Currently suffering from Jane Austen brainrot thanks to the husband, and tumblr constantly suggesting it to me, so have a sad gentleman.
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so grandpa came over to stay to help with the kids. good news: he is helping. bad news: he’s scaring the kids.
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Amidst all the chaos, Jack aged up and made new friends, Nicola and Melinda. Finally able to spend time away from his family, he had time to think and grow into his own. She realized she was trans, and decided to go by Tea.
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The Magnus Archives #67 - Burning Desire.
I've now finished season 2 which felt like it went by quite quickly. I am a few episodes into series 3 and it truly does just get better and better. All my favorite qualities of the podcast keep getting expanded on which is of course enjoyable. I re-listened to #67 and started to question my design of Agnes. I wanted her to have a dazed look since the whole episode goes on about how odd she is and not quite human even though she looks alluring. But then I realized she was described as tall which I totally missed the mark on, oh well.
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THERE AIN'T NO ATLAS, KID. NEVER WAS.
if you peel him back far enough, there's nothing but a pile of theater masks
like, it's really fun how fontaine starts spiralling out the closer jack gets to him in the final arc of the game and returns to appropriating the image of family (the fake family in the beginning, the flawed father position later) to try and appeal to jack in some way but it's like. buddy. baby. you already took off your mask. anything you try and put on after this is going to come across as cheap and desperate. the magic is gone! and personally? I'm hooting and hollering
⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / insta
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I get so defensive of the women in TMA like "she killed people" "She fed that guy to the distortion!!" "She was mean to Jon!" " She tried to kill Jon" "She set that guy's head on fire!!" "She set that house on fire!" Like, God forbid women have hobbies right??? God forbid women do anything!!!
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spring, 1902
I cannot say, and I will not say
That he is dead. He is just away.
With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand,
He has wandered into an unknown land
And left us dreaming how very fair
It needs must be, since he lingers there
And you —oh you, who the wildest yearn
For an old-time step, and the glad return,
Think of him faring on, as dear
In the love of There as the love of Here.
Think of him still as the same. I say,
He is not dead—he is just away.
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