#Mention of Jurgen Leitner
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A horrible, not so good, very bad visit
Summary: Gertrude despised the note stuck to her fridge. Mike, Michael, Helen, Simon. Veterinarian. 10/29, 2.15 pm
A/N: This was a way to award myself after a horrible, not so good, very bad Friday and Saturday. And yes, it's another cat avatar au. Yes, the date is the day night when I posted this.
Also, fun fact: I forgot the word "pet carrier" when writing this.
Not beta read, just me, a document and google
Pt 1, Simon, Peter, Elias and Mike / Pt 2, Michael and Helen Distortion, Agnes / Pt 3, Annabelle, Jude, Oliver / Pt 4, Maxwell, Manuela, John, Jane / Halloween bonus!
Gertrude despised the note stuck to her fridge.
Mike, Michael, Helen, Simon. Veterinarian. 10/29, 2.15 pm
It was hard enough getting one cat for their checkup, four was nearly impossible. Simon was usually alright with going to the vet. He did not seem to care about being poked around. Mike was a bit worse, not liking being poked and moved by strangers and even worse had been checking the scar. Helen and Michael were just always hard to handle. Causing chaos and confusion wherever they went. The worst was bringing those four together considering the fact that, well, Mike did not get along with the siblings.
“Don’t be like that.” Gertrude sighed. Mike had made himself comfortable on the top shelf. She had pulled two pet carriers, firstly wrestling Helen and Michael into one that could fit them both. Secondly she had called for Simon who did not protest as he got in the second one. She had then called for Mike who saw the two carriers and climbed up the tallest shelf.
“Come on down, the others are waiting for you. Better get down and get this over with.” Mike hissed at that. Pressing himself even more towards the wall. “I’ll get Jurgen.” An even longer, angrier and louder hiss. Gertrude sighed. She looked around the room for anything to get Mike down with. ‘Aha’, her broom was still out from her last time cleaning.
The visit was not any better. Simon had gone first, luring the poor veterinarian to a false sense of security. Mike was meant to go after, though he held onto the soft fabric put on the floor of the carrier with his claws, hissing at the humans. So Michael had to go second. There was no fighting but he had enough energy to give power to all the electronics in the building. Helen was just slightly better, not as much running around, but the energy she did have combined with her dislike towards the veterinarian was enough to not have as peaceful of an experience as Simon. They managed to get Mike out eventually and gave him an extra treat once they were done.
It was much nicer as they got home. Mike had found Oliver by the window and curled up by the still -but awake- cat, only for him to fall asleep there. Leaving Oliver to stay still even longer. Michael and Helen had not managed to stay awake for more than 10 minutes either, leaving the house a bit calmer. Simon had found his way to Peter and Elias. Gertrude decided that she deserved a nap after the hectic day.
#mike crew#gertrude robinson#simon fairchild#michael distortion#helen distortion#oliver banks#mention of Peter Lukas and Elias Bouchard#Mention of Jurgen Leitner#cat avatars#the magnus archives
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i need to make like. the opposite of the jurgen leitner rant and make it about tide
EDIT: I ALREADY MADE THIS JOKE IN THE NOTES . THIS WAS A 2 PART POST GO REBLOG THIS VERSION
#i keep saying “every time he is mentioned or on screen” and every fucking time it makes me think#of the damn jurgen leitner rant. i love that post. avatar of the whore. etc. but i need a positive one so i can say it about tide lambert#jrwi#jrwi pd
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Flesh Leitner but it’s just my special effects reference photo book (full of real wound injuries!), because looking at the more gruesome reference images for shotgun wounds for the first time left me genuinely shaken (my mind couldn’t process the fact that that is a thing that can happen to the human body. I thought the chapters on degloving or frostbite would be the worst but they were NOT holy shit.)
oh i didnt know they made reference books for that .
my condolences though that sounds . not ideal
#tma#the magnus archives#jurgen leitner#leitner books#from the library of jurgen leitner#submission#the flesh#tw gore mention#ask to tag
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YALL I JUST REALISED SOMETHING
JMJ ERROR :
J ohn
M artin
J onah
YALLLLL
#Srry if someone else already pointed this out I haven’t seen anyone mention it though lol#the magnus protocol#tmp#tmagp theory#tmagp#the magnus pod#magnus pod#It could also be jurgen leitner?
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my dad likes to pretend to not be invested in tma but we just got this combination of letters on countdown and he immediately goes "JURGEN LEITNER!" so i think ive successfully converted him
#peak father behaviour#i mentioned vampires the other day and he replied trevor herbert! silliest guy#tma#the magnus archives#jurgen leitner#do people go on his character tag probably not tbh
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⁺ ⛧ ﹒ jurgen leitner ? — ˚ 🕯️ ⌢
“ stupid idiot motherfucking jurgen leitner god damn fool book collecting , dust eating , rat old bastard , shithead , idiot , avatar of the whore - ”
><﹐six , sixxol , sol , uc , cryptid , loop﹐🦇
🕯️﹐any / all + 17 + aroaceapl + abro ﹐★
﹑likes - tma , homestuck , lego monkie kid , persona series , drawing , figure skating , fanfiction﹒⟡﹒⤿
⛧ ﹔🥀﹒dislikes - bigots , wasps , needles﹐ıllı
!About you/info - pls save me from the self - inflicted suffering that is called “ drawing my characters reference sheet “﹒🪦
” - biggest clown in the circus , laughed out of town , cowboy motherfucking jurgen leitner ”
#intro post#tags are stupid#stop pinning me when i talk about jurgen leitner i hate him so much why does he have so many fucked up books ?#why did he decide to fuck around and find out just to set them loose#is he dead is he a bastard man has such a visceral affect on me not even in the room never seen this mans face and i know he has the worlds#shittiest beard get away from me#if i wanted to get into heaven and god said jurgen leitners waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent#back down#if i have to deal with jurgen leitner speaking one word in person on voice in podcast not only will i close the tab i will delete my#bookmark out of spite and have to rewatch the entire series again for the purpose of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned#or alive#i dont even know why i hate him so much. he collects books but i am just mad because i am angy#he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of creepypasta and wanted the irl version#ill go ham#better have had a book make him kill a man because if he didnt im going to make him#paypal dot com slash i fucking hate jurgen leitner#episodes not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be in his library and i fuckibg lost it#where the fuck is jurgen leinter if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt#crusty old man#ill punch leitner and his sad frail old man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until#all thats left is one final book he kept on him simply titled Now You Fucked Up in ancient yiddish#im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point#i hope theres a date given for when jurgen died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone#every day once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who had so many fucked up if true books#holy fuck i just hand typed the entire leitner rant /srs#thank you for coming to my ted talk
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And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA fanfic
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]|| Also on AO3 and my personal website
Chapter 11: That all my past results in "if"
Gertrude grumbled to herself, more for show in case of observation than anything, as she painstakingly logged the bundles of statements that had come down from Research that morning. The care she was having to take with the data entry wasn’t really feigned. She was familiar enough with technology, at least modern technology, but this particular machine dated back to the early nineties—she was astonished it still turned on, let alone functioned—and her memory of how to use MS-DOS was a bit rusty. There, at least, she had an advantage over Tim, if the penciled notes all over the pages of the thirdhand operating manual next to it were any indication.
At least the wiring had finally been upgraded. It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be an issue, but evidently the machine, old as it was, had proved to be too much for the outlet it had been plugged into. Fortunately it hadn’t caught fire since she had returned, but it had shorted out twice more, only not costing her several hours’ worth of work because of a large black box Tim had installed that turned out to be a battery backup holding enough power to at least allow her to save her progress before the computer shut down completely. The electrician who’d come by had kindly explained to her that the Archives, unlike the rest of the Institute, were still on a fuse box, and had upgraded it to a circuit breaker. Which also meant the lights had stopped flickering ominously whenever the wind shifted.
It was, however, rather an expensive repair, and she was already betting with herself whether Elias would be willing to budget for an upgrade to the fire suppressant system too.
The computer—which, if the notebook sitting next to the manual was to be believed, Tim had named “Mister Megabytes”—was difficult to use, but Gertrude supposed she should just be thankful Elias hadn’t somehow found a punch card system. It was going to be hard enough to upload anything to it, let alone store it. Fortunately, Tim had thought of that, and had apparently cleaned out every antique store and charity shop in the greater London area in search of floppy disks that would fit the beast. (She’d smirked when she saw the neat stack of receipts locked in her desk drawer, and promptly submitted them to Elias. She had hoped the nosy bastard would have had a heart attack when he saw the total, but alas.) Unfortunately, he’d been unable to fit more than a single statement and associated research onto any given floppy disk.
Gertrude had fortunately found a source for them and ordered in a large quantity. Less expensive than the piecemeal way Tim had picked them up, sadly, but still hopefully a big enough bill to make Elias regret a few more of his life choices.
She sighed, stretched, saved her work. Waited until the spreadsheet had finally committed itself to the disk, then ejected it from the computer and tucked it into the case labeled ARCHIVES OPERATIONS in Tim’s neatest block print. Shut down the computer, ran her hand over the CRT monitor to wipe clean the static—whether it actually did anything or not, it made her feel better—and headed to the break room to make herself a nice cup of tea. That done, she locked herself in her office, set up her shields, and settled in to read Tim’s latest report.
It was…interesting. Most of his reports were. She couldn’t tell if it was just that he was interested in everything and liked to chase down rabbit holes until he either hit rock bottom or encountered a badger or if he was simply hoping to head off every single ritual at the pass, but he’d detailed his research into incidents linked to more than half of the Fears in just a few short months. She could see, of course, how all of them might have involved the Stranger, often because of circus connections, but instead they had been about the Hunt, the Slaughter, the Desolation, the Spiral. (The message I am staying away from the sculptor’s work so I don’t have to give you a statement had both intrigued and worried her in nearly equal measures.)
The most interesting part of Tim’s reports was that most of the incidents he had learned about—or at least most of the recent ones—involved the Dark. Frankly, Gertrude would have thought the Dark was the last of the Fourteen to have anything to do with the big cities Tim and Gerard were visiting. They even called New York the city that never sleeps. And yet, here it sat, lurking in alleyways, behind theaters, in the smallest of gaps between street lights. The latest report was at least from somewhere she might have expected; they were in western Virginia, in the shadow of the Appalachian Mountains, investigating several local myths, legends, and traditions that had been handed down by those whose roots were deep in the soil.
Gertrude perused the reports. There were three in particular highlighted as having been recent incidents. One, unsurprisingly, was a rather gruesome murder that bore the hallmarks of Skin’t Tom; Tim was planning to pay a visit to the girlfriend of the perpetrator, who’d sworn he was dead a whole week before the murder. The second was a house fire that apparently started because of too many candles, but according to Tim’s notes, the child who had had them all burning had been in a nearby long-abandoned coal mine with a friend, who hadn’t come out, and he’d been crying about the mouth of the night; he wasn’t sure he would be able to get to him, but he would try. The third had taken place in what Tim termed a “ghost town” a few miles from where they were staying, where the rumors were it had been abandoned not because the coal dried up but because of something that stalked the streets; he was vaguer on that incident, which had taken place slightly more than a year previously, but said it was probably real. In the code he was using underlying the reports, unless she was misinterpreting it, was a statement that gave her pause: I know it sounds like the End or the Hunt, but it’s the Dark.
Not I think it’s the Dark or it looks more like the Dark. Tim was one hundred percent certain of that. Gertrude didn’t know why, but if he was sure, she trusted him.
She thought about that for a long moment as she began composing a reply. Not that she trusted him. She had along ago accepted that she trusted Tim with everything she had in her to trust; it was why she had left him in Chicago without hesitation, why she hadn’t immediately recalled him when he’d finished in Pittsburgh, why she hadn’t felt the need to double-check that everything he was sending her as a reply to his emails was true, let alone helpful. It was helpful, but that was beside the point. The point was that she didn’t for a minute doubt that Tim knew what he was doing and was working in the best interest of the Archives, and in her best interest as well. The thing she had to think about was his conviction that it was the Dark.
She didn’t think the Dark was preparing anything in America. Activity was up all around the world—she’d had several statements her in the Institute, and a few more she’d gleaned from her travels that weren’t as prominent as Tim’s. But the simple fact that the Dark was rising—damn Tim for reminding her of that book, now she was going to have to hunt down a copy, she didn’t have time to read for pleasure these days—meant that perhaps she had misjudged. Perhaps the Dark’s ritual was going to begin more quickly than the Stranger’s after all.
She gave Tim a few instructions, sent him a copy of the statement form—he was no Archivist, compelling wasn’t his gift, and it likely wouldn’t produce much of a coherent narrative, even if he had them write it down, but she could at least let him try—and enjoined him to be careful, then closed her laptop thoughtfully. It was Tuesday. Elias was happily engaged with the budgeting—really, she’d thought when she first realized what was going on that he was putting on an act, but he wasn’t, he really did enjoy the mundane bureaucracy and administration necessary in running a place like the Magnus Institute—so she would be unobserved for at least the next several hours. Which meant that if she pulled a few statements and went downstairs to talk them over, he wouldn’t notice.
Thanks to the computer and Tim’s efforts, she knew exactly where to find the ones she was looking for, even though all of them were in the wrong place compared to where they should be. She pulled a few out of various shelves and boxes, tucked her tape recorder into her pocket, and headed to the center of the Archives. There was a barely perceptible crack in the floor, and next to it a board that easily levered up when she pressed a certain spot. Beneath it was an iron ring. She pulled it, lifted, and descended into the belly of the beast.
As usual, there as a sticky, unpleasant sensation as she passed below the floor an closed the door behind herself. The Eye couldn’t reach down here, not easily, so she could pass unobserved, but it also meant cutting herself off from her…patron, she supposed. While she had remained human through dint of unceasing effort, she still relied on it a fair bit, and cutting off the contact didn’t help her mood much. She shook it off as best she could and progressed a bit further.
Once she had descended another level, she let out a low whistle. There was an answering whistle from further down the tunnel, or at least an attempt at a whistle. A moment later, an elderly man with a broad, florid face and rather dusty clothes appeared out of seemingly out of the wall. He gave her what he probably thought was a disapproving glare but actually looked rather like a walrus with indigestion. “Gertrude, what on earth are you doing down here et this time of night?”
“It’s one o’clock in the afternoon, Jurgen,” Gertrude said with a sigh. “You really ought to pay better attention to the passing of time. You’re going to end up doing something foolish one of these days.”
Jurgen Leitner limped closer. As usual, he clutched his copy of A Disappearance in one hand and a heavy torch in the other, although what he thought he was going to do with that was beyond her. He was a coward, and a rather frail man, and the most he could do was drop it and run, leaving the light to possibly distract whatever was following him. “If it’s the middle of the afternoon, what’s going on? Has your assistant returned?”
“No, Tim is still abroad.” Gertrude didn’t bother explaining beyond that. Leitner didn’t need to know what was going on in that level of detail, just that he was safe from being spotted by her assistant. “But he sent me a rather…interesting report. I need your input.”
Leitner snorted. “I very much doubt that. You just want someone to listen to you ramble and nod their head.”
“If I wanted that, I would speak to a mirror,” Gertrude shot back, stung. Leitner had ego, of course, she’d known that for years, but did he have to be so crass as to project it onto her? “I do actually need your input. You have expertise in this matter.”
And I have no one else I can discuss this with, she added to herself. She still wished she could discuss it with Adelard; she would have preferred, given her current options, to discuss it with Tim, and probably Gerard, since she was fairly certain at this point they came in a set these days. But with the boys in Esau County and Adelard reduced to ashes, she was left with an addled bookseller who had believed, like Mary Keay, that he could master the Fears. At least Mary had been honest about herself.
She followed Leitner to the room he had set up as his “study”. He kept precious few books on him anymore, and she had to admit she took a perverse bit of pleasure in knowing that his fear of what he had done meant that he was basically reduced to reading nothing but terrible mass-market romance novels of the sort her mother had once thrashed her for keeping under her mattress. Still, he had two chairs and a table, and he invited her to sit, then poured them each a measure of rather expensive wine.
“All right,” he said, settling down and lifting his glass. “What is it you wish to discuss with me?”
Gertrude laid out the folders containing the statements, and felt a bit of satisfaction at his flinch. To his credit, however, he rallied quickly and sat silently sipping as she tried to put them into some kind of coherent order. The very last one she placed was the most recent, the one she had missed by three days and that Tim had locked in her desk drawer under her instructions; she’d sensed the Dark on it right away and brought it down with her.
“What are these?” Leitner finally asked when she didn’t speak. He had to have known she was waiting for him.
“These are all statements involving the Dark,” Gertrude told him. “All from within the last five years. Take a look and tell me what you think.”
She sat down and sipped at her own wine as he began to read, hesitantly at first, then more intensely. She already knew what he was going to see, or at least she hoped he did. He could be quite obtuse at times. Still…this was obvious, even for him.
As she watched him struggle through the third one, she reached for the latest, more out of boredom than curiosity. The handwriting was neat enough, but bold, pressed deep into the paper. The writer had obviously been quite excited about what she had come to say. Likely it was yet another person who had had an encounter with the People’s Church of the Divine Host, or with Robert Montauk himself, or possibly with the bogeyman.
Then Gertrude’s eyes fell on the name Maxwell Raynor, and she began to pay attention.
Manuela Dominguez was not simply a victim of the Dark that had come to relieve her feelings. She was an acolyte, a relatively high up member in the People’s Church of the Divine Host if her statement was anything to go by, and she had a great deal to say about her actions. She had been on the Daedalus, the third astronaut and the only one to not be an unwitting victim of a Fear. Gertrude bristled slightly at her taunt about Jan—how did she know that, she wondered—but the rest of the statement was too fascinating, and filled her with too much dread.
So. She was right. They were ready, just about.
Across from her, Leitner laid the last statement he’d had to read down. “I can see that you’ve picked a good number of Dark statements, Gertrude, but surely you could just as easily have selected the Stranger or the Flesh, so—”
Gertrude handed him the statement she had just completed. Leitner read it, his eyebrows climbing steadily higher and his face growing steadily paler. At last, he looked up at her. “The Black Sun?” he whispered.
“Any day now, I would imagine,” she said, as calmly as possible. Something about that nagged at her, but she didn’t give it a chance to take root. Not then.
Once she had discussed with Leitner how much help he was willing to give—none—and returned to the Archives, though, she probed at it as she began re-shelving the statements. Manuela Dominguez had stated that the time was at hand, that they were giving her one last chance to capitulate and join them. She never would, of course, but…
But why had they waited?
She had returned to London in November. It had been three months since then. Surely they must have decided by now that she wasn’t answering. Why hadn’t they moved ahead with their plans? Were they waiting for her to come and try to stop them? Surely they hadn’t needed to wait.
Or did they?
Gertrude pursed her lips thoughtfully. Somewhere in the Archives, she ought to be able to find evidence of the Dark’s last attempt at a ritual. It had to have been at least a hundred years ago. Maybe that would give her some sort of hint. Obviously it wouldn’t look the same. Space travel hadn’t been possible and science wouldn’t have advanced far enough for them to even know what dark matter and neutron stars were, so whatever Raynor had done back then…whenever it was…would have involved something else. But she could at least get the shape of it, and get an idea of how to disrupt it.
She wasn’t even sure how to disrupt a dark star. Or, frankly, what they thought it would do to bring…what did they call him? Mister Pitch into the world. She was almost curious enough to let it play out, just to see what it would look like…
Wait.
Gertrude froze, one hand on the shelf. The Eye was pushing back at her, she could feel it, but there was something right on the edge of her attention that…
Abandoning all else, she hurried back to the trap door, lifted it, and took the steps down three at a time. The second she was cut off from the Ceaseless Watcher, she drew in a breath and stepped into the first room available. She suffered briefly from that loss of contact, but she could think.
How had previous rituals stopped? Tim’s research had shown that the last attempt at the Unknowing had been disrupted by the Slaughter…but then she thought of the statement she had recorded when it had finally arrived from Pu Songling. The one about the Nemesis, and the failure of the Risen War. She’d idly speculated about what could have possibly disrupted it before deciding it didn’t matter, that she would put it from her mind and go back to figuring out how to deal with the Unknowing. Now, though, she wondered.
What if…what if what they were waiting for wasn’t some moment that would finish the ritual? What if it wasn’t some grand outside gesture that would seal the fate of the men and fully bring the Slaughter into the world? What if, quite simply, the soldiers had been waiting for the Slaughter itself?
What if the Risen War had simply collapsed on its own?
If it had collapsed on its own, if it had needed no intervention to fail…then there were two possibilities. Either the ritual itself had been imperfect, incomplete, they had been missing some key component of it and simply hadn’t known, or…
Or the ritual could not have succeeded in the first place.
Gertrude put her fingers to her lips as the implications of that crashed down on her. If the Risen War could not have succeeded, did that mean the Sunken Sky, too, could not have succeeded? That the Last Feast could not have succeeded? That the Great Twisting could not have succeeded? That the Unknowing would not succeed? If the Unknowing was doomed to failure without intervention, she supposed that was all to the good, as it would mean she could keep Tim and Gerard away from that danger.
But—she stifled the moan that rose, unbidden, to her throat—but if the Great Twisting could not have succeeded either, if it had been doomed to fail from the beginning, then that meant that she could have left it alone and it would have collapsed under its own weight. It meant that her interference was not only unnecessary, but counterintuitive.
It meant that Michael Shelley need not have been sacrificed.
She couldn’t believe—no. She didn’t want to believe that. She didn’t want to believe she had been so short-sighted, so focused on what she thought was her calling, that she had wasted her life and the lives of her assistants.
Poor Michael. Poor Sarah. Poor Tim, because she was putting him at risk for no reason…
Well. No. With him and Gerard safely out of the country for the moment, they were at least out of Elias’s range. And if she was wrong…after all, she told herself, it was only a guess, a wild surmise. There was still every chance that one of the rituals would work.
So. She would allow Tim and Gerard to keep following their path, to keep researching the Unknowing and ways to stop it. Perhaps they would find something less dangerous and volatile than the C4 poor Adelard had obtained for her, something that would nevertheless do the trick. Meanwhile, the Dark’s ritual would likely happen sooner. She would come up with some kind of plan, figure out what she could do if it did work, and then attempt to find out when the ritual would happen. She could do what she did best—watch, and observe, and know. And then she could act, but only if absolutely necessary.
If she was right, then she would tell Tim and Gerard everything. And if she was wrong, she would tell them that, too, and then they would stop the Unknowing together.
But whatever the result, she vowed to herself, she would not sacrifice either of them. She’d grown fond of the boys, and she would never again be responsible for another assistant’s death. Not if she could prevent it.
#ollie writes fanfic#tma fanfic#the magnus archives#and if thou wilt forget#gertrude robinson#jurgen leitner#mention of the Dark#mention of fire#grief#loss#guilt
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It's crazy that we have valentines day followed by Magnus Thursday followed by pipe murder day followed by aro week
#tmagp#jurgen leitner#aro week#oleanders chaos#yes i purposely didnt mention presidents day#fuck those guys
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TMA 80 SPOILERS
I can’t get over how when Jon comes back after his smoke, he’s faced with Jurgen’s dead body just laying there all bloodied up and shit and he’s just like.
“Oh.”
“Uh… I’m uh…”
“I think I’m gonna take another smoke”
#I KNOW THAT HES DISSASOCIATING BUT I CANT HELP BUT PICTURE IT LIKE#“GOD I hate living in Ohio. average day in Ohio be like’’#ALSO THE FACT HE LITERALLY WAS 5 YEARS SOBER IS SO OVERLOOKED LIKE#BRO RELAPSED??? AND NO ONE MENTIONS IT??????#god I hate him but I feel for him#jonathan sims#jon sims#tma#tma spoilers#tma eye#the eye#the beholding#jurgen leitner#the magnus archives#magnus archives#tma jon#and please no one get on me for not quoting it exactly I’m too lazy
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I did expect TMA to kind of mess me up. But more in the "oh no everyone I love is dead or worse" way (which did happen but I live on AO3 now so idgaf) and in the "horrific things happening now live in the back of your mind forever you dumbass who cannot deal with horror!" (turns out i'm actually pretty insensitive and while literally everything reminds me of tma nothing has scared me yet, more the opposite really).
Instead I got a completely new type of anxiety called "I didn't write down those names that were dropped ONCE and weren't important to the plot WHAT IF THEY SHOW UP AGAIN AND I DON'T NOTICE"
#a biscuit's rambles#tma#it happened once already and now i gotta cross-reference EVERYTHING with anyone mentioned in tmagp too#im barely at tmagp4 this is Unreasonable#ALTHOUGH is it just me or does augustus sound a lot like jurgen leitner bc. hmmmm
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i feel like I need to take notes while listening to the Magnus archives they keep bringing stuff back up and I'm like "oh man that name sounds familiar what episode is that from? Why are they concerned about this turn of events" and then having to go back through every episode to figure out wtf they're talking about
#I remember Jurgen Leitner he writes books#but that's only because his name is kinda silly and fun to say and it sticks out#I have no idea who Mary Key is supposed to be tho#the name is familiar but I cannot for the life of me remember what previous episode she was mentioned in#and that dude Jared keeps popping up#I think his name was jared#He's showed up at least twice so far#I'm only on episode 26#al talks about things#the magnus archives#also in episode 22 colony they talk about this scary bug witch lady#this is the first I'm hearing of her but they talk about her as if she's showed up before#did I just forget????#was I not paying attention the first time??
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I read a fic ages ago in which after ep 200 Jon goes back in time as a ghost and speaks through the tapes. Curious if thats a bit of whats happening here.
#the magnus archives#the magnus protocol#also so excited for more character art#cant wait to see who gets sexy maned#and if Jurgen Leitner is never mentioned ill cry
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Just found the second part of the jurgen leitner rant and so i found out who was pipe murdered, who was mentioned in a tiktok to be the librarian who was beat up and had it coming. That's the funniest shit and it came from me making a mention of it while talking about mapleshade because she inflicts that same feeling on me. Delightful and makes me understand insidepun.
For context. I haven't even come to the homophobic vase episode (who somehow also became a semi comfort character to me) in the podcast because of adhd (i told myself the entire week and bits of last week to pick it up again) so this comes to me like everything warrior cats.
#tma spoilers#The jurgen leitner rant#So close to live blogging my tma reaction#mention of mapleshade#I'd like to thank ib tsp and pkmn irl (specifically the discord) for this
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[ID: The aux cord meme, edited to say "me: yo, pass the aux cord. friend: you better not play weird shit. Me:", and showing the thumbnail for the jurgen leitner rant video, to which the OP is bopping along with. End ID.]
#alex wont shut up#tma#jurgen leitner rant#and thats not even mentioning the 'spn steve yockey is dead??' 1 and 2 audios plus the 'the end is never the end' remix plus#the bardcore versions of songs whose originals i have not listened plus-
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LMAO no spoilers but the book i'm reading right now casually mentions a book that i'm pretty sure would ultimately end up in the library of jurgen leitner. i can appreciate a cursed book which is bound in human skin and kills anyone who reads it
#unintentional leitner easter egg we love to see it#you can't just mention a cursed book and NOT expect me to immediately think of jurgen leitner#the brain rot is real#tma
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genome THIS (pleag. it would make me happy):
STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITNER GOD DAMN FOOL BOOK COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING JURGEN LEITNER
STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT JURGEN LEITENER I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP BOOKS WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST BEARD GET AWAY FROM ME
if i wanted to get into heaven and god said jurgen leitners waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down
if i have to deal with jurgen leitner speaking one word in person on voice in podcast not only will i close the tab i will delete my bookmark out of spite and have to rewatch the entire series again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or alive
i dont even know why i hate him so much. he collects books but i am just mad because i am angy
he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of creepypasta and wanted the irl version ill go ham
BETTER have had a book make him kill a man cuz if he didnt Im going to make him
paypal.com/IFuckingHateJurgenLeitner
episodes not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his library and I lost it
where the fuck is jurgen leitner if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt
crusty old man
ill punch leitner and his sad frail old man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final book he kept on him at all times simply titled Now You Fucked Up in ancient yiddish
im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point
i hope theres a date given for when jurgen died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone
everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who had so many fucked up if true books
String identified:
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T G TA AT G T AT C A A C C T C A A T T T T A A ATA A A C A CA ACT T T T A AC A A T TTT A GT AA
at t gt t a a g a g t atg g t t gttg t ac
a t a t g t ag c cat t c t ta t a t t a a t atc t t aga t c g a t a t t t a
t at c. cct t a t a ca a ag
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TT a a a a a a c t gg t a
aa.c/cgatgt
t at . ag t at t a a a t t
t c g t t a gg t at
ct a
c t a a a a tg a aat c g at t a tgat t a tat t a t at a t tt c act
t atg tatg at t t
t a at g g ca a t a
a c a a t a atg t a ct t t a a a c t
Closest match: Calendula officinalis genome assembly, chromosome: 11 Common name: Marigold
#tumblr genetics#genetics#marigold#flowers#the magnus archives#jurgen leitner#sent to me#requests#completely-real-and-normal-human#asks
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