cullen-collective

[cullen-collective]

#frodo with your curls would be SO CUTE

[cullen-collective]

#sexy callout #like #this is a callout post #cullen collective is sexy

[cullen-collective]

What if Bella had been a Leo? (cause they both would've been lions)

sorry for taking forever to get to this!! at first I didn’t know how I felt about this, if I could even see her as a leo, but then I remembered that my moon sign is in leo and Bella and I share some similar qualities, so here we go!! (this doesn’t really focus on Bellward, but I really love it!)

leo!Bella is still an awkward, clumsy, introverted bookworm, but she puts more value on her relationships with the people in her life than she does in canon. She loves her mother but wishes Renee would spend more quality time with her instead of stringing her along on wild adventures that leave her anxious and drained, or abandoning her entirely as she galavants off after men or quests to “find herself.” Coming to live with Charlie is an unexpected blessing - sure she had to give up her beloved sunshine, and she still cooks and cleans and is largely independent from parental guidance, but Charlie is a stable rock to build her new life on, quiet and unassuming, but always there for her when she needs him. He’s not used to having someone in the house with him, but he makes an effort to include her in his daily life. He asks her to watch football games with him after dinner, takes her on a fateful fishing trip where she manages to tip them both into the water, and even, upon seeing the few books she stacked on her bedside table, takes her to get a library card on her first day in town, an unexpectedly kind gesture that will forever warm her heart. The library’s collection is abysmally small, but she gets a card anyway to humor him. They’ve both grown to be very independent people over the years, but they start to orbit around each other, and these quiet moments fill a gaping void in her that she hadn’t quite realized was there. Renee’s mark on both of them starts to lessen, and Bella finds a new warmth in this cozy little house in the woods.

Bella was dreading the first day of Forks High, used to being shoved off as the nerdy shy girl in school, but for some reason - to both her mortification and quiet delight - everyone in Forks wants to be her friend! She doesn’t trust the attention at first, especially from the boys. She knows that by default she’s the most exciting thing in town and fame is fickle, but the days go by and she never sits alone at lunch or in class. Even when she trips and spills her books in the hallway, face burning with shame as she waits for her newfound friends to mock and abandon her, they only ask her if she’s alright, Mike gallantly picking up her books as Angela turns back to give her a concerned look from the classroom doorway. Eric laughs a little, but it’s a good natured laugh, and Bella finds herself laughing along with him as Jessica helps her to her feet. She starts to enjoy the time in between classes even more than her studies, even sneaking off campus with the gang to grab lunch at Cora’s Diner, an act of innocent rebellion she never would have even dared to think of in Phoenix. She gets a job at the Newton’s store, enjoying her time joking around with Mike between customers for a few hours after school a couple days a week. Jessica invites her on weekly outings to the small but quaint shopping venues in Forks, or over to her house for chick flic nights. Angela offers to let her peruse her personal library, an offer that Bella quickly accepts and reciprocates. As time goes on Bella even ventures to invite the girls over to her house as well, a planned evening of studying quickly devolving after they try her homemade cookies and demand she share her baking secrets.

When Edward abandons her in the woods, her mind goes blank. Thoughts of worthlessness and “of course he would leave me” flutter around the edges of her mind, and the empty void she’s so used to living in threatens to consume her once more. Charlie does what he can, and his presence does help a little, but he’s never been exactly verbose, and the warmth Bella felt in this fresh start of life dwindles into darkness. She wakes from a nightmare the day after he leaves, one hand pressed over the gaping hole in her heart, only to find Jessica and Angela at the foot of the couch, eyes wide with worry and understanding. Bella reaches for them, and as soon as their arms tighten around her, the emotions come flooding past the dam of numbness in her mind. She breaks down and sobs against Angela’s shoulder as Jessica’s fingers run soothingly through her hair. “We’re here, it’s going to be okay, we’re here. We’ve got you, Bella.” Their words make her cry even harder, but it’s a good hurt, one of love and belonging and the faintest glimmer of hope. Days pass, and when she finally manages to show herself at school again, she finds her friends waiting for her. Mike’s constant attentiveness takes a softer, quieter turn, Eric’s jokes a bit less jaded than usual. The bite of Jessica’s fierce protectiveness extends even to their teachers, who quickly learn to not bring up the noticeably absent family of students around Bella or her posse. Angela’s constant presence at her side is a comfort even in her darkest moments, a shoulder to lean on when she feels the most alone. A bridge forms over the void in her chest, sturdy and unyielding beneath her wavering feet, but with her friends at her side, she braves the first step forward.

#as mads resident double leo #they get it

[cullen-collective]

from now on your tumblr nickname is whatever you get from this sexual identity generator  ☆

#spear-bearing fanfic writer #lmao

[cullen-collective]

hi if vampires don’t have blood how did edwards dick get hard to impregnate bella

I am bad at science and fail to understand basic anatomy! Hope this helps!

Stephenie

[cullen-collective]

Hi.

This is not twilight content, my apologies. My big brother died on Saturday, November 11th. My parents are disabled, and we are not very well off. This link will take you to his GoFundMe. I am aware that I am being incredibly vulnerable on the internet, and that leaves me open to harshness and unkindness. But I also know that it leaves me open to compassion and kindness and humanity. If you can, we appreciate any donation possible. If not, thank you for reading.

My brother loved food and cooking. Make yourself something good this week.

#not twilight #crowdfunding #gofundme #funeral expenses #tw: death

[cullen-collective]

Hi.

This is not twilight content, my apologies. My big brother died on Saturday, November 11th. My parents are disabled, and we are not very well off. This link will take you to his GoFundMe. I am aware that I am being incredibly vulnerable on the internet, and that leaves me open to harshness and unkindness. But I also know that it leaves me open to compassion and kindness and humanity. If you can, we appreciate any donation possible. If not, thank you for reading.

My brother loved food and cooking. Make yourself something good this week.

#not twilight #crowdfunding #gofundme #funeral expenses #tw: death

[cullen-collective]

Please enjoy these edits I made for @the-golden-onion

[cullen-collective]

EEEEEEEEEEEK THANK YOUUU

You're welcome!! Hope you enjoyed!

[cullen-collective]

do it. write it. do it

Say. Less. 

*

There’s never anyone actually interesting in these chats. 

There’s me, who actually wants to discuss music, the way it feels, the lyrics’ poetic meanings, the way the drums crash like they’re my own heartbeat. And then there’s guys who might want to discuss that, but are probably here for the other occupants of the forum: girls obsessed with band members. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against them, and I fully understand geeking out over Pete Wentz (although I’ve always been more of a Stump girl) or Gerard Way or even Chester Bennington. I just keep having to switch to new forums when it’s clear that no one else wants to talk about the music, but instead have guys who claim to look like Adam Lazarra scam the email addresses and photos off those girls. 

Which brings me here, to another new forum chat, scrolling through older posts about who drums harder: Travis Barker or Mike Kinsella, as the chat scrolls by on the right side of the screen. I was mindlessly scrolling, mentally agreeing or disparaging the opinions of other posters, too scared to comment. This site was pretty neat, and the account I’d had to create to post comments and chat had spaces for a list of my favorites, which I’d happily included. It also had a little bio, which I’d filled in with my name and age, as well as one of my favorite lyrics.

I kept one eye on the chat as it went, keeping up with the current discussion of how best to cut your bangs. I typed up a quick note that the best way to cut your bangs was to see a local hairdresser so you didn’t end up with Buffy season three bangs instead of the side-sweep you wanted. 

Emo-ward: But is it really, truly in the spirit of punk rock if you don’t cut them yourself?

HellsBells: I think to be a real punk, you’d probably need to like different bands. To be alt, you can visit a salon or resign yourself to botched hair. 

Emo-ward: Seems like the majority is going to choose the second option.

HellsBells: Well, sometimes we must suffer for the cause. 

Emo-Ward wants to send you a private message. Accept. Decline. 

I was stunned. No one ever requested me. My cursor hovered over “Accept”, my finger twitching. My mother, as scattered as she was, had always warned me about being too open online. What if this was like, a forty-five year old man who preyed on kids in chat rooms? What if it was a serial killer? What if it was someone from school trying to humiliate me? What if it was a kid from school who wanted to humiliate me and also did a little serial killing on the side? 

Okay, I was being ridiculous. I knew nothing about this person. Hell, I hadn’t even looked at their profile. So I right-clicked the name in the chat and opened another window to his profile. Like mine, the profile had no picture, and instead had a graphic. It was Gerard Way but his hair had been edited to be bright green. I snorted, remembering my own, which was Britney Spears edited with a scene girl haircut that this chick in my Western Civ class had emailed to me as a joke after seeing the Ataris CD in my portable player. The name listed was Edward, the age as 16, and he had a lyric on his profile too. 

“Watching from the floor.”

I recognized it, small as it was. It was from “Dear Maria, Count Me In”. I was a little surprised. Great song choice. 

It seemed he wasn’t too sketchy. 

I went back to the original page, steeled my nerves and hit “Accept.” 

Emo-ward: Do you really have time in your veins? 

My tongue pressed to the inside of my cheek. If this really was a sixteen-year-old boy, I was in trouble. He had just referenced the lyric in my bio, (from “Understanding In A Car Crash”: “It starts and stops and starts and stops again.”) and made it a joke. I had to one-up him. 

HellsBells: Yes. I am also a pen.

Emo-ward: Where are you from, girl with time in her veins who is somehow also a pen?

I smiled at my screen. I couldn’t help it. He was kind of funny. 

HellsBells: Forgive me, sir, if I’m not very specific. I’m from the Southwest. You?

Emo-ward: Well, miss, I will follow suit. I’m from the Northwest. 

There was something about the way he wrote that made me want to trust him. Maybe it was that we had similar chat styles. Although… My mother had always said I talked like I was sixty. What if he was sixty?! Edward is an old man's name. 

HellsBells: You kind of talk like an old guy, you know that, right?

Emo-ward: That’s because I’m 104. 

HellsBells: Wow. You use the internet pretty well for a senior citizen.

Emo-ward: They had us take a class. So, what’s your favorite album right now?

I smiled. Funny, and hopefully not an old guy. 

HellsBells: Will you stop talking to me if I say Take This to Your Grave?

Emo-ward: Only if you stop talking to me for saying mine is Meteora. 

HellsBells: Only if you tell me your favorite song off the album is Numb. That’s where I draw the line. 

Emo-ward: While that song isn’t my favorite, it’s pretty good. Anyway, the actual favorite is Somewhere I Belong. 

I thought about that for a minute. I liked that song, but I hadn’t listened to it a lot. I’d have to give it another go. I had Meteora around here somewhere. I found the album in my bookshelf, put it in my portable player, and put the headphones on. I skipped to the right track, and let it play while I answered. 

HellsBells: Not that you asked, but mine is Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes.

Emo-ward: Aggressive. I like it. 

I burst out laughing. Out loud. In my house. On a school night. At eleven. 

“Bella?” my mom called from across the hall. “Are you on the computer?” 

Shit. “Uh… no?”

I heard Mom start giggling. “Go to bed, kid!” 

“Okay!” I grimaced at the screen. No way I was ever going to hear from this guy again. But… I had to try, right? He was funny, and he had great taste in music. 

HellsBells: Well, grandpa, if you can get the orderlies at the nursing home to let you use the computer on Friday, I’ll be here. Until then, I’m not an adult and have to deal with things like school nights. 

Emo-ward: I’m sorry about that. I never sleep, so my school nights are exactly like regular nights. I’ll be here. 

I shook my head at that, holding in a giant smile. You know what, fuck it, I let the smile loose. It wasn’t like he could see me. And I let “Somewhere I Belong” play on repeat until I fell asleep. 

#the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #writing #fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #my writing #how dare yall ask for this and not reblog it

[cullen-collective]

do it. write it. do it

Say. Less. 

*

There’s never anyone actually interesting in these chats. 

There’s me, who actually wants to discuss music, the way it feels, the lyrics’ poetic meanings, the way the drums crash like they’re my own heartbeat. And then there’s guys who might want to discuss that, but are probably here for the other occupants of the forum: girls obsessed with band members. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against them, and I fully understand geeking out over Pete Wentz (although I’ve always been more of a Stump girl) or Gerard Way or even Chester Bennington. I just keep having to switch to new forums when it’s clear that no one else wants to talk about the music, but instead have guys who claim to look like Adam Lazarra scam the email addresses and photos off those girls. 

Which brings me here, to another new forum chat, scrolling through older posts about who drums harder: Travis Barker or Mike Kinsella, as the chat scrolls by on the right side of the screen. I was mindlessly scrolling, mentally agreeing or disparaging the opinions of other posters, too scared to comment. This site was pretty neat, and the account I’d had to create to post comments and chat had spaces for a list of my favorites, which I’d happily included. It also had a little bio, which I’d filled in with my name and age, as well as one of my favorite lyrics.

I kept one eye on the chat as it went, keeping up with the current discussion of how best to cut your bangs. I typed up a quick note that the best way to cut your bangs was to see a local hairdresser so you didn’t end up with Buffy season three bangs instead of the side-sweep you wanted. 

Emo-ward: But is it really, truly in the spirit of punk rock if you don’t cut them yourself?

HellsBells: I think to be a real punk, you’d probably need to like different bands. To be alt, you can visit a salon or resign yourself to botched hair. 

Emo-ward: Seems like the majority is going to choose the second option.

HellsBells: Well, sometimes we must suffer for the cause. 

Emo-Ward wants to send you a private message. Accept. Decline. 

I was stunned. No one ever requested me. My cursor hovered over “Accept”, my finger twitching. My mother, as scattered as she was, had always warned me about being too open online. What if this was like, a forty-five year old man who preyed on kids in chat rooms? What if it was a serial killer? What if it was someone from school trying to humiliate me? What if it was a kid from school who wanted to humiliate me and also did a little serial killing on the side? 

Okay, I was being ridiculous. I knew nothing about this person. Hell, I hadn’t even looked at their profile. So I right-clicked the name in the chat and opened another window to his profile. Like mine, the profile had no picture, and instead had a graphic. It was Gerard Way but his hair had been edited to be bright green. I snorted, remembering my own, which was Britney Spears edited with a scene girl haircut that this chick in my Western Civ class had emailed to me as a joke after seeing the Ataris CD in my portable player. The name listed was Edward, the age as 16, and he had a lyric on his profile too. 

“Watching from the floor.”

I recognized it, small as it was. It was from “Dear Maria, Count Me In”. I was a little surprised. Great song choice. 

It seemed he wasn’t too sketchy. 

I went back to the original page, steeled my nerves and hit “Accept.” 

Emo-ward: Do you really have time in your veins? 

My tongue pressed to the inside of my cheek. If this really was a sixteen-year-old boy, I was in trouble. He had just referenced the lyric in my bio, (from “Understanding In A Car Crash”: “It starts and stops and starts and stops again.”) and made it a joke. I had to one-up him. 

HellsBells: Yes. I am also a pen.

Emo-ward: Where are you from, girl with time in her veins who is somehow also a pen?

I smiled at my screen. I couldn’t help it. He was kind of funny. 

HellsBells: Forgive me, sir, if I’m not very specific. I’m from the Southwest. You?

Emo-ward: Well, miss, I will follow suit. I’m from the Northwest. 

There was something about the way he wrote that made me want to trust him. Maybe it was that we had similar chat styles. Although… My mother had always said I talked like I was sixty. What if he was sixty?! Edward is an old man's name. 

HellsBells: You kind of talk like an old guy, you know that, right?

Emo-ward: That’s because I’m 104. 

HellsBells: Wow. You use the internet pretty well for a senior citizen.

Emo-ward: They had us take a class. So, what’s your favorite album right now?

I smiled. Funny, and hopefully not an old guy. 

HellsBells: Will you stop talking to me if I say Take This to Your Grave?

Emo-ward: Only if you stop talking to me for saying mine is Meteora. 

HellsBells: Only if you tell me your favorite song off the album is Numb. That’s where I draw the line. 

Emo-ward: While that song isn’t my favorite, it’s pretty good. Anyway, the actual favorite is Somewhere I Belong. 

I thought about that for a minute. I liked that song, but I hadn’t listened to it a lot. I’d have to give it another go. I had Meteora around here somewhere. I found the album in my bookshelf, put it in my portable player, and put the headphones on. I skipped to the right track, and let it play while I answered. 

HellsBells: Not that you asked, but mine is Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes.

Emo-ward: Aggressive. I like it. 

I burst out laughing. Out loud. In my house. On a school night. At eleven. 

“Bella?” my mom called from across the hall. “Are you on the computer?” 

Shit. “Uh… no?”

I heard Mom start giggling. “Go to bed, kid!” 

“Okay!” I grimaced at the screen. No way I was ever going to hear from this guy again. But… I had to try, right? He was funny, and he had great taste in music. 

HellsBells: Well, grandpa, if you can get the orderlies at the nursing home to let you use the computer on Friday, I’ll be here. Until then, I’m not an adult and have to deal with things like school nights. 

Emo-ward: I’m sorry about that. I never sleep, so my school nights are exactly like regular nights. I’ll be here. 

I shook my head at that, holding in a giant smile. You know what, fuck it, I let the smile loose. It wasn’t like he could see me. And I let “Somewhere I Belong” play on repeat until I fell asleep. 

#the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #writing #fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #my writing #afternoon crowd

[cullen-collective]

My friend: do vampires breathe?

Me: they can? Yeah?

Him: do they need to?

Me: no.

Him: then how do they produce ATP, a critical component of muscle movement?

Me: what?

Him: oxygen is used to make ATP. How do vampires move?

Me: are you trying to apply biology to twilight?

Him: Stephenie Meyer is an idiot.

#this post is about my FIANCE #im literally gonna marry this man

[cullen-collective]

I really didn't wanna get slapped, so here's more.

Rick's bar was a dive.

It was a small hole in the wall on an unassuming street in Port Angeles, with a giant glossy wood bar taking up the majority of the space. The bar was nicked and chipped in enough places that I was sure if I went to order a coke I'd get a splinter and maybe tetanus. There was a smallish floor interspersed with tables and booths on the wall opposite the bar. And a stage.

A tiny one, really. Miniscule. I'd practically be on top of Tara and Ben while I played.

But I'd be playing.

Rick himself was behind the bar, pouring drinks and arguing with the regulars. He glanced up when we entered from the back door, lugging equipment. "Hey, kids," he groused. "Go ahead and set up, but I'm not letting in the under-agers until seven."

Ben nodded, clearly used to his gruffness. "Thanks, Rick."

Rick flagrantly ignored him and went back to his vehement defense of the Seahawks defensive line to a guy who looked like he and the stool beneath him had fused into a single unit.

"Wow," I said.

Tara coughed out a laugh. "Yeah," she droned, "he's definitely someone's mean uncle."

"But he lets us play," Ben called from the stage, where he was currently unloading his kick drum. "So he could literally slap me across the face and I'd say 'thank you'."

I couldn't help but agree. There was a humming in my veins that I hadn't felt in months. I was going to play music with my friends.

In the two weeks between my audition and this gig, we'd been practicing so much that we'd sort of become inseparable. We discussed the set list over lunch. I was so used to seeing Lauren on Tyler's lap that I usually forgot that she was glaring at me so intensely. Tara and I had smoked in the woods twice already, and I seriously needed to pay her back for her weed. And Ben... Well, clearly Ben had it bad for Angela, and by the grace of being her friend, I knew she did too.

It was... fun. Being involved in things was fun.

Even when the miraculous prodigal ginger returned to school last week, it didn't phase me.

Well, that's not strictly true, but I was sure he couldn't tell I'd been phased. He'd said nothing to me, and I returned the favor with vigor.

He certainly didn't know I'd had a panic attack over it in the women's room after bio and skipped English.

But I was better now, and it didn't matter. I was going to play music with my friends.

When my amp was plugged in and my bass was tuned, I unstrapped it and set it down in the stand. "I'm gonna get a soda," I said, choosing to test my yearly flu shot, "anybody want something?"

"Coke," Tara said, and I was pretty sure she meant the soda.

"World peace," Ben intoned from behind the kit, adjusting cymbal height.

"Sex on the Beach," Tyler said, flashing me yet another of his lascivious smirks.

"Done, done, and in your dreams," I tossed back over a shoulder as I made my way to the bar. The place was starting to fill up, and we had fifteen minutes until Rick started letting in the kids from school. Angela was coming, and Lauren obviously, and Jessica. Jess was bringing Mike, and I heard that Eric Yorkie was bringing the Mathletes.

I ordered four Cokes, as I doubted that Rick's ancient soda gun had Dr. Pepper, and watched the windows while I waited. I spotted our friends in the line, and a few other people from classes that I'd never spoken to. I gave a quick wave, then juggled glasses back over to the stage, passing them around and then chugging my own. I needed the sugar high. I was nervous.

I fiddled with my bass instead of looking up when the doors opened for our classmates. The air became stifling. It was crowded in here.

I took in a few deep breaths. I glanced up and almost puked. It was standing room only.

"Go Bella!" Mike shouted from his booth, and Jessica smacked him on the arm.

And tucked in the back corner, at a tiny table, was Alice Cullen and Rosalie Cullen. Emmett was winding back from the bar with four drinks. There was someone sitting out of sight on the far end.

I hoped it was Jasper, but somehow I knew it wasn't.

He doesn't get to win, I said to myself. He doesn't get to win, he doesn't get to have music, he doesn't get to have your friends, he doesn't get to win.

Tyler, his guitar slung low across his hips, grabbed the mic.

"Hey, we're Closing Time," he said, and I swear to God I heard Lauren giggle somewhere.

Ben's sticks began slapping together, counting us in.

One.

Two.

I had four counts to make my peace.

One.

Deep breath.

Two.

Straight spine.

Three.

Adjust stance.

Four.

I jumped into the song, weaving the bass line into the melody. I sang the harmonies with Tyler. I glanced back at Tara, who beamed at me with unrestrained glee.

"This is the dawning of the rest of our lives," Tyler and I were belting now, voices blending across the bar. We were back to back, leaning against each other and using the same mic.

Pretty dramatic for a dive gig, but I was feeling the moment.

The bass in my bones.

The drums in my ribcage.

The show continued and we played and I felt it then, the way I always used to. Like his eyes were a physical touch along my skin. He was watching me. I refused to do the same.

I started to itch, as though the act of not returning his gaze was festering in my blood. I ignored it.

The last song came, and I was the vocalist on it.

I stepped up and Mike started hollering and Angela gave a whistle that pierced my ears. Some kids from my Trig class whooped. The song started, and I let myself go. I wasn't anyone. I wasn't Bella, the chief's daughter, or Bella the abandoned, or Bella the klutz, or Bella at all.

I was a voice in a room, hands on a bass, and lips on a mic.

"I'll write you just to let you know that I'm alright. Can't say I'm sad to see you go, cause I'm not."

I glanced up.

He was watching me, a look of devastation so plain on his angelic features that it winded me for a second.

But just a second.

I smirked, copying Tyler as best I could, and stepped back into Tara's space for the instrumental section of the song. She and I leaned into each other, foreheads together, beaming at each other. I made a kissy face at her and she rolled her eyes, prompting me to laugh before heading back to the microphone.

The song ended.

"Thanks, we're Closing Time," I said over the cheering.

By the time my bass was in its stand and I made my way into the bar to thank people for coming, the Cullens were gone.

do it. write it. do it

Say. Less. 

*

There’s never anyone actually interesting in these chats. 

There’s me, who actually wants to discuss music, the way it feels, the lyrics’ poetic meanings, the way the drums crash like they’re my own heartbeat. And then there’s guys who might want to discuss that, but are probably here for the other occupants of the forum: girls obsessed with band members. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against them, and I fully understand geeking out over Pete Wentz (although I’ve always been more of a Stump girl) or Gerard Way or even Chester Bennington. I just keep having to switch to new forums when it’s clear that no one else wants to talk about the music, but instead have guys who claim to look like Adam Lazarra scam the email addresses and photos off those girls. 

Which brings me here, to another new forum chat, scrolling through older posts about who drums harder: Travis Barker or Mike Kinsella, as the chat scrolls by on the right side of the screen. I was mindlessly scrolling, mentally agreeing or disparaging the opinions of other posters, too scared to comment. This site was pretty neat, and the account I’d had to create to post comments and chat had spaces for a list of my favorites, which I’d happily included. It also had a little bio, which I’d filled in with my name and age, as well as one of my favorite lyrics.

I kept one eye on the chat as it went, keeping up with the current discussion of how best to cut your bangs. I typed up a quick note that the best way to cut your bangs was to see a local hairdresser so you didn’t end up with Buffy season three bangs instead of the side-sweep you wanted. 

Emo-ward: But is it really, truly in the spirit of punk rock if you don’t cut them yourself?

HellsBells: I think to be a real punk, you’d probably need to like different bands. To be alt, you can visit a salon or resign yourself to botched hair. 

Emo-ward: Seems like the majority is going to choose the second option.

HellsBells: Well, sometimes we must suffer for the cause. 

Emo-Ward wants to send you a private message. Accept. Decline. 

I was stunned. No one ever requested me. My cursor hovered over “Accept”, my finger twitching. My mother, as scattered as she was, had always warned me about being too open online. What if this was like, a forty-five year old man who preyed on kids in chat rooms? What if it was a serial killer? What if it was someone from school trying to humiliate me? What if it was a kid from school who wanted to humiliate me and also did a little serial killing on the side? 

Okay, I was being ridiculous. I knew nothing about this person. Hell, I hadn’t even looked at their profile. So I right-clicked the name in the chat and opened another window to his profile. Like mine, the profile had no picture, and instead had a graphic. It was Gerard Way but his hair had been edited to be bright green. I snorted, remembering my own, which was Britney Spears edited with a scene girl haircut that this chick in my Western Civ class had emailed to me as a joke after seeing the Ataris CD in my portable player. The name listed was Edward, the age as 16, and he had a lyric on his profile too. 

“Watching from the floor.”

I recognized it, small as it was. It was from “Dear Maria, Count Me In”. I was a little surprised. Great song choice. 

It seemed he wasn’t too sketchy. 

I went back to the original page, steeled my nerves and hit “Accept.” 

Emo-ward: Do you really have time in your veins? 

My tongue pressed to the inside of my cheek. If this really was a sixteen-year-old boy, I was in trouble. He had just referenced the lyric in my bio, (from “Understanding In A Car Crash”: “It starts and stops and starts and stops again.”) and made it a joke. I had to one-up him. 

HellsBells: Yes. I am also a pen.

Emo-ward: Where are you from, girl with time in her veins who is somehow also a pen?

I smiled at my screen. I couldn’t help it. He was kind of funny. 

HellsBells: Forgive me, sir, if I’m not very specific. I’m from the Southwest. You?

Emo-ward: Well, miss, I will follow suit. I’m from the Northwest. 

There was something about the way he wrote that made me want to trust him. Maybe it was that we had similar chat styles. Although… My mother had always said I talked like I was sixty. What if he was sixty?! Edward is an old man's name. 

HellsBells: You kind of talk like an old guy, you know that, right?

Emo-ward: That’s because I’m 104. 

HellsBells: Wow. You use the internet pretty well for a senior citizen.

Emo-ward: They had us take a class. So, what’s your favorite album right now?

I smiled. Funny, and hopefully not an old guy. 

HellsBells: Will you stop talking to me if I say Take This to Your Grave?

Emo-ward: Only if you stop talking to me for saying mine is Meteora. 

HellsBells: Only if you tell me your favorite song off the album is Numb. That’s where I draw the line. 

Emo-ward: While that song isn’t my favorite, it’s pretty good. Anyway, the actual favorite is Somewhere I Belong. 

I thought about that for a minute. I liked that song, but I hadn’t listened to it a lot. I’d have to give it another go. I had Meteora around here somewhere. I found the album in my bookshelf, put it in my portable player, and put the headphones on. I skipped to the right track, and let it play while I answered. 

HellsBells: Not that you asked, but mine is Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes.

Emo-ward: Aggressive. I like it. 

I burst out laughing. Out loud. In my house. On a school night. At eleven. 

“Bella?” my mom called from across the hall. “Are you on the computer?” 

Shit. “Uh… no?”

I heard Mom start giggling. “Go to bed, kid!” 

“Okay!” I grimaced at the screen. No way I was ever going to hear from this guy again. But… I had to try, right? He was funny, and he had great taste in music. 

HellsBells: Well, grandpa, if you can get the orderlies at the nursing home to let you use the computer on Friday, I’ll be here. Until then, I’m not an adult and have to deal with things like school nights. 

Emo-ward: I’m sorry about that. I never sleep, so my school nights are exactly like regular nights. I’ll be here. 

I shook my head at that, holding in a giant smile. You know what, fuck it, I let the smile loose. It wasn’t like he could see me. And I let “Somewhere I Belong” play on repeat until I fell asleep. 

#the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #writing #fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #my writing

[cullen-collective]

HI I LOVE YOUR WORK

#DANNY DEVITO I LOVE YOUR WORK

[cullen-collective]

Will you be doing more of your twilight fic?

if there's not an update in the next three days come slap me

#twilight #twilight saga #bella swan #edward cullen #the twilight saga #asks #answered #anon #i needed this motivation

[cullen-collective]

as some of you may know because i literally won’t shut up about it one of my favorite hobbies is fiber arts, namely cross-stitch and embroidery. in my hunts for new projects, i happened upon this alphabet

and unfortunately, i have become feral since. i’m definitely excited about the prospect of a twilight project, but i have no idea what to do. so, i’d love to hear your guys’ ideas on what the project should include. it may take a while to complete, as i’m in the middle of a move, but if i feel it turns out well, i may even gift the project to one of y’all. i can’t wait to hear your ideas!!

#wife i am straight up obsessed with this

[cullen-collective]

my friend was telling me about some shit their shitty abusive parents did and I was like KNIFE EMOJI KNIFE EMOJI about it, you know, as you do. and then I remembered I have the keyboard app that lets me combine emojis so I was like "I will combine ANGRY FACE EMOJI and KNIFE EMOJI" and well

not exactly what I had in mind but sure ok.

#eat your feelings