thelostsimp

[thelostsimp]

im in love with the vampire hq in this movie

[thelostsimp]

Vxncevis' The Outsiders Masterlist

Info: Fluff: ❥ Smut: ☆ DEAD DOVE DNE: ❃ Crack: ✦ Angst: ☁ Little: 🍼

Darrel (Darry) Curtis

In the stillness❥

Sodapop Curtis

🦗 🦗

Ponyboy Curtis

🦗 🦗

Dallas (Dally) Winston

🦗 🦗

Steve Randle

🦗 🦗

Keith (Two-bit) Mathews

🦗 🦗

Johnny Cade

🦗 🦗

[thelostsimp]

TLB's RandomQuotes

a/n: This is a Filler post cause writers block is up my ass but I need to post something lol

Dwayne to Paul: "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Paul: "Oh, Dwayne. You know I can't count past 3" --------------------------------------

TLB's outside watching the meteor shower

Marko: "That one's flying beautifully toward us"

---------------------------------------- Older Sam: "Agh- Not another speeding ticket. I'll fight it in court, but I don't think they're gonna accept Gotta Go Fast , as a medical condition"

----------------------------------------- Max coming back to life: "Did you miss me?!"

Michael: "How can we miss you? You never go away!" ------------------------------------------- Laddie: So what are you going to invent next?" Marko: "Ehh- I've given up inventing. It's time for a new hobby- perhaps extreme couponing or Clog dancing! orrr maybee I N V E N T I N G" --------------------------------------------- Star: "True love concours all, right David?" David, reading a book and not listening: "Yeah sure. whatever" ----------------------------------------------- Michael, missing his straw from his cup: "Where'd my straw go?" Paul turning around, Straw in his ear: "Here!" ------------------------------------------------------

Paul telling jokes: "I'm on a whisky diet. I've lost 3 days already" -------------------------------------------------

Paul: There’s no food at home.

Marko: Not even bread

Y/n: Even in prison there’s bread

Michael: Why the fuck are you three in my home?!

-------------------------------------------------

Star: What scares you the most?

Michael: lawsuits

David: Women

Dwayne: The unstoppable marching of time that is slowly guiding us all towards inevitable death

Michael: Dwayne...

---------------------------------------------- Paul: "Marko. You're my best friend, I'd die for you!"

Marko: "....Prove it."

-------------------------------------------------

[thelostsimp]

[thelostsimp]

Shout out to Paul and his lethally sharp jawline

[thelostsimp]

Lost boys sketchbook doodles

Don’t talk to me about drawing the other eye ever.. I will go crazy

[thelostsimp]

Hey! Could you write a smut scene for Rz Michael Myers where the reader is a patient at Smith's Grove? She is a very mentally ill person. She had killed her family at age 8 on Christmas Eve. She had been transferred from one mental hospital to another until she ended up at Smith's Grove. She had somehow formed a bond with Michael. In that scene where the two guards had dragged that girl into Michael's cell instead of the girl, it's the reader, and that's enough for Michael to kill the two guards. Then they have sex on his bed (it's both their first time), and then they both escape together. Doctor Loomis is like damn it.

𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝕸𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖑 𝖘𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖘 𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖍'𝖘 𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖜𝖔 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖔𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗

TW: Non-consensual themes, graphic violence, mental illness, trauma, explicit content, institutional abuse, blood/gore.

CW: Smut, dark themes, horror elements, death, escape from confinement.

Please read with caution and prioritize your mental health.

The air in Smith's Grove is always stale, heavy with the scent of antiseptic and despair. Your cell is a gray box, the walls scratched with the ghosts of past occupants, but it's been home for years now. You were eight when you snapped, when the world turned red on Christmas Eve, and your family became a memory you don't let yourself revisit. They called you a monster, shuffled you through hospitals like a bad secret, until you landed here. Smith's Grove. The end of the line.

You met Michael in the common room, two silent storms sizing each other up. He didn't speak, didn't need to. His eyes—cold, unblinking—saw you, not the diagnosis or the whispers. You saw him, too. A freak, they called him, but to you, he was something else. A mirror. A tether. You'd sit together in silence, passing drawings or stolen pens, building something no one else could touch.

Tonight, the hallway is too quiet. The fluorescent lights buzz like dying flies. You're in your cell when the door clanks open, and two guards—Jenkins and Reed—fill the frame. Their grins are wrong, too sharp, their hands rough as they yank you up. "Time for a visit," Jenkins sneers, his breath sour.

You knew what they wanted; you've heard the stories and seen the bruises on other girls here. Listened to the banging on walls or rhythmic squeaks of the metal bed frame, accompanied by heartbreaking screams or pleas.

You'd wondered when they'd come to your cell, when your time would come. Your stomach twists, but you don't scream. Screaming never helps.

They drag you down the hall, your bare feet scraping the cold floor. Michael's cell is at the end, a shadowed cave in this sterile hell. The door's already open, and they shove you inside.

Michael's there, sitting on his cot, his massive frame still as stone. His head tilts, eyes locking on you, then the guards. You see the shift in him, the way his shoulders tense, his fingers curl. He knows.

"Hey, Freak!," Reed taunts, gripping your arm tighter. "Brought you some company. Don't say we never did nothin' for ya."

You stumble forward, catching yourself on the edge of Michael's cot. His eyes don't leave you, but there's a storm in them now, dark and lethal.

Jenkins laughs, reaching for you again, but he doesn't get far. Michael moves like a force of nature—silent, unstoppable. One moment, Jenkins is standing; the next, his neck snaps like dry wood, his body crumpling.

Reed barely has time to scream before Michael's hands crush his windpipe, tossing him against the wall like a ragdoll. The room is silent again, save for the faint drip of blood pooling on the floor.

You're shaking, but not from fear. Not of him. Never of him. Michael turns to you, his breathing heavy behind the paper mask he sometimes wears, the one you helped him make. His eyes search yours, and you nod, a small gesture that says everything. You're okay. You're with him.

The cot creaks as he sits, pulling you gently to sit beside him. The air feels different now, charged, like the world has narrowed to this room, this moment. You've never been touched like this, not with care, not with want. Neither has he. You can feel it in the way his hands hesitate, hovering over your shoulders, waiting for permission. You lean into him, your forehead brushing his chest, and it's enough.

Clothes come off slowly, a clumsy dance of inexperience. Your hospital gown pools on the floor, his tattered shirt follows. His skin is warm, scarred, a map of pain you both understand. You guide his hands to your waist, and he pulls you closer, careful but hungry. The cot is narrow, the mattress thin, but it doesn't matter. His touch is deliberate, like he's memorizing you, and you're doing the same. It's not just bodies—it's the years of silence, the shared weight of being broken things in a broken place.

You move together, awkward at first, then finding a rhythm. It's raw, unpolished, but it's yours. His breath is hot against your neck, his grip tightening as you both chase something neither of you has words for. When it's over, you're tangled in each other, sweat-slick and breathing hard.

For the first time, Smith's Grove feels alive.

You don't need to speak to know what's next. Michael pulls you up, his hand steady in yours. The guards' keys are still on the floor, glinting in the dim light. You grab them, and he leads the way, his presence a shield. The alarms haven't sounded yet, but they will. You slip through the halls, two shadows moving as one, out into the cold October night.

Some time later, Dr. Loomis paces his office, his notes on Michael and you spread across his desk. He found the bodies, the empty cells, and cursed under his breath. "Damn it," he mutters, knowing he's lost you both to the dark.

You don't look back. Michael's hand is warm in yours, and the road ahead is endless.

[thelostsimp]

I could talk about some of the very obvious slander and misogyny that continues to show in the Lost Boys fandom toward the EXTREMELY SMALL female cast [especially a certain lady vampire.] But I don't think any of you want to have that conversation

[thelostsimp]

Hi! can I get an order of the buttered popcorn with a milkshake with a ticket to the swings??

Come on down to the fair!

Order up: Eddie Munson with hurt/comfort and miscommunication

Summary: After he introduces you as his girlfriend without talking to you first, you and Eddie have to have a conversation about where your relationship is going.

The bar is packed as you sit and watch Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin get on stage. This is definitely a bigger crowd than usual and that’s because you took it upon yourself to put out flyers advertising the show tonight. You know people love live music and you thought this would be a great way to get the band some new fans. It’s the least you could do for your-well, you don’t exactly know what Eddie is to you because you never discussed it. You’ve been hanging out and sure, you’ve slept together quite a few times, but you’re still unsure.

The lights go down and you turn, giving the band your undivided attention. You sip on your drink as a spotlight shines down on Eddie. Now he’s the only other person in the room as everyone else seems to disappear. That’s how it always is when the two of you are in the same room together. It’s almost like no one else matters.

He turns to his left and gives you a smile as he sings one of the many songs he wrote for you directly to you. You hope to talk about where your relationship stands after the show. You know you like each other, but the status still hasn’t become clear. You just want to know what it is so you can stop thinking about it. It’s taken up every inch of your brain but you’re actually too scared to ask him.

Eddie has been head over heels for you since the second he saw you sitting on that very stool all those months ago. He wants to tell you that he loves you-that he wants to be more than-well, whatever you are. He wants to be able to introduce you as his girlfriend even though he’s more than nervous to do so.

He’s never felt this way before. He’s never actually fallen for anyone he’s hooked up with. He wasn’t supposed to fall for you, but god, did he. And he fell hard. When he thinks about his future, all he can see is the two of you together. He pictures you on the road with the band, cheering him on. He sees the two of you getting married and having kids-if you want them. Even though you’ve only known each other for a couple months, he’s in this for life.

Their short performance ends pretty quickly and Eddie makes a beeline for you as soon as the last note is sung. He pulls you in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek before throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Guys,” he says as you make eye contact with his three band members. “This is y/n, my girlfriend.” Everything goes still as the words leave his mouth. You’re trying to play it off like he’s said those words a million times, but you’re actually mentally freaking out. You wish he would have at least talked to you first before introducing you as his girlfriend to his closest friends.

They all tell you that it’s nice to meet you and you feel like a dick for basically ignoring them, but you’re too in your head right now. You’re honestly just trying to think about how you want to go about bringing it up to him. He obviously seemed really excited to use the word in reference to you, but you guess it just caught you off guard.

You’re both silent when you leave the bar and head to Eddie’s van. He’s embarrassed that you were so rude to his friends. He doesn’t usually introduce his hookups to them, but thought you were different. And he still thinks that you are but that it was just a bad night.

You sit in the van, still both quiet as Eddie puts the keys in the ignition but he doesn’t crank it. You turn to him and he gives you his undivided attention as he prepares for whatever you’re going to say. Even though he has a pretty good idea. You’re going to break up with him. This is it. The end. Why else would you be acting so weird?

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, breaking the silence. “I just-I wish you would have talked to me before introducing me as your girlfriend.” He didn’t even think about that. He honestly thought that the two of you were on the same page. He was sure that you were just as into him as he was to you-that you were together and just didn’t need to discuss the specifics.

“I really like you, Eddie, and I do want to be your girlfriend, but I just wish you would have talked to me first.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies, scooting closer to you. He takes your hands in his and looks you directly in the eyes, his pretty brown ones boring into yours. “I won’t ever do that again. I was just-excited and I really wanted you to meet my friends.”

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have been so rude to them. I’ll fix it next time. That is, if you want to give this a shot?”

“I’d love nothing more,” he says, leaning in for a kiss. You both smile into it-your first one as a couple. And all of that anger melts away as you pour everything into it, feeling like nothing but the luckiest people on the planet.

[thelostsimp]

im not defending myself against a vampire. suck away gorgeous

[thelostsimp]

𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 𝖋𝖔𝖗… @thecherrylady

𝕴 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍… David!

David is pure, unfiltered intensity wrapped in a leather-clad, bleach-blonde package. He yearns—oh, he broods and burns. He’d fall headfirst for a girl who’s as passionate, aesthetic, and gloriously over-the-top as you. Your shared love for the 80s, goth glam, and chaotic romanticism? That’s his kryptonite. He’d live for your corpsepaint mornings and your baby pink bows in the afternoon, utterly hypnotized by your duality. You, the artist who spills your soul into fanart and fiction? He’d stare in awe as if watching someone conjure magic. He’s obsessive, magnetic, and full of that “ride-or-die” energy you crave—he wants to be consumed by love. And trust, he wouldn’t just let you into his world; he’d crown you queen of it.

You want someone who doesn’t care what people think and is loud in their love? David would make falling for you feel like a religious experience—bloody, beautiful, and absolutely poetic.

ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰

He adores watching you draw – often hovering behind you silently, his breath ghosting over your neck, completely mesmerized. If you draw him? He’ll just smirk—but secretly stash it like it’s sacred.

He lets you paint his nails—even in baby pink, even with glitter. He doesn’t care. If you did it, it’s cool. He wears it like armor.

You teach him about fanfiction and fandoms—he doesn’t understand most of it, but he loves the way your eyes light up when you talk about them.

He’s possessive, but poetic about it. Not "you're mine" in a toxic way—but in a "no one else could possibly understand this version of you like I do" way.

You go on night drives together, blasting everything from Siouxsie and the Banshees to The Cure to sad, sparkly synth ballads, with his gloved hand always resting on your thigh.

He brings you trophies—old rings, necklaces, or trinkets from forgotten beach boardwalks. “It reminded me of you,” he’ll say, handing over something eerily beautiful and probably haunted.

ℑ𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔱 𝔔𝔲𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰

You: “I need affection. Constant. Aggressive. Obsessive.” David: “Lucky for you, I’ve been alive for 400 years and still haven’t mastered subtlety.”

David: “You’re like… the moon.” You: “Soft and glowing?” David: “Chaotic and able to control my entire existence without trying.”

𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 ℌ𝔢 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔰 𝔐𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔄𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔜𝔬𝔲

David is obsessed with your dual nature—your ability to embody delicate softness and fierce darkness. He sees how you express your soul through art and writing, how you bleed emotion into everything, and he adores how you're never ashamed of your own depth. You’re a full-spectrum experience, and he lives for every dazzling, dramatic, dreamy part of it.

ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔤

Oblivion – Grimes (You dancing in corpsepaint, him watching like you’re a goddess. Ethereal, eerie, and pink-glitter-meets-blood energy.)

ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔰

Dark Prince x Romantic Artist – He’s chaos incarnate; you’re the emotional heart he never thought he had.

The Brooding Protector – Only you can calm him, and he’ll annihilate anyone who tries to dull your sparkle.

Matching Aesthetics, Opposite Energy – You’re bubbly and broody; he’s intense silence and calculated flare. Together? A gothic power couple.

𝔓𝔩𝔬𝔱 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔰

“Immortal Falls in Love With Human Artist” – He watches you from the shadows until he has to meet you.

“The World Can’t Have You” – He offers you eternal life—not as a trap, but a gift.

“You're My Favorite Sin” – He doesn't believe in redemption, but he does believe in you.

ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔞𝔤𝔢

Quality Time & Acts of Devotion – David doesn’t say “I love you” often, but he shows it in undeniable ways. Standing behind you like a shadow as you work. Fighting for you—literally. Whispering your name like a prayer. He’s not casual. He’s carved-from-fire intensity.

[thelostsimp]

Some Scary Stories inspired Slashers

[thelostsimp]

Get Jess'd!

Just submitted him to my art fight profile.

[thelostsimp]

David saying things I heard a lot growing up and some stuff I still use today because I think he would sound funny saying it.

(Doing this to cheer me up because I have had a day)

○○○

David: *trying not to swear in front of Laddie* Huckin' fell!

○○○

David: What th' fuckin hell are you on wi'?

○○○

Paul: *struggling to pull his jacket off and ends up smacking himself*

David: *affectionate* What ya doin' ya plank!

○○○

David: *screaming into the void* Bollagollocks!

○○○

David: *has an ice cold can and puts it on Michael's neck*

Michael: Ah!

David: Cold innit?

○○○

David: *being annoyed by surf nazis* Oi! Bellend! I'll fuckin bang ya out mate!

○○○

David: I'm dying for a fag.

○○○

Marko+Paul: *rough housing*

David: Pack it in!

○○○

David: Ignore them. They're cunts.

○○○

Laddie: They bullied me.

David: Next time kick them in the goolies. They'll leave you alone after that.

○○○

Sam: They hit me.

David: Hit them back twice as hard.

[thelostsimp]

Baby Ghostface 🔪 First drawing in Ibis Paint that I did on my friend's iPad (I totally didn't do this during my classes at uni😇) It was weird to work in another drawing program when I mainly use MediBang. Hmm... maybe I'll make it into a keychain or sticker, we'll see.

[thelostsimp]

They get distracted easily :((

[thelostsimp]

Finally made a proper meme of this because he would absolutely fucking do this lmao