midwest-vampire
Midwest Vampire
Mary-20-Only the Midbest
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Everyone here has something to fight for. I certainly do.
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We’re entering 2024 and I’m reading a Carlisle and Esme fanfiction, nothing has changed.
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Countdown to Twilightmas
Day 15: Esme & Carlisle
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just met peter facinelli and asked him what he thought is most compelling about carlisle as a character:
„with carlisle there’s a feeling of calm, even when there‘s chaos.“
and that’s actually so true and poetic? calling all fanfiction authors to go and pick that line up.
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weary
In which Alice and Jasper are getting tired of apologizing all the time. An excerpt from this 1965 one-shot. (Jasper POV)
I tried to make it through. Alice would be at lunch and in my classes the rest of the day after this. I really tried to ignore the deepening thirst for a few minutes: the acidic pain spreading down my throat and into my belly, the tightening of my limbs in preparation for the attack, the curling of my fingers into claws around the edges of my chair. I looked slowly through the room, sampling the scents. By the time I realized what I was doing, I had already picked out my target.
The pain of thirst was one thing, but I was getting dangerously close to doing something about it. Again. I slid to my feet, careful to keep each muscle under lockdown so my instincts wouldn’t take over.
“I need to go to the nurse,” I informed the teacher.
“Again?” he said, frowning. I slammed the door on my way out.
Again? Esme’s emotions said when she picked me up from the nurse’s office. But she smiled and told the nurse I’d had a bad cold over the weekend and she was sure I just needed to rest.
“Jasper seems to get sick a lot,” the nurse said on our way out. “Maybe you should get him checked out by a specialist.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Esme called over her shoulder. “Another bad day?” she asked me, handing me the car keys.
“Nobody’s dead.”
“Good enough,” she said with a little laugh.
No it isn’t, I thought as we got into the car, but I didn’t feel up to another round of her pity so I kept it to myself. Esme was more annoyed than she liked to let on with my lack of progress right now, and that was much easier to bear.
I began to pull out of the school parking lot, but then I slammed on the brakes when I saw Alice in the rearview mirror. She gave me a taunting grin and zipped out of the mirror’s viewpoint, running toward the reservoir half a mile away. My day was looking up; it wasn’t often she left school along with me. One mysteriously ill teenager was enough to keep us under the radar. Two would be pushing it.
“Change of plans,” I told Esme. She took the keys and sent me on my way with a concerned smile.
Alice was in a playful mood today, or at least determined to try being playful. Her scent and her footprints led straight into the water and disappeared there. She’d hidden herself deep inside the pine-and-oak trails surrounding the reservoir. I could smell the other half of her trail somewhere along the sandy bank that stretched around in a quarter-mile circle, but I wasn’t sure which way to go around.
“I wonder where she could be?” I called out. A stifled giggle sounded over on the northwest bank. I took off at top speed, counterclockwise along that side. My prey never stood a chance.
“You’re not very good at this,” I teased once I caught her in my arms. I planted a kiss on her spiky hair, sighing in relief as her scent enveloped me. The thirst was receding already. “Don’t tell me you’re sick, too?”
Alice jumped straight up and planted a kiss on the top of my hair, too, and fell back down into my arms. She did a reasonably good imitation of a human cough.
“It hit pretty fast,” she said thoughtfully. “It must be that cold you had over the weekend. The nurse let me go since she could still see Esme’s car in the parking lot.”
“You’ll feel better soon,” I whispered in her ear.
We shared another kiss, one that lasted, and then we drew back and stared, considering each other. Another kiss had us sinking down together onto a bed of pine needles, ready to forget that school even existed. Alice’s hand found its way to the buckle of my belt, but just then her eyes glazed over. It didn’t feel like a good vision.
"We have to go,” she said when she came out of it. “In fact, I think we’d better go hunt now.” She stared at nothing for another second. “Right now. Come on, get up.”
I hauled myself to my feet with a sigh and we began to run. It was a close one, judging by how Alice pushed herself to her top speed a moment later. I wanted to turn around so I could run back and purposely kill whoever it was that had ruined the only perfect moment we’d had all week.
“This is far enough,” Alice said when we finally slowed to a stop. “But you still need to feed right now.” She pointed to the crest of a nearby hill and I trudged on up to follow the rancid scent of an elderly deer.
Its blood was ghastly. Possibly the worst I’d ever had.
“Sorry about the deer,” Alice said when I found her again. She was sitting against a tree stump with her arms around her knees, so I joined her. “I couldn’t find anything better in time.” She reached up and ran her fingers through my hair for a moment. “Jazz, I’m so s—“
“Don’t say it again. Just… please, stop saying it all the time.”
“I’ll stop if you stop."
We tried again to make love, but it was no good. My mood was too sour, and before long I had soured hers as well. And that was saying something, considering how low she’d felt this week. Her guilt and my thirst had been making each other spiral downward for days now. I finally let her go and rolled over onto my back to stare up into the sun.
Maybe I should go off alone for a while. Just a day or two, to give both of us a break. Alice waited silently; she was willing to let me go. Instead, I wriggled closer until my head was in her lap. A little burst of joyful relief flickered deep inside her, and that was good enough.
I closed my eyes. She began to slowly comb her way through my hair, humming one of the nonsense songs she used to hum back in the good old days when we had just met. The withdrawal had been so bad that I’d lain like this for days at a time, holding onto her love for dear life as tremor after tremor shivered through me and all I could think about was human blood.
It was nowhere near as bad now, but this was still a comfort for both of us sometimes. We both slowly relaxed as she hummed and combed her way through the afternoon.
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This is how I think Renesmee looks like, and I don't mean it as a eewww stinky demon doll baby.
I think she would look like a literal doll, porcelain skin but with the little blush and rosy lips, unusual eye color, healthy hair and precious curls. And the way Rosalie (yes, Rosalie not Bella) dresses her wouldn't help with her blending in with a normal human child.
I think most people go for the horrible looking puppet on Twilight that they kinda forget how she's supposed to look like.
And yes, I got my interpretation from the Illustrated guide.
I don't care about Renesmee enough to hate her, she's a little creepy and I love that honestly, you go demon baby! terrorize everyone around you, girl!
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I'M LIKE A CHAPTER AWAY FROM THE BASEBALL SCENE!!! Gonna be blasting Supermassive Black Hole while I read it!
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The Cullens see Benny Goodman and his band at the Read House Hotel in Chattanooga, 1935 (this chapter)
(This is the closest image I could find--I think this is a Chicago appearance.)
Rosalie and Edward were avid fans of bands like Benny Goodman's in the 30s. Benny Goodman often toured in these early days playing Fletcher Henderson's music:
The son of a former slave, Fletcher Henderson grew up in Georgia and went on to become the most influential arranger of jazz swing music. But like many Black musicians of his time, he often had to sell his music to White bands for very little profit. He had his own band in the end, but the unsung King of Swing never got the fame he deserved.
On this particular occasion, Carlisle surprised Rosalie and Edward and brought them to see Benny Goodman. (Esme grudgingly went too.) After a night of fun, the last dance was slow and sweet. Rosalie was having a hard night as she watched the humans around her, so Edward held her close as they danced. And he tried, he really tried, in that moment, to love her the way Carlisle and Esme were hoping he would.
To no avail.
But before the month was out, Rosalie found a love of her own.
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*bella sitting infront of her window while possibility plays*
Charlie doing yard work outside:
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Do you think Carlisle was still going to church even tho he was a vampire?
I've done a LOT of thinking and research about this, over the years, so apologies for the length here. I actually dropped most of my headcanon about this on the ole' sideblog not too long ago. But since I am 150% committed to the bit over there, there's no room for explaining why my reading leads to my writing that Carlisle thinks a particular way, since he presumably has no knowledge of the text.
A lot of misunderstandings about Carlisle's relationship with religion, IMO, come from trying to view him and his father through the lens of contemporary American evangelical Christianity. Evangelical Christians, as we know them in the US, are a very, very recent development--they date back to roughly the Regan era, and if they claim denominational affiliation (many do not), they are typically Pentecostal, Methodist, or Baptist.
Carlisle canonically is the son of an Anglican priest. This was the 1640s-1660s, and one of his scant human memories is of the Protectorate, meaning that either his father loved Cromwell or hated Cromwell. Given that, plus the rest of what we know about his dad--that he believed in evil, and hunted demons (anachronistic btw), it seems likely that he was a Puritan. Americans are familiar with the separating Puritans as part of our country's founding mythos--the settlers who came seeking freedom to practice their religion and you know whoops just accidentally did a genocide but not before having a big meal with the Wampanoag!
But there was a second set of nonseparating Puritans who stayed in England, and tried to reform the Anglican church from within. So if we take at face value that Carlisle remembers his father as "Anglican," plus the attitudes toward evil and strong memory of Cromwell, this is likely where Carlisle landed. His church upbringing would've been heavy on the fire and brimstone in the preaching, but still based on an order of worship derived from the Catholic service, with an order of confession, weekly readings from the Old and New Testaments according to the lectionary (the modern nondenominational practice of reading whatever the heck the pastor feels like/following a newer bible reading schedule), the recitation of the Lord's Prayer and the creed, and music of psalmodys, occasional hymns, fractions and collects. Communion would've been celebrated frequently.
I suspect, that as a vampire, Carlisle still finds a great deal of solace in that worship pattern. It is one of the few things that is very little changed in his long life. I think he pops into an Episcopal church once every couple years, and when a congregation sings the oldest collects, it moves him to what otherwise would be tears because some deep part of his mind remembers the music the same way an elderly patient with dementia would.
So yes, I think he goes on occasion. I definitely meant this kind of as a shitpost when I wrote it, but it also rings true--he still takes seriously the trappings of the faith practices he grew up with. They are meaningful to him. I loved the new canon introduced in MS that he likes popping into churches when the family are out hunting because it felt very in character and also gives him a really delightful soft side.
He doesn't go often. He doesn't feel like he has to. But he still does find meaning in it all, and to him, it still matters.
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Big Dad Energy
I was going to reflect on this anyway this week because the Common Lectionary Year A for Advent 2 (this past Sunday) has Isaiah 11 as the Old Testament reading, which is the "he shall maketh the lion (or wolf) lie down with the lamb" passage. I really thought that was a fun little revelation in Midnight Sun, that Edward was remembering some time with Carlisle when he said that to Bella in his meadow, and I liked the drop of backstory that Carlisle likes wandering into churches and I've been meaning to comment on it basically since MS dropped.
And then I was listening to the latest epi of @threebooksoneplot and they made a comment that just made me shriek in the car which is that does that fact NOT give Carlisle THE BEST dad energy? Like can you imagine? You know there's that thing that your parent can't resist and if you go near one on a family trip you're just all gonna be derailed. Like, the Cullens are traversing the northeast and suddenly the kids realize it's just them. Three hours later, Esme finally shows up.
"Where's Carlisle?
"Your father found a church."
"Oh for the love of God."
"Late seventeenth-century."
"Well he's never coming back."
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Cursed headcanon of the day:
I wonder how much of Carlisle's body weight is undigested communion at any given time. Because I assume the dude does go to church at least every now and then and that he would a) certainly take communion and b) not want to throw it back up.
I suppose maybe not all that much because he probably is the most likely of the family to also have consumed human food recently to keep up appearances and so probably has to purge his stomach of that every now and then, but I bet in between those times at least some small percentage of his makeup is undigested body of Christ...
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errands
A mundane little snippet from this chapter of 1950. In which Edward is in a bad mood because that's always more fun.
I yanked the huge stack of mail out of the tiny post office box, flipping through it with disinterest. A paycheck for Carlisle, a letter from the broker, a couple of college things for Rosalie and Emmett, and a letter for me from the correspondence school. I tore it open to find that I had officially earned my bachelor's degree in mathematics, and would I kindly send in a check for twenty dollars if I wanted a framed diploma done in calligraphy, versus the folded paper one included in this envelope. Which was torn already, because our family was outgrowing our post office box. We had signed up for it as soon as Alice and Jasper had arrived—the same precaution we had taken for Emmett when he was a newborn.
"Anything else for Cullen or McCarty?" I asked the postmaster as I flipped through the rest of the mail: just a few bills and some kind of European fashion magazine that was addressed to Esme, but had obviously been ordered by someone much shorter.
The postmaster disappeared for a moment, returning with a stack of three hefty envelopes which he deposited on the counter with a thud: my three other courses had arrived.
"Here you are, sonny. But I'll need an adult to sign for them…?" He leaned around me, looking to see if either of my parents were waiting out in the car.
"I'm twenty years old," I muttered. I grabbed the pen from his hand and signed my name with an angry flourish. He jerked away, his heart skipping a beat.
"Have a nice day," he said doubtfully as I scooped up everything and headed out the door.
I headed next to the grocery store, mindlessly filling a cart with random fruits, vegetables, and dry goods. It didn't really matter what I got; most of it would all go straight to the compost pile or the food bank. I did pick up a bottle of the laundry detergent that Esme seemed to burn through, and a can of powdered bleach: always handy for getting out those stubborn blood stains. I topped it all off with a carton of orange juice and wrinkled my nose as I passed the butcher. We would be real vegetarians this week; there was no way I was driving home with a hunk of expired animal flesh sitting in my car.
But as I drove home, I decided that I would do errands like this more often. Esme was so busy lately that she had taken to doing everything at vampire speed, which I knew she didn't prefer. She usually enjoyed going about her housecleaning and gardening at a human pace, humming and enjoying her fantasy world in which we would come home from school, sunburnt and tired and hoping for a plate of cookies fresh out of the oven.
But now there was so much laundry, and so many errands, and she had so many sewing and construction projects going at once, that she went about everything with a sort of fierce energy. She seemed happier than ever, what with her full house, but that didn't mean I couldn't pitch in to help now and then. It wasn't like I had anything better to do.
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In honor of today's eclipse, one of my favorite Twilight movie memories was going to see the Eclipse movie and several people in the audience being genuinely confused by the opening scene with Riley and muttering things like "are we in the right movie?" because it had horror movie vibes.
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𝙀𝙡𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙝 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙀𝙨𝙢𝙚 𝘾𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙏𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 (2008-2012)
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