#julie and the space alien

[corktheauthor]

Julie and the Space Alien

Okay my loyal followers, would you be interested in seeing more of Julie and the Space Alien? It's my most liked post, so I might make it into a series. Let me know what you think.

Btw feel free to send name ideas for the Space Alien

Edit: Just re-read the piece and realised the Space Alien already has a name!! Oops!

[corktheauthor]

Julie and the Space Alien - Part 1

It was a strange day when the humans opened up their original planet for viewing for other species. They’d originally left Earth in small groups out of a desire to meet other species, but all of humanity had moved out when their ‘climate change’ had become too much to handle, a grand gesture made of giving Earth back to Mother Nature to take care of. I have always wondered about this human called Mother Nature who chose to stay behind and look after Earth’s other creatures. I hope she is not too lonely.

I was too little to remember the day it was announced that Earth would become a museum. It took around fifteen years to complete the project, time spent both in preparing transport links and putting in safety measures to protect both tourists and Earth’s own plants and animals. It has always been fascinating watching humans work so hard towards something that is not for themselves. It would make sense if it were for their own children, as all species are known to protect the future of their young, but humans somehow hold enough love in their hearts to care for all of humanity, even those they will never meet, and even have leftover affection for other species in their galaxy. And there they were, sharing their personal history with us because they wish for us to be able learn from them, and to preserve the history of those who have since passed. Many may mock them for their sentiment, but I have always thought it to be their greatest asset.

Anyway, back to the museum. It took months before I was able to get a ticket down there as well as a decent amount of my savings, but it was worth every Ynep that I spent. The guided tours were interesting, of course, and we all revelled in the knowledge being provided to us. Knowledge not for the sake of advancement, but just for the sake of knowing, which is a novel yet brilliant concept. Curiosity, the humans call it. But there was a human in our tour group who quietly complained to me about the tour being too rigid, too dull, like it was doing her history a great disservice.

“You have to feel history,” she told me. “You have to see it, breathe it, live it.” And then she was off, and I found myself following, simply because I was curious. The humans must have been rubbing off on me.

“We are no longer on the designated track,” I pointed out after a few minutes, and the human made a noise known as a scoff.

“Then go back,” she replied. I definitely should have gone back. But I did not. I wanted to breathe history with the human, I wanted to see things that I hadn’t yet seen, and more than anything, I wanted to understand these strange, wonderful creatures who had lifted us out of the darkness of solitude and into their waiting embrace. So I continued scuttling alongside her.

“My name is Th’aaxnak,” I offered.

“Nice to meet you Th’aaxnak, I’m Julie.”

It took an hour to arrive at our intended location. Julie insisted that walking was far better than teleporting somewhere closer, and I dared not protest. On that day, I was being a human, and that meant living in the moment (a delightful idiom meaning to forgo worrying about the past or the future or the consequences of one’s actions). We saw all manner of peculiar plants and animals, not to mention several important monuments, and Julie kindly relayed stories about each one, or small interesting facts (not as thorough as a guided tour, but nicer, in a way. Less monotone). We kept up a constant stream of chatter throughout, and I was almost sad when we arrived at our destination.

“This is it,” she announced. We were on a big street in front of one particular house. It looked no different than all of the other houses, and we had passed thousands and thousands of other houses. Why this one was important, I did not know, but I could hear the human’s heart beating in a funny rhythm, so I placed a supportive tentacle on their shoulder and waited with them until they were ready to go in.

“My Nana used to live here as a little girl,” she told me. “I’ve always wondered…” What the human had always wondered would remain a mystery, as she trailed off and did not complete her sentence. Humans were strange like that. Giving unnecessary and often incomplete information because they felt like sharing something with another living being. I’ve heart they even talk to plants, sometimes.

“I hope the house satisfies your curiosity,” I told her sincerely, and she laughed, tears coming from her eyes. They smelt like sad tears, not happy tears, but she looked happy. Humans were confusing.

“It’s not about curiosity.” She spoke as if this was obvious, but she was not unkind about it. “It’s about… oh, I don’t know. It’s about knowing her better, I guess. Remembering her, honouring her memory. I loved my Nana, I still love her, and I just want to be able to be close to her one last time, you know?” I did not know. Whilst our species mourned the dead, we did not mourn them for years, and we certainly didn’t go to great lengths to honour their memories. Humans just seemed to hold so much love that they even looked after deceased humans, who had no need for such affection and would not be able to appreciate it. Strange creatures indeed.

“How can you love the deceased?” I asked, and the human frowned slightly.

“How can you not?” she asked back. I wasn’t sure how to answer. I don’t think she was either.

We spent half an hour looking around the house. The human made strange noises whenever we saw something new, from high pitched squeaks upon seeing photographs still hung up to a sharp inhale at the books on the bookshelf to a huff of laughter at the neatly organised cutlery set.

“They left behind non-essential items,” she told me casually as she leafed through her great grandmother’s wardrobe. She picked up a cardigan and put it on, making no move to put it back.

“Will you take that home?”

“She’s not using it anymore. And it’s my colour, don’t you think?” She gave a little twirl, and I smiled, confused and unsure but happy for her.

The last room that we explored was her Nana’s bedroom. It seemed to be very emotional for the human, so I made a gentle humming noise to soothe her nerves. I know that humans do not use humming as a comfort, but I believe they should. Nothing calms me down as quickly as humming. It seemed to work, because the human offered me another smile and entered the room.

The walls were colourful, if a little faded due to prolonged exposure to sunlight, and the ceiling was cracked but still holding steady. There was a bed, another wardrobe, and a box presumable filled with toys, if the word “toys” engraved into the wood was anything to go by. However, the human seemed most interested in a small toy sitting on the bed.

“Teddy,” she exclaimed, before bringing the stuffed animal into her arms and hugging it tightly. She sniffed its head before coughing violently, but she kept the toy close to her as she emptied her lungs of dust and ceiling particles.

“Are you alright?” I asked tentatively, and the human nodded whilst turning an impressive shade of red.

“M’fine,” she spluttered, then started laughing, which was inadvisable given her respiratory state, but I wasn’t about to criticise her for it. She seemed happy. “I think I just breathed in an entire ceiling, though.”

“That is highly improbable,” I replied, before realising it was a joke. She gave me one of those sympathetic smiles, and I smiled back. “Is the bear sentimental?”

“Nana’s favourite toy. She left it behind by accident.”

“Will you… bring it back to her?” I asked. Julie nodded, and I pulled her into a human hug. She seemed like she needed the comfort, and humming wasn’t going to be sufficient for something like this.

It took several minutes before Julie managed to compose herself, and it wasn’t too long after that that we were leaving once more, Julie with the cardigan and the bear whilst I was empty-tentacled.

“Sorry for kinda wasting your day,” Julie said, as the day’s end approached. “You’d have probably preferred the guided tour, right?”

I thought about everything I’d learned that day. About the birds that people used to watch for hours, about the plants that smelled lovely, about the stories that seemed to come alive before my eyes with Julie telling them so enthusiastically. I thought about how I had seen, breathed, and lived history, and how somehow, I knew that no guided tour could ever compare. Perhaps I’d have learnt more facts in the tour, but with Julie, I had learnt what it meant to be human. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to express my gratitude. “Give me the cardigan and we shall call it even.” The human laughed, and I laughed back. This, living in the moment, laughing with friends, and just enjoying oneself with no worries, was what it meant to be human.

Humanity was the first species to achieve space travel in our galaxy. In our loneliness we uplifted several other species. Please write a short from the perspective of one of those uplifted people interacting either with humans, or with the ruins humanity left behind.

[averagemediocrepie]

Absolutely fell in love with @/za0mbie design for Julie, had to draw her 🥺💚❤️ (ty for blessing us with alien Julie 🛐)

《☆》

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《tags》

[thisisrealy2kok]

Area 51 Contact Rave Flyer

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was trying to stop someone from going on a mission to Mars because there were people-eaters there.

[corktheauthor]

Julie and the Space Alien Part 2: Museums, Deception, and Waffles.

I had thought that I would never see that wonderful human, Julie, again. The day had been near its end and guides were sweeping the planet for stragglers, and they were not best pleased to find two beings firmly off of the designated track. The two of us were escorted to the nearest teleport link without being allowed to exchange any more words, and then we were separated forever. Or, I thought we were. But then I went to the Martian Museum the next day.

I suppose it is not all that unlikely, two beings with an interest in Earthly history visiting the neighbouring planet on their museum tours. But it still seemed like a wholly unpredictable turn of events. Or perhaps it was that my hearts had not expected it, were not prepared for it, when I saw that brilliant, glorious human standing right across the room, showing her tooth-bones off in a dazzling grin.

We had engaged in conversation quickly, discussing a nearby piece. She had asked a question, and I knew the answer only because I had read the plaque earlier, but I pretended that I was knowledgeable on the subject for no other reason than to impress her. What can I say, Julie brings out my human side a little more. But it had spiralled, with my answers becoming less sure and more improvised until I was completely out of my depth. I knew nothing of the subject, but I couldn’t stop talking about it now.

“So, what’s a Martian’s fourth antennae for?” she asked, and I made a nervous clicking sound.

“Detecting minerals in the ground,” I decided. It was almost fun, making up all of these facts. Like telling a story to a friend, if that story involved lies and deceit and generally being an absolutely terrible Hnemeling. Okay, perhaps not so fun, but I was, as the humans say, ‘in too deep’.

“And how do you know all this?” she asked for the fourth time.

“I have a Level 6 Qualification. Half a degree, in human terms.” I did, in fact, have a Level 6 Qualification, but it was in the art of bread-making, and was not proving (a pun! How delightfully human!) to be of much use in the current situation.

“Uh-huh.” The phrase ���uh-huh’ was one I hadn’t come across before today. Julie informed me when I asked that it was a confirmation in human terms, but I was starting to wonder how truthful that was. She only seemed to employ the phrase when I said something particularly unconvincing.

“Do you believe me?” I asked, tilting my head in a show of curiosity. I learned yesterday that humans share this gesture with us, so I am sure she understood that my question was innocent and genuine.

“Should I believe you?” she asked back. It did not sound like an innocent and genuine question. It felt like she was making an accusation. I would have been offended had she not been completely right.

“No,” I admitted, wrapping a tentacle around my body for comfort. I could not meet the humans eyes.

“So, you mean to tell me that Martians don’t have seven feet and extremely impressive ballroom dancing contests?” she asked, sounding shocked. A quick glance at her face, however, showed that she was smiling, which is not the human way of expressing shock. It was like an emotional malfunction!

“I am confused,” I admitted, my tentacle loosening as I relaxed. “You are acting rather strangely.”

“I’m messing with you,” she told me gently. “I’m from Earth, Th’aaxnak, you think I don’t know my own neighbouring planet?”

“You do not seem upset at my deception,” I noted.

“You don’t seem upset at my messing with you,” she replied.

“I am not. I am glad that you think no less of me for lying to you. It was unintentional.”

“You read the plaque then ended up in over your head?” she guessed, then explained the expression ‘over your head’ with patience only held by humanity. Rumour has it that before they were civilised, they were ‘patience predators’, winning their meals by stalking rather than running, by waiting instead of acting, and by using their oversized brains to solve problems with the least effort. I never did believe those rumours, but this Julie human seems to have nothing but patience for my endless questions and constant need for translation.

“I like you, Julie,” I blurted out suddenly, before my cheeks turned a traitorous green in a clear show of embarrassment. I had not meant to voice that.

“As… a friend?” she asked, going a funny shade of red.

“If that is not too presumptuous. I very much enjoy our time together.”

“Oh, yeah, me too. Just didn’t want to have the ‘I only date Earthlings’ talk with a Space Alien, you know?”

“I’m sorry, did you just say date?” I asked, feeling horrified from the tips of my tentacles to the fuzz on my feet.

“No— Well, yes, but—”

“And I thought I was the presumptuous one—”

“Humans say ‘like’ to mean, like, different things, and I was worried that—”

“Yet here you are, thinking I was attracted to you—”

“And can we please stop talking about this and just go out for platonic waffles some time?”

“I— waffles?”

“Human food,” she clarified. “Tasty.”

“Like a date?” I teased, and she rolled her eyes to indicate she understood that I was now the one messing with her.

“Don’t push it, Space Alien.”

“You know my name, why do you call me Space Alien?”

She moved her shoulders in something I would later know of as a shrug. “It’s funny. Now come on, you’re gonna love waffles.”

“I cannot wait, Human Friend!”

“That’s the spirit, Space Alien!”

Prompt 2331

They didn’t know anything about the subject, but they couldn’t stop talking about it now.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE by Shirley Jackson.

I'm buddy reading this with @asexualbookbird! Ey have a library reading challenge going on, I need a masterclass in Dread Building for writing revision purposes (and yeah okay you can never start NaNo prep reading too early, catch me trying to write a haunted house story this year), the timing works out great, so! Here we go!!

[xiiiixvii]

[innytoes]

The generator gave me space and fae AU, which just sounds awesome.

Okay but the first vivid mental image I had was Willie, an astronaut floating in space, with a cracking helmet, and this ethereal being coming to him and promising him safety, they're a benevolent species, here to help, how quaint your spaceship is, tell us more about your species and I'll save your life...

Willie is like: dope, aliens are gonna save me, this might as well happen. Not what I expected from the first mission to Mars but okay.

Turns out aliens and fae are really one in the same. They left Earth a while ago, convinced the humans would never progress beyond their own moon, if that. But are very charmed that they're still spoken of in stories and myths.

Caleb delights in taking a human form, albeit a sparkly one. He probes Willie's brain for all kinds of things, like Music and Technology and oh damn, you humans have only gotten more bloodthirsty and destructive since we left.

Willie is Not Too Fond of the cheerful, gleeful way he says it.

After a ridiculous amount of probing (of his brain, not his butt, though Caleb did catch that errant thought and they had a very awkward conversation about Sci-Fi Tropes), Willie is let loose on the spaceship.

He meets Reggie, who has been with the fae since they were actually on Earth. He stepped into a fairy ring somewhere around 900 AD. He is very relieved to hear Dogs are still a thing, and is also fascinated when Willie tells him about life on Earth now and what he missed.

He meets Luke, an alien who seems remarkably human except for the extra pair of arms and the fact that he only communicates in song. (Reggie confesses once that he's not sure if all of his species are like that, or if Luke is just Like That).

He meets Alex, who communicates through taps, who is fascinated with Willie's long hair and his laugh and whose pointy ears make Willie make the 'live long and prosper' sign at him. Which of course he does not understand, but it's still pretty cute when he does it back.

He slowly learns Alex' language, Reggie and Luke translating for him until he has a grasp of it. Willie was always a a quick learner, after all.

Eventually, they manage to escape from Caleb's space ship and they crash land back on what Willie thinks is Earth... until he realises the Molinas are very much Not Human. Still, they seem pretty chill, and their society is willing to help Willie keep the earth safe from the fae, and also, you know, let these four aliens stay.

Reggie is very happy to find that Something That Vaguely Resembles A Dog lives on the Molina's planet.

They all live happily ever after except for Caleb whose plans on world and galaxy domination are thwarted.

[corktheauthor]

Julie and the Space Alien - Part 3

It was by sheer coincidence that I overheard what was happening to Earth. The planet was just a museum, after all, so anything happening there was hardly important enough to make intergalactic news. Still, you’d think a planet-destroying meteor would be a little higher up people’s agendas, and a Hnemeling would hear about such a thing before it made marketplace gossip.

My first thought was of Julie, my human friend. We had become very close very quickly, and I knew that she was sentimental. We had met on Earth, after all: two beings who were exploring a planet and happened to cross paths. One who visited their home despite already knowing everything about it was likely to be one who would weep at its destruction.

I didn’t think twice about taking a teleport pod to go and visit my friend.

“Human Julie?” I called out. “Human Julie? Are you there?”

“Ring the doorbell,” advised a passing human, wearing that frown that humans wear when aliens act a little too alien around them.

“Apologies, I did not see a bell!” I replied. I turned to face Julie’s house, scanning the premises, but saw no bell. I turned back to the human, puzzled.

“The button,” they told me, sounding very tired. “The button next to the door. Press it.” I did as I was told, and I could hear a funny sound come from within the house.

“That is a most peculiar bell,” I marvelled. “Thank you, human!”

“No worries, space dude.” With that, the human walked off to do mysterious and probably very exciting human things, like ironing or buying lampshades.

“Hey, Space Alien,” came Julie’s voice. I turned around to see her standing in her doorway, having heard the not-a-bell, presumably.

“Human Julie! It is a pleasure as always!” I tried for a human smile before remembering why I was there. Then a smile seemed a little inappropriate.

“Wanna come in?” she offered, and I nodded once before scuttling inside.

“I am sorry about the death of your planet,” I told her, and she seemed to grow more tense. Humans never liked you talking about bad things, but it seemed like something that needed to be said. I clicked uncertainly, waiting for a response.

“The planet’s not gonna die.” She sounded tired.

“Oh dear, have you not heard? There is a meteor heading towards Earth. I apologise for this distressing news.” I reached out a tentacle to tap her shoulder, trying my very best to display comfort in a human manner.

Human Julie laughed, causing tears to fall from her eyes. “There are satellites,” she explained. “They’re gonna blow up the meteor before it does any damage.”

“Then why are you sad?” I queried. I had learnt, by now, that a laughing human who does not smile is not a happy human.

Julie lifted and dropped her shoulders. “I dunno, it just… sucks, I guess. The universe just throwing a giant flaming rock at my home. Everything being in danger.”

“It is not in danger,” I reminded her. “You said that there are satellites that will stop the meteor.”

“Probably.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

We stood in silence for several seconds, and it was only then that I noticed another sound in the house. I wandered off to investigate and found that Julie’s television was turned on to a live feed of the Earth, cutting to the meteor every now and then with humans talking about goings-on and how nobody should panic. It also showed humans interviewing other humans who were most definitely panicking. It might have been funny, under different circumstances.

“The Earth, in what could be its final hours,” Julie commented.

“You are worried,” I observed, but the sentiment didn’t seem to fit quite right. “Worried and… sad?”

“I don’t know what I am.” She sighed heavily and flopped down on her sofa. “Could you just… sit with me? Please, Th’aaxnak?”

“Of course, Human Julie.”

We watched the telly for the rest of the afternoon. I got up frequently to make tea or fetch blankets or prepare a sandwich to persuade Human Julie to eat (humans are supposed to eat regularly, but apparently they forget when they are sad), and she smiled at my efforts.

The first missile to try to destroy the meteor was fired. It missed. Julie let out a very strange sound, one I would more associate with wild Earth animals than humans, and then she buried her head into my side. I wrapped my tentacles around her in comfort and held her tight as she cried, telling her quietly that it would be okay even though I was sure she could not hear me. It just seemed like the right thing to do for a human.

We were waiting for the second missile strike when Julie spoke next.

“Do you realise you’re humming?” she asked, and I froze. She was correct, I had been humming, but I had barely registered it.

“Was it disturbing you, Human Julie?”

“No, of course not. I was just curious. You hum tunes every time you think I’m sad, did you know that?”

“Humming is a form of comfort in my species,” I told her. “I suppose it is instinct to try to comfort those I care about in any way I can. I can stop, if you would like.”

“No, it’s quite nice. If you don’t mind, I mean.” I hummed in response, then carried on humming, the notes forming an old song from my childhood, one my mother used to hum to me during loud storms.

The second missile strike was successful. Human Julie let out a different strange sound and hugged me tightly. I hugged her back, squeezing her with my tentacles, and she laughed that strange crying-laugh that humans do, but this time it seemed she was happy? I wasn’t sure I would ever understand humans.

I stayed a while longer, making Julie some more drinks and humming more gentle tunes to soothe her nerves. It seemed to work, and she stopped looking like she was about to cry.

“Thank you, Th’aaxnak,” she said eventually. “I, uh. Really needed that today.”

“It is no problem, Human Julie,” I replied honestly.

“No, but really. You didn’t have to spend the day with me.”

“I wanted to.” I was surprised to find that this was also the truth. “I was concerned for the Earth. And, I suppose, I was concerned for you.”

“Wow, Space Alien, that’s so very human of you,” she teased.

“I learn from the best, Human Julie.”

Two months later, another planet threatened Hneme. One of those silly little threats that you know will come to nothing, but is still scary enough for people to evacuate the planet. I spent the day at Julie’s house watching the news, and she made me warm drinks and got me blankets and gently persuaded me to eat, even after the threat had been firmly dealt with. It felt a little silly, having so many emotions over something so small, but it also felt right. Like I was becoming something a little better than myself. Like I was becoming a little more human.

Write a piece about an asteroid that threatens the Earth

[ladystardustziggy]

I wonder what fireworks look like in space and what aliens think about it.

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Space Chaser - Juggernaut

[eyesofcoral-art]

“EARTH GIRLS ARE EASY”

-EYESofCORAL

[cinemaquiles]

Quem copiou quem? Julie Newmar e o Alien - O Terror do Espaço ("Deep Space", 1988)

[semperardens-juli]

[...] post-punk, Cold War infused infatuation with the apocalypse and outer space --- and in part from a genuine sense of being freakishly other.

The Lonely City, Olivia Laing (x)

[daisy-punk-enterprises]

Scenes from a Hat July Challenge 4: Billie Eilish + Space + Horror + “Opal” color palette