#thats rough buddy! lol

[isa-ah]

big long bluhhgg under the cut lol <3

idk i woke up in my feeilngs this morning so i figure its worth like. talking about i guess. i havent really gone over this again in a couple years so like. yknow. my life story or whatever

so my mom was a kid when she got pregnant and bc of that my grandma took over raising me & even as my mom grew up and moved out i staid put bc as far as i was concerned, my grandparents were my real parents. my mom went on to marry a guy and have two other kids, who she treats like her only kids lol she has her family unit, i have mine, fine. whatever.

when i was a little tiny thing my grandfather was a truck driver. hed only be home once in a blue moon but hed always bring back the coolest little things for me from his buddies and travels. (he had a LOT of stories, about long haul truck driving, being a shrimper til his boat capsized and he nearly froze to death, being stationed in okinawa, all the way back to being raised by an incredibly abusive drunk who ended up blowing his brains out. he used to get all starry eyed in a way id never see him otherwise when hed talk about how cool his dad was, taking him as a young boy to all the local bars. hm.)

my grandmother had a plethora of stories to the same. her parents were both prisoners of war; my great grandmother would tell me about eating snails off the toilets for nourishment while she was in the concentration camps, and my great grandfather idealized the american soldiers that liberated them so greatly he ripped his family up and moved to america the moment they were freed. they would eat hamburgers and hot dogs for dinner nearly every night "like a real american family." they had two kids together- my grandma, and her little brother.

her father enlisted in the american military when they landed here and so she was an army brat. she never got to set down roots really, and was deeply bullied by her peers and beaten to the point of having scars to show me in her late fifties. shed detail the horrible things he did to her, and how it pushed her to sitting in a bathtub alone one night, trying to slit her wrists when a warmth brushed up her back and asked gently against her ear; who do you think will have to clean this up? and after realizing it would be her little brother, she picked herself up and marched on.

(its funny. at one of my lowest points i had nearly the same experience.)

her father would go on to cheat on her pregnant mother, accusing her of infidelity and abandoning her with the baby, my grandma and her brother, and marrying another woman the moment the divorce finalized. the children he would go on to sire with her would create a wide rift in my family of in-fightng and nastiness, as his children believed without doubt that my grandmothers little sister was a bastard and not one of his own.

(at my grandmothers funeral, her sister would confront their ancient ninety-something father, lost almost entirely to his alzheimers as he clung to his wife and cried, with a DNA test proving she was always his daughter. it was really bad.)

my family is known for that in fighting now. the hedrics vs the brodeurs vs the nothern virginia family vs the florida family vs the- on and on and on. always fighting, bickering, cutting people off at the arm. nastiness. its how i was raised, to be angry and cruel, and its difficult to maintain sometimes.

so on we go- my grandfather developed diabetes too severe to keep trucking, and so he lost his job. he sat down in his recliner in front of the TV when he got home from work for the last time and in that recliner he sat til the day he died. nearly twenty years, and id say he left the house maybe a dozen times. no friends, no trips, only attending holidays that were hosted in our tiny home and only speaking to people who were there to visit my grandmother. he would wake up around 9pm and the sound of his tv would blare through the wall of my bedroom until nearly 4pm when hed toddle off to bed. i still cant sleep in silence.

my grandmothers diagnosis wasnt far behind; breast cancer. likely from some hormones shed taken decades prior before the effects of such things had been seen. she was scared, but she was strong, and her best friend moved down from massy to live a couple minutes up the road and help us on the daily. his name was jimmy blackbar, but we always called him jimmy black bear because he was a huge man with a frothy mane of black hair. from then on, we did everything as a unit; every errand, every outing, he even joined my karate dojo when i was forced to learn self defense following the abduction of a local girl.

and on life went. doctors appointments, whispered conversations, attending every susan g komen for the cure event in a wide radius around where we lived. we volunteered relentlessly; my grandmother wearing the "survivor" shirts, and me, a tiny thing in third or fourth grade, pushing her wheelchair and wearing the "caretaker" shirt. jimmy always in tow.

there came a week where we hadnt heard from jimmy in a few days and so, upon leaving the dojo to head home, as we passed his house i asked if we could check on him. my grandmother placated me, saying a man needs his space, and clearly he did bc he hadnt been at practice. just let him rest.

now, that was fair enough. while we did nearly everything together- even spending the autumn in massy with his mother once, arguably one of the most beautiful memories i have as my grandmother and i fed the koi out back then laid in a hammock for hours staring up at the orange and yellow canopy above- he had an explosive temper and had lost it frequently on the both of us. i loved him, but god he could be scary, and hed whip shit at you if he was particularly hot. maybe that was all he needed then, a little space.

a week later my mom picked me up from elementary school and burst into tears in the parking lot. "its jimmy, baby. his heart stopped."

hed had an aneurism and they found him face down on the floor of his bathroom. hed been laying there like that for days, clinging to life; hed been laying there, even, when we drove past a few days prior. i never forgot that.

life went on. it felt empty without him, and i started living up to that caretaker role more and more. heavy lifting, picking, moving; echoed even in my late twenties with my crippling sciatica. every doctors appointment, medication change, every cup of coffee. i was on call.

"jo-bear." "lucy." "goose." "trouble." "brat."

like clockwork, eternally being called up. can you do the dishes? laundry? sweep, mop? can you get this for me? can you help me? can you get my meds? and the less enjoyable; my shingles are flaring, can you put this on there? my drainage tubes are clogged, can you help me flush them? my port needs to be accessed, can you administer this?

why, you ask, would a 13 year old be well versed in clearing, accessing, and administering to a port in their grandmothers chest? well, easy. the nurses we paid to drive well out into the boonies to do it for us said it was too far. it fucked up their schedules. it was a waste of gas. and so they looked around at our home, tiny, with only a woodstove for heating, nicotine dripping down the walls and bare cabinets and pantry, and then they looked at me and asked; do you want to know how to do this instead? and dutiful, because i was a caregiver, because thats what everyone told me, i learned.

being poor is hard. being poor and sick is impossible. the cost of chemo, radiation, insulin, the gas to drive back and forth nearly five hours round trip to visit the hospitals, the doctors- we would only go grocery shopping once a month. my grandmother got social security and my grandfather got disability. wed bundle up what money we could and drive out to the nearest city to buy staples in bulk and pray. it meant i spent most of my childhood eating cereal for meals, or scraping together mayo on bread, or just outright nursing ketchup. i honestly can only remember maybe three instances of my grandmother cooking for me, cooking her special mac n cheese, and my mother told me years later that she always wondered how i got enough to eat.

the local food bank helped, i guess. a small church in town would gather the things the stores were about to throw away, like expired or moldy produce and bread, and then lay it out on the tables and have us all stand around them with our hands at the ready. theyd count down, then call "go!" and we would scramble to gather up anything we could reach to take home. it only happened once a month, so we tried to make the best of it.

after years of battling, my grandmother finally got the formal title of "remission." shed done it! it wasnt easy; there was mishap after mishap, infections, complications, her chest was a mutilated plane of ridges and folds that had at one point burst open and sprayed blood across the bathroom mirror as she screamed my name and sobbed for my grandfather. but finally, she was in remission.

for a few months, anyway. she began to grow uneasy, asking doctors for advice, for scans, because she could feel it encroaching. they all told her she had no insurance and was just paranoid from her battle. it took her months to finally find a doctor that took her seriously enough to humor a scan, and by then the cancer was everywhere. her ribs, her spine, her skull; it was everywhere.

the only person who took the news harder than her was my grandfather. he didnt want to watch her die, so he decided to do everything in his power short of killing himself to make sure he died first. his insulin shots were regular, but his sugar intake was not. he refused physical therapy, stopped going to his doctors appointments, and left our house to smell like the decomposition of human flesh as his feet began to rot.

"rot" sounds like a strong word. the decay was really happening; dry and wet gangreen, his toe coming off in my grandmothers hand at the lightest tug, and an extended hospital stay in which he was deeply deeply lucky not to succumb to sepsis. it was bad. but he was alive.

my mental health had at this point deteriorated to such a point i wasnt sleeping anymore. my grandmother was put on ambien, and as such began sundowning; wandering the house like a brittle confused ghost of a woman. she had dropped weight as she went back on chemo, rapidly dipping from 300lbs down to nearly scraping the bottom of 100lbs. she was shaped like a paper doll by then, wide from the front but she would turn to the side and disappear. i could hold my elbows around her. her head was bald and her feet were cold. she had a soft spot on the top of her skull that malformed her head where the radiation had eaten away the bone alongside the cancer. the knot on her forehead persisted.

she would never recall what she did at night, and while at the time i was indignant- i wasnt sleeping because she would call in a slurred haze to cancel taxis that werent due for several more hours but she thought had never shown up at all for doctors appointments she needed; she would fumble with the locks trying to wander out into the snow in the middle of the night, confused; she would yell my aunts name at me and berate me for trying to coax her back to bed; she would pull down what meager things we had in the kitchen and slurry them, ruin them, then blame me come morning; or, worst of all, she would simply find a place to stand. at the oven, by the small yellow light of its hood, staring into space for hours unresponsive- how dare she not remember how hard i had to work, how tired i was trying to keep her safe, and blame me for it too? it wasnt until reflection years later that i realized her denial was probably born of fear.

the ambien was my own waking nightmare, but it wasnt the worst of it. with my grandfathers rotten feet and my grandmothers mindless stumbling, falls were frequent. i had to be alert. i had to be ready. i never know when one of them would fall wrong and crack their head open on a corner. the mental image is as potent to me now as it was as a child, terrified in the half second of bone chilling silence that would come between the staggering of someones steps and the thundering peels of a body clattering sprawled across the floor. id be up and out of my room in a heartbeat to help, lifting people bigger than myself on pure adrenaline alone back to their seats so i could assess them.

the emergency squad, as you can imagine, was well acquainted with us. most falls had to be documented at least, hospitalized at worst, and so they would begin to come out every few months- then weeks- then days. they knew all of our pets by name. they regarded me with warm sadness. i think they must have said something to my grandfather, as in the thick of it hed tried to pack me up and throw me out. "this isnt a place for children," but if i left theyd have no one left. who would pick them up? check their medication? call the doctors, the emergency line, the taxis? who would make their coffee?

and so stubbornly i staid. i was a caregiver, after all, i was trained by the nurses and professionals who couldnt be bothered. i had to stay. i had to stay. i had to stay.

i stopped spending time with any of my friends beyond taylor. i stopped sleeping over with family. i stopped making day trips. eventually, around 13, i dropped out of school entirely.

i was falling asleep at my desk every day, horrified every bus ride home that id walk in to blood and gore and death. i was too distracted to learn anything and too afraid to really enjoy myself anyway. school wasnt an escape anymore when i was needed so desperately at home.

and so i stopped leaving the house really altogether, unless it was to go somewhere with them or to visit taylor (my rock). id thought at the time that her mother was my saving grace, the only adult in the world who understood me, who would drop everything to help me. i found out later that she hated me, and only did it to martyr herself to her peers and daughter.

as my grandmothers health declined over my teenage years, my grandfather became more erratic. he would throw fits, thundering around the house, slamming shit and crying, yelling at me because, "i'm dying too! im dying and nobody CARES! im dying and no one will even MISS ME!" as i sobbed and tried to reassure him. "my WIFE is DYING and theres NOTHING I CAN DO!"

and at the other end of things, my grandmother; wailing behind locked doors that my grandfather didnt love her anymore, that she was hideous, mutilated, she wasnt a woman anymore nevermind a human at all. i would lay against the door and beg her to unlock it so i could hug her, hold her, promise her that wasnt true. she never did let me in.

and so on life went. winters were always the hardest; we only had a woodstove, so my room was nearly perpetually the outdoor temperature. id sleep bundled in layers, wearing three pairs of socks to try to keep the frigid ache out of my feet, bundled up right up to a hat and hood over my head buried under three blankets to try to keep in some of the heat. it only worked so well when i was up and down all night anyway, looking after them. my grandmother was so withered she hardly produced her own heat anymore, and my grandfather had lost all feeling in his feet; often, hed find, they were resting against the broad side of the fireplace and burning, or the dogs were chewing on them. it was bleak.

now, throughout all of this i had tried my best to stay positive. id been raised in a southern baptist church that i had, at the height of my faith, been visiting four or five times a week. if anyone was going to help me save my grandparents, to be a good caregiver, it would be god right? even if no one else on the planet gave a shit, at least he would, right? at least, so long as i was good, and pure, and holy. no drugs, no alcohol, no self exploration, no expressions of sexuality- nothing. i did absolutely nothing, but try to focus on being a good christian and taking care of my grandparents.

at least, until the tension between my desperate dysphoria and my faith hit a breaking point when a gay couple joined our church and the pastor threw his sermon out the window to preach hellfire and death to faggots. they left in tears in the middle of the sermon and i was spun out and listless thereafter.

i dont honestly remember much from the time i dropped out until nearly 18. i was accused often and loudly of being a drug addicted whore, a liar, a slut, of being inappropriate with my grandfather, with my brothers, entirely baselessly, all thrown at me as a confused and hurt child by my family. it was my first real point of contention with my identity. while id gotten away with looking entirely ambiguous and using male names, male haircuts, male clothes, male interests and male friends to soothe my permeating wrongness at being called a girl, puberty was not kind to me. and with the unease over my gender and sexuality with seemingly no out (as who in a small christian town would have informed me of trans mens existence?), and with the deeply seeded feeling of utter failure as a caregiver whos patients were dying in front of them, and with the loss of my faith that had taught me near lethal levels of self hatred, i had no idea who i was anymore. no name felt right. no role. no place. i was nothing and no one.

and then my grandma died.

it wasnt a surprise. shed been declared "dying" twice before, and had survived. and while shed finally been moved to live with her son as he was right up the road from the hospital a good two and a half hours from us, and had been formally enrolled in hospice, and had withered into the skeletal apparition of a woman, i dont know how serious any of us could take the finality of her, once more, being declared "dying." she wouldnt live to see sunday. it was wednesday.

we went to visit her that day. she lay near motionless in bed, her voice soft and airy. id felt sick, nauseous, unsure of what to even do with myself. i laid with her. i held her. i told her how much i loved her. but the reality of it just kept bouncing off of me. i said my goodbyes, temporarily, until we visited again on saturday- i told her wed be back soon. and i walked out to the living room.

my mom and uncle talked a while longer, and so a good fifteen minutes had elapsed before we turned to actually leave. from her room down the hall i heard her calling. "i love you." and i was so exhausted, so callous in that moment, that from the living room i called back, "i love you too!" rather than taking that opportunity to see her one last time. we were coming back after all.

well. we didnt make it in time.

my grandfather had been hospitalized for the last week or so nearby, and his visit the night before ours hed told her gently, kindly, that she didnt have to keep holding on. it was okay to let go. wed be okay. and so she had, only a few hours after he left. i never got to see her again- she was cremated too soon after.

i have never, never forgiven myself for that. for not going back to see her when she called to me. i had no idea then what it would mean for her to truly die. to never see her, hear her, speak to her, hold her again. never. i didnt know any better.

my grandfather didnt find out until twelve hours later. my grandmother died november fourth, 2014, at around 4am. we visited him in the hospital as a family that same day, around 4pm, after wed all figured out what to say. when he saw us walk in the door, grim and pale and together, hed started hitching as if to vomit or sob or both before anyone had said a word.

after they told him he screamed at us, berated us, why would we wait so long to tell him? why wasnt he there for her? why didnt we call? and as he screamed his kids left one by one until it was only me at his bedside as he broke down. i held him in my arms as he wracked sobs and spit and sweat into the crook of my neck and clutched my shirt like he was a dying man himself.

i spent hours in bed with him, and every nurse, and every doctor who came through to check on us thereafter, and every aid at the nursing home he was sent to recover in received the same monotone greeting; "my name is roland brodeur, and my wife is dead."

i was alone for the week after. i didnt know what to think, or feel. relief, more than anything, at the time. it hd been so hard for so long to try to keep her together, keep myself together, keep our family together; no longer did i need to be up every night to make sure she wasnt hurt. no more wailing and vommitting in the bathroom. no more port flushes, or bandages, or wigs, or hair chunks in the food, or laughter, or her smokers cough, or the way shed say my name, or,

my grandfather successfully broke himself out of that nursing home three times in the week thereafter. only once did he reach the street without falling, and while he had no idea how to get home, he began walking anyway. they caught him, of course, but he was discharged soon after.

and so it was the two of us. wed never been exceedingly close, but without my grandmothers boisterous personality to fill the quiet crevices we began to spend more time together. it was slow; her memorial service was very very hard on us as i, 17, had tried to play host to people twice or thrice my age, and hed refused to come then changed his mind too late and missed it entirely; but we began to spend nearly all of our time together in the living room.

finally, for the first time in my life, he began to take his health seriously. she was dead, and he was alive, and i was still here. so our diets shifted, and he began attending his doctors appointments and bringing home small items for his physical therapy. we were going to be okay.

i turned 18 that december. the holidays were solemn; i was driven out to my aunts where my grandfather had promised to soon follow, but he never showed up. i spent christmas crying to myself, surrounded by family, and he spent it alone in our tiny rotting house.

come new years eve, he, taylor and i sat around trying to enjoy ourselves. this would be a fresh start. this would be a clean late. a month out from her death, maybe we could recover. taylor went to bed, he staid at his post in front of the tv, and i found things to occupy myself until i got tired enough to sleep. (it was hard, sleeping).

come 4am, i crossed the hall to get ready for bed and to say my goodnights to my grandfather. even at a distance though, i could tell something was wrong. he was pallid, sweaty, head hung and eyes glazed. i rushed to his side, turning on nearly every light in the house in the process, trying to get his attention.

he replied in garbled quiet syllables. i called my mom. she told me she was coming. he had a seizure. i called the emergency squad.

and so i staid there, kneeling in front of him and holding his hand, promising over and over again that i was here, im here, im here, im here, theyre coming and im here, its okay, im here.

they arrived nearly simultaneously; bursting through the front door to see what was wrong. over the course of their visit they realized his sugars were off the charts and pumped some insulin into him. as the levels came down he came back to himself, his vision and speech clearing until he was shrugging off their concerns and even cracking a joke. the tension began to ease. hes okay.

and then he had another seizure.

there was a beat of absolute silence before he sucked in a breath and the medic in front of him dropped to his knees to check on him. he was okay. a little out of it, but responsive. thank god.

and then he had another seizure.

and this time, the breath didnt follow. the medics voice pitched up as he repeated his name over and over again, calling him, checking his pulse, his pupils, and as a flurry of yelling began my mom started screaming at me to go to my room. i was gutted, breathless, silent, staring at my grandfathers limp body as the medics swarmed back through the front door and began using the paddles to try to bring him back.

i did relent to my mothers keening, stumbling numb back to my bedroom to where taylor somehow slept peacefully. heavy with grief already weighing in my chest, i crawled up her body and fell face down and sobbing into her stomach. i didnt know what else to do.

the ambulance took him to be air lifted. they did everything they could. he was dead before he ever left our property, though.

the image that still stands out to me was of my mother. it had been with my grandmother too- id been sleeping on her couch as she paced through the living room, crying quietly into the phone, and as i woke up, i knew. and here to, she was on her knees on the living room floor, sobbing and begging god not to take both of her parents so soon. i held her while she cried and told her it would be okay, even if i didnt believe it myself.

its a long drive from so far out in the sticks to reach the hospital. the wait seemed even longer once we were there. they stuck us in a quiet side room, isolated, seemingly endlessly. my mother and i had been crying on and off but taylor had remained stony faced and strong for me. it was only when i looked to her, feeling nothing but coldness in my soul and whispered, "i dont want to be an orphan." that a single tear rolled down her cheek and nothing else.

i think in all the time this happened, taylor was the only person who ever held me.

when the doctor finally arrived, it was with the news we all expected. "im sorry," as he handed my mom a box of tissues, "we did everything we could. he was dead long before he arrived here."

he lead us to see my grandfathers body. it was surreal, to see him laying there, tinted purple and bruised all over. his eyelids were ruddy, and the hand id been clutching hours previous was like ice. his skin still somehow pliant, while his joints had begun to stiffen. i just stood there and held it for what felt like hours. my mother told me later he looked like he was smiling, but i never saw it.

and so. on life goes. my mom drove taylor and i back to my empty terrible little home and dropped us off. we milled around, exhausted, but sleepless. she helped me rearrange the furniture to put less of an emphasis on my grandparents favorite places to sit, as they were plainly visible from my bedroom doorway and the torment was endless as my head turned to smile at them every time i left to use the bathroom. it was awful. when taylor had to leave, i was just left there, alone.

i had failed as a caregiver. i had failed as a grandchild. i had failed as their youngest. i had no one in the world in that moment. that winter was bitter, and i couldnt bring myself to be present enough to keep the woodstove lit. the animals and i all froze for it, but i could barely climb out of bed. no heat, no cable, nothing to comfort me left beyond my own meager devices. i had the first two hobbit movies on dvd and so i stuck them into my xbox and they played nonstop on loop for months. it was the only way to fill the silence. the only voices i could listen to. i dont remember eating a single thing. my family just left me there. i was no ones responsibility, and so i would be no ones burden. as an adult i learned they all felt so guilty over what id been put through they didnt want to face what i would have become after that.

it was in this time the nightmares really began. there was one, one specific nightmare, in which i was in my house in the dead of night with nothing but pitch black outside, and i would run door to door trying to keep them locked and the horrible cruel things outside at bay. i never did see them, whatever i was desperately trying to hide from, but it was omnipresent and i was terrified of it.

at every turn the doors would again be unlocked and open. the latches would give at the lightest tug. the darkness would seep through the cracks. the only variables were my grandparents, like props- sometimes they were there in the living room, unresponsive to me as they stared into the television. sometimes only one of them. sometimes i was alone. but over and over again i had this nightmare, every single time i fell asleep. regardless of the time of day, of if i was sleeping or napping or just resting my eyes, i had this nightmare. and i had it for nearly three and a half years thereafter. sleep deprivation was my only solace from it, driven to such an extent that i began having prolonged hallucinations and severe paranoia.

my only solace was after the pipes froze and burst in our little cement basement. they couldnt justify leaving me there much longer, so my aunt told me- just another two weeks. if i staid in the house she would come to get me to move in with her. at that point i was so happy just to have an out that i begged my neighbor to periodically stop in on the remaining animals in the house so i could go stay with taylor until it was time to move.

my aunt called me LIVID when she found out. she berated me at the top of her lungs for disobeying her. maybe that should have been a red flag, but i was so consumed in my own self blame for my grandparents death that i assumed she was right to feel that way.

i got little say in what was kept when we went back to clean the house out after. in fact, i got almost nothing of my grandparents. to this day, all i have is my grandmothers favorite hoodie. somewhere in the process, the cleaning solutions we had been using must have gotten in my eye because the pain was bad, and the effects would be lasting.

living with my aunt was a nightmare. she was unyeilding; scolding and punishing me for not getting out of bed because the infection in my eyes was so bad i couldnt see and it hurt to have any light hit them. insisting it was my fault i was left nearly half blind, and that my lack of recovery was because i wasnt trying hard enough. (i was told later i had had severe chemical burns and infection that have left my corneas riddled in holes and craters, and severely light sensitive. all of it could have been fixed with a single doctors visit in the worst of it.)

and on it went; i had no time to grieve, as she forced me out the door and into terrible fulltime jobs. they became my only reprieve from her, as any time i was home i had a chore list of no less than four hours worth of cleaning that she would accuse me up and down of lying about on the daily. shed gaslight me, set traps, pull gotchas, until i began to believe her. i genuinely thought i was making up the hours id spend working on cleaning, that i was a lazy liar, and that i deserved the slow recession of any right to food in the house she imposed.

my most beloathed of chores was dishes. every night after dinner, of which i was allowed to eat less and less until not at all, i would have to come down to clean up after the families meals. her pampered chef knives were her prized possessions, and her rules for cleaning them were strenuous. the closest ive ever come to killing myself was standing in that kitchen, over her sink, with one of her favorite knives pressed into my wrist as the depths of sorrow and grief id had to pave over to maintain what she wanted me to do began to crumble.

the only thing that stopped me was the gentle realization that if i killed myself here, the first person to see it would be one of my younger cousins. that that would be something he would never be able to forget or move on from. its the only thing that stopped me.

i would go on to climb the railing of an overpass at around 1am in the dead of a december night. i was bitterly cold, having no winter jacket, a two hour walk from home, being punished by my aunt because the job shed hoisted upon me had kept me later than she felt like coming to get me. so i had no choice but to walk on broken feet after nearly twelve hours of standing, with no winter clothes to deal with the whipping icy winds, and no street lights or sidewalks to follow. i couldnt do it anymore. i was so tired, in so much pain, with only blame and alienation from my family. i just wanted to die and be done with it.

two rungs from flipping my legs over the railing, movement caught my eye. at the far end of the dark overpass was the vaguely visible outline of a golden retriever whos owner was walking it down the long road i had to walk to get home. and i thought, maybe, if i could pet that dog, maybe i could keep going. maybe id be okay. the road was across a wide flat area, prepared for development that had yet to start, so the visibility was a near quarter mile in the moonlight. and so.. slowly.. i stepped down and began to trudge on.

yet, when i reached the end of the overpass, they were nowhere to be seen. there was nowhere to go, mind you, but forward; there were cliffs to either side of the overpass that went down into the highway, and then this single stretch of road forward with no trees or houses for the duration. they had simply vanished. i still dont really know what happened.

and on i trudged. nothing else to do but survive day to day under my aunts open hostility. i wasnt allowed to eat family meals, no, but then rules came about keeping my own food in the house. it would be doled out to my cousins and uncle if i dared to, and food in my bedroom was prohibited. the best i could do was hide a few cereal bars between my mattress and the wall for the days i couldnt eat at work. it was miserable.

"just get over it. youre bumming everyone else out." told to me, six months after the death of both of my parents. no one had asked me if i was okay in that time. no one had held me. no one had told me it wasnt my fault. taylor was the only silver lining i had. she was always there for me at a moments notice, she kept me sane, and god i love her so much. i dont think i would have survived it without her.

i managed to scrape by until i met Lo, the man im due to marry next month. this was nearly seven years ago now, but i still remember the nervous jitters the first time i packed a bag and bought a train ticket to make my first solo journey from virginia all the way down to florida to meet in person. id go on to make the 20 hour trip frequently, falling into his arms and having the brightest points of my life, only to be left sobbing and wracked with fear the morning of my return to my aunts home. it was hell. but i was starting to find reasons to pull through.

even if my aunt had outed me as trans and gay while i was visiting him, effectively burning my bridges with most of my family behind my back and then lying to my face about it for weeks after. my mother wouldnt look me in the eye. my extended family has never once spoken to me since. my own brothers wont come to my wedding because im a faggot, rooted in the reaction my mom had to this and how its grown nasty and dehumanizing since.

(i have a very strong feeling that the majority of the years i spent this way are locked up tight in an alter who hasnt fronted in years. i frequently broke down over depersonalization and being convinced i truly wasnt myself then, in a way i have not felt since. i really cant remember most specifics, but the cadence alone would give it away, i think. at the time i was too afraid to face it head on and define what was happening to me, but in retrospect im nearly positive.)

and so on i trudged. my aunts aggressions would gradually grow over time, until a night where id let my guard down around my brothers visiting us and shed gotten me by the nick of my hoodie and dragged me down my the throat to hiss and growl and snarl nasty things to me over an argument wed had days prior. shed blocked me from the internet and ignored my very existence in the elapsing days. it all came to a head with this interaction, a nasty game of parroting that i was lucky to have her, that i love her, that im grateful she forgives me for the things i do, and punctuated with a hug i was forced to initiate. when i told my coworkers the next morning, in tears, i was told if she put her hands on me once shed do it again. i told my mom the next day i needed her to come get me right now.

the day we went back to get my possessions was the last day i ever spoke to my aunt. she was purple in the face, veins stood out against her forehead and screaming wrathful nasty things at my sobbing mother about me as i tried to gather my things- thrown into a haphazard corner of the garage after id pleaded with her to just leave my room untouched and let me organize and gather my belongings.

my mother hyperventilated on the drive home, and told me through gritted teeth that shes worried my aunt may have been abusing me. i told her exactly what she had done to me, and she had to pull over to stomach it. a week later she told me my aunt was trying to get in touch and i should go ahead and give her a call. (the betrayal and fear i felt in that moment was rivaled only by my mom freely inviting her over to visit without warning me first.)

my mother would ask often when i was planning on moving out. she didnt want me there, that was plainly clear, and the raw edges of my recent outing didnt help. i was given a mattress on the floor in the kitchen, in plain view of everyone at all times, covered in ants with the cat box beside my pillow. my only reprieves were times i spent with taylor or lo, anywhere i could find to be that wasnt her home.

lo was already planning a move with his mother to phoenix by this time, as neither of them could afford a place of their own, and so i was invited along. i dont think ive ever said yes to something so quickly in my life.

phoenix ill elapse; i spent two years making a three hour commute to a job that did horrific things to my mental and physical health. my sciatica was so aggressively hurt by the ways in which i begged my managers for accessibility that they refused that i would often collapse off of numb lightning struck legs, scattering anything i was carrying. my longest shift worked there began at 4am and ended at 12:30am. twenty and a half hours. i got two thirty minute breaks, a single compensated meal, and had to work the next day.

tensions with los mother, a deeply traumatized neuro divergent woman who wasnt aware of any of the above, finally hit a fever pitch and over the course of a week we were rendered homeless, sleeping on taylors floor. while her mother welcomed us in with open arms, her nastiness was prevalent and constant. bitter and put upon by our very existence under her roof. we were kicked out later so her transphobic boyfriend would be more comfortable coming over to visit.

from there we landed a disgusting single room in a frat house in maryland that hadnt been properly cleaned in the years preceding our arrival. it was so bad we left within a month to move in with who would later turn out to be an absolute psychopath of a woman in a slightly nicer house. after a year of trying my best to be friends with her she turned on us, blew up our living arrangement, called the cops on us, got the wifi cut for a week, took all the locks off our front door so we couldnt lock her out & eventually got us evicted entirely. why? because i asked her to buy some food for her cats because in the weeks she hadnt been home and id been taking care of all of her animals (not that shed asked me to) theyd run out of kibble.

and that rounds us out to now. los mom drove up to get us, two years out from phoenix and a lot of self discovery later, were now out here in the sticks of alabama. lo and i have been together nearly seven years now and were slotted to get married next month, so life really has begun to look up for me, but man. sometimes its all just so fuckin much. i went through so fuckin much and for what? yknow? my family is still shit. i dont speak to my aunt, my mother and brothers refused to come to my wedding, my grandparents and jimmy are still dead, and so my entire world has been condensed down to a handful of friends- taylor, elliot, ofc my fiance- and really nothing else. i dont really feel like i have any family anymore. its a grieving process still, to accept that, loss after loss like that, but it gets a little easier every day.

& anyway if youve ever wondered why i have a system, i think it oughtta make a little more sense now. lol.

[introvertedx10]

What happens at Disney, stays at Disney

[wanders-in-stars]

Xelzaz: unapologetically calls Tamar a dog

also Xelzaz an hour later, very gently: "Are you holding up okay?"

[alternia-confessions]

someone i have Flushed Feelings For has a matesprit already and probably isnt looking For a moirail as oF now,,,, i swear its like gog is Fucking with me personally…. i dont want them culled (id never wish that upon anyone) but im Feeling rather Frustrated.

•

Question: someone i have flushed feelings for has a matesprit already and probably isnt looking for a moirail as of now, i swear its like gog is fucking with me personally... i dont want them culled (id never wish that upon anyone) but im feeling rather frustrated.

[happywitch416]

Totally forgot the first part of the year was super productive writing wise, I straight up haven't had the time/chance/energy to sit at the computer and write/transfer writing since we started homeschooling. So I was looking at the series of zeros going ugh.

674,230 words for the year, not counting whats trapped in my phone notes.

Didn't manage my two goals though and fucking sucks. They are so close to being done, like a few weeks of work. But alas...

[8008135sblog]

[selineram3421]

Hiiii you're the first blog I check every morning and I absolutely LOVE everything you write!!

How about Alastor/Angel Dust/Husker finding the reader after attempting suicide? (If you don't want to thats fine, it can be super triggering, I just want comforttt)

I went aw and then went oh..

Lol but yes, I can do this.

Attempts

Warning! ⚠

⚠ mentions of attempted suicide-drowning/overdose/cutting, descriptive injuries, blood, mental illness mentioned ⚠

Human AU for this one:

Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk

Alastor🎙

He had noticed you becoming distant.

For what reason?

That's just the thing. He didn't know.

It did concern him though and he would check up on you from time to time.

But you would just smile and say you were fine. That you just had a hard time falling asleep last night.

There was something that still had him on edge. Something was wrong but you didn't tell him.

He was your friend, your best friend in fact! You could tell him anything...

Right?

Alastor had come to visit, bringing along some of his cooking to help cheer you up.

Time's were getting rough with the economy crashing. And you, his dear friend, lived alone with no immediate family around. It was just you and that cat that would occasionally come by for food.

He stood at the door of your apartment and knocked, waiting for you to open it and greet him.

As he waited, he noticed the claw marks at the bottom of your door, wondering if the stray cat had done it.

How odd.. He thought. They would have opened the door before the little creature could dare scratch up their door.

He knocked again.

But the longer he waited was making him slightly nervous. Tapping his foot until he could no longer stand still, he got the spare key you gave him and opened the door.

Calling out your name, he walked into your apartment and placed the place of food down on the kitchen counter. After closing the door behind him, he walked into the living room.

"Are you home?", he asked, looking around the room, spotting your coat and shoes still out.

They haven't left. Maybe they are asleep?

Something had formed at the pit of his stomach, the feeling of fear and worry cloaking his thoughts. He walked into their room after feeling it grow stronger.

Looking around, he saw that your bed was made and that everything was neat and tidy.

Then he noticed the paper on your dresser.

Walking over, he picked it up and started to read. It was odd, as it addressed whoever happened to pick it up, but then he noticed what it meant.

No no no no no-!

His hands shook and he flinched when hearing a loud splash of water.

Dropping the paper, Alastor ran to the bathroom, barging in. There he saw you in the filled bath tub, soaking wet with clothes and shoes on, gasping for air.

He said your name and rushed over, pulling you out of the tub.

"Darling, talk to me!", he said, grabbing a towel to wrap around your shaking form. "What-"

"I couldn't- I couldn't do it! I couldn't..", they sobbed, turning their head away from him as they sunk down onto the tiled floor. "Why can't I just do it!?"

Not knowing what else to do, he sat down on the floor and hugged them.

"Shh sh, its alright.", he whispered, rocking them back and forth.

They clung onto the back of his shirt, still shaking from their cries.

"Its going to be alright."

Angel Dust🕸

You were his buddy, his pal.

Someone he could tell everything to without having to worry about you running to the cops.

You were the friend that was always by his side, no matter how many times he fucked up.

You would encourage him, praise him, and just be like sunshine. It reminded him of his sister Molly.

He didn't notice when your smiles started to become a mask.

He didn't notice when you started taking drugs from his stash.

Angel had left to pick up some drinks for the both of you. The day was alright and you had asked to hang out for a while.

It was a little weird when you had started to point out every detail, but he had just brushed it off as you being observant.

Maybe it was one of those days when you would just stare at the sky.

When he got back, he couldn't find you in the room.

Weird. He thought and shrugged before sitting down on the couch to wait for you.

Opening up his drink, he went to take a sip before something caught his eye.

It was the vent that hid his secret stash.

Why is that open? No one could have known it was there but you-

His eyes widened and he shot up from the couch and ran around the place yelling out your name.

"Com' on! This isn't funny!", he yelled, opening every door that he came across. "You've nevah had drugs! You don't know how much you can handle!"

He found you on the floor, packs ripped open around you.

"No..", Angel said quietly before repeating it as he rushed over to your side. "Snap out of it!", he yelled out in a panic and shook you by the shoulders.

You were blinking really slow, pupils dilated and shaking.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!", he said, picking you up and placing you on a nearby couch. "Stay awake! I'm gonna call a hospital, ok!?"

"Sorry Angel.", you mumbled and lifted your hand to hold his. "I just wanted the pain to go away. I just wanted to sleep."

"Stay awake. I'll come back in a bit ok? Or let me find a phone with a long enough cord.", he said before running out of the room.

He held back from crying when speaking to the nurse on the phone. Doing his best to explain what was going on.

After the call, he went back to hold your hand until the ambulance came to pick you up.

He had gotten an earful for being late for a job but he didn't care about that. All he could think of was you, hoping you were alright as he worked on autopilot to get the job done.

Damn it. He thought as he paced back and forth. I should have paid more attention to them.

Angel immediately went to visit you after finishing up, rushing down the hallways to get to your hospital room with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

He slammed the door open and found you awake, looking him up and down.

"What the fuck were ya thinking!?", he said as he made his way over to your side. "Best friends don't try to kill themselves before the other one! Best friends die tagethah!"

"I-"

"These are for you.", he said and placed the flowers on the nightstand nearby before sighing. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

Pulling up a chair next to your bed, he sat on it. Taking off his hat to brush his hair back to try and calm himself down.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?", he said looking at you. "I'm here for you, like you are for me. So talk to me."

Husk🃏

Honestly, he didn't know what to think of you at first.

You were just another person on the other side of the bar. Ordering a drink and sitting there for hours.

He knew a sad face, as it was quite common, but yours seemed permanent.

After a while, you became friends.

You weren't annoying and he appreciated your company. Sometimes when it was a slow night, he would show you card tricks.

He didn't know how depressed you actually were.

It had been a long night.

Husk had to serve some annoying assholes but other than that group it was tolerable.

What was odd was that you didn't show up.

They probably have an actual life to get back to. He thought as he cleaned up the bar.

After he locked up, he went out through the alleyway in the back. But as soon as he walked out he saw you leaning against the brick wall covered in blood.

"Oh shit!", he yelled out in shock before rushing to check you over.

He found your wrists slit, still gushing out some blood. Quickly, he ripped the bottom part of his undershirt and tied them around your wrists to try and slow the blood.

"Fucking hell!", he hissed and ran over to the pay phone across the street.

After putting in the coins, he called the nearest hospital and rushed out what was going on.

"I found them a few minutes ago! They are unconscious, but their wrists are still bleeding! I don't fucking know! Just send someone over!"

He got fed up with the person on the phone and slammed the pay phone back to its place. The change clunk down into the machine and he ran out of the booth to take you to the hospital himself.

"Don't you fucking die on me!"

After you were taken by the doctors, Husk sat on one of the chairs in the waiting room, bouncing his leg.

He hasn't beem that worried about someone since-

It's just been a long time.

It wasn't until a few hours later that you woke up. The doctors let him know that he could see you now, and he made his way over to your room.

As soon as he entered, he pointed at you with the grumpiest frown you've ever seen.

"Don't you ever do that shit again."

All you did was smile.

"Thanks Husk."

Then he did something that surprised you.

He hugged you and cried.

"You fucking dumbass.", he grumbled. "Do you know how shitty my night was? Then I find you passed out, covered in blood in the fucking dark."

"I'm sorry Husk.", you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. "I had a shitty night too. I wasn't thinking right."

Both of you stayed like that for a while.

Something that both of you never talked about was your home life. After this stunt, Husk would make sure to check in on you more.

"You owe me booze."

You laughed and agreed.

This was hard. Sorry for it being so late, but I hope you are doing better now.

~Seline, the person.

ML's for Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk

[dnaofhersoul]

a crush. (smut)

simon “ghost” riley x female reader

first post!! idk how long this just gonna be but we’ll figure out by the end lol

warning: simon being rough, spanking, degrading, crying from pleasure, drooling

ever since you were placed in task force 141, you’ve always had a little.. crush, on your lieutenant. at first it started small. getting to meet the task force.. but him. more specifically.

2 years ago.

you’re being guided to a meeting room by your CO.

“here you go.” he says, pointing to a door in front of you, walking you inside. you see a few men, one with a beard, a younger man, someone with a mohawk.. and a man wearing a skull mask.

your CO speaks. “this is y/n l/n. you all may remember her from when we went over her persona file together. get to know each other dor a bit. i’ll back after awhile.”

he closes the door, leaving you all together.

the man with the beard speaks up. “i’ll be your captain. captain price. thats gaz, our buddy soap, and ghost.” he points to everyone as he names them, they all wave or talk a little. except for ghost. he just glances at you.

something about that mysterious demeanor captured your attention from the start.

back to present time.

your mind is plagued with him. everytime the group goes out to hang around, get drinks.. you stare at him. his muscles. his dark eyes. his tattoos. the veins on his arms. the thought of his rough hands pulling on your hair, his fat cock sliding in and out of your holes. him treating you like a whore..

“thats it. you little slut.”

“yeah. just like that. take it all.”

“beg for it. you want this dick so bad, hm? be a good girl and take it then.”

i guess nobody ever notices. or so you thought.

price invited everybody to his office, with a pack of beer. everyones just drinkin, talking, until soap speaks up.

“‘ey, how about we play a game. truth or dare?” he smiles. we look at soap, and mutual agreement instills to play the game. “how about the lass goes first?” he smiles and looks at you. “why not?” you smile. “truth or dare?” “truth.”

“hmm..” he says, thinking for a second, before his eyes light up. he giggles to himself before speaking. “okay.. why do like starin’ at ghost here? hes a little guy after all.” he smiles at his own sarcasm. “little?” ghost side eyes soap, who promptly shushes him. “you got a little crush on him?” soap says to you. you begin to blush. ghosts moves from side eyeing soap to staring at you. as if he was looking at prey and he was the predator.

“you’re seein’ things soap. i don’t have a staring problem, unlike you.” you laugh awkwardly, trying to deflect the question. you feel ghosts eyes on you the entire time, staring through his baclava. “hey, uh.. you guys keep on without me.” you say, standing up and making an excuse to get out of there.”

“i just remembered i need to fill something out. it’ll take awhile. maybe i’ll come back if you guys are still around here when i’m done.” you smile, giving a small wave and closing the door before beelining it to your room, blushing. you stuff your face into your pillow and let out a long, exaggerated sigh. your face is still pink with blush and embarrassment.

there wasn’t any paperwork for you to do. you just feel so.. awkward about it. you sigh and stretch onto your bed. you take off your bra, and change into more comfortable pants. you admire your body for a second in the mirror while changing. your perky tits, your curves, you look good.

you lie in bed. your mind begins to wonder again. ghost.. his muscles. him pinning us against the wall.. tugging down our pants and panties. rubbing the tip against your hole.

you slide your hand down into your panties and begin to play with your clit as you think about him.

him bending you over his leg, spanking you. making you count each hit. fingering your pussy with his massive digits.

you slide your fingers into you and begin to move them in and out as you slide your pants off.

him shoving his cock into you, arching your back and using you like a fleshlight. using you like a toy, like the slut you are for him.

*knock knock knock*

you’re snapped out of your trance. you panic, getting up to wash your hand off. “who is it?” you yell while washing your hands. “ghost.” you freeze as you hear his deep voice. “uh- just a minute!” you dry your hands and run over to your pants, sliding them back on. you look in the mirror, making sure you look presentable. you open the door, his tall frame towering over you. “can i come in?” he says, his voice turning you on already.

“oh uh- yeah. of course.” you open the door and let him in, going to sit on your own bed. “why- are you here..?” you ask. “what was that about.” he says. “what are you talkin’ about?” you say, knowing EXACTLY what hes talking about.

“the truth or dare thing.” he says, looking down at you. “you wanna answer that?” he says. “i- well its complicated..” you say before he cuts you off. “talk.” you avoid eye contact with him, an awkward silence instilling. he grabs your face and makes you look at him, you’re blushing pink. “look at me. talk.” you look at him. “i uhm.. i think. i have a crush on you.” you say, your face warm. he stares in silence for a few seconds before speaking.

“well isn’t that cute.” he says. you tell can hes smirking through his baclava. in one swift movement, he pins you down onto the bed. “and what do you reckon you wanna do about that crush?” he says. you’re frozen. you’re flustered and begin to trip over your words before he pulls his mask up just above his lips and presses his lips onto your roughly.

you moan into his lips, his mouth traveling down your neck. his hands slide up your shirt, feeling your tits. he lifts your shirt up, squeezing your boobs with his rough hands. you make a bold move and begin to rub his dick through his pants, he chuckles when you. he unzips his pants and tugs them down a little, letting you feel him through his boxers. it already feels huge but its only half hard.

he slides his fingers down your body towards and into your panties, playing with your hole, his middle finger pressing against it over and over but never entering. you whimper and play with your nipples, trying to stimulate yourself more, while toying with his cock from the outside of his boxers. he slaps your hand away from your boob. “be patient.”

you moan. he finally pushing his middle finger all the way in your tight hole. “fuck.” he grunts out, relishing in the tightness. you moan, and reach in ghosts boxers. you pull out his cock, its fully hard now and its massive. you salivate at the sight of it. you keep on stroking his cock, keeping him hard. not like he needs too much assistance though. the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his finger is more than stimulating.

he uses his thumb to start gently rubbing your clit while still fingering you. your legs shake but you want more. “more- please.” you whimper out. he continues fingering your cunt and speaks. “more what?” he says. “use your words. ask for it.” he looks down at you. “please- please put another one inside.” he slows his pace down before inserting another finger in, as slow as possible.

he begins to pump his fingers in and out, very slowly picking up speed. you start to get loud, the wet noises coming from your pussy prominent. he starts to speed up, but not enough to finish you off. your eyes roll to the back of your head. “look at me.” he says, grabbing your face roughly. “beg.” you moan. he doesn’t even need to say what to beg for, he knows you want it.

“please- please let me finish please- i’ll be good i’m so close.” you cry out, bucking your hips up for something to push you over the edge. he speeds up, moving his fingers extremely fast, pushing against your g-spot until your eyes roll back, your legs shake and you cream all over his fingers. your high seems to last forever until you come down from it.

your legs are still shaking a bit from the orgasm. your breathing is heavy, you find some strength to look at ghost. “good girl.” he says, his cock still hard. he licks your cream off his fingers, and kisses you, tasting yourself. he pulls his baclava back down over his lips and strokes his cock a few times, pulling your panties to the side. he lines the tip up with your cunt, rubbing the tub on your hole and clit. “you want it?” he says.

you nod profusely. he rubs it a bit more before finally pushing his cock head in. the tip already feels huge, you moan. he pulls back out and shoves the tip in and out for a bit. “just put it in!” you cry out. he grabs you by your face, basically slapping you. “you’re gonna be a good little whore. you better not complain again or i’ll fuck you so hard you can’t walk.” he says. that threat turned you on so much, you flex your pussy the next time sticks the tip in, prompting a groan from him. he pushes it in inch by inch, your pink walls taking him in so good. you moan loudly at the stretch, and he begins thrusting slowly. you moan and whimper as his cock slides in and out of you, drooling as his length fills you up over and over again.

he begins to thrust faster, leaving only his tip in and slamming his length back into you over and over. you moan his name. “ghost- ghost please- more, oh my- fuuuck.” you cry out. “call me simon.” you look up at him and cry out his real name, louder this time. “just like that simon- fuck me harder.” you cry out as he slams his dick into you.

he suddenly pulls out, flips you onto your stomach and arches your back, and slams back into you but from behind. he keeps his hand on your back to keep you arched as he uses you like a fleshlight. he rubs your ass before slapping it. you cry out, the pain feeling so good. he continues to fuck you while spanking you. “you like that? you fuckin’ like that?” “yes- yes please just like that.” thats gonna hurt tomorrow, but you don’t care right now.

he pulls your hair back, your eyes roll to the back of your head. the pleasure is too much. you drool and moan as he continues to pound his massive cock into you, squeezing and spanking your ass. your moans fills the room along with the erotic noises of him pounding into you and your wet pussy. “simon- i’m close- don’t stop please i’m gonna cum.” you moan out.

he begins to speed up, he angles his cock to hit spots you didn’t even know existed. your moans turn into whimpers as you get closer and closer, until your high finally comes undone. you scream out his name, everyone definitely heard it. it feels perfect, you feel so filled up. he rides you through your high, his grip on your hair loosening. he thrusts faster into you, chasing his own high.

he pulls out, stroking his cock as fast as he can, cumming on your ass. you can hear him grunting and hyperventilating. you’re still whimpering and shaking, you flop onto your side. he lies down beside you. “you still awake there, love?” he chuckles. you nod, you feeling weak and still sensitive. “do i get to see your face now?” you smile a bit. “you’re not quite there yet love.” he says, moaning to lie on his back. you nod and chuckle.

“so.. am i more than a crush now?” he says, turning his head to you. you think for a second before nodding slightly. “yeah.. yeah i think so.” you say, lifting up his mask slightly, just to see his lips. you kiss him gently. you’re more than friends now, and definitely more than a crush.

————————————————————————

a/n: FIRST FIC AHH!!! i hope this does well! i hope anyone who reads it enjoys, i didnt revise this so i’m hoping for the best 😭 love yall!

[mollyolikeme]

Thoughts as I read TSC: A Stream of Conciousness Part Two!

Filthy Spoils!

classic kevin.

LOL keep saying i see how much you bench as if thats an indicator of someones ability to kickass

HA! i always forget about the sixteen hour days shit, i cannot, i find it too fucking funny it's fucking impossible. mfs would be DECEASED. like DEAD.

they are so hardcore this fantastical has me CACKLING every time

like a ken doll!

BLONDE.

ill advised thoughts....

uh oh jean, your crazy is showing.

goddamn. to hate but need. complicated and absolutely screwed up relationship dynamics are fascinating.

okay, i like to rag on our beloved kevin (because its fun and easy) but like props where props are due. i know we didn't get to see his transition from raven to fox but i honestly think the boy would have handled it a lot better than jean jean morose over here. boy isssssss messed up.

foreshadowwwwww SWIM SHORTS!

dangerously low? dangerous for who jean?

do not be slut shaming, lucas. thats fucking gross of you and i'm not even gonna mention the nonconsensual factor...........

oh. my. word. its not funny but i feel the morbid sense to laugh at the ravens dropping like flies.

bad therapist. you cant force it. where is Dobson?

OMG LOL i summoned her!

dont you worry about kevin babe, the foxes got him

thats two hands on chin! thats two!

he's got a big dick! lololololololol boys not tryna be gayyyy

oh the heat! the HEAT! yes jeremyyyyyyyy

fear of water.

what happens when he losses his grip......i want to see you lose control......... hi familiar phrasing and trauma, i ADORE you.

in my head, jean has a very french tsk of his tongue reaction to almost everything people do around him.

yesssss the foxes ARE synchronized.

you tell him jeremy! none of his raven intentionally injuring people bullshit

omg were gonna get a little kevin trip to cali! reunion of the abused buds! (again gotta take the morbid hilarity into account for my health)

LOL wheel throwing! Patrick Swayze where are you?!

not the self flagellating notebooks he kept.....

oooooo intense. it all comes to the surface. the truth will always come out.

this is clever, gives just enough info about the ravens without explaining the crime side of things. go nora.

okay damn lucas.... issues buddy. dont be comin after jean jean. you'll regret it.

chin grab number 3! this time by jeremy 🤩

omg cuuuuuuuute little motorcycle ride and seashell gifty

again. uh oh jean. your crazy is showing to the coaches now. this truth is really spilling out the cracks

pause.......... guys my sanity........ my INsanity upon reading this........... im losin it! ......... okay resume.

morbid laughing morbid laughing morbid laughing fuck fuck fuck

yo. to somehow make me feel like neilio's story is a positive tale................

wow lucas. doubling down are we. his character does have a very difficult truth to come to terms with. its fuckin rough and a hella interesting arc.

you should call dobsonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

OH SHIT! neil's here! Thats not good news for you jean!

fy faen neil. you're kind of a gangster babe!

oh. dead sister. so sad. (typing it out like that looks sarcastic. It's not.)

yaaaaasssss thats the smart mouth we know and love! telling an agent he parked illegally!!! ahhhhh lolololololoolol

OMG Neil!!!! sweetheart! you care so much! awwwwwwwww wow nora seriously, what. a. treat! he cares about his buddy jean.

jeremy...... you got it so bad hun. always with the 'what do you need?' like just promise yourself to him forever and ever.

CHIN!!!!!!!!!! FOUR TIMES NOW.

woah Jer.

i like that jean actually doesn't like exy. such a good contrast to neils pov obsession.

im curious where this whole 'its not freedom its a pretty cage' thing is gonna go. like, yea i dont think you'll ever be 'free' free jean. but honestly this is pretty damn close. professional athletes lives are very straight forward. and if youre that good, fuckin easy.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Two questions. One how would all the wukongs/monkey kings react to finding out LMK Monkey got possessed and trapped in the scroll of memory? Two if any of the decided to spar how bad do you think it turn out and would MK be the one to like step into the middle of the spar to stop it. (Also can see the Macaque freaking out if he does that)

Question 1: Aftermath of both?

HeroIsBack: "Damn. Thats rough buddy." ("thanks.")

Reborn: "You survived though, right?" ("...yes.")

Netflix: "Wait, whats the Scroll of Memory again??? I've killed that bone spirit before, so I don't know if mine has possession powers or not. Wait... am I gonna get posssessed?!" ("Ah, I've set off his anxiety.")

NewGods: *silently pours LMK a drink, before realising that the LMK monkeys cant drink booze right now, so he swaps it with an iced tea* ("It's the thought that counts...")

2000sCartoon: "...do you need a hug?" ("Yeah...") *hugs LMK*

Meihouwang: *quietly scoots over and gives SWK a hug too* (*hugs back*)

Smash: "Lol, skill issue." ("Not helping Starfruit!")

Question 2:

Most combos of the monkeys sparring have the potiential for great collateral damage (except any with Meihouwang, they let him win); but I feel the ones most likely to loose control and have it stop being a "friendly spar" are Reborn and Netflix. Reborn has established anger issues, and Netflix is big on taunting his opponents and has canonically lost control over his more powered-up form.

MK runs out in between the two SWKs to stop the fighting. LMK!Macaque either does some amazing shadow portal-ing to get his boy out of there or...

Lets just say Reborn and Netflix are in BIG trouble until MK figures out how to un-stone himself.

[cartoonrival]

HEY YOU Hit me with some Julie Su propoganda cuz I'm mostly lukewarm on her character and don't know all that much about her.

OK OK ... well baseline info she's the daughter of dark legion general luger, and half sister of lien-da and kragok, who are twins and both high ranking legion soldiers. when their mother (merin-da) died and luger remarried, ld and kragok hated his new wife (julie-su's mother) (mari-su) so bad they orchestrated her death, info which was they kept on the DL for a long time until js eventually found out about it. memory situation, js is raised by other folks who actually love her and doesn't learn who her blood family is until later. she joins knuckles because she feels inexplicably drawn to him (soul touch) (echidna soulmates) so she defects from the legion to join the chaotix. the soul touch thing sucks and i hate it but this is how it goes. ill talk about my au version of her at the end lol bc things ive built on top of canon are part of the reason why shes one of my fave charas in the series lul

ANYWHO i honestly find it pretty frustrating when people talk about js as just being pink knuckles, shoehorned into the story to give knuckles an obligatory girlfriend, because it really demonstrates that they like. weren't paying a lick of attention to anything because she genuinely has a LOT of personality but since people just go in anticipating anything penders touched to suck they don't even bother to think about her for longer than half a second.

js fills a niche that, imo, could always use filling, especially with regards to girl characters, which is to say shes a well meaning asshole. shes incredibly blunt, she's pessimistic (immediately assumes knuckles must be dead when enerjak returns and they cant find him, tells knuckles not to search a fallen ship that his mother was on because shes probably dead and she doesnt think he'd want to see that). shes terrible at handling interpersonal conflict (knuckles confesses to her that he feels guilty and stressed over all the pressure put on him as guardian and she scolds him and says "this isn't just about you", which results in a minor shouting match when she really had zero intention of starting an argument), she's almost constantly beefing with vector (tbf its because hes sexist he refuses to see past her history as a member of the dark legion). these might suond like cons but i love characters like this LOL and they fit especially well in archie where people love to get mad at each other and make dumb mistakes and it just feels very genuine and interesting and endearing to me. shes rough and difficult but she's also DEEPLY loyal. she'd die for knuckles and the chaotix and the way she interacts with them always makes me soooo ........ im just gonna give some examples i can find.

(knuckles is on the phone with her)

^ this was the genuine conclusion of an argument they had and im obsessed with it because both of them suck with emotions so they both give the worlds strangest apology and know that the other means it and they move on. plus putting her arm in front of SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG while theyre confronting eggman even after watching him CHAOS BLAST, primarily because she feels like this is more her fight than his (its about knuckles).

theres def more and i could find them if i was more on top of archie but unfortunately im #narutopilled rn. BUT ANYWAYS. shes just a very fun character with a messy personality and fun interactions and she loves her buddies sm even tho she bickers with them. shes just very special. she fits well with knuckles in a way that makes their relationship actually feel plausible instead of just forcing him to have a girlfriend (tho ofc the writing is fumbled sometimes like. ITS ARCHIE. bffr. but thats the case with literally everything ever in archie so you take what you can and its amazing). also see below. BASED AS FUCKKKKKKK

and ill discuss my au briefly bc u r asking me my opinion on js and that does play a large role in how i feel abt her, but rly im just expanding on elements of her story that werent discussed as fully as i wouldve liked. her relationship with lien-da is obviously BAD in canon, but theres not a lot of time spent lingering on precisely how lien-da and kragok feel about julie-su as the product of their fathers second marriage to a woman they KILLED because they hated her so much. ive also given her much more internal strife over turning away from the legion, originally joining the chaotix planning to betray them from the inside then being slowly convinced to join them for real after realizing how much she'd been brainwashed by the legion and what its like to have people who truly love and care about you. her story as someone who is trying to find herself outside of her history as a child soldier is something that TOTALLY deserves to be expanded on and its a bit sad that it wasnt explored. but i mean really im not changing her actual PERSONALITY at all because as i discussed shes oozing with it.... im honestly never going to make the full comic i wanted to so at some point im just going to compile all the lore and concept art and stuff into one big post to share. but thats like a spoiler free taste.

she also has a gun. which is fucking awesome because not enough sonic characters have guns. people make shadow the guy with a gun but he hasnt been seen with one since shth. hello....

[corens-relisten]

MAG 17 The Bone Turner's Tale

THAT RANT AT THE BEGINNING IS SO REAL!! yes books are absolutely wild and im amazed that its not everyone whos thought about it

spoilers already!

omg its michael crew!! im so sure he shows up again but i didnt know hes be this early! oh right of course its that early he was mentioned in mag 4 Page Turner as a friend who got struck by lightning

OH?? JARED HOPWORTH?? LIKE..THE BONE TURNER?? (if you couldnt tell i write these as i listen) YESS IT IS!!

OMG ELIAS?? HELLO BEAUTIFUL i cant believe he actually said not to mess w the Lucas family so early

anywho i think this is the Flesh, bc, well. ~flesh~.

spoilers done (:

ELIAS!! HII i hate you but also like omgg helloooo hi so glad to hear you again

martin being out, a blessed relief?? good lord, jon! and yeah naomis complaint is valid he was kind of being a dick. she was too tho but the customers always right! (i wish they werent)

bros like "yeah my "friend"s stupid as shit, so seeing him pick up a book was unsettling, to say the least" thats rough, buddy

YES MHM. THE LIBRARY OR JURGAN LEITNER ((:

yess creepy!! weird distorted hopworth (: and he just got punched oop??

OH YESS. THE RIBS NOMNOMING HIS HAND THATS SO DISTURBING

well jon didnt simply dismiss this one! hes just pissed that leitner is here lol

and finally, my offering of the dayy!

this was one of my drawings for prompt 11 of tmatober, but it was too perfect not to use! so heres my michael crew

[beeholyshit]

ok here it issssss a rough sketch anyhow sorry it usually takes me like atleast 5 times of drawing a character before i get their like personality down and i can kind of make it show in the art lol but like was gonna give her an old ninetails butttt i was like oh what if she was friends with this really old venasaur in the area and was given an egg to take care of one day and then she gave it to prof oak and thats how he ended up with the bulbasaur from the starters. the weedle is just a little buddy she recused from her garden (i named it lucy it likes to cook with her) i do not have a name for her i thought i would leave that open for you lol

PGMTPMGOGM.GOMG

WAIT WAIT A SECOND I NEED AIR

SHE IS SO SWEET WHATW AHTWBAHE

SHE LOOKS SO CUUUUTE AND THE WEEDLE WAAAA IT KINDA REMINDS ME OF HOW MAROON GOT HER WEEDLE TOO WIIWIWIW

THW BULBASAUR PART IT'S SO SWEET WHAT THAT'S SO SMART AND CUTE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

In general she looks so sweet I'm so excited to know more about her it's so sniff sniff 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[concrete-critters]

Okay this is more a comment than an ask but Concreteclan gives me the vibes of an episodic cartoon that slowly starts to have overarching stories and themes and arcs like adventure time or..actually adventure time is the only thing I can think of. Concreteclan has adventure time vibes!/pos

OOC: Awww thank you!! To be perfectly candid and honest, while i do love adventure time and that probably did leak into Concreteclan as a result-The real inspirations of this blog are (besides other clangen blogs) tails gets trolled, Mob psycho 100 and Preeny has to repeat 6th grade. I love the mspaint aesthetic so much, i use clip studio paint but purposefully try to keep my shading flat most of the time and my lines crisply pixely. I also know that even though i could probably make the comic look "nicer" i choose to kinda play fast and loose with the lines and colors. I mean, lorn's face is constantly changing length in almost every panel lmao. Ive found its more fun to not worry so much about making sure my art is perfect. As for my inspirations- Tails gets trolled is like. actually a fucking great webcomic, as flawed as it is. (its been a while since ive read it, pretty sure slurs are used in it lol, but i digress) Concreteclan is really an homage to it in only art style and sometimes humor. If you guys want another webcomic thats like more of a direct homage, i would highly recomend Scoob and Shag, which is just as apeshit if not more. Mob psycho 100 is a more subtle inspiration, i just really resonate with the themes of that comic. I also got a confidence boost from it cuz like. Mob100's artstyle is rough and some would say "bad". But it still got made into an anime! and its still acclaimed. You know why? Cuz the art is EXPRESSIVE! It evokes emotion! And thats what im going for! emotion over perfection. Also its got really good writing. Preeny has to repeat 6th grade is. god. probably just straight up a special interest of mine. Its such a kind story. A lot of clangen stories start with tragedy. (esp when theres only two cats to start off) And dont get me wrong, i love it a lot. Starting from nothing like that is a really fun narrative and I live for it. But im a contrarian little guy. So i wanted to start off with an act of kindness that has ripple effects for the rest of the comic. There will be tragedy and sadness in Concreteclan, but I guess i just want it to be in a different way. And while im talking about inspirations, Lorn and Indigo both kinda were inspired by Papyrus and Sans from undertale. In terms of dynamics. Lorn is more inspired by Papyrus than Indigo is inspired by Sans. Indigo is far different from Sans, and would probabaly find him uncouth and a slob. She's a proper lady with manners after all. Lorn and Papyrus would fucking have a blast hanging out though.

All in all, yeah! Thats my rant of the day done, thanks for the ask! I'm Buddy and thats Conk-CRETE!

[whiskeyswifty]

Oh thank god, I thought I was the only one who hated the new cover lmao

you and i are not the only ones but DEFINITELY in the minority. i'll say i don't hate it, and i like a lot of the components! the photo obviously is so striking. how happy she is, mid laugh and hair in the wind. curly hair!! it's a great photo that makes me grin when i see it. i also really love the sharpie-style typography! i think it's a really clever way to stay within the aesthetic, but avoid the copyright infringement of doing it in her original sharpie handwriting. very rough and ready, diy, with the look of a Hand Crafted Human Touch, which is a very interesting way to visually portray a very synth heavy album lol. i love that contrast and that insistence that despite it's pop genre, it's a very raw and open album.

its the technical execution of it that really rubs me the wrong way. simple things like the light on the seagulls comes from the top right, and the light on her face comes from the bottom left. thats like.... art composition 101 shit. not to mention the very odd seagull photoshop job where seagulls are in focus way more than they should be for how proportionate they are to her. they should be much blurrier for how far they are, especially given the grain. and then the general composition is just.... awful. she's both too big and too small at the same time, and the album title is also too big and too small. it's this weird noncommittal size that covers her a little bit? but it's crowding the cover and fighting for real estate and attention with her photo, which is a layout issue. it creates a tension that is really frustrating. it's okay to give some more of that blue negative space for it to breathe so it has the breezy look the cover is trying to evoke.

I think the components actually look awesome in other formats, like the IG story and here:

this is nice and balanced here, her and the title of equal height and we got a thirds situation going on, with the title occupying 2/3, as it should since it's the point of interest. and then she occupies 1/3 as she should as the complimentary image. soooooo pleasing to the eye and very legible design, you know where to go first and then second.

i love so much of it's individual pieces, i'm just soooo frustrated with it's layout choices. i totally get that i'm just being super nit-picky with it and most swifties don't care at all and that's totally fine. 2 of my friends texted me this morning to gush how much they love it and that's great! I'm just really picky when it comes to this stuff, but it's nice to know that me and some of my other buddies on here share the same frustrations with it!

[yakkitylylac]

hee hee more silly hk au rambles

Lurien is VERY VERY VERY protective and doting of Ernest (his butler) he will literally move heaven and earth just to see the boy smile he loves him very very much :]

lurien has a HUGE sweet tooth. he especially likes cookies and maple syrup. give him pancakes drowned in maple syrup and he will love you forever

Alba (the white lady) is a chronic child adopter. so far she's got marmu, dryaa, hornet (kinda) and lurien but shes probably semi-adopted the rest of the knights as well (plus offscreen shes taken in multiple orphans/abandoned grubs and cared for them until they were able to find new permanent homes. why didnt she just keep them you may ask ? because up until the pure vessel fiasco pk had a strict No Babies Allowed policy )

radiance and pk used to be good buddies !! until pk decided power was way cooler than friendship and totally didnt turn all of radiance's people/children against her and also kick her off her own land. radiance is very very hurt/angry about this as you may guess

kinda continued from the precious statement, radiance was actually a decent ruler ! while she probably did keep some bugs under her hive mind she let most of the inhabitants live freely under their own will (namely the mantis tribe and mosskin tribe). she was also good friends with unn

less a headcanon/au trivia and more an accidental observation but alba is very similar to camila (toh) whoopsy-daisy (chronic child adopter, probably a nerd, can and will bash your skull in if you mess with her/her kids)

alba was not aware of, nor did she consent to the whole "baby pit" thing. at some point she even directly told pk that she wanted any impure vessels to be kept and cared for as normal children. however after she got infected and sealed away, pk kinda,,, didnt do this.

mightve mentioned this earlier but the dreamers are adopted siblings :)

Compared Child by Jubyphonic summarizes lurien and monomons backstories and relationship fairly well : )

all three of the dreamers are mom friends, but to varying degrees. lurien is mostly a mom to ernest/basically anyone younger or smaller than him. he does occasionally show protectiveness towards herrah and monomon but very rarely. herrah is generally pretty edgy and hardened but will show some degree of caring/protectiveness towards anyone she truly trusts (members of deepnest, hornet, and lurien/monomon.) monomon is a mom friend to pretty much Everyone, but especially lurien. shes also that one friend that will actively threaten you to make sure you eat three meals a day and drink plenty of water

luriens mental/emotional stability, on a scale of 1-10, would probably be a -5. this man has been through some rough stuff please hug him

pk is semi-corrupted by void :) totally not inspired by belos' goop monster thing mmmm nope,,

lol thats all i can think of for now yeehaw