#jurgan

[max-the-lagomorph]

Fruity

[jurgan-jacobo]

Amistad y comedia, la combinación perfecta #standupcomedy #friends #jurgan (en Beer Hall) https://www.instagram.com/p/Coubn9-rCAI/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[artfartt]

I know this was supposed to be a joke but I was curious and now we have biblically accurate Salmon and Mackerel

[goo-goober]

JURGEN LEITNER?

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 JURGEIN LEITNER

GO TO BED

[marvinforyou]

dude as soon as i heard Augustus's voice I started reciting the Jurgan Lightner rant like it's not the same vc but he sounds like that stupid little spoiled librarian motherfucker

[totalement60]

Breathless par Jurgan Bertheau, 1960.

[august-racoone]

istg if i see another post with something having too many eyes saying its the beholding, i am going to scream. yes, the beholding is all about eyes, but just because something has eyes doesnt mean its beholding. as much as i hate to quote jurgan lightner " you're thinking too literally. examining the physical categorization, but ignoring the meaning of the thing."

i personally believe that eyes being were they shouldnt be/more than usual is the flesh or the stranger or the spiral. its body horror not beholding. yes, it has beholding undertones, but ultimately something else (again, probably the flesh)

[short-honey-badger]

Hello!

This is the first time ever that I ask for a writing to a headcanon and it’s exciting. :) I have been eating up your Shamrock/Shanks writings, love them!

There is this idea living in my head that the female reader

a) falls very ill

b) gets poisoned by rivals of the Figarland family

And is then discovered by Shamrock who comes looking for us, wondering why we don’t react to him calling our name.

In both scenarios mentioned, the reader is then lying in bed and very weak, suffering and slipping in and out of consciousness.

Meanwhile, Shamrock deals with guilt, fear and shock about this even happening right under his nose

Shanks of course would be there too, angry with his brother for not looking out enough for Reader

I know this is very angsty (think about that scene from Gone with the Wind where Scarlett fell down the stairs and was ill) and I am not sure if you said anywhere that this isn’t something you would like to write about.

Still, I would love to see what you make of this little snippet. :) Your Shamrock characterization is great 👍

Okay anon. This was probably one of my favorite ones I've done so far so thank you dearly for the wonderful prompt. I hope I have done it justice! ❤️❤️

Watch me Wither

Pairings! Shanks x Female Reader x Figarland Shamrock

Warnings! Not many? Angsty sick fic

Shamrock Masterlist-> HERE

Shamrock stands vigil over your still form, lips set in a harsh frown. It's been three days, and still your condition has yet to improve. Guilt eats at him, knowing that if he had listened to his brother for once that this wouldn't have happened. That you, their most precious person, would not be lying here still as a corpse. How could he let this happen when he had sworn to you that you would be safe here with him?

When you don't come to his office to share lunch with the leader of the Holy Knights, Shamrock knows that there is something going on. He stands from his desk and leaves his office, booted feet slapping against the stone of his home as he navigates the halls to the room he had set you up in a month ago.

Shanks had argued against you staying in Marie Geoise with Shamrock, seemingly convinced that you would be happier, safer with him and his crew. Shamrock had scoffed and rolled his eyes at his younger twin, lips pursed and arms crossed.

“She will be perfectly fine here with me, safe where no bloody pirates can steal her away when you aren't paying attention.”

Shanks had rolled his eyes but backed down, face set in a scowl as he turned on his heel to go tell you goodbye.

Shamrock knocks on your door, knowing that you value your privacy, but when you didn't answer after several moments, the holy knight turned the handle and strode inside. He stalks forward, scowl on his face as he comes to a stop beside your bed. He can see the lump you make under the blankets and calls your name, but still, there is no response from you. He rolls his eyes and reaches out, pulling the quilt down and freezing when he sees the yellow pallor of your face, your hair weighed down by sweat.

His heart siezed in his chest, eyes going wide as he reached out, on ehand wrapping around your shoulder and shaking you gently, “Darling, my love, please, wake up.”

A wretched groan left your mouth, eyes cracking open just enough that he could see the way your pupils had shrunk, tiny pinpoints surrounded by the dull color of your iris and bloodshot white sclera.

He had jumped into action when you fell back into unconsciousness seconds later, eyes drooping and body going lax in his hold. Shamrock had scooped you up and ran like he had never before, heedless of puting up a front in front of the servants and other members of his household until he made it to the room that their personal healer stayed. He’d woken Jurgan, demanding that the old man examine you, and what he found had made dreaded guilt well up inside the holy knight.

Someone, either an enemy of the Figarland household or one of their enemies, had poisoned you.

Now Shamrock could do nothing but regret his choice in keeping you here. He had called Shanks on the second day that you were admitted into the medical ward, and had sat still and silent as his twin lay into him, furious at Shamrock for allowing this to happen right under his nose. He deserved the dressing down, and it only added to his guilt and fear that because of him, they would never see that shy little grin that was only meant for them, ever again.

Shanks had told him that he would be back as quickly as he could, wanting to be there for his twin and for you if you ever happened to wake for longer periods of time. Shamrock had just quietly agreed, not feeling the need to argue against his younger brother, not when you were in such a delicate position.

You would wake long enough each day that Shamrock for drip water into your mouth, his eyes intent as he watched you slowly consume the liquid before you would drop back off, still too weak to do much but slowly recover. Jurgan had purged your system with a concoction of drugs, but even then, the doctor had informed him that it may not be enough for you to pull through. Only time would tell.

Shamrock didn’t know what he would do if you didn’t make it. You had become an extension of his life, a need that he would happily let consume him if only to receive your soft hands and sweet attitude that you rewarded him and Shanks with. Raging guilt eats at him, knowing that he failed you, that the promise he had made you and Shanks has been broken by being too prideful, too sure in the knowledge that you would be safe in his home.

A low groan gains his attention, and Shamrock cuts his eyes down at you, loping forward to grasp your hand in his own when he sees your hand twitch in his direction. You grip his fingers weakly, and the holy knight kneels by your side, burgundy eyes soft as he reaches out with his other hand to gently card his fingers through your hair. You look pitiful, but it gives him hope that you are beginning to feel better when you crack your eyes open to meet his own.

“Sham?”

Your voice is scratchy with disuse, but Shamrock is just happy to hear your voice. He squeezes your fingers, the hand in your hair smoothing down to cup your cheek, “I’m here, darling.”

Shamrock doesn’t know what to do or how he could make you feel better other than just by being at your side. His father had huffed and sneered, telling his older son that he needed to get over this, and get back to his duties, but the redhead found that he was always pulled back to your side, unable to be away from you for too long.

“Red?” You rasp quietly and frown when Shamrock shakes his head.

“Shanks is on his way, my love,” he murmurs, and the knowledge that the other twin was on the way seems to settle you, face smoothing out into something peaceful. He watches you for a while longer until your hand goes slack and you seem to slip back to sleep. Shamrock sighs and carefully disentangles his hand from yours and stands. He knows that you are unlikely to wake again in the next couple of hours, so as much as it pains him to leave your side, Shamrock does. He must before his father comes to collect him.

The next several days passed the same way, Shamrock would come and stay by your side, the guilt inside him eating away at him as he stared at your pale form resting under warm blankets. He would hold your hand, a silent sentinel. He seethed and raged inside his mind, furious that he was no closer to finding out the culprit behind your poisoning. He watched you wither further every day, and it killed him on the inside little by little.

Shanks arrived on the seventh day, running through the halls of a home he held no fond memories of. He ignored the sneers that were directed at him, not caring that the household thought of him as lesser just because he refused to bow to their whims. He found his twin sitting beside you in the medical ward, the other redhead looking worse than Shanks has ever seen his older brother.

“How is she?” He asks as he shuts the door behind him. He comes and stands at his twin's side, eyes wide as he stares down at you. He wanted to touch, to feel you, to make sure that you were still holding on, but he was terrified of making your condition worse.

“Better,” Shamrock murmured, voice rough from disuse. He watched his younger brother, seeing the look of fear etched on the face that looked so much like his own, and felt that same remorse well up. He drops his eyes quickly, averting them back to where you lay, “Jurgan says that she will recover, but the poison did a number on her internal organs. She will never be as strong as she once was.”

Shanks grits his teeth, his anger at his brother coming back with a vengeance. He doesn't bother looking at the other man, but his voice is tense and full of displeasure, “I told you that she wouldn't be safe here. You should have known better than to keep the one weakness you have so close. Her staying here was doomed from the start, Sham.”

Shamrock grits his teeth, shoulders hunching. He knows that Shanks is right, having already berated himself mentally more than his brother ever could.

“So you've already said last time we spoke,” He murmurs, and thankfully, Shanks doesn't say anything else about his failings. The two sit in silence, both content to watch your chest move up and down in your sleep. It isn't until there is a catch in your breath that they snap to attention.

Your brow furrows, and soft sound leaves you. You shift on the bed, arm snaking out from under the blankets, and Shanks stands, beating his brother to grasp your hand in his own. Your eyes crack open a moment later, blurry but more focused now than you seem to have been in days. You turn your head, lips pulling up in a tiny smile when you see both of your boys sitting beside you. You squeeze the hand you hold, voice scratching and throat sore.

“Shanks, you're here.”

The redhead smiles sadly, squeezing your hand back tightly, “Yeah, baby. I'm right here. How are you feeling?”

You shift with a wince to lay on your side, sliding your other hand out and reaching for the older twin. Shamrock easily slides his hand into yours, eyes soft as he stares at you.

“Better now that you're both here,” you say quietly and give them both a meager smile. You can tell, even in your pained and muddled state, that there is more than the usual tension between the two brothers. You sigh softly and squeeze Shanks’ hand again to gain his attention.

“Don't be mad, Red. This is my own fault. I should have been more careful.”

Both men widen their eyes, confused and about to argue that they are the ones who are supposed to take care of you, but you plow on before they can get a word out, “You can't be by my side every waking hour, loves. I knew this place would be dangerous even when I agreed to stay here. I got too comfortable, and that cost me.”

“But-”

You cut the holy knight off, “But nothing, Sham. You have duties, and Shanks, you have a crew to take care of. I don't want the two of you beating yourselves up or each other up.”

They watch you swallow harshly, lips moving into a weary smile full of sadness both men dearly wished they could wipe away.

“I heard what you said, Shamrock, and if it's as bad as you say it is, then I'm going to need you. Both of you.”

Shanks nods immediately, crouching down so that he can be at eye level with you. He leans forward, lips kissing your brow before he pulls back to give you a smile, “We'll be here, baby.”

Shamrock clutches your hand, still feeling that raging guilt that threatens to suffocate him, but he shoves it down for now. You were right. They would need to be there. He leans in and kisses your knuckles where they wrap around his hand, voice a soft promise, “Always, my love. We have you.”

You give them both a small smile, exhaustion suddenly eating away at you, and you squeeze their hands again, grip going slack as moments later, “I know.”

You are asleep seconds later, but neither man has any plans of going anywhere, not when you would need them when you woke up next. You had a long road of recovery ahead, but you would get there with them at your side.

@mit-suri @mfreedomstuff @sanjisleggy @nocturnalrorobin

[world-fire-entity]

Istg, Jonny and Alexander J Newall are enough of little bastards to see all the people wanting Tim and Michael and Sasha and—

THEN ONLY BRING BACK F***IN JURGEN LEIGHTNER

Book eating selfish inane ponce of an arse Jurgan Leightner

Garbage disposal of a man with a 14 year olds keen obsession with Slenderman Jurrgen leightner

Capricious son of a decimal point of a percentage JURGEN leightner

AND THEN MAKE HIM AN UNCLE FIGURE TO GERARD KARY CUZ IT’D BE FUNNY

[max-the-lagomorph]

Vampire Eboy

[jurgan-jacobo]

Comenzando la semana con Dexter #rottweiler #jurgan #compañeros #pet https://www.instagram.com/p/CqTB71cMA1Z/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[moodcrab]

Fixing Delphine

This bitch.

I actually like that they made a character that is on your side but is somewhat unlikable, Delphine is Team Dragonborn, but she's not really one of the good guys. And that's cool, conflict means drama. So what's the problem? Well unfortunately, this drama is surface level and isn't used to drive the story, so It's kind of just annoying.

People oversimplify their hatred of Delphine into "She wants you to kill Paarthurnax," because unlike Delphine, people actually like Paarthurnax. Understandable, but barely scratches the surface. We'll get to The Paarthurnax Dilemma in time, but that quest is a symptom, not the illness itself.

If I could sum up Delphine in a word it would be "inconsistent." For example, she's a fugitive waging a one woman war on the Thalmor from the shadows, who's only survived this long from sheer paranoia - but she also uses her real name and leaves a note in Ustengrav for whoever happens to pick it up with directions and a pass word to her secret hide out.

She needs to go through her super secret contact Farengar to use the Jarl's resources to go into Bleak Falls Barrow, a tutorial level dungeon she can see from her house, and she's impressed that you did it - but she also goes personally to the other side of the country to delve alone into the massive Ustengrav to steal the Horn of Jurgan Windcaller, no issues, just a quick in and out twenty minute adventure.

She takes the fact that you found her Ustengrav note as proof you're the Greybeard's new guy and not some Thalmor plant even though she herself, a non Dragonborn, had also completed Ustengrav and taken the horn proving it's totally possible. She even points this out in her own dialogue then demands we prove who we are, even though that was the whole point of the Ustengrav note. It's also a pretty big assumption that just because I'm the guy the Greybeards call Dragonborn that I can't ALSO be with the Thalmor.

We are left with this awkward sense that the writers are flailing to make us think this woman is competent and objective, without actually having her do anything that clever. Just act like the dumb thing was smart and have her act like a cocky brat if questioned about it.

Inconsistency. It's her thing. Does she hate the Thalmor? That would make sense given what we know about her. But that gets dropped half way through the main story and suddenly she hates The Greybeards, for absolutely no reason at all. She gives a reason, but it's bullshit.

In her own words, "If the greybeards had their way, the dragonborn would sit on a mountain talking to the sky." But that's not true is it. We know The Greybeards, they encouraged us to fulfill our destiny. Even if you say you want to follow their Way of the Voice, they'll be glad to hear it but warn you not to let it get in the way of what needs to be done. Delphine even uses Tiber Septim as an example, which is even stupider because The Greybeards actively encouraged Tiber to conquer Tamriel. Have I read more in game books than the dialogue writers??

But that's not the end of it, when it becomes convenient for the plot this hatred is flipped once again from The Greybeards onto dragons. Not Alduin. All dragons. Despite the fact that, as a Blade, she should know about Nafaalilargus, a dragon ally of the Empire and the Blades for thousands of years, and the Blades don't just indiscriminately kill all dragons no matter the circumstances, and that Tiber Septim himself almost certainly met Paarthurnax at some point, she suddenly seems to be acting like she has a personal grudge against dragons. Which brings us to the Paarthurnax Dilemma...

See here's the thing, you could easily write off the frustration everyone feels towards this quest as Bethesda's crappy design, where there is no conclusion other than to kill Paarthurnax, or else leave an unfinished quest languishing in the menu. Bethesda apparently didn't consider the idea that anybody would actually prefer to turn on the Blades, even though the Blades have become a bit of a running joke among the fans, or that anyone would take umbrage with Delphine giving out orders and ultimatums.

But no, it's so much worse than that. Delphine being a surly unlikable c u n t from the day we met her is one thing, but the fact that she has been wrong about almost everything she's ever said in game, and still having the AUDACITY to treat us like her work bitch and us never, not once, getting the opportunity to put her in her place... That's not poor quest design, that's the game gaslighting us.

Let's do a quick list of every one of Delphine's theories, and how many were actually correct shall we:

You are not the Dragonborn ❌

The Greybeards shouldn't be trusted to identify a Dragonborn ❌

The dragons aren't just coming back, they're coming back to life ✅

The Thalmor have something to do with the dragons returning ❌

Esbern is dead ❌

The Greybeards just want the Dragonborn to sit on a mountain and meditate ❌

The Greybeards wanted Tiber Septim to just sit on a mountain and meditate ❌

Paarthurnax, having lived in exile for thousands of years, deserves corporal punishment ❌

As ACTING Grand Master of the Blades, she gets to boss around the Dragonborn ❌

She deserves a seat at the peace negotiations ❌

And these are just the things that are factually wrong, leaving aside opinions on her morality and shitty attitude. This is the woman the game presents to us as a shrewd strategist.

BUT I CAN FIX HER!

Like I said I like the idea of a character who is on your side but is somewhat unlikable. It actually won't take much to make Delphine endearing to the fans. We have to do a Boromir on her. A Lot of people dislike Boromir throughout the Fellowship of the Ring but weep at his death. We have to tweak three things to have the same thing happen to Delphine:

1. Make her actually competent and useful so that while we don't agree with her we can see why she does the things she does, and desire to keep her around.

2. Have her mistakes called out and have consequences.

3. Have her redeem her mistakes with a badass honourable death.

[burningfunobject]

Arcane characters as tma entities bc I need an outlet for s2 being so close

Jinx is desolation (duh)

Powder is the lonely

Vi is slaughter

Caitlyn is the eye but more garchivist than anyone else

Viktor is corruption or maybe end

Jayce is the eye (?? idk bestie)

Mel is the web

Silco is either corruption or web

Ekko is the vast

Sevika is the hunt

Heimerdinger is in the same league as stupid idiot motherfucker jurgan leitner God damn fool book collecting dust eating rat old bastard shithead idiot avatar of the whole biggest clown in the circus laughed out of town cowboy motherfucking Jurgen leitner

Ambessa is slaughter just a very different type to vi

Vander is hunt (furry)

Markus is hunt (police)

Singed is either flesh or corruption but the moldy corruption

Sky is lonely (same as powder)

I'm not doing anyone else bc they are irrelevant and I cannot be assed

[clearnachopirate]

a bit more of Charles' statement bc i have no

impulse control lol

Archivist: I thought you hadn't met Mr. Payne yet?

Charles: I hadn't. (A pause) So I sat and read it, didn't I? But it was a weird book. Later some bloke named Leightner bought it, that much I know. But I went through the door, and years later, I’m here.

Archivist: (After a long moment) Leightner? Jurgan Leightner?

Charles: I think so, yeah. Anyway, that's why I don't play cricket anymore, so I guess I’ll be off, Edwin’s waiting for me back at the office-

Archivist: Wait. You mentioned a door.

Charles: (The sound of someone sitting back down) I did.

Archivist: (Another pause) Can you describe it?

Charles: I can.

Archivist:...

Charles: Oh you want me to describe it now?

Archivist: (through gritted teeth) Yes, if you would.

Charles: No, sorry, mate. Edwin says you shouldn't know more about that yet, so-

Archivist: Who is Edwin Payne, then? You said he left you that book. The Leightner.

Charles: He did, well he didn't mean to, did he. (Charles laughs, and the tape glitches, almost catching on itself as it records) Edwin’s my best mate. (Charle’s voice is noticeably softer as he sighs) Helped me out quite a bit when I first Became, even though he wanted nothing to do with me.

Archivist: When you… became?

Charles: (A sigh, this time a bit annoyed) Not became. Became.

Archivist: You… you've just repeated precisely what I’ve said.

Charles: No, I said it right, and you did not. That's Becoming with a capital B.

Archivist: Right… So you… Became. (a snap as Charles gives finger guns) and Edwin wanted nothing to do with you.

Charles: Yeah, pretty much. But I grow on people. Most people. Some people. (A pause) I have grown on people once or twice. Or once. Honestly, not sure I grew on Edwin so much as he gave up on getting rid of me.

Archivist: And when you say you Became-

Charles: I Became, simple as that. (A pause) Oh, look at the time! (He looks at a watch he isn't wearing) I’ve gotta get back. Michaels’ to convince not to attack you, you get it-

Archivist: Wait! Charles- Mr. Rowland, did you say Michael?

(A door slams, and the Archivist sighs, head falling down to his the table with a thud.)

Archivist: (Muffled, as though through wood) That door was not there when Charles began his statement. This is… not ideal. (A pause, when the voice resumes, it is no longer muffled) End recording.

Click.

guys i am ill this au is taking over my life, so should i post it to ao3?

[corens-relisten]

MAG 17 The Bone Turner's Tale

THAT RANT AT THE BEGINNING IS SO REAL!! yes books are absolutely wild and im amazed that its not everyone whos thought about it

spoilers already!

omg its michael crew!! im so sure he shows up again but i didnt know hes be this early! oh right of course its that early he was mentioned in mag 4 Page Turner as a friend who got struck by lightning

OH?? JARED HOPWORTH?? LIKE..THE BONE TURNER?? (if you couldnt tell i write these as i listen) YESS IT IS!!

OMG ELIAS?? HELLO BEAUTIFUL i cant believe he actually said not to mess w the Lucas family so early

anywho i think this is the Flesh, bc, well. ~flesh~.

spoilers done (:

ELIAS!! HII i hate you but also like omgg helloooo hi so glad to hear you again

martin being out, a blessed relief?? good lord, jon! and yeah naomis complaint is valid he was kind of being a dick. she was too tho but the customers always right! (i wish they werent)

bros like "yeah my "friend"s stupid as shit, so seeing him pick up a book was unsettling, to say the least" thats rough, buddy

YES MHM. THE LIBRARY OR JURGAN LEITNER ((:

yess creepy!! weird distorted hopworth (: and he just got punched oop??

OH YESS. THE RIBS NOMNOMING HIS HAND THATS SO DISTURBING

well jon didnt simply dismiss this one! hes just pissed that leitner is here lol

and finally, my offering of the dayy!

this was one of my drawings for prompt 11 of tmatober, but it was too perfect not to use! so heres my michael crew

[silvandar]

Augustus is Jurgen Leitner.

Why has everyone decided it's Jonah?

The voice is Mr Sims sr, and the ARG J stands for Jurgan.

Did IQs just drop suddenly while I was away?