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kakushino · 7 months

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It was rare to get a night alone with him. Normally, Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma trailed after him like puppies, you trailing a little behind them as they crowded their husband and your beloved. You were rather unconfident in yourself, your village having simply presented you in hopes that this vampiric family would not torment the town in exchange for you being his next bride. It worked for around a week before the four left the castle to hunt and feed again, leaving you all alone. You didn't even know why the others had presented you in the first place. You didn't really find yourself very intriguing; you were just simple crafts woman, typically making jewelry or some beautiful pieces of commissions calligraphy, nothing that stands out. You still remembered how the mayor shoving his way into your home, telling you that to dress your best. One could only imagine your surprise when you were suddenly shoved into the arms of a large man. "She'll be perfect!" His voice boomed, a bright smile on his face as he gathered you in his arms. The girls he had around him were all squealing, cheering and overall rejoicing over you being gifted to them. You almost felt like some sort of doll as you were carried away from your home. "You'll be the crown jewel of the family!" That was weeks ago, and now you found yourself alone, looking down at your vampiric fiancé peering up at you through his lashes. The other three had left to go feed, Tengen having decided to stay behind, citing that he wanted to cozy up to you. One thing led to another, and you were naked, the vampire laying between your legs on his stomach. "Tengen, stop staring..." You spoke softly, the silver haired man simply flashing you a wolfish smile. "Oh, but why should I, my gem? I have such a pretty view of you delectable pussy and soft thighs." He purred, making your face burn red. Tengen let out a laugh seeing your rosy cheeks, the man gripping your thighs and pressing kisses to the supple skin. "Yes, such a pretty little thing you are, my precious bride to be." "T-Tengen, don't say such th-Hah!" You couldn't finish your sentence, the man between your legs having moved to lick a fat strip up your bared pussy, making sure the tip of his tongue made a point to catch on your clit. "T-Tengen, o-oh gods-" "Shh, let me make you feel good, let me taste you again, my little gem." Tengen crooned, nipping at your thigh as he spoke, a soft groan rolling in his chest as he felt the heat under your skin, your blood calling to him like wine to a drunkard. Surely you wouldn't mind? "AH! TENGEN!" You cried out, a loud moan leaving your throat as the vampire bit into your thigh and drank your blood, which tinged his tastebuds, the flavor colliding and blending with your slick and creating a euphoric cocktail in his moan. A moan erupted from him as he dove back into your pussy, laving his tongue along your cunt, gathering the cream you produced on his tongue before returning to your bite and lapping up the blood there. Tengen's head was spinning, hips rutting into the mattress below as he feasted. You were a being handmade by the gods, he was sure of it, from your beautiful curves to your delectable taste, you were utterly perfect. Your first orgasm struck you like lightning, vision going white as you screamed out for him. He did not stop, he kept going, nipping and suckling on your clit, lapping at your bite wound, gathering all of you that he could, Tengen kept going to the point you lost track of when your orgasms started and ended, driving you wild. By night's end, you were drained, bandaged and curled against an undead man's chest as he cooed sweet nothings in your ear, a large hand affectionately stroking your hair. Perhaps your village made a good choice.

Holy fuck- ACTUALLY NOT HOLY BC THAT HURTS VAMPIRES UUUUUH- SINFUL FUCK-!

#desi's moots time uwu #desi's ask box #i am weeping #between my legs that is #i need some 198cm tall vampire man named Tengen to clean me up #with his tongue #nghhhhhh #glitch never misses #dying rn #of thirst #for tengen #i NEED to write smth for him again q.q #*cries* (enjoying it)#tengen x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kakushino

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preromantics · 2 months

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(had to google common kinks because my brain is dead lol sorry)

But

Starker + voyeurism?

Starker + anonymous sex

Oooh let’s try anonymous (errr kinda I took it to a glory hole place)!

It started as a joke. It was definitely a joke.

Someone — Peter can’t even remember, because Thor and Bruce had reverse engineered some long lost Asgardian hard liquor and gotten every person in the compound, enhanced metabolism to Actual God to regular human totally shitfaced — someone had complained about the lack of sexual partner options available to bonafide superheroes.

Peter is 97% sure he did not make the original complaint, but less sure if he privately or verbally agreed with the overall sentiment.

Anyway, someone had complained.

Tony, who fell on the human spectrum of easily-shitfaced-from-Asgardian-jet-fuel but also on the unfortunately superhuman liver side, had indulged his one social drink and promptly disappeared to the lab.

A few hours later, the assorted and still standing heroes of Earth had been led on a little drunken excursion by Tony to the compound sublevels. The group arranged a wobbly and cheerful single-file line ordered by height and wove through the gym and past the boxing rings to the locker room style communal showers.

Peter, who did not have the advantage of height compared to the collection of his coworkers (friends?) who were still standing, had been one of the last to see what all the parading had been about.

The last shower stall had been partitioned into two, with shiny new floor to ceiling doors.

The new middle partition — proudly gestured to by Tony in his best Vanna White impression — sported a single hole in the wall.

“This dial here can adjust the size to your… needs,” Tony was saying, giving a practical demonstration of the lever that opened and closed the hole like the aperture function of a camera lens.

Peter would’ve taken notes, but the rush of the alcohol and the implications and the Tony of it all caught up and deafened him with white noise.

—

So, it was a joke. 30 or so assorted superheroes, Avengers and otherwise, knew that a gloryhole existed in the communal showers on level B8 of the compound.

Theoretically, any of them could use it.

Peter wondered obsessively if anyone had tried it, joke or not.

He found himself lingering after a hard workout or training session, eyes closed under the spray of one of the normal shower stalls, and senses on high alert for the echoey pad of footsteps to the end of the room.

Eventually his curiosity graduated and he found himself walking down to the partitioned and private stalls, too. Ostensively just to look. Just to see if one door was closed and not the other. Just to see if anyone might be paying attention and follow him down.

Not that Peter would use the hole with anyone. Probably.

He wasn’t even sure what side he’d pick, or what he’d do — again, not that he was thinking about it.

He absolutely, definitely did not let his exploration take him into the farthest side, the door shutting with a final-sounding soft close clink, the lighting going dim in the stall.

A small green light, unobtrusive but obvious once you knew where to look, had startled him. Occupied.

(He definitely did not enter the little stall five more days in a row until on the fifth he gathered the courage to drop to his knees to asses the height of the hole relative to his mouth and fiddle with the adjustment knob.

Tony was, if nothing else, always the perfect engineer.)

Peter was hyper-aware when he was sharing a workout with anyone else. Waited to see if they’d follow him into the locker room.

Sometimes they did and he showered knowing someone else was a stall away. But no footsteps ever wandered to the end of the line of shower stalls.

He wasn’t disappointed, exactly. It was just. Whoever had complained that superheroes couldn’t get laid easily was speaking the truth.

Occasionally he would be working with Tony in the labs, on the rare occasion they were at the compound at the same time, and find himself wondering if Tony remembered the superhero glory hole he’d created several floors below him.

He’d wonder if Tony ever tried it.

He’d wonder if Tony ever thought about Peter trying it. If he’d seen Peter stumble away from the drunken group field trip presentation with blotchy red on his cheeks.

He’d wonder if Tony knew the height was perfect for the distance from Peter’s knees to his mouth.

He’d wonder if he was going a little crazy about the whole Glory Hole Joke.

“If I sit in this chair for another minute my back is going to spontaneously throw itself out,” Tony announces from his lab bench.

Peter smirks at him, sparing a glance up from his pipette and beaker. A quip is on his tongue, the perfect time for an old man joke, but the words die in his throat.

Tony is stretching slowly from a sit to a stand, arms over his head, faded t-shirt scrunching up under his armpits to reveal a few inches of soft belly skin dusted with hair.

“Gonna go get a workout in before lunch. Dinner? Midnight snack? Honesty no idea where we’re falling in the meal spectrum right now.”

Peter swallows around his dry throat. “Dinner,” he says, though he also has no clue what time it is. “Probably.”

Tony jerks his thumb toward the elevator across the room. “Maybe I’ll see you down there,” he says.

It sounds so casual. Maybe he will. Peter wants to die a little with how much he wants to see Tony on Floor B8. A little further past the gym than Tony has in mind.

“Maybe,” Peter agrees, turning back to his pipette, which he’s pretty sure has been steadily dropping too much of the base into his reactive acid this entire time.

Peter spends 10 minutes cleaning up his lab bench and another 5 staring blankly at the elevator doors.

The cheerful and non-descript elevator AI asks him what floor he wants three separate times. Peter is glad it isn’t FRI or KAREN. They’d have called him out by now.

“B8,” he says.

He walks out of the elevator with purpose, resolved to head to the rowing machine and get a pre-dinner workout in with Mr. Stark, shake off his nervous and pent-up energy until it’s sweat out of his system.

There’s a small snag in his plan. Tony is running on the omni-directional treadmill, back to Peter. He has Starkphones in, completely sound proof.

Peter licks his lips at the sight of the sweat on Tony’s back, the way it causes his shirt to cling to his spine.

He makes a split second decision, borne maybe of too many late night fantasy scenarios to count. It’s easy to walk past the treadmill and cross to the other end of the facility, past the boxing rings.

It’s easy to walk down the line of shower stalls, the overhead lights pinging on instantly as he walks further and further, steps getting quicker.

It’s — it’s not perfectly easy, he has to stop and take a breath before he walks into the farthest partitioned side of the glory hole. But then it is done: the door softly closes, the little green LED flicking on, and all Peter has to do is sink down to his knees.

All Peter did was walk across a room but his heart is beating wildly like he just went stealth mode on a dangerous stake out.

The reality is Tony didn’t notice Peter even enter the gym. He might finish his workout and go up to his own expansive compound rooms to shower. He might shower here, the echo of water driving Peter insane with mental images, and never even glance down to see the subtle green light.

He might see the green light, know that Peter is there, and leave anyway.

Peter bangs his head softly against the wall, nose catching the human-sized opening awkwardly, and resigns himself to letting his legs go numb from the knees down while he waits with all his hope in his throat, anyway.

A soft noise, the woosh of the main locker room door, makes every hair on Peter’s arms stand up.

He swallows, pitching forward in his enclosed stall as if that will bring him closer to the source of the noise.

It could be someone else, though Peter has no idea who could be on the weekend roster.

There’s a rustle of clothing he barely needs to strain to hear. The soft thump of something hitting the ground. The hiss of the pipes, not on a human frequency, before the spray of the water gushes out of a distant shower head.

The shower is over quickly, Peter notes, though time has gone soft and slippy. He closes his eyes.

Footsteps. Toward him. The slight air sound of a door opening. The well-known click of the private stall door shutting.

Oh, god. There is someone across from him. Peter forgets to breathe for a second entirely and has to fight from making a sound as he chokes between two inhales.

He can no longer distinguish the small noises from the rushing in his own ears.

The first movement in the hole nearly startles him; just a play of shadows as someone gets ready on the other side.

Then: a cock. It slides through, half-hard, resting thick and plump along the bottom edge of the hole as it passes through. The owner of the cock feeds it all the way, the fat head bending downward and then bobbing up. Toward Peter.

Peter inhales; the scent is clean and his lungs struggle to fill all the way. He rocks forward, drawn to the half-comical, half-arousing reality of the anonymous cock through the hole.

Is it really anonymous? Statistically, Peter thinks it should be Tony. He was in the gym. Would he know it was Peter on the other side? Tony invited Peter down to workout, so the odds were decent the other way around.

Tentatively, Peter darts his tongue out to lick across the head of the cock. It’s flushed darker than the root, and the salty sweet of it blooms on Peter’s tongue.

He may have just licked Tony Stark’s fat cock head for the first time. The idea of it thrills Peter to his bones, his own cock throbbing against the zip of his jeans.

There’s a chance it isn’t Tony.

Peter licks a bolder stripe across the head, swirling around the ridge. His saliva glands are over active, he’s practically drooling already at the idea of this.

There’s a chance it’s someone else. Peter may never even find out.

His cock twitches at that, too. Fuck. He wraps his lips around the entire head, drenching it with his own slick excitement as he opens his mouth up further and slides down several inches in his eagerness.

He gags, pulls back, and returns immediately.

The man on the other side of the wall is silent, but a slight bang against the wall — the slap of someone’s hand to the partition, as if Peter’s already doing such a good job they can’t help it — makes Peter shove more of the warm cock between his lips to muffle any of his own noises.

If he moaned, he’s sure someone could pick out the octave of his voice and just know. They’d know Peter is twenty seconds into this and already drooling for it.

Tony would know for sure. The thought makes Peter palm his own cock, wishing he’d thought to unzip his jeans while he waited, but not wanting to stop to focus enough to do so now.

He would’ve felt so pathetic, waiting alone, pants undone and cock half-hard with anticipation. Now, he’s stuck curling his fingers against the denim of his fly and worrying he might leak precome through his briefs and jeans by the end of this.

He tongues along the bottom vein of the cock in front of him, marveling at the weight of it and at the stretch of his lips around it as they drag slickly up and down. The angle is decent, but still strange, his neck stiff as he tries to bob back and forth to take the entire thing.

The cock in his mouth is definitely fully hard now, pulsing and flexing against Peter’s tongue, the tip bursting an addictive drop of precome every few passes. The taste is such a contrast to the soap-clean skin of the length that every taste forces Peter to swallow back a moan.

His nose mashes slightly against the wall when he focuses enough to take as much as he can down his throat. It feels deliriously good, a sense of terribly slutty pride coursing through him every time his nose hits the partition over the hole.

He’s slid all the way down when the owner of the cock abruptly slides back out.

Peter’s mouth opens around an unvoiced protest, barely catching a whine from spilling out before the cock slides back in, fucking back between Peter’s parted swollen lips and down his open throat.

He does moan at that, deep and hopefully muffled by his mouth full of cock.

Peter catches on quickly: he can keep his mouth open, his forehead and nose pressed hard against the wall, and the stranger on the other end can simply fuck his mouth.

It’s so simple to stay still, dragging his tongue back and forth and dragging his hand over his own trapped cock while he gets efficiently face fucked. It’s almost dream-like, two pinpoints of focus — the stranger’s pleasure and Peter’s pleasure — taking up all the space in his brain.

A hand slaps the wall on the other side again, harder this time, the cock in Peter’s mouth tensing and pulsing before his throat is coated with come.

Peter comes in his own pants, hips frantically bucking as he swallows down several continuous seconds of anonymous come. He bangs his head on the wall, hard, trying to balance and keep his position at the same time.

When the cock slides out from between hips lips, dragging and lingering on Peter’s bottom lip for a moment before disappearing, Peter falls back against the tile and inhales sharply.

He waits for the click of the door on the other side of the wall and for the padding of the feet to disappear. He doesn’t even have the mental energy to try and figure out if he recognizes the sound and weight of the softly echoing feet.

He forgets about dinner, peeling himself off the floor eventually and floating all the way to his room.

In the morning, Peter is slow to rise, feeling heavy-limbed and not awake enough to revisit the previous night.

When he finally manages to roll out of bed and head to the communal kitchens, the line of Tony’s back at the breakfast bar greets him first.

Peter flashes to the sweat-soaked gym shirt from the night before and swallows around a suddenly dry mouth once again.

“Hey shortstack,” Rhodes calls from the other side of the counter.

Peter gives him a tired salute, covering for his slight startle, and heads for the fridge behind Tony.

“You two see any ghosts while you were rattling around this place all by your lonesomes last night?” Rhody asks.

Peter just catches himself from overpouring his orange juice onto the counter as the dots connect in his head. He never did look at the weekend security roster.

Surely Rhody can’t mean he and Tony were the only—

“Ghosts? No, just me and Pete, who ghosted me for dinner.”

Tony turns and grabs the freshly poured orange juice glass from Peter’s hands, catching his finger tips as he pulls it free and sparking heat up Peter’s fingers in return.

“For me? You didn’t have to,” Tony says, catching Peter’s startled glance with a too-wide smile.

He takes a wide gulp, only breaking eye contact to turn around and set the glass down.

Tony slaps the counter with a small, satisfied groan. “Delicious,” he says brightly.

Rhody rolls his eyes and turns back to his phone and eggs.

Peter stands still. The slap echos over and over again in Peter’s head as he flushes. Oh.

——-

WELL I said I was going to answer these on my phone and I did. Oops. Will edit and whatever on my computer tomorrow hahaha.

#starker #ask box fic #whoops this is like 2700 words lol #will clean up and probably thrown on AO3 tmmrw #prompts open :)

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askblueandviolet · 2 months

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do you brush your teeth

MASTER POST

Previous 💙

Next 💙

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid fanart #monkie kid #monkie kid fanart #lmk #lmk fanart #lmk mayor #monkie kid mayor #blue and violet #depression and grief is making it difficult for Mayor to function and do basic tasks #but they usually do brush their teeth #and their appartment is usually clean #just not anymore #anyways Macaque definitely doesn't brush his teeth #not regularly at least #he has very smelly breath #Mayor probably eats a crap ton of mints to make up for their lack of brushing #their mouth smells like way too much pepper mint or something #slowly I am chiseling my way through these asks in the box

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daily-haunted-tv · 1 year

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hey Rotom, happy holidays 🎄🎆🎉

Happy late Holidays!

#thanks for asking!#pokemon #rotom #pkmnart #daily haunted tv #Ray Rotom #kellodrawsalot #asks sure get burried in the ask box #I should probs clean it up

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dailydegurechaff · 6 months

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tanya but she is schizophrenic

I’ve been kinda sitting on this ask for a while, unsure how or whether I wanted to answer it and I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t want to make a joke of a serious mental illness that I don’t have any personal experience with. I’m sure you probably don’t mean this request to be offensive or ableist, but personally it’s something I’m uncomfortable with. Sorry about that;;

Going forward I want to ask that people please don’t send me requests of this nature that are either offensive, or could potentially be hurtful someone. I want DailyDegu to just be a silly fun blog anyone can enjoy, and I don’t want to potentially hurt anyone with it. Thank you! :)

#ask #anonymous #not a daily post #even if im being as polite as possible i feel bad to post a public condemnation of something someone sent me. like i dont wanna be mean ykn #unfortunately it was sent anon so i cant privately answer it #i guess i couldve just deleted it but i dont really like doing that i feel people at least deserve a response #especially if they may not know theyve done anything wrong. like ive never put up ask rules anywhere so how would they know right #anyway the ask box has like 40 messages in it so im trying to work on cleaning it out #hopefully youll see more responses posted over the next few days #if u dont that means i failed

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puppyeared · 5 months

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you are cool i hope you replace god

I hope so too

#cleaning up my ask box <- lives in shame forgetting to answer asks and forgetting the context months later #I love this compliment. thank you stranger #yapping #asks

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riftdancing · 8 months

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Y'all have probably experienced this by now...

but I'm out here suffering like:

#peptalks w/ pepper #Got through 2020-present without contracting the virus once #but the plague finally caught up with me.#Good god its so hard to BREATHE #Please #if you have any prompts or things that might inspire me to write I beg you to send them my way. I'll probably be cleaning out my ask box #I'm not really good for a whole lot else at the moment #lmao #ughhh this sucks

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green-planets · 7 months

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Can we get a rusty drawing please

Keiner kann es besser als die Dampflok!

#i actually really like how this one turned out #might clean it up and color it later #stex rusty #rusty the steam engine #my art #ask box

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goldeneyedgirl · 7 months

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@sonyawixI am so so sorry about your earring. If it's a pair or you have a photo, I know there are people on etsy who can recreate one for you!

However, let me see what I can do...

divorced jalice.

He braces himself on the deck railing as he stares out into the night. He looks haunted, honestly, and she almost feels bad for him.

“That wasn’t how I wanted you to find out,” she begins gently, and he just shakes his head.

“How long?” His voice is hoarse and for a moment she wonders if he’s fighting back tears. “How long has this been going on?”

“Six and a half years.” She moves closer slowly, like he’s a wild animal, too easily spooked. “My doctor is great, I’m doing well. I just wanted Carlisle’s opinion on if I needed to bump up an appointment, it isn’t a big deal.”

He still hasn’t looked at her.

“When did you find out?” He’s so tense, she’s surprised he hasn’t hit something yet.

“Six and a half years ago,” she replies. Don’t get specific, Jasper, you’ll just upset yourself. Please.

“Before or… after?”

That’s when he looks at her, and the raw pain in his eyes cuts her. She wants to lie to him, offer him some comfort, but she can’t and she won’t. She’s been protecting him from the full picture for so long, has let him live with the easy reality that she gave up on him and on them because he was an addict and a cheater.

She moves closer to him. “Why does that matter?”

He shakes his head. “Because the fact that you were… you were that fucking sick and I didn’t notice? That you had to walk away from everything… god, I know Rose and Bella cut you out. I know they blamed you for months until Rose worked out that I was having an affair, and then we couldn’t fucking find you. You could have been dead and I wouldn’t have known…”

“You were still my next of kin, you would have been told,” she offers lamely, and he just stares at her again.

“You had no one, Alice. You didn’t even have your own home,” he says through gritted teeth. “When did you know?”

“Before the divorce was finalised.” The words she says are firm, determined and they both know that she’s dancing around the truth, and he feels so sick.

“It was why you left, wasn’t it?”

She closes her eyes to steel herself for what she says next. “I… I knew that nothing was going to change between us until you knew you had a problem. Maria hurt my ego, but the drugs Jas… They changed you. And I could manage that better when I was healthy but when I found out that it was serious, I realised that I needed to … to put on my own life vest first. How ugly do you think it would have gotten if I had stayed? My recovery was long, Jasper. It would have been a disaster. I made the best choice I could with what I had.”

He nods once but he looks so miserable, she wants to hold him.

“Why didn’t you tell everyone the truth? About everything?” He finally asks. “You know Esme and Carlisle would have taken care of you, and Bella, and…”

“Because they were your family and you needed them. My family came through for me when I needed them to.”

“With money. Health insurance. Have you actually seen them in person?” His voice is laced with anger and she feels tired. She didn’t want this conversation to happen like this. She had it planned out, had it prepared in nice, easy pieces so that it didn’t have to hurt like this.

The best laid plans.

“No, Mom and I email each other. I think she sent flowers once? Maybe she just talked about it. But I didn’t want to see them, Jasper. If healthcare in this country wasn’t so awful, I wouldn’t have spoken to them at all.”

“So you were alone.”

“Jasper, I honestly wasn’t well enough to care or notice for most of it. You’re making this a much bigger deal than it is.” That’s when she reaches out to touch his arm, but he pulls away.

“I need to go,” he says suddenly, straightening. He still isn’t looking at her. “I just… need to go.”

“No.” She’s shaking her head and turning back to go inside, for the whole Cullen family to look at her with pity and curiosity in their eyes. “I’ll go. You stay here with your family, and you call Peter, okay? I’ll call an Uber and we’ll talk in a couple of days. I don’t want to be the reason you break your sobriety, okay?”

deaf mary-alice.

Seeing Jasper again is like... it's like the world is back in colour. It's a cliche, thinking like that, but she can't help it - she missed him so bad it was like someone had taken off a limb. She just kind of... adapted. It was easier knowing that he was safe and he was healing; she could watch her and see him getting better, and she convinced herself that it was selfish to want anything more than his safety and happiness. That it was enough to keep her going.

How many times had Maria and the other older soldiers reminded her that no one had any use for a defective vampire? That she would make any coven vulnerable and they'd turn her away, and that she was safer with Maria?

(The last night was supposed to be special but it all went wrong. They only got a little while to sit and talk before it was over. She regretted that. She wanted to send him off with the memory of her touch, with her kiss. That he would remember that he was treasured. Instead... well, sometimes the future changes and she just has to live with that.)

She lives in a quiet world with everyone gone. Maria still talks to her, but mostly she's expected to lip-read and that's all orders and stuff. No one wants a conversation, so she just stops bothering. Maria lets her keep the Major's quarters and his books. At lot of them are hard to understand, and slow to read, but she tries. She draws a lot, when there's chalk and paper. She fights and trains and hunts. It's a small life, a quiet life, but it's hers. The future doesn't show her ever having anything more, so she just appreciates what she has.

What she had.

It's been decades by the time that Peter and Charlotte just... show up. She's never been so pleased to see them before, talking to Maria like they didn't flee in terror. She cannot help herself, the way she half-tackles them, hugging them so tightly. They look wonderful and Peter laughs at her, fumbles through what he remembers of her language, and Charlotte seems a little sad at her excitement.

(Charlotte's wearing a top that has little flowers on it, it's clean, and she smells so nice. Even shoes! And fancy little pins for her hair!)

She's not paying attention to Maria's conversation with Peter until Maria taps her shoulder and signs the words.

You can go North with Peter and Charlotte, Mary-Alice. You've done well.

It's the biggest compliment that Maria has ever given her and the words take a moment to settle her brain. North?

Charlotte smiles at her and tells her, she can go and see the Major.

And that was terrifying. North to see the Major.

She'd nearly asked to stay with Maria.

What if... what if the Major didn't want her? What if he'd forgotten her?

What if he had a mate? She hadn't checked on him in a while - sometimes it was hard - and maybe the Cullens had found him some pretty girl who could talk and hear and sing.

Her stomach had been in knots and it had taken every ounce of her bravery to agree to go North. Something new, something different.

(She couldn't bring herself to Look because she was terrified about what she would find.)

And then she got there, arrived at him home, and he remembered her.

He remembered her and he was happy to see her. He had missed her, he still cared.

(He still knew their words, still smelt the same, and held her so tight like he was making sure she couldn't get away. It was like the world had flipped the right way up.)

She presses herself so close to him, holds him so tight, only lets go to speak. “Maria sent me, said I could come be with you now. You went north and I was lonely. No one spoke to me like you.”

She doesn't even care about the Cullens watching them, watching her tell him she missed him and loved him, watching his hands fall into the old words.

(The Cullens are... nice. She remembers them from her early visions, and what she knows of them, they are no threat. She can lipread some of what they say; she can see their eyes follow how she holds onto Jasper, how eagerly she speaks with him. But they smile and welcome her into the house, into the home, and maybe something is finally going right for her. Maybe the world just got a little bit bigger).

anathema.

We sat together on the couch, talking about superficial topics at first - he went by Jasper Hale, not Cullen, as part of their cover story of adopted and fostered children. He had drawn the short straw, and had to attend Forks as a sophomore this year - luckily, the school year was more than half over. He was originally from Texas, but the Cullens’ most recent residence was Alaska.

“That night in the field when you fainted,” Jasper began. “You mentioned something… you have some kind of gift?”

I nodded. “I sometimes get knowledge of things that might happen,” I said, twisting to face him on the couch, crossing my legs. “I might wake up with the absolute certainty that a client is going to smash a vase, or that Charlie Swan is going to have a flat tire. It very, very rarely happens when I’m awake.”

“But it did the other night?” Jasper looked so serious. “It caused a seizure.”

I looked at my lap. “When decisions change rapidly, my mind just shuts down,” I explained. “I kind of just… shut down. It’s happened before, but that was kind of an extreme episode. I’m fine.”

He watches me with this look on his face that I cannot decipher; almost affectionate. He reaches out to gently take my hand.

“As long as you’re okay.”

��

The Cullens come over to speak with Freddie on Friday night, and I am buzzing - I can’t stop moving and fussing and asking questions, and Dulcie is going to strangle me when I am too nervous to eat dinner.

I break two plates washing the dishes, and Freddie is quick to redeploy me to drying up before we run out of flatware.

“You’ll stay up here for the meeting, Alice,” he informs me with a sternness that is alien to me, when he catches me watching the clock.

“What?” I promptly drop a mug, and Dulcie plucks the dishcloth out of my hands. “But…”

“No buts. This discussion does not involve you,” he says. “Go and study, make sure that you make a convincing high school student.” He’s sour tonight, grim, and I am reminded of the days after Jeanie’s death.

I am desperate to see Jasper again, but I don’t want to push my uncle too far. I don’t want this to hurt him more than it already is.

“Can I call Cynthia?” I ask, as I pause to get myself a soda out of the fridge - more habitual than anything else.

“Tomorrow,” Dulcie says kindly, and nods for me to leave.

My room seems small and stale now that I am virtually trapped in it for the evening. I have the little drawing Jasper did of me on the scrap of paper taped to my mirror, and the flowers he brought me that have wilted. Nothing Freddie would notice as out of place. Dulcie tells me my bedroom reminds her of a thrift store - so many little treasures cluttering up the surfaces. It’s a good way to hide things in plain sight.

I could watch a movie in the living room, but that holds less appeal than my room. Instead, I pick up the books Dulcie bought me, left stacked neatly on my desk. They don’t hold my interest for more than a casual flip through - I was never taught Spanish or Algebra, and I have little patience for History, or for Chemistry, especially when I handle chemicals every day of my life. I should be working my way through the reading list Sue brought over, but it’s dull work and almost enough to convince me not to bother with high school at all.

But Jasper…

I am making my way bravely through Romeo and Juliet when Dulcie brings me in a slice of cake, her hand running through my curls gently. “He worries so much about you,” she said kindly. “He’s just nervous.”

I nod, taking a bite of the cake before I reply. “I know, it’s just… different. I know with my whole heart that Jasper would burn this town to the ground before he hurt me. I am never more safe than I am when I’m with him.”

—

Dulcie is officially my partner in crime; the door isn’t latched, so there’s no sound as I creep out of the apartment and down to the landing.

I crouch on the landing of the stairs; with the lights off, Freddie and Jeanie couldn’t spot me but the Cullens do and Carlisle winks at me. I probably look like a child, with my hair in curly pigtails and in a giant pink sweater.

“Alice is a child,” Freddie insisted, looking older than I had ever seen him. “She might not look like it but…”

“How old is Alice?” Carlisle asked gently, and Freddie looked at the ground.

“You need to tell them the truth, Fred,” Dulcie said gently. “If nothing else, they can protect her when we can’t.”

“Protect her from what?” Edward asks, and I want to echo that question.

Freddie takes a shuddering breath. “Her mother… Alice’s father was a vampire that stalked and raped her mother. Lilian did not survive the birth, and Alice was… not a normal child.”

“That’s impossible.” The blonde, Rosalie, snaps but Carlisle holds his hand up.

“Please, Mr Brandon, continue.”

“She grew so fast - by her first birthday, she looked like a perfectly healthy three year old. We brought her here to Forks because Jeanne had a family home out near Noah Bay. When she was born, she was… she was aware of us. Does that make sense? She reached for her mother, but Lillian was dead by then.

“She didn’t eat for weeks because she … she wanted blood. That was our line in the sand, we couldn’t do that for her. I have no idea how Jeanne managed to get her to take milk and human food, but we got past it. Jeanne always wondered if Alice was so small because we accidentally stunted her growth.”

My hands were shaking.

No one had ever told me any of this before.

#asks #my fic: divorced jalice #my fic: anathema #my fic: deaf mary-alice #we've had some retcons in anathema #just cleaning up the lore a little #ask box failures #deaf mary-alice is a beacon of sunshine and just Happy To Be Here #peter is jasper's sponsor in divorced alice not sure if that came up yet #anathema alice has a few unpleasant truths coming her way

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