#like no - shockingly - a person who believes in human rights is just calling out the fact that a huge group of people

[hope-ur-ok]

Something I really don't understand are the assumptions people on the side Israel seem to hold about everyone who is free Palestine, I.E. that we don't think the hostages should be returned or that we think all Israeli citizens deserve to die for the crimes of their government. Like I'm sure there are people who think that, which is gross and frankly unacceptable, but the fact that they approach everything said in support of Palestine from that angle isn't okay either. All that they are doing is trying to simplify everything in a way that makes Israel the indisputable victim and everyone who opposes them into an antisemitic monster when the reality is that most of us just believe in the value of ALL human life and don't think more than 23,000 peoples lives are acceptable collateral damage. Like we just think that Palestinian civilians should have basic access to food, water, healthcare, and shelter and should not be facing arrest just for being Palestinian as if that somehow makes them inherently dangerous, where are you getting the batshit assumptions from in statements like that?

[woundlingus]

do you think gabriel had always acted like he did as when he was first introduced in the show: a prankster, raunchy and goofy, even as an angel? or do you think that was a product of his being on earth for so long, adopting a trickster's mask and got so used to the gimmicks of it he became that way naturally; or the excuse to be as such brought out his personality that he had only been able to show in glimpses back in heaven? or was he more like the Archangel of Judgement biblically described, the angel who burned up Asmodeus and stalked Loki and his sons to take them out one by one because they wronged him?

Definitely post leaving heaven, everything about the way Gabriel talks in regards to home is so bitter it’s festering within him. Everything that is wrong with Gabriel boils down to the same traumatic point over and over again and that is that he literally felt he had no choice left but to flee. He loved his brothers, he loved his home. He’s an angel of incredibly high standing, I don’t imagine the chauvinistic behaviour we see from him came naturally at all to begin with. The killing bad people and the sadism? Sure, definitely could’ve been a continuation from his time as an angel. But goofy prankster? Less so, especially with the little snippet we get from Lucifer who says Gabriel got a lot of these little tricks of his from him, and so I imagine that to mean something a little more malicious than pure in intention. I like to think this tricks and bonding this between Gabriel and Lucifer was more an attempt at corruption and control, because if Lucifer could turn just one archangel then that would have been it really. Game over.

Gabriel is angry, he’s self righteous, and under all of that at his very core and buried under a mountain of masks and snippy remarks there is love and there is naïveté which I love to keep saying but I really see it there. He’s the angel of music, and his trumpet is a war cry. I feel like that sums him up in a way where words fail me. He’s a lot of things all at once and I think all of them are genuine but on a sliding scale with that softness that has him go “Dean…” and look at him so sad when he’s yelled at to heartlessly stab Lucifer all the way at one end as most genuine and chauvinistic bastard all the way at the other end- still genuine, but not as true to who he actually is as a person.

There’s that sweet little saying that the crease in our lip is there because Gabriel comes to gently shush each baby after it’s born, and another that says he carefully picks out every soul for every baby to make sure it’s just right. He’s loves his brothers so much he would rather deprive himself of everything he is and deny himself his love, his home, his culture, his language- everything. He would rather leave all of that than dare to pick a side between Michael and Lucifer because it’s all too much he he loved them too much to watch them fight anymore. He’s a warrior yes, but he’s assigned to some of the most tender of human moments, he’s who they send when they want word to be passed between celestials and mortals, it’s his call that will warn humanity that their time is coming.

I personally believe that it was hard to become the trickster, it was an affront to nature and akin to peeling off finger nails. I believe having a support group like he found with the Norse pagans was helpful, it would’ve soothed a lot of nerves to find comfort in a place so previously thought sinful and obscene and that would pave the way to true freedom and disconnect from heaven to explore other aspects of his personality because these pagans really aren’t all that bad and shockingly that was all a lot of bullshit propaganda and he’d been toting the long so long he forgot that wasn’t true.

I think some days Gabriel hates himself. I think some days he looks in the mirror and drowns under the weight of his self inflicted depersonalisation. I think if given a real chance Gabriel would go home in a heartbeat and he would thrive having actually explored every facet of human existence and can preach from a place of genuine understanding. I crave prince of the heavenly host Gabriel like he’s air, i think he would be magnificent at it and he would find it rewarding in a way being the trickster never was.

His tricks are hollow, and he drops the whole charade like tiktok and a micro trend post unfinished business and I don’t chalk it all up to depression because to me his season 5 appearance has this looming emptiness where it feels like he’s going about his day to day like this is normal and he likes this but his mind is elsewhere with heaven.

I think you can walk like a duck and talk like a duck, and find meaningful connections and relationships in joining your local duck enthusiast community and find real joy in understanding their cork screw penises and how they fuck so so so weird and nasty, and it still does not make you a duck.

[lemontongues]

yknow ive been thinking again lately about how i would like to see more realism in batman content, both canon and fandom, but not the Dark And Gritty kind. the kind thats like.

yes actually he is highly emotionally intelligent and does understand himself quite well and has just accepted that he is A Freak and decided to roll with it rather than being so horrifically emotionally repressed that he can barely even acknowledge that what hes doing is based in trauma. hes been in therapy since he was like 9 years old. he studies human psychology extensively both for himself and so he has better odds of predicting whats gonna go wrong and how when hes up against a rogue or negotiating a hostage situation or whatever. he meditates for two hours a day and is fully capable of keeping a healthy handle on his anger 98% of the time. he's nice to people and fun to be around and sincerely caring. if he were just Always Right but super isolated and reactive and cruel and controlling everyone would fucking hate him and no it wouldnt be enough to sustain his crimefighting activities, thats a stupid lone wolf fuckboy fantasy

he has a strict 9pm bedtime that he only breaks for mandatory WE/brucie activities or emergencies. if theres a gala where he needs to rub shoulders with ppl to gather intel or keep his company running he'll do it but hes Not Happy about being out until midnight and cuts out early as often as possible, and when hes chasing the joker around until 3am hes lamenting his poor sweet circadian rhythm that did nothing wrong ever in its life the whole time. when hes batmanning hes expending a fuckton of energy and he needs to make it up and have a well-established routine to counteract the punishment hes putting his body through. on a similar note, this man is building braces and compression into his suit and doing extensive physical therapy exercises every day of his life bc he wants to have helpful little things like "knees" and "shoulders" by the time hes 40, and hes probably eating a small farms worth of assorted leafy greens and several chickens per day

he is simply Never drunk and he doesnt actually have that much sex. hes really really good at faking a) being drunk and b) getting a high priority phone call from lucius the minute someone hes making out with starts trying to get his shirt off. he also does a lot of "hey look i gotta get out of here with my reputation intact, can we help each other out and pretend we're gonna go fuck?" kind of negotiating with ppl (see: his 9pm bedtime, plus sometimes hes gotta slip away from an event to be sneaky), which is how a lot of the more wild stories about him start circulating lol. this is a man who's regularly getting gassed/injected/etc with highly experimental substances created by maniacs trying to torment or kill him, he does NOT want substances like drugs or alcohol in his body that could potentially interact with them, and the last thing he needs is to be dealing with a pregnancy or sti scare. plus if he can play it safe with someone and have them think of him as a nice and trustworthy dude who just has a bonkers reputation, all the better for his batman activities!

idk i just feel like theres unexplored potential in a lot of that stuff bc so much of recent batman mythos is like HES SO HARDCORE AND CAN DO ANYTHING AND HES ALWAYS RIGHT CAUSE HES SO PARANOID AND DISRESPECTFUL OF PPL AND THEIR BOUNDARIES BUT ITS OKAY BC ITS IN THE NAME OF BEING RIGHT and im like. okay. gotta admit that i dont rly find that believable or in line with my values. can we talk about WE's sweet sweet employee benefits package and bruce designing his suit to take most of the impact off his knees when he jumps off a roof. members of the jl discovering that he gives shockingly balanced and insightful advice about their mundane personal problems. bruce printing his own batsymbol envelopes to leave people cash after he misaims his grappling hook and breaks their window. things of that nature.

[oddbunny]

Another Gael interview found in an ancient comment thread. GQ 2012, I believe.

Star of such major art-house hits as Y Tu Mamá También, Bad Education, The Motorcycle Diaries, and Babel, Gael Garcia Bernal has spent the past decade chiseling out an impressive résumé of provocative, politically engaged movies that speak to audiences around the world. His latest, Pablo Larraín's No, which debuted this weekend at the Cannes Film Festival, is no exception, recreating the moment when widely feared Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet was shockingly ousted during a 1988 referendum by a brilliant marketing man (played by Bernal) who retooled his own soda-pitching prowess to get out the vote.

···

GQ: You're basically a Cannes vet at this point, right? Is this your sixth time?

Gael Garcia Bernal: There must be another time that I came. I think it's the seventh year I've been here.

GQ: Fair to say you're pretty comfortable here.

Gael Garcia Bernal: Yeah. And one thing that is wonderful about this festival is the fact that once the lights come down and everyone's in the cinema, we're all equal. And if the film's a good movie, everyone hears about it no matter what.

GQ: How do you pack?

Gael Garcia Bernal: Well, the first time nobody gave me clothes at all, but now my good friends at Dior send me stuff, and with that I'm sort of good. They give me a tuxedo to wear, and a couple of suits and things. That's fantastic because you can get kicked out if you don't dress up. I've been kicked out once.

GQ: You're kidding. When?

Gael Garcia Bernal: I came to a screening, and I was trying to go in with not a tuxedo suit, but, like, just a jacket and a made-up tie, and they said no. Impossible.

GQ: Fair to say you're not a fan of that aspect of Cannes.

Gael Garcia Bernal: Well, I'm a fan of now, since I'm still caring about those things. But one thing I must mention is that the parties used to be better.

GQ: How so?

Gael Garcia Bernal: When we brought the movie Deficit, we had a party from midnight until eight in the morning. We brought friends from Mexico that played music and everyone was dancing full-on—a complete blow-out. So much fun. God. Deficit obviously didn't win any awards, but the Hollywood Reporter did name us Best Party.

GQ: Distinctive.

Gael Garcia Bernal: I'm very proud of that award. Yeah.

GQ: Let's talk about No. You mentioned how word gets out when there's a good movie, and this is definitely one of those moments. Why do you think people are responding to this film?

Gael Garcia Bernal: Because it's a good one! Its complexity is immense. It's a highly intellectual movie and a very moving film as well. It deals with a universal issue, which is the relationship of a person with politics and power.

GQ: But it's also about using ad language to sell human rights as a product.

Gael Garcia Bernal: Well, there is a clear warning in the film. Because we think that democracy can change a lot of things, but we're being fooled, because democracy is not the election. We've been taught that democracy is having elections. And it isn't. Elections are the most horrendous aspect of democracy. It's the most mundane, trivial, disappointing, dirty aspect of it.

GQ: Because it's turning voting into a commodity.

Gael Garcia Bernal: Every democracy is constructed day-to-day. And the electoral process reduces and minimalizes every single aspect of human complexity. We're putting it into pamphlets. We're doing a publicity show. We're becoming symbols. Let's not give the electoral process so much importance. We have to be cynical about it. Let's give importance to the real democracy that's constructed on a day-to-day basis. That's my hopeful perspective on it. But my realization while I was doing the movie was like, ****, the electoral process is really horrible.

GQ: Are you a politically active person? After all, your daughter's name is Libertad.

Gael Garcia Bernal: Well, fortunately that is a well-known name in Spanish, so it's not like all of a sudden calling someone, I don't know, Mountain.

GQ: But it must have been on your mind somewhere, right?

Gael Garcia Bernal: It was. It was. I mean, it's possibly the best word ever, together with Love. My daughter is incredible and she really symbolizes that.

GQ: At this point, you are such an international star, but you still seem very committed to making films in South America. Is that important to you?

Gael Garcia Bernal: Well, it's important because it's the best place for me to fly—I feel like I can play more roles. I can kind of get a more biological grasp on what's being done and then, I can play around more. In English, I'm a little bit limited. I speak English as a second language, and that's a little limitation that I have to work around and I have to use it to my favor. So, yes, that's why I end up wanting to do more things in Latin America.

GQ: You started acting at a very young age, and starred in a Telenovela when you were a teen in the late '80s. Since No was made with vintage U-Matic video cameras to recreate the visual flavor of the late '80s, was it crazy to see yourself shot on low-grade technology again?

Gael Garcia Bernal: Well, I wasn't aware of the technology when we were shooting the soap opera, since I was very young. But I must say that one great surprise that happened is that before doing this film, we'd talk about how horrible it was to do soap operas and how horrible that video was. But when I saw the movie, I was like, man, isn't it strange how all of a sudden this format seems so nostalgic and filled me with longing for that time. It's just kind of like, wow, this nostalgic feeling—looking at how light comes into the window and everything. It gave me a good feeling. This horrendous video feels so romantic now. Who would have thought?

[kingbuffy]

I love obscure and niche horror media so much. The only downside is that there's almost no one to talk about it to. A few years back I was looking for some vampire video games to play. There's shockingly not a lot out there, so I'm always on the lookout. That does mean I play a lot of games that no one's ever heard of, or are just no good at all. Came across this charming little point and click game called A Vampyre Story.

Came out in 2008, and is reminiscent of the "for all-ages" horror that was popular in the 2000s like Nightmare Before Christmas, and Igor that came out the same year. It's about this recently turned woman, Mona De Lafitte, and her talking bat friend trying to escape the castle of the vampire whose kidnapped, turned, and trapped her there, while also evading vampire hunters. She's in denial about her vampiric nature, and as she starts to accept it you gain more powers. It's a premise specifically designed for me honestly. I love vampire women, especially when they're the main characters because I feel like we never see that. It's a very cozy game too, perfect for the Halloween season.

It's really talky though, which is typical of point and click games, but in this game the dialogue isn't that funny or important enough to go through it all. I chose all dialogue options because I'm a completionist, but it's really not worth it. It's also unfortunately not finished. The game leaves off on a cliffhanger right when things start picking up, and the sequel fell through. Both times.

It sucks because Mona is a pretty compelling character for a game like this. She's ditzy and a bit dense, truly believing she's still a human, but she's also an impassioned opera singer, and is depressed that she can no longer share her craft with the masses while alone and secluded in an isolated castle. Alone with only the man who ruined her life. Throughout the game, she thinks that if she can just catch a boat back to Paris, all her problems will be solved. I wonder how she'd be forced to deal with her new vampire life after she did eventually return and her problems weren't solved. We'll never know sadly.

I think people should still check this game out. It's charming, Mona is a fun protagonist, and it's a gorgeous looking game. The Vampire Village from that old Goosebumps Horrorland game concentrate.

I don't think art has to be a completed package in order to be worth telling. Sometimes it's nice to appreciate what could've been. It's not perfect by any means, but as a fan of obscure horror media, it would be cool if even one person saw my post and decided to check this game out. Then I'd have one more person to talk about it with. Last I saw, A Vampyre Story is selling for real dirt-cheap on Steam.

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Lucifarians: A Family Forged (1980):

Chapter 1 January Twelfth

Taglist: @spacelizardtrashboys @natsadkid @schizoauthoress @piratewithvigorr @stupidbluegirl @thedollmaker16 @the--blackdahlia

Warnings: violence, smoking, Roddy being Roddy, my weird universe alterations

2200+ words

The Kayfabe Post

Casey's P.O.V:

Thursday, the first day of being at work for the WWF, Saturday the twelfth of January 1980. Part of me still can’t believe that Driskoll got us into the WWF, himself being here alone was explainable, even if he brought his sons it would have been expected, but us, seven women all entering the WWF at the same time, the head office must’ve been smoking something when signing the contracts. Driskoll has already given us an order to get to know the men of the company better, and if I’m honest, I don’t know anyone, and due to my status as a ‘cannibalistic, carnivorous, monster heel’ I don’t think many people are willing to approach me.

I’m not here because I earned it, I’m here because I’m a necessity for the team, or at least, that’s how I view it. That’s how I’ve always viewed it. Ven needed someone to humiliate and, as a natural outcast, I’m the easiest choice. Dirty blonde hair in a masculine style, half dyed copper, thick eyebrows over eyes that can’t decide if they want to be blue or green, multiple scars over my jaw covered by a thick mask which curls under my chin. Heavier than Ven, but much more slender than any male giant, except maybe Baba, and then there’s my tatt-

BAM

“Oh dear lord, sorry, are you okay?”

In my absent-minded walking I had knocked myself and another person to the floor, and not just anybody.

Four inches taller than me,

Wild afro hair,

At least double my weight,

André.

André the giant.

Knocked to the floor, by me… Shit.

“Are you okay, Mademoiselle?”

I went as stiff as a statue, and pale like Michelangelo’s David, staring at the floor and awaiting punishment for my carelessness.

“Mademoiselle?” His shadow shifted with his movements as he got closer.

His tone worried, “Mademoiselle?” He lifted me to my feet, I had just enough composure to thank him in his native tongue.

“Who are you, Mademoiselle?” André smiles softly.

“Cas Lucifarian, I’m new here.” I return the soft smile.

André wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer before taking a good look at me and cocking an eyebrow, !Are you, uh…” He snaps his fingers as he tries to find the right words.

“A giant, yeah, well actually I’m a giantess.”

André walks with me, showing me around the arena’s backstage areas, talking about everything and nothing whilst roaming the shockingly empty arena. I say everything and nothing, and I mean it, from the best shops for tailored suits to what places along the road had the best coffee. For the first time I had a friend who I can talk to and know he knows what being a giant is like.

By the time André’s tour ended, Venka had come searching for me so I could be part of the interview with Driskoll and Gene, I managed to get out a quick ‘Goodbye’ to my fellow giant before leaving.

Playing my usual role, the enforcer, the intimidation device, it is my role to scare anyone who I’m told to. Before joining the group, me and my brother Kane worked as a tag team, the Lloyd siblings better known as The Celtic Warriors. From winning tag belts to being a damn human scare tactic.

Focusing back into reality I heard Howard ask Skull how we were doing as a team so far.

I stood behind Skull and Ven, puffing out my chest and crossing my arms to look bigger and scarier.

“You know something,” Skull’s silken voice the mark of a snake, “Howard, my girls have yet to have a match, but we are doing absolutely fine. In shape and ready to rock and roll, every single one of my girls is doing fine.”

“Just look at us,” Ven adds with a smirk, gesturing to her body, “Don’t we just look marvellous, Mr Finkel?”

Finkel smirks, “You could say that again, Miss?”

“Ven, although you can call me Pride.”

Skull glares at Finkel, almost daring the smaller man to try and flirt with his daughter.

Howard readjusts and focuses on the main point of new women in the WWF, “Uh, well, how soon do you girls think you’ll be seeing in-ring action?”

Skull looks at me to answer.

“Soon. Very very soon.” I growl as we leave the interview.

The rest of the day went by rather normally and quickly, Driskoll and Venka taking Helah and Everest with them back to the hotel, while myself, Bellona, Petra and Sydney stay behind to look at the other competitors as they leave.

Bel takes her cigarettes and a lighter from her bag, lighting up as she strides up to me and leans against the wall, puffing out clouds of smoke as she speaks, “Wassup, tall-ass.”

“I’m thinkin’.”

“Dangerous pastime hermana.”

“I know, Bell, I know. Hermana.”

“You addin’ to your phrasebook, Cassie?”

“Only the ones I deem handy to have.”

“Gym, tomorrow, me and you?”

“Gotta train, so yeah, gotta settle in somehow, right?”

“I’ll see you there, alright?”

“Adios, Bell.”

Bellona waves as she goes to grab a ride with the other two.

Bel is the only person who sees me as more of a sister than just a teammate. I look over at the door to the men’s locker room, soon one of those men will face me, now where is he. Putski, no. Rodz, no. Duggan, no. Zbyszko, yeah, he’ll do fine.

“Woah, watch where ya walkin’ lady.” A gravelly voice interrupts my thoughts as I turn to leave.

Lou Albano, oh geez.

Skull had warned me to avoid Lou, although with my gimmick being Gluttony I’m certain he’d jump at the chance to manage me.

“Sorry, Mr Albano.”

“It’s okay kid, you didn’t mean to do any harm, see ya around giantess.” Albano pats my arm as he leaves the arena.

I was still watching Albano, trying to figure out why he had acted so kindly towards me before feeling the hand on my shoulder and turning to be face to face with André.

“Hello Cas,” his soft smile returns, “It’s dark out tonight, maybe you would like to get a ride back to the hotel, I really don’t think a young lady like you should run the risk of meeting any unkind people out there.” In a strange way his voice calms me, the faint Ws replacing Rs and faint Hs of the French accent, almost like a father or older brother.

“I’m okay, André, thank you for the offer though, it’s very kind of you.”

He nods in response, saddened but curious, probably weighing the options of what I could do as much as I am, if I get a taxi my back will hurt tomorrow, but if I walk, I run the risk of getting followed or worse, I was already stabbed once in the past back in Carrickfergus. André pats my shoulder before sauntering off and leaving me all alone once again.

I don’t mind being alone, or rather I didn’t mind back when I worked with my brother, I was outcasted by everyone but him my entire life, our father working in a coal mine in Wales and our mother practically a single mother to two very active children, the only way she got us to stop wrecking the house was to make us train with David Finlay, a god of Irish wrestling.

I put my bag over my shoulder and started on my way back to the hotel, stopping to cover myself up with the shirt I keep wrapped around my waist, the sleeves long enough to hide my tattoos on my wrists, almost all of my sixteen tattoos are on my legs, except the two on my wrists, which I usually hide with tape when working.

It took around an hour to reach the hotel, walking through Philadelphia, a place I have never been before and am starting to hope I will never come back to, reaching the hotel and going straight to my hotel room, locking the door and getting ready to train.

I took off my shirt, shoes, everything except my underwear, starting with warmups and progressing into practising punches, kicks, knees, anything to tire myself, finishing up at just before midnight, showering and doing my nightly routine before falling asleep the moment I lay in bed.

On the morning of January 13th, Sunday, I woke up at six, turning off the radio alarm and stretching as I head to the bathroom, doing my morning routine and getting dressed in a short-sleeved orange shirt and black shorts, my mask for today is an orange and black chequered pattern heavy duty mask which I made sure goes down to the middle of my neck, I head to the local gym, taking my gym bag with me.

You meet all sorts of people in a gym, or so David had told me, back in Carrickfergus I would just train at his house, or at the club in Greenisland with his son or my brother. This gym felt like a whole new world, men from Georgia Championship Wrestling, The World Wrestling Federation and the National Wrestling Alliance. I scanned for faces I had seen last night, I waved to Volkoff, he smiled and waved back before focusing on his workout.

I headed to one of the heavy bags, ending up between Muraco and Valentine, two men André had told me about the day before. Muraco stops, whispering to a guy standing next to him.

As Valentine walks past he whispers to me, “Careful around Piper, he’s a wild man.”

“Hey, Cas, right? The girl André’s been talking about.” Muraco smirks as he continues his workout.

“Yeah, I’m Cas, André said that you’re Don Muraco.” I reply between punches, keeping my breathing composed.

“Yes miss, although you can call me Don, the giant’s been talking to the boys about his new friend and how you’re a ‘lady giant’ as he put it.”

The mystery guy, probably ‘Piper’, smirks at Muraco before clearing his throat and looking more serious as he looks at me.

“Yeah, I’m a giantess, it’s good to meet you guys, but, uh, who’s your friend, Don?”

Don wraps his arm around the slightly smaller man’s shoulders, “This is Rowdy Roddy Piper, he’s a bit like you, Celtic, Irish are Celts right?”

“Yeah, though I don’t think your friend is Irish, he’s too broad-shouldered to be Irish.”

“I’m Scottish, originally from Glasgow. Can’t speak Gaelic, but I can play the bagpipes.” Piper’s eyes light up, a sort of mad Scottish fire behind blue eyes.

“I’ll see you boys around, I’ve got some more training to do.” I walked off to the treadmills, trying to block out Valentine’s comment. Piper didn’t seem all too wild, or rowdy, but a man like him, muscular, proud enough to wear a kilt, he could spell trouble for me.

I finished up, sitting on the floor and wiping my face with my towel, looking up when the noise of footsteps stops in front of me.

“Yes?” I murmur while staring at Piper’s stupid grin.

“Show me how you fight,” He bent over to be eye-to-eye with me, “you’re new here, I wanna know how ya fight.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, c’mon.” He leads me to a boxing ring being used by other wrestlers.

Piper enters through the ropes, I test the top rope’s slack, tight enough for my purposes, I lean back and front flip over the rope into the ring.

“That’s new, no girls have ever done that around me before.”

“I’m twenty-six and a giantess with a gymnastics background.”

Piper scoffs and we lock up, hand to hand, a test of strength, he goes for a knee to the stomach and I counter with a stiff Irish whip into the ring post, a little too stiff.

“You’re gonna pay for that, lass.” Piper snarls, and suddenly I can’t tell if he’s actually angry or if this is just for show.

I size him up, calculating in my mind how high I need to jump, he comes at me for a high knee strike and I dropkick him, both of us crashing to the mat below, my head bouncing off the near rock-solid boxing ring, making my mask hit my throat and almost trigger my gag-reflex, my breathing gets heavier and I try to hide the impact from the rowdy Scot.

Piper’s up quickly and at my side in an instant, “Cas, you okay?”

I don’t answer, rolling onto my back and struggling to slow my breath. Roddy pulls me up, letting me lean against the ring post and goes to unbuckle my mask.

I push his hands away and unbuckle it myself, before I can stop him, he grabs the mask away and checks my face and neck, he winces and my heartbeat doubles at the idea of him wincing at the mess of scars.

“It’s okay, the cut isn't deep enough to cause much damage, you’ve just bruised up your neck if anythin’.”

“Gimme back my mask.” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“No, I ain’t finished lookin’ at you just yet,” He smirks, “can I train with ya, whenever we see each other again?”

“Sure, if we see each other again.” I nod as I put my mask back in its place.

[aurora-by-jacqui-natla]

7. A WOLF THING?

AS SHE REACHED TO ETHAN LASTLY, I NOTICED THAT JACOB started to act protective. He sauntered forward - Renesmee removed her hand from his cheek - and put his right arm forward, blocking her.

"All right," Jacob declared, his arm shielding Renesmee. "That's enough show-and-tell for one day."

Show-and-tell? She wasn't a school project.

"Jacob," Edward said. "They're not going to hurt her."

"Yeah, I know but... Let's not push it though."

What the hell? Why was Jacob acting weird? Well, acting weird may be an understatement. I looked at Jacob with an intense look.

"What's your problem?" I asked.

Then, Renesmee yawned, her arms stretched. She rubbed her eyes and then placed her hand on her mother's cheek. If I was human, I would feel my heart melt while watching it. She was the cutest kid I'd ever seen.

"She needs a nap," Bella said, looking at Edward.

"Hey, Jake," I said, trying to sound friendly. "We should catch up."

"Sounds like a good idea," said Edward as he took his wife and daughter.

"I'll see you later," Bella said and they walked out of the living room.

I think Edward knew what was going to happen.

"So you and the wolf have a history," Kate asked me.

"We were friends when we were human," I replied.

"Interesting," Tanya commented.

I turned myself around to look at Jacob and he looked nervously at me. "And now I'm thinking not anymore after this."

"This should be good," Joseph said.

"Violet," Jacob began, my feet moving forward. "Look, it's a wolf thing."

"What's a wolf thing?" I growled.

"Um... You know about Seth and Ayla?"

I nodded, answering his question.

"And I'm sure you know about...?"

"Well, I wouldn't know," I whispered bitterly. "It's a wolf thing."

I heard a couple of snickers but I didn't know who was it.

"Then," Jacob swallowed. "You know we have no control over it. We can't choose who it happens with."

Then, I remembered what Seth told me at the reception.

"We can't decide who we... But sometimes, things happen and we just act upon it..."

He was talking about him falling for Ayla. Imprinting. Then, I felt this disgusting feeling in my throat, and it wasn't from thirst. Then, I remembered that phone call with Ayla.

"I've congratulated the Cullens on having a new member to his coven."

My eyes widened. A werewolf congratulating a family of vampires? That was like hearing a gay person congratulate a family of Christians. Awesome but unheard of.

"Yeah, Bella told me about that," I said.

"Oh," Ayla sounded surprised. "And you're okay with it?"

"Yeah?" I replied confusedly.

"And you're not mad about it?"

"Why would I be? Plus, Jake isn't mad about it shockingly."

"Well, he did imprint on a girl."

My gold eyes widened again. "What?!" I half-shouted. "Jacob Black imprinted on a girl?!"

"Yeah, and her name is..."

I looked at Jacob and a hint of rage slowly crept up inside of me.

"And it doesn't mean what you think, Violet," Jacob continued, trying to explain himself. "I promise."

The anger was still in me. I couldn't believe he did that. Then, with quick speed, I grabbed Jacob's back neck and dragged him downstairs. Once I reached the front door, I opened it and threw him out. Jacob landed on the floor away from the house but quickly got up and rotated his body around.

"You imprinted on Renesmee?!" I shouted at him.

"It wasn't my choice!" Jacob yelled back at me.

"She's a kid!"

"It's not like that. You think Edward and Bella would let me be near her if it was?"

"What's imprinting?" I heard Simon asking.

I turned my head and saw my family and the Denali Coven staying outside as well. They were watching me giving Jacob a beat down.

"That's their way of finding a soulmate," I replied and I could see confusion yet disgust on their faces.

"That's not it," Jacob said, defending himself.

I looked back at him. "Well, that's what Seth told me."

"He's still new."

"I mean, there are thousands of women you could have imprinted on," I rambled angrily. "And you picked her daughter. Even though you had a crush on Bella, her mum!"

I heard a couple of gasps from behind as if they were watching a drama soap. Suddenly, I punched Jacob hard in the face and I heard growls from the trees and two large wolves arrived. I heard some snarls behind, possibly from the Denali Coven and Alana, and Jacob got up from the ground.

I recognised those wolves: those two grey and sandy wolves standing before us.

"It's fine, Leah," said Jacob in his hand up to her.

I turned my focus on the sandy wolf.

"Hey, Seth," I said to him and the wolf bowed his head. "Did you two know about Jacob and Renesmee?"

The wolves nodded their heads. My gold eyes widened at them. Then, I turned my gaze to Jacob.

"How did they know?" I asked him.

"It's a long story," was his answer.

I punched Jacob hard in the stomach and he fell.

"Stop it, Violet!" Dad's voice boomed.

"Hang on," Joseph said. "Just let her get it all out."

"Alright," Jacob rose his hands up as he got up. "Alright. I discovered Bella was pregnant and I told them."

"And I'm betting they weren't happy about it?" I asked bitterly.

"Not at all. Sam's first instinct was to have her destroyed but I stood against them. And when Renesmee was born, Bella died and I was so upset. Then, I had this sudden thought to destroy her and..."

"Woah, woah, woah," I interrupted after that part, pointing at him. "Wait a minute. You were going to kill her?"

Jacob nodded, admitting it. "That's when I imprinted on her."

What the hell? What the hell? What the hell? Why would he want to do that?

The rage surfaced in me and I felt it in control of me. I stared at Jacob and my vision went purple. I could see that he was getting afraid. He should be. It was the same thing I felt when I was fighting Dina.

"You were going to kill Renesmee?!" I half-shouted and half-growled at him.

Then, I felt my right hand flaming next to me but there was no pain. I lifted my right hand to see a glowing purple flame surrounding it. A smile emerged on my face as I looked at him.

"Hey, Jake," I said. "Let me show what I can do."

Then, I saw a shadow towering over me on the green grass.

"Violet!" I heard Dad's voice and I turned my head to my left and saw him standing next to me. "Stop it, now. Stop it."

He sounded like he was commanding his pet to stop misbehaving. With that, the purple vision disappeared from my sight and colours returned. I then saw Jacob quivering on the ground and slowly getting himself up.

"When can you do that?" Jacob asked, bewildered by what he had seen.

"A month ago," I replied quietly. "And no, I don't know how it happened." I looked at Jacob. "But why her?"

"Violet, you know me on the same level as Bella," Jacob began. "All I want was Nessie..."

"Wait, Nessie?" I heard Alana's voice, annoyed. "You nicknamed that lass after the Loch Ness Monster?!"

"That's exactly how Bella reacted to that," Jacob replied.

"Not now," Dad added.

"Okay," Jacob sighed. "I just want Renesmee to be safe. Happy. Look, I told Bella this. Nothing ever made sense before. Bella. Me. Any of it. And now I understand why. This was the reason."

Renesmee was the reason for him? It didn't make sense to me but it somehow made sense to him. I looked over to Seth and he glanced back at me with his eyes seeming to tell me that it was okay and he wasn't doing it creepily. Then, I looked at Leah but she wasn't looking at me. I followed her gaze and saw that she was looking at my family. She probably hated that more vampires were coming to stay. She did call me a leech at the reception after all.

Continue to 8. VISIT

[tache-noire]

might as well make a post about my OCs

the basic idea is that each one is sort of a mix of a few different horror movies, and focuses on a horror trope I like. I originally came up with these guys with the idea that I would just.... magically be able to make a game even though I can’t draw worth shit.

The Slasher: Terrence Walker

Inspirations: Halloween, Friday The 13th, My Bloody Valentine, anything with a big guy in a mask with a weapon stalking a bunch of people.

Appearance: HEFTY McLARGEHUGE. Tall, beefy, nasty drowned-corpse skin, no hair. Has a metal mask locked on his head that can’t be removed. Wears a khakhi prison jumpsuit and shackles. (the dick on this man is insane)

Bio: Imprisoned for a series of murders and subjected to an experimental form of psychological punishment at a remote penitentiary in which all inmates and staff must wear masks unless they’re in private. No mirrors in the facility. The complete lack of all human contact is supposed to inspire true penitence and reform even the most hardened criminals, but it simply gave Terrence and extreme aversion to human faces. Eventually the facility was shut down for ethics violations and all inmates were to be transferred to other prisons. Terrence managed to break free from his restraints and overpower the driver of the transport van, but ended up swerving off down an embankment and into a lake. His body was never found...

Other: His signature weapon is a 20 pound sledgehammer :^) he’s fond of bludgeoning and facial mutilation. You can get him to fuck you if you want but keep in mind he is a rotting corpse.

The Off-Grid Cannibal: Jacob Potter

Inspirations: Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Deliverance, We Are What We Are, honestly take your pick of cannibal/backwoods psycho movies except for Silence Of The Lambs

Appearance: Thick and stocky, very weathered and scarred skin. Dirty blonde hair and beard, both long and rather unkempt. Heterochromia-- one eye is green, the other is blue. Wears very rugged, practical clothes-- but they’re clearly old and worn, and not always the right size.

Bio: Unknown past. He’s not keen to talk about it. He doesn’t like people. Lives alone in a cabin in the woods, entirely off the grid and without modern comforts or technology. Hunts, traps, fishes, and forages. Humans are just another prey animal-- albeit a rare treat that he doesn’t allow himself to pursue too often. The circumstances and timing have to be just right. He has a preference for people roughly his own size and with some survival skills.

Other: IN MY DEFENSE OF THIS CHARACTER, I CAME UP WITH HIM LONG BEFORE TPOF WAS A THING. I may end up reworking him at some point because he's a little too similar to Mason.

The Creep: James Carson

Inspirations: yandere animes lol

Appearance: Pale, greasy, malnourished little rat man. Stringy brown hair, shockingly bright blue eyes, short, chewed-up fingernails. Bad hygiene. Smells bad. Lives in hoodies and sweatpants.

Bio: Believes WAY too much in dream symbolism. Completely delusional. He saw you once and then had a dream that you were married and had a whole life together, and now he believes you are his soulmate and that you MUST have had the same prophetic dream, because you’re CONNECTED. You are NOT the first person this has happened with, but he believes that you’re the same person reincarnated over and over. Someday, he’s sure you’ll remember that you’re meant to be together.

Other: I love him a lot, i love pathetic men so much

The Master: Simon Boucher

Inspirations: Hostel, The Silence Of The Lambs, the “dollmaker” deep web urban legend

Appearance: Very conventionally attractive. Black hair, olive skin, rich brown eyes. He’s fit but not overly muscular, but he’s stronger than he looks. Very well-dressed in expensive clothes.

Bio: He presents himself as a sugar daddy. He calls it “Pretty Woman Syndrome,” like the movie. Likes to go to shitty clubs, find someone who catches his eye, and then convince them to go out for a date with him to someplace MUCH fancier. He’s got a natural magnetism that makes it hard to say no. But they’ll wake up in chains, in an unfamiliar room, and from there the nightmare has only begun. He’s a trainer and seller of very high-quality human pets and toys for wealthy individuals all over the world. Whether you become a pet or a toy is up to how obedient you are or how well you can be broken. If you’re too strong-willed, you will lose everything. Arms. Legs. Sight. Hearing. Voice. Teeth. Only the absolutely necessary parts will remain. It’s in your best interest to behave, or escape.

Other: Pets are worth much more than toys, so he will give you every chance to be good for him before he gives up and modifies you. If he REALLY likes you, you may become one of his own personal pets :)

The Pure Sadist: Gabriel Mason

Inspirations: Hellraiser, Smoothie from Happy!, Martyrs

Appearance: Like a cherub. Very soft features. Round face, sun-kissed skin, curly golden-blonde hair, cheek dimples, the works. The only thing wrong with him is his eyes. Pitch black irises, and he’s never really looking AT you, but THROUGH you. Wears glasses, typically dresses in slacks and sweatervests.

Bio: Despite his somewhat unnerving eyes, he’s very pleasant. Polite, kind, soft-spoken. Likes to read-- mostly horror. No real rhyme or reason to how he picks his victims. Nothing matters but their ability to bleed and feel pain. He has an elaborately locked and hidden bunker in a remote location. Every tool he could possibly need at his fingertips, a supply of interesting drugs and chemicals, water and non-perishable food. Everything is sterile and spotless. He will keep you alive as long as your body holds up, and do everything in his power to prolong your life. Your pain and suffering is his greatest pleasure, but he will continue even after your mind breaks and you stop responding. From then on, it’s more of a hobby, just testing the limits of physical endurance until the damage is too great to recover from and you die.

Other: He has no genitals. He removed them himself-- he didn’t need or want them.

[evergreenwitch]

I think it's bad for a human to have access to as much news as we currently do.

The modern fire hose of world wide news reporting.... It brings a lot of benefits! The differences in public perception of warfare and about things like nationalism and stuff are super duper significant and maybe even important enough to be worth it.... You look back at papers and essays and letters written in Ye Olden Times and certainly there were folks who had the right idea about the genuine necessity of universal human compassion, and like the fundamental lack of differences between all people.... But I do think that in order for that sort of thinking to become the standard baseline ideology you must have a level of cosmopolitan experience which is not practical for most folks, or even desired by most folks (homebody 4 life lol).... The information age goes a long way towards reconciling this. I think there is a very genuine and shockingly universal trend towards that sort of 'global perspective' which was very much not the norm historically. ((I think that the conservative backlash against that trend is also a whole thing but I am hopeful that it is the desperate thrashing of a dying ideology))

That being said,,, I think on an individual level it's bad for you!!!! It's one thing when we get global news that's already a bit out of date - you read the newspaper and you are horrified to hear about the various atrocities going on in faraway places, but these things are already a month old by the time you hear about it, and there isn't really anything you can do - and there isn't even that many details anyway. For most of human history, there was a pretty intuitive relationship between how much data you had on a topic and how much agency/responsibility you had towards that topic -- you would get a lot more news about your local community then the big city you live near and more news from that city then from another city in your country, and more news from your country then from another country etc. This was not perfect! Or even ideal really - see above about how you need global information exchange to kill nationalism. But there is still something there about how the prioritization of proximate information helps prevent compassion burnout.

Like - currently there is a genocide being enacted upon the Palestinians in the Gaza strip by Israel. And that is horrifying. And it is constant - and there isn't really much I personally can do. I can show support in various ways - I can learn about the conflict and the history and the politics, and I can speak out to people I know about it, or on social media, and I can donate to charities of good repute or whatever -- but at the end of the day my ability to effect significant change for any given Palestinian is basically 0 - certainly the outcome to effort ratio is abysmal. And the Palestinians I could hypothetically have significant impact on.... Are going to be any who are already part of my community - ie family members of folks in Gaza who I could potentially help support locally, etc.

I don't really have a call to action - Maybe actively seek out local news sources and avoid doom scrolling world news? But it's something that I think we should be aware of, because I believe that we have a responsibility to each other - that all people have a universal responsibility to help other people - but I also think that you have to be realistic about your capabilities, and run the cost/benefit analysis on where you should apply yourself.

There is a certain sense that if you cannot materially help prevent an evil then you have a responsibility to act as witness... And I think that is so so dangerous in the modern information age. We hear so much news we can do absolutely nothing about, and trying to take the emotional burden of finding out about all of these things, and sorting out the truth from the propaganda, and just bearing the weight of knowledge gets so exhausting -- more and more people are suffering from the kind of compassion burn out that used to only really be expected in people's whose careers constantly expose them to suffering, or who are unusually active activists, just because of how our news is setup now.

[thechristiancrusader]

Why Encouraging &/or Doing Nothing About Transgenderism Breaks Both Human & God’s Law!

A Reddit user posted on the r/ Christianity community:

“I just had a comment removed for "bigotry" because I basically said I believe being trans is a sin. That's my belief, and I believe there is much Biblical evidence for my belief. If I can't express that belief on r/Christianity then what is the point of this subreddit if we can't discuss these things and express our own personal beliefs? I realize some will disagree with my belief, but isn't that the point of having this space, so we can each share our beliefs? Was this just a mod acting poorly, or can we say what we think?

And I don't want to make this about being trans or not, we can have that discussion elsewhere. That's not the point. My point is censorship of beliefs because someone disagrees. I don't feel that is right.”

The clueless reply:

“These posts are so annoying. Every single time it just turns out that OP was rude as shit and somehow thinks that saying "Trans people should eat dirt" or "trans people shouldn't have × right because I'm religious" isn't bigoted.

You can have whatever theological position you want, but your theology stops with you. If someone else wants to worship Moloch, that's not your problem. It's the same thing with trans people. We aren't the judges of the world. Keep your nose out of other non-christian business.”

This is my response:

Sorry to burst your bubble but even American law recognizes you have certain obligations to your fellow citizens! Like if you see a man about to commit suicide it was and is still in some places a crime to not try to stop him or call for help and it is always a crime to encourage his behavior of self-harm. You might remember the case of a teenage girl who sent text messages to her boyfriend after he told her he was suicidal she said to go ahead and do it, that he was doing the right thing, that he was better off dead than to continue suffering and being unhappy with who he was and how he lived his life. She was convicted of murder! So now imagine replacing he was suicidal with him saying he was trans then she said go ahead and do it, that he was doing the right thing, that he was better off trans than to continue suffering and being unhappy with who he was and how he lived his life. Then because she didn’t try to stop him from transitioning &/or having surgery or taking hormones he commits suicide or dies from health complications due to a sex change surgery or dies from one of the many serious side effects caused by hormone treatment wouldn’t she like the teenage girl have also broken human law and Gods law? Here are the reasons why speaking up is not just a good idea but your civic and moral responsibility:

1. People who identify as trans “the Data indicates that 82% of transgender individuals have considered killing themselves and 40% have attempted suicide, with suicidality highest among transgender youth…56% of youth reported a previous suicide attempt and 86% reported suicidality. Logistic regressions indicated that models for both lifetime suicide attempts and suicidality were significant”-NIH vs. those who identify as heterosexual who only 11% have considered suicide during their lifetime.

2. “Statistics documenting transgender people's experience of sexual violence indicate shockingly high levels of sexual abuse and assault. One in two transgender individuals are sexually abused or assaulted at some point in their lives. Some reports estimate that transgender survivors may experience rates of sexual assault up to 66 percent, often coupled with physical assaults or abuse. This indicates that the majority of transgender individuals are living with the aftermath of trauma and the fear of possible repeat victimization.”-OVC vs. heterosexuals who only “35% of women and 29% of men have experienced sexual violence in their lifetime.”-CDC

3. “ 2015, the National Center for Transgender Equality estimated that one in six(67%) transgender individuals in the United States has been incarcerated in their lifetime” vs. only “6% for all Americans”-Prison Policy Initiative

4.“In the MtF group, total mortality was 51% higher than in the general population, mainly from increased mortality rates due to suicide, acquired immunodeficiency syndrome, cardiovascular disease, drug abuse, and unknown cause. No increase was observed in total cancer mortality, but lung and hematological cancer mortality rates were elevated. Current, but not past ethinyl estradiol use was associated with an independent threefold increased risk of cardiovascular death”-European Society of Endocrinology 2011

5.” Persons with transsexualism, after sex reassignment, have considerably higher risks for mortality, suicidal behavior, and psychiatric morbidity than the general population. Our findings suggest that sex reassignment, although alleviating gender dysphoria, may not suffice as treatment for transsexualism, and should inspire improved psychiatric and somatic care after sex reassignment for this patient group…. The overall mortality for sex-reassigned persons was higher during follow-up (aHR 2.8; 95% CI 1.8–4.3) than for controls of the same birth sex, particularly death from suicide (aHR 19.1; 95% CI 5.8–62.9). Sex-reassigned persons also had an increased risk for suicide attempts (aHR 4.9; 95% CI 2.9–8.5) and psychiatric inpatient care (aHR 2.8; 95% CI 2.0–3.9). Comparisons with controls matched on reassigned sex yielded similar results. Female-to-males, but not male-to-females, had a higher risk for criminal convictions than their respective birth sex controls…The cause-specific mortality from suicide was much higher in sex-reassigned persons, compared to matched controls. Mortality due to cardiovascular disease was moderately increased among the sex-reassigned”-https://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0016885

6. “The possible risks of transfeminine bottom surgery include, but are not limited to, bleeding, infection, poor healing of incisions, hematoma, nerve injury, stenosis of the vagina, inadequate depth of the vagina, injury to the urinary tract, abnormal connections between the urethra and the skin, painful intercourse and anesthesia risks.”-American society of plastic surgeons, “review and meta-analysis is to evaluate the epidemiology, presentation, management, and outcomes of neovaginal complications in the MtF transgender reassignment surgery patients…studies reported on 1,684 patients with an overall complication rate of 32.5% and a reoperation rate of 21.7% for non-esthetic reasons. The most common complication was stenosis of the neo-meatus (14.4%). Wound infection was associated with an increased risk of all tissue-healing complications. Use of sacrospinous ligament fixation (SSL) was associated with a significantly decreased risk of prolapse of the neovagina…there is a high complication rate in the reported literature.”-NIH

7. “41% of Transgenders in prison in England and Wales are known sex offenders (46/113). This is a conservative estimate and the true figure is likely to be much higher. It is significantly higher than the average percentage of male sex offenders in the male prison estate as a whole (17%).”-Study conducted by Dr. Nicola Williams and contributors from Fair Play for Women: https://fairplayforwomen.com/transgender-prisoners/

8. Trans-regret / detransitioners are left with irreversible body changes and medical complications for life. Making them lifelong medical patients you might want to see their stories: https://youtu.be/LyJGijjI2JU, https://youtu.be/3am6G-D-VtQ, https://youtu.be/M58PqUjezdM, https://youtu.be/lCDYXSnuq0w, https://youtu.be/etp1IN1xsDY, https://youtu.be/rKDbPkTcObE for more examples just type detransitioners stories into YouTube

I could go on with the statistical and anecdotal proof of how this mental and spiritual illness destroys people's lives making anyone who would encourage or stay silent while knowing and seeing this body mutilation and mental brainwashing, peer pressure, and torture legally and morally culpable and a co-conspirator in the destruction of these peoples entire lives and eventual eternal damnation! But now I’m going to move on to the Biblical proof that Transgenderism, Homosexuality, and any Biblically listed sexual immorality leads to Emotional Hell in this life and literal Hell in the next!

1. “A woman shall not wear man’s clothing, nor shall a man put on a woman’s clothing; for whoever does these things is an abomination to the Lord your God.” (Deuteronomy, 22:5)

2. “So God created man in his own image,

in the image of God he created him;

male and female, he created them.” (Genesis 1:27)

3. “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.” (Leviticus 18:22)

4. “No one whose testicles are crushed or whose male organ is cut off shall enter the assembly of the Lord.” (Deuteronomy 23:1)

5. “For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men who suppress the truth [l]in unrighteousness, because that which is known about God is evident [m]within them; for God made it evident to them. For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse. For even though they knew God, they did not [n]honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man and of birds and four-footed animals and [o]crawling creatures.

Therefore God gave them over in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, so that their bodies would be dishonored among them.  For they exchanged the truth of God for [p]a lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed [q]forever. Amen.

For this reason God gave them over to degrading passions; for their women exchanged the natural function for that which is [r]unnatural, and in the same way also the men abandoned the natural function of the woman and burned in their desire toward one another, men with men committing [s]indecent acts and receiving in [t]their own persons the due penalty of their error.

And just as they did not see fit [u]to acknowledge God any longer, God gave them over to a depraved mind, to do those things which are not proper, being filled with all unrighteousness, wickedness, greed, evil; full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, malice; they are gossips, slanderers, [v]haters of God, insolent, arrogant, boastful, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, without understanding, untrustworthy, unloving, unmerciful; and although they know the ordinance of God, that those who practice such things are worthy of death, they not only do the same, but also give hearty approval to those who practice them.” ( Romans 1:18-32)

6. “Does not nature itself teach you that if a man wears long hair it is a disgrace for him, 15 but if a woman has long hair, it is her glory? For her hair is given to her for a covering.” (1 corinthians 11:14-15)

7. “If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them.” (Leviticus 20:13)

8.” Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor [f]effeminate, nor homosexuals, nor thieves, nor the covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God. Such were some of you; but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God.

The Body Is the Lord’s

All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything. Food is for the [g]stomach and the [h]stomach is for food, but God will do away with both [i]of them. Yet the body is not for immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord is for the body. Now God has not only raised the Lord, but will also raise us up through His power. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? Shall I then take away the members of Christ and make them members of a prostitute? May it never be! Or do you not know that the one who joins himself to a prostitute is one body with her? For He says, “The two shall become one flesh.” But the one who joins himself to the Lord is one spirit with Him. Flee immorality. Every other sin that a man commits is outside the body, but the [j]immoral man sins against his own body. Or do you not know that your body is a [k]temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from [l]God, and that you are not your own? For you have been bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body.” (1 Corinthians 6:6-20)

9. “For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin,[c] he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. 7 For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God's law; indeed, it cannot. Those who are in the flesh cannot please God.

You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus[d] from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.

Heirs with Christ

So then, brothers,[e] we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons[f] of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.” (Romans 8:3-17)

10. “I appeal to you therefore, brothers,[a] by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.[b] 2 Do not be conformed to this world,[c] but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.[d]” (Romans 12-1-2)

Lastly, if you read this scripture you see that God commands us to warn others both Christian and nonChristian of their sin and that unless they repent and accept Christ’s sacrifice reconciling them with God in love it will lead them to hell and if we do not tell them we are responsible for their death and eternal damnation!

11.“he said to me, “Son of man, all my words that I shall speak to you receive in your heart, and hear with your ears. 11 And go to the exiles, to your people, and speak to them and say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord God,’ whether they hear or refuse to hear.” (Ezekiel 3:10-11) and “ Whenever you hear a word from my mouth, you shall give them warning from me. 18 If I say to the wicked, ‘You shall surely die,’ and you give him no warning, nor speak to warn the wicked from his wicked way, in order to save his life, that wicked person shall die for[d] his iniquity, but his blood I will require at your hand. 19 But if you warn the wicked, and he does not turn from his wickedness, or from his wicked way, he shall die for his iniquity, but you will have delivered your soul. 20 Again, if a righteous person turns from his righteousness and commits injustice, and I lay a stumbling block before him, he shall die. Because you have not warned him, he shall die for his sin, and his righteous deeds that he has done shall not be remembered, but his blood I will require at your hand. 21 But if you warn the righteous person not to sin, and he does not sin, he shall surely live, because he took warning, and you will have delivered your soul.” (Ezekiel 3:17-21)

In conclusion, if we know someone(online or in person) that is considering transitioning and we encourage it or say nothing we are breaking both human and God's law just as that teen girl did! We cannot escape our earthly responsibilities for we will pay in this life or the next for our neglect and fear of doing what’s required of us as citizens and followers of Christ!

[relative-dimension]

“The Temple of Evil”

Season 1, episode 27 - 23rd May 1964

[id: Autloc and Tlotoxl talk quietly to each other, and in the background, a few feet away, Ian and the Doctor stand watching them. /end id]

Back to history, and back to another depiction of a non-white culture which is trying to be respectful but also is very 1960s. It’s interesting to me how two of the four historicals in this first season are actually set outside of Europe, especially since that never really happens after this - most historicals in the original show after this are set in Britain, and the rest are mostly Europe or the USA, and it’s only recently with episodes like Legend of the Sea Devils that they’ve branched out and tried very vaguely to do some other history.

Is it an entertaining watch: 3/5, it’s alright

Does the production hold up: 3/5, this is the part where I point out that once again, every single person of colour in this story is played by a white person it’s shockingly bad. Apparently they took a lot of effort to replicate traditional “Aztec” (I believe those from the city this story is set in actually called themselves the Tenochca?) clothing, but I have no idea how accurate they were, and either way the white actors pantomiming their way through those awful performances makes it all feel more racist, even if the intention was good.

Does it use its time well: 3/5, yes and no. What John Lucarotti does do in this episode is clearly establish the ideological rift between Dr Who and Barbara - the most famous scene from this serial is in the first episode. However, when watching this for the first time last week this gave me a feeling that they had used up all of their good ideas in the first episode, and watching the rest, I was right.

Are the characters consistent and well-used: 4/5, in this episode, yes, mostly, even if Ian is just in the stereotype of the Action Man role where he’s just training to fight, and Susan just hangs around with Barbara. They all get something to do at least.

Is there anything actually going on under the surface: 4/5, I’m going to be generous and not talk about the Boring Subplot Hell that this story descends into and instead, let’s talk about the main Theme that John Lucarotti wants to explore: does a time-traveller have the right to change history? He doesn’t exactly come to a conclusive answer, but we do at least get a few good scenes digging into the concept - Dr Who believes it’s impossible, but Barbara thinks she should do everything in her power to try. Of course, her idea of “saving” this civilisation is rooted in the white supremacist and colonialist ideas of the 1960s, but if you look past the basis of her actual argument, there’s an interesting conversation going on here. We also get a real sense of the history of Dr Who as a character with the line “believe me, I know,” implying that he’s tried this before and failed. Of course, that’s never elaborated on, but it’s nice to imagine, isn’t it?

Does it avoid being a bit dodge with its politics: 2/5, there’s four episodes of this so let’s start with the most basic one: every actor is white as fuck. Like I said, they’re trying very hard, but much like Marco Polo, it’s all a white imitation rather than a genuine attempt to replicate it by consulting people who aren’t white and British. Another similarity with Marco Polo is the existence of a cartoonishly evil villain who is played as if this is a pantomime. Tlotoxl is the “local butcher” in charge of the human sacrifice, and therefore symbolises what these writers believe is the great sin that this civilisation comitted that caused their destruction at the hands of European colonisers. He is therefore also the one who immediately doesn’t trust that these random white people are reincarnations of their high priests, whereas the other high priest is critical of human sacrifice and also coincidentally believes Barbara when she pretends to be Yetexa.

Overall Score - 19/30

[theepoguelandia]

liked by drewstarkey, hichasestokes and others

tagged user: @drewstarkey

yourinstagram: hello lovelies.

i’m not one to really pour my soul or open up my heart much, especially not here on my feed, but the past few days have been quite a lot.

first things first, this man in this picture is a human being. shocking, i know. Drew Starkey is not Rafe Cameron. he is not “just” a public figure and an actor. he is firstly a human. a person. a son. a brother. a friend. and my boyfriend. my love.

I truly understand all of the love you have for him, because i have too. i love this man with every inch of my body, the amount of love i feel for him even scares me, because i didn’t know i could love someone with this intensity. but i do.

and he loves me. shockingly, Drew fell in love with me. and believe me, i often wonder why too.

But that’s what happened. against all odds, against my biggest fears and hesitances, we fell in love.

And we both knew what we were getting ourselves into, we both knew everyone would have an opinion about our relationship and so many people would think, god knows why, that they have the right to attack on us. and that’s what’s happening.

i’ve been getting thousand of comments and messages every day of people telling me how much of a slut, a whore and an opportunist i am for being with the man i love. i have to deal with fans being rude when seeing us out on public, giving me not only dirty looks (which i couldn’t give less of a fuck) but i also had to deal today with a girl throwing her coffee at me. So yeah, i got tired of dealing with this is silence.

I really am sorry i “took” Drew from some of you, but let’s face the reality that i didn’t. Drew and i are two grown people, who met through friends, two successful actors, and we had a great friendship that grew to something bigger.

I’m not here to “explain” myself because i don’t OWE anyone an explanation on my relationship, i’m here showing a vulnerable side of myself that just can’t take this hate anymore. I’ve never done anything bad to any of you guys, and neither has Drew. The way you, his “fans” have been treating me and our relationship, doesn’t just affect me. It affects him too.

And to the ones that have supported us since the beginning and continue to show us love, i’m extremely thankful. I love you <3

- Y/N

122 comments

drewstarkey i love you, beautiful🤍

hichasestokes love you guys❤️

rudeth here for you man❤️

madelyncline love you, Y/N

madisonbaileybabe call me if you need anything x

elameeeee love u two💟

rafeisahotpsycho lmao this is pathetic. leave drew alone, y/n.

drewismaman bitch

obxfan2021 not her acting like she’s the victim

comments have been limited on this post

///

drewstarkey

liked by yourinstagram, rudeth and others

tagged user: @yourinstagram

drewstarkey as i have said before in my previous post, any sort of negative comment made about my girlfriend on my account or hers will be instantly blocked.

i have never had to come here to speak about people crossing bouderies because it has only ever affected me. I understood that fans could be a little intense and i’m truly the most grateful man on earth for all of your support. But i can’t watch what’s happening to Y/N, my girlfriend, the love of my life, and ignore it.

I’m here, asking for people to please stop spreading negativity towards my girlfriend and I.

People have been saying untrue things about her, when she’s one of the most sweet, loving, humble and kind hearted people i’ve ever met. It truly amazes me how wonderful she can be even after anything she’s gone through.

I hope you guys will take the time to reflect on your actions, see you all again soon.

- D

comments have been disabled on this post

///

i love drama 🤧 so, what do we think???

taglist: @kennedyg0 @siresweeney @evening-starlight @carolineworld @rafeseggplant @starkey-babie @jemimah-b99 @drewstarkeysbitchh @pogueslandia @gviosca @shrimpyshrimp

[violenceenthusiast]

ok i had a thought that makes me wanna dip my head in acid but in a soft way...

dean and claire having a father/daughter saturday of fun and low-grade mischief, going to an arcade and joke-fighting over what stuffed animal to get with their tickets and getting slushies and while they’re taking a break to grab burgers claire says “yknow i’ve been meaning to go get- wanna come with me while i get a new piercing??”

and dean pinches in the direction of her ear a little and says “what, you don’t have enough of those already?” as if he doesn’t think they’re the coolest thing.

she waves him off, eyes flicking between the burger in her hands and the table “i don’t know i just thought it’d be something else fun to do today.”

dean’s only half teasing when he asks “you want me there to hold your hand?”

claire rolls her eyes and looks to the side with half a smile, “oh shut up.” but it’s true, she does want him there to hold her hand– she may be a hardcore hunter who will take a knife cut or a monster bite in stride, but she always gets a little nervous before each piercing. maybe having dean there will make it just a little more manageable.

––

they get to the studio and claire signs the forms, picks out her jewelry, takes a seat to wait while they get ready for her. dean is pacing, looking carefully in each case, at each display. the nice person behind the counter sees him looking and asks “did you want to get something pierced today too?” claire cracks a smile at that and dean looks up at the counter clerk a little wide-eyed, eyebrows raised and mouth half open in surprise, huffs out a breath and looks down as half a nervous smile pulls at the left side of his mouth. he sticks one hand in his pocket and gives one wave with the other as he says “ha. nah, no- just here for her today” as he gestures at claire. he goes to sit with her until the piercer calls them back to the room that’s set up for them.

claire is getting a conch piercing and it’s going more easily than usual- partly because dean is there with her, partly because there are shockingly few nerve endings in the middle of the ear cartilage, and partly because the woman doing the piercing is insanely pretty and insanely good at what she does (she used to be a phlebotomist so she knows a little something about blood, needles, nervousness, and a given person’s propensity for fainting). while the piercer is busy marking the ear, claire looks over at dean in his chair and unable to contain the question any longer asks him, “you ever thought about getting a piercing?”

“me? nah.. it’s just not- i mean they would’ve gotten ripped out for sure by some- by accident.” he was about to say ‘by some monster’ but caught himself before he really weirded out the nice piercer woman. he hadn’t thought about him and piercings in a long time. he had slowly stopped wearing even rings and bracelets as much over the years in case they got caught on something during a hunt (though now he had a new ring on his left hand that he never took off). a piece of jewelry actually in the body was even more of a ridiculous idea for a hunter. but he wasn’t a hunter any more, not really. hadn’t been for about a year. after chuck and getting cas back safe and human.. with sam and eileen running their witchy little hunter hub from the bunker.. it had just seemed like his opportunity and his time to break out of it all. wow okay in that split second he trailed so far off from where he started.. where did he start? ...piercings! right. he remembers being young and not being able to take his eyes off the men in bars with the metal glinting in their ears, noses, lips.. now he knew the staring had been more about the men than the jewelry but it hadn’t not been about the jewelry either. was this one of those things he got to think about now, again, for the first time in a lifetime?

claire takes a moment to make sure she isn’t woozy any more and gets up to go look in the mirror at her new adornment. she smiles and dean snaps out of his own little world to say “you like it?” 

she looks at him through the mirror “love it.” and then, mischievous, “your turn.”

“my turn??”

“oh absolutely.” a moment of raised eyebrows and incredulous silence then, “if you decide you hate it you can just take it out. c’mon i saw your face, you want one you can’t hide from me.”

she’s right. he protests weakly, but she knows him all too well at this point and she’s right and the goading from the piercer only encourages her.

“okay okay fine. but nothing too showy.”

they decide on a rook. it’s not too prominent but it’s definitely there, definitely unique, it will look okay on it’s own if he never gets another piercing, and if he has to jump in on an odd hunt it’s far enough into the ear that it would be hard for it to get caught on anything or ripped out. dean picks a simple, stainless steel piece with a lapis lazuli setting– blue for his husband (though if you asked him he would deny that’s why he chose it. but only at first).

he can’t believe how jittery he is about the whole thing, but this time claire holds his hand. it’s over before it’s begun and he thought it might be painful like the tattoo was, or like any of the number of painful little things that have happened to him over the years but it’s not, it mostly just feels strange. it’s nice to be surprised like that.

dean hops off the bench like claire did and goes to the mirror half expecting to hate what he sees. but he’s surprised for the second time in barely a minute. the glint of the metal in his ear doesn’t just look good, it looks right. like it was meant to be there and he had been awaiting it’s arrival but didn’t know it. something hard to name, something small, something he didn’t know was missing until he found it had just found its way to him, slotted into place and settled in his ribs. he feels quieter but also on fire– like he’d be satisfied to just sit and read a book, like he could face god and win (again).

from behind him claire asks, “like it?”

he smiles. “love it.”

––

they kick around for a little while longer, each of them forgetting about their new piercings until they catch sight of the other’s or until they catch their reflection in a shop window and take a second to admire the newness. eventually claire begrudgingly admits she has to get back to campus to get some work done. dean drops her off at her dorm with a hug and a “stay out of trouble”. 

dean makes the drive home to cas, just lost enough in happy thoughts and memories from the day that he forgets to put on any music until he’s already half way home. 

he gets to the house and finds cas watering the plants in the living room. he leans in the doorframe, watching his love gently tend to each plant in turn. dean doesn’t say anything, he knows cas knows he’s there and will greet him when he’s finished seeing to his darlings. in the meantime dean gets to delight in the sight of the curve of cas’ back as he bends this way and that to reach the plants, the delicate and reverent care he shows each leaf and vine.

cas finishes his routine, sets the water down and turns to greet dean. he freezes half way to saying hello because something is.. something.. something is... he can’t put a name to it, nothing is wrong but dean is.. shifted. not different.. but different. dean is holding his head oddly turned to the side and it doesn’t help either that dean is smiling around a secret and they both know it. cas narrows his eyes but brushes off the feeling long enough to cross the room and give dean a kiss, quick but whole and familiar. dean turns his head to look at a plant and ask a question about it and “accidentally” reveal his new addition. cas, who hasn’t taken a single step backwards since coming over to kiss dean, of course sees the jewelry immediately and exclaims before dean even has a chance to start his made-up question. 

after some very amusing joke-yelling from both sides, it’s revealed that cas just absolutely loves it. and not that dean was worried cas would hate it but dean was a little worried cas would hate it. or worse, that he would judge it. but cas loves that dean tried something new, loves that he chose something blue, loves that dean seems just that little bit more at home in himself. and from the slight blush in his cheeks and ears, dean can tell cas thinks it’s a little bit sexy too. 

––

dean keeps thinking about how much he liked getting a piercing. he gets it on a fundamental level now, gets claire and her array of silver and gold. he’s got the taste for it now, the itch. he’s thinking about going back for another one. or two. but what else, what next? he cheekily wonders about picking based on what would drive cas wild. 

...dean goes back in secret a month and a half later to get his nips pierced. it doesn’t stay secret for long. not from cas, at least. 

[letarasstuff]

The Aftermath of being kidnapped

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and is based on this and this post

Summary: Spencer’s daughter was kidnapped. What does the aftermath look like?

Warnings: Angst, but it’s also real fluffy

Wourdcount: 1.4k

✨Masterlist✨ ___________________________________ Spencer doesn’t let anyone in his life easily. His circle of close people is carefully chosen and picked. It’s for his own safety. After all, the young agent doesn’t want to get hurt by anyone again.

But ever since he held his daughter for the first time, the tiny little human being that from now on depends on him for the rest of his life, he is willing to get hurt by her, if that means she is happy. In this moment he decided that her happiness means everything to him. It’s going to be his first priority to keep her content.

He still tries to keep that promise to himself, even after over three years (to be exact 3 years, 4 months and 8 hours). That’s one reason why the last 8 hours were the worst of his life and believe me when I say that Spencer has sadly a great pool of bad times he can choose from.

Since (Y/N) went missing, all he can do is stare into the air, thinking about all the good memories he has with her. Her first word (“dada” of course), her first steps, reading every night to her either in person or over the phone.

But right now his little baby isn’t here and he isn’t able to help her. His brain is no use and the young father isn’t able to get out of the loop inside his mind.

Spencer is scared. Scared to never be able to hold (Y/N), his lifeline. Scared that the last word she heard from him is a promise he couldn’t keep, “Daddy is going to tuck you in tonight, I promise Sweetheart” instead of “I love you, Sweetheart”. Scared that she is scared at the moment. Scared that she is in pain.

There are so many things Reid is afraid of, one thing worse than the other. Having the dreading 24 hour clock above his head and all the child abduction statistics on his mind don’t help either.

Since he is captured by his own thoughts, Spencer doesn’t notice the team gearing up. Even the sudden quiet doesn’t alarm him. He is too lost in his mind to be able to register anything from his environment. Not until a small scream he is more than familiar with reaches his ears.

“DADDY!”

(Y/N) wiggles out of Hotch’s grip, leaving Spencer nearly with a heart attack as she is close to falling down. When she wrestles herself out of the Unit Chief’s grasp, she runs to her father as fast as her little legs can without tripping. The father crouches down and they clash together.

“I missed you, Daddy. I was so scwared. I- the woman was so mean and creepy. Please, never leave me again”, she cries into his chest, sobs racking her body. Spencer draws soothing circles on his daughter’s back while shifting so he sits with his legs crossed down on the floor and (Y/N) on his lap.

“I will never leave you again, Sweetheart. I love you. God I love you so so much. And it’s all over. The bad woman won’t hurt you anymore. I’m here now”, he whispers into her ear. Together they rock forth and back. As she calms down, Spencer looks up at his team. They all watch the scene go down, the strings of their hearts pulling at the painful sight.

“She still needs to get checked out. (Y/N) refused to on scene, wanting to go to you as fast as possible. She nearly bit the paramedic.” Hotch looks at his agent, who clings to his daughter. “You got a feisty one there, Reid”, Morgan adds. Spencer nods and glances at his colleagues.

“Thank you guys for saving her. I-I don’t know what I w-would do-” “And you don’t have to. Take the next two weeks off, you are more needed at home than in the office.” Hotch cut him off, smiling a little to reassure the young man.

Spencer nods in thanks. “Sweetheart, are you ready to go to the doctor’s to see if you are hurt? Are you in pain?” (Y/N) shakes her head, but he isn’t sure to what it is the answer. “Ok, come on.” He gets up and hoists her up on his hip. The little girl whimpers and hides her face into her father’s neck.

“Um, I guess I wish you a goo-” “Spence go, she needs you.” “Ok, yes. Thank you JJ.” With that Spencer takes (Y/N) to the next metro stop, never letting go of her.

Luckily they don’t have to wait long in the emergency room at the hospital. Soon Spencer’s name is called and he finds himself with his child on his lap explaining to the pediatrician the situation.

“From what I see I conclude (Y/N) only has superficial wounds and bruises. Just make sure she takes it easy the next few days”, he explains. “A-are you sure? Don’t you want to look over her for a second time? Just to be safe I mean?” Spencer looks down at his daughter, who slowly drifts off.

“With all due respect, Doctor Reid, I’m sure. Your daughter is fine.” “No, you don’t understand. She was kidnapped for crying out loud, you need to check her out a second time, to be sure.” Shockingly to him, the agent can’t think of statistics to feed his statement. He just argues out of his feelings.

“Allright. I’ll look over her again.” The doctor sighs and does his job, knowing Reid will have his way anyway. Nevertheless he doesn’t find anything new, in addition to having a now grumpy toddler, who doesn’t want to be prodded at anymore.

Later that evening after a quick dinner and a bath for (Y/N), Spencer puts her in his bed. “I’ll have to go to the bathroom and then we get to cuddle, ok?” This is anything but ok for her. As soon as the father presents his idea she begins to cry. “I-I don’t want you to leave, D-daddy”, the girl hiccups. “Daddy has to use the toilet. I’ll be quick, I promise Sweetheart.” It takes him a while to calm her down, eventually he is allowed to go to the bathroom on his own.

He is quick to get back to (Y/N). As soon as he climbs into his bed, she crawls on his chest and snakes her hands around her father’s neck. “Pwease wead two me”, she demands drowsily. Before Spencer is even able to get past one page, the toddler is fast asleep. But Spencer still continues, just savoring the feeling of his daughter close to him.

It’s safe to say that the next two weeks consist of lots of cuddles, reading together and talking. Well as much as you can talk with a three year old about what happened.

Taglist: 

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor 

x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[demonsigh]

the hunt

rating: lime/mature pairing: male vampire x gender-neutral reader features: touch starvation, safewords, biting, aftercare, cuddling warnings: blood, fear, being chased, dizziness length: 4240 words

Feeling isolated and craving physical intimacy, a college student agrees to be hunted and bitten by a vampire in exchange for a post-meal snuggling session. Based on this prompt submitted to @monsterkinkmeme​​ by @the-color-of-sound-is-space

You were supposed to meet him at 11 PM, in the middle of Bartleby Park. Vampires were nocturnal and uncomfortable in the sun, so the hunt had to take place at night. But did it have to be this late?

It wasn’t as if you were getting tired. You were something of a nocturnal animal yourself nowadays; college tended to do that to people. But the park was pretty creepy this late at night, eerily empty and unnaturally quiet.

You checked your phone again. 11:10 already. He was late. Had he been held up? Or could he have overslept? That thought wrung a quiet chuckle from you — a sound not at all reassuring to hear in the dark silence of the park.

The “he” in question was a vampire named Roland that you’d met on the internet. You were meeting up so he could suck your blood.

For whatever reason, college towns tended to attract vampires. It probably had something to do with the vibrant nightlife, and the bars that never closed, and parties that only ended when the sun rose. Or perhaps it was the rich history of such places, in the old stone buildings and the musty library books. Or maybe it was just the students themselves: curious and open-minded, over-educated and sheltered and a little bit reckless.

In the modern age, most vampires obtained their food in the modern way: in bags, from blood banks or speciality clinics. But there were those who still swore by more natural methods. Many believed that feeding from the source provided physical and mental health benefits. For others, the desire to stalk, and chase, and bite, was simply too strong to resist indulging. Luckily for all, it was not as difficult to find a willing human victim as one might expect.

You discovered a message board that was dedicated to this macabre economy. Vampires would make posts looking for “prey” — humans willing or eager to be bitten. An arrangement would be made for a night of thrilling and dangerous roleplay, where the vampire played the part of the seductive predator, and the human, the helpless victim.

For most of the humans who posted on this forum, being prey was a kink. They enjoyed the thrill of the chase, and the pain of the bite. It was foreplay to them, and the evening inevitably led to sex after their partner’s more pressing appetites were sated.

You became a little obsessed with this message board. You didn’t think you’d mind being bitten; there was something kind of sexy about it. But you weren’t really trying to get laid. What you really wanted was some quality aftercare, a perk that was frequently offered, requested, and discussed on this forum.

College had become something of a lonely experience for you. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, and you weren’t sure where you’d gone wrong. In your freshman year you’d made an effort to be social, starting a number of casual friendships, but none of them really stuck. You were still close to your high school friends, and you talked to them online all the time, but somehow the number of people with whom you had any physical interaction had dwindled down to zero.

It made you lonely in a deep, nagging way. You wanted a hug. You wanted to hold someone’s hand. You daydreamed constantly about these things, setting up elaborate scenarios in your mind that led to someone safe and warm holding you for hours at a time. You felt like these fantasies were reaching a boiling point in your mind. And one night, after drinking several beers by yourself, you made your own post on that message board. You would let someone bite you (hunt optional), in exchange for an evening of snuggling (sex optional).

And that was how you met Roland. He wasn’t the only vampire who replied to your post, but he was the only one who lived within easy walking distance. You agreed to meet at one of the campus cafes and discuss possibilities over coffee.

You recognized him immediately, although you were pretty sure he didn’t recognize you. He was in one of your classes. You frequently spied him from across the lecture hall, tall and good-looking and unapproachable. You’d always thought there was something a little otherworldly about him, but he mostly just looked like another student. You’d had no idea that he wasn’t even human.

And it turned out he wasn’t as intimidating as he looked. He actually seemed pretty nice, even a little bit shy. He’d never fed straight from the skin before — drinking nothing but bagged blood since he was turned — and he wanted to try it at least once. He wasn’t trying to get laid either. Like you, he was much more interested in the aftercare, hoping for something like a cooldown hug once the deed was done. That suited you just fine.

The plan was this: You would meet in Bartleby Park at 11 PM. The exact location didn’t matter, he said; he would come find you. This statement gave you an unexpected thrill. Perhaps the hunting part would be more fun than you’d thought. You would run, and he would chase you. If you screamed, all the better — although this did make a safeword necessary. You chose “cardboard,” the first word that came to your mind, which made him laugh. When he finally caught you, he would bite you on the neck and drink your blood. Then he would take you up to his apartment for first aid and spooning. Simple as that.

Only he wasn’t here yet. It was 11:20 now, and you were still alone. Maybe he was having trouble finding you. Or… was he backing out? That thought stung. You suddenly realized just how much you’d been looking forward to this, and the idea of going home tired and alone made you feel more depressed than ever.

A branch snapped in the trees nearby, and your head whipped toward the sound. Your eyes scanned back and forth across the screen of dark leaves, trying and failing to uncover the culprit.

“Roland?” you whispered. You hadn’t meant to whisper, but suddenly you were having trouble finding your voice. Your phone buzzed in your hand, making you jump. It was a text message from your friend:

“How did it go?”

“He’s late, I’m still waiting,” you typed in response.

“Ok… Text me again in an hour or I’m calling the cops.”

Your friends had basically all agreed that this seemed like a bad idea. You were starting to wonder if they were right. You didn’t know Roland at all… even if you knew where he lived and where he went to school. Even if he was cute and he seemed nice.

And even if Roland was fine, Roland wasn’t here. It was late, and the park was deserted. Who knew what other weirdos were prowling around out here.

You were starting to feel genuinely anxious. Beneath the trees, the park was dark, the shadows unaffected by the dim light of the street lamps. What was the safeword again? Cardboard? That was it, right?

There was a rapid noise in the grass behind you — tff tff tff — like something rushing towards you in long leaps. That was the last straw. You launched into a flat-out run, heart hammering, breath coming in gasps.

A pair of cold, hard arms wrapped around you from behind, jerking you to a stop. You screamed at the top of your lungs, and then, almost in the same breath, shouted, “Cardboard cardboard cardboard,” all in a rush; sure that the word would mean nothing to this person; that you were about to be hurt or worse.

But cardboard was the magic word. The arms disappeared from around your chest, and in a flash he was standing in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough, “are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

And of course it was only Roland, the very person you had agreed to do this with. He was staring into your face, expression distressed, hands gripping your shoulders.

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. “It was just… scarier than I expected.”

He was slowly shaking his head back and forth. He looked appalled. “Fuck, I am so sorry.”

You didn’t understand why he was apologizing like that, until you suddenly became aware of the wetness on your cheeks, and the ragged sound of your breathing. Were you crying? God, how fucking embarrassing.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing tears from your eyes with the backs of your hands. “Jesus.”

“No no,” said Roland, “don’t apologize. I think I overdid it. ...And I was pretty late, that definitely didn’t help.”

He was looking around now, frowning into the dark woods, and rubbing your shoulders absently. You were hyper-aware of his hands. They were like ice but every pass of them over your shoulders sent a rush of warmth through you. You felt extremely relieved that he was here, even though he was the reason you’d been so scared in the first place. You wished he would hug you — the desire for this was almost overwhelming — but you felt too dazed and embarrassed to ask.

His eyes met yours once again, and his hands slipped from your shoulders, finding their way into his pockets instead — the exact opposite of what you wanted.

“Uh…” he said. “Do you wanna just skip this part and go straight back to my place?”

A wobbly laugh escaped you, and you nodded weakly. “Are you still gonna suck my blood?” you asked.

“Do you still want me to?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled at that. It was a small, almost shy smile, but enough to give you a good look at his fangs. They looked shockingly white and sharp in the dark.

He started to walk in the direction of his apartment, then paused; and looking back, expression uncertain, he held his hand out towards you. You hesitated for just one second. Then you placed your hand in his, and his cold fingers closed tightly around yours.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Your heart was racing again. When was the last time you’d held someone’s hand? You never wanted him to let go.

Neither of you spoke. You wondered if he was feeling as nervous as you were. You’d thought that the scary part was over, but what about what came next? How badly would it hurt when he bit you? He’d never bitten anyone before, he said. How would he react to his first taste?

When you tried to picture it, all you could imagine were his lips pressed against your skin; and his hand cupping the back of your neck, holding you still. They were not unpleasant images. You felt your face heat up, and you were suddenly grateful for the darkness and the cold night air.

It was a fairly short walk. His apartment was a big single-room studio: TV and sofa in one corner, bed and bookcase in another. Rounded doorways branched off into a kitchen and a bathroom. There was a large white-curtained window in the west wall, and moonlight poured in through the glass, illuminating the plush carpet. It was cozy and uncluttered. Roland watched you look around, then looked around himself.

“Maybe in the kitchen?” he asked. He caught your eye, then glanced quickly away. “So we don’t get blood on the carpet.”

How practical. You followed him into the kitchen, forcing yourself to take even breaths as you went. Vampires were supposed to have excellent hearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating?

“Want some water?” he asked, opening a cupboard as he spoke. You peered over his shoulder, tickled to see that the only dishes he seemed to own were drinking glasses; no bowls or plates in sight. What would he need a plate for, after all?

He moved around you to fill the glass with water from the sink. He seemed to be avoiding eye-contact, and you wondered again if he was nervous. Somehow the thought made you feel more at ease. Boldly, you opened his refrigerator to examine the contents. Blood bags, and nothing else. Lots of them. Stacks upon stacks, in neat little rows. You couldn’t quite believe it, even though it was exactly what you’d expected to find.

You didn’t know what kind of face you were making, but you were afraid it wasn’t good. You turned toward Roland and found him watching you, expression careful; glass of water forgotten in one hand.

“Yeah…” he said.

“Nothing for me?” you asked, grinning, attempting to break the sudden tension.

He grinned back sheepishly. Then he pulled a little juice box out of the pocket of his jacket. It was the kind of thing they gave you after donating blood. You both began to laugh, and a warm, giddy feeling spread through you.

Roland moved closer and patted one of the countertops. “Hop up here?” he asked. You obliged, although it was more of a scramble than a hop. Roland began pulling more small items from the pockets of his jacket, and setting them on the counter next to you: single-use alcohol wipes; a few band-aids; a little roll of gauze, and a roll of medical tape. It became clear to you that he really had intended to bite you in the park, and he had come prepared.

He was standing very close now, almost pressed against your bent knees. You longed to close the distance. You didn’t move. Roland’s movements also grew slower, more hesitant. Stalling.

“Are you nervous?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Why?”

He looked you right in the eye, finally. His expression was serious.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” you replied, although you weren’t sure whether you actually believed that.

He frowned, and his eyes travelled down to your neck. He was biting his lip, and his fangs stood out starkly against his skin.

He handed you the glass of water. You drank it. Then you took his hand and gently pulled him closer, spreading your knees wider so he could stand between them. He swallowed visibly.

“I’m nervous too,” you told him.

“I know,” he said, in a hoarse almost-whisper. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Safeword?”

“You can just tell me.”

You were both almost-whispering now, leaning in closer and closer. It felt an awful lot like you were about to share your first kiss.

With one hand, he pulled the collar of your shirt away from your neck, while his other hand slid up to cup the back of your neck. Your heart was hammering with excitement and fear, and his cold fingers felt good against your flushed skin. He lowered his face against your neck, and almost before you knew it his fangs were piercing the skin, creating thin twin wounds that ached immediately. You gasped and grasped handfuls of the fabric of his jacket. Honestly his teeth didn’t hurt much more than a needle, but somehow the reality of it stunned you. He was really going to drink your blood. In that moment, for the first time, you really believed that Roland was something other than human.

His lips closed over the wound. His mouth was wet and unexpectedly hot, and his tongue moved rhythmically against your aching skin as he sucked and swallowed your blood. He made a low sound deep in his throat — the type of contented groan that a good bite of food might inspire. You had to hold your breath to keep from responding in kind.

This was erotic. You couldn’t help thinking of it that way. Your grip on his jacket tightened, and you forced yourself not to squeeze your knees more tightly around his waist. You wondered if he felt it too. Was this exciting him at all? Or was this just a meal to him?

You couldn’t have said how long this went on — it was probably minutes, though it felt longer — but eventually he stopped drinking and pulled away. Somehow a piece of gauze was already in his hand; he pressed it to your neck, holding it firmly against the bite. You stared at each other, both breathing unevenly. His cheeks, so colorless before, were now flushed.

He cleared his throat and licked blood off his lips.

“Are you okay,” he asked, voice rough.

“I’m ok,” you said, although you actually felt a little dizzy. You felt around for the juice box. “Was that enough?”

He nodded his head and grabbed the juice box, pressing it into your reaching hand. He seemed a little dazed. He tore open one of the alcohol wipes, and while you drank your juice he disinfected the bite marks. You hissed at the stinging pain, and he grimaced in sympathy. Then he taped a fresh strip of gauze over the bite.

“It didn’t hurt that bad,” you reported between sips.

“Good,” he said. But he was starting to look unhappy again, frowning as he watched you sip your juice. Your heart sank a little in your chest. Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed this as much as you had.

“Are you ok?” you asked him.

He didn’t respond at first. And then he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him. You bit back a huff of surprise. He was no longer cold — drinking your blood had warmed his whole body.

“What is it?” you whispered.

He heaved an enormous sigh next to your ear. “You just looked so scared in the park,” he said. You could feel the vibration of his voice against your chest. “I feel really bad.”

You didn’t feel bad. One of his large hands was pressed against your back, warm and reassuring, and the other was cupped around the back of your head. Your chest was pressed flush against his, and he was warm and solid and worried about you. You gave up trying to resist the urge to touch him. You put your arms around him, and squeezed your knees tighter against his waist, pulling him even closer to you. You let your head fall forward to rest against his neck, but as soon as you closed your eyes, the room began to whirl around you.

“Um,” you gasped. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Oh,” he said, a little catch of surprise in his voice. He pulled away. “Um. Let me, uh...”

Carefully, he slipped his hand under your knees, and gathered you up into his arms. You threw your own arms around his neck, shamelessly clinging to him as he carried you out of the kitchen with no apparent effort. He paused in the doorway and looked down at you.

“The bed or the couch?” he asked.

“The bed,” you said against his chest, hoping that this was not too bold. He didn’t seem to think so. He carried you across the room, careful not to jostle you, and gently laid you down on top of the comforter.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

You nodded your head. You were quite cold, actually; another effect of the blood loss.

Roland stood and went over to a small closet, where he retrieved a stack of thick, warm-colored blankets. He shook them out and draped them over you in layers, and their warm weight made you feel better almost immediately.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No problem,” he replied. He stood by the side of the bed, unmoving. He seemed to be struggling for words. “Um… Do you still want to…”

“Yes,” you said emphatically, and you peeled back the blankets to make space for him.

He looked self-conscious, but he didn’t hesitate. He crawled under the blankets, and carefully pulled you into his arms, settling your head against his shoulder. His body was still warm with your blood, and you pressed into him eagerly.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” you said. You placed your hand flat on his chest, then sighed happily, which made him laugh. He laid his hand over yours, curling his fingers around it.

That was almost too much. Your chest felt fit to burst with it. You kept waiting to wake up, sure that you must have dreamt this whole thing. You still couldn’t believe he’d drunk your blood. His teeth had been inside of you. And as much as that weirded you out, it kind of turned you on too.

You suddenly remembered that you were supposed to text your friends back. You shifted around, and Roland loosed his hold on you to let you pull your phone out of your pocket.

“I’m letting my friends know you didn’t murder me,” you explained as you typed. You’d meant it as a joke, but you regretted the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, turning in his arms to face him, and wincing at the pain in your neck. “I didn’t really think you would…”

He shook his head before you could say anything else. “It’s ok. Biting someone…” He ran a hand through his hair as he thought. “Well, it’s an inherently violent act. Some people get carried away. Your friends weren’t wrong to be worried.”

“I feel safe with you though,” you said.

“Oh. Good.” He ducked his head, and his cheeks turned the pinkest they’d been all night. Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest. He was really adorable… You hadn’t expect that, watching him from afar. You pulled closer to him, putting your arms around him and laying your head against his chest. He tucked the blankets more snugly around your shoulders.

“This is really nice,” you said.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“How did you like biting me?” You forced the words out before you could lose your nerve. You hoped you weren’t making it awkward, but you had to know.

Roland didn’t answer at first. Then he let out a breath, and slid one of his hands over his face. “Not gonna lie,” he said. “It was way better than drinking bagged blood.”

“Oh, good!” you said, laughing. “I’m glad. I was worried you didn’t like it.”

“I definitely liked it…” he said, still covering his face. “You taste amazing.”

You felt your face turn bright red. There was a double-entendre in there somewhere, although you guessed it was unintentional. I’d like to taste you next, you thought wildly, and once again, you found yourself wondering if you were the only one whose mind had wandered into the gutter tonight.

He seemed to sense your sudden discomfort, if not its source, because he uncovered his face and said, “I’m sorry, that was a super weird thing to say.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I liked it too,” you admitted. “When you bit me.” Then, still more softly: “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again sometime.”

You heard him swallow. “I’d like that.”

You lapsed into a warm silence, untroubled and comfortable, and you basked in his presence like a cat in sunlight. You were aware of every part of him that was pressed against you: his chest rising and falling beneath you, and his hands pressed against your back, and his legs tangled with yours beneath the blankets, chaste but intimate, and ripe with potential.

You definitely wanted to kiss him. You opened your mouth to float the idea, but you were overcome by an enormous yawn. You suddenly realized you had no idea what time it was. It felt really late, but maybe you were just tired out from all the excitement.

“Was I falling asleep?” you asked.

“A little,” he admitted.

“I should probably get home,” you said, but then made no move to get up. You heaved a huge sigh. “I don’t wanna go yet though,” you complained, “I’m so cozy.”

“Do you wanna stay here?”

You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “Stay the night?”

“We don’t have to do anything weird,” he said, turning pink again. You stared at each other for a moment. Then he gently pushed your head back down to his chest, so that you weren’t looking at him when he said, “I don’t wanna let you go yet.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. As if you weren’t already convinced. “I won’t throw off your day? I mean your night?”

You felt him shrug. “I was just gonna do homework.”

That drew a surprised laugh out of you. You’d almost forgotten that Roland wasn’t just your weird vampire hookup. He was your classmate too.

“Do you know that we’re in the same class?” you asked, playfully accusing.

“Yeah,” he admitted, with a bit of a laugh in his voice. “I recognized you when we got coffee.”

That surprised you. “I thought I was the only one,” you said.

“I noticed you sitting in back sometimes.” His hand was still resting against the side of your head, and his fingers moved absently through strands of your hair. “I thought you looked cool.”

“Good,” you said, which made him laugh. You grinned against his chest. “I want to stay. Can I?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft, and he wrapped his arms more tightly around you.

[sunnyoldbear]

Luca Headcanons Part 2

DoesLast one blew up and I was gonna wait to make another before making this one but then my Italian fish obsessed brain couldn’t stop thinking and I literally couldn’t stop myself so let’s go, part 2!

Luca:

Has nightmares of what would happen if things went differently: If he was sent to The Deep, if he and Alberto were outed as sea-monsters before the race, if Ercole, Cicco, and Guido didn’t miss Alberto when throwing the harpoons at the beach, if Alberto didn’t come with the umbrella during the race and he was outed in front of the town and hit with Ercole’s harpoon, etc. He always wakes up terrified. 

Apologizes to inanimate objects if he bumps into them or drops them.

Names everything he comes in contact with. Random animals such as birds, insects (even though he’s terrified), erasers he uses often, etc. They’re always random, silly names, but he loves them. 

Is a slow reader because of how he fantasizes himself in the books and daydreams, then is snapped back to reality.

Keeps a dream journal!

Loves making stories about the stars and constellations. He loves the original stories, but he loves to make up his own.

Honestly I just get the vibe that he’s scared of birds after the encounter with the seagull.

His favorite color is purple followed by green!

Giulia’s mom buys him his own bike and he loses his mind, loving it so much

He’s a bit awkward with making friends at school, sticking to Giulia’s side most of the time

He doesn’t really care for music

He can fall asleep anywhere, honestly. He once fell asleep leaning against the doorway and then crashed onto the floor

Alberto loves to doodle on his arms and hands and Luca doesn’t really care to wash them off so they just kinda chill there. 

He’s very easy to prank and scare

Oh you should see him around the holidays! He’s so excited! His eyes sparkle and shine, he absolutely loves the decorations!

He’s not competitive, actually. He just wanted the prize money to get the Vespa, but he doesn’t really care about winning. He just... Isn’t competitive

He is very protective over his friends. Do what you want to him, but lay a hand on someone he loves and he will tear you a new one. We see him in the movie just frown when Ercole makes fun of him, but when Ercole shoved Alberto, all bets were off.

Charts the stars

He doesn’t have one love language, he has all of them, but probably Physical Touch and Quality Time more than anything, or Acts of Service.

Drinks expresso more often than he probably should, but just to get through his schoolwork

Misses his goatfish more than he wants to admit, especially little Giuseppe

Allergies beat him up during the spring

Slowly gets used to cats with Machiavelli’s kittens, but he’s still scared of the chunky boy

A teacher at school made the mistake of introducing him to Shakespeare. He spent hours sobbing over a good chunk of the plays.

Because he liked Shakespeare, Giulia’s mom got him some poetry books. He was not a fan of Edgar Allan Poe or Agatha Christie or Mary Shelley, all the horror/murder type stuff. He loved Emily Dickinson though!

Is as terrified of losing Alberto as Alberto is terrified of losing him

While he isn’t as touchy with Giulia as he is with Alberto, he does get more touchy with her

Reads tons of books about cats, dogs, and turtles to give Machiavelli, Nerone, and Caligola the care they need

Hears about human farms and loses his mind, rapidly asking questions about how they work and if they’re similar to his own

Giulia tries to convince him that fairytales are real. He has nightmares about them for a few nights until Massimo has to tell him that fairytales are made up and her mom changes them slightly to be more... Non-scary. She starts telling them to him to bed just because she misses doing so, and then he can’t fall asleep without someone telling him a story.

Doesn’t do the handshake with anyone that isn’t Alberto or Giulia.

Giulia’s mom calls him “fishy” or “guppy” and he wants to hate it but he can’t

Hates it when people call him cute or baby him, but his family + Alberto + Marcovaldos still do it

Once heard some French Tourists and stared at Giulia and went “why is their Italian so weird sounding” and she lost her shit laughing

Doesn’t swear, refuses to swear

Tries to use Vespa stamps if they’re available

Once he learns what “Piacere, gioralamo trombetta” means, he sends a letter to Alberto which is just him freaking out and laughing while making fun of it. They don’t stop saying it. In fact, they probably say it more.

He has a map in his room with pushpins of where he’s been. Beside it are a bunch of sticky notes of where he wants to go with Alberto with reasons on why he wants to go.

Has a little bit more courage, but not too much

He’s often teased for calling others “sir” or “ma’am” and so he feels really shy about it but doesn’t stop

Refuses to call Massimo and Giulia’s mom by their names, it just feels too awkward for him

Makes friendship bracelets for the trio as well as separate ones for him and Alberto, then him and Giulia.

While he loves gelato, he doesn’t like it as much as Alberto

I feel like he’d dot the i’s in Giulia’s name with hearts but no one else’s

People at school think he has a crush on her but he doesn’t

He and Alberto still say they sleep under the anchovies. No matter how often he researches stars, he’ll always call them anchovies around him.

Sticks out his tongue when focused

Doesn’t like aquariums, he stares at those fish and he just feels trapped

Loves to dance in the rain

Does that little feet tappy dance thing when he’s excited or shakes his hands

Honestly half of his vocabulary is stern shouts of “Alberto!” “Giulia!” or “silenzio Bruno, silenzio Bruno! Silenzio Bruno!”

Speaking of, he can’t just say “Silenzio Bruno” once, it’s always him saying it more than once, especially when he’s really scared

He doesn’t have loud, aggressive sneezes, but he does have sneeze fits. Once he sneezed so many times that with every one his face got closer to his desk until it just went BAM and he has a massive bruise on his forehead for days. 

Sometimes just goes into the water and swims to relax. If he’s feeling homesick, he’ll do some daring trick and then instinctively turn to smile at Alberto only to realize he isn’t there

His dad still keeps crabs but lets Luca name them. Luca chooses to name them all after space things. Mainly moons, but sometimes planets or galaxies

Secretly feels really guilty about Alberto selling their Vespa

After almost being sent to The Deep, he is terrified of the dark and can’t sleep without a light on, no matter how dim it is

Alberto:

Matching pajamas with both Massimo and Giulia! (Refuses to match with her, Massimo yelled at them)

Tries to see what triggers his transformation. Does watermelon? Does juice? Is it any liquid? He’ll find out!

Calls Giulia “Spewlia” just to piss her off

Those two are always arguing. Yes, he often starts it

Lots of tattoos and ear piercings!

Will into Giulia’s room, stare her dead in the eyes, call her a bitch, and run out while leaving the door open. She’ll scream at him and probably throw something. 

Tends to shorten people’s names. He calls Luca “Lu,” “Lulu,” and even “Luke.” Luca does not like any of these names.

Still builds his Vespas! They’re not as fun without Luca, though

Takes Giulia with him sometimes too and purposely crashes into the sea or something just to see what she does. 

Gains quite a bit of muscle 

Is the one who takes down all the sea monster things with Massimo. He and Lorenzo carry Smuca to the fountain

Idk I feel like he has loud sneezes

I also feel like he makes that weird cough face like that one cat idk I just know I’m right

He doesn’t just sing... He scream sings

Doesn’t know how to dance but if there is music he will dance

Loves dancing in the rain too!

Sometimes he’ll just walk into Giulia’s room and gossip with her. They’ll make a blanket fort and grab some snacks and cats and just... Spend the night talking and catching up

She teaches him how to braid hair and now he just loves doing her hair

Bites his lip quite a bit. That’s canon but like, still worth mentioning

Learns how to ride a bike so he doesn’t get killed or something

Keeps a journal on things Luca and Giulia are interested in so he can learn about them. He writes down bullet points on what he remembers from conversations, but it’s honestly not much

He doesn’t have big dreams other than traveling the world with Luca. He knows Giulia wants to be a marine biologist and Luca wants to travel the world + is still figuring things out. He has short term goals other than that and changes the topic about it.

A popular headcanon is that Alberto takes care of the goatfish when Luca’s at school and I think that would happen!

He’s shockingly good with kids! When not working, he loves playing soccer with them by the fountain

He almost named Machiavelli’s mate “Frog” because he can’t name things

Half the time when Giulia and/or Luca talk about school, he goes “I don’t what that means, but I’m choosing to define it as ____” and won’t let them prove him wrong

Technically canon but he will bite. Chomp chomp.

When he meets Giulia’s mom, they love to paint together

He does make some friends in Portorosso, but none are as close to him as his sister and best friend!

This man is the most dramatic person good lord

Love language is definitely physical touch!

Still screams “Take me, gravity!” pretty often

Can’t do work alone without music. He doesn’t really like opera but he can’t stand silence, he just can’t

Sometimes he thinks of Luca’s betrayal and is really angry, but knows he’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed. It was about self preservation and the risk of living. He still gets upset about it sometimes, but completely forgives him and understands

Is always torn between giving Giulia genuine facts about sea creatures and giving her such absurd but lowkey believable lies. He wants her to succeed so badly but also wants to screw her over

If you give him anything, he will play with it. String? A toy. A pen? A toy. A literal rock you found on the side of the road? A gorgeous toy, thank you!

Never just goes into the water, he will always be dramatic and dive in or jump

Sometimes when not on duty, he just blows his lifeguard whistle because he thinks it’s cool

He loves yoyos!

Will noogie Giulia.

Sometimes gets scared that Massimo will abandon him, but it seems like Massimo always knows

Città Vuota is his favorite song!

Doodles all over everything, especially Giulia and Luca’s arms and legs. They range from little stars to tic tac toe games to fish to anything that comes to mind

Giulia:

Is very much into photography! Luca always does hearts with his hands/fingers while Alberto does stupid poses or flips her off... or both.

Hums and sings a lot! 

Also loves to dance and is the best of the trio! Loves to twirl and vibe even if there’s no music! It’s just her personality

She doesn’t just hug, she jumps into their arms and holds them close

Sometimes just to annoy Alberto she’ll hug him and press kisses to his head and cheeks. Siblings gonna be annoying.

Always has so much energy but really struggles with sitting still for homework after such long hours in school that her grades aren’t all that good except for Astronomy!

The most competitive of the trio

Bites her lip when she’s nervous

Started wearing her hat to match her dad when she was little and now she doesn’t like being without it

Has probably fallen asleep in class

Loves watermelon and gelato

While Ciccio and Guido apologize for their actions, she doesn’t forgive them and doesn’t want to. She has every right to

Gets really into singing when she’s singing along to songs

Doesn’t like makeup for herself but will hold the boys captive to do their makeup

Loves puns! Will make sea puns to piss off Alberto and Luca, but Luca loves them so it half-works

Loves copying Alberto’s lipbite

Machiavelli her beloved <3 

Loves her fam so much! She’s got pictures of them everywhere and is constantly buying them gifts

Speaking of! Her love language is giving gifts! 

She’s actually pretty good at making friends since she can read people so well. It’s just that Portorosso doesn’t have any.... Great kids to befriend and Genova just has too many that she sticks to a small group which eventually fades, as groups do

She isn’t the most emotional but she also isn’t the least emotional. She doesn’t cry often but she does get sad and shows it

I don’t know why I feel this way but I definitely think she’s scared of the doctor

She used to be scared of thunderstorms until meeting her boys and the race happened. Now she associates rain and storms with that win

Summer is her favorite season

She knows everyone in Portorosso by name and knows most of their birthdays by heart

Speaking of, she always celebrates Alberto’s birthday like her like her life depends on it

Now loves racing on her bike even more cause of the race

Calls Alberto “Berto” and is the only one allowed to do say

A very light sleeper

---

More on the way probably they’re all I think about