#I actually think I’m pretty proud of this

[absolutelynotsanebaby]

I’m constantly thinking about how Cole is such a balanced mix of his parents. Obviously the first thing is that he looks like both of his parents (resembling Lou earlier in the show and then post-redesign more like Lilly, which is fun if you interpret it as him growing into his mothers features) but it goes past that right into his themes, fighting style, and morals especially.

So, his true potential episode has him lying to his dad and planning to steal the fangblade/blade cup. Everyone kinda knows this as the accidental coming out allegory but it’s VERY compelling to look at Lou’s reaction as him not even really being mad about Cole being a ninja. He seemed angry and disappointed in the fact that Cole wasn’t who he thought he was, in the sense of him not actually wanting to follow Lou’s footsteps and the fact that he was stealing the blade-cup. Lou specifically says these two lines; “I can’t be proud of any son who thinks stealing is right. And I’m not going to wait around to watch you make a mockery of our family’s legacy!” And then after their performance “more importantly I saw you fight. Those serpentine were up to no good, trying to steal the show, and I saw you stand up for what is right!”

(<- direct quotes are taken from this post by razzle-zazzle, which you should read btw, inspired me to finally write these thoughts down.)

(Also it’s worth noting Cole also denounces stealing later lmao, as seen in here.)

This is pretty direct proof that he values doing the right thing, and distinctly doing things the right way (<— also a trait cole VERY much shares). Which is something he did have to relearn and adjust upon understanding his son not doing exactly what he wants doesn’t have to be bad (self promo but this post goes into how Lou’s mindset affected Cole’s btw). The second statement is also very reminiscent of what Lilly says to Cole in MOTM, the “promise me you’ll always stand up for what is right” talk. To tie this together basically while MOTM is a very clear and thorough look at how Cole takes after Lilly, Lou is very present in his moral system too. Additionally, Lou is an incredibly passionate man, and clearly expresses and puts himself into dancing which very much mirrors how Cole treats being a ninja sometimes, and his arc about finding himself.

That segways nicely into the fact that Cole’s fighting style is ABSOLUTELY a mix of the strength and power of his mother, and the gracefulness of his father. You actually see Cole denounce his father’s grace by the way, way early before his true potential moment. He seemed insecure about it, which is certainly some kind of toxic masculinity thing because his younger self did not feel like that.

See, Way Of The Departed;

It compliments his arc about learning who he is, and becoming softer because of it really well. He doesn’t have to be insecure about his dad being elegant, because that isn’t a bad thing. He can learn to love dancing in his own way to, in a way that’s safe and his. He can incorporate it into how he fights, and this is something pointed out by @/razzle-zazzle but the tripple tiger sashay resembles an attack too.

Basically, Cole is both his parent’s child, and they equally influence the person he’s become, but he’s not just an arbitrary mix either. He takes the legacies of both and molds them into his own, for the better. He finds balance! It was always about balance with him.

[novascharms]

MY STRANGE ADDICTION - RAFE CAMERON

dealer! rafe cameron x maddy perez

Maddy Perez has never been addicted to drugs—nor will she ever be. Her only addiction is the campus dealer she just can't seem to shake off and no matter how hard she tries to break free, she keeps getting pulled back into his orbit.

masterlist w.c — 4.0 c.w — smut, p in v a.n — choosing to continue this cause i got two free weeks and like lots of ideas abt these two for someee reason. lets ignore that rafe would actually off himself if he had to deal with maddy hihi :)

maddy goes to a party with nate and guess who's there? our very own campus dealer

Maddy’s gaze was fixed on Nate, though her attention was split in too many directions to keep track of. SZA’s smooth voice floated through the speakers, the music blending with the background chatter of the party. Nate was talking—something about football or his job—but his words felt like static. Her mind wandered, her eyes constantly flicking around, scanning the crowd. She hated how automatic it was, this ridiculous, involuntary search her brain always seemed to conduct.

She forced herself to focus, blinking hard as if to clear the fog clouding her thoughts. Nate’s voice filtered back in. “—think I’ll be moving up in ranks pretty soon,” he finished, his tone proud.

Maddy nodded, plastering on a polite smile, though she had no idea what “ranks” he was even referring to. “That’s great. I’m happy for you. Sounds like things are going well.”

Her tone was effortless, practiced, and Nate seemed satisfied with her response. He leaned in, adjusting the strap of her slightly crumpled bikini top with the kind of familiarity she used to find endearing. Once, his boldness might have been attractive, thrilling even. Now, it was just…irritating. Her instincts told her to pull back, but she stopped herself. She’d come here with him, after all. His “date.”

“Are the others here yet?” Nate asked, scanning the crowd.

The answer hovered on her tongue, ready to be spoken, but she faltered. That chill along her spine was unmistakable, a sensation that set her on edge in an entirely different way. She didn’t have to look to know. It was him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the blurred outlines of people entering the party. She couldn’t make out faces, only the edges of dark clothing and purposeful movements. Her body recognized him before her brain did.

Her gaze darted briefly to her outfit—a black bikini paired with an oversized white button-up for a pretense of modesty. She let out a shaky breath, willing herself to refocus. “They’re on their way,” she said lightly. “They wanted to pregame.”

Nate raised a brow, his expression curious. “Since when do you skip out on pregaming?”

Her pulse quickened, not from Nate’s question but from the pull she felt across the space between her and him. The boy who made her feel utterly insane. The one she wanted to shove down a flight of stairs whenever caught him with someone else.

“I don’t like drinking when I don’t know the host,” she said, her tone even. It wasn’t entirely untrue, though it wasn’t the real reason either.

Nate gave her a reassuring smile, leaning closer. “I’m here. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

She forced another smile. “I know. But still…better safe than sorry.” She tilted her cup slightly, letting the drink spill silently into the grass behind her before handing it to him. “Could you get me a refill?”

He nodded, his smile warm and easy, before disappearing toward the drink table.

The moment he was gone, Maddy turned on her pool chair, angling herself to face the water. A few people were swimming, but most lingered on the edges, laughing and chatting in tight groups.

Her phone buzzed against her leg, the vibration pulling her attention. Leaning back, she reached for it and opened the message.

Her eyes scanned the words briefly before instinctively looking up, searching for him. He had to be watching. He always was.

It didn’t take long to find him. He sat directly across from her on the far side of the pool, surrounded by his friends. And, as if drawn by some invisible force, his eyes were already on her.

That electric jolt hit her again, the same one it always did when their gazes locked. It was sharp, unmistakable, and it made her feel more alive than she cared to admit.

Not wanting to stare like an idiot, Maddy dropped her gaze back to her phone and began typing her reply.

Across the pool, he watched her with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He found this amusing, he'd always liked it when she was being bitchy. At least she was responding now—it was better than the stony silence she’d given him for weeks.

And that was true. She probably wouldn't fuck Nate. That was kinda gross.

“Here’s your refill. Sorry that took a minute,” Nate said as he sat down near her feet, holding out a plastic cup filled with something bright red.

Maddy clicked off her phone, tucking it between her thighs before reaching for the drink. “That’s okay, thank you.” She took a small sip, letting the artificial sweetness settle on her tongue.

For the first time all evening, Nate was quiet. Too quiet. Maddy glanced over, her brows knitting together when she noticed he wasn’t even looking at her. His gaze was fixed somewhere else.

“What?” she asked, her tone laced with impatience.

Nate didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gave a subtle nod toward something—or someone—in the distance. “He’s coming over here.”

Maddy didn’t need clarification. She already knew.

“He looks pissed,” Nate added, shifting uncomfortably.

Maddy narrowed her eyes, leaning back in her chair like she had all the time in the world. “He is,” she said casually, taking another sip of her drink. “I told him you called him a dog.”

Nate’s eyes went wide with panic. “What? Why would you do that?”

She smirked, savoring his reaction for just a moment too long. “I’m joking. Jesus, relax. He’s not a murderer.” She wasn’t entirely sure about that last part.

Before Nate could say anything else, Rafe’s looming presence was suddenly upon them. His large hands landed on Nate’s shoulders with enough force to make Nate flinch.

“Jacobs,” Rafe said, his voice low and heavy with unspoken authority.

Maddy rolled her eyes, leaning back further into the pool chair, feigning indifference as though she could actually ignore the scene unfolding in front of her.

Rafe didn’t say another word. He simply nodded his head to the side, a silent command for Nate to leave.

Nate didn’t even hesitate. He was gone in seconds, a move so predictable it almost made her laugh.

“You could’ve picked someone who made it feel a little like a competition,” Rafe said, lowering himself into the spot Nate had vacated.

Maddy let out a mock-hurt hum. “Your homeboys weren’t free, but I’ll definitely keep them in mind for next time.”

Rafe tilted his head, eyes narrowing at her before he chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

He shifted closer, his tone taking on a serious edge. “Are you done, though? Can we put an end to this, or do you want to keep stretching it out?”

Maddy tilted her head, playing dumb. “Clarify,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, irritation flashing in his eyes. “I’m going to ask you the same thing I asked you a month ago, yeah?” He leaned forward, his gaze pinning her in place. “What do you want? Because I’ve apologized—every damn day for the past three weeks—and I’ve spoiled you rotten. Even though you can’t even answer the fucking phone when I call.”

He leaned back, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of exasperation. “So what is it? You want me to get on my knees?”

The corner of Maddy’s mouth twitched, and she could feel the playful glint in her eyes betraying her. The idea didn’t sound bad at all.

Rafe caught her expression immediately and shook his head. “Don’t do the most, Maddy.”

She straightened up, sitting forward so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you a month ago, yeah?” she echoed back at him, mimicking his tone.

He waited, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

“I don’t want shit from you,” she said with a shrug, her voice light. “The gifts have been nice, though.”

She reached out and tapped the tip of his nose with her finger, the move so childish it bordered on petty. Then, without another word, she stood up and walked away.

Rafe stayed seated, watching her disappear into the crowd, his jaw tight with frustration. Maddy didn’t bother looking back. She had ten minutes to find Nate before her friends showed up—and she wasn’t about to waste them.

“Nate, let’s dance,” Maddy said, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from his friends. He hesitated for only a second, his gaze darting to the group he’d just left.

“I don’t want to get in the middle of shit, you know that,” he muttered, his voice low and uncertain.

Maddy sighed, rolling her eyes in visible irritation. “There isn’t shit to get in the middle of. Don’t worry about him.” Her tone was firm, dismissive, as if the mere mention of Rafe was beneath her.

Nate didn’t look entirely convinced, but when Maddy began to sway her hips to the pulsing beat of the music, his resistance faltered. Almost instinctively, his hands found her waist, his touch tentative at first but growing bolder as she moved against him.

The crowd around them thickened, bodies pressing together as the bass of the music thumped louder, rattling the walls. The heat in the room was almost stifling, a mix of sweat and cologne hanging heavy in the air. She pulled Nate closer, leaning up to brush her lips along the shell of his ear in a way that made him shiver.

Her eyes, however, were elsewhere.

Through the chaotic swirl of bodies, her gaze found him. Rafe sat with his friends, a pretty brunette perched on his lap, laughing at something he’d said. A joint dangled lazily between his fingers, though he seemed utterly uninterested in the girl giggling in his ear or the conversation happening around him.

His attention was fixed entirely on Maddy.

She felt the sharp thrill of his gaze, like electricity crackling along her skin. The corner of her mouth twitched upward in the faintest smirk.

Nate was speaking—something about how hot she looked, maybe—but Maddy barely registered his words. Instead, she cut him off mid-sentence, tugging him down to crash her lips against his.

Nate responded eagerly, his arms wrapping tighter around her as if he couldn’t get enough. He wasn’t the most compelling person she’d ever been with—far from it, actually. Everything about him was a stark contrast to Rafe: where Rafe was sharp and commanding, Nate was soft and accommodating. But he served his purpose.

Maddy let her hands trail up his chest, pulling him deeper into the moment. His hands slid lower, grazing her hips before resting on her ass. She let out a soft moan when he gave her a light squeeze, tilting her head just enough to draw him further in.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were slick and swollen, her breath mingling with his. Nate’s lips chased hers instantly, desperate and clumsy in his eagerness.

She giggled softly, brushing her fingers along his jaw. “Let’s go upstairs,” she murmured, her voice dripping with suggestion.

Nate didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing her hand, he began weaving through the sea of bodies, his grip firm as he led her toward the stairs.

Nate had her pinned against the wall before they even made it to a room. His hands roamed her waist, gripping like he was afraid to lose his chance. The hallway was dimly lit, the muffled bass from downstairs vibrating through the walls. Maddy’s breath hitched—not from excitement, but from the sharp pang of regret she was trying to suppress.

It was a blur. One moment, Nate was in front of her, his lips brushing her neck. The next, he was ripped away with a force that made her stumble. Her eyes flew open, her back still pressed to the cool plaster, and there was Rafe.

He stood between her and Nate, broad-shouldered and seething, his jaw tight and his chest heaving. Nate, caught off guard, staggered before regaining his footing.

“You—” Rafe began, his voice low and dangerous, but he paused as Nate straightened and, to Maddy’s surprise, stepped forward with a spark of defiance.

“Don’t get any ideas, Jacobs,” Rafe warned, his tone dripping with disdain. His sharp blue eyes cut into Nate, daring him to react.

When he didn't leave, Rafe turned to Nate in surprise. "You need something?"

Nate didn’t flinch. His gaze flicked between Rafe and Maddy before he squared his shoulders. “If you don’t feel safe with him,” he said, his voice steady but charged, “I’m not leaving.”

Maddy didn’t need to look at Rafe to know that Nate had just lit the match.

“Do you want me to—” Rafe’s voice exploded, his body lurching forward like a coiled spring released. Maddy moved faster, her hand shooting out to grab his arm, halting him before he could make contact.

“Nate, go!” she barked, her voice slicing through the tension like a whip.

For a moment, Nate hesitated. His concern for her was evident, but so was his understanding of the situation. One second longer, and he turned, retreating down the hallway.

As soon as he was gone, Maddy spun on Rafe, shoving him hard in the chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she demanded, her voice trembling with anger.

Rafe barely moved under her shove, his stance unyielding, his lips curling into a smirk that was as infuriating as it was amused. “What’s wrong with me?” he shot back, his voice loud enough to echo. “Isn't this exactly why the fuck you do this dumb shit? Don't act like you have any interest in that poor boy.”

“The only poor boy is the one I'm looking at right now,” Maddy snapped, her voice rising to meet his. “I don't see what the fuck the issue is since last I checked, you were nice and cosied up with your little friend by the pool."

Rafe’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not the one who showed up with someone on my arm,” he retorted, his words sharp. “You think that shits funny, grinding your ass all over him like a slut?”

The slap came before she could stop herself. The sound was deafening in the narrow hallway, sharp and precise like the crack of a whip. Rafe’s head jerked slightly, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the sting in his eyes before he masked it with that infuriating nonchalance.

“Did I cross a line?” he asked, his voice smooth but laced with mockery. His smirk returned, daring her to do it again.

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Maddy spat, her voice trembling with fury. She stepped closer, invading his space and he nods slowly like he knows something she doesn't, "You say the same shit when your pussy is creaming on my dick."

Maddy didn't want to think about it, had been avoiding the image, the memory of sex with Rafe. But he'd brought it up now, rubbed it right in her face and she was faced with the undeniable truth that he was the best she'd ever had and he knew it. He was rubbing it in her face right now, he was always rubbing it in her face that no matter what he said and how he acted, she'd never say no.

Maddy’s mind betrayed her, conjuring memories she had buried deep. She could see it clearly now—the way he moved, the way he touched her, the way he made her lose herself entirely.

She must have let it show on her face because his smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Maddy grabs him by the back of his neck before he can say something even more stupid and crushes her lips to his in a kiss that is somewhere between angry and desperate.

Rafe's got her legs wrapped around him in a flash, hands firmly on her ass as he walks them into the first room he can blindly find. Maddy's lips are coaxed open by the slide of his tongue as he slams the door closed behind them and shoves her back against the wall. She huffs at the force of his shove, "Be fucking gentle."

"Stop talking so fucking much." He grunted, mouth moving from her lips to her neck and Maddy couldn't surpress the moan that forced her way past her lips. She felt Rafe's eager fingers on the thin strap of her bikini bottom, "Don't you fucking dare rip those," She knew him all too well and these bottoms were the only clothing she had on her.

"Why? You seem to love the attention you've been getting lately." Rafe murmurs as his hand slides down to unzip his pants swiftly. She's pleased when he doesn't completely ignore her polite request and pushes her bikini to the side. Maddy whimpers, nails digging into his shoulder and back when she feels him press against her aching folds.

"Is this what you wanted, baby? This what you needed?" he whispered in a mocking voice as his tip tentatively pushes inside of Maddy's seeping cunt and her legs involuntarily tighten around him. "Now you wanna shut up, huh?" Rafe groans as he pushes inside of her and Maddy feels the air escape her lungs.

"God," Maddy whined, head falling back against the door as his stupidly big cock nestled itself deep inside her and the pleasure and pain takes her breath away. For a moment, she's not sure if breathing is still an option until he starts steadily moving and as with everything, Rafe does—it's rough and she can barely contain the moans that tumble out of her mouth.

His grip on her thighs is bruising and with every harsh thrust, her back is slamming back onto that door but she can't even find it in her to care. Her eyes flutter for a moment and she tries to keep them on him, tries to keep her focus because she can't deny that he looks so fucking good right now—all focused with groans and grunts escaping his lips as he hammers into her walls.

But it doesn't last, it can't when he's being this rough, fucking her into the door and making it impossible for her to focus on anything but the way he was pounding into her. "Fuck, baby. It's been too long, too fucking long.." He groans through gritted teeth, "Think anyone can fuck you like this? Think Jacobs can fuck you like this?" And Maddy's pathetic moans filling the room do little to keep him from trying to pick a fight with her like usual.

"Shut t-the f—"

"This is my fucking pussy," Rafe continues and each words is followed by a harsh thrust that pressed Maddy against the door over and over and Maddy's hands are trembling, scrambling to hold onto him, to assure she doesn't lose her grip with how weak her legs are starting to feel. "Mine. You're all mine, Maddy."

"Fuck you. I h-hate you.." Maddy cries out, legs tightening around Rafe because she doesn't belong to him or anyone but also because his dick is splitting her open and she can't decide wether she wants him to stop or keep going.

"Yeah, I know. You hate me so much you letting me pound your cunt. That's how much you hate me, huh?" Rafe laughs, his hands holding her up like he can feel she's about give out completely. Maddy's brain feels like it's short circuiting as Rafe goes at a pace too brutal to keep up with.

A couple of nasty words sit at the tip of her tongue for Rafe but they won't come out, a sentence refuses to form in her mind. "F-Fuck..fuck!" Maddy can't—won't ever get past how mindblowingly good the sex was.

"Mm, y-you..you're.." Maddy starts mumbling despite how her eyes are rolling back and she's seeing spots in her vision, "You're j-just some half-decent sex," Maddy chokes out and Rafe cocks his head at that, amused smirk on his lips. "Half decent?" he breathes out as Maddy clenches around his fat cock.

Maddy's about to make it worse, seconds away from telling him Nate has fucked her ten times better when he brutally pounds into her, "Rafe!" she screams as he repeatedly hits that sweet spot and she knows it's retaliation for calling their sex decent. It only makes Maddy want to say something worse.

She's gone though, whatever curse words she's throwing at him are coming out in blubbers and moans and with the way he's pounding into her, Maddy's surprised the door is still holding. "Mm..mmm..y-you you..y.." Maddy rambles absentmindedly, her words lost between the moans that are escaping her lips as Rafe's thrust only get sloppier and faster.

"Can barely get through your sentences, baby. You sure the sex is only half-decent?" He teases and Maddy knows that somewhere deep inside, that comment irritates her but right now, with his cock hammering into her, there is absolutely nothing that she cares about apart from the pit she can feel in her stomach right now.

Maddy whines, high and soft because the exhaustion is starting to catch up to her. She needs to come. "God, you look so fucking good right now, can't believe I lasted a month.." Rafe almost growls as his hips stutter and his own orgasm draws closer and closer. "Need it..n-need you.." Maddy moans before she feels herself being pushed over the edge and her blissful orgasm spills out of her. Rafe has a couple more thrusts in him before he's following suit and with a deep low groan, he's creaming inside of her.

For a few seconds, there was only silence between them, accompanied by the sound of their heavy breathing. Rafe’s forehead pressed against hers, a rare moment of calm between them both. It was a rare occurence in their particular situation—an interlude between their constant fighting or fucking. This moment, existing somewhere in the space between, might have been the closest they ever came to being normal.

The muffled roar of cheers and music swelled from downstairs, snapping the quiet like a rubber band. Rafe eased her back to the ground, and Maddy stepped away, her legs shaky but her resolve intact. She caught her reflection in the mirror, her makeup slightly smudged, hair tousled. Sighing, she adjusted herself as best she could.

A towel landed unceremoniously on her head, startling her. She turned, glaring at Rafe, who stood there with a half-smirk like he’d done her a favor.

“You expect me to wipe with this?” she asked, holding the towel up with a grimace. “Where did you even find it?”

“Too good for a towel now?” he mumbled, shaking his head as he reached for something else. He handed her a clean napkin with a smile.

She snatched it from him without a word, cleaning herself quickly before tossing it into the small trash bin by the dresser. When she straightened, he was behind her, his arm slipping loosely around her neck, his lips brushing her ear as he murmured, “Wanna get out of here?”

She did. God, she did. But instead of saying so, she turned, her expression hardening. “You can’t act like that toward Nate again. Or anyone,” she said firmly, her tone daring him to argue.

Rafe’s eyes rolled, the dismissive motion igniting her frustration. “Go fuck Jacobs if you think he’s such a saint,” he shot back mockingly, leaning against the wall like he owned the place.

Maddy raised a brow, the edge of her lips curling into a challenging smirk. “I don’t want to fuck Nate. But I can fuck him if I want to. That’s what I’m trying to make clear to you.”

His jaw tightened, his blue eyes flashing with something dark and unreadable. “I don’t need you to make shit clear to me,” he bit out, his voice low and rough.

Her own temper flared, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

And just like that, the delicate peace shattered.

Here they went again.

masterlist

[soleioux]

GO LUXRAY!!!!!

Here’s a lil ol redraw of something I made back in 2022. As always he is my favorite pokemon, now if only his stats were a lil better and he’d be my ace in games. I like to imagine that if pokemon were real he’d be unstoppable (and also a silly lil cat creature that I could pet)

Anyways I’m pretty proud of this piece!! The old one’s down here so you can see the differences. For one, luxray actually looks like luxray in the new one LOL, as much as I liked the stylized version I think the new one fits him better. Two, backgrounds!! I had no idea what I was doing the first time so I straight up took an image off of google. This time I was able to make a background that I’m pretty proud of so yay!

[kit-walk3r]

Let the Bad Spirits Go Free (Tate Langdon)

Blood holds all the bad spirits. Maybe Tate should try and let those spirits go free.

Warning: heavy trigger warning for self harm and blood, mentions of canon gun violence

Note: I was rewatching Murder House and Tate’s dialogue about bad spirits in the blood made me think that perhaps Tate’s past self harm was linked to that so I sort of came up with this. Please read with caution

The Indians believed that blood holds all the bad spirits. Once a month in ceremonies they would cut themselves to let the spirits go free. There’s something smart about that. Very smart. I like that.

- - -

Tate was only ten the first time he did it. He didn’t remember why he did it. He just remembered one day finding the blades in the bathroom cabinet when looking for something. They probably belonged to whoever his mother’s fling at the time was. He found them and, for some reason, used them. Tate didn’t understand why. Maybe it was because he missed his dad. Maybe it was because he missed the nice blonde lady who saved him from the monster. Maybe it was because his mom didn’t seem to love him.

He only did it the once, finding himself quite sensitive to the pain. He cried after he did it. When his mother surprisingly noticed the new cut on his arm Tate lied and said the neighbour's cat scratched him. None of their neighbours even had a cat, but Constance did not question it, and instead just gave him a band aid.

Tate never thought about it again until a few years later. Fourteen, perhaps. Or maybe it was fifteen. He liked to read, and he was reading a book on Indians when he came across a certain passage about bad spirits. According to the book a person’s blood held bad spirits, and to let those spirits free the Indians would cut themselves in ceremonies. That stuck with Tate. He often found himself thinking back to it. It sounded smart to him, it made sense.

Of course, it wasn’t long after that when the bad thoughts started plaguing Tate. It started with dreams, dreams that would wake him up, anxious and sweating, at three in the morning. In the dream he could see himself in the school hallway, dressed head to toe in black, with everyone staring at him as he walked by. He ignored all of their gazes, marching through the school as if he were on a strict mission. He reached a classroom and let himself in, all of his classmates looking up as he made his entrance. The teacher scowled at him. “Can I help you?” She asked. Then suddenly, Tate had a gun in his hand and openfired.

Then he woke up.

All he could see in his head was the blood splatter, his teacher and classmates dropping to the floor. The sounds of their cries. The begging.

Tate placed his hands over his ears as if that would be able to drown out the voices in his head. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling the burn of tears trying to escape. He couldn’t make it stop. The screams, the blood, the bodies. He couldn’t stop hearing it, couldn’t stop seeing it.

Bad spirits.

Tate’s eyes unclenched and opened as he remembered what he had read in the library a couple of months ago. His hands uncovered his ears.

Bad spirits. Cut. Set free.

Perhaps that’s what this was. Bad spirits. Maybe his blood was infected with bad spirits. Maybe he just needed to set them free.

Tate switched on his bedside lamp and turned to rummage through the set of drawers that resided next to his bed. He looked for something he could use to set the spirits free, something, anything, that would be sharp enough to save him. He couldn’t find anything, and let out a frustrated sigh. He needed to get rid of these bad spirits.

Suddenly he remembered: razor blades. Not long ago Constance had come home with a variety of things to help Tate ‘ease into manhood’, now that he was starting high school. Amongst her gift package was a pack of razor blades.

Tate shot out of bed and headed to the bathroom where he was sure he left the package. He tiptoed across the hallway, careful not to wake Addie since he knew she was a light sleeper. Once inside he gently closed the bathroom door and locked it for extra security before opening the cabinet above the sink. Bingo. Sure enough on the top shelf sat a little cardboard box. Tate grabbed it and rummaged through the box, looking for his coveted item. There they were, tucked away at the bottom. After taking them out the box was placed back in the cabinet and the door was shut.

On the cabinet hung a mirror, and Tate took a deep look at himself. His hair was damp from sweat and was stuck to his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed from crying. There were dark circles forming underneath his eyes.

Bad spirits.

Tate looked away from his haunted reflection and moved his attention to the small packet he now held in his hands. Without hesitation he tore open the packet and pulled out one of the blades before gently balancing the rest on the sink. He rolled up the sleeve of his pyjama shirt, barely taking note of the pale line that already occupied his wrist.

Maybe this will cleanse me, Tate thought as he stared at the blade. Maybe this will set my bad spirits free.

Taking a deep breath, Tate ran the blade across his wrist. He winced at the sting, but was mesmerised by the stark contrast of red against his pale skin. He watched as blood trickled down his arm and dripped onto the white porcelain of the sink, letting out a sigh of relief. His bad spirits were gone. He cleaned up his wrist, put the open packet back in the box, wiped away any excess blood and went back to bed as if nothing had happened.

He was surprisingly rather chipper the next morning. He joked with Addie at the breakfast table and even offered his mother a sort of smile. He was better now. All the bad spirits were gone.

Until he had the same dream again a couple of nights later.

Tate woke up with a jolt and a gasp, the same images from the previous night flashing through his mind, only more intense. The cries were getting louder, the blood getting thicker. He covered his ears and cried, just like last time.

His eyes caught sight of the cut across his wrist and with no hesitation he was heading towards the bathroom, same process as last time: lock the door, get the blade out of the cabinet and decorate his skin with another red line. He cleaned up and went back to his room, only this time he took the packet with him and tucked it away in his underwear drawer.

He had the dream again a week later. After a couple of nights nightmare free Tate was convinced that it had worked, that he had freed the bad spirits from his blood and that he was clean. But no, it happened again and Tate once again took a blade to his wrist, only this time in the comfort of his own bedroom.

The bad thoughts were getting louder. The dream wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times Tate hurt himself, and he was starting to get the intrusive thoughts during the day as well as in his sleep.

He got into an argument with his mother one day. It wasn’t unusual for Tate to get angry at Constance but this time it felt like more than anger. It was a Saturday afternoon and Tate was sat with Beau, rolling his red ball to him whilst he read a book. It was a comfortable silence, with the occasional laugh from Beau, until Constance shouted for Tate to come downstairs.

Tate hadn’t washed the dishes from breakfast. “I asked you to do one thing, Tate,” Constance scolded. “One! Wash the damn dishes. Is that really that hard?”

Tate just shrugged.

“I don’t ask much from you, Tate,” Constance continued. “But it would be nice if you could just listen and help around here once in a while instead of being holed up in your damn room.”

“I was with Beau,” Tate argued.

“Beau, Beau, Beau,” Constance ranted. “Stop using your brother as an excuse for not doing as you’re damn well told.”

Tate’s fists clenched at his sides as his mother continued to scold him for simply forgetting to do the dishes. His gaze was hard and jaw locked as he watched her wave her arms around. He couldn’t even hear what she was saying now, her voice drawn out into a dull ringing sound. Anger surged through him.

Do it, a voice echoed in his head suddenly.

Tate turned and ran up the stairs to his room without a second thought. He could faintly hear Constance call out after him but he ignored her as he slammed his bedroom door shut and fell down onto the floor, back resting against it, as he began to cry.

Do what? Tate didn’t want to know. Subconsciously he had a perfect idea of what the voice wanted him to do but he desperately tried to suppress it. The scariest thing? The voice Tate heard in his head was his own.

Tate struggled to calm down, his breathing erratic. His hands gripped and tugged his dirty blonde hair as he tried to clear his mind from any negative thoughts.

Bad spirits bad spirits bad spirits.

Tate was up and rummaging through his underwear drawer for his safety packet. Within seconds he held one of the blades in his hand and, like clockwork, brought it against his skin. He’d grown accustomed to the pain now, and didn’t even flinch as he opened up another wound.

“Please, please, please,” he muttered as he watched the blood begin to trickle down his arm, desperate for the bad thoughts to go away. Whatever his thoughts wanted him to do they wanted him to do it to his mother and that was terrifying. Yes, he and his mother had a very rocky relationship, but to want to hurt her in a way that was making him feel this fearful? Tate just wanted the bad spirits to go away.

Obviously they didn’t, if bad spirits even existed. Things only got worse.

- - -

The Indians believed that blood holds all the bad spirits. Once a month in ceremonies they would cut themselves to let the spirits go free. There’s something smart about that. Very smart. I like that.

Tate liked it, but it didn’t work.

•———•

This was pretty dark and heavy, I do apologise. Thank you for reading though!

[fairyofshampgyu]

he’s literally so beautiful and handsome

[emily-mooon]

Nancy Wheeler the shoujo manga protagonist you are what with your love triangle and everything about you my pookie <3

[longingquiet]

he’s gonna be what brings me out of art block

[cynopoe]

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one.

/not ship art/

[toothpaste-for-the-skin]

Get real

I was in an art block for a really long time, but I suddenly got the urge to try Blender out one day. I tried to recreate Toothpaste in 3D and I think it turned out pretty alright for a first attempt!!

Some more pics:

I wanna do some stuff with this model in the future, but for now this was a fun little experiment!

[shy-sapphic-ace]

Guys should I write a Dracula musical. Should I???

[whereismyhat5678]

I believe today was a good day <:]

I drove a car! (I learned the basic stuff, and we practiced in a parking lot.) I learned how to park, how to steer it, and the basic things to know when using a car >:] I’m so proud of myself!

[bleue-flora]

‘Techno pinches the bridge of his nose. “Come on, Dream. Stop it!… That’s not cool, bro. Why you gotta take out all your frustration on my fancy teacups? I know you’re just mad that you don’t have a house, but bro we can go build you one. We can—we can even make it out of something better than dirt, alright?”’

Ta da! I made some art for the collaborative work, Crow’s Nest, we essentially wrote in a month, which is by far, my most diverse in content and longest fic. Thought it needed some like cool title art, since it’s basically the length of a book lol. (See below for symbolism and stuff)

- it’s kind of a combination of some main elements and themes from the fic: Steve (clearly the main character lol XD), tea, the broken teacups, Techno’s house… the stained floor

- the green tea cup represents Dream and well his broken state after prison, while the pink tinted glue represents Techno helping Dream heal and putting him back together.

- and obviously, a crow for the title and poem the chapters are named after.

- and despite my efforts, Tumblr has kinda ruined my quality, so here’s a zoomed in picture of the tea tag I made, which has the title of the fic and our names on it. :)

[thealienarchivist]

my cover design for book two of @hella1975 ‘s incredible fic The Art Of Burning. Just now realizing it makes it look like Zuko is in his villain arc but what can you do. The boy deserves it after the shit he’s been through

[bread-of-death]

He’s just a pretty little guy 🥺

[zoominsainz]

I removed that weird orangy filter the mclaren editors decided looked good and made lando have normal color skin again, here it is in case anyone wants it😘

[foldingfittedsheets]

It’s my birthday on Thursday and I always hate years that I’m forced to work/school instead of being the specialist little bean. This year on the day I have game lab on campus then an hour break to drive home before animal sculpting class.

On my way home today I thought about getting food but I’ve blown through most of my little treat money, and the last bit I can use to get myself a birthday bacon sandwich. I can at least do a tiny thing to make the day feel special, even if it’s just lunch.