#a glorious time really

[anderstrevelyan]

I didn't post about it because I didn't want to curse myself, but I've been calling this weekend "writing retreat" (aka I had the apartment to myself for most of it and spent it all reading and writing) AND NOW THE FIC IS DONE

[egophiliac]

roll out the red carpet guys we're going to the SHAFTLANDS

[r-aindr0p]

Blue and red makes purple

Aaadjfhdhd cringe bday art for myself, finally done with it !

Kiss on the hand because this is a chrisitan blog/j

[storge]

Don't kill them, okay? People don't die that easily.

MIZUSHIMA HIRO as Iguchi Tatsuya Drop (2009) dir. Shinagawa Hiroshi

[bun-fish]

warning: This behavior is dangerous and these are silly billy boys who are willing to fight God, please do not imitate.

This is how that scene in chapter one went right

Crack movie poster version below:

that was fun

(Please go read Things That bleed, it’s so packed with beautifully written action and tension and anticipation and I will stop the consonance now but just, go check it out!! You can find it on the chapter one link up there, or at the fic blog itself, @thingsthatbleedfic )

[evebestthinker]

[...] And so, the woman dies. The woman dies so the man can be sad about it. The woman dies so the man can suffer. She dies to give him a destiny. Dies so he can fall to the dark side. Dies so he can lament her death. As he stands there, brimming with grief, brimming with life, the woman lies there in silence. The woman dies for him. We watch it happen. We read about it happening. We come to know it well. - Aoko Matsuda

[art-of-wackylurker]

Hereby I make my return back from the death-bringing grip of Shit Going On and El Capitalismo...

Featurning @king-chaos-world's Margo (✿◡‿◡)

Loosely based on Townley Venus because, well, I'm just *like that*

[ratatatastic]

I'll tell you a story. I get to work early in the morning, so when I come in—Yesterday morning we had this big back of six TVs, and one of them has a network on it... and the banner is: If the Florida Panthers lose, is this the Biggest Collapse in Sports History? That damn thing is sitting on the TV and you know, you're waiting for—to roll it, people, let's move it! Fifteen minutes!...So I'm waiting by the door for my video guy to come in and say—...We have these banks, it's a new rink, right? All over it—"Get that network off our TV!" 'Cuz I'm sitting there going, "I don't like it!" and I'm 57! Well, what happens if you're 25? And you're going, "I gotta live 50 more years of being a part of the 'Biggest Collaspe in Sports History'..." So from the loss to the drop of the puck, something has to change, something has to get better, and that would be where I think, I worked. Once the puck's dropped then I was done working. And I liked our first [period] so that was good. That was good, I was at peace with it. I wanted to win, and—but we weren't scrambling around in the first [period] trying to find our game.

paul and his way with his words aka he felt exactly the same way i felt with the leadup to game 7 and how media reacted to it like yeah i was very upset at some point i just started sighing like eeyore till someone put me out of my misery

edmonton oilers @ florida panthers game 7 postgame | 6.24.24 (x)

[booasaur]

wtFOCK - 7x03

[nyxi-pixie]

if your ship has never said anything unbelievably suggestive to each other that the mainstream audience somehow can ignore like it didnt happen or sound like that then are they even your ship?

[egophiliac]

now that I can think semi-coherently again...whooooo's ready for Friday WEEHOO

[geegers22]

I did not think Fortnite zutara affirmations would be on my 2024 bingo card but here we are

[r-aindr0p]

Uncomfortable with dancing.

Ramshackle prefect felt a bit ridiculous crying while wearing cool clothes.

Based on a personal experience and a part of me really felt bad for Idia when he had to go dance and sing in front of people, would have been mortified as well.

[hidey-writes]

six sentences sunday

The slack, peaceful expression of Zhao Yunlan asleep, his body curled toward the main room. That instinctive way he reached for Shen Wei, patting along his shoulder for his forearm, for his wrist. Even just earlier that night, sitting in companionable quiet on the couch, Zhao Yunlan’s hand tapping along the leather until it found Shen Wei’s ankle and settled there, skin against skin. As if Zhao Yunlan had gotten used to it too, touching. Their bodies as close as their lives were tangled now. Shen Wei would miss every piece of it.

haha. hurting my own feelings in the down draft of the answer fic! i was initially worried i wouldn't have enough thoughts about that gap between the knife scene and the next scene to write a whole fic about it, but it's starting to seem that the solution is simply: cramming in as much domestic weilan flashback as narratively possible :3

[eyrieofsynapses]

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.

[thegreatyin]

the adventures of the neath's most annoying definitely-totally-a-bat-and-not-the-scoundrel-in-a-robe continue (cards. their name is mr cards. or so they insist.)

this time: coworker antics. tune in next week on dragon ball Z where we'll be killing all of them with hammers