zenaidamacrouras1

[zenaidamacrouras1]

it's a random saturday. time for crab!

Oh I needed this. I had a rough week. Also my honeyberry bush is fruiting in April which is so weird. Bring on the crabs!

[zenaidamacrouras1]

this is my cursed jug i have that bleeds when you pour water in it. 

we’ve done this ten, twenty times now to no apparent change?

#i haven't made a study of it but given that iron is very common and it makes water red probably explains all stigmata inanimate object

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Come here you little punk. 

© El Kane

#I'm working on a stucky fic (who me?) and this is them exactly #except steve has full sleeve rose tattoos inspired by his moms favorite flower #and Sarah Rogers is actually alive in this fic #Steve is just sappy as fuck about his mom #and also he has a kid #and is trans #and Bucky has a #kid #and Bucky is cis but whatever #it's a meet ugly kid fic #stucky art #elkleggs #all hail elkleggs #i luff you elkleggs #all elk all leggs all greatness

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Fun story but Biden actually announced a revival of the CCC called the American Climate Corps this week! From a press release. This is happening because people asked for it and organized around it:

President Biden will announce today that Americans can now apply to join the American Climate Corps through a newly launched website, ClimateCorps.gov . The website will feature nearly 2,000 positions located across 37 states, DC, and Puerto Rico. The website is launching in its beta form, and the first class of the American Climate Corps will be deployed to communities across the country in summer 2024.

Additionally, the President will announce a new partnership with the North America’s Building Trades Unions’ nonprofit partner TradesFutures.

Beginning this summer, every American Climate Corps member will have access to TradesFutures’ industry leading apprenticeship readiness curriculum during their term of service in the American Climate Corps.

American Climate Corps members will now have access to a streamlined pathway into federal service after a recent update to modernize the U.S. Office of Personnel Management’s Pathways Programs.

Today, three states across the country, including Vermont, New Mexico, and Illinois are launching new state-based climate corps programs, building on 10 existing states that have already launched successful climate corps programs.

And finally, the President will announce a new interagency public private partnership to launch Energy Communities AmeriCorps, which will place American Climate Corps members in energy communities across the country to support projects in communities that have powered our nation for generations.

Read more at climatecorps.gov

We need programs that benefit future generations because it is crystal clear that capitalism will leave absolutely nothing.

The wealthy have no connection with humanity and humanity has no influence on the wealthy.

This is why We The People was the genesis of the country. The People will provide. #VoteBlue

#Organizing changes the world #Agitate #Organize #Send a lot of emails #God so many emails

[zenaidamacrouras1]

I wanted to be either Wesley Crusher or that boy on seaQuest that could talk to dolphins, also would have accepted Mara Jade, but I more wanted to be Luke Skywalker and marry her, (though I realize in retrospect she is too good for him, she's too good for me too).

#What I want to be now is a cat #Just a regular housecat #Nothing fancy

[zenaidamacrouras1]

I was just reading through some comments on my fics, and I am realizing that I have all these comments that say, "I just read all of your fics and I enjoyed reading them. I'm so so sorry that's so cringe and embarrassing I'll kill myself now, I'm so sorry."

And I want to say, you know, we authors post fics to ao3 because we are okay with other people reading them.

In fact, most of us even prefer it when people read our stuff. In fact, many of us adore it and some of us are complete undignified claptrap disasters about it when people read and comment on our fics, we squeal with glee and roll around in your lovely comments like dragons in a hoard of treasure.

Anyway, you definitely don't have to apologize for reading my fics.

#It's okay if you do want to apologize #especially you poor Canadians that's not your fault (soo-rry) #zenaida talks (too much) #yes I'm procrastinating again #someone slap me around and make me do my job

[zenaidamacrouras1]

^^^This is an actual picture of what you will look like listening to the Pursued by Bear Podfic !!!

Let me resurrect the gif I made in my excitement over this podfic. Happy Birthday Shakespeare, I hope you're proud of what I have done in your name.

In honor of William Shakespeare's birthday, I decided to read Pursued by Bear by @zenaidamacrouras1 and listen to it in PODFIC form. Thank you and you're welcome.

#thanks dear #shakespeare #stucky #what is wrong with me #I don't even know #sorry shakespeare #but yay podfic #podfic creators are a gift

[zenaidamacrouras1]

(enabling) ...could easily map a shrinkyclinks-esque au onto check please...

Oh there is one! It's so funny, I read it a long time ago and had no idea Check Please existed and then I read Check Please and was like, wait, this is just like a stucky fic? Or, I don't actually know if it's supposed to be similar to Check Please, because in the end it's quite different and very original, plot wise and character wise, to be clear, but it has a figure skater switching to hockey and falling in love, which was the part I was focused on here. It is excellent!

I don't know if I have another Sports AU in me right yet. I don't actually like sport that much, I just find competence incredibly sexy so I do find it sexy when people are good at sports but dear god, did I hate reading about American Football to write that damn football AU. I mean, I do admire the players and their incredible skill and drive, but the NFL and NCAA are really shitty entities.

Okay, here is a really great Hockey AU!

Howitzer

spacebuck

Summary:

Bucky Barnes, figure skating champion, is forced to switch his skates for hockey ones when he leaves for college. Problem is, he's never played hockey before, and now he has to be good enough to get the scholarship he needs. Enter Steve Rogers, Carter University Men's Hockey player, who's decided that he'd do anything to get this guy on his team. Cue five am runs, overwhelming classes, new friends, plenty of snow, and a sport that's fast becoming a way of life.

#stucky fic rec #stucky fanfiction #sports au

[zenaidamacrouras1]

I was really having a lot of thoughts about how I would go about fixing the grout issues here until I realized that's a painting?

Terrace, New York  -    Matteo Massagrande , 2019.

Italian,b.1959-

Oil and mixed media on board,  90 x 60 cm.  35.4 x 23.6 in.

#is it also cake? #that is so beautiful tile #and lovely artistry

[zenaidamacrouras1]

sometimes I remember that this was a real actual thing that happened and it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling.

#i probably need to re-read check please #shout out to the people who told me I would love it after reading my sports au #you were right you absolute monsters and now I have something else in my head #i like this fic so much I basically plagiarized it before I ever read it

[zenaidamacrouras1]

2012 Avengers Tower: a fic rec list

I think we all sometimes yearn for the days when we thought Marvel would let the Avengers be friends who all lived together and fought supervillains in between movie nights.

Though these stories weren't all written or set in 2012 post-Avengers 1 era, but they all feature that team hanging out, having fun, and supporting each other through difficulties.

The list is in chronological order, with fic published from 2012 to 2024.

Amateur Theatrics by galaxysoup (@galaxystew-zombie) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 26,586 words | Published April 01, 2012)

Summary: In which Thor’s primary problem-solving method (a mighty blow from Mjolnir) fails to have the desired effect on a magical artifact, and his secondary method (a mightier blow from Mjolnir) proves to be actively disastrous.

Big in Japan by gunboots (@gunboots) (Loki/Thor, Stucky | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,203 words | Published May 01, 2012)

Summary: Steve hesitantly reaches out and takes the object in Tony’s arms to survey it. 'It' being a pillow upon which was an almost frighteningly accurate illustration of Loki, their on-and-off again nemesis. "I don't--how did you even get this? Who would MAKE this?" Clearly Steve doesn't find the attention-to-detail on Loki's costume as hilarious as Tony does, which whatever. Like he said. Killjoy. A.K.A The one time Tony buys Thor the world's worst souvenir and it somehow worked out in the end anyway.

The rest are below the cut!

Soft Skills by Lady_Ganesh (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 4,154 words | Published May 31, 2012)

Summary: "So," Bruce said carefully. "You're saying that your tower became a big target for an alien army, so you're going to rebuild it as an even bigger target?" "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds stupid," Tony said. The team tries to bring Steve Rogers into the 21st Century. It mostly works. As my beta CaptainBlue said: Also I love how you did a fic about Avengers team building and still managed to make it 100% about Cap. You have a gift. This is why I love her. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Without the Usual Cost of Labor by vain_glorious (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,387 words | Published June 15, 2012)

Summary: "Someone just reported to SHIELD that whatever was stolen produced “viable offspring,” and we’re hoping that doesn’t mean what we think it does,” Bruce says, evidently deciding to take over for Tony after only one masturbation joke. Also available as a podfic read by blackglass

The Great Avengers Body Swap by vain_glorious (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 3,712 words | Published July 23, 2012)

Summary: Loki and the Avengers spend a month in SHIELD's detention cells, because Loki cast a bodyswapping spell against them and got himself with it, too. Also available as a podfic read by blackglass

The Ice in Windless Cold by Isagel (@isagelc) (OT6 | Explicit | 11,883 words | Published August 19, 2012)

Summary: "I dream about the ice," Steve says. "About being in the ice." Also available as a podfic read by susan_voight

Private Bookmark? by storiesfortravellers (Gen | Mature | 2,638 words | Published August 24, 2012)

Summary: The Avengers discover that there are fans who write explicit RPF fic about them. Some of them are very confused. Some are proud. Some don't understand why everyone writes the pairings who aren't together but hardly anyone writes the couple who actually is together. Much silliness ensues. Also available as a podfic read by analise010, AshesandGhost, dapatty, fire_juggler, lorcalon (uniquepov), Opalsong, Weebs813

The Goat's Back by arsenicarcher (Arsenic) (Gen | Mature | 10,155 words | Published November 30, 2012)

Summary: An AU where Steve's essentially a failed experiment, corporal punishment is the predominant form of discipline and team leaders take the punishments for those under them.

Dear Clint Barton (circa age 7) by pollyrepeat (@pollyrepeat) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 4,221 words | Published March 31, 2013)

Summary: The most annoying parts of being de-aged (and then re-aged) are your friends. Also available as a podfic read by RsCreighton (@rosecreighton)

What We Pretend To Be by ifitwasribald (Gen, Bruce Banner/Tony Stark | Explicit | 100,697 words | Published July 14, 2013)

Summary: Good becomes great, bad becomes worse. But people are a hell of a lot more complicated than good and bad. When half of the team is dosed with the super soldier serum, they all have to grapple with their own pasts and futures. But for better or for worse, they’re all in it together.

Speak So We Can Hear Your Heart Beat by Jaune_Chat (@jaune-chat) (Gen, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Jane Foster/Thor | Mature | 15,402 words | Published November 10, 2014)

Summary: The Avengers are rendered mute by Amora the Enchantress. As a search for a cure grows more and more dim every day, the Avengers have to deal with the reality of learning to communicate with each other in a whole different way. Uncertain if they'll be able to fight again, they enlist the help of their friends, and learn some surprising things about each other as they struggle to hold onto their identities as the World's Greatest Heroes.

The Health Benefits of Knitting by Niobium (@niobiumao3) (Gen | General Audiences | 1,179 words | Published January 15, 2015)

Summary: Clint isn't sure what's really relieving Natasha's stress—the knitting, or the part where she foists the horrible results off on other people. Also available as a podfic read by reena_jenkins (@reena-jenkins)

Clint Barton's Guide to Friends and Ceiling Vents by NoliteTimereEos (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,488 words | Published July 11, 2015)

Summary: In which Clint Barton meets a missing assassin in the vents and somehow becomes friends with him. Things don't go as bad as they could have. Also available as a podfic read by babbling_bedlamite

How to Train Your Superheroes by StuckySituation (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 3,150 words | Published March 05, 2019)

Summary: “But of course, no matter how much we practice on schedule, we will need to learn constant vigilance and manage to get our reaction times down to the minimum,” Steve continues and takes the last burger beef from the grill and puts it onto the table next to him. Natasha has a brief millisecond to frown and think “Constant vigilance?”, before Steve kicks the grill so hard that the coals rain on top of the flammable carpet feet away. “What the hell-!?” “STEVE!?” Steve is already sprinting towards the ledge. “First training session started! Wanda, Sam, Tony - someone CATCH ME!” Then he jumps off the Tower. Also available as a podfic read by vassalady (@vassalady)

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't) by GalaxyThreads (@galaxythreads) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 11,022 words | Published April 25, 2020)

Summary: "Dragr," Thor called them. "Demons" Clint had said. "Thieves" is what Steve labels them as. AKA, the one where Steve is captured by creatures that feed off of happy memories, and the team is left to pick up the pieces. Post-Avengers.

5 Times Steve Dealt with His Team's Sleeping Habits... by The67ImpalaDragonChild (@dragonimpal67) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 29,606 words | Published November 08, 2020)

Summary: ...and one time they dealt with his. Steve didn't think anything of it when he moved into the Avengers tower. He didn't think about how much the people he's living with would affect him. He's thinking about it NOW! Who knew a bunch of super heroes could be so weird about something as basic as the need to sleep?

on the mend by meidui (@meidui) (Gen | General Audiences | 1,438 words | Published February 03, 2024)

Summary: Steve rarely feels this awful after a fight, but then again, he hasn’t been on a solo mission in months.

[zenaidamacrouras1]

And if you are like, "it's my artistic vision for it to be a wall of text because it's all blurry and connected" (because I went through a phase like that) I'll just say as a person with adhd for whom thoughts are long and blurry and connected...

I can't read it if there are no spaces.

So it's honestly a disability access thing.

Lots of love.

I’m noticing an increase in new fic writers on AO3 who…uh…mayy not know how to format their fics correctly..so here is a quick and VERY important tip

Using a random fic of mine as example..

The left example: ✅✅✅

The right example: ❌❌❌

Idk how many times I’ve read a good fic summary and been so excited to read before clicking on it and being met with an ugly wall of text. When I see a huge text brick with zero full line breaks my eyes blur and I just siiiigh bc either I click out immediately or I grin and bear it…it’s insufferable!

If a new character speaks, you need a line break. If you notice a paragraph is becoming too large, go ahead and make a line break and/or maybe reconfigure the paragraph to flow better. I’m not a pro writer or even a huge fic writer but…please…ty…

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Where are all my Germans! All of y'all speak English better than me, bless you. I mean, Gesundheit. (Segnen Sie Ihr Herz????) (I used google translate). Hahahahaha. I amuse myself. I am butchering your language, do me a favor already.

niche ask but does anyone have fanfic recs for german language fics?

I don’t event care what fandom but I know my german reading comprehension would improve 1000% if I read more german fic

danke im voraus

#german language #fanfic auf deutsch #fic auf deutsch

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[zenaidamacrouras1]

COWBOYS ARE FREQUENTLY SECRETLY FOND OF EACH OTHER (2024) orville peck & willie nelson dir. ben prince

#Some how I'm just seeing this and I'm mad at everyone in my life for not making me know this was a thing #you know what you did #clearly I am the target audience for this shit #gay cowboys #rural queers #do I need to post my heat maps showing how many queer people live in the south and in rural communities? #put some south in your mouth #y'all means all

[zenaidamacrouras1]

y’all, if you ever get mean comments on your fics and start to spiral because you already have doubts about writing and sharing (especially kink related stuff), just get yourself an @actualalligator 🩵

#This is such good advice #mean commenters require a posse #or an actualalligator who is a one person posse #Honestly what's wrong with some people

[zenaidamacrouras1]

I mean.. did this not actually happen

(Source: wrongrogers on Twitter)