#who I'm sure totally gets to work

[safyresky]

Scrimbly Jacqueline 13/52: In which Jacqueline impresses the Lady of the Lake and gives her Blacksmith Guardian a heart attack and a HALF.

COMPLETE with SILLY LITTLE DRABBLE BELOW THE CUT :O

Disclaimer: I know nothing about Arthurian Legends. HASHTAG WINGING IT!!!!

-

"What happened to the one in the anvil?!"

"Broke it fairly fast in a duel if you can believe it."

"He BROKE one of my SWORDS?!"

"He did stick it back in the anvil after drawing it out the first time."

"He did WHAT to my SWORD?"

"And then pulled it back out again. After multiple people took a go at it. Merlin was a bit late to the whole affair. Wizards, y'know. Terrible timing."

"In AND out of the anvil?! MULTIPLE TIMES?"

"Deep breaths, Bastion! Red's really not your colour."

The dwarf took a deep breath in; held it. Breathed out. The wind from his exhale ruffled his sooty beard. He frowned to himself; the lines in his forehead creased deeply as he tugged his beard in thought, the gaggle of young magibeans he had taken in running around the shop behind him. Sparks flew as the older ones worked to make various weapons; some worked on aesthetic details, piles of gems and precious stones gently strewn about the benches. Water hissed as weapons were cooled, clanking ringing out from the far recesses of the shop.

"Well Bastion? Up to snuff?"

"We'll get it done. It may take a little bit to forge a fresh one—"

"Not to worry! I came prepared." The woman in front of him grinned. She lifted her hand. Bastion watched, head tilted in interest as her palm glowed turquoise and suddenly, CLANG! CLATTER! A pile of swords appeared out of thin air and landed right on the counter top, water sloshing and spilling off the sides of it.

Bastion gawked.

"You wouldn't believe how many people dump their swords in the lake. Nasty little surprise, having one of these buggers hit you right on the noggin. Enchanted, too, most of them!"

"Most of them?" Bastion picked one up, admiring the craftsmanship and the inlaid gems. "All of them, I'd say! This pile is radiating magic. Between the lot of us and this pile we should have the new piece done to your specifications in, oh, about two weeks? Belinda, what do you think?"

A tall, elvish woman came over, magnifying eyepiece in her eye. She hmm'd, examining the gems inlaid in the sword pile quickly and closely. "Maybe more. Some of these enchantments have worn away completely, and they'll need replacing. We can do that in house, of course, but there are a handful we'll need to procure out of shop. The anti-fatigue one, we'll have to pop over the wall to get. The strengthening one, that'll be in the mountains."

"I can grab that one meself," Bastion volunteered.

"I can send Maggie over the wall. She does well with the fairies here. Hmm. Breathing underwater? Now, that one may be a feat—"

"Oh, not to worry! I took care of that one." Another glowing turquoise hand lifted and a small gem appeared in front of the pair, suspended in a bubble of water. "One of my specialties," the lady teased, winking as the bubble popped. The gem landed in Belinda's hand, the water bubble popping right on Bastion's nose.

He wiped it off, completely unbothered.

"I can procure a seeing stone. That should be simple enough. That just leaves the resistant gems. Most of which we have here...all but the cold resistant one. That'll be off in the far frozen."

Behind the pair, one of the magibeans by the anvil perked up. The Lady of the Lake watched as the girl tilted her head, listening in.

"We can send Tristan—"

"TRISTAN?! NOT TRISTAN!"

Belinda looked amused as the girl—a sprite, the lady noted—ran over to their little group. Bastion looked very, very tired. And perhaps a bit anxious? The girl pushed right through the pair of them, indignant, hands on her hips. "Tristan is STINKY! And ANNOYING! He's not even cold resistant—"

"But he is older and has much more experience with these sorts of environments—"

"HE'S GONNA MELT ALL THE ICE! I won't! I can just waltz right through it! Can't you send me? I wanna go! You know I can do it!"

"I know that if I send you and something happens, your father will kill me right dead! Send me right off to Rosehaven, personally! He's trusted me to take care of you!"

Well this just got interesting, the lady thought to herself, watching in amusement. "Does he usually go around killing people?"

"No. Not that I know of, at least. See, he's in a position of power."

"Oh?"

"One of the Governors back home."

"Oh."

"He won't kill you, honest! He's the nicest person I know! "

"Her mother may, though," Belinda pointed out.

Bastion hummed. "Fair point."

"What? No it's not! She'd be super okay with it and say it was furthering my spritely education—"

"Did someone call for me?!"

"UGH nooooOOOOoo go AWAY TRISTAN!"

"Always a pleasure to interact with you, squirt."

A taller sprite had appeared now, shoving the girl to the side and taking her place between the pair of smiths, armour shiny, surcoat barely creased or smudged or dirty. "Fair Lady of the Lake, I would be HONOURED to fetch this gem for you." He bowed deeply, holding his hands above him and summoning a little flame.

The Lady of the Lake barely repressed her snort in time. The sprite rolled her eyes, a sentiment shared with Belinda. Bastion exhaled loudly through his nose.

"That's enough of that. Up you go. It's off to the far frozen for you. We're out of cold resistant gems and we'll be needing one for the new King's SECOND," he shot an unamused glance the lady's way, "sword."

"I will venture to the far frozen mountains! I'll leave at dawn, after procuring the finest cold resistant clothing and warmest warmly enchanted sword we have here!" He dropped the grandeur, looking giddy and very much like the under two-thousand year old sprite he was. "This'll look great for knights looking for a new squire."

"I'm sure," the Lady of the Lake replied, biting her tongue very, very much.

"It will take me but two weeks time—"

"I could do it in one! DAY even! Not week! Come on, do we really have to send him of all people? Of all SPRITES?!"

"That's enough Jacqueline," Belinda spoke sternly. "Mind our guest."

The girl huffed, blowing an errant curl of off her forehead and stomping away, disappearing into the back recesses of the workshop, mumbling something about elements versus what sounded very much like "a whole ass season".

The Lady snickered to herself.

"So sorry about that. She's a..."

"Piece of work?" Tristan suggested.

"Adventurous sort," Belinda spoke over the young squire, glaring daggers at him.

"It's quite all right. Kids. So! Sword. About a month, then?"

"If you'd like the opal then yes, about a month. If not, two weeks."

"Brilliant! I'll be back in a month. And you can keep whatever swords you don't use. I've no attachment to any of them. Cluttering up the lake and hitting my head and interrupting perfectly relaxing mud soaks," she tsk'd. "I'll be off then!"

And before Tristan could abase himself any further, the Lady of the Lake was out the door and well on her way down the lane.

-

The moment Melusine shut the door behind her, she cackled. What an absolute wanker, that Tristan. She had far more faith in the delightfully outspoken sprite than she did in that sorry slip of a squire.

Sword issue taken care of (both of them, thankfully) she made her way back to her humble abode (lake), thoughts returning to her next task: find who had thrown the last sword into her lake and jinx their arm. Terrible aim for a thousand days, perhaps. Or maybe turn it into something wiggly. Like an eel. Or a tentacle. Somewhere in that wheelhouse, for sure—

"HEY! HEY! LADY OF THE LAKE. YOUR LADY OF THE LAKENESS, THAT IS."

Mel turned abruptly, watching as the sprite from before wriggled her way out of one of the windows and ran towards her, waving her down.

"WAIT UP! PLEASE! DON'T GO BACK TO YOUR LAKE YET I WANNA TALK!"

She fell mid run, flat on her face. Mel winced, about to ask if the sprite was all right when she sprung back up (a chilly wind flitting through the lane way) and continued running, unbothered. She skid to a stop right in front of her, breathing heavily for a moment, her coiled braids swinging, little hairs trying to escape the neat loops.

"Alright?"

"Yeah! Absolutely! Just catching my breath. Hi! Sorry to bug you, um, your lakeyness," the girl bobbed a quick and lazy curtsy.

"Not at all."

"Oh! Good! I thought maybe it would be—I wasn't very polite back there. I usually am! Tristan just bugs me a LOT."

"He's a knob."

The girl grinned, laughing. "RIGHT? And it's very annoying that he gets to go on that fetch quest cuz like, ice and snow is my SPECIALTY. Anyway, I wanted to ask you if Bastion and Belinda gave you an estimate? For time, that is."

"With that sop going on the fetch quest? About a month. I can wait, though! I've tons of other things to do in the meantime. Which is more inconvenient as an arm, do you think—tentacle or an eel?"

The sprite looked thoughtful for a moment. "Eel! Because it has a mind of its own! Harder to control if it doesn't think like you. Unless that's not the aim here?"

"No, it is! It is. Good point about the eel."

"Thanks! I try. Without the cold gem thingy. Did Bastion say how long it'd be?"

"About two weeks."

"Oh! Good! So come back in two weeks and it'll be ready."

Mel quirked an eyebrow. "Really now?"

"Mhmm!" The girl nodded exuberantly, an excited glint in her eyes. "I'm gonna go get the opal."

"Didn't your guardian tell you not to?"

"Mmmmmaybe—"

"I heard him myself."

"—ooookay so YES he did BUT! He is OVERREACTING and Tristan is gonna WALK. I CAN TELEPORT! I CAN POOF IN AND OUT AND BE BACK SO FAST!"

Mel served her with a stern look.

The sprite bristled. "I'll be okay! Really!"

"Now I'm all for giving men like Tristan the old what-for, but Bastion's the best swordsmith around. Not to mention a stand-up magibean. I certainly wouldn't like to see him sent to Rosehaven by your parents should something happen to you."

"Nothing's gonna happen! I've survived WAY worse!"

There was a brief pause; a quick emotion passed over her eyes. But before Mel could discern anything other than she meant it when she said she'd survived worse, it was gone, and the sprite continued as though nothing had happened.

"And my parents won't hurt him, I've been out and about for like three hundred years at this point and they have their hands full with my younger siblings. Even THEY could do a better job than Tristan, and they're not even four HUNDRED yet."

Despite how funny the sprite was being, Mel tried very hard to keep the stern facade. "Have you told Bastion you're going?"

"Would you believe me if I said I did and he was okay with it, totally changed his mind?"

"No."

"Look, your lakeyness—"

"Mel."

"Jacqueline!"

"Charmed."

"Me too! You're like, one of the coolest magibeans around these parts. All of the littler kids are losing it in the back," Jacqueline said, giggling. Mel smiled to herself. "Anyway. Please don't tell him! He'll get all over protective and stuff. Which I appreciate of course," she said, sticking her palms flat in front of her. "I'm really glad he let me apprentice here! And he teaches us all how to use the swords which is great! I'm very thankful. Don't get me wrong. I just...really wanna do this, y'know? And telling him would make it really hard for me to do this."

"Hmm. You're right. Perhaps I should cut out the middle man and go right to your parents myself?"

"Please don't! I really, really wanna do this!"

"Ah, so they would stop you?"

The sprite made an unsure noise, tilting her hand back and forth in front of her. "Fifty-fifty."

"Interesting."

"What?"

"Oh, plenty of things. You think I know your parents?"

She shrugged. "Most people do! It's kinda obvious, actually." she flushed a bit, scratching her head. "Anyway, I really think someone needs to knock Tristan off his high horse, and since I don't have jousting mastery yet or the means to get a lance and corner him, I was thinking that if I showed him up instead, it'd lay him FLAT on his BACK!"

"I admit, that does sound very appealing."

"Really?"

"Oh, absolutely. I deal with his type all the time. They're all knobs, really. It'd be fun to see all those big airs pushed right out of them. Do you think they'd make a rather rude noise as they deflate?"

The sprite giggled. "I hope so!"

"Then it's settled! I'll be back in two weeks time for my sword, complete with cold resistant opal."

"Really?" she brightened. It was rather heartwarming.

"Truly."

"Ah, thank you thank you THANK YOU!" she hopped forward, almost hugging the Lady of the Lake before stopping herself with a sheepish grin. "Sorry." she cleared her throat. "Anyway, I'm gonna head out now. I'll be fast! They won't even know I was gone," she winked. "See you in two weeks?"

"I'll be there bright and early for the sword."

"Yay! Okay! See you then!"

And with a cheeky little salute, the girl continued her run down the laneway, a scabbard on her back bouncing with each footfall.

She's got it, Mel thought to herself, as the delightfully outspoken sprite crested the hill and disappeared in a flurry of light blue sparks and what looked to be an actual flurry of snow.

-

Two weeks later found Melusine at the front counter once more, requesting to see her completed sword from a delightfully confused Bastion.

"I mean, it's done as done gets, but Tristan isn't back from the far frozen just yet so the opal is missing—"

"No it's not! TA-DA!"

Mel grinned to herself as Bastion turned. She could picture the jaw drop when his whole body seemed to sag in shock as he looked at the person who had just spoken up.

It was Jacqueline. She stood in a very wide horse stance, proudly holding up a small opal, maniacal grin on her face.

"You didn't."

"I did! And I did it in a DAY. And nothing happened to me at all! And you didn't even notice I was gone! I came right back nice and safe! And my parents won't be doing a murder because I told them what I did and they were very proud, which is what I THOUGHT and also KNEW would happen!"

"Well done," Belinda pipped up from her workspace. "And I suppose this is the reason why I couldn't find the sword in question amongst the others?"

"I stayed up all night getting it ready so that I could do THIS!" With a flourish, she pulled the sword out from behind her, placed it gently down on the counter top, and placed the opal right into the setting she had carefully carved for it last night.

It slid right in and glowed a brilliant, bright white. Then, the other gems glowed; the entire sword, in fact, was glowing, an iridescent rainbow. It lifted up off the counter, shaking for but a moment before flying into the scabbard when Jacqueline held it out in front of her.

The glow diminished; the smithy grew silent.

"Your sword, your lakeyness," Jacqueline said, bowing down and offering it to her. "It has been a great hONoUr to BEQUEATH to you this BLESS-ED OBJECT, for I journeyed SOOO FAR to procure the far frozen opal IN BUT A DAY FOR YOU! WITH NAUGHT BUT MINE OWN TWO HANDS—"

"That's quite enough, Jacqueline," Belinda interrupted, amused.

"It was good, right? I sounded just like Tristan."

"Well I'm impressed," Mel said, taking the scabbard and throwing it over her shoulders.

"And I am most definitely having a heart attack," Bastion decided, clutching his chest.

Belinda rolled her eyes, placing her eyepiece down and coming around the table. Carefully, she turned Bastion around and sat him down, looking him over. "You'll be fine."

"And what of Tristan?"

"I see his type all the time. He'll be right as rain. Oh, sure, his ego will take a hit and he may bemoan and grovel and do all sorts of silly it's the end nonsense, but he'll bounce back. They always do. We can only hope he'll be a little more subdued." Mel shrugged.

Jacqueline looked delighted. "Then we'll see who the piece of work REALLY IS."

"Should we call him back?"

"Nah. It'll be funnier if we leave him alone and he comes back all like OH! WOE IS ME! I HAVE FAILED YOU! And then DEFLATES! With GAS NOISES!"

"He'll be so upset," Bastion mused.

"Gas noises?" Belinda would regret asking, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah! Y'know, like, PFFFT," Jacqueline blew a very wet raspberry, hopping up and sitting on the counter. "Maybe Mel will come by to ah, soothe his ego?"

"And by soothe you mean—?"

Jacqueline grinned. "Watch him cry like a big baby and die a bit on the inside when he realizes he was bested by THIS GAL!" She hopped up on the counter, pointing at herself with both her thumbs.

"Jolly good! I'll be sure to pop on by in the next fortnight. Now! Bastion! what is it I owe you?"

Still shocked into silence, Bastion barely managed to utter a puff of air. With a sigh, Belinda pat his head and turned to Mel. "Given his present state and the materials you brought for us to use, consider this one on the house. And Mistress Frost? Off the counter, if you please. That's more than enough out of you."

---

My god, that got out of control. Delightful! I'm sure Mel and Jacquie had a ball when Tristan came back as he very much did think he was BESTED by some DEVILISH FOE. And you know what? He wasn't wrong!

Anyway, this SCRIMBLE was requested by @definitelyy-not-a-vampire a haute minute ago:

The drabbley ficlet smile shot thing just. It just. haPPENED. Whoops! Sorry not sorry!

She WAS gonna be scruffy and grubby and full of soot but then when the Lady of the Lake came into play (who in my mind is 100% @kscribbs Melusine of Miller's Law fame), Jacqueline was like "nah. I'm gonna impress the SHIT outta her! >:D"

And that went from IMPRESS to FUCK AROUND WITH AN ABSOLUTE FOP OF A SPRITE WITH HER in like. 100 words while writing the ficlet, lol.

Enjoy! Here's the un-scanned/edited one:

And you bet your ass I have some design notes >:)

I stole a fashion through the ages textbook from the library (and by steal I mean I have renewed it every semester and it has lived on my bookshelf since about 2019) and scoured through the middle ages chapter to figure out this fit

NOBODY TOLD ME IF SURCOTS WERE SHORT OR LONG SO I YOLO'D.

Wanted to throw in some purpleish pink bc I think purple is in Jacquie's palette, she's THAT GOOD at ice >:)

The hair is not short, it is simply in those braided coif. Things???? And it is a MIRACLE they are staying put

This is between 1350-1450 so she's between 1255-1355. IDEAL Gremlin age lmao

I don't have enough experience/markers to make the opal look opal so YOLO lmao

And yes this is uh, up very late lol. BUT YOU CAN SEE TAGS FOR DEETS! AND THIS JUST MEANS DOUBLE SCRIMBLES THIS WEEK LMAO

#dani speaks #HAD IT NOT BEEN FOR MY NEED TO WRITE A LIL ONE SHOTTY THING. THIS WOULD'VE BEEN UP FRIDAY/SAT #BUT ALAS. I NEEDED TO WRITE #and knew FULL WELL i wouldn't get a chance all weekend bc easter #SO ENJOY A DOUBLE SCRIMBLY THIS WEEK LOL #scrimbly jacquelines #crystal springs #cs posting #smile shots #dani writes #long post #i have my april ones lined up and ready to go #and they will warrant far less notes and musings lol #feb was FASHION MONTH. march was CHAR DESIGN month for SURE #april is gonna be a very 'fed up' month re: scrimbly themes #WE HAVE SOME GOODIES #i admit i am torn bc it'd be fun to do an eclipse jacqueline next week! #i'm in the path of totality! #but maybe it'll be a bonus lol #ocs #melusine #miller's law #ANYWAY this is being posted VERY LATE AT NIGHT #i will have to remember to reblog tomorrow at a proper slash decent time #work after a 4 day weekend. haha. ew. i dont WANNA #but who does really? 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

[meownotgood]

I want aki to watch me play video games but he's so inept at everything that he has to ask me the most silly questions about everything

#and then he falls asleep #who wouldn't fall asleep watching league of legends gameplay to be honest.... #I ask him if he likes watching me play and he's like oh yeah yeah sure meanwhile he is literally snoozing #it takes twenty minutes for me to explain to him how the game works #and even after that he still doesn't get it #I let him play and he runs it down #teammates say he's bad #I encourage him by saying no no you did good #(I'm totally lying) #aki <3

[amiharana]

You are not required to answer every ask you get! Dont stress out over them, you should take care of yourself. Best of luck with those classes you've signed up for! I'm sure you'll kill it!

anon i will start crying and melting into the floor. but also thank u. i appreciate it a lot 🥹🤍

#ask #my friends b like You don't have to answer asks right away #meanwhile my brain is just a constant loop of You Have To Work On These Asks. You Have To Work On These Asks. You Have To Work On The #i just feel bad about leaving them unanswered for so long 🥹 #i want to get a good grade in being a revalinker which is a totally normal and healthy thing to want to achieve #I PROMISE. I WILL TAKE CARE OF MYSELF. I'M LOWK IN A DEPRESSIVE EPISODE STILL #but i'm slowly getting better! #AND I AM SLOWLY BUT SURELY WORKING ON AT LEAST ONE ASK ATM! #anyone up for streamer au shenanigans? 😹 this one's for u noraiir. sorry it's taking so long 😞 #who's killing the other first Me or Ochem ☝️🤓

[aeide-thea]

oh right i forgot the real reason i stopped listening to broadway clips was that i've got this whole enormous miserable knot in my chest abt having been too socially anxious to do anything with my once-upon-a-time-very-gorgeous voice once i got spat out of the safe little nest of my high school, and like, most of the time i forget that knot even exists, but when i listen to the sort of music i used to be part of making (proper opera but also showtunes) it's like. this whole fast-forward feelings journey thru 'oh right that didn't actually go away, it's still right there in my throat, just calcified' to 'oh okay we tugged the loose end and it's unraveling and actually it was keeping contained a whole rush of tears like aeolus' bag of winds in the odyssey…'

#like i decline 2 actually cry abt it but. sure am on the verge of it lmao. thick sore throat and all #i always forget that when i'm actually happy i sing to myself. it's been a long time since i did that #i mean also a big problem with voice was like. the gender thing #conveniently being a mezzo is ALSO a gender thing which did more work for me than i realized but #was listening to a jeremy jordan medley ft. on the street where you live from my fair lady and had a sudden flashback #to the year i was like 'what if i sang that for our musical theater showcase' and my voice teacher was like. noooo not a Boy Song 4 Girl U! #but i used to sing that to myself all the time. also‚ hilariously‚ the girl that i marry from annie get yr gun #which is just like. literally i still thought i was a straight girl tho. the sheer level of doublethink this required. #what was happening in my brain. #(i mean obviously what was happening in my brain was that like. i knew the limits of acceptability) #(and so i couldn't know anything else abt myself.) #(like i've said this before but i do strongly wonder what else my brain isn't allowing me to know bc i still live with my dad) #(which is like. SO dumb bc honestly i'm not sure there's anything i could do that he'd kick me out/disown me over) #(certainly not anything sexuality or even gender related idt) #(but it's like. i know where the discomfort line is and emotionally i just. can't bear to exile myself out beyond it!) #(even if my doing so might eventually shift the line out to where it embraced me again!) #(sometimes learning yr own deep unacceptability in childhood 4 adhd reasons) #(and also 'yr mother is so depressed nothing you do will ever please her. have fun trying tho!!' reasons) #(makes you just. totally incapable of deliberately rendering yrself less acceptable as an adult even when it would be good for you) #(anyway like. thinking back to the K in old home videos who was like. confident that they were an engaging delight) #(and like. what a charming jeremy jordan of a performer they could have made.) #(if only my whole upbringing hadn't then happened to me and crushed all the unacceptable self-expression out of me.) #anyway. shh don't look at me it's fine! it's all fine. 🫥🫥🫥 #formative #feelingsblogging

[kingofthewilderwest]

lotr with bluegrass music or instead of a ring gollum has a banjo

Arwen chased by the Nazgul while Foggy Mountain Breakdown blasts in the background (sorry, I don't make the rules, that is *THE* chase song). Haunting high lonesome harmonies instead of the ethereal fantasy vocal music. Ralph Stanley's singing "O Death" or something when Gandalf falls into the deep with the Balrog. Concerning Hobbits is fiddle-based and keeps that lilting folksiness. Hmhm. I was screwing around, but some of this could actually work. ;)

I think I want to use this opportunity to be as obnoxious as possible and assign instruments to the Fellowship. Because the Fellowship of the Ring is a bluegrass band now, right?

------

Sam: Rhythm guitar, because that is the ultimate rhythmic support instrument and Sam is the heart and support of the group

Frodo: Lead vocals and guitar, because the Fellowship focuses around him

Merry: Mandolin. An instrument that can easily shimmer into the spotlight, take the lead, or support in the background.

Pippin: Bass. The instrument that doesn't get as much appreciation as it should and contributes more than non-musicians realize (says the person with heavy pro-Pippin bias <3 ) (yeah yeah yeah bass is a foundation instrument and Pippin isn't the foundation but shhhh)

Aragorn: Fiddle, which has been around forever in the heart of American folk music, the true king of the instruments, around which bluegrass was built (or so Father of Bluegrass Bill Monroe claims)

Legolas: Banjo, because he needs to be as dramatic and fabulous as possible, and even if you're just playing straight chords, banjo sounds so ridiculous people will stare at you

Gimli: Also banjo, first because it's as big and obnoxious as an axe, second because almost no one wants two banjos in a bluegrass band; this gives ample opportunity for him and Legolas to conflict

Boromir: Fiddle, because two fiddles are fantastic in a band, and everyone mourns the loss of its simultaneous leadership and harmony when the second fiddle fades

Gandalf: The manager herding everyone to get from one gig in Town A to another gig in Town B

#what have I done #LOTR #Lord of the Rings #The Lord of the Rings #non-dragons #not sure I LOVE these roles but they're what I came up with while on the work clock #(shhhhhh I'm totally getting work done <.<) #Tolkiendom #Middle Earth #The Fellowship of the Ring #Fellowship of the Ring #too lazy to tag all the chars #my joking around is on the Jackson movie characterizations for any who doth protest #bluegrass #thatbanjobusiness #that banjo business #if I were still in a phase of lots of free time for editing I think I'd be annoying enough to edit some new background music onto clips

[yotd2009]

ok fr last one but there's actually a bootleg of my school's anastasia and i'm linking it bc you all NEED to understand that my infatuation with this one girl's voice which started when i was in the 6th grade and still hasn't really worn off isn't based on nothing

#brielle's the one in the n95 mask (the video is too grainy to actually make out any of the ensemble's faces but she stands out) #and i'm the in my 'teenage tboy's diy first short haircut' era in every scene she's in #apart from everything abt the girl who plays anya. the tea on everyone else is that our director liked the boy who played gleb's voice so #much that she actually lowered some if not all of his parts to be in his range. the guy who played vlad was a total diva and uhm. the phras #'peaked in high school' has been tossed around at him a lot. and the fact that he came back to sub the year after he graduated isn't helpin #his case. also he pressured the girl who played anya's grandmother into wearing old age makeup + spray her hair grey bc he decided he was #going to wear it and since she's supposed to be older than him she had to too and used to waltz into the girls' changing room whenever he #wanted. everyone was like super shocked during auditions though bc we all thought he was a shoe-in for dimitry esp since seniors get #priority casting bc it's their last chance. but at callbacks (we had singing auditions via video and dance auditions in person and callback #were tacked on to the dance auditions) he kinda flubbed his song and then this freshman. who was with us via google meet bc he literally ha #covid at the time absolutely blew him out of the water and i remember walking away w brielle like 'holy shit [first name] [last name] just #lost a part to a freshman' (he's the kind of person you just have to full name otherwise it sounds wrong). that said i do think he made a #much better vlad then he would've made a dimitry and while he is. a lot. he's always been nice to me and i did briefly idolize him and his #stage presence way i did anya's singing voice but that faded when i got into hs and started actually observing his prima donna ways #(the one production we were in together before in middle school we didn't have any scenes together). the girl who played the grandma #actually shouted me out in cast circle and that's the only time that's ever happened to me. also i'm p sure her dad is/was dating someone m #dad and by extension myself work with so that's. Oh My God. like she (the one who works for my dad) brought him w her to a comedy show as i #think her bf but i'm not 100% sure and when he found out what school i went to he mentioned his daughter went there and despite the fact #that i basically have a script for when people ask me that question bc i do NOT pay attention to most of my fellow students and don't know #anyone i was like 'holy shit' bc i actually did. hm what else. the guy who played the tsar and i used to shittalk bad period dramas #backstage during the first part of act 2. also during the press conference scene i need you to picture all the bolshevik soldiers and #romanov royals doing the macarena behind the curtain bc that was absolutely what we were doing back there. speaking of the press conference #the really high singing w/o a clear source was actually anya standing behind the curtain on the other side of the stage bc she's the only #one who physically could sing the part. also in regards to the bolshevik soldiers. we were originally supposed to have wooden rifles but fo #some reason our director took them out so we had to just walk menacingly towards the romanovs. you can't rlly see me that well in that scen #but that jacket would NOT stay closed and for 2/3 performances i had to awkwardly hold it closed the entire time. luckily the one that was #filmed was the one where i was smart enough to bring safety pins and also saved like all of the ballerinas bc their costumes all started #falling apart at once backstage. #romeo.txt #theatreposting

[linagram]

me right after a new milgram song drops trying to assign it to one of my ocs

#spoiler alert: i have. no idea who could get double in s3. #literally no idea. #i'm actually already working on everyone's future covers and i'm like. ASSIGNING EVERYONE THE SAME S1 AND S2 SONGS SURE IS HARD HDJSDKSKSLD #i mean. mayyyyybe. maybe yurika?? she already got meme like it's okay queen i'm sure you'd do great #or mayyyyyybe. maybe shun?... though i am not. sure #OH UH i remember the tags on his t2 vd mentioning a theory about him having did and #honestly? THAT IS LIKE. TOTALLY UP TO INTERPRETATIONGBHFJSKSDKLSD #like. this is so funny to me bc i wrote shun's memory problems based on my own memory problems and was like #“haha he has no specific illness or anything <3” and uh. #if you don't follow my main. uh. the thing is. my therapist is pretty sure i'm a system 😭 #SO YES THIS IS HILARIOUS TO ME IT'S LIKE. SURE I GUESS. I ACCIDENTALLY MADE HIM DID-CODED JSJDKSKDKD #okay okay sorry for rambling!! #📱linagram timeline 📱

[neverendingford]

.

#so I have officially been to a club/bar now #tag talk #it was a country bar which was actually cool cause they played like. actual old country none of the post-9/11 shit #except everything else about it was ugh awful. music too loud drinks FUCKING EXPENSIVE holy shit stay home and drink instead pleaseeee #it was a work thing but none of my coworkers I'm friends with actually knew what they were doing so while I wasn't actual awkward they were #and the thing about social interaction is that if no one knows what they're doing it's not very fun #I grabbed someone and started a pool game because the table was open and both of us were absolute garbage at the game #but I was laughing about it and they were like... apologetic about being bad?? d #I did have the classic experience though where your friends disappear and you end up alone because you don't know where they went #all in all an interesting experience but not one I'm eager to repeat. #I did get invited to someone's Christmas Eve Party though which is cool and they gave me their number to make sure I have the info #so probably worth going just for that I think. got their phone number so we can communicate so that's like. successful social connection. #we're already friendly at work but easier to talk to someone when you're both not busy on the opposite side of the store with customers #anyway. who tf out going to clubs. awful environment. #I was like.. twenty percent of the way to being comfortable going out and dancing but hard to just swallow your hesitation #and a) alcohol as liquid courage is hmm not ideal and b) it was expensive anyway #oh well. it'll take more time to come out of my shell and I'd literally never been to a bar/club before in my life. #so I'll have some patience with myself and not be annoyed with how I could have done better or been more confident. #literally totally new environment. also... country music was nice but not a group of people I could really be comfortable around yaknow? #Lotta old white straight couples dancing the country two-step so I didn't really feel like I fit in. #anyway. interesting experience. neat to have. if I ever have a reason to go to a bar again I'll know more about what to expect #also... no one carded me. no one asked for ID? aren't they supposed to #oh wait. comment about the yodeling cause it was actual old country but they didn't do the voice register changes for it #I was like WAIT ARE THEY GONNA YODEL FOR REAL??? but then he didn't he just jumped intervals without shifting voice. #was a little disappointing but maybe a lot to expect from a random stage show at a bar. #wait wait I'm also proud of myself because the bartender asked open or closed and my mind scrambled for half a second to figure it out #but then I realized it meant open tab or closed tab like ordering more drinks and then paying at the end and so obviously closed #cause I ain't buying more than the one drink holy fuck it was so expensive also they mix them way stronger than I like #I like my drink weak ass and pathetic. alcohol is like spice I like a little to taste but not a lot. complimentary not overpowering #I drank it and then remembered I never ate lunch so I was like fuck and immediately went and ate something (work party so free food)

[anthropwashere]

This is not a stress vent but a petty vent but could it kill my roommates to let me know when they’ll be gone a whole week BEFORE I text them totally unrelated questions?????

#like yeah sure go ahead keep fucking my ex-husband who's actually legally still my husband because we got re-married to buy another house #honestly no longer fussed about that #but like. there was ZERO indication either of you were leaving for a week! #a week! #right after the pipes exploded and the house has all kinds of new damage to deal with! #i literally only know they're gone (together!) to visit ex-hub's family #because i asked him if if i could unplug the heat/vent thing he was using to dry out the kitchen #and because i asked her if should check on her horribly neglected hamster #and after i asked him if she was working or visiting her family too. when he meant HIS family #thursday she said #check on it thursday!!! #that poor little creature lives totally isolated in a spare room nobody enters except to make sure it's still alive #why the fuck did she get a hamster in a house that had 5 cats at the time and now has 6 because she bought another! #i have no goddamn clue what my ex-in-laws thing about me or this new fling who is ELEVEN years younger than ex-husband #apologies to anybody who followed me in-between vent cycles #i'm having a goddamn week

[bluewinnerangel]

Twitter larries are having a “discourse” or whatever its called over the fact that some larries said larries don’t like Chicago cuz they can’t make it about it about larry and then others were like thats not true people just have different music tastes. And i have say i agree I don’t like Chicago, I don’t hate it but its not my favourite. Not because i can’t make it about larry but its just not for me. People need to understand that were here cuz we like their music not just to make their songs or everything they do about each other.

Everything about this is just funny to me. Just a bigass pile of assumptions here.

Anyway track-by-track soon I hope he tells us absolutely nothing about the meaning of any of the songs <3

#I'm just seeing assumptions upon assumptions about others interpretations of someone else's work #because I saw some thread that was a theory about Chicago having to do with larry #so I'm just gonna assume that sparked it all (hey more assumptions!) #which like i totally get it if >the way people word stuff< look like theyre just set out to prove things (such as their own headcanon) #is frustrating and i think we can out those frustrations sure #but instead what i see happen is just people trying to ridicule people who share their wacky lil out there thoughts who they wanna share to #likeminded people. the ridiculing of that is also to find your peers your likeminded bullies and youre trying to say what a song isnt #which. is another interpretation and none of us know and were all wrong always even if we happen to get it right #because we dont know. we dont know them and what theyre about and how deep things run. we cant know. #the fun part is entertaining the thoughts and finding something in someone elses written out thoughts that make you think and see things in #different lights that is a positive thing to me... its about how it makes you feel and what it means to you in the end and i for #one really love it when someone takes their time to share what they see even if im like NOPE ABSOLUTELY NOT theres still something there #that happens in the process that makes me like.. oh i didnt see it in that way now im also seeing it like this and that and yk just thanks

[twpsyn-who]

I watched a few criminal documentaries in the past few weeks and came to the conclusion that it was absurdly easy to get away with murder in 70'/80'. That alone should clear Eddie Munson of any charges because if he killed Chrissy that would be the shitties murder in the history of killing. Even a fourteen years old could do better. This man didn't even hide the goddamn body. He killed in the most obvious place, left the body there and run away..? And he killed her in a way humanly impossible too?? (Excuse me, tell me how you break someone's all bones without using any kind of fucking weapon- because an autopsy would have pointed out that there were no bruises on her body, blunt hits or signs of struggle)

He didn't even put her body in some specific position for people to be like "Hey that looks Satanist. He's 100% in a cult". He let her there for anyone to find.

A true serial killer (cult leader or not) would have at least either hidden the body or did the kill/put the body in a place that wouldn't straight up point to him as a possible suspect man.

#the killing was also similar to the one of the Creel family with the suspect pleaded under insanity. Doesn't that make you wonder???? #anyway the town has no fait in Eddie's abilities to get away with murder when there were so many cases in which many got away with murder #for years #useless they thought he's part of the process church cult thing but that got disestablished in the 70's #that would make sense tho. I could totally see Eddie becoming a murderer for the sake of chaos. Tho that's the only motive I could see #working with him #this is actually a case in which the police didn't even bothered with investigating. they saw Eddie wasn't there and straight up assumed he #was to blame. Excuse you kidnapping is a thing??? Have you thought he could be in danger too?? #I'm sure a good investigation (even a fucking autopsy) would have cleared Eddie without the need of providing that evil wizard that curse #teenagers exists #anyway watch me working on an OC in the Hawkins Police who actually does his job and fights for Eddie's innocence bye #stranger things #stranger things eddie #eddie munson #warning : I still hasn't watched Stranger Things #tw cult #just to be safe #cult mention #in the tags but still

[theheadlessgroom]

https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/713272404010582016/beatingheart-bride-theheadlessgroom

@beatingheart-bride

“Clearly, Gracey and Ghast haven’t spent more than five minutes with her...” Randall grumbled irritably, massaging his temple in a vain effort to ward off the stress headache coming on: La Constance wasn’t much in terms of being a grand singer nor actress, and yet she still somehow managed to con people into believing she was a sweet and lovely woman, and not a temperamental shrew. Even when people saw her throwing her temper tantrum (as the managers had that first day they arrived), they still somehow overlooked the signs she was a rotten handful...

He sighed again, temper still bubbling just below the surface. The managers, were someone to ask them about this completely sound business move (the sarcasm was practically dripping from this line of thought as it crossed his mind), would likely say it was for insurance purposes. Perhaps they believed Emily’s success was a one-off, a lucky fluke, and that she wouldn’t have the ability to sustain a career-she was a little shake-up for the opera house, but the status quo had to be reinstated. The people, they figured, would want Constance, and not a fresh face, no matter how good Emily was-better than the diva, that was for sure. And although he liked to hope that the public would speak with their wallets and refuse to see the show unless Emily was reinstated in her proper role, something told him the box office wouldn’t take much damage if they did...

“Please, Emily, don’t give up,” Randall urged, turning back to face her with solemn eyes. “This is not the end of your career-far from it. You will take the spotlight again.”

I’ll make sure of it, he swore silently, as he very gingerly took Emily’s hand once again, gently patting it in an effort to comfort her. I will make this right, Emily. You won’t have to stay silent for long...

#((it was an accident; the other stagehands suggest he was too busy ogling christine to pay attention to what he was supposed to be doing)) #((and while he doesn't confirm it he doesn't deny it either; which i'm sure erik didn't appreciate much)) #((so between a) eyeing christine; b) drinking on the job; and c) blaming his screw-up on the phantom)) #((it's really no surprise that he's erik's first on-screen victim!)) #((and that's completely fair! it's defidently not gonna be everybody's cup of tea and that's okay!)) #((i think the special effects is super-impressive and superbly handled by kevin yagher; who also worked on the 'child's play' series)) #((having designed the chucky and tiffany dolls across the series; but i digress; i totally get why you'd nope outta there!)) #((it's nasty! it is EASILY the grossest concept for a phantom mask possible; and the movie is NOT shy)) #((about showing you every gruesome little detail; so again; i totally understand why you'd nope outta that!)) #((no shame in bowing out on account of gore-i am a firm believer that horror should be fun and comfortable for everyone)) #((and if gore's not your bag that's a-okay!)) #outofhatboxes #beatingheart-bride #V:Phantasm of the Mansion

[nikatyler]

I am *this* close to doing Ross’s story but without the NSB elements. Aaaand a bunch of other changes. Aaaa

#nika rambles #to name a few. caleb who. i don't know him we have another vampire tho #i'm not sure if i'd make any changes to his parents #(ross's parents i mean. december and kieran) #but december would totally take kieran's surname. so ross's surname would be different too #i think i'd change the way ross and callias met #the older i get the more uncomfortable it makes me #i mean yeah it was just the game being silly but...dunno. i just don't really like it anymore. all things considered #oh. high school ross would need a lot of work #he'd still date a lot but at the end of the day he's just a nerd and a loser (affectionate) #which. i think he's always been. but it didn't come through that much in my gameplay #eh don't mind me i'm just rambling #funny thing is that just a few weeks ago #i was thinking about a storyline for him and *caleb*. in the nsb universe #it would be part of wrapping the whole legacy up. gen 10 and everything #but i'm not sure about it now #but that also has to do with my growing insecurity about using an ea townie like that. idk. i've mentioned it before i think #yeah it's dumb to worry about it i know #insecurities aside i genuinely enjoy callias more though #eh anyway. gonna go to my game and take some pictures and work on some more requests

[bowithoutadaemon]

It's 3:45am. In less than 5 hours my law seminar is starting...

And I can't sleep.

Just checked and apparently you can join the seminar online. So I'm probably gonna do that. Gives me an hour of extra sleep. Or alternatively means I can go to sleep right afterwards.

#bo studies social work #being on public transport while totally sleep deprived is a special kind of nightmare for me #it's kinda like an out of body experience but instead of going somewhere interesting you are floating near yourself #and moving feels like controlling a sort of robot. but instead of sitting at the controls you yell at someone across a field #who has the controls and you are never entirely sure if they heard you right #.... wait that sounds like dissociation doesn't it? hmm #anyhow it's not an enjoyable experience so I'm glad I get to avoid it tomorrow

[iamthepulta]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹!!

‘Relief’ was the wrong word to describe how Westlie felt after a week of living with Lizzie on their own. A weight had been lifted from her chest, but now she was seeing for the first time too. It was like she’d put on magic glasses and the world was suddenly full of roses with thorns. She was still stuck walking through the briars. But she could touch them. She could see them. There was no Arthur trimming off the flowers whenever she got close; no Mary to tease her about every invisible cut and tear. When she scraped a thorn, she bled- and she could feel the pain now, watch the blood run down her arm, feel the determination course through her to reach the rose again. Challenges didn’t seem like they’d be freeing, but she was making the choice to chase them, she was the one in control; the world had moved on from the events of last week and she was left a changed woman in an unfamiliar city; the chains were gone, she was just… Westlie.

The first day of her new job, Westlie woke up, dressed, and started to pull up her hair up from habit when her arms hesitated. There wasn’t a mirror in the little apartment, but she could imagine herself as she stared at the wall: slender, pale, nervous, a curl of red hair over her right cheek; the vest, the skirt, the defiant chin; frightened eyes, sister-less, a guardian, a runaway; free. She wasn’t Westlie from Fairweather anymore and she didn’t want to look it. Free. Westlie’s arms ached a bit, but she didn’t move, just holding the word in her heart.

She was free, wasn’t she? That thing, that word she’d worked to secure for Morgan her whole life- that dream she’d fantasized for Lizzie- she was free to decide whether they should stay or move, free to work for Jamison or any other company, any other goal. She could be a navigator if she wanted. She had the license. She could do it. She could try.

Old-Westlie, the woman in the mirror with the long curls, the hand with the hairpins, with the practiced, ruthless efficiency- that was the person she had been. Westlie made her way over to her carpet bag in a haze. She had a little travel sewing kit with thread scissors. She took them out and raised them to her hair, chopping a curl off at neck length before she could process what she was doing. 

She immediately saw herself in the mirror again, caught in the act, scissors raised like a shield, lop-sided, frightened, new. Like a sculpture she couldn’t see the final form of, even in her mind’s eye. She didn’t want to be the same, but it was terrifying to change. Old-Westlie was a coward, she thought to herself. Old-Westlie might still be with Arthur if she hadn’t run with Lizzie; angry, sulking, bitter, but there. It was Morgan who bought their freedom this time. ... Where was Morgan? Westlie hacked at her hair until it was all the same length and she looked in the imaginary mirror again.

Short, curly, red, pale; brown eyes, chewed lips. … she didn’t feel free now, she just felt… she felt… Not-Westlie, and she didn’t know if that was good, or bad, or wrong, or right, or if she was just a woman trying so hard to grab the roses she saw, she didn’t care how many thorns cut her skin.

Arthur would say she looked unprofessional. Westlie swallowed and tucked a curl behind her ear. Arthur would say she wasn’t worth the work she did. … But Arthur wasn’t here, was he? He was gone and the no-longer heir to Fairweather was left standing in shoes she didn’t know how to fill. She could do it though. Westlie whispered confidence to herself in the imaginary mirror, trying not to think of the shoddy apartment and the stench of honey she’d never be able to get out of her nose. She could do it because she had a new job and a new employer, and she would find Lizzie a new apartment and she was going to make it wonderful because Lizzie should be free. And it started here; it started now, with New-Westlie.

New-Westlie took a breath, softly tapped Lizzie’s nose while she slept in, and stepped out into the musky, London briars to gather some roses.

-=-

Really want to thank you for this one because it kicked my butt into adding to Chapter 17. I’m stuck on getting started, lol. This helped get me into the headspace. :)

#liztlie au #westlie #ask #Loved this! I don't really know how it'll fit into the larger chapter but it's a start. Also I'm sorry if you were hoping for different #characters #Couldn't really get into the headspace of the others at this moment #Jamison would have been interesting #but idk how to work his narrative in #this chapter is technically simple; I just need to introduce Jamison #his goals #show London dissolving into chaos; show westlie and lizzie's new life #show westlie's new job #show Lizzie searching for Morgan #and it's totally achievable all in one chapter lol #maybe I do need to break it down lol #I feel bad that it's not a continuation of Landlady Rowe because Rowe SHOULD get more screentime but that was supposed #to segue into Morgan... doing... something... that Rowe sees #but I'm not sure what that is and if I want it. But it would just be narratively cool and I love the idea that Rowe is just minding her own #business and the Faire sisters are tearing down London in the meantime and Rowe looks at little Lizzie like- Do you want a sweetmeat? #I'm in love with characters who exist as narrative framing #I guess lol

[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.

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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.

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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.

#gay marriage #gay rights #gay history #gay