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#and apparently he's been checking it today
rebeliz7 · 2 days
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Dangerous
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Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff
Request: 32 & 64 prompts for Wanda or Natasha or maybe both😏
32. “If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”
64. “You’re not taking me to bed. ever.” “Who said it had to be on the bed?”
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“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me God.” Natasha threatens you, annoyed and left eye twitching. 
She’s not being serious, at least not entirely, but you still raise your hands in surrender and lean back in your seat. 
However, her eyes stay firmly locked with yours, and you have to smile at how worked up she seems. She rolls her eyes when you smile, just like you were expecting her to, and the meeting moves along. 
You weren’t interrupting her exactly, but it’s become intensely apparent that your presence annoys the hell out of Natasha. Whatever the reason.  
Not that you go out of your way to annoy her, that’s not the case at all. The thing is, and you’ve been aware of this for a while now, you make her nervous. So nervous that she doesn’t know how to deal with you. 
No one else seems to be aware of that little fact, although the entire Avengers Team lives together for the time being. But Natasha knows that you know, which makes her angry. 
Irrationally so, you must say. 
“She’s gonna get you one of these days.” Clint warns you in a low voice. 
“Yeah, but not today.” You joke, and Clint laughs softly to himself. 
“You don’t wanna push Nat. Trust me.” 
“Oh I'm not worried, trust me.”
The meeting ends on a neutral note, since Sam and Bucky lost track of their target on their latest mission. A team needs to fly out to Mexico to lend a hand and things will get a move on again. 
Steve and Clint are going, and so is Shuri. This is not Shuri’s first mission, but you take it upon yourself to get her as ready as she can be before they fly out. 
She’s grown on you, in a 'younger sister' sort of way. You guess it's because she’s younger than you, and so amazingly smart, that her awe for everything you guys do endears her to you greatly. 
“Don’t get killed while I’m gone.” She tells you as you walk her into the hanger, and you’re tempted to laugh. 
“You’re going on a mission with Barton, you’re the one that should be worried. I’ll be fine right here.”
“True, but Natasha is about to kick your ass into a coma if you keep pushing her.” She reminds you, and you huff indignantly. 
“Why does everyone think she can kick my ass that easily?” You ask loudly, just as Clint comes out of the jet with a pointed look. 
“Because she can.” He deadpans. “And she will if you don’t give her some space.”
“I didn’t hear any of that.” You pointendly tell him while Shuri gives you a goodbye hug. “Still trying to process this lack of faith from both of you in my fighting skills.”
“Keep it up.” Clint tells you with another look.
“That’s what she said.” You joke, and you hear Shuri laugh too. Clint chuckles and shakes his head at you, probably thinking that you’re gonna get your ass kicked for real.  
“There’s a kid here!” Steve shouts from the jet, and you run back inside before that lecture reaches your ears.  
When you walk inside the kitchen you find Wanda by the stove, stirring a red sauce and your spirits instantly pique up. 
“Can I have some?” You ask, coming up behind her. She yelps in surprise, and you press a kiss on her cheek. 
“You scared me.” She smiles, her cheeks tainting red at your proximity, and you lean against the counter as she turns off the stove before checking on the pasta. “Can you set the table? This is ready.”
She’s a pro at this, and you can't resist her cooking. 
“It smells really good. My mouth is watering already.” You tell her as you set out two plates, and her cheeks grow redder. 
You smile to yourself, and can’t deny that you’re almost inclined to kiss those cheeks again, but you resist the urge. You and Wanda didn’t exactly date, but you did sleep together a few times, and you thought of asking her out properly, but the timing was never right so nothing real ever came up from it. 
Then she moved on -with Vision of all people- and you moved on too. Not that anyone was supportive when you started dating Emma Frost, and maybe you see their point now. Emma was a wild ride, to say the least. 
Shaking your head to get rid of the memories, you pass Wanda the plates. 
“Can you get another one?” Wanda asks you. 
“This isn’t dinner for two?” You ask as you go to take down another plate, and she shakes her head. 
“Natasha is here too. She went to take a quick shower, so she'll be here any minute.”
You smile to yourself. 
...
Natasha is tempted to bolt the moment she sees you’re going to join them for dinner, and you grin when you meet her eyes. It must be infuriating that you can so easily tell what goes through her mind, when she’s spent her entire life training to be unreadable. 
You know she hates it, and often wonders how you’re capable of doing it. To be quite honest, you have no idea either. You just have this sixth sense when it comes to her, that lets you read her like an open book. 
But, you keep your mouth shut all through dinner. You behave, while Wanda and Natasha chat away. You even get seconds, and fill their glasses with more wine when they get low. 
All in all, you don’t annoy Natasha at all while you eat, and you even offer to clean up while they move to the living room with a second bottle of red to continue their conversation. 
You put the dishes in the dishwasher, wipe down all the surfaces, and when you’re done you take a beer from the fridge with the intention to leave them to it. 
“You can join us.” Natasha calls out, just as you take your first sip. 
“You sure?” You ask her, and she rolls her eyes, her go-to reaction whenever you open your mouth.
“As long as you keep the innuendos to yourself, we’re okay.” She sips her wine delicately then, and you -a mere mortal- become entranced with the shape of her lips, and the sensual way in which she drinks. 
“Sure.” You clear your throat, and drink almost half of your beer in one go. 
You’d be lying if you said that you’ve never thought of Natasha in other, much more naked circumstances, but you’re aware that that is never gonna happen, and you’re okay with it. 
“You’re uncharacteristically quiet.” Wanda notices after a while when she comes back with yet another bottle of red, and another beer for you. 
“I don’t want to annoy the pretty lady over there.” Natasha groans at your response, which only makes you smile. You almost can’t believe how easy it is for her to become agitated in your presence. 
“You gotta try harder than that.” She deadpans, and Wanda takes the seat next to yours instead of sitting in front of you, like she was before she went to the kitchen. 
“I’m not annoying, am I?” You ask Wanda, and she gives you this smile that you immediately feel drawn to. 
You breathe in deeply as she gives you this look that makes hot electricity run through you, and runs her fingers through your hair. You do miss her, especially when she’s looking at you like this and her fingers are in your hair.
“You’re quite charming.” She says, and you think she might reciprocate if you were to kiss her right now. 
“You see?” You look at Natasha, and she rolls her eyes, but not with malice. 
“Maybe I just don’t like you.” She says before sipping her newly refilled glass of wine, and you clutch your chest in mock offense. 
“You wound me.” You scoff while smiling, but deep down you do feel hurt by her words. Not a lot, but still. 
“Natasha likes you.” Wanda tells you then, and you’d think she’s joking if the look on Natasha’s face wasn’t so telling. 
“She does, huh?” You ask, mostly to yourself. 
“I thought there were things we agreed on not sharing with anyone.” Natasha reminds her, and Wanda shrugs lightly, the glass of wine close to her lips as she smiles. 
“What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom?” She asks, and with a start you realize that she’s slightly drunk, and oversharing is -unfortunately- her one obvious tell. 
That’s how everyone found out that you two were sleeping together a while ago, and right now she’s just revealed that she and Natasha are a little more than just friends.
“I swear to God, if you even think of saying anything right now.” Natasha threatens you, and you laugh, your comeback at the tip of your tongue. 
“She likes you too.” Wanda tells Natasha, her finger pointing at you, and you choke on your beer. 
“You’re not seriously trying to play matchmaker here.” Natasha’s grin is otherwise telling of how amused she’s finding this entire exchange. 
“What? It's not like I even had to look inside her head to know that.” Wanda says, and you finally put your beer down after getting your coughing fit under control. “I’m not wrong, am I?” 
She has the audacity to shoot you a smug look, as if she wasn’t throwing you under the bus here.
“Well, no.”
“Great.” Natasha sneers. 
“Okay, now hold on.” You speak up as Wanda laughs, and you take the glass of wine from her hands. She’s had enough to drink. “There are different levels of liking someone.”
“Educate us, please.” Wanda is trying to hold back laughter now, and you really - she’s just - she’s such a little shit.
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly kick Nat out of my bed. But, I’m not interested in anything more than that. No offense.” You add quickly.
“None taken, and you’re not taking me to bed. Ever. So don’t worry about it.” Natasha tells you, and how can you not take that one? Sometimes she just makes it easy for you. 
“Who said it had to be a bed?” You retort and her face turns red, and you’re not sure if she’s about to kick your ass or just shoot you on the spot.
However, you’re not expecting her to walk over, and kiss you dead on the lips. Which is exactly what she does. 
When she pulls back Wanda is laughing, and you’re pretty sure you’re dreaming. 
“Cat got your tongue?” Natasha asks when you finally open your eyes, and you swallow with difficulty. 
Without waiting a beat you pull her back in, kissing her again, a bit more forcefully than she did first, and she kisses you back in earnest. A part of you isn’t sure of what’s happening, but the other part of you is enjoying this turn of events quite a bit. 
“Well, well, well.” You comment when she pulls back, as if she’s finally realized what she was doing. If you’re smiling like a lunatic it’s only because you truly can't help it. 
“Is anyone going to kiss me?” Wanda asks, and you break eye contact with Natasha to look at her. 
“Come here, you needy monster.” You pull her onto your lap, and she straddles you with ease and familiarity. A pretty smile on her pink lips as she cups your face, and you wrap your arms around her waist. 
Kissing Wanda is still heaven. You’re once again submerged in her world, and you still find it incredibly addictive. She bites your bottom lip softly as she rocks her hips forward to meet yours, and you can’t help but let your hands wander. 
Grabbing a handful of her ass you pull her closer to you as she deepens your kiss, and you can taste the red wine on her tongue. Her breath is hot as she breathes heavily into your mouth, and your mind becomes fuzzy with want.
“Such a good kisser.” Wanda says against your lips, and you smile sweetly. She’s so adorable, especially from this angle, and the way she scrunches up her nose makes you want to kiss all over her face. 
“Better than me?” Natasha asks, and to your surprise you turn your head to find her sitting right next to you. 
“I’m not sure.” Wanda says with a false thoughtful look, and hidden smile. 
Natasha doesn’t give her a verbal answer, instead you watch the redhead grab Wanda by the neck, and pull her down for an intense kiss that has Wanda moaning in a matter of seconds. 
You watch them kiss while holding Wanda’s hand, and your throat dries up. You watch, and realize that this is actually happening. You watch until you can’t anymore. 
Grabbing a hold of Wanda’s arm you pull her back to you, and kiss her hungrily. She’s still moaning, her hands now desperately pulling off your shirt, as you do the same with her sweater. 
You hear Natasha softly chuckling next to you, but you’re already too wrapped up in everything that Wanda is to care about the world, let alone Natasha’s smug laughter. 
“I’ve missed your lips,” Wanda says as she pulls back slightly, a tipsy smile on her extremely kissable lips. 
You smile while your hands squeeze her bare waist, and you don't hold back from kissing her again. You’ve missed her lips too, and you hope she can read between the lines. 
Her hands in your hair pull back lightly, exposing your neck as she moves to place heady kisses all over it. You’re breathing rapidly now, your hands massaging her breasts, as she licks a path up your throat, still pulling on your hair. 
“Kinda feeling left out here.” Natasha’s voice breaks through the fog in your mind, and Wanda sits back on your lap, as she tries to get her breathing under control. 
“I’m not sure of what's happening exactly.” Wanda says as you inch closer to her. Your hands are still on her, touching every inch of her exposed skin as you can, while she combs back your hair. You kiss her upper breast, careful not to leave any hickies, despite desperately wanting to. 
She gasps, and you look up to kiss her lips, focusing on pinching her nipples now as she rocks her hips forward. 
“You want to stop?” You ask after pulling back only the necessary amount to be able to ask her that. 
“No.” She shakes her head, her hand gently caressing your cheek as she looks into your eyes. “I think I want you both.”
Instinctively you look towards Natasha, who is still holding her glass of wine, and sipping the red liquid delicately as she observes the two of you. 
“Do you - ” Wanda grabs your chin, making you look at her. “Do you want me?” She asks, and you move to pull her ever closer to you. As if that’s possible.  
“Always.” You nod quickly, and as you kiss the corner of her lips she turns to look at Natasha with the same question. 
“You don’t ever have to worry about that.” You hear Natasha say, but you refuse to stop kissing every single inch of her skin to look. 
“I don’t?” Wanda asks breathlessly, your mouth doing wonders on her neck, while your hands reacquainted themselves with the rest of her body. 
“You don’t.” Natasha says, and she sounds much closer now. Her voice is more sultry than you've ever heard it before, and you pull back, if only to see the look on her face. 
You watch her take Wanda’s outstretched hand as she stands, and pulls Wanda on her feet as well. You swallow with difficulty as you watch her kiss Wanda softly, lips merely ghosting over each other. 
However fleeting the kiss though, you see Wanda’s legs quiver and Natasha’s arm wrapping around her waist to keep her upright. 
“Bedroom?” She asks her with the confidence of someone who already knows the answer, and Wanda nods, as if in a daze. 
You watch them walk away, and you try to calm your racing heart, but it’s difficult when Wanda turns to you from the hallway. 
“You coming?” She asks you, and you’re pretty sure that your brain short circuits. 
You stand up, picking up your unfinished beer, and down it in one go before you nod, and walk towards her. 
“That's what she said.” You stupidly joke, and Natasha rolls her eyes expectedly, but now you see that the edge in her eyes isn’t entirely hate. 
“Incorrigible.” Wanda smiles as she grabs your hand, and pulls enough for you to fall into step next to her. 
“You’re dangerous.” You murmur close to her ear as you wrap your arms around her from behind, and she throws you a side glance, feigning innocence. 
“I have no idea what you mean.” She says, and Natasha chuckles lightly as she unlocks the door to her bedroom. 
“Sure you don’t.” She says as she pulls Wanda in for a demanding kiss, and you close the door behind you. 
Well, you think to yourself, Natasha might actually end up killing you after all, but at least it’ll be pleasurable for the both of you. 
...
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Could you do a Pierre blurb where he and the reader takes the kids to Japanese GP aka Yuki's home race and after the race, Pierre takes them to congratulate their favorite uncle
"C'mon, let's all sit here so we can watch papa", you ushered the kids to sit in the chairs, helping Élodie up since she seemed to struggle the most on her own, "here, princess - good, good", you mumbled before sitting yourself, kissing Celeste's head as she snuggled herself on your chest.
The race went underway as the kids paid attention to the cars on the screen, clapping and cheering for Pierre when he came into the pits.
"Is papa meeting us here?", Alexandre asked as he took off his headphones and set them in their place, helping his siblings with theirs as well.
"Yes, he is, he should be driving here now", you looked out, brushing their hairs that got messy from the headpieces, "he said something about going to meet uncle Yuki since we didn't catch him yesterday", you offered.
Yesterday, Pierre had stayed at the track for as long as he could finishing up on some data analysis, so you and the kids went back to the hotel and apparently, Yuki had stopped by looking for you.
"Mes amours!", Pierre called as he stepped inside the garage, hugging your kids after he spoke to a few of the team members before settling next to you, kissing your lips and stroking Celeste's cheek as she lookednup at him with a gummy smile.
"Are we going to see Yuki?", Élodie asked as she kept hugging her father's leg.
"Yes, I just need to check when he has time for usn- I need to change and then go back for media duties, but then I'll get you guys and we can go over to his garage, okay?", he smiled.
A couple of hours later, the Gaslys walked down the pitlane and entered the garage Pierre used to call his own, greeting everyone who was busy packing and tidying before they found the japanese driver, "Yuki!", the kids yelled.
"Hey guys!", Yuki said as the kids ran to hug him, Celeste making grabby hands at him prompting him to hold her on his hip.
"Congratulations!", Louis spoke as Yuki ruffled his hair, "you drove really well today!".
"Thanks buddy - have you been giving your parents some trouble or have you been good kids?", he wondered.
"They've been good, managed to stay in the same place for the whole race, have been listening to me the whole weekend, Pierre put them to sleep yesterday without a fight", you nodded.
"Well, then the present I have for you is well deserved", he smiled, "my parents have then though, so would you like to follow me?", he suggested as the kids squealed, following him into his driver's room.
(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)
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Prompts 8 and 14 with Poly lost boys? (If not Poly, I’ll be good with any of them-)
8. Quiet, she has just fallen asleep!
14. Are you alright?
Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you like this!💜
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The house was quiet. Maria had gone off to work at the videostore, and Shelly had gone out to meet with her boyfriend Greg. Normally, I would have put some music on, doing some chores or making some art now that they were gone. But not today. I woke up feeling off. I had hoped that after some breakfast and some coffee, it would be over, but alas, it only got worse. So that's why I found myself lying on the couch, with the remote control of the telly in my hand. I still hadn't put it on, knowing that the sound - no matter how soft it could be - would only worsen the headache I had.
I closed my eyes as I felt another pang of pain flashing through my head. The headache had been there all day, but now it was slowly but surely turning into a splitting headache. I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer and made my way to the kitchen. Somewhere, in one of the cabinets, I was certain I'd have a package with aspirin. I sighed as I entered the kitchen, seeing the dirty dishes piling out of the sink. The remains of our lunch were lying on the kitchen island. It was a mess. Normally, I wouldn't mind cleaning it up, but now, the thought alone made me want to cry. God, I felt sick.
I opened the cupboard, realising that the package I had had been used up by my housemates. The only thing left of it was the empty box. I sighed as I threw it in the bin, deciding that I'd have to go to the drugstore. I got dressed in some comfortable yet more appropriate clothing - I didn't want to go outside in my pyjamas - and put my shoes on. After locating my keys on the dining room table, I headed outside - only to return to put a jacket on. It was surprisingly cold outside.
As I walked down the street, I was a little relieved to realise that the sun was setting already. It meant that my boyfriends would be going to the boardwalk soon. As much as the idea of being in a brightly lit, loud space didn't appeal to me, the idea of being with them and near them did.
The door to the drugstore opened with a soft tinkle as I pushed it open, the bell above the door signalling my presence. It was quiet inside, the only other customer an old lady. I greeted her quietly before searching the aisles for what I needed. I didn't pay attention when I heard the bell ring, nor did I pay attention to the space around me. So, when I found the brand I needed, and made a move to grab it, I bumped into someone.
"Oh my god, I'm so-"
"Shit, you look like shit babe!" I looked up and saw that I had bumped into Marko. I gave him a watery smile.
"I kind of feel like it, I think it hay-fever or something."
Marko nodded, his hand resting on my forehead to check my temperature. "I think it's a bit more than that."
"Fever?"
"Yeah, a bit. Come on," he took the medicine I wanted and walked towards the checkout. "You're staying with us tonight."
"Weren't you going to the boardwalk?"
"You're more important. Santa Carla won't forget who owns the place if we don't show up one night."
I nodded, taking a deep breath. It was suddenly really warm inside. "What were you doing here?"
"Paul's been complaining about a lack of liquorice in the cave."
"He really likes that stuff?"
"Apparently. We can't all be perfect," he paid for the liquorice and the aspirin, also asking for a bottle of water. He grabbed our stuff, opening the door for me. Once we were outside, I stopped walking for a moment, taking some deep breaths.
"Are you alright?"
I shook my head slightly. " 'm feeling a little faint."
"Go and sit down, alright?" He handed me the bottle of water and the aspirin. "Have you eaten today?"
I shrugged as I took a sip. "Wasn't hungry."
"You actually got the liquorice!" I looked up as I saw Paul appearing out of thin air in front of me. "And you got our gir- Jesus, you look like shit."
I nodded, feeling a little less faint than before. I heard the loud rumble of motorcycles, and I knew that Dwayne and David were also here now. I looked up, smiling tiredly as David walked towards me.
"Hey."
"Hey darlin'," he helped me stand up, looking me over as I did. I felt myself tremble a little. Maybe Marko was right, and this was more than allergies. "Let's get you home. Do you think you can hold on?"
I nodded, climbing on the back of his bike, and holding on to him tightly.
"We need some food, see if there's a store open so you can get her some fruit and bread and such."
"Sure thing. Is there anything you'd like?" Paul looked at me, and I shook my head. He nodded, kissing me softly on my forehead before driving off. Marko handed Dwayne the stuff we'd just bought, saying he'd be home shortly. He had to feed. Dwayne drove next to us, both David and him driving slower than usual. I was glad they did, mainly because their usual driving style was close to nauseating. Besides, with them driving slower, the chances of me gliding off were slimmer. I closed my eyes for a bit, a sudden tiredness overwhelming me.
"Don't fall asleep, love."
" 'm not." I mumbled, holding on a little tighter.
"We're almost home, then you can sleep all you want."
Dwayne was true to his word. Less than five minutes later, we stopped at the edge of the cliff leading towards the cave. Without a word, Dwayne lifted me up, carrying me in his arms down the stairs and into the lobby of the sunken hotel.
"Couch or bed?"
"Couch," I said softly, trying to stiffle a yawn, "Don't want to be alone."
"Alright, love."
He carefully laid me down on the couch, taking some pillows from Star's bed to make sure I was comfortable. David brought me the blanket I normally used while staying here, a thick and soft fabric covering the whole thing. I mumbled a soft thank you.
"How long have you been feeling sick?" David asked, crouching down next to me, brushing some hair out of my face.
"Since this morning."
"It's probably just a cold or a flu. Is the aspirin helping?"
"A little, I guess?"
He gave me a soft smile, getting up. I closed my eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness before sleep finally came.
I don't know how much time passed before I woke up, but when I did, I could hear an annoyed Dwayne hiss something at Paul and Marko.
"Quiet, she has just fallen asleep!"
"Ah shit, sorry, babe!" Paul whisper yelled at me, causing me to sleepily open my eyes.
" 's okay," I nodded, looking at them.
"I know you said you didn't want anything from the store, but I also brought you some cookies and chocolate."
I smiled tiredly, wincing as I felt my headache return. "Thank you, hon."
"If you're not feeling better tomorrow, we could give you some blood to speed up the healing process?" Marko offered. I bit my lip, not knowing whether I'd like that or not. I did feel sick, but to drink blood? "Just think about it, alright?"
"Yeah."
He smiled before looking outside. The sky was turning a bright red. He went to the back of the cave, climbing through the liftshaft. Dwayne and Paul followed. I pulled my blanket closer against me, curling up, when I felt a pair of arms lifting me up.
"Hm?"
"We're staying with you today, sweetheart."
" 's nice," I mumbled sleepily, already dosing off as he brought me to the bedroom. I was asleep before I even hit the pillow, my boys surrounding me, making sure I'd be okay.
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artsy-hobbitses · 2 days
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Just finished watching X-Men 97 Ep 7 (I love having a series to look forward to on a weekly basis again! Excited to get a good dinner and sit down for half and hour of getting WHIPLASHED by all the new reveals and emotions. It's such a nice thing to look forward to inthe mid-week slog as well)!!!
Thoughts and spoilers below!
They REALLY went all out with Gambit's funeral, and it was nice seeing Nightcrawler carrying out priest rites for the brother-in-law he could have had. Jubilee's anguished anger at Rogue not being there HURT
Holy shit ROGUE. VERY Rogue-centric episode, and it's pain pain PAIN evbery other minute. Her absolute disdain for Captain America not wanting her to be on his team to check out Gyrich because of the tense situation/'optics' is 100% understandable, I stand by women's rights and Rogue's Wrongs in this case. Also her backhanding him with the "America's Top Cop" label, she taking no prisoners this week.
Beast gently but sternly calling out Trish the reporter about how 'tolerance' simply isn't enough anymore and it was a low bar to set for mutant-human relations to begin with, and how he's aghast at the idea of having to give a calming/professional sound byte or something to try and quell mutant protests and demonstrations worldwide after what happened, after MILLIONS OF THEM DIED is. Very relevant. To certain current events. He's been trying SO HARD to be the sweet, professional one, but he is tired and he is sad and he doesn't have it in him to ask for the bare minimum anymore or tell his people they don't have the right to feel the way they do.
We get Diamond Emma! No clue as to whether the massacre has changed her outlook on life since her appearance was during a brief rescue moment where Cyclop's hopes that Madelyne could have survived (Jean said she could feel a telepath under all the rubble) got crushed, but hopefully that'll be answered in the next ep!
Sunspot finally coming clean to his mum about him being a mutant! She seems like a very sweet lady who clearly loves him and takes it VERY WELL, but immediately she's like "Our family is established and in the spotlight, your father's business can't afford this sort of publicity. The world won't accept you, especially given what happened, so we have to find a way to hide this from the public, and that includes cultivating a list of people you can associate with". Which feels like it could be relevant to today's queer acceptance where it's like "On a personal basis I love you and accept you for who you are, BUT..." as an evolution from the X-Men movie's "Have you ever tried... not being a mutant?"
There is a LOT of talk about 'optics' in this episode, which feels VERY TIMELY. And VERY POINTED. How President Kelly apparently wants to send aid to Genosha, but doesn't do it to the fullest extent because he's worried about the political optics from 'normal humans' who are now afraid of an all out human-mutant war, and argues that he's doing his best here and that he needs suppport to stay in office to ensure a 'worse' person for mutant advocacy doesn't step in (I'm not going to lie. Very Democrat argument for why their man should stay in office---look at the boogieman who might be there if they aren't, instead of dealing with issues head-on) . And Cyclops's civil but seething rage at that because this is NOT a time for subtleties or politicking MILLIONS OF MY PEOPLE ARE DEAD.
Nightcrawler comforting Rogue and letting her just bawl openly in his arms during Day of the Dead ;; My heart.
Rogue kills a man. Or, helps him to his death, I'm not sure how you categorize this when Trask was already attempting to jump off a building out of guilt anyway, and she stepped in to stop him, only to let go when he said he had no other info for her (she had initially told him to help them to redeem himself). Again, 100% understandable, I support Rogue's Wrongs, and I LOVE how dark they're taking this, watching our girl step closer and closer to the abyss from her rage and grief and just plunging into it. Also her screaming that Trask deserved it for killing a great man, "MY MAN!!!!!". Whoof.
KNEW Mags wasn't dead. Going to be fun seeing WHAT Bastion plans to do with him now.
Again, STELLAR episode, a good 9/10 from me!
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hils79 · 1 month
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I’ve never heard of this group but I love them now based purely on this video
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omarwolaeth · 19 days
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Actually, on a similar note to last post (abt ritual au stuff), it actually made me look into bracelet girl ace monster design a bit. Specifically around their faces.
The bracelet girl's ace monsters have a single unifying feature: empty eyes. They have eyes, sure, but they're a single colour with no defined iris or pupil - they look distant and out of place in comparison to the other monsters of their archetypes... well, they mostly have this trait.
And I'd argue its Natural Energy related (rambling below the cut)
Melodious is a little bit outlying here, all things considered - Both Mozarta and Bloom Diva are ace monsters, and both have empty eyes, so they don't look hugely out of place given each other's existences.
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The same occurs with Windwitch - Winter Bell - even if half of the Windwitches don't even have eyes to contrast them. Fusion monster Crystal Bell is a recoloured Diamond Bell with some changed design elements, but needs Winter Bell as her named fusion material (Diamond Bell not showing up in anime at all does not help), and has the same eyes as Winter Bell.
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The phenomenon appears most obvious in Lunalight. Any Lunalight with visible eyes have more human looking eyes than Cat Dancer, of whom just has blank yellow eyes. (Leo added for reference on this, and also because of Duel Links.)
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Its this same phenomenon that breaks as soon as Lyrilusc is brought up. Assembled Nightingale is the only extra deck Xyz Lyrilusc we see Ruri use, which is pretty fair to her considering it can close out games on its own effects (add Wagtail to her collection of overlay units and watch your opponent squirm),
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but then... we have Independent Nightingale. Not by choice, granted; Independent is one of the two Parasite Fusioner-made monsters alongside Crystal Bell, and- and what's this?
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So- So Independent Nightingale has the empty eyes, but not Assembled? And I did double check the other Xyz 'luscs, and lo-and-behold; it really is only Independent (who, now I'm looking at her, I realise her wings have talons on the ends.)
Anyway. Now we've gone through the ace monsters shown in anime (and at least one that wasn't but was very related), what would this have to do with the Natural Energies?
I have to talk about the girls super briefly for that. In order shown in the post; we have Hiiragi Yuzu (Flowers/Melodious), Rin (Winds/Windwitch), Serena (Moon/Lunalight), and Kurosaki Ruri (Birds/Lyrilusc). Each of them were made by dividing Akaba Ray up like Zarc was; divided by a Natural Energy interacting with the dragon it counters.
All of Zarc's Dragons have the same empty eyes trait as all of the above monsters (minus Assembled) - again, same order as above;
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Which, if we take these things into account, imply the empty eyes should be dragon eyes instead (through influence of the Natural Energies). This, also then, implies that Lyrilusc might not be crafted to suit each bracelet girl as closely as the others seemingly were (I'm staring directly at Rin with regards to this), assuming the Natural Energies crafted monsters in their images.
But, Lyrilusc aren't the only birds Ruri theoretically has. Through Kurosaki Shun, who is her brother, we have Raidraptors. And we know he learned Lyrilusc to teach it to Ruri, so assumedly it fills the bracelet girl equivalent of Performapal existing before its Yuboy does? I think it'd be neat if it turned out she did know how to play Raidraptor (to everyone's surprise or not.)
By virtue of being giant mechanical birds, all of them have the empty/dragon eyes trait as the other monsters here (Rise Falcon for reference.)
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Does it mean anything? Eh, probably not? It appears to be a "this is designed to counter [dragon], because it was made in said dragon's defeat", which Lyrilusc achieves on its own anyway - low attack stats bolstered by repetitive attacking and just ignoring that your opponent has monsters.
Is it an inconsistency that will bug me to the end of time? Yes.
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a-very-fond-farewell · 3 months
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me: oh maybe today I’ll leave my village and go to the city for a stroll
me: *surrounded by pretty women from all sides*
me: *YEARNS*
so.. that was a mistake. time to write my feelings away.
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hearts-hunger · 8 months
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i'm deep frying my boss with my mind btw
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todayisafridaynight · 8 months
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sat here thinking of the ichigang playing mario party and i was like 'i should make a tierlist of how rgg characters play mario party' but wouldnt you know it my brain is huge
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wherela · 11 months
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one of those crying in the shower kind of days
#my 'best friend' stood me up today#and by stood me up i don't mean canceled last minute i mean didn't show up and only responded to my calls and texts after 45 min#why? she was hanging out with some guy (she met him last week. he's not a christian.) and lost track of time#she's also initiated no contact with me over the last few weeks#the explenation was she thought i was busy with my thesis. as if you can't check in on someone when they're busy#she also gosted me for 3 days (like a month ago??) cause she was asked to share at student group and i couldn't go CAUSE I WAS SICK#I'm just so tired of it at this point#but it's also made me realise i dont really have any close friends#i have lots of friends. sure. and i trust them too. but it's not the kind of close where i can write to them when I've got a problem#like maybe I'd tell them live if they asked me? but I wouldn't really write to them it would just be weird#and so who do I tell that I met S's parents yesterday and even though so many things have happened since then already thats the only one#I can think about???? or that he actually CALLED ME afterwards specifically to tell me what they thought of our church#or that his mom apparently asked him if our relationship was still weird and he said 'yes' and I've been overthinking it cause i thought we#were finally okay and normal and genuinely just friends?#or that his mom said my look is that i dress vintage and it made me SO HAPPY!! that's my look!!! that's how I'm recognisable!!!#the answer is nobody. i have no one to tell :(#mine#s#I'm sorry I guess I had to vent this prolly turned out really really long
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wigglepiggle · 1 year
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wow my former comfort streamer was actually an asshole- damn
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spoofymcgee · 1 year
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you know what i've decided that there's one person responsible for my gender epiphany today and that is abraham, of the our father, abrahamic religions bit. no i will not elaborate.
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souppippin · 2 years
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had a weird experience with my bachelor thesis advisor today
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therealbeachfox · 2 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.
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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.
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respectissexy · 1 year
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If you are not on Twitter but are interested in what's going on with Elon Musk's Twitter, never fear, I am back as your Twitter Correspondent.
So, on Thursday, 4/20, Elon removed all the "legacy verified" blue checks. That means that if you are, say, Taylor Swift or the Pope, and you have a blue checkmark because you have proven you identity and want to avoid being impersonated, that check mark went away unless you paid the $8 to subscribe to Twitter Blue.
The assumption was clearly that, despite all their blustering, when push came to shove the power users would nut up and pay for it, if only to avoid their fans being scammed using their likeness.
That didn't happen. As of 4/21, only weirdo Elon stans had blue checks. Those stans immediately got mad, because they had intended to purchase access to an exclusive club, and all the cool kids left as soon as they arrived.
To make matters worse for Elon, several influential shitposters began posting about #BlockTheBlue, a movement to block all paid Twitter bluechecks, and some even released scripts that would automatically block all bluecheck accounts for you.
However, some people retained their blue checks who swore they hadn't paid for them -- in particular, Stephen King and LeBron James, who had tweeted that they would refuse to pay.
Elon admitted that he had paid for these users' blue checks out of his own pocket. Is he trolling? Is it a weird simp move? Hard to say.
Now, as of 4/22, a whole mess of famous people have bluechecks who aren't paying for them. This seems to be a move to confound the automated Block The Blue scripts. Lil Nas X is tweeting angrily about how he doesn't want his blue check. People are speculating that a new policy has been silently rolled out to automatically assign a blue check to every user with over 1 million followers. Several people have pointed out that this amounts to false endorsement, i.e. implying falsely that a notable person uses or endorses your product without their permission, which is a crime. Blue checks have been posthumously assigned to Anthony Bourdain and Terry Pratchett, whose estates my money is on to be the ones to actually sue.
dril, famous shitposter and Block The Blue promoter, keeps being assigned a blue check as an apparent punishment for crossing Elon, but you can lose your blue check by changing your display name. (It seems really wild to tie the blue check to the display name and not use the username, but it became necessary after the era where all those legacy verified folks unleashed their inner Jaboukie and changed their display names to Elon Musk. As recently as last month a legacy verified user with 100k followers got banned for impersonating JK Rowling apologizing to trans people.) So dril just keeps changing his display name every time they bluecheck him. Elon and dril have been engaged in this game of cat and mouse all day. The "Elon bans dril and we all throw trash at him like New Yorkers defending spiderman" meme will probably come to fruition today or tomorrow.
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lvvender-fields · 3 months
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ohhhh my god i hate my job
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