Discl: Not trying to infringe on the Meyer. No. No.
So, yeah... uh, this is "crack-ish," but like, more like Harry Potter fandom "crackish"—because most Twicrack is either all-human or just a one-shot (or I simply don't like it), whereas there are loads of good canon/AU cracked plots in HP. Anyhoo, there's an actual plot/premise going on here. It's just more like a-playing-hopscotch-on-the-backs-of-sharks sorta plot/premise, so it's just going to be a bumpy (unhinged) journey. Anyhoo, here ya go. This is basically a "Bella puts the smack down on Edward" story—and Jacob is adorably sad but still gets some play. My summaries rule.
So, yes, this is nothing like Candle.
Love to gallantcorkscrews and amercnxidiot for enabling me.
From the Scribbled Journalizations of Jacob Black, in the year of our white-Jesus 2006, on how he chose to not test the icy wigwam of the town crazy chick and instead made Lauren Mallory bray while on all fours instead.
Around the time that Bella Swan started hearing voices in her head was around the time that she went epic loony.
Epic loony is a relative term, but I can tell you that using her feminine wiles (e.g. not-so-accidental "accidental" crotch brushes) to get you to fix up two motorcycles for her, and then her riding down the road screaming "I hate you motherfucker! I hate you motherfucker!" over and over again—well, such acts can easily shape the definition of "epic loony."
The good thing (and the bad thing) was that I realized that I was not the motherfucker in question.
It was "Edward the vampire."
My first impression was that Edward was sort of a suckass dick who was pretty dickass sucky to Bella. (Oh, and he sucked cause he liked literally sucked, like blood from people and animals and stuff.)
But six months later as I write this...
Dude was in the right.
Nah. No, definitely. If I were him, I'd have run too—but I'm me. But if I were smarter...
Wish I was smarter.
And that Bella didn't have a superpower.
Date: 10/14/2005 20:05
Subject: YOU HAVE BETRAYED ME
I just want you to know that...
Even though you left me, and even if it was because of him, I don't hate YOU anymore.
Uh, not that much.
I hate him.
Please ask him to come back?
Fucks, that's fucking pathetic.
(Yes, I curse now - part of the whole having-your-heart-stomped-on thing)
And just warn him: if he doesn't find me, then I'll find him.
Best wishes and happy, non-gross hunting,
-Your Pathetic Little Human
P.S. I stopped by your house the other day—there may have been a rock and a broken window involved—and went up to your room. I noticed that while all of your furniture was still there, you did manage to take your clothes. Funny, how that must have worked, you took your purses, but not your best friend.
P.P.S. Okay, maybe I still hate you.
MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE: thank you (and Phil) for the laptop
why are you bothering me, renee?
Sunshine Daisies: bb, i wrry bout u
that asswp dumped u
and im yer mom so i worry
MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE: renee dont insult him
Sunshine Daisies: WTF? :-/
I thought u were mad at him?
MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE: i am mad at him
Sunshine Daisies: so...
MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE: So, if i so want, I am allowed to carve
the shape of a dead heart into his chest
but YOU are not allowed to say anything bad about him
Sunshine Daisies: uh, Bella, r u sure you are ok bout this?
maybe u should come stay with me 4 a bit?
MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE: and do your and Phil's laundry?
i think not
Sunshine Daisies: u wouldn't have to do laundry!
MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE: the dry cleaners would do it?
Sunshine Daisies: They dew a good job
iron it all and everythin
MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE: i'm signing off now
i'm going to iron charlie's underwear for kicks
Sunshine Daisies: y wld you do that?
MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE has logged off
. . . . . . . .
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What I would like in this moment is to go and sit on the patch of grass behind the gym and smoke something illegal.
I don't actually have anything illegal.
I'd believed Jake's friend Embry could hook me up, but nooo.
And then I asked him if I could bum a cigarette or something.
But double no.
He looked at me like I was the one smoking something.
(And he had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.)
So I asked him, "Wha...?" in my dead, have-no-spirit voice.
"But you're not like that?" he half-whined.
"I USED to be not like that, but now, well, now I'd like some fucking weed or at the very least, a cigarette."
"Bella, I don't think now is the best time for you to pick up smoking. You're... you're..."
"I got dumped. And now I want to rebel in stupid ways."
"Dear God, this is not repeat after me. Do you have something that remotely screams chemical rebellion?"
"I'm going to find Leah, I muttered," and then I swiped the cigarette out of his mouth, shoved it between my lips, and inhaled.
Half-choking, I marched off.
I hate school. I wish I was smoking grass on the grass, etc. Because hell, this—the whole having nothing-to-focus-on-but-him thing—is why I want to run away and hide, because the only item on my lunch tray is a red apple—and I wish it was a poisoned apple, filled with venom, so that I could bite into it just like motherfucking Juliet did, and speak the final words, "Anyone can hacky sack an apple, Romeo!" and then collapse with a mighty dead shebang on the lunch room checkered tile floor.
I hope I break something when I fall.
Fingers. A collar bone. My neck.
I hope I cut myself.
I hope that blood spills across the floor. A lot of blood.
I want to waste the only part of me that Edward ever craved.