#i realised how deeply this has been needling away at me very recently

[thebirdandhersong]

I think in between having medium level body dysmorphic background noise since elementary school and the annoying mouse critic voice in my head doing comparison studies 80% of the time, it's really a step forward that I'm now able to look myself in the mirror and say: okay. Let's start with this: I'm glad I have this body. I'm going to treat it well. I may not like the way it looks at times, but it's mine.

[sweetfierceimagines]

PART1/ It was supposed to be simple.  Ricky x Reader (HSMTM)

Hello everyone, I’ve been trying really hard to write lately, and it has been very complicated. I think you all understand, when everything is not ok in someone’s life, that someone kind of loses it.

But I decided to fight that, I least trying !

I discovered the series High School Musical the Musical and even though I’m 24 and supposed to be over this kind of drama, I’M CLEARLY NOT.

Synopsis : Reader is a student, she’s not technically involved in the Musical like everyone else, but she helps with costumes making and set management. Ricky gets to know her and even though he really wants to get Nini back and has a whole plan for it, life decides to mess with him, and he gets involved in a new sentimental obsession.

Warnings : none. Probably not my best writing, please be kind to me.. Just a lot of fluff and teenage drama ! Enjoy <3

Tell me if you want this to carry on ! I’ll be glad to write a part 2 if you like it :)

RICKY POV/

Here he was, playing Troy Bolton in this Musical. He would never have done it if it wasn’t for Nini.

He understood her, understood her pain, understood why she chose that stupid E.J. But he was not going to abandon. It was not because he didn’t reply that he didn’t mean it. 

So he enroled (quite amazingly by the way) in this musical. He was dancing, singing, acting.. He never thought it could actually be this fun and exhausting. He seemed to be reaching Nini’s heart more and more each day, as she was also realising that EJ was not as perfect as he pretended to be.

But something was about to mess up all his plans.

READER POV/

The school was all about that Musical. It seemed as if every other activity and class was less important and didn’t deserve that much attention. Y/N was not a singer, not a dancer. She didn’t play any instrument, she didn’t like to be under the spotlights.

She was all about reading, writing and creating. So when the art class shut down for “fund purposes” (basically meaning this musical was costing the school too much), she had to find another way to create. 

So she went for it. Asked Miss Jenn if she needed someone for her costumes and decor management, and simply started to work on the set. She wasn’t the only one working on costumes and on stage management, but she clearly was the best of the team.

And it was appreciated.

After just a few weeks, she was named “stage and costume director”, whatever that means. Even though she was pretending she didn’t care, it sort of made her feel validated, and allowed her to create as much as she wanted to, which was pretty amazing. 

RICKY POV/

It was one of these days.

Everything seemed to fall apart. His parents were ending their relationship, his mom would probably leave for a long time, Nini still supported EJ even though he was making mistakes for which she would have dumped him..

He felt like everything he was doing was not good enough and it was hard to deal with. He was not usually shy with his feelings, but this time he didn’t feel like sharing. So he stayed late, very late, at school, and waited for everyone to leave stage to show up.

He was sure no one was there, so he let his emotions speak and just let it out. He started by talking to himself, making moves and being loud. He was talking about his family, his fear of being abandonned, his fear of never being loved again, the pain of knowing he lost Nini because he didn’t deserve her back there, the impression that EJ was a better man than he was.. he could go for hours.

And then he started singing.

A couple sentences from numerous songs. Songs about love, songs about pain, songs about courage. He closed his eyes and sang his heart out. It was beautiful, strong, sincere. It would have tear anyone’s heart.

And it did.

READER POV/

Y/N was staying late, as usual. She had a special authorisation from Miss Jenn and the Dean to stay extra hours backstage, working of costumes or just on personnal projects.

At school at least, she didn’t have to deal with noise, with family issues of with anything that could poison her creativity.

She was painting when she heard a noise.

Startled, she sort of went in panic mode, imagining a hundred scenarios in which she would get in troubles. She walked smoothly to the stage entrance and remained out of sight while looking at the boy who played Troy basically loosing his mind on stage.

She could have told him that he was not alone, she was actually about to signal her presence out of respect for what he was revealing, when he started singing.

It made Y/N go numb, as if she left her body and could feel her soul burning of compassion. His voice was everything, his face was everything.

She didn’t realise, but she was crying silently.

After a couple minutes, she realised she was actually holding her breath. She breathed heavily and stumbled, making Ricky realise he was not alone at all.

The boy jumped and fell down, hurting himself quite badly.

Y/N came rushing at him, feeling terribly sorry for what happened.

RICKY POV/

- Man ! Couldn’t you say you were here?!

Ricky was flaming red, embarrassed that someone heard everything. He looked at this girl’s face and it honestly took him a few seconds to remember who she was. Yes, she was on stage pretty much each day, but at some point he got so obsessed with the Musical and Nini that he completly forgot about the environment he was evolving in.

She was pretty, her Y/E/C eyes looking terrified and guilty, and it seemed as she cried recently, her eyes a bit red.

He stood up and winced, lifting his shirt a bit to realise he was going to get bruses all over his chest and stomach.

- I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to interrupt or even listen. Seriously, I was going to tell you, i’m not a creep. Well, not that kind at least..

- Yeah? You were going to? Seems like you had plenty of time.

He sighed and headed backstage to inspect his clothes and body in the miror, assessing at bad it was.

Y/N followed, staying a few meters away to give him some space. She didn’t say anything, feeling guilty enough.

Ricky took his shirt out completly, looking at his body. Y/N could tell he was contracting a bit his abs and arms and let out a silent laugh. She observed for a couple minutes and finally talked.

- You riped your shirt a bit.

Ricky turned, facing her, looking anoyed, and lifted his arms.

- No joke ! Who’s falt is it?

- You’re the one who fell dude.

He opened his mouth to answer right back but her cheekiness cheered him a bit, and he simply nodded his head.

- Yeah, I’ll blame gravity next time I see her. A real troublemaker that one.

He looked at his shirt and sighed. He didn’t know anything about sewing and his mom would probably have other things to do. Too bad, it was his favorite old school shirt.

Y/N stretched her hand toward him and he gave her his shirt. Still shirtless, he looked as she sat down where it seemed like she was staying most of the time, in a corner with painting all over, needles and fabric. She grabed one needle, easily got the thread in and started sewing, with a hand technique that showed how used to it she was.

He looked around, noticing one painting that seemed to still be in progress. He got closer, reaching his hand to it.

- Don’t ! It’s wet, I was on it when I heard you.

He turned around, looking at her in another way. She was pretty impressive, painting stuff, sewing shirts and managing a stage so well people didn’t even realised she was here.

- That’s sick.

He said with a smile.

She looked back at him and nodded, smiling at him too.

- Thanks. I usually plan what I’m going to do but this one.. it just came to me.

He looked closer, noticing a female silouette, somehow looking cut in some parts. Not cut as stabbed, but cut as split in different sections.

- What do you think it is?

Y/N said while carrying on her sewing. She acted as she was not looking at him, but each time he got his attention back at the painting, she would look at him, trying to anticipate his reactions.

- Hum.. It’s a.. it’s a woman? Right?

He would turn to her, as if he was looking for her validation for each word he said. She simply nodded, encouraging him to carry on.

- It’s a woman, and this woman is split. She.. Maybe because she went through a lot, maybe the different sections represent different emotions? Different moments of her life?

He remained silent for a second and looked with intensity at the painting. His eyebrows frown and he suddently looked sad.

- Maybe because she can’t be whole again. She has to be split. She has to try to deal with these conflicting emotions, these ups and downs. Maybe people tell her she should be grateful, and happy, and she should move on. But she can’t, because life cut her in several pieces.

And a tear rolled down his cheek.

Y/N stood up, mooving carefully toward him, and put a gentle hand on his (still naked) shoulder. She could feel him shaking a bit, deeply moved by what he felt from the painting. 

- Ricky.. it’s ok.

He turned, facing her, his eyes still filled with tears. He didn’t quite knew why, but he didn’t feel like looking anything but himself with her. After all, she knew how he was feeling, she heard what he said, and she felt what he felt.

The way she was looking at him.. Conforting, warm, yet terrifying. She understood.

He put his hand on hers, squeezing it as if it would make him feel better. He was here, facing her, hand on hand, eyes to eyes.

Suddenly, the speaker went on, the voice of a security guy telling “Miss Y/N, time to close the school. Sorry”

This sort of broke the moment. They broke the physical contact and she gave him his shirt back. They both gathered their stuff and silently headed to the front door, thanking the security guard for his patience.

They smiled at each other and Ricky waved goodbye, whatching as she was quitely leaving of her bike.

[harrylee94]

Log Entry XXXXXX - Chapter 1

Summary: A new space station, complete with the most high spec and up to date technology there is to offer, has been set up at the edge of the known universe, a new way point for explorers to keep in contact with the rest of the human race. It has been carefully designed by the best scientists and engineers Earth could offer, and now 7 brave souls are being sent out to ensure everything works perfectly.

However, when Logan wakes from cryosleep from the journey, he is informed that several things are now in need of repair, though everything had been in perfect working condition when the station had been reconstructed before he and his crew had arrived. They will have to solve the problems they've been left with before the station is up and running, and yet Logan can't help but feel he's done this before...

Relationships: Intrulogical (Remus/Logan)

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Parasites, Remus having an overactive imagination, It’s an Among Us crossover so there will be bad stuff afoot.

A/N: For those of you who don't know, this story is based off of a comic by @fangirltothefullest which I HIGHLY recommend you check them out on the link above! Their art is AMAZING.

Note to everyone before we begin; there will be graphic descriptions of gore, dismemberment, possibly torture, and any other awful things that come with the territory of writing a story in an Among Us universe.

To read it on AO3 please click here.

Chapter 1: Log Entry #1

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 6:00 AM

Logan blinked his eyes open as the dim light of the cryodeck slowly brightened, emulating the rising of the sun back on Earth and offering a gentle escape from his induced hibernation. He waited patiently as his body began to realise that it was awake again and started to carefully move each digit. The tingle of pins and needles washed over him like a wave, but he'd been expecting it; he had taken the chance to research the effects that cryosleep would leave on the body, and had found it quite a fascinating read. Apparently it was very similar to freezing meat the preserve it, but the science behind it meant that the human body would be kept alive throughout the process, just severely slowed down, so when the process was reversed the human body had to take some time to recover. Hence the pins and needles.

He was just starting to curl his hands into fists when he heard the thud and slap of a body hitting the floor nearby, shortly followed by a long, low groan.

"You're supposed to wait until your blood flow has returned to normal," Logan said, his voice cracking for disuse.

The groan sounded again, followed by the sound of whoever it was who had decided that getting out of the pod immediately was a good idea crawling closer before a blurred dark head of hair with a streak of white revealed itself over the edge. Logan frowned.

"I thought Virgil was supposed to be in the same chamber as me."

Remus pouted. "Aw, don't you love me anymore, Ana-Logie?"

Logan raised an eyebrow at him at the nickname. "We were given specific cryochambers in which we were to be stored during our journey here. I can recall quite clearly that you were supposed to be with Roman while Virgil had been positioned next to myself."

Remus blew a raspberry at him and folded his arms over the edge of Logan's resting place, setting his chin on them. "Since when do I do what I'm told?"

That was a good point. "Then where is Virgil?"

"We swapped," Remus replied, biting his lip as he looked Logan up and down. "I didn't want to end up burning in an oxygen fuelled explosion and disappearing into the empty void of space unless it was by your side."

Logan smiled softly up at him and pulled his still tingling arm up to cup his cheek, humming when Remus leaned into it. "It is highly unlikely that we would have died in our journey. Everything was monitored by several A.I. systems, all of which have been tested on hundreds of previous missions. The chances of failure were miniscule."

"But it was possible," Remus said, his grin stretching the way it always did when he was thinking of something disturbing. "The cryochambers could have malfunctioned, turning us into frozen chickens, and we would have shattered into a thousand pieces when the chambers tipped over, which would have melted and we would have been all these bloody bits of bone and flesh, all mixing all over the floor, like a swamp where all the fish have died and it's turned the water rancid, and then the maggot and flies would have feasted on--"

Logan pulled himself up and shut him up with a kiss, making Remus freeze for a second before relaxing into him. Fingers wove into his hair, and the scientist sighed into Remus's mouth before pulling away, eliciting a moan from the man. "We didn't. We're fine. We are both awake and alive, and it is time we change."

"But I like you in skin tight latex," Remus said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"It would be more accurate to call this a synthetic polymer," Logan told him, pushing himself into a seated position and reaching past Remus for the glasses that had been stored in the side of the cryochamber, slipping them onto his nose he gave Remus an expectant look. "You know the only reason we would have been awoken would be that our arrival to the Station was imminent. I would much prefer it if you were wearing the correct safety gear for when we arrive."

"But wouldn't it be interesting to see what it was like for a human body to be exposed to the vacuum of space?" Remus asked, only to cackle when Logan pushed his face away.

"Get changed, Remus."

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 7:04 AM

Logan shifted the weight of his helmet under his arm as he headed towards the depressurisation chamber, the ship itself having docked only a few minutes after he and presumably everyone else had been awoken. Remus had taken every chance he could get to distract him and slow him down, so his usual twenty minute change into his suit had been prolonged, and he hadn't noticed the message until he was almost out the door.

Each member of the team had a set of keys, a security card and a tablet. Normally Logan would have checked the tablet for any news as soon as he had awoken, but it was only now he was stepping through the last door that he was reading the most recent message.

"Wasn't it supposed to be brand, spanking new?" Remus asked from where he was reading over Logan's shoulder. "Just spanking new?"

"Yes, that was the case," Logan said with a sigh, putting the tablet away in its pouch as the door closed behind him.

They were the last to arrive, as he had expected, and he did not appreciate the smug look that Janus was sending their way from where he was lounging in one of the seats near to a crate of supplies. Virgil was currently being led by Patton through some breathing exercises on the other side of the room while Roman rubbed his back in comfort. Orange was, as always, minding his own business, scrolling through his own tablet in the corner, his helmet beside him and ready to go. Remus immediately took the opportunity to flop on his friend in the yellow suit, much to Janus's chagrin, and Logan sighed.

"I take it everyone is aware of the situation we currently find ourselves in," he said, looking at each of them to observe their reactions before continuing. "It seems that the Station has been damaged in transit, so it will be our main focus in the upcoming days to repair the systems. It shouldn't take more than a day I expect."

"But what... What if it was something else?" Virgil asked between breaths, his eyes deeply shadowed despite the long sleep. "What if it was sabotage?"

"Yeah," Remus agreed with his usual grin. "What if it was the engineers who built it; maybe they made it to malfunction and kill us all! Or it could be a new HAL 9000, ready to blast us off into space one by one. Or maybe aliens-!"

Janus shoved him off his lap, shutting him up before Roman, who had been turning an alarming shade that almost matched his suit, could step in, Virgil's breathing becoming more erratic with each suggestion.

"The likelihood of it being anything other than some damage caused by transit is slim to none," Logan told them, adjusting his glasses. "I assure you, there is no reason to be afraid."

"And I shall be there to protect you," Roman said, placing a hand on his chest and posing as much as he could without removing himself from Virgil's side. "As is my sworn duty. No harm shall come to you as long as I am by your side."

Virgil did not look entirely convinced, but he nodded all the same, smiling at the flamboyant display.

"Either way, as we are all now here and have presumably taken a sufficient and healthy breakfast, shall we proceed?" Logan suggested.

Patton raised a hand.

"You don't have to raise your hand to speak, Patton."

"Oh, well then," the man in the light blue suit said with a happy grin. "I was just wondering if chocolate chip pancakes were healthy."

Logan blinked at him. "How can you-?"

"Yes, Pat, they're perfectly healthy!" Roman exclaimed, pulling Virgil towards the door. "Now let's go!"

Orange huffed and rose to his feet as he donned his helmet. "We're all ready, Blue."

"Yes, well," Logan said, adjusting his glasses one last time before twisting his own helmet into place. "I suppose so. Helmets everyone."

"Do we have to?" Remus moaned from where he'd been rolling around on the floor. "Wouldn't it be more fun if we-?"

"Put on the damn helmet, you rat in human form," Janus almost hissed, kicking him in the side for good measure. Remus laughed but put his helmet on, being the very last to do so, and shot up to his feet where he bounced in place as he waited, like a child on a sugar high.

The doors hissed as they opened, sliding apart to reveal the Sanders Space Station, the hallways near spotless and the lights bright and clean. It was almost like stepping into an Ikea or a show room, even coming with the smell of disinfectant, but a lot more technical. Having memorised the map over breakfast, Logan led the way through the maze of corridors to the cafeteria, as good a place as any to be called a base of operations, and stood by the central table as he waited for the six others to gather around. From the looks of it the integrity of the walls seemed intact, and nothing serious was wrong, as they knew, but still, it was better to err on the side of caution while they had yet to determine the status of the air.

"I thought we already had breakfast" Orange said, looking around in confusion.

"I thought it would be a good idea to set up a-" Logan pulled out his tablet and looked through his notes, "-'home base'. There are many tasks for us to do and I believe it would be more efficient if we split up to achieve them as quickly as possible."

"Because there is no 'I' in 'team'!" Patton agreed with a bright smile.

"Correct, you do not spell 'team' with the letter 'I'," Logan agreed with a nod, ignoring how several of the others snickered. "Now, from the list that has been sent to each of our tablets I can see that the Reactor has yet to be started, so I would suggest that Orange, as the most qualified with such things, would be perfect for the task." Orange hummed. "The engine would be a good place for you to move once you have completed that. Patton, I would suggest you take charge everything in Navigation, and Janus can take charge of tasks in Communications."

"I take it I've got the Medbay?" Virgil asked, his arms wrapped around himself, something he tended to do when he couldn't put his hands into his pockets.

"I'll go with you, Charlie Frown," Roman said, nudging him with his elbow.

"Actually, Roman, I was hoping you could-" Logan began but Roman waved him off.

"I will continue to ensure the safety of this vessel at Virgil's side," he said. "There's no need to worry, Specs."

"... Indeed," Logan drawled, turning to Remus at his side. "In which case, you can be in charge of the Weapons section. You and Roman can decide who can tackle the other sections that involve the security of the station."

As expected, Remus pulled him in for a hug, their helmets banging together as he tried to squeeze him through the fabric. "You're the best, my bleeding, puss riddled heart."

"Is there anything else we will be needed for in the near future?" Janus asked as the others either made disgusted faces as Remus's nickname or snorted as Logan tried to extricate himself from his partner's grasp.

"Uh, I just want you all to know that, should you come across any problems you come across that you believe will need a group effort, just set off the beacon in our suits and we can all meet back here. Any other tasks -- Remus would you put me down -- any other tasks you can do would be helpful."

"Sounds good," Orange said and spun on the spot, heading towards the reactor with a lazy wave over his shoulder. Roman and Virgil followed him soon after, the Medbay between the cafeteria and the reactor, and Janus went on his own towards the Communications room.

"Isn't this exciting?" Patton asked with a bounce. "I'm over the moon about everything!"

Logan sighed. It was going to be a long day.

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 11:27 AM

Logan had spent the better part of four hours trying to ensure that the oxygen filter was in correct working condition, along with all the wiring and such, but at last he felt he could safely say that it was up and running. For the last half an hour he'd been checking the oxygen levels in the Station and was pleasantly surprised to find that they had always been capable of supporting human life, so he checked it off his list with a satisfied smile.

He had heard Patton working in Navigation nearby, and Remus's maniacal laughter as he blasted the various detritus that had been gathering around the Station through the gun systems had been an enjoyable accompaniment, if a bit annoying after a while, and highly unnecessary, but now, as he rose to his feet, he could appreciate a break. Heading out into the corridor he took a quick left turn and came up behind Remus, who was sat on the the seat in the centre of the control area, and watched as he blasted a few more things on the screens.

"Take that you dry buttholes!" the man in green yelled as something exploded into dust on the right screen.

"Having fun?"

Remus immediately spun the chair around and pulled Logan into his lap. "Nerdy Wolverine!" he said, making sure Logan was straddling his lap and wrapping his arms around his back. "Here to give me a saucy lap dance?"

"I've actually decided that it was about time I had a break," Logan informed him, keeping his distance by setting his hands against Remus's shoulders. "That and..." He pushed himself back enough to be able to sit up without falling into his partner's chest and removed his helmet. "The air is breathable."

Remus stared at him for a few seconds before scrambling to remove his own and dropping them both to the floor with hollow thuds as he puled Logan in to kiss him thoroughly and invasively. Logan was all too happy to respond, grasping at the metal ring of Remus's collar. They had been asleep for years, travelling light years away from home, away from everything they knew, and while it might have been only a single sleep for them, it still felt like forever.

And yet the moment was broken, the beacon in their suits blaring loudly at them, and Logan pushed himself away from Remus in surprise.

"I'm going to disembowel whoever did that," Remus grumbled, allowing Logan up.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't."

"Don't be alarmed!" Patton said as he came in behind them. "I'm sure it's-. Hey! Your helmets are off!"

"Yes, the air is safe to breathe," Logan said, pulling Remus up.

"Did you do this?" the moustached man demanded with a sharp finger.

"No," Patton said with a frown. "I was just making sure the steering was straight and true."

Remus continued to glare at him for a few seconds before turning away, following Logan into the cafeteria.

No one else had arrived yet, though the three of them had been the closest to the cafeteria, and so Logan sat himself down at the central table as Remus wandered around the room, taking out his tablet to check on the tasks that still needed doing in the ship. From the looks of things they seemed to be on schedule, so whatever this was would only be a small hiccup in the scheme of things. Roman and Virgil had entered the room as he'd been studying the list, but still there was no sign of Orange or Janus.

"So we can take our helmets off now?" Roman asked as he looked between the three of them, all of them now bare-headed. "Thank God." He removed it quickly and set it down on the table, Virgil following his example, though he kept hold of it as they sat.

"Where's Orange?" Patton asked, looking past them.

"Oh, he's probably just-"

"He's dead."

Everyone turned to the door opposite the windows that showed the great expanse of space beyond. Janus stood there, leaning against the frame. There was a thick, shiny red liquid on his glove and smeared over his thigh.

"... What?"

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 11:51 AM

Orange was lying face up in the storage area next to the fuel tank, a smear of blood on the floor beside him, undoubtedly where he'd been lying face down before Janus had found him, as the majority of the front of the suit had been stained with his blood, and there was an uneven tear, revealing a mess of flesh, internal organs and bodily fluids. Blank eyes stared up through a cracked helmet. The six of them were stood around it in shock.

"... Are we sure we're alone on this ship?" Virgil asked after what had felt like an eternity of silence.

"We... We should be," Logan said, uncertainty rocking his foundations. This was supposed to be a safe mission. They were supposed to man the station until the rest of the crew arrived. They were only supposed to make sure everything was in working order. They were supposed to be safe!

"Should be?" Janus repeated with a sneer. "Orange is dead!"

"Yes! I've noticed that!" Logan snapped back, rubbing at his mouth as he watched Remus examine the body. "This... This shouldn't have happened."

"Well it did, didn't it," Roman said.

"What.... What should we do?" Patton asked, looking between each of them.

"We should put Orange in his cryotube before his bowels empty themselves everywhere," Remus said, getting to his feet. "Though I doubt we'll make it in time."

"Yes but, after that."

"Staying in groups," Logan said with a decisive nod. "Two or three per group at least. The more of us there are the less likely we'll be..."

"I'm with Log-in," Remus said, looking around the room and picking up a crate lid to shift Orange's body onto. "Need a hand, Ro. And preferably the rest of the body as well."

"Can you not!" Roman said in disgust but helped him move Orange onto the make-shift stretcher. "Storm Cloud, you're with me."

"Yeah, I'm not complaining," Virgil said.

Patton turned to Janus with an uneasy smile. "Well, I guess that means it's you and me-"

"I'll tag along with you two," the man in yellow said, pointing between Roman and Virgil.

"-Logan and Remus!" Patton continued as though that had been what he'd intended to say all along.

"Alright," Logan said and moved ahead of the brothers to ensure the pathways was clear for them. "Let's... get this over with."

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 12:20 PM

Orange had been sealed into his cryochamber, a task that had taken more effort than any of them had wanted, and there were now a few empty stomachs after smelling the half digested remains of his breakfast. Knowing the workings of death was not the same as experiencing them and no one was ready, not even Remus who was looking paler than usual. They were back in the cafeteria, sitting at the table and keeping an eye on all the entrances both Roman and Remus now with patches of blood on their suits from having to physically having to move the body.

Normally at his time Logan would have suggested they east something, but he knew none of them would be able to keep it down.

"What should we do?" Virgil asked, helmet now firmly back in place. "We can't just... wait here to get murdered."

"Logan did say that the more of us there are in one group, the more likely we'll be able to defend ourselves," Patton said with a forced smile. "Why don't we just, you know, stick together?"

"But then the alien might be going around sabotaging the Station," Remus pointed out, eyes flickering to every shadow as he touched each finger to his thumbs over and over again. "I mean, did Orange finish working on the reactor? And the engines; what if we weren't where we needed to be when the rest of the team arrives? They'd have to search for us, and that could take weeks! And then there's the Oxygen-"

As though Remus's words had been a prophecy the Station's alarm sounded and a yellow light flashed.

"Next time, keep your mouth shut," Janus said, pushing himself up from the table.

"We have to get to two panels," Logan informed them, painfully aware of the countdown that the overhead had begun in a tinny voice. "There's one in Admin and another next to the oxygen filter."

"We'll take Admin," Roman said, nodding to Janus and leading both him and Virgil in the right direction.

Logan, meanwhile, headed back to the oxygen station, but before he could get too far Remus caught his shoulder.

"Remus-"

"I'll go first," he said, moving ahead as he sent a grin his way. "If anyone's going to get disembowelled by a murdering alien it's me."

Logan felt almost physically sick at the thought but gave him a nod and followed behind.

Though there were only a few corners to turn to reach their destination, each one held a horrible danger and a potentially deadly encounter, turning the once safe and comforting realm into a nightmare. They held their breath as they stepped into the oxygen lab and Remus stood guard at the door, letting Logan get on with repairing the error. Although Patton's fidgeting at the side was a little distracting, Logan did notice that the error was actually fairly easy to fix, and it seemed to have been created remotely. That was odd. Very odd indeed. The only way for that to happen would be-

The voice stopped its countdown and the lights went back to their sterile glare as he closed the casing, confirming that the others had fixed their end, and they all relaxed minutely.

"That was a close call," Patton said, undoubtedly trying to sound optimistic but the wobble in his voice broke the illusion.

Logan nodded. "Let's go back to the cafeteria."

The three of them moved carefully back towards their meeting place, constantly on guard and feeling incredibly vulnerable with every step. It was an oversight to not keep something on the Station with which to defend themselves, and it was something Logan would certainly be bringing up with their eventual co-workers, but for now all they had was their suits and their tablets.

The cafeteria was empty and quiet when they returned, the vast expanse of space looming dark and cold out the thick, reinforced windows. Against all logical reasoning it made Logan feel more alone than ever and he reached out for Remus's hand, which he took with a squeeze in silence. They wandered to the central table, clustering together as they watched the door to Admin, waiting. Seconds passed, and those seconds turned into minutes, until the tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

"They should be back by now," Logan said, pressing closer to Remus's side.

"May... Maybe they went to check on the engines," Patton suggested, having come to stand on Remus's other side.

Remus continued to watch the stretch of corridor for a few moments, his face more blank -- more serious -- than Logan could ever remember seeing it before. "We should check."

Patton swallowed. "D-do we have to?"

There was another long pause before Remus nodded and he looked between the two of them. "I don't think they've gone to the engines."

Logan swallowed but nodded, having come to a similar conclusion himself. They would have returned here as soon as the oxygen situation had been resolved. He released Remus's hand to give him greater movement and followed close behind him when they headed onwards.

Each step seemed to echo, their breaths loud in his ears and the air was almost too cold. He didn't know what to expect, so his mind created images for him; a craze worker left behind by the construction crew wielding a bloody screwdriver, an android system that had become corrupted and was disguising itself as the very walls around them, some alien creature from the movies he and Remus had watched late at night back on Earth, using the shadows, the ceiling, and whatever else it could to get to them without being seen. Whatever it was it was still out there.

It was still out there, and it had killed not only Orange, but Janus as well.

The once yellow suit was now almost entirely saturated with blood, the domed glass of the helmet shattered and Janus's face stuck in a look of shock. Logan didn't know where all the blood had come from exactly, but it had started to pool around the body, and he stepped closer, almost hypnotised by it. The human body held approximately 10 pints of blood. There were a myriad of veins in the body. Janus was dead. If a main artery was punctured, say in the leg, neck or arm, it would take 30 seconds before unconsciousness and 3 minutes until death. Janus was dead. Similarly it could take up to 5 minutes to die if the heart was--

"Logan!"

He blinked, surprised to find Remus was holding his face.

"Hey, Nerdy Wolverine. You back with me?"

Logan blinked again and nodded.

"Good," he said, planting a kiss on his brow. "Now, we still don't know where Roman and Virgil are. It might be that they were taken by whoever-"

Darkness. Complete and utter blackness fell over them, the lights clicking off. Patton squeaked in fright somewhere near the door. Logan clutched at Remus. Remus pulled Logan close.

"Electrical," Logan said. "We have to go to electrical to fix the lights."

"How can we fix it if we can't see?" Remus asked, his warm breath brushing against Logan's cheek.

"The panel should have some battery powered light in it," Logan said, cursing that he'd left his helmet in the weapons bay; though it wasn't much they had a small light in them, one which would have been incredibly useful now. "Patton, can you come closer so we can all stick together?"

Silence.

"... Patton?"

Still nothing.

"Logan," Remus said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I think..."

Logan's grip on Remus tightened and he nodded, the cold seeping into him as they stepped forwards together, creeping through the blackness. Until their feet hit something soft and wet. Logan whimpered.

"We have to get to the shuttle," Remus said, starting to pull Logan down the hallway, leaving Patton's corpse behind them. "We can lock the doors behind us and-"

"What about Roman and Virgil?"

"They're probably dead," Remus said, choking on the word but pausing all the same. "They're probably in pieces. Roman... We can't think about them. We-" The words cut off, choked with a gasp, and Logan felt him stiffen.

"R-Remus?"

"Logan... I love you. I love... I love you so much." Remus said, his voice wet and broken. He could hear a smile in his voice, and then he felt him fall. "You're... the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I love you too," he replied, tears streaming down his cheeks as he collapsed down beside him, reaching for his face to hold him. "Remus. Remus I love you so much." He could feel a presence behind him, the certainty of death creeping over him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Remus had stopped moving had stopped breathing, and he sobbed in agony at the loss until he felt something sharp and serrated slice through the flesh of his throat.

It takes 30 seconds of blood loss from a main artery until unconsciousness...

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 6:00 AM

Logan blinked his eyes open as the dim light of the cryodeck slowly brightened, emulating the rising of the sun back on Earth and offering a gentle escape from his induced hibernation. He waited patiently as his body began to realise that it was awake again and started to carefully move each digit. The tingle of pins and needles washed over him like a wave, but he'd been expecting it; he had taken the chance to research the effects that cryosleep would leave on the body, and had found it quite a fascinating read. Apparently it was very similar to freezing meat to preserve it, but the science behind it meant that the human body would be kept alive throughout the process, just severely slowed down, so when the process was reversed the human body had to take some time to recover. Hence the pins and needles.

He was just starting to curl his hands into fists when he heard the thud and slap of a body hitting the floor nearby, shortly followed by a long, low groan.

"You're supposed to wait until your blood flow has... returned to normal," Logan said, his voice cracking in a somehow familiar way.

The groan sounded again, followed by the sound of whoever it was who had decided that getting out of the pod immediately was a good idea crawling closer before a blurred dark head of hair with a streak of white revealed itself over the edge. Logan frowned.

"Have... Have we done this before?"

[girlafraidinacoma]

In The Lap of the Gods: Chapter Six - Fanta-seas and Denial

Summary: What do you get when you mix a tight-knit art community, young, hot-blooded twenty-something university students and good old-fashioned British Rock & Roll? Probably the next best hope for art and music that generation has to offer. With her friends’ band skyrocketing to fame, what exactly does a girl do when she suddenly finds herself sitting in the lap of the gods? The answer: do the only thing she can do, rise to the occasion of course!

Pairing: Gwilym Lee!Brian May x Original Female Character

Author’s Note: Sorry, not sorry for the incredibly late update dudes. Was super uninspired for months, had a break down, got over it, bon appetit.

( gif credit goes to @queenmercurys.)

Kind of AU, contains both elements from real life and the Bo Rhap universe, so imagine whoever you prefer whether they be the real thing or the Bo Rhap Boys–be free.

[Link to Ao3 fic!]

Chapter Playlist:

Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell

Astral Weeks - Van Morrison

Chapter Six - Fanta-seas and Denial

Ealing, December 1969.

“You’re incorrigible. I’ll never finish at this rate!” Wyn cried, throwing her arms up.

“Nobody told you to leave it until the last minute to work on your project.” He grumbled. It seemed like only yesterday that she began her first day at the Ealing Technical College and School of Art, but December had finally crept in, summoning the looming toll of due dates and unfinished critical projects.

“I honestly didn’t mean to forget, I thought I’d still have a week, not three bloody days.” Wyn whimpered a little pathetically, feeling the mounting panic bubble inside at the thought of not submitting her work on time. Currently, they were seated on the floor at the centre of Wyn’s dorm room, the space her easel usually occupied, cutting out various images and words out of several dozen stacks of magazines, newspapers, catalogues and a charitable helping of Woman’s Weekly – courtesy of Jer Bulsara.

Wyn’s dorm was a site Freddie had quickly grown accustomed to during their past few months of friendship. He liked her place. Sure, there were several others that lived on her floor and there’s only the bare modicum of privacy, but it was a decently sized space for a dorm, generous even, were it not cramped with half-finished canvases and art materials at various stages of use. Despite this fact, Wyn had tried her very best to make it up as nice as she could without having to open a Better Homes magazine. It was a place of barely organized but brightly coloured chaos.

The room itself was divided into two halves, one half where she slept and lounged, and the other half reserved for her work. The narrow bed which she slept in had been pushed up flush against the far corner of the room for the spatial economy. There was an olive-green loveseat with faded upholstery situated opposite the bed, and next to it was her bookshelf (definitely someone’s previously discarded woodworking project), keeping her collection of vinyls, novels and art journals. The side of Wyn’s room that served as her work area had a very large window that provided her place with natural light from about six or seven in the morning to four in the afternoon. Beside the window was a small desk, perpetually cluttered with paper, and a heavy wooden trunk packed to the brim with art supplies. One would think she’d been living there forever with all the stuff she’d accumulated in the past four months; the result of which was an assemblage of mismatched furniture that on its own were rather forgettable or borderline hideous, but somehow miraculously worked together, grudgingly made ‘cool’ by the person inhabiting it.

“Now who’s incorrigible?” As much as Freddie teased, it only took about five minutes of begging and a promise to cover one of his shifts at the Kensington stall for Freddie to generously acquiesce his time to help her out with one of her class assessments, to her supreme relief.

“Besides, they only want proof of concept. The whole thing’s not due until the end of Christmas hols.” Wyn said, flipping to the next page.

“Sure, sure.” The man rolled his eyes, waving a large pair of shears around. “What’s the focus for this piece anyway?”

“Oh, you know, just a bit of social commentary about defining identity through materialism and the like.” She told him, picking up a scrap he’d just finished cutting out, “These little bits here, will eventually be put together and build up a face or whatever, then I think I’d slather some paint on it, use some charcoal and call it a day, probably.”

“Is it still Granger and Warton assessing?”

“Warton is on leave, taking the airs in Bournemouth. Connelly is subbing in.”

“Even better, Connelly likes anything that’s remotely opinionated. He’ll be eating this all up with his Sunday roast.” He laughed. It gave her that smidge more comfort to hear his approval and she told him just as much.

She and Freddie were both dutifully attending to their work when out of the blue, Freddie sniffs the air, saying: “Have I told you how much your room smells?”

“Oops,” The girl said sheepishly, “Sorry. Let me just open a window. Afraid I’ve gotten quite used to it.” Briefly, she pattered away from him to do just that, lighting a rosemary and orange-scented candle, a gift from an aunt who had taken up chandlery upon retirement.

“Yes, the smell of varnish does tend to make the uninitiated rather queasy.” He nodded. “Lucky for you, I know the smell intimately. Unlucky for you, it still makes me queasy. Unless… you’ve become a junkie, in which case there are better highs than paint fumes, my dear.” A hand rose to Freddie’s chest, playfully aghast.

Wyn shook her head with a laugh. “I don’t even realise sometimes, too stuck in my work.”

“Still, you should always remember to take care of yourself. What good is your art if you’re not there to appreciate it? I’d rather have you, than a painting.”

Wyn dropped the page she was holding and looked at him. “Always so sweet. Where would I be without you, my dearest Freddie?”

“Probably still glued to a wall in that function room with the horrible punch.” Fred snarked, letting out an inelegant snort in the magazine his face was buried in.

So far, they were amassing a pretty sizeable pile of clippings and Wyn wordlessly congratulated herself and Freddie for making progress, but the good feeling didn’t last long. The two had been quiet for a while, with only the sound of snipping and paper tearing to fill the silence when reluctantly Fred releases the lip he had been gnawing on for a solid two minutes and clears his throat. “I’ve got something to tell you,” He says, putting down the pair of scissors he was using. “Actually, I could use your opinion.”

Still focused on an area she was clipping, Wyn nodded. “Spill, it’s not like we’re going anywhere soon.”

He exhaled deeply and gave what could be likened to a formal announcement. “I’m thinking of seeing Mary. Scratch that, I’ve seen Mary and had a cup of coffee with her, and I’ve been thinking about doing that more.”

There was sudden a hush that came about the room and settled in like a third guest. It took her several moments to process and Wyn gently reminded herself to lower her pair of scissors, lest she accidentally hurt a friend. “Wait, Mary, as in 'the coat's BIBA', Mary? As in Brian’s Mary? That Mary?” She gauged him with a puzzled look.

“As in Brian’s ex-girlfriend, Mary Austin, Yes.” Freddie confirmed, not blinking.

“So, you want to go see Brian’s ex, that is what you’re saying?”

“Ex, being the operative word, but yes.”

“You don’t think that’ll put a wrench into things?” She asked with a furrowed brow. “Smile hasn’t even begun performing again yet with you as the lead. Do you understand where I’m coming from, how precarious your situation is?”

“I don’t know,” It was his turn to shrug, eyes large and expressive. “I think she’s sweet and gorgeous and she doesn’t mind my teeth. Wait, where did you hear about Brian and Mary anyway?”

Wyn shrugged, “Roger told me.”

“That gossiping cow.” Freddie scowled.

“Well, no, we were just talking and the subject came up,” Wyn said levelly, grabbing a new catalogue from the stack.

“Oh, it came up naturally, did it?” He asked, picking up his scissors and cutting the page he was on a tad aggressively. “Not that you were asking after a certain boy with a guitar, needling poor Roger until he revealed whether said boy was single or not?”

“No,” She denies, “Roger and I were just talking about that night at the bar, and he just happened to mention that until recently Brian had been seeing Mary and hinted that maybe Brian was still interested in seeing her.”

Freddie had narrowed his eyes. “And Roger told you that, did he? Are you sure this isn’t about you and Roger?”

Her head quirked. “Why would this be about me and Roger?”

Freddie laughed. “Maybe because Roger thinks you’re fit and he’s trying to eliminate the competition by hinting that one of his friends might be keen to reconnect with an ex so that you won’t consider that friend as a potential romantic partner?”

“Or, you’re spinning this intricate web because you’re in denial that Mary wants to be with Brian and continuing to see her might ruin your chances with the band?” She offered sweetly.

“Or, this is about you and Roger.” Wyn had to roll her eyes at that.

“This is so not about Roger.”

“Brian, then.”

“It’s not like that.” She shakes her head, eyes trailing to the ground.

Freddie was not convinced, “I saw you and Brian looking cozy together. In that booth, on the way home, going for a little shopping trip…”

“We went shopping to feed you!”

“It’s probably what set off Rog in the first place.” He said in sing-song.

“N-no, the man doesn’t even flirt with me--” She was growing exasperated quickly.

“So, you admit that you flirt with Roger all the time.” Freddie was a dog with a bone.

“That’s just the way we talk to each other! He just thinks it’s a bit of fun, and I’m not about to let him think he can get a rise out of me.” Freddie could have sworn her voice rose an octave.

"I think you have a crush on him."

"I do not have a crush on Brian."

"Who said anything about Brian?" Freddie cracked a devilish grin at having caught her out. He batted his eyes at her.

The girl, on the other hand, was at a loss for words, opening her mouth and closing it again a couple of times, before scoffing. “Oh, shut up. You haven’t proven anything. Go see Mary then if you’ve already made up your mind.” She resigned, covering her discomfort with a laugh. Wyn looked down and busied herself by neatening the growing pile of magazine and newspaper trimmings she was collecting, forcing her hair to fall and obscuring her face. She absolutely was not going to let her friend see the burning flush she was newly sporting.

Fred chuckled beside her, examining his manicured hand. "I honestly wonder what fantasy world you're living in, darling. You're so caught up in it."

Instead of answering him directly she chose to switch to diversionary tactics. "You say that like it's a bad thing, or like you're not right there with me. You're just as mad as me." She poked his cheek.

"True, darling." He conceded, "I definitely see the appeal; I mean who wouldn’t want to escape this old tedious business for one in a fantasy book?” Freddie sighed dreamily, “I say, human ingenuity peaked when we learned we could just imagine ourselves far away from here.”

The girl hummed, gladdened to finally be talking about something else again. “Where everything is weird and wonderful, and you finally belong…”

“You can be anyone you want to be.”

“And bugger the rules because there are none.” She supplied without missing a beat.

“Get out of my head, Wyn Clemens.” He chided her. “You know, this reminds me of when Kashmira and I used to spend all our time in the afternoons together lying on a dusty floor, making up crazy stories.”

A fond smile came over Wyn’s face. “Oh? What about?”

“Well, tis a tale of a long and arduous quest to save the magical Kingdom of Rhye,” He said indulgently, “Your usual fight between the forces of good and evil, brave knights, lavish castles, rival queens, and a sprinkling of anthropomorphic animals.”

“Ah, but of course! I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She leaned back and drew her legs under her chin. “Pray tell then, merry minstrel, regale me with the story of Rhye.”

Freddie sat a little more upright in his spot, his teeth showing in a big smile. “Alright, so, it all began when the White Queen was abducted from her castle. Now in hopes to rescue her, her brother, the handsome Prince, scours all the land gathering knights…”

Wyn had already forgotten they had been arguing not two minutes ago. It was like that with her and Freddie, they never could stay cross with one another for long, always managing to read what the other was thinking. It was shocking how close the two had gotten in such a short span of time. Suddenly the prospect of Freddie graduating brought a sinking feeling to Wyn’s chest. She silently hoped he’d still have time for her, or would deign to remain her friend. The future always seemed so unsteady. Standing on its precipice, Wyn supposed that if she’d have to drink some horrible punch at some mediocre party, she’d rather be suffering through it with him than without him.

[artificialqueens]

Extra Credit: Part 8 (Shalaska) - Rosie

A/N: Not going to lie, getting back into the Extra Credit swing of things was hard, especially because I wasn’t ready to write such a climactic chapter that I’ve imagined in my head for honestly over a YEAR. I don’t want to dwell on how long it’s been since I’ve updated this fic, but thank you x a million for sticking around and staying interested. I started Playing Cupid during the break and adore it (read Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 here! I like it more than Extra Credit! And that says a lot!), so when I’m not writing this, I’m writing that. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it has… like, every emotion. Also this was meant to be for @purecamp’s birthday! I’m late but her special day was the biggest motivator for me to finally get back into this so thank you very much for helping me get my ass into gear and turn this out. Please send love notes here or at @aqrosie xx

Summary: University Professor Sharon Needles hooks up with a slamming hot blonde at a bar who may or may not be one of her students.  

Chapter Summary: Tears! Drama! Thanksgiving! A healthy 6.3k words.

Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six and Seven

I GOT THE JOB, Courtney wrote.

Alaska froze, completely forgetting about the makeup tutorial she was watching on her phone as Courtney’s message lingered at the top of her screen, only to be replaced with more capitals.

I GOT THE JOB I GOT THE JOB I GOT THE FUCKING JOB SLFHKDSLHV I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS, Courtney wrote again.

Sitting up, she rapidly opened her messages.

I’M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU I’M FUCKING CRYING OH MY GOD, Alaska wrote back, completely straight faced.

This was monumental.

Courtney, her best-friend, whom she loved to pieces, who worked harder than anyone she knew, who was constantly knocking on doors, organising internships for herself and maintaining her GPA and part-time waitressing gig, had just gotten the entry level marketing position no doubt a hundred other applicants also jumped at.

Of course Alaska was happy for her, of course.

She just… had this sudden sick feeling in her stomach, like all her guts were twisting and pulling her to the ground from the inside.

But she was fine. Really.

“Ooh,” Sharon commented from the kitchen, completely pulling out of her thoughts. “This smells so good.”

Alaska murmured in agreement from her spot on the couch, watching as Sharon pottered around, cooking their roasted cauliflower enchiladas while sipping on a glass of wine. She lifted herself up before joining her girlfriend at the stove.

“Aw,” Sharon smiled as Alaska’s arms wrapped around her from behind. “Come to help?”

“Yeah,” Alaska said quietly into Sharon’s soft sweater, wanting a cuddle more than anything.

As Sharon stirred with her left hand, she placed her right on top of one of Alaska’s arms wrapped around her waist, trying to stroke her before giggling.

“I can’t stir and pat you, it’s like that rub your tummy and pat your head thing.”

Alaska frowned. “What?”

“You know that thing,” Sharon attempted. “You can’t do both at the same time. Like, it’s hard. I’ll show you later.”

“Okay,” Alaska snorted, pulling back from Sharon, only to stay and play with the soft fabric of her sweater, like a kitten wanting attention.

“Can you grab me the salt and pepper, bub?” Sharon asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

She knew Alaska would tell her whatever was bothering her when she was ready, but when not even a warm dinner, glass of wine and two episodes of The Golden Girls while wrapped in Sharon’s arms on the couch didn’t return her back to normal, she couldn’t help but probe.

When Alaska exited the ensuite that night after her shower and dedicated skincare routine, she snuggled up against Sharon’s side, already back to anxiously picking at her nails.

“What’s on your mind, pumpkin?” Sharon asked, her book in one hand as she softly scratched Alaska’s head, right at that spot near the nape of her neck which always relaxed her.

“Mm… Corm job…” Alaska mumbled, her voice muffled.

“Mh?” Sharon encouraged, before Alaska couldn’t help but sigh.

“Courtney got a job,” she finally said. “This graduate marketing thing.”

Albeit slowly, things started to make sense. “That’s so good! Where at?”

“Some health food place, not her dream job but it’s something.”

“Yeah, exactly…” Sharon agreed. Much softer now, she gently cracked Alaska open. “Talk to me, Lasky.”

It was like a time lapse of a river breaking its banks. Sharon could only watch as tears instantly welled in Alaska’s eyes before a sob bubbled out of her, her features scrunching up as all her insecurities and worries overwhelmed her before finally spilling over.

“Oh no baby don’t cry,” Sharon whispered urgently, grabbing a tissue on her bedside table and sliding her reading glasses off.

Alaska dabbed at her eyes, instantly soaking the tissue with her tears as she blubbered.

“It’s just… all just… hitting me now…” she hiccupped, “how everything is changing and I’m not going to be a student forever and I need to get a job and everyone is getting jobs and I haven’t even started applying because I’m so fucking scared of everything and my resume is shit because I didn’t do any internships and and and—“

“Breathe,” Sharon told her, squeezing her hand before grabbing her more tissues and retiring her book to her nightstand. She needed to go into damage control.

Alaska breathed in deeply before continuing, still at her same hurried pace but with slightly less tears. “I don’t know what I want to do with my life, but at the same time I know this is the happiest I’ve ever been, with you, with us. But graduation is only a couple of months away and I’m expected to leave Pittsburgh and get a job and I don’t know what that means… for us, and I’ve been so good at ignoring all of this until it comes but when things happen like Courtney getting a job… it just hits me all over again.”

A fresh wave of tears streamed down Alaska’s cheeks, and all Sharon could do was pull her onto her lap, into her arms and rock her like a child.

“Shhh,” Sharon whispered, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

She gently rocked Alaska until her tears subsided, not caring how long it took or how damp her pyjama top was becoming.

Alaska’s tone dropped. “Also Thanksgiving is soon and my mom is going to be so annoying about this all.”

Sharon laughed.

“Aw, love,” she murmured, brushing her cheek against Alaska’s. “I promise you everything will work itself out.”

Alaska couldn’t help but pout, her bottom lip quivering.

“No,” Sharon said firmly. “Look at me. Everything you’re feeling is perfectly normal. You’re going to apply to everything and anything, and you’re going to put yourself out there. You won’t be alone, I’ll help you. Okay?”

Alaska nodded, like Sharon was her life couch giving her a game plan.

“As for us,” Sharon continued, before exhaling. She had been thinking about this herself a lot recently. They never felt their age gap until moments like this, when the stages of their lives didn’t quite line up as neatly as they would have liked.

“We’ll work it out. We can’t plan what’s going to happen, where we might end up. But please know I never want you to base your decisions around me, or where I’m at in life. Don’t say no to something if it’s in another city. We’ll make it work. We’ll do long distance. I’ll fly you out—“

Alaska giggled. “You sound like a rapper, ‘I’ll fly you out.’”

“I will,” Sharon laughed. “And I’ll come see you.”

Alaska nodded, fiddling with the ends of her hair as she let her girlfriend’s words sink in. Sharon wiped the moisture from her cheek, and Alaska leaned into her warm touch.

“I know a lot of things are changing,” Sharon said softly, “but we’re not changing, and if we do, it’s only going to be for the better.”

Alaska sighed, the weight on her shoulders lessening and the knot in her stomach loosening. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Sharon smiled, pecking her on the lips.

They reclined back down to their previous position, Alaska curled up against Sharon’s side, who continued to stroke her hair.

“You never showed me that tummy rubbing thing…” Alaska said quietly.

“Oh, it’s this,” Sharon sat up, moving to see herself in their floor length mirror opposite their bed as she tried to demonstrate. She rubbed her head with one hand while she patted her stomach with the other. “Ugh, this fucks with my head, every time I think I’m doing it right I realise I’m patting my head in a circle, like now. Alaska?”

With her hand over her mouth, Alaska held back laughter until she couldn’t anymore.

“I knew what it was,” Alaska wheezed, “I just wanted to see you do it.”

“Oh my god,” Sharon whined, rolling to bury her blushing face into Alaska’s neck.

That night, Sharon fell asleep first. Wrapped in the older woman’s arms, Alaska focused on her deep, even breathing and willed herself to do the same, all the while ignoring the knot in her stomach which began to tighten all over again.

*

“Aw, she loves you Sharon!”

Standing in the middle of the crowded living room, amongst her boisterous uncles, already tipsy aunts, eccentric cousins and their overly energetic children was Sharon, cradling the newest edition to their growing extended family to her chest.

“She’s gorgeous,” Sharon beamed, admiring the chubby baby in her arms, who matched her gaze with big blue eyes filled with wonder at this stranger holding her. “How old is Farrah again? Five months?”

“Four,” her sister Max replied, smiling at her baby daughter.

Sharon couldn’t help but moan, resting tiny Farrah on her chest and inhaling her indescribable baby scent as Farrah’s stubby legs kicked with excitement.

Sharon was happy. So happy. She couldn’t picture a Thanksgiving in her adult life she had enjoyed as much as this.

When she had arrived at her parent’s place, not even her suitcase with its broken wheel, which forced her to lump it up their concrete driveway, or her delayed flight, or the bitterly cold weather could dampen her mood.

When her mother Michelle had excitedly opened the front door and welcomed her inside, it was like the sun itself had entered their home.

“You look good,” Michelle had said as Sharon had slipped off her coat, taking her daughter’s cold cheeks in both her hands, as if she couldn’t quite believe the extra light in Sharon’s eyes. “You’re practically glowing.”

“Oh, you know,” Sharon had waved her off, smiling ear to ear. “I’m just ready for a little holiday.”

Michelle knew her daughter, and something had shifted inside of Sharon. She wasn’t depressed, but over the years Michelle felt like her light had dulled, like the bulb was covered in a thin layer of dust. It wasn’t visible, but Michelle could feel it. Now, Sharon radiated happiness from every pore.

Carrying a tray of snacks into the living room, she spotted Sharon bobbing little Farrah, catching the moment she calmed the baby down by kissing the top of her head.

*

“Oh, no no, go upstairs and change, quick smart.”

Alaska scoffed.

“But I bought this top specifically for Thanksgiving,” she pointed to her chest, where her white shirt read WHY BE RACIST, SEXIST, HOMOPHOBIC OR TRANSPHOBIC WHEN YOU COULD JUST BE QUIET?

“And I bought you that gorgeous emerald Sherri Hill dress lying on your bed for Thanksgiving as well,” her mother Merle replied, raising one of her eyebrows in a way Alaska always tried to do herself but couldn’t.

“Change.”

Forcing herself to unclench her jaw, Alaska retreated back to her room, her feet tempted to stomp up their wooden staircase and scuff their perfect polished floors because she knew it made her mother livid.

Alaska didn’t want to be a brat, but being around her mom made her defensive hackles go up. Maybe it was the end of the year, or the stress of hosting Thanksgiving, or the fact that every single time they saw each other, Alaska felt like they were actors in a scene just going through the motions of how a mother and daughter should act.

Naively, when Alaska had returned home the day before, she hoped her mother had… changed a little bit. Her father Andrew had answered the door, throwing his comforting arms around her before hauling her “bloody heavy suitcase Alaska jeez it’s only two days” up to her room.

She had walked through their grand home, which was decorated Thanksgiving style, and had found her mother in the dining room, rearranging their dried leaf centrepieces to a Merle Ginsberg-Thunder level of opulence.

“Mom,” Alaska had called, her footsteps not enough to pull her mother from her focused task.

“Lala!” Merle had cried, using the nickname Alaska had given herself when she was little and thought she was pronouncing her name right.

Alaska had hugged her mom, taking in her signature Chanel no. 5, the pearl necklace that always adorned her neck and the orange dress she wore, which hung off her tall, slender frame.

For a moment there, Alaska believed things this year might be a little different.

But then the hug finished, and Merle went back to her centrepiece before ordering Alaska to help her Dad carry down the special glass wear from the attic, leaving her own daughter to feel like another one of her seasonal props. It didn’t help that Alaska had no way to escape, and no valid answer to, her mother’s relentless questions as she helped decorate: What jobs have you applied for? What do you mean none? And internships? None at all? What do you think is going to happen? What’s gotten into you, Alaska? No, don’t put that there, that’s all wrong.

Alaska knew the reason for their unspoken awkwardness, as all it circled back to when she was 19, drunk and feeling lucky, coming out in the middle of their kitchen to who she assumed were accepting parents, before her mother’s explosive reaction had made her backtrack, walking right into Merle’s ‘I’m sure it’s just a phase, Alaska,’ trap.

There was so much Alaska wanted to say to her, but the words never left her mouth, instead building up as resentment inside of her. She glared at the emerald dress in question, another reminder of how poorly Merle knew her own daughter, or how determined she was to make her something she wasn’t.

It was a pretty dress… if you were 14, not 22. It was a short halter neck style number, with a bodice covered in sequins and an organza skirt that flared out. Begrudgingly, Alaska slipped it on, before looking in the mirror and feeling like a complete fucking idiot. The strap around her neck felt suffocating, the fabric felt itchy, and the entire thing was slightly too small, another symbol of how she had grown out of the mould Merle had made for her. She wanted to rip the bloody thing off.

Instead, she pulled it over her head, left it in a passive-aggressive pile on the floor and changed into a backup option she bought along, a seasonally appropriate burgundy dress.

Feeling more like herself, Alaska left to join the guests she heard arriving downstairs, ignoring the lump in her throat and the prickle in her eyes.

*

“And what colour is this?” Sharon said, pointing to her own dress.

“Black!” Brianna replied excitedly, hanging onto Aunty Sharon’s every word.

“Good girl, Cracker, and this?” Sharon pointed to the onesie Farrah was wearing, who was snoozing against her chest where they both laid on the couch.

“Pink!” Brianna smiled. “My favourite colour.”

Alaska’s too, Sharon thought.

“Correct! And what colour is Blair wearing?” Sharon pointed to her 18-month old niece sat on the play mat, completely entertained by the plastic block in her hand.

“Yellow!” Brianna shouted, knowing she was right.

“Yes! Can you show me your paintings?” Sharon asked, watching Brianna wobble over to the pile of artwork all of Sharon’s toddler aged nieces and nephews had made together in the designated kid’s corner.

Sharon slipped out her phone, opening Snapchat and capturing a picture of Farrah asleep on her chest, before writing IM SO CLUCKY!! over the top and sending it to the only contact she had.

They had just finished their early Thanksgiving dinner, and while they waited to digest before dessert was served, Sharon had slipped away from the adults for some better company.

“Look!” Brianna held up her art. “This is mommy and grandma.”

Brianna’s mother, Max, was a tall stick figure with a huge smile on her face. Her grandma, Michelle, was the shortest of them all, Brianna’s artistic decision to make a green blob her body making Sharon crack up.

“And this is you,” Brianna said, pointing to the final woman. Sharon couldn’t stop smiling at the medium height stick figure on the side, the blob of yellow on her head being her hair.

“Aw, it’s so gorgeous Bri!” Sharon beamed. “We need to put that on the fridge.”

“And this is Farrah,” Brianna said, pointing to a small blob of pink floating near Max — that Sharon originally thought was a mistake — which represented her baby sister.

Sharon chucked loudly, causing Farrah to wake up. She cried once, before her chubby fist grabbed at the material of Sharon’s dress.

“Here, let me take Farrah off you,” Max said, walking over to their little gathering on the couch.

“Aw it’s okay, I love holding her,” Sharon smiled, looking down and seeing Farrah press her little face into Sharon.

“Yes, but right now she thinks you’re going to breastfeed her.”

“Oh,” Sharon replied, sitting up and passing the grabby baby back to its mother.

“You’re a complete natural though,” Max smiled. “I can’t wait until you have a little one.”

In the past when people would mention children to Sharon, she would react awkwardly, a bunch of reasons making her believe the whole concept of motherhood was not destined for her.

But now, for once, she agreed.

“Me too,” she said softly.

She hauled herself up from the couch before making her way into the kitchen to scope out a PBR from the fridge.

When she shut the door, Michelle had appeared behind her.

“Those pies in there look yum,” Sharon said, about to ask when they could be dished out before her mom cut her off, a giant smile on her face.

“You’re in love,” Michelle said in a hushed tone.

Sharon couldn’t deny it even if she tried. Her face broke into a smile as her mom took her hands in hers.

“You’d love her, mom,” Sharon whispered. “She’s so funny, she’s got our type of humour, because she’s so smart, and gorgeous, god, she’s so gorgeous.”

“Baby,” Michelle squealed quietly, pulling her daughter in for a hug. “This is so huge. Is it… you know, serious?”

Sharon pulled back, nodding. “I told her I loved her.”

Michelle gasped, making them both giggle.

“And she said it back,” Sharon smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter, the love in her heart making her mind spin.

“Oh, you don’t know how happy I am to see you like this, Sharon,” Michelle said, her eyes misty.

They hugged, Sharon burying her face into her mom’s neck as her loving arms wrapped around her, all the while imagining Alaska in this very kitchen, laughing and bonding with Michelle.

“Grandma.”

They both jumped slightly, looking down to see Brianna tugging on Michelle’s dress.

“Can I have some pie? Please.”

*

“So then I said…”

Alaska rolled her eyes as her mother repeated a story from her glory pageant days to the whole family, one she knew word for word. Alaska picked at her food, lip-syncing perfectly with her mother.

“…I was Miss Erie Pennsylvania 1992, and don’t you forget it.”

Their table roared with laughter while Alaska shoved a piece of potato salad into her mouth.

Expectedly, this dinner had been hard work.

It started when her mother had pressured her in front of everyone to put turkey on her plate, forcing Alaska to announce yet again she was a vegetarian, fully knowing it’d spark another debate.

“I just don’t understand vegetarians,” her mother had sighed, “the animals are already dead when they get to the supermarket. You can’t do anything to save them.”

Alaska wanted to crawl into a hole.

In the middle of dinner, when her Aunty Bebe had leaned across the table and genuinely asked Alaska how she was going at university, and what her plans were for afterwards, Merle had completely cut her daughter off.

“She’s thinking of moving back home, who knows, maybe you could do the marketing for Crowns and Gowns,” Merle had interjected, referencing her pageantry training business.

“What? No,” Alaska had snapped back, the thought alone infuriating her.

While Alaska loved makeup and clothes and talented women, her mother’s overwhelming involvement in pageants her entire life had made her detest them. They were so old-fashioned and conservative and stuffy.

And so was Merle.

Alaska wouldn’t still be thinking about this moment if her mother hadn’t leaned into her Aunty Nina seated next to her and whispered, “she doesn’t know whatshe wants.”

Alaska wanted to scream.

I want Sharon, she had thought blinking back the moisture in her eyes as she stared at her food.

“And what about your love life,” Aunty Bebe had said in her usual vivacious manner, attempting to brighten her niece’s deflated mood. “Breaking any boy’s hearts?”

Alaska’s eyes darted to Merle’s, which widened in a comical way. However, with her mouth full of turkey, Alaska jumped in before she could utter another word.

“Oh, no boys on the agenda,” Alaska smiled at her Aunt. “But who knows.”

“Lovely,” Bebe replied, taking a sip of her wine and missing the smirk on Alaska’s lips, and Merle’s anxious gaze.

Towards the end of the dinner, when Alaska was her most bored and alone as she was wedged between her younger cousins who were discussing PewDiePie, whatever that was, and her older aunts and uncles, her phone had lit up in her lap.

snoodles sent you a snap!

Alaska had excused herself to the bathroom, momentarily putting her angst on hold while she tapped open Sharon’s picture. She whined when she saw the chubby little baby sleeping on a very happy Sharon’s chest, and her heart filled with joy reading how clucky she felt.

She took a screenshot, replied with what felt like millions of love hearts and crying emojis, before going back to staring at the picture again. She stared at it until she calmed down, reminding herself that she wasn’t a teenager anymore, that her life was so much more than what her mother wanted for her, and that there was so much ahead of her.

*

“Well, I call that a success,” Merle said, walking into the kitchen after waving off the last of their guests.

With her back to her, Alaska rolled her eyes from her spot at the sink where she was rinsing dishes. She could describe their Thanksgiving as a lot of things, but a success wasn’t one of them.

Merle took a seat at their marble granite breakfast bar, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“Of course, it would have been even better if you hadn’t been in such a mood all day, Alaska.”

Heat prickled up Alaska’s spine, reaching her brain before spiking through all her nerves. She scrubbed the plate in her hand, the old bristles of the brush leaving tiny scratches in its wake, just like her mother.

“I mean, what’s gotten into you? I feel like every time I see you you’re on the defence, and—“

Alaska couldn’t take it anymore.

She threw the plate into the sink, not meaning to shatter it, but God, it did, and it felt fucking good.

“Alaska—”

“No!” she whipped around, fury in her eyes as words after words poured out of her. “You think I’m in a mood? You wanna know what’s gotten into me? You. You! It’s like you’re suffocating me. And I know why you’re like this but you never bring it up which is what makes it worse—“

Alaska’s body took over. She choked up, tears welling in her eyes as her throat tightened. But she needed to finish, looking at her mother’s shocked expression across the island bench top.

“I’ve put up with so much shit from you ever since… ever since I… came out,” Alaska said, a pang of hurt in her heart as her mother rolled her eyes. “No! Listen to me. Or don’t. I don’t fucking care anymore, because it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know how you feel, but I know when I came out, you weren’t happy, and I freaked out and told you I might be bi, or that I wasn’t sure, because I knew that’s what you wanted. Well now I’ve found someone.”

She caught the moment Merle’s lips parted in shock, the moment her breath hitched.

With wet cheeks and red eyes and a frame shaking with emotion, Alaska continued, feeling both terrified yet electric.

“I’ve found someone and she makes me so happy, the happiest I’ve ever been. And if you don’t want that for me, that’s fine. But that’s what I want. I want her, and I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.”

She placed her hands on her bench, the coldness of the marble shocking her hot skin as she leaned towards her mother, repeating the words Merle had said to her aunt. “That’s what I want.”

She didn’t catch Merle’s reaction, because as her mother sat in shock for mere moments, Alaska was already gone, leaving the kitchen before running up the stairs to her room and closing the door. She didn’t need to slam it, she wasn’t throwing a tantrum. But she needed to be alone.

In the dark, she made it to her bed, breaking down as a sob racked through her whole body. She clutched her pillow to her chest, pressing her face to it and not caring about her makeup as she cried.

It felt liberating to flush everything out. But above all, everything just felt real. It made Sharon feel real. It made their relationship even more real. And it made her relationship with her mother, which she had ignored, avoided and agonised over, feel real.

Without knowing how much time had passed, Alaska eventually felt around for her phone, the brightness of her lock screen blinding her as she pried off her phone case. Out fell her favourite polaroid.

She held it in her hand, which still shook slightly. Staring at it again, she couldn’t help but smile at her and Sharon’s laughing faces, at how happy and carefree they were.

Dabbing her eyes, she tapped the contact at the top of her messages.

*

“That’s her,” Sharon squealed quietly, getting up from the couch where her and Michelle sat after dinner.

“Oooh,” Michelle whispered back, her eyelids heavy as she looked about three seconds away from falling asleep after a hectic day.

Sharon escaped to the spare bedroom of her mother’s new house which was hers for the holiday. She shut the door behind her before answering the phone and laying down on her sheets.

“Hey baby,” Sharon smiled. “Happy Thanksgiving! Even though we called each other this morning. How was your day?”

“Hey,” Alaska croaked, her voice muffled, before Sharon heard a sniff that made her heart sink.

“Are you okay?” She said seriously, and the concern in her voice made Alaska well up again. She just wanted to be in Sharon’s arms.

“Yeah,” Alaska said, shamelessly letting a sob slip out.

“No!” Sharon worried, immediately standing up, as if she was about to run out of the house and defend on girlfriend on foot. “What happened? Talk to me, it’s okay, where are you? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alaska breathed in. “I’m fine, I’m in my room. I just… had a fight with mom. Well not a fight, I don’t know, I just… came out all over again, and I told her I found someone and how happy I am, and that I don’t care what she thinks, and then I went upstairs.”

Sharon was silent, her eyes wide at what she was hearing.

“And like,” Alaska continued, her voice becoming clearer as she settled down. “I’m not really crying out of sadness, I don’t know, it’s more like, just a lot of emotions, and relief maybe, because I just didn’t think I was about to do that, and then I went and did that, and I’m like, kind of shocked and surprised by myself. Does that make sense?”

“Oh, Alaska,” Sharon’s voice was thick with admiration as her moisture prickled in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you! I’m so proud of you. Fuck me, no wonder you’re crying. Now I’m crying.”

Alaska laughed, Sharon’s voice filling her heart with joy. She had made her girlfriend proud.

“What you did right now was huge,” Sharon told her. “When did you try last time? 19? You’ve made 19-year-old Lasky so proud. I always knew you were brave, Alaska, but now you know, and it, ugh, I don’t even have the words.”

Sharon was silent, and Alaska sensed she was about to keep going.

“I wish I could have come out when I was younger…” Sharon said softly, sitting back down on her bed. “But I just… couldn’t. It was so hard. It was a different time. And I know things are still just as shit at times now, but you’re incredible, baby. I’m so proud of you. I love you. I love you so much, Alaska.”

Alaska wanted to reply, but Sharon’s words had left her speechless, so she nodded fiercely.

“Baby?” Sharon attempted.

“I’m nodding,” Alaska laughed. “And crying again. I love you, you don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”

They fell silent, hearing the sounds of each other breathing, finding comfort in just knowing someone was there.

“I wish I could be with you right now,” Sharon whispered.

“Me too,” Alaska whispered back. “Well, I’d rather come to you. Oh! That baby on your snap was so cute. Please tell me more about said babies.”

“Before I do, because there were a lot of babies,” Sharon laughed, “are you feeling okay now?”

“Yeah,” Alaska said honestly. “I feel a lot better. I feel calm. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m leaving after lunch. So I think I’m just going to shower and pass out tonight.”

“Call me tomorrow if you need anything, okay?” Sharon said, making Alaska promise before recounting her day. “Right, so the little baby is Farrah, she’s my sister’s new baby, whom I will be of course stealing. Oh my god it was so cute she was like pressing her face into my boob and I didn’t realise it’s because she was hungry. Max already has an older girl called Brianna, she’s almost 3 and is very good with her colours right now and has the cutest little brown curls…”

Alaska nodded along, the love in Sharon’s voice for her family the perfect distraction.

*

The next morning was difficult to describe, mostly because Alaska couldn’t believe it was happening. To the surprise of everyone, it didn’t feel like the aftermath of a war, or even a storm.

It was more like passing of heavy, much needed, rain.

Dry dead grass hadn’t turned a vivid lush green overnight. Birds weren’t chirping in the trees.

But the air felt different — fresh, and everything felt clean, washed away with the hope of something new about to grow.

When she descended the stairs, the smell of coffee and toast luring her out of her room, she found her Dad reading the paper as always, and Merle in her pyjamas squeezing oranges for fresh juice.

Alaska never worried about her easy-going father. Andrew’s much gentler demeanour meant he always played Switzerland in her arguments with her mother, bringing to the table a rational, level-headedness.

But with her mother, some of the tension that had lingered for the previous few years, that Alaska never got used to, that Alaska never wanted to get used to, had somewhat melted away.

Alaska knew her mother, and she knew words weren’t her strongest suit. But Alaska noticed her actions. She noticed how she made Alaska’s coffee absolutely perfectly, even after not making her one for months due to her living away. She noticed how she let their dog Poundcake jump onto the furniture to be with Alaska, even though Merle winced whenever Cake’s little claws pricked at the upholstery.

Above all, when it was time to leave just after lunch, she helped haul Alaska’s giant suitcase down the stairs. When she lost her grip slightly, its hard corner scuffing their perfectly polished floors, Alaska’s heart had stopped, already imagining her mother’s reaction.

But Merle couldn’t care less.

“It’s just one scuff, Alaska,” she said genuinely. “It’ll be okay.”

When it was time to say goodbye, her father already in the driver’s seat ready for the almost two hour road trip back to campus, Alaska turned to give her mom a hug.

“Have a safe drive back,” Merle had said into her hair. “Not long to go now until graduation, how exciting!”

Alaska had smiled and nodded, crouching down to kiss Poundcake goodbye before moving to hop in the car. But her mother reached out and caught her arm, immediately loosening her grip slightly after seeing Alaska’s shocked expression.

“I want you to be happy.”

Alaska could have cried. She nearly did. Her mother’s voice was so even, her words so genuine.

“Thank you,” Alaska whispered, but Merle nodded vigorously, as if Alaska had shouted it from the rooftops.

Merle blinked quickly, so quickly Alaska didn’t see the moisture bubble around her lash line. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Alaska rushed out, realising just how desperately she needed to hear it from her mother, and just how badly she had been wanting to say it back.

She felt both little and older at the same time, like she was a child again, viewing their relationship as perfect, but also like a woman, as if her mother was speaking to her as an adult, an equal.

She’d never know it, but her mother felt the same. As she loosened her grip and let Alaska’s sleeve slip through her fingertips, it didn’t feel like she was waving her baby daughter off again into the world, but instead finally meeting the person she had grown into.

*

When Thanksgiving was over, and the students returned to their dorms, Alaska returned to Sharon’s apartment. She hit ‘submit’ on an internship application, watching her resume and the cover letter Sharon had helped her write get sucked into the internet. The application process was quick, so quick that Alaska couldn’t believe she had procrastinated it for so long, and so easy that she was now a little bit excited instead of so dreadfully scared.

Then, they fell into each others arms and onto their sheets.

But this time was different.

It was like Alaska’s skin was air, and Sharon’s lips were lungs.

She took control, praising Alaska’s body and showering her with a new kind of love that Alaska didn’t have words for. Sharon didn’t have the words for it either, but they knew what they were thinking. They were both proud of Alaska.

When she came once, twice, three times, Alaska finally fell back against the sheets, completely spent. She pulled the older woman on top of her so her tongue could taste the sweat that had began to form in the hollows of her pale collarbones. Her fingers tangled in Sharon’s hair as their heavy breathing slowed and their nerves continued to jolt with aftershocks.

“I don’t care how cheesy this sounds,” Sharon whispered, her voice deliciously raspy from sex. “I’m thankful for you.”

Alaska’s heart did a summersault.

“I’m thankful for you, too,” she whispered back.

Their lips met, and suddenly Alaska’s breakdown in this exact bed over her future felt like an entire lifetime ago, when it was only last week.

They cuddled, Sharon knowing she’d have to eventually get up and turn all the lights in the apartment off and brush her teeth while she was up anyway, but she wanted to savour the moment for a minute longer.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed.

She peaked her eyes open from where her naked limbs were tangled with Alaska’s.

Maybe it was because she knew by the chime that it wasn’t a text tone, but instead an email. Maybe she knew it was weird for someone to be emailing her work account at 11pm at night, still around the Thanksgiving holiday.

Whatever the reason, something made Sharon check her notifications, and as soon as she saw it, she wished she hadn’t.

Alaska knew something was wrong when Sharon had rolled over to check her phone, only to stay staring, frozen at the screen, not moving.

“What’s wrong?” Alaska said sleepily, holding her head up from the pillow, her hair tousled from sex.

Sharon forced her dry mouth to swallow.

“It’s Chad,” she said, clearing her throat because the words were barely audible the first time. “It’s Chad, from… from work. My boss. Telling me… this meeting… with Bianca…”

Her eyes darted from one word to the next, not processing phrases like ‘urgent meeting’ or ‘sensitive situation’.

Sharon tore her intense gaze away from her phone, the light from the screen casting eerie shadows across her frightened face as she looked at her worried girlfriend — one of her students —in her bed.  

“I think they know.”

[louisisacryptid]

Sailing Accident

The last thing Roger remembers is closing his eyes and submitting himself to the turbulent ocean. Drenched by the waves and the rain, a huge gash down the middle of his main sail, and his rudder completely lost to the depths, he had no choice but to hang on to the ropes of his tiny vessel with all of his might in an attempt to keep her upright. She was gathering water and the deck was slippery and hazardous. The tiller swings wildly from the wind and the ocean current and smacks in to his shin, causing him to let out a wail of pain. The next thing he knew he was staring down a massive wave which threatened to capsize him and with his last breath he prays that his death would be a quick one and that Gordon would know just how much he loved him.

The memories after that were a mixture of pain, the burning of salt water in his lungs, panicked breathing, and loud voices telling him not to move as they put a splint on his leg. He can see the remains of the US 412, tied to the larger tug boat and catches sight of the paramedics uniform. Once his body realises that he's safe, he gives in to the exhaustion.

Roger awakes with a groan, attempting to stretch out in the uncomfortable bed and being met with a sharp pain that darts up his leg. He slowly opens his eyes and catches the outline of an oxygen mask below them. He groans louder in distress, reaching out and fumbling blindly. He feels the tiny tube that goes all the way in to his arm and his eyes snap wide open, his breaths painful and sharp; he could feel the thick liquid as it seeped from the needle in to his vein and it made him whine in panic.

Suddenly, and without warning, Gordon is there, his hands on his chest, pushing him back in to the bed. The touch catches him off guard and Roger makes another noise of confused alarm. Gordon is saying something angry and muffled at him and Roger squints, trying to make out the individual words. Finally, his ears adjust to the sounds of the hospital and his focus moves from the loud, insistent beeping to Gordon's voice and he catches the last "motherfucker" of his sentence.

"Nnn," is all Roger can manage, gripping like a child at Gordon's arms, willing him to stay close.

Gordon obeys and very slowly, so as not to spook him, lays beside him on the bed.

Roger blinks back tears, afraid to move his arm in case it pulled on the drip needle, but desperately needing to stroke Gordon's cheek.

"You had an accident," Gordon explains, reaching up to cup Roger's cheek which was a little bruised.

Roger leans in to the welcomed touch which seemed to make things just that little bit better.

"They have you on some fluids and a little bit of morphine for the leg."

Roger closes his eyes and groans; he'd been on morphine as a child when he had broken his arm severely and it had fucked with his sensory issues to the point where he couldn't stand the tiniest of noises. It had been hell.

"'M... sorry," Roger murmurs, the words causing air to sting his throat and a fit of coughs ensues.

Gordon holds his body as steady as he could, tears running down his cheeks at seeing his boyfriend in such a state.

He had called Roger's phone countless times, watching live radar footage of the storm as it swallowed Cuttyhunk island. Gordon had never been so absolutely terrified in his life, and he was still shaking slightly from the adrenaline. The immediate regret that had washed over him when he had heard of the storm was like nothing he had ever experienced.

'Go on then, go and fucking sail away,' he had told Roger in a fit of rage at just how annoying he was being. Couldn't he understand that what Gordon needed to write was silence? But he didn't and he would forget and although Gordon knew it wasn't intentional, Roger's commentary on the weather had been driving him insane. After that things had escalated, both of them stubborn and emotionally distant, their diagnosis' clashing like waves against the base of a cliff; violent, harsh, but natural.

"Don't be sorry, baby," Gordon murmurs back, gently smoothing out Roger's hair. It was imperfect: they had shaved some at the back in order to stitch up the open wound on his head, but Gordon loved it nonetheless.

Roger's lungs wheeze as he breathes, rattling like a nail in a tin can as he tries to form words.

"Y-you still... mm... love me?" he mumbles, looking up at Gordon.

Gordon smiles softly, pressing kisses to Roger's forehead, "Yes, yes of course I do, babe."

Roger nods, slowly leaning in to Gordon until he was completely in his arms, his eyes closed. He sleeps the night away and when he wakes Gordon has gone, leaving a note about having to record a demo and that he'd be back soon. Roger didn't mind the quiet.

High heels echo down the hospital corridor towards Roger's room. Lilith was tall, slim, and a harsh kind of pretty. She had Roger's eyes and cheekbones, but none of his warmth or generosity. While she had been loving once, and Roger had loved her, when her child had drifted from her image of what she wanted and expected him to be, she had turned to ice.

She wore a grey blazer and skirt, everything as colourless as her face; even her nails, although painted, were an odd shade of grey. She resembled a marble statue of some Greek goddess, you admired her from a distance, but dare not endure her wrath should you disturb her.

Roger was all alone in his hospital room, picking out the bits of bacon from his Caesar salad that a nurse had brought him for lunch.

Lilith rolls her eyes, watching him through the window from the hallway. The image bringing back memories of her son picking things out of his food at every meal.

"Roger," she calls, standing in the doorway.

Roger freezes, looking up from his fork to stare at her, his lips in a thin line.

"What are you here for?"

She travels a few steps closer to him, "Your father tracked the boat number when we got a call about it needing repair. They said you had been in an accident."

There was a long pause as Roger tries to process his emotions upon seeing her again.

"Well. I'm fine," he says, her perfume suffocating him like a poisonous gas. She always put too much on.

He returns to his salad, finally satisfied that all the bacon was gone.

"You should have been more careful," she says, real concern covered easily by her cold tone.

"Should have done a lot of things," he mumbles, his mouth full.

She grimaces, "How many times have I told you not to speak with food in your mouth?"

He swallows and makes sure to gather as much salad on his fork as he could before he puts it in to his mouth and starts to chew, staring her down.

"There's no need to be like that," she snaps.

Roger goes to reply, but is cut off by Richard's high sing-song voice, "Mimi said she's busy with a court case, but the second it's over she'll be here. And look! Flowers!"

He marches in to the room, giving Lilith a side eye as she steps away from him. He places the flowers down on the desk beside Roger's bed. Mimi had picked flowers that didn't have strong scents, it was sweet.

"You alright, honey?" Richard asks, checking Roger's chart and making a note to bring him Kosher food.

Roger nods, cracking a smile at the face Richard gives him with his back to Lilith before he leaves.

Lilith comes closer, an actual smile on her face. She pats his hand softly, "I am so pleased you're alright, Roger."

He looks up at her, slightly confused, "Um. Thanks."

She was content with the fact that her son had finally found himself a girlfriend, maybe even a wife, g-d willing. And a lawyer, too. She knew she had raised him right.

"I'm surprised they let nurses like that work. It's a wonder he doesn't have a cardiac arrest."

Roger would have been surprised at her comment had he not already known how deeply his mother hated fat people. She thought they were lazy.

"He's the only nice person in this place," Roger mumbles, stabbing a piece of lettuce with his fork to emphasise his point.

His mother sighs, she hadn't meant to upset her son.

"I just mean... you know, he's obviously... homosexual. And with those diseases they can carry," she shivers at the thought.

Roger rolls his eyes, stabbing another piece of lettuce and imagining it was her head. It was very therapeutic.

Moments of silence pass between them. She hesitantly rests her hand atop of his. Maybe she was finally, after all of these years, starting to change, Roger thought. Even if he now wanted nothing to do with her, the little bit of affection she was showing meant the world to him.

"And I'm very glad you got over your little phase," she adds.

He pauses, taking his hand back from her suddenly, "You don't know what you're saying, Mother. Please just go."

"But, I-"

He takes a deep breath which hurt his lungs, but he was about to be brave so the pain was worth it.

"Mother, my whole life you have only ever given me affection when I've done something you've approved of. And... I-I don't think you've ever told me you loved me."

She scoffs, standing up and placing a hand on her chest to show her offence, "How was I supposed to? Every time I tried to hug you, you would scream or cry. I just wanted to hug my son. There was no way I could have showed you love, Roger. You were an insufferable child."

Roger shakes his head, looking down at his salad so he didn't have to meet her disapproving gaze and she couldn't see his tears, "You could have just... just said 'I love you'."

She huffs, smoothing the creases from her skirt, "You have just lost any chance of hearing that after how you've treated me today."

Roger laughs, amused in a sick way at how cruel she could be. He looks up at her, tears dripping from his cheeks to wet his hospital gown, "I'm a gay man, Momma. And whether you want me to be or not, that's what I am. I have a lovely, lovely boyfriend who, just recently, was hired to write for an off-Broadway show. We are so in love. Those flowers are from his mother who raised me when you turned away, not my girlfriend."

She goes to speak, but he holds up a hand to silence her like she had done to him countless times, "The best thing you can do for me... is leave."

Richard slips in to Roger's room as Lilith leaves, having overheard the conversation and wanting to offer his support any way he could. There wasn't a gay man in New York City that didn't have parental issues, he was sure of it.

"Oh, honey..." he coos.

Roger collapses back on to the bed, letting out a quiet sob.

"I hurt all over," he whines, pushing the table away from over his bed. "Please call Gordon and tell him my Mother came and saw me."

Richard nods, pouring Roger a glass of water because he knew he'd be dehydrated after crying. He quietly slips away, letting Roger cry for as much time as he needed.

[shakespearedidnothavecumsh0ts]

Freaky Monday

Maleo Week Day 3 // July 18th → Body Swap This is part one of  a two part fic! It’s a collab with @lilshitwayne for the #maleoweek. 

Once again, Malia was running late. Nothing seemed to go right for her. Her dog took forever to return when she let him out, her car broke down and despite rushing out of the house with her wet hair in just a braid, her uber driver manage to drop her three blocks away and she had to walk to the office. Her asshole boss was going to murder her.

“Sorry I’m late,” Malia sighed stepping into her boss’ office.

He held up a finger, signaling her to be quiet before he trailed off in Mandarin. That’s right, they were expecting ambassadors from the Chinese branch of the company later that day and everyone knew Theo Raeken was even more of a dick when he was expecting foreign visitors. Great. She was twice screwed.

Theo hung up and shot her a pointed look, raising his brows. He was pissed.

“Why are you late THIS time?” he asked with a scoff.

“Do you really want to know?”

“No exactly, I’m more concerned as to why you look like a wet dog.”

“My-”

“I don’t care. Look Melanie-”

“Malia,”

“Melinda, we have important visitors coming here later,” he sighed. “I trust all your work has been completed?”

“I sent you the email last night sir.”

“Right,” Theo chuckled before reaching into his wallet. “In that case, take the company card and go to the salon around the corner. I can’t have you looking like a mess in front of my potential investors.”

“Wow, want me to get a new dress too?” Malia scoffed rolling her eyes.

“Actually, I took the initiative and had one made for you. I estimated the measurements if that’s okay.”

“No problem sir.”

“Good, now get going.”

Malia scoffed as she eyed the dress on the hanger. She was all for looking for the part and making their guests feel comfortable, but judging from the large split on the side of the dress, she would probably be less than comfortable.

Sighing, she shimmied into the dress and let out a swear at how tight it was.

“Perfect fit Matilda,” Theo had said when she’d walked into his office.

“It’s Malia. And the dress is actually a bit snug.”

“That’s the style,” he smirked.

“I’m sure it is,” Malia replied, sneering when Theo turned his back.

She soon found out that it was also damn near impossible to sit in the dress. She had to wonder if Theo had made this tight on purpose or if her friends were right in their campaign to get her to wear more form fitting clothing.

It didn’t seem to matter as all Theo seemed to require of her was to smile and look pretty whilst he greeted his associates. This fact coupled with her intensive knowledge about his schedule and preferences made her wonder why he didn’t just marry her instead. She cleaned up most of his messes anyway.

She’d zoned out most of what he was saying because of how insufferable he was but suddenly became alert when he shaked his head profusely and chuckled before uttering something in Mandarin.

“I’m sorry did you say something?” Malia asked politely.

“Mrs Lee just asked if you were my wife,” Theo chuckled.

“If only he could be so lucky,” Malia scoffed.

“He would be,” Mrs Lee replied, shocking Malia. She had no idea the elderly woman could speak English.

“Well luckily for us both, I’m just his personal assistant,” Malia smiled.

“Malia, why don’t you show Mrs Lee around?” Theo asked.

“It would be my pleasure,” Malia smiled, genuinely this time before guiding the older woman on a tour of the office.

Mrs Lee went on about how beautiful Malia was before handing her a beautiful jade necklace. It looked ancient and had to have been centuries old.

“I- I can’t accept this,” Malia gaped.

“Nonsense dear.”

“It’s beautiful and-”

“Would bring out your eyes. Please accept it or I’ll be deeply offended.”

“Well…. I wouldn’t want that.” Malia replied with a small smile before putting the necklace on.

“See? Beautiful”

"Thank you,” Malia sighed, nodding politely.

~*~

Malia stared at the email on her phone for the longest while. The offer seemed really tempting, always had. Even more so after the day she had. Theo seemed to have no use for her other than to look pretty and smile. She was wasting her talents. She needed a new job indeed.

They had emailed her back. It wasn’t better than the promotion she had envisioned on the Alpha Industries, but it was better than being stuck as Theo’s PA forever. The catch? She had to be there in ten minutes, and she still had one more hour before her expedient ended.

Taking a deep breath and resolving to be brave and quick, Malia walked to Mr. Raeken’s office and knocked.

Malia sighed after getting the go ahead to enter. She had no idea what to tell Mr Raeken, but decided that she was well deserving of a day off.

“Nice necklace,” she scoffed, hoping to dissipate some of her nerves.

“Malia, hi…” he looked up with a smile and for a second - just a tiny second, okay - she melted in her heels.

“Mr. Raeken, I-” she bit her lip, maybe she shouldn’t tell him about the interview, maybe “I’m not feeling very well, may I go home earlier?” Malia lied.

“Oh?” Theo asked with a raised brow.

He wouldn’t object to her leaving because lord knows the girl worked too hard. But of course, the email he received from his friend gloating about possibly poaching his assistant made him believe otherwise.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s the time of the month and I’d really like to lie down” Malia fidgeted under his glare. She knew just from the way he was looking at her that there was no way he would let her go. She was hoping the overshare would make him uncomfortable enough to dismiss her earlier.

“You can take some pills here and take a break. Your work day still hasn’t ended and regardless of the fact, you still need to work,” Theo shrugged.

The bastard. If looks could kill, Theo would be dead by now. Malia bit down on her lip not to curse him and Theo internally sighed. He probably wasn’t doing his crush on Malia any favors, but at least it would stop her from going to work somewhere else. Call it jealousy, but she wasn’t just an amazing girl, but also the best personal assistant he had ever had. He wasn’t letting her go that easily.

“You have a point,” Malia sighed. “But I’d really feel much more comfortable in my own bed,” she addes. “I can make it up tomorrow….”

“Malia. Period or no period, you still have got to work. Go lie down in the lounge for a few” he scoffed, knowing very well that she was lying. Maybe he paid a little too much attention on her, but hadn’t she called in sick just three weeks ago? And then appeared next day pale as a leaf popping painkillers and having more bathroom breaks than normal?

“Right.” Malia scoffed. “I’ll just take whatever advice you give me because you know exactly what I’m going through.” she replied with a sarcastic nod.

He let out a sigh and thought that maybe she really wasn’t lying and wasn’t feeling well, instead of trying to sneak to a job interview. Theo opened his mouth to reply, but Malia rolled eyes.

“Save it, Mr. Raeken” she said, before storming out of his office.

Theo sighed and lowered his head, using his fingers to comb his hair and toying with the necklace hanging on his neck, a recent gift from Mrs. Lee. Maybe this time he had crossed the line.

~*~

Malia let out a sigh and sunk deeper into the silk sheets of her bed before realising that she didn’t own silk sheets. She looked over at the clock on the bedside table and flew up. She was going to be late. She had no memory of the night before. Did she hook up with some random stranger?

Rushing to the bathroom, she realised that she was topless, which was weird, she knew she wearing pants. Silk boxers? Still, she had no time to debate that. She rushed to the bathroom and didn’t know how she felt about using a strangers electric toothbrush so she opted for gargling with mouthwash and went to open the medicine cabinet for something to soothe her headache. She instead found herself screaming when she noticed her reflection wasn’t her own.

Theo had a similar experience, he enjoyed the softness of the blankets he was wrapped in; they were perfect for how insanely cold he felt. Naturally- he cursed the invention of alarm clocks when he looked over at the time, six thirty am? That was bizarre. Reaching out he tapped the irritating thing before sweeping long brown hair from his face. Long brown hair was something he’d never had throughout his life neither were dainty hands and small wrists. And was that a triskele tattoo on the inside of said small wrist? Theo had no tattoos, in fact- he was terrified of needles.

He rushed over to the mirror and let out a small gasp when he noticed who was looking back at him.

Theo touched the mirror, shaky fingers following the contour of his - her - nose… Her soft mouth, the cheekbones. He had to be dreaming.

“Wake up. Wake up now” Theo closed his eyes and pinched himself.

He wasn’t. How was this possible? He ignored the urge to do whatever the dirtiest parts of his mind were telling him to do and instead found himself distracted by the jade necklace around her neck. It was identical to the one that Mrs Lee gave to him the day before, minus the fact that the chain on hers was more delicate.

“Fuck” Theo whispered under his breath. “I can’t be Malia …” just as he mentioned her name, the phone rang across the room.

Theo leaped for it, grabbing her cell phone and picking up just in time to hear his own irate voice “What the fuck did you do Raeken!” she yelled, rough voice and spitting fire.

“Me?! How is- wait- are you me?” Theo asked in a hushed yell, almost as if this was some dirty secret.

It was, wasn’t it?

“You stupid bastard! If this is some joke- you know what, I quit! You can stop the prank now, idiot!” Malia yelled even louder. Surely she was scaring the crap of his uptight neighbors.

“How could this be a prank? You’re delusional! And you can’t quit, I’m in your body!” Theo yelled back.

“You what!? There’s no way this is possible, I- fuck” Malia let out a small gasp. A small woman was standing on the doorway of her- Theo’s room. She was holding her coat and looking completely horrified.

“What? What happened?” Theo asked, growing frantic. He needed to know what was going on.

“Theo” Malia said softly, trying to open a plastic smile to the horrified old lady “Your mom is here”

“That’s impossible. Last I heard she was in Paris sipping mimosas with some Brazilian model who’s half her age.” Theo scoffed rolling his eyes.

“Well, then I’m being robbed by the world’s most ancient thief!” Malia cried, throwing a dirty glare to the lady “Who are you? What are you doing on Theo’s house?”

“Shit,” Theo groaned. “That’s Daisy, my housekeeper. And she’s about to smack you in the head with a newspaper and ask you what the fuck you drank last night.”

As upset as Theo was about Daisy being riled up he had to admit that it would be funny for Malia to get hit by Daisy.

Malia gulped down. She did feel hangover, so maybe Theo deserved to have his head smacked after all. Maybe this was all nothing more than a horrible acid trip.

“Hi… Daisy” she let out an uneasy smile “Theo- I’m fine”

The woman crossed arms “Theodore.”

Malia’s fake smile dropped “Look, I didn’t drink anything, in fact I-”

“Theodore” she cut Malia out sternly “Shut up”                        

“Yes ma'am.” Malia replied, causing Theo to snicker on the other end of the line. It was nice to be the safe one once in a while.

He now understood why all his friends enjoyed watching him get into it with Daisy.

“What was it tonight?” Daisy scoffed, putting her coat on the big vanity that Theo clearly used as an office table and walking towards Malia. “Was it the job again?” her voice was softer now, but Malia didn’t trust this woman. She sounded way too much like Malia’s dad.

“That horrible girl?” Daisy tried once more, picking up the dirty clothes on the floor and throwing Malia a glare for leaving them there.

“What horrible girl?” Malia asked with a scoff and raised brow, she had a suspicion Daisy meant her.

“Oh baby” Daisy let out a small sigh, walking closer and tiptoeing to cup Malia’s face. It showed just how tiny she was, since Theo wasn’t exactly tall to begin with. “You gotta let go.” she patted Malia’s cheek gently.

“Uhm…. I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” Malia replied with a blank expression.

“Enough is enough, Theo” Daisy sighed, walking away “Go shower, you stink. And you have work soon. Come have breakfast”

Malia was left there, stunned and trying to figure out what had just happened and then she remembered “Theo!” she grabbed the cellphone forgotten on the bed and pressed it to her ear.

“Now you remember me, uh? So while you were trying to pry information from my housekeeper, I made a game plan. Meet you at work.” and easily like that, he hanged up.

~*~

Malia let out a scoff and crossed her arms as she sat across from Theo.

“Mind running that plan by me again?” she said, raising her brow, shocked by the sight of her cleavage in that dress she never wore.

“Okay, so- I got us coarse salt, holy water from the church across the street and I paid 50 bucks for the priest to come here. We’ll sit on a circle made with the salt and let him pray for us and we’ll be fine” Theo answered. He had decided quickly that there was only one way to explain the body swap: demons.

Malia let out a scoff “It sounds even more ridiculous now than it did ten minutes ago” and then she added with a glare “By the way - Did you used fifty dollars of my money?”

This was honestly such bullshit and she couldn’t believe he’d used her money for it.

“I’ll pay you back” Theo rolled eyes “In fact, I don’t want to use your economies, so we should switch credit cards.”

It did not have anything to do with the fact that he had spent forty minutes that morning to get dressed. Her closet was a fashion disaster and more importantly - hid her angelic curves. Seriously, Malia needed a reality check.

“Good. And yea, we should,” she said “I need to stay on top of the medication for- shit- Coyote!”

“You do realize that sentence made no sense, right?” Theo crossed arms.

“My dog! Did you feed my dog?!” Malia gasped.

“You have a dog?” he genuinely stunned. Theo wouldn’t say he hadn’t snooped around her house, much like he was sure she did with his. Still, he had seen no dog. Perhaps it was really small “Is it tiny? Because I didn’t see any dog.”

"No. But he was probably out with that slutty French poodle again.” Malia scoffed. “She gave him fleas.”

“Oh-” Theo couldn’t stifle a laughter this time “Okay, uhm- I guess you should go home earlier and feed the dog?” he glared at the clock and paced around “Where’s the fucking priest?!”

Just as he said that the door of his office opened and a reluctant young priest came in.

“Morning, I’m Father Corey…” the man sighed, obviously not wanting to be there and holding his bible like a shield “I’m here to exorcise Malia Tate-Hale and Theodore Raeken, despite the fact that I was not blessed by the Roman Church to do so and this is absolutely ridiculous”

“Thank you. Please tell him that this absolutely ridiculous,” Malia scoffed rolling her eyes. “And how old are you anyway?” she asked, taking a look at the priest, who seemed like more of an altar boy if she was being honest.

“Eighteen but she refuses to believe I’m not a priest” the boy said tiredly.

Theo - in Malia’s body - let out a yelp “No, I paid you fifty bucks for this. Let us sit in the circle and you do your mojo”

Malia rolled her eyes before catching a glimpse of the jade necklace around his- her?- neck. She realised that Theo had one identical to it.

“Wait,” she scoffed.

“No time to wait” Tho mumbled, doing a big circle on the floor with coarse salt and pulling her to sit next to him. “Father, please begin”

“Look dumbass. We have the same necklace.” Malia scoffed.

“So?” Theo hugged his knees - Malia truly had bony knees he realized - and closed eyes “Shh, the exorcism has started”

“I know having you inside my body is like…. Equivalent to having a demon- but this won’t work.” Malia scoffed. “We should talk to Mrs Lee.”

“What? Why?” Theo said, without opening his eyes. Corey - the altar boy - seemed to be truly mesmerized by the amount of bullshit he was experiencing in first hand.

“Uhm…. She gave us matching necklaces and we wake up in each other’s bodies the next morning?”

“Oh…” he seemed to be thinking, before his - Malia’s - face lighted up with glee “Then we could simply swap the necklaces!”

“I don’t think it’s that simple… But, sure,” Malia shrugged, pausing a little before taking it off. Was it wrong for her to be awe of how pretty she looked? It was strange, she’d never really seen herself as beautiful. She hadn’t for years.

“Here” Theo took off his necklace and handed her, practically beaming with happiness. Sure, it hadn’t been all that bad to be stuck inside Malia, but it hadn’t been a walk in the park either and he was eager to go back to his body.

She handed him the other necklace and he put it on, waiting for the sparkles and the magic to happen.

“Uhm?” Malia scoffed. “This isn’t working. Here, take it back. It doesn’t go with my suit.”

Theo sighed. Of course life couldn’t go the easy way. “Then the exorcism it is. Father Corey?”

~*~

Theo turned his back around to the mirror. Yes, he was in a changing room. Yes he had picked revealing clothes. However, he didn’t feel in any right to see Malia’s body naked without her permission. He had been with women enough to know his way with a bra even with closed eyes and while showering was awkward, he could get it done without seeing much.

It was a temptation all the time, but her knew the girl would appreciate.

“Ms. Tate-Hale? Everything alright?” called the girl who was helping him around the store.                        

“Everything’s fine,” Theo called back. “Do you have this in a red?” he asked poking his head out. “I think it’d look great with my necklace.”

~*~

Malia sat in Theo’s home office, going over his accounts. It was a lot easier now when a lecture from Daisy revealed to her that Theo wore glasses. She’d never seen him in them, maybe that’s why she always had so much extra work cleaning up loopholes and loose ends.

To say she was living the dream would be an understatement, there she was- not bringing Theo coffee or using her degree to organise a schedule so all his lady friends would be appeased without finding out about the others.

Of course, nothing lasted forever and she let out a groan when Daisy crossed the threshold.

“Yes Daisy?” Malia scoffed, removing the glasses.

“Don’t Yes Daisy me, Theo” she said, crossing arms “Your credit card bill is here.”

The old lady put the piece of paper on the desk and Malia seriously questioned what kind of housekeeper opened their bosses bills. Daisy did.

“What’s this, Theodore? Four hundred dollars in a dress? Shoes of two hundred dollars each!?”                 

“Wait what?” Malia scoffed, putting the glasses  on and looking over the bill. “That bastard,” she scoffed dialing his- her- number.

“I’m worried about you, Theo!” Daisy cried “Since morning you’ve been acting weird, now you’re spending money on girls… What’s wrong, baby? I thought it was getting better?”

“Thought what was getting better?” Malia scoffed dialing the number again. She didn’t trust Theo anywhere near a salon with her body. Or anywhere for that matter. God only knew what the misogynistic prick was doing with her body as they spoke.                        

“Who were you buying a dress for, Theodore? ” Daisy threw Malia a cold glare “Was it for that horrible woman? ”

“What horrible woman?” Malia scoffed, frustrated. “I tell you I don’t understand and all you do is start consoling me.”

"Lydia! I thought we had an agreement to not bring up her name!”

“Who- oh…” Malia sighed. She’d remembered the redhead. How could she forget? She’d walked in on them in his office a few times. Not the highlight of her job experience.                        

“Yes. Oh” Daisy gave Malia a look full of pity “Maybe you should start therapy again…”

“Again? Theo was- I mean- I was in therapy?” Malia asked, shocked.                        

Daisy frowned and looked confused “Don’t tell me you don’t remember. I remember you whining non stop when I dragged you there”

“I just don’t remember why exactly…. I haven’t been remembering a lot ever since I had a drink off with my Chinese dignitaries. I got drank under the table by an old lady, not my finest moment,” Malia spoke, improvising.

Daisy flinched “It’s the same all over again” she sighed “All you need is for her to step on your life again and the drinking starts all over. I’m calling your therapist. Please don’t spend that much money anymore”

She tiptoed to press a kiss on Malia’s cheek and walked away, worn out.

Malia softened, she needed to know what had happened between them. Was that why he was such a dick to her?

“Hello?” Theo’s voice was bubbly on the other side of the line and Malia realized she completely forgot about the phone still dialing.

“You took my body to a salon? Are you insane?!” she whisper yelled, though Daisy had successfully calmed her down.

“You had some split ends love. I didn’t do anything dramatic Melissa.” Theo scoffed rolling his eyes.

“Mel- alright. Thanks bye” Malia fumed, hanging up without thinking. She was going to make sure he remembered her name. Grabbing her wallet, she walked to the door yelling after her “Daisy, I’m going out, don’t wait me up!”

~*~

Theo was sitting on Malia’s couch, relaxed. He’d finally gotten the dumb dog to like him, at least stop trying to bite him. Malia’s DVR content showed she needed some serious help. Seriously, who watched that stuff?

The phone buzzed and he threw a look at the screen. They had changed phones too, thankfully. He didn’t need Malia to snoop through his messages.

“My name is Malia” said the text, with a picture attached. Theo let out a yelp of horror. She had tattooed her name on his ribs!

He gaped as he stared at the image on the screen and angrily called her and was less than happy to hear her speaking so smugly on the other end.

“You like? I was going for classy yet edgy with the font.” Malia spoke smugly.

“What the fuck, Malia!? It’s permanent! And my body!” Theo yelled, cursing the way Malia’s girly voice didn’t come out rough like he wanted it to.

“Tattoos can be removed, I mean- they take forever and hurt like a bitch to remove but no worries, you’re the boss you can get time off to recover.”

“You’re fired!” Theo yelled, furiously.

“Actually, I think I’ll give you that raise you asked for Malia.” Malia chuckled smugly.

“Why the fuck are you doing this!?” Theo screeched “You know what- I’ll sell your dog. Goodnight” and he hanged up.

Malia growled, she didn’t trust him one bit. She grabbed his car keys and drove like a madman to the other side of the town.

It was late already, but Malia was growing scared. Her poor puppy.  Grabbing the spare key from under the mat she barged in angrily.

“I’ll kill you if you touch my dog you son of a bitch!”

“You’re the one who tattooed my body” Theo said. He was lounging on the couch, in an over sized shirt he had found on Malia’s mess of a wardrobe and socks. He made sure his voice sounded utterly bored.

“What are you wearing?” Malia asked, her eyes widening at the sight of the garment on her body.

“This ugly thing? You should know, I found it in your closet” Theo shrugged “But the socks are comfy, I’ll give you that”

“Take it off.” Malia glared. “Take it off right now.”

“Then I’ll be just in my underwear! I mean, yours- No!” Theo pouted “Also, if you stopped by to see Coyote, is too late. Sold it already”

“JUST TAKE IT OFF!” Malia snapped.

[allsortsotings]

Why do you want to do this?

Things are not always as simple as they seem. Turns out my first post, the misspelling of ‘mojar’ as ‘mujar’, actually translates as the verb ‘to make wet’, and is often used in a sexual way. It is related to the mopping up of the juices, in that one makes the bread wet, but it doesn't really mean ‘to get the most out of’, as I was using it.

This example is a clear demonstration of my behaviour. Hear about something, think it’s fantastic, wholeheartedly adopt it in full swing without really looking into any of the details.

It happened with veganism, Hare Krishna, and trying to follow the Buddhist doctrines during University. Not that there's a lot bad to be uncovered within those things, I was just very enthusiastic about them without fully thinking anything through. Good ideas versus realism. Being vegan and loving travel = being hungry = being upset and tired = not a good idea.  There was also this thing called Mooji in Portugal which I applied to thinking it sounded spiritual before finding out it was actually a kind of money making cult which Louis Theroux really needs to investigate.

Life choices can be easy to make, but deeply thinking about them and seeing them as a part of life, not just a choice, is where it stops being so easy. Think about some choices you have made in life. Before deciding upon them, did you ask why? Then why again? Then why, again?

We were asked “why?” to the max in the week ofApril 24th-30th. It was a so-called bootcamp near Barcelona facilitated by Classroom Alive!’s previous pilgrims. I say so-called because bootcamp normally conjures images of doing star jumps by a lake whilst someone cheers at you to keep on going, one more set. But this boot camp was different, very different.

Not unlike boarding school, we all stayed in a great mansion called Can Bordoi in Llinars del Valles. The subjects were economics, self development, travel logistics, and life planning. We learned about U-theory and absenscing; which is when you are not seeing a situation clearly or using your ego to avoid reality (as I understand). Coming through the U threads the eye of the needle, where one arrives at a balanced outcome.

The main premise of the boot camp was that we design a journey, ranging from 2-6 months, where we walk and study each day to travel by foot and learn more. In previous journeys some travelled from Greece to Sweden, or Budapest to Amsterdam. Some studying finance, some medicine, some solely meditation. Our plan was to travel across Asturias in Northern Spain, winding our way through farms, eco communities, permaculture workaways and crop fields with the idea to create a network between them.

Sounds fantastic, yes? I was taken away by the dreamy idea of floating between farmers to families talking about organic veg and camping in the summer air. This is the kind of vague plan I would usually come up with. Classroom Alive, however, encouraged us to really think about these ideas. How could it work in practice? Why do you want to do it? What is the long term goal?

Unavoidable questions, and so important. After a long think I realised it would be neccessary to take another year before beginning said journey; as currently my Spanish is below intermediate and small-scale conversational at best, so the idea of entering Spanish homes with the aim to discuss local and larger networking is far fetched with a limited vocabulary.

This was okay though, because we met a fantastic man, previously mentioned for his stone masonry skills, named Klas who lives in the mountains and co-runs immersion courses with a mystical woman named Nar. The idea is that you stay in the village for a month, everyone in the community partakes in the course and refuses to speak in any language other than Spanish, even when they are able. It's almost universally agreed that immersion is the best way of learning, so this made me more than happy to postpone our journey for a year, leaving time to plan and learn and maybe create an online network to direct people to; similar to gen.com but initially just for Spain.

I also decided that I wanted to do a Vipassana before going on such a journey, as I don't trust my up and down state of mind enough to fully commit to so long walking and talking with others. We originally teamed up in groups but soon found ourselves breaking away as ideas differed and the energy between us was difficult to calm. Lots of bubbling enthusiasms but an underlying struggle to release and collaborate harmoniously. People wanted to do what they wanted to do, and I felt the same.

It was around Thursday when Caleb, one of the leading organisers, spoke the realisation that Classroom Alive wasn't really about planning a journey, but planning your life. The questions asked were so invasive, so penetrating, that many people changed their minds about their original ideas. It was fantastic.

I’ve never had such a concentrated experience of self analysis and questioning. It was tough, but it enabled everyone to reach the right conclusions for them at that time. It was funny how at the start of the week we hopped in the car with Madalena, wholeheartedly spouting about the definity of staying in Spain, living and travelling on the go, and at the end we were in a different car, with the same Madalena dropping us at the station to get the train to the airport, our flight departing to England later that Sunday.

Self analysis and ‘why’ lead us to the conclusion that more planning needs to be done. Roughing it with 25kg suitcases plus backpacks is not roughing it. It’s tough. We had so much fun with two months of workaways, moving around and learning things, but also realised we had no real plans for the immediate future, and money was becoming a worry. People were asking what our plans were post-boot camp and we said we’d figure it out. We did, but in a way that wasn't expected.

Nik and I are now sat opposite each other in my old-new house in Alsager. It's the new build next to the old house that I grew up in, so it’s on the same grounds. We’re both typing frantically about what's been happening in the last month, as a detailed way of informing friends and family of the situation. We’re spending just over a month gardening, healing and planning. We’re even looking at temporary jobs to save more money before returning.  

Classroom Alive recently posted something on Facebook wondering how our outer journeys, but more importantly, inner journeys had developed. At this point, I feel so much more balanced than I did more than a month ago.

Weirdly coming back to England has been less of a step back and much further forward. We have plans to live in the ecovillage featured on Grand Designs in Pembrokeshire, Lammas, and volunteer for a month before working on the Green Team at Boomtown. From there we’ll get the ferry to Gijon, hopefully get on to a week long English-Spanish immersion teaching course. Then go our separate ways for a month whilst we each take to our own immersive Spanish learning.

Having space from travelling and uncertainty has provided so much time for planning and organising, developing certainty and more calm. Nothing is set in stone but the vague structure has made us both feel more relaxed in the present and excited about the future.

I’ve had acupuncture, cranio sacral therapy, and probably most healing of all, lots of lovely times drinking with friends. England, you have been magical.

(I’ll maybe mention the disasters and political unrest another time..)

[allsortsotings]

TRACK 2

Things are not always as simple as they seem. Turns out my first post, the misspelling of ‘mojar’ as ‘mujar’, actually translates as the verb ‘to make wet’, and is often used in a sexual way. It is related to the mopping up of the juices, in that one makes the bread wet, but it doesn't really mean ‘to get the most out of’, as I was using it. This example is a clear demonstration of my behaviour. Hear about something, think it’s fantastic, wholeheartedly adopt it in full swing without really looking into any of the details. It happened with veganism, Hare Krishna, and trying to follow the Buddhist doctrines during University. Not that there's a lot bad to be uncovered within those things, I was just very enthusiastic about them without fully thinking anything through. Good ideas versus realism. Being vegan and loving travel = being hungry = being upset and tired = not a good idea. There was also this thing called Mooji in Portugal which I applied to thinking it sounded spiritual before finding out it was actually a kind of money making cult which Louis Theroux really needs to investigate. Life choices can be easy to make, but deeply thinking about them and seeing them as a part of life, not just a choice, is where it stops being so easy. Think about some choices you have made in life. Before deciding upon them, did you ask why? Then why again? Then why, again? We were asked “why?” to the max in the week ofApril 24th-30th. It was a so-called bootcamp near Barcelona facilitated by Classroom Alive!’s previous pilgrims. I say so-called because bootcamp normally conjures images of doing star jumps by a lake whilst someone cheers at you to keep on going, one more set. But this boot camp was different, very different. Not unlike boarding school, we all stayed in a great mansion called Can Bordoi in Llinars del Valles. The subjects were economics, self development, travel logistics, and life planning. We learned about U-theory and absenscing; which is when you are not seeing a situation clearly or using your ego to avoid reality (as I understand). Coming through the U threads the eye of the needle, where one arrives at a balanced outcome. The main premise of the boot camp was that we design a journey, ranging from 2-6 months, where we walk and study each day to travel by foot and learn more. In previous journeys some travelled from Greece to Sweden, or Budapest to Amsterdam. Some studying finance, some medicine, some solely meditation. Our plan was to travel across Asturias in Northern Spain, winding our way through farms, eco communities, permaculture workaways and crop fields with the idea to create a network between them. Sounds fantastic, yes? I was taken away by the dreamy idea of floating between farmers to families talking about organic veg and camping in the summer air. This is the kind of vague plan I would usually come up with. Classroom Alive, however, encouraged us to really think about these ideas. How could it work in practice? Why do you want to do it? What is the long term goal? Unavoidable questions, and so important. After a long think I realised it would be neccessary to take another year before beginning said journey; as currently my Spanish is below intermediate and small-scale conversational at best, so the idea of entering Spanish homes with the aim to discuss local and larger networking is far fetched with a limited vocabulary. This was okay though, because we met a fantastic man, previously mentioned for his stone masonry skills, named Klas who lives in the mountains and co-runs immersion courses with a mystical woman named Nar. The idea is that you stay in the village for a month, everyone in the community partakes in the course and refuses to speak in any language other than Spanish, even when they are able. It's almost universally agreed that immersion is the best way of learning, so this made me more than happy to postpone our journey for a year, leaving time to plan and learn and maybe create an online network to direct people to; similar to gen.com but initially just for Spain. I also decided that I wanted to do a Vipassana before going on such a journey, as I don't trust my up and down state of mind enough to fully commit to so long walking and talking with others. We originally teamed up in groups but soon found ourselves breaking away as ideas differed and the energy between us was difficult to calm. Lots of bubbling enthusiasms but an underlying struggle to release and collaborate harmoniously. People wanted to do what they wanted to do, and I felt the same. It was around Thursday when Caleb, one of the leading organisers, spoke the realisation that Classroom Alive wasn't really about planning a journey, but planning your life. The questions asked were so invasive, so penetrating, that many people changed their minds about their original ideas. It was fantastic. I’ve never had such a concentrated experience of self analysis and questioning. It was tough, but it enabled everyone to reach the right conclusions for them at that time. It was funny how at the start of the week we hopped in the car with Madalena, wholeheartedly spouting about the definity of staying in Spain, living and travelling on the go, and at the end we were in a different car, with the same Madalena dropping us at the station to get the train to the airport, our flight departing to England later that Sunday. Self analysis and ‘why’ lead us to the conclusion that more planning needs to be done. Roughing it with 25kg suitcases plus backpacks is not roughing it. It’s tough. We had so much fun with two months of workaways, moving around and learning things, but also realised we had no real plans for the immediate future, and money was becoming a worry. People were asking what our plans were post-boot camp and we said we’d figure it out. We did, but in a way that wasn't expected. Nik and I are now sat opposite each other in my old-new house in Alsager. It's the new build next to the old house that I grew up in, so it’s on the same grounds. We’re both typing frantically about what's been happening in the last month, as a detailed way of informing friends and family of the situation. We’re spending just over a month gardening, healing and planning. We’re even looking at temporary jobs to save more money before returning. Classroom Alive recently posted something on Facebook wondering how our outer journeys, but more importantly, inner journeys had developed. At this point, I feel so much more balanced than I did more than a month ago. Weirdly coming back to England has been less of a step back and much further forward. We have plans to live in the ecovillage featured on Grand Designs in Pembrokeshire, Lammas, and volunteer for a month before working on the Green Team at Boomtown. From there we’ll get the ferry to Gijon, hopefully get on to a week long English-Spanish immersion teaching course. Then go our separate ways for a month whilst we each take to our own immersive Spanish learning. Having space from travelling and uncertainty has provided so much time for planning and organising, developing certainty and more calm. Nothing is set in stone but the vague structure has made us both feel more relaxed in the present and excited about the future. I’ve had acupuncture, cranio scaral therapy, and probably most healing of all, lots of lovely times drinking with friends. England, you have been magical. (I’ll maybe mention the disasters and political unrest another time..)