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jbb32557038 replied to your post “������”
Wait... what about Lindsey???
Welcome to fandom history with JohnMurphysReddit. Settle in but don’t get comfortable because it’s about to get awkward in here.
So, after the audience not en masse buying into Raven with Finn or Bellamy, Raven was finally getting some traction with Wick and the additional screen time that went with it. The writers at the time were climbing all over fandom, inserting themselves into conversations where they didn’t belong, promoting ships, promoting actors, telling us what fic to write and it was all a bit much really. Kim Shumway was an open and enthusiastic Ravick shipper.
Why would they do a thing like trying to steer the hurricane that is fandom? Whelp, tracking down Eliza personal cell phone number and calling her isn’t a new level of invasive in this fandom nor is broadcasting whatever you find and creating a storm around it. For example, people tracked down the social media accounts of Alycia (Lexa’s) old friends from Australia and stole pictures from her childhood. I don’t know that any of it met the definition of doxxing, but back in season two the cast didn’t know nearly as much about social media management and the privacy settings in general were different from what they are now.
Which brings us to Wick and December 2014 - March of 2015. They found his real twitter. Not the professional one with the content currated for public consumption, the real one, the one the cast all followed so when he tried to pull the “nope wrong guy” no one bought that he wasn’t specialist4, especially after seeing his pictures. They tried to say “he’s not racist he just has a really dry, sharp sense of humor.” Some of the screen grabs were just tacky but called racist. Some of them were definitely racist. They went back to saying it wasn’t him. And between seasons Wick disappeared into the mist, probably because people were PISSED that our beloved Lindsey was being forced to kiss and publicly defend an oozing pile of trash.
3 years ago, I was at work when the news of Pratchett’s death came across my newsfeed. We’d known for a while, of course, that his health was fading. So I’d had a little time to prepare myself to receive the news.
It still hit me like a body blow.
Then, literally within minutes, and from all around the world and from all time zones, my buddies started checking in with me. ‘Have you heard?’ ‘Are you okay?’ ‘You’re the first one I thought of’.
I honestly hadn’t realised how much of an impact my love for Pratchett had made on those close to me. We started sharing stories - how Jessa and I had the same first Pratchett, how Jessica knew she could always come to me to feed her need for another book, how my randomly generated sig file got people curious enough to try a book, and now they were hooked, how Esther went to her first ever convention - a Disc Con - just so I could live vicariously through her, and she met The Man, and told him all about me, and now that was twice that my name had been in his ear.
I think Pratchett and the Disc was my first community, and it was one I forged hardly noticing it was happening. But it got me through that day, and many days after it too. It still serves me well today. And it’s definitely a million to one chance that it will serve me well tomorrow.
I wish I could think of one pithy quote that sums up everything Pratchett has meant and continues to mean to me. I don’t think even he managed to write that one though.
“ALL THINGS THAT ARE, ARE OURS. BUT WE MUST CARE. FOR IF WE DO NOT CARE, WE DO NOT EXIST. IF WE DO NOT EXIST, THEN THERE IS NOTHING BUT BLIND OBLIVION. AND EVEN OBLIVION MUST END SOMEDAY. LORD, WILL YOU GRANT ME JUST A LITTLE TIME? FOR THE PROPER BALANCE OF THINGS. TO RETURN WHAT WAS GIVEN. FOR THE SAKE OF PRISONERS AND THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS. Death took a step backwards. It was impossible to read expression in Azrael's features. Death glanced sideways at the servants. LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?”
― Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man
March 12, 2015
Boring, tiring day at work. I kept falling asleep at my desk. I ended up picking up Maggie's shift and closing at noodles.
the burning and the agony
oh god, the burning is so slow. the burning leaves us as shards of ash. not even the embers.
the breaking is almost dust. the kind that falls under your nails,
into blood. you could call it fragmentation. fractured scars and the thoughts you only lay to rest
when you’re between naps and your last mouthful of wakeful.
who designates us pain? suffering as a nickname. we all know,
but we splint up our fingers after their inevitable pieces go everywhere,
and point the other way.