“I bid you welcome, Master Aro, to my house.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Your Illustriousness! What a simply marvelous old castle! Alas, I do not get out of my own fortress much these days.”

“Please, do come in.”

Aro grinned at his host and stepped inside, the door closing behind him as if on its own. “Marvelous,” he whispered.

His host’s long, black cape dragged behind him as he made his way deeper into the castle. “I suppose you must be wondering why I asked you here.”

“I must admit,” Aro began, “I am not used to being summoned. I tend to do the summoning these days.”

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Hi Do you have anymore carlisle and aro fanfictions?

Yes. :)  How about one where Aro goes hunting vegetarian-style just to see what it is like? I mean this is the guy who asked Jane to use her gift on him because he was curious, after all.

“Carlisle, friend, wait!” 

The English vampire stopped in his tracks and turned, watching as Aro glided toward him with a huge grin on his face. “About dinner…”

“I respectfully decline your invitation,” Carlisle responded automatically with a slight bow of his head.

“Yes, yes, I know. I wasn’t going to ask you to join us this time. Rather, I would like to know if you would be willing to offer me an invitation.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Aro held his fingertips together and pressed them to his lips. “I am curious about your hunting methods.”

“You’ve seen my methods in my thoughts.”

“Seen, yes,” he admitted with a sigh. “But not … experienced.”

“You want to come hunting with me?” 

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Aro and Gianna were sitting side by side at one of the antique tables in the library of Volterra. Deep underground and filled with books, scrolls, and any number of other items, it was rarely used by any of the guard, who overall did not have much interest in intellectual pursuits. In fact, electricity had only been added a few short decades ago, and many of the volumes had not been touched since Carlisle’s time in Volterra. Dear Carlisle had loved the library.

A laptop sat on the desk along with a wireless mouse. The touch pad had proved all but useless to vampires, given that it was sensitive to temperature, so the mouse was a more suitable alternative. The computer had been delivered a few hours ago, and Gianna had spent the last hour or so setting it up and explaining start-up procedures to Aro. 

"Dear Gianna I believe I have mastered turning the contraption on. Let us move on to something more interesting.”

“Right. Well, I guess we should start with e-mail. Whatever you’re going to do on the internet, you’re probably going to need an e-mail address for it.”

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Pastor Cullen’s Nightmares

Someone asked a few weeks ago about how I thought the Cullens’ surviving human families handled things.  Here’s how I think things went down with Pastor Cullen.

The door flew open and there he stood, dressed in the same clothing he had worn on the last night he had been seen alive. Abraham backed himself against the wall as the monster stepped into the room, his red eyes aglow in the darkness.

The creature smiled, but there was no warmth in the expression. If anything the smirk that turned up one corner of his mouth was one of sinister amusement.

“Thou doth not seem well pleased to see me… Father.”

The old man sat bolt upright in bed, wheezing in painful gulps as he pressed a hand to his racing heart. His fitful sleep had been haunted by such dreams since that terrible night three years prior. The most common theme was his son returning to kill him, although he could hardly be called his son any longer. The look of anger, of hate in his demonic eyes was hopelessly out of place on the young man’s face. But as bad as those dreams were, the other was worse. This nightmare found Abraham stumbling along the darkened London streets, turning a corner to see his son kneeling besides a body and looking mournfully at a fresh wound in the victim’s throat. “I cannot live like this,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. He glances up to his father then, his eyes as red as the blood dripping down his chin. “Be thou merciful, Father. Kill me.”

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Tourist Trap

The Cullens were on their way to Florence. Esme had long spoke of wishing to see the city, Alice never missed an opportunity to visit Europe, and Emmett would never be left behind on an adventure. They had a long layover at the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. While Alice took the girls and Jasper for a quick jaunt into the city for shopping—and, of more interest to the family’s newest vegetarian, away from the dense crowding of the airport—Edward, Emmett and Carlisle settled down in the lounge in the pastel yellow chairs and tried to blend in.

"Not in the mood for sightseeing?" Emmett asked after a few hours had passed.  Despite being a vampire, it was still difficult for him to sit still for too long.

"I’ve seen Paris," Carlisle answered, setting down his book. “I spent quite a bit of time in France in the early days. I actually attended theological lectures at the Sorbonne in the early—"

"The Sorb-what?”

Edward smirked at his brother, shaking his head, when the three vampires’ attention were drawn to a commotion nearby.

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Rosalie & Carlisle 1933

It’s my headcanon that Carlisle and Rosalie only ever really talk/bond/hang out when she’s working on cars.  He’s a nerd and is curious about how they work, but lacks her natural talent for it.  I’ve always been of the opinion that Rosalie can’t hate him/resent him TOO much, otherwise he would have been on her hit list along with Royce & company. lol.  That said, I do think their relationship was strained at first.  Him saving Emmett for her, IMO, was the turning point. 

“What are you doing, Dr. Cullen?”

“Please, call me Carlisle,” he insisted for what must have been the fiftieth time.  He smiled, wiping the oil off the wrench and setting it down on the shelf behind him. “And I am trying to fix this car.”

“It’s nice … Italian?” she asked, running her hand appreciatively over the cherry red paint.

“An Alfa Romeo Torpedo.  Only 124 ever built.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted with a hopeless sigh.

This seemed to amuse Rosalie, and the smirk that graced her pretty face almost qualified as a smile.  “I thought doctors were supposed to be smart?”

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re: Charlie and his ‘vampire doctor friend’ solving crimes

I actually sort of wrote that once, although it was less buddy comedy and it took place in the canon Twilight verse in which Charlie doesn’t know/can’t be told about vampires.

Carlisle was already waiting outside of Mt Olympus Funeral Home when Charlie Swan drove up in his old police cruiser, which looked even older parked next to Carlisle’s car. Charlie climbed out of his car and took an envious look at the sleek Mercedes.

“Guess I shoulda been a doctor.”

“I don’t know,” Carlisle mused. “Your vehicle has a certain … charm.”

“You wanna trade?” Charlie asked from under arched eyebrows.

The men shared a laugh before getting down to business, “I really appreciate this, Carlisle. This whole situation is frustrating enough without waiting on King’s County’s medical examiner to get back from his golfing trip.”

“I’ll do what I can. What do you know so far?”

“Hardly anything. It doesn’t make any sense. Three bodies were found in the woods, bloodless. An abandoned car belonging to one of the kids was found further up the road just outside of town. We told the gawkers at the scene it was a car accident—we don’t want people to panic—but … it looks like an animal attack or some bizarre ritualized murder,” the chief of police stopped on the landing and turned to look at the young doctor sternly, “You’ll keep that information to yourself, right?”

“Of course,” Carlisle assured him. “I understand the need for discretion.”

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Because you know Edward has given Carlisle, Jasper and Emmett shit over the years for not being able to figure out what their wives want.  I’m pretty sure the three of them would find it hilarious that Edward falls in love with the one woman whose mind he could not read.  This is set in the middle of Twilight.

“What should I do?”

Carlisle regarded me patiently, his eyes amber pools of wisdom. “I can’t tell you that.”

“No, please,” I said, leaning forward with my hands clasped in supplication. “I am at a loss—”

“Edward, you are more than capable of handling this situation on your own,” he said, turning to place a book on one of his shelves. “And if I recall, you made quite a point of not assisting me when I was engaged in my own romantic drama.”

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Since all the nurses at the hospital “get distracted” when Carlisle is around, I’m pretty sure this must have happened.  Merry Christmas.

"You and the missus gonna make an appearance at the staff Christmas party?" Dr. Snow asked as we strode through the hospital halls in twin white coats.  Dr. Snow was easily the most friendly of my new colleagues.  He seemed determined to take ‘the new guy’ under his wing and show me the ropes, but I hardly needed much in the way of orientation.  I had started over at countless hospitals in my career and by now adjusted quite easily.  Still, I appreciated his kindness.
“We’re planning on making an appearance, yes, although I doubt we’ll stay long.”
He laughed; a deep, throaty sound.  “Yeah probably not a good idea to leave a houseful of teenagers unsupervised on Christmas Eve.”
“That’s our thinking,” I smiled back.  I paused for a moment to reach up and adjust the string of Christmas lights that had been hung over the door frame.  A section had come loose from the tape holding it and I pressed it back in place.  “It’s certainly more festive here than it was at my last hospital.  Do you always decorate?”

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Charlie in BD

Because there is just no way—NO WAY—that a COP would not storm over to the Cullens’ house and DEMAND answers about his kid. There’s just … no.  There’s no way he would have just taken their word for it about a tropical virus and the CDC and …no.  No way.  Sorry.  Not buying it.

Edward opened the door with a curt nod.  “Hello, Charlie.”

“Don’t ‘Charlie’ me, kid. Where is she?”

“She’s at the CDC in Atlanta…”

“Atlanta my ass. You think I didn’t call down there? I’m a cop, son. I’m not just some country bumpkin who doesn’t know what’s what. She’s here, isn’t she?”

“Yes, Charlie, she is,” Carlisle said as he came down the stairs. “I apologize for the deception. We thought it best for everyone involved but clearly we were wrong. You have every right to be angry with us.”

Charlie didn’t seem to hear the apology—all he heard was that his daughter was here. “Bella?”

“This way,” Carlisle directed.

Charlie was not prepared for the sight that greeted him. Bella had completely transformed. Her skin was grey and lifeless, her eyes sunken. She looked so tiny and frail in the oversized sweater she wore in a vain attempt to keep warm.  And then his eyes settled on the swollen bulge of her stomach.


“Hey Dad.”

“I know it looks bad, Charlie,” Edward said, “but it’s merely a symptom of her illness. It causes the stomach tissue to swell, mimicking the appearance of a pregnant—”

“Enough lies. I wasn’t born yesterday. She’s pregnant, and she wasn’t pregnant two weeks ago. What the hell is going on here? What did you do to my daughter?”

The Cullens looked around the room awkwardly, all uncannily still as statues. Alice normally would have jumped into the fray and used her precognition to diffuse the situation, but she was helpless with Bella’s unknown offspring clouding her vision.  Jasper, thirsty as he was, was too busy trying not to eat the Chief of Police to be much help in tempering the emotional climate.

“We’re not human, Charlie,” Carlisle finally said, giving an apologetic glance to the rest of the group. “Bella was fully aware of that fact before she married Edward. I am afraid I cannot be more specific than that for your safety as well as the safety of my family, but the fact is that Bella is pregnant with Edward’s child. We didn’t think it possible. We have no idea what the fetus is like.”

“It’s killing her,” Edward said. The beautiful blonde girl whose name Charlie couldn’t remember (Rosanne? Rosemary? Something with an ‘R’,’ like Renee) snarled at Edward as she hovered protectively over Bella. Edward ignored her. “It’s killing her, but she insists on carrying it to term anyway. It is breaking her bones and starving her by the hour. Please, Charlie, reason with her.”

“It’s my baby,” Bella said, her voice soft but determined. “I can’t kill it.”

“And you’re my baby, Bells,” Charlie said. “You’re all I’ve got in the world, kiddo. If you die, what do I have left?”