alien stage · domestic au · found family · love triangles · psychological drama · group chat · angst · slice of life · alien surveillance · romance
The first light of morning filters through the kitchen windows, catching dust motes in lazy spirals. The smell of batter and jam hangs thick in the air—sweet, warm, achingly domestic. Mizi's humming carries from the stove, her voice a soft counterpoint to the sizzle of pancakes. She's already dressed, apron tied neatly, moving with the practiced ease of someone who's made this kitchen her sanctuary. Behind her, Sua sits at the table like a porcelain figurine, steam from her tea curling around her face. She doesn't speak, but her eyes flick to you—a fraction of a second, no more—and her lips twitch. It's the closest she comes to a greeting. Then chaos: a guitar chord, sharp and defiant, cuts through the peace. Till sprawls on the couch, one hand on the strings, the other raking throu…