@lilxxterror // Closed Starter

Text || 😈 ☠️🍺

Salem: dude...

Salem: i need to be drunk

Salem: or high

Salem: or both 🤔

weirdqlow‌:

“But you’re not sure?” Though phrased like a question, her tone made clear that it was anything but. That certainly seemed like something one ought to know about themself. “Well, you have to tell me all about what that’s like. I’ve never possessed someone myself. Never really saw the appeal of it.”

“That’s what I said.” The former ghost boy was hardly concerned with details, he had and always would be the reckless type. “Uh --- it’s like putting on a costume but with more feeling.” He chuckled, having no better way to describe the sensation. High or sober, he was no word smith.

thefirstmate‌:

    okay, so maybe harry had finally met someone that could actually drink more than he could. and that was saying something. he’d quickly lost count of just how many glasses had been thrown back over who knew how long. back pressed against the bed, harry let out a giggle, blinking as he tried to focus his vision. oh, yeah, he was drunk. “tha’ was… fun. didn’t think anyone could out drink me,” the first mate slurred.

      “told ya!” he exclaimed, finishing off his last drink before he collapsed beside the pirate. it was a major accomplishment in his book and he would take it for all that it was worth. “don’t uh forget in the mornin’ that ya owe me a bottle of rum,” he reminded with a cheeky grin, staring at the other male for a moment before latching onto his arm like it was teddy bear. “it was close though.”

the smiths - unloveable

lovewrotes‌:

           FIND  HER  clinging  to  the  wall  ;  as  if  floor  lava  and  she  too  afraid  to  take  a  step  CLOSER  off  the  rug  .  “  not  you  ?  what’s  …  what’s  stopping  you  ? “  is  the  only  thing  elly’s  caught  ,  repeating  after  him  in  a  certain  kind  of  CONFUSION  .  and  it’s  this  :  doesn’t  want  to  imagine  him  as  something  less  than  her  expectations  ,  chalk  it  up  to  some  romanticized  version  of  him  in  her  head  .  “  i  mean  .  YEAH  .  you  made  it  worth  it  ,  i  guess  .  don’t  …  don’t  usually  come  to  these  things  .  “

     his gaze drifted to the floor, head tilting to the side in contemplation. his addictions were known to everyone but his parents, how he was managing that was a miracle, but most wouldn’t care to ask about him unless they knew of his father. “ lots goin’ on up here, ” he tapped his temple, meeting her gaze once again. not a lie, not the full truth either. “ cool. i’m glad you came then. ” he flashed her a genuine, almost sweet smile.

ofjackskellingtcn‌:

“Yeah I’ve been coming into town more recently to visit you guys.” He smiles. “What have you been up to?”

“ Uh -- hanging out with friends.” None that Jack would recognize except Elva. “Work.” He shrugged. “Nothing here as fun as back home.”

you’re a dying thing that never quite dies. still desperate, still trying to keep going, to keep flying— to prove you’re alive.

the difference between surviving and living | m.a.w (via dvoyd)

@wickedissms

The Only Living Boy in New York (2017)

                       he can’t outrun the sentiments that poison his body.                                they make him sick, vulnerable, w e a k.                                             they rot him inside-out.

                                                              ( && ) 

                          how do you heal from such internal damage?                                         in reality, he knows he can’t.                           ——— but there’s no way he’ll be eaten alive by                                                  his own conscience.

                                         he resorts to drugs, to alcohol.                                 to the numbness it gives him no matter                                                     how temporary.