Hello, and welcome back to my sporking of Evermore. I apologize for the delay between articles, my exams just finished and schoolwork’s been piling up on my table. But anyway, enough of my life. We’re supposed to be verbally eviscerating this book. So let’s go!
We are currently in Ever’s room, and she’s talking to someone who isn’t Riley! Who could this be? Hmm… I’ll need my thinking cap for this.
But the voice in my room definitely wasn’t a ghost. It also wasn’t Riley. The voice in my room belonged to Damen.
Oh jeez, this is creeping me out already. What’s funny is, she thinks this is a dream. I’m getting bad recollections to Edward’s confessions of watching Bella sleeping. Well, this bastard’s already in her room. Beat that, Cullen!
“Hey.” He smiles, slipping into his seat seconds after the bell rings, but since this is Mr. Robins’s class it’s the same as being early.
Wait, so she is dreaming? Huh. Who would’ve thought. But we’re in class? I thought this was her room! That transition was horribly written. Wait, there was no transition. By the way, is it supposed to be “Robins’s”? It doesn’t look quite right. Also, in this class, being late is the same as being early? What?
“I’m emancipated,” he adds.
This way, there’s no trouble from pesky parents on either side and they can stare doe-eyed at each other however long they want. This is fucking lazy writing at its best, everyone. I mean, I can understand getting rid of your protagonist’s parents for plot development and characterisation, but this doesn’t mean shit. But at this point in the book, we’re eight chapters and forty-five pages in and I don’t care at all. Seriously. Ever could turn into a hippo and this series could progress in a whole different direction, and I still wouldn’t bat an eyelash. That’s how much Noël has made me like her characters.
I’ve never met anyone who was emancipated, and I always thought it sounded so lonely and sad. Though from the looks of his car, his clothes, and his glamorous Friday nights at the St. Regis hotel, he doesn’t seem to be doing so badly.
Of course he has to be doing well.
Of course. The Love Interest in this kind of book can never be someone that’s actually realistic with real emotions and whatnot.
“So where’s your family?” he asks.
This is going to end well.
“They’re dead,” I say, as Mr. Robins walks in.
‘‘I’m sorry.”
Somehow, none of the emotions these characters express feel at all real. Why could that be?
Damen gazes at me from across the lunch table
Quit with the goddamn usage of ‘gaze’, it’s fucking irritating having to read that over and over and over. Eyes do other things besides meaninglessly gaze at people.
So he puts his hand on hers AGAIN, and:
infusing me with a feeling so good, so warm, so calm, and so safe, I close my eyes and allow it. Allow myself to enjoy the peace of it. Grateful to hear what he says and not what he thinks. Like an average girl with a much better than average boy.
Inferiority complex much? I know that when I was with the girl I had a crush on, I never thought myself to be below her. It’s a matter of actually having a backbone. Not that difficult, considering that most humans are born with one.
And for some excitement, Haven shows up! Woohoo.
Then gazing at Damen, she adds, “So, how was everyone’s weekend?”
STOP WITH THE GAZING OR I WILL RIP YOUR FUCKING EYEBALLS OUT AND SELL THEM ON THE BLACK MARKET.
Damen shrugs, and Haven brings on this big paragraph about how she spent her time cleaning up her brother’s vomit and all those little things that I don’t actually give a fuck about and aren’t important to the narrative of the story.
She nods, deigning to look at me again.
Why the hell is Haven so haughty this chapter? Totally out of character. But then hey, what do I know?
“People have vampire names?”
Nope nope nope nope nope. So much nope. Don’t you dare go there, Suethor. No way in hell. I will quit sporking if you dare bring vampires into this shit. Also, Miles shows up from out of nowhere. Seriously, he just randomly appears and the way we know this is from his dialogue, which is suddenly interjected into this extremely retarded conversation about how Haven’s in a club for ‘vampires’. Now, if this was a good author, a quick introduction of another character could have been done well. I’m not even going to start on how weird it was that Miles just suddenly appeared here. But it’s a dream, so I’m giving her some leeway.
Miles: “Is that like a stripper name? You know, like your first childhood pet plus your mom’s maiden name? Because that makes me Princess Slavin, thank you very much.” He smiles.
How much more gay do you want to make this guy, Noël? Really. WE GET IT.
“Uh, no. It’s nothing like that. You see, a vampire name is serious. And unlike most people, I don’t even have to change mine, because Haven is like an organic vamp name, one hundred percent natural, no additives or preservatives.” She laughs. “I told you I’m a dark princess!”
I don’t get the concept of ‘organic’ names. Maybe she meant original? I’m not sure. But the dark princess at the end sounds a little forced; meaning it sounds like she’s trying too hard to get her gothic persona across. In simpler terms, she sounds like a fucking poser.
“There was even a VIP coven room, which I totally snuck into and hung out at the blood bar.”
A coven is a group of WITCHES. Old ladies that have wild hair and keep black cats and live in creepy houses. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GET YOUR MONSTERS RIGHT YOU DUMB PRETENTIOUS BITCH.
So basically there’s a conversation going on between Haven and Damen about how Haven went to this ‘vampire’ club called the Nocturne. Irritated at being left out, Ever begins to talk to Miles about how his weekend went, to which he answers:
“I spent most of it in the bathroom text messaging this guy who’s apparently a big fat liar!”
Okay then. How is he a liar exactly? Ever wonders the same thing.
“I’ve been asking for a picture all weekend because no way am I meeting up without getting a solid visual. And this is what he sends. Stupid phony poseur!”
I squint at the thumbnail, not quite getting what he’s so angry about. “How do you know it’s not him?” I ask, glancing at Miles.
And then Damen says, “Because it’s me.”
Whoa. That totally came out of left-field. So Damen’s been talking to Miles about possibly being in a relationship? With the token gay guy? That would be an interesting plot twist.
And with that, we end the chapter for today. See you next time, folks!
Asahel on 28 June 2014, 12:43 said:
It can be. Either “Robins’s” or “Robins’” would be grammatically correct. You just don’t usually see it the former way because it’s more cumbersome to pronounce.
The way I took that exchange was that Miles was talking to someone about a relationship, but wanted a picture. The guy sent a picture of Damen, which is how Miles knew it wasn’t the guy he was texting. It’s still really weird, and I don’t get what it’s supposed to mean—dream context or any context—but that’s what I thought was being expressed.
The Smith of Lie on 28 June 2014, 17:27 said:
This chapter I kind of liked. Wait, wait! Hide the torches and pitchforks, it is just by association. You see, there’s the talk about vampire club and it brings good memories. The song even features character that could be Miles!
The talk about vampire names though… The memories of Zoey Redbird were much less pleasan’t… And I find the concept of some names being considered more “vampireish” stupid (again – Voltaire makes fun of it just as well). Sure, Vlad the Impaler sounds pretty impressive but it was gained by hard work and not by being an undead abomination.
As for the “gaze” issue – I just started having fun with it. Anytime it showed up I though about the character gazing as if he/she was a basilisk and the gaze was the petrtifying stare. Makes for hillarious mental image.
Get your riding crops ready, cause this is one dead horse I’ll keep beating. Cause it annoys the hell out of me. Average girl? Average? What is average about having godlike mindreading powers?! The very least and most unimpressive thing she could do is to grab a tasty million from Randi’s fundation. And that if she lacks imagination and panche… Hmm. This gave an idea.
Ok, if I don’t turn out to be lazy I think I have another spitefic in me. This time dealing with the abovementioned pet peeve of mine. I’ll try posting it on the morrow.
Resistance on 28 June 2014, 23:32 said:
So happy to see you’re up and running again.
I really have missed this spork, though.
That would make mine Tip-Top Parsons, which sounds like a dried up old hag who’s obsessed with keeping everything tidy.
Potatoman on 29 June 2014, 00:45 said:
Aww :’) I missed writing it and I missed you guys as well. Life’s been so busy, what with exams and semester 2 work starting again urgh. But holidays start in a week so hopefully there will be more sporking :D
I don’t even want to know what mine is.
Juracan on 29 June 2014, 07:58 said:
Like I’ve mentioned before, the word ‘coven’ is used for vampires a lot today too. Granted, I think that the only reason is because it’s what Anne Rice did, so the legitimacy of the term is in question.
Seriously though, what is with all the gazing?
The Smith of Lie on 29 June 2014, 12:12 said:
Ok, it is not up to my previous standards (and those who know me, know that this bar hangs pretty low…) but since it touches the most annoying part of this book, I give you the worst spite fic ever.
I was shadowing my mark, not really paying attention to the buzz of minds around me. Over the years I got used to the background noise of thoughts, feelings and internal monologues full of self-loathing and anxiety. So it took my by surprise when I felt someone’s mind touching mine and reaching towards it.
The girl was blonde, pretty enough I guess. Her clothes spoke of self-pity as loudly as her thoughts. But most importantly she was a telepath as well. I quickened my steps, brushed against my mark. In an instant I got the information client paid for. That meant I had free time to investigate the girl.
We ended up sitting in nearby dinner. Pretty cheap place, way below my usual standards, but it was close. Coffee was passable, so it had that much going for it at least. “So you developed your powers after accident as well?” Ever looked at me as if I said something very inappropriate. “I became a freak you mean.” I sigh. Usually I’d keep that inside, but even someone as inept as she, could feel my exasperation. “Listen sweet heart, your sullen teenager act is not working on me. And don’t give me that look, I’ve lost my parents too. Many people did, you’re not special.” And she didn’t even make anything of her life on account of dead parents. Bruce Wayne would be so disappointed. “Except some of us don’t have rich aunt who takes care of our every need. Some of us have to provide for their siblings. Some of us can’t spend their days wishing they had a perfect life from daytime TV drama.” This only gets me another sour look and wave of ‘no one understands me, woe is me’ feeling from her. I wave for the waitress and pay my tab. “I see this is going nowhere. Here’s my card, call me once you get your head out of your ass.”
Meeting with client went swimmingly. It took some legwork to find the criteria for the council’s new waste disposal services contract as well as bids from the other contractors. But it was legwork worth a nice round sum with 5 digits. Not to mention the bonus from mayor’s “secret campaign fund”. Who’d thought the old timer managed to hide over a million on the offshore account? I deposit half of the money to my sisters’ college fund and hit the streets.
The evening is young is young and the world is my oyster. I smile and walk down the street, absentmindedly listening to thoughts of passer-byes. Who knows when I’ll hear something interesting or useful?
Potatoman on 29 June 2014, 19:55 said:
Yeah, but I prefer to stick with the traditional definition. That, and I just really want to erase any trace of vampires the author may be trying to ‘subtly’ bring into the story.
And as always, the spitefic is brilliant, Smith of Lie :D
Juracan on 29 June 2014, 20:22 said:
[sigh] So would I, Potatoman, so would I….
[ships crate of wooden stakes to Potatoman’s residence]
The Smith of Lie on 30 June 2014, 00:28 said:
The coven thing. What is the word for the group of vampires though? I am an old World of Darkness guy and back there the small groups were coteries and moving upwards there were Bloodlines, Clans (connected by phenotype) and sects (connected by politics). Other than that terminology I only know about the “scourge” as term for group of Black Court Vampires in Dresden Files, but nothing general and cross media.
I propose to take it from crows and go with “murder of vampires”.
The Smith of Lie on 30 June 2014, 02:25 said:
First – sorry for double post, but sadly there’s no edit button here.
I’m happy you liked that little piece Potatoman, but it was just a side story. Writing about vampire clubs inspired me to continue with the “Evermore Spitefics Canon”, id est with universe where Haven has exsanguinated Ever to prolong her state on unlife and where Damen got behaded by Kurgan. Now I give you part three of that verse, focusing on yet another character. Hope you like it.
Miles often envied his normal classmates. He wished he could be like others, with normal, happy life. But he was who he was. And so, while they slept, he prowled streets checking a rumor. Quite honestly he hoped it is just that, a rumor. Then he will be able to go home and catch some shuteye.
Of course it was true. Universe hated him like that. There was a vampire club in the town and it needed to be dealt with. So he slowly returned to his van and went inside to grab his gear. With some luck it won’t be another disaster, like that slaughter at Titty Twister. This time he won’t be late.
Doors flew inside. Literally flew, thrown by the force of C4 set on the hinges. That was actually bit more than he expected, the charge was supposed to just tip them. Shoddy craftsmanship everywhere. He entered surrounded by a cloud of smoke and debris, desert eagle in each hand. “I’m here to chew gum and murder vampires and I’m all out of gum.” Cheesy, cliched, but enjoyable as hell.
All hell broke loose the second he finished his one-liner. Patrons refused to be stunned by the surprise for too long and did like all vampires do in such situations. They attacked. Under normal circumstances any intruder would be dead in less than heartbeat. But circumstances were anything but normal. For one, Miles was trained in gun kata.
First one to get his was pasty, blond one. He looked bit like gay captain Morgan and if he wasn’t an undead abomination Miles would probably ask him for a number. As it was he shot him in the head with a blessed silver bullet. It virtually exploded, as targets hit with expanding bullets are wont to do.
From there it was a blur. He stabbed a girl with a half-moon tattoo on her forhead with spring loaded stake he had in his sleeve. Than he shot a guy looking vaguely like Brad Pitt. Few vampires later he ran out of ammo and was forced to use kukri. He sighed inwardly when a fountain of blood from decapitation soaked him. Another suit he’ll have to burn.
Finally it was almost over. Wading up to the ankles in corpses Miles had one last vampire to exterminate. A bald freak with face even a mother could not love. And a hunchback at that. The creature was so ugly that even his real sense of aesthetics was offended. Sense of aesthetics of his overblown, camp gay persona went mad from revelation. “If I knew I’ll run into you, I wouldn’t eat lunch.”
Parry the claws, kick the inside of a knee. Duck under the swipe, counter with a quick cut. Put the table between you. And there he goes, jumping into the air. Miles smiled. It does not matter if you are undead abomination from humanity’s nightmares. It does not matter if you have supernatural strength and quickness. Once you are in the air, you are in the hands of physics. And physics are a bitch. Another spring loaded stake flew out of his sleeve and took the beast right in the heart.
Miles stood by his van. It was a busy night. He dragged on his smoke and dropped the match into small puddle of gasoline. Flames bound up and followed the trail leading to the club. As he drove home he realized something. He didn’t see Haven in the club. That conniving bitch, she outsmarted him. He knew he should have killed her immediately, but no, he had to try and discover how she could withstand the sun. There just went his vacations in Europe, he’ll be tracking her instead. “Fuck my life…”
The Smith of Lie on 30 June 2014, 13:22 said:
Sigh. You guys will probably hate me for posting a 3rd one in the same thread, but I couldn’t stop myself.
This one is perfectly off topic, except for mocking the same genre as Evermore is. But idea struck me and it would be shame not to put it to paper, while I’m still on a roll.
After weeks of research I was certain. Isaac was not human. And in the moment of realization everything became clear. The way he treated me. The writing on his arm. His incredible strength. The talent he had with clay. And the hostile look a rabbi gave him on the street. There was no doubt – Isaac was a golem! And I discovered it thanks to google and wikipedia. That night I went to sleep full of smug satisfaction. Despite being only and average, teenage girl I managed to figure his identity.
Next day I cornered him after biology class. How fittingly ironic! Everyone else left already so we could speak openly. “I know who you are!” I imagined that talk half of the night. His surprise, that someone got onto him, his amazement at my deductive powers. Maybe even him becoming a little enamored in me. What I did not expect was him staring at me blandly and saying “Well, it’s not like it is a big secret.” My jaw drops a little. “It is not?” He gave me a strange look. Maybe even a little disdainful. Nothing like a passionate gaze I dreamed of. “Well, I have nothing to be ashamed of. You think otherwise?” The question is almost hostile, like he is daring me to contradict him. “Of course not. Nothing wrong about being a golem.”
This time I got reaction I expected. He is clearly shocked. With knowing smile I looked him in the eyes. At least till his palm covered them. “God, you’re a most shallow, stupid and deluded person I met.” I feel as if he slapped me in the face. “But… but…” I stammered. “You have the word “emet” on your forearm!” He shook his head. “And Jason has Mjolnir on the back. Is he Thor then?” (Jason who was actually passing by the class at that moment and overheard Issac, cursed under his breath. Once again at risk of his identity being revealed). “It is just a tattoo. And not even a permament one, my parents would kill me if I got one of those.” “But… but… the lore says…” He interrupted me with a laugh. “Of course lore says. Why do you think I chose this word over any other? It is cool.” I ddidn’t give up. He surely wanted me to believe he is just a human. “So why are you so strong? And what about those clay figures yea made at arts and crafts?!” Ha! I got him now. “So you concluded that I am inhumanly strong? Sorry to disappoint you but I just train at gym. And I’m not even strongest in class, Jason lifts 300 pounds with no sweat.” I kept going on. “And the affinity for clay?” He didn’t say anything for a moment, but I get impression he wanted to call me a witless twit. “You were in my mother’s ceramics shop half a dozen time in last month. So hard to believe I help her with those? In this is how I learned?” I hadmy last trump card. “So how do you explain the stink eye the rabbi gave you the other day?” Ha, I got you now, you soulless clay construct!” “He caught me sleeping as synagogue during Sabbath prayer.”
Wait a second. Isaac praying in synagogue? “You’re a Jew?!” He almost radiated exasperation. “A great, big surprise! I did nothing to hide it. If you were not so self-absorbed and lost in stupid delusions of paranormal romance you’d probably have noticed.” He pulled a small, silver, six armed star pendant I saw him wore every day. “For fucks sake, my name is Itzhak. Tough to find more steretypically Jewish name!” I felt tears running down my face. I couldn’t bare his disapproving look, so I ran. Out of the class. Out of the school.
Back in my room that night I looked at my Twilight hard cover set. How could it lead me so wrong? Why did I make such an idiot out of myself? My perfect marble skinned Adonis hated me. And all because he was not a golem. I had another fit of sobbing and I knew one thing. I hate Itzhak Bernstien. That deceiving, lying son of a bitch!
Potatoman on 30 June 2014, 20:22 said:
I love you so much for this. This is my new favourite sentence in the English language.
Juracan on 30 June 2014, 20:48 said:
So I finally actually read those little spite fics and…
…I have apparently found another Voltaire fan?
The Smith of Lie on 1 July 2014, 01:43 said:
And here I thought that it may have been a little bit too meta.
Yes. Yes you did. Actually it was Voltaire who gave me idea for that one. Well, I was planning to make one about Miles even back when I did first of Evermore spitefics, but I lacked cool thing for him to do, that would make him more interesting and likeable than main characters. And then the whole vampire club discussion in this chapter happened… (And if you scroll up to my first comment, there’s link to the song itself :P).