#MAG37
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justice for Jason North give him him back his happy life with his loved ones :(
swap AU where everything is the same but Jason is the one who stumbles on the homophobic vase but it steals nothing while Andre is watching his belonging and his husband burn/j
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Elias had the nerve to advice Jon to destroy the table the Not!Them was bound to in episode 37?! I completly forgot abou that. As if it wasn't the best day in his life when he realised it was being delivered. As if he wasn't sitting in his office with the most satisfied grin ever, that that part of his plan basically took care of itself. And then he looked Jon in the eye and told him maybe you should destroy it, because he knew, he knew Jon wouldn't. Because he is the perfect Archivist, isn't he? Oh, that bastard.
#gods i hate him so mih sometimes#the nerve#probably had to hold back his evil laugh when he told jon that#elias bouchard#tma spoilers#tma#mag37#tma liveblog
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So I saw the post about the calliope and Jon going to Elias first and decided to look into something. And I stumbled across something that is even more damming...
In MAG35 Martin signs for the delivery of some things. He leaves the lighter in Jon's desk drawer. This is when Breekon and Hope bring the table
In MAG36 Tim tells Jon that Elias was asking about the delivery. Jon didn't know the table was there. He ends the episode with "I need to talk to Martin". Seems sensible, get all the info before you go answer to your boss. Martin is still living in the archives iirc, shouldn't be an issue
MAG37 oh it starts with the talk that makes sen-... "...we should destroy the table..." "Elias told me the same thing." He. Went. To. Elias. Anyway. (he also asked rosie but like) JONATHAN SIMS I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE
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MAG 117 - Testament
doodle 117/209; days left - 4/110 14/128
bye bye Gerry :(((
(((is this doodle basically the same thing as mag37? ...perhaps (yes). but in my defence it's really hard to have 200 original ideas for each episode in such a short time xD))
#tma#the magnus archives#tma 117#mag 117#tma s3#hnnng i just gotta finish mag 118 so i can post 119 and 120 but it's not going well T__T#combine whole day of drawing with rain and bam perfect recipe for disaster#my bodys gonna kill me
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Wood Anemone, April sunset - Närke, Sweden [OC] [3072x4608]
📷: Mag37
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Mag. 37 #0090608
Burnt Offering
— martin !!
— i love him so much
— cult.
— DONT ENTER THE CLEARING
— the heat from mag. 12 ?
— good for ethan !! :D
— gertrude.. jon please get a new job bestie
this episode was interesting, i've no idea what's going on with gertrude but i feel like jon's in danger.. + jon go to sleep and stop being mean to martin challenge.
the heat magic (?) powers (?) from this episode
Statement: As I got nearer, I saw why: in every bottle, in every row of the machine, the drinks appeared to be violently boiling.
reminded me a lot of the same situation in mag. 12 #0121102
I pulled the cap off and took a long swig... half a second before I realised the water was boiling hot. I screamed; well, it was more of a gurgle, really, and fell to the floor in agony.
Not really sure what this means yet ? Maybe its a classical elements kind of ordeal ?
Statement ends.
- xaphan.
#The magnus archives#Tma#Mag37#tma37#tma season 1#burnt offering#tma notes#the magnus archives notes#tma podcast#tma liveblog
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Burnt Offering
Case: 0090608
Name: Jason North
Subject: The Discovery of an alleged ritual site found near Loch Glass in Scotland
Date: August 6th, 2009
Recorded by: Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London
[Archivist (John): Tell me again.
Martin: Again?
Archivist: I want it on tape.
Martin: What? Why?
Archivist: I just want a record. To make sure I have something I can check.
Martin: Okay, fine. There were two delivery men. They were big, and they spoke with cockney accents that might have been fake, and they delivered a package for you. I don’t remember anything else about what they looked like.
Archivist: Nothing at all?
Martin: [Exasperated] They looked normal. Like you’d expect. They looked like two, huge, cockney delivery men. I don’t know what else you want?
Archivist: What about the table?
Martin: I didn’t see the table. I guess Rosie must have signed for it. I mean, it’s her office on the way to Artefact Storage, that makes sense.
Archivist: She says the same as you. Two men, doesn’t know how they got in, too intimidated to ask, looked “exactly like you’d expect”. Useless...
Martin: Sorry... Look, John, I do think we should destroy the table, though. I mean, if it’s the one from Amy Patel’s statement. Just in case.
Archivist: Elias told me the same thing. Luckily he phrased it as advice rather than an instruction, so for now I’m more inclined to keep studying it. We’re not in the business of destroying knowledge.
Martin: I suppose. Can I go now?
Archivist: Yes, go on.
Martin: Thank you.
[DOOR OPENS]
Look, you need to get some sleep.
...
I’ll see you later.
[DOOR CLOSES]
Archivist: Waste of tape, really. He’s right. Might as well get some use out of it. Statement of Jason North, regarding the discovery of an alleged ritual site found near Loch Glass in Scotland. Original statement given August 6th 2009. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.]
I just need to know if you can save my son. I’ve asked and asked and your people only ever tell me to write my statement. Put it down on paper for investigation. Is that going to help? No. Of course it isn’t. Even if you had the power to do something, would you? Or would you rather watch my son burn so you can take notes.
I’ve been drinking. You can probably tell from the stains. Well, I don’t plan to apologise for ruining your precious paper, and I don’t plan to stop. Only way to keep the fear from settling in. If I’m scared I’m going to lose Ethan like I lost everything else, then I’ll curl into a ball and never get up. I won’t be able to do anything to stop it. I won’t let my son burn, even if you cowards don’t have the guts to step up and do something.
I’m sorry. I know. There’s no-one to blame by my own stupid self. Blundering in where I had no right to go. But yes, I know, you want the whole goddamn story, don’t you? So you can look over it in ten years and go “Hmm, interesting” long after Ethan and me are dead. Well, fine. There’s not much to it, really. For everything it’s done to me, I didn’t really do anything at all. Just messed around in the wrong clearing.
I’m an ecologist. Was an ecologist. Working for the Forestry Commission up in Scotland. It was a great job. For me, at least. I suppose if you don’t like hiking or being alone you’d have a hard time with it, but for me it was a great fit. Now, up in the north of Scotland, the bit without all the people, there are plantations of evergreen trees. Huge ones. And their job is the same as pretty much any other tree – to get cut down for wood. Trouble is, a lot of animals make their homes in and around those trees. Badgers, red squirrels, even pine martens. Do you know what a pine marten is? It’s a wee bear. An adorable wee bear that needs to be protected. Because the pine marten, like a lot of other species that live in those areas, is protected by conservation laws; can’t be legally killed without the sort of special permissions logging companies rarely have. So it was my job to walk through all these plantations with a clipboard and note down what animals had made their homes where.
You don’t need me to tell you that the job can me a long way from civilisation at times. Some of these plantations are... off the beaten track. Everyone gets so caught up on how small Scotland is compared to other countries, but it’s still huge compared to a single idiot wandering through the forests. And there aren’t so many people, so you have large areas all but devoid of human life. It wasn’t uncommon for me to find myself an hour or more away from a town or main road or any other human life at all. I didn’t mind being alone, though, because I knew I had my little boy Ethan waiting for me back at home. Four years old and already sharp as anything. And my wife Lucy. She used to be waiting for me as well.
You see... plenty of strange things out here. That far from anywhere, a lot of folks use it as their own personal dumping grounds. Fridges, microwaves, barbed wire, all sorts. Occasionally strewn throughout the forests and over the hills. I even found a corpse once. Not as exciting as it sounds – they were far too decomposed for me to tell anything about the death. Could have been a mafia hit or could have been a hiker having a heart attack. Result was the same for me: radio it in and then lose two hours of light babysitting a dead guy while I wait for someone to get up and take charge of it.
So when I saw the clearing in the trees near Loch Glass I wasn’t worried. I figured I’d seen everything messed up the forest had to offer. Heck, I even saw a friend of mine get impaled on a falling tree once. I reckoned there was nothing left to shock me. It didn’t matter that the hairs on my arm began to stand up, or that I started sweating through my coat in the middle of February, or that that dry acrid taste at the back of my throat made me want to gag. I still headed on over to investigate this odd-looking clearing.
It wasn’t man made, or at least nobody had cut trees down to make it. It looked as though the trees had been deliberately planted in a circle. If that was the case, judging by their growth they must have been planted like that almost fifty years ago. In the centre was a large piece of stone, crudely hacked into what looked like a small seat or... maybe an altar. As I stood there on the edge, I realised the trees around me were completely silent, and after a few seconds of examination saw that it didn’t look like there were any animals at all around this clearing. It was... unsettling, sure, but it also meant that I had all the information I needed for my survey of that area. I could tick the boxes and move on. I didn’t need to enter the clearing. But I did.
The moment I crossed that threshold I knew I had made a mistake. It was like an electric shock rushing through my body, and my already warm skin began to prickle and burn. I stripped off my jacket with sweat dripping from my fingers, and reached for my water to try and get rid of that foul taste in my throat. I pulled the cap off and took a long swig... half a second before I realised the water was boiling hot. I screamed; well, it was more a gurgle, really, and fell to the floor in agony.
I lay there for almost half an hour, collecting myself and just breathing in the cold winter air of the Highlands, waiting for the pain to die down. Eventually, I managed to compose myself and stagger to my feet. The strange sensations were still there, but I was able to mostly choke them down, at least until I had a proper look around the clearing. The altar was the focus of the whole thing, but in many ways it was the least interesting part. Clean, smooth stone. No markings of any sort, nothing on top. Just... a rock. Around it, though, on the ground were scorch marks. They didn’t seem to radiate out from any one angle, they just covered areas of the forest floor. There was no ash, though, or debris, or anything that might have meant a fire, just the burn marks.
It was following these scorches that led me to the really messed up stuff, because what I saw around the edges of the clearing put them to shame. See, it looked like there were animals in that place once, but now each one lay just beyond the edge. On all of them, the fur or feathers had been burned away, and all that was left was their skin, scalded a vivid, angry red, like they’d been badly sunburned. They were dead, every one of them, though none seemed to have decayed any more than their compatriots. Either they had all died together, or something in that place was keeping them fresh. Neither option sounded grand to me.
Finally, I looked at the trees. There was nothing wrong with the trees themselves, not exactly. Driven into the trunk of each one was a heavy-looking iron nail. I didn’t count how many there were in total, maybe a couple dozen. Each suspended a worn and dirt-caked glass milk bottle that had clearly seen better days. My eyes fell on the string used to suspend them, and I couldn’t help but notice it seemed far cleaner and newer than the bottles or their contents.
What was inside each one seemed to vary, some had pine needles and twigs, some were full of dirt, and one or two even held what appeared to be rainwater, though looking closer I could see that it bubbled very gently inside those bottles in an endless simmer. In each I could also see a small photograph, half-buried in dirt or almost boiled clean. They all looked to be the same photograph, though it was hard to tell for sure. An old woman, probably in her fifties or sixties, wearing reading glasses and grey hair curled into a tight bun. She stared out disapprovingly from every bottle.
Weirdest of all, on the bottom of each was tied a lock of hair. It was long and grey, in poor condition, and I reckon it must have belonged to the woman in the photograph. It was tied up with the same new string as held the bottles, except for the fact that it was burned, ever so slightly at the ends.
I was still in quite a lot of pain from the water earlier, but I’ve always been too curious for my own stupid good. I took a few pictures on my phone, but I wanted some clear shots of the photograph inside to show my friends. God knows I should have just left; it’s not like there weren’t plenty of warning signs. I just chose not to pay attention. I picked up one of jars filled with twigs and took it off the nail, trying to angle it in my hand to get a better shot of the contents.
Then my fingers slipped and I dropped it. I watched it plummet towards the hard winter ground, willing it not to shatter, not to break. It was falling so slowly, but I was even slower. It exploded into a thousand glass shards and instantly I knew that I had meddled with something I should have left alone. I turned tail and ran, stopping only to reach down and pick up the photograph. I don’t know why, I suppose it felt so weird all of a sudden that I didn’t think I could get any more cursed. And I wanted a copy of that picture just to prove to myself that what I had found was real. It was real. You can have the damn thing now, though. I’ll leave it with my statement. I know in my heart getting rid of it will make no difference but I have to try.
Because from that moment on, everything I love and value has burned or been destroyed. My car overheated on the way back to the Forestry Commission, and I barely got out before the engine caught fire. My house was a smouldering heap of blackened rubble before the end of the week. Electrical failure. I don’t want to talk about what happened to Lucy. I don’t want to think about her face at the end.
Now there’s only one thing I have left that I value. That I love. And I cannot lose him. I can’t lose Ethan. I shouldn’t be in this mess. It’s absurd. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just dropped a bottle. That’s all! I don’t deserve this. I don’t.
I asked about who might have gone to the area, but aside from some middle-aged businessmen on a hiking trip no-one’s been anywhere near that clearing for years. There is no reason this is happening, but I’m still going to lose everything. I am so scared.
Archivist Notes:
He didn’t, in the end. Lose Ethan, that is. Ethan North is currently a healthy eleven-year-old boy living with a loving foster family in Inverness. They declined to give an interview. I can’t say I blame them. The rest is a standard muddle – Tim couldn’t find evidence of the clearing, Sasha established all the accidents that befell Mr. North and his loved ones appeared mundane in nature. The set-up of the clearing matches rituals or spells in both voodoo and Wicca but nothing definitive and there is no hard evidence of anything supernatural occurring.
There’s no reason to believe that when Jason North doused himself in petrol on August the 10th 2009, then lit himself on fire, he was doing anything other than acting out the delusions of a paranoid alcoholic. Paramedics took him to Raigmore Hospital, where he died three days later. He never regained consciousness.
I suppose there is one piece of evidence. Mr. North did include with his statement the picture he found in the bottle. It is a photograph of Gertrude Robinson, my predecessor at the Magnus Institute, circa 2002 as best I can tell. I have no idea what this means. I have no idea what any of this means. I’m very tired.
#the magnus archives#magnus archives#MAG#MAG37#MAG 37#BurntOffering#Burnt Offering#The Desolation#The Lightless Flame
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day 7 featuring a frankly unnecessary amount of completely illegible details but i had a lot of fun
i still love season one so much...
more or less clockwise from the top left corner and towards center:
random red string’d map of great britain
graham’s notebook, polaroids of teen graham and pictures of not!graham (MAG03)
fire extinguisher and dead worms
take-out coffee from the neighborhood + change and fidelity card, Magnus Institute business card and london oyster card
andre’s half-blank marriage license (MAG38)
spider-web zippo and breekon&hope delivery form for table (MAG36)
statement of nathaniel thorp (MAG29)
long string of singed paper with Our Father (MAG05) (yes there’s no way the institute could have that one... shhh)
library of jurgen leitner book plate
jon’s to-do list
forgotten cup of tea with note to get some sleep
jane prentiss-related statements and picture (MAG06 and MAG32)
martin’s underwear, distressed note from finder, and guest spider
tape recorder and blank tape
pendant from the People’s Church of the Divine Host (MAG09)
complaint filed by naomi herne (MAG17)
picture of gertrude robinson (MAG37)
Lichtenberg figure (MAG04)
Hill Top Road house (MAG08, MAG19 and MAG20)
helpful portrait of michael by sasha (MAG26)
jon’s coping method with all this bullshit
#the magnus archives#inktober#MAG37#((technically for jon's quote but i did go over in the references... ehh maybe he was already working on 38 just not recorded it yet))#aza doodles#tma spoilers under the cut
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Obviously it's magpod. Give me all the answers thank
blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)
martin blackwood obviously. thats my blorbo of all time i get him like nobody else does
scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)
i dont know if i really have one honestly? i think the problem is jon martin and tim are all scrunkly blorbo meow meows for me and its easy enough to put one char per answer but only bc i know martin is my number one blorbo and jon is my number one meow meow so i guess that leaves tim for the scrunkly category but i dont want him to think i picked him on a technicality bc he means so much more than that to me i love him so much
scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)
sasha james!!
glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)
jason north (the statement giver from mag37 “burnt offering” who thinks that pine martens are wee bears)
poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)
jonathan a sims my dearest love
horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)
elias<3333
eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)
also elias<333333
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hey in all the “in defense of Jonathan Sims’ plans” posts I don’t think I ever see it mentioned that in the beginning of MAG37 we hear that both Martin and Elias advised that he destroy the not-them table, it wasn’t even his original idea, why do people give him shit about that still???
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MAG37-41: In Which Shit Gets Extremely Real
Readmore’d for the benefit of the two or three people on earth who are farther behind than I am
MAG37 - Two big delivery men with possibly fake Cockney accents (Faux-ney, if you will) who look exactly like you’d expect delivery men to look. Sounds legit! yep that’s definitely the table from Not-Graham’s apartment, ooh yikes.
Pretty bog-standard "just minding my own business when shit got weird” statement, standard commentary from Jon and then “ohbtw it’s a pic of Gertrude”
ohhhh shit
MAG38 - hokay. The name “Mikaele Salesa” sounded familiar right from the get-go but I couldn’t place it right away; the standard wiki check tells me he got a mention in MAG14 so cool, this guy definitely deals in Weird Shit, good to know. And then: the vase. Weirdly hypnotic fractal-ish patterns? Oh hey, there’s one of the Entities whose bullshit I can pretty quickly spot at this point. (as I said previously, I know basically fuckall about the Entities other than a) they exist and b) the Weird Shit in the statements is somehow connected to one or more of them)
Seemed to be another pretty bog-standard Weird Shit of the Week statement right up until the end and let me tell you internets there is some shit in this podcast that has made my skin crawl but nothing so far has scared me as much as the absolute terror in Jon’s voice at the very end. Hoo.
MAG39 - OH HERE WE GO HERE WE GO HERE WE GO HELLO AGAIN MS. TEN THOUSAND WORMS IN A TRENCHCOAT
Fuck man where do I even start with this one? Props to Tim for the ever-so-brief bit of comic relief when he was playing with the dropped recorder, but shit son actually hearing the voice of Ms. Ten Thousand Worms In A Trenchcoat gaaaahhh
(and I’m sorry but seeing “[RUNNING, PURSUED BY WORMS]” in the transcript is cracking me all the way up)
And here’s the part where I started wringing my hands with glee in the laundromat at 8:00 this morning:
If you’ve been following my incoherent kermitflailing about this podcast, you’ll remember that the other day I mentioned noticing that Jon gets really, really into “character” when he reads the written statements so this... oh, this. This makes me happy.
Moving on. I am... not sure I like Elias. He hasn’t given me any real solid reason to not like him yet, other than that time he bitched at Jon to not mess with the Lukas family, but... eeeh.
More comic relief from Tim, bless him.
And then... oh fuck the table ate Sasha. Or. You know. Whatever that table does to people. Holy shit, that made my blood run cold. Especially considering the mention of “Not-Sasha” in the credits after the next ep but god.
And then. “Archivist.” “...shit.” oooooooof
MAG40 - Still not sure what to think about Elias. He doesn’t ping me as Actually Evil but I think he knows more about Gertrude than he’s letting on.
Tim’s statement, specifically the part about the Worm Stargate or whatever the fuck they were doing and Jon’s reaction to it, does not bode well.
Sasha or... well, Not-Sasha, I guess. Of course she “lost” that tape. I hope like hell it turns up eventually but... not gonna hold my breath on that.
Elias, please give Martin a raise or a nice long paid vacation to somewhere sunny with drinks in coconuts with little paper umbrellas and shit, this poor guy can’t catch a fucking break. He gets harassed by Ms. Ten Thousand Worms In A Trenchcoat for weeks, has to live in the Archives for months, gets accused of being a ghost, and then gets lost in some creepy Silent Hill tunnel bullshit under the Archives and then, then, he finds Gertrude’s murderated dead body. PLEASE GIVE MARTIN A BREAK I AM BEGGING YOU.
And Jon, Jesus, give Jon a vacation too. The missing recordings are... oh shit. The one with the calliope, and Sasha’s statement. We’ve heard Actual Sasha’s voice on three recordings, I think, and those are two of them. But they’ve still got the one with the Invasion Of Ms. Ten Thousand Worms In A Trenchcoat, right?
MAG41 - On to season 2!
*deep sigh* Jon. My dude, my guy, my buddy, my pal, my bromigo, my etc. Please take a fucking vacation. You are in no condition to be dicking around in the Silent Hill bullshit tunnels right now.
The description of the Worm Stargate is... yeek. Tim caught something very, very bad about to happen there, yes he did.
Oh goody, Robert Smirke again. I’m starting to not like that guy at all. I don’t care how gifted an architect he is/was or dead he is or how long he’s been that way, he is/was clearly Extremely On His Bullshit and I do not like anything about these tunnels or Millbank Prison’s leftover dungeons or any of this.
So... the fancy arrow pointing Jon down the stairs, and the voice telling him to leave. I’m guessing two separate entities (or maybe capital-E Entities?) here--one trying to lure him in and one ...maybe not trying to help him as such, but not wanting the first one to get him for *handwave* Reasons? In any case, that second one gave him a very stern but sporting warning and let him out, so... idk man.
Also I am very much looking forward to the murder mystery intertwined with Weird Shit of the Week.
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Randomly chose to relisten to MAG37, “Burnt Offering” today, August 10th (my birthday). And, well:
“There’s no reason to believe that, when Jason North doused himself in petrol on August the 10th, 2009, then lit himself on fire, he was doing anything other than acting out the delusions of a paranoid alcoholic.”
Happy birthday to me?
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