#that he smokes a lot of and leaves weed crumbs everywhere

[fukozawa]

This is gonna be a vent post

I’m so fucking frustrated at every living situation I’m in i have to deal with a roommate who is almost impossible to communicate with bc their trauma response is to avoid accountability at all cost and become defensive when faced with any slight criticism.

My cousin is 4 months younger than me and is about to turn 25, has worked extremely hard for the job he has and all that yadada. Thing is though, I’m the only person in my family who actually moved away for a good while and lived Without the help of my family. Not saying I’m not extremely privileged to have had that opportunity even with the financial & mental strain, but it taught me a lot and i grew up and matured in a fuck ton of ways. Ways that my cousin has not, because he has lived at home with his parents his entire life. Not that theres anything wrong with that except for the fact he thinks hes fully self sustained and independent when he has no idea what being cut off from ur family is actually like. He has never had to clean his own messes or buy his own groceries, or keep up with regular household chores bc hes straight up a machista in denial, and its pissing me the fuck off. Even his sister was curious what its been like living with him and i tell her its been hell cuz he doesnt clean up after himself at all and uses weaponized incompetence like his life depends on it.

Not to mention the house we’re all staying in is my grandmas house who passed away last year and ive been doing my absolute fucking best to maintain the house and keep it super clean also cuz its a mexican house built before the 80s and needs a lot of cleaning maintenance.

Theres 4 of us in the house and 3 people are constantly cleaning up the mess left by 1 person. We’re fucking done and we’re gonna bring it up with him today cuz this has gotten out of hand.

The breaking point was the fact that he Knows how badly we need groceries. He is the only person with a car and we rely on him to pick up groceries. He typically gets off work at 3pm which gives plenty of time to do a quick run to the grocery store. And the day before yesterday he agreed to take us after he got off work. (Keep in mind we pay for the groceries and have offered to pay the little amount of gas it take to get there since its close by). But yesterday he gets home, we remind him that we need him to take us to the grocery store, he says he forgot and that he was gonna quickly get changed and we could go. We were sitting in the living room in our jackets and w shoes on for two whole fucking hours waiting for him to come back from his room but he never did. And when he finally did, he treated it like it was the worst thing in the world and told us he could take us the next day cuz hes off work.

Thing is tho, he drank the rest of MY coffee which i Heavily rely on cuz I’m an insomniac and also its been my ‘samefood’ and what i look forward to everyday is the afternoon peace of smoking a cig and drinking a cup of coffee. There was only a little left that i was saving and he ended up using all of it (as a result of which caused me to have a meltdown cuz i was already on edge) Which wouldve been totally fine if he actually took us to the grocery store like he said he would but nope. He also ate the last avocado that we bought for ourselves saying that he’ll take us to the store to get more and whaddayakno, never did. Like I’m sorry but as someone whos job required me to wake up at 6am, commute for 1.5hrs to work for 7hrs then spend 1.5hrs commuting home, id STILL stop by the grocery store after work if my roommates really needed me to.

But even when he is off work and the two times he took us to get groceries, the whole trip is spent with him on his phone where the only time he looks up from his screen is to grab the handful of items he wanted or ask us if we’re almost done. You could Feel his impatience at having to be inside a grocery store for more than 10 minutes it was palpable. Literally like a fucking child waiting on his parents when he is a full grown adult acting like spending more 30 minutes getting groceries is absolute hell.

Oh! Did i mention hes a pisces man 🥴

Anyways I’m so fucking tired of living with people i need to live on my own so fucking bad

[eremiie]

could I....could I request perhaps...stoner Levi?? Or maybe stoner h/c for any of the AOT crew

eren & levi stoner headcanons;

i’m gonna double whammy this! enjoy!

stoner levi

hange probably got levi into smoking tbh, especially if they lived together, they’re smoking buddies and she probably grows her own shit or something

i mean this dude was like “???? no” at first but she was like “come oooon, it’ll relax you!” and he was somewhat sold

he only smokes time to time but if he shared a dorm/apartment with hange then he’d smoke almost every time she does

first time he smoked he probably went home and did his research, then proceeded to text hange a whole bunch of questions

he would never spend money on any kind of drugs, he only smokes when hanji invites him to a sesh

he is really good at rolling for some reason, after the first time hange asked him to roll she kept asking him and he would roll his eyes but do it anyways

as a matter of fact he secretly likes rolling cause he’s the one to lick the blunt, not anyone else, and the way hange licks it looks nasty to him so—

he’s a chill ass smoker but it’s funny because he gets more irritated when he’s high, like hange will talk his head off and he’s ready to backhand her, he’ll just stare at her until she shuts up, and he hates when oluo talks while he’s high it irritates him so much more

he doesn’t like hotboxing, first time was probably in a car and he left cause it was so hot and it made him really uncomfy he prefers to smoke outside most of the time anyways

levi only smokes joints, he wouldn’t vape, use a pipe, none of that, maybe edibles once or twice but they never really did much for him. he might try using a hookah but deem it too complicated or some shit, or it tasted weird or something

he looks so good when he smokes though?? like since he already has narrow eyes his eyes are basically closed and when he’s sitting back and just minding his business he just looks so mfkn good

he gets really uncoordinated i feel like? idk why but i feel like he trips over his own feet literally all the time when he’s high

things he has done while high; one time he started crying cause he got overwhelmed and hange took pictures which he forced her to delete the next day and refused to believe he cried in front of her

that was the only time. that never happened again.

another time he started cooking and made like 3 different quick meals which hange taste tested and applauded him for, he doesn’t even know where he got the recipe from and could barely remember making one of those meals but hange remembers and brings it up every 1-3 business days

and another time he deep cleaned the whole entire apartment while muttering nonsense to himself. hange was almost positive he wasn’t high when he did that but they were both faded

stoner eren

eren is an avid smoker, i mean this dude smokes a lot, every time someone asks the answer is yes

he probably got into smoking because he vaped in the school bathroom in high school and thought that shit was cool asf

he never actually got his own vape but always used a friends when he was with them, a terrible era for him and the first time he smoked weed was probably his senior year 

he usually smokes with connie, sasha, jean, thats his main circle and it was connie who invited him the first time

occasionally armin will join, i can definitely see armin smoking with them a couple times... he probably ended up smoking with them the first time because he happened to be hanging out with them

eren is surprisingly a very chill smoker too, he’s in his own head and nothing bothers him, he’s at peace. i mean this dude isn’t arguing with anybody, not even jean

he gets so touchy when he’s high— whoever is near him is getting touched, whether it be him holding their arm, laying his head on their lap, putting his arm around their shoulders, or keeping his hand on their leg, he needs to make contact with you

he rolls sloppy as fuck but it gets the job done, they usually leave the rolling to jean because A) he’s great at it and B) one time connie dropped the grinder and weed went everywhere

eren has only paid for weed fully once, and never again. mikasa scolded him for it too, it was a terrible investment in her eyes. he always pitches in when they all plan to smoke though so whoever doesn’t have to pay fully

eren likes edibles and will use them, as well as still hit a vape if someone offers. once eren had sour patch edibles and thought they weren’t doing anything but like 30 minutes later it hit him and hit him so hard 

he also gets really uncoordinated while high, i mean this mf will reach for a water bottle and he misses it by 30 feet, he thinks it went through his hand or something

he likes when people play with his hair while high, it feels 10x better and he will actively seek for someone to just brush his hair or run their hands through it. usually armin vouches to do it. once sasha did it while eating chips and eren had crumbs in his hair

he cannot comprehend anything while he’s high. he will “huh?” you to death, i mean words literally scramble in his head and he will stare at you trying his hardest to understand

things he has done while high; he hugged armin for a good thirty minutes and refused to let go. armin was fine with it though because he got to complain to eren about how he felt sad for ants that go into houses to try to find a place to live and end up dying. eren just nodded his head like he understood and told armin he loved his hair every 3 seconds

eren fell asleep for literally like 2 minutes while high and then woke up and went to grab his bag for school. mikasa had to sit him down and reassure him he had no school and it was 11pm

he called his mom, told her he was high then hung up the phone. she yelled at him the next morning and he argued with her trying to tell her he didn’t call her

[playdohmichelangelo]

metalocalypse x american dad crossover fic wip from a txt file i found on my desktop [1.2k words]

''Dad, why is there a giant, evil-looking truck in front of our house?''

Stan, sitting in the living room armchair, not looking up from the book he just started, which was titled ''How To Look Up From A Book.'', replied:

''Probably just some of my homeboys from the C.I.A dropping by. I wouldn't worry about it, Steve. O-Oh- and the C.I.A. isn't evil! We're the good guys.''

''It doesn't look like a C.I.A. vehicle, dad! It's like a slow-moving castle, out of heavy metal.'' Steve spoke while nervously fiddling with his fingers. ''It's like it's owned by metalheads!''

Stan looked up from his book, his attention caught. ''Metalheads? You mean those long-haired worshippers of the DEVIL? That's not right...''

''Yeah! Like Haile-''

Stan pushed him aside and looked out the window, eyes squinting. There it was- an ominous chunk of black and red, taking up both sides of the street. It looked like a whole building rather than a vehicle.

''Hmm, looks like a blockage.'' Roger commented while snacking on bacon Tuc crackers and getting crumbs everywhere on the floor.

''You might want to put something on, Roger, I think they're here to visit us!'' cried Steve.

''They are not going to invade my kingdom!'' panicked Stan. ''Not one filthy, booted step on my clean American property!''

He ran outside and Steve followed.

''What's going on?'' came from Hailey, who was behind.

''Hayley, do you know what this is about? Why aren't they leaving? You know, *them*?'' Stan gestured at the vehicle in front of them.

''Oh... Oh my God!'' Hailey gasped. ''We won the Dethklok-family sleepover raffle that I signed us up for!''

''You WHAT?''

''Dad, you know what this means? Dad! They're the biggest death metal band in the. Whole. WORLD!'' She squealed with glee.

''Death... Metal? Deathclock? Well, I can't allow this! They are NOT getting anywhere near us. I forbid it!''

''Dad, dad, it's okay- it's...'' She sighed. ''It's five white guys, dad.'' Hailey whispered to Steve. ''But none of them are straight.''

''...And they're famous?''

''Oooh, wait, I know them!'' Steve exclaimed. ''Hailey listens to some of their tracks sometimes when you're not home, like I Ejaculate Fire and-'' Hailey covered his mouth with both her hands. ''Haha, well, it's, um... It's awful that they're spreading so much steam into the athmosphere with the... Mordcar? Dethcycle! I hate them too, like you, dad! I swear. But they're only going to stay for ONE night! Daddy, please? It's a one-in-a-billion chance! We were picked!''

Stan sighed, deeply. ''Just one night. And then they'll leave. And you'll owe me, Hailey. But how are we going to house 5 people? 5 cavemen with long, filthy hair, at that, schreeching about the Devil and... Uhh... Iron..''

''I guess they assumed the fans who signed up would worry about that.'' Steve answered while eyeing the contrast in size between their house and the vehicle.

The Dethcar/Mordcycle entrance doors slid open with the speed of molasses dripping off a spoon, with thick fog creeping outside dramatically, of course, setting quite the scene. Stan stared in awe.

''Pickle, we amsn't suppossed to smoke weeds today!'' cast the whine of one of the silhouettes at the step.

''Sorry, Toki, I ferget we hed a theng today. Jus' ventilating for a moment.''

''It's okej. But look, we's here!''

''Oh sheet, lemme just discard dat real quick-''

The man with the hair that looked like a red octupus dropped his blunt onto the grass, roughly massaged it with his sneaker, and kicked it under the Dethcar. He looked at Stan and grinned mildly apologetically.

As the guy next to him with the catfish whiskers gently facepalmed, more people came out of the car.

''This is it? SO tame. Talk about *regular* jackoffs. Ugh. We could've gotten the apartment of a crackhead, at least that'd be interesting'' scoffed the man whose face could've had murder written on it. He stepped forward and headed towards the front door, pushing Stan out of the way.

''Hey! Don't you touch me with those.. Eugh, those ogre sausages!'' Stan asserted. ''How are you so ugly?'' he added, with genuine confusion.

''Gee, thanks, you suit. Don't you know who I am?''

''I really don't.''

The man with the Murderface seemed disheartened, just for a moment. ''Duh, I'm William Murderface, songwriter and lead of the second most famous band in the world, aka Dethklok, and also the mastermind behind THE most famous band in the world, Planet P-''

''No, he's not.'' came from the living personification of ''death metal''. He stepped right in front of Stan. They were pretty much of the same height and physique, but something about the stranger made him more intimidating than the plain-faced suburban man we know as Stan.

''I guess we'll be staying here tonight. I'm Nathan Explosion. I don't know why I said that, you already knew. Whatever.'' He shrugged, sighed, and stepped inside like the faces of awe of the winning family meant nothing to him.

Another man, who looked like an elf and also a birch tree, just followed, silently. But he did stop for a moment and seemingly checked out Hailey, squinting his eyes and touching his chin like he was comparing products at a food library. He went inside as well like it was nothing. He and Nathan sat on the couch and watched the TV.

''Hold on...'' spoke Nathan. ''This TV doesn't have The Dethklok Minute. The fuck?''

''Dat's ams strange.'' came from the other man, now even more obviously European. ''Oh wells. I don't haves my guitars with mes. Just puts on whatever.''

Nathan, handling the remote, asked ''You cool with... Damn, they have every season of Grey's Anatomy. Wanna see that?''

The other man shrugged. He casually pulled out some sort of toy and started fidgeting with it to busy his hands. Probably plays a lot of guitar...

Stan was appalled, these people, waltzing in... At least the elf took off his shoes. And there's more... The duo from before, they approached them as well.

''They're getting comfortable like it's a party! Wouldn't expect anything less offensive from lost men such as these.'' Stan pouted. ''You there, young man!'' He pointed at the catfish man, who was in the middle of taking off his shoes after realising the kitchen floor might be slippery. ''Huh? Mes?''

''You seem polite.''

''Thank yous! I'ms Toki, Dethklok's... Supporting guitarist!''

He handed out his hand in the shape of one half of a handshake. Stan hesitated, but he accepted it. The man's grip was a lot firmer than Stan expected. ''So, ums... What rooms ams I sleepings in?'' ''There's a spot under Steve's bed.'' Stan suggested, coldly. ''You thought I'd be nice to you, huh? Well, you thought wrong! You're still an enemy!'' ''Enemies? Buts I just gots here-'' ''No protests, son. Now go to your room.'' ''???'' ''...Steve will lead you there. Steve?''

Steve's head perked up. ''Yes?'' ''I need to deal with this one man with long hair hiding a lot of sin at a time. Toki's sleeping under your bed tonight.'' Toki frowned. ''You're parternings me ups with a kid because you thinks of me as a kid?'' Stan crossed his arms. ''Yes.'' Toki cursed under his breath. ''Fines! Let's goes, Steve.'' As he and Steve stepped up, he asked: ''Do yous haves any video gayms?''

''Now, where was I... Wait, where's triangle-hair guy?

[didn’t write past this lol]

[birthdaylobotomy]

I Took It And I Ran

WIP                                                                                                                      Currently still very much in progress. However, I wanted to share this! 

CONTENT WARNING: Alcohol, drug use, violence, sexist/sexual language. In later parts there will be suicidal ideation, self harm, prostitution, sexual abuse,  homophobia and racist language among other thing. 

I do not share many of the ideologies my main character does. Remember- you are seeing this through the eyes of an angry kid in the early 90s. He says many things that are, in general, very bitter. 

@sec-lude, @misfitwings, @cohldhands, @smoke-the-woke and anyone else who wants to be put on/taken off the tag list let me know!!

With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy!!

CHAPTER ONE (Part One)

The first time I met Luke, I was at that house party Monica was throwing for her ugly friend Brittney. I don’t remember all of the details, mostly because I was completely and irreversibly hammered. I just know Britt was sad about something, probably her baby daddy not paying his support- he never did- and Monica, who knew everybody up and down the block, decided to throw a party. What can I say? Monica was great at making people forget their woes, until the next day and pounding hangover, of course. Monica, pretty Monica.

I remember the scene at least, the setup. Assad was ranting off to me about some dumb shit I didn’t care about, but I had to pretend to care because as long as he thought we were friends, I would get my weed cheap. Was I manipulative? Oh, for sure, but I didn’t care back then. I didn’t care about anyone.

“This bitch was all over me, I swear,” he sighed, doing the thing he always did, which was tug at my shoulder twice and clap his hands together when he caught my glare. “But, but, I knew I had a girlfriend. She knew too!”

I had already checked myself out mentally from what he was saying. It was always the same shit anyways. He would be dealing to a girl, and she would have no money, “No nothin’ but her body, and damn was her body rich!” And Assad, poor Assad, would be faced with the trial of either going ahead and having the fuck of his life, or staying loyal to his baby. His baby that he sure had the habit of cheating on.

“Yeah, yeah, this bitch- oh!” He cringed his face tight and smacked his hands together twice. “Her ass was so fucking fat, I almost had a- a seizure, just lookin’! My baby can’t find out, she won’t. I won’t let her.”

I nodded twice. I hated men who cheat, I still do. They are scumbags who deserve to be found out. Assad was no exception.

The party was packed. Monica’s parties usually were. Over 100 shady people, all squeezed into one tiny apartment. People who I had never seen, who’s scent I hadn’t even smelled yet. Everyone knew Monica though. If they hadn’t fucked her or her sister, then their boyfriend had. Despite this, everyone loved her.

The room stunk, and that was coming from a smelly punk who lived in early 90’s Detroit. Even my roomates, a former prostitute and her shithead boyfriend, smelled like a flower shop compared to the mess of people I was in. Assad didn’t seem to notice- he must’ve been high off his ass. His skin gleamed with sweat, and his afro seemed to be weighed down with gunks of stale perspiration. He wiped his face a few times and licked his lips constantly.

“Fuck, man,” Assad groaned, giving one last tug at my shoulder before swinging his head in the other direction. “I gotta go. Monica’s parties always end with someone either gettin’ cursed or killed or pregnant. I gotta go.”

I made no attempt to keep him at that party. Instead, I nodded in support of the concept. “Listen, man, if you need to leave, leave. I definitely wouldn’t blame ya,” I said, gesturing of the swarm of drunk criminals that buzzed everywhere I could see.

He bobbed his head three times, each time slower than the former. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Take care, white boy.” I sighed at his awkward goodbye- was it well meaning or an attempt at insult? I would never know or care. I nearly shoved him away, which I disguised with a rough pat on the back, and Assad quickly vanished into the crowd of rats.

Since I was alone, I decided now would probably be my only chance at a cigarette until some other phony friend would find it to be the right time to attack me with their personal crisis.

So, with nothing but a cheap pack a cigarettes and a half empty bottle of warm beer, I escape from the soup of musty kids and into the lukewarm night.

It was such a blessed night. And chilly, too. The raggedy holes in beat-up jeans soaked in the cold and made the skin on my knees prickle up underneath. I kept swinging around the bottle, my arm rubber, as I chucked it out into the street. Even my swaying, drunk eyes could see the glass explode like fireworks.

“Fuck.”

I didn’t even realize just how freezing it was until the vapor rose out of my mouth, like smoke from a dragon. I rubbed my hands against my naked arms and cursed the invention of wife-beaters.

I was mad. I had been for a long time, for a lot of different reasons. The most recent fuel to my fire was the fact that I had fallen bitterly in love with Monica. The queen of whores, sitting on a throne of the men she had fucked and left in the dirt. Pretty Monica, with her cherry red lips and big brown hair, her perky tits and squeaky voice.

I dug a cigarette out of my pocket. I didn’t know a single guy that wouldn’t get a hard on when Monica would wiggle her way into a room, spill a few tacky flirts and wiggle right back out. Something about her left guys, even ones who were damn well smart enough to know she was nothing more than polite slut, drooling after her and her tight little-

I couldn’t find my fucking lighter. My dead old jeans were ripped right through as I forced my hand through my pocket. It came out on the other side, the hole shredded and unfixable. I completely stopped for a long minute. My favorite pair of pants, torn but not in a way I could frame as being some punk bullshit.

“Oh, fuck off!” I grabbed whatever my hands could snatch- a nearly empty pack of smokes- and I flung it as hard as I could muster into the sidewalk. A few wandering crackheads were the only ones to notice as I stamped my heart out against the pack. Up and down I threw myself, until the pack was nothing but a flat stomped out pile of tobacco crumbs and mashed paper.

I stared at the ground. A pile of mediocre cigs, wasted.

Why was I so angry back then? I knew it was just more than Monica. I knew it, but it would have taken a gun or war to make me admit what it really was.

This block was a rough one. Buggy eyed homeless people, all high on dope and some other shit would always come swaying around corners, like feral dogs waiting to bite. Just walking to Monica’s apartment, only seven o’ clock, made me paranoid. The city was going through a great death those days. The auto industry had fled, racial tensions were so strung that you could cut them with a knife. I think everyone was angry, waiting to burst.

I stood there like some kind of scarecrow. I had no cigarettes and no beer. No knife either. As the sound of police sirens acted as a distant lullabye, I was reminded of that. I had left my blade at the apartment. I always did when I came to Monica’s place. The why was really dumb, but I just told anyone who would ask that if Gloria, my roommate, ever got into shit with her scumbag boyfriend, that my blade would save her life. Now that I think of it, she never used that blade, not once in her short life.

That’s when I saw- no, heard first- a man who I would come to know as Luke Evans.

It started with the pounding of his feet- an anthem against the black tar. I heard his sneakers slapping against the earth before I saw him. And when I saw him, I saw all of him.

His feet were a blur, he was running faster than anyone I had ever seen before- you know, if he had for whatever reason changed his life and poured his being into being some trackstar, he would have left Bolt in the dust.

His face- his face was filled with some primordial fear, something out of a nature documentary. His eyes distant but near, wide wide open but closed tight shut, peering. He bounced up and down as his feet touched and released the ground, and he sported an oversized jacket- like a little kid trying out his dad’s old coat. He sprinted with his arms, pumping almost as quickly as his legs did. When I made him out I stopped breathing. I wasn’t afraid of him. I don’t why I wasn’t, but for some reason, I immediately felt the urge to guard him from whatever beast he was escaping.

He ran straight, right through the center of the street. I was to his left- probably just a blur, a small mark on a large map of shadowy, red-brick row homes. But to me, Luke was something like an asteroid. A comet.

Ten more seconds. In a wild racing screech, blared honking and two blinding lights- the beast was revealed.

A truck, torn inside and out with big blocky bullet-holes, shredded to the point it could barely even be called a vehicle. What monsters in human bodies could have destroyed something so thoroughly? I began to sweat as it all came closer. Monsters that lived in each and every apartment as far as I could see.

This is when I, a twenty one year old child, brimming with rage and lust and depression, saw a decision, that I seemed destined from the day I was born to make. I saw the option more clearly that I had seen anything else up to that point. I could save this stranger, who had done something, something big and bad enough to cause that chase, and that anger. Or I could save myself. I could allow myself to continue this existence of standing to the side and nodding to get what I want. A life of putting in no effort, no care, no risk of change. A life that would keep me safe but miserable.

Of course, in that moment, it wasn’t laid out like that- I didn’t think of it that way. However, even young and dumb me knew I needed to do something.

So, in one of my few moments of selfless risk, I made the choice to save him.

It was swift- the flash of my arm thrusting out, the smudge of the darkness and Luke becoming one thing, and, of course, the look. The look we traded as this happened, as he had finally passed me on the street and I, a formerly minor distraction on the sideline, became a central figure. In that moment, I made myself almost as important as the car, with its headlights licking Luke’s heels.

As he looked at me, I swear to this day his baby blue eyes held no fear. He was confused, as anyone would be in that moment- but he wasn’t scared, at least not of me. I don’t know why.

I wonder what I looked like to him. He would never tell me. Maybe a hero. I like to think that at the very least. I fantasize and tell myself I had a manly shine and glimmer, my eyes determined and my mouth a fine line of focus. I wish I had asked him.

But in that moment, I wasn’t thinking of me. I wasn’t really thinking about Luke either, truthfully. In reality, I was thinking about the car.

The car, which screeched as it came closer, closer, a giant hulking monster that would kill me in an instant if I refused to move any longer. I sprang, my legs weak and bouncy but strong. Strong enough to leap across the small plot of grass in front of the building, my arm a leash and Luke barely connected. I spotted the bush- the bush that all of Monica’s drunk boyfriends would piss in, littered with cigarette butts and and wrappers and whatever other shit people would be too lazy to actually dispose of.

In that moment, that nasty fucking bush was a paradise- something sent from God himself to rescue me and this beautiful blonde criminal attached to my arm. I threw myself fully into it, the thin twigs popping and crackling as they snapped around us. Everything was so fast, so urgent, that the moment we sat the world came to jolting halt.

Silence.

We were as silent as two panting, terrified children could be. I could only hear the sounds of our bodies and the city then- the constant warning of police and their wail, the close hum of the party in the building right against the shrubbery, and the car. The car, wheezing and sputtering like an old man. Its engine coughed and spat below the hood. I could hear shouting- what did they say? They sounded angry, and dangerous. I put my hand instinctively over my mouth, and I tried to slow my breathing one trembling huff at a time. My eyes couldn’t help but stray to the person inches away from me.

The light of the car moved slow, slow. It winked at us, walked across our bodies, the shadows of the leaves that crossed us looking like spots of black against our persons. The glint was too powerful and in a moment of impulse, I turned my face. I saw Luke, not move, not even blink. The light gave him a holy glow, a halo. He did not look at me. He looked only at the truck.

It seemed to last a million years. When finally the shouting stopped, I heard something like a mumble, and then the tires screamed against the street, and the truck sped off and away.

Neither Luke nor I moved for a full thirty seconds. Nothing. The car was gone- it was truly gone. I had been the first to hint at our safety; I looked at him and couldn't help but smile, big, goofy and relieved. Out of the corner of his eye he assessed me cautiously, before finally turning to face me fully for the first time. When he did, the corner of his mouth was a boyish grin.

Even in the hidden darkness, his eyes twinkled like Christmas lights. I could make out his dimples that shined through his babyish cheeks. There was something so alien about that youth, and those eyes. I couldn’t help but feel myself fall in an exhausted but hearty laugh. And he started laughing too, and I remember so cleanly both us giggling and sobbing with this brilliant feeling of ease.

When we eventually were became too sore to keep dying over nothing, we fell quiet again. I noticed Luke move his head side to side, as if he were searching for something. I could only see the darkness of his silhouette. I looked at only him.

“This bush smells like urine,” he said. That brought me back to a level of reality. It did smell like piss- and drugs. And whatever nasty shit people has dumped into it.

“Fuck, let’s get out then.”

“Okay.” Both of us moved at once- Luke, not drunk like me, popped up out of the bush with a flurry of broken and dry leaves. He yanked me up without me having to ask. We both stood there, very close, the brier scratching at our waists. It took my slightly intoxicated sway to get us moving again.

When we were back in the clear, Luke looked over up and down the streets as he yanked up his pants and held his huge jacket closed. He didn’t explain anything, but instead looked to me and nodded with gratefulness. “Thanks, man. Really.” I told him no worries, and picked a few thorns out of my knees. “What’s your name?”

My head jerked up. This was the crossing of a great bridge. I hid my happiness by raking my hand through my mess of hair. “Ryder. You?”

With one hand clutching his jacket, he stuck out a small, twig-sliced hand. “Lucas Evans. My friends prefer Luke, though.”

Did I plan it? Did I do it on purpose? I like to think I didn’t, and that I either was too stupid to realize it- which is much more likely- or that it was fate somehow. The idea of me doing it consciously makes me cringe.

“Alrighty, Luke...We should probably go inside.” Without hesitation, I took and shook his offered hand.

And in that moment, I didn’t just cross the bridge, but I flew across it, not even thinking to look back. Just by changing a few minor letters and shedding an S this person, who I barely knew but had still saved, went from being a complete stranger who owed me to a friend.

I saw him look to the ground in- in what? In pleasure, embarrassment, childish joy? But when he looked back up his dimples dotted his cheeks grandly.

“You’re right. I don’t-” He peaked over his shoulder again, scratching the back of his head, “I don’t think it would be all that smart of me to go back into those streets.”

“No kiddin’,” I said, leading the way back to Monica’s cluttered party. “If you just stay here for a bit you’ll be fine.”

When I opened the door I was hit with pounding, pungent reminder of why I left in the first place. Girls caked with makeup and sweat, greasy punk boys shedding their shirts to try impress someone, anyone. I let out a heave of a sigh and turned to Luke with a flip-flopped expression. “Just so you know, be weary of everyone here. They aren’t good people.”

[justanotherjunkiest93-blog]

about me

At 25 I can't believe that my life has reached this point. I was a miracle baby to an unlikely older couple. My mom was a 38 year old ex-heroin addict and my dad was a 43 year old business owner who never touched drugs in his life, never smoked cigarettes, and barely ever drank. I was a tiny premature baby and my mom's only child. She had thought that she couldn't have kids with the many miscarriages before me. Everything until the age of 5 is a blur to me but I mainly lived alone with my mom, only seeing my dad occasionally as he was abusive and my mom avoided him a lot. From 5-8 we moved back and forth and I spent about half of my time living with both my mom and dad. I remember random times when I thought he would kill her and I would call the cops on him for hitting her and one time when he kidnapped me from my grandmother's house. He pulled her by her hair and threw her down and took off with me. He brought me to disney and I was little so the distraction of being there was fun I didn't realize the gravity of the situation. As I got older I remember being extremely sexual. At 6 or 7 I remember my best friend and I would experiment with each other in the bathtub until her mom eventually found out. I remember all my strange fantasies, as a little girl for what ever reason I had such an obsession with sex and men. Oddly enough my friend did too so maybe it's normal. I mean when you think of 6-9 year old little girls you think of innocence but we were far from innocent. I had friends and I always spent time with my family (cousins, aunts, uncles, half brother, etc). Around 11 I guess my oddness started to show. I no longer hid my sexuality well, I had lots of online boyfriends and eventually real life ones too. My family on my dad's side caught on and talked a lot of shit amongst themselves and created a barrier that we are still not past. I will never trust them because of this and I saw their true personalities come out. They were so nice to my face but absolutely terrible behind my back. My cousins had issues with me being bi and talked a lot of shit to me about it. My female cousin on my dad's side of the family was the least accepting of my sexuality and treated me oddly ever since she knew I had an interest in females. My male cousin on my mom's side had been battling addiction and moved to florida for a change. He was in my life a lot and I loved him dearly. He was a heroin addict and I guess my mom and him did drugs together but back then I didn't realize that's what was going on and I still haven't had a confirmation of it. I talked to a lot of perverts online and kept myself busy. So many older men had an interest in me just because I was young and it all seemed so normal then but looking back it was so sick. There was this guy named robbie who was a virgin, cross-dresser, and definitely a pedophile. I ended up meeting him in new jersey when I was 13 and attempting to have sex with him. I can't believe I did that and I can't believe nothing happened to me. You hear all these crazy stories but I met this sicko and he didn't try to kidnap me, rape me, or kill me like everyone seems to think would happen. I got my period around 11 and had fully developed breasts while still in elementary school. I barely fit in during these years. Random older men always hit on me everywhere I went, they must've known I was too young looking back I just don't think its possible that they didn't know. I liked the attention, it made me feel pretty. ` My first kiss was at 12 to a boy named brandon who fell in love with my best friend and used to get in rages and hit me. We only lasted a week and he never did any severe damage to me just to clarify he didn't beat me just literally a slap here and there. I don't know why but I said he raped me, he didn't rape me I willingly gave him head. Maybe I was embarrassed at what I had done I don't know why I lied about him like that. I lost my virginity at 12 to a 17 year old goth boy and some random girl he brought over with him. He knew he was too old for me and made me lie to his friends and say I was 16. He was my first real boyfriend. We lasted for a year but barely ever saw each other. I lost my virginity to him on valentine's day and we had a threesome with this random girl he brought with him. We broke up shortly after. I was always taught to be non-judgemental and I hung out with girls that were considered to be sluts, even though at this age I was a straight A honor roll student (other than my issues with attendance). I had always had excruciatingly bad periods and migraines which kept me from going to school. Eventually missing all of this school got me to be picked on which resulted in my not wanting to g even more. From 12 to 13 I had random older boyfriends some knew my age others thought I was 16. My friend had convinced me to tell everyone I was 16 and hooked me a up with a bunch of 20 something guys. Most of them just fingered me and kissed me, I always avoided going further than that. I've never enjoyed sex, I only do it to please whoever I'm with. I ended up hanging out with this girl named Anna who convinced me to skip school all the time. She's actually the one who taught me how to get places on the city bus. We also used to get rides from random men that I thought she knew. One day her "cousin" picked us up and went to his house. She spoke to him in spanish and told me to say yes to whatever he asked me. He gave her money and we went in his house. I followed her upstairs and she undressed me in front of him. I was confused and just went with it. Somehow I ended up being held down by her while he licked in between my legs and got on top of me. He started having sex with me and I was terrified. I cried and told him no. He wiped my face and seemed confused. I guess he thought I wanted it. As we left I looked upstairs and saw men with guns pointed at us. I guess it’s a good thing I didn't fight him. We left and I fought with her but she pretended that she thought I wanted it. I went into a depression after this and put up a big fight not to goto school. Eventually I told someone at school and ended up at a hospital being questioned about the whole ordeal. No one believed me because I lied about how many people I had sex with and gave different numbers to everyone. I was embarrassed about it all. They also thought I did it for drugs, apparently this happened to other girls who admitted to doing it for drugs. Back then I had never touched any drugs. I met my first true love and fell head over heals for him. But I couldn't be loyal. I loved him so much, bordering upon obsession. I was so extremely jealous over him and wouldn't even let him smoke cigarettes because I was scared he would die before me. Yet even that level of innocent infatuation couldn't force me to be good to him. I would abuse him physically and verbally and expect him to just take it which he did for over a year.Over this year I started shoplifting, switched schools many times, and smoked weed for the first time. I didn't like anything drug wise that I tried at that point and hated drinking. Eventually I fell in lust for someone else and still wanted him but he left me. The lust I had for this guy turned to love quickly and I've spent the past 11 years with him. Our 11 year relationship is definitely part of what brought me down but he meant and still means the world to me. The first year was full of lies, he told me he was 25 but I later found out he was 35. He told me he had no kids, he had 6. His ex was pregnant in jail which of course he lied about amongst other things. One day I went on a school trip, came back a week later to a week old baby. I resented her at first but fell in love. He would leave me locked in a room with her while he would go smoke weed and chill with his friends. We became close. One day he got kicked out of his place and stayed with me. I had to sneak him in so we had to leave his daughter at his cousin's house. I cheated on him too despite my love for him and he would beat my ass for it but I still told him every time. Monogamy just hasn't been for me even though I don't think I could put up with my partner cheating on me all the time. Back then I couldn't even deal with porn, I was majorly jealous of it. As I got older my menstrual problems got worse (it turns out I have endometriosis but they didn't know that then) and my mom would have to share her pain meds with me on occasion just to keep me from screaming and crying in pain. I still didn't have drug problem just yet, I did like how they made me feel though. Over the years with him we had many ups and downs. I eventually me his kids and found out his real age. It definitely caused problems but at that point I loved him too much to leave him. We had threesomes and went on shopping sprees all the time. He smoked his weed but that was it. This all changed though. He started buying me pills here and there for my pain but he encouraged me to take them when I wasn't in pain too. The sex was better when I was high and it made me less jealous so needless to say he loved getting me high.  For years percocets and vicodan were my thing. I denied having a problem despite my need to take them everyday. Back then I just took crumbs of them here and there and he smoked weed and spice when he was on probation. The spice fucked his brain chemistry up though and his personality became more addictive. He wanted to get high just to get high and would do almost any drug. Eventualy his ex step son introduced us to smoking blues. It was amazing. He got addicted quick. I still just took crumbs of them, but blues made me feel normal like other people. It was like I felt like myself for the first time in life. Over the years I completed school and went to college. I had a passion for animals and an interest in psychiatry and law. The drugs helped me keep up with my classes, I was a functioning addict. My grandmother, who was the closest to normal that I ever had in life, passed. My drug use skyrocketed. During this time we had sex with alot of prostitutes because it was impossible to make him cum when he did pills and he would force me to keep going or we would get into giant fights. He ended up smoking crack with one of them and that was the death of the man I fell in love with. He only did it a couple more times and stopped but then we got his kids back and a house up the street from the dealer. Before I knew it he was stealing from me, beating me and forcing me to give him money, and selling me for crack. He was a full blown crack addict. He was absolutely disgusting to me when he did crack. He would shake, sweat, and jerk his tiny non hard dick to pictures of half naked girls which for whatever reason bothered me even more than porn. He would get mad at me all the time and beat me for no apparent reason. He sold most of what we had and broke the rest in his rages. I thought he would kill me so many times and the kids and neighbors could hear my screams and pleading for my life but no one came to my rescue. He would disappear all the time and I missed him despite the torture he put me through, however things were close to normal when he was gone. One day a prostitute he knew came over and brought a woman named angie and her four kids over. She was an addict living in a stolen uhaul with her kids. Between her and my mom, my boyfriend learned to shoot up and switched from crack head to junkie. I liked him a lot better as a junkie he was a lot easier to deal with. We let her stay with us and took care of her kids. Eventually we got attached to her kids. She however was causing problems, nodding out all the time, leaving the front door unlocked at all hours, and bringing people in when we were sleeping. We told her she had to leave but her kids could stay until she had somewhere to go. My dad was out of town and I stayed with my mom for a few days. I stopped by to see him and the kids and he seemed to be smoking crack (kept locking himself in the bathroom with his magazines) and I left a little while later. The next day I got a phone call from angie saying that he touched her daughter. Right after that he called me saying he didn't know what she was talking about. When I got to the house he was in a cop car, his 2 oldest kids ran away, and everything was a mess. He was drugged up so I've questioned if he did it or not but his own kids were in the room, he had plenty of time alone with this girl and never touched her, and she had a crush on him so I'm not sure how she would've reacted if this would've happened. I spent the night confused. She seemed oddly normal and even laughed and called him a pervert. Her mom told me all kinds of crazy stories about him which to this day I don't know whats true and whats not. The next morning I got ready to go out with his 2 younger daughters and angie's daugher wanted to come after what happened I told her she should stay home. She begged me to bring her so expecting her mom to say no I told her to go ask her mom. She comes back and says her mom said yes. We went out and next thing I know cops are calling saying I have to let them pick me up or I'll get arrested for kidnapping. They brought me back, searched me, arrested me for having pills and a knife. They left my valuables at the house and when I got out of jail it was all gone. She rushed me out saying there was a protective order against me and I lost almost everything I had there. She lied a lot and had a lot to gain getting us out of the house. She had done similar stuff to other people so I don't know what to think. My end conclusion after speaking to his public defender is that he didn't do it. He was facing life but they gave him a plea deal of battery I mean would they have done that with a guilty man? I'll never know. Many more ups and downs came. I stopped taking pills for a year until I ended up hurting my back and actually needing them to get out of bed. One day I ran out early though. My ex was busy and couldn't get me to the pill lady in time and shot me up. I was ok with it since I had IV drugs in the hospital before. I loved the feeling it was the best thing in the world. That was 1 or 2 years ago and I haven't stopped since. Before I started shooting up I put other people above me and truly loved other people and things. I was an ok person. I never stole from anyone other than a store and I had goals. I was smart and could've done anything I wanted in life. But now here I am. I upgraded from pills to heroin and still had some morals left but they slowly faded. I was high all the time and was nodding out everywhere. Everyone saw the change in me and I hated them for knowing even though they were right. Opiates always helped me function up until this point but as I Started shooting them I got lazier and lazier. Withdrawal is hell, they say it's like a cold but I beg to differ. I got worse and worse but still cared about myself. We panhandled to get by until I let my mom try the heroin we had. She had pain pills that she shot up but she was still always in pain and I thought the heroin would help her. It did get her out of pain but she became addicted just like us. My mom and I both stole from my dad to feed his habit which eventually came to an end. But we switched back to pills instead of stopping. I tried suboxone but found myself In so much pain with my back that I needed the pills. I didn't have insurance anymore and couldn't go back to pain management. My primary doctor prescribed tramadol, soma, xanax, and lyrica to me but he couldn't prescribe enough to get me through more than a couple weeks. Every month I would take this cocktail of pills for a week or 2 until I ran out and found myself back to shooting up. Now laws have been cracked down on and my doctor can't prescribe tramadol or soma anymore. So I see no end in sight anymore. I always planned on using them to stop entirely but that will never happen.  I cant afford pain management and can only find pills that cost $25 and up on the street. It seems like there's no hope in stopping but also no hope in continuing. I've thought of detoxing and stopping but the pain is unbearable not only can I not seem to make it through withdrawal pain, I also can't take the pain in my back even when I have medicine like suboxone to help me withdrawal. I'm suicidal but too scared to actually commit suicide, and hopeless despite the long future ahead of me. My mom's life is a mess because of me and she is no longer the loving mother she once was. My family on her side stopped caring about me pretty much when my grandmother passed away. My dad and I have always had a rocky relationship and I don't trust him with my problems. My dad's family is two-faced and I don't feel I can turn to them. Over the years with my man I have lost all of my friends and since all I care about are drugs its hard to make new ones. My man is in jail and the last i heard he was throwing up stuff that looked like blood and passed out twice, they moved him to the infirmiry and I have no way of knowing how he is. I have another boyfriend which I feel tremendous guilt over.I have tried to leave him but he threatens suicide and makes it really hard. He's never been through this and just doesn't understand. I'm scared I might be pregnant and don't know what to do. I have no goals in life anymore. I used to be so pretty but I feel so ugly and useless now. I don't know how to force myself to change when I just don't seem to have the will to keep going. I always told myself this wouldn't be me, but here I am.