1-800-cr33py - Tumblr blog

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do you have a master list?

I do not, but if you’d guys like I’ll gladly make one ^^

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ribs

CONTENT: angst no comfort, allusions to murder, reader is depressive and honestly really going through it.

FANDOM: The Lost Boys (1987)/GN!Reader

looking back now, one would say it was the rush of it all that kept you with them. that it was some sick and twisted trick they played on you because it was easy to do so. Maybe they did, maybe they thought it funny to pull at the strings that tied your still beating heart to their’s, or maybe they didn’t. You didn’t really care, couldn’t in all actuality.

They were dead now, no use dwelling upon the past right? You tried to ignore the pangs of pain within your chest. Tried to act like you weren’t hurt by the quiet stillness that swamped the cave. You felt like a stranger when you crawled into their nests, clinging to their clothes that still had their scent on them. They all had a distinct sweetness under their stolen colognes; something you’d come to find out was the sweet scent of death. Walking corpses they were, cold, hard flesh and talon-like teeth that patiently waited turns to siphon blood from you.

You’d fallen for them, their words, regardless of the vulgar manner they’d spew them.

The tears that flowed down your cheeks were proof of that. Your mind floated to the times simpler than this.

Sun beams left your skin warm, the silky sand beneath you clinging to the supple skin of your thigh, the towel you’d placed down doing little to keep you clean. You bided your time, carefully awaiting for the dreaded sun to hide itself once again. Despite their nocturnal…habits, you still found joy basking in the golden rays. You thrived within it really. But the nightlife kept you young. With them, it was easy to forget that. To forget that anyone else existed.

You’d blanketed yourself with David’s trench coat, the scent of cigarettes lingered within the threads. It was just him. Something so inevitably him. It hurt, the knowing fact that they wouldn’t come stumbling down from another successful hunt, whooping and hollering like a band of teenage boys high of their first taste of freedom. Your nights filled with a sense of sheer anguish as you’d wait for them to find you.

One can say what hurt the most was not being given the chance to say goodbye. To not have closure upon the deaths of those who’d taken hold of your life. Star called it your freedom, the choice to leave alongside her and make a life of your own, like before. But it was wrong. Wrong to leave the place you called home for so long, wrong to simply leave their most prized possessions to rot away in secret. You wanted to hate Star, and for a while you did, until you physically couldn’t withhold any emotion other than sadness or longing.

Some may say it was for the best, and maybe it was! But the constant feeling of abandonment said otherwise, and that, was the worst part of it.

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(She’s perpetually unemployed)

I personally think my life’s meaning is to spend other people’s money <};3

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it is my personal belief that Hailey Nichols is a complete and utter bitch.

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WRITE A STORY WITH ERIC DRAVEN PLSSSSSSS

Of course, though I am going through a bit of writer’s and artist’s block, so i deeply apologize for the quality.

A/N: Angst w/comfort, reader is depressive, something quick might expand on this later though. Eric is…eric.

Hands a bit too cold to be considered normal traced the plain of your stomach, the skin warm beneath his calloused palm. Eric was many things, a murderer, spiteful, any name under the sun one could think of, but in the current moment he was envious. Envious of you, sleeping beneath the many blankets of his bed, practically a nest for the both of you now. He was envious of your warmth, your liveliness, your mortality. There may have been a time when he’d daydream of what his life could have been like in his older years, hair graying and fading and worn band tee shirts. But those days would never catch up to him, but you still remained. Fuck if you didn’t stay glued to his side. He remembers seeing you after he was brought back, the black tears staining your cheeks as you tried to look through him, trying to rationalize the sight before you.

You sat upon the brick wall of what was once a shared apartment, bottles and cans thrown haphazardly around the creaking floors. You, a husk of the person you used to be, in the middle of the mess, eyeliner running down your cheeks and eyes hollow, eyes once so full of life and contentment, now dull, sharp even. If his heart could, it would break at the sight of you. He stalked you from his shadows, not yet ready to face you. Oh how he longed to hold you, to remind you he’d take care of you like he promised so long ago, to simply feel your skin against his would be enough. But Eric remained still, continuing to watch you gulp down more cheap vodka like it was water. Erin grimaced, he didn’t like the sight before him. He saw himself lingering within your behavior, saw his influences in your mannerisms. You, none the wiser to his position before you, didn’t even jump when his footfalls fell upon your ears. Maybe you were to drunk, or maybe it’s because you were to far gone to care.

“ Look dickhead, I don’t know what the fuck it is you want but I-“ your cold remark was cut short, far to short with a familiar laugh, a laugh you hadn’t heard in over a year, actually thats a lie. It was the same laugh that had been haunting your nightmares for so, so fucking long.

“ Such harsh words from such a pretty girl, you kiss your mother with that mouth pretty? “ Eric drawled, nearing you. You, bottle just an inch from your agape mouth. There he was, face painted a sickly white and black smeared haphazardly across his eyes and lips. It was like time stopped, only the two of you existing at once. Eyes welling with tears, you stayed silent. What could you do? You were there when they put him into the cold hard ground, there to pick up Sarah when her mother couldn’t give less than a fuck about her. You. Eric, now squatting before you, searched your face, for any sign of emotion, emotion he didn’t find. You wanted to scream, to hit yourself and down the rest of the bottle, telling yourself you were dreaming, but you couldn’t. His cologne had long since faded from everything that was left behind, but here now you could taste it. Mouth gaping akin to that of a fish out of water, the bottle fell, clattering onto the floor as your hand reached to his face. Just a touch. Just something to tell yourself this was real, that he was real. With a trembling finger, you pushed the wet stray hairs from his painted face, moving to trace his jaw. He was real this time, a tangible thing before you blessing your teary eyes with a pained smile.

That was a long while ago, he’d yet to find a real reason to pass on yet, though the Crow had quit trying to urge him now. The night was young, though the city lights didn’t make it seem that way, still, you napped, curled underneath the blankets. Eric let out an audible sign, cold fingers mindlessly tracing shapes onto your skin. He’d give anything, anything at all, just to fully feel the true extent of your warmth again, the warmth he felt when he was alive, not just a walking corpse. Eric longed to be the softer man he once was for you, but he knew as well as you did, that man was gone. But for now, he’d be content with this, relearning and healing alongside you.

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“My name is Aaron Bushnell. I am an active duty member of the United States Air Force and I will no longer be complicit in genocide. I am about to engage in an extreme act of protest, but compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers, it’s not extreme at all. This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal. Free Palestine.”

—Aaron Bushnell

“The act of an American soldier sacrificing himself for Palestine is the highest sacrifice […] a poignant message to the American administration to stop its involvement in the aggression.”

—PFLP Central Media Dept.

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FREE PALESTINE, FREE XINJIANG!!!

DO NOT FORGET ABOUT THE UYGHUR GENOCIDE TAKING PLACE IN XINJIANG

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sedatives

not an update, just simply leaving the ao3 link

also i will be making a tag list so like-let me know if you’d like to be added ^^

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iris

A/N:This is completely self-indulgent as I’m taking a short break rom working on the second part of Sedatives <3 this is not canon to Erin’s story just something I was thinking about. ^^

TW: Talk of past addiction, withdrawal symptoms,

It’s something stupid in all honesty, now tat I’m..now that I actually think about it, but to me it’s something so intimate about the act.

Buzzing of the overhead lights and occasional sniffling from the woman between your legs were the only things to break the silence that filled the bathroom. The scent of drugstore box dye and bummed cigarettes burned your lungs, yet the complaint never fell from your lips. Blue gloves long stained with black and shades of teal carefully parted and painted her soft locks, you could just feel the curls if you sought for them long enough. Erin was stilled, her shoulders slouched and stained black with dye.

“ Don’t forget my ends, they fuckin’ eat this shitty dye. “ Erin croaked, cigarette hanging from the corner of her lips. You nodded, eyeing the fried ends with a slight grimace plastered on your face. She sniffed, fiddling with the lighter in hand. You smiled, though your eyes held s certain worry for them. Erin had already quit…everything, or at least tried to, for good this time, and fuck if it wasn’t evident. The twitching, nervous behavior, but she was trying.

She was fucking trying, and thats more than a lot can say.

She was fucking struggling, hell yes, but she was fighting. It wasn’t uncommon to find her on the floor, but you..you were there. Some days were better than others, other days not so much but you were fucking there.

Erin relaxed, a sigh leaving her as you peaked a look at her face. Their eyes were closed in contentment, her plump lips twitching ever so slightly, the piercings the only factor of making it evident. Her face was bare of any makeup, not that you cared either way. You smiled, continuing to layer the last bit of blue on the strand of hair.

Intimate.

That’s what the feeling was now. Though there was nothing romantic lingering in the air, the fact that Erin trusted you enough to task you with such an important part of her identity left you feeling warm. It was the act of letting her guard down long enough to get this seemingly harmless task.

She was getting better, you’d like to think

AUTHOR’S COMMENTS: Okay so this is really short and really baad I just wanted to put something out for Erin. This is a somewhat altered account of my experience of my experiences of breaking my addictions and struggles. As a person with avoidant attachment and tendencies, I struggle immensely with getting to this level of trust/comfortably with others, and to write about the few times I have really helps me add depth to my characters. Also, if you or a loved one is experiencing addiction to substances, please seek out help. I know the journey is long and it’s far from easy or pretty, but you’ll thank yourself in the long run.

Help is available, if you are having any of these issues please reach out to a hotline or trusted doctor. Please be safe/

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Let Me Make One Thing Clear.

Let me clear something up, and give full warning. I will not be apologizing for tones or how aggressive this comes off.

I do not fucking support Israel.

Aaron Bushnell, may he rest easy, deserved so much fucking more than what he got, and the fact that selfish, privileged pricks are reducing him to a senseless nut job shows numbers on just how low humility. We’ve buried basic sympathy and empathy for others in the deepest, most decrepit hole of hell we could and think that it should be normalized. No, they drew guns on a dying man, screaming to Free Palestine until his dying breath. There first instinct was to inflict harm onto an already dying man instead of aiding him. And those are the people tasks with protecting us? People are so willingly both blind and ignorant to this war, and then continue to downplay Palestinian cries for peace and aid. Watching the video of Aaron Bushnell is heartbreaking. A cop shouts “ GET ON THE GROUND, GET ON THE GROUND. “ as if that is the adequate response. You don’t need a fucking gun, you need fire extinguisher. Aaron was and still is a hero, and will be remembered as such so long as I have both a voice and platform to spread his name.

I stand with Palestine, I stand with those wounded and beaten children who need their parents, who SHOULD be with their parents. I won’t be silent, because in this day, silence is not only compliance, but violence. Palestinian are BEGGING for peace, BEGGING for a chance to pick up whats left of their beautiful country. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE keep rallying, keep speaking about Palestine, they need our voices and aid now more than ever.

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to that whack "horror ox" anon:

you clearly follow my work very closely, and therefore you definitely know my rule: if you got my name in your cocksucker, then you better be in my asks. Feel free to come to my asks on anon and yap shit, I'll just laugh and call you a pussy for staying on anon. If you wanna talk shit then talk shit with your @ on display. Anon, you're a pussy. PUSSY PUSSY PUSSY.

Love you 1800💖

IM CACKLING 😭

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eren is and never will be a fucking Man With the Scarred neck character, your on Sanity’s dixk so much it sad, your terrible at making actual horror oxs 🫶

I beg your finest pardon but hwat in tarnation

I…never said eRIN was a HELLCREW character._. She’s not even a horror character..? Dawg what are you smoking so I can get some of it.

And wtf is a Horror Ox? Like the brazen bull?

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raddoppiare la miseria

tragic girl and miserable boy

(you should 100% commission me) OMG who said that 👁️👁️

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do you accept writing commissions? I’ve seen your art ones and I absolutely LOV3 your writing style ^^

I’ve been toying with the idea of taking writing commissions, but in a brief answer yes, I do accept writing comms ^^.

A contract will be writing after I clock out but here’s a brief pricing guide down below:

1,000 - 1,500: $10

1,501 - 2,000: $15

2,001 - 2,500: $20

2,501 - 3,000: $25

3,001+: $30+

DRABBLES:

50-200: $5

201-350: $10

ONESHOTS

400-620: $12

Limitations

- I will not write gore or NSFW for minors, unless you can confirm your age, the story will be PG.

- Piss/Scat, I don’t kink shame but I’m not comfortable with writing that.

Further information,

- Please describe what you’re looking for, the more specific the better, I’m more than willing to create moodboards to better push your ideas. Tips are appreciated but not required and please understand that writing takes time!

- SFW and NSFW have no discount or extra fees.

And that’s all I have for right now, I’ll be working on a fleshed out contract shortly.

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can't wait for the HABIT fic <3333 when do u think it'll be coming ?

soon I swear TvT I’ve just been editing and scrapping some of it bc it’s getting to be a bit to long for tumblr, so I might be posting a cut section to tumblr and the rest on ao3.