umm I'm alive I guess

Deoxi // pronouns are weird, she/they is fine // A minor, so please don't be weird :D // Enjoys writing and drawing // Currently fixating on: Life Series and DSMP // AO3 handle: DeoxiTheEclipseWolf222 //

[poetrylesbian]

obviously dietary requirements aren't a joke but my grandma sometimes runs errands for her church and i asked her what she's up to today and she said extremely seriously "ive got to track down the body of the gluten free christ, julia"

[ritavonbees]

this totally scans for a swear intensifier btw. what in the gluten free christ is going on here, Julia

[ideaarts]

Hello fellow v!smp fans! I am still stuck in Oakhurst and am writing a literary analysis of the queer themes in vampires for my final project so I wish to bring it forth what I’ve gathered for discussion:D

Here’s what I’ve got!

Prompt: Pick a text/media object you love (e.g., poem, song, film, tv show) and perform a thorough explication that details how it handles gender or sexuality

Owen-

Loss of a lover

Disease metaphor for being closeted

Disease metaphor for AIDs

Scott-

Likes being a vampire, loves his life, wouldn’t change a thing

“Not all vampires are evil, but some of us do like to be.”

Privileged, openly gay and flirtatious, wants what he wants when he wants it and thinks he deserves to have such

First targets two pathetic men? I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!

Avid-

He hates vampires! HATES THEM!

Vampires took Elle away, because Elle turned into a “vampire” and he had to kill her. Elle was a lesbian

Scott must be a vampire, because humans can’t be that hot, Scott’s evil because he’s making Avid feel not very straight things

I can’t be gay if I’m homophobic ahhh mentality

The moment he becomes a vampire he becomes a rabid simp, man lover

Scratch can also be an AIDS/closet metaphor

Closet:

AIDs:

“You have all the makings of a monster in you”

Shelby-

"Everybody keeps calling me crazy and I'm sick of it!"

"If somebody tries to kill me or any of them again I will kill them first."

"Because we're not a family. You made sure of that."

Very blatant found family metaphor

Apo-

She just wants her girlfriend man

Trans women drafted into the military

Legundo-

Vampires aren’t real

Well now that they are real I can help them be human again

Owen turned me into a vampire

REPLACE VAMPIRE WITH GAY AND HUMAN WITH STRAIGHT!

“Do no harm”

"I DON'T DESERVE ETERNITY!"

Martyn-

Possibility for homophobia existing in this world

Ren’s just your close male friend eh buddy? Even after you died for each other?

The moment he finds out vampires exist he decides they’re disgusting and deserve to be burned alive. Even if some don’t want to be. IEven if they used to be his friends

Cleo is the only exception because of how they handled they’re turning

Symbolic of a violent homophobe

"See you in just a second."

Pyro-

Yearner

"Yes sire,", "you hold no power over me" or "I've proven my loyalty"

Perpetual victim

Czeslaw (how he is interpreted)

Pearl-

Abolish-

Works with good vampires to kill the bad vampires how tf do I make this queer

Ren-

Wtf is his cursed tongue a metaphor for???

Tbh I think Ren just wanted to do a weird accent

Internalized homophobia???

Generational trauma?

Hates vampires bc a witch cursed him = hating trans women bc men suck?? Mayhaps??

Sausage-

Sex addict /silly

Perhaps he falls into the idea of queer paradise (need to look into him more)

Cleo-

Drift-

"I guess it's true that vampires can't see their reflections"

Coward

Running from her case

How do I make

Louis- As a treat

[ideaarts]

Hello fellow v!smp fans! I am still stuck in Oakhurst and am writing a literary analysis of the queer themes in vampires for my final project so I wish to bring it forth what I’ve gathered for discussion:D

Here’s what I’ve got!

Prompt: Pick a text/media object you love (e.g., poem, song, film, tv show) and perform a thorough explication that details how it handles gender or sexuality

Owen-

Loss of a lover

Disease metaphor for being closeted

Disease metaphor for AIDs

Scott-

Likes being a vampire, loves his life, wouldn’t change a thing

“Not all vampires are evil, but some of us do like to be.”

Privileged, openly gay and flirtatious, wants what he wants when he wants it and thinks he deserves to have such

First targets two pathetic men? I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!

Avid-

He hates vampires! HATES THEM!

Vampires took Elle away, because Elle turned into a “vampire” and he had to kill her. Elle was a lesbian

Scott must be a vampire, because humans can’t be that hot, Scott’s evil because he’s making Avid feel not very straight things

I can’t be gay if I’m homophobic ahhh mentality

The moment he becomes a vampire he becomes a rabid simp, man lover

Scratch can also be an AIDS/closet metaphor

Closet:

AIDs:

“You have all the makings of a monster in you”

Shelby-

"Everybody keeps calling me crazy and I'm sick of it!"

"If somebody tries to kill me or any of them again I will kill them first."

"Because we're not a family. You made sure of that."

Very blatant found family metaphor

Apo-

She just wants her girlfriend man

Trans women drafted into the military

Legundo-

Vampires aren’t real

Well now that they are real I can help them be human again

Owen turned me into a vampire

REPLACE VAMPIRE WITH GAY AND HUMAN WITH STRAIGHT!

“Do no harm”

"I DON'T DESERVE ETERNITY!"

Martyn-

Possibility for homophobia existing in this world

Ren’s just your close male friend eh buddy? Even after you died for each other?

The moment he finds out vampires exist he decides they’re disgusting and deserve to be burned alive. Even if some don’t want to be. IEven if they used to be his friends

Cleo is the only exception because of how they handled they’re turning

Symbolic of a violent homophobe

"See you in just a second."

Pyro-

Yearner

"Yes sire,", "you hold no power over me" or "I've proven my loyalty"

Perpetual victim

Czeslaw (how he is interpreted)

Pearl-

Abolish-

Works with good vampires to kill the bad vampires how tf do I make this queer

Ren-

Wtf is his cursed tongue a metaphor for???

Tbh I think Ren just wanted to do a weird accent

Internalized homophobia???

Generational trauma?

Hates vampires bc a witch cursed him = hating trans women bc men suck?? Mayhaps??

Sausage-

Sex addict /silly

Perhaps he falls into the idea of queer paradise (need to look into him more)

Cleo-

Drift-

"I guess it's true that vampires can't see their reflections"

Coward

Running from her case

How do I make

Louis- As a treat

[ideaarts]

Hello fellow v!smp fans! I am still stuck in Oakhurst and am writing a literary analysis of the queer themes in vampires for my final project so I wish to bring it forth what I’ve gathered for discussion:D

Here’s what I’ve got!

Prompt: Pick a text/media object you love (e.g., poem, song, film, tv show) and perform a thorough explication that details how it handles gender or sexuality

Owen-

Loss of a lover

Disease metaphor for being closeted

Disease metaphor for AIDs

Scott-

Likes being a vampire, loves his life, wouldn’t change a thing

“Not all vampires are evil, but some of us do like to be.”

Privileged, openly gay and flirtatious, wants what he wants when he wants it and thinks he deserves to have such

First targets two pathetic men? I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!

Avid-

He hates vampires! HATES THEM!

Vampires took Elle away, because Elle turned into a “vampire” and he had to kill her. Elle was a lesbian

Scott must be a vampire, because humans can’t be that hot, Scott’s evil because he’s making Avid feel not very straight things

I can’t be gay if I’m homophobic ahhh mentality

The moment he becomes a vampire he becomes a rabid simp, man lover

Scratch can also be an AIDS/closet metaphor

Closet:

AIDs:

“You have all the makings of a monster in you”

Shelby-

"Everybody keeps calling me crazy and I'm sick of it!"

"If somebody tries to kill me or any of them again I will kill them first."

"Because we're not a family. You made sure of that."

Very blatant found family metaphor

Apo-

She just wants her girlfriend man

Trans women drafted into the military

Legundo-

Vampires aren’t real

Well now that they are real I can help them be human again

Owen turned me into a vampire

REPLACE VAMPIRE WITH GAY AND HUMAN WITH STRAIGHT!

“Do no harm”

"I DON'T DESERVE ETERNITY!"

Martyn-

Possibility for homophobia existing in this world

Ren’s just your close male friend eh buddy? Even after you died for each other?

The moment he finds out vampires exist he decides they’re disgusting and deserve to be burned alive. Even if some don’t want to be. IEven if they used to be his friends

Cleo is the only exception because of how they handled they’re turning

Symbolic of a violent homophobe

"See you in just a second."

Pyro-

Yearner

"Yes sire,", "you hold no power over me" or "I've proven my loyalty"

Perpetual victim

Czeslaw (how he is interpreted)

Pearl-

Abolish-

Works with good vampires to kill the bad vampires how tf do I make this queer

Ren-

Wtf is his cursed tongue a metaphor for???

Tbh I think Ren just wanted to do a weird accent

Internalized homophobia???

Generational trauma?

Hates vampires bc a witch cursed him = hating trans women bc men suck?? Mayhaps??

Sausage-

Sex addict /silly

Perhaps he falls into the idea of queer paradise (need to look into him more)

Cleo-

Drift-

"I guess it's true that vampires can't see their reflections"

Coward

Running from her case

How do I make

Louis- As a treat

[sharp-tender-shock-deactivated2]

This is a comment someone appended to a photo of two men apparently having sex in a very fancy room, but it’s also kind of an amazing two-line poem? “His Wife has filled his house with chintz” is a really elegant and beautiful counterbalancing of h, f, and s sounds, and “chintz” is a perfect word choice here—sonically pleasing and good at evoking nouveau riche tackiness. And then “to keep it real I fuck him on the floor” collapses that whole mood with short percussive sounds—but it’s still a perfect iambic pentameter line, robust and a lovely obscene contrast with the chintz in the first line. Well done, tumblr user jjbang8

[headspace-hotel]

I hate that my aesthetic sense agrees with this but everything you just said was correct

[headspace-hotel]

I went back to dig up this post because I was thinking about poetry.

This is one of those non-poem things that are among my favorite poems.

As the OP stated, the use of alliterative consonants is aesthetically just great, especially the placement of the strongest use at the end: “fuck him on the floor.” The use of “chintz” is indeed great word choice.

Because I’m insane, decided to scan the poem:

Not only is the second sentence, indeed, perfect iambic pentameter, the entire poem is perfectly metered, though the first sentence has four iambs rather than five.

There are further things I love about this poem, though: I like the casual connotations of “keep it real” juxtaposed with “chintz.” It causes me to interpret the “chintz” more strongly as meaning something fake, a facade. There is also of course the coarseness of “fuck,” which is a contrast with “chintz” but a different kind of contrast, gutsy and carnal where “chintz” is flimsy and inanimate.

And then there is the storytelling: there is SO MUCH storytelling in just these two lines. To break it down: The speaker is having sex with a married man, in the house he shares with his wife, which is “filled with chintz”—something that here connotes fakeness, in contrast with “keep it real.”

The illicit encounter in the poem takes place within a house filled with facade, the flimsy construction of the wife’s marriage and domestic sphere, but the encounter itself is a taste of something “real.” That’s a story, and it’s just two lines.

This is EIGHTEEN SYLLABLES, y’all. The amount of meaning condensed into these eighteen syllables is stunning, and it is so elegantly done.

From a technical standpoint (and ive taken 300- and 400-level poetry classes so I can say this) this is damn near flawless as a poem.

[agent-octopus]

Kept thinking about this ever since I saw it and had to do something

[headspace-hotel]

there's art now

[jetlaggingbehind]

[questions-within-questions]

Ah dang to go further; the floor is framed as a refuge. As if there is literally no other space in this house that hasn't been populated by his wife with flimsy inanimate fakery. There is no space for this man in this house save for the floor. There is no space for him on the sofa, oon the counter tops, and most notably, no space for him in the marital bed.

[normal-horoscopes]

I’d also like to point out the use of the word “has.” The wife has filled the house with chintz. She isn’t filling the house with chintz. She doesn’t fill the house with chintz. She has filled the house with chintz. Use of the past-tense makes the wife a subtly removed element in the story, someone whose presence we see in the environment, but who is blissfully distant during the actors throes of passion. There is an element of physical as well as emotional separation from the wife that is catalyzed by being fucked on the floor. Use of the past tense is an end to the wife presence in the actors life, a carnal catharsis amid cold fragility and emotional distance.

[stargazing-enby]

This is my new favourite post in the world

[astronomical-bagel]

everyone cheer for the one (1) time tumblr had reading comprehension

[trekkiesagainstchastity]

And, predictably, it's because it was about gay sex

[midnights-dragon]

In case anyone is having a bad night

(The best of this post and its reblogs, but with links that work)

Here is a website where you can scroll down to all the different levels of the ocean 

Here is a website where you can see the future of the universe

Here is a website where you can press a ‘make everything okay’ button, over and over, until things really are okay

Here is a website that you can read if you feel like a burden

Here is a website where you can look at strobe illusions (TW strobe/flashing)

Here is a website where you can cut stuff up (TW blood/sh)

Here and here are websites where you can play with sand

Here is a website where you can draw with macaroni and other fun foods

Here is a website where you can paint someone’s nails

Here is a website where you can grow a garden with emojis

Here is a website with hundreds of videos of people hugging you (rightfully dubbed ‘the nicest place on the internet’ because it really is, y’all, it made me cry)

Here is a website that will take you to other useless websites

Here is a website where you can make a tiny cat play bongo drums (and other instruments!)

Here is a website to help give you gentle reminders <3

Here is a website where you can grow a tiny farm

Here is a website where you can take a bunch of scientific personality tests

Here is a website of calm rain noise

Take a breath. It’s going to be okay, I promise.

[windowz97]

girl who sat next to me at the coffee shop had that Tortured By Computer Work look in her eye so i turned to her and was like Are u doing research? and it turns out she (white) just started working as an indigenous liaison for an ecological wellness surveying company (hired bc she worked with the local nation for a year) so i was like OMG can i share resources with you. and whipped out my 1 million notes and academic papers on ethical Indigenous-settler relations/research and Indigenous perspectives on ecological restoration. she was like omg are u sure this is basically a whole course for free and i wanted to tear my shirt off liek YES!!!! I WANT TO PROMOTE LOW BARRIER EDUCATION TO ADVANCE DECOLONIZATION AND RECONCILIATION!!!!!!!!!!! STEP IN2 MY GOOGLE DOC !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[windowz97]

here's a googoodrive folder containing learnings on Experiential Learning in Ecological Restoration annnddd Research Practice in Indigenous Contexts. each course folder contains a "![Course number] Notes" document as well as PDFs of all the text-based readings that the notes draw from :-)

i plan 2 make accessible the learnings from my other classes too but i think ill only have time to do all that anonymizing & reformatting once i graduate in a few months lol

[vampostingtime]

vampires enemy tournament round 1!

cleo v apo OR apo v scott

cleo v apo

apo v scott

Voting ended onApr 2

may the biggest haters win

[attheendhello]

you heard it. reblog if u support yuri

[pluieasteroides]

Hello, hello! I am currently recruiting participants for my Master's Thesis! If you are:

- Between the ages of 16 and 35;

- On the Aromantic and/or Asexual spectrums;

- A MCYT fan;

- And an active participant in MCYT fandoms,

Then you may be eligible to be a participant! If you would like more information on the research study, or if you would like to participate, you can either contact me via DMs/asks or via e-mail ([email protected]), or visit the following Carrd! Make sure to share this research study with all your a-spec friends! ^-^

[chaser]

Boss is asleep, cannot stop me from frogposting

[chaser]

First like and this has already found its intended audience

[chaser]

uh oh

[itsmyturnonthegender]

[therealbeachfox]

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.

[starfieldcanvas]

you want to read this

[chimaerakitten]

I think one of the big strengths of fanfiction as a medium is that it can, on average, assume the reader has a way higher degree of familiarity with canon than like…canon can. If you’re in the Star Wars AO3 tag you probably like Star Wars enough to remember more things about it than the average Star Wars-enjoying-ten-year-old. Which makes it way easier for fanwriter a to get to the juicy stuff and really engage with the worldbuilding or minor characters without having to spell out like. Who Wedge Antilles is for everyone who forgot or never noticed him in the first place. You could write a book about Wedge in the old EU because EU readers could also be assumed to be serious fans, but you can’t make a new canon Disney+ show about him. Those cost money to make and are intended for a broader audience.

And all this means that like. A good fic writer can and often will surpass canon when it comes to like. Thematic resonance and stuff, because they can really dig into something. Star Trek 2009 gave Kirk a new, more generic tragic backstory because it couldn’t expect the average moviegoer to be familiar with Kirk’s old, way more interesting tragic backstory. (Frankly, I’m not sure jj abrams knew about TOS Kirk’s backstory) whereas I have read a LOT of well-written, interesting, deeply resonant fanfic examinations of Tarsus IV, and what it means for Kirk’s character that he’s a genocide survivor. Star Trek 2009 answers the question “why did Kirk cheat on the kobayashi maru?” With “‘cause his dad crashed a spaceship when he was a baby.” A close examination of TOS canon implies the answer is “because he lived through a real-life Kobayashi that did have a win option, but which wasn’t taken.” BUT—and this is significant—even the TOS canon movies can’t really assume knowledge of the full TOS tv show, so that implication is never examined or made explicit. Instead it’s fanfic (and maybe spin off novels? Idk I’ve only read 2 trek books, if there’s one out there that covers this that would be really cool) where we get dives into that thread, where Kirk gets a commendation for original thinking because he can look a testing board in the eye and say “I’ve seen what happens when someone is entrenched in this kind of thinking, and I cannot let it happen to me. I understand the lesson, but it’s not hypothetical anymore and it never will be. I did what I had to do.” And that’s interesting! That’s meaningful! That can’t happen in a summer blockbuster. But it can happen in fic, easily, and that’s a strength of fic, I think.

[jupitermelichios]

I hope you don't mind me adding to this very good post, but in general i think the financial supremecy of movies and (more recently) tv has lead a lot of people to assume that the best stories can be interchanged between mediums. That every book can be adapted into a movie, every light novel into an anime, every movie into a video game etc etc

and that's the same attitude that underlies all the 'the goal of fanfic is to file of the serial numbers and publish it' or 'fanfic isn't real writing because real writing is novels and fanfic is usually structurally so different from a novel' type of takes come from.

this assumption that the medium is largely coincidental to the story being told

when that's just not true.

the very best adaptations always change things, because mediums are not interchangeable, and they fundamentally shape the stories told in them.

there are things you can do in fanfic that are simply not possible in a traditional novel, because you're starting from that possition of love and knowledge, and because you aren't bound by the need to be canon compliant, so you can ask questions like 'if these characters met in other lives, under different circumstances, what would they be like? how different would they be? how much of what makes them them is tied to the circumstances they found themselves in?' or 'what was it like to not be the heroes, to not be actively involved in the cool exciting bits? what was it like to be a minor character, left behind to deal with the consequences' because your audience is already invested, they'll show up for questions like that in a way a movie or novel or tv audience wouldn't.

there are things you can do in a podcast or radio play that are not possible in visual mediums like film or tv, because you're relying on the audiences imagination. there's a reason the best radio comedy tends to be surreal, and the best podcasts tend to be horror, those are both genres that thrive when the audience's imagination is allowed to fill in blanks.

there are things you can do on TV that are not possible in a novel or a movie. the way WandaVision completely changed its visual style with each episode is something that would not work in any other genre, but it's essential to the story. TV usually exists in very defined seasons, but cannot traditionally be consumed all in one go, which is not true of almost any other medium, and that dictates a specific type of pacing. combine that with the fact that it's a visual medium, and you get something like the overarching stories of the 9th Doctor's season of Doctor Who. No other medium could have delivered the resolution to that storyline as effectively.

Video games can force the audience to consider their own part in events. No movie could do what Spec Ops did, when it gives you a button prompt to commit a war crime, and then turns around and asks you why? why did you do that? was it too easy? do you think it felt like this when the US government committed the exact same war crime within living memory? Was it easy then too? A novel or a movie could show you walker doing this terrible thing, but it could never convey the point with the same effective simplicity, and it could never make you the audience feel culpable. only the author is responsible for the actions of the characters in a novel, but in a game, it's the audience who bears that responsibility, and that allows for moral questions other mediums struggle to effectively convey.

Comics can tell stories that take three decades and ten different writers to tell. Movies can use silence more effectively than any other medium because cinemas give you a captive audience and close-ups means you can reliably assume they can see everything that's happening (unlike theatre, which can use silence, but can't assume everyone has a good view). Theatre provides real time audience interactivity and a very special and unique kind of suspension of disbelief. Professional wrestling can tell ongoing stories in real time over years or decades, and walk the line between fiction and reality. Novels can immerse you more fully in one person's view of the world than any other medium (which also allows for information to be hidden from the reader without it feeling cheap the way it can when a movie does the same thing). Live oral storytelling allows the story to be adapted on the fly to fit audience reactions, allows for infinite variations of the same story, because no two tellings will ever be identical.

Fanfic isn't a genre, not really. Fanfic has genres, but it isn't a genre in and of itself. Fanfic is a medium, and like all mediums, it offers storytelling tools that are unique to it, that it does better than any other medium. and as OP pointed out, one of the big ones is that it can assume both familiarity and love from the audience to the characters depicted. We can stray far further afield from where we started in fanfic than the original creator ever could, because our anchors are not the narrative, but the characters.

[milkyway-galaxary]

I transcribed all of V!Apo’s letters from the start of episodes cause I was thinking about how either the letters dont send and cherri for sure thought she was dead, maybe even was told she was MIA, or this is the only context they got

My beloved Cherri,

It’s been a week now since they pulled me away from you, and not a day goes by that I don’t long to reunite. I’ve spent this time hiking to my outpost. The military has lead me to the ruins of Oakhurst. Originally I imagined I was going to be alone for the next 6 months— with what happened in Fernsfield, I couldn’t bear to be responsible for more lives— but by some sort of divine punishment, 13 other people have made these ruins their home. The people here are interesting.

okay im going to be so real with you, theyre crazy. I’m surrounded by fanatics of fiction and the supernatural. They claim stories of man eating vampires to be true. And annoying rich folk use these ruins as some sort of daycare to drop off their children. Like I took this rich boys book as a joke and he drew his sword on me. I was like super strong tho.

The rest of the town seems, composed— Besides the guy writing gay love novels about the rumors (granted hes pretty good at it)— but I made some friends. I even have a roommate, Pyro. We have a pet pig named Truffle. He has this really cool trick where he nods his head repeatedly. I’ll show you when im back.

In all honesty, I’m just waiting for my final tour to be over. I want to spend the rest of my time by your side, watching you sew, while we play boardgames by the fireplace.

I’ll be home soon darling,

I count down the days until we meet again underneath the blossom tree.

~~~

My beloved Cherri,

I write tonights letter to you while overlooking a cliffside. I’m on a secret mission. I’d be lying if I said things were perfect. Being away from you for this long has been, rough. And it doesn’t help that the people here have been less than helpful. I miss the chicken coop, because at least they were easier to wrangle than these stupid townsfolk— I’m calm.

I’m losing it. For some reason they just keep on getting lost in the woods? Like the other day I had the vampire lunatic just run off on me. He could’ve gotten hurt. Now I might’ve almost punched him off a bridge.

Anyways, the vampire rumor has been spreading around like a disease. So, to settle it once and for all, rich boy, the gay novelist, and I have made a pact. We have to believe in the supernatural for the next 48 hours. Im disgusted by what Ive become, a conspiracy theorist. So far our only lead is some weirdo running around the town wearing a skull like a hat. But that only proves that the mushrooms in this forest are really really strong.

I know I’m acting like it’s all bad, but it’s not. I’m enjoying my time here. The town seems like it’s coming together. It feels alive. It’s been, nice, having people around while I’m away from you. But as the days pass by, the path to reuniting with you comes closer.

I’ll be by your side soon enough,

Just in time to share a dance with you at the spring festival.

~~~

My beloved Cherri,

Tonight’s letter will be short. I really hope you’ve been receiving these letters. Ive never really used carrier pigeons before, let alone carrier ravens.

Right, I’ll be truthful. The past couple of days have been, rough. Its been about a month now since I’ve settled down in Oakhurst, and an illness has swept quietly through town. Im dealing with an infection, Its not fatal, but its taking all my strength not to collapse under it. I’m trying my hardest to keep the townsfolk safe. Somehow it continues to spread.

~~~

My beloved Cherri,

Its been hard to write these past few weeks. I apologize. The situation in the town has grown, tense. My time in the military has come to an end and I’m coming home. But there’s a border keeping me trapped here. I’m not even sure if the letters I’ve sent out have made it to you. But that doesn’t matter. I’ll find a way no matter what. Whatever it takes.

Yours,

Apo

[alchemillaatnight]

actually as a woman I still think misandry makes you an unpleasant person and if you’re just out there saying shit like “all men should die” or “men’s mental health doesn’t matter” then you’re the type of person I want nothing to do with. also this is not what feminism is about btw, you’re not being a strong girl boss with this ideology, you’re just a bully

[zombiemollusk]

remember:

-the idea that women are less capable of abuse than men is an extension of the idea that women are weaker than men.

-the refusal to acknowledge men's mental health and emotions as valid things worthy of support comes from the idea that emotions are inherently feminine in nature and having them is, again, a sign of weakness.

-the treatment of men as generic and expendable and women as special contributes to the idea that women should have less representation because we already "have enough" and "don't need more" and we gotta "even the playing field" or some dumb shit, so any need or want for more attention, regardless of reason, is attributed to "pointless attention-seeking".

-all of this puts trans men in an even more uncomfortable position, because either they're made an exception (because they ~aren't really men~ you see) or they're viewed as self-hating misogynists because why else would you "choose" to be the Trash Gender (tm)?

all of these seemingly pro-women anti-men sentiments stem from beliefs produced and enforced by toxic masculinity; as such, misandry is often really just misogyny in disguise.

[zombiemollusk]

adding more onto this:

-the idea that men are inherently terrible only serves to excuse men for being terrible. because, hey, they can't help it, so why bother trying, right? part of holding men accountable for their awful actions is believing they can in fact be better.

-the reason "not all men" is so frustrating to hear is because it's often used in poor faith to derail much needed conversations about toxic masculinity and how it manifests, not because the phrase itself is untrue.

-continuing from the trans men thing, misandry can and does make it harder for trans men to come out, for fear of the aforementioned responses.

-yes, misandry can stem from trauma at the hands of a man. that's understandable, but trauma can reinforce a lot of prejudices, and we all have a responsibility to understand how we come to believe things and mind ourselves accordingly. that doesn't mean you need to hang around men all the time, nor does it mean you're wrong to feel the way you do about what men did to you - it just means recognizing the objective line between fact and feelings, and recognizing that you don't need to conflate the two to validate your feelings. "i am uncomfortable around men because of past experiences shared by a lot of women" is different from "men are all horrible irredeemable pieces of shit and need to die".

[vampiressmpzine]

Apologies for the radio silence, and a happy new year to everyone! Pleased to say contributor applications will be going up on February 2nd, and will be open until the 17th!

[what-even-is-thiss]

I think a lot of writers might benefit from giving themselves permission to get weird with format.

Use second person, drop classic rising action and climax format, write backwards, just sit in a moment, tell all you want and refuse to show, make an entire book that’s just one run on sentence, reject tropes, use all tropes, cliche yourself to death, produce something that’s completely gibberish. Break all the rules of marketability. Become ungovernable.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Write a story that just takes place inside one pathetic little person’s head. Do it. It’s enrichment in your enclosure.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Do the writer’s equivalent of playing with finger paints. Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it

[what-even-is-thiss]

It’s the middle of the night and I should be sleeping but listen. Listen. Just get weird with it. Open your soul up a little bit. Like actually don’t worry about it being palatable. I’m serious. Get weirder. Get weirder right now. I’m demanding that you get weirder right now. It’s not your responsibility to make your reader feel good. It’s your job to make art, goddamnit. Make art. Make weird art. Open up your third eye and eat an entire cheesecake.