So My Friend Got Me Into The Magnus Protocols And So Far I Love It

I THOUGHT I WAS ABOUT TO BE A FATHER.....SHOOK ME TO THE CORE IM STILL A KID

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

my favorite genre of media is gay people vs the system™

[gets in with you]

[gets in my little clown car]

I was listening to Too Sweet - Hozier and all I could think about for the lyrics “I think I’ll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three” is Jonathan Sims, and for the “You’re too sweet for me” lyrics is Jonathan talking to Martin

God damn I have so much anxiety. watch THIS

*does nothing and somehow also feels bad about it*

@witchinatree is currently reading out loud to me and @adcar

God I fucking hate Olaf the snowman so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid lumpy face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking legs? Who the hell makes a snowman with legs. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking SNOW BUCK TOOTH that no snowman has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Olaf or an Olaf gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Olaf the fuckshit snow fucker, I like warm hugs". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Tow Mater summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking lumpy carrot nose and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children's movie, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the snow dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking nose. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional snowman

i would like to say in my defense i know nothing about TMA, you just threw me in there and said "listen to mag 200"

transcription of me and @kabookachowiced's conversation following tmapg13 (he has not listened to the entirety of tma)

"hear me out. celia is jack's mom. some shit got fucked up with the timeline and we're going to get a timeskip 30 years in the future, maybe like 10 if the kid is 16 or something and we get to meet agnes montague because she dates jack. and agnes montague gets to become the protagonist of the magnus protocols because jack like leaves or something idk he was great but i need agnes to be the priority. and.. shit gertrude is still old.. we figure out a way to de-age gertrude without disturbing gerry so they can be gay without the complications of like the desolation and the web and shit and then we get to see agnes montague win for the first time"

"oh"

"do you like my theory :]"

"no"

"ok"