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perpetual_motionTonight's distractions from the awful comes from my own journal. I've written a piece of Guy/Kyle [Green Lantern Corps], and I created a Jack McCoy fanmix. So, if you'd like to cleanse your palate afterwards, you can start there.
Tonight's drink is a cup of hot tea in a purple mug emblazoned with "drama queen":
Chapter Six is entitled "Scary Stories", and I can only imagine what those could be. The tale of fear of boys showing a healthy interest in you? The horrible possibility of living with a father who loves you? The dreaded growth of a personality?
What is beyond the veil?
As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act of Macbeth, I was really listening for my truck.
Know what's worse than a shitty writer? A shitty writer who thinks referencing much, much better writers someone makes one a better writer. Meyer? Yeah. No.
I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my non-expectations.
Not grammatically incorrect, but it drives me up a wall when writers, rather than letting the rest of a paragraph speak for itself, just go ahead and tell you how it's gonna end. What's the point of reading the rest of the paragraph if I already know that the specialist snowflake is gonna feel bad at the end? She feels bad all the time. You would too, were you head so far up your own ass.
Of course there were the fainting comments.
Of course. WORLD'S SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. DRINK. Seriously, I went to a school about the same size as Bella's, and I busted my ass in the middle of the hallway in front of god and everyone. By the next day? Everyone had forgotten. Because NO ONE GAVE A DAMN. Should have been a specialer snowflake.
[Sidenote: The spellcheck just offered "specula" to replace "speciler". Make your own joke. Consider it a gift.]
Luckily Mike had kept his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement.
Oh, man, Mike, and I LIKED you. But now you're just an enabling douche. Bad, Mikey!
Turns out the paragraph I just quoted is bad enough to get a full show:
Jessica especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. Luckily Mike had kept his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement. She did have a lot of questions about lunch, though.
Who the fuck is "she"? The first sentence is about Jessica. The second sentence is about Mike. The third is about "She". Who is "she", and why the hell didn't Meyer just string together the two sentences about Jessica? Hell, there's not been an em dash in a full half-page. Can't believe Meyer missed the chance. Also, I'm calling grammar drink.
"You looked kind of mad," she fished.
This is not fishing. This is stating an opinion about how someone looked. RULE FIVE, MEYER.
I kept my expression blank.
Bet that wasn't hard.
"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before. That was weird."
Oh, it was not, Jessica. Bella's the specialist snowflake! Haven't you been paying attention?
There's a paragraph where Bella talks about how Jessica's impatient that Bella won't give her details, and Bella assumes it's because Jessica wants to have gossip fodder. Or it could be, MAYBE, that Jessica's CONCERNED because she thinks Bella is a FRIEND. But, no, of course not. Because the SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE can't have friends. Only people who want to talk about her. DRINK.
The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew he wasn't going to be there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, I couldn't keep from looking at his table, where Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together. And I couldn't stop the gloom that engulfed me as I realized I didn't know how long I would have to wait before I saw him again.
That's right, girls;if your CREEPY AND VIOLENT BOYFRIEND doesn't show up and YOU KNOW THIS AHEAD OF TIME, you SHOULD GET GLOOMY. And I really do love this line:
"I didn't know how long I would have to wait before I see him again."
Because, apparently, the idea of using basic common sense to figure that she'll probably see Edward on MONDAY is too much for her snowflake brain. And given that this is a girl who switched from past tense to present tense without breaking a sweat, I can't say I'm surprised [drink].
Mike was animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I believed it.
Jesus H., what is it with Bella refusing to trust trained professionals? First the EMTs, then the nurse at the hospital, and now the weatherman. Does she think these people are ugly or something? Because, seriously, given her girl-boner for TEH PRETTEH, I wouldn't put it past her.
I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which I didn't understand until we were all walking out of the room together. I was right behind her, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently unaware of that. "…don't know why Bella" — she sneered my name — "doesn't just sit with the Cullens from now on."
I heard her muttering to Mike. I'd never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice she had,
Because if you dare go against the SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE then there's something ugly about you. Might be your face. Might be your voice.
I really didn't know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike me — or so I'd thought.
Oh, Bella, come off it. You don't THINK. And that's a SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE drink.
"She's my friend; she sits with us," Mike whispered back loyally, but also a bit territorially.
OF COURSE HE DID. Because boys are COMPLETELY INCAPABLE of NOT BEING TERRITORIAL with girls who have TURNED THEM DOWN FOR DATES. Seriously, how the fuck does Meyer think teenage boys act around girls? Yeah, some of come off like assholes [same for some teenage girls around teenage boys], but I hung with a group who were cool, never tried to hump me, and never EVER sounded "territorial" when defending me. What is Meyer's beef with teenage boys who aren't bad boys? Christ on a crutch.
Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break them now.
WHAT. Look, there are plenty of things that cannot be changed about people. But you know what? Most dudes who become dads--no matter when they choose to become dads--usually ADJUST THEIR SCHEDULES TO SPEND TIME WITH THEIR KIDS.
Oh, wait, I'm over-thinking it. This is an anvil of a plot device, isn't it? Or maybe Charlie's meeting Dr. Cullen for some dusty, fireside sex at the "campsite". And by "campsite" I mean "hotel off the highway".
And, speaking of Charlie/Dr. Cullen,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leaper182 wrote me a bit. And she is awesome. And it was hot.
Of course [Charlie] knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably.
Yeah. What a dick. Being the Chief of Police and KNOWING THE PEOPLE IN HIS SMALL TOWN. That's a Charlie-bashing drink.
I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Edward Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him.
Are you taking notes, ladies? If you're going to spend hours in a car with a guy YOU BARELY KNOW, make sure NOT TO TELL YOUR PARENTS. Because that ALWAYS works out so well.
"Yeah — why?"
First em dash of the chapter! It took Meyer a whole page-and-a-half. That's restraint right there.
I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun.
WHAT.
<.<
>.>
WHAT.
How in hell is the sun IN THE WRONG PLACE? Is it REVOLVING AROUND BELLA? Actually, now that I think about it, there's a good chance it is.
Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle.
It's called "sky", Meyer. SKY. Holy hell, won't somebody think of RULE FIVE?
I recognized Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra.
Why not "SUV" and...wait, what the hell's a "Sentra"?
::googles::
Ah. It's a Nissan sedan. So, why not "sedan"? Mike drives an SUV, Tyler drives a sedan. Why must there be names? I mean, fuck, Tyler almost ran over Bella with a plain old VAN. And, yes, I'm still sad he missed.
Eric was there, along with two other boys I had class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner.
Bella's been at a school of 300 people for nearly THREE MONTHS, and she CAN'T REMEMBER THE NAMES OF PEOPLE IN HER CLASSES. I've got a memory like extra-holey Swiss cheese, and I CAN REMEMBER NAMES AFTER THREE FUCKING MONTHS.
Three other girls stood with them, including one I remembered falling over in Gym on Friday.
How could you tell, Bella? Don't you spend your entire time in gym class COWERING?
At least Mike was happy to see me.
OF COURSE HE WAS.
He smiled blissfully. It was so easy to make Mike happy.
Bella, you are a condescending douche. And what's worse, is you're being held up as the TYPE OF GIRL ONE SHOULD MODEL HERSELF AFTER. Think about that, folks.
I managed to wedge Jess in between Mike and me in the front seat of the Suburban. Mike could have been more graceful about it, but at least Jess seemed appeased.
Mike is going to the spring dance [or did go to the spring dance [fuckin' timeline]] with Jessica, but since it's not BELLA sitting next to him, HE'S DISAPPOINTED. That's a SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Drink up!
It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute River snaking beneath it twice.
Beneath WHAT? I think it's "road", but I'm honestly not sure. And if you have to read a sentence more than once to place the pronoun, the writer is doing it wrong.
The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore.
Gray water against a gray shore? Oh, yeah, that's the kind of mental picture that really stimulates your mind, yeah?
Islands rose out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs.
I had to look up "austere" and got a laugh when one of the definitions was, "giving little or no scope for pleasure". Chuckles aside, if I've got to look up a word, there's a damned good chance your average "Twilight" reader has to look it up too. And that's RULE FIVE.
but close up were every shade a stone could be: terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, blue gray, dull gold.
Thanks, Meyer. Just in case I had NO IDEA WHAT ROCKS LOOK LIKE.
Meyer officially spent more time describing THE BEACH than she has spent describing ANY CHARACTER IN THE BOOK. Because, of course, what the beach looks like IS IMPORTANT.
built atop
Find me a 17-year-old who says "built atop" and I'll give you a million pounds. Or this bucket. [No, that joke is never going away.]
After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved the tide pools. They had fascinated me since I was a child; they were one of the only things I ever looked forward to when I had to come to Forks. On the other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot.
Things Bella cannot do without falling:
Play sports
Dance
LOOK AT TIDE POOLS
And I love:
"...one of the only things I ever looked foward to when I had come to Forks.
I'm calling indirect Charlie-bashing. DRINK.
Lauren was the one who made my decision for me. She didn't want to hike, and she was definitely wearing the wrong shoes for it.
Well, thank the fine and benevolent Christmas Jew that LAUREN didn't want to go. Otherwise, Bella would have been forced to POLITELY DECLINE. The horror!
Most of the other girls besides Angela and Jessica decided to stay on the beach as well. I waited until Tyler and Eric had committed to remaining with them before I got up quietly to join the pro-hiking group. Mike gave
me a huge smile when he saw that I was coming.
Oh, my bad. Apparently, having to sit next to someone who's said ONE SNARKY THING ABOUT HER makes Bella so horribly uncomfortable she'd rather take a chance FALLING IN A TIDE POOL.
The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods.
Bella Swan: So stupid she thinks the sky goes away if the trees are tall.
I had to watch each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots below and branches above, and I soon fell behind.
Look, I know klutzy. I fall going UP the stairs on a fairly regular basis. I've walked OUT OF MY SHOES on more than one occasion. I regularly smack my shoulder into doorways when I'm LOOKING RIGHT AT THEM. There's a difference between being a klutz and having an inability to PERFORM BASIC MOTOR FUNCTIONS. Someone get Bella tested, for fuck's sake. But make sure the doctor is hot, or she probably won't listen.
I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds.
Because she might FALL IN. I'm from a landlocked state, so my knowledge of tidal pools and the area around them is pretty slim, but I'm still fairly certain that any person with basic motor function can stand on the edge of one and NOT FALL IN.
I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat there cautiously,
I swear to you, if she doesn't fall face first into a tidal pool after all this build up, I'm gonna be pissed.
twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them
No. Just, NO. The shells ARE NOT scurrying. The CRABS are scurrying. Setting it in passive voice doesn't make it sound pretty; it makes it sound ridiculous.
Wait. I've written in passive voice. Um...okay, got it: Setting it in SHITTY passive voice doesn't make it sound pretty; it makes it sound ridiculous.
There. That saved it.
shaddup, it did, too
I was completely absorbed,
Tell us something we don't know. Oh, wait, there's more:
except for one small part of my mind that wondered what Edward was doing now, and trying to imagine what he would be saying if he were here with me.
Beautiful scenery, amazing lifeforms, and Bella can't shut off the stalker mode in her brain. Classy.
And the beach is STILL getting more description than any actual CHARACTER in the whole fucking book.
Finally the boys were hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back.
A page-and-a-half of build up to the possibility of Bella falling flat on her face, and nothing. Meyer set up a page-and-a-half of bullshit so that we could know that BELLA WAS THINKING ABOUT EDWARD.
I tried to keep up better this time through the woods, so naturally I fell a few times. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse.
WHAT.
WHAT.
Seriously, someone get the fucking snowflake a fucking helmet! She's already WALKED THROUGH THE WOODS ONCE, and she doesn't have the basic motor functions to STAY ON HER FEET? Like I said, I know klutzy, and this is beyond. This is "Three Stooges" type shit right here. Someone smack her with a ladder.
As we got closer we could see the shining, straight black hair and copper skin of the newcomers,
teenagers from the reservation come to socialize.
Okay, the description isn't racist in and of itself, but I've read it three or four times and it SOUNDS racist, but not in a way I can pinpoint. Am I just looking for reasons to hate this book at this point or does anyone else get the vibe?
as Eric said our names, I noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me in interest.
OF COURSE HE DID. Because what person with a penis WOULDN'T NOTICE BELLA. That's a SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Throw one back.
She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate.
Yeah, sure, "think". She's probably having to remind herself to breathe through her nose when she chews.
And I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind.
Dude, Meyer, rule of thumb: Don't summarize your writing style within your book. It's bad enough without you pointing out how you like to breeze over the parts of the book that don't have your pretend boyfriend.
Mike — with Jessica shadowing him — headed up to the one shop in the village.
I fuckin' love how Bella points out that Jessica is following around Mike. Because Bella WOULD NEVER do something so silly as FOLLOW AROUND A BOY. Unless, of course, HE WASN'T PAYING ATTENTION TO HER.
Bella describes Jacob:
He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very pretty face.
Oh, good, he's PRETTY. Bella will like him. If he ignores her, she'll probably hump his leg.
Also, I want it noted that we now have more description of JACOB than we do of EDWARD.
"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"
I'm not calling specialist snowflake because Eric said everyone's names to Jacob, including Bella's. I am gonna point out that, given Eric is someone Bella spends time with, there's no way in fuck that he'd have introduced her as "Isabella". If someone knows you, they introduce you by the NAME YOU GO BY.
"I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture.
Palm up? Palm down? Middle finger raised? Or, for you European types: Index and middle finger raised? How hard is it to say, "He held out his hand to shake mine"? I'm calling grammar drink. Because RULE FIVE has taken way too much abuse.
Then Bella remembers Jacob's sisters, who she knew as a kid. Apparently, Charile and Jacob's dad made them play together while the boys fished:
Of course, I'd kicked up enough tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven.
Because HOW DARE Charlie make the SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE keep herself entertained while he fished. I'm calling indirect Charlie-bashing again. And Bella should count her fucking blessings. In my family, we fished on a BOAT, and if I got too whiny, my ass went into the water.
"Married. Wow." I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year older than I was.
You're fucking kidding me, right? How old's Bella by "Breaking Dawn"? 18? 19? And Meyer's set it up so that Bella's all surprised that people marry young? SERIOUSLY?
Jacob and Bella chat about her truck, which had previously belonged to Jacob's dad:
"It does great in a collision," I offered in my truck's defense.
"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with another laugh.
Prepare yourselves, I'm about to say something nice about this book. No, really. Look at my face:
I'm completely suppressing my smirk.
I rather like the truck banter. I had an old beater a few years ago--1987, Ford, F-150--that I loved like crazy. It couldn't go very fast; it guzzled gas like a bastard, and it sounded like a fucking rocket when it started, but it was a tank. I called it The Beast. So, let it be known that I have the tiniest quantum of respect for Bella because she has respect for her truck.
Don't worry, I'm sure that respect will wither away soon enough.
Now, back to the snark:
[Note to Self: Photo Booth will be your doom.]
Jacob builds cars, and I like that.
"You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he added jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice.
"Sorry," I laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for you." As if I knew what that was.
Because GIRLSL DON'T KNOW CARS. I mean, OBVIOUSLY. Cars don't make us more attractive, and they can't fit in the kitchen, so why bother, yeah?
That being said, this is my car:
This is the 2007. I have the 2008. The 2008 has a shorter nose. It's a 4-cylinder engine with a 5-speed, standard gearbox. It gets 29 miles in the city, 35 on the highway, and can comfortably fit four people of varying sizes [I have a friend who is 6'2", and he's comfortable in the back seat.]. It's a hatchback, and I can fold down the seats all by myself. I can also pump my own gas and check my fluids.
And I have sex. With my husband. Who does most of the cooking.
Wherever Meyer is, I bet she just got a chill.
He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me appreciatively in a way I was learning to recognize.
OF COURSE HE WANTS TO HUMP HER. WHO DOESN'T WANT TO HUMP THE SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. DRINK.
"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren asked — in what I imagined was an insolent tone —from across the fire.
I'm not gonna Rule Five Meyer on the use of "imagined". I'm just going to laugh. A lot. Because it sums up every thought I've had about Bella Swan and her snowflake-ness.
She didn't sound like she thought it was nice at all, and her pale, fishy eyes narrowed.
First, Lauren has a nasely voice, and now she has pale, fishy eyes. SLIGHTLY UNATTRACTIVE PEOPLE ARE MEAN. TAKE NOTE.
One of the guys with Jacob's groups says that the Cullens aren't allowed on the beach. Actually, his exact words are:
"The Cullens don't come here,"
Fair enough. And then Bella shits herself because the guy's tone implies so much about how they're not welcome. Which, in a better book, would be dramatic and interesting. Instead, we have "Twilight".
I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a sudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but I didn't have any better ideas.
The fact that she had an idea to begin with is a fucking miracle.
I hoped that young Jacob was as yet inexperienced around girls, so that he wouldn't see through my sure-to-be-pitiful attempts at flirting.
Hey, self-loathing! Where you been? How's things? Also, "young Jacob"? The guy's, at most, three years younger than Bella. And probably twelve times smarter.
I asked, trying to imitate that way Edward had of looking up from underneath his eyelashes. It couldn't have nearly the same effect, I was sure, but Jacob jumped up willingly enough.
Two-for-one SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Double drink!
I asked, trying not to look like an idiot as I fluttered my eyelids the way I'd seen girls do on TV.
You keep right on trying, sweetheart.
"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a little old to be hanging out with us." I purposefully lumped myself in with the youngsters,
Yes, Bella, because the gap between 15 and 17 is a MASSIVE GORGE THAT CANNOT BE CROSSED. She's thinks the 19-year-old she's asking about is OLDER and the 15-year-old is a GODDAMNED BABY.
I tried to make my smile alluring, wondering if I was laying it on too thick.
Bella, you're always too thick.
He perched lightly on one of the twisted roots while I sat beneath him on the body of the tree.
Jacob's gonna tell her a story. And she sits at his feet. GOODDOG WOMAN BELLA.
Jacob starts telling Bella some Cliffs Notes versions of the legends of his tribe:
"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood — supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the ark." He smiled, to show me how little stock he put in the histories.
Let's put this into context: Meyer has said her books are a "allegory" [quotes, again, because I still don't think she knows the meaning of the word] for Mormonism. Mormons believe Joseph Smith translated "The Book of Mormon" by reading it IN A HAT. And she's taking the time to belittle someone else's beliefs? A FUCKING HAT PEOPLE.
[NOTE: Just so we're clear, I'm not trying to make fun of Mormons. I'm making fun of a religious person who thinks her version of events is superior to someone else's. I mean, dude, have you checked out religious creation stories? They're all fucking nuts. That being said: A HAT.]
If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces." He winked at me.
Oh, Meyer, you scamp. Using cultural stereotypes like "pale-face" to show how well-rounded you are in working with stereotypes. It's not just gender stereotypes--oh, no--you've got a whole bag of tricks, don't you?
"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"
He smiled darkly.
"Blood drinkers," he replied in a chilling voice. "Your people call them vampires."
Grammar: There is no reason for "He smiled darkly." and "Blood drinkers..." to be separate paragraphs. They're both dealing with Jacob and vampires. That's a grammar drink.
And also: Why in holy fuck wouldn't Jacob's people call them vampires? THEY'RE VAMPIRES. Oh, wait, Jacob's people are NATIVE AMERICANS and NATIVE AMERICANS ARE DIFFERENT THAN US. They don't use silly words like "vampire". Because it doesn't make them sound WISE.
Seriously, Meyer, THE FUCK.
"Is that your boyfriend?" Jacob asked, alerted by the jealous edge in Mike's voice. I was surprised it was so obvious.
WHY THE FUCK IS SHE SURPRISED? She's spent six chapters telling us over and over and over how Mike WANTS HER SO BADLY.
"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." I felt guilty as I said this, knowing that I'd used him. But I really did like Jacob. He was someone I could easily be friends with.
Because he's ATTRACTIVE and USEFUL TO THE PLOT.
We all looked up at the glowering sky.
The day the sky glowers at me--hell, the day the sky makes any FACIAL EXPRESSION AT ALL--I am so calling it quits and hiding under my bed for the rest of my fucking life.
I could simply lay my head back on the seat and close my eyes and try very hard not to think.
Isn't it adorable how she thinks that'll take effort?
Hmmm...more literary criticism and goofy pictures than full-on rage. This is good. This makes it fun, in that, "Oh, look, a horrific house fire with clowns" sort of way.
And now that we're at roughly the 1/3rd point, a very important question:
[Poll #1349978]
Tonight's drink is a cup of hot tea in a purple mug emblazoned with "drama queen":
Chapter Six is entitled "Scary Stories", and I can only imagine what those could be. The tale of fear of boys showing a healthy interest in you? The horrible possibility of living with a father who loves you? The dreaded growth of a personality?
What is beyond the veil?
As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act of Macbeth, I was really listening for my truck.
Know what's worse than a shitty writer? A shitty writer who thinks referencing much, much better writers someone makes one a better writer. Meyer? Yeah. No.
I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my non-expectations.
Not grammatically incorrect, but it drives me up a wall when writers, rather than letting the rest of a paragraph speak for itself, just go ahead and tell you how it's gonna end. What's the point of reading the rest of the paragraph if I already know that the specialist snowflake is gonna feel bad at the end? She feels bad all the time. You would too, were you head so far up your own ass.
Of course there were the fainting comments.
Of course. WORLD'S SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. DRINK. Seriously, I went to a school about the same size as Bella's, and I busted my ass in the middle of the hallway in front of god and everyone. By the next day? Everyone had forgotten. Because NO ONE GAVE A DAMN. Should have been a specialer snowflake.
[Sidenote: The spellcheck just offered "specula" to replace "speciler". Make your own joke. Consider it a gift.]
Luckily Mike had kept his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement.
Oh, man, Mike, and I LIKED you. But now you're just an enabling douche. Bad, Mikey!
Turns out the paragraph I just quoted is bad enough to get a full show:
Jessica especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. Luckily Mike had kept his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement. She did have a lot of questions about lunch, though.
Who the fuck is "she"? The first sentence is about Jessica. The second sentence is about Mike. The third is about "She". Who is "she", and why the hell didn't Meyer just string together the two sentences about Jessica? Hell, there's not been an em dash in a full half-page. Can't believe Meyer missed the chance. Also, I'm calling grammar drink.
"You looked kind of mad," she fished.
This is not fishing. This is stating an opinion about how someone looked. RULE FIVE, MEYER.
I kept my expression blank.
Bet that wasn't hard.
"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before. That was weird."
Oh, it was not, Jessica. Bella's the specialist snowflake! Haven't you been paying attention?
There's a paragraph where Bella talks about how Jessica's impatient that Bella won't give her details, and Bella assumes it's because Jessica wants to have gossip fodder. Or it could be, MAYBE, that Jessica's CONCERNED because she thinks Bella is a FRIEND. But, no, of course not. Because the SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE can't have friends. Only people who want to talk about her. DRINK.
The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew he wasn't going to be there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, I couldn't keep from looking at his table, where Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together. And I couldn't stop the gloom that engulfed me as I realized I didn't know how long I would have to wait before I saw him again.
That's right, girls;if your CREEPY AND VIOLENT BOYFRIEND doesn't show up and YOU KNOW THIS AHEAD OF TIME, you SHOULD GET GLOOMY. And I really do love this line:
"I didn't know how long I would have to wait before I see him again."
Because, apparently, the idea of using basic common sense to figure that she'll probably see Edward on MONDAY is too much for her snowflake brain. And given that this is a girl who switched from past tense to present tense without breaking a sweat, I can't say I'm surprised [drink].
Mike was animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I believed it.
Jesus H., what is it with Bella refusing to trust trained professionals? First the EMTs, then the nurse at the hospital, and now the weatherman. Does she think these people are ugly or something? Because, seriously, given her girl-boner for TEH PRETTEH, I wouldn't put it past her.
I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which I didn't understand until we were all walking out of the room together. I was right behind her, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently unaware of that. "…don't know why Bella" — she sneered my name — "doesn't just sit with the Cullens from now on."
I heard her muttering to Mike. I'd never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice she had,
Because if you dare go against the SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE then there's something ugly about you. Might be your face. Might be your voice.
I really didn't know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike me — or so I'd thought.
Oh, Bella, come off it. You don't THINK. And that's a SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE drink.
"She's my friend; she sits with us," Mike whispered back loyally, but also a bit territorially.
OF COURSE HE DID. Because boys are COMPLETELY INCAPABLE of NOT BEING TERRITORIAL with girls who have TURNED THEM DOWN FOR DATES. Seriously, how the fuck does Meyer think teenage boys act around girls? Yeah, some of come off like assholes [same for some teenage girls around teenage boys], but I hung with a group who were cool, never tried to hump me, and never EVER sounded "territorial" when defending me. What is Meyer's beef with teenage boys who aren't bad boys? Christ on a crutch.
Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break them now.
WHAT. Look, there are plenty of things that cannot be changed about people. But you know what? Most dudes who become dads--no matter when they choose to become dads--usually ADJUST THEIR SCHEDULES TO SPEND TIME WITH THEIR KIDS.
Oh, wait, I'm over-thinking it. This is an anvil of a plot device, isn't it? Or maybe Charlie's meeting Dr. Cullen for some dusty, fireside sex at the "campsite". And by "campsite" I mean "hotel off the highway".
And, speaking of Charlie/Dr. Cullen,
leaper182 wrote me a bit. And she is awesome. And it was hot.Of course [Charlie] knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably.
Yeah. What a dick. Being the Chief of Police and KNOWING THE PEOPLE IN HIS SMALL TOWN. That's a Charlie-bashing drink.
I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Edward Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him.
Are you taking notes, ladies? If you're going to spend hours in a car with a guy YOU BARELY KNOW, make sure NOT TO TELL YOUR PARENTS. Because that ALWAYS works out so well.
"Yeah — why?"
First em dash of the chapter! It took Meyer a whole page-and-a-half. That's restraint right there.
I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun.
WHAT.
<.<
>.>
WHAT.
How in hell is the sun IN THE WRONG PLACE? Is it REVOLVING AROUND BELLA? Actually, now that I think about it, there's a good chance it is.
Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle.
It's called "sky", Meyer. SKY. Holy hell, won't somebody think of RULE FIVE?
I recognized Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra.
Why not "SUV" and...wait, what the hell's a "Sentra"?
::googles::
Ah. It's a Nissan sedan. So, why not "sedan"? Mike drives an SUV, Tyler drives a sedan. Why must there be names? I mean, fuck, Tyler almost ran over Bella with a plain old VAN. And, yes, I'm still sad he missed.
Eric was there, along with two other boys I had class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner.
Bella's been at a school of 300 people for nearly THREE MONTHS, and she CAN'T REMEMBER THE NAMES OF PEOPLE IN HER CLASSES. I've got a memory like extra-holey Swiss cheese, and I CAN REMEMBER NAMES AFTER THREE FUCKING MONTHS.
Three other girls stood with them, including one I remembered falling over in Gym on Friday.
How could you tell, Bella? Don't you spend your entire time in gym class COWERING?
At least Mike was happy to see me.
OF COURSE HE WAS.
He smiled blissfully. It was so easy to make Mike happy.
Bella, you are a condescending douche. And what's worse, is you're being held up as the TYPE OF GIRL ONE SHOULD MODEL HERSELF AFTER. Think about that, folks.
I managed to wedge Jess in between Mike and me in the front seat of the Suburban. Mike could have been more graceful about it, but at least Jess seemed appeased.
Mike is going to the spring dance [or did go to the spring dance [fuckin' timeline]] with Jessica, but since it's not BELLA sitting next to him, HE'S DISAPPOINTED. That's a SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Drink up!
It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute River snaking beneath it twice.
Beneath WHAT? I think it's "road", but I'm honestly not sure. And if you have to read a sentence more than once to place the pronoun, the writer is doing it wrong.
The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore.
Gray water against a gray shore? Oh, yeah, that's the kind of mental picture that really stimulates your mind, yeah?
Islands rose out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs.
I had to look up "austere" and got a laugh when one of the definitions was, "giving little or no scope for pleasure". Chuckles aside, if I've got to look up a word, there's a damned good chance your average "Twilight" reader has to look it up too. And that's RULE FIVE.
but close up were every shade a stone could be: terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, blue gray, dull gold.
Thanks, Meyer. Just in case I had NO IDEA WHAT ROCKS LOOK LIKE.
Meyer officially spent more time describing THE BEACH than she has spent describing ANY CHARACTER IN THE BOOK. Because, of course, what the beach looks like IS IMPORTANT.
built atop
Find me a 17-year-old who says "built atop" and I'll give you a million pounds. Or this bucket. [No, that joke is never going away.]
After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved the tide pools. They had fascinated me since I was a child; they were one of the only things I ever looked forward to when I had to come to Forks. On the other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot.
Things Bella cannot do without falling:
Play sports
Dance
LOOK AT TIDE POOLS
And I love:
"...one of the only things I ever looked foward to when I had come to Forks.
I'm calling indirect Charlie-bashing. DRINK.
Lauren was the one who made my decision for me. She didn't want to hike, and she was definitely wearing the wrong shoes for it.
Well, thank the fine and benevolent Christmas Jew that LAUREN didn't want to go. Otherwise, Bella would have been forced to POLITELY DECLINE. The horror!
Most of the other girls besides Angela and Jessica decided to stay on the beach as well. I waited until Tyler and Eric had committed to remaining with them before I got up quietly to join the pro-hiking group. Mike gave
me a huge smile when he saw that I was coming.
Oh, my bad. Apparently, having to sit next to someone who's said ONE SNARKY THING ABOUT HER makes Bella so horribly uncomfortable she'd rather take a chance FALLING IN A TIDE POOL.
The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods.
Bella Swan: So stupid she thinks the sky goes away if the trees are tall.
I had to watch each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots below and branches above, and I soon fell behind.
Look, I know klutzy. I fall going UP the stairs on a fairly regular basis. I've walked OUT OF MY SHOES on more than one occasion. I regularly smack my shoulder into doorways when I'm LOOKING RIGHT AT THEM. There's a difference between being a klutz and having an inability to PERFORM BASIC MOTOR FUNCTIONS. Someone get Bella tested, for fuck's sake. But make sure the doctor is hot, or she probably won't listen.
I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds.
Because she might FALL IN. I'm from a landlocked state, so my knowledge of tidal pools and the area around them is pretty slim, but I'm still fairly certain that any person with basic motor function can stand on the edge of one and NOT FALL IN.
I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat there cautiously,
I swear to you, if she doesn't fall face first into a tidal pool after all this build up, I'm gonna be pissed.
twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them
No. Just, NO. The shells ARE NOT scurrying. The CRABS are scurrying. Setting it in passive voice doesn't make it sound pretty; it makes it sound ridiculous.
Wait. I've written in passive voice. Um...okay, got it: Setting it in SHITTY passive voice doesn't make it sound pretty; it makes it sound ridiculous.
There. That saved it.
shaddup, it did, too
I was completely absorbed,
Tell us something we don't know. Oh, wait, there's more:
except for one small part of my mind that wondered what Edward was doing now, and trying to imagine what he would be saying if he were here with me.
Beautiful scenery, amazing lifeforms, and Bella can't shut off the stalker mode in her brain. Classy.
And the beach is STILL getting more description than any actual CHARACTER in the whole fucking book.
Finally the boys were hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back.
A page-and-a-half of build up to the possibility of Bella falling flat on her face, and nothing. Meyer set up a page-and-a-half of bullshit so that we could know that BELLA WAS THINKING ABOUT EDWARD.
I tried to keep up better this time through the woods, so naturally I fell a few times. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse.
WHAT.
WHAT.
Seriously, someone get the fucking snowflake a fucking helmet! She's already WALKED THROUGH THE WOODS ONCE, and she doesn't have the basic motor functions to STAY ON HER FEET? Like I said, I know klutzy, and this is beyond. This is "Three Stooges" type shit right here. Someone smack her with a ladder.
As we got closer we could see the shining, straight black hair and copper skin of the newcomers,
teenagers from the reservation come to socialize.
Okay, the description isn't racist in and of itself, but I've read it three or four times and it SOUNDS racist, but not in a way I can pinpoint. Am I just looking for reasons to hate this book at this point or does anyone else get the vibe?
as Eric said our names, I noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me in interest.
OF COURSE HE DID. Because what person with a penis WOULDN'T NOTICE BELLA. That's a SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Throw one back.
She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate.
Yeah, sure, "think". She's probably having to remind herself to breathe through her nose when she chews.
And I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind.
Dude, Meyer, rule of thumb: Don't summarize your writing style within your book. It's bad enough without you pointing out how you like to breeze over the parts of the book that don't have your pretend boyfriend.
Mike — with Jessica shadowing him — headed up to the one shop in the village.
I fuckin' love how Bella points out that Jessica is following around Mike. Because Bella WOULD NEVER do something so silly as FOLLOW AROUND A BOY. Unless, of course, HE WASN'T PAYING ATTENTION TO HER.
Bella describes Jacob:
He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very pretty face.
Oh, good, he's PRETTY. Bella will like him. If he ignores her, she'll probably hump his leg.
Also, I want it noted that we now have more description of JACOB than we do of EDWARD.
"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"
I'm not calling specialist snowflake because Eric said everyone's names to Jacob, including Bella's. I am gonna point out that, given Eric is someone Bella spends time with, there's no way in fuck that he'd have introduced her as "Isabella". If someone knows you, they introduce you by the NAME YOU GO BY.
"I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture.
Palm up? Palm down? Middle finger raised? Or, for you European types: Index and middle finger raised? How hard is it to say, "He held out his hand to shake mine"? I'm calling grammar drink. Because RULE FIVE has taken way too much abuse.
Then Bella remembers Jacob's sisters, who she knew as a kid. Apparently, Charile and Jacob's dad made them play together while the boys fished:
Of course, I'd kicked up enough tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven.
Because HOW DARE Charlie make the SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE keep herself entertained while he fished. I'm calling indirect Charlie-bashing again. And Bella should count her fucking blessings. In my family, we fished on a BOAT, and if I got too whiny, my ass went into the water.
"Married. Wow." I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year older than I was.
You're fucking kidding me, right? How old's Bella by "Breaking Dawn"? 18? 19? And Meyer's set it up so that Bella's all surprised that people marry young? SERIOUSLY?
Jacob and Bella chat about her truck, which had previously belonged to Jacob's dad:
"It does great in a collision," I offered in my truck's defense.
"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with another laugh.
Prepare yourselves, I'm about to say something nice about this book. No, really. Look at my face:
I'm completely suppressing my smirk.
I rather like the truck banter. I had an old beater a few years ago--1987, Ford, F-150--that I loved like crazy. It couldn't go very fast; it guzzled gas like a bastard, and it sounded like a fucking rocket when it started, but it was a tank. I called it The Beast. So, let it be known that I have the tiniest quantum of respect for Bella because she has respect for her truck.
Don't worry, I'm sure that respect will wither away soon enough.
Now, back to the snark:
[Note to Self: Photo Booth will be your doom.]
Jacob builds cars, and I like that.
"You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he added jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice.
"Sorry," I laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for you." As if I knew what that was.
Because GIRLSL DON'T KNOW CARS. I mean, OBVIOUSLY. Cars don't make us more attractive, and they can't fit in the kitchen, so why bother, yeah?
That being said, this is my car:
This is the 2007. I have the 2008. The 2008 has a shorter nose. It's a 4-cylinder engine with a 5-speed, standard gearbox. It gets 29 miles in the city, 35 on the highway, and can comfortably fit four people of varying sizes [I have a friend who is 6'2", and he's comfortable in the back seat.]. It's a hatchback, and I can fold down the seats all by myself. I can also pump my own gas and check my fluids.
And I have sex. With my husband. Who does most of the cooking.
Wherever Meyer is, I bet she just got a chill.
He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me appreciatively in a way I was learning to recognize.
OF COURSE HE WANTS TO HUMP HER. WHO DOESN'T WANT TO HUMP THE SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. DRINK.
"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren asked — in what I imagined was an insolent tone —from across the fire.
I'm not gonna Rule Five Meyer on the use of "imagined". I'm just going to laugh. A lot. Because it sums up every thought I've had about Bella Swan and her snowflake-ness.
She didn't sound like she thought it was nice at all, and her pale, fishy eyes narrowed.
First, Lauren has a nasely voice, and now she has pale, fishy eyes. SLIGHTLY UNATTRACTIVE PEOPLE ARE MEAN. TAKE NOTE.
One of the guys with Jacob's groups says that the Cullens aren't allowed on the beach. Actually, his exact words are:
"The Cullens don't come here,"
Fair enough. And then Bella shits herself because the guy's tone implies so much about how they're not welcome. Which, in a better book, would be dramatic and interesting. Instead, we have "Twilight".
I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a sudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but I didn't have any better ideas.
The fact that she had an idea to begin with is a fucking miracle.
I hoped that young Jacob was as yet inexperienced around girls, so that he wouldn't see through my sure-to-be-pitiful attempts at flirting.
Hey, self-loathing! Where you been? How's things? Also, "young Jacob"? The guy's, at most, three years younger than Bella. And probably twelve times smarter.
I asked, trying to imitate that way Edward had of looking up from underneath his eyelashes. It couldn't have nearly the same effect, I was sure, but Jacob jumped up willingly enough.
Two-for-one SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Double drink!
I asked, trying not to look like an idiot as I fluttered my eyelids the way I'd seen girls do on TV.
You keep right on trying, sweetheart.
"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a little old to be hanging out with us." I purposefully lumped myself in with the youngsters,
Yes, Bella, because the gap between 15 and 17 is a MASSIVE GORGE THAT CANNOT BE CROSSED. She's thinks the 19-year-old she's asking about is OLDER and the 15-year-old is a GODDAMNED BABY.
I tried to make my smile alluring, wondering if I was laying it on too thick.
Bella, you're always too thick.
He perched lightly on one of the twisted roots while I sat beneath him on the body of the tree.
Jacob's gonna tell her a story. And she sits at his feet. GOOD
Jacob starts telling Bella some Cliffs Notes versions of the legends of his tribe:
"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood — supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the ark." He smiled, to show me how little stock he put in the histories.
Let's put this into context: Meyer has said her books are a "allegory" [quotes, again, because I still don't think she knows the meaning of the word] for Mormonism. Mormons believe Joseph Smith translated "The Book of Mormon" by reading it IN A HAT. And she's taking the time to belittle someone else's beliefs? A FUCKING HAT PEOPLE.
[NOTE: Just so we're clear, I'm not trying to make fun of Mormons. I'm making fun of a religious person who thinks her version of events is superior to someone else's. I mean, dude, have you checked out religious creation stories? They're all fucking nuts. That being said: A HAT.]
If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces." He winked at me.
Oh, Meyer, you scamp. Using cultural stereotypes like "pale-face" to show how well-rounded you are in working with stereotypes. It's not just gender stereotypes--oh, no--you've got a whole bag of tricks, don't you?
"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"
He smiled darkly.
"Blood drinkers," he replied in a chilling voice. "Your people call them vampires."
Grammar: There is no reason for "He smiled darkly." and "Blood drinkers..." to be separate paragraphs. They're both dealing with Jacob and vampires. That's a grammar drink.
And also: Why in holy fuck wouldn't Jacob's people call them vampires? THEY'RE VAMPIRES. Oh, wait, Jacob's people are NATIVE AMERICANS and NATIVE AMERICANS ARE DIFFERENT THAN US. They don't use silly words like "vampire". Because it doesn't make them sound WISE.
Seriously, Meyer, THE FUCK.
"Is that your boyfriend?" Jacob asked, alerted by the jealous edge in Mike's voice. I was surprised it was so obvious.
WHY THE FUCK IS SHE SURPRISED? She's spent six chapters telling us over and over and over how Mike WANTS HER SO BADLY.
"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." I felt guilty as I said this, knowing that I'd used him. But I really did like Jacob. He was someone I could easily be friends with.
Because he's ATTRACTIVE and USEFUL TO THE PLOT.
We all looked up at the glowering sky.
The day the sky glowers at me--hell, the day the sky makes any FACIAL EXPRESSION AT ALL--I am so calling it quits and hiding under my bed for the rest of my fucking life.
I could simply lay my head back on the seat and close my eyes and try very hard not to think.
Isn't it adorable how she thinks that'll take effort?
Hmmm...more literary criticism and goofy pictures than full-on rage. This is good. This makes it fun, in that, "Oh, look, a horrific house fire with clowns" sort of way.
And now that we're at roughly the 1/3rd point, a very important question:
[Poll #1349978]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-02-16 07:38 am (UTC)I think it was the bit about the reservation. Because, of course, Native Americans don't live anywhere but reservations, and "going off the reservation" is BAD.
(EDIT: Thank you for fixing the format ... I get the sense that it took a while.)
no subject
on 2009-02-16 07:44 am (UTC)[One of those where one fuck up caused about a dozen persnickity issues. I think I've won.]
no subject
on 2009-02-16 07:47 am (UTC)I saw Meyer described today as the "new Queen of Goth," taking over from Anne Rice, and nearly gagged.
no subject
on 2009-02-16 07:53 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-16 08:01 am (UTC)Vampire stories are on TV and in the movies. What is the latest on the best vampire writer, Anne Rice?
Marjorie Fada, The Villages, Fla.
Rice, the woman behind "The Vampire Chronicles," 10 novels published over 27 years (her "Interview With the Vampire" became a hit movie starring Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt) is through with the walking dead. An atheist for 38 years, Rice rediscovered faith in 1998 and now writes exclusively in the Christian genre. "My present focus has to be on my novels about the life of Jesus Christ, and I do not want to revisit the realm of my earlier books," says Rice, 67. Vampire lovers should consider converting to the new queen of goth, "Twilight"'s Stephenie Meyer.
no subject
on 2009-02-16 08:07 am (UTC)SUCK IT.
YOU DO TOO NEED AN EDITOR.
With a P.S. that reads:
NO REALLY EDITORS ARE USEFUL.
Because she reached a point, before she "found god" [under the sofa?], where she refused to use an editor. And that level of ego fuckin' boggles me.
Comment Fic (1/2)
on 2009-02-16 08:17 am (UTC)***
Charlie took a deep breath, trying to calm his twisting stomach through will alone and not having much luck. He'd already made plans for tonight -- Bella was going to be at a friend's house, the station wouldn't call unless it was an absolute emergency, there was wine chilling in the bucket, the room looked good. Everything was perfect.
Now, all he was waiting for was...
The light knock on the door startled him, and after he regained his composure, Charlie took another deep breath and opened it.
Carlisle stood outside, his blonde hair complimenting his pale skin somehow, and his blue-grey eyes intent on Charlie's face. He smiled, a quirk of the lips that looked teasing and dangerous at the same time. He was in a button-down shirt and a pair of slacks, and he looked good enough to eat.
"Charlie," Carlisle murmured.
"Carlisle," Charlie replied.
There was a noticeable pause before Carlisle's smile grew. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Charlie blinked, and then stepped back quickly. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. C'mon in. I hope you don't mind--"
He watched the slender man walk in, take in the room with a faintly curious glance. Charlie eased the door shut gently, the click of the lock sounding... final in a way. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he had the sudden feeling that he had locked himself in a room with an animal.
He shook his head and stepped up behind Carlisle. "How do you like it?" he murmured.
"It's very nice," Carlisle murmured back. He looked over his shoulder, one blue-grey eye catching Charlie's gaze. "I hope it didn't set you back too much."
Charlie shook his head. "It didn't. There's some perks to being the sheriff." He lifted his hands and rested them on Carlisle's hips gently, half-expecting the other man to step away from him. The episode with the experimental drug had been a month ago, and what with Bella needing him and having to investigate a rash of murders, he and Carlisle hadn't had time to do more than talk about what had happened between them, and to discuss whether or not it would happen again.
Charlie Swan was the first to admit that he didn't have much experience at this sort of thing. He'd married Renee fresh out of high school, and while he still loved her, he hadn't let himself really explore all there was in terms of love and relationships. Carlisle Cullen had gotten his attention from the first time they'd met, and the enigmatic doctor had had it ever since.
"Charlie?" Carlisle murmured.
Charlie emerged from his thoughts to find that Carlisle had turned in his arms. One hand of Carlisle's hands lay against his chest, over his heart, while the fingers of the other hand teased at the hair on the nape of his neck.
"Yeah?" Charlie said, clearing his throat a little.
"Are you all right?" Carlisle frowned, looking concerned. "If you would rather we didn't...."
Comment Fic (2/2)
on 2009-02-16 08:18 am (UTC)***
Charlie shook his head. "It's not that." He leaned down and brushed his lips against Carlisle's, the coolness of the man's skin surprising in late August. He'd meant the kiss to be reassuring, but he pulled back quickly. "Geez, your skin's cool." He frowned, lifting a hand to feel Carlisle's forehead and cheek. "Are you all right?"
Carlisle sighed. "I'm fine, Charlie. I told you that I have a lower body temperature than most."
Charlie snorted. "There's a difference between being out of my head on some kind of experimental drug and being stone sober." He cupped his hands around one of Carlisle's and blew into them.
While Charlie had been joking, Carlisle's patient smile had slipped. "Yes," he said slowly, "there is. I truly am sorry--"
Charlie rolled his eyes and used one of his hands to cover Carlisle's mouth. "I was more than capable of saying no, Carlisle. All the drug did was make things seem... more intense. We've already talked about this."
"That may be," Carlisle said firmly, "but I had thought that I was better than that." A muscle twitched in Carlisle's pale jaw. "I should have been."
Charlie shrugged. "Everyone makes mistakes, Carlisle. It just means you're human."
It seemed like whatever Charlie had been doing tonight to try to be reassuring was having the opposite effect. Blue-grey eyes widened for a moment, and then Carlisle was pulling his hands away, taking a step back that Charlie had expected earlier. It didn't stop Charlie from feeling just a little colder, no matter what Carlisle's body temperature was like.
"Charlie, what are we doing?" Carlisle asked after a long moment.
Charlie frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, what are we doing?" Carlisle looked around the room, his eyes landing on the couch, the wine bottle in the metal bucket, the low, intimate lighting. "Is this going to be a one-night stand, or is it..." His voice trailed off, and he turned to look back at Charlie.
"Or is it going to be something more?" Charlie offered. When Carlisle nodded, Charlie shrugged. "I honestly don't know. The first time I saw you, I knew that I wanted to get to know you better, and the more we worked together...." He shook his head. "What is it that you want me to say, Carlisle?"
Carlisle shook his head, turning to the window. The moonlight bleached his pale skin, making him look like a marble statue come to life. "I don't know, Charlie. This would be much easier if this were just about sex."
Charlie frowned, surprised by the admission. "And it's not?"
Carlisle sighed through his nose before shaking his head again. "It isn't for me." He turned from the window, and looked into the low lighting, zeroing in on Charlie without any difficulty. "And for you?"
"I..." Charlie began, not sure what he was thinking or feeling, but knowing that being silent wasn't the way to go. "I'm not entirely sure."
Carlisle was quiet for a long moment, and then he turned back to the window, lifting his gaze to the full moon above. "I'm sorry."
Charlie frowned. "For what?"
Carlisle shook his head. "I shouldn't have pushed. This is still new for both of us. I've loved my wife for... a very long time."
"Hell, I still love my ex," Charlie pointed out, moving closer to the window sill and looking out. No matter what kind of cloud cover there was during the day, the night sky was always beautiful in Forks. "It doesn't mean that I can't get distracted sometimes."
Carlisle turned to look at him, his eyes dark and penetrating. "Distracted, Sheriff?" he asked, moving closer.
Charlie nodded. "Distracted," he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against Carlisle's.
no subject
on 2009-02-16 08:26 am (UTC)http://assets.comics.com/dyn/str_strip/000000000/00000000/0000000/200000/10000/4000/400/214469/214469.zoom.gif
http://assets.comics.com/dyn/str_strip/000000000/00000000/0000000/200000/10000/4000/400/214470/214470.zoom.gif
(Amos Van Hoesen searches for God ... because you deserve a giggle.)
Re: Comment Fic (2/2)
on 2009-02-16 08:47 am (UTC)This is delicious. I rather like that it doesn't get to sex. The amount of background emotion going on is fabulous.
no subject
on 2009-02-16 08:49 am (UTC)Re: Comment Fic (2/2)
on 2009-02-16 08:53 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-16 09:58 am (UTC)I am super annoyed by that sentence. Where is this woman's editor? Come to think of it, there are tons of mistakes in this that any self-respecting editor ought to have noticed. Which makes me wonder just how awful the first draft must have been, when this is the final result.
no subject
on 2009-02-16 08:12 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-17 12:24 am (UTC)So are you going to tackle the other books?
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on 2009-02-17 04:24 am (UTC)I'm waiting to see if I'll actually finish the first book before I make any promises to reading the others.
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on 2009-02-17 04:35 am (UTC)Oh, yeah. It's named Maraschino.
And I must say, I'm very impressed at even taking on the one book. I heard "sparkly vampires" from my friends (who are obsessed with the series) and told them I'd throw the first copy they tried to make me read into the fire. I barely do vampires, let alone ones that sparkle.
Although it is nice to finally have a vague idea of what the hell they're going on about half the time...
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on 2009-02-17 05:18 am (UTC)I'm kinda glad I know what all the fuss is about as well. I still don't understand the fuss--at all--but at least I know something of it.