"…'I have no intention of marrying you, Bella; I just want a life-long fuck buddy!' The alien (illegal but planetary nationality isn't the issue) told the young woman who was swimming naked in the Pacific ocean this fine January morning. Weather for the day was an unheard of negative twenty-seven degrees Fahrenheit. The triple-breed human/vampire/werewolf Bella blushed prettily before answering the illegal (but no one gives a fuck about heritage) alien, 'Fuck you, creature. Now die!' Horrid death rays leaving her eyes as the (where the fuck did Aliens come from!) alien sizzled, burned and died on spot. Leaving the water, she dried off and then went to join her two lovers, one Mr. Who-really-cares-he-isn't-a-wolf-character Edtard and one Mr. OH-MY-GOD-just-his-name-makes-you-come Jacob Black. The trio then flocked off to engage in sexual acts that are illegal in every city/state/continent. Details to follow in the next chapters as to what removable body parts can accomplish…"

Well, hello wonderful readers. Happy to see we are all still keeping our heads afloat with the entertaining Twilight Fan fiction world. It is with remorse that this author informs you, I have carelessly left out a few other points needed to be discussed. For those who might be worried, we will endeavor to talk about those points as well; the *wink wink* snake ones.

Geronimo: Not just a screeching farewell.

Anyone who is familiar with the Northwest of America will tell you that swimming in the ocean isn't really that advisable. Neither is cliff-jumping into the Pacific, but we have to get our thrills from somewhere and approaching strange men in dark alleys or engaging in intravenous drug use is tacky.


A few of you may be scratching your head at this point and muttering "Didn't SM inadvertently cover those types of things in the original?" Yeah, she did, but us here at fanfic are more couth than that!


Let us study this subject a bit more though.

Have you ever gone sky-diving or bungee jumping? Of course you have, the first obvious step being that you traveled to your local Wal-Mart/salvation army/Piggly-Wiggly to buy appropriate polyester sheets and/or rope depending on your chosen activity. After correctly looping the rabbit through the hole, back up out of the hole and tying the bunny ears together, you have successfully made the biggest unforgivable know on the planet. Correction, you have tied your master noose…err, your master knot and are ready to engage! (Perverts, please note: that may or may not be an appropriate sex game.)

Assuming you have decided to slightly mimic Bella (never jumped without a safety) and are bungee jumping, you fling yourself from the bridge, spiraling downward, the water rushing towards you at a scary speed before the ropes reaches its maximum tension level and snaps you back heavenwards. You have just successfully completed an adrenaline-fueled sport without any proper guidance or training. The appropriate response would be "YAY", correct?

Not so fast, Mt. Dewers.

A person can (and sometimes does) die from falling as short as three feet. Why would Bella, who it has already been determined lacks the ability to walk a straight line sober, be able to plummet off a fifty foot cliff, hit the water, be rescued due to her poor swimming skills but not diving skills and then three hours later walk into her house as If nothing happened? This mystery rivals those as to where Jimmy Hoffa's body is rotting; what happened to the Lost City of Atlantis; and what the hell did Kim Kardashian ever do to make her famous?

Granted, should a writer choose to let this expedition occur while Bella is locked in the metals bars known as Jake's arms, his body becoming a silky cage of desire and inflamed passion as his heat protects his one and only true love, their clothes melt away into the sunset as two bodies erotically caress each other….

…. Where the hell were we? Oh yes. Should Jake take Bella on a tandem jump, the chances of her survival increase exponentially, along with an increase in the probability of other things too tacky to mention. If, as a writer, you have made Bella into an adrenaline junkie, make sure she either has had training, or at least knows better than to do things without a partner. Remember: No spotter means huge splatter.

And by cold, even the Penguins froze their nutters.

To those of you who have grown up in the South and then been required to live in the North for a set amount of time will realize that during this transition, you will never-ever-ever sweat until you cross the latitudinal line of 35N where you once again be able to feel your toes and bother with sandals.

This is not to be confused with those of us who have grown up in the North and at the balmy temperature of sixty degrees Fahrenheit, will dress like a Caribbean native in sarongs and Speedos. Bella is not this type of person.

Wearing clothing that is less than twenty inches in length, made of only silk and is donned late-winter or early spring is a far stretch of the imagination; even for our heroine, Bella. She may have a portable space heater next to her at all times during such a scene, but unless they plan on having sex in the midst of their dinner table during date night (take notes, authors to be!), Bella should not be wearing skimpy garments in weather that requires snowmen to have protective gear lest they become frost-bitten.

That's Head Alfalfa to you!

Our man, Jacob Black, was born and bred to be a liter. DOOH! I mean, leader. (NOTE-worthy side-note: Liter is clearly the amount of sperm his *wink wink* snake's testicles carries at any given time.) Genetics, while certainly a controversy topic, still hold a basic force in fiction. According to scientists (again those snarky well-doers who brought us the flesh eating virus and vibrators) many mammalian classes require the "alpha" to fight for his or her position amongst the pack. It is not simply handed to them like crowns and titles. Show the wolves a little bit of love and have them fight it out like real dogs…it could be sexy.

Bella, herself, is another medical mystery. Gosh, she not only managed to fully carry to term (advanced or not) a fetus, but she did that shit with the sperm donor having two extra chromosomal pairings; not always impossible but highly rare in the rest of the free world.

The oddity in question, however, is that she's white. The fact is that most of the Anglo-Saxon descendants are, but Bella's little genetic flaw is a hot topic in the fandom. While explaining this lack of a tan in a fanfic, it is imperative not to attribute this to a genetic flaw such as, say, Albinism. This author is somewhat unaware of the number of real albinos living in Phoenix, Arizona, but it would be safe to assume that IF Bella had done so, she might be sporting some cancerous lesions or at the very least, military-grade Ray Ban sunglasses. If you're going to give her some color, it's probably not going to occur within a week's time or because she finally won the battle of decreased melanocyts .

And the Red Woods parted…

Praise Jesus, Allah and the malls of America. The cure to urbanization is as crystal clear as the HealthCare plan for senior citizens: Clear 'em out and make room for the young. Tacky as it is in the real world, it is wet-dream in the wolf-fandom. The theory is that once all the dead people have moved away (psst: this author means vampires) Forks becomes a booming town of high-price boutiques, day-time spas and High-end entertainment.

This, too, was briefly mentioned in the previous chapter, but not adequately covered. IF Bella has decided to out whore Paris Hilton then clearly she needs appropriate stores to do that, clothing-wise at least. However, adding a Macy's, Saks Fifth Avenue and Sephora to the town of Forks is imaginary overkill even for the plebian. Saying she found these stores in Port Angeles is not much better, nor is adding that she drove to Seattle although that's slightly more reasonable than the previous. Authors beware: When in doubt, Google the shit extensively before making too much of a mass change.

Chainsaw Massacres

"…the moonlight pooled into the room, illuminating the basic furniture and random teenage shit customarily found in heaps and piles. In the bed, laid amongst kinky-ass silken sheets, goose-down filled pillows and Alpaca furred coverings, a man and a woman slept. The female suddenly sits upright, gasping in shock since it's damn near silent and most people wake up from nothing except those of the wolf variety who should be able to wake at the sound of a mouse farting but instead sleep through anything that is quieter than a nuclear holocaust. The girl, though, has awoken and once realizing she isn't being attacked, stares in zombie-like adoration at the well-toned man beside her. Sinking back into the ostentatious bed clothing, she wraps her arms around his chest. And then….


His deviated septum lets loose and she smiles fondly as he begins to snore…."

*Eyebrow about jumps off of the readers forehead!*

When your pet dog, cat or camel snores, it is probably slightly cute and immediately recorded and uploaded on . When your child snores and coos it is definitely a movie-recording moment to take, ensuring that you will have ample ammunition to embarrass the piss out of them as they bring home their first date and you show how little Johnny or Sally could simultaneously snore, coo and fart while their dates try not to watch in horror and fascination. Snoring in a grown man is not cute or adorable especially when he sounds like a dump truck traveling down a freeway during rush hour, hitting everything in its path while a band of toe-picking-banjo-laying rednecks sit in the back, popping bubble wrap at a sound level of three hundred decibels! Unrealistic snoring cuteness is the number sixty-ninth reason a fanfiction dies.

That's Not Teen Spirit You're Smelling…

"…he could smell her desire…"

"…her arousal permeated the air, driving Jacob wild with lust…"

We've already covered that Jacob the werewolf-and in all fairness, Jacob the human-can smell when Bella is turned on. It's a known fact to us non-virgins that sex leaves its own smell. The need to describe this aroma every other sentence during a sex-scene however is sometimes (usually) overkill. If the man happens to be a wolf in an author's fic, he can not only smell her desire, but probably also what she had for dinner the previous night, the drunk man three streets over pissing on the neighbors car while spouting love poems and the last time Charlie farted. Gross, but surely a sound fact and one that might be better left unmentioned so many times, kind of like the smell of sex.

"No" may mean "No" but damn! What the hell does "Fucking do it!" Mean?

"…'are you sure?' Jacob asked Bella, watching her pant heavily beneath him. 'If we don't stop now, I won't be able to'…"

"…skin glistening, bodies aching with need, Jacob stilled Bella's movements as she tried to impale herself on him. 'We don't have to do this, if you aren't ready'…"

"…lined up perfectly with her channel/cavern/Mariana Trench, Jacob pleaded one more time for sensibility to reign. 'Bella, it's not too late. We don't have to cage the *wink wink*snake if you don't want to'…"

Once you have all put your pre-coitus, mid-coitus and post-coitus cigarettes away, please answer this question: Why are any of the above scenarios cute?

The duo has stripped, licked, sucked, throated, patted and/or powdered ever single inch of each other and NOW Jacob is worried that maybe Bella doesn't want sex? Good god almighty! If Bella laid there covered in reflective tape strips, swirling guidance flash-lights at her crotch, while having a flashing/beeping beacon embedded on her pubic bone with the admission: Fuck Here! And Now! the boy couldn't come off more stupid than he does when asking if she's absolutely sure she feels ready for sex.

And, yes, this occurrence leads authors/readers back to the beginning of an already well-trudged circle. One must make sure the sex is consensual between our hero and heroine, but can you not see the silliness at some point? If not carefully written, these scenarios quite often read like a NASCAR driver stopping to ask directions around a race track. Write the race, write the descriptions of snake-cars and boob-bodies but Do NOT write the driver asking for directions in such an obvious form.

Strawberry Fields Are Fermenting:

Does Bella really smell like berries? Who fucking cares and why are we discussing this triviality? Because, it's a bit overdone. Chemically composed strawberry aromas smell nothing like a real strawberry and the He-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless never hinted in the original that Bella carried the scent of artificial sweetness; why would our favorite wolf do this?

People whose ketone levels are higher than normal (primarily diabetics and Adkins's dieters), often will encounter this berry-emitting-aroma known as acetone. If a writer has gone with the form that Bella has been starved, is anorexic, or is on an Adkins's diet, then berry away! It is important to add that her fruity aroma may just be from an indulgence of a heavy *wink wink* snake diet. If that's the case, gratuitous B&J(*) scenes are required at a mandatory every other chapter posting.

(* Sorry to my Bartles & James lovers; once again this was NOT an alcoholic reference, although you are free to do a shot to help ease the pain.)

The Little Engine That Couldn't

Fear not, scared shitless readers. We are not discussing a possible *wink wink* snake failure.

Although implied at before, it must be said again: SM royally fucked up (please keep guffawing to a minimum) when she developed Charlie's character as a cop. Police chief to boot! It's not an inherited/passed down through, seniority-type position.

However he acquired the position (perverts, this is WAY different than assuming the position) he is left with the logistic skills of a drunken ant*; unaware that his daughter is fucking a werewolf and contemplated indulging in necrophilia, or the politically correct term: fucking a vampire.

Not all, but the majority of people who become cops or work in law-enforcement have installed some type of alarm system on their house within the first year on the job. Charlie is an erroneous (not erogenous) exception. The man even keeps a spare key outside of his house for easy accessibility for the common criminal.

Whatever unfortunate brain surgery he suffered [LOBOTOMY! LOBOTOMY! LOBOTOMY!], the man never has a problem when his 16-18 year old daughter decides to move to La Push to live in sin. Of course, the rest of the free-world calls living with a stud-muffin "bliss", but we have digressed.

Generally speaking, police officers from small communities are better versed in many law enforcement activities. They don't have the funds or man power to possess multiple specialists and therefore must be well adept in most aspects to sheriff a town correctly. This means Charlie is rather dumb to the nefarious affairs his daughter is involved in.

To carry on with tradition though, the fandom has continued to embellish Chief Swan's lack of insight and blatant stupidity. If you are attempting to correct SM's flaws, either make Charlie a smart cop or change his job to that of a mailman.

(*Odd side note that bears no significance: Drunk ants always stumble to their right, a fact that the U.S. government spent much time and money on. Try not to be overly embarrassed if you're an American.)

Battle of Bunker-Tongue

"…Tonight's special is a fight you've all been waiting to witness. In corner A we have Hercules 'HH' Hyoglossus. Weighing in at 3.6 ounces and standing at 3.1 inches he has a professional body with an amateur record.

In corner B we have LiteWeight 'LL' Lingua. Weighing in at 2.75 ounces and standing only a measly 2.2 inches she's a scrappy little thing and has been waiting for the past two to three novels to enter this arena.

Fighters, we want a clean and honest battle; to your corners now.

Ladies and Gentlemen, let's get ready to rumble!


HH starts off aggressively, lunging at LL in a Genioglossus move, battering the smaller framed fighter. She's got some stealthy moves of her own though. In a specially designed intrinsic move LL is famous for, swoopes to the bottom, avoiding HH's plundering ways.

Feinting to the left, HH brings in the use of Carpal tools and grabs the outer cavity to hold LL in place. With no place to move, LL relents and allows for another Genioglossus move to be performed.

One! Two! Three! Come on, LL, get back up! Nine! Ten! And in a fight that hasn't ended this quickly since Tyson entered the ring, HH wins by a landslide, huge grin in place. Ironically, LL has a smile also…"

Raise your hand if you've read a fanfic scene where the kissing between Jake and Bella resembles a scene from any of the Alien movies, where a face-hugger strikes a victim and doesn't leave until one has passed out. That overused bit, "their tongues battled for dominance", has worn out its welcome to the point that a lot of readers would rather lick postage stamps until the end of time rather than have to endure that clinically generic fic line.

In all honesty and entirely in the real world, when you set out to kiss someone, do you honestly bash your tongues repeatedly against other, trying to figure out why kissing suddenly feels like thumb wrestling instead? If you answered "yes" to the first half of the question then feel free to use the above overused bit. If you answered "no" or even a hesitant "maybe", move on and think of other adjectives to describe the winning of the sport of tonsil hockey.

Open up and say "Ahh..Where the fuck are you putting that?"

As Bella and Jake go on their first official date to the diner and movies, both have their hormones in torrential states of madness. Bella is the one to whip it out for Jake most of the time and as she commits her first act of felony rape on a minor… let me rephrase. As she commits her first act of love on the second love of her short life, she marvels at the size; hums at the first taste of salt; and then in a reverse reptilian move, swallows the *wink wink* snake whole.

Scientifically speaking (those crazy calculus bastards) women are not as adept at dimensions as men are which is why there are more men architects and builders than women. That aside however, Bella should at least gag slightly if not outright throw up when performing her first act of felony…her first act of sexual bliss.

In all fairness, one must just assume that if this illegal…miraculous act occurs, Bella possesses the stunning ability to dislocate her jaw for easy passage and doesn't have a gag reflex. Jacob probably can't hear it over his annoyingly comforting snoring and overzealous load moaning (Does anyone know if that's at all like loud moaning?).

Bella has also, not necessarily acquired, but is never opposed to the idea of swallowing. It's always the same: she licks the saltiness, finds it scrumptious and goes back for more. Not to be graphic (please ignore the huge lie in that), but is it not a bit more realistic for her to be slightly startled during the first occasion of swallowing spunk? Authors go out of their way to describe Jacob telling her that she doesn't "have to", or that he's about to blow his "load" (never blow his "loud") and yet, like every teenage male's fantasy, she licks him clean without pause, not once considering to pull back. Gosh, maybe more teenage boys should read Twi fanfic to follow this proper etiquette.

Claire De Vomit

Music. An extremely creative tool as it can bring forth a myriad of emotions for a reader. Many people are overjoyed to include playlists, web-links and sometimes actual players at the bottom of a web page so that while reading their fic you too can immerse yourself in those exact same feelings the author had while writing.

And here is the part of our little diatribe where this author falls flat-faced onto the table.

*bangs head repeatedly on a hard, preferably sharp, object*

Who could ever forget the band Nine Inch Nails and their multi-hit wonder "Closer"? That one particular lyric "I want to fuck you like an animal / I want to feel you from the inside" sends readers scurrying for their astronaut diapers as the fluids burst forth at what the hidden meaning to those words means to Bella and Jacob. The truth though is, if you take a closer look, the lyrics read like a theme song to the weekly serial killer group meetings held at your local YMCA.

The more laid back might think it means he wants to fuck her; an obvious, if not crude, choice. The fact that he wants to "feel her from the inside" is a good sign that virgin Jake at least knows where his *wink wink* snake should go.

The tempo of this particular song has a good steady beat for our hero and heroine to beat at (many, many puns within that sentence). Of course, if those two are the nymphomaniacs they are well painted as in the fandom, they would get more of an encore should they be able to perform at the beat of Nine Inch Nails song "Suck" also known as track 99 on the Broken album.

*author pauses while readers quickly jump to YouTube to hear the song. Make sure you listen until the beat takes a drastic turn.*

Creativity should flow wildly while adding songs these horny teens fuck to. However, a writer needs to be careful. A loving couple can obviously fuck (an action more aggressive than making love) but do try not to make the scene overly loving as they slowly caress each other to the tune of Ministry's "Jesus Built My Hotrod" even though that is exactly the speed Jake usually engages in.

The last few above paragraphs are bit cluster fucked so let's recap for aspiring authors:

DO NOT paste part of or an entire song into your fic, throw a few sentences of dialogue in between and call it a chapter. Whatever you felt while listening to it will be lost in translation to most of your readers.

If they're gonna have your characters fuck like animals via NIN, let them be animals! To do otherwise is a lot like saying you drive a Porsche, live in Beverly Hills, have ten million dollars sitting in a bank but call yourself lower middle class. Most people will think you're more than slightly retarded. Don't be a hypocrite.

(Cult-intervention: Before running off to warn authors that little furry cannibals is making fun of a particular fic, rest assured this portion is not targeted to any one specific author.)

Is that Ex-President Ronald Regan Thinking…

"…He didn't understand. 'I don't get it,' he said…"

"…She didn't know what he was talking about. 'What are you talking about?' she asked…"

"…Remove package before putting on. 'So I have to rip open the foil, take the condom out and then put it on?' Jake asked…"

The word "redundancy" blinks brightly in the above examples. Yes, sometimes a character is confused as to what is happening to him or her; understandable. The fact that a lot of authors reword a thought and then the words almost verbatim is equivalent to reading out loud with a nasty echo. There are many more creative ways to convey the characters inner turmoil over a situation other than a repetitive mantra and it doesn't even have to be that much of an extreme difference. Read the below corrections.

He started at the PEZ dispenser as if it was a hairless hobbit. "I don't get it," he finally admitted.

Funny, Bella thought. Jake never used to sing 'Detachable Penis' at other pack meetings. "What are you talking about?" She asked in confusion.

I am a fan fiction character and having to internally monologue that I stopped sexing Bella long enough to suffocate my *wink wink* snake goes against all appropriate writing guidelines. Oh well. "So," Jake purred huskily into Bella's ear," Once I take this out of the package and wrap my undetermined but obviously well-endowed dick, we're going to get down and make love. Flip the IHome to Nine Inch Nails, Bella, I'm about to get a lot 'Closer'".

If you can read either just the thoughts without the dialogue or just the dialogue without the thoughts and are still 200% aware of what the hell is going on in a story, hit the delete key. PLEASE!

The Spices of Lust

"…Bella, I'm coming…"

"…I'm going to come, Jake…"

"…cumma, cumma, cumma, cumma, cumma, chameleon…"

Okay, so the last one has probably never been uttered in a B&J fanfic during a romp scene, but it might as well have been.

The word 'come' alone has formed its own fanfic cult. To 'come' is a slang term, regardless of how it's spelled, screamed, or written in semen. Writers spend mass amounts of time debating the quality of the word and whether or not the slang spelling "cum" is legitimate or not and how much respect is lost when one chooses to spell it one way or the other.

Are you confused? Good, we're just getting started.

One could assume it is like the slang term 'fat'. When spelled with an 'f' it implies an obese constitution. However, when written with the psychedelic "ph" to give us the word 'phat' or 'phatty' all is good in the hood…err, in fan fiction. Whatever.

The point is, does it really fucking -pun required- matter? One would hope that with the eight million English scholars reading fanfic, a writer and/or reader would desire a way to discern the difference between the meaning of "to approach" verses the meaning of "to orgasm". It's easy to assume with Bella's nervous chattering in fics, that when she says "I'm coming" and is presently being drilled by the *wink wink* snake, there's still that off chance she's answering Charlie as to whether or not she's going to make dinner. It is also possible, she's answering one of those loopy inner-voices she hears and IS NOT in fact telling her lover he's about to rock her world.

As most of you are probably pleading for this to end here, it doesn't. Slang is ever-present in stories; a cold-hard fact that needs to be accepted, regardless of your profession. People (yes those in the real world) don't conjugate every verb, noun, adverb and armadildo correctly while speaking to their parents and peers. (Perverts please note: The above was intentional but not meant to indicate a goody. If it really is a sex-toy, please keep such knowledge to yourselves.)

The flaw, though, is that while transcribing slang to be read, a writer needs to take extra pains to ensure that the term is still slang-friendly and is not physically identical to a proper word. If one is to write "I'm cumin," while Jake pounds into Bella, congratulations are in order. You have just had the character announce that they are a spice (author would LOVE detailed drawings and explanations as to how this happens).

Once again, loyal readers, thank you for having a few laughs with yours truly over all of the stories we secretly admire despite the massive eye rolling, jaw dropping, screen pointing and panty…*cough* we'll just skip that last endearment. Suffice to say, this is for entertainment purposes only and if you somehow take personal offense then you might need to dig deeper for your inner wit.

A/N: Beta'd by Bragi151.