Twilight vampires should’ve had fangs and I stand by that.
my fve thing about twilight is that stephenie meyer had all these myths and tragic backstories and a whole book of just a vast amt of overpowered side characters but she decided to make all that the trimmings and garnish to a story abt an anemic girl falling in love w a mormoncoded family in the age of dial up internet
i am overjoyed that twilight is going to be on netflix but i also spent like 70 dollars on the full set last summer and i can’t help but be a little bitter
i remember being like 12 and reading breaking dawn and just being SO disappointed when the sex scene was skipped over
The Second Part to the Twilight JATP au! The first form has been closed ‼️
The Olympic Cover — Human Days — Rosalie Lillian Hale
“I was in love with the idea of love.”
Seriously where is Carlisle when I need him
Like mystery tachycardia no idea what’s causing it. Its bad bad like 150’s. Like no one has a clue (i mean christina yang would also be good too)
Mystery shoulder illness. Didnt even know what it was for 6 months. We found out what was wrong with my shoulder TWO WEEKS AGO
And then mystery abdominal pain all tests normal
Fuck I think at this point I should be turned into a vampire
Carlisle: You have no idea how to show affection to anyone!
Rosalie: That is not true! I hugged Edward once!
Carlisle: That was a chokehold.
Rosalie: Same thing..
Rosalie— the obvious rose-red color palette seemed only a natural fit. Roses, coming in shades of pink and red, reflect colors that are both traditionally dainty and delightful as well as a violent bright warning. Rosalie’s quote only seemed just as fitting, because her beautiful life has come at a thorny price.
a deeply silly arranged marriage/royalty AU
rating: gen (for now)
warnings: mentions of food, alcohol
pairings: jalice, rosalie/anyone but edward
status: casually ongoing
part 1: in which jasper is forced to put his money where his mouth is, and edward is absolutely not interested in rosalie’s huge tracts of land
By the second day, it became clear that negotiations were breaking down.
It began at dinner, when, in his preoccupation over the proper formatting of sheet music, Grand Duke Edward forgot to pull out Princess Rosalie’s chair. Then he had the nerve to quote Republic and ask if she knew who Plato was. By the soup course, her expression was fixed in lines so haughty that anyone who dared to make eye contact was reduced to a squashed insect. By the time they carved the meat, she was asking sugary, pointed questions about whether there was a nationwide comb-manufacturing shortage in Edward’s charming homeland. And by dessert, Edward was emphatically vowing that, were she ten times as beautiful and the last woman on earth, he would still cast himself into a volcano sooner than spend the rest of his life tethered to her.
Princess Rosalie upended a pudding over his head.
And so it was with growing unease that, over the port, their respective parents agreed to halt negotiations and recommence in a few weeks, after their royal scions had perhaps calmed down a bit.
If only his son would exhibit some sign of calming down a bit, reflected Carlisle II once he was back in the palace of Olympias, safely shut into his study. Edward had always been a bit of a romantic—it was something Carlisle enjoyed about him, had even encouraged on occasion. There was, perhaps, a modicum of self-congratulation in the idea that his son, having no example but the deep and abiding affection between his parents, had come to regard marriage as a sacred bond between people who were passionately in love.
But they had indulged him too far, Carlisle realized now. They had clung stubbornly to their own rosy vision of a life wherein Edward and Princess Rosalie of New Haland were as smitten with each other at first sight as he and Esme had been, raced eagerly up the aisle to seal the peace between their countries, and lived out their days in conjugal bliss.
It had not been so far-fetched an imagining, he consoled himself. Princess Rosalie was renowned worldwide for her beauty, and what woman in the world could fail to adore a young man as wonderful, clever, and magnanimous as their Edward?
This one, apparently. She had called him a patronizing and conceited windbag with all the charm of a spilled chamberpot.
The problem was the treaty, Carlisle thought wearily. It had been years in the making—more than a decade of careful diplomatic maneuvering, making desperate concessions to shore up the fragile peace between their two countries…and it simply didn’t work without a marital alliance. So much of it hinged upon the union of their two houses, which was to be emblematic of the shining new age of cooperation between their two nations. He could not imagine standing before King Henry and telling him the treaty was off because his famously beautiful daughter wasn’t up to Edward’s standards. It would be politically devastating, not to mention personally humiliating.
But neither could he imagine a conversation between Edward and Princess Rosalie that didn’t end with one or both of them purple-faced and dripping with pudding.
What was to be done? He could not stomach the idea of consigning his son to perpetual marital bitterness, but if the alternative was another war with New Haland…No, he vowed. He would not manufacture problems where none yet existed. It was all speculation until they had gotten the chance to sit down and discuss this as a family.
“I was hoping we might sit down and discuss this as a family,” said Carlisle, pinching the bridge of his nose.
They were in the council chambers, though the councillors had been temporarily dismissed. Edward was pacing before the windows, mutinous fury twisting his face. His mother and sister sat at the long, mostly-empty table with Carlisle, casting each other significant glances.
“What is there to discuss?” burst out Edward. “Either you force me to marry Princess Rosalie or you don’t. But I tell you now, I refuse to fawn and flatter at the feet of that…that ill-mannered shrew.”
Queen Esme looked a little scandalized at his language. “Oh, Edward,” she exhorted. “You’re so determined to think the worst of her, when she was nothing but gracious to me and your father! If you’d only give her a chance—”
“A chance to hurl more desserts into my face?”
“Oh, I wish I had been there to see that,” sighed Grand Duchess Alice, propping her cheek wistfully against her hand.
Edward rounded on his younger sister. “Laugh all you like, but you’ll feel differently in a few years when it’s you they’re shipping off to marry some vainglorious brute with the right…iron exports, or, or naval fleet!”
Esme flinched at the word brute, but Alice remained impassive. “Hmm. You’re right, I’m sure,” she drawled, in her particular, patronizing way.
In truth, Carlisle could not imagine shipping his daughter off to anywhere. It had been difficult enough choosing a bride for Edward, but at least whomever Edward married would come to live here in the palace. To send their youngest child and only daughter off to some far-flung corner of the world would break her parents’ hearts. When the dreaded time finally did come, Carlisle resolved to look back over the list of eligible noblemen his advisors had made and choose someone local.
Edward whirled back around, having worked himself into even more of a state. “I won’t marry her, Father,” he warned, voice trembling with fervor. “Not unless you force me.”
Carlisle put his head in his hands. “The alternative is war.”
“Surely not!” insisted Edward. “Surely the treaty will be sufficient—”
“Your marriage was to be the lynchpin of the entire agreement,” said Carlisle wearily. “Without it, the treaty falls apart. And if we snub Princess Rosalie in the bargain…I’m afraid another war is the inevitable consequence.”
“Well, we’re…we’re stronger than New Haland, and they know it. We could…” Edward’s voice dwindled away as he ran out of straws to grasp at.
“Our army is larger, yes,” agreed Carlisle. “But it’s also more expensive to maintain. It requires more resources, more arable land. Higher taxes. Our finances have yet to recover from the last war. Our people have yet to recover. If a new war breaks out because of your decision, are you prepared to lead them into battle?”
There was silence around the table. They all knew Edward was prepared for no such thing. He was a prince for the bookroom, not the battlefield, renowned for his knowledge and (until yesterday) his statecraft.
Edward had gone pale. “Then…must I really marry her? It would be a life of…of unending misery. For her too!” he added. “She certainly doesn’t wish to marry me either—she made that clear.”
Carlisle reached for Esme’s hand. “We won’t force you, son,” he promised. “But you must understand the consequences of a refusal. I fear the only other outcome is war.”
“Not necessarily,” said Alice, dashing her incongruously cheerful tone over the tension like a bucket of ice water.
In any other conversation, Edward would have rolled his eyes and dismissed her, but now his head whipped around so fast there was a faintly audible crack.
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
“Yes, Alice, what are you talking about?” echoed Esme.
Alice’s guileless brown eyes flickered between them. “I can marry Crown Prince Jasper, of course.”
Silence again, as Carlisle and Esme struggled to process the stark simplicity of the solution.
Then Edward scoffed. “Princess Rosalie’s brother? The sword-swinging lout?” (Edward did not look kindly upon military-minded princes, who by their mere existence had a habit of casting his own failings into relief.)
It was Esme who spoke next, choosing her words delicately. “Sweetheart, we….it’s a very generous offer, but perhaps you should consider things more carefully.” She let go of Carlisle and laid her hand atop Alice’s where it rested on the table. “You’re still so young, we weren’t planning on fixing your betrothal for a few years yet. There’s no rush. You know your father and I would never force you into a marriage with someone you disliked.”
(Edward muttered something bitterly resentful beneath his breath.)
Alice shrugged. “I like Crown Prince Jasper fine. I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t willing to go through with it.”
“Like him? You don’t know him! You haven’t seen him since we were children,” Edward pointed out.
Esme’s brow was furrowed in deep contemplation. “Well, I suppose he’s about the right age,” she said hesitantly, “and certainly a well-favored young man…”
Edward scoffed again. “They say that about any nobleman who isn’t a hunchback covered in pustulent boils.”
“Well I’m glad to hear he isn’t covered in boils,” said Alice with a roll of her eyes. “What a glowing report. Having second thoughts about marrying Princess Rosalie after all?”
“Certainly not. But if her brother is anything like that harpy—”
“Really, Edward, there’s no need to be unkind—”
“Lots of people are nothing like their siblings,” said Alice sweetly, cutting off Esme’s next lecture. (“Thank God.”)
Esme heaved a small, defeated sigh and turned to nudge her husband. “You haven’t said anything, dear. What do you think of Alice’s suggestion?”
Carlisle closed his eyes, gathering himself to speak past his own stunned reluctance. “I think you’re right: it isn’t something to be undertaken lightly,” he said slowly. “If Alice is truly willing, I can write to King Henry. But your mother is right, Alice—this is not something we expect of you, not so soon. You are under no obligation to step in.”
“Goodness, must you all speak as though I’m going to my untimely death?” complained Alice. “I said I would marry him, and I meant it. I don’t see why it has to be such a grave affair.”
“It’s simply a big decision, dear,” said Esme gently. “Especially when it affects the fate of our two countries. We just want you to be aware of what you’d be getting into.”
“Well, I am,” said Alice flatly. “And if it will spare Edward a ‘life of unending misery’ and keep us out of a war, I’ll marry whomever you like. But it doesn’t seem like such a dreadful sacrifice to be Queen of New Haland someday,” she added, with a pleased little grin at the grandiosity of the title. It sounded terribly grown-up and impressive—much better than “Grand Duchess.”
Carlisle silenced Edward with a look before he could snipe about his sister’s vanity. Then he turned the look on Alice.
“I’ll write to the king,” he told her. “But once I do, there will be no reneging on our agreement. So I’ll ask you again, Alice: are you absolutely certain about this?”
Alice drew herself up to her full height, skinny shoulders back and pointed chin out. The effect was more cute than imposing, but still moderately successful. “Yes,” she said, meeting Carlisle’s gaze as if she were a queen already. “I am.”
The floor outside Princess Rosalie’s bedroom door did not make for a particularly comfortable seat. Nor was it a very dignified position, leaning against the wall with his legs sprawled out across the passage. They were considerably longer now than they’d been when Crown Prince Jasper was ten.
He double-checked that the corridor was free of servants before reaching up to knock on the door. “Rose,” he called, dipping into his last reserves of patience, “how much longer are you going to do this? I have affairs to attend to.”
“Then go attend to them!” snapped a muffled voice from within. “Leave me alone!”
“I would love to,” said Jasper, “but I’ve been ordered not to show my face until you’ve shown yours.”
Silence. How mature. “At least eat something,” he urged. “What exactly will starving yourself accomplish?”
“If I die, I won’t have to marry that joyless, melodramatic blowhard,” said Rosalie.
Jasper happened to know she kept about a week’s supply of chocolates in the tufted ottoman by her settee, but he decided to play along. “We’d break down the door long before we let you die.”
“Just you try it!” challenged Rosalie.
“Do I really need to? If you won’t come out, let me in and we’ll talk.”
“And why would I do that?”
Good point. “Aren’t you bored?”
Rose was not nearly as accomplished at deceit as she was at tenacity. Jasper wondered how she’d been passing the time for the last four days. Rereading her old books? She’d never been one for embroidery—she preferred more active, outdoor hobbies.
“How about this: let me in and I’ll speak to Father on your behalf.” He meant to do so in any case, but she didn’t need to know that.
There was a scraping sound, and the door cracked open a few inches. “Really?”
“Yes,” said Jasper, pushing to his feet as the door opened a bit wider. “I promise.”
A moment’s consideration, and then Rosalie’s arm shot out and yanked him inside as if they were spies who might be caught at any moment. Jasper decided it would be best to retreat out of her way while she replaced the chair she’d been using to brace the door shut.
Her rooms were a study in chaos—Jasper stepped over a whetstone and an empty chocolate box on his way to the armchair by the fireplace, expressing his silent condolences to the chambermaids.
Rosalie shoved a stack of books and a crumpled handkerchief onto the floor so she could throw herself onto the settee opposite, arms crossed. “Talk all you like,” she invited. “I still won’t marry him.”
Jasper sighed. “You’ll have to marry sooner or later. Why should it matter to whom?” He didn’t understand how any of this was worth causing a war.
“Why should it matter? It matters because I’ll spend the rest of my life stuck with him!”
“I don’t see why,” said Jasper. “A spouse is just the person who sits on the throne beside you at court. You’d hardly need interact with him.”
Rosalie shot him a withering look. “Are you serious? I’d have to share his bed. Eugh.” She added with an elegant shudder.
Jasper shrugged. “Only until you produced an heir. Then you could have nothing more to do with each other.”
“Wow,” drawled Rosalie. “Won’t your future wife be delighted.”
Jasper’s retort was cut off by someone pounding on the door. “Rosalie Hale! You will open this door right this instant!”
Rosalie blanched. It had been years since either of them had heard their royal father so angry. Jasper moved for the door.
“Don’t!” hissed Rosalie, leaping off the settee to pull him back.
“Enough,” said Jasper, shaking her off. “It’ll be fine. Grand Duke Edward is leagues away in Olympias. No one’s dragging you down the aisle yet.”
Rosalie bit her lip, but wiped her hands on her skirts and allowed Jasper to slide the chair away from the door.
“I swear if you don’t open this door in the next minute I’ll summon—! Oh.”
“Good evening, Father. Come in,” invited Jasper.
“Ah yes—Jasper. Very good,” said King Henry gruffly, sweeping past him into the room. He barely seemed to notice the disarray, focusing instead on Rosalie.
“Daughter, you have greatly displeased us,” he declared.
Rosalie sank into a sullen curtsey. “It was not my intention, sire,” she grumbled. “But Grand Duke Edward and I are not suited.”
“Yes, that is quite plain,” agreed the king.
Rosalie glanced up in surprise. “Father?”
“We’ve had a letter from Olympias,” he announced. “Several, in fact. We’ve agreed to new terms. Your betrothal to Grand Duke Edward is dissolved.”
Rosalie seemed torn between glee and apprehension—it was clear their father was gearing up for some more dire pronouncement. He turned to Jasper.
“Jasper, you will marry Grand Duchess Alice instead. We trust you have no objections.”
Jasper blinked. His father seemed to expect an answer, but his mouth seemed to have disconnected from his brain. “…None, sire,” he managed after a beat.
“Good. Then we shall begin preparations. The Olympian royal family will arrive before the month is out. You will have one opportunity to speak with the Grand Duchess and determine whether you are suited,” King Henry continued, his tone and expression making it clear that they had damn well better be, “and then you marry.”
“Yes, sire,” said Jasper, slowly coming back to himself.
“You will both,” said the king sternly, with a pointed look at Rosalie, “show her the utmost hospitality. The importance of maintaining peace with Olympias cannot be overstated. Jasper, you will keep her happy.”
“Yes…Father,” Jasper agreed. No one knew better than he just how unprepared their army was for another war. He made a slight bow, conscious of the great weight of responsibility that had just been shifted onto his shoulders.
He was also conscious that he was no Rosalie, to kick and scratch and buck off the yoke like a wild horse. There would be no going back on his word.
“Very good,” said King Henry, with a pleased nod of acknowledgement. He turned and swept out of the room, muttering something about how at least one of his children knew his duty. The door thunked quietly shut behind him.
Jasper sank back into the chair by the fire.
“What just happened?” demanded Rosalie. When Jasper did not reply, she bent down, warily searching his blank expression. “Are you…all right?” she asked uneasily.
Jasper straightened up and pushed past her. “Of course. I’m fine.” He held the door open. “You must be hungry. Let’s get you something to eat.”
Rosalie trailed after him with uncharacteristic timidity.
“Grand Duchess Alice, huh?” she ventured as they walked. “I remember her. The little pest who wouldn’t stop following us around.”
Jasper and Rosalie had met Grand Duchess Alice exactly once, as children, nearly twelve years ago when the shaky peace between New Haland and Olympias had first been ratified. He’d been ten, so Jasper’s main memory of the event was of being banished out of doors and expected to entertain the young Grand Duke and Duchess, who had not made much of an impression. Edward had been stilted and awkward while he and Jasper and Rosalie shot arrows and rode horses, and Alice had indeed followed them around, whining to be included in everything her brother did.
“She was seven,” Jasper pointed out, strangely defensive.
“Right. Well, let’s hope she’s grown out of that.”
They made the rest of their way to the kitchens in uneasy silence, conscious that the servants were casting them furtive looks. It seemed the news of his betrothal was already circulating.
Rosalie followed Jasper all the way back to his study with her tray of food. He couldn’t decide whether to be irritated or grateful for her company.
What had he said to her? A spouse is just the person who sits on the throne beside you. Why should it matter?
He had not expected to have his own convictions put to the test quite so soon, but…well, fine. So be it. Their father was right—Jasper knew his duty. He had meant every word he’d said.
“I feel…bad,” admitted Rosalie, when she had finished shoveling down food. She picked at the beveled edge of his desk. “Like you got stuck with this because of me.”
“It was my choice,” said Jasper calmly. His situation certainly was her fault, but he saw no point in discussing it now. She could take his place whenever she wished by offering to marry Grand Duke Edward, but they both knew she wouldn’t. Jasper wasn’t about to assuage her guilt in the meantime. This was his life.
This was his life, and he had always known he’d one day marry someone for political reasons. It might as well be Grand Duchess Alice as anyone else. At least she wasn’t forty, or thirteen, though his own fuzzy mental image of her was still that of a pouting seven-year-old. She probably looked different now.
“I know,” said Rosalie quietly. “I just…wish things could be different. Not just for me but for you, too.”
“Well, they aren’t,” Jasper reminded her. He forced a smile. “I’m glad you won’t have to marry Grand Duke Edward after all.”
“Hear, hear,” said Rosalie, raising her glass of wine. She took a long swig, saturating the room with her profound relief before she set the glass back down. “And here’s hoping for your sake that Grand Duchess Alice is nothing like her brother.”
Jasper cast a sideways glance at where she had occupied the corner of his desk, crumbs spilling off her tray onto the perfectly polished wood. “Many people are nothing like their siblings,” he observed.
thanks for reading Part 1 of my Absolutely Goofy arranged marriage AU! I currently have next to no plans for this story other than letting it develop organically and sort of crowdsourcing the plot. if you have any thoughts, ideas, questions, or requests for where it should go, please please slide into my askbox!
I know it's 2021 and I barely post anything, let alone about Twilight but if you're bored and looking for a fic to read, maybe check out mine?
How to Cope (After Your Vampire Family Leaves You) is basically a Stoner!Bella story taking place in New Moon. She doesn't cope well but this time when the Cullens leave Bella doesn't go catatonic. She gets a medical card and makes some new friends but things evolve -and somewhat spiral- from there.
The story is done in 3 parts; after the Cullens leave, when they come back, and then Eclipse. It's all finished so there will be regular and frequent updates. I've never had a story come together so quickly before and I'm pretty proud of this one.
Hopefully if you check it out and enjoy <3
(P.s. please don't judge bc it's wattpad lol)
i figured out a solution to the humans shitting at the cullens: they go into the bathroom and the cullens just stop breathing for a couple of hours i did it guys i cracked the code
Should I get this? Always forgotten remembered never
@like-rain-or-confetti @volturidoll13 @alecvolturiswifeforever @wallwriterstuff @raindancer2004 @develin13
mental health is a much more commonly talked about subject which makes me wonder,,,,,did bella and the cullens ever get psychiatric help or are they still Like That????? idk but i’d like to think that esme would drive them to their appointments in her minivan and then take them out for ice cream after
Edward: The only time you seem honest is when you’re insulting someone!
Rosalie: The only honest things I can say to you are insults.
"Darling," Vladimir purred as he hovered over you. "I told you that you're mine. Now that I have you, I simply cannot let you go."
LITERALLY THE BEST PART @like-rain-or-confetti
“He moved back to your lips and you slapped your hand over your mouth, smothering the moan that escaped when his hips rolled hard into yours.
"No." Vladimir ground out taking your hands and pinning them on either side of your head. "I want to hear every little noise that comes out of you, understand? Understand this, darling." Vladimir leaned into your ear. "I'm going to make you scream." He whispered.”
“"Give me your hands." He said quietly and you forced yourself to loosen your grip on the bed.
He interlocked his fingers in-between his own and put them above your head. He covered you entirely, kissing you passionately.
He pushed in and stopped waiting for you to adjust, letting out a shaky breath. "You're perfect. I need you to know that." He said quietly before grumbling in Romanian.”
THESE ARE THE BEST PARTS- HER EYES ROLLING BACK- VLADIMIR GROWLING IN ANOTHER FUCKIN LANGUAGE- THANK YOU SO MUCH @like-rain-or-confetti
the difference in twitter vs tumblr is that on twitter i got blocked and unfollowed for saying twilight was written poorly and on tumblr everyone knows that already