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> Master of the Universe (Fifty Shade's of Grey's pilot), Once a crappy fic, always a crappy fic
Post #1

Not quite here, not quite there.

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post Jul 11 2012, 06:45 PM
Oh Lordie, Fifty Shades of Gray is a real piece of work. There’s so much to make fun of, but I wasn’t going to touch it until I saw this beautiful quote:

"I have never done this before.” I whimpered rabidly like a sad goat who is about to have sex.

I knew it was the fanfic for me. But I didn’t really feel right making fun of the book itself (legally speaking), so I went to its source material: Master of the Universe by Snowqueens_Icedragon, which is a terrible username by the way. Or E. L. James, but her username is much funnier.

So I go to download the pdf for it and the first thing I’m hit with once I open it is badly-photoshopped pictures of Bella and Edward while stupid quotes floated around their faces. I was not prepared for a shirtless Robert Patterson or my eyes to catch fire. Nevertheless, I braved on. Here’s to the death of literature.

Summary: Bella Swan is drafted in to interview the reclusive enigmatic Edward Cullen, multi-millionaire CEO of his company. It's an encounter that will change her life irrevocably, leading her to dark realms of desire. AH AU

I have no clue what AH means, but I can make up initials that being with A too! AD. ABBA. A_REALLY_BAD_PREMISE_FOR_A_FANFIC. ACTUALLY_WORSE_THAN_ITS_SOURCE_MATERIAL.

Chapter One

I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair, it just won‘t behave,

Her hair was a dedicated actor, still in character from that time Bella went to an American Revolution re-enactment, Bella having mistaking it for a French and Indian War re-enactment. She had been hoping to see Jacob’s family too.

and damn Rose for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal.

It’s not like this was beyond her control or something. Damn my house for being destroyed by that earthquake two days ago and damn her for being so kind to let me stay with her!

I have tried to brush my hair into submission but it‘s not toeing the line. I must learn not to sleep with it wet.

It would take months before Bella finally learned, as she was still struggling with the concepts of blinking and breathing at the same time.

I recite this five times as a mantra whilst I try, once more, with the brush. I give up. The only thing I can do is restrain it, tightly, in a pony tail and hope that I look reasonably presentable.

Oh honey, there’s only so much you can do when you have a face like that.

Rose is my roommate and she has chosen, okay, that‘s a bit unfair, because choice has had nothing to do with it, but she has flu and as such cannot do the interview she‘s arranged with some mega industrialist for the student newspaper.

Lacking a basic understanding of proper sentence structure, check…

So I have been volunteered. I have final exams to cram for, one essay to finish and I am supposed to be working this afternoon, but no - today - I have to head into downtown Seattle and meet the enigmatic CEO of Cullen Enterprise Holdings Inc. Allegedly he‘s some exceptional tycoon who is a major benefactor of our University and his time is extraordinarily precious… much more precious than mine - and he‘s granted Rose an interview… a real coup she tells me… Damn her extra-curricular activities.

I don’t even know how that last sentence is supposed to make sense. Alas, but that’s what happens when you get the first person POV of an Asperger’s-ridden bimbo.

“Bella I‘m sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview and it will take another six to reschedule, and you and I will both have graduated by then. As the editor I can‘t blow this out…

I’ve already sucked too many dicks to get it!

Please.” Rose begs me in her rasping, really sore throat voice…

I stare at her red-rimmed runny eyes, her bright pink nose…

“Of course, I‘ll go Rose.

Anything so I don’t have to look at your STD-ridden face any longer.

You should go back to bed. Would you like some paracetamol?”

“Yes please. Here are the questions and my minidisk recorder. Just press record here. Make notes, I‘ll transcribe it all.”

“I know nothing about him.” My voice is anxious.

No one cares, all you have to do is read the questions you dumb waste of space. Why aren’t they getting someone else from Rose’s company to do this?

“The questions will see you through…

Imagine Yoda’s voice here.

go… I don‘t want you to be late.”

“Okay… I‘m going… I have a long drive. Go back to bed, but please make sure you eat - I made you some soup to heat up later.” I stare at her fondly…. only for you Rose would I do this.

”And bitch about it every second of the way.”

“I will. Good luck… and thanks Bella, you‘re a life saver as usual.”

Bella’s a piece of candy? That explains her abnormally low IQ.

I smiled wryly at her and head out the door to our room.

I cannot believe I have let Rose talk me into this.

JFC, do you ever stop complaining?

But then Rose can talk anyone into anything. She‘ll make an exceptional journalist. She‘s articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative… beautiful, and she‘s my dearest, dearest friend.

The only one I have actually. People don’t like being around me for some reason…

The roads are clear as I set off from Portland, it‘s early and I don‘t have to be in Seattle until two this afternoon. Fortunately she‘s lent me her car. I‘m not sure my old truck would be up for the journey. Well it is the least she can do - I frown into the rearview mirror - but I have to say her sporty BMW Z4 is so much more fun to drive than my truck and the miles slip away as I put my foot down.

I like how the fanfic is written the same way Twilight was: by smashing your face into the keyboard.

It‘s cloudy, but at least it‘s not raining as I make my way into the city. The Seattle traffic is heavy, but I have an hour to go and I‘m feeling fairly confident that I should be able to find somewhere to park… Thank heavens for the Sat Nav on the Z4 otherwise I‘d be royally screwed.

Snowqueens: Car jargon! Now people know I spent a few minutes on Google did my research!

My destination is the headquarters of Mr Cullen‘s global enterprise. It‘s a huge thirty-storey

Attached Image

office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect‘s utilitarian fantasy with Cullen House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors. It‘s a quarter to two and I feel an immense sense of relief that I‘m not late as I walk into the enormous, frankly intimidating, glass, steel and white sandstone, first floor foyer.

Behind the solid sandstone desk a very attractive blonde haired young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She‘s wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen… she looks immaculate.

You can’t exactly wear a T-shirt and jeans on the job.

“I‘m here to see Mr Cullen. Isabella Swan for Rosalie Hale.”

“Excuse me one moment Miss Swan.” She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand self-consciously in front of her. I am beginning to wish I had borrowed one of Rose‘s jackets rather than wear my navy blue peacoat. I have made an effort and worn my one and only skirt. It‘s brown, and I have sensible brown knee-length boots and a blue jumper. For me… this is smart. I tuck one of the escaped tendrils of my hair behind my ear as I pretend she doesn‘t intimidate me.

Wait, why—She’s just a secretary for crying out loud. Stop with your irrational inferiority complex.

“Miss Hale is expected, please sign in here Miss Swan. You‘ll want the end lift on the right, press for the 30th floor.” She smiles kindly at me, amused no doubt as I sign in.

Secretary: Aww, ain’t that cute? She spells her e’s backwards. You’re a special little snowflake, yes you are.

She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front… personally I think it‘s obvious that I‘m just visiting, I don‘t fit in here at all… nothing changes, I inwardly sigh…

Funny how that last line reflects my sentiments about this fic and its source material.

I thank her and walk over to the lifts, past the two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than me in their well-cut black suits.

They knew how to button their suits, something that was beyond my ability.

The lift whisks me with unseemly haste to the thirtieth floor. The doors silently fly open and I‘m in another large foyer, again all glass, steel and white sandstone. In front of me there‘s another desk of sandstone and another young blond woman dressed impeccably in black and white, who rises to greet me.

It’s nice to see how extensive Snowqueens’ vocabulary is.

“Miss Swan, could you wait here, please?” She points to a seated area of white leather chairs. Behind the leather chairs is a large glass-walled meeting room with an enormous dark wood table and twenty dark wood chairs around it, beyond that a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seattle skyline, looking out through the city towards the Pacific Ocean. It‘s a stunning vista. I stand and admire it, momentarily distracted before I sit.

Too bad I needed full concentration to do any task and missed the seat.

I fish the questions out of my satchel and go through them, inwardly cursing Rose for not providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this man I am about to interview. He could be 90, he could be in his 30s… My nerves are beginning to kick in - I am uncomfortable with this one-to-one stuff. I am much better in a group scenario… preferably not asking any questions… sitting somewhere in the back.

Behold, your average Tumblret.

Well, judging by the building - all clinical and modern - he‘s probably in his thirties… fit, tanned, blond, to match the rest of the personnel.

They come in a pre-ordered set.

Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blond comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blonds? It‘s like Stepford here…

Tee-hee, she made a pop-culture reference! It’s just as funny as Family Guy!

I take a deep breath and stand up.

“Miss Swan,” the latest blond asks.

Notice the subtle racism here. All the perfect, successful people are blondes and are described as completely ideal by Bella, who’s a white person herself and meant to also be seen as a beautiful and ideal woman (lol, okay). Nice to see cultural diversity here! WHITE SUPERIORITY, HEIL HELL YEAH.


“Mr Cullen will see you in a moment. May I take your jacket?”

“Oh please.” I struggle out of my pea coat.

“Have you been offered any refreshment?”

“Err – no…” Oh dear, am I going to get Blond Number One into trouble?

She frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk.

“Would you like tea, coffee, water? Some rat poison?

“Glass of water would be lovely thank you.”

“Jessica, please fetch Miss Swan a glass of water.” She says sternly to the young woman at the desk. Jessica scoots up immediately and walks to a door on the other side of the foyer.

“My apologies Miss Swan, Jessica is our new intern.

She hasn’t done anything yet to warrant an apology, but you gotta be tough on ‘em.

Please be seated. Mr Cullen will probably be another five minutes.”

Jessica returns with a large glass of iced water.

“Here you go Miss Swan.”

“Thank you.”

Blond Number Two goes

Stay classy Bella.

and sits at the sandstone desk at her station and they both continue their work.

Perhaps Mr Cullen insists on all his employees being blonde… is that legal? I‘m wondering idly, when the office door opens and a tall elegantly dressed, rather beautiful black man exits.

Too late to try and prove you’re not racist, Snowqueens.

I have definitely worn the wrong clothes.

What, why?

He turns and says through the door,

“Golf, definitely, Cullen.”

Oh hey Tiger Woods! Bella got your race wrong, but one drop of black blood is all it takes for Southern Belle Bella.

I don‘t hear the reply. He turns, sees me and smiles kindly. Jessica has jumped up and called the lift.

“Good afternoon ladies,” he says as he departs through the sliding door.

“Mr Cullen will see you now, Miss Swan. Do go through,” Blond Number Two says.

I stand rather shakily, collect my satchel, leave my water and make my way to the partially open door.

At least Bella’s in-character (and unlikable as ever).

“You don‘t need to knock – just go in,” she smiles at me, and I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet as usual and falling head first into the office.

Oh hey, at least we can end things with a smile and laugh at Bella’s expense.

Chapter 1 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 2 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 3 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 4 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 5 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 6 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 7 - Max-Vader
Chapter 8 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 9 - Screaming_Soulcatcher
Chapter 10 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 11 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 12 - Max-Vader
Chapter 13 - Screaming_Soulcatcher
Chapter 14 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 15 - Max-Vader
Chapter 16 - Screaming_Soulcatcher
Chapter 17 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 18 - Max-Vader
Chapter 19 - Screaming_Soulcatcher
Chapter 20 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 21 - Max-Vader
Chapter 22 - Screaming_Soulcatcher
Chapter 23 - Paragon
Chapter 24 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 25 - Max-Vader
Chapter 26 - Screaming_Soulcatcher
Chapter 27 - oneluckyduck
Chapter 28 - Howlizter
Chapter 29 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 30 - Max-Vader
Chapter 31 - oneluckyduck and Shmeckie
Chapter 32 -xoxjoanxox
Chapter 33 - Max-Vader
Chapter 34 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 35 - xoxjoanxox
Chapter 36 - Max-Vader and oneluckyduck
Chapter 37 - oneluckyduck and Paragon
Chapter 38 - Al_Cone
Chapter 39 - oneluckyduck and Paragon

The Ten Golden Rules of BDSM Negotiations- Yaoi Huntress Earth
Dramatic Reading of Chapter 31 - Shmeckie

This post has been edited by xoxjoanxox: Feb 5 2015, 02:41 PM


QUOTE (9/13/2013 3:49:17 PM Max-Vader:)

QUOTE (Master of AFTER @ Feb 5 2014, 05:08 AM) *
I Was the Drink: The Joan Cheng Story

QUOTE (Screaming Soulcatcher)
Joan are you the straightest shota
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Post #2
Nihilistic One

Audino if I can put up with your shit

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post Jul 11 2012, 08:16 PM
Wow. You know, while reading through 50 Shades of Grey, I couldn't help but think "Holy hell, this sounds like it belongs on fanfiction.net!" Apparently I am either a psychic or just smart enough to realize when trash is trash. Funny mock, by the way.

This post has been edited by Nihilistic One: Jul 11 2012, 08:17 PM
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Post #3


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post Jul 11 2012, 09:10 PM
Well, that was boring. (The story, of course, not your mock.) You could neatly sum it up with "Bella goes somewhere and describes what she sees."

Also, I've already read this. I read the first chapter on Amazon, to see what all the fuss was about (still a mystery), and it's almost word-for-word. The only big differences are that the names are changed, the boring descriptions of things are slightly longer, and she got an editor.

Grammar is the difference between "knowing your shit" and "knowing you're shit."
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Post #4

Not quite here, not quite there.

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post Jul 18 2012, 02:18 PM
Chapter Two

I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Mr Cullen‘s office,

We’ve gotten to the porn part pretty fast.

and gentle hands are around me helping to pull me up. I am so embarrassed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy Crow, he‘s so young…

I swear to God, Snowqueens is trying to outdo kkat in bad euphuisms.

“Miss Hale…” he extends a long-fingered hand to me, once I‘m stood. “I‘m Edward Cullen. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?”

He‘s so young… and attractive. Very attractive. Tall, dressed in a fine grey suit, white shirt and black tie with unruly bronze hair and intense, bright green eyes that regard me shrewdly.
“Err… actually,” It takes a moment for me to find my voice, and I think my mouth has plopped open in astonishment.

Damn him for being so attractive and making me mouth plop open!

If this guy is over thirty then I‘m a monkey‘s uncle…


I extend my hand to him in a daze, and we shake. As our fingers touch I feel a strange current go through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, and I can feel myself blinking… rapidly, matching my heart rate.

I’d say that’s humanly impossible, but we all know Bella is a Mary-Sue so anything goes.

“Miss Hale is err… indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don‘t mind, Mr Cullen.”

“And you are…?” His voice is warm, possibly amused but it‘s difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite.

“Isabella Swan. I‘m studying English with Rose… err Rosalie… err Miss Hale at Washington State.”

”I has a hard time learning though.”

“I see,” he says simply and I think I can see the ghost of a smile in his expression but I‘m not sure. “Would you like to sit?” He waves me towards a white leather buttoned L-shaped couch. The room is vast with an enormous modern dark wood desk beside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything is white except on the wall by the door, there‘s a succession of small square paintings, thirty-six of them arranged in a square…. they are exquisite, a series of mundane, forgotten objects, painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

“A local artist. Trouton.” He says when he catches my gaze.

“They‘re lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary,” I murmur, distracted, by him and by the paintings. He gazes at me intently.

“Yes Miss Swan,” he replies softly.

You see, reading this section wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t hate the characters so much.

Apart from the painting the rest of the room is pleasant enough, but it‘s quite cold, clean… clinical. I wonder if it truly reflects the personality of the Greek god who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me.

Attached Image

I am disturbed by where my thoughts are heading so I busy myself with finding the questions that Rose has given me and then setting up the mini-disc recorder. I am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the dark wood coffee table in front of me.

Again, what.

Mr Cullen says nothing, as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I finally pluck up the courage to look at him he‘s watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he‘s trying to suppress a smile.

Even Edward knew it wasn’t good to laugh at the special-Ed kid. The paparazzi were everywhere these days.

“Sorry,” I stutter, “I’m not used to this.”

”Holding things sure is hard.”

“Take all the time you need Miss Swan,” he says.

“Do you mind if I record your answers?”

“After you‘ve taken so much trouble to set up the recorder… you ask me now?”

Hey, story’s becoming aware of its own ridiculousness.

I flush. He‘s teasing me… I hope… I blink at him and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. “No, I don‘t mind.”

She looked like a sad goat that was about to have sex.

“Did Rose… I mean Miss Hale explain what the interview was for?”

“Yes, your student newspaper WSU Eyewitness. To appear in the graduation issue, as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year‘s graduation ceremony.”

Oh… this is news to me…

Rose must be rolling over in her bed right now. Seriously, did you really have to send her of all people?

and I‘m temporarily pre-occupied with the thought that someone, not much older than me… okay maybe six years or so, and okay he‘s mega successful… but still - he‘s going to present me with my degree! I try and drag myself back to the task in hand.

“Good… well, I have some questions… Mr Cullen.” I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“I thought you might…” he says, deadpan.

Well, there’s my first un-ironic chuckle right there.

He‘s teasing me again. I feel the heat in my cheeks and I pull myself up in attempt to look taller and intimidating. I press the start button on the recorder and try for professional… I read the first of Rose‘s questions.

“You‘re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?” I glance up at him.

He smiles ruefully at me but looks vaguely disappointed.

He didn’t realize this was going to be an actual interview (he had baby-sitting more in mind).

“Business is all about people, Miss Swan and I‘m very good at judging people - I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what weakens them, what inspires them, and how to incentivise them…

I’m so privileged that I can make up words to sound smart now.

I employ many, many good people and I reward them well. I believe that the road to success in any scheme is to make oneself master of that scheme and I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts and I have good solid ideas and an exceptional team that can come up with good solid ideas – again, good people.

“Maybe you‘re just lucky.” This isn‘t on Rose‘s list but he‘s so arrogant…

No shit. You don’t get where he is by being humble.

“I don‘t subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Swan.

They’re terrible magazines.

The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said ‘the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.’”

“You sound like a control freak.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

And here we go.

“Oh, I exercise control in all things Miss Swan,” he says, not a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive, but my heartbeat quickens inexplicably and my face flushes again. Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His overwhelming good looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me?

Willing me to burn like the bwitch I was?

He continues, “Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things…”

“Do you feel that you have immense power?” Control Freak.

God, shut your whiny mouth.

“I employ over fifty thousand people Miss Swan. That gives me a certain… sense of responsibility. Power if you will. If I decide I‘m no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up - twenty five thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so…”

I think my mouth drops open. I am staggered by his lack of humility.

I’m staggered by your lack of intelligence. Really now? What the fuck did you expect to hear from a wealthy CEO? The way Bella passes incorrect judgment (which she lacks the standing to do so in the first place) in this story is fairly reminiscent of Raven from NTL.

“Don‘t you have a board to answer to?” I ask disgusted.

“I own my company – so I don‘t have to answer to a board.”

What—Then you’re not a fucking CEO. You’re the chairman of the board. What the hell.

He raises an eyebrow at me… of course I would know this if I had done some research… But Holy Crow… he‘s so arrogant… I change tack.

What sort of idiot lingo is Bella speaking?

“And do you have any interests outside of your work?”

“I have varied interests, Miss Swan.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Very varied.” And for some reason I feel confounded and heated by his steady gaze... His eyes alight with some wicked thought...

”You’d be surprised by how many people, and things, are within my strike range.”

“But if you work so hard what do you do to chill out?”

When we want a break, we mainly use commas.

“Chill out?” He smiles a dazzling white-toothed, crooked smile at me. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good looking. “Well, to chill out as you put it - I sail, I fly, various physical pursuits,” he shifts in his chair. “I‘m a very wealthy man, Miss Swan and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies.”

”They mainly involve playing a children’s card game and flying around in a phallic blue dragon jet.”

I glance quickly at Rose‘s questions, wanting to get off this subject,

“You invest in manufacturing… why specifically?” I ask. Why does he make me feel so uncomfortable?

“I like to build things, I like to know how things work, what makes things tick… how to construct and deconstruct… And I have a love of ships… what can I say…?”

“That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts.”

His mouth quirks up at me and he stares at me appraisingly. “Possibly… though there are people I know who‘d say I don‘t have a heart.”

“Why would they say that?”

“Because they know me well,” his lip curls in a wry smile.

“Would your friends say that you are easy to get to know?” And I regret the question as soon as I say it… it‘s not on Rose‘s list…

“I‘m a very private person, Miss Swan, and I‘ll go a long way to protect my privacy. I don‘t often give interviews…” he trails off…

“Why did you agree to do this interview?”

“Because I‘m a benefactor of the university… and to all intents and purposes I couldn‘t get Miss Hale off my back…

I can’t be the only one who finds irony in a dominator being whipped.

she badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity.”

That's why he really liked pickle jars, not just because it had phallic pickles in it...

I knew just how tenacious Rose could be… that‘s why I was sat here squirming uncomfortably, when I should be revising in the kitchen because I have no other business judging other people’s work, least of all their writing...

“You also invest in farming technologies… Why are you interested in this area?”

“We can‘t eat money, Miss Swan, and there are too many people on this planet who don‘t have enough to eat.”

”Well, we can eat money, but trust me, the end results aren’t pretty.”

“That sounds very philanthropic. Is that something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world‘s poor?”

He shrugs. “It‘s shrewd business.” He murmurs, though I think he‘s being disingenuous. It doesn‘t make sense… feeding the world‘s poor… I can‘t see the financial benefits of this…

Uh, it isn’t charity. It’s not like he’s giving out the food for free; he’s just producing more. Besides, we can’t possibly have characters with more than one defining trait.

only the virtue of the ideal… I glance at the next question confused by his attitude.

“Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?”

“I don‘t have a philosophy as such… maybe a guiding principle, Carnegie‘s: A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled. I‘m very singular, driven. I like control… of myself and those around me.”

“So you want to possess things…” You are a control freak.

Poor people want to possess things too. Gasp, they must be control freaks as well!

“I want to deserve to possess them… but yes, bottom line… I do.”

“You sound like the ultimate consumer.”

“I am.” He smiles, but the smile doesn‘t touch his eyes.

Riveting. Smart and sexy. Further descriptions critics give when they have nothing to actually praise about a piece of work.

Again this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world so I can‘t help but think that we are talking about something else… but I‘m absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard… the temperature in the room feels like it‘s rising… or maybe it‘s just me. I‘m nearly through all the questions. Surely Rose has enough material now. I glance at the next question.

“You were adopted… how far do you think that‘s shaped the way you are?”

Ooh… this is personal. I stare at him hoping I haven‘t offended him. He frowns at me slightly.
“I have no way of knowing.”

Lol what.

My interest is piqued. “How old were you when you were adopted?”

“This is all a matter of public record Miss Swan.” His tone is stern. I flush… yes of course… if I‘d known I was doing the interview I would have done some research. I move on.

“You‘ve had to sacrifice a family life for your work.”

“That‘s not a question.” He‘s terse.

“Sorry,” I squirm, and he‘s made me feel like an errant child.

Well, Bella and Edward do have that whole pedophilia thing going on.

“Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?” I try again.

“I have a family, I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents… They're all still alive though. I haven't gotten around to my satanic ritual that calls for a family sacrifice. I‘m not interested in extending my family beyond that. It's hard to cover up one murder, you know.

“Are you gay, Mr Cullen?”

He sparkles, what do you think?

I hear his sharp intake of breath… and I cringe inwardly…crap… why didn‘t I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out…? How can I tell him I‘m just reading the questions? Damn Rose and her curiosity.

“No Isabella, I‘m not,” and he raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes - he does not look pleased.

“I apologise…

I thought you British were supposed to be good with writing—Oh yeah, Yunagirlamy.

it‘s err… written here…” It‘s the first time he‘s said my name and my heartbeat has accelerated and I can feel my cheeks heating up again… Nervously I tuck my hair behind my ear as it‘s worked its way loose.

He cocks his head to one side.

“These aren‘t your questions?”

“Err… no… Rose… Miss Hale, she‘s compiled the questions.”

“Are you colleagues on the student paper?”

Oh crap… I have nothing to do with the student paper. It‘s her extra-curricular activity, not mine. I can feel my face heating further.

“No… she‘s my room-mate.”

He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his green eyes appraising me.

“Did you volunteer to do this interview?” He asks quietly.


Hang on… who‘s supposed to be interviewing who…? His eyes burn into me and I am compelled to answer truthfully.

“I was drafted… She‘s not well with judgment. Did I mention I good English? ” I say weakly, by way of explanation.

“That explains a great deal,” he says softly.

There‘s a knock at the door and Blond Number Two enters. “Mr Cullen, forgive me for interrupting but your next meeting is in two minutes.”

“We‘re not finished here Angela. Please cancel my next meeting.”

Angela hesitates, staring at him… she‘s momentarily lost. He raises his eyebrows at her… She flushes.

Because he’s a sex god, in case you forgot.

“Very well Mr Cullen,” she mutters and then exits. He frowns and then turns his attention back to me.

“Where were we Miss Swan?” Oh we‘re back to Miss Swan now…

It should have always been that way.

“Err… please don‘t let me keep you from anything…”

“I want to know about you Miss Swan, I think that‘s only fair…” His green eyes alight with curiosity. Oh crap… where‘s he going with this…? He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very distracting…

“There‘s not much to know.” I say, flushing again.

“What are your plans after you graduate?”

What the fuck, you don’t ask that, the setting is all wrong, this is harassment asfghjkl;

I shrug, flustered. Come to Seattle with Rose, find a place, find a job… I haven’t really thought beyond my finals.

“I haven‘t made any plans Mr Cullen, I just need to get through my final exams.” - Which I should be studying for now, rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze.

“We run an excellent internship program here…” he says quietly.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job…?

LOL she thinks interning is a job. That’s cute.

“Oh… I‘ll bear that in mind,” I murmur, completely thrown. “Though I‘m not sure I‘d fit in here…” Crap – I am musing out loud again…

“Why do you say that?” He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of his crooked smile plays on his lips.

“Well it‘s obvious isn‘t it?” I’m uncoordinated, scruffy… and I’m not blond.

What I need is not an internship but a beta-reader.[/s]

“Not to me…” he murmurs and he gazes at me intently, all humor gone and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny… and stare down at my knotted fingers.

Oh God, you should get that checked.

What‘s going on…? I have to go… now. I lean forward to retrieve the recorder.

“Would you like me to show you round?” he asks.

”We can stop by Big Ben. And trust me when I say he’s big.”

“I‘m sure you‘re far too busy Mr Cullen, and I do have a long drive.”

“You‘re driving back to Portland?” He sounds surprised, anxious suddenly. He glances out of the window and it‘s begun to rain. “Well you‘d better drive carefully.” His tone is stern, authoritative. Why should he care? “Did you get everything you need?” he adds.

“Yes sir...” I reply and I pack the recorder into my satchel. His eyes narrow slightly... speculatively.

“Thank you for letting me interview you Mr Cullen.”

“The pleasure‘s been all mine.”

As I rise, he stands and holds his hand out to me.

And then immediately pulled back once Bella tried to high five him, “Psych!”

“Until we meet again Miss Swan.” And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat. I shake his hand briefly, feeling again the odd current between us… I conclude it must just be my nerves.

You [i] really
need to get that checked.

“Mr Cullen.” I nod at him. He moves gracefully to the door and opens it wide.

“I‘m just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Swan.” Obviously he‘s referring to my less-than-elegant entry into his office earlier.

I flush.

“Well, that‘s very considerate,” I snap at him and he smiles. I‘m glad you find me amusing, I glower inwardly… I walk into the foyer and he follows. Angela and Jessica both look up in surprise.

”Huh, I expected her to be covered in semen.”

“Did you have a coat?” He asks.


Jessica leaps up and retrieves my pea coat which Cullen takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and feeling beyond self-conscious I put my arms into it, and he puts his hands very briefly on my shoulders as he pulls it over me. I gasp at the contact.

Bella was the ‘Jizzed in my Pants’ song personified. There was this one time she accidentally walked into someone and he turned around to ask if she was alright. She came right then and there.

If he notices, he gives nothing away. He presses the lift door and we stand there for a beat, awkwardly on my part… self-possessed and cool on his. The doors open and I hurry in… desperate to escape… I really need to get out of here. I turn to look at him and he‘s leaning against the doorway beside the lift, one hand on the wall… he really is very, very good looking… it‘s distracting. His burning green eyes gaze at me…

“Isabella…” he says as a farewell.

“Edward…” I reply and mercifully the doors close.



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post Jul 18 2012, 09:38 PM
QUOTE (xoxjoanxox @ Jul 18 2012, 03:18 PM) *
I swear to God, Snowqueens is trying to outdo kkat in bad euphuisms.

Bella actually uses the "holy crow" expression multiple times in the books. Needless to say, it's annoying as fuck.

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post Aug 2 2012, 09:41 AM
Chapter Three
My heart is pounding. When the lift arrives on the first floor, I scramble out as soon as the doors open, stumbling once, fortunately not sprawling on to the floor.

Seriously, that is not cute. It’s just sad and annoying.

I head for the wide glass doors and then I‘m in the bracing, cleansing, damp air of Seattle.

Snowqueen managed to get this fanfic published in the same way kkat did: by threatening to toss blocks with adjectives carved onto them at the publishers.

I raise my face to welcome the cool refreshing rain… closing my eyes, trying to recover what‘s left of my equilibrium, taking a huge purifying breath.

Instantly negated by the fact that her entire existence is foul.

No man has ever affected me the way Edward Cullen has… and I don‘t know why. Is it his good looks? His civility? Wealth? Power? I just don‘t understand my irrational reaction.

Bella’s probably just in the heat.

I breathe an enormous sigh of relief. What in heaven‘s name was that all about? I lean against one of the steel pillars of the building… gathering my thoughts, calming down.

Easier said than done. Bella’s more hysterical than Regina George after finding out she doesn’t fit a size 5.

I shake my head, feeling more myself as my heart steadies to its regular rhythm, and I‘m breathing normally again… I head for the car.

Woah! For the first time, the characters are actually listening to my wishes and killing themselves!

As I leave the city limits behind me I begin to feel foolish and embarrassed. Surely I‘m over-reacting to something that I‘m imagining…. Okay, so he‘s very attractive, confident, commanding, so at ease with himself. But on the flip side he‘s also arrogant, and in spite of his impeccable manners, he‘s very autocratic, and cold… well on the surface, and an involuntary shiver runs down my spine. He may be arrogant but then he‘s accomplished so much at such a young age, and I can tell he doesn‘t suffer fools gladly, why should he?

asfghjkl; Contradictions everywhere. You’re going to the Eight Circle Sixth Pouch of hell.

I am irritated again that Rose didn‘t give me a brief biography.

Along with his address, personal history, social security number, three sizes, preferred food, and blood type. You need these sort of things for an interview.
Girl, all you did was record his answers. If you wanted that shit, go Google it yourself.

I think about the interview itself. I am truly perplexed as to what makes someone so driven to such success.

Yep, it’s a curiosity as to why people want to succeed in life. That’s why Christopher Walken is such an enigma, and not because he’s fucking weird as hell already in his own right.

And some of his answers were so cryptic, like he had some hidden agenda.

Wait, are you trying to tell me that successful business men have hidden motives?! Color me fifty shades of shock.

And some of Rose‘s questions – ugh – the adoption, and asking him if he was gay, I can't believe I said that - I‘m mortified anew – I know that every time I think of this in the future I will cringe with embarrassment… damn Rosalie Hale.

Next thing you know, she, like everyone else on Tumblr, will be damning Kagamine Len as well.

I check the speedometer – I am driving more cautiously than I would on any other occasion and I know it‘s the memory of two penetrating green eyes gazing at me, and his stern voice telling me to drive carefully. I shake my head, he‘s more like a man double his age.

Bella’s a wrinkle-chaser, go figure.

Forget it Bella - I scold myself. I decide that all in all it‘s been a very interesting experience but that I shouldn‘t dwell on it. Put it him
behind you.

Here, I helped Snowqueens with her foreshadowing.

After all, I never have to see him again. I‘m immediately cheered by the thought, so I switch on the MP3 player, sit back, turn the indie rock music up loud

Linkin Park?

and head down the I-5, pushing down on the accelerator… knowing that I can drive as fast as I want.

As I park outside our apartment I know Rose is going to want a blow-by-blow account and she can be tenacious. Well at least she has the mini disc. Hopefully I won‘t have to elaborate much beyond that. We live in a gated community of lovely duplex apartments. I‘m lucky – Rose‘s parents have brought it for her, and I help with the rent. It's been home for the last four years.

Glad to see we’re continuing the tradition of the white man’s privilege.

“Bella, you‘re back.” Rose is sitting in our living area surrounded by books. She‘s been studying for finals, though she‘s still dressed in her pink flannel pajamas that are decorated with little pink rabbits. These pj‘s she reserves for the aftermath of breaking up with boyfriends, illnesses and general moody depression.

Some people go drinking with their friends after a breakup. Rose puts on Barbie PJ’s and listens to her friend bitch and damn her every second.

She bounds up to me and hugs me hard. “I was beginning to worry. I expected you back sooner.”

”Please don’t tell me you went off script, because you remember what happened at that NAACP meeting…”

“Sorry – the interview went on longer than anticipated.” I hand her the mini disc.

“Bella, thanks so much for doing this. I owe you, I know.

”Even though I could have basically gotten anyone else to fulfill this simple job, like one of the interns or maybe a lab monkey…”

How was it? What was he like?” Oh no here we go… the Rosalie Hale Inquisition.

Must be in her Spanish blood.

I struggle to answer her question. “I‘m glad it‘s over and I don‘t have to see him again. He was… rather intimidating. You know, he‘s very focused, intense even and young, really young.” She gazes innocently at me.

“Yes Rose

Wait, what? Rose didn’t say anything.

why didn‘t you give me a biography? He made me feel such an idiot for not doing any basic research.” I frown at her. “Mostly he was courteous, formal, slightly stuffy… like he‘s old before his time… he doesn‘t talk like a twenty something man. How old is he anyway?”

“He‘s twenty-seven. Gee Bella I‘m sorry. I didn‘t think you’d be so stupid and incompetent enough to not do your own research. I mean, it’s not like I’m in my ‘break-up’ PJs and you’re flinging out baseless accusations at me or anything. Let me have mini-disc and I‘ll get on to it.”

“You look better. Which isn’t saying much but whatever. Did you eat your soup?”

“Yes I did, and it was delicious as usual, and I‘m feeling better.” She smiles at me in gratitude.

“Anyway I have to run. I can still make my shift at Newton‘s.”

”He’ll throw apples at me if I’m late.”

“Bella, you‘ll be exhausted...”

“I‘m fine. I‘ll see you later.”
Since I started at WSU I have worked at Newton‘s. It is the largest camping warehouse in the Portland area, so over the four years I‘ve lived here I‘ve come to know a bit about camping… though I‘ve never been keen myself. I‘m much more of a curl up with a book, in a comfy chair, in front of a fire, kind of girl.

With my glass of Chateau wine in one hand, unfinished caviar on the mahogany round table, and my butler waiting on me. Nothing too fancy.

I am glad I make my shift – it gives me something to focus on that isn‘t Edward Cullen. We‘re busy. It‘s the start of the summer season and we have the first wave of tourists to attend to. Mrs Newton is pleased to see me. “Bella, I thought you weren‘t going to make it today.”

“My appointment didn‘t take as along

It’s like all the beta-readers fled in fear of this fic.

as predicted. I can do a couple of hours.”

“Well, I‘m pleased to see you. It‘s busy.”

She sends me out to the stock room to start re-stocking shelves and I‘m soon absorbed in the task.

It required all of my concentration, like most simple tasks. Rose calls me retarded, I’d like to call it dedicated. Ah shit, dropped a can! That’s what I get for thinking and working at the same time.
Rosalie is busy typing on her laptop wearing headphones when I return at eight-thirty. Her nose is still pink, but she has her teeth into a story so she‘s off, typing furiously.

”And so I believe that castrating all men will be the solution to rape culture…”

I‘m thoroughly drained and I slump on to the couch, thinking of the essay I have to finish and all the revision I had hoped to do today.

“You‘ve got some good stuff here Bella, well done.

”We’ll put it up on the fridge for everyone to see.”

I can‘t believe you didn‘t take him up on his offer to show you round… He obviously wanted to spend more time with you.” She gives me a fleeting quizzical look.

I flush and my heart rate inexplicably increases. That wasn‘t the reason surely? He just wanted to show me round so that I could see that he was Lord of all he surveyed. I realise I am biting my lip and hope that Rose doesn‘t notice. She seems absorbed in her transcription.

“I hear what you mean about formal. Did you take any notes?” She asks.

These characters are having dialogues with themselves. What the fuck.

“Umm… no, I didn‘t.”

“That‘s fine… I can make a good article with this. Shame I don‘t have some original photos. He‘s a good looking son of a bitch isn‘t he?”


I flush. “Yeah I suppose so.”

“Oh come on Bella – even you can‘t be immune to his looks.” She arches a perfect eyebrow at me.

”I know you like your hug pillow of Big Mac, but Jesus Christ, that shit ain’t healthy.”

I decide to distract her with flattery… always a good ploy. “You probably would have got a lot more out of him.”

“I think you did pretty good Bells. Come on, he practically offered you a job.

Interns do not make money.

Given that I foisted this on you at the last minute… you did really well.” She glances up at me speculatively and I quickly escape from the couch into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich.

Reinforcing every single sexist joke in history.

“So what did you really think of him?” She's so inquisitive. Why can‘t she just let this go?

Because she’s Spanish, duh.

“He‘s very driven, controlling, arrogant… scary really… but very charismatic… I can understand the fascination,” I say truthfully, hoping it will shut her up once and for all.

“You… fascinated by a man… that‘s a first,” she snorts.

I busy myself in the kitchen so she can‘t see my face.

“Why did you want to know if he was gay? And incidentally I was mortified asking that question.”

“Well whenever he‘s in the society pages of the papers he‘s never got a date.”

Maybe he just can’t bag. Not a lot of girls are eager to get glitter in their privates.

“Well it was embarrassing… the whole thing was embarrassing and I‘m glad I‘ll never have to lay eyes on him again.”

“Oh Bella, it can‘t have been that bad. I think he sounds quite taken with you.”

“Would you like a sandwich?”

“Yes please.”

We talk no more of Edward Cullen…

Rose’s easier to distract than an ADHD kid.

thank heavens and I‘m able to sit at the dining table with Rose and finish my essay on Tess of the D‟Urbervilles Why Fallout Equestria is Good and Quality is Subjective. Damn but that woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong century… By the time I‘ve finished it‘s midnight. Rose has wisely gone to bed and I make my way to my room, exhausted, but pleased that I‘ve accomplished so much for a Monday. As I curl up in my bed I close my eyes and I‘m instantly asleep. That night, I dream of green eyes, dark places and bleak white cold floors…

I had the same dreams after watching ‘Village of the Damned.’
For the rest of the week I throw myself very enthusiastically into my revision and work at the Newton‘s place. Rose is readying her last edition of Eyewitness

Well, I’m never watching that channel again.

before she has to relinquish it to the new editor and also studying. By Wednesday she‘s much better so I don‘t have to endure the sight of her pink flannel too many rabbits PJs.

I think that Bella and ‘The Suicide Chronicles’ Haruhi Suzumiya are the same person…

I call my Mom in Florida, to check on her, but also so that she can wish me luck for my final exams. She proceeds to tell me about her latest venture into candle making… my mother is all about new business ventures.

Too bad they always end in spectacular failures.

Basically she‘s bored at home and wants something to occupy her time, but she has the attention span of a goldfish…

Apparently it’s genetic.

it will be something new next week. She worries me… I hope she‘s not mortgaged the house to finance this latest scheme. I hope Phil, her relatively new, young husband is keeping an eye on her, now that I‘m no longer there.

“How are things with you, Bella?”

For a moment I hesitate…. and I have her full attention. “I‘m fine.”

“Bella? Have you met someone?” Wow… how does she do that?

Leftover wiretaps and cameras from her previous scheme to open up a Private Eye Detective Agency.

The excitement in her voice is palpable.

“No Mom… it‘s nothing… you‘ll be the first to know if I do.”

“Bella you really need to get out more honey

This is the most relatable line I’ve heard all day.

… you worry me.”

“Mom, I‘m fine. How‘s Phil?” As ever distraction is always the best policy.

Glad to see Bella’s still a sneaky bitch.

After my conversation I call Charlie, my Dad. That‘s a brief conversation… well not so much a conversation but a series of one-sided grunts in response to my gentle coaxing… Charlie is not a talker. But he‘s still alive, still watching sport on TV and still fishing… all is well with him.

You leave Charlie out of this fic. He is the best character in Twilight and I will not tolerate your shit.
On Friday night Rose and I are debating what to do with our evening. We want a night off from revision and student newspapers... the doorbell rings. Standing at our door is my good friend Jake with a bottle of champagne.

This is so not contrived at all!

“Wow, Jake! Great to see you…” I give him a quick hug. “Come in.”

I‘ve known Jake for years. We‘ve grown up together but only for two weeks at a time every summer since I was two years old, his dad and Charlie, are the best of buddies…

Wow, look at that run-on, nonsensical sentence. It’s like taking a look into the minds of a schizophrenic patient.

Charlie dealing with the aftermath of his divorce, Jake‘s dad a widower. We‘ve made mud pies, scraped our knees and fought evil together as kids… Jake always brought out the tomboy in me. I love him dearly, but as a friend.

I am so proud of him. He‘s the first in his family to go to University and he‘s studying engineering. He‘s so bright – but his real passion is photography… he has a real eye for a great picture.

Attached Image

Now if only he could stop shaking from all that caffeine…

“I have news,” he grins a big white-toothed smile at me, his dark eyes twinkling.

“Don‘t tell me, you‘ve managed not to get kicked out for another week,” I tease him and he scowls playfully at me.

“The Portland Gallery is going to exhibit my photos from next month.”

“Oh Jake! That‘s amazing – congratulations!” I am so delighted for him - I hug him again.

Jake instantly got a boner.

“Way to go Jake..! I could put this in the newspaper. Nothing like a late editorial change on a Friday evening,” Rose grins at him.

“Well, let‘s celebrate. I want you to come to the opening…” Jake looks intently at me. I flush. “Both of you, of course…” he adds.

We are good friends, but I know, deep down inside that he‘d like to be more. He‘s cute – hot even – my oldest friend, who knows me so well… but he‘s just not for me.

Well fuck bitch, what more do you want? For someone with such an large inferiority complex, you sure are picky as hell.

Rosalie often teases me that I‘m missing the need-a-boyfriend gene,

People don’t need romantic relationships to find meaning in their lives. :| Though I guess with Bella, there’s not much else to be proud of anyways.

but the truth is – I just haven‘t met anyone who… well… who I‘m attracted to. In my heart I‘m hoping for trembling knees, heart in your mouth, butterflies in my belly… sleepless nights.

Sounds more like Bella wants a week’s worth of the weirdest buffet ever.

Sometimes I wonder if there‘s something wrong with me. Perhaps I‘ve spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high. But I know, in reality, nobody‘s ever made me feel like that… except very recently… NO!… an unwelcome still small voice whispers in my sub-conscious. I banish the thought immediately. I am not going there – not after the painful interview. Yes, I have dreamt about him most nights… but that‘s just to process the awful interview out of my system… surely?

God, I hate reading this, ‘No I don’t really l-like him or anything, baka’ melodramatic bullshit. You don’t have to love someone to be interested in them; we have flings for a reason.

I watch Jake as he‘s opening the bottle of champagne. He‘s in jeans and a t-shirt… tall, all shoulders and muscles, bronzed skin, dark hair and burning dark eyes. Yes, Jake‘s pretty hot, but I think he‘s finally getting the message – we are just friends. It is so easy to be in his company, especially when he‘s as happy as he is today.
Saturday at the store is a nightmare. We are besieged with tourists.

Sounds like Time Square during the summer.

Mr and Mrs Newton, me, and the two other part-timers are rushed off our feet. There‘s a lull at lunchtime and Mrs Newton asks me to check on some orders whilst I‘m sitting behind the counter at the till.

At the till—what kinda place is Bella working at exactly?

I‘m engrossed in the task, checking catalogue numbers against the items we need and what‘s been ordered. The Newtons haven‘t yet caught up with technology so they still run a paper ordering system.

It’s funny because old people.

The shop is quiet for the first time all day and I can give the task my full attention. Then… for some reason I glance up. And find myself locked into the bold green gaze of Edward Cullen, who‘s standing at the counter, staring at me intently.

I blushed, and turned my head, “B-baka, what are you doing here, control freak?”

He said, “That’s like asking a man on fire why he’s pouring water on himself. I’m here to buy one of those delightful Fig Newton cookies obviously.”

I said, “Yeah right, you came to see me didn’t you? God you’re such a stalker.”

Jacob suddenly popped out from behind Blonde Worker #125994, “Hey Bella, I’m not a stalker—“

“Go away, I busy friend-zoning you.”

“Ok,” he left to take some more Facebook profile pictures or drink some more coffee go eat fried chicken. Whatever it was that non-white people did. Turning back to Edward, who I was so not attracted to, “Leave me alone!”

He was about to open his mouth when I cut him off, “I already said I don’t want a job at your place.”

“Actually, it’s an intern—“

“Wow, you’re willing to pay me that much? What am I, your hooker?” I shouted.

“What are you—“

“I don’t care how beautiful you think I am; go get your blonde secretary to hook up with you!”

“… Are you seriously having a conversation with yourself?”

“If Mormon’s wet dream, then vampires!”

“… All I wanted were some God damn cookies,” he muttered, “Fuck this shit, I’m leaving.”

“Wait, no—” I stretched out my hand to that perfect marble statue (too bad he really wasn’t a statue, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to walk away). But then he was gone, and in that moment, both my dreams and my panties were ruined.

Damn it, this was all Rose’s fault!


QUOTE (9/13/2013 3:49:17 PM Max-Vader:)

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post Aug 4 2012, 12:41 AM
Nice job. (Though the last 5th is all red.) I think the anti-blond stance has more to do with trying to make the heroine seem more flawed and less Sue-ish because she doesn't fit a popular ideal of beauty (blond, blue-eyed, thin and white). Or if you're Laurel K Hamilton, it streams from a deep-seated hatred of not being like that when you were younger and how much better, tougher and darkity-dark you are.

I don't mind if a story takes a new look or spin on an established series (like what Gargoyles did with Shakespeare's stuff), but if you can pretty much replace the characters with original ones without much change, you might want to think it over. Then again, the writing doesn't fall that far from the tree. It still has the same failed attempts at feisty, romantic banter as Twilight.

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post Aug 4 2012, 01:26 AM
The last part was just me writing the story for it. It's sad to know that my parody of it is so consisent with the original writing though and the latter is meant to be taken seriously...


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post Aug 4 2012, 06:09 AM
QUOTE (xoxjoanxox @ Aug 4 2012, 04:26 AM) *
The last part was just me writing the story for it. It's sad to know that my parody of it is so consisent with the original writing though and the latter is meant to be taken seriously...

Not gonna lie, I laughed pretty damn hard reading that part. Great job with this so far.

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post Aug 8 2012, 01:24 AM
Chapter Four

“Miss Swan. What a pleasant surprise.” He stares at me, his gaze unwavering and intense.
Holy Crow…


what the hell is he doing here? Looking all tousled hair and outdoorsy

The saddest part is that apparently ‘outdoorsy’ is a real word.

in a grey chunky knit sweater, tight jeans and walking boots. I think my mouth has popped open and I‘m having difficulty locating my brain and my voice, which have disengaged from the rest of my body.

She’s just rendered speechless because of how tacky Edward’s fanny pack was.

“Mr. Cullen,” I whisper, because that‘s all I can manage.

There is a ghost of a smile on his face and his eyes are alight with humor as if he‘s enjoying some private joke.

“I was in the area,” he says quietly by way of explanation.

By way of explanation—Who the fuck talks like that?

“I‘m hiking… I need a few things … It‘s a pleasure to see you again Miss Swan.” His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel… or something.

This is rape of synesthesia.

I shake my head slightly. My heart is pounding a frantic tattoo


and for some reason I‘m blushing furiously under his steady scrutiny. I am so thrown by seeing him standing before me… and my memory of him does not do him justice – he‘s not good-looking, he‘s the epitome of male beauty, dazzling, and he‘s here, here in Newton‘s Camping Paradise… go figure…

I hope Jason visits your camping grounds.

Finally my cognitive function is restored and reconnected with the rest of my body.


“Bella, my name‘s Bella.” I mutter quietly. “What can I help you with Mr. Cullen?”

He smiles, and again it‘s like he‘s privy to some big secret… It is so disconcerting.
I take a deep breath and put on my professional, I‘ve-worked-in-this-camping-shop-for-years façade… I can do this....


“Well, a map of the local area for starters,” he murmurs.

”Care to help me draft one?” he asked, voice like daisy mocha caramel camel desert… I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this.

I cocked my head, “We already have one over here—”

“My pants are uncharted territory, Miss Swan,” he waggled and eyebrow, “A territory you will be getting used to very soon.”


“… Is that a yes?”

Okay… I know where those are. I try for nonchalance as I move round the counter but really I‘m concentrating so hard on not falling over my own feet, my legs the consistency of jell-O. I‘m aware that I‘m wearing my best jeans…

Hot pink ones that somehow squeezed my legs inward enough so that I couldn’t technically be called ‘Thunder Things’ anymore with ‘Working It’ stamped across the ass area.

Juicy Couture: Choice jeans of overweight cougars and slutty preteens the world over.

and I‘m inappropriately pleased that I decided to wear them this morning.

Take a shot every time Snowqueens uses awkward writing.


“The maps are over here… follow me,” I say too brightly.

“Lead the way…” he murmurs gesturing with his long fingered, beautifully manicured hand.

With my heart practically strangling me, because it‘s in my throat trying to escape from my mouth, I head down one of the aisles to the map section. Why is he here, here at Newton’s? And from a very tiny, underused part of my brain, probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata,


comes the thought… he’s here to see you… No way! I dismiss it immediately… why would this beautiful, powerful, urbane man want to see me? The idea is utterly preposterous and I kick it out of my head.

Yeah, it’s not like she’s a Mary Sue or anything—Oh wait.

“Whereabouts were you thinking of hiking?”


My voice is slightly too high, like I‘ve got my finger trapped in a door or something…

I dunno about you, but my voice would be a bit more than ‘slightly too high’ if my fingers got caught in a door.

Read: I would be screaming my head off.

Actually, it’s pretty funny to think that this entire time, Bella is screaming her head off at Edward.

“Just somewhere picturesque and quiet in the surrounding neighborhood,” he waves his hand vaguely… “I was visiting the university farming division. I am funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science.”

See… not here to see you at all… that mean part of my brain, loud and proud, in the frontal lobe of my cerebrum sneers at me. I flush as I think of my foolishness…

Stop it. You are not smart, you do not know shit, stop pretending like you do.

“Is this all part of your feed-the-world plan?”

“Something like that,” he acknowledges and his lips quirk up in a half smile.

“Well, these maps in this section here, are the local area.” I point to our map display – part of me can‘t help feeling that he should have some kind of fancy GPS tracking device for all this sort of stuff… His fingers trail through the map display and for some inexplicable reason I have to look away.

“This is the one… I think.” He plucks one out and hands it to me. It‘s a local map that shows the Williamette Stone State Heritage Site.

“This trail is quite touristy,” I offer by way of a warning.


Her writing is basically like Bleedman’s drawings: It’s all wrong.

“Hmmm… I‘d like something more private,” he says and he‘s gazing at me… green eyes concentrating hard on me. I flush… why the hell does he have this effect on me? I feel like I‘m fourteen years old… gauche, always out of place…

Yeah, more pedophilic undertones!

She’s really 18 you guys, I swear!

“Here, this trail is more secluded. It‘s north of the Williamette but it‘s still the Forest Park.” I hand him another map, scrabbling around for my equilibrium.


Our fingers touch very briefly and the current is there, sparking through me. I gasp involuntarily as I feel it all the way to somewhere dark and unexplored deep in my belly.

“Have you been?” He asks.

I shake me head…

”Hey, there can only be one Scottish lass here!” Meredith shouts.

because I can‘t talk again… I‘m on shifting tectonic plates…


Try and be cool Bella, my tortured sub-conscious begs.

“I think we both know that walking is not my thing Mr. Cullen.” I cannot look him in the eye, he is just too glorious to behold.

“What is your thing Isabella?” he asks softly, that secret smile is back.

“Books…” I squeeze the word out, and inside… that strange place in my medulla oblongata is firing synaptic impulses at me, screaming…

’That’s not my function!’

You! You are my thing! I slap it down instantaneously mortified that my psyche is having ideas above its station.

“What kind of books?” He cocks his head to one side… why is he so interested?

“Oh… you know, the usual… the classics… mainly British literature.”

”Well, fanfiction of British literature to be accurate.”

And he rubs his chin with his long index finger and his thumb as he contemplates my answer… or he‘s just very bored and trying to hide it.

Yeah, probably that.

“Is there anything else you need?” I have to get off this subject – his hands on his face are so beguiling.


“Well… I don‘t know. What would you recommend?”

“Pants,” I reply and I know I‘m no longer screening what‘s coming out of my mouth.

He raises an eyebrow at me. Amused… again.

“Denim is no good for hiking,” I hastily explain. “If your jeans get wet, they‘re heavy, don‘t dry and they chafe… and you‘ll lose body heat…” As soon as I say the word body I can feel the color in my cheeks rising again…

”So take them off, now. Better get rid of that underwear too to be safe.”

“Well I wouldn‘t want any chafing,” he murmurs dryly. “I‘d better get some pants… what would you recommend?”

“Err… you want something lightweight and breathable.”

”How about jeggings?”

“Okay… lead on Miss Swan.”

Oh no… I had not bargained for this… “The clothing section is this way.”

They sell clothes here, what the hell?

I practically whimper.

What follows has to be the most uncomfortable experience in my camping sales career, the nadir of my time at Newton‘s.


Snowqueens must be very proud of her ability to use a thesaurus.

I have captured a Greek God in our changing rooms and I‘m handing him lightweight walking trousers. How did this happen? By the time he‘s chosen a pair that are navy blue – How do I look in these? I’ll wear them now Miss Swan, I am the color of the communist manifesto.


What hell is with that these random ass attempts at sounding smart? She’s just coming off as a clumsy writer and a pretentious douchebag.

“Do you need anything else?” I squeak.

He ignores my question. “How‘s the article coming on?”

He‘s asked me a normal question… away from all the innuendo and confusing double talk…

When did those innuendoes happen?

and the changing of the pants… a question I can answer. I grasp it with two hands tightly like a life-raft - going for honesty.

I bet only five minutes have passed by in reality, yet Snowqueens is milking this so much that it feels like an entire day has gone by.

“I‘m not writing it… Rosalie… Miss Hale, my roommate, she‘s the writer - and she‘s very happy with it. She‘s the editor of the magazine, and of course she was devastated that she couldn‘t do the interview in person.” I feel like I‘ve come up for air… a normal conversation. “Her only concern is that she doesn‘t have any original photographs of you.”

He raises an eyebrow at me.

“What sort of photographs does she want?”

”Nude ones. With your chest shaven that is, because she can’t fap to a carpeted chest.“

Okay… I hadn‘t factored on this response.

Jesus Christ, how could you not? Edward’s following a normal line of conversation and here you are in all your socially incompetent glory, mouth opening and closing like a fish on land.

I shake my head, because I just don‘t know.

“Well I intend to be in the area tomorrow, perhaps…” he trails off.

“You‘d be willing to attend a photo shoot?” My voice is squeaky again. Rose will be in seventh heaven if I can pull this off. And you might see him again tomorrow… the dark place at the base of my brain hypothalamus whispers seductively at me. I dismiss the thought - of all the silly, ridiculous…

“I think Rose would be delighted, if I can find a photographer.” I‘m so pleased that I unconsciously smile at him, broadly.

His lips part slightly,

like how Moses parted the seas. Have I mentioned how God-like he is and how smart I am?
like he‘s taking a sharp intake of breath and he blinks at me… looking lost for a fraction of a second, and the earth shifts slightly on its axis… the tectonic plates sliding into a new position.


Like seriously, stop it. You don’t need to make references to what you learned in middle school to make Bella seem intelligent. There are plenty of other ways to go about with this, but none of it would work really because BELLA IS NOT SMART.

Oh my… Edward Cullen’s lost look.

“Let me know… If you need me tomorrow.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet.

“Here‘s my card. It has my cell phone number on it. You‘ll need to call before ten in the morning.”

”Cause once the bar opens, I’mma be in there all day.”

“Okay.” I grin up at him. Rose is going to so thrilled.


Mike Newton has appeared out of the ether at the end of the aisle. He‘s the Newton‘s son…home from Princeton. It‘s such a surprise to see him.

“Err… excuse me for a moment Mr Cullen.” He frowns as I turn away from him.
Mike has been a good buddy, someone I see intermittently when he‘s home from college and in this strange moment that I‘m having with the rich, powerful, awesomely off-the-scale attractive control freak Cullen,

I love how she gushed over Edward and insulted him in the same breathe. This girl is bipolar, I swear to God.

it‘s great to see someone who‘s normal.

He goes to Princeton. That is not fucking normal.

He hugs me hard… surprisingly hard.

That wasn’t the only thing that was hard. Ding!

“Bella, hi, it‘s so good to see you,” he says enthusiastically.

“Hello Mike, how are you? Are you home for your mom‘s birthday?”

“Yep – You‘re looking well Bells, really well,” he frowns slightly, examining me.

”Too well in fact,” he reached for a knife, “Can’t have anyone looking prettier than me on my mom’s birthday. She needs to show me off to her friends and their uglier children later.”

He releases me, but keeps a possessive arm draped over my shoulder. And I shuffle, embarrassed, from foot to foot. Mike has always been over-familiar, but it‘s good to see him. I glance up at Edward Cullen and he‘s watching us like a hawk, his green eyes hooded


… speculative, his mouth in a hard impassive line. He‘s changed from the weirdly attentive customer… to someone else. Someone cold and distant.

You know, a lot of autistic children are unable to read facial emotions and empathize with others. Bella here is unable to realize Edward is trying to court her (God knows why he would want to do that in the first place) or recognize his reaction to seeing another man drape his arms over her as jealousy.

Just putting that out there.

“Mike, I‘m with a customer. Someone you should meet,” I say to try and diffuse the antagonistic look in Cullen‘s eyes. I drag Mike over to meet him “Can I introduce you to Edward Cullen?”
Mike and Edward eye each other up and the atmosphere is suddenly arctic.


That entire paragraph was painfully awkward to read.

“Err… Mike this is Edward Cullen, Mr Cullen this is Mike Newton. His parents own the place.” And for some irrational reason I feel I have to explain a bit more. “I‘ve known Mike ever since I‘ve worked here, though we don‘t see each other often. Mike‘s back from Princeton where he‘s studying business administration.” I am babbling. Stop now!

How I feel about this entire fanfic.

“Mr Newton.” Edward holds his hand out, his look unreadable.

“Cullen….” Mike returns his handshake. “Wait up… not the Edward Cullen, of Cullen Holdings?” Mike goes from surly to awe in less than a nanosecond.


Edward smiles politely at him, but his smile doesn‘t reach his eyes.

“Wow, is there anything I can get you?”

“Isabella has it covered, Mr Newton. She‘s been very attentive.” His expression is impassive, cool - but his words… it‘s like he‘s saying something else.

Wow, aren’t you a bright little Asperger’s-ridden detective?

It‘s baffling.

You’re stupid.

“Cool,” Mike responds. “Catch you later Bells.”

”I mean, Balls. Sorry, forgot about that sex-change operation you have coming up. Oh, hey, why is Mr. Cullen’s face turning pale, well paler, all of a sudden?”

“Okay Mike.” I watch him leave for the stock room. “Is there anything else you need Mr. Cullen?”

“No, just the map and the pants.”

I take a deep breath and head for the till.

I’m so confused. Is a till a storage room or something?

I‘m aware that I have managed to stay upright the entire time. Mentally I award myself a small pat on the back.

You deserve no awards, you oxygen-robber.

Nearly there. I ring up the map and the trousers.

“That will be fifty-three dollars, please.”

Still cheaper than Urban Outfitters.

I glance up at him and I wish I hadn‘t… he‘s watching me so closely. Green eyes intense and blazing. It‘s unnerving.

“Would you like a bag for your jeans and the map?” I ask as I take his credit card.

“No thanks Isabella.” His tongue caresses my name…

That is physically impossible and also very stupid. Therefore, you are wrong.

and once again my heart is frantic and I can hardly breathe. “So you‘ll call me if you want me to do the photo shoot?”

I nod, because I have been rendered speechless again. I give him back his card.

“Good. Until tomorrow, maybe Miss Swan. Oh – and Isabella…

He just fucking called her two different names as he’s talking to her. Why. This is such terrible, inconsistent writing.

I‘m glad Miss Hale couldn‘t do the interview.” He turns and strides purposefully out of the shop, his jeans slung over his shoulder, leaving me a quivering mass of raging female hormones…


and it takes several minutes of staring at the closed door, through which he‘s just left, for me to return to planet Earth.

Okay… I like him.

And here I was thinking it would take 12 more chapters before she admitted that.

There, I‘ve admitted it to myself. I cannot hide from my feelings anymore.

This was what was so confusing, what I didn‘t understand, because I‘ve never felt like this before - I find him attractive… very attractive.


Redundancy is redundant.

It‘s a lost cause I know and I sigh with bittersweet regret. But I can admire him from afar… surely. No harm will come of that. And, if I can find a photographer, I can do some serious admiring tomorrow. I bite my lip in anticipation and find myself grinning like a schoolgirl.

Maybe I should make another drinking game for all the pedophilic undertones in this fic…

Now I need to phone Rose… and find a photographer.


Shame Bella will never reach the obvious answer, being the lower life-form she is.

This post has been edited by xoxjoanxox: Aug 8 2012, 07:30 AM


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Post #11

Not quite here, not quite there.

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post Aug 30 2012, 10:33 AM
You know, I just realized there’s 846 pages of this bullshit. I’m on page 25.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Max, you should totes do more chapters. Just saying.

Chapter Five

Rose is ecstatic. “But what was he doing at Newton‘s?” I have called her on my cell, hidden in the depths of the stock room, at the back of the shop.

Usually I just binged on trail mix there, but then I found out there was reception!

“Oh, he was in the area, going hiking.” I talk quietly, trying to keep my voice casual.

Oh fucking boy, this phrase is going to pop up a lot.

“I think this is one huge coincidence Bella. Perhaps he was there to see you,” Rose speculates excitedly.

If he was there to see you, IT’S NOT A COINCIDENCE.

My heart lurches at the prospect but it‘s a short-lived joy. The dull reality is that he‘s here on business. The realization is disappointing. “He was visiting the farming division of WSU. He‘s funding some research.”

“Oh yes, he‘s given the department a $2.5 million grant.”


“How do you know this?”

(; ̄□ ̄) ´_ゝ`) ಠ _ ಠ) ಠ _ ಠಿ)
(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

“Bella, I‘m a journalist… and I‘ve written a profile on this guy. It‘s my job to know this.”

“Okay, Carla Bernstein, keep your hair on.

Like most Youtube commenters, Bella resort to nonsensical insults when she’s been beaten intellectually.

So do you want the photos?”

“Of course I do… the question is, where to do them?”

“We‘ll need to ask him. He says he‘s staying in the area this evening.”

“Can you contact him?”

“He gave me his cell phone number.”

Rose gasps audibly. “The richest, most elusive, most enigmatic bachelor in Washington State gave you his cell phone number.”

“Err… yes.”

”How else was I supposed to contact him? Telepathically?”

“Bella, he likes you. No doubt about it,” she breathes down the phone.

It’s just for fucking business. Calm your hormones.

“Rose, he‘s just trying to be nice.”

Oooooooooooooor there was a practical reason behind itasedfaogt these people are so stupid.

When they’re in jail for sexual harassment charges pressed by Edward, their lawyer will hand them over her contact number and Rose would decline it, saying she doesn’t swing that way.

And as I say the words I know they‘re not true. Edward Cullen doesn‘t do nice per se… he does polite… and a small quiet voice whispers - perhaps Rose is right.

Stop it, you delusional women.

My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me…

Or maybe it was the lice I got from Jacob.

After all he did say he was glad that Rose didn‘t do the interview. I hug myself with quiet glee, rocking from side to side, allowing myself a brief moment where I entertain the possibility that he might like me. Rose brings me back to the now.


“I don‘t know who we‘ll get to shoot the photos. Eric, our regular photographer can‘t do it – he‘s home in Idaho Falls for the weekend.

Thanks to a convenient plot device!

He‘ll be pissed that he blew the opportunity to photograph one of America‘s leading entrepreneurs.”

“Hmmm… What about Jacob?”

“Great idea. You ask him. He‘ll do anything for you.

And Mr. Lincoln.

Then call Cullen and ask him where he wants us.” Rose is irritatingly cavalier about Jake.

I’m sorry, who’s the one friend-zoning the poor guy because he’s not ‘a literary hero?’

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

“I think you should call him.”

“Who, Jacob?”

“No, Cullen.”

“Bella, you‘re the one with the relationship…”

“Relationship!” I squeak at her, my voice rising several octaves.

Becoming reminiscent of her as a Japanese porn voice actor.
“I barely know the guy.”

“At least you‘ve met him,” she says, a little bitterly… “And it looks like he wants to know you better Bella – call him,” she snaps at me and hangs up. She is so bossy sometimes

Sometimes? Her entire character is defined by it.

- I frown at the phone and stick my tongue out at it.

I am leaving a message for Jake as Mike comes into the stock room looking for more walking socks.

I read that as ‘walking more socks’ and suddenly I didn’t feel so disgusted by this chapter.

“It‘s busy out there Bella,” he says, not unkindly, referring to the shop floor.

“Yeah, um sorry,” I mutter. I go to leave.

Glad to see Bella’s being in character by being selfish and generally unlikeable.

“So how do you know Edward Cullen?” Mike stops me, his voice oozing curiosity.

“I had to interview him for Eyewitness. Rose wasn‘t well,” I shrug, trying for casual again.

“Edward Cullen, in Newton‘s… go figure.” Mike is enthusing.

”I figured he preferred Milano’s.”

Also, is enthusing? It’s grammatically correct but awkward as fuck to read.

“So what are you doing this evening? Do you want to grab a drink or something?” Whenever he‘s home he asks me out, And I always say no. It‘s like a ritual.

Next time, when Mike finally snaps from being friend-zoned, it’ll be a sacrificial ritual.

I‘ve never thought it was a good idea to date the boss‘s son. Besides Mike is cute in a wholesome all-American boy-next-door kind of way… he‘s just not a literary hero by any stretch of the imagination.

Stoooooooooooooooop it. What kinda fucking literary hero do you want? How about Holden Caufield? You’re both phonies, it works out.

Is Cullen? My subconscious asks me with a figurative raised eyebrow. I slap it down.

So when people raise their eyebrows… you slap them?


“Don‘t you have a family dinner or something for your Mom?”

“That‘s tomorrow.”

“Maybe some other time Mike, I need to revise tonight. I have my finals next week.”

“Bella, one of these days you‘ll say yes,” he says quietly smiling at me.

And there’s 48 Hour Mystery’s next story.

I head quickly out to the shop floor.


“But I do places, not people Bella.”

Edward has some creepy fetishes.

“Please Jake?”


I beg, pacing the living area of our apartment and staring out of the window at the fading evening light.

“Give me that phone,” Rose grabs the handset from me, tossing her silken blond hair over her shoulder.

“Listen here, Jacob Black, if you want Eyewitness to cover the opening of your show, you will do this shoot for us tomorrow, capiche?”

Rose is awesomely tough.

Or awesomely bitchy.

“Good. Bella will call back with details of the location and call time. See you tomorrow.” She snaps my cell phone shut. “Sorted. All we need now is where and when. Call him.” She holds the phone out to me and I feel physically sick. “Call Cullen now!” I scowl at her and reach into my back pocket for his business card. I take a deep steadying breath and with shaking fingers I dial the number.

He answers on the second ring. His tone clipped, calm, cold. “Cullen.”

“Err… Mr Cullen, it‘s Isabella Swan.” I don‘t recognize my own voice I‘m so nervous.

You can’t grammar you’re such a bad writer.

There‘s a brief pause and inside I‘m quaking…

I read that as quacking (unsurprisingly would fit into her writing style).

Bella Swan? More like Bella Duck.

“Miss Swan. How nice to hear from you.” His voice has changed. He‘s surprised I think… and he sounds so… warm, seductive even over the phone.

Like melted Rice Krispies… or something.

My breath hitches and I flush. I‘m conscious that Rosalie Hale is staring at me, her mouth open,

Rose was a Republican who didn’t approve of anything Obama did. So when she saw the video of Obama clapping a mosquito, she immediately drew a outlandish comparison to his handling of the economy and claimed her method of catching bugs was much better.

so I walk quickly into the kitchen to avoid her unwanted scrutiny.

“Err…we would like to go ahead with the photo shoot for the Eyewitness piece.” Breathe Bella, breathe.

Oh my God, this girl is so stupid she has to remind herself to breath.

My lungs drag in a hasty breath. “Tomorrow… if that‘s okay. Where would be convenient for you, Sir?”

I can almost hear his sphinx-like smile through the phone.

“I‘m staying at the Heathman in Portland. Shall we say 9:30 tomorrow morning?”

”And don’t call me sir, it’s not creepy enough. Call me… big daddy.”

“Okay, we‘ll see you there.” I am all gushing and breathy, a child, not a grown woman who can vote and drink legally in the State of Washington.

I mean your mental age is basically the same as one. Oh yeah, what is this… creepy pedophilia subtext count 37? Sounds about right.

Oh my God, I bet this fanfic was the inspiration for Sakurasou no Pet na Kanajo.

“I look forward to it Miss Swan.” And I can visualize the wicked gleam in his green eyes. How can he make seven little words hold so much tantalizing promise?

It was not the only little thing that held tantalizing promise… if ya’know what I mean.

I hang up. Rose is staring at me, her mouth is still open, a look of complete and utter consternation on her face.

”Damn it, I still haven’t caught a fly! I blame Obama for fiscal irresponsibility!

“Isabella Marie Swan. You like him… I‘ve never seen or heard you so…. so… affected by anyone before. You are blushing.”

“Oh Rose, you know I blush all the time. It‘s an occupational hazard with me.


Don‘t be so ridiculous. I just find him intimidating, that‘s all,” I snap at her and she blinks at me with surprise… I very rarely throw my toys out of the pram.

Attached File  asshwlro.bmp ( 732.47K ) Number of downloads: 442

What is she saying? Asfghjkl;

I call Jake and tell him we‘ll pick him up in the morning to drive to the Heathman.

“Heathman, that figures,” mutters Rose. “I‘ll give the manager a call to negotiate a space in the hotel for the shoot.”

“I‘ll make supper, then I have to revise.” I cannot hide my irritation with her as I strut towards the kitchen.

For… for what? For teasing you about your obvious lady boner for Edward Cullen? Honey, it’s ok to admit you’re sexually attracted him. It doesn’t mean anything. Oh wait, is that not empowering enough? Does he have to throw himself at your feet while you grind your heel into his balls before muttering out a, ‘I guess you’re okay as my bitch, b-but it’s not like I like you or anything baka’?

loljk plot-twist it’s gonna be the other way around


I am restless that night, tossing and turning. Dreaming of green eyes, breathable pants, long legs and dark, dark places deep in the forest. I wake twice in the night, my heart pounding. Oh I‟m just going to look great tomorrow with so little sleep, I scold myself as I punch my pillow and try to settle.

That was a totally necessary scene!


The Heathman nestles downtown in the heart of Portland. It‘s a pretty impressive brown stone edifice built just before the crash in the late 1920s. Jake, his friend Sam and I are in my truck. Rose is in her Z4 as we can‘t all fit in the truck. Sam is Jake‘s gopher… he‘s going to help with lighting.

That’s one fucking amazing gopher. Take that, Rufus the Naked Mole Rat!

Rose has managed to negotiate a free room for the morning, in exchange for a thank you credit to the hotel in the article.

I would say that’s smart marketing except no one is probably gonna read the article gonna care about anything but Edward’s pictures gonna read the article.

She‘s explained that we are here to photograph Edward Cullen CEO, and we are upgraded to a suite… Mr Cullen is already occupying the largest one in the building so it‘s a regular sized suite. The over-keen marketing executive shows us up to the rooms, he‘s terribly young and very nervous for some reason.

You just answered your own question. He’s young, so he’s probably new to this and understandably nervous.

I think it‘s Rose‘s beauty and her commanding manner that disarms him.

… Ooooof fucking course.

He is putty in her hands. The rooms are very elegant, understated and warmly furnished. It‘s 9:00 am so we have half an hour to set up. Rose goes into full flow.

“Jake, I think we‘ll shoot against that wall, do you agree?” She doesn‘t wait for his reply. “Sam clear the chairs. Bella, ask housekeeping to bring up some refreshments and let Cullen know where we are.”

Yes mistress - she is so domineering. I roll my eyes at her and do as I‘m told.

Says the one doing everything she says anyways.

Half an hour later Edward Cullen walks into our suite. Holy crap! He‘s wearing a white shirt, open at the collar with grey flannel pants that hang from his hips. His unruly hair is still damp from a shower. My mouth goes dry looking at him.

He‘s so freaking hot… He has no freaking clue how to dress himself…

He‘s followed in by a man in his mid-thirties, all buzz cut and stubble in a sharp dark suit and tie, who goes and stands in the corner, his blue eyes watching us impassively.

“Miss Swan, we meet again.” He extends his hand to me and I shake it, blinking rapidly at him. Oh my… he really is…quite…wow… and then I touch his hand and feel that delicious current run right through me, lighting me up, making me blush and I‘m sure my erratic breathing must be audible.

“Mr. Cullen, this is Rosalie Hale,” I breathe and wave a hand towards Rose who comes forward, looking him squarely in the eye.

“The tenacious Miss Hale. How do you do?” he smiles slightly, looking genuinely amused. “Are you feeling better? Isabella told me you were unwell last week.”

“I‘m fine thank you Mr. Cullen.” She shakes his hand firmly without batting an eyelid and I have to remember that Rose has been to the best private schools in Washington, her family have money and she‘s grown up confident and sure of her place in the world. She doesn‘t take any crap.

Because she’s already full of it herself.

I am in awe of her. “Thank you for taking the time to do this.” She gives him a polite, professional smile.

“It‘s a pleasure,” he answers, turning his green gaze on me and I flush… again. Damn it.

“This is Jacob Black, our photographer,” I say grinning at Jake who smiles affectionately back at me. His eyes cool when he looks from me to Cullen.

“Mr. Cullen,” he nods.

“Mr. Black,” Cullen‘s expression changes, appraising Jake. “Where would you like me?” His tone sounds vaguely threatening.

Plot-twist: this is a EdwardxJacob fic.

But Rosalie is not going to let Jake run the show.

Yeah, how dare the professional try to do his job!

“Mr. Cullen, if you could sit here please? Be careful of the lighting cables. And then we‘ll do some standing too.” She directs him to a chair that‘s set up against the wall. Sam switches on the lights, momentarily blinding Cullen and then he and I stand back and watch as Jake proceeds to snap away. Jakes takes several photographs hand-held, asking Cullen to turn this way and that, move his arm, down again, and then Jake moves to the tripod and takes several more. Cullen sits and poses patiently, and very naturally, for about twenty minutes. My wish has come true. I can stand and admire him from not-so afar… twice our eyes lock and I have to tear myself away from his emerald gaze.

“Enough sitting.” Rosalie wades in again. “Standing, Mr Cullen?” she asks.

”Why, yes my dear. The opposite of sitting is. in fact, standing.” Edward replied.

He stands and Sam moves in to remove the chair.

Jacob whispered under his breath, “Best. Fucking. Pet. Ever.”

The shutter on Jacob‘s Nikon starts again. “I think we have enough,” Jake says after five minutes.

“Great,” says Rose. “Well thank you again, Mr Cullen.” She shakes his hand, as does Jake.

“Thank you. I look forward to reading the article Miss Hale,” he murmurs and walks towards the door where I am standing. “Will you walk with me Miss Swan?” he asks quietly.

“Sure…” I say completely thrown. I glance anxiously at Rose who shrugs at me. I notice Jacob scowling behind her and he turns to glare at me.

“Good day to you all,” Cullen says to the room in general and he opens the door and stands aside to allow me out first. Holy Crow what‘s this about? What does he want? I stand in the corridor fidgeting nervously as he makes his way out of the room. He‘s followed by Mr. Buzz Cut in the sharp suit.

I love what an un-polite cunt Bella is.

“I‘ll call you, Taylor,”

If you took out that comma, it’d make a pretty funny scene.

he murmurs to Buzz Cut and the suited Taylor wanders back down the corridor. He turns his burning green gaze to me. Crap… have I done something wrong?

“I wondered if you would join me for coffee this morning?”

My heart slams into my mouth… a date. Edward Cullen is asking me on a date. He‘s asking if you want a coffee…maybe he thinks you haven‘t woken up yet. My sub-conscious snaps at me, in a sneering mood again.

God, her sub-conscious is all over the place. First it’s all up in her business with its eye-brow raising, telling Bella Edward likes her. Then it pimp-slaps her in the face and says, “Just kidding, you suck, hahaha.”

I clear my throat nervously.

“I have to drive everyone home,” I murmur apologetically, twisting my hands and fingers in front of me.

”Last time I drank too much coffee with Jacob. Let’s just say twitchy hands don’t make a good driver.”

“TAYLOR,” he calls loudly, making me jump. Taylor, who‘s still retreating down the corridor turns and returns to us.

“Taylor can take them – are they based at the university?” I nod, too stunned to speak. “Taylor‘s my driver. We have a large 4x4 here so he‘ll be able to take the equipment too.”
“Mr. Cullen?” Taylor asks politely as he reaches us, no expression at all on his face.

“Please can you drive the photographer, his assistant and Miss Hale back to where they live.”

That comma I mentioned earlier could have been put to better usage between ‘assistant’ and ‘and.’ Snowqueens disappoints me in so many ways.

“Certainly Sir,” Taylor replies.

“There, now can you join me for coffee?”

I frown at him. “Err… Mr. Cullen, err this really… look Taylor doesn‘t have to drive them home,” I flash a brief look at Taylor, who remains stoically impassive. “I‘ll swap vehicles with Rose, if you give me a moment.”

Cullen smiles a dazzling, unguarded, natural, all teeth showing, glorious, smile at me. Oh my…

and he opens the door of the suite so I can re-enter. I scoot around him to Rosalie who is in deep discussion with Jacob.

“Well Bella, I think he definitely likes you,” she says with no preamble whatsoever. Jake glares at me disapprovingly. “But I don‘t trust him,” she says.

I raise my hands up in the hope that she‘ll stop talking. “Rose, will you take the truck and can I take your car?”


“Edward Cullen‘s asked me to go for coffee with him.”

Totally ignoring everything Rose said two sentences ago I see.

Her mouth plops open. Speechless Rose… I enjoy the moment. She comes over to me and takes me by my arm and drags me into the bedroom adjoining the living area of the suite.

“Bella, there‘s something about him" Her tone if full of warning. "He‘s gorgeous I agree, but I think he‘s dangerous, especially to someone like you.”

And who was the one pushing them together? Jesus Christ, just get more characters Snowqueens, instead of cramming every role into one of them. Like, it would have made way more sense for Jacob to be saying this.

“What do you mean someone like me?” I demand affronted.

“An innocent like you Bella, you know what I mean,” and I flush.

Rose’s in on the sacrificing ritual with Mike.

“Rose – it‘s just coffee, and I start my exams tomorrow. I need to revise, so I won‘t be long.”
She purses her lips at me. She fishes into her pocket, hands me her car keys and I hand her mine.
“I‘ll see you later. Don‘t be long or I will send out a search party.”

“Thanks Rose.” I hug her briefly and I make my way out of the room where Edward Cullen is waiting, leaning up against the wall, looking like a male model posing for some glossy high-end magazine.

Nickelodeon Magazine?

“Okay, let‘s do coffee,” I murmur flushing a beet red.

He grins.

“After you, Miss Swan,” he stands and holds his hand out for me to go first. I make my way down the corridor, my heart in my mouth, my stomach full of butterflies and my heart thumping a dramatic, uneven beat.

I am going to have coffee with Edward Cullen... I hate coffee.

This post has been edited by xoxjoanxox: Aug 30 2012, 10:34 AM


QUOTE (9/13/2013 3:49:17 PM Max-Vader:)

QUOTE (Master of AFTER @ Feb 5 2014, 05:08 AM) *
I Was the Drink: The Joan Cheng Story

QUOTE (Screaming Soulcatcher)
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Post #12

Ramming You Lethally

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post Aug 30 2012, 01:06 PM

QUOTE (xoxjoanxox @ Aug 30 2012, 08:33 PM) *
You know, I just realized there’s 846 pages of this bullshit. I’m on page 25.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Max, you should totes do more chapters. Just saying.

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I have had a vision. It has been revealed to me by the secret chiefs of the world that I am sexier than Buddha and harder than Jesus. I cannot die.
Joan (requesting my drawings): I'LL PAY YOU
Paragon: I will literally pay you in oral sex if you go on a call and sing that entire song [Little Girls by Oingo Boingo] for us and record it
Scream: Welp guess its my turn to owe Max a IOU blowjob
Paragon: I think Max is rapidly becoming the new pimp of PA
Shane: Max for realest nigga of 2013
TigerEyes: No means yes and yes means anal.
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Post #13

Not quite here, not quite there.

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post Sep 10 2012, 07:02 PM
Chapter Six

I walk down the wide hotel corridor beside Edward Cullen to the elevators. What should I say to him? My mind is suddenly paralyzed with apprehension. What are we going to talk about? What on earth do I have in common with him? He startles me out of my reverie. His voice soft and warm.

Like the skin of a freshly killed Humon fat girl… or something.

“How long have you known Rosalie Hale?”

Oh, an easy questions for starters.

You just know she’s gonna fuck it up anyways.

“Since we roomed together during our freshman year. She‘s a very good friend.”
“Hmmm…” he replies very non-committal. What is he thinking?

Edward: I wonder if they’d be willing to have a threesome…

We have reached the elevators and he presses the call button, the lift arrives almost immediately, and there‘s a young couple in a passionate clinch inside. They are surprised and embarrassed as the doors open and jump apart staring guiltily, anywhere but at us. Cullen and I both step into the elevator and I struggle to maintain a straight face, so I gaze down at the floor, feeling my cheeks turning pink. I peek up at Cullen, through my lashes, he has a hint of a smile on his lips but it‘s very hard to tell. The couple says nothing and we travel down to the first floor in silence. We don‘t even have trashy piped lift music to distract us.

Anything that wasn’t Linkin Park or Justin Beiber was trash to Bella.

As the doors open he takes my hand, clasping it tightly with his long cool fingers. I feel the current run through me, and my already rapid heart beat increases. He leads me out of the elevator and behind us, as we leave, we can hear the suppressed giggles of the couple finally erupting. Cullen grins.

“What is it about elevators?” he mutters.

”That makes me want to start singing ‘Gangham Style’ and thrust my hips forward?”

He leads me through the expansive, busy, foyer of the hotel and out the front door. He avoids the revolving door and I wonder it that‘s because he‘d have to let go of my hand.


It‘s a mild May Sunday outside. The sun is shining and the traffic is light. He turns left on to the sidewalk and strolls to the corner where we stop at the intersection, waiting for the lights of the pedestrian crossing to change. He‘s still holding my hand.

Apparently Bella’s a fucking two year old who can’t cross the street by herself.

I’m in the street and Edward Cullen is holding my hand. No one has ever held my hand…

They didn’t call her Sweaty Swan for nothing.

I feel slightly giddy and tingly all over… I smother the ridiculous grin that‘s threatening to split my face in two… Try to be cool Bella - my subconscious implores me.

The green man appears

and we‘re off again. We walk four blocks before we reach the Portland Coffee House, where he releases me and holds the door open so I can step inside.

“Why don‘t you choose a table and I‘ll get the drinks. What would you like?” he asks, polite as ever.

You misspelled patronizing.

“I‘ll have err… English Breakfast tea, bag out, no milk please.”

He raises his eyebrows. “No coffee?”

“I‘m not keen on coffee.”

He smiles. “Okay, bag out tea. Sugar?”

For a moment I think it‘s an endearment and I flush… but fortunately my cerebrum kicks in…

Stop pretending you know anything about anatomy.

No stupid – do you take sugar?

“No thanks.” I stare down at my knotted fingers.

No really, get that checked out.

“Anything to eat?”

“No thank you.” I shake my head and he goes to order.

I could watch him all day. He stands at the counter patiently waiting to be served. He‘s tall, broad shouldered, slim… the way his pants hang from his hips…

Anorexic emos are all the rage these days.

Oh my… Once or twice he runs his long graceful fingers through his now-dry disorderly hair. Hmmm… I‟d like to do that. The thought comes unbidden into my mind and I can feel my face flushing. I bite my lip and stare down at my hands again, not liking where my wayward thoughts are going.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Cullen is back, startling me.

Implying she’s capable of that cognitive function.

I think I go crimson… yes I was just thinking about running my fingers through your hair wondering if it would feel soft to touch. I shake my head. He‘s carrying a tray, which he sets down on the small, round dark-wood table. He hands me a cup and saucer, a small teapot and a side plate on which there is a lone teabag… ‘Twinings English Breakfast’ my favorite.

It reminded me of One Direction… British and overrated.

He has a coffee, which has a wonderful pattern of a leaf in the milk… how do they do that? I wonder idly.

I bet Bella’s the type of person who opens and closes her refrigerator door all night, trying to figure why the fridge light turns off.

He also has a blueberry muffin. He puts the tray down and sits opposite me, crossing his long legs. He looks so… comfortable and at ease in his body. I envy that in him. Here‘s me, all gawky and uncoordinated, barely able to get from a to b without falling flat on my face.

Sounds like someone’s going through puberty.

“Your thoughts?” he prompts me.

“This is my favorite tea.” My voice is quiet, breathy – I just can‘t believe I‘m sitting opposite Edward Cullen in a coffee shop in Portland.

He frowns slightly at me… he knows I‘m hiding something. I pop the teabag in the teapot and then immediately fish it out with my teaspoon and place the used teabag back on the side plate. He cocks his head, quizzically at me.

“I like my tea black and weak.”

“I see. Is he your boyfriend?”

WOW WHAT. I see what you did there Edward. Dick move but still.

Jacob needs some salve for that burn.

Whoa… What… “Who?”

“The photographer, Jacob Black.”

What has given him that impression? I laugh, nervously. “No, Jake‘s a very old friend of mine, we kind of grew up together on a part-time basis… He‘s from where my father lives. Why did you think he was my boyfriend?” I‘m curious to know.

“The way you smiled at him and he at you.” His green gaze holds mine.

People of the opposite gender cannot merely be friends.

Then again, people of the same gender cannot merely be friends according to slashers.

He‘s so unnerving. I want to look away but I‘m caught… spellbound.

“He‘s more like family…” I whisper.

Cullen nods slightly, seemingly satisfied with my response and glances down at his blueberry muffin. His long fingers deftly peel back the paper of the muffin cup… I watch, fascinated.
“Do you want some?” he asks, and that amused, secret smile is back.

”I have some milk in pants you can down it with as well.”

“No thanks,” I frown and stare down at my hands again.

“And the boy I met yesterday, at the store, he‘s not your boyfriend?”

Wow, fuck Edward. All Bella has to do is glance at another person and you’ll automatically fly into a jealous rage. Joke’s on you, Rose is Bella’s boyfriend.

“No. Mike‘s just a friend. I told you yesterday.” Oh this is getting silly. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem nervous around men…”

… What.

Oh I get it. All of Edward’s previous girlfriends must have been rape victims. His motto is “the lower the self-esteem, the easier to bag!” He’s like the next Humon’s Peter or something!

Holy crap crow … Just nervous around you… Cullen.

“I find you intimidating…” I flush scarlet but mentally pat myself on the back for my candor and I gaze at my hands again.

He gasps.

”Oh no you didn’t guuurlfraand!”

“You should find me intimidating,” he murmurs.

This is the first sign of a healthy relationship.

“You‘re very honest. Please don‘t look down. I like to see your face. It‘s my only way to try and work out what you‘re thinking.”

I glance up. “You can tell what I‘m thinking?” I think I actually scoff at him, no way can he tell what I‘m thinking… well I sincerely hope not.

“No… it‘s very frustrating. I‘m usually very good at reading people. But you… you‘re very self contained.”

Am I? Wow… how am I managing that? And in the back of my mind I feel bewildered… Me, Self Contained. No Way.

Bella was all for communism (which she thought just meant paint the world red or something).

“Except when you blush of course, which is often. I just wish I knew what you were blushing about.” He pops a small piece of muffin into his mouth and starts to chew slowly, not taking his eyes off me.

And as if on cue, I blush. Crap!

“Well you‘re very high-handed.” I retaliate quietly.

The way Snowqueens uses the world quietly makes me think that Bella’s not saying anything at all, so I’m having fun picturing Bella rehearsing a mini-argument in her head.

He raises his eyebrows and, if I‘m not mistaken, he flushes slightly. “I am, always. I‘m used to getting my own way, Isabella,” he murmurs. “In all things.”

“I don‘t doubt it. Why haven‘t you given me your leave to call you by your first name?” I‘m surprised by my audacity.


Why has this conversation got so serious? This isn‘t going the way I thought it was going to go… I can‘t believe I‘m feeling so antagonistic towards him now. It‘s like he‘s trying to warn me off.

How in God’s name is he implying that?

“The only people who use my given name are my family and a few close friends. It‘s the way I like it.”

So he‘s still not saying “Call me Edward.” He is a control freak.

HE JUST GAVE YOU A VALID REASON AND YOU—I’m so done with your bullshit Bella.

There‘s no other explanation and part of me is thinking that perhaps it would have been better if Rose had interviewed him. Two control freaks together… and of course she‘s blond… like the women in his office… and she’s beautiful - my subconscious reminds me. I don‘t like the idea of Edward and Rose…

I take a sip of my tea as he eats another small piece of his muffin.

“Are you an only child?”

Whoa… he keeps changing direction.

Kinda like a dog chasing its tail and then going in the opposite direction, hoping it will help.


“Tell me about your parents.”

Why does he want to know this… it‘s so dull.

Good to see Bella treats her parent with the same amount of respect as she does in Twilight.

“My Mom lives in Florida with her new husband Phil, my Dad lives in Forks, he‘s the police chief there.”

“Were you young when they divorced?”


He frowns at me… “You‘re not giving much away are you?” He says dryly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Neither are you.”

Hey, guys, remember this is a professional relationship?

…No? Ok…

“You‘ve interviewed me once already and I can recollect some quite probing questions then,” he smirks at me.

Holy crap. He‘s remembering the ‘gay‘ question.

Innuendos everywhere.

Once again, I‘m mortified. In years to come, I know, I‘ll need a week of intensive therapy to not feel this embarrassed every time I recall the moment.

First world problems.

I start babbling about my mother, anything to block that memory.

“My Mom is cool. Young at heart, foolish… I miss her. She has Phil now, I just hope he can keep an eye on her and pick up the pieces when her harebrained schemes don‘t go as planned.” I smile fondly… I haven‘t seen her for so long. Edward is watching me intently, taking occasional sips of his coffee. I really shouldn‘t look at his mouth… it‘s unsettling. Those lips…

They had a lot of sparkles around them for some reason…

“And your Dad?”

“Err… well, Charlie is taciturn.

Snowqueens: I’m getting so much mileage out of that thesaurus!

He doesn‘t eat properly – but as much as I‘ve tried to teach him how to cook… he‘s a basic fry, take-out and doughnuts cop.

Wait, I get donuts, but… fries? Um.

He likes watching sports and fishing… that‘s it.”

“You sound like you feel responsible for them. Like you‘re their parent. That must be tough on a young girl…”


“Doesn‘t feel tough.” Where is he going with this? “Tell me about your parents.” Two can play at this game.

He shrugs. “My Dad‘s a very successful doctor, my mom is an interior designer. They live in Seattle.” I wonder about Dr and Mrs Cullen, who adopt three kids, and one of them turns out to be a beautiful man who takes on the world of commerce and conquers it single-handed…

“What do your siblings do?”



“I mean,
Emmett‘s in construction and my little sister is in Paris studying fashion at one of the couture houses there…”

He looks irritated suddenly. Like he doesn‘t want to talk about his family or himself.

“Paris, I hear it‘s lovely.” I murmur, why doesn‘t he want to talk about his family? Is it because he‘s adopted?

Bella is the master of empathy.

“It‘s a beautiful city. Have you been?”

“I‘ve never left mainland USA…” So now we‘re on to banalities… What is he hiding?

Probably nothing, he just doesn’t want to talk too much about his private life with a stranger?

That you apparently have no problem doing??

Even though you should be a little more wary???


“Would you like to go?”

“To Paris?” This throws me… my voice is unnaturally high… who doesn‘t want to go to Paris? “Of course. But it‘s England that I‘d really like to visit.”

”And maybe the white part of Africa, but I consider most of them race-traitors.”

He cocks his head to one side, running his index finger across his lower lip… oh my…


I blink rapidly. Concentrate Swan…

Put an ‘on the’ between that an you have a great shooting game.

“Well it‘s the home of Shakespeare, Austen, the Brontë sisters… Thomas Hardy… I‘d like to see the places that inspired these people to write such wonderful books.”

Hahahahahahahahhaha ok.

All this talk of the literary greats reminds me that I need to be revising. I glance at my watch.

“I‘d better go... I have to revise.”

“Your exams?”

What? How does one revise exams? Maybe it’s just my sleep-addled brain, but I’m so confused right now.

“Yes, they start on Tuesday.”

“Where is Miss Hale‘s car?”

“In the hotel car park.”

“I‘ll walk you back.”

“Thank you for the tea… Mr. Cullen.”

He smiles slightly, that odd I’ve got a whopping big secret smile.

Snowqueens keeps bringing up this point, but I’m sure like any good fanfiction author, she’ll immediately forget about it and retcon it.

“You‘re welcome, Isabella. It‘s my pleasure. Come.” He commands and he holds his hand out to me… I take it, bemused, and I follow him out of the shop.

Aww, it’s like they’re a father and daughter—wait.

We stroll back to the hotel and I‘d like to say it‘s in companionable silence. He looks his usual calm, collected self. Me, I‘m desperately trying to gauge how our little coffee morning has gone. I feel like I‘ve been interviewed for a position, but I‘m not sure what it is…

“Do you always wear jeans?” he asks suddenly out of the blue.


He nods. We‘re standing by the intersection across the road from the hotel. My mind is reeling… What an odd question.

For once I agree. But I already know Edward’s a sexual predator, so I gues it’s not that out of character.

And I‘m aware that our time together is limited, this is it and I‘ve completely blown it… I know. Perhaps he has someone.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I blurt out… holy crap – I’ve just said that out loud.

His lips quirk up in a half smile and he looks down at me. “No Isabella I don‘t…. I don‘t do the girlfriend thing,” he says softly.

”I’m more into the ‘pimp and ho’ sorts of relationships.”

Oh… what does that mean? He‘s not gay - maybe he is - crap! He lied to me in his interview.

A CEO lied. Big shock.

And for a moment I think he‘s going to follow on with some explanation… some clue to this cryptic statement, but he doesn‘t. I have to go and try and reassemble my thoughts. I have to get away from him. I walk forward and I trip, stumbling into the road.


“Shit Bella!” Edward cries and he pulls the hand that‘s he‘s holding hard so that I fall against him as a cyclist whisks past me, narrowly missing me, riding the wrong way up a one-way street. It happens so fast, one minute I‘m falling and then I‘m in his arms and he‘s holding me tightly against his chest and I can smell his clean, vital scent. He smells of fresh laundered linen, and some expensive body-wash… Oh my, it‘s intoxicating. I inhale deeply.

”GOD, no wonder I have to hold your hand! You’re apparently as coordinated as a three-legged dog. And weird as one too, stop sniffing me!”

“Are you okay?” he whispers. He has one arm around me, clasping me to him, whilst the fingers of his other hand trace softly down my face, gently probing, examining me. His thumb traces my lower lip and I can hear his breath hitch. He‘s staring into my eyes and I hold his anxious, burning gaze for a moment, or maybe it‘s forever, but eventually my attention is drawn to his beautiful mouth… Oh my… And for the first time in twenty-one years – I want to be kissed. I want to feel his mouth on me…

And then suddenly Edward bit into her and ripped out a huge chunk of her flesh.

The end.

Just kidding, now it's Max's turn. Have at em, Max.


QUOTE (9/13/2013 3:49:17 PM Max-Vader:)

QUOTE (Master of AFTER @ Feb 5 2014, 05:08 AM) *
I Was the Drink: The Joan Cheng Story

QUOTE (Screaming Soulcatcher)
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Post #14

not your kind of people

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post Sep 10 2012, 08:06 PM
omg yes this mock is a thing

I almost can't believe this was published. I say almost because lol Twilight...

I died at the Lincoln part btw.

"This land is filled with hypocrites and killers, they'll smile like crocodiles while they beat you like gorillas" // triple triple
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Post #15

Ramming You Lethally

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post Sep 11 2012, 04:49 AM
QUOTE (xoxjoanxox @ Sep 11 2012, 05:02 AM) *
Just kidding, now it's Max's turn. Have at em, Max.


Hello you good folks of PA! On this special occasion, Joan and me are coming together (not like that) to mock this astonishingly giant heap of Mary Sue wank-fantasies. This chapter will be mocked by your favorite mental giant! Here we go!

Chapter Seven
Kiss me damn it! I implore him, but I can‘t move… I‘m paralyzed

Getting tackled by a metrosexual vampire will do that to you.

with a strange, unfamiliar need,
completely captivated by him… I‘m staring at Edward Cullen‘s exquisitely sculptured mouth,
mesmerized, and he‘s looking down at me…

"Sculptured"?! Jesus Christ, you're already ripping off the characters, don't try to rip off the statue-metaphors, too...

his gaze hooded, his eyes darkening. He‘s breathing
harder than usual… whereas I‘ve stopped breathing altogether. I.m in your arms… holy shit. Kiss
me please.

Attached Image

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and very slightly shakes his head, as if in
answer to my silent question. When he opens his eyes again it‘s with some new purpose, a steely
.Isabella you should stay away from me… I‘d be no good for you,. he whispers.

Bella however was far too busy wondering where the Simple Plan-music suddenly came from to listen to him.

What? Where is this coming from? Surely I should be the judge of that…. I frown up at him and my
head swims... with… rejection. .Breathe, Isabella, breathe. I‘m going to stand you up and let you
go,. he says quietly, and he gently pushes me away.

This doesn't even make sense anyway. It's not like he's a vampire or has werewolves as enemies. He's just some Yuppie asshole. Bella's biggest danger is getting smacked around with a golf trophy.

Adrenaline has spiked through my body, from the near miss with the cyclist or the heady proximity
to Edward, leaving me wired and weak. NO! My psyche screams as he pulls away and I feel
suddenly bereft. He has his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm‘s length. He‘s watching my
reactions carefully. And the only thing I can think is that I wanted to be kissed, made it pretty
bloody obvious and he didn‘t do it… he doesn.t want me.

Maybe it's just me, but if some crazy whore all but tore her clothes off and interpreted my every action as a confession of undying love, I'd be a bit wierded out.

He really doesn‘t want me. I have royally
messed up the coffee morning.

You could always go back to your old routine of having a spaghetti breakfast every day to distract you from your failed romantic escapades. (No, "spaghetti breakfast" isn't food.)

.I‘ve got this,. I breathe finding my voice, finding air for my lungs. .Thank you,. I mutter awash
with humiliation… How could I have misread the situation between us so utterly?
I need to get
away from him.

.For what?. he frowns. He hasn‘t taken his hands off me.
.For saving me,. I whisper.
.Well that idiot was riding the wrong way… I‘m glad I was here. I shudder to think what could
have happened to you. Do you want to come and sit down in the hotel for a moment?. He lets go of
me completely, his hands by his sides and I‘m standing in front of him feeling like a fool.
I clear my head with a shake. I just want to go… all my vague, unarticulated hopes have been
dashed. He doesn‘t want me.

Jesus Christ woman, is your entire existence and self-worth dependent on getting plowed by some emo ponce?! Hahahahahaha- I think we all know the answer to that.

What was I thinking? I scold myself. What would Edward Cullen want
with you? My subconscious mocks me. I wrap my arms around myself, and turn to face the road
and note with relief that the green man has appeared.

[cue X-Files theme]

I quickly make my way across, conscious
that Cullen is behind me. Outside the hotel, I turn briefly to face him, but cannot look him in the
.Thanks for the tea… and doing the photo shoot.. I murmur.
.Isabella… I…. he stops and the anguish in his voice demands my attention

Only Edwards feelings matter. The universe revolves around him, you know. He's like a really gay version of Claire.

and I peer unwillingly
up at him. His green eyes blaze at me, and he runs his hand through his hair… he looks torn,
frustrated, his expression stark, all his careful control has evaporated…
.What, Edward?. I ask irritably after he says… nothing. I just want to go. I need to take my
fragile, wounded pride away and somehow nurse it back to health.
.Good luck with your exams….. he murmurs.

Since Edward, that marble-God who walks the earth has blessed you with his fortune, you can only succeed now.

Huh? This is why he looks so desolate? This is the big send off? Just to wish me luck in my exams?
.Thanks.. I can‘t disguise the sarcasm in my voice. .Goodbye, Mr Cullen..
I turn on my heel, vaguely amazed that I don‘t trip, and without giving him a second glance I
disappear down the sidewalk towards the underground garage.

After this, she probably masturbates in the shower while crying, Shinji Ikari-style.

Once underneath the dark, concrete of the garage with its bleak fluorescent light, I lean against
the wall… and put my head in my hands… What was I thinking? And unbidden and unwelcome I
can feel tears pool in my eyes. Why am I crying? I sink to the ground angry at myself for this
senseless reaction. I draw up my knees, folding myself up… I want to make myself as small as
possible… perhaps this nonsensical pain will be smaller, the smaller I am…

Bella is the kind of person who has a nervous breakdown every time an episode of American Idol is over.

I put head on my
knees… letting the irrational tears fall unrestrained. I am crying over the loss of something I never
had. How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was - dashed hopes, dashed dreams, soured
I have never been on the receiving end of… rejection. Okay… so I was always one of the last to be
picked for basketball or volleyball – but I understood that

Pfff, you think YOU have it bad?

– running and doing something else at
the same time like bouncing or throwing a ball is not my thing. I am a serious liability in any field
of sport I‘ve tried.
Romantically though… I have never put myself out there, ever. A lifetime of insecurity – I‘m too
pale, too skinny, too scruffy, uncoordinated… my long list of faults goes on.

"See, she can't be a Mary Sue, she is CLUMSY!"

So I have always been
the one to rebuff any would be admirers… no one has ever sparked my interest… no one except
Edward bloody Cullen. Maybe I should be kinder to the likes of Mike Newton and Jacob Black,
though I‘m sure neither of them have been found sobbing in dark places…

You'd be surprised about some of the stories you can hear in the local darkroom...

I don‘t know… perhaps I just need a good cry… here in a bloody underground garage in the middle
of Portland.
Stop! Stop Now! - My subconscious is metaphorically glaring at me, arms folded, leaning on one leg
and tapping its foot at me in frustration. Get in the car, go home, do your revision. Forget about
him… Now! And stop all this self-pitying, wallowing crap.

Yeah, it's getting really annoying.

Okay, okay… I take a deep steadying
breath and stand up. Get it together Swan. I head for Rose‘s car, wiping the tears off my face as I
do. I will not think of him again. I can just chalk this incident up to experience and concentrate on
my exams…
Rose is sitting at the dining table at her laptop when I come in. Her welcoming smile fades when
she sees me.
.Bella what‘s wrong?.

"This fanfic is even shittier than Twilight and will be sold as a legitimate book."

Oh no… not the Rosalie Hale Inquisition… I shake my head at her in a back-off now Hale way… I
might as well be dealing with a blind, deaf mute.

I thought what I'd do was, I'd pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes.

.You‘ve been crying,. she has an exceptional gift for stating the bloody obvious sometimes. .What
did that bastard do to you?. she growls and her face... she's scary.
.Nothing Rose…. That‘s actually the problem. The thought brings a wry smile to my face.
.Then why have you been crying? You never cry,. she says softly as she stands and comes over to
me, her dark blue eyes brimming with concern and very gently she puts her arms around me and
hugs me. I need to say something… just to get her off my back.

"I LOVE YOU... no wait, stupid!"

.I was nearly knocked over by a cyclist.. It‘s the best that I can do but it distracts her
momentarily from… him.
.Gee Bella – are you okay? Were you hurt?. She holds me at arms length and does a quick visual
check-up on me.
.No… Edward saved me,. I whisper. .But I was quite shaken..
.I‘m not surprised. How was coffee? I know you hate coffee….

From deadly accidents to coffee... the author is truly the master of inanity. At this point she might de-throne Meyer.

.I had tea… it was fine… nothing to report really. I don‘t know why he asked me..
.He likes you Bella.. She drops her arms.
.Well… not anymore. I won‘t be seeing him again.. Yes, I manage to sound matter of fact.
Crap… she‘s intrigued. I head into the kitchen so that she can‘t see my face. .Yeah… he‘s a little of
my league Rose,. I say as dryly as I can manage.

"I mean, he's prettier than I am!"

.What do you mean?.
.Oh Rose, it‘s obvious.. I whirl round and face her as she stands in the kitchen doorway.
.Not to me,. she says. .Okay he‘s got more money than you… but then he has more money than
most people in America!.
.Rose he‘s….


.You just don‘t see yourself at all, do you Bella?. she interrupts me. Oh no… she‘s off on this tirade
.Rose, please. I need to study.. I cut her short.
She frowns at me. .Well, do you want to see the article? It‘s finished. Jake took some great
Oh no… a visual reminder of the beautiful Edward - I don.t want you - Cullen.

Yeah, right. You want him like Revolver Ocelot wants to slam bullets in well-greased chambers.

.Sure,. I magic a smile on to my face and walk over to the laptop. And there he is, staring at me in
black and white. Staring at me and finding me lacking… I pretend to read the article, all the time
meeting his steady grey gaze… searching the photo for some clue as to why he‘d be no good for
me… his own words. And it‘s suddenly, blindingly obvious.

How? You're both mentally retarded robots failing at emulating human emotions. You're perfect for each other.

He‘s too gloriously good looking, we are
poles apart, from two very different worlds… and I have a vision of myself as Icarus, flying too
close to the sun and crashing and burning as a result.

Leave the Icarus-metaphors to Fullmetal Alchemist, asshole.

And his words make sense… this is what he
meant and it makes his rejection easier to accept… almost. I can live with this. I understand.
.Very good Rose,. I manage. .I‘m going to revise.. I am not going to think about him again… for
now, I promise myself and I open up my revision notes and start to read.
It‘s only when I‘m in bed, trying to sleep that I allow my thoughts to drift through my strange
morning. I keep coming back to the „I don.t do the girlfriend thing. quote

At which point she starts imagining him with Jacob and, well, things just followed from there...

and I am angry that I
didn‘t pounce on this information sooner… when I was in his arms… mentally begging him with
every fiber of my being to kiss me. He‘d said it there and then… he didn‘t want me as a girlfriend. I
turn on to my side… Idly I wonder if perhaps he‘s celibate?

How do we call these people again? Oh right... attention whores.

Maybe he‘s saving himself… Well not
for you, my sleepy subconscious has a final swipe at me… before unleashing itself on my dreams…
And that night I dream of green eyes, leafy patterns in milk and I‘m running through dark places
with eerie strip lighting… and I don‘t know if I‘m running towards something or away from it… it‘s
just not clear.

Nor is why people are buying this horseshit. Oh well. Back to you, Joan!

I have had a vision. It has been revealed to me by the secret chiefs of the world that I am sexier than Buddha and harder than Jesus. I cannot die.
Joan (requesting my drawings): I'LL PAY YOU
Paragon: I will literally pay you in oral sex if you go on a call and sing that entire song [Little Girls by Oingo Boingo] for us and record it
Scream: Welp guess its my turn to owe Max a IOU blowjob
Paragon: I think Max is rapidly becoming the new pimp of PA
Shane: Max for realest nigga of 2013
TigerEyes: No means yes and yes means anal.
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Post #16

Not quite here, not quite there.

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post Sep 12 2012, 12:51 PM
I love how you went with the shortest chapter possible.


This post has been edited by xoxjoanxox: Sep 12 2012, 12:53 PM


QUOTE (9/13/2013 3:49:17 PM Max-Vader:)

QUOTE (Master of AFTER @ Feb 5 2014, 05:08 AM) *
I Was the Drink: The Joan Cheng Story

QUOTE (Screaming Soulcatcher)
Joan are you the straightest shota
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Post #17

Ramming You Lethally

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post Sep 12 2012, 12:54 PM
QUOTE (xoxjoanxox @ Sep 12 2012, 10:51 PM) *
I love how you went with the shortest chapter possible.

I didn't even notice that... I chose this one because I thought the "almost kiss"-emo bullshit was especially stupid.

Anyway, whenever you need me, I'm available.

please don't hit me

I have had a vision. It has been revealed to me by the secret chiefs of the world that I am sexier than Buddha and harder than Jesus. I cannot die.
Joan (requesting my drawings): I'LL PAY YOU
Paragon: I will literally pay you in oral sex if you go on a call and sing that entire song [Little Girls by Oingo Boingo] for us and record it
Scream: Welp guess its my turn to owe Max a IOU blowjob
Paragon: I think Max is rapidly becoming the new pimp of PA
Shane: Max for realest nigga of 2013
TigerEyes: No means yes and yes means anal.
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+Quote Post
Post #18

My Lady Dominate

Group: Members
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From: Springfield USA
Member No.: 351
Gender: Male

post Sep 12 2012, 01:07 PM
Nice mock so far you guys.

I hate to really barge in, but would you mind if I do a couple chapters? I need to cut my teeth on something that doesn't involve MK characters or toys doing awful things to each other

This post has been edited by Screaming_Soulcatcher: Sep 12 2012, 01:09 PM

QUOTE (Nyx @ Jan 31 2009, 12:00 AM)
The moment man devoured the fruit of knowledge, he sealed his fate. Entrusting his future to the cards, man clings to a dim hope. Yet, the Arcana is the means by which ALL is revealed...beyond the beaten path lies the absolute end. It matters not who you are...Death awaits you

I used to have a home, now I don't even have a name. I'm nothing but a number, here we are all the same...- Emilie Autumn- One Foot in Front of the Other.

Anime Popularity = Schoolgirl Quotient x Otaku appeal / Time of Release (The Dr. O Anime Appeal Theorem)
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Post #19

Not quite here, not quite there.

Group: Members
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Joined: 5-September 10
From: your pants.
Member No.: 384
Gender: Female

post Sep 12 2012, 02:41 PM
Oh my, the circle is growing. Feel free to, SS, but PM which chapter you want. Since I have college applications to do, it'd be great for others to do my mock for me, hahaha.


QUOTE (9/13/2013 3:49:17 PM Max-Vader:)

QUOTE (Master of AFTER @ Feb 5 2014, 05:08 AM) *
I Was the Drink: The Joan Cheng Story

QUOTE (Screaming Soulcatcher)
Joan are you the straightest shota
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post
Post #20

Ramming You Lethally

Group: Members
Posts: 9,703
Joined: 23-August 09
From: The Fortress of Pornitude
Member No.: 303
Gender: Male

post Sep 12 2012, 02:46 PM
At this point, this is gonna turn into the next PA group mock...

I have had a vision. It has been revealed to me by the secret chiefs of the world that I am sexier than Buddha and harder than Jesus. I cannot die.
Joan (requesting my drawings): I'LL PAY YOU
Paragon: I will literally pay you in oral sex if you go on a call and sing that entire song [Little Girls by Oingo Boingo] for us and record it
Scream: Welp guess its my turn to owe Max a IOU blowjob
Paragon: I think Max is rapidly becoming the new pimp of PA
Shane: Max for realest nigga of 2013
TigerEyes: No means yes and yes means anal.
Go to the top of the page
+Quote Post

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