WHERE THE BAD BREED CAME FROM — THE REAL STORIES BEHIND THEIR SCARS
People think I “created” the Bad Breed.
Cute.
I didn’t create them.
I survived them.
I lived through every version of myself until they carved their way out.
Every character I write…
every scar I draw on them…
every detail in their design…
is pulled straight from something I felt, fought, buried, or clawed my way back from.
The Bad Breed aren’t mascots.
They’re memories with teeth.
They’re chapters of me that refused to stay quiet.
Here’s the truth behind each one.
RAGE — THE BANDANA & THE SURVIVAL OF ANGER
Rage didn’t get her bandana because it looked cool.
She got it because there was a time in my life when anger was the only thing keeping me alive.
I didn’t get soft.
I got quiet.
Too quiet.
Until one day the anger stopped being destruction and became direction.
Rage’s bandana is tied the same way I learned to tie my rage:
tight enough to keep my head together,
loose enough to breathe,
bold enough to warn people
that I will burn my way out before I ever break again.
Her flames?
Those are mine.
Controlled now,
but still dangerous.
REBEL — THE HORNS & THE GROWTH OF STRENGTH
People think Rebel’s horns mean she’s wild.
Wrong.
Her horns grew from the weight of responsibility I carried too young.
The times I had to be the strong one.
The backbone.
The shield.
The one who didn’t get to fall apart.
Her horns aren’t decoration.
They’re evolution.
A reminder that strength doesn’t arrive as confidence,
it arrives as survival instinct.
Rebel’s leather jacket?
That’s the first time I realized no one was coming to save me
and I had to armor up myself.
She’s not fearless.
She’s responsible.
And responsibility is heavier than any weight I’ve lifted.
LAWLESS — THE GRIN THAT RECLAIMED FUN
Lawless wasn’t born from rebellion.
She was born from the moment I remembered
that life wasn’t meant to be only endured,
it was meant to be enjoyed.
Her grin, her middle finger, her chaos-on-wheels energy,
all of that comes from the part of me that refused
to let adulthood kill the fun I fought so hard to find.
Lawless is the chapter of me that said:
“I’ve suffered enough.
Now I reclaim life on my own terms.”
Her skates represent one thing:
movement without permission.
Her grin?
That’s the smile of someone who knows she survived hell
and now does whatever she wants.
VEX — THE GLOW & HOW THE WEIRD SAVED ME
Vex’s glow isn’t just magic,
it’s the weirdness I almost lost trying to fit into spaces too small for me.
She’s the creative part of me,
that survived being misunderstood,
mocked,
ignored,
and underestimated.
She carries light because I didn’t.
She creates in chaos because I had to.
She glows because the dark tried to smother me
and failed miserably.
Every potion bottle, every spark, every chaotic invention she makes
is a reminder that being different is what saved my life.
Vex is the proof that the parts of me people didn’t understand,
they were the parts I needed the most.
EVERY SCAR THEY HAVE IS A CHAPTER OF ME
Their burns, their scratches, their tattoos, their flames,
their grit, their rage, their grin,
all of it comes from something real.
Not fiction.
Not aesthetic.
Not vibe.
Memory.
The Bad Breed aren’t characters.
They’re versions of me that refused to die when life tried to bury them.
Pieces I had to fight my way back to.
Pieces I built from pain and rebuilt from power.
People ask:
“Why do they look so fierce?”
Because they were born from the moments
I finally stopped apologizing
for who I had to become.
The Bad Breed didn’t come from a sketchbook.
They came from me.
And every time I post them, draw them, write them, build their world,
I’m reclaiming another piece of myself
that I once abandoned just to survive.
This lore isn’t fantasy.
It’s healing with fangs, horns, tails, and on coming burst of chaotic flames.
And I’m not done telling their story.
I’m just beginning.