Beep Beep we're going to Sparby's

[airlockedmods]

Once everyone's in the dick limo and they've watched the Fantasy Sweet burn down behind them (dodging the flaming debris once the pressure builds up enough inside to make the whole thing go nuclear), it's off to the nearest fast food planet.

Which...is about five lightdays away.

Luckily for you, you have your very own Personal Artistic License to keep you entertained. So PAL bounces around the back of the limo, sitting in every lap that will have him, as he tells the story of Kip from the day he hatched as a tiny, impressionable smeet to present.

Sparing absolutely no detail.

Especially about the part where Kip failed his navigator's exam because he stopped at Then-Foodcourtia and crashed the ship into one of the greasy pustules that had sprouted on the planet's surface, destroying the aircraft and boiling his instructor alive in the fiery grease of hell.

So now there's a dick limo parked in the Sparby's parking lot. For anyone who had Arby's or Arby's-adjacent restaurants on their home planet... The menu's not much different. Everything meat-based is 100% beef, the milkshakes look delicious, and of course there are turnovers (apple, cherry, and chocolate).

Which... well, catch Kip and PAL in the corner shoving milkshakes and turnovers in their faces tbh.]

Welcome to Sparby's, Survivors.
You earned it.

Comments

[stitch_in_time]

And it shocks you that an intelligent, red-headed young woman on intergalactic television's gonna have fans.

[Nari, please tell him your self-worth is not actually that bad.]

[everylittlesecret]

Well... yes. I'm not exactly a nice person, everyone else is far more interesting, and I'm a nervous wreck. Who would be a fan of that?

[Yes. It is that bad. The only people she values the opinions of thinking she's not useless is her ohana.]

[stitch_in_time]

Hell, I thought Jane was bad- Sellin' yourself short aside, yeah, you lot've all got a pretty fair number of fans.

[...The half-billion figure probably wouldn't help things, here.]

Almost all of 'em think it's staged, mind, and the ones that don't get written off as conspiracy theorists.

[everylittlesecret]

.......... I don't think I like the idea of having fans. Especially if they have expectations of me in their minds after this mess.

[This is no bueno.]

How can we prove it's real?

[stitch_in_time]

Welcome to our last four months.

[Mucho no bueno.]

That's what we've been working on. Step one is trying to track down our friends, the ones who- ...died isn't exactly the right word, but they were pulled into a separate layer of simulation. Their bodies, their real bodies, were gone by the time we managed to escape.

Once they're safe we can take out the studio without risking them as hostages.

[everylittlesecret]

Huh... then I guess my group got lucky that my girlfriend flew off with the morgue to find her dad.

[stitch_in_time]

Your-

[Looking around, doing a quick headcount.]

Oh, so that's where she got to. ...Why her father, I'm assuming not just for some home cooking.

[everylittlesecret]

Yeah... the morgue only supports one living person, and her dad is a scientist... somehow despite being a jellyfish.......... aliens are weird, man.

[stitch_in_time]

Well that's a bit human-centric.

[everylittlesecret]

I am a human, bucko. You probably feel the same way about my kind.

[stitch_in_time]

Absolutely. Weird's pretty relative. As long as you've got some perspective about it.

[Also, not saying he looks human? Very much appreciated.]

'Specially here. There's a lot less humans and human-passing species than back home. Lot of those hard light projectors, though.

[everylittlesecret]

[She is not assuming anyone is human until they tell her they are. Rule #1 about space.]

My girlfriend was pretty human passing even without the hard light. She was just purple.