#i swear im alive and i still draw sometimes

[myossssss]

shin megami tensei iv fanarts in 2024...... sorry for being late to the party guys

[elfsyellowflowerzart]

i didnt like how the full sketch came out but i like this astarion face so take this crop

[s4hfeia]

sometimes i just sit in my room and stare out the window, wondering if thats all there is. my seventeen year old sisters been drawing and sketching since she was little. its like she got this magic ability to capture every tiny memory, every emotion shes feeling, and turn it into something beautiful on paper. i swear to god, the talent that girl has is out of this world and believe me i love her from all my heart, i really do, but i cant help but feel jealous. jealous that she found her thing, jealous, that she can have something to hold onto, something to do to feel alive when every thing else feels like its spinning out of control.

but me? im just sitting in my room, existing.

every day feels the same. i wake up, go to school, act like im interested in things i have no idea about, come back home, watch tv, and go to sleep. its like im floating around, without any idea in what direction to go. i just wish i had that too. a passion, or a purpose, even. something that makes me feel like im not just drifting away, wasting time. i need to find my spark, have something that makes me excited to wake up in the morning, but im scared i never will. and i dont know how to handle the idea that maybe there is nothing special waiting for me.

at first, i tried to tell myself that thats okay, i mean, everyone moves at their own pace, right? but no, seriously, im really scared. im scared that i wake up one day and realise that i spent my whole life waiting for something thatll never come. maybe its silly worrying about this right now, but its so hard not to when everyone always keeps asking me what i want to do, who i want to be, where i see myself in the future. how am i supposed to have those answers when i dont even know something as simple as my favourite color?

when i told my sissy about this she said that theres still time to figure it out, but it doesnt feel like that when everyone around you seems to have it all together. i keep hoping that one day, ill just know. itll all make sense and ill fing my thing. but until then, ill be sitting in my room, staring out the window, wondering if this is all there is.

[solarisii]

It's okay to be sad, angry, afraid, depressed. And it's okay to talk about and vent those feelings. Don't let uounir anyone else say you're a burden or being annoying by discussing your feelings. Anyone who says that isn't worth your time.

Thank you so much. It's just difficult ya? Like I don't want to hurt, scare anyone away, trigger anyone else, and/or like you said (and I've said before) be a burden or be annoying. A good number of my problems are still happening/reoccurring so it also just feels like every vent is basically the same.

Part of my vents honestly I think is just to be heard and understood by folks. Despite my own communication difficulties.

And uuuhhhh sorry, this in and of it's self kinda became a vent below so...

I'm trying my best but all of my best has felt like it's been chipped away. I'm depressed, chronically anxious both generally and socially, feeling useless and like a burden because I can't work and recently I haven't even been able to make much art. Feeling like a failure in my transition because I think I maybe on too low of a dose but am too afraid to ask and that i have basically haven't been able to present differently like 99% of the time. On top of that years of low-key abuse came to a very explosive point a couples years ago and that scrambled everything harder. And I've had some bad doc experiences, with one as a teen telling me I'd be dead by 30 and it's hard to shake that being 30 now. Really feeling that running out of time. With my most recent appointment talking about some of my failings with my own health has the endless repeating thought of "I'M GOING TO DIE IM GOING TO DIE IM GOING TO DIE SOON FROM EITHER MEDICAL OR FASCISM" which isn't a great thought , let alone me being crammed in-between the thought of how I should just die.

And there's things that like logically I know but for some reason I can't use/implement anymore. Like apologizing too much and rewording it to be thank you. I just can't anymore it feels like such a lie because I am so sorry for bother someone or sometimes just for existing. Or not using words like failure(failure is a step not a permanent point or affliction), burden(that's just being, it comes with existing), or useless (by who's standards) to describe myself but like I don't have other words to describe these feeling and thoughts eating through me.

Then there's the basics of like Get exercise! (makes me actively suicidal, idk why), Get good and consistent sleep! (I've literally never been able to), Eat well!(I don't have an excuse for this I just fucking suck at it). I'm in therapy and I've gone through like 8 meds, each one/combo taking weeks to try and only for it to sometimes just make everything almost worse. I don't know if I'm doing something wrong or if there's something wrong with my brain to make that many not work but.

I'm so so so so tired I'm in both physical and emotional pain, and have been hopeless for months now. I'm trying my best I swear I am. Right now I'm stuck just trying to get through each day and stay alive. I AM sad I AM angry I AM afraid and I AM depressed. I just wanna be a happy weird dog girl who play video games, draws, and has wonderful times with her friends who is atleast somewhat understood. I want it so bad.

[ritoryb]

hiiiii im still alive my overcomplicated fanfiction (comic) comes back to haunt me every night. well this is more a personal post than an art post so i guess ill put it under a cut. it's like three pages which is basically nothing but what can i do im a busy man

other than that ill go right back to painting something again bc man it feels like it's been a while

you can send feedback if ya want :3 thats actually p much the only reason im making this post since i haven't set up a viewer for this yet. because i don't know how to write or draw comics i just slap whatever i can together and hope it works

uhhhhh i have little else to say. well it starts well before canon (around 10 years) and i should probably clarify i'm not really copying berserk beat by beat im just mildly too into dark knight/berserker imagery wow symbolism or something AAAAHHHHHHH by the way this probably won't be exceptionally gory either but at least more violent than my paintings i guess bc i don't frequently draw gore… yea…

well sometimes i wonder if this is too ambitious but then again it feels pretty nice to just while away at this while i go through the motions of uni again... i like doing things a bit at a time :3

also galea and alvis have a pretty bad relationship here to start with if you're confused by why these panels are so awkward. it gets better though i swear. in like four years of comic drawing time. a bunch of other details about the history of the world are different but that will come up later! don't worry about it!

fran's probably not reading this but thanks for talking to me about this kind of :'3 id be struggling to write this post alone without you

[chaosandthe-deadblog]

hello hi i have not been alive for too long but here's my undefinitive guide on how to live and not feel miserable in the process by someone way too young to tell you how to do it, okay? okay (aka collection of advice i've been given that i want to share)

take all this with a grain of salt. i might wake up and think totally different tomorrow

love isn't what makes us human. however, i do think creating is. draw poorly. write shitty poetry. knit horrible sweaters. you have been tricked into thinking your creations are only worthy if they are good but that is a lie. make art.

you've heard of this before but quit the suicide jokes. a well timed "im going to kill myself" is funny from time to time, but your brain internalizes that stuff.

even if you don't have any close friends hang out with people. we're social creatures and we're meant to socialize (i know, it sucks.) but like i hate to admit it but i started having a better time in class after i stopped worrying whether people liked me or not and just started talking to them

things are meant to be used! candles are meant to be burned! clothes are meant to be worn! don't wait for that special time if you really want to use something. overdress light that scented candle use the fancy dishes when you're eating pizza drink out of wine glasses

not to sound like your grandpa but get off your phone. (im yet to fully master this one) im serious. i went on a walk the other day (i never do that) and i maybe looked at my phone twice. sometimes you ARE too much time on that damn phone and i swear to god today i made a commitment to try not to look at my social media feeds too much and i was in a good mood all day

the nicest thing you can do for someone in my opinion is give them food

be nice to strangers, also. i personally am planning on drawing portraits for people on the street and gifting them to them. my little way of putting joy into the world :)

never ever ever EVER apologize for being passionate about something. bitter people will tell you its embarassing but its a trap. love is never embarassing. be annoying about your interests

this one is a little weird i think. i keep a journal. every day i try to write at least One Nice Thing about my day. just one. it can be as small as "i saw a nice tree today" but it makes me realize no time is wasted even if i technically did nothing all day, i still lived to see a cool tree. which brings me to my next point

productivity is a capitalist invention. seriously. we don't live to produce. this is just to say you are not alive to be productive. i don't recommend scrolling endlessly and mindlessly either. just, i don't know, it's okay to not be productive all the time

when you feel lost you will always have music and movies and shows

sometimes all you can do in the face of grief is fold a shirt. watch a movie. go to sleep and wake up the next day.

we should all be at least a TINY BIT cringy about something

[hydeaways]

Sketchy sketches of some other folks Hydes

@fox-guardian @colethetoon @theadraws16

[comfortscripts]

hi, can i request a ship from harry potter pls? i go by she/they pronouns and i’m pansexual. sorry that this is long as fuck 😫

i’m pretty short, 5’1 to be specific. i have a curvy figure, thick thighs save lives as they say. i’m a lightskin black girl with curly brown hair that goes just a bit below my shoulders. i have brown eyes and dimples.

i’m a very flirty person. i like to tease people and be teased back, all in good fun. i love joking around and i get bored easily. im a bit of a troublemaker and don’t care much when i get caught. kinda an adrenaline junkie.

when i feel threatened, i get really aggressive and defensive. i have anger issues so i’d need someone who could handle my outbursts and my aggressive tendencies. i’m very nice when someones on my good side but i can switch up very quickly. for example, if someone said something shitty about my friends, family, or me, i would become the meanest person ever to them. i wont hesitate to argue with someone if i feel they are being unfair or bitchy to me or someone else. i also swear a lot. i’m a very confrontational person, i like when things are blunt so i don’t have to second guess myself or others.

as flirty as i am, sometimes when i’m not the one initiate things with my s/o, i get kind of shy. i would try to be my normal, cocky self but i would probably fail by stuttering, blushing, or avoiding eye contact. then again, there are also those times when i like to compete for dominance (as wattpad as it sounds LMFAOO). i love physical contact. i fuckin love cuddles, hand holding, and innocent or not so innocent touches in general. i love playing with peoples hair.

as previously mentioned, i have anger issues. i have the tendency to snap on people when i’m annoyed. i space out often and get distracted easily. i’m very stubborn. i don’t like being told what to do and i have very strong beliefs. i believe that everyone is equal and i would definitely stand up to some jackass calling someone a mudblood or going on about blood status. i also don’t like talking about my feelings or my problems unless i really trust someone.

i don’t fall for people easily so someone would really have to be dedicated in winning my affections to get me to date them lmao. i really like drawing, music, going on adventures, true crime, psychology, supernatural stuff, and shit like that.

i dress kinda alternative. dark colors, chokers, fishnets, corsets, boots, rings, layered necklaces, etc.

i would say that i proudly radiate confident, chaotic, fun, and blunt energy. also, i am a slytherin.

Sorry this took so long to do but I hope you enjoy it anyways!!

I had two options for you so I gave both (Also the Ginny hair thing is low-key based off the time I nearly cried because someone learnt my hair-care routine to help me out)

Fred Weasley

The height difference!!!

Freddie is on the taller side and he never lets you forget it, whether it be holding your wand higher than you could reach or saying you have to climb up for a kiss

Your mischievous streaks complement each other and I can imagine that you two would be the talk of Hogwarts with all your pranks

Getting together would be a strange one as it seemed very much like he was chasing someone who couldn’t care less

But eventually the Gryffindor Jokester made the Slytherin Badass fall for him

Fred isn’t normally a hothead but you bet your ass that he will join in and defend someone with you

Plus he would be swooning over your protective nature

His chill and childish attitude to things might calm you down a little bit, and sometimes annoy you but then he does something cute so

Physical touch is this man’s ideal. After sharing everything all his life, he keeps a tight hold on you (physically and normally in the form of a hug)

He thinks you are the greatest person alive (besides him) and he relishes in bragging about you because he is still amazed that you are with him

"Fredrick Gideon Weasley. I swear to god if you run off again like that, I will have no problem with murdering your ginger-ass"

Stomping in with a written detention slip in your hand. Having been caught for a prank is nothing important but being punished for something you didn't pull is enraging. Especially when the culprit is your own boyfriend.

"Sorry love, not my fault that I've got longer legs." Stretching out his lanky limbs in a pathetic gesture to annoy you. "Blame nature, not me"

Pushing his legs off the sofa as you cosy up onto the burgundy velvet of the Gryffindor common room, your eyes felt nauseous from the array of loud colours. As you sat, not snuggling into Fred as usual, he began to worry slightly.

"Oh come on darling, you can't be that mad"

Poking your side in hopes to see a smile.

"My Slithering Sweetie, it was just a joke"

He rested his hand against your thigh looking for some reaction.

"Okay. I'm sorry and I'll confess to Snape that I was the one who charmed his chair."

Taking his hand in yours as you finally looked at him. Beaming smile and that mischievous glint in your eyes that Fred swore was like a flash of gold across the brown irises.

"Don't be an idiot. I don't mind a detention from him, he does tend to favour our house so the punishment is nothing. Just wanted to see you squirm a bit" With a sly wink, you finally let Fred embrace your figure as you curled up and planned your next prank, as a team.

Ginny Weasley

The Hot Couple™

You both exude such confidence and girlboss-esque vibes that people aren't sure whether to bow or run away

Ginny is a hothead and commands attention so I feel like the both of you would back each other up but god, students fear the day you two get into an argument

With Ginny's flying skills and your love of adventure, I could imagine that the both of you would have dates in the forests or go explore new muggle cities together

Ginny initiates the affection!!! And she does it constantly, so much so that it sometimes catches you off-guard and you genuinely swoon

You are her biggest cheerleader when it comes to Quidditch matches. Painting her number on your face as you stand amongst the Gryffindors, definitely earning some looks from your own house

Her brothers would be jealous for sure, but she secretly loves it and she will brag to anyone who will listen

You bring her out of her style shell a little bit, introducing her to the different styles and aesthetics

Sitting against the cold walls of your dorm as Ginny's hair wrapped and twisted around your fingers, delicately being braided for her upcoming match. She swore that you worked magic that could ease her nerves and bring her luck.

"You look like a winner" As you tied off the end and let her newly braided hair fall to the redhead's shoulders, placing a tender kiss against the side of Ginny's head.

"Who knew my girlfriend was such a charmer?" Pulling you into a soft embrace as you rested against her gaudy red sweater, knowing that you will be wearing a similar one in a few hours. "Babe, could I try something?"

Rising up to question the girl with suspicious eyes, "Does it involve more face paint because I am drawing the line at half my face"

Giggling as she tries to picture her proudly Slytherin girlfriend in glitter gold paint before pulling her mind back to the question at hand.

"Well, you always do my hair and I feel bad because I could never help with yours." Allowing Ginny's hand to caress your cheek as her soft hand outlines the ringlet that fell by your face. "So I asked Angelina if she could teach me how to braid curly hair, plus I practiced on Hermione a bunch. Would you let me try?"

Ginny recognised the affection you gave by offering to stroke her hair or meticulously brush it after every match, and she wished she could offer the same domestic care back. But now, hopefully she could start.

Pulling the redhead closer until your lips met hers, the simple gesture communicated the appreciation you felt for her. That pure, unadulterated affection the two of you shared was something many could not even attempt to replicate.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Peter Parker’s Younger Sibling

Peter Parker x sibling!reader

warnings: bullying mention, blood mention

a/n: a fuckin reach, its been a WHILE since ive seen tasm

prompt: y/n is peter’s sibling

peter and you were playful kids

you were just a year and some months younger than him, so you had a harder time remembering your parents than him

but he always told you stories about them that made you miss them a little more

peter was a genius, we all know it

he was the one helping you with your homework most nights

“peter i cant do it!”

“that’s okay, y/n. look, start with two times four, that’s eight, then four times six, twenty-four, right?”

“can i say a cuss word?”

“sure”

“math is shit”

you would cry during homework a lot

you’d also pass out on his floor after talking for hours

and you’d either wake up facedown on the floor or in your room since uncle ben would pick you up and put you to bed

peter took it upon himself to take you back to your room, but he usually dragged you by the arm, sooooo

you’d play action figures together

he was batman, you were robin always

“can i be batman?”

“oldest gets to be batman so im batman”

“but i wanna be batman!”

peter walked you to your school before taking off on his skateboard

and he’d pick you up on his way home

on half-days your brother taught you how to skate

you fell a lot

aunt may had to patch you up

“how many times do i have to tell you those skateboards are dangerous?!”

peter got you your own skateboard so that you could practice without him

you would text him after you did a trick and he’d always say hell yes! show me when i get home!

being his photography assistant

really you were his assistant constantly

science fair was the most boring day of the year

“y/n, stand right here, i need to get something from my locker”

*judges walk up while youre left unattended and in a state of PANIC*

you were bullied in middle school, same as peter, he’d always stick up for you and get beat up instead

it made you very mad but it was scary, too

“how’d you get into this fight, peter?”

“oh, you know, just happened”

“peter was sticking up for me, uncle ben”

“was he now? you’re a good brother, peter”

lonely when he moved onto high school :/

but you got there soon enough

you guys were kind of loners, just ate lunch together, lugged around your skateboards, you were an artist, he was a photographer

just spectating the chaos of high school, rolling your eyes at the drama

“i have two bucks, do you want anything from the vending machine?”

“uhh, a coke?”

you saw peter get bullied by flash and lost your shitttt

you actually started a food fight after throwing mashed potatoes in his eyes

“what the hell, parker?!”

“sit down and eat your goddamn food, flash, or next time it wont be potatoes”

peter was half-proud, half-embarrassed

trying to see how long you could skate through the halls before any authority figures stopped you

sometimes......you guys got sent to the office together :)

*phone ringing* “hello, is this ben parker?”

“which one of them is it this time?”

the principal’s office was a trip sometimes

you and peter exchange your glances and wait to get scolded

“ah, the parkers, come in, lets have a chat...why do you two always feel the need to get in trouble together?”

“we just happen to get along really well for siblings”

no you fuckin dont lmaoooo

it was always something with you two

like always

*banging on peter’s door* “I KNOW YOU HAVE MY BROWNIES, PETER, GIVE THEM BACK”

*peter through a mouthful of brownies* “I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOURE TALKING ABOUT, YOURE CRAZY”

“is that my jacket?” -peter

“you mean my jacket?”

“y/n, i swear to god if you steal any more of my clothes it’s over for you”

“well, aunt may keeps giving me your clothes, so take it up with her”

and then there was just the little annoying things

“peter, can you stop clicking your pen?”

*clicks pen faster*

“you’re the worst”

and my personal favorite

“peter, open the door”

“why?”

“emergency”

*opens bedroom door* “what?”

“aunt may is making meatloaf”

“shit, uh...get your board, we’ll skate to mcdonalds and tell her we already ate”

peter and you RARELY ever brought your parents up until he found your dad’s briefcase, you didn’t have much to say

soon he was flooding his room with conspiracies and pulling you in to explain them

he began acting REALLY weird, but he was pretty open with you, he told you he went to oscorp

“YOU SNUCK IN??”

“your standards for me are way too high, y/n”

soon you started to feel not-so-good and weird things started to happen

“peter??”

“yeah? whats up?”

“this is gonna sound really weird...my hand is stuck to the door”

“it happened to you, too??”

“happening, pete. wait—this happened to you?? what is this???????”

yall done fucked up and got bit by spiders peter had so carelessly brought back into the house

it was an adjustment to say the least

and this adjustment got a whole lot harder that one night...you can remember peter just...so upset

you tried to chase him out to make sure he was okay, but uncle ben told you to stay with your aunt

maybe if you’d have been there...it would’ve been different, but when the cops got to your house you were at a loss for words

peter was covered in his blood still

“hey, hey, just breathe, okay? it’s not your fault, peter. just hop in the shower, yeah? i’ll take care of your clothes”

when peter took your advice and you were left alone, you just cried, you cried until he finally found you curled up in a ball in your room

then he cried, you just hugged each other sobbing your eyes out

peter got distant for a while, which was rough since the two of your were mourning for your uncle and dealing with these newfound powers

sooner or later he came around and helped you out, designing webshooters and a suit for you

“we match?”

*sigh* “yeah...yeah, we match”

ah yes, spider-team

you really tripped out new york at first, they thought spider-man was a teleporter

peter was still talking about your dad, but you really didn’t care, uncle ben was always going to be who raised you

you and peter would be covered in bruises after going out

“uh—peter punched me”

“y/n???!!!”

“I PANICKED”

just being dumb scared teens that cant function to save their lives until they get a little bit lucky

seriously like, every big villain you guys fought was just the worst

peter didn’t help all the time, he was good at provoking them sometimes

“hey, spider-man, you mind shutting up for a minute? for my sake?”

“sorry, sorry, just couldn’t help myself!”

he gushed to you about gwen stacy, he actually dragged you to her apartment to be patched up by her SEVERAL TIMES

yadda yadda yadda peter graduated high school! how cool is that? but he was late (what a surprise) even though you put off spidering today just for this

but he made it and you clapped the loudest for him

“thats my brotherrrr!!!”

cute family picture! (aunt may printed a bunch of them and gave them to you two and peter pinned them to his wall)

you and peter actually have a lot of pictures of the two of you just goofing off

he has one of you stuck in a trash can that cracks him up every time

seeing harry osborn again after YEARS

“wow, y/n, last time i saw you i just thought you were peter’s annoying little sibling”

“aww, it’s good to see you, too”

electrooooo

this guy really worried you bc like, bzzzz shock

you and peter weren’t equipped for that

it took a while, but you were finally able to deal with that

and several other problems

including peter’s breakup, which was a whole ordeal of its own

*peter laying upside down on your bed* “i dont know, y/n, you know? i wanna be with her so bad, i love her...but her dad is haunting me”

*you, drawing on your notepad with your legs propped up on his* “yeah, makes sense”

you actually had to tap out during the end of electro, you were hurt pretty bad

“y/n, hey? yeah, you’re okay. stay here, just stay right there, i’m gonna be back for you”

*thumbs up to show youre still alive*

but when peter came back for you there was bad news, he’d lost gwen

he ripped his mask off and fell to his knees, you could barely move but you powered through it, giving him a hug while he cried

“we...we better get home before aunt may starts to worry”

she was at work, so you two had the place to yourselves to clean up and mourn before the official news was revealed

“i should have listened to her dad, y/n, this is all my fault”

he was a mess, you couldn’t bare seeing him like this. it’s been so long since you’d seen him like this

the funeral was rough, peter was grasping onto your shoulder the whole time

he insisted that he was going to stick behind and stay with gwen for a while

“okay, i’ll see you at home...love you”

“love you too”

you gave him a hug and left him to his business, the next few months you were the only spider-person operating in new york...until rhino popped up

“im coming with you”

“you’re sure?”

“yeah, im sure”

(these are kinda ass but anyways im tagging my marvel ppl even tho ik this isnt mcu so just ignore this post if you dont care, sorry!!)

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @allthecreativeonesaretaken // @frostedgiant // @praellee // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs //

[jaefmin]

-- A day with Jungkook as your boyfriend!!

For my bf's birthday <3

A karaoke with pure screaming

Jungkook did have a different life apart from his singing career, and to be honest, it was pretty chaotic. What they showed him on camera was all scripted, but in reality, Jungkook was a pure crackhead. So much chaos inside this little brain of his; it made you wanna manifest the crack things inside yourself to him. No warming up, no testing how his voice sounds, nothing. Just. Pure. Screaming. No matter how bad it sounded, what mattered to the both of you was to have fun. Hyper songs was all that you both were into. Both of your score never ended up above thirty, but spending this time with Jungkook was probably the best time ever.

Fort Building

Well, if it isn't how well Jungkook and forts get along. And it isn't even the small dinning table type, he's done the whole hall. It might have taken a huge amount of time to build the huge fort, but the result was noteworthy. Soft surroundings, cute bedsheets, A WHOLE LOT OF FOOD, soft toys, pillows; it's such a cozy place, you could live in here forever. He threw the soft toys in from a hole in the bedsheet, and you cuddled up a big penguin. He entered the fort from a really small area, and opened his arm for hugs, but you stayed still and preferred the penguin. He quickl brought the projector and put finding nemo on. Pfft. Smart guy. He could literally betray you. He. Cuddled. Another. Penguin.

Crosswords

Yep, Nemo had been found, and before Jungkook could get emotional seeing Dory, he went out to refill the snacks and returned with a couple of newspapers and pencils. He lay the chips packet down and opened the crossword page. A ear to ear smile immediately appeared on your face. It had been a while since you both solved a crossword. They always reminded you of the beginning of your relationship, when Jungkook used to solve crosswords with you, and it gave you a feeling of leaving everything and just staying in his arms forever. The way he made you feel when you were with him was something out of this world.

Hide and seek

It isn't fair alright!! Jungkook gets to hide every time and you're never able to find him. Jungkook tells you which place he was hiding in, and by now, you were sure that the blender's next. It's every single time he gets to hide and he's gonna 'boo' you, and no matter how alert you stay, how much heed you're paying, Jungkook's getting you every time. It just happened right now, and as usual you shrieked, only to receive a fabulous comment from him, "I love your shrieks babe! They're no different from an Iguana's."

Pictionary

Jungkook and you had a deal. Whichever card each of you would pick, the hardest ones were marked, and the both of you had to draw them, you couldn't choose anything else. You picked a card for yourself, and seeing the hardest drawing, you cold almost pass out. Surgery. Not having a bare minimum of an idea of what tools the doctor used and how they looked, you went up on the board and drew a scissor. A man laying next to the scissor which in your opinion looked like a dead chicken, you turned towards Jungkook. He sat in his position and stared for a while. It seeemed never ending until, "Is that a fork babe?"

Building a grill for the chicken night

Your grill had arrived the day before, and Jungkook wanted to set it up with you. That item being next on the fun list, you both got to work. You insisted playing songs since it was getting quiet, so Jungkook put on some. He started with the knobs and the skewers, while you build the interior. It hadn't been long, and you heard a loud crack. You looked up, towards your boyfriend, standing with a broken knob. You eyes widened immediately and you rushed towards him. "It's okay sweetie, it's only a knob." "That means we lost a whole side of the grill!!"

Just dance

This was probably that one thing you both were waiting for. Jungkook put all of his effort into dancing and turned it into a mini concert. By the end of it, Jungkook got all sweaty. Not to be sexual, but oh my god. Holy jesus. He's shining. Glowing. He's literally such a god, it sometimes makes you question that this is your boyfriend. Jungkook almost caught you staring at him when you looked away, and he definitely isn't gonna leave the situation like that. "C'mon you know I can give you everything." Every time he said something like that, your heart definitely would burst, stomach flipping, being this close to faint.

Clowning Kpop actors

Puh-lease. Of course we were doing hotel Del-Luna; name one person who simps over IU more than Jungkook, I'll wait. Jungkook wanted to be IU in the first place, and you both almost ended up in an argument which was soon settled down because Jungkook wanted to be the 'number 0' choice of IU's. Since this time could make both of you have a good laugh, you both decided to record it. Without any cuts or takes, eveything just in one go. Mistakes? Huh. That's an order to record everything from director Mr. Jeon Jungkook.

Monopoly

Yay! We're back to the fort!! While you were busy shaming yourself because you could literally count the number of eyelashes you had, Jungkook thought monopoly would be a good idea. "If I win, I buy you makeup. You win, I get 5 cartons of banana milk." Funny how he even thought he could win. Jungkook seemed to hve read your mind somehow, which followed lots of bickering and Jungkook changing his mind to throwing the banana milk on you instead of drinking it, you both finally decided to stop this ridiculous fight. Everything other than playing monoply was happening, and you couldn't feel better.

BONUS SINCE YOU'RE ALL THE REASON IM ALIVE <33

Twerking contest

How couldn't we do this? If it's a fun day, twerking contest definitely makes its appearance. So Jungkook started out first. It hadn't been two seconds into the performance and you could swear the last time's was way better. What is he doing? He's not even moving his butt, it's his back that's... twerking?? He's doing the complete opposite way, so you gotta show this kid how it's done. You stand up and show Jungkook, but no matter how many times you repeat, he doesn't get it. He's still trying to make his back twerk. "No, Jungkook. Listen for this one last time I'm showing you." You twerk, and this time, something happens to Jungkook. He keeps staring at you, more of like your butt, and it's his turn now, but he's in his own world. "Earth to kook??" You snap him to reality, and that's when the real Jeon Jungkook makes his appearance. It's like lightning struck him and he's twerking so good it makes you wanna learn it from him.

[smallbluelight]

📏 🙃 📚 🎼

📏 What’s your go-to canvas size?

1480x1480 for simple doodles, sketches and little doodle comics. Sometimes I do finished stuff with it too.

1480x1860/1980 and switched are my go to sizes for when I decide to do backgrounds with them UvU

🙃 Which is easier: faces facing left, right, or front view?

Faces facing right! Drawing faces facing left aren't that tricky tho. However, front view... U-U

📚 How many layers do you typically use?

It depends on what Im working on.

Normal layer count would be 45-60+ layers. So usually below 100 layers. (Examples are my trio Rin, Dom and Ali and friend request stuff which all have layers that are about 45 to 60+)

Things that require so much of my time, energy and attention ranges from 200+ to 500+ layers. Yknow, things that have backgrounds. Just. Hard backgrounds.

And That Scuffle page I did, which reached 1000+ layers. Tbf, it was a comic page but still

I swear, I should cut that layer count someday fjdjdj

I know png and the amount of layers make images and medibang's files large; but don't worry about my phone, it's fine.

🎼 Your favorite music to draw to right now?

Random playlists on yt and both Half•alive and AJR songs UvU

[sailorshadzter]

im back to drop more jonsa on your timelines  👀 👀

yes i know ive written this scene ten thousand times before, dont @ me lmao 

Winterfell looms ahead, daunting with it's sharp stone peaks, the storm clad skies giving it an eerie sort of backdrop. And yet, he presses on, spurring his horse forward, well aware of the quick pace in which his heart is racing. He knows what lays ahead of him might be the worst he's faced, and yet, there's even the smallest of chances it will be the best he's faced. Though he longs for the latter, he's prepared for the first.

When he reaches the gate, darkness has begun to fall and the soldiers peer down at him from the watchtower above. "Who goes there?" One shouts, though he and the man standing beside him have already exchanged a strange, but knowing look. There wasn't a man alive in Winterfell that would not recognize him, even now.

"Jon Snow." He calls back and it takes only a moment more for the gate to creak open.

"Lord Snow," another soldier says, not kindly, but Jon can't help but to smile at the sight of his Stark livery. "I can't imagine our queen would like to see you." The man goes on, crossing his arms across his chest as Jon slides down from his horse. Another smile twitches on his lips; her men are loyal, quite certainly, and for that he is thankful. "Something funny, Snow?"

"That's enough, Quinn."

The soldier turns, seeing not just Lord Royce approaching, but Davos Seaworth, who looks far less stony faced than the ever loyal Yohn Royce. "I'll take it from here," Royce continues, gesturing for the soldier to move along, who does only after he shoots Jon a final scowl. "Jon Snow." He says evenly, though he pins sharp, angry eyes upon him. At his side, Davos shifts, clearly torn between greeting the young man with fondness and adding fuel to the fire that so surely has already begun to brew. In the end, fondness wins and before he can react, he's wrapped in the older man's warm embrace; it's something he's not felt in so long, for a moment, he can't even breathe. But soon Davos steps back and gives him a single, silent nod, but meeting his eyes, Jon understands exactly what he wished to convey. "I'm surprised to find you here at our gate."

Jon is, too, in truth.

"I was summoned." He replies, shrugging slightly.

"Summoned?" Lord Royce stammers, shaking his head, clearly surprised to hear of this. "By whom?"

"The queen herself."

After a little more back and forth, Jon is taken from the gate and swept inside, sent to the kitchens to warm himself by the ovens and eat some leftovers from that evening's meal. He's eaten no more than three spoonfuls of soup before the door to the kitchen opens and it's Davos standing there. "You might have come when she first sent for you," he says as he comes inside, the door falling closed behind him.

Jon looks away, knowing that to be true, but he hadn't been ready back then. How could he face her, how could he stood at her side, knowing what he'd done? It was true, he had done it for her, for their family, for the realm... But still yet... All he had done to get to that moment where he'd stood before Daenerys in the throne room of the Red Keep... No, he was not a man worthy of standing beside someone like her.

But perhaps now, perhaps now if she forgave him... Perhaps he will be the man to stand at her side.

"Aye..." He finally says, turning back to look up at Davos, who offers a smile. "Is she terribly angry with me?" He decides to ask, not certain he's ready to know the answer.

Davos can't help but to laugh in spite of the young man before him. "She was." He admits, sobering then, thinking back to those early days. Back to the days of a stone faced queen with eyes sharper than steel, colder than ice. Days of a queen who took to her rooms, rather than live in the lively court that most expected of Sansa Stark. But then... After so long, she began to smile again. Arya returned from her travels and it lightened her heart, softened her icy exterior. "But she was sad, too." Jon bows his head again, spoon left abandoned as his hand curls into a fist atop the table. "Your queen is a forgiving one, though, tough, but forgiving. She is soft inside yet." Jon can't help but to smile, thinking of her as she was when they reunited in King's Landing. With war braids tied into her vibrant red hair, she had rode south with an army at her back to lay claim to what was hers. "She even forgave Lord Glover, now he is one of her most loyal of men." Jon raises his eyes at this news, for he thought that would be a relationship never to be mended.

Before he can speak, the door opens again, and this time it is Lord Royce. "The queen says she will see you now," he doesn't look eager to do so, but he gestures for Jon to follow after him. Scrambling to his feet, Jon pauses only a moment to put a hand to Davos' shoulder, giving the man a nod, who smiles in response before he turns to watch Jon disappear out the door after Royce. "It's about time," he grumbles to himself before settling down in the chair Jon had vacated, helping himself to a mug of ale, hoping the young queen he's come to love will finally find true happiness.

Upstairs, Sansa is pacing.

"My lady, please," it's Shae, desperate to get her queen to cease her walking just so she might straighten her skirts and brush her hair. Here, in the privacy of Sansa's own rooms, she dares speak to her as she once did in King's Landing, though Sansa has always insisted she call her whatever she pleases. "You needn't worry," she says, catching her young queen by the hand then, forcing her to finally come to a rest at the center of the room. "He loves you still, I am certain, he will return to you without fail."

Sansa dares not believe her beloved handmaiden, but she nods like an obedient child anyways.

It's been a long two years since the day she and Jon parted ways on the docks of King's Landing, so very long that sometimes it only feels like a dream. No, not a dream, but a nightmare. Once she dreamed of violence and shadow, now she dreams of golden sunlight and a different kind of pain. "My gown, I should change my gown." She suddenly sputters, thinking that there's absolutely no way she can meet with Jon wearing the one she wears. But before she can say another word, there comes a knock to her door and she swears she might faint there on the spot.

Shae smiles, patting her cheek tenderly before she slips by, crossing the room to open the door. Sansa can see it is Lord Royce there and her heart has begun to race, faster than ever before. Shae dips a quick bow and then is stepping aside, allowing Lord Royce to step inside and at once, he's there, standing in her rooms.

Her world suddenly ceases to spin.

"Leave us." She hears herself say aloud and both her loyal Hand and handmaiden slip from the room, leaving them alone. He is as she remembers him to be, though with more beard and more curls tucked into the bun at the back of his head. Despite it all, her fingers twitch, for she longs to run her hands through his wild hair. "... Jon..." His name is a whisper upon her lips, something like a plea, something that is enough to send chills racing the length of his spine. "I can't believe you came." After all the summons, after all the months, the years, she cannot believe he's standing there in front of her.

Jon cannot take his eyes off of her; she's beautiful there in what looks to be a well worn blue wool gown, with draping sleeves and a slim fit bodice, a gown made for a queen. Her red hair is loosened from its braids and rather tumbles down her back in soft waves, enticing him all the more. "My queen." He finally speaks, saying words that for the very first time don't feel hollow, that don't feel empty. Without another word, Jon comes forward, dropping to his knees before her. She opens her mouth as if she means to interrupt, but he gives the smallest shakes of his head, silencing her before anything else is said. "I don't deserve to stand before you, I don't deserve to ask forgiveness of you, but I..." He trails off, gazing up into her steady blue gaze, emotion choking him as he fights to find the words to say. The words that might make her understand. "I want to stand at your side, if you'll have me." He wasn't ready back then, he wasn't the man she needed him to be back then when he'd left for the Night's Watch, but now... Now.... He thinks himself ready to be the man she's always needed him to be.

As she stares down at him, all the anger that she ever held within flees. It dissipates as she sinks to the floor, ignoring his protest as she levels herself with him. Everything she's ever thought, ever felt, fades away as she takes his face between her palms, tears misting in her eyes as a smile curves on her lips. "What took you so long?" Is all she asks instead, her words eliciting something like a chuckle from him. There in the moment, all that remains is the love she's always kept in her heart for him, all that still yet remains in her heart is the warmth of him, the strength of him. Everything about him that makes her happy, that makes her whole.

Before she can say another word, before he thinks to speak again, he draws her into his arms. Two long, cold, lonely years he's spent without her, without knowing the warmth of her skin against his. This moment he's imagined hundreds, if not thousands of times, but no dream could ever compare to what he felt right then with her so truly in his arms. "I was lost," he breathes against her head, the familiar scent of rosewater still clings to her hair. The realization brings a soft smile to his face. "But you guided me home." She's drawing back, blue eyes finding gray, her rosy lips curving with the most beautiful of smiles. In the golden firelight, she is radiant.

It takes only a moment more for his lips to find hers and in that moment, her world begins to spin again.

[jjpmoans]

oxygen | im jaebeom

 wc : 2.5k+

warnings : fluff (overload, i don’t know, I sucked at fluff)

a/n : Happy Valentine’s Day! May your Valentines gets better with this fic! To those without boyfriend, lets indulge the sweetness!

Parents are of different kinds; they definitely are not the same as your friends' parents. Sometimes your friends' parents sound too cool that you wonder why your parents aren't the same. Your friends get to go out anywhere at any time while you have curfews, no more outings after 9 o'clock at night. It sucks, yes. But you do know why your parents are strict as well. You just wish them to be more lenient sometimes.

"No?" your best friend pouts in disappointment when you said you can't be his Valentine date. You shake your head again, playing with your lunch as he scoots closer and hugs your waist. "But I thought Mom loves me? I think she will give an exemption if you say it's me."

Your heart thumps at the proximity given Jaebeom's chin rests on your shoulder; his nose nudging your cheeks as he whispers the plan. You can never guess when Jaebeom will make your heart flutter but now you think it's better for him not to be close to you because your heart isn't fluttering, it is close to exploding.

"Jaebeom. People are watching." you tell him when you feel the gazes burning on both of you. Partly because being sweet in the college cafeteria is definitely not right but partly because how the college bad boy is snuggling up against the girl from the Student Council.

Or best known as the Vice President of Student Council, Park Jinyoung's right man.

He whines as you try to move away, pulling you closer by your waist. "Let them be."

"I am angy because you don't want to go out with me tomorrow night!" he huffs, sulking even more.

You stare at him in disbelief as he puffs his cheeks to melt you. "Did you just use the word 'angy'? Im Jaebeom? Really?" 

"What's wrong with using that word?" he sounds offended now, pouts getting more prominent and ready to throw some spoon in your direction. "I AM angy with you." 

You coo, pinching his cheeks to calm him down. "The school baddest boy just used a cute word. I need to commemorate this!" you squealed, bringing out your phone to record him. "Say you're angy with me again!" 

To your surprise, he repeats, pouting even harder to please you. He knows you love it and he has no problem repeating it over and over again. Jaebeom is the softest when he's with you, that is a fact. You don't know how much control you have on him but you're not deaf either. People have been talking about how Jaebeom hasn't been smoking for some time now, which immediately reminds you of his deal with you three months ago. 

"Hello Jinyoung's right man." he called as you passed by him, his scent reeked of cigarette smoke. You hated smokers to your core but you can still stand their smell. However, if they want to talk to you, they better be clean from smoke. Which is why you just ignored his call. "Oh. I can't talk to you because you have a title? I am not entitled to speak to Ms Vice President?"

 Okay that would be enough. You were not going to let him call you someone arrogant. Instead you whipped your head, finding his interested eyes on you. "I hate smokers. Even if they are my President's friend, which totally have no correlation. If you want to talk to me, then stop smoking. After that we talk."

 "I am deeply offended if you're thinking about another man while I'm right here in front of you." Jaebeom snaps you out of your thoughts making you smile right away. Your stretch makes him melt again, grins plastered on his face.

You pinch his cheeks again, caressing it before turning to your lunch. "Tell you what, let me ask mom once again. If I can't, I'll send you a text." 

Jaebeom nods enthusiastically, not without crossing his hands to chant 'please mom please mom please.' 

You send the text with a heavy heart, guilt washes all over you when you remember how excited Jaebeom was to hear news from you. Suddenly you hated your parents even though you do understand that they want you to be safe especially at nights. It's Valentine's night and most of your friends are probably at the party doing god-knows-what while you are here on your bed in your pyjamas watching a Netflix romance movie.

Very romantic.

It has been a good 40 minutes of sadness because the main lead is currently shoving his tongue down the female lead throat before you hear a knock on your door, pausing you in your feelings. You stand up, leaving the bed and head over to your door. Upon opening it, you find no one at the door. Wicked since you are sure that you heard someone knock. Or could it be the window? But the knock should be different and you're not dumb to not differentiate between a door knock or a window knock. 

You close the door again however; you jump when an unexpected visitor appears behind the door. 

"Hello." 

"Jaebeom!" you scream in hushed, quickly check the door and lock it. You will be a dead meat if your mom decides to check you in. However, Jaebeom can't care less. He is grinning, looking at you up and down, scanning your frightened state. You on the other hand are in panic and reach for his hand to tug him away from the door. "What are you doing here!?" 

Still panicked, you look around to see which direction he was coming from. Jaebeom shrugs, sending you a wink before heading to your bed and climbing it to sit in the middle of your bed.

"I am your Valentine date." he explains with no hint of fear on his face. He definitely has nothing to fear or probably he is too dumb to realise that your dad can definitely chop his head off. 

"But I told you I can't go on that date!" 

"Which is why," he gestures to you to come closer to which you follow hesitantly and crosses your hand. "I bring the date to you." 

You are still unsure of this crazy plan because there is no way a boy exists in your room even though your parents know him. Jaebeom must have sensed it because he reaches for your hand and softly assure you by rubbing it. 

"Come on. I'll leave after midnight." he looks at his watch, chewing his lower lips. "Or whenever you want after you spend the Valentine date with me." 

You let out a sigh, relieved probably, at his promise. "Okay. After midnight okay?" 

He nods, his smile comes alive after he knows you have let your guards down. He knows how scary your parents are but he can always find a plan to spend the day with you even if it costs his life. 

"Hey." you call. "It's not I don't want you to be here. I just- I'm scared that mom and dad will find you. I don't want you to get scolded." 

Instead of replying, he pulls you towards him, comfortable situating you both against the headboard, his hand around your arm. 

"It's okay. Now let me be your boyfriend for the night." he offers a smile, then pressing a kiss on your forehead to start the date. "What are you watching?"

The movie ends one hour later together with a box of pizza, sandwiches, popcorn and cokes. You never thought Jaebeom is capable of setting a picnic but he really brought the whole date to you, with a basket -- yes he did -- and climbed to your room. 

"I can't believe you climbed to my room." you say in his arm after you requested for a cuddle. Cuddling with Jaebeom is really nice, partly because he is the only one you cuddle with after your dad and partly because you think his hugs are really warm. "With the basket even!" 

Jaebeom laughs to agree with you, he was surprised with himself too. He never thought he could climb the wall, he even cursed at himself for trying too hard but oh the things he would do for you. 

"I can't help it. How can I leave you to a party when you're up here alone?" he reasons but he knows that is a blatant lie. He is attracted to you and he knows you won't leave his mind even if he associates with other girls at the party. The bad boy inside him ceases to extinction when he meets you. "I need to warm your lonely night." 

"Cheesy yes?" you laugh. Jaebeom has never felt that way, never had a girl put him on a spell. He feels like he has been caught in a complicated feeling, he feels like his heart is going to burst every time he sees you. His days will not be complete if he hasn't talked to you and like the other days, his day ended well whenever he talked to you. You act like his oxygen supply, constantly giving him new breath of his life. 

"Hey." he incline to your side while you play with the hem of his shirt. Jaebeom wears white shirt and a pair of jeans but as expected from a bad boy, he will always look handsome and hot. A simple outfit but he manages to make you swoon. "Can I tell you something?" 

Maybe you like him. That is the reason why your heart explodes every time he gives cheesy comments or even pouts. You wish you are certain of this feeling because unlike Jaebeom, you don't want to beat around the bush. However, knowing this probably will affect your relationship with him, you can't risk it. You still have a long year to go and really, you can't afford to lose him. 

"Hm... what is it?" you're drawing circles on his chest while you rest your head against his arms. You swear you heard his breath hitches when the tip of your nail grazes his chest a little hard and his biceps contracted. 

"I think I like you." 

The first thing that comes across your head is 'fuck. he like me! fuck yes.' then the next thing is 'fuck no he is my best friend.' 

"Baby say something." you can hear his heart rate increases rapidly as your silence continues. Even that, your hand is still on his chest, not pulling away. "Are you mad? I'm sorry. I just- I can't hold it in." 

"Why?" is the first word that comes from you. "Why can't you hold it?" You're not mad. You're curious. Why does he feel the urge to tell you he likes you? Damn now you are scared because instead of feeling neutral, you had to admit you feel giddy when he said he likes you. 

Fuck, do you like him too? Yeah you think so. If you don't, you must be freaking out now since you don't know how to reject people. 

"I can't hold it in because I wanted to kiss you the moment I climbed through the window just now." he confesses, throwing you off guard. "I just-- I can't. You look so stunning even in your pyjamas and oh god your messy hair. I want to wake up to it every day."

"I look like a monster when I wake up in the morning, Jaebeom." you laugh in astonishment. To say you're shocked is an understatement, but you had never thought Jaebeom can be as sweet as this, wanting to wake up to you. You have it in your bucket list but you never thought it would be with Jaebeom because honestly, you're out of Jaebeom's league. 

"My beautiful monster then." he pulls you closer by your waist, your chest bumps to his. "My goodness you smell so good. I'm going crazy with you beside me. I wanted all of you to myself and I can tell those fuckers at school to fuck off and don't look at my woman." 

You feel giddy, high up in the cloud nine that you grin as soon as Jaebeom aligns his face to yours. "I haven't said I agree to be your girlfriend, Beommie." 

"Fuck." he turns his head away to swear, coming back to press a peck on your lips. "Call me that again." 

You giggle, calling his name again. "Beommie. I haven't agreed to be your girl, Beommie." at this point you are very sure that you too, like him. 

He sucks in a deep breath and opens his eyes, staring straight into your eyes. However, he can't maintain a 5 seconds eye contact with you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "Fuck you're so beautiful and look at what you did to me." 

You hum as his breath tickles your neck. "Beom-ah." to that he lets out a rough huff, affected by the pet name which you laugh, ruffling his hair. "You still need to get me to agree, you know." 

"You're contemplating it without me having to ask. Isn't it clear that you will be my girl?" he appears from your neck, now having the courage to talk to you. 

"What if I don't want to?" your giggle intensifies as Jaebeom's eyes grow wide and his pout starts to form. 

"I guess I have to curse you to be single until you're mine." 

"That's not nice!" you're definitely crazy. You feel like a love-strucked teenage girl, giggling for 5 minute straight. As the vice president of Student Council, it is your second demeanor to be cold and stay unaffected by any means. However, that is one power that Jaebeom holds over you, to make you like a teenage girl again. 

"Will you be my girl, baby?" he whispers to you and only you. His eyes hold yours, reflecting the love he has for you. You never thought he is capable of holding this much love since his reputation as the bad boy but you guess the three months you had with him serves as a reminder that this bad boy has a story behind him. He is capable of loving, to shower someone with affection and a very deep person behind the cold mask. 

"Yes, Jaebeom." you let out the breath that you don't know you're holding, relieved as you agreed to be his. 

"Hmm, wrong answer." 

"Yes, beom-ah. I'll be your girl" Your pet name makes him grin again, even wider this time and he shows them by dropping countless pecks across your face. "My goodness, Jaebeom!" you squeal but did nothing to tell him. 

Jaebeom is halfway on top of you, his arm on either side of yours, caging you effectively. 

"My girl." he smiles, capturing you for a kiss, molding your lips with his. Your lips fit perfectly with his as he deepens for more, nose touching at the proximity. 

He releases your lips which are all swollen and red, looking satisfied with his own work. 

"Mine." 

"Yours." you reply as he leans to capture your lips for another kiss. 

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

All rights reserved © jinyoungmoans

[ Writings ]

[pinkykitten]

never give UP

Stranger Things

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Warning: car accident, hospital, drinking and driving (do not do pls), speeding (also do not do), mentions of abuse, mentions of suicide, alcohol

Specifics: angst, romance, race neutral reader, one-shot

People: billy hargrove, max mayfield, neil hargrove, your dad, your mom, your doctor 

Words: 1,747

Request: By @intheendyouwillalwayskneel Hi, could I please get a Billy x romantic reader where Billy is speeding and they get into a wreck and she is permanently injured. Maybe she lurches forward and hits her head on the the breaking windshield. Then develops a brain hemorrhage and falls into a coma. Billy is horrified and heartbroken because it's all his fault.

Authors Note: wow this one i think i went a little overboard with the drama and story srry im a bit of a drama queen so ta-ta. this has a lot of things in it so if u cant read it or dont want to read it no shame and no hate, u do u. i do hope for those to read it to like it cuz i wanted to think outside the box. srry this took me quite a while to make another story ive just been rlly busy lately atm. 

Crazy little thing called love played loudly on the speakers in Billy’s car. The windows were opened as the wind howled against your ears. The car’s engine roared as it sped down the darkly lit street. It was late at night and some folks would say that it was too dangerous for a drive but you and Billy were daredevils. You were opened to a rebellious chapter in your life after you met Billy. He was willing to take risks, he was the bad boy you would read every night in your romance books. 

Your hand danced in the air outside of the window, creating a wave against the waving trees. You sang to the music as Billy laughed. He laughed like a mad man, feeling the adrenaline rush through his body. You and him howled like a bunch of crazy teenagers you were. You were young and you wanted to live your life. 

“So how is this y/n? Is this wild enough for ya?” Billy shouted over the blaring music. 

You took a swig of some alcohol located under the seat. It burned your throat as the liquid made its way down. You gave a look of disgust. Billy chuckled and took a drink himself, “too strong for you?”

You shook your head as you felt light. Alcohol still new to you so that small sip made you feel tipsy. You scooted closer to Billy and wrapped your hands around his face, bringing him closer to you. You kissed his lips and his cheek. Your lips made their way to his earlobe, biting lightly on the skin and then whispering into his ear, “Crazy turns me on.”

Billy raised his brow as he smirked, “is that so!” As quick as light his foot stepped on the gas pedal making the car seem to fly through the air. The miles were going higher and higher. At first you were having fun, enjoying the excitement but now it was getting too dangerous. Your smile disappeared and instead a frown was found on your face. You were actually scared.

“Billy okay thats enough. Slow down.”

He would not. Instead he sped more. 

“Billy, I said stop it!” You were shaking. The car was going so fast that any minute it felt as if it would turn over and tumble around. Billy cackled loudly. His old, selfish attitude resurfacing. Out from the turn came a truck. Billy was speeding to such a degree that the car was zig-zagging. The car and the truck were about to make contact. Billy was like a deer in headlights. His laughing stopped and now all he did was freeze. He didn’t know what to do. He quickly lifted his hand to go across your body while your hands laid against the steering wheel. The wheel turned and the car spun out of control. It missed the truck but rolled down a grassy hill. The spin was so rough that you lunged forward, hitting your head against the windshield. 

Billy quickly made sure you were alright but was met with a distraught view. Your head laid back against the seat. Your forehead was bloody and blood dripped out of your nose. You laid unconscious. Billy was so scared for you. He shook you, wanting you to wake up, “Y/n! Y/n! Please y/n please wake up. Please, I’m sorry.” Tears started to pour out of his eyes. He wanted you to be safe, to be happy. 

He felt so guilty. Seeing you in the hospital bed, machines and things poking into you. It was all his fault. He would visit you everyday, no matter what. You weren’t respondent though, you were in a coma. Every day he hoped and prayed that you would wake up from it. It didn’t matter if you didn’t want to see him anymore or hated him he just needed you awake and alive. Your parents were furious. He would dodge seeing them every time. They wanted to kill him and probably stop him from seeing you but he couldn’t let that happen. 

He needed to see you. 

Billy entered into your room, flowers in hand. He set the flowers in a vase and put them beside you on the table. The doctor told him that even though you couldn’t move or be aware of anything you still could hear. Billy would always speak to you. He would tell you about his day, about your gifts, about your family. Even though he was going through a rough time at his home, you mattered more to him. 

“Hey babe, its me Billy. I got you your favorite flowers today,” he softly massaged your hands. Hating seeing them motionless. Billy had cried so much during this time with you. He hated himself more now if that was even possible. He felt he was a failure to everyone, to you, to Max, to his mother. He felt he was just a waste. Tears started to drip from his eyes onto his cheek, “you know Max made a card for you.” He chuckles seeing the odd stickers on it and the drawings. He placed it next to your flowers. “She hopes you feel better and she misses you. I miss you too. Your parents miss you.” Silence. He despised the silence. He just wished you would jump out from that bed and live. “Baby, you gotta wake up. It doesn’t have to be for me, its has to be for your parents and for yourself. I’m so sorry for putting you through this. Its all my fault. I should be the one there not you, me!’

A knock filled in the silence. Quickly, Billy wiped his tears and saw that it was the doctor who came in. “Is everything alright here?”

Billy nodded. “Is everything okay doctor?”

“Well...y/n is going to have some complications if she wakes up from this coma. She developed a brain hemorrhage and we’re looking at maybe some sort of paralysis. We’re suspecting half of her body but it may be more, we’re not 100 percent sure.”

Billy was shocked and he couldn’t stop himself from crying.

“You monster!” Your father came in along with your mother. Your father ran up to Billy and clutched onto his denim jacket, tears also coming down his face. “How could you do this to my daughter?” The doctor was trying to stop the fight but your father was so irate. Your mother was sobbing in the background and Billy wished in that moment he was dead. Your father shook Billy and screamed at him. “You did this to her. Take a good look at her!” Billy turned to the side and saw you. You laid there calm. Tubes connected to you. “I never want to see you again. Not here, not now, not ever. If she wakes up from this she is banned from seeing or even talking about you. You will stop seeing her here and I swear to God if you think about walking in here again I will make sure you go through the same sufferings as my daughter!” Your dad shoved Billy out of the room and Billy ran out of the hospital. Sobbing silently, alone, quietly outside. Wishing the nightmares would just end. 

Billy had tried to see you in the hospital but your father was always there and the doctors knew he wasn’t allowed there anymore. Billy made a turn for the worst. He just couldn’t live without you. He started to go to alcohol for comfort, missing school and his temper rising even more, taking it out on Max. He was a mess. It was either feeling guilty over what happened with you or getting abused. There was no happiness for Billy. 

Billy had woken up with a hangover. Throwing up in the toilet. He was done with this life. Then the doorbell rang. Billy thought it was another one of Max’s loser friends so he called out to her. There was no answer. “Max! I said get the God da*n door!” There was still no answer. Billy walked over the door, cursing to himself as the room started to spin. As he opened the door he was greeted with your face. You stood there, smiling, a cane in your hand as you leaned on if for support. Billy opened his mouth wide in shock, thinking he was dreaming as he sometimes had dreams or feelings that he saw his mother sometimes. 

“Is that really you y/n?”

You nodded and jumped onto him for a hug. You gently caressed his curls. “Its me Billy. Its really me.”

“Wait,” he backed away from you. “No this isn’t right. You hate me! You’re supposed to hate me! I hurt you. I did this all to you. I’m, I’m a monster!” He started to cry as his lips trembled. 

You shook your head, “no, no Billy. Its okay,” you cradled him in your arms. “I’m fine now. I feel better.” You looked into his eyes. “Look at me, you are not a monster. I don’t hate you Billy, I could never. I forgive you for what happened but there was nothing to forgive in the first place. I love you Billy. With every fiber in my body I love you. I could never be apart from you. I know about all the things you did in the hospital. All the things you said, the gifts, Billy that wasn’t hate that was love. You did all that because you love me. What we both did was wrong that day. We should of never drank and speed, but its in the past know, we learn from our mistakes. I’m not like your parents or anybody else in your life that leaves you. I’m staying put right beside you forever. You can never get rid of me.”

Billy felt speechless in that moment. How did he get so lucky to be with you? What did he do to deserve such an angel as yourself? Billy embraced you again, “I love you so much y/n. I love you so much.” He kept repeating. You placed your hands on his jaw and kissed his lips lovingly. Billy was so grateful to have you in his life. Even though his life with his dad was not easy he had you to lean on. He had you to make him smile and laugh. He had you to keep him going and to remind him to never give up. 

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[turtle-steverogers]

Hero Complex

lmao hi IM BACK i wrote a fic pfffff it’s kind Shit cuz i started writing at midnight and now its 2:40 am so excuse the BAD WRITING dajfdslkfjalsdkfs

warnings: fire, mentions of death (kinda graphic ish, sad), crying

ship: ralbert

word count: 2762

-

Earlier

“Just- don’t try to be a hero, dumbass.”

Albert’s fingers freeze on the top button of his uniform, eyes darting up to study Race’s face.  He bites back a sigh, something weighing down on his chest as the fear in his boyfriend’s eyes grows.  

“That’s the whole point of my job,” He says softly, “But I’ll be careful.”

Race nods, wordlessly handing him his helmet.  Albert takes it, drawing in a deep breath to steady his hands.  Queso lifts his head from his paws, looking at the two of them questioningly before padding across the room and nudging Albert’s knee.  He lets out the breath he’d been holding and bends over the slightest bit to scratch behind Queso’s ears.  No matter how many calls his squadron responded to, his nerves still managed to run high.

“That’s all I ask,” Race responds, gently tilting Albert’s jaw and kissing him intently.  Albert presses back, heart kicking double time as adrenaline starts to overcome him.  He pulls back, the need to move overtaking him.  

“I gotta go,” He says, shifting the helmet onto his head, “I’ll be home later…”

The unspoken, ‘hopefully’, rings loudly in the air.  Albert really hates this part of the job.

Race nods, dropping his hand from Albert’s face and squeezing his bicep briefly, “Go.  Be safe.  I love you.”

Albert smiles, but it feels strained, “I love you, too.”

Now

“Dasilva, get that room on the right!  Some kid’s in there!”

Albert swears under his breath, shooting a quick nod to Finch as he hurries past him, carrying an infant in one arm and shielding a young looking mother with the other.  He grimaces, adjusting the mask on his face as the building gives the second unsettling creak in as many minutes.  

In the three years that he’s worked for the FDNY, he’d never seen a building fire this destructive.  Details were still being investigated, but from what had been gathered, an apparent fireball had formed on the 14th floor, engulfing the top four floors of the building and spreading quickly to the lower levels.  The casualty count was already tragically high, but between the first responders and following squadrons showing up to the scene, the fatality rate was going down.  

That didn’t make it any less gut-wrenching.  

Albert crosses to the apartment Finch had pointed him to and easily knocked the handle off the door.  He knocked once, calling a loud warning into the room before shouldering the door, which gave way easily thanks to the heat. 

In the corner of the room, a young boy sat cowering against the wall, arms wrapped protectively around an even younger girl.  Panicked breaths were coming vehemently from the pair and as Albert gets nearer to them, he can see the tear tracks that cut through the soot.  He crouches down, trying to seem nonthreatening.

“Are your parents here?” He asks, raising his voice over the roaring flames.

The little boy lets out a sob, pointing a trembling hand to the room adjacent to them.  Albert glances to the side, nausea rolling in his stomach as he takes in the flames licking under the closed door.  Whoever is in there, sure isn’t getting out.  

“Okay,” Albert takes a deep breath, turning back to the siblings, “I need you both to take your shirts and pull them over your mouths and noses, okay?”

He waits for them to do so, then scoops them both up easily, ensuring that they have secure grips on his shoulders, before moving swiftly out of the room.  The building lets out another threatening creak and Albert falters, trying to map out the safest route in his head.  He settles on running to the stairs on the southside of the building, opposite of where the fireball had started.

Five excruciating minutes later, Albert is able to exit the building, immediately seeking out some paramedics and dumping the kids in their care.  He turns back around, taking a deep breath before running back towards the building.

“People still up there?” Spot, another commissioner, calls.

“I don’t know!” Albert calls back, “But we can’t risk leaving anyone!”

“This building’s ‘boutta go down, man!” Spot shouts, jogging up to him.

“I don’t care,” Albert says, firmly, tightening the strap on his helmet, “If I can even get one more person out, that’s one more life saved.”

“Alright,” Spot concedes, “But I’m coming with you.”

Albert nods, steeling himself.

“Don’t try to be a hero…”

Race’s words echo in his head and he bites his lip, casting a hurried glance in the direction of their apartment complex, across the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Sorry, Racer,” He murmurs, hesitating for a short moment before running back into the building.

-

A recently opened beer bottle sits forgotten on the table as Race paces anxiously in front of the TV, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips.  He’s not entirely sure why he’s smoking.  The thing that usually eases his worries only worsening the sick feeling in his stomach as smoke rolls over his tongue, parallel to the cloud of smoke he’s watching climb higher and higher from the building until it billows off-screen.

This routine is familiar, but it never gets easier.  Letting Albert go will never fucking get easier.  It feels like he’s dumping him into the jaws of death, fire biting at his ankles every time he leaves through their apartment door.  

But he does let him go, allowing himself to grow sick with worry as he immediately searches for whatever information he can find, usually settling on the local news and popping open a beer or lighting a cigarette.  Maybe both.  More often than not, they remain unfinished.

He lets out a frustrated hum, stubbing his half-smoked cigarette out in the ashtray they keep on the coffee table.  He forces himself to sit down and drags a sweaty hand down his face.  Albert had been gone for a good two hours by now, but the fire doesn’t look like it’s getting any closer to being put out.  If any, it looks worse.

Every time a firefighter passes by the camera, Race’s stomach does a violent flip.  He can’t really tell who’s who underneath their face shields and helmets, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to differentiate them.  

Once, the news caught a clip of a firefighter being wheeled into the back of an ambulance looking very much not alive and Race had been violently sick for an hour before Albert came home and assured him that it was not him and he was okay.

That had been a bad fucking night.

Suddenly, the face of the reporter on screen morphs into one of sheer terror and the camera shifts sideways to show the building, crumbling in on itself.  There’s a moment where no one seems to react and Race scrambles to unmute the channel.  Screams ring through the speaker as the reporter and the cameraman run for shelter.  

Race feels his eyes go wide, but he can’t look away.  Somewhere to his left, Queso lets out a whimper, but he can’t find it in himself to look.  A second later, he feels Queso hop up next to him on the couch cushions and settle his weight against his side.

A million frantic thoughts crowd Race’s mind, eventually settling on the horrible debate of whether Albert is in the building or not.  Part of him wants to believe that he got away in time, but logic tells him that the idiot was probably in the building until the last second, searching for straggling survivors.  Fucking dumb shit.  Always has to be a fucking hero.

Sometimes he really hates Albert’s lack of self-preservation over others.

Scratch that.

He always hates it.

He runs his hand through his hair, pulling it almost painfully as his chest tightens.  Taking a deep breath, he presses his knuckles to his eyes, trying to stave off the oncoming panic attack.  He has to stay calm.  If Albert is alive and got out of there unharmed, he’s going to need Race to be a rock for him tonight.

Race takes another deep breath, letting it out slower this time as the vice that previously gripped his lungs loosens a bit.  He can do this.  He just needs to be patient.

He watches the news for another few minutes, picking at his cuticles distractedly as shots of firefighters and paramedics work to reign in the newly charged chaos.  Then, he clicks off the TV, heaves himself off the couch and begins to prepare for Albert’s (hopeful) return back home.

He puts some more food and water in Queso’s bowls, then crosses to the bathroom to take a quick shower.  The water is too hot and he drops the bar of soap three times before he can steady his hands enough to use it.  

He dresses himself mechanically, then digs through their dresser for Albert’s favorite pair of briefs, sweatpants, and a hoodie, setting them neatly on the end of the bed.  As an afterthought, he grabs a fresh towel and washcloth from the closet and sets them on the toilet in the bathroom.  

It’s doubtful that Albert will want to eat much of anything if- no, when he gets home, but Race busies himself in throwing together a quick pasta primavera nonetheless.  If anything, the cooking helps to settle his own nerves a bit.

Another hour passes and Race has managed to finish cooking, eat a little, and clean up the kitchen, all the while forcing down the ever-growing wave of dread.

He’s starting to run out of distracting things to do, so he picks up the book he’s been reading and settles on the couch, eyes scanning the pages, but not comprehending a thing.  

45 minutes later, the front door unlocks and opens.

Race is off the couch before it can swing back closed.

Albert doesn’t look at Race as he hangs his helmet on it’s hook, but Race can already tell that it’s going to be a rough night.  Despite the gear protecting every inch of Albert’s body, his face and hair are covered in a thick layer of ash.  He’s still dressed in his turnout pants, but his uniform top has seemingly been abandoned at some point on his return home.  The sharp tense of his shoulder has rendered his movements stiff and Race watches in carefully masked concern as he tugs off his boots.  

Once they’re dutifully lined by the door, Albert straightens up, looking at Race for the first time, a dull, haunted look in his eyes.

For a moment, Race is scared that he’s going to breakdown then and there, but Albert only clears his throat and croaks, “I need to shower.”

Queso is lingering by the kitchen entrance, but he seems to sense that his company would not be very well received right now.  Race nods at Albert, bending down to pluck one of Queso’s toys from the ground and tossing it in the direction of the kitchen.  He hears the slow patter of Queso’s paws on the tile and sees him pad out of the room in his peripheral.

“Let’s get you out of those pants before you do anything else,” Race says in a measured voice, working to sound easy, but firm.

It’s a testament to how fucked up Albert must be feeling that he doesn’t make a dirty joke at that.

Albert barely moves as Race unbuttons his turnout pants and eases them down his hips.  His gaze is unwavering as he stares blankly across the room.  Race can hear his slightly erratic breathing and it seems as if the adrenaline has yet to wear off.

“Lift up for a sec, love,” Race says, tapping at Albert’s socked feet and waiting for him to lift his legs one by one, allowing for Race to fully remove his pants.

“You can go shower now,” Race says, standing back up, “do you need me to come with you?”

Albert shakes his head, “No, I’m-I’m good.”

“You sure?” 

Albert nods, “Yeah, just- yeah, I’m good.

“Okay,” Race smiles a little, trying to look encouraging, “Shout if you need me, though.”

Albert nods again and makes a stiff beeline for the bathroom.  A few minutes later, Race hears the shower turn on.  He crosses to their bedroom to find that Albert took the clothes he’d set out in with him.

He smiles a little more genuinely as he crawls into bed.  Rolling onto his side, he busies himself with his phone while he waits for Albert to finish up, turning up the brightness to keep himself awake.  Albert was bound to take a while in the shower tonight.  He always does after missions.

A half hour later, he hears the bathroom door open and close and a moment later, the bed behind him dips as Albert joins him under the covers.  Race clicks off his phone and sets it on his bedside table, shifting onto his back as Albert settles into his arms.

“Want me to keep the lights on or off?” He asks quietly, pressing a little kiss into Albert’s now clean hair.  It’s still a little wet and smells strongly like the coconut shampoo he likes to use.

Albert nestles closer, pressing his nose to Race’s neck, “Off, please.”

Race extracts his arm momentarily to flip off the lamp switch, then draws Albert in protectively.  The silence between them stretches on for what could be hours, but Race knows Albert is still awake.

This is also part of the routine.  If Albert wants to talk, he will, but if he’d rather just lie quietly and process, Race wasn’t going to push him.

But he’d stay up with him either way.  There’s no way in hell he’d leave him to handle this alone in any capacity.

Eventually, the silence is broken by a soft whimper, then a short sniffle and Race feels Albert tuck his face further into his collarbone.  He feels his heart break in his chest, but he wills himself to remain steady as he tightens his hold on Albert.

A moment later, Albert begins to cry in earnest and Race presses a firm kiss to the crown of his head, shushing him.  

“I’ve got you,” He murmurs as Albert fists his hand in his nightshirt, holding on like a lifeline, “I’m here and I’ve got you.”

“There-there was a little girl on a fire escape,” Albert hiccups, “and she was screaming for her mom and I was about to go back in to get her, Race, I was about to go get her!  But the building…” he trails off, an awful keening noise sounding from his throat.

Race blinks back his own tears, rubbing a hand up and down Albert’s back, “You did what you could, baby.”

Albert shakes his head, “But it-it wasn’t enough.” His words are stilted- broken- and his breathing is harsh and heaving.

Race maneuvers them so they’re lying side to side, facing each other.  He cradles Albert’s head with one hand and rests the palm of his other hand on his cheek, brushing away his tears with the pad of his thumb.

“It wasn’t your fault,” He whispers firmly, “There’s nothing else you could have done.  You can’t save everyone.”

Albert closes his eyes, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood as he tries to take slower breaths.

“I wish I could,” Albert says after a lingering pause, “It’s fucked up.”

“It is,” Race says, “But you helped a lot of people get out of there today, you did a lot, Albert.”

Albert doesn’t answer, just tucks himself closer to Race, breathing in his warmth.  

“Rest, baby,” Race mutters, knowing that neither of them are really going to sleep that night, “I’ve got you, you can relax now.”

Albert lets out a shaky sigh and Race feels his heart grow heavier still.  The concern, grief, and anger at the world for plaguing Albert with the fucked up trauma that accompanies his job are indiscernible from one another.  He wishes more than anything that he could take away his pain, but he also knows that’s as naive as wishing he’d quit.

The most he can do is be there for him, even if there’s nothing he could say to truly make it better.

But he can be there and maybe that’ll be enough.

“I love you,” He breathes, lacing their hands together, “I’m here.”

Albert squeezes his hand, “I know,” he pauses, “I love you, too.”

And for a second, things are a little okay.

-

yeah, so im still alive!

anyway

thanks for reading, chiefs

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[abthepoet]

All my friends are dead.

Something strange is trending in my life.

All my friends die.

At the beginning of my sophmore year in college, my roommate from freshman year died tragically in a single vehicle car crash. Her name was Allison Lynam. We called her Blake. She was sassy and funny and I wish I would've taken more time to know her.

The rain was torrential the night she died. I swear I've never seen it rain that hard ever again in my life. She drove to the store along Highway 36 in Long Branch,NJ. She had off campus housing that year and had to use the highway often. The road was terribly flooded the night she died. Im told she hydroplaned, spun, and T-boned the driver side smack into an electrical pole. Her family still decorates it.

At that very same moment, in my dorm room nearby, I was watching TV when the lights suddenly flickered and dimmed. A brown out.

I had no idea but that was my friend crashing into a pole and dying. She was 19 years old.

I know this because that accident happened near the mall. That accident killed the power to nearby businesses.

I later found out that the road she died on was so badly flooded, the police intended to close it. Why they didnt get to it in time, I'll never know. Maybe that's fate.

Then there was Jessica Blain. Jessica Blain was a firecracker of a human being. She was 100% unmistakable. One of the loudest, funniest, most loyal people and friends I have ever met. She was also an incredibly gifted singer and I was lucky enough to have Chorus with her. We, along with a small group of friends, founded a new greek organization on our campus, Alpha Xi Delta. We were paired up as Twins. (you can't have Bigs & Littles when you're just starting the Family Tree). We named the family we formed Fuck Up Your Shit. Because that's what we'd do for a friend. I miss her laugh most of all. It was loud and unapologetic. She was there for me, supportive, and encouraging without me ever having to ask. The night I officially finished college we all went out to the local gay club, The Colosseum. I got wasted, of course. But Jess was the person who when I shouted 'I have to pee' on the ride home, she stopped and knocked on strangers doors and asked to let me use their bathrooms. Nobody said yes so she held my hand while I peed on a fence instead. I remember the last time we spoke. She was at a concert with a mutual friend. We hadn't spoken much since I graduated, she was still in school.

She died in her dorm room bed on Halloween as a result of asphyxiation during an epileptic seizure. She was 20 years old. The news was broken to me that very same Halloween night as I floated along in NY on a concert cruise. The World/Inferno Friendship Society decided to host Hallowmas, their annual event, on a boat this year. Nothing like being trapped on a musical boat while you grieve. I had messaged her AIM late that night to say hi. She had an away message up. I may have sent a message to a dead person. I miss her friendship more than I realize sometimes.

That brings us to James Padden. James was a warm, snuggly bear of a guy who always tried to do the right thing and let me steal his hoodies. He insantly became my best friend in a Stepbrothers-esque manner. I met James working overnights at Wawa in Leonardo, NJ. I forget how it started now, but we were standing in front of the deli and I think I tossed him a broom or he already had one. . . I cant remember now.. . . but he just took one look at me with that mischievous little twinkle that I quickly returned and we instantly began sword fighting with our brooms. Like two little boys playing pretend and having a ball. He was sweet and silly and kind. I needed a ride, and he loved to drive. Our first winter as friends, we went out doing donuts in the snow. I barely knew him, but I felt safe. We smoked a ton of weed and had so many adventures trying to procure more. One time, we got so high driving to a Dropkick Murphys concert in NY we kept going in circles, missed almost the entire show save for the last 3-5 numbers, and had a blast. I can barely remember the night, but I remember laughing hard in that car. No one could talk to me like James. We were both insecure being chubby kids and adults, but so charismatic and grandiose that I sometimes thought we were the only two who would put up with listening to each others wild ideas and ridiculous banter. We would smoke joints and take adderall and talk about everything and anything. I miss the safety and closeness I felt with him. We were always 100% platonic, but we could nap together, I could walk into his house and jump on him in bed and wake him up. Then we would cook ourselves a breakfast feast and hit the beach. He taught me to always take the back roads. I gave him advice on the ladies. He taught me about fixing cars. I helped shave his back. He called his new pick up truck, a pick'um up truck. We could wax philosophical all damn day and not get sick of each other.

It wasnt just driving he loved, it was going fast. Like so many young white men, he had tendency to be a little reckless. The universe gave him a pass only so many times.

I'll never forget when he got his motorcycle. It was the last time I saw him. It was a bright green crotch rocket. He loved lime green. I was doing yoga in the living room when I heard this obnoxious engine rev down my street. I asked myself, who the hell is making this noise?! And it was James, grinning from ear to ear with a matching helmet on his shiny new toy.

before he left I said, 'you die on that thing, I'll bring you back to life and kill you." I remember giving him this very long and intentional hug and not knowing why I felt compelled to hang on.

When he left and hopped back on the bike, I felt compelled again and took a video of him riding away from my driveway until he was entirely out of sight.

That's my very last memory of him alive. James Padden died on Thanksgiving five days after his 25th birthday. He went out for a joyride on his bike before dinner, opened up to 100mph around a curve where he couldn't see a car pulling out around the bend in time. They called a medevac, but he died on scene. I loved James dearly and I regret drifting apart after we both left Wawa and I started a new relationship. He had stuff too, but in hindsight it never seems important.

Then there's JB. I will always remember JB for his kindness and generosity. The very first time I finally worked up the nerve to go to a poetry slam, I was alone and terrified. I had no idea what to expect. JB was the very first person to turn around, introduce himself, and welcome me. He made me feel like I belonged. Years later, when I won the title of Grand Slam Champion, he immediately offered to help coach me for national competition. Except, I didn't see the messages and left them unanswered, which I deeply regret. When I started hosting my own open mic a few years after that, JB would be one of the only people to consistently come support the show both as an audience member and participant. It was at a pizza joint and he would sometimes buy me food when I had no money. He wrote beautiful poems about his two young daughters and how much they inspired him. JB always tried to make people laugh but you could tell he carried a sadness. I did not get details, but from what I have gathered he made a choice to end his life. I wish I would have gotten closer to him and appreciated him more as a friend and person. I wonder if he felt no one cared about him and I feel like I should've let him know more.

Which brings us to Crys. Crystopher Anthony Diaz was a Scorpio with a big heart and a big personality. I met him on Myspace back in the day and started Web camming. We became friends and eventually fell into this gray area of friends, together, but not. It wasn't long before I was spending days at his place, killing hours at a time downloading music, making Wawa runs, and smoking weed with his roommate at the time, Syd. You know, the whole reason I worked at Wawa was Crys suggesting it. And Wawa is the reason I met James. Crys was unlike anyone I'd ever met. He was poetic and artistic and loved animals, especially pit bulls. He loved to draw and write and had this very out loud style that favored Earth tones. He taught me about fashion and insisted on getting dressed even if it was 1am and we were just going to Wawa because you never know who you might see. We would buy new clothes at Walmart and have photo shoots. That boy drank his weight in coffee daily. If it's one thing I'll always remember him for, it's the dancing. Dancing was a passion of his and always used to talk about wanting to form a dance crew. Eventually, we ended up living together for four years. My first apartment was with him in this piece of shit duplex rented to us by a slumlord in Keansburg,NJ. My relationship with him was always defined by our Aries/Scorpio dynamic and he never let me forget it. His birthday was October 30th, mischief night. One time, after we had moved into a new place, we decided to get revenge on our old downstairs neighbor by taking a finished lobster carcass and throwing it on his lawn. . . . . . . Keansburg had a terrible stray cat problem. 😁

I have so many memories with Crystopher. Unfortunately, towards the end of our relationship things became too tumultuous. We had too much unresolved baggage and trauma to find a healthy place emotionally together. We were so financially strained for a time we hardly ate. And then when he met his new girlfriend Laura, she introduced him to her good friend, Roxy. As in Roxcicet. aka Blues. Neither of us knew what that even was at the time. But he sure learned quick. He started using them pretty frequently as time went on, and things only got more complicated. My mental health took a nose dive. By the time I moved out our relationship was trash. I basically left. At the time, I didnt have a choice. things had gotten so bad between us, the money, the using . . . we didn't act like friends anymore.

I saw him a couple times at his new place but that was years ago. Since then, he went through a lot, including homelessness and more struggles with addiction to opiates. He reached out to me and sent me a message apologizing for everything a couple years back. I never responded. I was afraid I would let him back into my life and let the all the problems back in. I didnt trust where he was at in his life. We lost touch and stopped speaking.

His ex, who used to live with us and became my friend, messaged me and told me he died a few days ago. He was 35. I'm still waiting for information, but it may have been drug related. I'm not even sure where I'm at with how I feel. I know why we stopped talking. It was the right thing to do at the time. But he didnt deserve to die so young, having spent the last god knows how many months homeless. It's fucking with me so hard because we never resolved anything. I loved this person so fucking much and we never made peace. Of everyone I've lost, he was the closest to me. I've had a lot of people die on me but none that I lived with and shared a life with. I have more memories with him than I can handle and while I know we hadn't spoken in years and why, I still wish I would've said something. Done something. Yes, i needed healthy boundaries but he needed somebody. when is being firm too firm? If we would've helped, could it have been different? But we didn't want to help at the time, you try to be tough and draw a line. Be firm. Not let yourself be taken advantage of. But is that a defense? Did that defensiveness leave a human being who's head i used to scratch until he fell asleep out in the cold to get sicker and die?

What am I supposed to learn from all this Universe? Why do you take my friends so young and so tragically? I'm only 35, I'm too young to have this much loss.

Because these are just the major players I've lost. It doesnt include my cousin Jared, who died being reckless on a motorcycle at 21 two years ago. I was 15 when he was born. I loved that baby, he used to bite my nose. But his family lived far, so I rarely saw him growing up. Last time I saw him was at my grandfather's funeral. He didn't remember me and the nose biting.

And then there's Marcos who we used to chill with. He worked delivery for our favorite chinese food place. He was a nice kid who lived with his grandparents. We would get food, smoke weed, hang out a little. Even used to buy it off him for a while. Eventually he got into the opiates too, he even wound up being good friends with Crys and being Blue buddies. But eventually Marcos died from an opiate overdose. He was in his mid twenties.

I didnt want to include Ricky because he was more of an acquaintance for me, he was more my partners childhood friend. But god damn, in the time I knew Ricky that kid was a riot. He was loud and funny and definitely marched to the beat of his own drum. Drugs took him too.

Thanks for reading all this if you've made it this far. It's taken me about two hours to type this out on my phone. but i needed to. Thanks for coming to my TedTalk