not bohemian. Mac stuttered but could form no coherent thoughts, and Dennis felt heat rising to his cheeks from a growing pool of anger in his stomach. 

“I think I should go to bed,” was all Mac could muster, standing and shrugging the blanket off his shoulders. He avoided Dennis’s blue gaze, so piercing even in the dimness, and beelined for his room. “Goodnight, Den.” The door shut behind him as quickly as he’d said it, and Dennis sat in the living room with the blanket and the dark apartment making him feel like the smallest object in the world until dawn. 

2018. 

Dennis couldn’t believe how similar the scenario was. Same apartment, though by now it had been burned and rebuilt twice, stocked and restocked with everything they’d collected in twenty years of cohabitation. The South Philly power grid had once again been rendered inoperative by heavy snow, and they were forced once more to exist by candlelight, though this time Mac had plenty of large three-wick candles on hand. They’d been totally alone the first time, however, and Dennis wished that were the case when he began to hear the combined snoring of Dee, Charlie, and Frank in the other room sharing his bed. They’d all been drinking in Mac and Dennis’s apartment when the storm reached its zenith, and Mac threw a fit at the idea of them departing into such dangerous weather. He was their bodyguard, after all. Dennis had elected to sleep on the couch, but the combined snoring grated on his eardrums far too loudly to allow him any rest. 

In a true act of hypocrisy, Mac had ventured out into the storm to visit the corner store in the hopes that the owners’s commitment to staying open twenty-four hours, seven days a week, was steadfast. If this is gonna last all weekend, Mac had said to them, we’re gonna need beer. Lots of beer. Dennis and Charlie each thought about volunteering to accompany him until they caught sight of the nearly six inches of snow obscuring their view from the apartment windows. Charlie had gone to bed hours ago, however, and Mac hadn’t returned. 

Dennis pulled a blanket over his shoulders, propping his feet up on the coffee table. He closed his eyes, relishing the brief moments of silence, when the lock on the door began to rattle. Dennis’s eyes popped open as soon as Mac’s form appeared in the doorway, caked with snow and dripping but smiling all the same when he saw Dennis. 

“There you are,” Dennis said softly. “Tell me you got the beer.”

Triumphantly, Mac held up two plastic bags containing twelve packs. Dennis broke into a grin, though his chest began to tighten. Mac kicked off his shoes, shut the door, and plopped down next to Dennis on the couch. “You’re getting snow everywhere, asshole,” Dennis jabbed.

Mac ignored him, wiggling his way underneath Dennis’s blanket as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do. “Sorry, dude, I’m freezing. But at least we have beer.” Mac placed a twelve pack on the coffee table in front of them, removing two frosted cans and handing one to Dennis. They cracked the tabs open simultaneously, knocking back hearty swigs. Mac broke first, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and letting go of a small burp. Dennis finished his can in one impressive motion. Mac grinned at him, and Dennis thought it could’ve been twenty years ago. “Nice,” Mac said simply, and the warmth in his stomach began to spread. 

“Thanks, man,” he attempted to grin back. Mac was looking at him then, studying his face in a way that made Dennis uncomfortable. He squirmed a bit underneath the blanket, buzzing with a sort of energy whose origin he couldn’t place. “What?”

“You look tired, bro. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Do you not hear the monstrosity coming out of there?” Dennis jerked his finger in the direction of his bedroom. “Do you think I can sleep in that environment?” 

Mac shrugged, and Dennis knew it was because he was a heavy sleeper. He always had been, even in high school when he and Charlie would stay the night at Dennis’s house. Mac would melt like a heated metal into his bed, lost completely to the world despite the hell or high water that frequently broke the silence in Dennis’s home. Whether it was his parents fighting, Dee crying in her bedroom, or a combination of the two, Dennis could hear them through the walls as easily as if they were made of paper. But not Mac. Mac could sleep through anything. 

“You could… sleep in my bed,” Mac said measuredly, tasting each word as if he wanted everything to feel just right on his tongue. “If you want,” he added quickly, “you know, to escape the noise. I can take the couch. I know you can still hear it out here.” 

Dennis almost smiled, but the casually placed grimace he’d adopted as his neutral expression was difficult to move. “Maybe,” he conceded, suddenly aware of how tired he actually was. His eyes drooped, and blinking in the candlelight only made him want to sleep. Without warning, Mac’s hand was on his face, curving around his cheekbone so lightly, so gently, it could’ve been the touch of a spirit. Dennis’s eyes opened wider, but Mac’s were fixed on his mouth. Dennis’s mind went blank, his only thought being that it was okay, they were safe in their home, and no one was watching. He tried to place no meaning on the moment, vowing to omit it from his memory, when Mac’s lips finally touched his and neither of them pulled away. 

Mac’s skin was cold; Dennis shivered when they made contact, but Mac’s hand stayed firmly planted on his cheek. Dennis wondered how different their lives would be if this had happened twenty years earlier as it was meant to. Pushing that thought away, he curled his fingers into the hair at the nape of Mac’s neck and pushed them closer together, deepening the kiss. Mac’s lips were a bit salty, and both of their breaths tasted of beer, but Dennis didn’t find it unpleasant in the slightest. He even found himself beginning to smile into the kiss when an auditory gasp that belonged to neither of them nor a voyeuristic spirit broke their concentration.

They detached immediately, both their heads whipping in the direction of the noise. Frantically, their eyes searched the darkness until they made out the figure of Charlie leaning against the doorway of Dennis’s room. “Holy shit,” Charlie’s grin was big enough to make out the glint of individual teeth in the moonlight, and neither had time to say anything before he turned to the darkness of Dennis’s room and shouted, “Dee! Frank! Pay up, suckers, I was right!” 

[thetaleofsirthopas]

Cake and Fallout: For Fanfic Authors Who Want a Little More Authenticity in Their Fanfics

With all the hype of the new Fallout game, I’ve been reading a lot of fanfic and there is one thing that I see crop up a lot that always makes me sit up and go “huh?” and that thing is: cake.

It usually goes something along the lines of: Sole decides to channel her 1950s pre-war housewife skills and bake an amazing cake using post-apocalyptic ingredients. It’s perfect, everyone is amazed, it somehow tastes delicious despite the lingering hint of radiation. Hey, it’s fanfic, if you want your Sole to be the reincarnated Martha Stewart bashing in Kellogg’s face with a rolling pin, go for it! My only problem is that there appears to be no sugar in the Fallout universe (unless you count the 200 year old processed sugars found in Sugar Bombs and the like but I don’t think that would make for a good cake).

Sugar comes from either sugar canes or sugar beets (neither which have made an appearance - mutated or otherwise - in the games as far as I am aware). Now, this wouldn’t be as much of a problem as one would think. While Asia has enjoyed sugar for millennia, sugar is actually a relative newcomer to the Western diet. It wasn’t used as a sweetener until the middle ages, and even then it only became commonplace after 1500 and the establishment of the American colonies. Prior to that, the average European used honey as a sweetener.

... Except honey doesn’t seem to exist in the Fallout universe either. Bees appear to be extinct (although a case could be made that bees (or some other pollinating insect) still exist by virtue of the existence of hubflowers and carrot flowers - after all, all flowering species would have died out if they could not pollinate - and that it is apiculture that has gone extinct and not bees).

But dammit we’ve got food porn to write, so what can we use?

MAPLE SYRUP!

Far Harbor has “raw sap”, which appears to be maple sap. Now we have our basic ingredients: razorgrain, eggs, milk, fruit, and raw sap. With this we can adapt a medieval-style honey cake into a maple cake. Let’s go through the process of what it would take for Sole to make a cake.

(with guest appearances of Piper, Preston, Shaun, and others)

Flour

I am assuming that seasons still exist in the Fallout universe, and the lack of apparent seasons is merely the result of game limitations. So, first thing first, we got to get flour. Out behind Sturges’s house in Sanctuary, where the playground used to sit, is now a field of golden razorgrain. Sole planted it in the early days of November, not long after she had rescued Preston and his ragtag group of survivors from Concord and brought them home to Sanctuary. It’s July now and she can see the stalks nodding in the light breeze. She takes a kernel from the stalk - minding the pointy bits, its not called razorgrain for nothing - and bites down, feeling it crunch between her teeth. It’s time for harvest.

She wakes up early the next day to join Marcy and Jun out in the field. Scythe in hand, Sole makes continuous sweeping motions across the razorgrain, cutting the stalks in one smooth glide, until her shoulders and back burn with each movement. She’s only half-listening to Marcy as the woman continues to complain about the heat before switching to criticize her technique. After two days of reaping, the harvest is brought in.

It is spread out across the threshing floor (which used to be Mr. and Mrs. Able’s house, now reduced to only its foundation). Sole sets down her scythe and takes up the flail. She, Preston, and Sturges strike at the grain, loosening it from its husks. The process is long and hard and Sole hates it with every fiber of her being. At the end of a long day, they collapse on the floor of Sole’s house and eat what Codsworth gives them. They’re too tired to taste anything and when the soup hits their stomachs, they fall asleep. Codsworth wakes them up at four the next morning, and Sole staggers to her feet, every inch of her body protesting, and follows Preston and Sturges back to the threshing floor. By mid-morning, the Abernathys have arrived with a cart heavy with their own harvest. Blake goads Clarabell with a stick, Connie beside him. It takes Sole a moment to find Lucy. She snuck aboard the cart, half-hidden behind the mountain of razorgrain. Her father catches her and she jumps off, laughing. Lucy and Blake join them on the threshing floor while Connie helps Jun and Marcy with the other chores. A few days later, James and Susan from Tenpines Bluff appear. The threshing isn’t so bad now, now that there’s company to be had.

With the threshing done, they take up the winnowing fork and launch the razorgrain into the air. The chaff is blown away, leaving only the grain to fall back down. It is August by the time the work is complete. Relief and joy spreads throughout town. Sturges brings out the beer and the bottles of some homebrew he calls dirty wastelander. They gather around the old tree in the middle of town that they decorated with lanterns. Someone takes out a guitar and Susan begins to sing. Lucy is the belle of the ball and has her pick of men. She dances with them all, though Sole thinks that maybe Sturges has a bit of an edge over the competition. It’s the hair. The girls love it.

While everyone gets thoroughly, completely drunk, Codsworth throws his own little party with Ada and Jun. Neither Codsworth nor Ada are inclined to linger around a bunch of rowdy, drunk humans and Jun feels that he would only ruin the mood if he stayed. So together the three of them start a quilting bee. Sole had forgotten how nimble Codsworth’s claws could be; before the bombs dropped, in the days of rationing when you couldn’t find a pair of stockings even on the black market, Codsworth used to take the time to carefully mend her clothes and each stitch had been perfect and neat.

In the morning, everyone loads their share of the grain back onto their carts and begin their long trek over, despite the hangover they all shared. Except for Preston, who didn’t dare touch the stuff in case raiders attacked, and Mama Murphy who hadn’t actually stopped drinking. Hair of the dog and all that.

Sole ignores the pounding in her head and crawls out of bed, shoving a pair of sunglasses onto her face. Marcy gives her a bleary, dead eye stare as Sole sits beside her. The two of them set to work on their small hand querns, turning the headstone around and around to crack the grain. Jun walks by, looking as fresh as a daisy as he waves. The two women shoot him twin glares and he scampers off, leaving them to the grinding. Around and around, until it becomes flour.

Maple Syrup

When Sole returns to Sanctuary, it is February of 2289. Shaun’s hand is in her left, Nat holds onto her right and Piper holds the gun. They follow in Trashcan Carla’s wake as she goads her brahmin along the road to Sanctuary. When they arrive there are tears and shouts of joy. Sole is glad Codsworth can’t cry; he’d have rusted over long before now. Marcy is smiling as she sits on the floor and plays with Nat and Shaun. Sole doesn’t know if she’s ever seen her do that before.

It’s late when everyone finally goes to sleep, but Sole is still up before the dawn. She slips out from beneath Piper’s arm, tucking the thick quilt Codsworth and Ada and Jun had made the year before around her and the kids before sneaking out of the house. She finds Codsworth around back, feeding the chickens she had brought back from the Island on an earlier trip. She whispers a few words to him and together the two set out for the line of sugar maples just past the river.

She wasn’t sure if they were still alive or not, but as Codsworth drills into one of the trees she can see the sap running out. Sole hammers in the tap Sturges made for her and leaves a bucket hanging to collect the sap. She and Codsworth spend the morning tapping the trees, before returning to Sanctuary for a meal of pan-fried razorgrain patties and mutfruit preserves.

The next day the buckets are full of sap. Sturges and Preston get the fires going while everyone else hauls buckets back up to Sanctuary. Boiling it feels less like work and more like a party. Shaun and Nat have gotten hold of a pan and some corn kernels. They hold it over the fire and scream when it starts popping. The adults steal handfuls of their popcorn, which prompts to kids to flee with threats of dire retribution. They only come back when the boiling is done. Sole warns them back as she pours the hot, amber-colored syrup through the cheesecloth and into a jar. Shaun asks her why its called a cheesecloth. Sole explains that it’s used to separate whey from cheese curds. The curds are then salted and pressed into cheese, before being left to age. He asks how curds are made. Sole tells him that the milk is curdled by adding rennet to it. He then asks what rennet is and Sole explains that rennet is the stomach of a baby brahmin that has been dried and cut into pieces. Shaun stops asking questions after that.

Butter & Salt

In the first week of March, Clarabell gives birth. For all the years that have passed, Shaun’s own birth is still fresh in her mind, but it is quickly pushed away when she sees two heads pop out the poor brahmin. At least her baby had the usual number of heads to deal with. It’s a heifer and Sole offers to give Blake 500 caps for her next March after she’s been weaned.

A few weeks later, Sole returns to Abernathy Farm and Lucy shows her how to milk Clarabell and after they’ve collected their pails of milk they strain it and pour it into setting dishes. They leave the milk to cool and soon the cream rises to the top. They scoop the cream into small table-top churns and sit on the porch and churn and talk and churn some more. It is a slow, methodical process. Lucy talks about Sturges, Sole wonders aloud if it would be better to move permanently to Diamond City or stay in Sanctuary.

Eventually, Sole notices that there is something lumpy at the bottom of her churn and the two of them remove the butter they have made. They wrap it in cheesecloth and squeeze any excess buttermilk from it into a dish, before pouring freshly pumped water over it. Lucy then withdraws a small jar of precious salt from a locked cabinet. There is a maker’s mark etched into the pottery indicating it had come from Bunker Hill. They maker had taken water from the ocean, sieved it, and then boiled until most of the water had evaporated. What was left - a thick slurry of sandy water - was left to sit in the sun for several days until only the salt was left.

Sole and Lucy coat their hands in the salt and massage it into the butter to preserve it. After it is done Sole wraps her butter and takes it home with her to Sanctuary, along with a little bit salt the Abernathys had parted with for 50 caps and a gold watch.

Fruit & Eggs

June is a sweet and tender month and too quickly lost to the pains and labors of the July razorgrain harvest. Last June, she helped harvest the mutfruit at Sanctuary. She and Preston were like children playing in the bushes, eating as much as they picked. Some of the harvest were turned into preserves, but many of the mutfruits were laid on blankets to be dried in the sun. They covered them in a cheesecloth and left Mama Murphy to turn them and scare off any crows.

Preston gives her a bowl of dried mutfruits. Shaun and Nat had spent the morning hunting for eggs and chasing the rad chickens down the street. She had everything she needed.

The Cake

Sole supposes she could create a sourdough starter to make her cake rise now that it was no longer possible to pop down to the store and pick up some baking powder, but she her frowned at the thought of using sourdough for a cake.

Instead, she cracks the eggs and separates the yolks from the white by catching the yolk in her other hand and letting the white run through her fingers. She’ll need to get as much air as possible in her egg mixture if there was going to be any hope of getting the cake to rise. While she whisked the whites, Piper whisked the yolks. They did this for about an hour until it looked like they had two bowls of meringue. Piper collapses in a nearby chair and rubs her shoulder while glaring at Sole. Sole only grins winningly at her before moving on.

She gently folds the yolks into the whites, trying to preserve the air bubbles trapped inside. She whipped the butter, salt, and maple syrup together, hoping to create more air bubbles, before folding the eggs into it. Again, she mixes the flour in as delicately as possible. Finally, she stirs in the dried mutfruits.

Piper stokes the fire beneath the oven. Sole feels the heat wafting up from inside, and guesses it to be about the right temperature. She places the cake inside the old oven and now all that’s left is the waiting.

When she finally pulls it out, it didn’t rise as high as she had hoped for, but it still looks like a cake. She can only hope it tastes like one too. She drizzles maple syrup on top and takes it to Marcy and Jun’s house, where Shaun and Nat are playing. Shaun looks up when she enters, sees the cake in her hand, before breaking into a grin.

“Happy birthday to you...”

[projectstarskiesofficial]

Chapter 1. Crash Landing Adventure

A blinking red light illuminated the corner of the display, as the video jumped to life. In the centre frame sat a peculiar humanoid, pastel turquoise with pink markings. Their pastel purple hair draped across their shoulders, framing a small face with antennae and magenta pupiled eyes. They were not human, as the two antennae jutting from their forehead would indicate. They fiddled with a pearl on her dress, a proud look on her face. They cleared their throat, looking directly into the camera lens.

“Humans are fascinating beings… they have these ‘things’” she began, gesturing vaguely around the room.

“That can harm them in any way yet can be harnessed to make them stronger…I can never remember what he calls it” The creature pondered aloud, eyes glazing over slightly.

“Ah, right! I was told by my brother, an ‘observer’ of the armada to stay away from their ships. He… doesn’t want me to learn about them. He goes on and on about ‘look, don’t touch’ and how they’re incomprehensible. He just chose not to understand, he said it’s ‘easier’ when they leave.” The antennae drooped as they paused for a few seconds, the little red light highlighting the confused look on their face.

“They help him when he goes away to protect people, that I know. Apparently, one of his ‘kreksha’ *Interplanetary translators – close friend or trusted ally* had to be left behind and got tortured. Brother didn’t speak of them for weeks after that… It was sad”. The drooped antennae perked up again, as the creature smiled brightly towards the camera.

“I, Elorise, will explore and learn about humans regardless of what my brother thinks or… or even feels about it!” She announced with confidence. A small chuckle escaped her mouse-like lips.

“I guess this is what humans call ‘rebellion’. It feels fun, like adventure! Sara told me about this. Oh, she’s a human I’m allowed to talk to from his staff. She told me so much about humans and Earth. The beautiful green and blue, like a mix of emerald and sapphire from the Krenan home worlds. The people! The people who can stand and fight as one! Their culture that can be so different despite being on the same landmass! New histories and ways of life for every culture!” her voice quickened with excitement as she recounted what she had been told about their world.

“Tonight! Tonight, I sneak out and go to this ‘Earth’ to learn more about the humans and their cultures. Brother, if you’re watching this! Sorry and thank you! This is Starskies, signing off!”. The red light stopped blinking, as the footage automatically saved to her database. She was surrounded by a dazzling array of coloured switches and buttons, with a beautiful gen of blue and green awaiting her. 

“Astral Code AL-454, Sol system. Third planet from the Sun… This will be so FUN!” The small creature yelled to the internals of her ship. The engines hummed as the device shot forward, aiming at a large green patch in the northern hemisphere.

The house shook with the bass of low-quality speakers, drowned out by the tens of overlapping conversations. The air smelled of poor-quality liquor and bad ideas, as couples and groups entered the many private rooms of the estate. Plastic cups and empty bottles littered the floor and tables, painting everything in a sticky residue. In one of the few quieter corners, a mismatched pair of students attempted to communicate over the noise.

“Philip, you said this can help with my ‘metabolic development’. Why does it look like poorly packaged LSD?” said the larger of the two males, clearly untrusting of the second.

“Listen, Johnathan. I said it would assist with increasing the basal metabolic rate, which is entirely different” announced the second, struggling to yell over the ambient noise. His smart dress and tidy features clearly displaying him as an outcast in the scene. Johnathan looked at the strange white pills, weighing exactly how much he trusted this supposed ‘friend’. 

“I promise it’s made from entirely *natural* ingredients” Philip said, a thin smile creeping onto his face. The larger friend looked considerably more concerned, seeing this. 

‘Is he trying to kill me, drug me or use me as a guinea pig?’ thought repeatedly, questioning whether it *really* was a good idea asking Philip of all people for help.

“You’ll be fine, just take one and go for your normal run. I promise you’ll feel the difference. Don’t you trust me?” conversed Philip, seeing his friend look progressively less ok with his concoction.

“I’m gonna have Zach burn all of your Science Weekly if anything happens” Threated Johnathan, a small glint of murder in his eyes.

“SOMEONE MENTIONED ME” yelled a dark-haired frat boy, entering the room with gusto and a drink in each hand.

“Zach, I need you to bully this nerd if I die tonight, capesh?” said Johnathan, standing to greet the new entry to the conversation.

“Always a pleasure, my man. How do you guys like the party? Wait! Let me guess” yelled Zach, feigning the movements of a daytime TV ghost whisperer.

“You!” He stated with flourish, gesturing towards Philip “Think this is a waste of time, effort and ‘precious brain cells.’” He said, mimicking with a poor posh English accent.

“And you!” he continues, even grander than before towards the muscled macho man “Are counting the calories so hard, you haven’t even touched your drink yet. I mixed protein into it. Just. For. You” each word drawing him closer, his smirk growing broader. 

“It’s been great, I checked out the ‘healthy’ platter. On what planet is chicken nuggets, fries and deep-fried potatoes healthy?” retorted Johnathan, barely fazed by the counterpart’s flamboyant actions.

“I mean, technically speaking, with an infinite number of planets, any number of species could find that healthy…” mumbled Philip, used to talking to himself. He found it worked to talk to the smartest person in the room, to keep him sane. 

As this conversation continued, a buzzer went off from Johnathan’s watch, interrupting the mood.

“Well, it’s ten. Time to go for the run. We good for tomorrow at yours?” questioned the jock, rising from the couch.

“All good” “Of course” confirmations echoed from the other two in the room, as he made quick strides to leave the house. Johnathan glanced at the pills one last time, deeply hoping he wouldn’t regret it later as he swallowed them in one gulp.

The brisk night air felt fantastic on the flushed body of Johnathan. He swept the soaked black to white hair away from his face, checking his watch to see his time. 

“Eighteenth lap, twelve more to go” he said, pacing himself to restore his breathing. It was close to his personal best… maybe Philip was better than he thought. He prepared for another lap, as something caught his eye. A shooting star. It was beautiful, streaming slowly across the sky…

“Is that thing getting bigger?” He asked, increasingly more concerned. The meteor was careening through the sky, aimed directly at the Arcadian University back oval. The only concern for Johnathan was

“Shit, shit, shit shit, SHIT I’M GONNA KILL THAT NERD” he screamed, as he dropped his watch and ran away from the projected impact site. Deep in his heart, he figured he was probably drugged. It just felt like something Philip would do. “I need to understand the effects of psychostimulant drugs on the active mind, it was for science” he would say. 

Johnathan rounded the corner, eyes bloodshot with the feeling of pure murder as the world began to shake. He tripped and crashed straight into the pavement, feeling the shockwave of the ‘meteor’ beneath his face. He got up, staggering from the impact. His vision blurred, headache pounded, finally noticing the bloodstains on the ground.

“That’s… not good,” he said, feeling the blood slowly flowing from his temple.

“AH, bitch!” he exclaimed, as a new wave of pain washed over him. His vision began to clear, the pain giving him clarity.

He remembered that something crashed near the oval, he was probably drugged, and he’s got to find a place to bury a small nerd.

“Shit, the watch. That was a gift” he mumbled, words becoming more difficult to string together as the seconds ticked by. He shuffled back to the site where he dropped it, barely being able to move his drooped head. His vision blurred slightly, as pain continued to throb around his entire body. 

“Where is it, Where is it, Where is… Thank god” He sighed, falling to the ground, attempting to collect the keepsake. The digital ticks echoed in his mind, mixing with the noise from the blood hitting the pavement. His eyelids felt like lead weights, requiring more and more focus just to stay awake. Stumbling forward, Johnathan finally noticed the cause of the impact.

Twelve feet in diameter, eight feet tall and smoking from multiple broken panels. The ship was half buried just beyond the oval, poorly obscured by the woodlands. His eyes shot open, feeling far too conscious for the stress he was under. He struggled to jog forward, the grass and dirt seeming to warp underneath his feet. 

In what felt like an instant, he arrived at the vessel. The door was already forced ajar from the impact, taking barely any effort to open. Johnathan’s body felt like it was operating before his mind processed what he was doing. In another blink, he had dragged out a small, feminine creature. They were a full head shorter then he was, with a body in a beautiful swirl of pastel colours. Another blink, he had laid her against a nearby tree. She seemed uninjured, but he couldn’t tell anything more than superficially. 

He felt the solid thud of his body hitting a nearby tree, his impressive body failing him. He felt for his phone, attempting to call anyone. Philip, Jacob, even the twins. Anyone.  He saw the line connect, fighting his body with every breath. He didn’t hear anything, so he mumbled a single phase.

“Back of the oval, help”.

Jacob was always a quiet child, something that only increased as he grew into adulthood. While not physically small, his quiet nature usually leads him to be unnoticed in groups. His piercing blue eyes and black hair tend to frighten off the majority of people, seeing him as ‘unnatural’. 

He met Philip when he protected him from some elitist pricks. The quiet nature of Jacob suited Philips’ nature of asking questions without expecting answers. He was slowly introduced to the rest of the group, as he filled the role of moral compass. His disapproving gaze had become the only thing that could stop anyone stuffing Philip into a locker when he really deserved it. On this particular night, he accompanied his friends to Zach’s house party. The third one that week. 

As per usual, he relegated himself to the quietest room in the house. His disapproving glare had probably stopped multiple people from making mistakes they would later regret. He felt a small comfort in this, like a dad seeing their child finally start to make not shit choices with their life. As the night crept forward, Jacob made the sensible decision to return home. His mother had just gone to work at the hospital, so the house was depressingly empty. The silence weighed on Jacob, feeling unusually more emotional than regular nights.

‘Perhaps the dosage would have to be increased again?’ he pondered, staring at the pill bottle of Prozac. He had been put on them ever since his father died. As he strolled into the kitchen, a small note made him smile gently.

‘Eat well, Sleep better and study will be easy!’, a favourite line from his mom. It warmed the heart of Jacob as he sat down to reheat his dinner. 

Just as the microwave hummed to life, a familiar tune played from his phone.

‘What’s John calling me at this time?’ he thought, accepting the call.

“cough cough Back of the oval, help” he heard, his heart rate skyrocketing from the state of his friends’ voice. He dashed out the house, sending a message to the group to meet him there immediately. He didn’t normally do this, hopefully it would make them come quicker.

Jessie and Zach were cleaning the house when the message came through. The twins, almost diametric opposites in appearance were doing what they normally do at this time of night.

“I didn’t touch her, Jess. She came onto me because the drinks you mixed were too strong!” argued Zach, his black hair shaking as he ran from his twin sister.

“I don’t care, she was my best friend! Dude, Imma bury you” She rebutted, her pink hair trailing behind her as she attempted to strangulate her brother. 

“You’re just mad it was me, not you” He yelled back, laughing proudly as he ran through the house.

“YOU’RE DEAD MEAT” she screamed back, apparently not amused with his joke. She figured the blush was from the ‘exercise’ or the drinks. 

“GUYS, JACOB NEEDS HELP NOW” yelled Philip, interrupting the nightly entertainment.

The room went quiet, as both twins turned to him quizzically. They checked their phones and saw the notifications. The respective looks of amusement and bemusement both turned pale, the implication weighing heavily on them.

“I’ll get the truck, come on” stated Zach, his drunk façade falling quickly from his face.

“I’m not done with you, Zachary. We’re gonna talk long and crack properly about good etiquette” responded his pink haired counterpart, cracking her knuckles in preparation for something.

“I got the med kit, let's move. He wouldn’t say anything unless it was important” announced Philip, re-entering the room with a large sports bag.

The beaten-up truck pulled up to the oval, catching a figure with the headlights. Philip, as the only sober individual, was the driver. Jacob flagged them down, his face painted with disbelief and confusion. The trio exited the truck, rushing over to the stunned friend.

“Ay, buddy. You ok, what’s up?!” questioned Zach, panic clearly evident in his voice. “Where’s Johnny, did the drugs kill him? Did he kill someone and need our help to bury the body? Why wasn’t it Philip?” Continued the frat boy, shaking Jacob with every question

“Let him talk, idiot. Calm down. I’m more than ok with slapping you” interjected Jessie, clearly used to the ramblings of her brother.

“I think I’m on drugs…” mumbled Jacob, still not processing what he had seen. 

“What kind? How many? Where did you get them?” interrogated Philip, ears pricking up with the sound of his speciality. 

“I saw an alien trying to wake up John in the forest… I think I need more sleep” said Jacob, slightly louder. The insanity of the situation finally setting in.

“Hello friends, I think your human friend needs help” stated a high-pitched unknown voice.

“In a second, Jacob is talking in full sentences. Hey, can you say ‘Aliens are real’ in that deep voice again please? I NEED it” conversed Zach, drawing closer to Jacob with a devilish smile growing on his face.

Jacob pulled back from Zach slightly, not comfortable with the violation of personal space. “Um… Guys? That’s the...”  

“ALIEN” yelled Philip, coming back to reality. 

A pastel swirled humanoid stood shorter than the present party, magenta eyes opened wide in excitement. Her antennae began to bob up and down as she struggled to contain her excitement.

“Um…Hello?” said Jessie cautiously

“IT’SSONICETOFINALLYMEETYOUMYNAMEISELORISEIAMSUPERINTERESTEDINYOURKIND.ISITWRONGFORMETOCALLYOUAKIND? PLEASEFORGIVEMEBUTI”MJUSTSOEXCITED” ranted the small alien. Her face began to flush harder and harder as she continued, “WHATAREYOURNAMES, WHEREAREYOUFROM,CANYOUSIGNMYDATAPA…”

Thunk

…

“She fainted from not taking a breath… adorable” replied Jessie, a loose grin forming on her lips.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt but I’m here as well” announced another voice from the forest, deeper and significantly more understandable.

“Johnathan!” everyone conscious yelled in surprise, suddenly remembering why exactly they were summoned.

“Yeah, not dead. Feel like I should be. What do we do abo-oof” John was cut off by a strong hug by Jacob, forcing him into the air slightly.

“Aww, look at the couple” pointed out Zach, in his usual smarmy fashion.

“So, what are we doing about the alien?” asked Philip, tired of being relegated to the background.

“She doesn’t seem dangerous. We’ll take her to my place. Most room and least interference” suggested Jessie.

The collective confirmation cemented the plan, as a lack of eyes was the smartest choice.

A childish alien sat alone, the dull grey feeling like a weight on her chest. One of the featureless grey walls was broken apart by a single, large mirror. She couldn’t help but wonder why she looked so large? The reflection smiled back at her, waving cheerfully. The smaller of the two aliens drew herself tighter, attempting to ignore the reflection. 

The reflection stood up, five other creatures coming into focus. Their faces were blurred, but they were all taller than her. The small alien got up and walked to the mirror, curious as to why the perspective didn’t change. Just as she reached the mirror, a voice called out from the other side of the room.

“Elorise, come on. It’s time to wake up” The tall creature said, with a hint of warmth in his voice. She looked back to the glass, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when she saw her normal reflection. The other creatures disappeared. 

“Elorise, it’s time to wake up” stated the figure, rapidly descending into a shadowy form.

“Ḯ̴̬̹͚̙̗̟̰͓̅̀̍ͪ̈̚t̸͙̟̹̘͉̝̯͖̎͘͢'͇̰̼̖̙͛̔ͬ͋ͦ̀s̷̢͙͐ͬͧ ̢̛̯̟̎ṫ͂̆̊͏̵͈̝͚̟̖̹͍̞͎͠i̸̱͎͖̭̥̹̯̻͎̋̄͊̔͌̿ͪ̉m̼̩̪̙͔̟͎̻̓ͭ̿̓͟͠e̵̜͙͒̈́͊͛̌̚̚͘ ̡̫̋̂̈́ť̳̞͉̤̥̱̳͇̓͆͑ͫ̾o̳̲̼̜ͦ ̶͚͓̮̲̌ͣ̎͑̄͞w̷̳̯̳̭͖��̝̞̏̅̔͌̉̈ḁ̪̇ͯ͋͐̓ͬ͟kͧͫ̌ͧ͋̚͏̭̘͓̟͚̯͟͞ͅȩ̣̮͈͇͆̾̀ͧ̔̔ͬͨ ̣̐́̚͜ṳ̧̲̪͕̟͓ͤ̈̒͊̓̀͝p̄̉̇ͩ̑҉̶̧̮̖ “said the figure, louder and more distorted than the last. The shadows swirling around, as if consuming them.  The last thing she saw was a beautiful blossom of white, orange and red, exploding from beyond the darkness. 

The five students had managed to haul the unconscious alien to Jessie’s apartment without attracting anymore attention. Strangely, the ship she had emerged from had disappeared. This blessing allowed them to cover up anything that had happened as either drunken shenanigans, drugged shenanigans or bad dreams. The small creature was twitching slightly in her sleeping form. She kept mouthing the same phrase, barely audible to the observers.

“Don’t leave” she repeated, sounding continually more and more distressed each time she repeated it. 

“She’s having a nightmare, get some cold water” stated Jessie, her rare motherly instincts surfacing. The entourage left the room in a hurry, not wanting to upset the purple haired demon. Jessie sat next to the humanoid, gently stroking its hair in an attempt to calm it. The repeated calls got progressively quieter with each stroke, as a small smile replaced the bitchy expression on Jessie’s face. Elorise gently opened her eyes, a single hazy face coming into focus.

“Hello! My name is” beginning Elorise, evidently exhausting a significant amount of emotion on the first contact.

“Hush, we’re trying to be calm and quiet. Take some deep breaths, then we’ll have a nice relaxed conversation, okay?” interrupted Jessie, putting on her best motherly impression.

A confused look crossed the aliens for a second, as she took multiple comically large breaths. The breathing was mediated by Jessie, who was half sure she’d just try to keep sucking in air.

“Let’s try again. My name is Jessie, what’s yours?” introduced Jessie, helping the alien sit up into a better posture.

“Hello, my name is Elorise. I am here to learn about humans You’re very pretty, this room is so nice, Oh! What’s that!” Elorise replied, apparently amazed by her mundane surroundings.

“First, thank you. I work for it. Second, thank you. I try. Lastly…” answered Jessie, noticing a private drawer open in the back of the room.

“That’s isn’t anything to worry about” she continued, a blush appearing on her face. The drawer closed with a thud, the lock on the front sounding heavy duty. 

“Guys! Get your butts in here and introduce yourself” She yelled out the door, desperately trying to hide her blush.

One by one, the group of friends appeared through the door. Their introductions summarised by Jessie.

“This one is Johnathan, John for short. He’s our muscle. “The large student waved, flicking his black-white gradient hair out of his eyes.

“This is Philip. He’s a nerd. British too” continued Jessie, holding a single finger over her lips to the blonde boy. His annoyed expression telling more than his voice ever could.

“This is Jacob. He’s our teddy bear.” The quiet boy nodded slightly, a small smile evident on his face. 

“This annoying idiot is my brother, Zach. He’s the loud one” sustained Jessie, loathing to mention her brother. To the pleasant surprise of everyone present, he didn’t make any snide responses for once.

“and I” she concluded “am Jessie. The only with a decent fashion sense in this little party” She finished, flicking her hair like a model.

“Hello! I am Elorise. I like to learn things and your type has so many interesting things written about them. I would love to be able to interact with you as… what are they called again? Friends! That’s right. I would like to be all your friends” announced Elorise, the excitement in her voice being evident. 

“I don’t think that should be a problem, right guys?” replied Jessie, glaring slightly at her brother.

“Are we all just going to ignore that she has read stuff on humans? Doesn't that mean someone is observing us?” whispered Philip to himself, his mind beginning to race with questions and ideas.

“We’ll leave the implications of that for later. Yes, Elorise. We’d be happy to be your friends” retorted Zach, a smirk disarming the glare from his sister.

“We’d love to help you experience human life, but we can’t exactly take you around looking like that.” Said John, gesturing vaguely in Elorise’s direction.

“Not to worry, I already thought about that!” she replied, pressing a hidden button on the pearl on her chest. Her image began covered in static, as her more alien features were either replaced or removed. Before them sat a brunette with a cute nose, long wavy hair and rich brown eyes. Her otherworldly beauty had not been reduced, rather redirected. Her fairy-like aura was visible for all to see. The slack-jawed group rapidly re-entered reality with a small cough.

“That…works. Philip, do some nerd stuff and make her a student and my roommate” commented Jessie, quietly attempting to do something productive.

“Like last year with Clef? Sure, the system is terrible anyway” he replied, excusing himself. The room became silent as everyone began to think about the future of their little group.

The window facing the oval was reserved for only the most prestigious. Usually as a result of high academic or athletic achievement, this penthouse would become their temporary property. This was until 3 years ago, when the son of the current Headmaster kicked out the rightful owner. Since then, he had exerted his power in whatever way he wanted, all under the guise of correcting student behaviour. 

It was an uneventful night, enjoying the company of some female friends who desperately needed to pass their subjects. His relaxed stupor was broken by a shockwave rattling his window. After confirming what seemed impossible, he did what he did best.

Jonathan was going for his 6am jog, as per usual. A large spattering of papers on the student boards caught his eye. “Aliens in our school, guaranteed credits if you find it.” he repeated, seeing a blurry picture of a very familiar alien. His veins popped, as he checked the uni social page. He saw people organising into hunting parties. He looked at the thinly veiled excuse for more bullying and prepared for the worst.