#they're not dead

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

[dare-to-dm]

My players willingly and knowingly entered the home of a powerful mage called the Puppet Mistress and two of them got turned into puppets. It was pretty great.

[fandoomrants]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Peter Pettigrew, Harry Potter Additional Tags: Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Mentioned Marlene McKinnon, Mentioned Dorcas Meadowes, Mentioned Regulus Black, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Angst, A LOT of Angst, There are some happy moments, I want to say angst with a happy ending but it's, Canon Compliant, as much as it could be, Hopeful Ending, wrote this instead of editing another fic, Slow Burn, as much as a one shot could be a slow burn, Memories, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Title from a movie, POV Sirius Black, duh - Freeform, rating mostly due to, Emotional Damage, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Sirius Black Needs a Hug, Sirius Centered Summary:

Subjunctive - a verb form that refers to actions that are possibilities rather than facts

--

Sirius goes through his memories with Remus and the Marauders through the years, until October 31st 1981. The, he keeps replaying memories during his time in Azkaban, until he and Remus are reunited once again.

“Fine.” Remus sighed finally, walking to him. Sirius grinned triumphantly, giving him a helmet. “But only to the end of the street,” Remus warned. “I actually planned to take you to your place. You were complaining it’s late, weren’t you?”

[gemmahale]

Ugh, I have to travel across the state tomorrow for a training on Friday.

Which means I have to pick a travel project.

At least I know where a few single-skein yarn WIPs are that I can take, and the accompanying accoutrements. Because blankets are a no-go, and I don't have anything else wound.

Don't worry, some of my best things (Journal Exchange, Tim Rockford's Glasses Analysis - peep the notes, there's some good added knowledge in there! - , and other little plot bunnies/solved problems) have come out of these trips.

6 hours of windshield time gives me plenty of time to noodle on things.

[newmsies]

In loving memory

A funeral service honouring

@azraelzspace

Tuesday, February 14 2023||Whenever we want

Located: A very merry not RTC server

1 B.C.E. - 2023

@transrickyreal

@petahpiss

[blakbonnet]

my gay ass just assumed crystal was experiencing beautiful lesbian love

[technically-human]

Payneland² 

[kwadlayns]

Off on a case! ✨

[gojosbf]

"Give me back my boyfriend"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

[ciil]

what makes us any different?

[lesbxdyke]

I would like to again big up libraries as safe spaces for people of all types!

I had a psychotic episode in my local library while I was in there working and had convinced myself that I was in a bubble dimension and if I left the library I would die, and that being what had happened to the librarian because I hadn't seen them in an hour (it's a small, local library. You can see the librarians desk from where I sit to work)

Now obviously they weren't dead, they were just in the little office that I couldn't see into.

I'm also lucky enough to be a very self aware psychotic, so I reached out to my support network to make sure I got home safely. But none of them could actually get me OUT of the library and I was still absolutely certain that if I stepped off the carpet and onto the tile, I would die.

So I got up, I made my way to the desk, I found the librarian and I said "I need your help. I'm having a psychotic episode and this is what I currently believe. Could you please come out from behind your desk and stand on the tiles so I can see it won't kill me?"

And they did. They didn't shame me, or laugh, or tell me it wasn't real. They said "Yeah, that must be scary." And thanked me when I admitted I'd thought them dead and been really upset about that because I liked them.

And then stood there on the tile, while I stood on the carpet, for ten minutes while I chatted shit and tried to build up my courage to step on the tile, just in case. Including telling me that if this happened again and I needed to call someone, to disregard the usual 'don't call people in the library' rule and just do so after I promised I was going to be calling my husband the second I was on the tile so he could safely walk me home.

(& so no one worries: my husband got me home safe, and a friend came to check on me a little while later and brought me food and I'm fully Cognizant and out of it now)

I cannot imagine another place where I could approach someone and say that and not get the police or an ambulance called on me. Neither of which I needed or would have been helpful.

I cannot imagine another place where a member of staff would stand somewhere for ten minutes to make sure I felt safe enough leaving.

I cannot imagine another place where I would not only be explicitly welcomed back, but be told "If this happens again here, disregard our normal rules to take care of yourself."

I cannot imagine another place on this earth that I would feel safe enough returning to, 3 days later, after an episode like that.

Libraries are a fucking Godssend and should be protected at all costs!

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[halogalopaghost]

TIL that you can assign an AO3 next of kin to control your account in case of your death???

[mayomkun]

But I still think of you

[fear0phobia]

I noticed that in ep 4, when they watch the woman jump off the lighthouse, edwin and crystal have a similar reaction and niko and charles have a similar reaction. what does it mean? idk I just think it's interesting

[birdieardley]

"James Potter has a knife kink." I say into the microphone. the crowd boos. I sigh and begin to walk off stage.

"She's right" a voice says, I turn and there he is. Regulus Black.