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goldeneyedgirl · 7 days ago

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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.

#ficmas24 #jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #my fic: damaged alice #as a note: whether alice was ND as a human and it carried over vs the result of her treatment at the hospital is intentionally ambiguous #she would have a lot of baggage around vampires being changed into their 'perfect' form but she's still 'not perfect'#as she would be reminded every single day in a million different ways #a ND vampire would be a complex thing with so many variables that would also affect the human cover story massively #combine that with the gift of visions of the future and things get Exhausting #it gets darker and sadder from here for a little while #but i'm really excited to get to eclipse for reasons that remain unspoiled

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goldeneyedgirl · 10 days ago

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Ficmas24 Day 5: STL AU Part 1

Just a quick note: we've just discovered a tick on my dog, so we're headed to the emergency vet. For this reason, today's fic will be a 2-parter because I ran out of time to edit.

This is an STL AU, where Maria never goes to Calgary, so Mary-Alice never leaves, and James manages to pique Jasper's conscience Just something a little bit wholesome for the holiday season. I hope you enjoy!

The air still tastes the same down in Mexico. Hot, laced with salt and sand and a coppery edge courtesy of the Wars. He’s not sure that humans would even know what it was.

But it was a beacon for any va

mpire in the area - a warning and an invitation, all wrapped up together.

(He doesn’t miss it. Once upon a time, he thought he would. He thought he would long for that rotten house, and the vicious pleasure of fighting and killing and winning. That he would cling tight to the civility of the Cullen family with everything he had because the lure of turning back and going home again would constantly whisper in his ear. The blood whispers and lures him, but the South? The wars? Maria? Not even once.)

Emmett looks at him silently. It’s just the two of them right now - Rose is back in San Antonio, furious with them both. But it was the smart move to leave her there; Jasper doesn’t want Rosalie anywhere near any armies or scouts. He didn’t even want her to come down to Texas but it was, apparently, non-negotiable.

(“It’s about a fifty-fifty split,” Emmett had admitted, rubbing his neck. “Fifty-percent making sure you get out alive and don’t get any dumbass ideas about staying. And… fifty-percent to piss off Ed. Well, maybe forty-nine percent. Pretty sure she’s more worried about you than annoyed at Edward but she won’t admit that.”)

The ground crunches underneath his boots, and he’s almost expecting his old - younger - self to come slinking out, ready to kill without a second thought or even breaking his stride. Perhaps even shadowed by dirty, bloody-eyed newborns.

(He shouldn’t have come.)

“What’s the plan?” Emmett’s voice is serious and quiet, waiting for direction. And it jars him back into reality - Emmett should not be here. This is not a place his brother should ever set foot. He feels foolish and cruel to have brought him along. He should have left Emmett with Rose.

He wants to tell Emmett to go back to San Antonio; get the fuck out of all the territory that Maria doesn’t hold anymore. Or even just to wait by the car. That he was Major Whitlock of Monterrey, and he can walk this graveyard alone.

Except…

“Peter said the place was gone, but I wanted to see for myself,” he says, swallowing hard. “We need to go down to San Fernando to find them. I just… wanted to see the old place.”

“You want company?” Somehow, Emmett always knows the right thing to say. He nods once, and they walk in silence.

(The gravel under their boots crunches like the bones he knows are buried beneath them. It doesn’t take long to find what remains of his past, and he’s mostly surprised at how small the farm was. Is. The shell of the old mansion is little more than the stoop of an old spine cradling what remains of the burnt ruins. The ground is stained black, underneath the weight of vines and plants that are swallowing the place whole, but most of the debris has long since disintegrated into ash and blown away.)

There’s not much to see, truly. Peter had mentioned that Maria had burnt everything before she’d left; refusing to leave even the ghost of an advantage when she was being forced out.

There are only shells of buildings - the barn is long gone, as are most of the other outbuildings. The few identifiable items - a bucket, a chair, an old picture frame with only a single determined shard of scratched and cracked glass clinging on - are scattered throughout the ground and long grass, and won’t be around much longer.

A rotting wooden pillar at the edge of the farm is still standing, with some scraps of ragged fabric - indistinguishable, and some little more than threads - clinging on valiantly. Jasper remembers when they were strung - scraps of clothing from newborns fallen in battle that the survivors would bring back. A memorial for people who wouldn’t be remembered beyond the week’s end. A reminder of what happened if you were too slow. A crude list of the dead, for anyone looking for an absent ally or lover once the pieces were burned.

Carlisle warned him, once, that you can’t go home again. And he’s never really understood that until right now. Home is - was - a nebulous concept. There hasn’t ever been a time when he thought of the Monterrey mansion as ‘home’. But standing here, it really was. Once upon a time, this was his home. And now it’s just a giant grave. Not just for the bodies, not just for the newborns that outlived their usefulness. But for every single one of them, right down to him and Maria.

Except…

There’s no rage here. It’s all gone. The violence, the grief, the bloodshed has all gone away. He expected something accusatory, for the guilt and shame to settle around him like a mantle. For the metaphorical blood to seep from the ruins, for the ghosts to appear before his eyes to demand an explanation, a justification. The cemetery he expected was never waiting for him, for any of them, to come back and make peace with it all.

For all his guilt and fear, Monterrey - his version of Monterrey - has been at peace for a long, long time. And that should be comforting.

(The dread is building, the dread of what San Fernando holds. Monterrey - the house - might be at rest, but its ghosts are still out there, still tangled up in all of the misery.)

They don’t stay long, and Emmett doesn’t speak until they get back to the car. And Jasper wonders if it wasn’t so peaceful for Emmett. Emmett, whom has never fought a day in his second life. Whose human life was punctuated by poverty, but never the kind of cruelty and casual evil that Monterrey doled out. If perhaps, what Jasper saw as a sleeping giant was really a horror story in Emmett’s eyes.

(Was it gravel under their feet, or the bones of feeding the army, burrowing back to the surface? Was he kicking rocks and wood free of their path, or were they the mandibles of a young women, the tibia of a lost father?)

He takes a breath before he speaks, unable to look Emmett in the face.

“It’s better now.” The words are unsteady, and Jasper regrets speaking. I need you to know I’m more afraid of what you think and what we’re about to find than I am of anything we just witnessed.

He’s glad Edward didn’t come with them.

(He’s trying not to think about what comes next. What he’s going to find in a place that came after his tenure, that is totally foreign to him. Where rags on a post won’t mean anything, where the dirt will smell and taste different, and where the house still stands upright stuffed full of stories and horrors and every single thing that it’s ever heard.)

—

Once, sometime in the early 70s, Maria plans to go to Calgary.

(She sees it.)

There’s no future where the Major returns to them. There’s only one slim, ephemeral future where he gets hurt in the confrontation and it’s not even worth dwelling on. There’s more battles, ones where she has to piece herself back together and wash all the wounds away with blood. Ones that burrow into her head and bones with how much uglier they are now. Or maybe she’s just so very tired.

But three days before Maria is meant to leave, Valeria decides to throw down the gauntlet. Something so foolish, so dangerous, so ugly, that there will be no journey to taunt the Major and his new coven.

(It’s swift and it’s absolute. Maria executes Valeria without ceremony, just a blunt summary of her stupidity. Mary-Alice breaks down the bodies into manageable pieces before she burns them, and comforts herself with the fact that at least she has new clothes that fit now.)

Maria stays away from Calgary, but none of them are ever the same after that.

—

It wasn’t supposed to be anything. They saved Bella Swan from James. She was just a kid who strayed too close to something that was far bigger and far more terrible than she could comprehend. A crash course for his family of precisely what the Major of Monterrey is-was capable of, stretching out long-dormant muscles. The result is as he predicted - a badly injured but living Bella Swan, and James is just dust in a condemned ballet studio.

(“It happened once, oh, ages ago. The one and only time my prey escaped me…” He listens to it once, James’ little recording of Bella’s suffering, of James weaving the tale of the newborn he abandoned in the woods after killing their maker. And he thinks of another foundling, of bright red eyes and the innocent joy in her smile at his approach. The thought burrows under his skin and whilst he thinks of her regularly - his very own private haunting - he allows himself to wonder where exactly she is right in that moment.)

After Bella returns from Phoenix, bundled up in bandages and a cast that seems to be half the size of her, she’s always there. Always at the house, smelling of blood and life. Always with Edward, tucked in a corner of the house. There’s a constant trickle of joy and affection and happiness from her - from them both - when she’s present. And if she’s not present, neither is Edward. He prefers to spend his nights tucked beside her in bed or - at best - perched on her roof like a sentinel.

(He tries to ignore it. It seems like the best course of action, not to dwell on it. He’s lived with Rose and Emmett, and Carlisle and Esme so long that all the romantic feelings shouldn’t prick at him like this. Except he joined them years after both couples got together; even if immortal love doesn’t ebb, there is a certainty to it after a few decades. The feeling that the bond is forged and unbreakable. It doesn’t feel the same as the spark of delight and adoration that Bella and Edward emit just from sitting across from each other.)

Esme is bubbling over with happiness now that Edward has found his other half. She can’t do enough to make Bella comfortable, and constantly checks up on the couple.

And maybe she catches him, staring off into space as Edward and Bella tease each other over the chess board; maybe she takes note of the blank expression he takes to wearing outside of his study - not because of anything he wants to hide, per se, but because he doesn’t want to think about the emotions.

(Everything smells like human blood, and he lets the rest of the family believe that its the scent that is causing his brooding. It’s easier that way.)

#ficmas24 #my fic: shadow to light au #Alice Cullen #jasper hale #tags to come

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goldeneyedgirl · 14 days ago

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Ficmas2024 Day 1: Cowboys & Witches Verse Discontinued Sequel

Happy Holidays and welcome to this year's edition of Ficmas! I swear to god, this is upon me faster every single year. Requests are staying open this year, so if you still have something you're dying to see, now is the time to abuse my ask box.

Today's offering is the original draft of the sequel to Love & Duty, the verse second most in need of some heavy editing and rewrites. When I was asked for Solstice, I decided that it was a much more interesting and fun sequel and this kind of sat in a corner of my writing folder. This takes place roughly a year after Love & Duty

There's a good chance I will repurpose aspects of this version into a future installment of Love and Duty, but for now, this is what we have. I hope you like it!

untitled love & duty sequel.

Time meandered on.

More vampire raids were happening up and down the border, though no news came from Del Rio, much to Alice's secret relief. But the raids were bad - three Guardian Houses were lost entirely, with the survivors decamping for Houston with horror stories and gruesome war wounds. The dead were left behind, without a chance for a blessing or the final rites, something that left everyone on edge.

The aunts tried to disguise their worry but failed miserably; soon Alice was diverted from battling the hemlock and the blackberries, and assisting with the near constant creation of blessing amulets and charms, of memorising protective spells, and strengthening shields and protection around the property.

It was stressful and exhausting. But it distracted her. That was important - mooning over Jasper Whitlock-Hale was a pointless waste of energy, and she would get over whatever it had been. She had had a crush, and he had mistaken his gratitude with lust. Nothing else. She was, in all probability, never going to see him again.

It had been almost a year since Del Rio - she had tucked all thoughts of the cowboy in a corner of her mind that only came out when she was getting ready to sleep. She knew what would happen if the aunts found out; a lecture about the isolation and loneliness of Laredo twisting up her mind, and a lot of tasks around the house to get her mind off something as silly and frivolous as a boy.

But the nights she drifted off thinking about Jasper's smile, and the warmth of the Del Rio house kitchen, were the nights that she managed to sleep the best.

And then there was a raid in Laredo proper.

Evidently a messy attempt to locate the Guardian House that brought her and the aunts straight into town, to spend most of the night and an entire day posing as nurses to aid with the injured in town. She’d stitched and bandaged and made endless cups of tea, and secretly created dozens of blessed salt lines. They rarely did much to vampires on the hunt, but they could disrupt or conceal a scent trail. Every little bit would help until the Council figured out why the raids were happening and send out scouts.

All four of the Laredo witches arrived home at dusk, physically and mentally exhausted. Blood stained their clothing, their supplies were low, and there was nothing else for it - they all needed a wash, some toast and tea, and then a whole night sleeping. It was a relief that the aunts didn’t expect her to put in a full night’s work, and she took her time in the bath before preparing for bed. Two of the cats - Ginseng and Yarrow - were curled up on her bed, warm and purring. It was very peaceful and comforting after such a long day and that... that should have been the first warning, to not let her guard down.

It was a child's lesson, truly: be prepared for the worst. Sleep in shifts, close together. Update and info the Council. Summon assistance. Especially after a raid that size, with so many dead. They'd had to burn so very many bodies, because their wounds were too great to decipher a changing bite from the... mutilation before them.

But they were all so tired and really, what was the harm of one night's sleep...

Famous last words.

—

Alice slept deeply, better than she had in a long time, sandwiched between the two cats. Her dreams were all of the sun, standing in the grass.

Or she was until the screaming started, and suddenly she was awake and being torn away from her bed.

“Alice?”

Oh.

It was Jasper. In person. Staring down at her in the thin light of her room looking so very out of place.

A whole year older. She wasn't sure if he'd managed to get even taller, or if it was because he was there in person. His hair was longer, tied off his face, and there was a row of clumsy stitches across his cheek. His clothing was filthy, and he was laden down with weapons as he clasped her tightly against him, closing the door without making a sound.

“Alice, quick,” Jasper murmured, keeping both eyes on the bedroom door.

“Jasper, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice still heavy with sleep, and becoming more and more aware with every passing moment that she was standing there in her very thin nightgown in a very cold room, in front of a man she hadn’t been able to get out of her head.

“Maria Moreno’s coven are here,” he murmured. “They've been looking for you and the aunts, and they found you. We heard the rumours and we... we thought we could get you out, but we're too late."

"She's in my house?" The blood drained from her face, and her knees nearly buckled. Maria Moreno, one of the most infamous and murderous of the Southern vampires, and leader of one of the most formidable armies. The previous day’s slaughter in Laredo had just been her search for the witches. What Maria was truly capable without the presence of the Guardian Houses was something Alice could even picture.

“Get your boots, a coat, we have to leave immediately,” Jasper said, whispering so quietly they were more like puffs of air. “The traps are set, we can still get away clean.”

Alice nodded, and grabbed her dress from where she had tossed it over a chair, pulling it on over her nightgown without a second thought, and tugging on her socks and boots. “What about the animals? The aunts?” she whispered, as she carefully shooed both cats out of her window; they were sensible creatures, they would get themselves away smartly. Cats hated vampires.

“Peter and Emmett are trying to get them out,” Jasper said. “Come on.”

They slipped out of her room, and crept down the hallway, Alice freezing behind Jasper when she heard a scream, shuddering as it cut away suddenly.

One of the aunts, most certainly; Alice's stomach twisting at the cold realisation.

A cat streaked past them, dashing down the stairs, and Alice hoped that it - Clover, she thought - made it to safety. She hoped all of them did.

“Hello Jasper.”

The words were like a thunderclap in the house. Sensual and almost mocking, both she and Jasper froze up as the woman stepped out from a room at the opposite end of the hallway.

Alice had only ever seen pictures of Maria Moreno, and they did her no justice - she was so much more beautiful and terrible in real life. Her dark hair was arranged elaborately, with loose curls spilling over both shoulders; her red and black gown made of worn but expensive fabrics. And she was gorgeous, with a beauty that was awe-worthy, right down to the blood smear across her face.

The most dangerous woman in Texas, if not the world.

“And the little baby witchling. The very last of the Benoit line. Isn’t she pretty,” Maria cooed, stepping forwards. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” Jasper said, his hand tight around Alice’s.

“You and your friends leave right now - I’ll even let you take the horses - and I won’t follow. I’ll stay here and get to know the witchling here, and her governesses,” Maria said, sounding very reasonable. “Or you can try and leave, and I will kill every person on this property, and then go straight to Del Rio for your sister and the little pregnant woman. Rosalie would make an exquisite addition to my army, I’m sure.”

Jasper actually growled at her, and reached behind him to pull a shotgun free from the strap on his back.

“You’ll let us pass, Maria,” he said darkly. “You’ll crawl back into whatever hole you came out of, and stay the hell out of Texas. That’s not negotiable, and it never will be.”

Maria began to laugh but was cut off by Jasper firing the gun once, twice, three times. Whatever it was loaded with glowed faintly blue and knocked Maria clear off her feet and through a wall.

“Run,” he told Alice, half-pushing her down the stairs.

And she tried, stumbling in the darkness and wondering if this was just a terrible dream.

As she reached the door, she heard Jasper yell out and she turned to see Maria had caught him on the landing. Grasping him around the throat, she held him in the air effortlessly, as he clawed at her grip.

But she was not unmarked from the shotgun - there were gouges across her chest and throat, the right side of her face looked like raw meat, weeping a yellowy fluid with blue bruise-like marks at the edges.

She looked like the monster she was and somehow, she was still beautiful.

“Oh Jasper, it’s been so long. We could have been together nearly a year by now, yes, nearly a year. You’d be a glorious addition,” Maria sighed. “We could rule Texas together, mijo. Just say the word”

Alice stared at him as he dangled there; he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

And then Maria’s words began to sink in. A year. A year...

“A year? You… you were the one that did that to him?” Alice turned around.

“Oh, that’s sweet. She’s stayed behind for you. She could already be escaping,” Maria laughed. “I have no use for her, but it’s very cute.”

“You ripped him open,” Alice continued, staring up at Maria.

“Well, Jasper decided not to accept my very kind invitation,” Maria said, “and that offended me quite badly. I’m surprised you lived - was that your doing, witchling? I’ve heard of Laredo’s skill with healing.”

Alice stared at Maria and Jasper. She thought of the silence upstairs, the certainty that at least one of the aunts was dead, if not all of them. The women that took her in and raised her the best way that they knew how, when her own parents cast her out and rewrote history to erase her.

She thought of the hours nursing Jasper, of the wound on his torso, and all the bite scars; of how sweet he'd been to her, how he'd come all this way to save her from the very person who'd tried very, very hard to kill him and nearly succeeded. And put his family in danger for his efforts.

The rage and frustration and grief all bubbled over.

The curse was an early defensive spell, crude but extremely effective. As she spits out the words at the viper on the stairs, she makes the slashing gesture at Maria, Maria has no chance. She drops Jasper and hits the wall limply, her eyes wide and fixed on Alice as the curse takes effect.

Jasper fell to the floor choking and gasping, but already trying to get to his feet. He half-falls down the stairs but manages to gain his wits long enough to grab Alice's hand and pull her out of the house so fast that she's nearly pulled off her feet.

“She won’t stay down for long, we need to get clear,” he said, as they tore across the yard towards the barn. “That was really damned stupid, you should have run.”

“She was going to kill you!” Alice snapped, as they arrived in the barn. Both Hallow and Haven were saddled, and Peter was waiting.

“Sybil and Emmett are off,” Peter said grimly. “They took Duke, we’ve got Hallow.”

“Where’s Bandit?” Jasper asked, tightening the saddles.

“Emmett took him. I’ll ride with Alice,” Peter said.

“Alice’ll come with me - Haven won’t be fast enough with two riders,” Jasper said firmly, boosting Alice into the saddle and easily swinging himself behind her. “We need to go, now.”

“The aunts, did they get out?” Alice burst out, and Peter mounted Haven.

“Sybil did,” Peter said with finality. “She’ll be pleased to see you - they were all determined to see you safe, witchling. We need to go, now.”

With Jasper’s arms tight around her, clutching the reins, Hallow and Haven took off like Alice had never seen them, as if they understood the severity of the situation.

Maybe they did.

“What about the cats?” Alice cried out as they passed beyond the boundary line. Ginseng, Yarrow, Ginko, Clover, Lobelia, Arnica, and Nettle. They had been her constant companions for years, dear things, and they didn’t deserve to die this way.

“We’ll come back for the damn cats,” Jasper snapped as they came over the hill, where two figures on horseback waited under a tree. “Sybil, now!”

Aunt Sybil, who looked small and frail nodded, and murmured something under her breath and there was a boom that nearly flung Alice from the saddle. She jerked around to catch a glimpse of the Laredo Guard House as it burst into green flames that seemed to almost be alive as they crawled over everything that was there, and Alice felt the tears on her cheeks as the small party tore away from the wreckage.

All of it, gone. Perhaps Maria would perish in the fire, but the thought of that didn't help. All she can do is turn around and surreptitiously wipe away her tears before anyone notices.

—

It's a long journey to Del Rio, especially at night. It's mostly silent, with Jasper and his friends relying on runes to communicate, rather than draw attention by speaking out loud.

Alice's not sure if she sleeps or if she passes out, but she becomes aware of the rocking motion of the horse, and that she’s slumped into the crook of Jasper’s arm. She's warm, and he smells safe - like sunbaked dirt and salt and tea leaves. And even though she's embarrassed, she's so very tired, and it feels unnecessary to open her eyes... she had already been drained when she cursed Maria, and … she needed to sleep.

So she did.

—

It takes them two days to get back to Del Rio, as Jasper leads them on a winding trail designed to confuse Maria and keep them safe. The first morning she only wakes when Jasper and Peter are lifting her from the horse, and she is quite embarrassed when she has to reassure them that she is unharmed, only tired.

There is a third man, built like a bear, with curly black hair and kind eyes, that has set a small bonfire - one with lemon-coloured flames that doesn’t smoke and will offer them some small amount of protection as they rest and eat. His name is Emmett, and he is married to Jasper’s sister. Prolific with a shotgun, and a fair rider, he had been the one to get Sybil out in one piece, and visibly regretted failing the other two aunts.

Aunt Agnes and Aunt Enid. She should use their names, they had been good to her. Raised her well and prepared her for everything they could. They had died, and she had lived, and the guilt weighed heavily on her.

Sybil held her tightly when she made her way over; the old woman was wearing only her nightdress and dress coat buttoned tight. She felt very small and breakable when she warpped her arms around Alice, and looked very day of her age as she inspected Alice.

“I am so very, very glad to see you, little one,” she murmured. “I prayed to the goddess you would come away safe, and you did.”

“I’m sorry,” Alice sniffled. “Enid and Agnes…”o

“We are - were - just a bunch of old women clattering about a rotting house. Our lives have been lived, and they would hoave considered their lives for yours a worthy trade. Everything has a price that has to be paid,” Sybil says, smoothing Alice’s hair back.

Alice nodded, sniffling.

“Good girl,” Sybil sighed. “You need to eat something.”

The food the men carried was basic - bread, dried meat, and water. It was enjoyable but Alice kept her plate on her lap to distract herself as the others spoke over her head. She listened half-heartedly, until one word caught her attention.

“We’re going to Houston?” Alice looked at Sybil with wide eyes. “Houston?”

“Until we can rebuild the Laredo House, yes, I will go to Houston. I have my sister and my nieces there,” Sybil said calmly. “You have been invited to take a position at Del Rio.”

Alice blinked. "Without you?"

Sybil smiled wistfully. “Yes. Perhaps, if we can rebuild Laredo, we might both return there one day - if I am still able. But until then, I will be safe with my family in Houston. Your presence will be appreciated in Del Rio.”’

Alice nodded and refocused on her food. Why on earth would she be needed at Del Rio? They needed a healer, yes, but she hadn't taken her oaths and knew nothing about the male Guard Houses. And invited by whom?

Her gaze lifted to look at Jasper on the other side of the fire, but Jasper seemed very intent on his rations, and Emmett was watching Jasper.

“Charlotte’s having a baby,” Peter blurted out suddenly.

“Oh! Congratulations,” Alice pasted a smile on her face. A competent - if reluctant - midwife she could be. It was her least favourite duty, and the one that the aunts had once despaired she would ever manage. But it was reason enough to be invited to Del Rio.

“We’re very excited,” Peter was talking very fast. “Though I think Rosalie is even more excited.”

Rosalie and Emmett. More people at the Guard House. In her mind, it was always just Peter and Charlotte, and Jasper. It was oddly overwhelming.

“We need to get moving,” Jasper interrupted. “We’ve got awhile to go, and you need to be on the road to Houston by dusk. We’ve lingered long enough.” He began extinguishing the fire, and Alice watched as Peter and Emmett exchanged a look.

Whatever was going on, she was sure they’d fill her in soon.

—

By the time they arrived at the Del Rio House, Alice had never been so grateful to not be traveling - she couldn’t walk in a straight line, she’d been on horse back so long.

The Del Rio house was a cheery as ever, as Alice was escorted inside. She could smell something baking, and fresh flowers sat on the table in the entrance. It was exactly how she pictured it, but it was very hollow now she was here in person.

“Alice! Oh, you came!” Charlotte appeared in the doorway, a pistol loose in one hand. "Are you all okay?"

Peter shook his head. “Enid Benoit and Agnes Beaumont didn’t survive,” he said grimly. “But we got Alice and Sybil, and both of the horses.”

“A good result,” Jasper sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Better than we feared,” Charlotte said, smiling sadly. “Come and eat.”

The table was set with food, and there was a beautiful blonde woman waiting in the kitchen, who immediately greeted Emmett with a kiss.

“My sister, Rosalie,” Jasper said, as they crowded around the table. “She came here to keep Charlotte company whilst we were gone.”

“You must be the Alice I’ve heard so much about,” Rosalie said politely.

“Hello,” Alice managed, half collapsed in her chair. Everything about the last few days get quite surreal. She would give anything to be back in Laredo, battling the hemlock and talking to the cats right now.

“You look quite pale, Alice, would you like some rest before you eat?” Charlotte looked worried.

“Yes. Yes, I think that would be good,” Alice managed.

“The guest room at the top of the stairs, let me show you,” Charlotte said, moving to stand.

“I remember, Charlotte,” Alice smiled. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. Thank you all, but I’ll excuse myself for now.”

The guest room was just as nice as it had been the first time, with towels and a nightgown laid out, so that she could once again wash and exchange the other clothing she owned for borrowed garments that didn't fit her right. It was all exactly how she pictured it.

And she hated all of it.

Washing herself mechanically, changing into the too-long nightgown, Alice curled up in the middle of the bed, and buried her face into the pillow to weep for everything that she had lost, and for the very sudden and inescapable realisation that she was now completely, and utterly alone in the world.

#ficmas24 #my fic: love and duty #my fic: cowboy-verse #alice cullen #jasper hale #sequel to love and duty #tempted to make the 'aunts' the queens of volterra tbh #things would get better!#but i think that the solstice fic is way more fun #and i want to play with this verse more before i burn it to the ground #jasper spends months trying to figure out how to harm himself enough alice has to come back but not enough its actually dangerous #absolutely delighted when peter and charlotte get pregnant because he knows JUST who to invite to help them with the baby #jokes on them alice would rather amputate 40 limbs and burn 100 bodies than deliver one baby #i love how in this verse alice's gift has come up 0 times #it absolutely has to since its a Big Deal

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goldeneyedgirl · 6 days ago

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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.

#ficmas24 #my fic: demon jasper #alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #demon/vampire #just going to casually make the vatican a place of enormous relevance and the source of evil for shits and giggles #jasper: oh no i caught feelings that might be made a problem for future jasper instead of me #not at ALL casually wondering if resume can be made the antichrist sacrifice in this fic AT ALL

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goldeneyedgirl · 8 days ago

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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.)

#ficmas24 #my fic: deaf mary-alice #alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #jasper just simping for mary-alice at all times #mary-alice refusing to deal with any of her ptsd or anxiety #jasper: there was this girl back in the south who was important to me. also she was my wife #and i've missed her so much and for so long that i just assume resignation and depression are the standard for everyone forever

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goldeneyedgirl · 9 days ago

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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.”

#ficmas24 #my fic: divorced jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #jumping around in the timeline #i really wanted to get the edward and alice scene nailed down but alas #i should put together a linear draft of all the scenes #to do list

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goldeneyedgirl · 13 days ago

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Ficmas24 Day 2: Hybrid (OG Version)

Good afternoon, and we're back for Day 2! I'm surprisingly on the ball tonight, so I assume that means tomorrow will be beyond late <3

Today we have a scene from Hybrid that I was pretty happy with (for a draft). Obviously, everything in Hybrid requires Alice to be the most dramatic at every point and deal with a lot of baggage her childhood left behind. Plus I love writing her dynamic with Cynthia and dragging Cynthia Brandon into the mess of things. There's definitely some context and nuance missing, and we're building towards a lot of action happening very quickly (the Brandons learning about vampires and the supernatural for one) and even though there is a lot of editing and assembling to do, it's really exciting to see this behemoth of a fic come together.

I hope you like it, and the ask box is still open for the next 11 days of ficmas ;)

note

There's some negative thoughts directed towards the Pack in this section, and a note expanding on that below. Nothing that is more aggressive or unpleasant than canon, but just something I wanted to make note of.

—

After my … disagreement at the Cullen house, Jasper agreed that it was probably better if we found somewhere else to spend Saturday. The plan we came up with was getting snacks from my house, driving up the coast to hang out at the beach, and maybe keep going to Port Angeles to catch a movie. Which was really just a round-about way of planning to go make-out somewhere we wouldn't be interrupted.

It was nice, days like that. Where we could be normal and ordinary. Jasper would argue with me if I said that, and point out that we were neither of those things; he was a dead Confederate and war criminal, and I was a quarter vampire. I knew the guilt still hovered around him like a cloud, that he chose to be with me and that he saw it as a selfish choice. If anything, I was the selfish one.

When we got back to my place, I noticed an unfamiliar car pulled into our driveway - nothing notable, just an ordinary hatchback with a few local bumper stickers on it.

“Probably one of Simon’s coworkers,” I said, half to myself, as Jasper pulled up out the front. The nurses from Forks Hospital were a social bunch and were regularly coming around for coffee and gossip, even on their days off. Cynthia had tipped me off which ones to avoid - overt gossips, anti-vaxxers, and all around judgemental pains in the ass - but it had become a sport to aggressively avoid running into them just so I didn’t have to make banal small talk to avoid being the topic of discussion passed around Forks Hospital.

I picked my way up the front steps, dodging tools and paint supplies that were stacked around - the front of the house was still covered in tarps, and the paint streaks on the front door indicated that Simon was still deciding between the emerald green and the deep purple.

“Alice…” Jasper began. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Are you breaking up with me again?” I asked, fumbling through my bag for my keys.

“No! Alice,” Jasper said, his hands resting on my shoulders.

“Then it can wait until we get to the beach. I want a bagel and a juice, and then we can go,” I said definitively, as I opened the front door and dropped my bag on the bench in the entrance.

“Okay,” Jasper said, following me through the house. “But it’s important.”

I wasn’t expecting to walk in to the kitchen to find some awkward tableau of socialising. Jacob Black’s friend - whose name escaped me - was on the couch with a woman that had to be his mom; they looked so alike. Cynthia was sitting beside Simon opposite them, and Dad was standing in front of the television.

And I clearly interrupted something.

“Alice!” Cynthia jumped up, and then awkwardly stopped, as my parents exchanged looks. “I thought you’d be home later?”

“The plan changed,” I said, smiling at Jacob’s friend and his mom in greeting.

“What did you do?” Simon asked, and I heard Jasper snort behind me.

“I… would prefer it if we all pretended it was something rebellious and kind of cool and outrageous, like we ran out of condoms or didn’t have the money for coke,” I said, heading to the fridge, as Jacob’s friend began choking on his soda.

“Alice,” my father sighed, and I turned around to see Jasper halfway between horrified and trying not to laugh.

“There was a disagreement between Alice and Rose. And Bella and Alice. And Bella and Rose,” Jasper said. “And Rose and Edward. And Edward and Alice.”

“Who won?” The kid asked, still red from my earlier comment.

“Me, mostly,” I said, foraging into the fridge.

“Mostly?” The kid’s mom asked.

“A well-timed retreat is sometimes necessary,” Jasper said solemnly, and I pulled my head out of the fridge to make sure he wasn’t mocking me.

Then I realised that everyone was kind of quiet and looking away from each other; there was a track of untouched snacks on the coffee table, and Cynthia was sitting on the couch again, staring at her hands.

“…Should we go away and come back later?” I paused, holding up my tangerine and soda. “I have my snacks, I’m good now.” There was also a box of cookies on my desk upstairs.

“Esme Cullen was out of food?” Dad asked.

“No,” I said, frowning. “The well-timed retreat, remember?”

“Part of the disagreement,” Jasper murmured, and my father shook his head.

“Do we need to go?” I asked again, and Cynthia shook her head.

“No, you can stay. We need to tell you something, anyway.”

“Now?” Jasper asked, and I looked between them, confused.

Simon cleared his throat. “You know Sue Clearwater and her son Seth?”

I walked around the kitchen counter and hopped up on a stool, peeling my tangerine. “We’ve met - you’re one of Jacob’s friends,” I said. Seth nodded, looking between me and Cynthia.

“Sue is on the tribal council,” Simon continued. “She’s friends with my mom.”

“I’ve known Elaine Jones a very long time,” Sue said. “Simon used to spend time on the Res when he was younger.”

“Tormenting the locals,” Simon agreed. “You’ve met Leah, I think, Sue’s eldest?”

“A while ago, yes. Jacob Black introduced us.” I could feel Jasper’s hand slide around my hip, an instinctual response at the idea I’d been alone with the wolves. But it was before this, before they’d started shifting.

“We just came around to have a talk with your parents and Cynthia,” Sue continued, using a very elementary-school teacher voice.

“Yes,” my father spoke up, running his hand through his hair. “So, Alice, obviously this is something that will affect you as well. Simon and I were going to sit down with you and discuss it later but now seems as good a time as any.”

Everyone immediately looked away, falling silent. Cynthia was the first one to speak.

“So, Jenna and I went to La Push a couple of weeks ago,” she began nervously.

I frowned. “After I told you to not go near fucking La Push or the Res under very strict circumstances? And I tried to put the fear of god into you and told you that if you thought I was exaggerating, I’d get Rosalie Hale to come over and explain to you in excruciating detail why it was a bad idea?” I said sweetly. Jasper had one hand on my shoulder now and I could feel his gift drifting over me. Calm, calm.

Absolutely not.

“Alice, you didn’t give us any information about why,” my father began. “I spoke to Charlie Swan, Simon spoke to Sue, there was nothing happening on the Res that was a cause for concern. Honestly, I assumed you were taking sides in the dispute between the Cullens and the Res, and Simon and I were disappointed.”

Fuck.

So one of the mouth-breathing balls of hormones and Axe deodorant that Jacob Black called friends had gone and imprinted on Jenna Stanley and now I was being recruited to somehow… what, play ambassador?

Wow, just imagine that conversation - “So, Jessica, Mrs Stanley, your middle-school sister and daughter is now the singular, sole obsession of this delightful, sweaty acne sufferer. It’s like if having a soul-mate was a lottery you didn’t enter, had no say in, and were obliged to fulfil. But at least Jenna in middle school; this conversation gets so awkward when the kid is still in diapers. Anyway, I have very little knowledge on what Jenna’s options actually are in this situation but assume she has only very limited consent and will no longer need things like a college fund or hopes and dreams for the future.”

“Guess you wish you’d listened to me now,” I said, losing interest in my food.

“It’s not that bad, Alice,” Cynthia said in a small voice. Jasper’s hand had migrated to the back of my neck, his thumb stroking the bite scare there.

“You say that like I didn’t spend an afternoon watching a teenage boy follow around a toddler. Or the wreckage of Emily Young’s face,” I said grimly. “Jenna Stanley doesn’t deserve this. Who is the perpetrator? I need to know who to tell Jessica to hit with her car.”

“What?” Seth looked confused.

“Oh, Alice,” Simon gave me a pitying look.

“Um,” Cynthia said. “It wasn’t Jenna. Look, I know it sounds kind of creepy but it’s really not that bad. Seth’s been really nice to me, and Sue explained it all to Dad and Simon, and gave them permission to talk to the Cullens, and Seth kind of explained some stuff to me…”

It was white noise in my ears at that point, at all the information that was coming towards me.

It wasn’t Jenna.

Seth’s been really nice.

Talk to the Cullens.

Explained some stuff.

“Who was imprinted on?” I asked through numb lips, and Jasper was in front of me suddenly.

“Alice, it’s okay,” he said gently and I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to pitch a fit, like I used to in the hospital so I’d be sedated and not have to worry about the world for a while. I wanted to go back to this morning… or, no, Cynthia said it had been weeks since she went to the Res. I wanted to go back to then. I wanted… I wanted more warning about what was about to be dumped on my family.

Carlisle had mentioned that one of the Volturi had wiped out werewolves hundreds of years before. If anyone had laid even a single finger on my sister, I would make the Volturi extinction event look like a family picnic.

Distantly, there was a rational voice pointing out that this was the better outcome. Seth would be able to keep Cynthia safe from everything; James or Victoria would never be able to lay a hand on her…

“Who?” I asked again. I let my body relax.

“She’s going to faint,” Dad said, and everything sounded like it was underwater for a moment. Jasper took the tangerine out of my hands. I remembered this feeling, from the hospital. It was just another muscle memory, another layer to survival.

“Me. And Seth,” Cynthia said finally. And I stared blankly at my sister for a moment. My beautiful, sweet, bossy sister, who I’d always been so relieved never got mixed up in all this. Who went to sleep at night thinking that monsters belonged in fairy-tales. And my parents, who had been tossed in the deep end and probably been told a whole bunch of shit about the Cullens… Not to mention that there were a fair few details about Mom that no one knew that were probably going to become very important very soon.

I looked up at Jasper, biting down on my lip.

“It’s okay, Alice. It’s going to be okay,” he said so kindly. “You need to breathe.”

“Is she going to have a seizure?” Cynthia’s voice was so worried, so upset. And Seth immediately stood up to comfort my baby sister.

The thing is about Jasper is that he’s fully aware that I cannot fight him; I might be stronger than a normal human, but I still don’t stand a chance. He can break my bones with very little effort.   But he overcompensates for that most of the time - he’s way too gentle, too slow in dealing with me. His reflexes are more in tune to Bella than to me.

Which is why, when I ducked under his arm and lunged at Seth, he lost grip on me entirely.

“Alice!” Jasper missed me by millimetres as I moved, and then there was yelling and movement and everything was a blur. It happened so fast I don’t feel like I’ve moved at all, until there was pressure on my face, and then Jasper’s arm around my waist. My face is wet and I’m yelling but I can’t even decipher what I’m saying. Everyone is yelling, and the coffee mugs are on the floor, broken. Fuck, Simon loved that rug.

“Alice!”

“Are you okay?” Jasper has me off by the fridge, and I’m suddenly aware that my face hurts and is wet. Fuck, I’m bleeding and I look up to see Sue Clearwater staring at me in complete horror.

“What is wrong with you?” Cynthia shrieked at me, as Jasper stuffed a handful of tissues in my hands, swallowing hard. His control around my blood had gained leaps and bounds since the baseball game, but it still made him uncomfortable to be around like he was going to lose control of his body and attack me.

“I can’t, I can’t,” I mumbled into the tissues, knowing that only Jasper could hear me - and probably feel the cocktail of fury and grief and terror and exhaustion churning through my body. My little sister. My parents.

“It’s going to be okay, Alice, I promise,” Jasper said, as he slowly pulled me into his arms. But as much as I didn’t want to, I heard Sue’s intake of breath and the warning look on my father’s face as Jasper held me.

It’s all wrong. Everything’s wrong. I could have stopped this.

note So yes, Alice’s thoughts about the Pack and imprinting are headed in a pretty toxic, unpleasant, and hypocritical direction. This is intentional for three reasons: 1. Alice grew up in foster care and saw extensive grooming behaviours and abuse towards small children. Seeing Quill and Claire together in the imprinting context would have brought up a lot of very ugly experiences and memories for her. Ditto the real story behind Emily’s scars; in Alice’s view, just extremely violent domestic violence. 2. Alice adores Cynthia and because she was absent for so much of Cynthia’s life, has become the ultimate protector of Cynthia and prizes keeping her out of the supernatural mess. Seth imprinting on Cynthia is Alice’s failure to keep her sister safe from all of that, and she’s lashing out. 3. At this point, everyone is still under the belief that the Pack are werewolves, who are known to vampires to be outrageously dangerous and vicious. The Cullens aren’t exactly known for their balanced view of things, so they have definitely coloured Alice’s opinion.

Alice’s stepfather, Simon, is half-Native American and spent time on the Res as a kid, so Alice’s anger and frustration towards the Pack is a full plot point that has to be unpacked. Everything I write strives to be character driven before all else, and sometimes these issues get complicated, but I hope I write about them in a believable way.

#ficmas24 #my fic: hybrid #alice cullen #jasper hale #yes we need some actual jalice action making out or something in the next couple of days #so far the ficmas theme is alice suffering #cynthia brandon is alice's best friend and also the cause of 90% of alice's stress #cynthia exists just to aggravate her sister <3

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goldeneyedgirl · 2 days ago

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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.)

#ficmas24 #alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #my fic: variable stars #wow the calm before the storm #i love that the next line after this is just “fuck”#very atmospheric #suspicious acquaintances to friends to inseparable platonic soulmates to ???#time will tell

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goldeneyedgirl · 6 days ago

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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.

#ficmas24 #jalice #jasper hale #alice cullen #my fic: hybrid babyverse #cynthia is chaos gremlin #alice is going to make the best out of whatever life throws at her #and jasper is just slightly bamboozled as he speedruns the friend-girlfriend-babymama pipeline #no questions i am quite literally asleep on my feet #the holidays are rough i stg

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goldeneyedgirl · 11 days ago

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Ficmas24 Day 4: Anathema

Good night everyone! I am so sleepy, so just a few quick notes (and editing will have to wait til tomorrow because I am about three minutes from being curled up in my bed).

Today's offering is the first private meeting Alice and Jasper have in Anathema. I've had this scene in my head for such a long time, and I need to keep reworking this version to get it perfect. But it's a good start, and I do love exploring how vulnerable and alien this version of Jasper is to humans, to Alice - who is the first person to welcome him closer because she likes him and not out of fear or pity.

I hope you enjoy it, the ask box is still going, and i hope you all have an amazing day today!

I slipped into my bedroom without switching on the light. Dulcie was already tucked up in bed with one of her romance novels, and I knew that Freddie would follow suit as soon as the washing up was done. I also knew neither of them could hear anything that went on in my bedroom from previous experience - mostly all-night marathons of cartoons when my laptop could still reliably stream TV.

Closing the door carefully, and taking the time to jam it shut with an old phone book so that no one could barge in without knocking - I might not have ever been a Girl Guide, but I was always prepared - I walked over to my desk, awkwardly leaning over it to shimmy open the window and call out.

"Jasper?"

It was more of a hiss, really. Not exactly the girlish vision of a balcony scene. And I felt kind of silly - there was the chance I was imagining things. But if I was wrong, no one would hear me, so that made it less ridiculous. And the fact that I was certain that's why my dream and the cards were telling me. No vermin or possums or debris in the roof; Jasper Cullen was, for reasons known only to him (and possibly the future that involved the debasement of the downstairs gurney) hanging out on our roof at night. Specifically, over my window.

And it was completely anti-social, inhuman, and borderline stalker behaviour. Well, total stalker behaviour. But at the same time, he wasn't human. And he had no other way to get to me; I didn't go to school, and I was still under house arrest, even after the debacle with the Lamia. I was sympathetic. The vision of Jasper telling Mrs Cullen that I was the first person to care if he got hurt haunted me. I couldn't imagine being that completely and utterly alone. And I couldn't bear the idea of Jasper, my Jasper, being that alone. Was still that alone.

"Jasper, I know you're there," I hissed again, and waited.

The night was still for a moment before I heard some movement. But instead of him popping into view, there was a blur of movement from the tree next to the house onto the roof-proper.

Well.

Two could play that game.

It was cold tonight and my bedroom seemed to be colder than the rest of the apartment, so I was wearing a long flannel nightgown I’d thrifted. It was deeply unflattering, but so warm; I just looked like some kind of quasi-80s Victorian doll they sold on infomercials. Not exactly the look I wanted when I finally got to talk to Jasper for the first time in private, but I didn’t have time to change or he might leave. I jammed my feet into some shoes beside my desk, and dragged a Forks hoodie over my nightgown before I climbed onto my desk and then out of the window.

There was just enough ledge to balance on my toes and inch along from my window gingerly - immediately regretting my choice of clogs that felt awkward and insecure. But determination won out and I kept inching my way along. The hulking tree that shaded this side of the house was currently the MVP of this debacle - it hid me from view of anyone who might be driving past the funeral home. Nosy neighbours had caught me out a few times over the years, and I didn't really want to add to that list.

Finally having reached the edge of my window, I hoisted myself up by the frame, my fingers clawing for a hold as I somehow manoeuvered myself upwards until I got to the narrow flat roof top, where one Jasper Cullen was looking stunned. Not that I blamed him; it was less 'parkour' that got me up this high, and more 'roadkill frenzy'. The shoes were a bad choice.

"Miss Brandon." His voice is dry again, like he hasn't been talking

"I called out to you," I said grumpily, landing heavily beside him. I'm positive I look insane, with my hair all frizzy and this stupid nightgown. It even had ruffled cuffs and collar that were poking out of the hoodie.

I should have altered it when I bought it. It was just so snug.

"I heard you," Jasper looks down. "I didn't expect you to follow me."

"Neither did I," I reply. "It was a spur-of-the-moment decision." He's here. Right here, with me, and there are no witnesses, no nosy adults eavesdropping, and… just the two of us.

Jasper looks younger up-close. More fragile, like he's being held together by luck and determination, and the next terrible thing could tear him open. He somehow looks more and less human, sitting beside me trying not to look at me.

"Why are you here?" I asked quietly, tucking my hands inside my sleeves. "I just… want to know why you've been creeping around the roof of my house without saying anything."

And suddenly the daisy in the water glass on my nightstand makes sense. We didn't have any blooming daisies, but it could have easily been snuck in by a supernatural guest.

"I didn't want to scare you," he says after a pause. "I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"You didn't scare me. It's just easier to get to know someone when you talk to them," I span to face him, crossing my legs to keep them under my nightgown - it was cold on the roof. "And I am safe. Most things that come through this area don't venture into town. They don't want to risk being caught."

"No, that's… I was worried your people were upset at the last two meetings," Jasper looks at me. "Mad at you."

"Oh!" I sit back. "No, no one would hurt me. Just a lot of yelling and house arrest. Freddie said that having my jeans ruined by lamia puke was worse than any punishment he could think up."

"You had a bruise on your face at the meeting. It's gone now." Jasper sounded uncertain and it was a strange tone for this stoic guy to use. Both times we had met, he had seemed like a half-wild creature, something much older and more dangerous than I could comprehend. In my visions, there was an energy to him - serious but affectionate and he had this energy about him, almost a playfulness around me. But here and now, he was ill-at-ease but trying desperately to keep it together.

"I fainted in the prep room," I said. "I hit my head. No one is hurting me, Jasper, I promise."

His shoulders relaxed an infinitesimal amount. "I shouldn't be here," he murmured. "Rose is going to kill me. They all told me to stay away from you until Carlisle met with them."

"We don't have to tell them. It can just be our secret," I say quickly, and the way he looks at me is something that I could get used to. I just want to reach out and touch him - push his hair off his face, or run my fingers over the thin scar on his cheek.

"You don't have to protect me," he said. "It's my fault."

"I want to." I want to touch your hair, I want to curl up in your lap, I want to kiss you.

"You're very young," he said doubtfully, but I could hear the waver in his voice.

"I'm nearly seventeen." Roughly, at least. "And we can take it slowly; get to know each other." My inner voice was having a hissy-fit; I needed to encourage him to get closer, not to negotiate some slow trickle to 'friendship'. I had an appointment with this boy on the gurney downstairs, and not the kind that required formaldehyde.

I could almost feel the uncertainty rolling off Jasper.

"Is anyone going to hurt you?" I asked softly. None of the Cullens looked like they would be into violence, but I had also seen the headlock that Emmett Cullen had put Jasper in when he had approached me the first time.

"No, no. The Cullens are good people. None of them know how to fight at all," he says. "I just… they did a lot for me. Do a lot for me. I don't want to make things difficult."

"And I'm difficult?"

He chuckles. "I couldn't have seen you coming in a hundred lifetimes." He looks directly at me. They don't want me to hurt you."

Getting off the roof is a lot scarier than going up, I realise as I lean over to sort of scramble down to the guttering. It looks a lot more like a fall that could do some serious harm from this angle. But there's no other way to get down from here, and if I get cut up on the roof tiles, there's a first aid kit in the bathroom.

And a vampire watching me with a frown.

As I crawl backwards - it seems like a good idea to go back down facing the roof - my right clog slips right off my foot, rolling down the roof, bouncing off the guttering and landing in the flowerbed below. I gasp as soon as I lose it, instinctively reaching over to grab it, and the only thing that stops me from following it to the ground is that suddenly Jasper has a fistful of my hoodie, hurling me back up next to him.

"Alice!" It was the most reaction I think I've ever gotten out of him - horrified and exasperated, looking at me like I had just dangled myself over a lions' pit. I would've been fine; I'd fallen out of the tree next to us once when I was younger - I had had grand plans for a Victorian treehouse I could access through my window, and had hauled up planks of wood for the flooring but failed to remember to secure them to the tree. A broken arm (that had healed cleanly in two weeks), fourteen stitches in my head, and a concussion had been the result. å

I'm expecting Jasper to scold me, to read me the riot act of being an idiot - both Freddie and Sue had yelled at me for forgetting to think in the past, and Dulcie usually told me that I didn't have the sense God gave a jellyfish, but he's staring at me, his hand still clenched in the fabric of my hoodie.

"I didn't mean to scare you," I said tentatively.

"You need to be more careful," Jasper said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. "I can't… you can't get hurt, okay?"

I watch him, watch the play of emotions ripple across his face - frustration, worry, shame, and something I can't decipher.

"I'll be careful," I said, my voice soft and apologetic. "But can you lift me down? I don't think I can get back down by myself."

He looks at me, stunned - I keep surprising this boy - and he nods. Gingerly, I stand up; I am on the roof of a three story building, and the flat space isn't exactly huge. Jasper stands easily, releasing my hoodie to move closer, his arms extended to catch me if I slip.

"Are you ready?" he asks, and I nod.

I'm not sure what I expect, but all of a sudden, I'm swept into a bridal carry. My arms automatically wrap around his neck, and for a second we're just looking at each other. It's ridiculous and corny and cliche, but that's it. There was no stopping this from happening from the very second that I saw him in the woods, but this moment, with his arms cradling me so carefully, this is the moment that I know that Jasper Cullen is my future.

"Ready." I sound a little breathless, even to my own ears. I'm also not expecting to be freefalling for a split second, enough that my head is spinning and I gasp for air. I have no idea the exact jump he made, how he managed it, but in two seconds Jasper is setting me on my feet inside of my bedroom.

I ruin it by half falling backwards onto my bed, disorientated.

"Are you okay? I made sure your neck was supported?" he asked, immediately looming over me.

"It was so fast," I gasped, sitting up again. "How did you get us both through the window?" I thought of the weird little seal-wiggle I'd had to manage to get through on my own.

"Jumped," he answers, still inspecting me.

"I'm okay," I reassure him. "My neck's fine." That makes him relax, and I am once again intrigued by what he knows of humans, what he remembers of humanity.

"You need to get some sleep," he says, standing straight but keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Thank you for getting me off the roof, Jasper," I say, managing to stand up. Feeling bold, I reach out and grab his hand to squeeze it. "Maybe you can come by again?"

He looks at our joined hands and nods slowly. "I can come back." It almost sounds like he's asking a question.

I roll over the next morning, still in the hoodie. My window is open a crack, and there's feeble sunshine peering from behind the curtains that I've left knotted up.

And balanced on my window sill, with a little blue flower picked from the lawn resting on the toe, was my missing shoe.

#ficmas24 #my fic: anathema #alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #jasper's suddenly realised that life is worth living and hope still exists because he found someone that wants to be his friend #more than a friend as well #but also jasper doesn't want to home that alice's interest is romantic because he's convinced he's utterly unlovable #meanwhile alice is googling date ideas for someone who doesn't eat and probably has highbrow interests in art and philosophy

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goldeneyedgirl · 12 days ago

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Ficmas24 Day 3: Space-verse (Ismene)

Good evening, tonight we have the draft of the next installment of Space-verse. I am absolutely exhausted, so not too many notes today. This one is currently the final in order, so I highly recommend reading Unimaginable Things to get a lot of context of what this fic is about.

This is loosely intended to be a Valentine's Day fic, and is a very rough draft. Obviously just getting all the pieces in order so that we can dive into the future installments of 'Maria shows up' and 'what the fuck do you mean Earth's wealthiest space investors are completely evil' and, my personal favourite, 'how the fuck did Edward the Hologram get a girlfriend?'

But first, we have to do a little world building, a little more character development and that's a lot of fun!

So I hope you enjoy this installment, the ask box is still open for Ficmas, and I hope you're all having a great weekend!

(Editing and notes will be double-checked tomorrow after some sleep <3)

Ismene is their last stop of the season, and a good one. There’s some joy in the air as they get closer and closer to docking. No one is questioning their chores, nothing is left half-done. It’s satisfying to put everything to right before they dock. It’s been a long-ass season, and some time to rest and regroup is something that they’ve all been looking forward to, loudly.

The end of the season means different things, depending on which quadrant they find themselves in. In Ismene’s galaxy, it’s the equivalent of twelve weeks off thanks to the very intense and constant ice storms. They’re cutting it very close, but within days of their arrival, the cities of Ismene will begin to freeze and most of life will be conducted underground, in the vast glass labyrinth known as a Winter City. Only skeleton crews will maintain the surface - a mix of engineers, military officials, and public officials. No other ships will be allowed to dock on-planet until after storm seasons.

It’s not a terrible place to end the season; the Ismene Dock Dorms are some of the nicer ones, the food is good, and the storm season usually brings various small festivals to each of the Winter Cities. But Carlisle does one better for them, and mentions that he’s secured them a private residence in the City for them this year.

“I’m too old for twelve weeks in the dorms,” he shrugs when they all stare at him. “Something of a bonus for us all - there’s more than enough space for us to co-exist peacefully, and I though it might be more interesting.”

Esme is practically giddy at the idea of staying in the residential quarter of Ismene, and already chattering about how nice it will be to have family meals in a real home. Rosalie is more interested in the idea of a residential mattress, rather than the thinner sectional mattresses used in modern ships.

“What about Ed?” Emmett asks, pulling the plate of what Esme calls ‘scramble’ towards him. She’d been curious, in the way of a scientist, when Jasper had told them about human cuisine and had attempted to recreate several of the dishes. Not many of them had stayed in rotation, but Emmett had taken a shine to the dish that Jasper described as ‘cheese curds that were very confused’.

“The private residence will allow me to set up a port for Edward to join us,” Carlisle said. “I checked before I secured it.”

“Good,” Alice is picking at her breakfast thoughtfully. “I hate that portable projector.” After the incident on Jovan, Rosalie had enforced a long therapy program for Alice - they couldn’t ethically or legally keep her on board if Alice was depressed enough to be considering suicide, so Alice had resentfully agreed.

But Jasper thought it was helping. She seemed… better. Lighter. Calmer. Things were still… tentative between them. But she was doing better, and that was what was important. She was even moving better, with the new plating and augmentation. For the first couple of months, she’d been stumbling and tripping over everything as she relearnt her centre of gravity.

(He’d been embarrassed how pleased he was the day she toppled over into him, and he got the catch her and put her back on her feet. She’d turned red and apologised. He can’t even remember what he said, too focused on the smell of her perfume, and the weight of her against him again…)

“We disembark at 0700 tomorrow morning, for induction,” Edward said monotonously, a projected book in his hands. “They’ve already notified us that the ship will be impounded for the duration, so bring everything you need. I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Emmett, Carlisle, and Alice all winced.

“There’s a story there that I want to hear,” Esme said, standing up to start gathering the plates.

“Imagine these four running the ship alone, and having to put it into storage for the season,” Rosalie answered waspishly. “I take one vacation and get a call that these idiots are being charged…”

“It wasn’t our fault!”

“You should all be packing and shutting things down, not bickering,” Edward said, rolling his eyes. “And as much as it pains me, Rose is correct.”

The yell of outrage from Alice and Emmett in that moment was enough to send Jasper away from the breakfast table, chuckling to himself.

Like old times. If only.

—

Alice balanced the bag of laundry on her hip as she let the scanner read her lens and open the door.

Her new room is a floor above her old one. It’s far bigger and a mirror image of Rosalie’s room, actually. She’s only been in Rose’s room a few times; Rose is a big fan of privacy, and kept her - admittedly maximalist - quarters in very precise order. But whilst Rosalie’s felt like it was Rosalie’s, right down to the chairs under the windows, Alice’s still feels wrong.

It feels too big. Carlisle had insisted - she needed to be comfortable, and needed something better than a staff bunk. She’d always claimed that if it was good enough for ship staff, then it was good enough for her. She’d loved her little bunk room, but…

But it was still the place that Jasper had lost his temper, had pinned her to the wall with his hand around her throat. Still the place that she packed up and left. So she had just agreed with Carlisle, and taken the new room. Her therapist had said it was a healthy choice; something of a fresh start. But it’s still strange to have a huge bed all to herself - no more bunks - and a bathroom where the shower isn’t over the toilet. Hell, this one even had a thin sliding wall to seperate the sitting area from the sleeping area.

A real analyst’s quarters.

(Had she looked up other jobs for analysts during her time away? Yes. It was a pipe-dream - no one would hire her. But it was still nice to imagine starting over on a purely professional ship, being nothing more than an employee trying to save enough to get an economy residence in a city. The real kind of fresh start.)

Right now, she’s got a pile of things in the middle of her bed, ready to be crammed into her pack and case. Rosalie’s already dropped off the Sani-wraps to be placed on the bed and furniture, and she’s cleaned out all the snacks she keeps, so not to invite vermin or leave anything to rot.

It’s not her first rodeo.

“There’s no way you’re going to get all of that into your bags.” Edward is leaning against the doorframe, looking bored.

“It looks worse than it is,” Alice dismisses him, tossing the clean washing onto the pile. In truth, more than half is staying behind; she’d just put off laundry too long.

“You need new boots,” Edward observes. And he’s not wrong; her old snow boots have seen better days, and she vaguely remembers intending to replace them after their last use.

“I’ll get new ones in Ismene.” She begins folding and rolling things efficiently. Shirts, pants, socks, underwear are easy choices. Pyjamas too. Edward keeps up the running commentary on her choices (too many sweaters, is she ever going to match-up her socks?, no one has ever needed six scarves in one winter), but she mostly ignores him.

“That’s an interesting choice. Got plans?” Edward’s watching her carefully and she looks down at the garment in her hands. A silky, dark blue dress - the kind of dress that a girl wears on a date with an equally impractical coat and high heels.

“I don’t think Jasper would be mad but are you sure?” Edward asks, faux-casually.

“What? No. I just needed a formal dress in case Carlisle wants to attend one of the fancy dinners,” Alice says, moving towards her dresser to cram the dress in. “I’ll bring this one, it’ll be warmer.”

“Tissue paper would have been warmer,” Edward says, but there’s no humour in his voice. “Alice, are you sure?”

The new dress is a soft grey, long sleeves with a round black collar. It’s definitely more ‘family dinner’ than ‘date night’ and that’s fine. It’s warmer, too.

“I haven’t been sure of anything in a very long time,” she says, as she folds and adds the dress to the suitcase. “Please don’t worry, Edward. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to miss someone, Alice,” Edward sounds kind now, like an older brother. “I just… don’t want to see you get hurt again. I’ve had enough of worrying about my favourite sister.”

That invokes a genuine smile. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“Good. But you also need to leave behind at least three pairs of shoes because you know you’ll buy more than three pairs in Ismene. It’s twelve weeks, not twelve months.”

She sticks her tongue out at him then, and for the first time in a very, very long time, they both start laughing.

The Winter City is one of the most beautiful creations that Jasper has ever seen.

This is his first time within the City proper during the storm season - the last time they were in Ismene, it was festival season and they’d stayed in the surface dorms. The surface architecture of Ismene was a very strange combination of the canal houses of Amsterdam and the clay buildings of Djenné (Jasper remembered how delighted Carlisle had been when he’d commented that, years ago; the doctor seemed to regularly forget that before all the terrible things happened, Jasper’s parents had helped design one of Earth’s outposts. They had taught him a bunch of useless shit about Earth, including historical buildings.) Lots of clay brick roads, plants suspended and growing in clay-and-glass reservoirs. It was amazing to look at.

It didn’t even compare to the Winter City. Huge glass balls nestled underground, each of them with an specific purpose - residential, health, recreation, retail - linked with glass tunnels. Great clay bowls of oil were strung from the ceiling miles and miles above them, burning steadily through the ‘day’ to light the space. Garlands of enormous length, made of dried flowers and leaves were woven along the pathways. Only official vehicles were allowed to be used in the Winter City, for both safety and to preserve stores of power cells and oils, leaving the paths full of people.

Carlisle is entertained by how fascinated Jaspwe is - the glass has microscopic facets to catch the light that sparkles as they pass it. Small clay shrines of what are presumably gods or martyrs are placed along the paths, with the locals leaving small bowls of sugar, some kind of flour, and wine around them.

“For a blessing,” Esme says quietly. “Our winter holy days are similar. We used to offer fruit and fresh water as well. The officials will collect the offerings after three days, to keep the streets clean.” Esme looks so pleased to be there, and Jasper wonders, not for the first time, about Esme’s home.

Of all their time together, Esme and Rosalie’s homes are the two that they’ve never visited. Even if Rosalie didn’t loathe her home and her people with every fibre in her body, there’s no possible way they would be allowed anywhere near the Faceless of Velea. And if they tried to bypass the Federation laws on approaching Velea, the Faceless would slaughter them before they even set foot out of the ship. As far as Jasper knows, Rosalie is the only Faceless alive outside of Velea. And he suspects that if Rose were to ever go back, she’d face a fate worse than death.

But Esme? He knows very little about her home. She’ll very fondly discuss her beliefs, especially around her plants or the desserts she makes them, but very little else. Atargatian people aren’t common, but they aren’t rare. He’s met a few over the years. Whatever the privacy around Esme’s story is, it’s deeply personal rather than cultural but it makes him worry that there’s something out there that Esme is running from.

Finally, they made it to the residence Carlisle has secured. It’s identical to every other one in their residential orb - a cloudy white glass, almost like a giant soap bubble. The door is nearly invisible until it slides open, revealing sunken living area and a kitchen. A huge white wall bisects the home; hidden from view is a narrow staircase up to the loft area set up for studying or working, and the sleeping area - a honeycomb-like wall of individual pods, designed to maximise warmth during the coldest hours of night, and a row of lockers for belongings. Small cell-powered lanterns hung throughout the house, offering a warm glow. It was very neat and cosy, much nicer than the Federation-design dorms that were the alternative.

It takes a little while to unload - not just personal luggage, but the medical equipment for Carlisle, all the equipment required for Edward to join then, and all the computers and tablets and things that they required for any work they did - almost all paperwork was due in the late winter months since there was no way to take physical jobs.

He caught Alice lingering by the door, staring up at the ‘sky’ with an indecipherable look. The ceilings of the domes were a projection of grey, grim days and darkest night taken from a planet that wasn’t prone to the violent ice storms of Ismene. It was pretty; there was a watercolour effect to it.

But Alice stared up at it like she was looking for something that wasn’t there. Jasper files it away to ask her about it, but the rest of the day is filled with unpacking and organising, securing food for their temporary home, and settling in.

By the time he remembers, they’ve all retired to bed. He’s sealed up in his sleep pod, watching a projection of space over the ceiling. Maybe that’s the problem Alice has; they spend so much time in wide open spaces, staring out into the darkness of space and all the stars and asteroids, that the ‘sky’ outside looks fake. Maybe it’s the knowledge that there’s something above them that feels ominous to her.

Maybe he just wants to talk to her, find something that he can do for her or get her or say to her that will be the thing that lets him get a little closer again.

It’s a bittersweet thought, but it’s the one that follows him as he drifts off to sleep, surrounded by images of home.

—

The first few days are always disconnected - especially for her. She’s only allowed on Ismene because of the expensive dispensations and permits that Carlisle never mentions but simply applies for. No one wants a Synth on their planet. At least if she were an android, she’d be classified as personal property and would be no more policed than luggage.

(She shouldn’t think that. Androids don’t have it much better; personal property doesn’t need time off or a paycheque or rations. An android is just a device. Alice has met more than one android and it just made her sad that the universe kept making sentient life and then punishing it for daring to exist.)

The sleeping pods make her nervous; they remind her too much of the place she first woke up as a teenager. They can’t be called claustrophobic - they easily fit Emmett, and she can comfortably sit up, and use the low shelf to do her nails, or the yoga stretches she was given the last time the Denali docked with them. But the four closed-in walls, the lack of window… it all makes her nervous.

But it’s easy enough to take one of the sleeping pills Rosalie prescribed months ago, and burrow into the layers of bedding to forget about everything. She tries to pick a projection for the walls, but they all look so artificial. Instead, she sets it to flowers slowly growing and blooming across the blank walls. Something soft and comforting and intended to be stylised.

It’s enough to let her sleep for almost a day. The cold weather has hit her hard; her leg and torso with their new paneling ache, and she’s exhausted all the time. Rose says she needs to eat more, get back into training, actually attempt at improving her state of being instead of whatever it is she’s doing.

Alice doesn’t have the energy to explain that she’s already stretched to the limit - therapy, med check-ups, her actual job… It’s times like this that Alice wishes the Federation would just approve Edward as a swing analyst so that she could get a break.

She sneaks out on day six.

It’s not a small thing, sneaking out of the Winter City. There are access portals everywhere, and it’s not hard to find one. It’s not even hard to find an unguarded one that’s unlocked - possibly one that is accessed by the above-ground skeleton crew after shifts.

If she gets caught, there will be hell to pay. But as beautiful as the Winter City is, it’s not real. They’re in a giant cave. There are no stars when they look up, no clouds drifting. Just a projection to hide the rock and tell their bodies when to sleep and when to rise. Not even a projection of Ismene’s actual sky - just stock footage bought somewhere cheap or licensed from the Federation.

It feels far too close to all the brainwashing that the labs did on her before she was Aware.

So she slips out through an access port behind a ‘park’ amenity shed, close to their lodgings. It takes very little effort, and a part of her wonders if anyone will catch her out. Maybe a hidden camera?

(No, Ismene doesn’t like technology. The current things that they use are essentially forced on them for survival or to maintain Federation approval. Security cameras wouldn’t come under either of those.

It takes her out through someone’s home, pristine and waiting for them to return. She tries not to touch anything.

And then… the air tastes different, fresh and not pumped in.

But it’s oddly beautiful.

The world is frozen in every way that counts - she’s amazed the front door of the house even opened under the weight of it. Ice has formed, several inches thick, over everything - there’s a grey-black cast to Ismene’s ice, making it feel more ominous. The buildings are locked up tight, and there’s a stillness that feels more like death than sleep.

Or maybe Alice is projecting. Her Pro-tex keeps most of the cold out, but there is a whisper of it lingering against her. Her hood already has frost lacing its edges.

It’s so quiet and so cold, but so real.

The summers here are legendary - the perfect warmth, streets decorated with oil lights and garlands of native flowers; people going barefoot in summer clothes thickly embroidered with flowers and prayers; the long days of music and food and people. She’s read all about it. And it seems utterly bewildering that she’s standing on the same world.

Jasper finds her a short while later.

Actually, she hears the access portal hum and nearly has a heart-attack until her brace pings with his approach.

“What are you doing up here?” The words are out of his mouth before he’s even property out of the port.

“Fresh air,” she says. “Come see.”

Jasper doesn’t look pacified by her response, but he does oblige by sticking his head out the door and into the cold.

“The next storm is due to hit in a few hours,” he says, gazing out at the frozen streets. “You shouldn’t be up here, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m fine, I’m not going outside.” Alice rolls her eyes behind his back.

“No, I meant if Rose catches you up here. She won’t tell me what happened last time y’all were here, but she will murder you dead if you get to close to a repeat.” The smile he gives her as he ducks back into the house is sneaky and she lets out a puff of laughter.

“We left stuff in the ship, and tried to sneak back in to grab it and got caught,” she replies. “The fine was exorbitant and Rose had to come be the one to legally sign us out since we were technically criminals. She’s never forgiven us.”

“No smuggling or gambling or illegal animal trafficking? I’m oddly disappointed.”

“No, I save those things for special occasions.” It’s nice to joke around like this. It feels like maybe she’s just been asleep for months and is finally waking up.

Staring back out the door, the sky is darkening and the clouds shifting.

“We should go back down,” Jasper said finally. “The storm is coming, Alice.”

“I know. But just a little while long. I like the storm lights,” she tells him, pointing at the tell-tale sign of an ice storm - the winter lights. Slowly rippling across the sky, like some kind of living creature, the colours being buildings - blues and purples mostly. Luminous against the darkness of the sky and the iced-over buildings, they look impossible.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She offers, watching them dip low and intensify. The most beautiful of colours, reflecting off the ice.

“Incredible,” Jasper breathes, and she’s suddenly aware that he’s not looking at the lights. He always was corny as hell.

“Look at the lights, Jasper,” she says good-naturedly, mostly because she might have just woken up from the last year, but she’s still exhausted. She needs more lazy days, more sleep and more sweet foods and more winter lights before a storm. No fake skies or projections or complicated conversations that feel like running on the spot. Just easy and cosy and soft.

“They are amazing,” he says after a beat. “But we need to go back.”

“I know. But I’ll come back up here,” she replies, straightening and carefully closing the iced-over door.

“I don’t doubt it,” Jasper replies, and then looks at her. “If you want company, I… I’m around.” It’s a clumsy statement, an awkward one, but it’s not lip service or flowery talk or a projection on a wall. It’s real and true and hers.

“I’d like that,” she says.

THat’s when he takes her gloved hand and he doesn’t let go. Not until they’ve walked back to the access portal, and gone down to the Winter City. He holds on the whole time, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand.

It’s not much, but it’s more than he had before. It’s more than she thought that she would have again.

(Something new and fragile and precious. But something. Maybe you can go home again.)

#ficmas24 #my fic: space verse #my fic: unimaginable things #alice and jasper just being the MOST awkward #i finally outlined this series and WOW i'm going to have so much fun #really want to be able to smash out both rosalie's and alice's backstories to this verse but very nervous about writing rose #a lot of world building

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