#metalcursed

❛ I DON'T LIKE BEING STARED AT . ❜ fox-like eyes flicker to the side , where the paler boy is sitting on driftwood nearby . it's a gloomy day in la push , but when isn't it ? leah often spends those days sitting on the shore to just [...] listen . long black hair hangs loosely , soft breeze blowing it every now &* then . a sigh leaves parted lips as she looks back towards the ocean . ❛ what's your deal ? ❜

From the deep inside pocket of his leather jacket, Jeff produces his latest knitting project. It’s TOO THIN to be considered a scarf, TOO SHORT to be considered a sash. Perhaps it could be classified as some sort of NECK TIE? The article of clothing is loosely knitted, inconsistent in width at certain points.

❝ I saw this picture of Marc Bolan wearing this red cravat-type thing and I thought, uh, ‘Wow, Eddie would look great in that!’ so I made something like it. ❞ He holds up the DEEP CRIMSON ACRYLIC MONSTROSITY shyly as though BEWILDERED by his own creation.

Send in 📜 and I’ll use this incorrect quotes generator using your muse and my muse. (Please specify how many muses//which muses for multimuse blogs!!)  

@metalcursed

         PERCY’S BEEN STARING AT THE same math problem for the past ten minutes.  she’s a smart girl—everyone says so, even her parents—but numbers slip through her fingers in a way words never have. she can feel the frustration rising in her throat, the sharp ache that threatens incoming tears. she knows homework is the stupidest thing to cry over, and even though she and eddie are in a relatively secluded corner of the library she feels a cocktail of shame and panic in her chest at the thought of crying in public. of crying at all. so, brow furrowed and jaw set, she sets her pencil down with a trembling hand and picks a spot on the table to stare at while she tries to will the tears away.

          she’s trying not to draw attention to her impending breakdown, because historically, any attention has come in the form of bullying. and most of the time, people see someone crying and just ignore it. she knows it’s awkward; she doesn’t expect comfort. so when she feels hands on her cheeks, she jumps a little—but she doesn’t pull away, green eyes wide and watery as eddie angles her face up towards him.    ‘ what’re you— ’  she croaks, face burning when he leans in and kisses the crease between her eyebrows, effectively shutting her up. her forehead smooths as her cheeks turn pink, her heart stuttering.   ‘ wh—what was that for ? ’