#<- i should make you an official tag now shouldnt i

[maggielindemanns]

you and i, we’re like dyamonds in the sky 🥳🎆🤍

happy new year, darling dearest! with the holidays drawing to an end, it’s finally time to rip away the anonymity and introduce myself officially. this feels oddly scooby-doo-esque, like i should be wearing a monster mask for dramatic effect fhfhfh.

thank you for being such a light throughout december! it’s been so much fun getting to know you & i look forward to being able to like and interact with your reblogs now 😌 you’ve no idea how many times this month i’ve read your hashtags, giggled and almost given myself away! i’d be a terrible sleuth, it seems!

congratulating you on successfully surviving the last 365 days, and cheering you on for the 363 more that 2023 have to offer. lots and lots of love, from now until next time and forevermore too. 🫶

EEEE THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY HIIIIII omg this is so exciting! agsjdhsn i’m imagining the monster mask for the dramatic effect, don’t worry, me and my imagination gotchu 🕺🏽

this really has been so funnnnn omg i’m excited to have you around on my mess of a blog now! honestly, i’ve almost done the same for my own secret holiday friend so we are in the same boat agsjdhsj

sending you so much loveeee right baaaack so happy to have you here officially!!! 🫶🏼🥹✨

[swagging-back-to]

not sorry. i extend very little sympathy and patience towards tras who are underage, and the only ones who do get said sympathy are TIFs. but again. it's MICROSCOPIC levels of sympathy.

[party-gilmore]

Check ALL The Warnings In The Tags If You’re Ducking Below The Read More.

DISCLAIMER: This is a post about me specifically and my broken fucking brain. I am not trying to make any sweeping statements about colonizer guilt or “activism burn-out,” of which others have made EXCELLENT points and i am not trying to draw away from those conversations at all. This is specifically about how my panic disorder and suicidal ideation are making it difficult for me to safely manage my level of involvement and interaction online, at the expense of the ability to actually put in the work for change out in the real world.

OKAY.

Last post on mobile. Tumblr is officially deleted from my phone. we are on Set Amount Of Time A Day - PC/Desktop only for a while.

To be very clear the point of this is not looking for sympathy or trying to be guilt trippy, just trying to get a hold of where my head’s at and let y’all know I’m not gonna be around so much but that I’m okay. Or least, this is me TRYING to be okay.

i CANNOT let the doom-scrolling keep affecting my ability to actually do anything that might actually help. The way i’ve been interacting on this site, trying to Stay Informed but blurring that line and crossing into constantly seeking more and more details that i NEED to admit i can’t handle, whether it’s the level of detail or the constantness of it or both…

the paralysis and anxiety and panic and - there’s an actual word for when you keep vividly imagining the absolute worst possible outcome but i can’t remember what it is, probably something else starting with “doom” - anyways the point is i clearly don’t have the ability right now to:

a) have any kind of ready access to The Horrors without making it… LITERALLY constant in my life. i don’t have the control to take it in measured doses, i need to recognize that if i have any kind of access all the time it WILL be a 100% deep dive nothing but the fucking trauma and abominations being inflicted on others in detail from the moment i get up until i finally clear my head enough to sleep for a few hours. which yeah i KNOW Palestinians in Gaza don’t GET that luxury it IS 24/7 all the time for them and I wouldn’t be complaint about that at ALL honestly if it weren’t for the fact that right now CLEARLY i do not have the fucking ability to

b) stop that from paralyzing me from any Real Action. It just locks me up. It SHOULDNT i should be able to compartmentalize that shit because physically for now i am fine my family is fine but instead i just fucking sit there , blankly staring as I scroll through atrocity after atrocity after atrocity that powerful governments are supporting, feeling like i cant do shit cuz it’s just getting worse and worse, then guilty that i feel like giving up, then GUILTY that i feel guilty because who am i trying to guiltrip here who CARES if I feel guilty when i’m not in the same situation they are they have it so much worse and they keep on going what would YOU do in that situation huh if you can’t even handle THIS - then that kicks of the vivid imaginings of me and my family experiencing that kind of slow death and dismemberment and being crushed by rubble then of course because we’re in america close to dc my brain jumps to nukes and how we’re in the zone JUST far away enough from DC for it not to kill us outright it would be slow and horrifying and painful and could i bring myself to at least get in the car and make it up to them so we could at least die together or would it be alone and afraid like all these people around the world are going through, that Palestine is going through, that my government is putting them through -

anyways it’s that spiral that keeps me sitting and scrolling and sitting and scrolling and wallowing in - what i genuinely thought was me just being a shitty fucking person but i realize now was actually genuinely - an anxiety attack (that’s the one that’s slow and creeping, right? panic is the fast sharp one) like an actual physically can’t shake myself out of “i forgot my brain was fucking broken, the adhd meds aren’t gonna magically fix everything” anxiety attack. Every goddamn day.

And let me be very clear again about my point here my point is not to try and guilt trip or garner sympathy my POINT is -

I cant do the kind of shit that actually helps anyone, in real fucking life, if I keep sending my brain into lockdown panic “All Is Lost, You Suck, Just Fucking Die” mode.

I want to be better, do better, be stronger, not have to look away at all. But I can’t trust myself not to fucking…. wallow in the goddamn despair of it all right now. So I need to take that option away.

Because who’s it really for, honestly? All the sharing and the posting? There’s a limit to what actually helps. The people following me have already made up their minds, one way or another. Sharing more of the same old shit isn’t going to actually CHANGE anything. Once youre through the new information of the day, the shit people actually need to know that they might not already… it feels like it’s just fucking… performative bullshit. like it’s all about making sure people SEE you still sharing all of this stuff. Oh look i’m still involved see how involved i am see how i’m still reading and sharing and posting all this stuff arent I a Good Activist?

What does any of that matter if it’s breaking my brain so much I can’t actually do any activism???

I would rather be considered weak and selfish by strangers on the fucking internet who don’t see me sharing as many posts as they think I should, but who ACTUALLY KEEPS WRITING the emails and MAKING the calls and SEEKING OUT events and disruptions and protests that maybe i can actually PARTICIPATE in

Than to keep showing off how i’m not “Looking Away” online but then spend every night sitting on my couch doing Fuck All about it, locked in a perpetual doom scroll through my For You page, imagining my flesh slowly burning and melting off as I hoist my whimpering dying dog’s body into the back of my car and desperately try to reach my parent’s house in time to say good bye and all go together, then shoving all that down into a flimsy box at the last minute to be able to smile at my mom and act like I just swung by to help with the floors instead of absolutely needing to see her and my father alive right now and touch them and fucking hate myself for indulging in that when Palestinians can’t so much that i force myself into an even deeper doom scroll next time as penance because how dare i look away for a MOMENT i can see them i can live i NEED to MAKE myself look at what’s happening-… rinse and repeat.

[mythandlaur]

EE Week - Day 5

POTENTIAL MAJOR SPOILERS. Though everyone is only referred to with nicknames, this features Bliss Ocean members who have not yet been officially introduced, including the boss. This is also why I'm posting this in the AC tag instead. Read at your own risk!

--

TOTALLY UNSUSPICIOUS SERVER THAT DOES NOT CONTAIN ANY EVIL PLANS WHATSOEVER

User List:

SUPREME SERVER EMPRESS -- 1 SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!

Boss -- 1 Lethe

Online -- 3 💗💖Aphrodite💖💗 boudica Sundance🔆

Offline -- 1 Mercedes (always set to invisible)

-- SUNDAY - 12:16 PM --

Mercedes: I saw the news. Mercedes: I leave you people alone for a week. Mercedes: One. Week.

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: is somebody talking????? i cant see their messages!!!!

Mercedes: I know you don't actually have me blocked.

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: wow theyre still going i bet theyre saying something reallllllll stupid rn lolll

Lethe: The museum? Lethe: I can assure you that was not us. I would not have authorized that; I am not yet completely insane

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: bet

Lethe: Please.

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: pbfffffth

💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: wait what news 💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: 🍵🍵🍵 💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: gimme~

Mercedes: Where have you been? It's everywhere.

💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: I'm in the inspiration zone 📝

Sundance🔆: sittin on the couch with a tub of icecream watching shitty romcoms ?

💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: You shut your mouth >:(

Mercedes: The Arsene Amulet was stolen from the Sweet Jazz Museum last night.

💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: Wait the epithet stealing one?

Lethe: The very same.

💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: ;ooooo

Mercedes: I know the Banzais wound up getting it but I assumed the independent inscribed there might've been ours.

boudica: no

Mercedes: I wasn't going to say anything.

boudica: better not

Lethe: No, they were not ours, and in fact we're trying to get the amulet to safety as soon as possible. I've got our best on that.

Mercedes: Oh no.

Sundance🔆: oh yes

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: OH OH LET ME SEND YOU THE PICTURES I TOOK A BUNCH

💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: You were there?

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: YEAH LIKE THE WHOLE TIME benefits of not sleeping roflmao

Mercedes: What happened?

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: what are these phantom messages on my screen oOOOooOo

boudica: tell me what happened boudica: now

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: SO BASICALLY a couple chuckleheads were faking being staff to steal the amulet because i guess one of their epithets sucks??? And they wanted a different one???? But also the banzai blasters showed up to steal other stuff and this poindexter kid wanted to study the amulet and then this other kid was locked in and chucklehead 1 and 2 wanted to steal her powers and it turned into a whole Thing SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: a guy thought he was a car and there was a big cow and everything was on fire a couple times and a bunch of walls came down and i think they broke a dinosaur

boudica: of FUCKING course

[ boudica is offline. ]

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: omg did she throw her phone again

Sundance🔆: nah aint heard nothing from my room Sundance🔆: think shes just sore

Lethe: It makes sense. Give her some time.

💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: That sounds so wild thoooooo god why this week of all times 😭😭

Mercedes: Because disaster never happens conveniently.

Lethe: It's not a disaster. It's being taken care of.

Sundance🔆: damn right

Mercedes: My mistake. Disaster in progress.

Sundance🔆: say that to my face bitch

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT 👊👊👊

Lethe: That's enough you three

Sundance🔆: fiiiiiine Sundance🔆: anyway i should be gettin outta here on wed shouldnt take more than a day

Lethe: And you were told to keep it quiet if at all possible?

Sundance🔆: i mean i can try but this is me youre dealin with

Lethe: If at all possible.

Sundance🔆: yeah yeah yeah

💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: You GOTTA tell us how it goes ok

Mercedes: I'm sure we'll find out on the Thursday news.

Sundance🔆: you forget im the best there is Sundance🔆: people or jewelry i can hunt it down and quiet like too Sundance🔆: just usually less fun that way

💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: you got this b <333

Sundance🔆: thankyou kindly little lady

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: GET A ROOOOOOOOM

💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: You first ;)

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: OH MY GOD ITS NOT LIKE THAT

Lethe: It really isn't.

💗💖Aphrodite💖💗: No one SAID anything about you 😘

Lethe: Well! Lethe: I'm just saying Lethe: For her sake Lethe: This behavior is extremely unprofessional

Sundance🔆: would love to see boss' face right now

SALLY FINKLESTEIN!!: Full tomato

Sundance🔆: HA

[shhh-no-ones-home]

exes and ohs ricky horror x reader

+++++++++

this is pretty short and has been in my drafts for a super long time so here ya go lol. i havent really been in the mood to write for a while but i do really wanna get some of these drafts out for you guys cause i know its been a while. i am not taking requests still but i hope you guys like this and i hope ill get some more out soon if not within the next couple days.

disclaimer: this has nothing to do with any exes or stories surrounding any of the guys, past or present. this is an original idea and should be treated as such.

song: dancing with a wolf by all time low

tag list: @musicsexandpizza69 @svintsandghosts @alilpunkrock @cynic-spirit @theoneandonlykymberlee @thisplace-ishaunted @lifeisabitchandsoareyou

+++++++++

i sat curled up on the couch with ricky and ran my fingers through his hair haphazardly. it was quiet and calm in his house, the sound of the tv barely being there.

"you staying the night again?"

he asked, looking up at me from his place at my side. i smiled down at him.

"if you want me to i gladly will."

he nodded his head, smiling back at me.

"i really would. we could order out and watch movies maybe?"

i laughed a little bit.

"id like that a lot."

he kissed my shoulder lightly before turning his attention back to the television. we sat contently, tangled together, for a good twenty minutes before there was a loud knock at the door. he sighed, rolling his eyes and making me laugh as he unwound himself from my arms and stood up. there was another knock, this time more like a heavy banging.

"alright, im coming!"

he called, annoyed. i sat upright so see over where he was at the door, watching him open it. there was a woman standing in the doorway with an angry expression on her face.

"you piece of shit!"

she yelled, shocking me.

"how could you!? youre cheating on me? shes not even pretty!"

she motioned to me before slapping him. i gasped, covering my mouth. i stood abruptly as he turned back to her.

"for the last time, im not cheating on you if we arent together anymore. i told you not to come back here!"

he said loudly. she looked shocked that he would be so bold. now i was just confused.

"i thought you loved me Richard, what am i to you? a toy?"

she cried out, tears streaming down her face.

"you arent anything to me. dont make me call the cops on you again. i wont hesitate to get a restraining order on you after what you did."

i drew my brows together. again?

"i thought you loved m rick! i thought youd be there for out baby but it turns out youre just like every other rock star: a piece of shit!"

she screamed at him, trying to get in his face.

"stop telling those lies!"

he called, making me jump.

"i was with you at the doctors office. you arent pregnant! and if you managed to get yourself knocked up somehow it sure as hell isnt mine!"

she was fuming now. i was more confused now than i was before.

"how could you say something so cruel?"

she said. she sounded genuinely hurt. what the hell did this woman do?

"im not cruel, i want you out of my life. stop coming to my house."

he said sternly. she pouted for a second, looking to me.

"take care of my cuddle bug. he deserves the world after all."

she looked back to him and sniffled before storming off away from his apartment. i stood in my spot, wide eyed, as he closed the door in defeat. i watched him intently as he leaned his forehead against it.

"what the fuck was that ricky?"

i asked a little scared. he stood up and walked back over to the couch sighing as he slouched down into it, rubbing his hands over his face. i just stared down at him.

"well youve officially met my crazy ex girlfriend."

he said a little tired. i crossed my arms over my chest.

"how often does that happen?"

he looked up in thought.

"i dont know, probably three times a month. kind of depends on her mood and how long ive been on tour."

my mouth dropped open.

"three times a month and you havent gotten a restraining order against her yet?!"

he just shrugged at me.

"it didnt seem warranted."

i shook my head at him, looking at him like he was crazy.

"she is literally harassing and stalking you, of course thats warranted!"

he looked a little embarrassed.

"i dont know, i guess it just didnt seem like it. shes just passionate. we were together for two years after all and then it just kind of ended."

i sat down slowly, staring at the tv.

"well clearly it didnt. at least not to her it didnt."

i watched him fiddle with his finger tips.

"its fine."

i turned to him and touched his shoulder gently.

"it most certainly isnt rick, shes abusing you. you shouldnt have to deal with, what? a woman who consistently tells you shes pregnant with your child and gaslights you? you dont deserve that."

he sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"its not like we're together anymore or anything, besides, i have you now."

he said with a small smile, reaching out and taking my hand in his. i turned to really be facing him.

"rick, you know i love you, which is why i think you need to do something about this. this isnt good for either of us, or for her."

he looked down for a second before nodding slowly. his bright eyes returning to study my face.

"okay, ill take care of it tomorrow, i promise. but for now can we just call it a night? order take out and start a movie? im starving and now i just wanna think about something else."

he sent me a pleading look and i sighed in defeat.

"fine, but just know im not gonna get off your back until you do something about her. this isnt safe."

he pulled our hands to his lips and kissed my palm.

'i know baby, i will. now, what do you want to eat?"

i laughed a little bit at the wide smile on his face, shaking my head at him.

"you pick the dinner, ill pick the movie?"

i asked and he nodded quickly, reaching for his phone.

"deal."

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Moceit Highschool Au (Pt.3)

-------------------------

Day Twenty-eight

Patton had held a party every day of the week before his parents got home. But after that, it seemed he was out-partied for what could have been a millennia.

"Angel what's wrong? You're hardly ever smiling anymore, its worrying me," Patton had his head in Deceit's lap, Deceit running a gloved hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry Deedee I dont know what's wrong with me, it's nothing you should be worrying about though, and that's final," Patton said, doing his best to fake a smile and reassure his boyfriend.

"Angel I- dont think now is the time for 'Deedee', I think you need to call me by my real name," Deceit said. Patton looked up at him, tilting his head in confusion.

"Janus Arcturus, that's my real name," Janus' hand paused as it ran through Patton's hair.

"Well. . . Janus. . . I'm fine, I promise, if anything were wrong I'd tell you," Patton said, putting a smile on his face.

"I know you would, I can tell when you're lying angel," Janus said, his voice had changed from one of worry to one of desperation.

"Janus! Please I promise there's nothing wrong! I'm ok! Nothing happened!" Patton sat bolt upright and cupped Janus' head in his hands.

"I promise everything is alright, there's nothing wrong with me, please dont be upset," Patton pressed his forehead to Janus', tears running down his cheeks.

"Oh angel please dont cry, you know I hate it when you cry," Janus said, running a finger across Patton's cheeks to wipe away the tears.

Patton could've stayed in that moment forever, he wished he'd tried harder to, but unfortunately for him, bells waited for no one.

"Angel, please dont get yourself hurt," Janus said, placing a quick kiss on his lips before they parted ways.

He had no such luck escaping questions from his friends either.

"Butterfly something is definitely up, you havent looked this upset since you failed that math test," Roman said. Patton winced and stepped back at the mere memory of it.

"Patton please you have to tell us what's going on with you!" Virgil said. His nails were jagged, he'd been chewing on them again. Patton looked down and guiltily shuffled his feet in the grass. He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard several gasps and murmurs before looking up to see Janus looking down at him.

"I tried to get him to explain as well, but if Patton isnt comfortable, we shouldnt press," he said.

Virgil's eyes narrowed "and what are you doing talking to him? We may have put up with you at the parties but that doesnt mean any of us trust you," he snarled.

"Well as I happen to be his boyfriend I would hope that counts for something in terms of my desire to care for him," Janus said, holding Patton close to his chest.

"You're his what," Virgil said, clearly shocked.

Then the arguing started, Patton couldnt take it,it was to loud, everyone was to angry, it was to familiar. He'd been holding it in for to long, the stress built up and up and up again until tears were pouring down his face.

"Nonono angel, Patton, my angel it's alright, you're ok, I've got you, focus on my voice angel, please, breath, it's ok, I'm sorry, I shouldnt have been fighting, it's ok, I've got you," Patton tried to focus on Janus' words but he was so overwhelmed he could barely think of anything.

And right on cue to make matters worse, the car his parents rented to pick him up from school arrived. Patton was desperate to stay in Janus' arms, but that would be rebellion, and that risk wasnt worth it, even for Janus.

"So first we find out you throw elaborate parties when we arent home! And now you're kissing boys at school! Do you have any idea what this could mean for our reputation? You've already got it soiled with your insistence on wearing those dresses! You will not destroy it further by hanging out with their kind," the distaste in his mother's voice was sickening.

"I'm pulling you out of public school, I shouldve known it was a mistake to send you there, look at you now, they've turned you into a rabid animal, and you wont be seeing that boy, ever again," the last words cut through Patton like a knife. His eyes welled up with tears once again as he fled the room, locking himself in the bedroom and sinking to the floor.

How can I live in a world where the one thing worth being around is taken from me? he thought, he didnt come out for lunch, nor dinner, nor dessert, he didnt want anything to do with his family, not after today.

----------------------------------------------

Tag List:

@oceanart123

@official-lucifers-child

@spooky-scary-virgil

@youtuberswithalex

@misunderstoodshadowling

[the-writerly-night-owl]

Carrying on Advice

Desire and Decorum / ernest x MC 

Summary: Clara shares some stories to her unborn baby. Ernest just loves her too much. 

Authors Note: as you might have noticed not many stories are being written this month. I have stories going up on my fanfiction for other areas. And I’ll write when I have ideas, really shouldnt’ get burned out on these. Besides D&D is returning next month and I hope you’re all just as excited as I am! Enjoy! 

Clara sat in her new boudoir looking at all the book on the shelf. More specifically a certain set as she put a hand on her swollen tummy. The set that housed all the advice from the previous mistresses of Ledford Park. Each journal had their own story and advice for the next to take over. Right now she was looking for someone that would have advice for her own bun in the oven sort to speak.

“Now which one would you would be able to help me,” she said more to herself. Many of them she didn’t even read yet and still had to learn all their stories. No matter, she thought, today would be the day she would learn about them. “Would you like to hear a story little one?”

Then as if the baby in her could really hear what she had to say, kicked on her left side. Clara winced a little still not used to it and sighed.

Studying the books on the shelf she looked for a good place to start. Each of them had a name engraved on the side of different names: Hannah, Marie, Lydia, and Josephine. The books stretched on depending on the name. Hannah had roughly thirty books, meanwhile someone named Emma had two. Clara grabbed for Hannah as she was first.

“Alright let’s learn about her together. Hello, future mistresses of Ledford Park! My name is Hannah Sinclaire (nee Mullens) and I am writing in these pages to help you. In my diaries I will be leaving you advice on how to care for the estate, children, and anything in between. I hope my words of wisdom will help by the time you take over.

Perhaps you will make changes that will impact future generations. I encourage you, a future mistress, to write your own stories and take credit where credit is due.

I will start by introducing myself. My father Hugh Mullens is a silversmith and my mother (Lucy Hill) a housewife. I am the eldest of six children and help take care of my father’s shop if I can, it is one of the most prominent shops in our small town. I had met my husband, Thomas Sinclaire, when he was touring the village. I had shown him around the shop and I believe he was quite taken with me. We had married eight months later… Wow now that sounds romantic. It seemed to take less time for them to marry then me and Ernest.”

The baby kicked at her stomach and Clara just grinned. Hmm she was going to set that aside, there was probably plenty of information to take from her about raising a baby. Six siblings sounded like a lot and then to have children.

Clara dusted the shelf a bit. She had read Lydia’s story before and always taking notes about Ernest. Her fingers ran over the spines as she pulled out the first one with the name Marie on it. Ahh now that was someone different.

“Welcome all new readers to these pages. I write in this book as I have been married for one week to the master of Ledford Park William Sinclaire. I will take the first page or so for you to get to know me. My name is Marie Sinclaire (nee Nightingale) and I am my father’s only child. Alas my mother had died when she birthed me. I had been raised by my father and my maternal grandfather Charles Nightingale. I am heiress to my father’s estate Graceworth Manor. My childhood has been a little lonely but fun with horseback riding and many friends. It is through this friends did I meet my husband…”

Clara let her voice trail off as she felt the kick again. “So does that mean you like her too? Your father has some interesting family members.”

She put both Marie and Hannah’s first journal in her arms. She was almost done reading all of Lydia’s journals so why not start on theirs? She went looking for the colorful old fabric scraps to mark the pages. Behind her the floor creaked but didn’t bother to look up before…

“Clara who are you talking too?” asked a mystified Ernest from the boudoir door. Right, he was supposed to find her when dinner was served. “I heard you talking but no one speaking back.”

Giggling Clara put her hand on her baby bump. “Why the baby of course. You know I’ve heard that talking to the baby will make them smarter or help recognize your voice once the baby arrives.” Her voice somewhat lower then normal.

“Oh really and where have you heard that?” His voice teasing before wiping a stray hair from her face. Clara bit her bottom lip and sighed a little.

“Your mother, it was in one of her diaries.” They headed out the door and started toward the steps. It had to be close to dinner time. “I think you should try it.”

Even more puzzled Ernest blinked and turned his head. “Talk to the baby? You mean your belly?”

Clara laughed a little harder than before but nodded. It would be funny but still very sweet. They found seats at the dining room table just the two of them. The food was starting to be placed in front of them. She gestured for him to try before saying grace and eating.

Her husband bit his bottom lip and looked deep in thought. Something was on his mind but surely it wasn’t that she was crazy.

“I think your mother might have some strange ideas,” said Ernest starting out. Playfully she swatted him and Ernest put a finger to his lips to silence her. “But she’s usually right and we don’t question her… much.”

That caught the couple to just laugh at what was going on. Shaking her head Clara took his hand to say grace. “Alright but if I find you whispering to my tummy late at night I know where you got the idea.”

Dinner was officially served, and the stories would keep her busy tonight. Anymore baby advice would be welcomed by the former matriarchs.

Tagging: @princess-geek @hellooliviaolivia @noeschoices @perriewinklenerdie @writerapprentice @jlpplays1 @mfackenthal @darley1101 @brightpinkpeppercorn @itsbrindleybinch @elainew13 @paisleylovergirl @symonde @melodyofgraves @fluffy-cat-whisper @am-i-invisible777 @flyawayboo @strangelycami

[starrysence]

Almer headcanons

almer is the Good Shit. here we gO

warnings: mentions of abuse (some are kind of graphic?? maybe?) please please please be careful if these trigger you and you choose to read ahead anyway!

××× 

●so, its canon that albert has 2 older brothers

▪they do their jobs as siblings and tease these boys pre-dating. all the time. try to change my mind, you fucking cANNOT.

▪"i hope youll let me be your best man, al" - matt, the second oldest dasilva brother

▪"in your fucking dreams, MATTHEW. iT's GoNnA bE mE" -drew, the oldest dasilva brother

▪"if you guys argue about this one more time its gonna be race" -albert

●elmer deals with this times 4 bc he has 8 older siblings

▪his sisters especially????? they are ON HIS ASS ALMOST CONSTANTLY ABOUT ALBERT THE MOMENT THEY FIND OUT ABOUT HIS CRUSH

▪hes thankful that 3 of his siblings are either away at college/constantly busy with senior year shit bc thats 3 siblings less to tease him constantly

●so. albert rlly doesnt like talking about his biological parents bc of the way they treated him and his brothers (i wont go into graphic detail, but they were physically, emotionally, and mentally abused - especially albert bc he was the youngest so he didnt have an excuse to be away as often as his brothers did)

▪elmer finds out abt everything when he wakes up bc albert is crying in his sleep and whimpering and trembling even though he has the warmth of about 3 blankets and el's body heat

▪and thats the first time he realises albert has gone through so much shit and hes still coping

▪yall he refuses to go back to sleep until albert feels SAFE and COMFORTED

●al had a toxic relationship w/ this girl named lorie once

▪she would NOT let him talk to el or race or basically anyone else and she would constantly complain abt how he wasnt doing enough for her

▪it all put him in a really bad mental state

▪and hed break down about it and not be able to tell anyone and she would just complain abt how pathetic he was being and it just made him feel worse

▪he doesnt really like talking about that either 

▪fun fact,, that was his only relationship before he started dating elmer

●if albert and elmer ever have a pet......... its a chinchilla named blossom and you cant change my mind

▪also at some point they adopt the SWEETEST corgi husky mix pup named gizmo

▪race comes over. constantly. he practically lives there bc of blossom and gizmo

▪it earns them lots of complaints from spot (or davey or jojo or whoever you want honestly go wild)

▪"race go home your boyfriend wants you"

"my boyfriend always wants me ;)))"

"FUCK OFF"

●elmer love love LOVES kissing al's cheek or his jaw

▪he also likes kissing albert's shoulder when theyre in bed and albert has his back to him

▪it makes al melt. every time.

●al loves to kiss the top elmer's head or his neck 

▪not even necessarily to get elmer excited (but sometimes it for that)

▪he just finds it easy to bury his face in the crook of his bf's neck and just. smorch. u know??

●they dont get into heated makeout sessions very often imo?? theyre just. soft.

●elmer esp wants to take it slowly and carefully bc of everything albert's gone through

▪4 months into their relationship he realises albert hasnt said "i love you" once

▪decides not to push it tho. he gets it and wants al to take his time!!

▪few weeks later albert brings it up and starts rambling

▪"i know you probably want to break up with me because its so sad and pathetic. i mean its almost been five months and im not saying these words because im too fucking scared to say them even though i shouldnt be because theyre true and i really do love you, i love you so fucking much it scares me sometimes-"

▪elmer cant help but grin, "albert. albert. you said it."

▪"i said it? oh my god i said it." 

▪THESE BOYS ARE NEAR TEARS

▪"i love you. i love you so much"

▪"i love you, too, albert."

●ELMER IS A GIGGLY DRUNK

▪uhhhh al rarely ever drinks bc hes just scared he'll get addicted like his parents did 

▪he doesnt mind it if others drink tho. he just doesnt want to do it all that often

▪he has to admit, though, that when his boyfriend drinks, things get kind of wild

▪by wild i mean elmer is LITERALLY giggling about everything everyone says

▪"what the fuck??"

▪elmer, through giggles: "dont say that word. thats a baaaad worrrrddddd"

▪albert could literally say "hello" and he'd burst out laughing

▪so nobody lets race near elmer when hes drunk bc one time racer’s jokes made el laugh so hard he passed out

▪albert never stops teasing elmer about it and elmer hates it but at least it gives him a good excuse to kiss his boyfriend

▪that excuse is shutting him the FUCK up

×××

alrighty thats all i got for tonight bc its 11:58pm and i should be asleep. but its diWALI AND I AINT SLEEPIN UNTIL ITS OFFICIALLY OVER (aka til any point after 2 minutes from right now). sorry this took so long, anon. hope you like!!

-sanj 💕

tag list:

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@one-candy-cane-please​

@suddenly-im-respecsable​

@intoomanyfandomstopickaname​

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@aw-jus-let-em-try

@bencookisagod​

@well-the-kids-do-too​

@auspicioustarantula​

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@thomasbeingthomas

@i-love-loki-and-sherlock

[if you want to be added to my tag list, please shoot me an ask or a message letting me know! i’d be happy to add you!]

[thetravelerwrites]

Commitments: Part 1 (Gargoyles Fanfic)

Rating: Teen Fandom: Disney’s Gargoyles Relationships: Goliath x Elisa Maza Additional Tags: Marriage, Proposal, Engagement Trigger Warnings: Light Language, Sex Mention Words: 3996

Takes place in the years 1998-2000, and pertains to the Commitment Ceremony that had been planned for future comics between Elisa and Goliath. There will also be Brooklyn/Katana and Broadway/Angela moments thrown in. Please leave feedback!

It wasn’t going to be a wedding, not exactly. Gargoyles had no need to marry; once they gave their heart to someone, they were bound to that person until death or until they decided they were no longer compatible, which frankly was an uncommon occurrence among Goliath’s people. The severance of his union with Demona was, although perfectly understandable under the circumstances, exceedingly rare.

Gargoyles trusted their feelings far more than humans did theirs. On the whole, they didn’t often succumb to insecurity about their own love for their mates or the love of their mates for them. Perhaps that was why humans needed the security of marriage, the notion that they controlled their own emotions and not the other way around, to give them a sense of certainty about their feelings. Tokens, legal documents, and ceremonies were all trappings of humanity’s desire to make something as simple as loving another person complicated and tedious, and to Gargoyles, unnecessary.

The ceremony had been Goliath’s idea, though. After the Masquerade two years ago at the Xanatos Building in which Thailog had nearly killed Goliath, Elisa had sat down with him sometime later, nearly a month, and they discussed their relationship at length over coffee, laying out what being together meant for the both of them and if they felt it was still worth pursuing. They both agreed that it was.

Elisa told him that she had come to terms with the things about their lives together that would always be out of their reach and seemed content to lay them aside, having made the personal discovery that being with Goliath was worth far more to her than a normal human life. Goliath wasn’t sure he completely believed her but decided not to push the matter. He was simply happy to have her back.

After they had talked, Goliath had flown back to the tower with his thoughts in a roil. Being with him shouldn’t rob her of everything she had wanted in a mate. Surely some middle ground was to be reached in this situation. He had taken seriously the things Elisa had said during the brief period when they had separated. There were things he knew he’d never be able to give her: the house in the suburbs with the white picket fence she had spoken of. Gargoyles didn’t believe in money, and they had little to no interest in physical property, so buying a house was out of the question. Goliath suspected, however, that this specific desire was an optional one.

It was children that would be the biggest issue for Elisa and Goliath was keenly aware of it, even if she said it didn’t matter to her anymore. It wasn’t the same for him; Gargoyles did not have daughters or sons, nor fathers and mothers. The children of the clan belonged to the whole clan. That was simply the Gargoyle way.

Though he had to admit, this was no longer true, at least for the Manhattan Clan. Brooklyn was deeply devoted to his and Katana’s hatchlings. Goliath knew Angela and Broadway had been privately discussing laying their own egg. Goliath himself had come to love his only biological daughter as any father should, and while Elisa loved Angela very much and treasured their friendship, he doubted Elisa would ever consider her a daughter. They were too close in equivalent age for that. A child was one thing Elisa would never have with Goliath, and though it was a matter they both regretted deeply, nothing could be done to change it.

It wasn’t until he was back at the tower and overheard Owen talking about plans for Xanato’s anniversary that it clicked. There was one thing he could do for her. He could, officially and in public, surrounded by friends, family, and clan, declare his love for her. Become not only her mate, but her husband, and she his wife. Human terms though they were, Goliath didn’t mind them so much if it would make her happy, and he dearly wanted her to be happy.

Goliath was unfamiliar with the specifics of the ritual and resorted to asking Elisa’s brother, Talon, for help in planning it. One aspect was talking to the parents and, in some cases, asking the father for permission. Talon laughed at this, amused at the thought of the progressive, independent Elisa furious at both Goliath and her father for discussing her like she was a commodity for which they could barter.

Goliath did think that talking to Elisa’s parents about his intentions was appropriate. He wanted them to be there for the ceremony, as they would become part of his clan. Diane accepted it immediately, though Peter had needed a bit of convincing. Diane had given Goliath a ring that had belonged to her grandmother; a silver band with five inlaid sapphires. In return, Goliath asked Diane to officiate the ceremony. Diane cried, accepted, and hugged Goliath around the middle, an embrace Goliath awkwardly returned.

Another aspect of the ritual was, as Talon had put it, to “pop the question.” And one couldn’t just come out and ask, either, it had to be done in a special way with forethought and meaning. Talon had told Goliath about New Hope in Pennsylvania, which was an hour and forty-five minutes by bus, but much faster by air, which he knew from taking Maggie there a fair few times. There was a wildflower reserve there that Elisa had visited often as a child, but she hadn’t been back since she had entered the academy. Goliath thought it sounded perfect.

He kept his intentions quiet from everyone else, waiting for the right moment to ask Elisa and get her answer before mentioning it to anyone besides her family. It had taken time, more than a year, for him to work up the nerve. One thing or another always seemed to get in the way; her work, their missions, villains, new threats, all seemed to pop up just as Goliath was attempting to pull her away and ask.

One night in July of 1999, he finally had the chance he was waiting for. Elisa had three nights off in a row, the city was relatively quiet, there were no pressing matters to attend to at the castle, and despite the summer heat, the nights were pleasantly cool. Thinking this could be his only chance to do things properly, he made his plan to take her out to the reserve swiftly, before something could stop him. Goliath had only told her they were going somewhere special and left it at that.

That night, he reached her apartment and let himself in through the open window. He found her in the kitchen packing a picnic basket with various things, looking up at him with a beaming smile as he came closer. She was draped in a lovely pale blue dress, knee-length and flared at the hip, as practical as it was pretty.

She abandoned her task long enough to jump into his embrace, her feet dangling from the floor, and plant a kiss on his lips, which he returned with a gentle smile.

“It’s good to see you, too,” He said.

She laughed. “So where are we going?” She asked, still clutching his neck and running a finger up and down the place where his back curved into his neck, feeling the strange, minuscules scales that made up his skin, so fine and small that you had to be looking very close to see them at all. Rough when caressed one way, smooth if rubbed the other.

“It’s a surprise,” Goliath said as he released her. Her hands slid down his chest as she was set back on her feet and moved away to finish packing. “But we must go soon. It is quite far.”

She smiled and nodded, picking up the basket and a blanket that had been thrown over a nearby chair, and allowing herself to be lifted up and cradled in Goliath’s arms. Then they were off.

The trip took the better part of forty minutes, and they whiled away the time by talking about one thing or another. It was so much better now that it was all out in the open and they didn’t have to dance around each other as they had done in the first two years of their acquaintance when they couldn’t admit their feelings. Now things between them were easier, effortless, like talking with your best friend. Because Goliath was her best friend; the best she had ever had.

Elisa had been talking about plans for her sister’s graduation next year when she looked down and stopped mid-sentence.

“Wait!” She said, shifting a little to get a better look. “I know where we are! The wildflower reserve! Goliath, how did you find out about this place?”

“Your brother mentioned it to me,” Goliath said smugly. “He said this place was special to you.”

“Aw,” Elisa tutted. “I should visit him and Maggie soon.”

“I have no doubt you two will have much to discuss,” He said.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Nothing. There’s a deck there where we can land. Hold on.” He dove downward quickly, flattening his wings against his back as the ground rose swiftly to meet them. He unfurled his wings with enough time to slow them without scrambling their insides before landing gently on the wooden patio sitting in the middle of the field, surrounded by the colorful, fragrant plants as far as the eye could see. Talon had been right. This was the perfect place.

Elisa handed him the quilt, which he shook out and laid down over the wood. Elisa knelt and went about setting the things she had packed out onto the fabric. Goliath sat down cross-legged and assisted.

The basket had contained sandwiches, cheeses, and fruit, as well as water, wine, and if Elisa was feeling particularly festive, a bottle of whiskey.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Elisa,” Goliath said, looking over the spread she had packed.

“It wasn’t any trouble. I just threw some stuff in a basket. You’re the one who lugged us here in forty minutes with no break.” She handed him a glass of wine and a small plate with food, which he accepted with a smile. “I’m glad you suggested we do this. I love New York, but it’s nice to get away from the city for a while and spend some time with you alone.”

“I agree,” He replied. “This has been long overdue.”

She poured herself a glass of wine and settled next to him, leaning into him and sighing contently. He enjoyed the weight and warmth of her body against his. They ate and drank in relative silence, but not an uncomfortable one. They were not the type of couple that felt the need to fill the void with inane chatter. Simply being alone with each other with no sense urgency or distress was reward enough.

After a while, when they had eaten their fill and drank enough wine to make them feel very at ease, Goliath sat up straight and reached behind him.

“I have something for you,” He said, pulling out a thin, long blue box in roughly she shape of a book, complete with a bow. “A gift.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Where were you hiding that?”

He smiled a wide, toothy smile that was most unlike him, and presented the box to her. She took it with a furtive glance at him.

“You’ve never given me a gift before,” She said, intrigued.

“No,” Goliath admitted. “Gift-giving is not a typical Gargoyle practice. Tonight is special, however.”

“Special, how?”

“You shall see.”

Quirking an eyebrow at him, she untied the bow and lifted the lid. It was, in fact, a book: a photo album. The covers, back and front, were plain and bound in a midnight blue canvas. She opened the cover and gasped. The very first picture was of every person she loved standing together; her parents, Derek and Maggie, all of the Manhattan Clan, including Brooklyn and Katana’s hatchlings, tall Nashville and tiny Matsuko, and the newest edition, Broadway and Angela’s egg, which they proudly held between them. Lexington had little Alexander on his shoulders, now three years old but looking much older. Even Beth was there, smiling and standing with her arm around Derek’s waist. Goliath was also there, standing head and shoulders above the rest, square in the middle with his hand on Angela’s shoulder, a crooked smile on his normally grim features.

“Oh, my God,” Elisa breathed, flipping through the pages only to find more photos of her family and the clan interacting. There was a picture of Alexander playing with Matsuko, with Bronx laying belly up next to them. There was one of Derek, Maggie, Beth, Diane, Peter, and Matt Bluestone all playing cards together. There were tastefully shot photographs of the Gargoyles as stone in the sunlight, both in greyscale and in full color. There was even a sneakily obtained shot of Elisa sitting with all of them last year when she had managed to get them together for Christmas dinner, taken without her knowledge. She marveled at each page, a wondering smile lighting her face.

“How?” She asked. “How did you do this?”

“Your sister, Beth, helped me put it together. I wanted to do something special for you. She gave us all disposable cameras and asked us to take pictures, and she developed the film herself.” He was delighted by the pure joy in her expression. “You like it?”

“Goliath, I love this. I love it so much. It’s beautiful.” She kept turning the pages, stopping at each one to admire and smile at the candid shots of her family, of Angela sitting quietly and cradling her egg with Broadway hovering protectively nearby, of Katana and Beth laughing over tea with Matsuko in Beth’s lap, laughing along with them. Of her father and Hudson reclining in easy-chairs, talking somberly over a glass of bourbon. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever been given.

“Thank you, Goliath,” She said, holding the book to her chest. “I love it so much.”

“Keep going,” He said with a smile. “I saved the best for last.”

She grinned at him and kept turning pages until she reached the back cover, where rested a small, plain, white envelope.

“What’s this?” She asked, holding it up.

“Open it,” He replied. His smile was gone and he seemed to tense suddenly, though she was unsure why. Puzzled, she slit open the top of the envelope with her fingernail and peered inside.

“What is that?” She asked quietly, as if to herself. She tipped the envelope over and the silver ring tumbled into her hand. At first, she didn’t react, trying to comprehend what she was seeing. She looked up at him, a stunned expression on her face. He was looking at her very seriously, all trace of playfulness gone.

“Goliath,” Elisa said slowly, turning the band slowly in her fingers, examining it as if it were a riddle to be solved. “This is a ring.”

Yes,” Goliath answered simply, watching her face with rising apprehension.

She looked up at him, her chest tight. “For humans, when a man gives a woman a ring, it means something.”

“Yes, I am aware of this,” Goliath replied, his eyes still locked on hers. “I’ve spoken to your family. Your mother gave me this ring. To give to you.”

Elisa was finding it hard to breathe. Surely he didn’t mean… he wasn’t… “Are… are you…. Goliath, what does this mean?”

Goliath reached out his hand, and Elisa laid the ring into his open palm.

“Elisa,” he began. “When a Gargoyle chooses a mate, they pledge themselves to each other, much the same as humans do. But for our kind, it is a private matter that takes place between the two souls in love, away from prying eyes. After the pledge is made, it is acknowledged within the clan that the lovers are no longer two separate souls, but one soul that resides in two bodies, living for and within each other.

“Ceremonies and celebrations are not the Gargoyle way,” He continued. “We find gladness in the union of our friends and rejoice in their happiness, but there are no festivities to mark the occasion. That is a human custom.” Goliath looked long at the ring sitting cold and smooth in his hand. “But if I am to take a human woman as my mate, as I intend to do, I must come to accept her people’s customs and adapt to them. For her people will become my people, as mine have already become hers.”

Elisa sat staring wide-eyed at Goliath, her mouth open in shock.

“Therefore,” Goliath continued, taking a breath and reaching for Elisa’s left hand, which she offered. “I, Goliath, willingly offer to pledge my life and love to you, and ask you, Elisa Maza, if you would willingly pledge your life and love to me. Do you accept this offer?”

She seemed too stunned for speech. Her breathing was shallow and uneven. A tear spilled over her eye and down her cheek.

“Elisa?” Goliath asked in concern, brushing the tear away. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, another tear falling. She held his hand to her face and managed to find her voice, though it came out rather strangled. “I accept.”

A smile started to spread across his face. “Yes?”

“Yes,” She said, wiping her cheeks and laughing. “I accept. Nothing else on earth would make me happier.”

She took the ring from his palm and put it on her left ring finger, then pushed herself up to her knees to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. His arms encircled her waist and squeezed gently.

The kiss deepened became more urgent. Elisa fell back, pulling him with her so that he lay next to her on the blanket. Their arms wrapped tightly around each other as they explored each other’s kiss. She boldly flicked her tongue into his mouth and over his teeth, sharp enough to bite through steel, with no fear or apprehension. He responded in kind.

He gently caressed her face with one hand and the fingers of his other hand traced the skin up and down her spine. She had always marveled at the level of control it took for a person who could literally tear a car apart with his bare hands to touch her so tenderly. His claws were made for penetrating stone and metal, to climb and carry the immense weight of his body, yet in all the times he had touched her, he had never once left a mark.

Taking his hand from her face, she moved it downward to touch her breast. Goliath stiffened and pulled away.

“Elisa,” He started with a sigh. “We have discussed this.”

“Goliath,” She replied in a slightly exasperated voice. She sat up. “Every time I try to initiate intimacy with you, you push me away. Ever since that night we decided to stay together, you’ve brushed me off. I always figured it’s because you’re just old-fashioned, but I really think we are past the point of propriety here, don’t you?”

“It is not about that,” He said, pushing himself up into a sitting position as well. “When you first attempted to engage with me, we had just repaired our relationship. It was new and fragile, and I felt it was far too soon to be intimate with you.”

“I can understand that, Goliath, but we’ve been together for over two years now. Our relationship is more solid than it’s ever been. Besides, we are both adults, and we’ve done this before. Not with each other, obviously, but we have both had sexual partners in the past. Neither of us are exactly virgins.”

“That is not the point,” Goliath said. “Humans treat this subject with far too much indifference. There is no such thing as a casual encounter among Gargoyles.”

“Do you really think that’s what I’m trying to do?” Elisa said, mildly annoyed. “We literally just got… I don’t know… engaged? Betrothed? This isn’t exactly ‘casual’ for me.”

She folded her arms, looking away into the distance and growing quiet, as though she had suddenly realized something deeply unpleasant.

“What is it?” He asked, watching her expression shift.

“Nothing, it’s not worth mentioning,” She said dismissively, though she wouldn’t look at him.

“Tell me.”

She sighed, tilting her head in a begrudging way and refused to meet his eye, looking out over the field of flowers.

“Well,” She started slowly. “I had thought… I mean, I know Gargoyles don’t exactly find humans physically attractive. I thought, maybe… you didn’t think of me… in that…” She trailed off, visibly embarrassed.

It took a moment for Goliath to comprehend what she was saying. “Oh! No, Elisa, it isn’t like that at all. I have wanted to…” He struggled for wording that wouldn’t be vulgar. “To be with you in that way many times while we have been together.”

“Then why haven’t you?” She asked, looking at him. She was definitely upset.

“You must understand, to my kind, the act of making love is a promise in and of itself. To do so before now would not have been… appropriate.”

“So why not now?” Elisa asked him, her arms still folded. The ring he had given her noticeably glinting against the dark skin of her hand, drawing his eye.

He took her hand and held it in his, bending down to kiss her fingers. “Elisa, I love you,” He said gently. “To me, this is as miraculous a thing as seeing the sunrise with my own two eyes. After what Demona had done, after all the betrayals my clan had suffered by not only humans, but from my own kind, I had sworn that I would never trust or love again. You were the one to change that. The fact that you are human makes no difference; I desire to…” If a Gargoyle could blush, Elisa believed he might be. “To touch your body and lie with you and show you the depths of my longing.

“I wish to give you all that you desire and more, but I wish to do so the proper way. Though our methods may be different, both humans and Gargoyles set aside a time in which they make their pledge, after which they consummate the union. For my people, it is a private matter, but humans have a ceremony in which all the people they love gather to be a part of the celebration. As I understand it, the consummation takes place after the festivities have ended. ‘The wedding night,’ I believe it’s called. I want for you as normal a life as I am capable of providing. It is important to me that we observe the human ritual of marriage as well as we can, including the consummation ritual.”

Elisa had to laugh at that. “Honestly, Goliath, I hadn’t pegged you for the ‘saving myself for marriage’ type. But that part of the marriage is usually for people who are religious, and you and I both know neither of us are what you might call devout. In this day and age, it’s at most an optional aspect of the wedding.”

“Even so,” Goliath said, smiling. “I believe it is the right thing to do.”

Elisa sighed. She stood briefly and then settled in his lap, her arms around his neck. “You’re really going make me wait, aren’t you?”

Goliath returned her embrace. “I’m afraid so. But I promise you, it will be worth the wait.”

“It had better be,” She said dangerously, tracing his lips with her finger. He caught her hand and then kissed her again. She grumbled around the kiss but relented. He definitely wasn’t making it easy on her.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[stardatextoday]

So I've stayed quiet long enough and I think I'm finally ready to talk about my feelings and my reaction to the story that's been circulating about the ridiculous reaction to the radio cutest couple contest. I was not expecting this to go viral, much less turn out in my favor so much. I never realized that after being a safe space for so long, that i in turn get to feel safe as well. my wife's job prevents her from being on the phone during the day and lately she's been very overwhelmed checking in at the end of the night so I think that I'll be the one to talk about this. Plus we all know that I am the extrovert of the two and I'll talk about anything. When I dropped the collage of our photos in the comment section of the radio contest, I knew that there would be some sort of lackluster reaction to it. But society has progressed AND it was our anniversary so i was full of happiness. Once i entered, I forgot about my the contest for quite a bit of time I didn't even realize people have voted for me until i got tagged in something My wife and I have been together for eight years. eight years. that's close to a decade. We are so full of love and positivity that we have made it our mission to take that overflowing love and share it with other people. We are inclusive, we listen, we sympathize, and we are a safe haven for everyone who has ever met us. I thought that by entering a normally very heteronormative traditional contest, that at least one same-sex couple could see it and remember that they are just as valid as other couples. Being married to a woman doesnt make me more or less bisexual, so my orientation shouldnt matter. I didn't expect to win, honestly, i didn't expect even make it into the contest. I'm used to seeing discrimination like that in everyday life and I would've understood if the radio station had chosen the way the traditional way to avoid conflict- even if it would have been exclusionary. However it's 2017 and times are changing. I don't expect the runner up with the poor attitude. (I blocked him almost immediately so i dont remember his name) to understand what its like to go outside and fear for your life when your partner grabs your hand. Did you stand at the courthouse trembling when the registrar asked why my wife was changing her name? No, you didn't. You werent there when i bawled in 2012 because doing my 2011 taxes meant filing as single even though I had gotten a civil union on 11/11/11. Nevermind my legal marriage in 2012 or anything. No, you weren't there. Youll never have to be there. You wont ever have to explain your decisions to people. You dont have to face discrimination for your relationship. My marriage is so strong and so loving, and yet people still wish me dead for it. Ive been called a dyke since i was 11. Ive had it written on my desk, ive had it written in my own blood on the schools bathroom mirror after being assaulted in middle school. Ive been sexually assault because of it, and ive been denied opportunities because of my sexual orientation. I dont owe anyone these explanations but i just want people to understand that after years of being called things like a "fat dyke" those words mean nothing to me. In fact I embraced them. Not everyone is privileged enough to do that. I love being chubby. I really do. I spent years and years hating myself and honestly i have never felt more beautiful and honest with myself as i do now. Yeah, i spend my free time squatting and meal prepping, but you'd never know that because im just a "250# dyke" to you. (Bless you for thinking im only 250 lol) Im a fighter; anyone whos spent more than 15 seconds with me knows that I enjoy every single last drop of diversity, yes even your bigoted opinions. Why? Because your opinions based out of hatred just reinforce mine out of love (and a little spite honestly). Your hashtags are appalling. I was put on this planet to do far more than procreate, and honestly insinuating that people who arent fertile or cannot have children, are not people is dehumanizing and objectifying. You keep giving half-assed apologies about how your beliefs are solid, and honestly i dont give a singular shit. I think you're a petulant child who lost a local radio contest because your support is far less than mine. But, thats just my opinion. My opinions are not preventing you from anything, honestly. I still think you deserve basic human rights, even though you think far less for me My wife has come home every night, too anxious about safety and notoriety to do much of anything. I never wanted this to go viral, but honestly your terrible responses from YOU and YOUR BUSINESS are the reasons this spread like wildfire. I havent said anything other than the occasional "No, please don't mention my name in your article." You are upset that your name/address/and phone number were revealed but it was one google search away. If you didnt want to be public, try not being a public official. I have gotten so overwhelmed by the love and support given to my family. People i havent spoken to in years and people that i dont even know have reached out. Ive cried in public when people told me i gave them hope. I am no saint. I am just a fat bisexual girl who likes cats and black lipstick. Im supportive and kind, even my enemies will tell you so. I wish youd stopped to get to know me before trying to assimilate a biography from a collage in the comments of a local radio stations contest I hope you had a great Valentine's Day. I spent mine eating ice cream and singing songs while driving with my wife. Hopefully someday you understand that opinions are kind of like umbrellas- everyone should have them but theyre not always necessary. Feel free to share this and tag anyone whos been involved, i would like for this to be the last of this drama tbh. http://wqad.com/2017/02/15/henry-county-board-member-attacks-lesbian-couple-sparks-facebook-fire-storm/

[theconservativebrief]

The most important scene in Brad Bird’s Incredibles 2 comes early on and offers a brilliant summation of everything the writer-director does so well.

The Parr family, having attracted the attention and irritation of the government with their superhero shenanigans, sits in a lonely motel room, munching on Chinese food. They’ve just saved the city of Municiberg from the Underminer, who set his giant drill on a path to destroy City Hall.

But officials don’t see all of the destruction that was averted — they only see the rubble that actually exists. Yes, nobody wants supervillains like the Underminer robbing banks, but there’s a process in place to ensure those banks and the money within them, and having superheroes leap in to save the day just complicates that process.

The scene is notable both for its small, detailed animation — pay attention to how Bob Parr (aka Mr. Incredible) can’t seem to grasp anything with his chopsticks and finally just stabs an eggroll through the middle — and for the way it tosses a bunch of questions the movie knows it can’t possibly answer up into the air. To change the law that has made superheroes illegal, the Parrs will have to break it, to show that superheroes can still be useful. Or, as G-man Rick Dicker wearily sighs in an earlier scene, “Politicians don’t trust anyone who does a good thing just because it’s right. It makes them nervous.”

The first time I saw Incredibles 2, all of these ideas jostling for space within the movie struck me as a movie frantically searching for a story to tell, one it eventually found but that didn’t quite cohere with everything else. The second time through, though, the movie made more sense to me as a meditation on the popularity of superhero stories and what it means to live in a world where what’s legal isn’t always what’s right. It doesn’t offer solutions, because it knows there aren’t any.

But the movie is also keyed in to something that’s always present in Bird’s work, something that’s caused some to accuse him of being an objectivist along the lines of Ayn Rand: an obsession with the rights of the exceptional and how they can be stacked up against everybody else.

Incredibles 2 strikes me both as Bird’s deepest exploration of this idea and his biggest refutation of it. Bird might be fascinated by the exceptional among us, but he’s also not interested in exceptionalism if it doesn’t benefit the larger community.

Brad Bird Photo by Juan Naharro Gimenez/Getty Images for Disney

The works of author Ayn Rand — including Atlas Shrugged, The Fountainhead, and others — have been hugely influential on the thinking of various political and economic theorists over the years. (Among current politicians, Republican House Speaker Paul Ryan is a notable devotee.) To put Rand’s writings in modern terms, you could describe her objectivism as a kind of extra-strength libertarianism, in which the truly great among us should, as much as possible, not be shackled by the law or by conventions.

Atlas Shrugged is her magnum opus, a futuristic dystopia in which citizens who don’t contribute to society leech off the business classes, who create both wealth and useful material goods (mostly trains and railroads). The action of the book — if a book so heavy in long discussions of philosophy can be said to have “action” — mostly involves the various characters learning that society needs them more than they need society, that the world is only as strong as its strongest, who should be subject to as few rules and regulations as possible. Rand stops just short of saying, “Billionaires should be able to straight-up murder whomever they want,” but reading the book, you have to think the idea occurred to her at some point.

This is a vast oversimplification of a book I read once in high school for an essay contest, but Rand’s ideas that regulations are bad and wealth creators are good have trickled down into the modern Republican Party in ways that are hopefully obvious.

The question is if they’ve also trickled down to influence the films of Brad Bird, one of modern animation’s few auteurs, but also a writer-director who keeps returning to the idea that society places unnecessary constraints on exceptional individuals. You can see where the comparisons come from.

Bird has made just six films — 1999’s The Iron Giant, 2004’s The Incredibles, 2007’s Ratatouille, 2011’s Mission: Impossible — Ghost Protocol, 2015’s Tomorrowland, and 2018’s Incredibles 2 — and four of those wrestle with the above idea at length. There’s a touch of that idea in Iron Giant (which we’ll get to), but it doesn’t dwell on it at length, while Ghost Protocol (one of the finest modern action movies) is mostly about how it would be totally rad to free climb the world’s tallest building. (Ghost Protocol and Tomorrowland are live-action; the other four films are animated.)

The “objectivist” tag was first applied to Bird extensively after the first Incredibles. And to be sure, the very premise of the film plays in this territory: superheroes have been outlawed due to safety concerns, and one character bellows, “With everyone super, no one will be!” This is particularly true of a concluding scene in which young Dash Parr, blessed with super-speed, intentionally throws a race at a track meet. The plot reason for this is that he can’t let anybody know he has superpowers (which are still illegal), but it plays as a weird critique of the idea of participation trophies and the attempt to make sure no child’s feelings are hurt.

The criticism followed Bird through Ratatouille — which is ostensibly about how anyone (even a rat) can cook but is also kind of about how if you don’t have talent, you should get out of the way of people who do — and especially Tomorrowland, in which a group of geniuses abscond to an alternate universe where they build the sci-fi future imagined in the ’50s and ’60s and mostly abandoned in our modern era of imagined dystopias.

A world where the exceptional cordon themselves off and refuse to save the rest of the world is literally Galt’s Gulch from Atlas Shrugged, where the book’s mysterious hero, John Galt, hides out to proclaim his superiority to everybody else. And now Incredibles 2 toys with many of these same themes, which makes sense as a continuation of the first film. (When I asked him about these themes, he mostly punted on answering the question, saying he didn’t think about it that much when writing his movies.)

I think it’s worth considering all of these ideas in the context of Bird’s career, which got a bit of a late start. After beginning as a young wunderkind animator at Disney in the early ’80s, Bird was fired after raising his concerns that the company was half-assing it, instead of trying to protect its rich legacy.

Bird spent much of the ’80s bouncing from project to project — he worked on, among other things, a Garfield TV special and the Amazing Stories episode “Family Dog” (his directorial debut) — until in the early ’90s, he landed a job as the animation supervisor on a new TV show named The Simpsons, a job that made his career and allowed him to direct Iron Giant. When that movie flopped, he was brought to Pixar thanks to a college friendship with John Lasseter (who has recently been pushed out of the company after accusations of sexual misconduct).

But his directorial debut still didn’t arrive until he was in his early 40s. And while that’s not exactly unprecedented, it is at least a little unusual in an industry where someone with the evident talent of Bird likely would have proceeded through the ranks of a major animation company and directed his first film somewhere in his 30s.

Bird’s self-admitted demanding nature likely make him difficult to work with — something that surely contributed to his difficulty getting a film made, despite numerous almost-realized projects, like an animated adaptation of the comic The Spirit. (Bird was also probably hurt by his certainty that “animated film” and “kids film” shouldn’t be synonymous, even though animated films aimed at adults have always been difficult sells in Hollywood.) It makes sense that Bird’s frequent musings on the shackling of genius might be a political, but it’s just as possible this is an artistic idea, based on the struggles he had getting his career to take off. (My friend David Sims has had similar thoughts at the Atlantic.)

So, yes, we could read Bird’s filmography as a celebration of Ayn Rand and of climbing very tall buildings. But we’d be remiss if we didn’t also read it in the context of the career of a director who felt stymied at every turn for almost 20 years, before he unexpectedly became one of the most successful directors of his generation almost out of nowhere.

Even then, we’d be missing something big.

The Iron Giant paints a very different picture of how those with great talents should behave. Warner Brothers

One of the things that makes that early motel-room scene in Incredibles 2 so potent is the fact that there’s no clear right answer to the issues that Bird raises via his characters. Nor is there a right answer in a later scene in which Helen Parr (Elastigirl) talks with a new friend about whether the ability to create something great or the ability to sell it to the mass public is more important to the world. Nor in the frequent arguments about whether breaking unjust laws is the right thing to do, even if society requires people to be law-abiding to function.

It’s impossible for any animated movie to truly be “timely” because they’re produced on such a long timeframe. But Incredibles 2 feels eerily tapped in to the political debates we’re having around the globe right now. If you have massive amounts of power and feel like the world is circling the tubes, is your primary duty to society or to the self? Or your family? Or all of the above? Brad Bird doesn’t know this answer, so the movie doesn’t either.

This is a common thread across his filmography. All of his movies grapple with objectivist themes, to be sure, but they also don’t conclude that doing what’s best for the self is what’s best for everybody. The closest thing to an answer Bird ever provides is “Do what’s right, and what’s right is what benefits the most people.”

In short, his movies always posit that the exceptional should be allowed to express their talents to the best of their abilities — but only insofar as they can benefit society at large.

What’s interesting is how often Bird’s most openly objectivist moments and story ideas are presented as bad things. That collection of geniuses making up Tomorrowland, for instance, invents a machine meant to bring doom to our world, while the famous line about being special or super from Incredibles is actually spoken twice — the first time by a child and the second time by the movie’s villain. Helen is the closest thing the Incredibles franchise has to a moral conscience, and she’s always the one on the side of the idea that “everyone is special.” We just have different talents.

Ratatouille might be the best developed expression of this idea among Bird’s films. His portrayal of a restaurant as a collection of people who do very specific jobs to the best of their abilities, all adding up to a kind of symphony, is very much like filmmaking, with the film’s hero, Remy the rat, standing in as a director. The movie’s villains are those who would stand in the way of Remy realizing his full talents — but you can also read that as being against prejudice, as a celebration of the idea that anyone can cook and great art can come from someone you’d never expect (like a young and hungry would-be animator from Montana, not exactly a hotbed of Hollywood talent).

It’s telling that Ratatouille’s great chef is a rodent and not the gangly human who discovers he’s the son of a great, dead chef. Talent isn’t always predictable, following along conduits you’d expect. But when you find it, it’s best to encourage it but also make sure it’s tempered with kindness, as it is in Ratatouille, a movie where even the restaurant’s waitstaff is briefly but memorably celebrated.

All of which brings us back to The Iron Giant, a movie rarely discussed in conversations about Bird’s interest in exceptionalism. If any Bird creation is exceptional, it’s a giant metal man who eats railroads and can become a literal death weapon, but the arc of the film is about the giant trending away from that which makes him exceptional and would harm others, and toward what about him is exceptional that could benefit others. It’s a movie about a really amazing walking gun who decides, instead, to become Superman.

Superman’s a fitting icon to consider as a way to understand Bird’s ultimate philosophies. Yeah, he could kill all of us with a flick of his fingernail, but he doesn’t. So could the superheroes of Incredibles 2, but they make the choice not to.

That’s why Incredibles 2 stands so beautifully as Bird’s most fully engaged wrestling with all of these ideas. It never offers easy answers because there aren’t any. The question of how we build a society that benefits everybody and gives them the same rights as everybody else, while still allowing people as much freedom as possible to exercise the talents and abilities unique to them, isn’t one that can be answered easily. It’s arguably the work of democracy itself, and it will never be finalized, as long as human beings strive for a better world. Thus, those of us who are exceptional, be they people or rodents or whole countries, are only as exceptional as they are good.

While it’s not always easy to determine the right course of action, determining what’s good almost never is. It’s what takes you away from celebrating the self and back toward figuring out how that self can fit into the community of others, how your own exceptionalism can become a part of the great symphony of life.

Original Source -> Why Incredibles director Brad Bird gets compared to Ayn Rand — and why he shouldn’t be

via The Conservative Brief