#fuck stephenie meyer

[dead-vape]

Stephenie Meyer, unfortunately the author of the Twilight saga, has three brothers. Their names are Jacob, Paul, and Seth. Bella is undoubtedly a self insert character, and was given the name because that’s what Stephenie wanted to name her daughter. Do with this information what you will.

#twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #twilight lore #stephenie meyer #twilight series #twilight saga #bella swan #edward cullen #jacob black #twilight meme #did smeyer wanna fuck her brother? #or did she want him to fuck her non existent daughter #I hate twilight but it’s my favorite

[the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis]

decided to reread the host for the first time since middle school, just, you know, for fun.

 i am not having fun

#'right now if i was given the choice between having the world back and having you i wouldn't be able to give you up.' #'but?' #'but you're seventeen Melanie. and i'm 26' #STEPHENIE FUCKING MEYER I AM OUTSIDE YOUR HOUSE #I AM SLASHING YOUR TIRES #I AM INSIDE YOUR WALLS CHEWING ON THE WIRING TO START AN ELECTRICAL FIRE #I WILL COMMIT HOMICIDE I'LL DO IT DON'T TRY ME #canon black person in this book though! she is the most minor of side characters #& has 'thick lips' whatever that means (i am watching suspiciously) #but that's one step up from twilight unfortunately

[cinematicnomad]

✨top 9 books✨

tagged by @tripleaxeldiaz & @woodchoc-magnum 😊

(like felicity, i, too, will be considering a series as a single book even though the "series" in this case is very loosely defined)

001. pride and prejudice by jane austen 002. the boy series by meg cabot 003. the sound and the fury by william faulkner 004. the martian by andy weir 005. the long walk by stephen king 006. daisy jones and the six by taylor jenkins reid 007. into thin air by jon krakauer 008. a single man by christopher isherwood 009. the host by stephanie meyer

honorable mentions from childhood include a solitary blue by cynthia voigt (and several other tillerman cycle books), the anne of green gable series by l.m. montgomery, the time quintet series by madeleine l'engle, and his dark materials by philip pullman.

tagging @crazyassmurdererwall, @machtaholic, @tattooedsiren, @valleydean, @catdadeddie, @telvayns, @daincrediblegg, @tawaifeddiediaz, @buttercupbuck, and anyone else who wants to do this

#YES stephenie meyer made this list #the host is just! so fucking good sorry not sorry #i have read and re-read that book sooo many times #and it still makes me cry to this day #also sorry while i love the terror show i never even finished the book so it could not make this list

[northernember]

oh the things i would give for a midnight sun style rq book, just like a condensed version of the series but from cal’s pov

both for the additional interactions between him and the other characters but also so i can spend the entire read highlighting all the times he thinks/mentions mare that man is down Bad okay

also im so desperate for more cal and maven interactions just P l e a s e i want to see them be brothers and love each other Before the Betrayal™️

#victoria pls pls pls pls pls #im on my knees Begging #like fuck stephenie meyer but she kinda popped off with that concept #highly doubt shes the first person who’s done it of course #but i do love the idea of taking a story and telling it from a different characters pov #i havent read midnight sun so no idea if she even did it justice #but done well it probably adds more context to the characters and their relationships #along with allowing you to build on to the b or c plot #but i also selfishly want to see what that bitch was up to when mare wasnt looking/imprisoned #and if it isnt being perpetually covered in blood aveyard will have failed me once more smh #red queen series #cal calore

[felixschokehold]

Smeyer: vampires only form true bonds of love if they don't drink people blood

Also Smeyer: Marcus and Didyme had the greatest love to ever exist but they never changed their diet so yeah lol

#lmfao #my post #own post #stephenie meyer #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #volturi #marcus #didyme #this is why i don't bother with this “fact” in my fic #fuck that lol

[alilaro]

new headcanon that the ‘what we do in the shadows’ coven exist in the twilight universe

#twilight saga #twilight renaissance #wwdits #just retcon the vampiric council as one of the volturi's allied american bases #also yes i know nandor references twilight and guillermo watches twilight then recreates the baseball scene #but listen thats just some fun time fourth-wall breaking baby #my mainverse has a LOT of daker lore; but I want to start balancing it more with even more comedic shitpost vibes #also obviously fuck canon stephenie meyer eat my dick #*

[vampiresinforks]

am I dumb or can Smeyer not use calendars????

at the end of NM chapter 6 Bella and Angela talk about how "today is January 19th [2006]" and Bella moved to Forks one year and one day ago... so she moved to Forks on Monday and started school on Tuesday, Jan 18th??? Who the fuck moves across the country and starts school on a random Tuesday???

And much more importantly - the conversation they're having in NM is taking place on an in-universe MONDAY - they're all discussing their past WEEKEND endeavors at the lunch table... and January 19th 2006 IS A FUCKING THURSDAY

STEPHENIE I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD WHY CAN YOU NOT USE A CALENDAR

she could've said 16th - then that would make it a Monday in NM and a Sunday in Twilight - which would make a whole lot more sense. like???? I just DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS WOMAN

#I am so mad right now #what the fuck is this #why can this woman not google #WHAT THE FUCK #new moon #twilight #twilight renaissance #stephenie meyer #someone help me I am losing my mind

[sharkysheets]

Okay but like,,

The way that i will never trust a person again if they believe twilight is a bad book,,

#twilight #stephenie meyer #team edward #fuck jacob #book alice and jasper are so much cuter i stg im going to cry

[babyhateclub]

America doesn’t have any concrete culture, but what we do have is a very unique shared experience of allowing some part of the twilight franchise to occupy space in your brain, the people who loved it made sure the people who didn’t care developed much stronger opinions about both the series and the person, everyone is aware of twilight to some degree and think that really summarizes the true American experience

#twilight #team Edward #team jacob #I’m on team Edward and Jacob should fuck #someone please ask me about how stephenie meyer doesn’t know what a vampire or a werewolf is #or how to properly market a series

[kwop-kilawtley]

EVERYTHING we love about bella is stripped away by Edward and vampirism. Her clumsiness, her blush, her brown eyes. The way she loves the sun and Arizona. She loved to cook and now she will never eat again. She hated the cold and now she is cold stone. Edward discards her truck and replaces it with a brand new Mercedes’ she didn’t even like. Which always felt like symbolism to me. Some may see it as an upgrade, as a nice gift… but Bella never wanted it. Think of how EXCITED she was to get that truck and how uncomfortable she was then with the Mercedes. If Bella wanted an upgrade, SHE SHOULDVE PICKED THE CAR. But no.. Edward literally just DISCARDED IT. Bella never liked flashy things or parties but now she’s subjected to that forever.

I think it’s fucking insane that people will say theyre Team Edward cause they’re not “anti-choice.” What did y’all read bc….. what. Just because Bella chooses to be a vampire? To die? She was OBSESSED with the easy way out. She was obsessed with Edward cause they were trauma bonded and she had such horrific self esteem. Just cause Bella chose to be a vampire doesn’t make it a good thing. It is a tragedy and always will be to me. Unless you never gave a fuck about her as a human I suppose. 😗✌️ Bella is an unreliable narrator and was under vampire thrall. Bella was severely traumatized by Edward and felt worthless as a human. Bella had a chance to grow with Jacob and she WOULD HAVE. But she would have PTSD that she could work through. You may be like “she would’ve never gotten over edward.” Yeah she would’ve and she would’ve realized that him haunting her was all Stockholm syndrome.

I’m not “anti choice” for acknowledging Bella’s choice was the wrong one. ExB’s relationship ruined lives, killed people, put the wolfpack through literal HELL and eventually enslaved the wolfpack to them. All for “love” LMAO! It wasn’t love, it was obsession, bloodlust, trauma bonding, low self worth, co dependency.

Anyway. I started a Breaking Dawn rewrite fic where Bella realizes all this shit and heals.

#team jacob #twilight renaissance #twilight #jacob x bella #bella x jacob #team Edward #anti Edward Cullen

[redversaillesrose]

I’m still baffled at the fact that Stephenie Meyer decided to make a 23 y/o the adoptive father of five teenagers who actively dated each other in public and everybody was like. Okay with it. In a town with less than 4000 people. Fuck the sparkling, Twilight’s biggest mistake was that, for vampires who allegedly try to blend in with humans, the Cullens are weird as shit and don’t care about remaining anonymous, and that jackassery would not stand in the real world. 

#Stephenie Meyer is the oblivious woman that would get killed first for not realising there's nosferatus next door. #twilight #the twilight saga #stephenie meyer #edward cullen #bella swan #carlisle cullen #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #jasper hale #alice cullen #esme cullen #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #reneesme cullen

[bloodraven55]

i need to study stephenie meyer in a lab to figure out how the fuck she wrote All This Fruity Ass Shit in new moon apparently without realising how ludicrously gay it reads

#finding out that she’s a mormon suddenly made every single thing about twilight make total sense istg #twilight #twilight new moon #bella swan #alice cullen #twilight bella #twilight alice

[the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis]

me? writing fanfic about the host? it’s more likely than you think! check out:

like a memory lost

for a post-canon pov from a minor character, poking at the holes in the worldbuilding stephenie meyer doesn’t want to acknowledge, the tragedy of alien infestation and what it does to consent, and my experience of the host being inescapably informed by reading too much animorphs as a child!

as always, text below the read-more.

Jodi isn’t tired. Not exactly.

She isn’t sure there’s enough of her left to be tired, really.

To be…

She doesn’t know what happened.

There’s one clear thing. One last clear memory, oddly doubled: she was going back to her parents’ for a week.

Just to do laundry without having to count quarters for the shitty basement washing machine in her college apartment. Just to spend a little time in the desert sun, far from Portland and whining traffic and heavy clouds over the slow brown river. Far from the stacks of biology textbooks and scribbled MCAT study guides that were swallowing her bedroom whole.

Just to eat her dad’s mac-n-cheese, the special recipe that he made every time she came to visit, just because it had been her favorite for so long when she was a kid, and he still winked and pretended there was a secret ingredient even though he’d sent the recipe along with her to college, no daughter of mine’ll eat Kraft, even if you are one of those poor premed students—and she rolled her eyes but ate every bite anyways.

Just to hug her mom. She’d been imagining that, somewhere in the back of her mind, aching for it even as she strained onto her tiptoes to kiss Kyle goodbye at the airport doors and tried not to blush at his brother whistling from the driver’s seat of their car.

Imagining breathing in her mom’s favorite bergamot perfume, sharp and citrusy, that she always wore just the tiniest bit of because there’s always such a thing as too much of a good thing, dear. The way one firm hand would cradle the back of her neck the same way it had since she was a kid, pressing months of tension out of her shoulders.

And then she’d been on the front porch, the Mojave sun warm on her back, relaxing into that hug—and the hand on her neck had turned implacable, a thumb digging into her windpipe and the world going slowly black.

And then—and then—

And then she doesn’t know.

The loop. The airport, the porch. The world going black.

Waking up...here. Wherever that is.

A room without light, without windows, without a door.

Maybe not waking up at all.

There are flashes, every once in a while.

Her body, moving without her say. Like she’s watching through glass, not quite distant enough to really be third-person but too blurred to be anything else. Her lips shaping words that she can’t decipher, because it’s too loud in her brain to focus that hard.

The first bite of mac-n-cheese, burning the roof of her mouth, and her dad doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t wink and he doesn’t say secret ingredient he says Sunlight-Passing-Through-Ice are you well? His smile is glass, fragile and clouded, and she thrashes, even though her body doesn’t flinch, just smiles and fills another fork. She tries to scream, even though she doesn’t know why—

Her mother’s hug. Citrus. Bergamot. Too much of it, thick and heavy on her tongue. A firm hand on the back of her neck, and a spike of terror, a phantom ache in her throat—

Devastation.

Despair, so complete and utter she fell to her knees and felt every one of the bruises blooming as they cracked against the shitty linoleum flooring of the old apartment she’d shared with—Kyle, Kyle, he’s gone, he’s GONE, no no no no!

She felt the tears flooding her eyes. The tang as her teeth bit into her cheek and blood swirled across her tongue.

I NEED HIM, a voice was wailing, and the despair was sharp and razor-edged enough for Jodi to realize it wasn’t her own. Words echoed, so goddamn loud, through the skull she was suddenly stumbling back into, and they weren’t hers either. THIS BODY NEEDS HIM, IT’S NOT FAIR, THEY HAVE TO CATCH HIM—

And she couldn’t move any of the limbs she could feel stinging against the dusty floor. Couldn’t unclench the fingers that were digging nails into her palms.

But Jodi knew.

She couldn’t put it into words. Words were beyond her, floating somewhere distant, in a thick-gray cloud that stung when she reached into it like it was swallowing her whole. She had none of the why of this sudden conviction—

But she was glad. Deliriously, viciously glad that Kyle wasn’t here.

The dim apartment smelled stale, almost mildewy, covered in a fine layer of dust. The rubber mat by the door was missing both brothers’ well-worn boots. (Hers were still there, flaking off the mud from their last hike.) Kitchen cabinets gaped open, hinges crooked, shelves swept bare like someone had scooped everything out in a single rush—the counters below them strewn with crumbs and scraps of newspaper and a smashed jar of molding spaghetti sauce.

You’ll never have him, she laughed, sharp and stinging as the blood on her teeth. He got away and he’s still himself, and you’ll NEVER HAVE HIM.

Which was when that presence, that shriek in her head, had, had, had—

What?

Had stiffened, had gone silent. Had shoved—

And now she’s…here.

She’s not tired.

She’s…she’s…

She’s in a room. It’s a room without light. Without windows. Without a door. She’s lying flat on her back staring at the ceiling—except that’s not it at all, because if she really focuses she can tell she doesn’t have a back to lie on. Doesn’t have any body at all. She’s just, just…

Fog. The heavy gray fog that descends over Portland, clings to asphalt and beads on grass and curls hazily in the wake of hissing tires. That rips apart and then knits back together, presses down heavy-heavy-heavy until all of a sudden it…disappears…

Something happens. Outside the room, outside the fog. The whole world trembles, and for a moment there’s—a window? Light seeping in, blinding, stinging, and there’s a deep voice, a familiar voice, bone-deep familiar, whispering Jodi, Jodi, Jodi, wake up—

Fog writhes. Flails. Melts, racing and scattering as the light crashes through the window, and she—she? is she...what is she…

Light keeps coming through the window. She doesn’t like it. She tries to close her eyes—aren’t they already closed? Her head aches.

She’s so tired…

The window goes away again, after a while.

She wants to sleep…

But she’s dreaming again.

(She has to be dreaming. Because it doesn’t make any sense otherwise.)

It’s just flashes. Just for brief snatches of time where—she isn’t in the room. The friendly foggy little room with just barely enough room between its cinderblock walls for her to lie still, still, still…

She’s in a desert. The icy air sucks moisture off the roof of her mouth, and her tongue darts across her lips. Her legs burn, but they keep moving, churning through the sand, grains of it slipping down the back of her sneakers, grinding against her heels.

She wants to stop, to catch her breath, to set down the pack with the heavy straps cutting into her shoulders. She can’t. She can’t stop moving.

The stars drape across the whole sky, packed so densely they’ll bring the purple fabric down on top of them, any second now surely—

A soccer ball slams into the side of her head, and pain firecrackers down her neck, spins dizzily through her skull. 

The slap of the fabric against her sweaty skin echoes, just like the yelp forced from her lungs. Fireworks burst in front of her eyes—the whole world spins—it almost hides the familiar face sprinting toward her, half-laughing half-apologetic. Kyle. Except wait, god, he looks so much older, there’s a rough stubbly beard on his cheeks, how—

She’s in a grocery store, her cheeks pulled into a smile as an old woman hands her a heavy silver package she doesn’t recognize, stale air-conditioner smell climbing acridly up her nostrils. Her lips curl into a smile, her tongue presses against her teeth to start shaping thank you as her feet lift—

She’s lying on her back in a dark room, and for a second she doesn’t realize she isn’t drifting.

Except rocks grind against her back through the thin mattress. The pillow smells like dirt and sweat, and when her head twists restlessly against it, the stuffing shifts into odd clumps. Her tongue darts out across her lips, and licks up the salt from—tears, pouring down her cheeks, burning the corners of her eyes.

The shadows are gray and purple instead of pitch-black, and as she tosses and turns she makes out oddly familiar shapes peeking through their depths. Cardboard boxes, stacked to make a dresser. A little pile of magazines. A couch cushion and the unmistakable twisted shape of a dirty pair of jeans tossed casually on top of it.

I miss them, her lips mouth, twisting her sore cheeks—

She’s so tired.

 Jodi?

She’s awake again, or asleep without dreaming, lying so still her heart isn’t beating, all the flashes banished to the comfortable darkness of the fog.

Except—

 Jodiiiiiiiiiii!

Someone’s outside, knocking on the walls.

That can’t be right, can it? There’s nothing outside the walls for her to listen to. The walls are too thick to hear through. She doesn’t have ears to hear with. Why can she hear that?

She’s so tired. There’s no windows, no light, not yet, but…

 Joooodiiiii? Hello?

This is so stupid. Wanderer says I have to keep looking if I’m going to stay but how would she even know if I wasn’t, ugh, I wish she’d stop WATCHING me like this, it’s my stupid body, you’d think she would KNOW how that works if she’d really been to that many stupid planets—

Be quiet, Jodi mumbles, and the knocking—

Jodi?  the voice says. Oh. Oh NO. And the knocking—

Stops.

Thanks, Jodi says, and rolls over to try to get back to sleep.

But there’s a window. She can see it, even with her eyes closed, silver light flooding through.

Wait.

Her eyes are open.

Her eyes.

She isn’t fog. She isn’t sleeping. She isn’t on her back in a lightless room, barely breathing between the weight of cinderblocks, an unfathomable distance away from thoughts or heartbeats or one consistent body, she is—

She is.

Oh.

Jodi tries to blink.

Her eyes—don’t move. Terror claws at her throat, except—except it’s not her feeling that, is it? Her terror is a dry prickling thing, just behind her eyes, and there’s something else trembling with terror that’s sharp and bright as a razor laid between her lungs—

She tries to move, to raise a hand to press against her aching chest.

Her hands don’t twitch.

They stay exactly where they are, resting lightly on her knees, one finger idly tracing a pockmarked little scar on her right kneecap. She doesn’t recognize that scar. When did she get that scar?

She tries to blink again, but she’s still staring at that brown scar on her knee, her loosely-curled fingers, odd purplish-red dirt underneath her—

What’s going on, she thinks, why can’t I move, and—

NO! someone wails. Except. Inside her head. It’s not FAIR!!!

It sounds…it sounds a little bit like her. Too young, though, too shrill.

 What—

Shut UP!!! The twisted version of her screams, so loudly Jodi winces. For a second she can feel herself slipping back towards the dark room, just to get away from the noise—

“Sunny?” someone asks. “Did something happen? Are you alright?”

Jodi doesn’t recognize this voice either—but at least it’s coming from outside of her head, brushing her eardrums. Soft and high-pitched and weirdly hesitant.

Finally, her eyes move. Which would be good except she’s not the one moving them—

“Fine, Wanda,” her lips say, and Jodi is officially freaking the fuck out. That’s not what she sounds like, is it? It sounds—it sounds—it sounds a little like hearing a recording of her voice, just a little bit off, too high-pitched. Except it also sounds like her mom. Like she’s...older?

WHAT THE FUCK, Jodi tries to scream, but what comes out of her lips is a nervous little laugh, and: “I thought I heard something, for a second, but then it ended up just being a memory.”

“Hmm,” the other person—Wanda?—says. Now that Jodi’s eyes are looking that direction, instead of boring a hole into her knee, she can tell she doesn’t recognize her at all. 

Wanda’s a young woman—if Jodi had to guess, she’d say early twenties, though it’s made harder to tell by the fact that she’s shorter than her even sitting down. (Having been the short one ever since elementary school, Jodi feels both immediate empathy and slightly petty satisfaction). She has dusty blonde hair woven into two tight braids, pale skin with a smattering of freckles, a round face with a dimpled chin—it’s a kind face, even if her eyebrows are currently furrowed over eyes that rake a little too sharply over Jodi.

Which is probably a good thing, actually, Jodi thinks, because there’s something else moving her fucking body—

It’s MY body, the voice hisses. Jodi, like the extremely mature twenty-one year old she is, (27, the voice corrects her, and she ignores that weirdness), tries to force her mouth open so she can start screaming about whatever the fuck this is.

Nothing happens.

“Was it a bad memory?” Wanda asks. “You had a very...intense...expression for a moment there.”

“Yeah,” Jodi’s lips say, sheepishly, as her shoulders flutter up and down. “I was calling Jodi’s name, and all of a sudden I was remembering, um, Kyle doing it one time.”

Wanda doesn’t seem entirely convinced—good, Jodi thinks viciously, she shouldn’t be.

The second voice moans. No, you don’t understand, if she finds out about you she’ll send me away…

“I see,” Wanda says quietly, finally looking away—she looks very tired, all of a sudden. Too tired for how young that face is, and unbearably fragile. “I just keep hoping...I haven’t heard anything from this body either, but Jodi was so much older when you took her…”

Jodi—has no idea what that means. Taken? She was taken? Where? How? Wait—the voice. She was taken by the voice, that’s right. It was, it was, god, what did it call itself?

A flash of memory, disjointed, her mother’s thumb digging into her windpipe—

STOP IT!!! The voice screams, and this time it grates into Jodi, down to the bone, and she’s whirling backwards, backwards, backwards—

No, she tries to yell, but nothing comes out. The other voice is so loud, so much, shoving against her like something solid, pushing her back, cutting off the light—

She’s back in the cinderblock room. No windows. No door.

But she’s not tired.

She’s furious.

“Let me out,” she says—here under the cinderblocks, with the darkness pressing all around her, her voice sounds real. Feels like a rasp, in the throat she can’t see. Feels like her hot breath bouncing back against her face, echoing oddly in the tight stone. “Let me out.”

And she doesn’t really have anything but a voice, doesn’t have fists to raise or legs to kick with, but it feels like she’s battering against the walls anyways—

A crack. Light, odd and silvery, bleeding through it.

She shoves toward it harder—

“—a while since we made any Phoenix raids. What d’you think, Sunny?”

“As long as I get grocery duty!” Jodi’s lips say, without her moving them—but this time she can’t even be terrified, because she recognizes the first voice.

Deep. Warm. Laughing just a little bit, like there’s a joke no one else is in on…

Kyle.

Memory again—her knees hitting dusty linoleum. Mildewed air. Empty cabinets. Blood rusting on her tongue. Despair—NO, no, you can’t have him—

Oh no, the voice that isn’t Jodi, the voice that took her, says. Not again—

“Sunny?” Kyle says, and Jodi’s body is whirling away from Kyle before she even has the chance to realize she was looking at him. Just a glimpse before it’s snatched away...he does have a beard, she thinks dizzily. And his nose is crooked now, bumpy in two different places, like bad breaks. Like someone hit him in the face.

She thinks about the uncertain kid in the ceramics class she’d taken just to get the elective requirement out of the way, with his big gentle hands and his tentative smile, I think we’re s’posed to score the pieces before we stick them together…

“Sorry,” Jodi’s stupid traitorous mouth says, “I thought I heard someone behind us.”

Kyle, Jodi thinks, dazed. They found him. He’s, he’s—

Is he stuck inside his head too? Screaming and flailing? Or is he like her, sleeping so deeply in the fog there’s nothing left of him at all…

He doesn’t have a soul, the voice in her head snaps at her, he’s just human. Stop being so dramatic.

He doesn’t have a soul?  Why would you—

Not like that! The voice groans, and again Jodi’s struck by how young it sounds. Ugh, I forgot you fell asleep in here before we took over publicly. It’s—I’m a soul, okay? I got inserted into this body . But nobody ever found Kyle to do that. He’s just human.

Hope surges through Jodi—Kyle’s human, he’s himself, maybe he’ll get her out—

He steps up next to her, looking cautiously concerned in the dim light of—where are they? Is this a tunnel? Why are they in a tunnel?

Jodi tries to shake her head, is thrown off again when nothing happens.

It’s because it’s my body now, okay?  the voice says.

It’s definitely fucking not, Jodi responds automatically—

And then Kyle speaks, and Jodi’s jolted straight back into despair, because—he’s looking at her, softly, tenderly, but the name he says isn’t hers.

“I don’t hear anything, Sunny,” he says, warm and deep and just a little bit of laughter. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been kinda jumpy today.”

Oh, Jodi thinks, blankly.  Oh, he knows it’s not me.

Take that, the voice—Sunny—says. You’ve been gone. He’s my—friend now.

Oh, Jodi thinks.

And lets herself slip backward.

#The Host #is this original content? #stephenie meyer #seriously i wish more people talked about the host bc it's INSANE #& i think very revealing of smeyer's tendencies as a writer and a person #someday i will make my Discourse Post to End All Discourse Posts #(at least from me) #TM #and it will be about how Yes The Host is Pedophilic Stop Defending Her #but anyways #that's not what this fic is about #this fic is about how they say 'oh don't worry about it when humans are infested for too long their original personalities just die!' #and that's treated as a convenient happy ending?? #like. 'yeah we can functionally erase people from their body so we can use them!' #as if that's cool and not?? horrifying???? #it doesn't make it any less fucked up actually!!!! #it makes it more fucked up!!!! #you are committing actual murder now!!!!!!!!! #uggghhhh the host is really truly just animorphs but worse #anyway

[themeadowinforks]

thinking about how stephenie meyer has an Actual Brother called Jacob

"jacob wants to fuck bella soooo bad but she sees him as a brother" the real jacob: 😟😟😟😟😟

#the twilight saga #twilight #the twilight renaissance #bella swan #the twilight revival #edward cullen #the twilight series #robert pattinson #jacob black #twilight saga #twilight meme #breaking dawn #eclipse #stephenie meyer #twilight movie #twilight revival #twilight memes #twilight renaissance #billy black #charlie swan

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Have you or vinelle ever considered moving to TikTok? I think your metas would be very much appreciated there especially with a larger audience like Twilight Tok where it mainly consists of locals not knowing anything about the saga they claim to be fans of and criticizing Stephenie Meyer for silly things like Twilight being anti-feminist propaganda because Bella cooks and cleans. I've also seen a few blokes with suspiciously butchered similar takes to the ones you and vinelle do on here and I'd hate to your work receiving praise by being credited to others

I'm very flattered but you overestimate how hip I am, dear anon.

Notice the blank wall of text that is my profile, posts and posts adorned with nothing, just text. I barely understand tumblr, TikTok scares and confuses me. I'm not kidding, I actually do not understand half the videos there or what I'm even supposed to understand from them.

I can only imagine my short form videos, where I dress up as a gentleman and a scholar, sit in front of a roaring fire, and say with text on a screen, "Ah yes, dear audience, I believe we left off with our these 'Edward's Totally Gay for his Father' part 1.3. In today's argument, read the fucking book, thank you"

And that's with the idea of putting my face on video. You lot can get my voice on spotify (@rankheresy) but ewwwww to video.

(And while I am flattered, I'll say... I don't know if we'd be popular over there. Remember that @therealvinelle and I live in a clown car and it's one that fandoms aren't always receptive to for a variety of reasons. Depends on the flavor of Twilight Tok which I personally don't know. But then again, I don't understand why I've become even marginally popular here, so who's to say.)

As for the suspiciously similar takes this is... well, I don't like it and if people do do this, please for the love of God give credit, it's free internet nonsense and fame that doesn't actually exist, just give credit, but it's not a TikTok only phenomenon in that I have vague awareness of this going on in Instagram every once in a while and I'm sure other places.

Not enough for me to get on TikTok personally, at least, not for the foreseeable future.

You have any TikTokking plans, @therealvinelle?

#tiktok #twilight #twilight renaissance #meta #twilight meta #vinelle #therealvinelle

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

Is there a story you despise but whose worldbuilding you like?

Bro so many. I could never list all of them if I tried. Part of what fascinates me about bad books is seeing the lost potential and reverse engineering better stories in my own imagination.

Short list:

I love everything about the dragons of A Song of Ice and Fire. Don’t actually despise the series, a lot of it is very good, it’s just not my cup of tea. But the dragons, man. Nuclear bombs that are your pets. Special but subtle magic bonds. No matter how close those bonds are, no one can ever fully control them. They never stop growing. The implication that they aren’t naturally occurring animals and were in fact created artificially via lost magic. The weird fucked up cultural practices that developed believing it would keep them connected to dragons. The implication that that magic wiped out the empire that created them because they were never satisfied with their already unmatched power.

Bad YA book called Shiver about werewolves whose transformations were tired to temperature as opposed to the moon or their emotions. Shame the book around that interesting concept sucks ass.

The lore of Genshin Impact is super interesting. There used to be tones of gods but most died off in a war with each other. The surviving gods each have a country that they exercise varying degrees of control over, some ruling directly, some indirectly, some just kind of being around. Each country’s culture is shaped by its god’s values and personal hang ups. The gods nuked one atheist country into oblivion. The gods let a handful of designated cool people have elemental powers if they want them bad enough. My personal headcanon is that it’s only socially acceptable to dress differently from the norm when you are a designated cool person, explaining the incredibly drag copy-pasted npcs. Used to play the game but realized I wasn’t having fun, i was doing busywork so i could earn gambling points, so I stopped.

Stephenie Meyer’s The Host is about a race of body-snatching aliens who travel the universe “peacefully” conquering planets and “improving” the cultures of their hosts. One host ends up not being fully dead when a new alien is inserted and so the alien learns that taking people’s free will is bad. Genuinely fantastic sci-fi premise that could have opened the doors for a critique of colonialism and assimilation, or just a fun romp, but because it’s from the author of Twilight all the attention goes towards a love triangle/trapezoid that’s also deeply uncomfortable.

#answers #there are more but these are the ones I’m most coherent about #And most others are more like #I really liked with one detail #Very few stories succeed at doing good worldbuilding while the rest falls flat #One being bad tends to bring the other down