my colored dragon jmart (individual and headcannons below)
I think throughout the seasons Jon began losing color in his scales, first out of stress but then from the eye’s influence. I had some of his marks begin to affect his physical appearance too. His horns spiraled, eight neatly arranged eyes open. And his body continued to elongate.
I gave Martin some spider qualities! I love his connection to the web <3 he’s hiding another set of arms close to his belly and technically with his wings he has eight limbs. He also only has two toes! If you’ve ever seen tarantula paws.
I know we are all used to hear bad news from the USA or UK when it comes to trans rights but this time Germany wants to play in the same league.
Our idiots at home ministry came up with the fucking idea to start a register for all transgender and nonbinary people which would mean every person working at some public position could always at any given time see your assigned gender at birth, your deadname, your address and who knows what else.
We had been there in the past. Hitler Germany called it the "Travestite Law" back then. Our politicians didn't learn.
We all know this is unacceptable.
Please, if you are German, sign it. If you are not, spread it wide and far.
This had been stopped once a few years ago. It needs to be stopped again.
Hallo, ich bin Penelope Alva Frank, Transfrau, queerfeministische Aktivistin und Gründerin der queerfeministischen Bewegung Queermany.
Ich w
just realised i never actually posted the magnus archives mug i painted on here (the mugnus archives?), so here she is!!! 👁️☁️🌀📼
thank you to @pestopasta626 for reminding me about it because i straight up forgot skdjskjdks
(btw i very sadly can’t sell these since it’s a hand painted piece so it took a long ass time to do :”)) i’ve briefly looked into producing some of these but im not sure how the legality of it works since tma belongs to rusty quill ofc)
headcanoning a certain character as trans so much that it just makes complete sense to you that they are and you forget it’s not canon is reading a fic with that character and:
- he was never really aware of his body
wrong. he hated it and was hyperaware of how much it stops him from living his fullest since his early teens
- he never really thought about his identity that much
yes he did. he would go through cycles of doubt every once in a while even years into his social transition
Martin waves from where he stands in front of their cabin, soaked from head to toe as he spreads his arms to welcome the heavy rain falling all around him.
"Thanks." Jon pulls his cardigan tighter around himself, pushing back into the safe, blessedly dry doorway. "But I think I'm good."
"Joooon", Martin says in what can only seriously be called a whine. "Come on, don't be a killjoy."
Jon raises an eyebrow.
"Have you met me?" he says dryly, and Martin laughs, he laughs, light and carefree and- beautiful, so beautiful, and he does a silly little twirl in the rain as he comes over to Jon with that smile and those bright eyes, grabbing his hand.
"Oh, Jesus Christ", Martin says, exasperated and endlessly fond, tugging on Jon's hand, not hard enough Jon couldn't stop him if he really wanted to, and still Jon goes, lets himself be pulled from under the safety of the canopy and into the curtain of rain that instantly wets his hair and soaks through his cardigan.
Jon gasps, but it's not a gasp of cold discomfort, it's...
Martin beams at him, cheeks flushed and glasses full of drops and wet locks of hair dripping onto his shoulders, and he's stunning, breathtaking, and his hand is warm in Jon's.
Jon releases a breathless laugh, and Martin's smile grows impossibly brighter as he looks at Jon through the rain.
Jon closes his eyes, turning his face towards the sky as he takes a deep breath, wet drops falling on his cheeks and catching in his eyelashes. When he opens his eyes again, Martin's beaming smile has turned into something painfully soft and tender.
"There you go", he says, "Not that bad, huh? You old grouch."
"I'm not old", Jon says, all offence sacrificed to the smile he can't seem to lose.
"Could've fooled me", Martin grins, tugging on one of the grey streaks in Jon's hair, just as he twines their hands together more tightly. "Dressing like a retired professor-"
"You like the way I dress", Jon says, because he knows it's true, and Martin shrugs.
"That is off the point, Mr Sims."
"I'm in my thirties-"
"Allegedly."
Jon groans, shrugging out of his dripping wet cardigan and throwing it onto the veranda, and it's sort of cold and weird, yes, but Martin's here, and the air around them smells of petrichor, and the rain runs from Jon's hair onto his shoulders, down his scarred arms and hands, fresh and cleansing.
Jon turns around, leaning forward on his tip toes to wrap his clammy, bare arms around Martin's neck.
"Shut up", he says, smiling as their noses brush together.
Martin's shaky breath is warm against Jon's rain-wet skin.
"Make me", Martin says, just loud enough to be heard over the drumming of the rain. His lips part softly, waiting.
Messaging people for the first time is so hard. What am I supposed to say? Like, "You seem really odd and your blog intrigues me. Do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters?" What! Whatever. I will just follow you back and stare at your blog with my big beautiful brown eyes.
Reblog if you're okay with people coming into your DMs with the "you seem really odd and your blog intrigues me, do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters"
You heard that right. And if you've listened to TMP 39 - Dependents, you've heard it too. Not only can I prove without the shadow of a doubt that not one, but two Archivists are roaming TMA's London, but I can also prove with spectrogram + phonetical analysis exactly what Jon is saying.
Let me prove it to you.
First, let's start with an unedited audio sample, taken at 16:30:
Did you catch it? If you didn't, I don't blame you. There's a lot happening here. Let's check the official transcript for more context about what we're hearing.
So, what we're hearing is definitely the Archivist. It's evident that it's whispering something, but the specifics are currently hidden under layers of reverb, static, and tape winding. Let's clean it up a bit to get a better listen. I pitched the audio down 30%, reduced the background noise, and ran it through a few frequency filters to make the speech more prominent.
At the very least, we know this is obviously not Beth Eyre, who voices [ERROR]. Since the transcript states that this audio has to come from an Archivist, that really only leaves us with one other possibility.
But let's assume you still don't believe me. I took the liberty of isolating the vocals entirely and running them through a linguistics analysis programme called Praat (which is fantastic + free by the way!). This way, we can analyse the speech all the way down to the position of the Archivist's mouth when speaking.
I admit, the speech is a tad more muffled in this version. However, the lack of background noise makes the spectrogram much easier to read, which is what we are aiming for here. We're far past the point of just using our ears.
Behold the Spectrogram:
Looking at this diagram, we can conclude that there are four words being spoken here. (The second word is the gap in the middle part. Note the density shift at around 1000Hz. We know this word must be free of any sharp consonants.) More importantly, the formants provided can be compared to samples of Jon's RP dialect to determine if there's a match. If the frequencies match, it's the same voice. If we get the wavelengths to match, it's the same word.
Let's start with the first word. I'll skip the specifics, as explaining every minute detail would take forever and bore everyone to death. The left image was extracted from the spectrogram above. The right photo? That's Jon saying the word "this."
Note how both waveforms are split into two halves, low then high. Note how the high half trails off at the end. Take into account the similar placement of the red formants. This is the same word, pronounced in the exact same dialect, with the exact same frequency. It is Jon.
Let's do that again with the second word.
Again, the formants line up in the exact same order. The audio on the right is a bit louder, which is why the waveforms have a higher contrast.
What did this word happen to be? World.
Here is the original spectrogram in Audacity. The two bright spots on the right-hand side are easy. It's the same sound as the end of the first word as well. (Notice the frequencies are the same.) These are an easy Letter S. I then fact-checked this using methods like before.
Finally, we have clear, undeniable proof:
"This world isn’t yours."
Edit: thank you to @thestrangepoet for correcting “is” to “isn’t!” The presence of the letter T was a bit inconclusive, but it makes so much more sense in this context.
Now, what does that actually mean? Well, he’s likely referring to Sam. The extent of what he actually knows I’m uncertain of. Feel free to theorise and let me know! I have an idea about how this affects the overall story, but that's a post for another day.
I furthermore checked every single instance [ERROR] spoke for occurrences like this, and what did I find? Nothing. There was a bit of whispering in TMP 10 that I couldn't manage to isolate, but the voice was definitely Beth Eyre's. The only other time an Archivist audibly appeared in this fashion was... Oh, Hello. The TMP series teaser with Jon and Martin. Brilliant.
Now I just have to hope that nothing gets debunked by tomorrow. I'm crossing my fingers, TMP 40.
Thank you to Rusty Quill for sending me down this rabbit hole! The details added to all corners of the production bring so much life to the Magnus mystery. I'm glad I could dig deep and analyse this - We love you!
ok so the amount of "not really" in tma has bothered me for a while so i went ahead and counted all of them through transcripts (instead of while listening as before for fun) and i may or may not have made bar charts :]
this one is just by episode:
by season:
and "not really" amount distribution:
and for anyone who wants to do your own things with the "not really" data or look at my stupid code - you can find the .csv and .ipynb files here :]
What if instead of just dying and disappearing, Jonathan woke up?
But he's not at the panopticon anymore, or london, or back in the safety of the tunnels, he's on a couch. The main menu for a movie is playing over and over, illuminating the lounge room. The buzz of the DVD player and the disc rapidly whirling inside is nicely accentuated the repeating discorded tunes of the screen.
A young Tim is crumpled over the arm of the couch fast asleep. A young Martin is leaned back, he is too asleep, and a young Sasha is leaning on his shoulder. They're both sleeping with their glasses on sort of crooked as they've stirred with sleep.
Neither of the men have any stubble yet, not a smidge of facial hair, and Sasha's face is so much rounder, the clear baby fat still lines her face.
But that doesn't make sense. None of them had knew each other before the institute, let alone as teenagers.
But they're all there. His best guess would be it's the year 2000, maybe earlier. And it had to be real. He can feel Tim's leg pushed against his own and Sasha's hair as he brings his hands down to his lap.
The only thing he can truthfully figure is that it's warm. Not too hot, just warm. That kind you feel when shrugging off a good night's sleep, still immersed in your bed. It was like he'd been lovingly swaddled in a blanket both warm and soft.
Jon carefully adjusted his glasses, placing them back to sit on his nose properly as he reached forward for the remote. He raised it to the glowing television screen. The DVD menu was splattered in a ridiculous amount of thick blood, some cheesy horror movie he somehow knew Sasha had picked out for them. He can't place the name.
Click, and the screen falls to black. Vague figures and shapes are still visible, even if they all lack detail due to the gloom. He leans back, careful to smoosh himself back into the same spot as before, to not disturb the others at all.
He can hear their breathing, quiet and soft, Tim even snores against the couch's arm. It's peaceful. Jon can feel himself drifting off before he can even remove his glasses. Oh well, doesn't matter too much to him.
Maybe this is some weird dream, a limbo before the afterlife, permanent death, or whatever awaits takes him. Or maybe he's there. Really there. Maybe they're friends who fell asleep watching a movie. Whatever.
titsay
kaledo-art
tangentwithtanner
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
