#nat one

[dimension20official]

No one rules at sucking as much as Murph

[psychicdamaged]

Quotes from EXU Calamity I'll Be Thinking About for the Rest of Time

"Of course I'm safe. You'd never let anything happen to me." / "I would never let anything happen to you."

"Dad. You know I won't look like this when you get home."

There are a lot of stories in Exandria of mortals who stumbled their way into Feywild and fell in love with an enchanting fairy that they met there. But there's one story of a fairy who stumbled into this world and fell in love.

And in that instant realizes you can hold all the knowledge in the world. But if it dies with you, it doesn't matter.

"I promised you I'd never forget." / "I promised you I wouldn't either."

You hear in your heart, "Darling, no."

Do I know? Do I feel it? That he's gone? / You do.

Laerryn's screams fill whatever secret hallway she's in.

"No, baby. I'll always have my eye on you." And I squeeze their hands.

"I don't know how deeply you have sacrificed to do what must be done, but I know this: There is no god that strides this world that I worship more than I worship your heart... I bear your name. I bear it on this stone. And one day, I will bring you home."

In the kiss, I'll cast Cure Wounds on you.

"It's all on you, smart girl."

And I'll just turn my back on the door and let it close. / No! No, you have to go.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I love you, but I love another more" / "My child, my heart breaks. But I would rather mine break and yours be kept whole."

"But our two cities are like a married couple. We may have our differences. But we are connected by love for eternity. We made a promise to each other, and it's one we must fulfill."

"...and remember the Architect Arcane, Laerryn, the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Yes, it's me. Just look at my eyes. Don't look at anything else. Just look at my eyes, please."

I've kept so many of my thoughts and dreams and wishes for him. I hand it to him. I set it on the ground because I don't expect him to actually take it from my hands. "This is for you. Everything you've ever wanted to know about me and your father, it's here."

"Dad, dad, wait. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." "You have nothing to be sorry about." / "I do." You see, you haven't even looked in his hands. He's holding a basket with a spell kite attached.

"I don't know why I didn't send it." / "I know why, and it's okay. It's okay. Elias, I love you from the moment I laid eyes on you. Everything that I wished for you to know about me, it's in this book. Take it with you. You'll always be five years old to me no matter how much you grow."

You know me. I would never have let my guard down like that. I took those blows.

As I go down, I make sure I don’t miss

"I know what you gave. You found a path beyond the stars. I do not know whence the gods came from, but I know that you found it in your heart. I promise you, Zerxus, I will find that place. I will find the secret of how these worlds were made, and I will come and find you and bring you home."

"Yes, brother. All will be well."

"You think we'll ever get there one day?" / "Of course we will. We're the Okiros."

When you think of the future and what people will say of this time, do you think anyone will talk about how beautiful your dream was? / No. But that's all right, because it was real for us. For those who survived, they will remember, and it will inspire them to dream of things far greater.

What are Patia's final thoughts? / Just that there are many more dreams to come.

"I've been able to become anyone I want my whole life, but I just want to be with you."

"And for whatever time we have left, I love you. I have always loved you, and I will always love you." / "I love you, too." I'll just kiss her.

"The Brass Ring endures. I want you to know you gave us a chance." / I don't think you hear anything back. Just, you feel relief.

The fire, as brightly as it may burn, does not burn so brightly as your love, which shines the brightest in your last moment, having given this world a chance. Ash, heat, rising faster than you can imagine from the earth. And on a 31, at the very top of that cloud, the last member of the Brass Ring gets to keep his promise to his family.

You fly for weeks over oceans choked by ash and soot. You don't get to give your kids the world that they deserve, but you get to give them the world that they can fight for with you.

In Exandria, I don't know that your story will long be known. I don't know who will remain to tell it. But it did happen and it did matter. And though Calamity is here, because of you, it will not be here forever.

[retrokid616]

post credit post this week| fearne trying to do deception on a reiloran

ashleys roll: nat one

see y'all next week......

but i still think she was serving gale all episode long this week.

[whack-patty]

some closeups from nat1

look at how big Devo's hand is compared to Caper's

also a bonus page that gliched out in a cool way when i saved it

thats all folks

[inkskinned]

the problem is that being single is seen as the consolidation prize, and not the natural neutral state of being-a-person. at the end of the movie or the book or the poetry, there is a person waiting for you at the altar, and they love you. if the play is a comedy, everyone gets married. the metaphor is about how you are not-whole. the metaphor is about how everyone is going to be happily-ever-after. the metaphor is that romantic love is the most important resource on the planet, not just all-love. all-love is not a thing, that is a disappointment. the treasure is not the friends we made along the way. the treasure is the girl you landed.

the metaphor is that you cannot be alone, that means you are broken. are you getting over someone? that is acceptable, you can be getting over someone, but not for long. you must be single because you would rather not be single. you must be single and looking to not-be-single. you must want to date, eventually.

friendship and community are never seen as being equal-to or even-better than romantic connection. that person is your one! you need to find them. you need to hunt through the sand particles until you can shift out some kind of gem. this is regardless to your own experience of the beach and the sun. you need to be somewhere with someone.

if you are taking this time alone to heal, that is so sad. everyone gives you this little pitying look. the understanding is that you are not actually happier than you were before you were single. it is seen as a sort of pity - oh, you are choosing yourself, making yourself the priority? - that isn't quite right. you must mean that you are making yourself ready for the right person. you are just laying the bed better this time. open up your heart. you'll find them, we promise!

what do you mean you're really-truly genuinely-very happy? you are probably misremembering what it was like to be in a relationship. and besides, once you meet your person, that time will look grey and bland and wasted. your person is the only way for you to see in color. so what if you have taken this time - for the first time in your entire life - to actually-for-real do the fucking work. you can be proud of yourself, sure. but the way we need to know that you got better is that you get a partner. you're healed enough for the next bad part!

people don't choose to be single, they just say they're choosing to be single - they actually mean "nobody wants to date me." it doesn't matter how many people you have gently rejected or how many times you've talked it over carefully in therapy. what matters is that you are single, and by all accounts - that means you are something worth our pity. your successes and life all seem pale in the sunlight. sure, you have done amazing things and finally found your way in life. what matters is that there wasn't a person in the room with you while you did it.

you want to tell them - that's the whole thing. i didn't know how to be alone in the room. i didn't know how to handle the silence. every moment was so sharp, and i kept choosing the wrong way to close the door. i have spent my entire life in the empty well, living in the ricochet of someone else's cruelty. for once i have built myself a ladder. for once everything i taste is all mine, every bite of sunshine and laughter. i have learned how to sleep out in the open with my memories. recently, they have started to purr.

your father rolls his eyes. listen. this isn't about you. i just want a grandchild in my future.

[jacobglaser]

He's never hosted a meeting, ever. Why the change of heart? He's unpredictable. He's discovered his civic obligations.

→ Good Omens - 2x05 The Ball

[malewife-cas]

i can excuse cannibalism, but i draw the line at nat scatorccio being presumably straight

[zzztlk]

I'm nonbinary and SEA and every time I remember the existence of Ties That Bind it makes my day 1000x better. Nat my beloved

I'm so pleased... peace and love to all the seasian queers in the crowd

[scoobhead]

locked tomb 2024 discourse predictions (inspired by @procrastinationaccount)

booktok deems griddlehark a toxic relationship and bad queer representation. people on twitter try to publicly cancel the series. tumblr hears about this drama three weeks after it blows over

colum x protesilaus goes from a crackship to a rarepair to a genuinely compelling and tragic examination of missed chances and estranged love, mostly through tumblr shitposts

mass divide based in whether you think mercymorn dyed her hair or whether it was naturally rose pink. it's an old fashioned flame war. people are blocked, callout posts are made

everyone becomes convinced that admiral sarpedon will play a MASSIVELY important role in alecto. the fandom imprints on his character. #admiral sarpedon trends for two days

someone claims to have alecto leaks, and says that gideon dies permanently and harrow and ianthe end up together. everyone is suspicious that they're lying, but it's just plausible enough to make sense

poll about who on the mithraeum smoked the most weed. pyrrha sweeps

someone posts fanart of coronabeth with short hair and everyone goes feral for butch coronabeth for two weeks

chart of who aboard the mithraeum slept with who. there are lines between jod and everyone. there are lines between samael and no one

alecto the ninth release date drops. it's a date in 2024. the book comes out on the announced day. alectopause ends. [manifesting]

[erin-gilberts]

I have a firm belief that the only way Yellowjackets can end is with the death of each of the remaining survivors and [redacted] was just the first (second, really) of what will be all of them in time. "The wilderness" will reclaim them one by one because they weren't supposed to leave. But also they will be swallowed up by their own darkness in their refusal to acknowledge it and that will be the great tragedy of it. All of their deaths will be preventable, but inevitable in light of the cycles they keep on repeating.

[psychicdamaged]

laura bailey killing deliliah briarwood in defence of her love interest part 2 electric boogaloo

[retrokid616]

and nat one

me: fuuuuuuuuu-

matt : and that works

im sorry? HOW!

[whack-patty]

alright everybody here's that devo and caper comic i promised yall

Context below the cut; I had a dream abt a month ago

Devo La Main from TAZ; Ethersea and my dnd oc from this semester named Caper were on a team with a ton of other ppl. They were going on a heist, targeting SOMETHING hidden on a flying (through the air) battleship, kind of like Koda ((sentient and kind of psychic, that vibe)). Devo and Caper specifically were on a team, and they split off from the rest of their group. Those two are both bards with a specialty in like...psychic, mind control and occasionally sound-based magic, so they knew how each other worked well.

Not long after getting on the ship, a red light came on high above everyone---and suddenly Devo turned around and clocked Caper RIGHT in the schnoz

He had a red light glowing right on his forehead and some kinda horrible hate in his eyes and he and Caper threw HANDS

Caper started sloooowly to feel it too. Whatever the red light thing was was charmed-person style just. filling the ENTIRE heist team with hatred towards one another. In the blur of the fight Caper could see the rest of the heist teammates all fighting each other, and not a SINGLE one of them fighting the actual people who worked on the boat.

...she didnt see ANYBODY on the boat who wasnt part of the heist team, actually. hm

anyway Devo and Caper got in a fist fight

Did either of them think to use their cool epic sexy magic powers? No

They just used their tiny little paper bard fists

Good for them tbh

They needed the workout

Anyway at one point Devo tackled Caper so hard they both fell backwards off the boat

And once they were out of range, the Wrath Magic wore off, and now they were just plummeting through the air and TERRIFIED

Dreamlogic likes to do funny things so of course in THIS dream, Devo could both Featherfall (so he did) and could Swim (so he did). While Caper could NOT Featherfall (so she didn't) and could NOT Swim (so she didn't).

When she hit the water, she heard a big voice ask her player to roll on the wild magic table, and. well. I got a bad roll (sorry Caper)

So a ball of lightning started forming in front of her chest, which is VERY EXTRA BAD UNDERWATER

And it did the iron man lazer blast thing and PZCHEWWSWEFJKDS out of nowhere

Caper was still kinda pissed so she tried to aim for Devo (thank gravy)

The rest of the dream was Caper being absolutely c o o k e d and poor Devo trying to swim her to the shore, while in the background the giant boat started to fall towards the ocean

Yeah

Anyway the Final for this class was to draw a comic book cover and two pages out of context of a comic, so I picked two cinematic scenes from the dream :^)

[otrtbs]

okay hi! hello everyone! yikes!

art heist, baby and tender curiosities, baby! have been taken down very briefly but please do not fret! i have every intention of uploading them again very soon. i have been dealing with people selling copies of art heist, baby! recently despite me asking 385845 times for people not to and despite me no longer allowing people to bind my fics. so i took the two works that people were selling down while i issued some cease and desist letters and made some more copyright infringement claims. but they'll be back up shortly as soon as all of this is resolved. it's nothing to stress over friends! <3

i will ask that you refrain from sharing the pdfs and things around unless you know and trust that the people you're giving the pdfs to won't open an etsy shop and start selling them for profit. at least till this is resolved. thanks!

[jacobglaser]

→ Good Omens - 2x05 The Ball

[novelconcepts]

There’s a line from American Gods I keep coming back to in relation to Yellowjackets, an observation made early on by Shadow in prison: “The kind of behavior that works in a specialized environment, such as prison, can fail to work and in fact become harmful when used outside such an environment.” I keep rotating it in my head in thinking about the six survivors, the roles they occupy in the wilderness, and the way the show depicts them as adults in society.

Because in the wilderness, as in prison, they’re trapped—they’re suffering, they’re traumatized, they’re terrified—but they’re also able to construct very specific boxes to live in. And, in a way, that might make it easier. Cut away the fat, narrow the story down to its base arc. You are no longer the complex young woman who weighs a moral compass before acting. You no longer have the luxury of asking questions. You are a survivor. You have only to get to the next day.

Shauna: the scribe. Lottie: the prophet. Van: the acolyte. Taissa: the skeptic. Misty: the knight. Natalie: the queen. Neat, orderly, the bricks of a new kind of society. And it works in the woods; we know this because these six survive. (Add Travis: the hunter, while you’re at it, because he does make it to adulthood).

But then they’re rescued. And it’s not just lost purpose and PTSD they’re dealing with now, but a loss of that intrinsic identity each built in the woods. How do you go home again? How do you rejoin a so-called civilized world, where all the violence is restricted to a soccer field, to an argument, to your own nightmares?

How does the scribe, the one who wrote it all out in black and white to make sense of the horrors, cope with a world that would actively reject her story? She locks that story away. But she can’t stop turning it over in her head. She can’t forget the details. They’re waiting around every corner. In the husband beside her in bed. In the child she can’t connect with across the table. In the best friend whose parents draw her in, make her the object of their grief, the friend who lives on in every corner of their hometown. She can’t forget, so she tries so hard to write a different kind of story instead, to fool everyone into seeing the soft maternal mask and not the butcher beneath, and she winds up with blood on her hands just the same.

How does the prophet come back from the religion a desperate group made of her, a group that took her tortured visions, her slipping mental health, and built a hungry need around the very things whittling her down? She builds over the bones. She creates a place out of all that well-intended damage, and she tells herself she’s helping, she’s saving them, she has to save them, because the world is greedy and needs a leader, needs a martyr, needs someone to stand up tall and reassure everyone at the end of the day that they know what’s best. The world, any world, needs someone who will take those blows so the innocent don’t have to. She’s haunted by everyone she didn’t save, by the godhood assigned to her out of misplaced damage, and when the darkness comes knocking again, there is nothing else to do but repeat old rhymes until there is blood on her hands just the same.

How does the acolyte return to a world that cares nothing for the faith of the desperate, the faith that did nothing to save most of her friends, that indeed pushed her to destroy? She runs from it. She dives into things that are safe to believe in, things that rescue lonely girls from rough home lives, things that show a young queer kid there’s still sunshine out there somewhere. She delves into fiction, makes a home inside old stories to which she already knows the endings, coaxes herself away from the belief that damned her and into a cinemascope safety net where the real stuff never has to get in. She teaches herself surface-level interests, she avoids anything she might believe in too deeply, and still she’s dragged back to the place where blood winds up on her hands just the same.

How does the skeptic make peace with the things she knows happened, the things that she did even without meaning to, without realizing? She buries them. She leans hard into a refusal to believe those skeletons could ever crawl back out of the graves she stuffed them into, because belief is in some ways the opposite of control. She doesn’t talk to her wife. She doesn’t talk to anyone. It’s not about what’s underneath the surface, because that’s just a mess, so instead she actively discounts the girl she became in the woods. She makes something new, something rational and orderly, someone who can’t fail. She polishes the picture to a shine, and she stands up straight, the model achievement. She goes about her original plan like it was always going to be that way, and she winds up with blood on her hands just the same.

How does the knight exist in a world with no one to serve, no one to protect, no reason propelling the devastating choices she had grown comfortable making? She rechannels it. She convinces herself she’s the smartest person in the room, the most capable, the most observant. She convinces herself other people’s mysteries are hers to solve, that she is helping in every single action she takes. She makes a career out of assisting the most fragile, the most helpless souls she can find, and she makes a hobby out of patrolling for crimes to solve, and when a chance comes to strap her armor back on and ride into battle, she rejoices in the return to normalcy. She craves that station as someone needed, someone to rely upon in the darkest of hours, and she winds up with blood on her hands because, in a way, she never left the wilderness at all.

How does the queen keep going without a queendom, without a pack, without people to lead past the horrors of tomorrow? She doesn’t. She simply does not know how. She scrounges for something, anything, that will make her feel connected to the world the way that team did. She moves in and out of a world that rejects trauma, punishes the traumatized, heckles the grieving as a spectacle. She finds comfort in the cohesive ritual of rehabilitation, this place where she gets so close to finding herself again, only to stumble when she opens her eyes and sees she’s alone. All those months feeding and guiding and gripping fast to the fight of making it to another day, and she no longer knows how to rest. How to let go without falling. She no longer wears a crown, and she never wanted it in the first place, so how on earth does she survive a world that doesn’t understand the guilt and shame of being made the centerpiece of a specialized environment you can never explain to anyone else? How, how, how do you survive without winding up with blood on your hands just the same?

All six of these girls found, for better or worse, a place in the woods. All six of them found, for better or worse, a reason to get up the next day. For each other. And then they go home, and even if they all stayed close, stayed friends, it’d still be like stepping out of chains for the first time in years. Where do you go? How do you make small choices when every decision for months was life or death? How do you keep the part of yourself stitched so innately into your survival in a world that would scream to see it? How do you do away with the survivor and still keep going?

They brought it back with them. Of course they did. It was the only way.