#packing boxes seattle washington | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pockcock · 1 year ago

Text

gift wrapper // jason newsted x reader 1.1

read it on ao3. content: detective!jason newsted. detective!reader. police!au. slow burn. warnings: other additional tags to be added. murder mystery. blood and gore. body horror. strangers to lovers. eventual smut. ptsd. gunshot wounds. plot armor. non-con elements. idiots in love. panic attacks. medical inaccuracies. inaccurate police procedures. thriller. mutual pining. the author has adhd.

January 31, 2011, Monday. 08:23 AM

It was a cold but sunny Monday in Seattle.

You drove with your eyes on the lane, a song from the CD you mixed before hitting the road playing in your speakers, on your tongue, and your hands tapping out the rhythm on the wheel throughout Washington. The sun shone through the windshield, making you squint even through the lowered sun visor. You never expected Seattle to be this sunny on a cold winter day. You took your sunglasses sitting on the passenger seat and took a right turn.

You were a homicide detective, even if it was in a different state. You had concerns— everybody for the first couple of weeks, or months (maybe even years), could act like you were a rookie detective, regardless of your experience back in Boston. Even the person they were going to pair you up with. The jokes, pranks, and constant bullying were bound to happen. You hoped they weren’t as bad as the ones back in Boston.

You pulled over in front of the department, AC/DC wasn’t filling the space anymore. You looked around and listened for a while with your eyes closed. Seagulls, traffic, people, ships from a distance… So different from Boston . Everything felt almost the same, even the weather for fuck’s sake! I might as well have kept living there.

You grabbed a pack of Marlboro, a lighter from the glovebox and your jacket from the passenger seat sitting on top of a small box. You had filled it with your stuff; some files, a succulent, and a couple of pictures of your cat, thinking you might put them on your desk were they to give you one. You wore your jacket, felt the Boston PD badge sitting in your inner pocket, your gun in your hip, and put the cigarettes and the lighter in your left pocket before heading out.

God , it was cold.

An officer escorted you down the hallway after you had introduced yourself to the front desk while unfamiliar faces observed you; some nosy, some curious, and some condescending. Not an unusual sight for a cop, especially a female one, feeling like a fish out of water really, but except this time, this wasn’t the first tank you were put in. So when you reached the lieutenant’s door, you turned around to look at them from your corner.

It was their time to be observed.

He knocked and opened the door. “Lieutenant, it’s Detective Hunter from Boston PD.”

“Let her in.”

A pair of eyes found your figure when you walked in. Short, curly auburn hair he brushed back neatly, he had silver eyes with a blue hue. He was wearing a black sweatshirt that said Sepultura , and skinny black jeans. A big silver ring was decorating his right pinky finger and a digital watch on his left wrist. He had the demeanor of a cop yet you wondered if he was something else. Yet, you saw his gun on the right side of his hips and his unnecessarily thick back pocket. A regular wallet wouldn’t be this big without a badge.

He was sitting with his elbows on his knees in front of a big desk with a man behind it. There were files and papers scattered on the desk that you assumed belonged to a murder. Some trophies, awards and medals behind him . The guy behind the desk gestured for you to sit on the chair in front of the desk.

“Please sit.”

As you sat down, the curly-haired guy stood up and spoke. “Lou,” His voice was smooth, warm . He sounded shy yet so sure of himself, you wondered how he managed to speak with a tone like that. “Do you want me to leave?”

“You stay, Newsted.” Lou kept his eyes on you, Newsted sat back down. You figured you wouldn’t mind him staying here during the ‘welcome ceremony’. “Lieutenant Donovan,” he offered you his hand. “Donovan Beckett.”

“Detective Jason Newsted,” curly guy, too, offered his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

So, he was a detective.

“Detective Perle Hunter,” you introduced yourself to both, shaking their hands. “Thank you for having me.”

Beckett smiled while opening one of the files in front of him. “Unusual spelling,” he spoke. You faintly saw your picture in the file. “Your resume doesn’t mention you speaking French.”

“Désolée,” you confessed with an awful accent, shaking your head. “My grandmother lived in France for eleven years. Hence the name.”

“It’s okay, we don’t need French in Seattle.” You forced a smile on his words. He leaned down toward the right side of the table, you heard a drawer opening and he rose back up with a golden badge and an ID card in his hand. “Here,” he glided them across the desk and you caught them. “You can return your previous ones to the front desk. They’ll take them to the county.”

You took the ID, it felt heavy in your hands, different. Seattle Police Dept , it said with your name, title, picture, and signature aside from other not-so-important details like the expiration date. You swiped your thumb over it before taking your wallet out to replace your Boston PD card with the new one. It felt odd. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Newsted sent a lopsided smile your way. “Welcome to Seattle PD.”

You returned his smile, and put your wallet back in its place. “Thanks.”

Beckett leaned back into his chair. “Did you find a place to live already?”

You felt Newsted’s gaze on you. Now, you did mind him staying here. “Yes, sir.” You avoided his eyes and kept yours on the Lou. “I, uh, found an apartment downtown. Not so far from the station.”

“Good, good.” He then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. When did you get here?”

“Saturday, sir.”

He shook a hand. “No need for formalities.” You smiled apologeticly and he continued. “I don’t wish to go hard on you after what you have been through–”

You interrupted. Maybe you could avoid the personal questions. “When can I start working on the case?”

Rich laughs from both sides filled your ears. You forced a laugh as well.

“Eager, aren't you?” The laughs faded out and Beckett closed your file and took one of the pictures scattered around the desk. “Alright.” He showed the pictures of a woman’s head. “This is the girl we found today.”

You took the picture to inspect it further. The blonde woman had cloudy blue eyes and fair skin. Her eyes and mouth were open. Her head was sitting inside a pretty pink box next to an ID card and a slide phone. She was wrapped with a fuchsia, shiny ribbon, it was tied in a bow. Her makeup was done haphazardly, the person had no idea about what they were doing. Wrong shade of foundation, too much mascara, cheap blue eyeshadow, and red lipstick. Her long, curly hair was tied in a ponytail.

The killer made the effort.

“Port Patrol found her this morning at dawn,” you heard Newsted’s voice. “The box was placed on a deck where the cameras have been broken for some time.”

“Patrol knew about the cameras?” you asked.

Newsted gave you an affirmative sound. “Ulrich knew a guy from Patrol and asked them to pay more attention there. Not a lot of boats on that deck.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Anyone can do anything.”

“And someone did during their shift change,” Beckett leaned forward on his elbows. “They said that the dock was fairly calm before they changed shifts. What do you think?”

“How many bodies have you found before this one?” An uncomfortable silence filled the room right as you spoke. You tore your eyes away from the picture to look at their surprised and concerned faces; brows furrowed and mouths gaped. “What?”

Beckett broke it. “We only found one .”

Newsted furrowed his brows. “Why, do you think there are other bodies?”

You looked at the lieutenant first and then Newsted. “Well,” a breathy, nervous laugh left your lips. “The pink ribbon with a bow, the box, the-the makeup,” you showed them the picture to emphasize your stuttering speech.

“Chopping her head, putting it in a box for the police to find it in a particular place at a particular time,” Newsted continued your words, turning his head towards Beckett.

“Don’t you think it all looks so…” You were lost for words for a second. “Inconvenient and-and fancy for a one-time thing?”

Beckett remained silent. Newsted took another picture from the desk.

“Was the makeup done post-mortem?” You gave the picture back.

“We believe so but not confirmed yet. Hammett is still working on it.”

“What if it’s an ex-boyfriend situation?” Newsted asked. “Maybe he got crazy and butchered the poor girl. He could easily do this.”

“But then he wouldn't have left her phone and ID.”

He gave you the picture. “Maybe he wanted to humiliate her, or whatever. Maybe he wanted her to be known.” He then asked Beckett. “What do you think, Lou?”

Beckett didn't answer but directed his question to you. “Hunter?”

“I think this is the first of many,” you place the picture on the desk. “But Newsted could be right, we can’t be sure until we look further.”

The phone rang interrupting your speech. Lieutenant answered. “Yes?” A long pause before he finally said “Okay,” and hung up. “Ulrich needs you in the scene, Newsted.”

“What did he say?”

“They found some footprints. He wants you to take a look.” Beckett gathered the pictures and put them back in the file. “Take these,” he handed it to Newsted. “And take Hunter with you. Show her how to work a scene in Seattle.”

“Yes, Lou.” Newsted got up and pointed at the door with his head. “Let’s go.”

You rose from your chair, following your new partner’s steps. Just before you left the room, you heard Lou shouting your name. You stopped. “Yes, sir?”

He tossed your badge to you, you caught it midair. “Welcome to Seattle PD.”

a/n: Hello everyone! This is my first ever Metallica fic (and first ever multi-chapter fic in English), and I hope it won't be the last! This one will be a long, murder mystery featuring Load Era Jason 🥳�� I initially intended to have '86 Jason, but it didn't fit well with this fic :') I divided the first chapter into 6 after I realized 8k words would be a bit too much to read. I hope to have nailed the characterization of our boys. This was heavily inspired by the show "The Killing", I highly recommend that you watch it! A quick disclaimer: I'm not American, I have no idea how police procedures work there. I'm just an avid crime mystery show lover :') Please ignore any inaccuracies, I tried my best to research and find information. I also apologize for any grammar mistakes or anything that doesn't sound quite right. I'm not a native English speaker and I'm trying my best :') Enjoy! PS: I purposely gave the reader a name, I personally think "Y/N" looks a bit weird but if you don't like it please let me know so I can change it! Please leave constructive criticism so that I can improve! Thank you so much for reading <3

dividers by @cafekitsune

#jason newsted #metallica #metallica x reader #jason newsted x reader #jason newsted smut #metallica smut

23 notes · View notes

lgwifey · 11 months ago

Text

Homesick Part Two

“Good enough for London”

human!Fem!reader x platonic!EdwardCullen

summary : Y/n’s dad had been given a new job offer, meaning she had to drag herself half way across the world to a town that shame was positive rained more than London had.

Part One

Y/n woke up the next day at 6:30 am, determined to beat jet lag and also needing to prepare for waking up early again in a few days when the schools started up.

Today's jobs where a bit easier than yesterdays, having her little schedule wrote up that's she'd scribbled down and then rewrote out pretty on the plane. She was already ahead of yesterday, having only thought she would have enough time to make her bed. Luckily the flat pack furniture was a bit easier than she expected it to be.

She started the day by unpacking the parcels of bedding that she'd ordered to the house before they'd moved over. She'd opened the duvet, pillows and mattress topper last night and left them to air out overnight to save half the day today being wasted.

Her light pink, crushed velvet ottoman bed sat just slightly not on the wall, a small bedside table sat between in and the bedroom wall, a medium sized window starting at the end of the bed. Y/n would be the first to mention her lack of strength, which meant the first job of dragging the double mattress topper onto the bed took longer than it would've for most. She dragged on a black satin bedsheet before standing on the bed with the duvet and the dark red cover, using all her height to try and make the process easier.

Soon enough the teenager managed to wrangle the bed all together, folding the spare sets of bedding and dropping them to the corner of one of the ottoman draws.

Black satin pillows were thrown at the headboard of the bed, then the blood red duvet and then a bundle of cushions that Y/n usually ended up kicking off the bed before she slept anyway. The whole bed was pulled together with a leopard print throw blanket that matched her large leopard print fuzzy rug which her dad had picked up from a store in Seattle for her before she arrived.

The only furniture left to put together was the eight-ball beanbags she'd bought.

Once she'd admitted defeat and accepted that she was being moved to Forks Washington whether she liked it or not, she'd decided she was going to go all out on her bedroom and outfits. Plus, her parents felt horrible for moving her so she'd managed to get a few bonuses.

Kicking the leather beanbags into a corner, Y/n moved into the cardboard boxes for her home in London. She'd been convinced to get rid of most of her possessions by her mother. The words "you can always just buy new things when we get there" were going to be burned into her brain for a very long time.

The two boxes were carefully wiped of dust and unsealed with the scissors she'd left on her desk from yesterday.

It was just a few nicknacks, she didn't hold attachments to many things so the little she kept from England were carefully placed on the empty bookshelf in the corner. A few rolled up posters, a few book collections that her grandmother had gave her before the move, a few ornaments that she'd had from a baby and a few she'd found in charity shops and her prized CD collection and player.

It was quite a quick job, well it would've been if she didn't get distracted by the ornamental bells that she was organising for a solid twenty minutes.

After leaving her landline, a dark red lip phone, on her desk as a reminder to get her father to set it up when he got back from work, Y/n realised that if she wanted to get into some public appropriate clothes and do her makeup to go food shopping, she'd need to start unpacking her suitcases.

She let out a huff before flipping backwards onto her bed, the fresh covers crumbling around her tired body.

Her LED digital clock sat on her wall beside her bed, reading a miserable 11:46. Her friends wouldn't even be awake for at least another 4 hours.

Once again, she pushed herself to the large, hot pink suitcases that had been left behind her door when she arrived.

☆

When Harriet Grey went to go and check on her daughter in the morning, well nearly afternoon, she expected to find her daughter dying from jet lag like her, face still buried in her pillows and room still looking uninhabited.

Instead she found the girl with her face passed out in a half unpack suitcase.

The pyjama clad woman slowly shuffled over to where Y/n was sprawled up. Most of her wardrobe had been hung on hangers and place in the small walk-in wardrobe built into the bedroom. Her vanity had been organised with all her makeup, some of the draws left opening for Harriet to peek into.

"Y/n? Sweetie?"

Harriet had started to think that Y/n had suffocated on the socks her face had landed on, starting to leave to call an ambulance when she caught the crack caused by her daughter stretching her hand.

☆

"You don't think it's all... too much ?"

Y/n looked up from the zips on her pointed, heeled boots to where her mother stood with a worried expression plastered on her features.

"If it was good enough for London then it's good enough for this crummy little town."

The younger girl scrunched her features up as she finished zipping the boots that finished just before her knees, pressing down the fabric of the black micro mini dress as she stood up from the step she was balancing on.

"Well, the populations quite a lot smaller than London here Y/n."

She was met with a blank expression from her daughter, the girl flicking her hair over her shoulders as she shifted the leather blazer over her shoulders, moving to check her mobile was in her cherry red purse before they left the house for the food shop they desperately needed.

"That means that people talk. A lot."

"Mother. If everyone was scared of people talking about them Vivienne Westwood wouldn't have made it out of Chelsea. Now let's go shopping, last nights pizza was the start of a health kick for me."

The girl gagged slightly, forgetting how awful she felt after the grease dish, forced an end to the conversation with a dramatic hand clap, leaving the large and empty house to the driveway where her mother's shiny new Mercedes sat.

Behind her followed her mother, a tut and an eye roll as the older woman locked the double doors to the large, white panelled house. A bright flash of the lights told Y/n that the car was unlocked, leaving her to pull the passenger side door open and slide into the immaculate interior.

The drive to the grocery shop was much longer than Y/n had expecting.

"Another reason we should've stayed in England, everything's less spread out."

"Everything's more compact in London, the distance between places here is just a bit refreshing. You've got some lovely views here, and less air pollution. I know you value that."

The teenager rolled her eyes, slouching back into the seat more. "I also value my shoes and if I were to walk this distance their soles would be completely worn out."

Harriet bit her lip, a nervous habit she'd developed since she had to start convincing her daughter that the move was a good idea a year ago. "Did you know you can learn how to drive earlier here ?"

"I already know how to drive, dad taught me so I could pass as soon as I turn 17."

"Well then you can sit it as soon as me and your father find a driving teacher ."

The pale blonde woman gave a tight lipped smile, turning her head to focus back on the empty stretch of road.

"Yeah dad's already done that. I've got a test on Sunday so I can pass before school starts, it's way easier than the UK one too."

"Gave much thought to what car you want ? It seems like everyone here has trucks."

Y/n held back a snort at her mother's face at the mention of the popular vehicle around here. It was quite obvious that she didn't want a big pick up sat outside her new home.

"I was actually thinking about the new Audi a4 convertibles. Kate's sister got a silver one last year but they're bringing a red one out."

Harriet caught the begging stare that the miniature self was giving her in the corner of her eye. A unnoticed breath left her at the relief of not having a box with wheels next to her prized Mercedes .

"I'm sure your father could manage that one."

Part Three

Masterlist

#twilight #twilight x reader #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen x reader #fem!reader x platonic!edwardcullen

19 notes · View notes

blogtowndotcom · 2 years ago

Text

Come as you are.

Making my way from Seattle to what I guess is known as the grays Harbor (The Coast) We passed through Aberdeen. I gotta be honest this place doesn't leave much of an impression. There IS a Walmart AND a Safeway so you can get groceries if you live here, major plus. But once the novelty of big box marts goes away you will find a gray rundown town.

I didn't pay much attention to this place when I passed through here for the first time. It was just one more place I had to get through to get to my camping space.

I knew the biggest and best fact about this place. Which is, it's the birth place of Kurt Cobain. I mean if you look at this town for about as long as 5 seconds, the a thought along the lines of, "of course this is where Kurt Cobain lead singer of the hit band Nirvana is from. The welcome to Aberdeen sign has the words "Come As You Are" Written on the bottom. Which is a reference to the hit song "Come As You Are" by the very famous band Nirvana who of course is from Aberdeen Washington.

Come Wearing Business Casual

I've lived in the Seattle area going on 4 years and let me tell you Seattle does take a lot of credit for Kurt and Nirvana. I think it's really easy to see Seattle as a grimy liberal fever dream because of it's horrific homelessness and general lawlessness. However, what Seattle truly is the house that Amazon built. Amazon and many other large companies moved in and kicked all the nonconformists out. Creating a city of shinny futurist buildings and packed the streets with suits and tech bros of every verity. Really easy to see that the rest were left behind and were subsequently priced out or forced out. I don't think Kurt Cobain writer of the chart topping album "Nevermind" would approve...

As a Friend, As a Known Enemy.

Cobain said the meaning of "Come As You Are" is purposely confusing. The lyrics purposely contradict each other. The great contradiction of Aberdeen is living here and also making a living. There is a dark shadow over this town both literarily and figuratively. It seems your only options for making a true living is either working in lumber yards or on a fishing boat both careers that ironically need to be done outside of Aberdeen. "The choice is yours don't be late." If you don't want to do this back breaking work you pretty much only have food service or retail. The latter is disappearing all across the country and of course this place is no exception.

What am I trying to say with this post? I'm not sure honestly. I don't know what it's like living in Aberdeen. I didn't ask anyone about their feeling regarding the town. I truly have no idea what's it's like to be a resident here. What I can say is that this small town like every other town is a window in to seeing what is truly happening in the US right now. We seem to be moving so fast that anyone or any place that can't keep up will be left behind. It's scary to think that maybe even I could turn into an Aberdeen one day and there isn't a soul on earth that could save me.

I hope people enjoy living here. I hope people can live out there dreams in this community. I hope kids grow up here and experience events that will shape their lives forever. I will be taking a closer look at this town the next time I'm in the area maybe even have a few conversations.

If you live in Aberdeen and found your way to this post please let me know what it's like. Is there anything about the town that people passing throw would miss? What made you decide on living here in the first place? What made you stay?

Anyway I give Aberdeen a resounding 10-10 !

#aberdeen #Washington #Seattle #nirvanna #travel #small towns #abandoned #travel photography #dead mall #nostalgia #liminal #liminal aesthetic #mallcore #liminal photography #abandonedcore #vintage

24 notes · View notes

starrygalaxy04 · 2 years ago

Text

Moon’s Tides

Summary: Scarlett Mirachei lives in a military family. When her father is stationed in Seattle, she and her dad pick up and move to Forks. However, when her first day ay school goes in many ways she doesn’t expect, questions are raised she can’t easily find answers to. (A Jasper x OC fic, though you can insert yourself into Scarlett’s position if you want to. Jasper and Alice are not together in this one. I also took liberties in putting this fic closer to modern day than the early 2000s.)

TW: Minor mentions of nudity

Chapter 1: Wolfish Tendencies

The first day at a new school. It was something Scarlett had become almost intimately familiar with. Every couple of years her father would be relocated to a different military base, and they would pack everything up and move where the job required. For most of Scarlett’s life, her father had been stationed in various bases around Louisiana. Whether it was Fort Johnson (originally Fort Polk, she still got the names mixed up), Camp Beauregard, or the occasional visit to the Marine Corps Support Facility in New Orleans, there was always something new. More places to explore, new houses to live in, and new people to get to know.

This time however, the move was a bit more drastic. Instead of moving to another part of sunny, humid, and sometimes downright miserable Louisiana, her father had been told he was moving up to Washington. He was being relocated to the military base located in Seattle, meaning she and her father were going to have to get acclimated to much different weather. Long gone were the days of the weather roulette wheel. Spring and Fall were no longer constant toss-ups of rain, wind, and windy storms. Summer no longer heraled hurricane season. And Winter no longer meant the wonder of if Louisiana would be lucky to enough to get snow that year.

Instead, Washinton proved to be a bit more consistent in its weather patterns. Cloudy, almost constantly rainy, with a couple days of sunshine mixed in. Forks was almost constantly under the cover of rain or fog. Snow was a guaranteed spectacle when Winter decided to show itself and blow its freezing breath over the soggy green landscape. And Summer could hardly be called Summer. There weren’t any putridly hot days, no humid air that felt so thick it was like inhaling a blanket. It was very different than what Scarlett was used to.

But what she didn’t expect was for her sinus problems to somehow be even worse when she moved up there. It had only been a couple of days and drainage was kicking her ass. Sore throat, sneezing, coughing up phlegm, the whole nine yards. It felt like she had been assaulted with a full face of pollen, when it was most likely because of the moss that covered almost every tree in the neighborhood. She had thanked herself multiple times for buying a surplus of her nasal spray on a whim, inhaling three sprays of the medicine in each nostril.

But even with that assistance, as soon as she stepped out of her car in the school parking lot a sneeze wracked her frame so hard it felt like she had dislodged something. She doubles over, taking a moment to collect herself with her nose tucked firmly into her jacket-covered elbow. She makes a noise of displeasure before grabbing her backpack, trying her best not to rub at her eyes. She was almost certain she looked sick as she walked across the parking lot and into the school’s office, awkwardly standing at the front desk as she waits for the woman behind the desk to notice her.

The woman had to have been middle-aged. Her hair was so red it had to have been box-dyed, which made Scarlett fight back a cringe. Her green eyes were framed by a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, slowly looking over something on her monitor. It takes a couple more minutes before the lady notices Scarlett, eyes widening in shock before she turns to face her.

“Good morning. How may I help you?”

She sounded so similar to a customer service person that Scarlett almost talked to her professionally rather than simply asking for her schedule like a normal person.

“Um, hi. I’m Scarlett Mirachei, a new transfer from New Orleans. I was told I could get my class schedule here.”

“Scarlett…Scarlett…Oh yes! Here you are.” She clicks a couple times with her mouse, and Scarlett chews on the inside of her cheek as she waits.

The printer whirs to life, slowly printing out a block schedule on a piece of printer paper. Scarlett smiles as the lady hands the piece of paper to her.

“The room numbers and buildings are printed on the paper. Makes it a little hard to get lost. You’re in here a bit early as well, so it might give you a little time to get to your class or find your locker before the day starts.”

Scarlett nods, reading over the piece of paper. Calculus first period. Just her luck. Scarlett somehow had always managed to get her math class as her first period since freshman year. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, she couldn’t be sure. Physics as second period. Her two most difficult classes first thing in the morning. She sighs as she looks at her third period class, World Literature. She had the universal lunch period, followed by her Dance class, which had been put in as an elective since she already had the required PE credits. Last up was her World History class.

Scarlett was happy she had packed her dance bag, making a mental note to grab it during her lunch break. It didn’t specify what kind of dance the class was focused on, so unless the teacher went into it, she would just have to pack all her shoes. Even her tap shoes. Scarlett sighs as she exits the office, folding up the schedule and tucking it in her pocket so it wouldn’t get wet in the drizzling rain.

More cars had pulled into the parking lot, and Scarlett could hear the chatter of the various students as they waited to go inside. Scarlett sighed as she walked to her car, a little Nissan painted midnight blue. She’d most likely have to wait as well, so she simply leaned against her car while quietly humming to herself. She gazed around the parking lot, eyes ending up on what looked like an old rusted red Chevy truck. Her brow raised as she looked at the truck, slowly running her gaze over it.

Scarlett briefly saw her reflection in one of the side mirrors. Her hair, chin length, had been pulled back into a short ponytail with her bangs hanging out on each side of her face. The lock on the right side was dyed the same midnight blue as her car. The rest of her hair was light brown, a little more red than brown in the right lighting. It was something she had gotten from her mother’s side of the family. Her amber eyes, which she called doe eyes because they looked big to her, seemed to have the same steely wall of conviction that her father held wherever he went. Her face was quite traingular in shape, sharp cheekbones, and chin. Her nose was just big enough to fit her face, not quite a button nose with a subtle hook to it. Her black brows, sharp and angular, added an intensity to her facial expression that would scare most people off.

She looked like she was a member of the military herself.

She hadn’t worn anything special to school. A simple band t-shirt adorned with a grey hoodie, black ripped jeans and her favorite pair of combat boots. Her backpack was slung over one shoulder, adorned with various pins and keychains. It was the only thing on her that screamed something other than resting bitch face. Of course, the pentagram keychain would cause some controversy, along with the genderfluid keychain and the demisexual pin. Various witch and gothic-themed pins littered her backapck. A crystal ball with a banner reading “YOU ARE FULL OF MAGIC” in curisve, a black snake wrapped around a crescent moon, and a couple pins from her old schools. Her favorite pin was circular, depicting a golden crescent moon, the rest of the pin colored purple with little golden stars. Engraved in it were the words “Stay Wild Moon Child.” It was the first pin her father had ever gotten her and stayed with her throughout her school years.

Scarlett could feel the charms of the necklaces tucked under her shirt move every now and again as she leaned against her car. She wore three, two were made of cord and one was a metal chain. The first neckalce was a circular pendant, depicting three phases of the moon, waxing crescent, the full moon, and waning crescent. The second was a simple cage for a crystal, amethyst. The last one, the metal chain, held a much larger version of the pentagram keychain that hung from her backpack.

Scarlett was quite literally any Christian kid’s worst nightmare.

Her eyes roam over the rest of the parking lot, brow raising again when she notices a silver Volvo. Whoever’s Daddy bought that has some money. Scarlett looks over the car, eyes eventually wandering to the math building as she thinks about how boring Calculus will be. The bell rings, and Scarlett is quick to make her way into the building, finding the room with a little difficulty. She makes it a few minutes early, sitting down in a vacant spot in the far back corner. She tries to not draw attention to herself as she pulls out her notebook and led pencil, lightly chewing on her nail as she waits for class to start.

Once all of the students file in and take their seats, the teacher begins roll. Scarlett was one of the last kids on the list, correcting the teacher when he inevitably gets her last name wrong. Mirachei was not always an easy name to pronounce, and it often took a couple weeks before people were able to say it correctly.

As she expected, her first two classes went horribly slow. Calculus was just an intro day, just covering foundations students would have learned if not reviewed in Pre-Calculus. Physics was a little more difficult, though it was Calculus based Physics so she would have to learn the principles then implement the math as she learned both subjects. World Literature wasn’t hard, considering there had been no material given out to any of the students yet. Lunch eventually rolled around, and Scarlett had decided to grab her dance bag on the way to lunch instead of on the way out. Once she grabbed her bag, hauling it over her shoulder, she made her way into the cafateria. There was some hustle and bustle, mostly people chatting amongst each other. Once Scarlett had grabbed a tray, her brow furrowed as she thought of where to sit. However, that train of thought was quickly thrown out the window when a boy, most likely a year younger than her, walked up to her with a large smile.

He looked nerdy, his hair cut into a sideswept spiky style. He wore rectangular glasses that didn’t quite fit his face, and looked a little lanky in stature.

“Hi! I’m Eric, you must be the other new girl! Scarlett, right?” He smiled brightly at Scarlett, offering his hand for a shake.

Scarlett nods before awkwardly shaking his hand.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Her brow furrows a fraction of an inch as she chews on the inside of her cheek.

“Oh, you and Bella are basically the talk of the school right now. Two new students? Almost never happens! You can come to sit with us if you want. Bella is with us. I can introduce you!”

Before Scarlett can respond he rushes back to a somewhat crowded table. Three girls and three guys, one of them Eric, sit at the table and he waves Scarlett over. Scarlett takes a breath before walking over to the table, readjusting her dance bag.

“Here, I’ll pull up a chair.” Eric wastes no time in grabbing a spare chair from the table next to the group, sliding it between him and a girl with decently long brunette hair and brown eyes.

Scarlett slowly sits down, shrugging off her dance bag and slipping it under her chair.

“Everybody, this is Scarlett! The other new girl.” Eric announces, a wide smile on his face.

Scarlett waves, chewing on the inside of her cheek as all eyes are drawn to her for the moment.

One of the girls, also brunette with brown eyes, smiles at Scarlett. It seems a little forced, and Scarlett picks up on a little bit of snarkiness from her.

“I’m Jessica Stanley. The girl next to me is Angela. The guy with the short blond hair is Mike. You already know Eric, and the last boy over here is Tyler.”

Scarlett nods in acknowledgement to each of them, feeling a little out of place.

“And I’m sure you already know the girl next to you. She’s Bella, the police chief’s daughter.”

Jessica nudges the girl next to Scarlett, making the girl flush before awkwardly waving to Scarlett.

“Hi, I’m Bella.” Her voice is small, and she tries her best to seem friendly.

“Well, its already obvious, but I’m Scarlett Mirachei. Moved from New Orleans if the accent doesn’t give it away.” Scarlett smiles wryly.

“Really? We were just talking about how Bella moved up from Phoenix.” Jessica smiles.

Scarlett looks over to Bella, who seems to be looking through the cafateria windows.

“Who are they?” She asks, eyes on the door as it opens.

“The Cullens? They’re Dr. and Mrs. Cullen’s foster kids.” Jessica leans in, almost as though the information is secretive. Scarlett raises a brow, listening intently. “They moved down here from Alaska, like, a few years ago. “

“They…kind of keep to themselves.” Angela added.

“Yeah, cuz they’re all together. Like, together together. Well, I say that. It’s only two of them. The blonde girl? That’s Rosalie. And then there’s the big dark-haired guy, Emmett. They’re like, a thing. I’m not even sure that’s legal.”

“Well, I mean, they’re not actually related.” Angela smiles.

“Well, yeah but they live together, its weird.”

Scarlett takes a bite of her food, watching as Rosalie and Emmett pass. As they do, it feels like pins and needles are suddenly jabbed into her nose. She covers her nose, hoping to mask the face she makes as her nose begins to burn.

Another two come in and Jessica begins talking again.

“Okay, the little dark-haired girl is Alice. She’s really weird. And that’s Jasper, the blond one who looks like he’s in pain.”

As they pass, two different smells seem to assault Scarlett’s nose simultaneously. One of them has the same burning smell as before, while the other is still a little unpleasant, but much more muted on the pain scale. Aside from the sharpness, she can pick up a faint hint of leather and pine. Something warm settles in her chest, making her body convulse. She masks it behind a cough, desperately trying to settle down.

No one seems to notice as Jessica keeps talking.

“Um, Dr. Cullen is like this foster dad/match maker.”

“Maybe he’ll adopt me.” Angela smiles, a dreamy look in her eyes.

Scarlett can feel her body drastically warming up, the convulsions seeming to not want to calm down. Scarlett tries desperately to take deep breaths, which seem to ward them off for the moment.

“Who’s he?”

Bella looks at the door as a boy with reddish-brown hair walks in, an almost sullen look on his face. Scarlett fights back another convulsion, her nose almost on fire as the burning scent assaults her nose once more.

Jessica smiles for a moment before speaking again.

“That’s Edward Cullen. He’s totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently nobody here is good enough for him. Jasper and Alice seem to think the same. But, like I care, you know?”

Its getting hard for Scarlett to focus on the conversation, and as soon as Edward passes by, she’s grabbing her dance bag.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Scarlett puts a hand over her mouth as she grabs her dance bag before making a beeline to the door, rushing out as fast as she possibly can. The convulsions are only getting worse, more frequent and in some cases more violent. She doesn’t know what compels her to dash into the nearby woods, but as soon as she’s shielded by the foliage she’s dropping her dance bag. Her body feels too warm. Like there’s too many layers on her.

First goes her jacket, then her shirt. And when that’s not enough, the rest of her clothes go, too. As soon as the last of her garments are off of her, the convulsions become much more violent. They’re not painful, if anything they feel like dry heaving. Her eyes close as she leans against a tree for support.

And then suddenly they’ve stopped.

Scarlett’s eyes open, but things look different. She can see the detailing in the tree bark, look at each individual speck of moss. She almost feels taller in a sense, and she can smell things she’d never been able to before. She could smell the various animals in the trees, squirrels, birds, the occasional rat. She could smell the dormant gasoline in the cars in the parking lot. She could smell the leather of the seats, smell the various scents of the student body. Could smell that burning, overpowering scent. It was like a magnified spearmint, strong, cold, and unbearably sharp.

Scarlett looked down and her body went rigid. Instead of legs, she had paws. White, fluffy paws. Her head whips behind her, only to be met with a large, white fluffy pelt. Her large white fluffy pelt. Her tail was ramrod straight, and she heard the loud panting from her open mouth as panic flooded her system. She felt her ears twitch on top of her head as she desperately tried to process what she was seeing. She looked down at her clothes before looking back at her body.

Her first instinct was to panic. In a matter of seconds she was yelping in terror, whining as her head flitted this way and that. Trying to figure out what to do. She had to be dreaming, right? There’s no way she just turned into a fucking wolf. She needed to be admitted into a mental hospital.

But even as she spiraled, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a dew drop resting on a fern. In striking clarity, she saw the wolf standing where she would have stood. Its fur was snow white, its eyes the exact same amber as Scarlett’s. Its snout was long, pointed, and large sharp teeth showed when she opened her mouth. She stood abnormally large. She would assume just standing on all fours she would be taller than her normal height.

The whining eventually died down as she analyzed her reflection in harsh detail. Was this…her? Was she…actually grounded in reality right now? Was she going insane? But everything felt real. Everything felt…alive. Like some dormant part of her was finally allowed to come out and play. Like this was something she had in her as long as she had been born, but there had just never been a right time to explore it.

Ironically, in that moment, the song “She Wolf” popped into her mind.

As she gradually calmed down, she was able to shift back into her regular self. Once she was back into her regular form, she was quick to put her clothes back on. Her skin seemed much more sensitive than before, and the abnormal body heat hadn’t gone away. Her sight was sharper than before, her hearing magnified as though she had put her ear to a megaphone. And her sense of smell… No longer was she sneezing, but everything seemed to have a heightened smell. Everything seemed…different.

Scarlett grabs her dance bag, thoughts racing a mile a minute.

What the hell was that? What just happened? Please let this just be a moment where I lost touch with reality. That…That wasn’t real. It can’t be.

Though it felt like that moment of insanity had last hours, in reality it had maybe lasted ten minutes. Most students were still in the cafateria. Scarlett could hear the buzzing of chatter from the woods, making her brow furrow. She decides to not go back to the cafateria, the noise is overwhelming from a distance. She makes her way to the athletic building, shocked to find it open. Her warm hand meets the cold, damp metal of the door, a shock to her system. She had to be running a fever.

Nonetheless, she felt fine, so she walked in.

Scarlett found the girl’s changing room and make quick work of changing into her leotard and tights. She grabs her jazz and ballet shoes, slipping on her jazz shoes to be safe before walking into the small dance studio. It had decent quality marley, though it had clearly been worn down and would need to be replaced soon. The mirrors didn’t span the entire wall and looked like they needed cleaning. And the ballet bars had clearly seen better days, most of them made from piping instead of proper plastic.

Scarlett grabbed her phone and wireless earbuds, slipping one into her ear before unlocking her phone. She walks to the center of the small studio, scrolling through her music library before picking up a song to stretch to. She slides into a split, making sure her feet are pointed before she leans first to her right side, stretching out the muscles in her legs and core. She does the same to her left side before transitioning into lunges, falling into an old ballet stretch routine.

She just finishes stretching out her ankles when other students and the teacher walk in. She puts her phone and earbuds away, finding a place on the floor as she waits for the other students. The teacher explains that this dance class covers jazz, ballet, and modern, and Scarlett can’t help the smile that comes over her face. The first unit is jazz, and within a couple minutes the students are stretching and getting to work.

The school had lumped beginner, intermediate, and advanced students together. Whether that would be helpful or detrimental, Scarlett wasn’t sure. It made the skill gap obvious, which no doubt would make the beginners feel insecure. But it would push the intermediates to perform on the level of the advanced students. So, it might just be a very delicate balance.

The teacher goes through a couple of stretch routines before doing a small lesson on technique. After that, she begins the students on a combination. It incorporates basic skills all dancers need for a jazz routine, though it is modified for the advanced dancers with a couple tricks and turn sequences.

The dance class is decently enjoyable for Scarlett, allowing her to forget all of her worries, fears, concerns, and questions about her mental stability. She rides the endorphin high of dancing into her last class of the day. She hums the combination music as she sits down, a pretty catchy song called “Bole to Harlem”. She pulls out her notebook, setting it on her desk as she runs through the dance combination in her head.

She’s only broken out of her reverie when that biting scent fills her nose again. She looks up, only to spot two of the Cullen kids finding their seats. One is the blonde girl Jessica had said was Rosalie. The other was the second blond, which Jessica had said was Jasper. Only two seats were available, one next to Scarlett and one at the front of the classroom. Rosalie quickly sat in the chair at the front, leaving Jasper to sit next to Scarlett. Scarlett was thankful Rosalie had sat in the front, as pretty as she looked her scent was making Scarlett’s lungs feel inflamed. As Jasper gradually got closer, Rosalie’s scent was eventually drowned out. Once Jasper sat down, a much different scent enveloped her senses.

The mix of leather and pine, with just a hint of that spearmint sensation. It felt much more welcoming and warm than his brother and sister’s scents. It was almost pleasant to breathe in, had her nose not been so terribly sensitive. Scarlett kept her head down, trying her best to keep her hand away from her nose as she fiddled with her pencil. She could vaguely feel warmth beginning to blossom in her chest as he settled in his seat, eyes facing forward.

He looked stiff, elbows on the table. The side of his right hand was pressed against his lips, his left hand covering his right. His chin-length hair partially obscured his face. Scarlett couldn’t get a read on him even if she wanted to, and some part of her seemed hurt at the realization. Class had begun, and Scarlett found it hard to tear her attention away from him. Part of her wanted to talk to him, get as close to him as possible. A very deep, almost possessive piece of her wanted to get close enough that her scent would waft onto him, warning people to stay away from him.

She had no clue where any of that was coming from, shaking her head to clear her mind before opening her notebook and beginning to take notes.

Nonetheless, the intrusive thoughts kept coming. With each inhale, another thought almost derailed her from focusing on the history lesson. It was near impossible for her to keep her head on straight. Her eyes would always drift to Jasper, who didn’t seem to have changed positions at all during the lesson so far. His back was rigid, his jaw clenched tight.

He looked uncomfortable.

Part of Scarlett wanted to reach out and comfort him, and for some odd reason she felt a whine building in the back of her throat. She quickly stamps it down, frowning as she tries her best to focus on the tail end of the lesson. She needed to check in with a therapist if not a mental hospital.

The bell rings, signalling the end of the lesson. As soon as it sounds, Jasper is bolting out the room, a huffy Rosalie following behind him. That part of Scarlett seems hurt, and its almost physically painful to watch him leave. Scarlett winces, closing her eyes. What the hell is wrong with me?

She grabs her notebook and bag, making her way to her car. As she throws her dance bag into the back of her car, she hears footsteps approaching from a longer distance than she normally could before. Her eyes peer up to find Bella tentatively walking over, watching her feet carefully as she walked. Once she makes it to Scarlett’s car, she smiles sheepishly.

“Hey, I never got to check on you? Are you feeling better?”

Despite not knowing Scarlett at all, Bella sounded oddly concerned. Scarlett fought with herself between telling the full truth or telling a half truth. Certainly this girl would think her crazy if she went “Yeah I’m okay, I just turned into a wolf and now all my senses are heightened.”

It was bad enough Scarlett already felt crazy, she didn’t need people believing that about her.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I have bad anxiety so social situations like that can really get the better of me.” Not an entire lie. Scarlett truthfully did have social anxiety, and in some cases would be bad enough to make her sick.

“Well, I’m glad you’re doing better. Hopefully tomorrow will be better?”

“I’m hoping. I never did get to hear much about you. I heard you’re new here, too?” Scarlett raises a brow, leaning against her car. She catches a whiff of Bella’s scent. Kind of floral, almost like peonies. Its much more tolerable than the scent the Cullens give off. Well, except for Jasper…

“Yeah, I moved up here with my dad a couple days ago.” Bella nods. “He’s the police chief for the town, so moving up here was a pretty big deal for the town, I guess.”

Scarlett chuckles, nodding.

“I came up here with my dad, too, funnily enough. Though he’s a military man. Got re-assigned to a position in Seattle. He likes to be away from all the hustle and bustle and found a little house for him and me up here. He lives on base most of the time, but he tries to come home when he can.”

Bella nods, fiddling with one of her book covers.

“Seems like a pretty big change from New Orleans. Though I guess I can empathize in that aspect. Its so much greener here than Phoenix.” Bella makes a face, wrinkling her nose.

Scarlett chuckles, popping her neck.

“Well, I’m just used to humid swamps. I’m basically getting the opposite here. And there’s no gators to make it interesting.” Scarlett mock pouts. “I’m hoping me and my dad can go crabbing in the Summer. Though if we do it up here it would be a lot different than back home.”

Bella nods, smiling.

“My dad fishes, I’m more of a homebody. Sit and home and read books, you know?”

“Felt you there, sis. Felt you there.” Scarlett smiles. “I probably shouldn’t keep you much longer, huh? Don’t want that police chief of a dad getting worried, yeah?”

Bella chuckles, smiling at Scarlett.

“No, worrying Charlie wouldn’t be a good idea. So…see you tomorrow?”

Scarlett nods, smiling at Bella.

“I’ll be here.”

Bella smiles before walking to her vehicle, the old and rusted red Chevy that Scarlett had spotted earlier. She slips into the truck, buckling in before starting it. The truck loudly revs to life, making Scarlett flinch. One of the bad things about old trucks, they’re fucking loud. Scarlett slips into her own car as she watches Bella pull out and take a right, driving down the highway. Scarlett buckles her own seatbelt as she shuts the car door, starting her own car. She checks her mirrors before pulling out, taking a left onto the highway.

The drive is short, and within ten minutes she’s taking the turn at Snakehill Road. At the end of the road is the little house her father had bought. It’s a little two-story house, two bedroom and two bathroom. There was a small balcony on the second floor, in front of Scarlett’s bedroom. The house was painted light blue, giving off a nice contrast to the green of the trees and grass around it. She pulls into the small carport, her dad’s spot empty. He most likely wouldn’t be back until the end of the month, leaving Scarlett with money to get groceries as needbe.

Scarlett slips out of her car, grabbing both of her bags before shutting the door and locking her car. She grabs the house key on her key ring, slipping it into the lock on the door before pushing the door open. The living room is mid-sized, homey. A white sofa and loveseat sit parallel to each other, propped against the two grey walls. A TV is mounted on the wall, an entertainment center under it full of movies, video games, and various consoles. A couple framed photos sit on top of the entertainment center, most of them of Scarlett and her father.

A large fluffy grey rug covers the space between the couches and in front of the entertainment center, a nice place to sit when Scarlett gets bored of the couches. To the right of the large couch is the framed entrance to the kitchen. It followed the same grey and white color scheme as the living room. A small grey island with a white and black granite countertop, the same granite along the rest of the counter. The cabinets were painted grey, the double sink pristine and shiny. The oven was just as clean, the dish washer light blinking to signal that the load of dishes was done.

Scarlett takes a right, walking into the little hallway that held the staircase. It was almost entirely tucked away from the first floor of the house, next to her father’s bedroom. She walks up the carpeted stairs, making her way to her bedroom. She smiles as she looks at the small painting that hangs on it. It’s a purple, pink, and blue galaxy she hand-painted her freshman year. She slowly opens the door to her bedroom.

It’s covered in moon-themed décor. The ceiling has countless stars and a large moon right above her bed. The walls, painted dark purple, are covered in countless posters, some from video games, others from book series. An ornate dream catcher, made of wood with white, blue, and purple thread, hangs from her ceiling fan. Her white desk sits by the wall next to her window, her black and white gaming chair pushed in as far as it would go. Her monitor sits calmly on the desk, her lilac mouse sitting calmly on its matching mousepad.

Lavender fairy lights were strung along the ceiling along with decorative vines. Some of those vines were strung above her window. Various plants sat on the windowsill. Various flowers and a couple decorative succulents. Her dresser and closet were both terribly messy, the only real indicator that she was still a teenager. Various articles of clothing (most of them black) were strewn around that area, a couple folded socks poking out from one of her dresser drawers.

Her mattress sat on an ornate metal frame, loops of metal partially covered by a slew of pillows and stuffed animals. Lavender sheets and a lilac lacy bedspread covered the mattress, matching pillows cushioning what she lovingly called her “plushie army”. Various stuffed animals, from squishmallows to Pokemon plushes to Five Nights at Freddy’s plushes to even the odd Cabbage Patch Kids doll. Truly, it was a respectable army, notorious for the soft comfort they provided her in sleep and during her darkest moments.

Her favorite thing in her room, however, had to be her bluetooth speaker. She carried it with her when she would go down to the living room to practice her dance routines, rolling up the carpet to give herself the proper surface to practice her turns or grabbing her slab of wood so she can practice a tap routine. She would always have it when she would go to take a shower, playing music depending on her mood. It could result in a jam session or even an emotional karaoke session depending on the day.

She was thinking that karaoke might be the way to go tonight after getting some dinner. After putting her bags on her bed, Scarlett makes her way into the kitchen. She fixes herself a couple ham and cheese sandwiches before grabbing a bag of jalapeno Cheetos. She honestly didn’t know why her father hadn’t just stocked the pantry with chips, it was one of the few things Scarlett ever ate consistently.

She sat on the couch, flipping through the various TV channels as she ate before eventually settling for opening YouTube and finding a true crime video. As the video played, she ate her food, eventually going through the entire bag of Cheetos. For some reason she was abnormally hungry, eating much more than usual. For a split second her mind went to pregnancy before she rolled her eyes, reminding herself that wasn’t a possibility since she’d never had sex before.

As she thought about it, her mind eventually went back to the spectacle that had caused all of her mental anguish. Could it be because of the wolf transformation? “Transformation” was the only word she could use to describe what happened. One minute she was normal, then the next she was a wolf. It was something she had only heard in horror stories but had happened to her. She pinches herself, wincing when it hurts. She wasn’t dreaming, and she certainly wasn’t hallucinating. But if those weren’t explanations, then what was? Surely if she brought this up to her father, he would think she had watched another scary movie and had a nightmare. And no one at school could give her an explanation. They didn’t even know her.

If she wanted any answers, she’d have to look them up on her own. She sighed as she got up from the couch, throwing the empty bag of chips in the trash can before washing her hands. She dies them off before grabbing her World Literature book, walking back into the living room. She begins her reading assignment, which isn’t due until the end of the week. True crime videos play one after the other as she reads. It’s almost eight by the time she finishes reading and taking notes, putting together a summary of her understanding of the story.

She looks at the clock, frowning. It’s still early by her standards, but maybe a shower would do her some good. After all, today had been less than normal. She walks back up the stairs, putting her books away before grabbing a change of clothes and making her way into her bathroom. She turns the water on to scalding hot, making quick work of stripping out of her clothes. But she stops when she looks in the mirror, brows furrowing in confusion.

Instead of a soft, squishy tummy like she was used to, hard and chiseled muscles had begun to form. She didn’t quite have abs yet, but she looks well on her way to it without having done anything. Muscles had also begun to form along her arms, shoulders, and legs. She shakes her head, walking into the shower. But unlike usual, the scalding water doesn’t feel the same. It’s much more comfortable than it is burning. Scarlett can smell the leftover scent of her body wash from the night before. She pops open the cap, the scent of the bottle much more distinctive to her nose. The hints of grapefruit are much stronger, along with the hints of other fruit mixed in.

She sighs, squirting some of the soap onto the loofa before cleaning her body, much more aware of what parts of her were dirty and what was covered in sweat. She washes her hair next, hyperaware of the notes of lavender and rosemary in the shampoo and conditioner. After rinsing the conditioner out of her hair she steps out of the shower, brows furrowed. She buries her nose in her towel, finding that the smell of the detergent and scent crystals is much more prominent to her as well. Even her own clothes had a scent to them, something vaguely tropical, almost like hibiscus.

She dries off, feeling each fiber of the towel as it rubs against her skin, collecting the leftover water. She slips on her nightclothes, a t-shirt, and a pair of shorts, before drying her hair and walking back to her room. She sits in her chair, turning on her computer. She sets an alarm for ten before opening her Steam client and looking for a game to play. She eventually settles on playing Plants Vs. Zombies. She had already beaten the game to full completion aside from a couple achievements and decides to see if she can get them.

She plays until her alarm goes off, “The Kids Aren’t Alright” by Fall Out Boy playing as the alarm goes off. Scarlett turns off the alarm, pausing the Pool level before closing the game. She turns off her computer, sliding out from under her desk so she can collapse on her bed. She lazily plugs in her phone, making sure her alarm is set for the next morning.

She rearranges her plushie army so that she can slip under the covers, turning on her fairy lights so the room is bathed in a light purple glow. She lay her head on one of her fluffy pillows, laying on her stomach. As she closes her eyes, her mind drifts to the Cullen family. Rosalie, Emmett, Alice, Edward, Jasper…

Jasper seemed to want to stick in her mind more than the rest. Why did only Jasper smell nice out of all of them? Why did Jasper look so uncomfortable all the time? Why did Jasper seem so closed off? And what was with all this wolf business? Why did seeing him like that make her feel so…bad? Like she needed to comfort him?

Late night thoughts were the bane of her existence, and Jasper’s expression was on her mind even as she fell asleep, surrounded by the smiling faces of her squishmallows.

#jasper hale #jasper hale x oc #jasper cullen #twilight #twilight x oc #edward cullen #bella swan #bella cullen #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #alice cullen #rosalie hale #rosalie cullen #emmett cullen #twilight fanfic #twilight fanfiction

13 notes · View notes

seleuss · 1 year ago

Text

SELEUSS - ETHEREAL MINT - MEDLIN MINT

BATCH 894

OUR ETHEREAL MINT - MEDLIN MINT EDITION

{bobbie} medlin mint

mGanache: This chocolate truffle is named after our good friend and neighbor { bobbie medlin }, who runs one of the most unique art boutiques in all of Seattle by the same name. The ganache is made with fresh organic cream, organic peppermint and our specially formulated 67% bitter-sweet organic chocolate. Just enough mint to usher in a breath of fresh air and soothe your soul!

m Truffle: The { medlin mint } chocolate ganache is typically enrobed in our 75%+ Moretta™ neutral dark chocolate and topped with a piece (or two) of candied fennel seed.

Pairing: Arbois wines, Saumur wines, Viognier, Syrah, Pinot Noir, Sauvignon blanc, or contrast with your favorite Red (black) or Mint Teas.

INGREDIENTS: organic Chocolate 67% (organic cacao beans, organic Cocoa butter, organic cane sugar syrup, sunflower lecithin, all natural non-gmo vanilla), Organic Cream, Glucose syrup (derived from wheat), organic peppermint oil. Chocolate shell (cacao beans, cocoa butter, cane sugar, soya lecithin, vanilla). Candied fennel seeds (sugar, fennel seeds, menthol, carnauba wax). [ caramel free ]

CONTAINS: Soya Lecithin, Milk, and mint. This product is processed in a facility that contains milk, eggs, wheat, hazelnuts, almonds, peanuts, cashews and other nuts.

STORAGE: Please store chocolateS in Refrigerator at <39°F (do not freeze) along with accompanied silica gel desiccant pack in an airtight container or plastic bag to prevent moisture and the chocolates from absorbing other aromas that might be present in the refrigerator. PREPARATION: For best results, please allow chocolates to equalize to room temperature of between 68-72°F (~20-22°C) for approximately 10-20 minutes; depending on ambient room temperature and in an airtight environment to prevent moisture condensation on the surface of the chocolate shell, then enjoy!

bobbie medlin: Part treasure box, part art gallery, the Bobbie Medlin store is a delight to visit and an experience for your curatorial nature. Unique jewelry, figurative sculpture, specially chosen antique engravings, rare african art, and contemporary paintings are among other surprises you’ll find. If you believe it’s all about the mix, you’ll be glad to have them on your list of favorite shops. Washington Post, Thursday, January 10, 2008:

Objects of Her Affection, by Nancy McKeon

www.bobbiemedlin.com - 2006 1st Ave, Seattle, WA 98101

http://bobbiemedlin.com/

#seleuss #chocolates #seleussmint #mintruffles #minttruffle #mintchocolates #bobbiemedlin #bobbie medlin #seleuss chocolates #medlinmint #medlin mint #bobble medlin mint #ethereal #etherealmint #ethereal mint

2 notes · View notes

joscphine · 2 years ago

Text

FULL NAME: Josephine "Joey" Fernando - Rivera

GENDER: demi woman

PRONOUNS: she / her

AGE + BIRTHDAY: 25, April 29th

LENGTH OF TIME IN FAIRFORD: Until she was 18, then recently returned in the past month

HOUSING: Mountainside

OCCUPATION: Bartender at Daring Daiquiri

warnings for teenager pregnancy , running away , abandonment , adoption

TEEN PREGNANCY / joey's story starts with her mother: raised by a single mom in the heart of vegas, her father nowhere to be found. sin city took a toll on joey's mother, isabela, and she became pregnant with joey very quickly as a teenager with a boy in her class.

RUNNING AWAY / instead of telling her mother, isabela and joey's father ran away ... within vegas and it's surrounding areas. it was easy to get lost within the lights and the tourists that packed the streets on a summer day. joey's dad found a slew of jobs that was enough to purchase a run down van, and they would park it behind his workplace.

ABANDONMENT / they lasted for a few months. isabela was 6 months pregnant, and joey's father promised to return to the small van they had been living in but never did. isabela was 18 and alone with nothing but herself. during this time, isabela decided to move north. she hitchhiked and caught rides with drivers from nevada to washington, settling in seattle and attempting to make a life for her now - smaller family.

josephine was born in the early hours of april 29th, surrounded by only her mother and the nurses. it was only hours later that joey would be placed into foster care. it would be best for the both of them.

ADOPTION / immediately was sent to live with a family from near - birth until she was 6. it was only foster care, never an actual adoption, and unfortunately the couple who were raising joey broke up --- them choosing to relinquish her back into care.

this is how she landed in her fathers ( bastian and his husband's ) care. call her cliche, but she considers this one of the best moments of her life and will happily encourage adoption, no matter how hard people think it is or the misconceptions.

childhood stuff ....

always the active child. always doing stuff, probably the one bouncing off the walls every day all day. did all the extra curriculars. tried out for sports, dance recitals, etc.

was a Soccer Superstar from ages 8 to 17, where she played goalie and offense.

diagnosed with adhd when she was around 12, and has been taking medication for it ever since. though she tries not to classify herself as a "stereotype", mostly because she hates that feeling of being put in a box.

used to follow bastian around and "help" on his odd jobs, despite not actually helping. grew up to be semi - handy with tools and all sorts of things.

bye fairford ....

she loves her family, but joey is definitely someone who does not settle down. she wanted to spread her wings so to speak, so she went to eckered college in florida on a soccer scholarship, right on the seaside to study archology, mostly because she thought it was funny and that she thought digging up dinosaurs was cool. fulfilling a kid pipe dream and all that, y'know?

her freshman year, one of her roommates + said roommates boyfriend were in a band, that needed a drummer. joey didn't know how to drum. she thought it would be easy. so she said she could do it.

particualry awful the first few tries, she found her way after practice. and the band was born.

they were actually semi - decent, despite the rocky start. they grew in the florida scene and joey thought they were going to make it big. they were selling out small venues, word gets around, they had a spotify and soundcloud. big stuff.

after they graduated, she was left with few options because the band ... dismantled and joey didn't really have any reason to stay in florida. she stayed for about two years before deciding she needed to come back home. it was different without her friends being able to do what they used to. it was all fun and games.. now it's over.

everyone grew up -- a few of the band members were engaged, others were too busy with their actual careers, child and more to carry on with the band. joey's just the drummer. she can't run the whole show by herself.

hiii ....

has returned to fairford after around 7 years to live full time, not counting vacations / family visits during holidays.

lives in a run down fixer upper in mountainside she got for cheap, and is slowly working on fixing it up as she has the time and energy. it's good stress relief and frankly she's kinda good at it. has an eye for design and all that. she loves sims.

is a bartender a few nights a week at the daring daqiuri. she's not a huge people person so it isn't her favorite thing in the world, but she's funny and charming in a fucked up way so people kind of like her, she hopes.

has a bit of resentment to her friends and it shows. the band is definitely tainted, bitter and angry about it. she thought they were in this together. the big leagues. but they all decided to .. quiet. she doesn't think she could ever forgive them for it, despite that being a bit... not rational.

other stuff

has never met her mother and doesn't have anything of hers. has vague memories of her previous foster parents before her dads, some photos and mementos but that's about it. she's curious but also terrified as to what she might find. it's not out of the question, but she's not going to chase a dream she wants crushed.

had a bit of a wild child streak in her teenage years. definitely did things she wouldn't supposed to ...... and dealt with the consequences.

she's sexually fluid and has been with anyone who she's found attractive. it doesn't matter to her -- she cares more about the connection than anything else.

kind of guarded and jaded, but if she loves you, she fucking looooves you. puppy dog kind of love.

ONLY GOES BY JOEY......... JOSEPHINE WILL NOT BE PRETTY

wcs

siblings!!! let her be a bad influence pls pls pls pls

perhaps people from florida who somehow moved to fairford?

an ex from high school: i think it'd be really fun to have this bc i imagine it like they were truly like in loooove and what not, except joey broke it off right before she left for college.

ex friends from fairford??? or maybe they kept it touch idk

new friends:DD

regulars at daring daqiuri who make her hate her life less.. they have a ball

hook ups / flings

enemies!!!

maybe. banter - relationships. they pick on each other so bad but it's all laughs .. or is it?

#this is sm bye #fairfordintro

4 notes · View notes

bobbie-medlin-mint-seleuss · 1 year ago

Text

SELEUSS - ETHEREAL MINT - MEDLIN MINT

BATCH 894

OUR ETHEREAL MINT - MEDLIN MINT EDITION

{bobbie} medlin mint

m Truffle: The { medlin mint } chocolate ganache is typically enrobed in our 75%+ Moretta™ neutral dark chocolate and topped with a piece (or two) of candied fennel seed.

Pairing: Arbois wines, Saumur wines, Viognier, Syrah, Pinot Noir, Sauvignon blanc, or contrast with your favorite Red (black) or Mint Teas.

CONTAINS: Soya Lecithin, Milk, and mint. This product is processed in a facility that contains milk, eggs, wheat, hazelnuts, almonds, peanuts, cashews and other nuts.

Objects of Her Affection, by Nancy McKeon

www.bobbiemedlin.com - 2006 1st Ave, Seattle, WA 98101

http://bobbiemedlin.com/

0 notes

etherealmint-seleuss · 1 year ago

Text

SELEUSS - ETHEREAL MINT - MEDLIN MINT EDITION

BATCH 987

m Ganache: This chocolate truffle is named after our good friend and neighbor { bobbie medlin }, who runs one of the most unique art boutiques in all of Seattle by the same name. The ganache is made with fresh organic cream, organic peppermint and our specially formulated 67% bitter-sweet organic chocolate. Just enough mint to usher in a breath of fresh air and soothe your soul!

m Truffle: The { medlin mint } chocolate ganache is typically enrobed in our 75%+ Moretta™ neutral dark chocolate and topped with a piece (or two) of candied fennel seed.

Pairing: Arbois wines, Saumur wines, Viognier, Syrah, Pinot Noir, Sauvignon blanc, or contrast with your favorite Red (black) or Mint Teas.

Objects of Her Affection, by Nancy McKeon

www.bobbiemedlin.com - 2006 1st Ave, Seattle, WA 98101

CONTAINS: Soya Lecithin, Milk, and mint. This product is processed in a facility that contains milk, eggs, wheat, hazelnuts, almonds, peanuts, cashews and other nuts.

0 notes

casspurrjoybell-25 · 1 year ago

Text

ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS - Chapter 1

*Warning Adult Content*

- Jayce -

He rubbed his forehead as he stared at the screen of his work computer.

He knew he needed to wrap up this project by the end of the day, but it was the last thing he could focus on.

Thoughts of his ex-boyfriend and the end of his apartment lease cluttered his mind.

"Jayce."

He turned, trying not to look directly at the harsh fluorescent lights above him.

His manager, Janelle, was standing at his cubicle, her arm resting on top of the beige wall.

"I need to speak with you in my office."

"Sure."

He locked his computer and followed Janelle down the hall, wondering what this was about.

Janelle checked in with everyone on a quarterly basis but he had already met with her a couple weeks ago.

When they entered Janelle's office, his mouth went dry when he saw one of the men from HR was already sitting in front of Janelle's desk.

That wasn't a good sign.

He sat down in the other chair, swallowing hard as his gaze darted between his manager and HR.

He was pretty sure he hadn't done anything wrong and last he heard there were no issues with his performance.

"As you know," Janelle began. "We're merging with one of our competitors. Unfortunately, we're not able to keep everyone. Your position has been made redundant."

An hour later, Jayce was standing outside waiting for the bus, holding a cardboard box filled with his things.

It hadn't fully sunk in yet.

He felt numb but tears began to prick his eyes and he fought to blink them back.

Redundant.

He was no longer needed at his job, just like he was no longer needed by his ex-boyfriend or by his landlord or by his family.

As the bus rambled along the streets of Seattle, he looked down at the box in his lap.

He didn't know what he was going to do about his current situation.

Even though he'd been given three months' notice that his landlord was selling the condo he was renting, he hadn't found another place yet.

He had thought he'd move in with Zach but Zach had broken up with him a week later.

"You're a nice guy, Jayce but I don't see this going anywhere."

The painful memory made him tighten his grip on the box.

He stared out the window instead, trying to distract himself.

The mountains loomed in the distance, white clouds twisting around them.

It was almost October and the rain had started again.

The idea came to him as he watched the clouds unfurl and drift, hiding one part of the mountains and then revealing another.

He could pack up his apartment, put all of his things in storage and head out to the mountains for a week.

He'd only ever been on one hike, the popular Rattlesnake Ledge but Washington was known for its scenic mountain ranges and endless hiking opportunities.

People always raved about nature and how good it was for both physical and mental health.

Maybe spending a week in nature was exactly what he needed to clear his head and start again.

After that, he could spend a few nights in a hotel while he buckled down and found a new job and a new place to live.

Three days after losing his job, all of his possessions had been moved into a storage unit and he'd completed the move-out process with his landlord.

He was now standing in the middle of the flagship REI store, looking around in amazement at the gear surrounding him.

He had no idea there'd be so many options.

He didn't have the first clue where to start.

As he looked down at his feet, he subtly nodded his head.

Boots.

He needed boots.

He'd also need hiking clothes, a backpack, a tent and a sleeping bag.

For a minute, he felt guilty about the money he was about to spend, but he convinced himself that he needed this.

A short vacation after a series of bad events was reasonable.

Picking out a couple pairs of hiking pants, shirts and a jacket was easy enough.

While looking at boots, a salesman helped him choose a pair that were sufficient for day hikes and short backpacking trips.

The tents and sleeping bags all looked the same to him.

He tried reading the information accompanying them but he quickly got overwhelmed.

He picked a lightweight tent and sleeping bag meant for backpacking and then selected a large backpack.

He didn't know anything about hiking or backpacking but he knew REI carried high quality gear so he wasn't too concerned.

Outside of the store, he placed all of his new things inside the backpack.

As he lifted it and put it on, it seemed heavy at first but after adjusting all the straps the weight lessened considerably.

He knew it would get lighter over time as he ate more of the food he'd bought.

He squared his shoulders and began walking to the bus stop.

Several hours later, he was staring up at the formidable mountain peaks in front of him.

It had been a long bus ride and then he'd had to hitch a ride the rest of the way.

He'd been dropped off at the trailhead by a friendly older man who was accustomed to giving rides to PCT hikers.

He hadn't done a ton of research online but a picture of Cutthroat Pass in the North Cascades had caught his eye.

On one side of the pass, a lake was nestled snug against the rocky mountain, evergreen trees filling the landscape around the shore of the lake.

From the top of the pass, views of mountains stretched in all directions.

That was all he needed to see to make his choice.

Since it was late in the day at this point, he knew he wasn't going to get far.

The lake was about two miles from the trailhead, so he set out with the intention of camping there for the night.

Tomorrow, he'd make his way up to the pass.

The trail was a wide dirt path with the occasional rock half buried in the dirt.

Bushes with dark red leaves lined the trail, contrasting with the forest green of the trees.

It reminded Jayce of Christmas.

Further along, some of the foliage had turned into bright oranges and yellows, with bursts of color drawing his eyes from one set of leaves to the next.

Despite how much he was enjoying the scenery, he was already a bit tired when he reached the lake.

While he definitely wouldn't consider himself out of shape, he wasn't used to hiking.

His visits to the gym three times a week only included strength training.

He found himself wishing he had done some cardio once in a while.

He set his pack down under a tree and walked out to the edge of the lake.

It wasn't huge and the shore was muddy but it had a stunning backdrop.

Rocky mountains rose high behind the lake, with green and gold trees dotting the landscape in the foreground.

It was absolutely beautiful.

Transfixed, he sat on a log near the shore.

The water was completely still and the quiet was peaceful.

After spending a half hour sitting and watching the lake, his mind clear of any of his problems, he got back up and wandered over to his pack.

Before it got dark, he needed to find a camping spot and figure out how to set up his tent.

On the way in, he had seen a sign saying camping wasn't allowed within a quarter mile of the lake, so he walked back out towards the main trail.

Once he was past the no camping signs, he found a flat spot near some trees.

He unpacked the tent and laid it out on the ground.

Fortunately, everything was color coded.

He threaded the poles through the loops on top and secured them at each corner and the tent went up easily.

Digging through his pack, he found some beef jerky and a Cliff bar.

He wolfed them down before crawling into his tent and getting in his sleeping bag.

As he lay there, he watched the sun go down, the light slowly disappearing and creating long shadows in the forest.

It didn't bother him that it was getting dark.

He felt at peace being surrounded by such a gorgeous setting, with the only noise being a faint breeze and the insects singing.

After his long day of travel and the hike to the lake, he quickly drifted off to sleep.

1 note · View note

darlinmntvintage · 2 years ago

Link

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Music Box Holiday Owls Plays Send in the Clowns Made for Pay N’ Save.

0 notes

mchalowitz · 3 years ago

Text

the woman is the king, part 8

summary: a throughline of the matriarchal scullys; be they ethereal, sharp-witted, and ill-omened.

part 1: melissa / part 2: dana / part 3: emily / part 4: scully / part 5: samantha (the interlude) / part 6: them / part 7: maggie

part 8: maggie, part 2

read on ao3

@today-in-fic

----

No more than two days in a motel is their first self-imposed rule to protect their identities. After 36 hours at the Leisure Inn, she spreads a map across the bedspread.

Already clocking hundreds of miles trapezing across the Southwest, Scully is tired of the long stretches of desert. Mulder sits behind her, tracing his finger from their current location near Salt Lake City, and up toward the state of Washington. He stops a few inches short of Seattle.

“That’s a little populated, don’t you think?”

When running from the law, an ideal location boasts less than five thousand people. Scully once found the unforthcoming communities of a small town infuriating. She now takes the silence of the populous as an advantage.

“It wouldn’t be Seattle proper,” Mulder amends. “I have a contact in the area with a cabin. I’ve stayed there before.”

An interconnected community of like-minded people, as Mulder would explain, have fed him information for years. He categorizes his contacts as creditable allies. Scully wonders where these people source their information to gain their expertise and resources. She heeds their abilities with caution.

He attractively describes not-Seattle-proper by recounting his memories of a lake view, an impressively restored stone fireplace, and unequivocable privacy. It only takes an hour to map their route and pack their gear into the SUV.

Mulder still isn’t over the unfairness of the reality of running from the law. After so many endless months of longing for her, he and Scully can finally be together, and he can list a thousand things he would run from just to be with her forever, but sometimes he dwells on what they should have.

He reunited with Scully two months ago and neither of them have fully broached the events of the last year. It’s way too soon to wreck the elation he feels by confessing thoughts his mind hasn’t even fully accepted yet. Mulder can only attest to confronting the loneliness that almost killed them both in unspoken actions. Someday, maybe, he might be brave enough to chip away at the new hardness he sees she carries.

He drives with one hand while clawing his face with the other. He’s never grown more than a five day beard. His face constantly itches. Scully attempts to convince him it looks rugged, like Sean Connery or Burt Reynolds, and it’s the biggest fucking lie she’s ever told him. It’s a patchy mess; an undeniably horrible disguise.

Scully’s change in appearance is courtesy of drugstore boxed dye, a collection of large framed sunglasses, and as they criss-cross the southwest, the shortest of shorts. It’s a sight he’s grateful to witness.

Her nose buried in a crossword puzzle book, Mulder gets her attention with a gentle squeeze to her bare inner thigh. It’s starting to get dark after nearly four hundred miles of I-84 and probably best to stop for the night.

“Any motels coming up?”

Reaching under the seat, Scully pulls out a guidebook from the last gas station. She flips through the pages, cross referencing the map.

“If you can last another hour, there’s a three star that sounds decent.”

“I can last as long as you want, baby,” he jokes. It earns him a giggle and a whack on the bicep with the book.

They continue on. Scully watches the scenery through the window, having spent most of the ride focused on her puzzles, and they haven’t really talked all that much. He reaches for her now unoccupied hand to briefly bring her wrist to his lips. The next major junction leads them toward Portland.

“My brother lives near here,” she casually comments with her eyes still focused on the passing highway.

“You didn’t tell me Bill was restationed.”

“Not Bill,” she corrects him. “Charlie.”

She still hums with uneasiness; even while asleep atop the floral duvet in their room at the Snooze Lodge Motel. It is unlikely worth its three star rating but wholly average for budget accommodations.

Her pounding heart rouses her from sleep. No warm hand pulls her in tighter; no drowsy murmur of comfort brushes her ear. Scully panics.

Usually, she finds Mulder writing at the desk only a few steps away, or in the bathroom, and has her nerves easily calmed. He is nowhere in the room. She assures herself she would have heard sirens or an altercation. It is still possible he is gone completely; he would go willingly to protect her.

When Scully steps out into the surprisingly warm night air, her eyes land on movement in the pool below. A splash rises before his head breaks through the surface of the water. She pockets their room key and takes the steps quickly.

She sits on the hard concrete, submerging her legs in the water. Illuminated by only the underwater incandescents, Mulder rests his chin on her knee. She watches his soft hazel eyes; his overgrown beard scratches her palm when he nuzzles into her hand.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he admits without prompting to her unexpressed worry. She nods on a deep breath.

She observes his graceful strokes; not unlike the thousands of laps he swam during the first years of their partnership while she gazed on. He begins to tire and floats on his back.

She can thwart her endless concern for his safety during their untroubled moments. Her brainpower can refocus. Her letters must have arrived by now. Bill is likely furious. Scully pictures her mother’s shaking hands and heavy heart.

In final, unsteady words, on a desert highway barely a month ago, she requested, “Watch out for my mom,” as she embraced her superior. A duty Skinner will undoubtedly fulfill.

For those she calls family, Scully cares fiercely. A singular sign along Oregon highway reminds her that ferocity came with age. When she should have stood up, she retreated. Her youthful rebellion rarely applied to anyone’s benefit but her own.

Mulder’s thumb smooths the crease between her eyebrows. Barely above a whisper, he simply says, “Tell me.”

“I could’ve done a better job protecting my family,” Scully responds. She is being vague; purposefully making it difficult for him to articulate a follow up question.

“It’s hard to face something you’ve tried to stop thinking about,” he finally tries.

A motel parking lot is prime territory for a patrolman. The Snooze Lodge is no exception. Headlights nearly blind her. “We should go,” she insists to Mulder.

Mulder pulls himself from the water. Keeping a keen eye on the cruiser, and their hands tightly linked, they watch until it disappears down the road.

In the rosy of hue of morning, Scully listens to running water and last night’s baseball scores on talk radio. When she closes her eyes, she can imagine Hegel Place.

He emerges showered; she admires his casual nudity as he searches for clothes amongst their small collection of possessions.

Reacquainting themselves physically fills the spaces between sleeping and a life on the lam. She considers neglecting their schedule to entice him into a second shower.

“Mulder,” she murmurs lowly.

However, when one of them wants to rebel, the other swoops in with rationality. “Oh, good, you’re awake,” he responds with eagerness. “We should hit the road soon.”

Her clothes for the day land at her feet. Mulder practically buzzes with high energy around the small room. “Mulder,” she finally repeats. When their eyes meet, she raises her eyebrow.

Mulder rounds the bed to kneel at her side; no other hints are necessary. His lips meet hers in a deeply sweet morning kiss.

Within the hour, Scully stares down another day of never-ending highway.

He belongs to a truly skilled network of like-minded individuals; a group that aids each other in endeavors that fall outside mainstream channels and, arguably, in legal grey areas. While Scully sleeps, he receives the information he seeks in his covert, bi-weekly touch base and praises their group’s efficiency, and in due time, Mulder will repay the favor with his own expertise.

Scully teases him with small bites from fast food breakfast sandwiches during the stop-and-go morning rush hour. She brushes crumbs off his face while he attempts to nip at her fingers. “You cleaned up your beard,” she remarks, tracing her fingertips along the even line of his jaw.

“I hate this stupid thing,” he laments. His nails dig into his opposite cheek. Scully tries to soothe him with a series of I knows and Maybe once your hair gets longers but she doesn’t exactly sound hopeful.

When they finally break through the barricade of morning commuters, he can sneak longer glances at Scully. Making a bold inference that their exchange at the pool brought some peace to her, Mulder watches as her arm extends out the window; her fingers surfing the resistance of the breeze. She smoothly mouths along with songs on the radio.

She carefully tracks their route; their map blanketing her lap as she refers back to it often. Her head snaps up from its reclined position on the headrest when he takes a different exit than their planned itinerary.

He counters her unspoken question with a playful smile.

"Let’s embrace the adventure, shall we?”

His supposedly adventurous detour could not be more non-descript to Scully. Only a faded cross above the main entrance gives her any indication of their whereabouts. Mulder rarely goes out of his way to bring her closer to God.

“I’m confused,” she finally admits.

A pair of men materialize from a side door, pushing a cart of boxes that overfills the back of a tiny blue sedan. Vivid auburn hair catches her eye. Scully’s head snaps to the reckless lunatic in the driver’s seat.

“He’s the pastor here,” Mulder confirms.

The rigidity of theological devotion spawned an explosive splintering of their family; a life of faith seemed like the last thing Charlie would do. She wonders briefly if anyone knew about her brother’s career path.

What appears to be a discussion of official church business ends with a brief kiss between the two men. A breathy “oh” from her partner divulges a carefully guarded excommunication nearly fifteen years prior.

“Yeah,” she replies as her brother drives away.

Her father denounced her youngest sibling with an unforgettable, undoubtably cruel sternness. The Scullys would never all be in the same room again.

She believes that final gathering illustrates the pull between motherhood and matrimony. A balancing act Scully has now walked herself.

She and Mulder so actively, so knowingly disagree on many things, while following one another unquestionably. An inconceivable notion to her parents; to love each other and differ in values. Charlie suffered for it.

A mother’s child is forever changed by acts of finality. She wonders if her final act will be forgiven.

Mulder opens his door in a burst of sudden movement. Scully grips his arm, curling her fingers into his bicep. She is constantly ascertaining his every intention. He should be narrating his every move to her.

“We’re going in,” he states. His tone suggests that should be obvious. She shakes her head in refusal when he outstretches his hand to her.

Quick fabrications of an identity is one of their vitally important, well practiced skills. “My wife and I are new to the area,” she hears him explain, describing her as a former Catholic, and how funny, so is the pastor. As they continue to converse, Scully notices the prominent accent of her brother’s partner, and Mulder offers to carry boxes to the dumpster to extend the conversation.

“He definitely thought I was homeless,” he claims when he finally returns. “And my wife is just a face drawn on a paper bag.”

“Don’t count out that possibility,” she deadpans.

Mulder actively ignores her comment, although she catches his amused smirk. A bright piece of orange paper enters her hands. He bounces tigerish eyes between the paper and her eyes. She begins to scan the words.

Charlie relates a Psalm to the crushing and ever-evolving weight of loss from his sister’s murder. Scully takes a long moment to register her new lifestyle has completely altered her sense of time; another year without Melissa was not so much as a passing thought. She wants to cry.

Scully remembers those words on her answering machine. Melissa was safe with people she knew in California. She briefly believed her sister was pregnant with Emily during those months. Melissa vanished to reconnect with their brother.

“What was his name?”

“Alejandro.”

She slowly pieces together a theory aloud, as she has done with Mulder a thousand times before. “My sister used to write to me about a translator that traveled with her in Peru. I think that’s him.”

“You think she introduced them?”

Scully nods; it seems like she should have something else to say. Or be more inclined to wait for her brother to return. She could comment on Melissa’s fearlessness to reject their parents’ prejudices and introduce Charlie to a life-altering love, exactly like she encouraged Scully’s own transformative love, but to say anything else would be a rightful admission of the cowardly self-centeredness of her youth.

Instead, she only mumbles, “We should keep driving.”

This seemingly cozy cabin was once a prison of complete seclusion and crippling loneliness for Mulder. A reminder he combats by scooping up his girl to carry her across the threshold. He plans to show the proper respect and erase every forlorn memory by absolutely defiling this place with her. With an appropriate amount of romance. Of course.

Her nose crinkles at him and she teasingly admonishes him with, “You are so gross,” as she begins to explore their temporary abode.

“I’ve already picked where we’re gonna make out later,” he informs her with an added tap on the ass. Mulder retreats from her playful scowl, hands raised in surrender, to retrieve their belongings from the car.

Mulder turns and slides a labyrinth of locks with duffle bags at his feet. It's the reality of this most picturesque hiding spot. A long string of numbers activates a powerful security system. He’ll probably tell Scully about the pack of wild turkeys that roam the backyard before he shows her the closet with feeds from outdoor cameras.

While Scully reclines against a throw pillow with her eyes closed, Mulder assesses their food situation. His homelessness theory feels confirmed by the extra food pantry box that seemed to magically appear for him at the church. He’s still thankful, because it will be a few days before they can explore the nearby town, and the contents of the box is enough to get them through.

Unpacking the final item, Mulder grins, and casually offers her a snack. She mumbles an affirmative response. It only requires a slice with a knife and a transfer to a plate but he enjoys burying the lead by slamming cupboards, running the sink, and starting the microwave.

He presents the plate of white cake with strawberries and whip cream frosting, coming down to a kneel at her side, as he announces, “Dana-cake for my Dana-girl,” and smacks a loud kiss on her cheek.

Mulder watches Scully hold the plate in both hands; her reaction starts with the sound of a whimper, and within seconds, she has broken into full sobs.

Utterly unclear as to what he did wrong, listening to Scully sob for ten minutes seems like an eternity. Her favorite dessert is one of her simplest, most decadent of pleasures; a tearful breakdown was not a reaction he could have ever predicted. He only prepared to lose a finger or two trying to steal a bite.

“Water,” he finally blurts out. “I’ll get you some water. Do you want some water, Scully?” With her unexplainable distress, Mulder reaches the point of useless panic to comfort her. He starts to stand, only to be pulled down by the hem of his shirt.

“Where did you get this?”

“In the food pantry box from the church,” Mulder answers in a rush; his shirt is still clutched in her fingers. “I thought you would be excited. It looks homemade.”

With the plate held right between their noses to give him a micro view of the dessert, Scully’s voice shakes when she says, “They’re hearts.”

Mulder still has an oral history of Scully’s fondest memories from when she was sick with her cancer tucked away in the back of his mind. It seemed important for someone to have a mental record of the little things. She never told him she needed him to remember. But Dana-cake was a Scully family tale worth remembering with every detail.

It was her childhood obsession; a summertime constant no matter where military life took them. Her mother grew the strawberries at home, hence why it required such extreme patience, and became so associated with the third Scully child that it was renamed for her.

When Scully’s health reached a decline, Mulder made his first and only attempt at baking in his life from a handwritten index card. Scully stressed the dire importance of the heart shaped cut as she stepped in before he “ruined it.” Even the ones no one would see had to be hearts.

Because the love had to be on the outside and the inside.

Her chest aches from heaving sobs; Scully senses the endlessness of running away. She has been given so many second chances at living and what she reclaimed threatens to fade away.

“What if we’re doing this forever, Mulder?”

Her throat stings. She should have accepted his offer for water.

“Scully,” Mulder whispers quietly. A few snaps near her ear earns him no response. Her deep sleep emboldens him to pull the cord from the phone until he’s in the bedroom with the door shut. He dials and lets it ring.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Scully,” he says. “Hi.”

#x files #xf fic #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #i'm pretty sure i took some liberties with the scully family history #liberties in general because it's on the run/pre-iwtb era #but it's all gonna connect eventually i promise

22 notes · View notes

vintage-tech · 3 years ago

Text

So I bought a stack of product promo cookbooks yesterday.

Was in an antique store out in the middle of nowhere and there was an open zipper bag with like 14 thin paper cookbooks in it. (Dylan... call me.) The label said “8 cookbooks, $9.50″ so maybe somebody put something into this that wasn’t supposed to be there. With that in mind, I removed four or five that I didn’t like, zipped it back up, and paid the woman for the batch.

Two pamphlets put out by Church & Dwight, makers of Arm & Hammer (and Cow) products, both 1933, on what to do with all that sodium carbonate and sodium bicarbonate that you’ve been hoarding.

You’re damn skippy that I will be sharing a lot more of this 1935 cookbook in the near future.

“Hello, Martha? Was I supposed to do something with the oranges? I just put them whole into the aspic.” Which is the surprising difference. Not sure what the surprising difference really is but this 1966 cookbook was put out by Carnation condensed milk, and the photo above is a panorama that shows on the back cover she also made orange cupcakes.

If you’ve ever read recipes from certain sources, you’ve noticed that there will be a note on cooking temperature or time for higher altitudes, since (word has it) folks in Colorado were not getting the same results. No, really, look it up. So the fine folks at Fisher Mills of Seattle -- still the makers of must-have scones at fairs around Puget Sound -- are telling you what they’d tell you anyway in this 1958 tome. The cover is another panorama of the Washington or Oregon seacoast, with the beach on the back. One bonus note about this one: The previous owner glued recipes from newspapers and the backs of boxes on some pages that presumably are blank, one of which is a Betty Crocker cake mix recipe for banana nut bread that ends with “High Altitude: not recommended.”

And now, a friendly competition between Jell-O (1928) and Knox (1958). There is a higher likelihood that there are real strawberries in the Knox desserts, because their product is unflavored and you damned welll put them there, than in Jell-O, which coyly pictures a strawberry plant on the cover.

Two exceptions to the rule, because “The Magic Of Spices” (1964) was made by the American Spice Trade Association and not a specific retail brand, and “Meals for Two” (1971) is a store checkout number by the Culinary Arts Institute and published by Consolidated Book Publishers.

You bought four pressure cookers... what all can you make at the same time? I’m pretty sure this undated 72-page booklet came packed with a Presto pressure cooker but the first page says “price twenty-five cents” anyhow. And so you know, that timer on the stove is also a Presto product: “Price is $3.38 east of the Rocky Mountains and $3.6, West of the Rocky Mountains.”

(Patrick Stewart voice) The RCA Estate oven. 1955 edition of the 1952 cookbook made by a company you probably weren’t aware ever made kitchen appliances: “Famous for TV, radio, recorded music, ranges, and air conditioners.”

Bananas and Bacon -- Guaranteed to start conversation. Or something. This is the back cover of “The New Banana” from United Fruit Company, 1951. Yes, for once a banana cookbook that’s not by Dole or Chiquita.

And finally, the front and back of Sun-Maid Raisins’ “Take one bright morning...” (year unknown) to show how many products they offered at one time -- including blue boxes of “puffed’ and unpuffed muscat raisins, alongside the red boxes you’re familiar with. Ad copy inside says of the red boxes, “the Sun-Maid Seedless is the same raisin as the Nectars but without the special process which makes seedless raisins into Nectars; there is a flavor difference between Nectars and Seedless and the flavor-fans are divided about 75% for Nectars and 25% for Seedless.” Okily, sure, I guess. But hmm, despite the Nectars being more popular Sun-Maid doesn’t make them anymore? And has replaced brownish muscat raisins for golden raisins in a yellow package? Save me, Mr. Hooper!

#vintage #cookbook #technology

105 notes · View notes

ratcatcher0325 · 3 years ago

Text

Nobody’s Fool (Chapter #15)

Okay here we go! Chapter #15! Got any good road trip games for tiny guys to play?

Previous: Chapter #14

Next: Chapter #16

CW: Adult language, dehumanization, references to abuse, mild sexual themes

Reblogs > Likes. Thank you!

________________________________________

NOBODY’S FOOL

Chapter #15: The Road

Word Count: 2,347 Read Time: Approx. 18 mins

[Eveline’s POV]

*****************

We piled like sardines into the absolutely packed van. For once I envied Penn for his littleness…. He could stretch out comfortably just about anywhere, while the rest of us were hunched in our seats, equipment hitting us in the back of the head. Travis volunteered to drive the first shift, Dani got the coveted passenger seat and Riley and I were stuffed into the back, the middle seat between us piled so high with gear we could barely see each other. The drive to San Francisco was 14 hours long. Luckily, I had a squirmy little pet who was so full of energy I wondered who’d slipped him cocaine, to keep me company. So much for taking a nap.

I asked if he’d ever taken a road trip before, he said no. Hands pressed against the glass as he watched the highways and the lush green of Washington fly past at dizzying speed. “Have you ever lived outside of Seattle?” Realizing I knew next to nothing about his past.

Surely he hadn’t lived his whole life with Claire! She was his age if not younger! “Not really… just Olympia… I think I was born in Silicon Valley but I don’t really know…” I wanted to know his whole story, I couldn’t begin to imagine the things he’d been through. Trying to imagine an even tinier, more fragile child version of the little man curled up in my palm was difficult to picture. I rubbed his back, as he craned his neck against the window. Sweet boy. “Don’t worry, by the time we are done in three months you’ll get to see most of the country!”

He looked back at me, “I know! I never thought I’d get to be a traveling man!” He laughed, eyes sparkling. I adjusted his hair, pulling him back to my side. He just laid there looking up at me, as happy as the day was long. That’s what I loved to see: This poor creature coming out the other side of suffering with a smile on his face and a song in his heart. He laid out flat on my palm, one hand behind his head, the other resting comfortably on his torso. His ankles crossing over one another. “It’s not fair!” I grumbled finally, tickling him in the chest.

“What? What is?”

“You’re so small you get to be all comfy while the rest of us get back aches!”

He sat up, his arms spread, “Ha ha! My one and only super secret advantage over humankind!! I’m drunk with power!!!!” He roared, beating his chest.

“Not as drunk as you were at West Hall!” Travis chimed in.

“Aww, fuck you, man!” I loved that Penn felt comfortable enough to banter and cuss with the boys.

“Fuck you, too! Don’t make me come back there and stuff you in the glove box!!”

“You wouldn’t dare! I’ll chew up all the wires!!”

“You filthy rat!! I’ll just throw you out the window then!!”

Finally, Dani’s voice, “Alright, ladies! You’re both pretty! Now knock it off, some of us are trying to sleep while we can!” Rich, coming from the loudest band member by far. All of us, except Dani, exploded into laughter. She just flipped us off before pulling her sleep mask back over her eyes.

“Alright! A fellow Washingtonian, nice!” Riley raised his fist over the pile of suitcases. I lifted Penn up, and balancing on his knees, he collided his little fist, about the size of Riley’s knuckle, with the waiting hand.

“Wait, so all of you aren’t from here originally?” Penn asked innocently. Dani, unable to help herself, snorted in response.

Travis clarified, “Uh no. All three of us are actually from Texas, originally…” Penn turned over his shoulder back to me. Just the idea of living in a state that far away seemed so foreign to him.

I petted his head and neck. “Yeah, Trav, you and I have known each other since… what 8th grade?? Mrs., oh god, what was her name? Mrs. P—“

“Price! Yes! Mrs. Price!! English and History! Ev was always so much smarter than me, even back then!” Travis and I both laughed excitedly, all of that feeling like more than a lifetime ago.

Looking at Dani, clearly listening while pretending to be passed out, I added, “And I met Dani in college, in Austin… wasn’t it at that one shitty bar downtown?”

“Yup! It was open mic night and I was jealous of you because your voice was so good! We were both underage and snuck in with fake I.D.’s! Those were the days, huh? I don’t even know if that place is still there…” I looked down at Penn, who was staring brightly into my eyes.

He looked fascinated by this new information, “So…. How’d you end up here?” He seemed to be asking me, but Travis answered anyway, “Oh, we don’t live here. We all live in Austin, now. We’ve made Riley a regular southern convert!” Riley flashed a ‘Rock on’ sign.

“We just like to come visit Ev every time we are in this part of the country because we love her. I think her reason for being all the way up here is a long one, better told over drinks…”

*************

I’d heard him use that expression before…. “Oh, yeah. Whatever happened to Spence, anyway? You never told me��”

“Uh, yeah…. Ev, you wanna tell him?”

“Sure….” Eveline looked down at me, kneeling in her palm, my hands resting on my knees.

“Yeah Spence is actually recovering in the hospital right now…. He got into a really nasty car wreck driving to visit his family between shows a few weeks ago.”

Blood drained from my face. How horrible. “Is, is he going to be okay?”

“We don’t know…. He may have partial paralysis, we have to wait and see” Travis, replied, sounding truly worried.

“Wow. I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m sure he’s like family to you guys…” warm finger tips cascaded over my brow and massaged my temples.

“Just have to try to be patient and see how he does….” She kissed me on the side of my head.

We rode in silence for a while after that, the bumps of the road rocking me back and forth, threatening to put me to sleep. That was something new I had discovered since being under Eveline’s care… since I was almost always being held, caressed or cradled right next to her, I was perpetually surrounded by softness and warmth. I found this made me embarrassingly sleepy far more often than I’d like. Everyone thought it was especially cute, of course. I was always the one yawning first, trying my best to keep pace with these giants around me. But in my previous experience, I used to be freezing pretty much all of the time. Without warm fingers to rub and embrace me, the world was pretty chilly for my meager body. I’d much prefer to be warm and sleepy than curling into myself with chattering teeth almost every night.

Approximately every three and a half hours the humans switched off drivers. When Travis’s shift was done, they stopped in a gas station and rotated seating arrangements. Dani was driving, Eveline (and I) took the passenger seat, Riley shifted to the back behind Dani and Travis clamored in behind us. While waiting at the gas station to fill up and for everyone to get snacks, Riley, in between puffs on a freshly rolled joint, took it upon himself to wire up some recording gear in the middle of the van. When I asked, Eveline explained that they loved recording tracks on the road, just for fun. I perked up at this, wanting to get myself on tape for the first time.

When we all piled back in, Travis hooked my guitar up over the van’s sound system, while sporting his own guitar in his lap. The guy looked positively comical. Already much too big for the space he was cramming himself into, adding his guitar on top of that just made the image all the more ridiculous. As we flew down the highway, throwing peanuts and other snacks at each other and generally being idiots, we finally settled in to play something. I sat with one leg bent, the other knee raised, inside Eveline’s cupped hand, while she leaned over the console, facing the boys in the back.

“Let’s do Penn’s stuff, yeah? The man’s never recorded his badass, little self!” Travis winked at me. A thrill tingled up and down my spine, as I craned my neck, directly skyward, to meet Eveline’s eyes, my hat falling off into her hand in the process. She blew me a kiss and I felt unstoppable. Riley, balancing several hand held percussive instruments and the recorder, hit the big red button and we were off. We began with the first song I wrote.

I played joyfully, bouncing to the sound. Both men sang while Riley backed me up with percussion. I couldn’t help smiling as I watched them sway and do what they did best. It was when I was playing that I felt closer to being human than any other time. I was no different than they were, contributing to the same ephemeral moment, equally. My heart pounded in my ears.

We played and sang through everything I had haphazardly composed, jamming, offering new ideas, backing it up and recording another take if something went wrong. We spent pretty much the entirety of Dani’s shift doing this. And the time flew by, as the majestic orange, pink and purple sunset lit the interior of our van ablaze with color, I drank it all in, greedily. Making up for a lifetime of isolation and disappointment.

The rest of the drive passed by easily. I slept in Eveline’s lap while she drove, her thumb rubbing my back and coaxing me into my dreams. While Riley drove, the world around us ignited by thousands of streetlights, headlights, billboards and neon signs, we drove in comfortable quiet, as I gazed out the window, miles of highway transgressed in an instant.

We soon made it to our hotel, Eveline placing me gently inside her purse, to be hidden from view. This was not a pet friendly establishment. I peered up through the opening of her bag, watching the perfectly matching light fixtures pass by with each bouncing step she took. As I shuffled around amongst her phone, keys, wallet, lipstick and dozens of other items, I felt that hot chemical wave threaten to overtake my body. Here I was, her dirty little secret, pressed against her body as it rocked and swayed to the movement of her hips. I was bound to her, held captive by her as she carted me off wherever she wanted to go. But even totally silent, and out of sight, she knew I was there, cowering, waiting, right beside her. It was hard to ignore the twinge between my legs as I imagined she was taking me to her private room…. I shook my head trying to breathe through it. I had to stop thinking these things or I was bound to get myself into trouble.

Incredible art by @kitn-underfoot

Since she wasn’t originally coming on the trip, Travis had already cancelled Spence’s room, so Eveline had to share with Dani, on her pull out couch. Good. Someone else in the room to keep me on my best behavior. The women rolled their suitcases in, and I felt the purse being placed down on a flat surface, as a familiar and graceful hand, felt around for me. I wrapped my arm around her index finger and she pulled me up, suspended by my own grip. She quickly placed the pad of her other pointer finger below my dangling toes, supporting my weight beneath me.

“Hi, I missed you…” she smiled. God, I missed you too… my face was pink. I was stretched out to my full length before her, balancing precariously between her hands. I was reminded of that first night, when I’d peeled my bloody clothing off of myself and stood in her palm, naked and vulnerable.

Thankfully, Dani interrupted my inappropriate train of thought, “So, big day tomorrow, huh?? God, I’m jealous of you Penn!”

Peering around the side of Eveline’s face, I cocked my head, asking "Me? Why?". Dani had collapsed onto the clean, snow white sheets of her bed, her head propped up by her hand. Eveline turned around to face her, gathering me up in her palm.

“Because! There’s nothing like your very first big show. I wish I could experience it for the first time all over again!” Eveline placed me down on the foot of the Queen sized mattress, the covers and sheets being much softer than I’d expected, I struggled to keep my balance.

Dani shifted onto her stomach, lying directly in front of me. Her chin propped up on her fist. She caressed my head and shoulders with her manicured fingers, “You’re gonna be absolutely amazing, little guy. Everyone is gonna fall in love with you.” Well, not everyone I would like…. I tried to avoid looking over my left shoulder, where Eveline had perched herself on the bed. “I’m so glad you joined us. You’re the cutest widdle guitar player this world has ever seen! And thats saying something… cuz back in the day John Mayer was HOT!!” I laughed as she sang that final word with a ridiculous riff.

It didn’t take long for us to all settle in for the night. We were road weary and had too long of a day tomorrow to not try to steal as much sleep as we could. I was put to bed in what had become my routine spot, interlaced in Eveline’s hand, pressed just before her heart.

“Sweet dreams, little one…” she whispered, as Dani’s soft snoring could already be heard. “Goodnight,” I replied, nuzzling the pad of her finger with my nose. Sleep came easily, sweetly. I was so very warm and comfortable.

#Hello San Fransisco!#Nothin but fluff this chapter #g/t community #g/t #g/t fluff #giant/tiny #size difference #wholesome giantess #g/t au #g/t writing

49 notes · View notes

doc-pickles · 4 years ago

Text

make my wish come true

Hello! And welcome to your weekly edition of “Tis the Damn Season for Two Dumb Bitches” (thank you taylor swift for our new title) I’m super excited about this post because my brain power is coming back and this is like the first real thing I’ve written in awhile. Enjoy!

PS: @odd-birds-and-booksellers hurry up the people are waiting

“I’m sorry babe, there’s a storm and there’s no flights going to Seattle at least until the 27th.”

“You were supposed to be home two days ago Alex,” Jo tried to contain her frustration as she settled onto the couch in the empty living room. She stares at the Christmas tree in the corner, the boxes of lights and ornaments spread out on the floor around it. “The house isn’t even decorated and now I’m going to have to spend Christmas alone.”

“You can go to Meredith’s, I’m sure the kids would love to see you. I’m sorry, you know I'd be home if I could.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re not here! I’m just… this is exhausting. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up,” Jo swiped at her eyes as tears began to well up in them. “Just text me when you have a flight.”

“Jo, I-”

“I have to go,” Jo let a shaky breath out, running one hand through her hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Ending the call, Jo threw her phone onto the cushion next to her as she let her tears freely fall. It had been six months since Alex had come home from Kansas for the first time, sitting across from her and telling her about Izzie and their kids and everything that had happened in the two weeks he had been gone. There had been screaming and crying and a lot of fighting, but they had both decided that their marriage was worth saving. Alex had been splitting his time between Kansas and Seattle as much as he could which unfortunately left Jo alone more than she would care for. She loved that Alex had stepped up to his new role as a father, she even loved Eli and Alexis like they were her own, but recently her and Alex’s relationship had been strained.

Alex's absence from Seattle wouldn’t be an issue if he and Jo hadn’t just moved into a new home. The two story home was supposed to house the twins on their visits to Seattle as well as any other tiny Karev’s that might come along. The thought made Jo laugh now, she’d spent more nights alone in their new bedroom then she had with Alex despite the fact that she’d gone off her birth control two months ago.

They’d decided that they wanted kids of their own, that they were ready to start their family. Jo was regretting that decision now, she barely saw Alex and when she did their time was split between work and arguing. The only times they’d even had sex since deciding to try had been out of anger and frustration, meeting in on call rooms late at night and muttering curses as they set a quick and desperate pace while they both had a moment to spare. Between on call rooms and the one time in their new bedroom that Alex had lavished her body for hours on end, there hadn’t even been a chance to try for a baby.

Somewhere deep down, Jo was grateful for that. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a baby with Alex, she really did, but she didn’t think that their practically long distance marriage wouldn’t handle the stresses of a pregnancy and a baby, the thought nauseating her as she sat with the thought. The sudden wave of nausea got her brain turning, calculating how long it had been since she’d been to the store for tampons….

Cursing under her breath Jo ran upstairs and began to dig under the bathroom sink for the pregnancy tests she kept stashed there. Leave it to Alex to get her pregnant when they were barely having sex. She missed him, she wished so badly that he was sitting on the other side of the bathroom door making fun of her as she peed on the four pregnancy tests. As she sat on the closed lid of the toilet waiting for an answer to appear on the four pieces of plastic, her phone lit up with a text.

I’m sorry I can’t be there tomorrow. I promise your Christmas gift will more than make up for it. I love you so much Jo.

Before she typed out a response, her eyes flitted to the tests waiting for her, all of them reading the same exact thing. A heavy sigh left her then, eyes closing for a moment as she took a steadying breath.

Love you too. See you soon.

Jo barely sleeps that night, in fact when she does fall asleep it’s on the floor of the bathroom because she can’t seem to keep her dinner down. She’s hurt and upset and kinda pissed that her morning sickness seems to have cropped up late at night. She almost calls Alex, when she’s half asleep and crying on the bathroom floor she almost reaches for her phone and dials his number because she misses him so much. But she knows in the end it’ll only make her feel worse because he can’t be there.

When she wakes the next morning her back is aching and her face is cold from the tile of the bathroom, but her stomach turns uncomfortably and sends her back to the toilet bowl. She’s shocked that there’s anything left for her to throw up, but she’s heaving and gasping for air just like she’d done all night. The twisting feeling in her stomach intensifies when she realizes that she’s home alone in a huge house on Christmas and will probably spend her whole day in the bathroom. A round of sobs accompanies her next bout of nausea, hot tears streaming down her face as a feeling of loneliness encompasses her, reminding her of her solitary days spent in her car.

“Jo?”

Jo looks up in surprise at the voice sounding from the doorway, her eyes meeting her husbands for just a moment before the urge to vomit overwhelms her exhausted body once more. This time Alex’s hands are on her back rubbing circles as she continues to cry between heaves. She’s barely registered her shock at his presence, just grateful to have him close to her.

“Geez, you look awful,” Alex’s remark barely phases Jo as she flushes the toilet and leans heavily against him. His fingers find their way to her forehead, feeling for any sign of a fever even though she knows he won’t find one. “You probably just have a bug, why don’t you go lay in bed?” She doesn’t have time to ask how he’s home, her body barely makes it to their bed where she promptly tucks herself under the covers. She thinks Alex says something to her, but she’s asleep before she can register it. Her mind drifts off more peacefully than it had the night before knowing Alex is here now. Even if she has a million questions, she’s just glad she doesn’t have to spend the holiday alone.

When she wakes up again, the sun is filtering through the curtains brightly and the other side of the bed is occupied. Jo turns around to look at Alex, who’s sitting against the headboard looking down at her, “You know staring at people is creepy. And rude.”

“I think I get an exception since you’re my wife,” Alex smirked, running one hand through Jo’s hair as she snuggled back into her pillow. “You feeling better?”

“A little bit now that I’ve gotten some sleep,” Jo paused before moving her gaze away from Alex. “What’re you doing here? You said you wouldn’t be home.”

“I had to fib a little bit, I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t think you’d be lying in the bathroom throwing up when I got home, but now I’m glad I’m back because I’m not leaving this time.”

Jo’s brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of Alex’s words. Of course he was going to leave again, his kids lived in another state, “You're going back after the new year Alex, you already booked your flight.”

“No I’m staying here and so are the kids.”

She took a moment to soak in Alex’s words, head spinning as she tried to wrap her mind around it. Finally she sat up, propping her head on her hand as she stared at her husband in confusion. Alex wore a smirk as he watched her slowly put together what he was saying, “Alex Karev what the hell did you do?” “I didn’t do anything, Izzie decided to move back to Washington for her mom and that means the kids are 30 minutes away instead of almost halfway across the country,” Alex shrugged as Jo gawked at him, her shock clearly evident on her face. “That’s why I’ve been out there so much, because I’ve been helping Iz pack up her house and get the kids ready.” Jo’s eyes are wide as she registers everything that Alex is saying to her. She almost doesn’t believe him, but his behavior the past few weeks all makes sense now. She wants to cry in relief, for her marriage and her exhausted husband and their new baby. In fact she almost does as she meets his eyes again, realizing that he probably feels just the same as she does.

“I’m sorry about that, being gone so much and leaving you here, but I promise that I’m not gonna be gone from here on out,” Alex lets his hand trail down to Jo’s stomach, a smirk on his face as he does so. “I wouldn’t want to anyways, someone’s gonna have to hold your hair back if you’re gonna be puking for the next few weeks.”

The satisfied look on Alex’s face tells Jo that somehow her husband has figured out she’s pregnant without her telling him. A small grin lights up her face as she blushes, “I just figured it out myself but I’m sure the constant vomiting would’ve given it away sooner or later.” “Yeah and the tests you left on the bathroom counter were also a pretty big indicator,” Alex let out a laugh as he leaned down and kissed Jo sweetly. “Merry Christmas.”

“I know you said your Christmas gift was good but I think mine is better,” Jo grinned up at Alex, a laugh escaping her as she sat up and straddled his lap. “Merry Christmas.”

#jolex #alex karev #jo wilson #jo karev #greys anatomy #jo x alex #jolex fanfic #jolex fic #nina writes #TDBT #christmas fic #fix it fic

30 notes · View notes