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#I've never been so happy to wait and see
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Hi, everyone! I prepared a little something for later since it's Heliosphere's 1st webcomic anniversary! (26 April)
It's the first year from when Heliosphere officially became a webcomic series; and consequently when it started becoming a more serious project! And eventually became this blooming art project we see today.
Again, thanks everyone for the support! I just want you to know that I really appreciate it. Here's to more years to come!
(And keep an eye out for next month! It will be Heliosphere's 10th birthday. Birthday = when Heliosphere was first published to the public back in 2014! It was very different then, with no solid direction, unsystematic research, since it was just something I thought of on a whim. I never took it seriously til now.)
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feroluce · 6 months
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Some off the cuff 1k of Skirk & Tartaglia (skirtaru???) hcs before 4.2 proves me wildly wrong, they are very much a dynamic in process to be changed as we see more of them and as I think and consider them more, but I wanna see them interact so BAD.
Anyway. Tartaglia is an idiot who develops a crush, or at least something like a crush, on anyone who can give him a good fight. Obviously there are plenty of people who can just kick his ass- he's ranked at the bottom of the Harbingers. But they all suck, and there's no passion when they fight! They don't appreciate it the way Tartaglia does! So it's not a good fight and those assholes don't count!
So I think little Tartaglia was doomed the second he saw a very very pretty lady with a very very sharp sword and she immediately beat the shit out of him. Like she awakened something in him right then and there, unfortunately for the rest of the world haha
And then! Not only could she beat him one handed! But she took the time to teach him! And this! This was exactly what Tartaglia had wanted when he ran away from home with nothing but some food and his sword! He'd wanted an adventure! He'd wanted something new and different and wild!
And he can have that now, with Skirk and the Abyss! So his crush could have instantly dissolved right there, but it didn't, because Skirk was weird and interesting and Tartaglia adored that.
((Wheezing imagining Tartaglia trying to show off because he wants to impress his shifu, and she genuinely is impressed because Tartaglia progressed so fast, but then she pops his teenage boy ego with a pin and he deflates sjzjnskdkz))
He develops such an endless amount of respect and admiration for her. He's so happy and so proud of himself when he masters the Foul Legacy, because this was a goal laid by his shifu and hell yeah, he blew it out of the water!! And I'd like to think this was when Skirk said those words in his profile-
"You shall ever be the eye of the storm,"
"And the clashing of steel shall ever accompany you."
"The pitch-black memory of stepping into uttermost darkness,"
"Shall, at last, become the strength by which you will overturn this world."
-with Tartaglia knelt before her and her sword at his cheek, as though she were knighting him. And Tartaglia realizes then that oh. He likes it here. He likes being in the Abyss. He likes being with Skirk. He likes hunting and killing and surviving here in the Abyss with Skirk. Morepesok is and will always be home, but it was stagnant there. Too much of the same. No room for growth.
But the Abyss is boundless possibility to explore in every direction, and Skirk has never flinched away from him even once. Tartaglia can be as violent and bloodthirsty as he wants; Skirk is worse. She gives zero shits. She loves to fight and hunt and kill and make things bleed. Tartaglia is free to explore and revel in all of his worst inclinations and instincts and that is what the Abyss and Skirk become to him. Freedom.
And then he falls out of the Abyss just as suddenly as he had fallen into it. He didn't even get to say goodbye.
And it's not all bad or anything. Tartaglia isn't miserable. He's plenty capable of making his own happiness. He brings his own joy everywhere he goes (derogatory, unfortunate for everyone else ndkdjdjkd) and he genuinely likes being around other people. He would have missed a lot of things if he'd been permanently trapped.
But now there is an itch that he can't scratch. And it's driving him nuts. And he misses Skirk. She was fun to be around. He liked her.
He finds himself seeing things in everyday life and wishing he could show her. He pulls out ingredients in the kitchen for dinner and wants her to eat his special dish and show off how good he can cook. He reads through reports about the Abyss and he never finds what he's looking for (a swordswoman, an entrance, anything-), but he wants to ask her her opinions about them. He sees a really nice sword and wonders if she would like it. Little things.
Tartaglia decides he's going to find her. Even if it's just for a chance to thank her. Even if it takes years, decades. He just wants to see her again.
And then, it finally happens! They really do get to reunite! I have no idea what will happen in the archon quest of course, but like. I really like the idea that after things settle down, Skirk decides to stay for a while. She doesn't really want to live here or anything, but she's curious. She wants to see what Teyvat is like. She especially wants to see Snezhnaya, like Tartaglia used to talk about. And Tartaglia decides to go with her, he's an experienced traveler, a man of the world after all! He'll take her wherever she'd like to go.
And I'd love for them to say goodbye to The Traveler and Paimon and depart from Fontaine on a classic will-they-won't-they sort of vibe, where it's obvious that Tartaglia has Some Feelings about Skirk, but it's not clear how Skirk really feels about him yet. But it's the kind of thing where it's hopeful, and you want to root for the guy to get his love interest haha.
(The Traveler and Paimon bump into them a few months later and Paimon chides Tartaglia because Childe have you seriously not confessed yet the hell have you been doing all this time, which he responds to with hey, Skirk is a classy lady, give me time to do it right! and meanwhile The Traveler can see around Tartaglia to where Skirk is sitting at their campfire, manspreading on a fallen log, eating raw meat with blood on her face and dripping down her arms BNSKXJSMKDMD)
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tswwwit · 2 years
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Are Dipper's successors destined to live in the Mindscape forever? Or can they live with Bill on the mortal realm, just like during Dipper's first life? if there are pics and videos of bill in his human body all over the internet then I'm guessing he's kind of like a celebrity...
They don't have to live in the Mindscape! They, along with current Dipper, get to spend time in reality or in the dream realm depending on what they prefer. Bill's place just has a lot of great amenities and a really kickass bed, so it's a convenient place to crash.
Also, Bill absolutely gets a reputation. You can't have Bill Cipher be in the mortal realm for decades on end without having a considerable number of noteworthy stories, after all.
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mozart-the-meerkitten · 10 months
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me: *moderately excited to finish season 3 of The Mandalorian today*
also me: *vibrating with excitement about getting to start rewatching the 1978 Battlestar Galactica tomorrow*
Like hello, look at this, I found it last week at walmart for 25 dollars, I just looked down and it was there, waiting for me, I’m-
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Okay so quick story here: when I was 13 Battlestar was available on netflix and my mom- who had been a fan of it since it came out in 1978- asked if I wanted to watch it and I was like sure, why not. I’d already seen Star Wars at this point but this was the first sci fi show that I truly connected with and loved. I was obsessed with this show for years. And the funniest thing is that my mom originally watched it when she was 13, the same age I was when she showed it to me! And she also loved it and was obsessed with it then! I just think that’s really neat.
Also I haven’t watched it since I was a teenager and I am so HYPED. I remember bits and pieces of episodes and plotlines and I’m so excited to get to experience them again.
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signalhill-if · 1 year
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Signal Hill Word Count - 01/25/2023
With code: 58,875
Without code: 56,030
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dazais-guardian-angel · 2 months
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went to my first con in 4 years on Friday to meet Kaiji Tang and got a Dazai autograph + video recording of him reading to me. He was the sweetest person (as I knew he would be) and interacting with him was lovely, but also at the same time oh boy it sure was an extremely stressful, ugly wake-up call of what it feels like to live in a world now where everyone around you has blissfully moved on from covid and can enjoy things normally and happily, while you'll forever be trapped in a hellscape of perpetual fear 🫠🫠🫠
#like. to be clear this was the first time i've been literally anywhere but doctor's appointments in 4 years#not just because of the pandemic but because of mental and physical exhaustion#so it was a Big Mistake to go from 0 to 100 and not ease myself into it at all#but at the same time........ it was a fucking hellscape of people. i don't think any kind of buildup could have prepared me for it at all.#it was so much less crowded in 2020 (ironically the very last place i ever went; literally on the BRINK of covid)#and now idk what it's become. a monster con. it was unbelievable.#but i was only there for less than an hour but i was so so so terrified that i very nearly left before even seeing him#i couldn't even fully enjoy meeting him as kind as he was because i was so anxious and distracted#and when i got back to the car i just fucking cried.........#the last five days i've just been sitting in fear waiting to feel Any sort of symptoms#i wore two masks and again was barely there for long but Still#and everyone around me was so chill as if everything was normal and No One was wearing a mask :))))) it's not fucking fair man :)))))#insert the 'they don't know' meme; they don't know how much covid can destroy your body even if you get a 'mild' case#i would never want to be that ignorant even if i wasn't disabled and didn't have reason to worry (but everyone has reason to worry!!!)#but also. ignorance is bliss and it just really fucking sucks man.#it really fucking sucks. why do they get to be happy and enjoying life and not /me?/#why can't i do just ONE thing for myself without having it tainted by anxiety and fear that i'm going to die horribly???#while they get to do fucking EVERYTHING???#if they all just wore masks we could all enjoy ourselves much more comfortably than some of us are now#but no that's too much to ask from people 🙃🙃🙃#shit sucks man. the world sucks. something that should be a happy memory for me was simultaneously the most awful experience#and i don't know how to feel about it now that it's over#he knew that i was afraid and at the end he told me that he hoped to see me again at another event someday#and that made me cry because it felt like dazai telling me to live. and i want to. but i don't know how to when the world is like this now.#i desperately want to be able to see him again someday but right now after how terrifying that was i never want to go to a con ever again..#i wanted to ask him things about the manga and about dazai but i was being rushed and stressed so i couldn't ugh#(and doing that is hard enough anyway cause disability and i have to talk with my phone bahhhh)#at least i was able to give him my note *sigh*
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snowflop · 3 months
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I want to be a hater about the cyl results so I'm making my own post so i can bitch in the tags about it. The tags will get long so the tldr is BOOOO everybody but Alfonse.
#man. MAN!!! after all the hexes and curses I tried to set upon her Bern sure did win huh.#like on the one hand i'm impressed on the other i hate her!! i hate her i hate her and I'm tired of pretending I don't!!#when i was playing 3h i could appreciate her good moments in between being insufferable and i liked her alright. she was fine#but like. we're 5 years out from 3h at this point and i'm just fucking sick of her. i don't understand her lasting popularity. i'm tired#Felix... should have been Sylvain.#i like him fine. he grew on me. but he certainly is not one of my enduring favourites from 3h. he fades into obscurity for me.#that said i don't hate him. i'm happy for his fans. you guys worked hard (clearly) deserved i just#i love 3h!! i do! but like. the accident was 5 years ago it's time to let her go.#and out of all the guys in 3h! if it had to be one of them! him? fr? whatever.#i've just never cared for f!robin. i feel nothing looking at her. less then nothing.#so i guess her winning isn't. bad per say. i guess it's a non issue.#that brings us back to MY MAN!!! ALFONSE!! lets goooooooooo#i'm so happy for him. always really liked Alfonse he's so <3<3#i know i don't post about him that much but#it's just that me and feh itself have a tumultuous relationship so i don't see him as much as i'd like >_>#he's the one i'm going to pick and i'm not going to bother rolling for the others#also the fact we have to wait til the 31st for the full results is agonizing#i wanna know if Rein survived. he didn't make ton 20 but i have to know how bad it is#if it's horrible the reason is obvious. he got an alt the week before cyl#can't imagine that'll put him at the top of anybodies list for needing at alt (except mine lol)#but still. at this point i'm just hoping for top 50 orz#snow blogging
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ladyelainehilfur · 1 year
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hm...ngl, I think a lot of modern popular opinion and trend is pretty degenerative. How is it progress if you're just going backwards?
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mastersoftheair · 6 months
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I’m already thirsty for Buck Egan 😆 he has that swagger 🫡 I don’t want to wait another 2 months! Who are you anticipating to be your favourite?
i wouldn't say i'm "thirsty" for any of the guys lol, but i'm Very eager to see how they portray rosie rosenthal (and rosie's riveters). his life story is incredible! i'm also interested in harry crosby's role, both bc of his memoir ("a wing and a prayer", which is a great read btw) and the fact that he's being portrayed by anthony boyle (i've already seen him in hbo's "the plot against america", which is a Fantastic miniseries, albeit stressful as hell! i really enjoyed his acting in that show, so it was exciting seeing he was also attached to MotA)
the other men i'm looking forward to have Really been influenced by individual actors! as a MotA blog, combing the internet for crumbs of content just to keep the damn thing running, i Cannot Express Enough how much i appreciate the actors who posted stuff that i could work with, wrt semi-regular behind the scenes pics/videos! so, people like luke coughlan, josh bolt, raff law, and luke baker have made me so much more interested in james johnson, pappy lewis, kenneth lemmons, and vern best than i likely would've been otherwise!
so i've got potential favs due to historical and personal reasons lol
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upperranktwo · 1 year
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It's so surrel that Douma is like properly animated and has a voice and everything. I've loved him for so many years and it's just insane how long I waited for all these little moments 🥺
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itsmaxbitch · 2 years
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seeing some controversy over Lando and him racing this weekend. Lando is an adult, he knows when he can and can't race and if he feels up to it then that's his decision. Yes it's Monaco that requires a lot of focus and concentration but he's probably already thought about that. If McLaren think it's too risky for him to race, they won't let him and they will not force him to even if he is still not right and risk his health (andreas literally said this last week).
if Lando chooses to race this weekend which seems likely, don't start screaming and shouting at McLaren because they have probably taken every step necessary to make sure he is okay to race and Lando himself wouldn't risk putting himself or anyone else in danger by racing when he isn't fit enough, especially in monaco. Him potentially not doing media duties (we'll have to see tomorrow what happens there) gives him more time to rest and be ready for the sessions and is probably precautionary to make sure he can take part.
when it comes to the reserve driver scenario, Oscar will not be their first option. Alpine offered him to McLaren but McLaren kindly said thank you and never mentioned it again. they have their own agreement with Mercedes which would be the safest bet but i don't see this being the route this weekend goes.
as a whole, don't think you know more than the doctors that have been keeping an eye on him and most likely cleared him to race. if there was a risk to him taking part this weekend, he wouldn't be allowed in the car ... simple as that.
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therealbeachfox · 3 months
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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.
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harunovella · 3 months
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*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ love language; s.g.
synopsis: when gojo satoru first fell in love with you content: teen gojo era, fem!reader, gojo is head over heels (love at first sight), hopeless!romantic gojo, 1k+ words of gojo just being an absolute fool in love, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: I've been wanting to create a sort of anthology series for some of my favs so here's a test run! I rlly wanna do lil drabbles/oneshots that can both be standalone but also can be read as something continuous revolving around Gojo's story with his soulmate... pls lmk if you'd like to see more of gojo and his mochi (aka you!)
Gojo Satoru didn't entirely know what love was; what with being raised by other people who weren't his actual mother and father, how could he? All he ever knew was a life of being the Honored One, since the day he was born. Nothing but a weapon. Living as the strongest and treated like a god... he never knew what real love felt like. He never knew what it was like to give or receive it. At least, not this way.
Geto Suguru and Ieiri Shoko were his best friends, the closest thing to real family. It wasn't like he didn't have any, at least not while growing up, but were they really family when all they ever did was train him and treat him like the eighth wonder of the world? Unlike everyone else, at least Suguru and Shoko treated him like a human. They loved him for who he was, but didn't hesitate to snap him into place when his ego was too inflated. They were there for him, even when expressing whatever demons that he held within him was hard to manage. If it wasn't for them, he wasn't sure exactly how he'd go about his life. Sure, he'd act like everything was fine and dandy, money could buy him happiness as he had plenty of it... and he was pretty much unstoppable, but the idea of living a life without either of them didn't sit well in his stomach.
So, sure, Satoru did now a bit about love, at least the love he felt for his best friends, but nothing like what he felt in this moment. The moment his eyes first fell on you.
He hadn't a clue as to who you were, only seeing you stroll along the grounds of Jujutsu High with your little uniform. The typical jacket, a skirt beneath, knee high socks, loafers... and your hair in a low ponytail that was held together by an overly large ribbon. Cute was the first thing that came to mind, along with the terrifying sound of his racing heart. Who were you? How come he had never seen you before? Maybe it was because he didn't pay attention to any one else besides a handful of people. He'd be lying if he said he was sure the technical college held more than five students. 
In the midst of sipping away at his little box of strawberry milk, walking alongside Suguru and Shoko, Satoru's eyes had aimlessly wandered along his environment as his two best friends had been discussing evening plans. It wasn't like him to care about what was going on around him, so it was quite the miracle that his eyes were looking anywhere but ahead of him... but, maybe this was destiny.
It felt like the world was suddenly moving slowly around him, rather dramatically like a movie. His lips parted as the tiny straw fell out of it, hidden gaze behind his circular frames becoming exposed as the glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. You looked so graceful, the afternoon sun beaming down on you, your smile as bright as his eyes... he had to have been in love. This had to have been love. What else could it have been? Why else was his heart fluttering so quickly? Why else was he caught in a daze by your beauty? No one else, not a single soul, ever caught his attention this way so you must've been his soulmate.
There was something about you, from your gorgeous hair, to the cute bow, down to the uniform and the way it suited your form to the way you... wait, were you laughing with... Nanami Kento? Gojo's heart stopped as his grip on the milk grew tight, causing the contents to squeeze right out and squirt all over his face.
The sound of laughter caught his attention as he quickly looked at his two best friends, embarrassment filling his face as he looked back at you to see you now looking in his direction. Quickly wiping his face and turning away to scold his best friends, Gojo tossed the now empty carton at Geto. "Shut up!"
"What the hell did you do?" Suguru shook his head, wiping his tears as his shoulders shook with every laugh that rumbled throughout his torso. "Losing your cool over a girl, huh?"
"I said shut up!" Satoru snapped, cheeks burning with heat, embarrassed that he was that obvious.
"Must've struck something in him for him to spill milk all over his face like the doofus he is," Shoko snickered as Suguru went for a high five.
Swatting their hands and glaring at the two, Gojo hissed, "nothing happened, I squeezed too hard."
"Right," the two said in sync before eyeing one another, smirking and stifling a laugh.
Shoving past them as he kept walking ahead, grumbling to himself, Gojo couldn't help but peak over in your direction. You had already turned your attention back to the two on either side of you—Nanami along with Yu Haibara. Since when did they have a friend that was a girl? And when did you appear? He should've known seeing as both were his junior and both trained quite close to Suguru and himself. So you must've been new... He supposed he'd find more out about you, knowing he'd find a way to get under Nanami's skin and get anything out of him. He must've known a lot about you...
Gojo smirked to himself. He'd get his way.
"No," Nanami spoke as he crossed his arms. The confidence in Gojo's face instantly fading away. He didn't even hesitate, cancelling his plans with his best friends to bribe Kento into giving him some information. He swore taking his junior to his favorite bakery would help him out, but, no! Kento, being the wise boy he was, took advantage of Satoru paying for food in a false exchange for information. "I'm not going to be your middle man."
"Why not?!" Gojo whined, throwing himself back in his seat dramatically. "Just one thing! Something! Anything! She's the love of my life!"
Narrowing his eyes as he sipped away at his water, Nanami settled the glass down before crossing his arms once again. "Love of your life? You don't even know her name—"
"Because you won't tell me!" Gojo cried, throwing his head back and stomping his foot as if he was about to throw a tantrum. "Please, please! I beg of you, tell me something about her! Besides her name, what's her favorite color? Maybe her favorite food? Or... or what's her favorite date spot!"
"Satoru, I am not about to ask her what her favorite date spot is," Nanami deadpanned. "I'll give you her name and that's all. Everything else is on you. I'm not going to play matchmaker, let alone, set you up with someone so far out of your league."
Gasping in offense, Gojo clutched his chest. "Out of my league? Sure, she's a pure angel, a real heavenly being, but I like to think I am, too!"
"Egotistical..." Kento mumbled as Gojo frowned. "I'm only telling you one thing to get you off my back. You can't ask me anything ever again in order to get close to her. That's on you."
Pressing his hands together and interlocking his fingers, Gojo gave his best puppy eyes as he jutted out his bottom lip. "Please, I promise to leave you be after!"
"You better," the blond man grumbled before giving his senior your name. "She likes to sit under the cherry blossoms on the eastern side of the campus. If you want to find her and talk to her, she's usually there on her down time." At that, Nanami stood up and tucked his seat back into the table. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped in his tracks, turning to face the white haired young man. "All I ask of you is to be... gentle. She's a nice girl. I don't need you breaking her heart."
Sitting up with confidence as a wide grin took over his face, Satoru nodded with his thumbs up. "Believe me, I wont! I know this is love!" Seeing Nanami roll his eyes before leaving, Gojo happily sighed before looking out the window. Leaning his chin in the palm of his hand, he eyed the cherry blossom that had petals delicately swaying in the wind. "She's my soulmate, I know we are destined to be."
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planetpiastri · 1 month
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pairing: lando norris x fem!australian!reader [no faceclaim] summary: honestly, you kind of expected this part-time gig to just be four days of pure chaos that gave you an excuse to see an f1 race up close. then some guy in the fanzone complimented your shoes, and the rest is history. notes: requested by anon!! this has been sitting in my drafts for aaaaages, sorry love <3 y'all are so brave for putting up with me while i try and remember how tf to write these uhhh yeah this one took a turn hope u like it anyway LMFAO
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liked by oscarpiastri, ynusername, and 13,024 others
ausgp Arriving in style! The lads looked great at the Melbourne Walk today 🤩🤩
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username1 lewis and zhou are absolutely slaying!! and oscar is also there
ynusername oscar i love you but you gotta step up your game mate, i wanna wear your merch so bad but it is UGLY!!
landonorris excuse me ausgp i think my fit was deserving of recognition in this post :(
ausgp Can't compete with the hometown hero 🤷‍♂️ landonorris but daniel isn't in this either ? oscarpiastri You're funny.
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landonorris
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liked by mclaren, ausgp, and 811,364 others
landonorris he shoots, he scores! thanks for such a warm welcome melbourne :)
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oscarpiastri You and I have different definitions of scoring I think
landonorris ever heard of playing the long game? oscarpiastri Nurse he's out again
username2 where's the worker with the shoes i think they're indirecting her
username3 GET THIS MAN THE SHOE LADY'S DIGITS
maxfewtrell Now that's just uncalled for
ausgp Love to see the spirit 😉
username4 aww lando always looks so happy in melbourne, he loves it here :'))
ynusername oh wtf
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liked by ausgp, yourfriend, and others
ynusername busy busy busy day, absolutely buggered, but very excited for tomorrow 😁 (also peep The Shoes on the last slide)
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yourfriend i mean... he's right, they are sick shoes
ynusername you're just saying that cos you made me buy them yourfriend well yes!
username5 omg are u the girl who was working the fanzone today??
ynusername i was one of them!
username6 ok if this is the shoe lady i don't blame lando for staring she's so pretty omg
yourfriend "the shoe lady" ynusername i've been titled?????
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ynusername
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liked by yourfriend, landonorris, and others
ynusername weirdest work day ever (included today's shoes bc apparently it's a thing now)
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yourfriend that wrap was good as hell tho
ynusername deffo the most exciting part of lunch
username7 wait who is this girl and why does lando follow her?
username8 go to lovestruckln on twitter, she has a whole thread about it!
landonorris ...weird in a good way, right?
username9 your lack of rizz is astounding lando username10 bro STAND UP ynusername weird in an interesting way landonorris i'll take that
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landonorris
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liked by ynusername, ausgp, and 1,011,023 others
landonorris melb, you have my ❤️
view all 8,327 comments
username11 SHOE GIRLLLLLL
username12 i hope they never hard launch and he just keeps posting pics of cool sneakers
georgerussell63 You're welcome
charles_leclerc You did it, you crazy son of a bitch ausgp Where's our credit?? georgerussell63 You put the pieces in play, I moved them into checkmate ynusername you threw a shoe at me. calm down. ausgp He what???
username13 bro's collecting aussies like infinity stones
danielricciardo ?? oscarpiastri No ynusername :// landonorris 😁😁
ynusername you're cool ig 🙄
landonorris your swag style and utter disdain for me has captured my heart ynusername oh my god stop i'm blushing
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tagging: @thearchieves @sheridamn @nikfigueiredo @charlig123456789 @ilove-tswizzle @aandreea2005 @sideboobrry @vellicora @eire-the-egg @marymustdie @cocote1410 @taygrls @koalapastries @vroomvroommuppett @nichmeddar @d3kstar @333kiki @ririyulife @resident-swiftie @zimm04 @jupiter-je-taime @ever_bizzare @clemswrld @hollieeelol @leireggsworld @ironmaiden1313 @lunar-racing @lightninginab0ttle @maddie-naps @bwddermilch @pnkwhskyprncss @landossainz @chaotic_version
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request: hiya! i love how funny your smau’s are and i’m begging for an aussie!reader x Lando one. maybe she works for the AusGP and they met in Melbourne? idk -anon
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odinsblog · 10 months
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“One weird, silver lining positive from the WGA's strike has been a sense of calm over a reality that has plagued me with anxiety for years — the fact that despite having a great agent, manager, and lawyer, despite having been in hundreds of rooms with top execs and producers, despite having pitched countless networks, and despite having sold multiple pilots and pitches, I still work in food and bev. For so long, it felt like such an embarrassment in so many ways because it felt like I was the only one who was biding time in between sales with a side hustle. When I would tell people at work that I wrote television, they'd look at me like I had ten heads, or like I was delusional. They couldn't IMAGINE someone who *actually* wrote television would also be asking them what temp they wanted their salmon.
But the reality is, TV money goes fast, especially when it's just a pilot sale. And if shit doesn't get picked up to series, that money only lasts for so long. Being responsible meant swallowing my pride and keeping a job that was more consistent and steady but also gave me the ability to take pitch meetings, to write on my down time, do rewrites, answer e-mails, and take notes calls.
And for so long I thought I was a minority in that regard. Like I had done something wrong to not be successful enough to rely solely on my career as a writer.
Yet the strike has pushed SO many stories to the forefront of writers doing the exact same thing I've done, GOOD writers, great writers, writers who shit I watch all the time, whose names I instantly recognize, whose reputations in this industry precede them. So when the studios leaked that the goal was to bleed writers dry, to make it so we lost our homes, I had to laugh. Writers like me will literally do anything to keep the dream of writing alive. It's in us. It never goes away, no matter how many steaks you server, how many martinis you mix, how many cold calls you make, how many Uber passengers you pick up, how many pizzas you have to deliver. We always always always find a way to make it to that next great hope of a pitch, a sale, a green light.
And that's how you know that the CEOs are so fucking out of touch with reality. With the industry. With the POINT of the industry the point for most (not all, but most) has never been to be filthy rich, or own a yacht, or even have a membership to SoHo house. It's been to make something we love. To see it come to life, and make other people happy, or sad, or angry, or scared. To take this story you have kicking around your head and turn it into some epic journey. To be part of the process of making worlds and characters come to life. To tell stories.
The CEO's point has been to make as much money as humanly possible. And so they think that's all there is motivating writers. it's not. It never has been. Just because those CEO's wouldn't wait tables or mix drinks or drive a Lyft in order to keep a dream going, doesn't mean the rest of us wouldn't. The CEO's don't have a dream, they have a lifestyle. And I promise you a dream is a much better motivator than a yacht or a Porsche.
Try to bleed us dry, guys. Just because you'd let your own dream bleed to death, doesn't mean we would. We will always find a way to keep it alive.”
—Stefanie Williams, a tv writer on strike
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