Hope the switch to daylight savings time didn't hit you guys too hard! Here's a fic rec to start your week on the right foot! :)
Complete
🔥where i walk alone by kermytheefrog (tardigradeschool) (Soulmates AU | 19K | T): Everyone knows that when you touch someone who's going to be important to you for the first time, you'll leave a mark on them. It's not just romantic love; parents and children, siblings, close friends all share marks too. At least, they do in theory. Maddie's the only person who's ever touched Buck and left anything behind. It’s funny, growing up knowing your parents don’t care about you. The kind of funny that makes Maddie look at him so sadly sometimes, when she doesn’t realize he can see her out of the corners of his eyes.
tricked and treated by rhodeys/ @rhodeys (Halloween, PWP | 5K | E): “Catwoman, huh?” Buck’s eyes flick down again, snagging on the shape of Eddie’s torso. “Yeah, you’re, uh, pulling it off. But, uh…” Buck straightens, licks his lips, voice shifting to something practiced, polite, and extremely strange to Eddie’s ears. “Look, you seem cool, and that suit’s... heh, working, but I’m— I’m not really doing the whole hookup thing anymore." The words don’t register at first—then they do, and the world tilts, grin falling right off his face. Buck doesn’t know it’s him. Buck doesn’t know it’s Eddie.
please resume oversharing by shortndiaz (Crack, Getting Together, Jealous Eddie | 2K | G): 5 times Eddie finds out details about Buck from someone else +1 time he finds out why Buck hasn’t been telling him things
eddie's secret(s) by maydecember (Magical Realism, Cat Eddie, Getting Together | 3K | T): The cat simply meows again. Buck suddenly remembers Eddie is gone. He huffs, standing up and looking around again. “Where did Eddie go?” he mumbles. “Did he run away?” A meow. Buck tilts his head. “Did you see him leave, Mr. Kitty? Tell me the truth.” Mr. Kitty claws at his legs again. Suddenly, something dawns on Buck. Smoke, Eddie’s sudden disappearance, a cat showing up in his place… “...Eddie?” he says tentatively, reaching down to slowly pick the cat up. Mr. Kitty meows ferociously.
Eddie Diaz vs. The Evidence by buckmeetsboy (Pre-Buddie | 7K | G): Eddie Diaz discovers the perfect scientific explanation for why the internet thinks he’s 98% compatible with his best friend: dad-friend bias. Definitely not feelings. (Probably.) OR Eddie and Buck take internet quizzes on the couch after work.
the benefits of floor time by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Post-S8, Love Confessions | 2K | T): “Maddie thinks you’re in love with me,” Eddie states, and Buck nods once. “Are you?” he repeats—slower now, not as if Buck is stupid—never, not once, has he ever made Buck feel stupid—but as if he’s… encouraging him to… slow down. To process. “I-I love you,” is all Buck can stutter, along with as much of a shrug as he can manage in this position. “And I love you,” Eddie confirms—still slow. “But that’s not what I asked you, either.”
paint the red flags green by poppypickle/ @poppypickle (Post-S8, Buddie Roommates, Getting Together | 6K | T): or: Buck’s dates keep finding things wrong with him. But Buck’s red flags are all green to Eddie.
I'm sorry for myself because you're not here with me by flightlessmaddie (S7E4: Buck, Bothered and Bewildered | 9K | Not Rated): After the disastrous basketball game, a conversation goes very differently and it leads to some big realizations for Eddie.
marriage of inconvenience by coldbam/ @coldbam (Accidental Marriage, Established Buddie | 5K | T): This is to certify that the undersigned Rev. Matthew Johnson did on the 11th day of the month of March of the year 2026, join in lawful wedlock Evan Buckley and Ravi Panikkar. Buck drops the paper like it’s burned him. “What the fuck?” * or, Buck drives himself insane over Eddie’s reaction to his drunk marriage.
The Art of Being Parent Trapped by songbvrd/ @songbvrd (Post-S9E1, Fluff and Crack | 14K | T): Harry and May take it upon themselves to use their weekly Bachelor nights to parent trap Buck and Eddie.
🔥thrown here or found, to freeze or to thaw by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Accidental Baby Acquisition, Mystery, Fake Relationship, Alive Bobby | 56K | T): When a baby is left on Eddie's doorstep, addressed to Buck, the whole extended 118 family is thrown into a mystery that reaches back further than anyone expects, and Buck and Eddie's lives are changed in an instant.
Color Portrait World by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Marriage Proposal, Getting Together | 6K | E): "You don't see the problem," Buck says finally, in as measured a tone as he can, "with getting married to me. For tax purposes." "Not just tax purposes," Eddie says indignantly, like that's Buck's main sticking point. Buck finally turns his head and looks at him. His big brown eyes and the encouraging little smile on his lips, like he's offering Buck a special treat, instead of a lifelong fucking commitment of platonic marriage. Buck wants to kiss him, or maybe strangle him. Either one would serve Eddie right. Or: Eddie proposes marriage (platonically). Buck spirals.
Hungry for Love by jukoist/ @beforejuko (Succubi!Buck, PWP, Getting Together | 16K |E): Buck would do anything to protect Eddie. Even if it means keeping the truth hidden — right to an early grave.
🔥you'll ask me to pray for rain with ash in your mouth by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Magic & Fantasy elements, Getting Together | 21K | M): Whenever Eddie sleeps, he experiences the dreams of those who are dreaming about him. He doesn't tell anyone. But when Buck's dreams start to change, addressing his strange ability may become unavoidable.
Wait for Me to Come Home by jukoist/ @beforejuko (S8E18: Seismic Shifts Coda | 6K | G): “Look, e- everyone needs to grieve, and they… they have people they need to grieve with. And as much as I want to pretend I'm of use here, I… I'm really just getting in the way. So yeah. I’m transferring.” Buck starts walking towards the door, brushing right past Eddie. Eddie turns to watch him, heart breaking further with every step Buck takes away from him. “And what about me?” Eddie asks desperately. Buck stops. Doesn't turn. “What about you, Eddie?” Buck asks. “You'll be in El Paso. It's not gonna make a difference to our calls if I'm a 24 hour drive away instead of a 12 hour one.” An 8x18 coda and fix-it. Buck and Eddie fight, and make up, and learn to grieve together.
but not too far by jaekyu (Post-S8, PWP | 16K | E): or: Evan Buckley attempts to edge his boyfriend, with varying levels of success.
Home Sweet (almost)Home by rhodeys/ @rhodeys (Post-S9E5: Dia de los Muertos, Pre-Buddie | 4K | G): And, well. It keeps happening. Buck invites: a dinner, a game, a just swing by, man. Eddie dodges: laundry, groceries, whatever comes first before his mouth can betray him by saying I can’t be inside your house.
you're my lucky star by beetlesandstars/ @jothebeetle (Getting Together, PWP | 11K | E): “Eddie. Dude.” That, finally, does the trick. Eddie pulls off with his eyebrows in his hairline. “Dude?” he rasps. “Sorry,” Buck gasps. “I– I’m gonna come, just. Just, it’s not– you don’t want that in your mouth.” Eddie looks… amused, of all things. Relaxed. Wetting his lips, he says, “Why not?” “Uh.” Buck blinks. “It’s– do you?” “Yeah,” Eddie says, unimpressed. “Dude.” * Or: Buck and Eddie go camping. Things spiral from there.
Love Potion No. 9 by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Magic, Getting Together | 6K | G): “Buck, listen to me,” Eddie leans in this time, and blue eyes lock onto him, “This…this isn’t real, what you’re feeling. This isn’t you.” Eddie hates how his voice shakes. Hates how his chest aches as he speaks those words. He’ll worry about that later. “You don’t actually want me. You don’t actually love me.” Buck shakes his head, a set line to his mouth, “No. No. I do. I love you so much, Eddie.” Ridiculously, Eddie wants to cry. To be loved completely and wholly by Buck? It would be a gift. But that won’t happen. “No,” Eddie says quietly, “Buck, you’re under a love potion.”
hallelujah, dude by beetlesandstars/ @jothebeetle (Buddie Roommates, PWP, Getting Together | 4K | E): Or: Buck's really trying to keep it in his pants. Eddie's not exactly keen on letting him do so.
the letter you forgot by beetlesandstars/ @jothebeetle (Getting Together | 2K | T): Or: Eddie finds a letter Buck wrote years ago addressed to his future-self.
Dreadful Need in the Devotee by PhenomenalWoman (Love Confessions, Getting Together | 6K | T): “It wasn’t dumb to look back, it was destined. He loved her so much he was always going to look back. That’s what love does to you,” Buck’s gaze flicks up, and for one time-stopping moment, he meets Eddie’s eyes. Eddie’s heart lurches in his throat, and he thinks he might be sick. “Do you think Eurydice was mad at him?” Chris asks quietly, homework entirely forgotten in light of the story unfolding around him. Buck shrugs, finally dragging his gaze back to Chris. “I don’t know.” Buck says carefully. “Do you think you’d be mad at someone loving you that much?” Eddie wants to be capable of that kind of love so bad – of being loved like that. He wants it so much his teeth ache with the force of it.
red is the colour of blood by jaekyu (Vampire AU, PWP | 9K | E): “You—you saved me,” he says, leaning forward to touch the jut of Buck’s elbow. Buck’s eyes flick to him, fast and predatory, from the corner of his vision. “How did you know where I was?” Buck scoffs. “Because I could smell it on you, Eddie,” he explains. “Three weeks ago you walked into the station smelling like iron and moss. Like wet stone. Humans don’t smell that way on their own.” Humans. Buck says it like he doesn’t count himself among them. What would he call himself, then? Eddie finds himself too nervous to ask. “So you… you followed me?” Buck doesn’t respond, but his gaze remains fixed and pointed, his mouth pressed into a firm line. Finally, after what feels like forever, he says, “you don’t understand what you are.”
Podfic
[Podfic] most of all i get to be in love by Silverkat1620/ @silverkat1620 | fic by hattalove/ @hattalove (Getting Together | 10-20min | T): He'd planned on sleeping some of the day away, right on the couch, just until it was time to pick Christopher up from school. And then he'd gone to drive his parents to the airport, and came back home to music blasting and everything his mother nudged out of place back in order and Buck, halfway through the dining room with an armful of sheets, the whole pile wedged under his chin as he tried to keep it upright. * in which a fitted sheet is a metaphor for love, and eddie is in it.
[PODFIC] Nap Trapped by Cozybrain | fic by paleredheadinascifi (Getting Together | 20-30min | T): “Eddie Diaz,” Buck gasps. “Are you using me for my very soft cardigan?” Eddie chuckles and tells the truth. “You looked so comfy. And I missed you.” Buck sucks in a breath beneath Eddie’s ear. “I missed you, too,” he whispers. “I think I missed you too much,” Eddie admits.
[PODFIC] Waxing Gibbous by Cozybrain (Getting Together | 30-45min | T): Eddie takes care of Buck in big little ways. Buck has questions— the primary one being: are they in love or something?
[Podfic] How to supreme an orange by Cozybrain | fic by paleredheadinascifi (Getting Together | 20-30min | T): Or, Eddie knows his kid, and his kid loves oranges. Buck knows both of them better than Eddie realized. He shows it in various citrus-based ways.
(including some tags provided by authors in lieu of all of them for the sake of space. My apologies if some of these authors have tumblrs I'm not aware of)
He Can Be Very Charming by Amphytrion (@amphytrionwrites) (T, Sam/Jack, semi canon compliant)
Diary of a Cat by samsg1 (T, Sam Carter/Jonas Hansen (not the focus, doesn't last) and Sam Carter & Schrodinger the cat, suprisingly canon compliant for a fic about a cat)
Offspring by TheLionessWrites (E, Sam/Jack, Medical Rape/Non-Con)
Stop the World from Spinning by lemonfluff (@itslemonfluff) (E, Sam/Jack, Twister AU)
Stimulating by Amphytrion (T, Sam/Jack, AU)
The Freshman by NewCrayons (T, Sam/Jack, so much trope, at least 90% fluff)
Knocked Up by Akamaimom (T, married Sam/Jack, humor, romance)
Scent by GWhite (G, Sam/Jack)
Dreamlike by captain_sassy_sock (@captain-sassy-socks) (M, Sam/Jack, fluff, cabin fic)
Coffee and a Snack by lemonfluff (T, Sam/Jack, inspired by He Can Be Very Charming)
Across the Galaxy by TheiraVShade (@theiravshade) (T, Sam/Jack, episode tags)
Flannel Nightgowns and Other Strategic Conundrums by Akamaimom (T, Sam/Jack, newlyweds, humor)
Under Pressure by samsg1 (M, Sam/Jack, heavy angst)
The Teddy Bear by Caladenia (G, Sam/Jack, established relaitonship, fluff)
Overheating by Koken (E, Sam/Jack)
The Fine Print by Nazmuko (T, Sam/Jack, tragedy, finding their way back to each other)
Proper Care and Feeding of Your Astrophysicist by CoraClavia (G, Sam/Jack)
The Hard One by XWingKC (T, Sam & Jack, PTSD)
Christmas at Jack's by GWhite (T, Sam/Jack, family, fluff)
Perfect Strangers by MWard01 (M, Sam/Jack, enemies to loves, PTSD, therapy)
Scar by JX27 (T, Sam/Jack, whump, slow burn, light angst)
Nothing Is Not An Option by captain_sassy_socks (T, Sam/Jack, tag to Threads)
Pete's Parts by GWhite, XWingKC (M, Sam/Pete, Sam/Jack, Whump) (I consider this humor, but it's not tagged as such)
See Them Aliens by outoftheseashesrising (G, Sam/Jack, humor)
Swing and a Miss by Mini_Goat (@jedimastergoat) (T, Sam/Jack, fluff)
Tease(r) or Lure by writingherhope (T, Sam/Jack, AU, sex shop, fishing)
Pretty much anything by Amphytrion, Akamaimom, GWhite, lemonfluff, and captain_sassy_socks and you're good to go.
I also have a collection of Stargate SG-1 (various Sam/Jack, AUs, and fluff) stories on AO3 under Sacastic_Science_Fiction_Writer
On FF.net
superposition of eigenstates by nostalgia (Sam/Jack, whumpy)
Hell Hath No Fury by Strixvaria25 (dark!Sam AU)
Homecomings by Evilgoddss (Fun team rescuing Sam fic)
I am frustrated a little 'cause I needed to wait for my pay to drop in order to buy Sunrise of the Reaping, the last Hunger Games book, so I will only begin to read on monday and I did not manage to avoid a lot of spoilers ^^'
But in other way, being late compared to the others in the fandom will mean for sure that when I'm finished the first batch of new fanfics on ao3 will have dropped for me to read 'cause fanfics' writers are insane/amazing (especially in this fandom).
I know I keep saying this, but my fanfic pins are still on sale!
(what happened was, a LOT of people were disappointed some designs were sold out and so I opened preorders and ordered more of the other designs and- uh - no one bought them LMAO So I ended up with more pins than I started the sale with. Please send help >A<)
Thank you for any shares! I really appreciate it.
With the upcoming tariffs I think this is the last time I am making them so no more preorders this is IT!!! Which is sad... i hate that man...
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.
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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!”
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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.
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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.
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