Disclaimer: I don't own The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

A/N: Today we had school for once. It hasn't snowed at all, and probably won't for a while. That means I'll only update daily... or even less often.

Indeed, there was an abandoned building near the site of the starship's crash.

Magenta's father, Hal Morbius, decided it could be easily adjusted into a place to live. It hadn't truly fallen into ruin yet. The windows were boarded over and the garden overgrown, yes. But the floors weren't even close to caving in.

"We're going to need to fix a few things here and there, but I think it'll be fine," Hal told his children.

They were sitting in some old chairs he'd found, in a room that was probably once the living room. The other survivor- a bratty 16-year-old named Wesley- was at the site of the crash looking for his favorite GameComputer.

"What about food?" Riffraff asked. "And other supplies?"

Hal sighed. "If the replicators still work, we'll use them for most stuff. Though I don't think we've got enough of the PowerCards in storage. Though we're bound to run out of those, too."

"What will we do then?" Magenta asked.

"We'll need jobs, won't we?" Riff said with a sigh.

"Yes. I've no idea how the currency works or if there even is a currency. In fact, I'm not ever sure what language they speak! But we need to assimilate into the culture somehow," Hal replied.

"What sorts of people live here?" Magenta asked fearfully.

"They look like us, thankfully. I think they might be the same species, even," her father explained.

The girl seemed a bit less worried now. Her brother, on the other hand, still seemed pretty apprehensive.

"How much of the ship's technology still works?" Riff asked.

Hal shrugged, surprisingly nonchalant. "Random stuff here and there."

"Including the translators?"

"I'm not exactly sure… though wee could check. I brought all the stuff that seemed salvageable into this house without actually looking too closely at it. Most of its in the front hall," Hal explained.

Riff left the room in search of the translators, leaving his father and sister alone. After a moment, she spoke.

"You seem really calm, Daddy. Why? We're stuck on this strange planet... forever."

He chuckled. "Well, it's not all bad. Both you and your brother are alive and uninjured after the ship's violent crashed. And it's not like we had much back home. Look on the bright side, dear. It'll be alright. We can start over."

He was right. Back home, they'd been poor. Though Riff was of above average intelligence, they couldn't send him to school. He'd been apprenticed to his father in an attempt to give him some kind of future. An engineer with advanced computer programming skills had at least some chance in life.

Magenta suddenly thought of an idea.

"Can I go to school?"

Somehow her father seemed quite taken aback. "School? We don't even speak the language of these people!"

"Daddy..."

The expression on his face softened. "If we can. I'll send you to school if we can find a way."

I sat on my bed, painting my toenails a delightful shade of pink. Across the room, Magenta was reading a fashion magazine.

"Do you want me to paint your nails, too?" I asked, after a while.

Magenta didn't respond.

That day Magenta seemed very quiet, secretive. Well, she's always like that… but she seemed more so then.

"Are you upset that I found out you're an alien? Look, I don't care that you're not from-"

"It just brought back memories I didn't want to think about," she said coldly.

That was the longest sentence she'd said all day… as far as I knew.

Most of the day I'd spent with Frankie. He'd taken me shopping, claiming that I needed an entire new wardrobe.

"I can't have someone in my house running around in jeans and faded old tee shirts!" he shouted at breakfast.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Don't be sorry. We'll go to a few of the shops in town today, and buy you something suitable."

"Okay!" I replied, with false cheerfulness.

I knew I didn't have much of a choice. Not agreeing would be a very idea. For one thing, I didn't want to be kicked out. Being polite to a bastard like Frankie meant food and a roof over my head. And there's nothing wrong with shopping.

Of course, he has a rather interesting sense of fashion. The boutique we went to first was unique (to say the very least).

"You'd look good in that glittery corset," he said, as we went through racks of outlandish clothing.

"You really think so?"

The corset in question was covered in sequins of all different colors. It would stand out anywhere.

I then began to inspect it more closely. Though hard to see amongst the bright sequins, I noticed a zipper in the back. If it didn't fit perfectly, I wouldn't be able to wear it.

"Well? Do you want to try it on?" Frankie asked.

"Okay."

Somehow the corset did fit.

And so, we bought it… along with a number of other items of clothing. Most of it was very colorful, and all of it was glittery. A few short skirts and high-waisted shorts. Most of it was fitted, short (bordering on sluttish, in fact).

The next store we went to sold underclothes. We bought fishnet stockings, two garter belts, and quite a few other things.

When I got home, I tried on one of the outfits

"You look lovely," he said sweetly.

I giggled. For a brief moment, he seemed to mean it.

Then, Magenta called him to dinner. He went to the dining room without another word. I, of course, followed. Every day I ate dinner with him (and often other meals, too). I suppose he would be bored without someone to tell jokes to. Magenta and Riffraff don't eat with him.

I feel like a pet. A cut little dog who's owner buys rhinestone collars and treats for it.

To Frank, I was nothing more than that.

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