goldeneyedgirl

[goldeneyedgirl]

Don't know what possessed us to make this. Sorry.

[goldeneyedgirl]

I’ve seen people say that it’s funny that Demetri and Felix, two grown adults with a millennium of experience, are required to follow Jane’s orders in Eclipse. And obviously the canon explanations are that Jane is a higher ranking guard (because power potency and nepotism) and that she’s less likely to show the Cullens mercy. But I personally like to imagine that at some point in Volturi history, Demetri and Felix screwed up a mission so bad that putting the twelve year old girl with a bad temper and brain hurty powers in charge was the more responsible option.

[goldeneyedgirl]

more people need to give themselves permission to write and draw pornography

[goldeneyedgirl]

big fan of romance horror. big fan of terrible people still being loved. big fan of bending morality and turning the grotesque into something beautiful.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas24 Christmas Eve: Variable Stars

Happy Christmas Eve everyone! Gosh it's gone fast.

Tonight, I've decided on the first section of the new chapter of Variable Stars. Why? Because it's been a flustercluck of a day and I'm still not happy with part two of the STL AU.

I also have five other requests to work through, so there will be some random snippet drops in the new year ;) Plus NYE fic is a tradtional part of Ficmas.

But for now, Variable Stars. I cannot wait to post this entire chapter, I'm really excited with the 'new' direction that this fic is taking.

I hope your holidays are beautiful, loving, and restful and that you all get to indulge in your favourite foods with your favourite people!

most wanted. It’s the ice forming in the river again that reminds her that time is passing.

It's easy to forget; she assumes it’s the same for all of them - a lack of sleep and of change means that everything falls together in the end. But she should ask Jasper, in case that’s another one of the things that makes her different.

(There have been a few things over the years, that have made everyone pause and look at her like she’s from another planet. Now she checks with Jasper about the things she’s not sure about, just so she doesn’t seem foolish.)

But whether or not time passing feels the same for all the Cullens, it has passed and things have changed. She’s really not sure when it happened.

When it stopped being the Cullens’ house and it stopped being Jasper’s house and it started being hers too. When she started seeing her own face in the photographs on the walls; when the other family members called for her, and she wasn’t just an extension of Jasper.

She knows the house - which step is cracked because one of them stepped down too hard (there’s been a lot of damage lately, so they’re all gingerly avoiding it in the hopes it can hold out a few weeks so that Esme doesn’t get too mad); which bathroom never has hot water after midnight. That Carlisle moved all the travel books from the top-most shelves in the library down to her eye-level so she could take them without lingering. And that the refrigerator - full of Carlisle’s samples and experiments - always lets out something like a sigh around three in the morning, as if exhausted.

She knows that Esme is fiercely protective of her garden - that the stepping-stones are there for a reason, and that most days, Esme values the lives of her rose bushes more than any of them. There’s a greenhouse that’s about to be built so Esme can protect her more precious plants (Emmett and Bella are already forbidden from entering the hallowed halls). And in the years that she’s been with them, she’s never ever heard Esme say a cruel word to any of them.

Bella sulks if anyone is in the hammock when she wants to use it. (She also knows that Emmett and Rose are banned from the hammock because of what they did to the last one.) Edward’s piano in the side room - the music room - was his human mother’s, and it’s the thing he prizes more than anything else he owns.

Carlisle has a strange relationship with his father’s crucifix, seeing it as a symbol of all that he resented from his father but also a symbol of forgiveness and betterment in his own life. Emmett keeps a worn, hazy photograph of his youngest human brother in a frame in the room he shares with Rosalie - the only memento he has from his first life.

(She could say what she knows about Jasper, but that’s everything; it’s woven into the fabric of her universe. He’s her very best friend. She knows him. The scar he worries at on the palm of his hand when he’s thinking; the way his left pupil dilates just before he has a flashback. The way he hunches over to read and write - he probably needed glasses as a human. The way he holds her, so tight, like she’s going to be torn away… She knows him, right down to the bone, the same way she knows herself.)

Peace is a funny thing; it feels steady and solid but she’s so intensely aware of how easily it could shatter; like the ice in the river. Eight vampires in one place is a recipe for disaster; she never forgets that, even if it feels like the others do. But for now, she just savours every single moment.

It’s home. She’s finally home.

—

Once, a long time ago, Jasper sat on a bucket outside a dilapidated mansion in Monterrey and watched the sunrise.

Peter, his brother in all the ways that mattered, was long gone with the girl he proclaimed he loved. That he cared about enough to risk it all in whatever hell on earth lay beyond the borders of Maria’s territory.

And those parting words he left Jasper with lingered in the air. Can’t you tell, Major? That I’m telling the truth? That I love her? The look of horror and pity on Peter’s face stayed with him as well. The words cut deep because he couldn’t. He was too far gone, too sunken into depression and violence and control, too used to lies and double-speak to trust anything that he was being told.

Peter ran. He was glad he did. If he hadn’t destroyed Charlotte that night, she wouldn’t have survived much longer - not after her newborn strength ebbed.

But he remembers sitting there, watching the sunrise, and hoping that his brother was out there, safe. He remembers sitting there, feeling hollow and brittle, and wondering if there was anything else. From one war to another, it all blurred together until he was nothing but a machine designed to spill blood, to break bones, and leave behind a trail of bodies. There was nothing soft or kind about this life, and it was… he was just so tired, and it never seemed to end. There was no way out except the pyres. And every single part of him would resist that until the last moment. That’s just who he was.

There was never any hope for him.

Except…

“Jasper!”

Alice is there, stepping onto a stack of books, onto the arm of his couch, and then plopping down beside him. There’s something about her, about the way she’s here, wearing leggings and one of Bella’s t-shirts with socks pulled over the cuffs of her pants. She smells like home, like ozone and honey as always. There’s the warm halo of her emotions, of contentment and affection and protectiveness that seeps into him like the warmth of the sun.

“Emmett is insisting that he needs to teach me poker, and I don’t trust him at all.” Her eyes dart with amusement, the cards shuffling between her hands. “Esme said it’s a dollar buy-in only because of whatever happened in South Dakota? No one will tell me what happened. Come protect me?”

She doesn’t even have to ask. Alice is possessive over her small amount of savings, determined to figure out the stock market and investing so that she doesn’t have to ask anyone for money. He understands, thinks it’s important even, that she has her own foundation and security. But he’s going to miss her hunched over his computer, bossily informing him which items she wants to order. And the hugs when he relinquished his credit cards without protest.

“Just try and stop me - we can split the profits,” he says, and she beams at him. He’s reaching out to help her up the second she reaches out to him.

(And he wants to go back to his old self sitting in the dirt with no light at the end of the tunnel, and tell him it’s gonna be okay. That all the pieces are going to come together. He’s going to have a family, a place that is quiet and calm, a place without death and fighting and bodies. Peter and Charlotte are going to forgive him. And he’s going to have a person of his own, someone who makes him feel solid and whole and at peace. That he’s never known the security of another person until he met Alice. That if he reaches out, she will reach back without missing a beat. That if he has to throw a punch at someone, she’ll be right there to throw the next one. That he just has to hold on a little longer, keep putting one foot in front of the other, and everything will be better than fine. It’ll be everything he ever wanted, even the things he didn’t know to want.)

He follows Alice down the stairs, grinning as she begins taunting Emmett, the deck of cards flickering from hand to hand, like some kind of a magic trick.

(It’ll be perfect.)

[goldeneyedgirl]

[goldeneyedgirl]

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas Day 11: Feral Jasper/Mary-Alice

Good evening ducklings! I've come down with a spectacular flu, so more notes tomorrow. I got a bunch of different requests for today, so I picked one at random and it was Feral Jasper/Mary-Alice.

But all the suggestions were fun and excellent, so I will be doing a few more snippet posts in January to get them all in <3

Anyway, it's time I got some sleep so I hope you enjoy this part!

As with most things, the time comes for the Cullens to move on. It’s been five years since they arrived in Pennsylvania, and anything longer will invite gossip about the young doctor and his family living in that big old house outside town. They already draw enough attention as it is.

So it’s time to go. Carlisle and Esme decide that privately, out of earshot of the others, before they make the announcement. It’s going to be more difficult this time, because it’s Jasper’s first move. This is the only home that he’s known since they found him, and leaving it will be a strain. They’ve watched him since he arrived here become stronger and more certain in his place amongst them. And this place, this house and the looming forest, played an important role in that. They only have so many properties with grounds this size, that are appropriate for a vampire to roam privately and safely.

But vampires are traditionally nomadic, and just because the scenery and set changes, doesn’t mean anything else will. Esme is convinced she can make Jasper understand that this is necessary and a good thing. Montana will be wonderful; the hunting there is good, and even though they don’t technically own a large parcel of land there, they have a great deal of privacy.

Jasper’s so reasonable, there’s no reason he wouldn’t understand.

None at all.

//

Mary-Alice is perched in the crook of a branch when Jasper shows up. She’s exactly where he left her, except for the fact that she ran into the second-closest town to hunt (Jasper had been unhappy when she admitted to hunting in the nearest town; the Cullens needed complete secrecy and Mary-Alice’s first few hunts made the Cullens worried and suspicious about nomads. She flat-out refused to give up human blood entirely, not when it made her stronger and sharper than animal blood, but she had quickly agreed that running a few more miles to the next appropriate town was not an issue.)

“Jasper.” She immediately abandons her task - weaving together stems and leaves into some kind of coronet. It’s a good task, one that keeps her mind still.

If she didn’t have something to occupy her in the hours Jasper was back with the Cullens, she’d go completely mad worrying that harm had fallen to him, even if she knows with conviction that Emmett would protect Jasper if anything happened. That’s reassuring in a foreign way - she’s never really had anyone to entrust with anything. She’s never really had anything valuable enough to need to protect it, aside from her own life.

(Maria would be laughing at her now. She spent decades trying to crush any sort of emotion or ambition from her people, to know that Mary-Alice spends most of her day on tenterhooks over the safety of her dearest… friend, that would make Maria howl with laughter. She always said that Mary-Alice was too sour and unpleasant to have a mate or a coven or even a friend. No one likes a girl who calculates the force, weight, and trajectory of their decapitation the first time they meet.)

He looks drawn and almost worried when he looks at her, but there’s a softening around his eyes when he spots her - he has to remind himself to relax so often, that she can almost spot the moments he tells himself to calm down.

But Jasper still looking solemn the she lands on the boulder next to him, to do her usual check of his state - he’s washed, his clothing is neat and clean, and his eyes are bright. No changes in the last few hours, which is good. That’s what she wants.

“Mary-Alice.” He reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing it.

They haven’t really talked about the kiss on the cheek. He had caught her by surprise, do that, and she didn’t entirely understand what he meant by that. He’d told her something about saving him, but he was running out of words when he explained, so she didn’t push. But since then, he touches her more often. And yes, she has some rather… feline tendencies as far as curling up against him when they’re alone. Emmett Cullen had laughed at her and asked if she was going to start purring the singular time he’d caught her curling up half on Jasper’s lap. But the touching that Jasper has started doing is something very, very different. He’s holding her hand a lot, touching her hair and her face which makes her edgy, and he’s holding her more, especially before he leaves.

“Something’s wrong,” she says in that same flat voice she greeted him with.

“The Cullens are leaving Pennsylvania.” The strain on his face is suddenly evident and that’s bad. That’s when he starts to struggle the most, with his weakness, his speech, his physical coordination. He’s made amazing strides over the last year, but there is always regression when he’s upset - like when Rosalie Cullen tried to teach him to drive.

“Where are they going?” This isn’t unexpected. It is obvious that they couldn’t maintain a permanent residence in a town this small, especially if Carlisle Cullen was posing as a human. She’s seen little flashes of things, but nothing concrete - mentioning it to Jasper would have been pointless and distressing.

“Montana. Friday. We leave for Montana on Friday.” He’s tugged free of her now, and is pacing. “We’ve driving to Montana, we have to pack the house.” Oh, very distressed - his speech is stilted and repetitive.

“Calm.” She tries to make her voice gentle but she doesn’t think it works very well because he doesn’t even look at her. “Everything will be fine, Jasper.”

“I won’t go without you.” He stops then and has the most stubborn look she’s ever seen on his face. It’s almost cute, the indignant expression and the way he looks directly at her. “I won’t leave you behind.”

She gives him a small smile. “Unless you tell me to go, I’ll follow you wherever you go,” she replies and his stance softens slightly. “Do they still think that I’m a delusion?”

Jasper scowls. A yes, then.

“I wouldn’t like travelling in a vehicle anyway.” She can’t imagine how many things this family has that driving is a necessity. So far, she’s calculated that Jasper has at least twelve sets of clothing, which would be difficult to carry long-term. And that doesn’t even consider any of the books that Jasper has mentioned are in the house. It’s only been two months since Jasper presented her with the little oilskin bag to carry her ‘things’ (a dried flower, a wooden comb, a spare dress) so that she didn’t have to discard anything that wasn’t safe in her pocket. “I’ll run.”

Jasper shakes his head, and there’s a puff of frustration and worry that brushes against her for a split second.

“I could beat the Cullens there,” Mary-Alice reminds him, trying to be reassuring. She’s not very good at it.

“What if you run into trouble?” Jasper is frowning.

“I am trouble.” She doesn’t think that he gets it, honestly. That anyone who runs into her won’t walk away if they decide to pick a fight.

Jasper closes his eyes. “Will you meet them?” He finally asks.

Silence.

She looks into the future, to see what would happen so close to the Cullens move. And the vision flows so easily, it’s practically set in stone.

Carlisle and Esme horrified. Rosalie angry. Edward stoic. Emmett trying desperately to mediate. Montana is cancelled. They’re going to Vermont before settling in somewhere with snow; there are five other vampires there, solemn when the Cullens arrive. They’re trying to lose her, trying to hide Jasper from her, and he’s not recovered enough to be able to stand his ground. Instead, she’s left weaving her way through the country to try and find him again.

“They will spook if I approach them now.”

He sighs and looks down. “I worry about you,” he says simply, and Mary-Alice doesn’t have any idea how to reply to that.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas25 Day 11: 3Some Volturi AU

Good evening everyone!

Today we have the 3some-verse's return with the start of a Volturi AU. Anon offered me this concept a week ago and let me tell you, it was A+ brainrot. I simply haven't had the time to sit down and smash out a proper oneshot based on this concept yet - it'll be a hefty one-shot, honestly, because the concept is amazing and I love me some world building.

But for tonight, a little taste at the set-up for a potential 3some verse AU. And Anon, I've drafted a reply to your message - asks will be hopefully finished tomorrow ;)

Have a great day!

The first time they hear about her, it’s after Rodrigo’s coven is wiped out. No one is precisely sure what law they broke but the Volturi arrive at sundown, and Maria has the territory in hand by the next dawn. She’s very pleased.

The whispers amongst the newborns is that the Volturi have an Immortal Child. A gifted Immortal Child that is somehow worse than the viper Jane and her brother. She is the one that passes some invisible judgement; she is the one at Aro’s right hand when the time comes for the axe to fall.

Jasper scoffs at the rumours. He’s heard them all in the time that he’s been with Maria. Volturi guards who can pull the sands from under their feet; vampires who can seduce anyone with a blink of their eyes but afterwards they have no memory of what came before; his favourite was the golden-eyed vampire who had been judged and executed but survived the flames to be pardoned. He doesn’t believe it for a second. His problems are more grounded than ghostly child reapers - keeping the newborns fed and contained; keeping Maria pleasant and content; wrangling the older soldiers so that they are loyal but not ambitious. There’s a careful cruelty in managing them all so there’s never too much hope.

Jessamine keeps her own confidence; she has plans of her own and all of them involve getting the fuck out of Texas before the Major takes her head. She’s skeptical of the Immortal Child in the Volturi’s care; true Immortal Children have none of the control needed to be in the Guard. More likely to be close in age to Jane and Alec, than some precocious red-eyed brat.

But the gift, she believes. Why not? She can’t handle old books or have someone else’s skin rest against hers without knowing them down to the bone entirely against her will. Why would it be impossible that some poor kid ended up being able to see every single crime, past and future, to warn the Kings?

It’s just another thing to remember, another note to take. They shouldn’t be any concern of Jessamine’s; she has no intention of running afoul of the Volturi.

(Famous last words.)

—

How does it happen?

The usual way, she supposes. She wakes up with a destiny, a path to walk, and she fucks it up. She leaves three households in Jackson slaughtered, and the Volturi come knocking.

Aro feels forgiving - officially, because she has no human memories or creator, but unofficially, because there’s no way to take her gift away and then kill her anyway. She takes the offer to join the guard because she has nothing else, and even her gift can’t tell her if she’ll live if she tells him no. Better to play it safe.

Alice isn’t expecting to become his right hand, the all-knowing judge at Aro’s side. No decisions are made without her insight. She’s not a valued member of the Guard, or even Aro’s friend. She’s merely a vessel, a tool for Aro’s reign of terror.

It makes a girl bitter. Bitter and hollow and cold. All she is and will be and can ever have is what she has now - the signature on a death certificate.

(Sometimes she remembers those first visions, of the hazy pair calling her name; all gold and glowing in her memory. Alice remembers that sweetness, that easy joy that was supposed to be hers, and she wonders how on earth she was every supposed to be that person.)

—

Three years later, they’re on their knees in the dirt, faces ducked low. Maria’s already gone with three easily-salvaged soldiers and Jasper can’t help but wonder how the fuck she got out of this mess with Aro taking her hand. Peter bailed out with Charlotte six goddamn months ago and he’s never been more grateful that Peter’s a disloyal prick than he is right now. He’s going to die and he’s not that sure he doesn’t deserve it.

“Of course, you can promise to change your ways,” Aro is pontificating. “And this is a murky grey area because we cannot discourage the quest for knowledge, but never at the cost of our secrecy…”

It doesn’t matter what happens next, he’s not going back to Maria. Either he’s dead in the dirt or he’s going after Peter. He doesn’t care what comes next, but he can’t and won’t go back to bleeding emotions into the dirt for Maria to leave his neck on the guillotine like this.

(What does he have to show for all of this? Not a fuckin’ thing. The territory is Maria’s, his only friend is long gone, and he feels like he’s cracking at the seams.)

“…My dear Alice,” Aro croons and one of the figures in black steps forward, pushing off her hood.

She’s tiny, like a dancer, clad in a silky black dress and boots, some kind of corset cinching around her waist. There’s a choker around her neck of smoke-coloured gemstones that are probably real. Her eyes are bright red, and her black hair falls pin-straight and uneven around her face, the longer strands falling to her chin. She looks sour as she takes her place beside Aro. It makes Jane, scowling from Aro’s left side, look every inch a thirteen year old girl in comparison to Alice.

Jessamine is in love. (Fuck. But also, the things Jess would let this girl do to her...) It has to be a trauma response - she knew she should have run at the beginning of the summer but she was too cautious, too wary of outsiders. And now she's here.

(Maybe if this Alice is the one doing the honors, she'll go down happy...)

Alice takes off a lace glove and holds out her hand to Aro. It’s all very performative, Jasper scoffs under his breath, even as his eyes trail the girl. She’s very pretty, but her emotions are pulling at him, tugging in a way that makes him feel like he isn't seeing the whole picture.

He doesn’t miss the flicker of recognition when she looks at him and Jess. It’s definitely the pair of them, not the other four soldiers lined up with them. She knows them but Jasper has no recollection of her at all. How does she know them - was she a former enemy, poached from another army?

There’s something in her eyes when his gaze meets hers, and it’s something that he recognizes (defeat.)

—

“…It seems to me that perhaps we could negotiate your freedom, but only if someone reputable would be willing and able to stand for you? To take responsibility for any of your future crimes? Just to give you the adequate motivation, of course,” Aro chuckles and it’s a trap. There’s no one that will stand for her. Jessamine has no friends, just convenient allies. It’s her skill on the battlefield and her torture technique with her fucking gift that inspired Maria to keep her around.

Jasper’s equally as screwed. Maria returned to the house with her chosen ones in tow. He has no idea where he’d find Peter, let alone fast enough for him to become Jasper's goddamn parole officer.

The first two of their co-conspirators (at least, according to Aro and Maria) are executed without ceremony, and Jessamine is only one person away from death. Jasper’s jaw is set, and he’s inspecting the dirt with intensity. Good luck, Pete. Sorry I can’t say good bye in person.

Another head rolls.

The fires are being stoked.

“And now, for the infamous Major and the young Jessamine. Both with formidable reputations in this part of the world,” Aro is enjoying this too much. “Would anyone here like to stand for them? Take responsibility for their futures?”

Silence.

—

Alice wants to scream. She has since they arrived, and since she saw them kneeling in the dirt for the trial. They look exactly as they did all those years ago when she tried to find them, before everything went to shit: that half-starved, feral look on their faces, the violence that litters every aspect of their being. This wasn’t supposed to be their future, and she’s angry.

At herself, for being so weak as to fuck up and ruin their futures along with hers.

At them for fucking up so badly that they’re here.

“I’ll stand for them.”

Her words are cool and disinterested, and Aro swings around to look at her, delighted.

“Alice! You’ll take responsibility for these two despite their foolish choices?” Aro practically claps.

It's a fair question. She's not known for taking companions or allies. She keeps to herself in Volterra, she doesn't acquire playthings or protegees or anything. Honour-bound to Aro (because she cannot, for the life of her, find a way out), this is possibly the most interesting thing Alice the person (rather than Alice with the Gift) has ever done.

She stares down at them. The ragged Major and the brittle soldier. Two empaths who are rapidly reeling out of control. It’s a recipe for disaster and she certainly cannot riddle out her choices and the paths they create in a split second but maybe she owes them. She’s not capable of loving anyone anymore, but perhaps she can repay this debt.

“I do.”

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas24 Day 10: Demon Jasper

And we're right back on track. Well, ficmas-wise. I'll let y'all know when my life begins to look less like a Collection of Clowns and Buffoons.

Tonight, we've got the bewilderingly popular Demon Jasper (I feel like maybe I flew too close to some Booktok tropes with this one, lol). The sequel actually has a pretty intense plot lined up, and some of that is kind of hinted at in this section. Demon Jasper loves an opportunity to Emote, so he went wild in this little section.

And we have one more night unfilled at this point, so the Ask box remains open. If there is any verse that hasn't had it's moment (or I've promised something and forgotten), now is your time to mention it. We've got 3some-verse and STLAU P.2 still to come, so any other 'verse than those.

I hope you enjoy and have a grerat night!

warning some very vague sexual content. We're here for the sexual vibes not the content tonight.

Over the weeks, the need to sleep haunts him. It’s something that makes him slow and sluggish, makes the darkness bubble up from that void in the back of his mind. He tries to put it off, tries to stay awake longer, pouring over the books that Alice acquires for him.

She watches, but stays silent. He hates that she’s so good at giving him space, at letting him dictate the rules and boundaries of their relationship. He wants someone who pushes and annoys and bothers him, so he can yell and rage and threaten. He wants to be able to scare her away from him.

He only gives in to sleep when his demon form seeps out uncontrollably, like ink spreading down his arms, and the cracks begin to form along his biceps and jaw. It’s his body demanding recovery, and it’ll break him into pieces to get what it wants if it must.

So he gives in.

//

He dreams of her almost every single time and he hates every moment of it.

Pale and beautiful and willing. Who kisses him like she’s begging him. He dreams of them tangled up in bed together; of tracing every joint on her body with his tongue as a vampire and as a demon. The picture his brain paints is glorious, of his black tongue lapping at the bone-white of her skin.

She doesn’t flinch away from his form in the dream. She begs him to come closer.

(He knows that it’s just the void in his being that summons these dreams. It’s like having a second thing living inside him, a shadow-self that knows every iota of him and uses it all against him.)

Alice breaks him in the dream. A pretty pout and whispered negotiations as she rolls her hips against his. Anything you want he tells her reverently, and the bloody runes of creation rise on her skin as soon as he agrees to remake her. There’s no pain in the dream, no horror; just all the blood that sustains her spilling from those wounds around them. It smells like her, like flowers and ink and tainted honey, beneath the metallic tang of blood.

She’s going to be perfect. She is perfect. She was always meant to be this creature. The devil in his head whispers reverently.

He closes his eyes as she moves above him, trying not to make a sound even when his hips stutter against hers. But her name slips out, a hiss of pleasure and relief and adoration. Alice.

“Jasper.” There’s an answer in a sigh of delight, her face buried against him before she pulls away, leaving him cold.

When he opens his eyes, she’s smirking down at him; eyes blackened and rotting outwards, her lips welling with blood as she rejects the change and begins to die. Three days of slowly curdling and breaking down until there’s nothing left and he has to burn her.

That’s when he wakes up, when the hopelessness feels like it’s choking him so bad it’s a noose around his neck. At the realization of his weakness and what the wreckage could look like. That anything he looks at, he’s going to destroy. That the evil and the power inside him, the thing that Maria made him into, will swallow everything and anything that might bring him peace whole.

He can’t look at Alice after those dreams. The shame is too much.

(Not just the change and the death. The way he pictures her bare and laughing in his bed; the way his mind has conjured up how they would touch each other, how eagerly she accepted his touch… it’s not right. She’s been good to him, she doesn’t deserve that kind of disrespect.)

//

“I keep dreaming of you being remade like me,” he says gruffly, and she freezes before carefully sitting down beside him. He’s still not used to the way she dresses at the house; when he still dwelt in human society, everyone was covered up. But Alice, she wears garments that leave her arms, legs and stomach bare unless she’s hunting. He hates that it’s so distracting to him; it’s like she’s walking around missing a layer of vital armor to protect her from the rest of the world. And he hates, so very much, the idea that she trusts him enough to let her guard down in such a way. That he’s someone she can show this version of herself to. He’s seen her dress and leave for hunting or to stock up on the few regular supplies they need. Jeans, sweaters, jackets, boots that give her a couple of extra inches. She looks like an entirely different creature, a different woman, when she goes out into the real world.

There’s a thin scar, shallow, on her right thigh. She teases at it for a moment, as they sit in silence.

“You don’t have to worry, Jas,” she says kindly, and he’s oddly touched at the use of a nickname. “I know it’s hard for you to believe me, but I don’t want that. I don’t need that. That’s never something I’m going to ask you for.”

He wants to believe her. But if there’s nothing else that he’s learnt over his long life, it’s that everyone has a price. Everyone has a point where they forget their ethics and morals and beliefs, and they finally say yes. It’s just that some people come cheaper than others.

“Every single time, it goes wrong,” he says, as if she hasn’t spoken. “Every single time, I watch you get remade and you are perfect, you are gorgeous, and you’re the only thing I want. That…that piece that’s missing, that every single cell in my body and my mind is determined to find.”

He hears her breath catch but he doesn’t acknowledge it. “It’s…sublime. And then I look at you and it’s… I’ve destroyed you. I got it wrong and you’re already going bad and I either have to watch you breakdown and go rabid and rotten for three fuckin’ days, or I put you down myself. Because it does go bad, Alice. There are the ones that don’t make it through the process, that don’t even make it fair enough to be changed.

"And then there are the ones that do, they hold it together long enough to become this but they’re all wrong. The darkness chews them up, there’s nothing left of them. I’ve put down more than a few people who ended up like that. Not just Maria’s people. Strays, forgotten bodies, abandoned projects. They aren’t meant to last longer than three days, but sometimes they hold themselves together. There’s no way to save them, you understand? They’re already dead, and it’s just… evil squatting in a corpse.”

Her hand rests gently against his, and he’s surprised it is actually comforting.

“Of all the people that have ever come looking for me, you are the only one that does not deserve that fate,” he finishes hoarsely.

“Oh, Jasper.” Alice is looking at him with wide eyes, and he can feel the sadness leaking out of her. She’s still holding his hand. “Did I ever tell you how I found you?”

“You told me that you left your family to find me,” Jasper looks at her, and maybe he shifts his hand and curls his fingers slightly to almost-hold onto her hand. She’s wearing a ring; silver with a blue stone. It’s a colour that he associates with her; many of her clothes are a similar shade.

“I did. It took me years. I had to do a lot of research because I couldn’t see you and I didn’t know how to use my gift to find you. Thirty years of going from place to place, looking for a clue to find you. Anyone who knew me before would be shocked that I could live out of one bag for that long, somewhere the Cullens have all my things in storage.” She smiles at that to herself. “I went everywhere, and it led me to two places - the Vatican, where I wasn’t even going to attempt to gain access. I couldn’t even see if I would find what I was looking for, which makes me very curious about what they have in those archives.

“And Volterra.”

He tenses at that, dread sinking in. Volterra.

“Aro kept me busy for years and had a surprising amount on the subject of demons. A lot of them were partial accounts, especially around the rituals of creation and summoning.” Alice let out a sigh. “But the anthropological information was thorough. I know about the rituals and how badly they can go. I know that there is a level of fear, a level of pain, a level of evil I cannot comprehend. But you cannot surprise me with the depths of what you are. I know. And I was never afraid, because it wasn’t my world and it’s never going to be my world - ever since I woke up, I’ve never, ever seen myself as a demon. Even after I found you, that vision has never changed. You have me as I am. I have you as you are. That’s how it’s going to be, and I don’t care how long it takes you to understand that.”

She rests her head against his shoulder for a moment.

“Thanks for calling me gorgeous.” The strand of mischief runs through her, and he scoffs.

“You’re a monster, that’s what you are.”

“But your monster.” She looks up at him, her eyes a burnished amber colour, and her lips twisting into a playful smirk.

And that’s it. That moment with her smiling at him. That’s his girl, his sublime horror, his missing piece. The girl who will kiss him like the only man she’s ever seen in her life, who lets him sweep her into his arms and his bed and never flinches at the sight of his monstrosity.

It feels like, in that moment, the world has cracked open and he doesn’t know what to do. She doesn't have to be anything more than she is to be that missing piece, if you let her.

It felt easier to hate her and mistrust her than it does to love her.

//

He sees it out of the corner of his eye; his second-sight, the one that only usually kicks in when he’s transformed. Just for a second, but it was enough to make his blood run cold.

Alice, stretching as she walks through the house, her t-shirt riding up a few careless inches. And it’s there, a wound (time is ephemeral in his second-sight; it could be past-present-future. It simply Is.) A wound from one of his kind, incisors having sunk into her side. The bite is easily as wide as his hand, the scars dead and angry grey, with venom seeping outwards in black strands.

The sight is gone in a second and Alice is fine. She hasn’t noticed anything.

(She wouldn’t See it coming either; the shape of the incisors means someone on the spectral side of the demon pantheon, who are known for their ability to hide. He doesn’t understand how one of them would get close enough to her to bite like that. They aren’t easily provoked, something Alice says or does… or knows will trigger their rage.)

His chest feels tight. It won’t kill her, he knows that - he won’t allow it. But she’s going to suffer. She’s going to be hurt. And he has no idea how to stop it.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas24 Day 9: OG Hybrid Baby-verse

Is it normal for me to drop 8k of fic on Ficmas? It is not.

But I am so tired that I have tapped out tonight (my sister's dog expects very late nights and very early starts and I am not great company before 8am), and today's post will be edited and posted tomorrow.

So tonight I give you the OG Hybrid Baby-verse fic. The full draft clocks in at 22k, but this is the part that is okay being seen by human eyes for a bit of a laugh.

This original version is extremely different to what I've decided to go with. I changed a lot of things to better fit the characters and the plot - like, Jasper being around for the pregnancy, Maria being more aggressive towards Alice, and a lot of world-building that occurs in this section.

Honestly, this is just an example of how sometimes you can write 22k of something and none of it is usable for the project. But you learn so much about the character and the story that it was worth every single word.

So I hope you enjoy this throwback (it has to be at least 7+ years old), and I will see you tomorrow!

warning: some very mild sexual content.

Jasper was stunned when I told him, but it hadn’t taken much to convince him – there was a heartbeat, and my scent had changed slightly. He had… freaked out, trying to get away from me, pacing the room manically, muttered and babbled at me as I perched on the couch, waiting til he calmed down. Hopefully, sooner rather than later – I was starving again, and I’d actually lost weight despite the fact that I was eating everything within my eye line. It was lucky that I could sneak over to the Cullens and eat out of their fridge so that Dad and Simon had no clue exactly how much food I was putting away. Simon was still convinced he’d left a bag of groceries in the cart by accident.

“How?” Jasper looked at me desperately, running his hands through his hair.

“The usual way?” I shrugged, and Jasper moved closer to me, hovering, like he couldn’t touch me. “Carlisle thinks that the venom makes us compatible, and my humanity makes me fertile. Plus, my body is used to adapting to dramatic changes. Combine that with the ‘magical Saturday’ we drove your entire family out of the house? Voila.”

“Carlisle knows?” Jasper said urgently.

“I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think it was this…” I gestured at my stomach. “He’s a doctor, and he understands my body has… quirks.”

“Good. Good. He can look after you,” Jasper was pacing again, looking exactly like a panicked teenage boy who’d just been given world-changing news. Take away the fact he’d fought in the Civil War, that’s exactly what he was. I was sorry I hadn’t filmed it for future teasing. “What did he say?”

“Congratulations, everything looks fine, if slightly more advanced. He wants to ‘monitor me’ closely,” I said, repeating Carlisle’s words. “At this rate, he estimates the pregnancy should last around sevenish months, but he’ll get a better idea when I hit the halfway point.”

“A baby.” Honestly, Jasper looked like a cat that had gotten an electric shock.

“A baby,” I agreed, unfolding my legs and lying on the couch.

“You’re seventeen, Alice,” Jasper moved closer to me. “What… how do you feel?”

“Freaked out, amused,” I said. “Worried and bewildered and waiting for someone else to make all the choices for me. Carlisle’s not convinced that… it’s too late to abort, and Carlisle thinks the baby is going to be strong. And I can’t put the baby up for adoption because it’s going to be the child of a vampire and a half-hybrid.”

“You don’t want the baby,” Jasper murmured, and I felt the stand of despair flow from him before he got control of his gift.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m eighteen in three weeks, this isn’t what I was expecting,” I said gently. “And there’s a part of me that still wants the freedom to be able to run if I need to. That wants this to go away because its permanent and scary.

“Would I get an abortion if it was an option? I’d give it serious consideration, with your input – and Carlisle’s, because he’d probably be the only one prepared to do the surgery. I would have liked to be older, out of high school and maybe college. Safer. But it’s happened now and I’m trying to get my head around it. I want to say you’re stuck with me, but if this is too much, too weird, I can go.”

“Alice, there is nothing you can do that will make me not want you at my side,” Jasper was pulling me up from the couch and into his arms. “Nothing in my mind. I love you, and that is never going to change. And I never, ever expected a family to be a possibility for us.

“But if this isn’t something you want, we can… can fix this. Rosalie and Emmett would give their left arms to raise a child. No one would think less of you if you chose that.”

I pressed against him and closed my eyes. “I know. But I don’t know if I could do that. Live watching my baby calling someone else Mommy. I… I never wanted a baby, but now I have this, I kind of want it, but only if you’re with me.”

“I ain’t going anywhere, darlin’,” he kissed my head, and I hid my smile as his hand slid down to my belly. A little firmer, but no visible bump yet. I snuggled in and for a moment, I was just wrapped in Jasper’s bubble of emotion – love and anticipation and nervousness.

When I finally pulled away, I was feeling better. “I hate to ruin this beautiful moment, but we have to work out how to tell the rest of your family, how to tell my family, how we’re going to approach it, and I am starving.”

Jasper laughed, and pulled me back. “Let’s find you food, and then we’ll discuss the rest.”

//

Our plan was simple. There was six weeks of school left before summer, and with careful wardrobe decisions, I could conceal my condition – I didn’t want anyone gossiping, and the Cullens preferred to fly under the radar. After the baby was born healthy, we’d make some decisions. Jasper, Edward and I were all seniors next year, whilst Emmett and Rose had formally graduated – meaning that we could call upon Esme, Rose and Emmett to baby sit whilst we were at school. Jasper was contemplating ‘graduating early’ under the guise of early acceptance, but I didn’t want to be left at school alone – and my patchy school record meant that there was no way I would be getting out before next June.

Jasper seemed pretty confident Rosalie would be happy to baby-sit, Esme too. After we graduated, they were already planning on moving to somewhere in New York state, and many of the art school options I was looking at were in the same area. It made sense that I would - could - go with them.

As for my family, we were going to lie and say that I was already three months along and I just hadn’t noticed anything amiss until recently. I didn’t know Dad and Simon well enough to predict their reaction – but Jasper assured me that Esme would cut off her own nose before she cast me out.

The circle of those in the know would be limited – the Cullens, my family and Bella Swan, simply because she was always at the house, and Edward wouldn’t keep a secret from her. I’d spend the summer going between the Cullens and my house – I already had a huge list of reasons to give Dad and Simon for my constant absence that would require constant monitoring from Carlisle.

I thought, when I told the Cullens, that I knew how they’d react. I thought Rose would throw a shit fit, Edward would be smug that he and Bella were above such ‘mistakes’, Emmett would make vulgar jokes, Esme would be delighted and Carlisle would be himself – steady yet cautious.

I was way off the mark.

“Pregnant?” Esme repeated, everyone gaping at me. “Oh my…”

Edward looked terrified, Emmett was imitating a fish and Rosalie… Rosalie looked liked I’d flash-fried a kitten in front of her. If possible, she was even paler and she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

“Whose is it?” Emmett said suddenly, seriously and Rosalie seemed to relax slightly.

“It’s mine,” Jasper’s response was gentle, and I realised he was feeling whatever Rosalie was, and it was bad.

“Alice’s unique genetic make-up allows her body to adapt to foreign material,” Carlisle broke in, and the compassion for his daughter was almost tangible. “This is completely unheard of – had Alice or Jasper come to me with concerns, I would have dismissed the idea.”

“A baby,” Rosalie was staring at a point on the floor, her face completely blank.

“Wow,” was all Emmett said, but his gaze was on Rosalie.

This was terrible. I had expected anger and scorn, maybe some happiness. But this was pure misery – from Rosalie, and from Esme, who looked quite small and sad next to Carlisle who was holding her hand.

And I stood there, trying to think of something to say that would help. That would explain that I hated myself for causing them this pain, but I needed them all to get me through this. That there was no way that Jasper and I could do this without the rest of them.

“I’m going to be sick,” I announced, and fled into the kitchen to empty my stomach – half a gallon of milk, two sandwiches and a muffin – into the sink. Ugh. I could hear the low hum of their voices in the lounge room, but was more focused on emptying my stomach of everything that had offended it so. Fuck, there was the half-can of tuna and the salad I’d scoffed, and the yoghurt… I was starving all the time, but having it all come back up was enough to convince me to stick to crackers and tea for the rest of my life.

Within a few moments, I’d pulled a can of ginger ale from the fridge, and was lying on the kitchen floor with the can pressed to my face. My stomach was absolutely empty, and I’d rinsed the disgusting mess down the drain.

My phone was buzzing in my pocket and I pulled it out.

“Hello?”

“Alice? It’s Simon. I’m headed home and wanted to know if you wanted a ride.”

“Please,” I said.

“Be there in ten minutes, kiddo.”

I dragged myself off the floor, and padded out to the lounge room. Rosalie was wrapped in Emmett’s arms, and Esme was sitting beside her, clasping both her hands.

“I’m going,” I said, offering a half-wave, and grabbing my bag from beside the couch.

“Alice,” Jasper was staring at me in horror, guiding me to a couch, Carlisle moving towards me with an equally concerned look.

“I’m fine, I just puked up everything I ate, and there was a lot,” I said as he pushed me down. Edward wordlessly offered me a mirror that he’d pulled from my bag – purple-black circles underscored both my eyes, my face was pale and waxy, and utterly colourless. I looked like a reanimated corpse.

“Do you feel okay?” Carlisle said seriously, as he checked my pulse.

“Tired and pukey,” I said, cradling my ginger ale. “Kind of warm, too. Simon’s about to pick me up.”

“This is a good lead in,” Edward interrupted. “She goes home looking sick, in a few days, give them the news. It’ll look natural and less of a set-up.”

“True,” Carlisle said, but his gaze was still concerned. Jasper was hovering around me as I practically swayed on the spot.

“I am fine, I swear. I’m going home to crawl into bed and sleep until tomorrow,” I said.

“Well, sit down now before you fall down,” Jasper said, manhandling me into a chair.

Simon was worried when he saw me, and sent me straight up to bed. I could barely stand up long enough to shower and crawl into bed, falling asleep in seconds and not waking up til late the next morning – nearly fifteen hours. Some of the colour had come back into my face, thankfully. And I was ravenous, though the previous day’s worth of puking had taught me to be cautious.

“A few of Cyn’s classmates have come down with the flu,” Dad said, watching me tentatively pick at my eggs. “You must be patient zero of the junior class.”

“You’re staying home today – no saliva swapping with young Mr Cullen,” Simon said, pointing his knife at me.

“Been swapping more than saliva,” Cyn muttered into her breakfast and I managed to summon the energy to throw a piece of toast at her.

“Hey, no throwing breakfast foods,” Dad said to me. “Cynthia, no running commentary at family meals, thank you.”

//

This was bad. This was not a conversation I ever thought I’d have to have. Ever. I could feel the gentle whisper of Jasper’s gift around me, but it wasn’t helping.

“Um, so,” I began, wringing my hands. “Um, I talked to Carlisle and stuff, and it turns out that I’m pregnant.”

Simon and Dad just stared at Jasper and I in horror, gaping.

“What did the Cullens say?” Dad asked, looking exhausted.

“They’re shocked, but supportive,” I said carefully. //

I sat with my back against the headboard, staring into space. Edward’s not unkind warning to give the Cullens some breathing room was a clear sign that my condition was causing some kind of unhappiness amongst the family. And Dad and Simon had pretty much just asked me to stay at the Cullens until they could get their head around this.

And now I was hearing noises about the Benoits rearing their ugly heads in Seattle.

I needed to get away. Give everyone some space for a while. As tempting as it was to throw money at a bus ticket until I was in New York or somewhere I could get lost easily – actually, California was a better choice, due to the abundant sunlight – I knew I wouldn’t go far.

I could go to Canada.

Not as a runaway. Mom had a few contacts up there, the Tibault clan. They had managed to elude or fight off the Order. The Benoits had told them everything about the Tibaults, so they were basically arch-enemies, which suited Mom just fine. The Benoit were a large family, of almost two hundred people.

These days, unbeknownst to the Order or the Benoits, the Tibaults numbered almost six hundred, scattered throughout Canada in all walks of life. And there could have been more – that’s just the information Mom and I were privy to.

My contacts were Lusa and her husband. Lusa had always been fairly aggressive and unpleasant towards my mother, but kind and welcoming to me. I had gotten along well with her three daughters Simone, Naomi and Elodie, and I knew Lusa would give me information and a place to stay for a few days, whilst we worked out what the Benoits were doing up in Washington. They had stayed on their side of the Mason-Dixon line my whole life, and now were venturing west the same time I did?

Something was brewing, and Lusa would know.

It took me about ten minutes to shove my things into a backpack. I’d only be gone a few days, a week at most, so it was mostly a few changes of clothing, money and the like. I had a couple of disposable cell phones stashed in my closet, and it took no time at all to set one up, leaving my own plugged in at home.

As far as cellphone records went, Mary-Alice Brandon never left Forks.

For the next week, I was Annie Bradley, a twenty-year old English student from Ottawa.

And hopefully by the end of the week, everyone was ready to deal with the baby thing.

//

Getting to Canada was fucking hideous without a car. A bus from Forks to Port Angeles, transfer to a bus to Seattle, and then a five-hour bus ride to Vancouver. Add in stress, nerves and morning sickness, and I didn’t even both going to find Simone when I got to Vancouver – I found a cheap motel and slept solidly for eighteen hours.

I dreamt pretty solidly. The Cullens thought I was at home, and my Dad and Simon thought I was at the Cullens. Jasper had called a few times, but my phone was still charging on my desk on silent. Missing a day of school hadn’t been unusual to anyone – after all, my favourite pastimes at the moment were puking and sleeping.

It wouldn’t be until tonight, when Jasper and Carlisle came over to check on me and speak with my Dad and Simon that they’d realise I’d vanished. And then everyone would be freaking out. Because I’d gone through so many bus stations, there would be no way to track my scent. It would be Simon who found my Bag of Tricks – fake I.Ds, passports, money and stuff like that – and that would scare him more than anything else.  

//

Lusa scowled at me as I sat down.

“You look like you belong on that show Elodie loves so much, with the dead people walking around all the time,” she said to me, in her accent. I always loved Lusa’s stories – she was a mix of Inuit, French-Canadian and Trinidadian. Her father had been an honest-to-god vampire hunter down in Venezuela, and she had grown up around all the monsters and magic. Her mother had been Yakone Tibault, one of the most respected members of the family – and powerful, though I had no idea what their powers were.

She handed me a plate of eggs and toast, and glared at me til I started eating.

“I heard bad things coming from your part of the world,” Lusa said, as she poured me a glass of milk and sat down in front of me. “How is your mama?”

“Mom was killed a few years back,” I said evenly.

“Really,” Lusa said, watching me carefully. “I’m sorry to hear that you lost your mama, girlie. No child should lose their mother.”

“I’m okay,” I shrugged. “I have my father and his partner, Simon, out there. I’m not alone.”

“Pfft, men,” she shook her head. “And they do not live in our world, ma petite. They do not understand. Though, your mother struggled greatly, too. You know, I told her to leave you in our care so many times. Raise you safe and normal and happy. Not running in the night from the shadows on the wall. But no, she refused, thought we’d use you as blackmail, that she’d never get to see you. We could have helped her too, allowed her to build a life. But no, she was too proud. Filled with too many terrible plans.”

I was stunned. Lusa was kind, but I never knew she’d offered to protect and raise me.

“But the past is gone, and you did not trek all the way to the mountains to hear about ancient history.”

I nodded in agreement. “I heard some noise from the Benoits,” I said slowly. “Snooping around Seattle. I’m based in that area, and there’s a not insignificant population of others there, but they’ve never come this far west. Is something going on?”

Lusa watched me. “What kind of others?” she asked.

“Shape-shifters, definitely. A native tribe,” I said. “I’d guess at least a dozen, but I could be wrong.”

“Hmm. The Benoits have always left the native people alone. They know that is not magic they should meddle in, and that it cannot be as easily stamped out,” Lusa mused.

“There are also vampires,” I said flatly, and she looked at me with shock. “Neutral party. They live amongst the human population, and feed only from wild animals. That was the trigger for the shape-shifting; to defend the tribe from vampires. There is an agreement, a treaty that the vampires may not cross into the tribe’s lands, and they will be left alone. Unless a human is bitten, and then the vampires will be destroyed.”

“Interesting. Not unlike the little posse up in Denali,” Lusa said. My eyes widened. “I’ve been buying my furniture from the same very nice Spanish couple for over seventy years, girlie. I’m not a fool.”

“How old are you?” I said, pushing my empty plate away.

“Ach, older than whichever upstart has just been granted a place on the Benoit Council,” she said, and I looked up at the portrait of Yakone Tibault on the wall. But was it Yakone?

Lusa was smiling at me. “You are quick-witted, Mary-Alice. And because the information from Washington may be useful in the future – not for barter, just for my own plans, girl – I will give you three pieces of advice. One, stay away from Italy. Your mother was always adamant about that, and it was the only bit of good advice Elena had in her.

“Two, be careful with who you ally yourself with. You stay this side of the Mason-Dixon line; there would be very many interested parties in you, should they find out about you. Had Elena lifted her head out of her rage, she would have realised she is not alone in this world. Hybrids are rare, and keep to themselves. And she spent your childhood trying to turn you into her so she wouldn’t be alone. But in all my years, I have never heard of a hybrid having a child. You are a prize to the wrong person, girlie. Choose your friends carefully.

“Three, everybody has a price that would convince them to do terrible things, the darkest of things,” Lusa shook her head. “Some people come cheaper than others, that is all.”

“You sound like a fortune cookie,” I said, propping my head on my hand.

“And yet, they offer free advice. Now, I know there has been a new legacy added to the Benoit council since Antoine Benoit kicked it last summer. Dana and Yancy Sumner burned for his death, and no one has heard from their daughter Clara since before then, but it isn’t looking good. Meanwhile, the worst kept secret is that Antoine died in the bed of Yancy’s stepsister, nothing suspicious about the old pervert’s death at all. But Celeste wanted heads to roll, and now the last of the crossdems are dead and gone unless Clara’s managed to stay safe.”

“Crossdems?” I repeated.

“Cross-Dimensional Awareness. Yancy’s gift. Drives most of them bonkers, but Yancy had a special affinity for it… actually, that might be how Clara vanished. If he managed to weft space around her, to protect her… but that would effectively be a one-way trip,” Lusa mused, tapping the table before looking at my wide-eyed gaze. “Never mind all that. But the legacy has joined, and is aggressive.

“Too aggressive. They’re going to antagonise Miss Moreno down in Monterrey, and I am too old to see another Southern War, though if she still had her second, it would have been a thing to see. Never thought of that before. Should have pointed the Benoits down there in her hey-day, when that boy of hers was still running her campaigns. Would have cleared the Benoit ranks quite efficiently. Anyway, they’re pushing the limits of Miss Moreno’s patience, and they’ll draw notice of the Volturi sooner than later.”

“But why so far west?” I repeated, ignoring the sinking feeling.

“They’re aggressive, not stupid. They know there is a risk pissing off Moreno, and they are still human, even with their gifts. I’d say they are testing the waters, to set up a second base, in case Louisiana becomes inhospitable in the coming months.” Lusa grinned at me. “The Benoits are starting a war on the word of the Order, and seeing who pops up. Whack-a-mole, essentially.”

//

The next morning, Lusa took me to see Kay.

Kay was my favourite of Mom’s friends. She was tall and skinny, with weatherbeaten skin and steel-grey hair that looked like fairy-floss, even though she was only in her fifties. She lived outside of Pemberton, in a rundown old house and kept to herself. I knew she had a son somewhere, and she kept a few dogs, but was always very solitary. And despite her rough exterior and her sharp manner, she was very kind and loving. She also had the most interesting power – the ability to see the present. It sounds stupid, but she just knew everything – if you were ill, telling a lie, growing, dying, hungry, tired. She once told me, as a child, that she only ever saw people as their essential truth - she’d had a trans cousin and as a child, had been very confused when everyone referred to her as ‘him’ because she was very clearly a girl.

She was waiting for us when we arrived, scowling darkly at Lusa’s presence, but nodding at me.

“Look at Little Miss Mary-Alice,” Kay said, pulling me into a hug. She was like a human preying-mantis, all long, bony limbs. And then she tensed, cussing under her breath.

“Take it off her, take it off her now,” she yelled at Lusa, who actually jumped.

“Take what off?” I said, as she grabbed Lusa’s arm.

“She needed it,” Lusa insisted, as Kay dragged her back to me.

“You silly old cow, she’s pregnant,” Kay hissed and Lusa’s eyes widened at me.

“I meant no harm to her,” Lusa managed. Kay snorted.

“Undo it, now,” she said. “Before I kill you to remove it.”

Lusa reached and traced a shape over my forehead and I gasped; it was like I’d been doused in cold water. My senses flared, my head spun and my stomach cramped suddenly, and I felt a wet warmth between my legs. Blood, seeping through my jeans.

Kay let out a string of swear words and swept me into her arms, banging into her house.

“I’m going to get Noma, she’ll sort you out. Don’t move, and don’t worry,” she reassured me. I still hadn’t said anything, my arms tight around my middle, Lusa fluttering in the background.

“It was nothing bad, just a ward to protect you,” she kept saying to me, and I privately willed the baby just to hold on.

“Oh, one of you,” Noma said disinterestedly as she and Kay returned, turning her nose up at Lusa before bestowing a kind smile on me. “Hello sweetheart. Let’s get you and your baby back to rights, okay?”

“I didn’t intend for harm to come to her,” Lusa said again and Kay whirled around.

“You didn’t ask. Those spells see anything aside from the person a danger, including an unborn child. It’s imperfect and dangerous magic, positively crude,” Kay snapped.

Meanwhile, Noma had me propped up on some pillows, and handed me some leaves to chew on. It was vile, with only the faintest taste of mint – like licking a swampy forest floor. But she placed her hands on my admittedly-still flat if firmer than normal stomach. The air around her hands went wavy, and I felt very tired for a second, but slowly the pains stopped.

“No harm done,” Noma said kindly, plucking the disgusting bundle of leaves out of my hand. “You need to rest for a day or two, and all will be well. Just the ward leaving your body.” She rested her hand against my forehead. “Sleep, Mary-Alice. All will be well.”

And I did.

//

It was dark when I woke up, still on Kay’s couch, with a dog looking at me. I was still wearing my blood smeared jeans, my sneakers and my coat, and the inside of my mouth felt a rainforest floor.

Clambering off the couch, sending the dog skittering deeper into the house, I padded into the kitchen, catching my reflection in a mirror.

The last four days had taken their toll, and I’d lost more weight. I looked gaunt, and pale, dark circles under my eyes. My skin looked like semi-translucent wax. I needed a shower, and food, and to go home. Suddenly, my flight from Forks, which had seemed so rational in my head, had become the panicked reaction of a child.

But I’d deal with that later.

“Mary-Alice.”

I looked up to see Kay in the doorway, looking at me with a faint smile on her face.

“Noma’s gone home for the night, but she’ll be back for breakfast,” Kay said. “You slept longer than she expected, but Lusa said you’d arrived exhausted. Sleep is a great healer. Anyhow, Noma didn’t think you deserved to suffer through my cooking, and thought you needed something to build you up, so she made dinner.”

Within seconds, I was seated at the table, with an enormous bowl of some kind of chicken, vegetable and rice dish that tasted heavenly. Kay had turned down a portion of Noma’s cooking, eating a pile of salad and vegetables that she’d dumped cold baked beans on.

By the end of my second helping, I felt better than I had in weeks. My vision was sharper, my head was clearer and I didn’t feel as tired or frail.

“Well, I owe Noma a twenty,” Kay said, as I washed up. “She said it would sort you out, but I thought it was a horrendous idea, and a waste of chicken.”

“What was?” I asked, as I plucked an apple out of the bowl and took my seat opposite her.

“The quart of animal blood she dumped in that food,” Kay said casually, and I froze. “Don’t look so shocked, love. Your mama used to pump you full of blood and venom. With her gone, you’ve been living as a human and it’s taken its toll on you. No different than depriving a human of calcium.”

Fuck.

“And before you lose it, Noma grew up with blood as an ingredient in food, so it was no different than cooking for her grandchildren. And she added a few herbs and spices for your health. I have always associated blood with vampires, which is short-sighted of me.”

“Still, it’s weird,” I said, looking at my apple.

“I doubt the baby’s father would feel the same way,” Kay said slyly, and I jumped. She really could see everything, couldn’t she?

“Was it consensual?” Kay asked, pushing her own plate away.

“Yes,” I said. “I love him very much.”

“And he knows?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m here, actually. Everyone was having a meltdown at home, about the baby, so I figured I’d check on the fact the Benoits are poking around Seattle. Give everyone some space.” At Kay’s look, I elaborated. “Jasper’s family – babies are a sore subject. Rosalie desperately wants a child, Esme lost a child, and I accidentally got pregnant even though I didn’t know I could. Mom told me I was sterile. They needed some time to grieve their own losses before dealing with me. And Dad and Simon are … I’m not sure if they’re angry or upset or both.”

“Jasper. That’s his name?” Kay said suddenly. “His surname?”

“Hale. Or Cullen,” I said warily.

“That’s a lie.”

“No, that’s what they go by at home. Whitlock, that was his surname when he was alive.”

“Let me guess, Major Jasper Whitlock,” Kat said, an evil grin spreading across her face. “Maria Moreno’s second in command, and the scourge of the South.” She started laughing, almost hysterically. “Oh, I’d love to see Lusa and your mother if you told them that. You’ve found a vampire mate, it happens to be the God of War who vanished in 1948 and hasn’t been heard of since, and you’re both having a baby. Lusa’s worrying about you getting caught up in the war, but you’ve got the best protection we could imagine. Jasper Whitlock and his ‘family’.”

I waited til she calmed down.

“I can’t imagine he was thrilled when you mentioned heading off to Canada,” Kay finally continued.

I took a bite of my apple, chewing slowly. “I may not have mentioned I was going. To anyone,” I said finally.

Kat looked at me.

“Everyone kept telling me they needed space! ‘Go stay with the Cullens’, ‘give us a couple of days before you come around again!’ Frankly, the only person who hasn’t freaked out about the baby is me. I am surrounded by a bunch of adults who are losing their collective shit over this, and the youngest of them is my father, a mere twenty-four years older than me. But me, I have to be sunshine and happiness, not ever acknowledging that this fucking terrifying for me on so many levels. I have to puke in the sink, whilst everyone else gets comforted. And I figured I needed to get the heads up about whatever dealings the Benoits were doing this far west. Let everyone get over themselves,” I slouched in my seat.

“Feel better?” Kay said kindly. I nodded.

“I’ll drive you back to Washington the day after tomorrow, gives you time to rest per Noma’s orders. We can discuss everything you need to know tomorrow, over breakfast. And I’ll be having words with both your family and the Cullens. About you and your reality, and about what is coming for everyone. It’s a fuckin’ baby, you aren’t turning Republican. I had my boy when I was fifteen, and he was a good kid. I was a good kid. It’s adults who fuck shit up.”

//

My dreams were clearer than normal. Dad and Simon had called Chief Swan about my disappearance, grudging agreeing with the Cullens’ request not to tell anyone I was pregnant. Simon had also called and visited every Planned Parenthood in our part of the state, mistakenly thinking I was freaking out about the baby.

The Cullens had tried to track me a few times, and knew I had headed towards Seattle, but nothing more. Jasper had pretty much shut down, pacing in his study, having already hacked into my phone and bank accounts, monitoring them for any signs of activity. Rosalie had sensibly hacked Child Services, in case I was picked up, tagging any mention of the names in any of my fake I.D.s I’d left behind.

Esme was frantic. Even when Carlisle had told her that the Denali clan couldn’t help us, she’d insisted on speaking with Tanya, explaining I was scared young girl who needed protection, if she kept an ear and eye out for me. But somehow Tanya managed to gently convince Esme that they were happy to come to Forks to help search for me, but there was a lot of land between Seattle and Alaska, and even then, they were assuming I had headed north.

But I woke up rested, having slept through the night. As I changed into leggings and a sweatshirt, I noticed there was colour in my face, my cheeks slightly rounder and I just looked healthier. Noma was definitely onto something with the animal blood. And I could probably stomach it, if it were mixed into human food, but the idea of sucking it warm from a freshly killed animal was enough to make me vomit.

//

Kay bundled me into the car for the trip back to Forks before dawn, letting me sleep until we crossed back into the U.S, when she bought me breakfast at the drive-through for breakfast, muttering about corporate America and preservatives, as I scoffed the unholy muffin and orange juice she’d chosen for me.

I ended up falling back asleep, my dreams swallowing me up. Dad and Simon in the kitchen, looking grim and tired. And old.

“Any calls?” Dad asked flatly and Simon shook his head.

“Nothing,” Simon said. “Not a damn thing. Jesus, I just cannot get over… why the hell does a seventeen year old have fake passports?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t spoken to Elena for years - I couldn’t find her. I have no idea what she was involved in or what she got Alice mixed up in.”

//

I was getting out of the shower when the Cullens arrived, and I could hear Jasper on the stairs, moving far faster than any human had the ability to, and three annoyed yells from downstairs.

Whatever. Kay was about to clue my family in, and I was home, and Jasper was here. Heaven was clean leggings and an oversized t-shirt.

“Alice.” Jasper hit my room like a tornado, pulling me into his arm and kissing me hard in one sweeping move. “Where the hell were you?”

“Went to see some of Mom’s friends,” I said, clinging to him, pressing my face against his chest. “Give everyone a couple of days to deal with everything. Being a dumb teenager.”

“You should have told me. I would have taken you myself,” he said, his arms tight around me, one hand sliding up under my t-shirt to rest on my stomach.

“You needed to be with your family,” I said. “Dad and Simon, they wanted some space to get their head around the baby. I think they’ve been trying to have another kid for a few years, but surrogacy is expensive, and adoption is difficult for a gay mixed race couple in this part of the country. So, me coming home accidentally pregnant brought up some complex emotions, I get it. But I know Esme and Rose were going through something similar at your place, so I figured a road trip was a solution,” I shrugged, just breathing in his scent.

“You are my family. Both of you,” Jasper said sternly. “And my entire family would chew off their own faces that turn you away.” He pulled away to inspect me. “You should let Carlisle check you out.”

“I will,” I said, stepping over to the dresser to brush out my hair. “Though I suspect that it will be the only way I’ll be visiting for awhile. Dad and Simon are going to murder me. But…” I frowned.

“But…”

“Kay’s downstairs. She’s… gifted, and she knows everything,” I said. “She’s going to tell everyone everything and hopefully, once they understand, they won’t try to seperate us.”

Jasper took the brush from my hair and took over. I closed my eyes in pleasure at his gentle touch. “Not possible. Besides, we haven’t had any time alone,” he said in a low voice, a whisper of heat building in my lower stomach, “since before we found out. And I would very much like some time alone with you.”

I smiled as he put down the brush and pulled me back into his arms. For a moment, I had no body - I was just love and desire and contentment. “Alone would be good,” I murmured.

Jasper leant down and I stood on my toes to be taken into a deep, slow kiss that was the prelude to something we wouldn’t start now, with our parents downstairs. Having any one of the adults downstairs walk in on Jasper and I would be beyond mortifying, no matter how good this felt.

Jasper pulled away, his eyes dark. “They want us to join them,” he murmured.

“Inevitable,” I sighed, pressing against him suggestively. “Later?”

“Later - if I have to smuggle you out myself,” he muttered, and I giggled.

Dad and Simon looked positively stricken when I came back downstairs, Carlisle and Esme looking tired, and Kay looking smug.

“I had… no idea,” Dad began, looking about ten years older than he was. “Elena was…”

“A monster,” I said flatly, Jasper’s hands on my shoulders. I never spoke much about Mom.

“Obviously, I will be monitoring Alice’s pregnancy extremely closely,” Carlisle said, “since this is entirely unprecedented. And your advice regarding her diet is sound, but if Simon and David are uncomfortable with that element, Esme and I can certainly make arrangements…”

“Diet?” Jasper looked down at me.

“Animal blood,” I shrugged, “you get to take me hunting.”

I jumped at the lust that Jasper emitted, and he smirked at me. “Well, now I have some questions,” I said.

“Is this something we need to consider with Cynthia as well?” Simon finally spoke, worry on his face.

“Cynthia?” Kay jumped on that.

“My sister. Mom had a baby for Dad and Simon when I was younger,” I said. “And no, she’s human enough. Mom pumped me full of venom to try and make me a full hybrid.”

“Money was involved, I supposed?” Kay said and Dad nodded.

“Elena said she needed the money,” he said.

“Hmmm,” Kay tapped her chin. “Cynthia’s existence isn’t well known, so we’ll all keep that under our hats. And you, Major Whitlock, would be wise to keep Alice and her condition quiet. The last thing we need is Ms Moreno getting jealous.”

Jasper looked stunned. “Maria and I haven’t spoken in years,” he said. “How…?”

“Oh, you have quite the reputation,” Kay said. “And you are telling me that Maria Moreno wouldn’t march her way to Forks if she heard the news? Carve the baby out of Mary-Alice’s body and then kill Mary-Alice? She always was terribly spiteful.”

If possible, Jasper would have paled at the image Kay painted of Maria harming me. There was no love lost, but Maria would never be finished punishing Jasper for leaving her.

//

We both realised pretty quickly that there wouldn’t be any sneaking out or Cullen house visits for the imminent future, so we settled for the next best thing: Jasper sneaking in. It was after midnight when he slipped into my bed next to me, waking me up with deep kisses, hitching my leg over his hip.

“Mmm, what a wake-up call,” I said sleepily, letting him peel off my camisole. “You think we can stay quiet enough Dad and Simon don’t wake up?”

“We will,” he said, his hand slipping into my pyjama pants, and I wasn’t sure if it was the hormones or how long it had been or if his gift was working overtime, but I was more than ready for him, my hands going to work on his belt as he worked me over with surprising efficiency, kissing me hard to swallow up my cries as I came down.

Moments later, he was naked on his back, his hands on my hips with me aside him, working us both into a very quiet frenzy; Jasper’s eyes were as black as I’d seen them, and he keep purring at me, egging me on to take what I needed from him. The flashes I caught from my mirror showed us as utterly obscene; he looked inhuman, the way he was gazing at me, guiding my hips, and I looked drunk as I tried to find the sweet spot for both of us.

I was going to have to blame baby hormones on this, because it was ridiculous, and intense; we’d never been together this urgently.

He left in the early hours of dawn, tucking me back into bed with a deep kiss and reassurance that he’d be back later. I passed out, sated and exhausted, with the lingering thought that perhaps this would be our new normal, this desperate and intense love-making.

//

The intensity didn’t wane over the last few weeks of school and into the summer. Neither of us could resist it; more than once I found myself in the very back of the library with Jasper’s hand up my skirt - he used my emotions to get himself off, and I spent the rest of the school day with shaky legs. He used his gift more than once to give us both some relief in an unused classroom, his knee between both my legs as I grinded against him, my face buried in his neck.

We were a walking biological disaster, and I have no idea how we managed not to get caught. Edward was fairly repulsed by us, but Emmett thought it was hilarious, high-fiving Jas every time he caught us in the afterglow.

Most of my time at the Cullens was awkward, mostly because I spent it climbing Jasper like a tree. I would walk in, greet everyone, and give minutes later, I was bare-assed on Jasper’s desk, with his lips on my throat, and my hands down his… well, he wasn’t wearing any pants by then.

Most of the family tried not to acknowledge how bad we were - we were definitely headed towards Rosalie and Emmett levels of indecency - but Edward made his disgust with our lack of restraint clear, and Emmett was apparently keeping a score card of some description that I made Jasper promise to destroy.

So far, only two people had walked in on us - Rosalie and Cynthia. Rose had walked into the garage to find Jasper on top of me in the backseat of the Lexus convertible, both of us too far gone to give a shit if someone was selling tickets. Rose had been pissed we’d defiled one of her cars, and I wasn’t entirely sure what Jasper had said or bought her to pacify her, she never said anything about it to me.

Cynthia had barged into my bedroom one afternoon after school to ask me something, only to find Jasper going down on me like a god-damned professional, my hands tangled in his hair, and my leg over his shoulder. Cynthia had shrieked, I had shrieked, and Jasper had tried not to simultaneously die of embarrassment, and then amusement when Cynthia had expressed her complete shock that ‘guys actually did that’.

Cynthia had stood there looking completely baffled for a second before looking me in the eye. “Does it feel good?” she asked, with no clear plans to leave the room.

Jasper snorted with laughter and I resisted the urge to murder my sister.

“Yes, it feels very nice,” I said slowly. “Now, go away so he can finish.”

“Oh,” Cynthia turned bright red and slipped out the room. “Dad will be home in like 30 minutes!” she bellowed as she disappeared into her own bedroom.

Jasper was still sniggering at my idiot sister, and I smacked him with a pillow.

“I need to get a lock put on that door,” I muttered before looking at my boyfriend, who was smirking at me. “Now, are you going to finish what you started or am I going to have to do it myself?”

Jasper snorted and gave me a deep kiss, before sliding back down the bed. “Yes, ma’am.”

//

Jasper left within moments of the parental units arriving home. I managed to grab a quick shower, and Cynthia was waiting for me outside.

“I have questions,” she said, following me downstairs.

“Try Google,” I said.

“What does it feel like? Is it weird?” Cynthia began asking me, as I hurried towards the kitchen, hoping Dad and Simon’s presence would stop the barrage of questions.

“Wait, do you do oral sex on him?”

That was the question Cynthia settled on as we burst into the kitchen, that our parents clearly heard. Dad was choking on his drink, and Simon dropped the yoghurt he was holding.

“Kill me, please,” I pleaded with my fathers. Cynthia appeared to have no shame, with laser-like focus on me.

“I have so many questions,” Simon managed, as my father cleaned up the mess.

“Me too!” Cynthia said enthusiastically.

“No you don’t,” I said, holding up my hand. “Question time is over.”

“You didn’t answer any,” Cynthia pouted.

“Oh my god,” Dad looked like he was having a mental breakdown and Simon had gotten out a bottle of whiskey.

“This is so beyond the realm of okay,” I said. “And you two are doing nothing.”

“I find myself fascinated by your answers, Alice,” Simon said, as my father took a long swig of the drink Simon had poured him. “Answer the questions and then we can all pretend this never happened - after you explain how we got on this topic of conversation.”

“She doesn’t knock,” I hissed.

//

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas24 Day 8: Damaged Alice

Good evening everyone! Definitely lost track of time and this was later than I was going to upload but alas, here we are.

Today's is Damaged Alice. Fun fact with this: I cannot, for the life of me, find the original post I made for this fic. I have trawled my blog, searched it, manually gone through all my postings and I cannot find it. So I can't even reupload what I've already posted because I don't know what I've posted.

So I've gone in blind. This is for the New Moon-era of the fic, just kind of riffing on both sides. I had a very clear view of Alice finding herself and her history which is a very liberal and broad use of mental healthcare from the 20s, because Meyer is a twit who did zero research. We're going with the idea that Alice's doctors were racing the Italians towards new, innovative treatments for mental health and were testing their theories out on wards of the state.

There's also a lot of little details about Jasper and Alice's relationship here which I am obsessed with and are pretty much the entire reason I started this 'verse. It's the little things, I swear.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and I will be catching up on my inbox tomorrow because I need 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep tonight or I might cry (again.) Ahh, the holiday season <3

---

Ithaca is quiet. That’s the best way he can describe it.

Moving is always difficult for Alice; they all blame her visions, but she thrives in routine. He always jokes that it’s not his level of control that keeps him from slipping, it’s that he hates making her move before it’s time. As Esme and Edward always remind the others, Alice needs the security and certainty of her five years in each home.

So the Cullen departure from Forks on Edward’s demand should have been disastrous. Rose and Emmett are leaving for Europe directly, which has been planned for months. Esme already has a house waiting in Ithaca that she’s been looking forward to restoring, so it seems like the best choice - right across the country with new names and stories. They can be there in a day.

Alice is stressed, but not in a bad way. She complains to Edward, that it’s not fair, and that Bella’s going to suffer. That Victoria’s still out there and this isn’t the way to deal with it. He’s hurting Bella worse doing this.

(And he can feel the guilt leaking out of her, that if things were different, Bella wouldn’t have gotten hurt. She still won’t tell him what she saw that night, before it all went sour, but Bella has a dozen stitches up her arm and a wicked bruise across her chest and now they have to leave her behind.)

Edward is grieving and despite an infinite well of affection and patience for Alice, the spike of rage when Alice tells him that he’s making things worse for Bella is enough that Jasper thinks that Edward might slap her and ends the conversation with a look.

“You have to pack, love,” he reminds her and Alice screws up her face and stomps off to her room. Edward grunts his thanks that Jasper has ended the conversation and disappears into the bowels of the house to brood.

Jasper has no illusions about his youngest brother; they will be returning to Forks. It really just depends on how long Edward can play martyr (and if it’s long enough that Bella outgrows him) or how long Victoria hides in the shadows. It’s really easier just to agree and get on with Edward’s dramatic pantomime of star-crossed lovers rather than argue with him.

Alice paces a lot, in-between packing. She hates being micromanaged, so he casually packs his things at the same time, tossing in the items that she almost always forgets but needs. Not to mention the things that she’s going to want when the stress of everything fades, and she can think clearly - there have been a few forgotten phones and more than a few forgotten laptops over the years. And Esme’s practiced at making sure certain things - particular blankets, clothing items, furniture, books - are present at every single house to prevent disaster for all of them, but especially for Alice.

(It’s 1976, and Alice is having a very, very bad day. It’s the worst one he’s ever had to handle on his own. She’s staring unseeing at the corner, trembling. She hasn’t responded to him in any way - not when he called her name, touched her hand, used his gift. Her emotions are churning to the point that he cannot separate them enough to make a difference. And there’s a blanket, an ocean blue one that Esme found at some street vendor in New Hampshire, that helps. They’ve dragged it from place to place for years, Esme carefully re-stitching the fraying edges, adding more panels to the bottom half for reinforcement. But he cannot find it and he has a sinking feeling that it has been left in Montana, tossed carelessly over a chair in his study. Everyone is away and he’s been trusted with Alice alone for the first time, he needs to fix this.)

So, somehow they manage to make it to Ithaca. Somehow, Alice stays calm - she spends the drive in the passenger seat, focused on crocheting a fall poncho that he knows is a way for her to keep her hands busy.

“You wanna talk?” He asks gently.

She shakes her head. “Uh-uh.”

He waits for the breakdown. For the panic attack, and the desperate need to cling to him for a day or two. For blank eyes and days of no words. Especially when they get to Ithaca, and the house is different. It’s a new acquisition, there’s no furniture installed yet.

But nothing.

So he shouldn’t be that shocked when, after three weeks of haunting the mostly-empty house (it’s very, very strange to be alone with Esme and Carlisle. Edward has been a fixture for so long, it’s downright bizarre for there to be only four of them), Alice takes off. There’s a sticky-note on his computer screen that he finds when he gets back from classes.

Going to Mississippi to find myself. Will be back soon. Will be careful. Love you.

(The only upside is that he gets to freak out and calm down before Esme and Carlisle get home, are informed, and he has to talk them out of a panic. All three of them panicking about Alice’s whereabouts at the same time would not have been helpful.)

// She finds herself in an abandoned hospital slated for demolition within months. There’s not much left of it - there was a fire in the 60s that wiped out the main building. Since then, it’s been left to rot, and there’s a lot of legal and media attention on the hundreds of unnamed bodies buried on its grounds.

It doesn’t feel like a place that she wants to be. Esme and Carlisle are always very clear that if she’s uncomfortable, she needs to leave. If she forces herself to stay somewhere, she’ll get upset.

(‘Upset’ is a euphemism for a lot of things. It can mean crying, it can mean biting, it can mean that she’s not going to talk for the rest of the day. Carlisle just tells her that she’s a very sensitive girl, and it’s okay. She’s doing so much better than when she first joined them, and that he’s proud of her. But sometimes it’s hard to believe that when the high school teachers and students are calling her names behind her back, telling her that she’s a burden to the Cullens. So she tries really hard not to get upset.)

Jasper is definitely upset that she went alone. It’s the first time she’s gone alone anywhere. Well, that’s not true. Jasper used to let her go places - once, he pretended they were going to Seattle for a weekend when he let her fly to New York City alone to buy a dress. He said that she could do it by herself and that it was important that she tried, in case he wasn’t around.

(She got upset at that because, frankly, the idea of Jasper not being around is the worst thought ever. He’s been around since she opened her eyes, even if it was just as pictures in her head. The moon might as well fall out of the sky if anything takes Jasper away from her.)

But this is the first time it wasn’t planned out, the first time he hasn’t known exactly where she was going, the first time she hadn’t gone over it with him and her visions to make sure it went smoothly.

It’s definitely the first time she’s been on her own for more than a day in a very long time. Sometimes she thinks that the Cullens forget that she was alone until she found them, and she was okay then.

(She wishes Jasper was here right now.)

The files she would have found at the University Hospital Library were frustratingly incomplete, but the librarian she would have asked would have told her that they ran out of funding to finish digitalizing them, and that a lot of stuff in storage from the old asylum had never even been moved - too expensive.

(And then she would have gotten caught as not being a student of the university, and there would have been a fuss because she might have remembered to bring almost everything she needed but she definitely only has her Forks High student I.D. and a Washington state driver’s license that says she’s under eighteen. It was better just to do that through very monotonous, careful visions and skip the in-person visit.)

There’s an old statue in the middle of the long grass behind a cracked and forgotten fountain, and she’s got an uncomfortable feeling that she’s seen it before, when it was taken care of. Which makes sense. She knows this is where she was before she was changed. She’s even got a short list from the internet of eight different girls that she might have been.

It takes her over an hour to navigate the hospital, because it is upsetting her. It’s dark instead, and everything is broken and rotten and forgotten. It makes her chest feel tight, and like there’s something in the dark she really, really doesn’t want to find.

(There is, but she also has to find it. James is dead and gone, and anything else in the dark she can fight herself. Plus she knows that Esme put a GPS tracker inside her necklace, and Jasper tracks her phone. She can’t get lost again, they made sure of it.)

It’s a room in the basement where she finds what she’s looking for. There’s a good inch of murky, standing water, and for a moment, she’s worried that anything she’s looking for will be destroyed. But maybe she’s lucky.

(‘B’ is at the top of the alphabet, so it s in the top drawer, where the water can’t get to. ‘Mary-Alice Brandon’ is the fourth name on her list, and the second youngest.)

The filing cabinet is rotten, and most of the files are moldy and disintegrating. Only a few of the surviving files are still legible. But she finds it in the end. It is thick and worn, but she takes it up the old stairs to the light, and spreads the pages out.

She is a child in the first photo, a girl with long black braids and wide eyes. She looks haunted and miserable, and is clutching a doll with a death-grip. Little Mary-Alice is so very young. Too young.

There are four more photographs – one of her nude as a child, bruises blooming all over her legs and torso. Then one of her older, clad in a thin hospital gown, with the most frightened eyes Alice has ever seen. Another, when she is closer to when she was changed; her hair is only a little shorter, and the way she looks at the camera is strange and not right.

The final one makes her sick. It makes her stomach twist and she doesn’t want to look at it. But she has to. It’s one that shows hideous black stitches curving along her bald skull, her eyes empty as she slumps in a wheel-chair. She is so thin in the final photograph, her bones jut from her body. There is an ugly scar on her belly and dozens of bruises all over her.

The notes are handwritten and faded, but she deciphers what she can, and they tell a hideous story that leaves her shaking – Mary-Alice Brandon. Born 28th February, 1901. Admitted September 4th 1911. State custody. Schizophrenia. Hysteria. Metrazol program. Electoplexy Protocol. Lobotomy. Hysterectomy.

(Mary-Alice Brandon died on September 4th, 1911. That’s what the internet said - pneumonia. She’s buried in Biloxi, a footnote on a family grave.)

She wants to call Jasper (“I think I was made like this, not born like this. I don’t understand.”) and have him come find her. She could except she’s not sure she can speak without screaming. She’s not even sure if she can stand up and leave.

Breathe in.

(She can’t. She stays there, trembling, all of the night, trying to wrap her head around those photographs. Trying to understand what she’s seeing, and to forget every single thing she knows about old-fashioned medicine.)

Breathe out.

(Oh. This is going to upset Carlisle a lot. Like the book on the Spanish Influenza or that whole magazine article about Rosalie’s disappearance.)

Breathe in.

(She wishes Jasper was here.)

Breathe out.

(Her head hurts so bad.)

Breathe in.

(Jasper made her a recording. He was going to spend a few days with Peter and Charlotte, and she was worried. He put it on her phone. It’s stupid and she shouldn’t need it but it always, always helps. Just Jasper calmly telling her that he loves her, and he’ll see her soon, and everything will be okay. It’s still on her phone, and her headphones are in her bag. He always reminds her to pack them, even though they don’t block everything out because they’re designed for humans. And maybe, maybe, putting them on and pressing play is what she needs. Maybe it feels like she can breathe a little more, even with those photos still spread out in front of her. One step at a time.)

Breathe out.

[goldeneyedgirl]

*struggles while writing* i suck and writing is hard

*remembers some ppl use ai* i am a creative force. i am uncorrupted by theft and indolence. i am on a journey to excellence. it is my duty to keep taking joy in creating.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas24 Day 7: Deaf Mary-Alice

Good evening, tonight I bring you another popular request: Deaf Mary-Alice. Because one of the upcoming posts is quite dark at this point, I chose a wholesome section just for a little bit of fluff.

Deaf Mary-Alice kind of just exists without a fixed timeline, so at some point (probably once STL is complete), I'll go through and polish a lot of these AUs for supplemental material.

Anyway, I've spent all day on holiday tasks (baking, mostly) so I will love and leave you, and hope you enjoy!

Jasper’s oddly surprised that none of the Cullens are immediately clued in that Mary-Alice isn’t an ‘old friend’. As if the way she greets him isn’t a beacon that there was more to the story.

But then, they aren’t normal vampires. They are too human, too domesticated, and there’s so much lost in translation because of all the instincts they suppress. Sometimes he wonders if any of Carlisle’s creations know half the things they should; if any of them could actually survive as nomads.

But it’s a cruel thought that he dismisses. It’s just frustrating that there is so much disconnect between them and him; like a language that they never bothered to learn.

For the first weeks of her arrival, he and Mary-Alice cloister themselves in his study to… well, he would use the euphemism ‘catch up’, but a very large percentage of that time is spent naked, sprawled out on his couch.

(She might make the first move, simply planting a brain-altering kiss on him that first night. It feels like catching smoke in his hands - no one is truly lucky enough to get a second chance like this, and he doesn’t know how long it will last so he’ll treasure every second of her affections - and he’s not letting go. He doesn’t have the words to explain to her that it’s been so long and he missed her like someone had carved it out of him. He’s spent sixty years walking around forgetting what it was like to have her close, and now every single thing about his life, about himself, has been shaken to the core by how much she has always meant to him.)

The Cullens are interested in Mary-Alice, and he’s happy to translate for her. Esme expresses her happiness that Jasper had someone like Mary-Alice in the south, and he honestly assumes that Esme is diplomatically alluding to their relationship because it couldn’t have passed anybody’s notice that they’ve spent the best part of three weeks having sex on every piece of furniture in his study.

No one says anything when Mary-Alice greets him with a kiss to the cheek, to the hand; the way she wraps and coils herself around him, orbits him the moment he returns from school. He’s the same - kisses on the forehead and cheek; long, silent conversations where neither of them notice the time passing, holding her tightly against him when they are watching a movie or hanging out in the living room. Maybe it seems normal to them, that vampires from the wars seek out touch from trusted companions to undercut the violence of their survival. A way to shelter from all the horrors, for him to protect the vulnerable.

(They hunt alone and afterwards, she draws him close, her eyes bright and happy. He loves her giggles when he sweeps her up into his arms to kiss her. Or when he pulls her down into the grass and moss and soft dirt to lick blood off her mouth and cheeks and fingers. She swipes bloody fingers across his cheek and neck and tears off his shirt to trail them over his chest and down his stomach. Her tongue and teeth follow the trail, and she intentionally looks away so she can’t see his protests - it’s the only way that animal blood tastes good to her, she tells him later. And when they walk back to the house with torn clothes and a lightness that he doesn’t understand, he truly wonders how they managed to get to this place from where they started.)

It’s a daisy-chain of realisations for the Cullens; maybe he and Mary-Alice get careless. Maybe to them, it’s so obvious that it doesn’t seem like something they need to police or even think about. It just is.

Esme is the first, and walks in on them kissing in the living room. Actually, kissing is probably a polite euphemism, because he’s got her pinned against the arm of the sofa, with her skirt bunched up over her hips and his fingers teasing at her hipbone and his old scar there (not even a proper bite, just a playful back from one of the first times he took her to bed. Gangly and enthusiastic but lost was the only way to describe her that night; one of their best nights, honestly. No sorrow or worry or pain. Just him relearning that sex could be healing and fun, and not a power struggle.) She’s cradling his face as they kiss, and in the back of his head, he’s already preparing to scoop her up and take her upstairs but it feels so easy and normal just to lie on the couch and make-out like teenagers for a while.

“Oh!” Esme stumbles in surprise when she enters the room, her eyes round with surprise. The emotion practically slaps him in the face - pure shock, laced with embarrassment and affection.

Mary-Alice is giggling and signing her apologies as she pushes him off her.

“I didn’t know you two were…” Esme’s bursting with happiness now, the idea of Jasper having found his lost love occurring to her.

Mary-Alice’s response is blunt and graphic, so he doesn’t translate; he’s also distracted.

“Edward didn’t mention it?” But Edward shouldn’t have needed to; he doesn’t think they’ve been subtle.

(Fuck, it’s easy to think that when Mary-Alice is sitting on the unused kitchen table, signing exactly what she wants him to do to her whilst Carlisle is going over some legal documents he needs to get Jenks to take care of, but none of them speak their language. None of them have any reason to think that his strange, half-wild girl is propositioning him in very intense detail because they still see her as the poor, disabled waif in from the cold.)

“I don’t think Edward knows, he’s been spending so much time with Bella,” Esme says and then immediately reaches out and takes Mary-Alice’s hands; something that makes her tense up because that’s how she communicates. It’s the social equivalent of taking someone who can speak by the throat, especially down south. “Darling girl, we are so happy you’re here and you found Jasper again.”

Now she’s also confused and oddly touched by Esme’s earnest statement, and she awkwardly withdraws her hands to sign her gratitude.

Emmett and Rosalie are next, a few hours later. They’re both wearing clothing, and he’s sitting on the floor with a book and one of her legs thrown over his shoulder, his finger teasing at her ankle. She’s on the couch, with the other leg tucked underneath her, as she very carefully stitches together a new dress. It’s the kind of casual togetherness that he’s seen Rosalie and Emmett, Carlisle and Esme engage in over the years that always puzzled him. Now it’s here and it just happens? There’s not guiding words, just falling together in the moment. Occasionally one of her hands runs through his hair, or she’ll lean forward to say something, or he’ll absently rest his head against her leg, even press a kiss against her knee.

That’s when Rosalie barges in without knocking; his lips pressed against her knee, the sand and sugar scent of her around him. The little rumble of pleasure that she makes as his thumb rubs circles over her ankle.

“So it’s true?” Rosalie says, thunderclouds brewing.

“What’s true?” He’s irritated that they didn’t knock; just because he and Mary-Alice are clothed doesn’t mean that this moment isn’t private.

“That you and Mary-Alice were desecrating the couch when she got home?” Emmett sticks his head around the door and clumsily signs. “Hi short-stack.”

She flips him the finger and then asks him the meaning of ‘desecrate’ because that’s certainly not in their vocabulary.

“To ruin,” Rosalie enunciates rudely.

Mary-Alice leans forward so he can see her sign.

“I didn’t think we were that quiet? I can be louder,” she offers and he smirks before looking at his siblings.

“Mazel tov,” is all Emmett says. Rosalie looks like she cannot decide whether to storm off (is Mary-Alice better or worse for having been in love with Jasper? It means she’ll definitely stay, but she also has a better reason. It’s all tangled up in Rosalie’s overprotectiveness of her family, of staying safe in every way that matters. She hates change, but there are reasons that are more acceptable than others) or start lecturing.

“Esme did not catch us doing anything you two haven’t done to a dozen couches,” Jasper replies lazily, signing over his head for Mary-Alice, who immediately starts laughing. “Mary-Alice has offered to be louder next time so that you get adequate warning to our activities.”

“If Jasper really puts his back into it, I can be a screamer.” Mary-Alice says casually and that’s enough for him to choke a little and for Emmett to burst out laughing and Rosalie to look a little more pinched.

“Are my efforts inadequate?” He asks and Mary-Alice wriggles around to be able to lean over and kiss his cheek.

“You are perfect.” The sign for that is an old one, one that replaces humour with the memory of a long ago battle, of a tantrum born of frustration that she nearly got him hurt because she was different.

He’d told her that, fumbling to combine all their signs into something that meant what he needed her to know - that however she had been put together, however she had woken up, it was exactly and precisely as she was meant to be and nothing could improve on that. And when things got back for him, it was that same sign she would use. You are perfect.

(Maybe that was how they told each other, that first time, that they loved each other. Before he could verbalise it, could let himself consider that she was a fundamental part of himself and the world he inhabited, he was reassuring her with words that convinced her that if he could remake her a million times over, he wouldn’t change a single thing.)

[goldeneyedgirl]

You should always strive to give your followers an extremely warped impression of your favorite media

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas Day 6: Divorced Jalice

Dog Update: Clementine is tick-free and has resumed being extremely dramatic <3

Hello lovelies. I had a change of heart today and thought I'd offer the people what they want: Divorced Jalice. We've got a few mixed scenes from throughout as I try and piece this together as an actual fic (most likely a series of shorter fics than a singular large one, but the process is ongoing.)

I hope you enjoy it (and yes, part 2 of the STL AU is coming ASAP ;))

(and because I made two banners and picked the silly one, here's the serious one as well.)

--

Thanksgiving comes like clockwork, and Jasper somehow manages to dodge most of the planning - he sends a message to the group chat that he’s bringing a fruit pie and rolls from a bakery close to his apartment, and Esme is happy. He knows there will be hell to pay when Rosalie gets a hold of him, but he’ll cheerfully pay that price.

Winter appears out of nowhere, and the temperature crashes. It’s a particularly cold start to winter, which he appreciates - there’s something about the holidays being snowy that makes them better. All his best holidays had snow.

He doesn’t see Alice as often; she doesn’t walk over to meet him at the park cafe as often, isn’t enthusiastic about any of the outdoor fairs and activities. Jasper’s mostly confused by her lackluster responses, because she used to love ice skating and tubing and holiday markets - she’d drag him out every weekend from November through to January.

Instead, they text. A few times they meet for food, but always indoors and Alice always catches an Uber, even from a couple of blocks over. But he doesn’t ask. She looks frailer in the cold weather, even underneath layer upon layer of clothing. He starts offering to bring lunch over because it’s so cold, and a couple of times she actually takes him up on that.

He asks her about her Thanksgiving plans and she just says that she doesn’t really celebrate it anymore.

“That was always a Cullen thing; my family was more about Black Friday shopping,” she says, nibbling at the noodles he brought her. “I’m more of a Christmas girl.”

That does put a dent in his plans, so he procrastinates until the week of to ask her to the Cullen’s for lunch. They wouldn’t mind, they’d be happy to see her.

‘Thank you for thinking of me, but no - I’m recovering from a cold and am very bad company right now. Say hi for me.’

Simple, to the point, but polite. Jasper’s more disappointed than he thought he’d be, because he never really expected her to accept.

The look of disappointment on Esme’s face when he walks in alone with his pie and rolls makes him feel both protective of Alice and very exposed.

Esme waits nearly ten minutes after he walks in to ask - “Alice had other plans?”

There are eight settings around the table, just like old times.

And there’s a thought that’s been nagging at him for weeks as he followed the group chat plans for the Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year season. That for all his family's requests for her presence, to speak with Alice and spend time with her again, none of them seem to be reaching out even though she'd shared her contact details with them.

“I didn’t know you’d invited her?” It’s a passive aggressive response, and childish as fuck, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, no, I just thought… I didn’t want to be pushy. I didn’t feel it was my place to reach out to her,” Esme said. Well, now he feels like an asshole.

“She’s recovering from a cold, I don’t think she’s doing anything today but resting.” It’s a flimsy peace offering but all Esme needs - the illusion that Alice can’t be here, rather than Alice didn’t want to be with them, is a distinct difference.

“Make sure you invite her for Christmas Day, okay?” Esme brandishes a mixing spoon at him before resuming cooking.

//

She’s supposed to meet Jasper at the park, and they’re going to a movie.

Alice’s surprised to find him playing basketball with Emmett - she’s not sure that she’s seen him do that since they started college - but she waves them on and takes a seat. She’s got a new client, and needs to get preliminary sketches done.

But she cannot help watching the game - both Emmett and Jasper were always athletic, but Jasper was entirely disinterested in team sports through high school and college. There’s also a sense of camaraderie and fun that she thought was long gone from Jasper. He’s happy and he’s playful and it’s wonderful to see. She always missed that part of him.

Jasper is laughing at something Emmett says, as he peels off his shirt and she’s glad she’s got her sunglasses on because she’s turning red. He’s gained muscle since she last saw him shirtless, and it’s a very good look for him.

So are the tattoos that wrap around his torso and down one arm. He’d always talked about getting one before, but then he’d joined the corporate world and dismissed the idea. She wishes she’d bullied him into it now, because it suits him way too much, and her mind is wandering back to before the divorce, before her heart trouble, before when they were happy, and mentally envisaging him with tattoos, and ugh, she’s in so much trouble now.

(Shit. What a time for her sex drive to return. It hadn’t been an option or an interest for so long, and now she’s here, picturing her ex husband hovering over her with that grin that always meant she was going to have a really good time, her fingers tracing the lines of ink on his torso as he gives her his very best and shit, shit, shit. They’ve had this talk. She’s doesn’t want to go back to that place. She can’t. The only thing that she’s ready and willing to give is her friendship. And no matter how good he looks, and how good she knows he is, it won’t change her mind.

Except…)

She’s already talked to her therapist extensively about Jasper. He wasn’t even the reason that she went to therapy - her doctor strongly recommended it because of absolutely everything that happened to her. She was supposed to be in therapy the entire time, for all the surgeries, as well as the support groups, but it had seemed stupid and pointless when she was on her own with no one else around to see the tears and the tantrums. She hadn’t wanted to spend the precious free time she had outside of the hospital talking about being in the hospital.

She’d put it off for six years. Now she’s forced to play catch up. And her therapist is… nice? If that’s the right word. The woman is no-nonsense, and her questions are always brutal - why resume a friendship with Jasper? Why immediately accept his apology that day they met up? Why fall back into old patterns? What does she want to change and what does she need to change? Does she think that’s a realistic expectation? What changes has she already made?

The doctor would give her that withering, exasperated look if she knew how Alice was staring at her ex-husband right now.

(The problem is that she’s spent so much time in hospitals and in surgery over the last few years that she knows a lot more about anatomy, and has an appreciation for how bodies fit together. Watching the shift and pull of Jasper’s muscles as he steals the ball from Emmett is not in any way helping her make good decisions, but it’s doing wonders for her imagination…)

“Ready to go?”

She looks up to find Jasper standing beside her in a clean shirt, and she fumbles trying to put her sketchbook and pencil back in her bag. “Sorry, daydreaming,” she murmurs, but Jasper stares at her for a moment before offering her his water bottle.

“You’re red, too long in the sun,” he says, frowning. “Don’t let me keep you waiting next time, okay?”

She nods, taking a sip out of the bottle, but Emmett’s behind him, giving her a narrow look and shit, if Emmett - who has always had an uncanny ability to pinpoint anything anyone wanted to keep a secret - figured out that she was having thoughts about Jasper, it would absolutely get back to Rose.

And Alice hadn’t really spoken to Rosalie yet. Or Bella. There had been a few dinners she’d been invited to - she’d attended less than half, but mostly because she didn’t have the energy to leave her apartment - and the conversation was polite and friendly. Rosalie would ask a few leading questions, but someone - either Jasper or Esme - usually neutralized the conversation.

She doesn’t have the energy to talk to Rose or Bella yet because she’s knows how it’s going to go - uncomfortable, mostly. She’s never had to establish boundaries with the expanded Cullen clan - Bella did, with varying success - and she’s not sure how to do it, beyond avoiding the conversation.

“I’m good,” she said, hoping she sounded better and she wasn’t as red. “I don’t mind waiting for you to finish your game.”

Fucking tattoos. Ugh.

—

Alice was exceptionally clear with her boundaries and expectations this time around - friends. Nothing else. He’d asked, and she’d said no.

And it wasn’t unexpected. It hasn’t been that long since they started spending time together. There’s clearly a lot that’s happened to Alice since she left, and she’s not ready to discuss that with him. They stick to a lot of safe subjects, things that don’t make her respond with an edge in her voice, or with simple conversation-ending responses.

(He’s got Rosalie in the background, half-demanding an explanation that he cannot give because he doesn’t know anything. She’s thinner and quieter, and he doesn’t really understand how she fills her days. There have been a couple of times that she’s alluded to being sick, but from what he remembers of her family history - depression and asthma mostly - there’s nothing that he can confidently say would cause this version of her. Then there’s Esme, desperately wanting to welcome Alice back into the fold, to the bi-weekly family dinners and the holiday lake trips and group vacations. Bella asks after her awkwardly but kindly, and it’s Edward who pointedly mentions that Bella would love to get coffee with Alice, but he doesn’t understand why Bella doesn’t just ask Alice.)

Peter says that he just needs to let Alice have her boundaries and her autonomy. Respect this version of her and don’t try to recreate the wife - or the dynamic - that he had in his twenties. And sure, that seems reasonable and kind of obvious.

Except she’s still the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. She’s still Alice, and he’s loved Alice since he was twelve years old. He wants it to be easy between them again, where she won’t tense up if he touches her, where he can hold her hand and hold her, and it’s something they both want.

He talked it over with Peter a few weeks ago. And Peter was definitely laughing at him.

“So you want tips on how to seduce your ex-wife?” Peter asked with a grin.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” He’d been annoyed at the time because it wasn’t… except it was.

“When was your last relationship?” Peter asked directly and it’s easy for him - whilst Charlotte dumped him for dealing and the blossoming addiction, she’d been willing to make things work when Peter started rehab and recovery, and was determined to make a change. She’d been there from the beginning, every single step. Peter never had to worry about balancing brand new relationships with being in recovery. But Peter had also never cheated on Charlotte or been such a dick to her as Jasper had been to Alice. There was a lot less baggage for them.

“Long term or…?” Jasper took a swig of his soda.

“Any.”

“Maria. Had a couple of dates after rehab but they weren’t…” He was bored and lonely, and it had been a mutual one-night thing. “That’s it.” There haven’t been any dinner or movie dates, anyone he had the motivation to build something with. He’s a hell of a lot more loyal to Alice now that they’re divorced than he was when they were married.

“Huh.” Peter looks surprised at that but shrugs. “That’ll score you some points.”

“You two are idiots.” Charlotte appears from the kitchen, her mangy old cat in her arms. “The only date you’re going to get Jasper is one with a restraining order.”

“I told him to respect her boundaries!” Peter looks insulted.

“The bar is in hell,” Charlotte drops into a chair. “Jasper, I’m going to say this as the partner of an addict who gave him a second chance: she owes you nothing. The best thing you can do is be the perfect respectful friend she’s asked you to be. No flirting, no jokes about 'dating', and absolutely no thinking that sex with you will convince her. Your dick is not magic.”

“Char,” Peter has a hand over his eyes and Jasper’s taking a long drink of soda to avoid having to say anything.

“I’m not finished. Don’t make work for her - emotional or physical. You said she quit drinking coffee-“

“How long were you eavesdropping!?”

“-the last hour, hush. Don’t bring her a coffee. Bring her whatever you saw her drinking. The emotional labor of declining the coffee and the physical labor of consuming or disposing of the coffee is just work for her. Pay attention to her, and the little things. You want her to be more transparent about what she’s been through? Own your shit. Be transparent. It’s about give and take.”

“Wait, Char, you’d know what the scar is.” Peter lunged forward, placing his hands on both of Charlotte’s knees, the cat fleeing at the sudden movement. “Jasper cannot figure out what the scar is, right down the middle of her chest.”

“She covers it up a lot, with clothing,” Jasper admitted.

“Have you asked her?” Charlotte asked flatly.

“No?”

“That feels like a great first step. ‘How did you get that scar?’ If she’s comfortable with you knowing, she’ll tell you. If she’s not, she won’t.”

“Char,” Peter whines, drawing out the last syllable of her name.

“Don’t whine. If Jasper wants a healthy relationship with Alice, he will communicate with her like an adult. Besides, a scar in that position could be a lot of different things - skin cancer, organ transplant, injury… There’s a lot of different reasons, and without seeing it, it’s just a wild stab in the dark.”

[goldeneyedgirl]