good evening, all. it is May the 25th. our lilacs are blooming, just as the ones at the Watch House did. and I am thinking about remembrance of the fallen, and GNU, and the love in commemoration.
y'know, I read Night Watch… oh, maybe a year ago and some months ago. and the lilac symbolism, the remembrance of the Watch, has always struck me with the depth of the emotion of it, the tangibility of it in the flowers. but I wasn't aware that today was the day until I saw commemorative posts, all that gorgeous artwork and more, on my dash.
I was also not aware, until now, that fans commemorated the day not only because of the book reference, but in support of Terry Pratchett and of those with Alzheimer's. which knocked me over a bit because of course, of course the group that would use GNU to honor him would do that. and… I've been thinking about GNU a lot, lately, and this caught me again.
I read Going Postal a bit ago, and reread it recently. both times, the parts about GNU made me tear up. this idea of the names, the memories, the lives of the clacks workers who dedicated themselves to ensuring that people heard each other's voices—all those names spoken again and again and again by that which they poured their souls into, winging along in the air as they could not, an eternal reminder that they were loved—how could that not touch a person's heart?
when I found out that fans online used it to memorialize him, I damn well cried. hell, I still tear up just thinking about it. do you know, there's a code for an HTTP header "X-Clacks-Overhead: GNU Terry Pratchett" written by Reddit users to put in webpages, where it goes unseen by the average user? and in 2015, when Netcraft took a survey, there were eighty-four thousand websites using it? it's eight years later—how many thousands upon thousands of websites have this now, do you think? how many little cables of light has his name flown along, now? how many times?
that alone is absurdly and unimaginably lovely in its own right, but… there's something else to it. there's something about remembering with the lilac sprigs every year, just as Vimes and those who were there remembered their dead. something about how, when we take up our lilac sprigs, we carry a little piece of the characters in our hearts, too. I kept trying to put my finger on why that makes me tear up the way it does. the conclusion I came to is this:
what greater way to honor a writer is there, but to honor them the way they did the characters they poured their heart and soul into? what better way to say we know you and you are not forgotten and your work and words and gifts to the world are held in our hearts forever than to remember them by their own words, their own vision? how else could we say you embodied all the good you believed in and wished to see in the world, but to memorialize them after the little pieces of their soul they wrapped in ink and put upon the page?
it is a knowing of the writer, to remember them in their way. it is not a worn-out faceless platitude, but a reminder that their work has been read and will continue to be, that the characters and world they loved enough to bring to life last just as their name does. such remembrance is warm and loving and delights in their memory even as it grieves.
and now Pratchett's name has been written in his tradition, over and over and over, across the vast plane of the Internet, where it will—with any luck—continue to fly for generations to come.
there is no way to truly express the beauty of that… but perhaps we can catch a glimpse of it in the lilacs, both ours and the Watch's.
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A friend and I (well, more like an affection) starting watching ofmd together, and I'd always casually referenced it as the gay pirate show, as one does. But she's so fucking keen and she sees through things so fast. After two episodes she turned to me and said "everyone just calls it the gay pirate show. Why did no one tell me that this show deals with deconstructing toxic masculinity and trauma? This is so compelling and important, why did no one tell me?" And ever since then, when I'm trying to talk someone into watching the show, I mention it.
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First of all, I want to thank you for the april asks idea. This is so lovely, and though I am late to the party, I'll still try to participate every day. The convenient list of ask games is also very thoughtful :) I'll be reblog these, and as a personal rule, I pose (at least) one question of every list to the person I've reblogged from. Therefore, would you mind answering the following:
How long does it take you to fall in love with somebody?Is the sensation of ‘falling in love’ or ‘being in love’ better?
Thank you and have a nice day 🧡
Oh! You're quite welcome! 😊
Though boy... stepping right in with the big questions! 😮💨
Truthfully, I have little confidence that I am in touch with my emotions well enough to actually know the answer to either of them. But I'll give it a go.
How long does it take you to fall in love with somebody?
I don't think I'm really aware of it as it's happening? The only answer I can think of is to glibly paraphrase Hemingway on bankruptcy: slowly, then all at once. The 'slowly' part is what I'm not aware of, and it's happening while I'm getting to know them, while we're talking, while we're exchanging memes and whatever... and then I wake up one day and realize I love this person.
I think certainly it is dependent on some level of interaction with another person - I might feel fondly about some people I've never directly interacted with, but I don't think I could love them. And I think it's also dependent on the amount and the quality of the interaction.
Is the sensation of ‘falling in love’ or ‘being in love’ better?
I don't believe they can be quantified in opposition to each other. They're two very different feelings, and they're both absolutely wonderful.
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what you need to understand about cwilbur is that when it came to l'manberg he was imposter syndrome personified. l'manberg itself was good (AHEM. IT WAS TOMMY) but everything about his leadership was not. he didn't know what he was doing, he was in over his head, he projected confidence for the sake of the people but he was a fraud, he led his army to a losing battle that got all of them killed, and the only way they got independence was because his little brother traded music discs for it. his citizens voted him off the country along with the one person he needed to protect the most. he was a failure.
but when it came to pogtopia,., he was damn good at being the villain. he was unpredictable, terrifying, unstoppable (or close to it) because the weight was off his shoulders. everything he was failing at was flipped on his head. he didn't have to protect a country, or the people he loves. he had to destroy it, all of it, and let people see him for who he really is (a ticking time bomb). and he did. he couldnt call l'manberg his he will call its crater. he couldnt be the one to bring his people peace he will bring them war. it feels like how it was always meant to be. finally something he can succeed in
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