imheretofuckspiders

[imheretofuckspiders]

this is part 1 [part 2] Happy TMAnniversary haha the song is  A Complete List of Fears Ages 5-28 (Aprox) by The Yellow Dress I really love this podcast so so much. I just finished it like a month ago and it still lives in my brain so i just had to do a little tribute

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Training my parents to be funnier

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the magnus archives is just one really elaborate anti-smoking ad

smoking kills. not necessarily you, and not necessarily via lung cancer, but it certainly does kill.

[imheretofuckspiders]

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Not Particularly Relevant At All - A TMA teacher AU

Chapter 2: Regarding Things That Eat Away At Various Objects, Including You

read here on AO3. previous/next

Summary:

In which Jon and his students come to terms with the state of maintenance in the school, and Martin takes Tim's advice. The fallout of Tim's advice is also discussed.

CW: Maggots, homophobic slur (mentioned), animal death (mentioned).

11:05am, Monday

Jon hurried into the English department building clutching a stack of slightly ink-stained worksheets. He muttered a few expletives under his breath as he brisk-walked. The printer in the department office had conveniently decided to shit itself during his recess time printing efforts, and he'd had to walk all the way to the science and maths building to use theirs. No way in hell was he risking bumping into Martin Blackwood again by going to the library copier (even though it was the nice inkjet one that did three kinds of paper).  Flushed and sweaty, he entered the classroom. Every student was already seated, save for a few who were standing by their friends' desks. A few heads turned and acknowledged him, but as soon as he tried to open his mouth a girl started shrieking.

"It was fucking disgusting! They fell on my laptop, and they were in my hair, and I had to empty out my entire pencil case to make sure none were in there!" The class erupted into simultaneous exclamations of disgust and amusement.

"Alright, alright. Class, can we- CLASS!"

The class fell silent in shock. Given his smaller stature, most people didn't expect Jon to have quite the set of pipes on him. 

"Miss Garcia, are you alright? Did something happen during recess?" he inquired, attempting a more gentle tone. 

"They had to quarantine her science classroom," one boy piped up. Jon felt a wave of revulsion wash over him.  Angela Garcia nodded. "I was in Science, and I felt things dropping on me. At first, I thought it was water from the aircon, you know? Like the evaporative in there's always been really bad. And then," She was clearly beginning to enjoy the class-wide attention she was getting from her tale. "I reached up to touch my hair, like to see if there was a wet spot. And something moved." 

Jon tried to cover his retch. "Dear lord, what was it?"

"I didn't know at first, but I freaked and a huge maggot landed in front of me, right on my keyboard! And it turned out I was being showered by maggots from the rafters!" The entire class was cringing in disgust, and loud pockets of chatter had sprung up in spots around the room. 

"And then Miss Prentiss was weird about it after. She was helping me get them out of my hair with her bare hands! And instead of throwing them away, she kept going on about how fascinating detrivores were and put them in a jar on her desk."

Jon blinked a few times. "That's... abnormal."

"She likes bugs," another girl concurred. "She had silkworms to show us last year, and there was the wasp nest on the window outside at one point? She wouldn't stop staring at it." 

Jon harrumphed. "Well, I don't believe I'm in any place to gossip about my colleagues. If you're feeling unwell at all, please feel free to head to the nurse, but otherwise..." He tapped the stack of sheets on the table sharply. "Themes! And a bit of essay structure."

The class paid him no attention, still gathered in a gaggle around Angela. He sighed and began distributing worksheets to empty desks. Theories were passed between students, the prevailing idea being that a pigeon or a rat had died in the ceiling cavity, and decayed. One of the boys made a loud joke about replacing the M in ‘maggots’ with an F. 

“That’s not appropriate,” Jon called out aimlessly. A snarky “Sorry, sir.” was uttered, but the boy went straight back to ribbing his friends and sniggering. Jon’s already sour mood was fermenting even more, with the imagery of larvae squirming out of a slime-slick rat carcass and falling onto him burned into his brain. As he passed by each student he could imagine the sensation of their dry, squirming bodies wriggling around in his hair and down the back of his shirt. He'd known the old school was in bad shape, with ancient glass windows warping in their panes and dust-caked popcorn ceilings in the 60s-built buildings, but he hadn't expected maggots raining from the filthy crawlspaces. He spent the rest of the period glancing up at the cornices of the classroom, half-expecting patches of black mould to bloom or cockroaches to pour in.

1:10pm, Monday

The staff of Magnus Academy mingled around the lunch table, picking at cheap sugary morsels from a tray half covered in plastic wrap. Monthly staff teatime, courtesy of one of the school's oldest donor families. As he scanned the room, Jon recognised a few teachers from previous meetings and his time doing relief. The physics teachers, one with dead eyes and a scar streaking across his face, and the other (much older) man looking dapper with his bowtie and cane. He slapped his companion on the back, guffawing after telling a particularly bad pun. A lithe person stalking around the room that he vaguely remembered as a drama teacher. Her smile stretched too wide across her face, and she moved swiftly on dancer's legs. A blonde woman with close-cropped hair and a sports jacket glared as he passed. Jon drifted between little huddles of conversation, before locking eyes with a woman near the back of the room.

"How's everything going?" Jon asked her, leaning against the back wall of the shared staffroom. She nodded somewhat wearily in response. 

"It's going." 

She was tall, taller than most of the staff, often seen swishing about the halls in a brightly patterned maxi skirt and a matching headscarf. But now she slumped against the wall, leaning against the laminated posters. Her braids were beginning to fall out of her neat updo. Next to her, Jon pushed his little slices of iced cake around his paper plate. 

"Been here long?"

"Three years. Coming up on four next January, really. You?" 

"Just about two weeks."

She let out a short, mirthless cackle. "I take it you're the replacement for Miss Robinson?"

"Well, I try not to think of myself as a replacement, but... I guess that's all I am at the moment."

"Did you ever meet her? I assume you did relief for a while."

"Unfortunately not. You?"

"Oh yeah." The woman's voice dropped to a whisper. "She was a stone cold bitch."  Jon couldn't hold in a surprised chuckle. "Maybe that explains why my kids are uncontrollable." He threw his hands up in mock celebration, "She's gone! We're free!"  She grinned, which quickly morphed into a grimace. "God rest her soul, though. Christ, a robbery. Absolutely no way to go." 

"Mm."

There was an awkward pause. Old lady deaths are a kind of moodkiller, thought Jon. 

"Tim was telling me something about the new hire being a friend of his."

"Well, then that must make you Sasha!" He exclaimed, slightly more excitedly than he’d intended. 

"The one and only." Sasha smiled a little more earnestly, tickled to hear that Tim talked about her with his friends. 

“Jonathan Sims. Jon.” He held out his hand, and she shook it. 

"Sasha James."

Her palms were warm, and he noticed her jasmine-scented perfume. A crackly bell-chime from the PA indicated the end of lunch.

"I've got to get something from the English office.” Jon intoned.

"Well hey, I've got PPA now. Mind if I tag along?"

"Sure. Do you want these? I don’t believe I hold a lot of respect for the, ah, culinary endeavours of Mr Kipling.”

She gratefully accepted the flimsy plate. “How dare you. He’s an artisan.” 

The door to the English office clicked open, and Jon was hit with the familiar scent of old books mingled with a cookie-scented candle.  "Nice digs!" Sasha proclaimed through a mouthful of French Fancy, taking in the sight of a billion coloured post-its and mugs decorated with cats. Jon nodded, striding over to his (noticeably emptier) desk. He hadn't any sentimental photos of previous classes to display, nor was he particularly drawn to cute stationery.  He stopped dead in his tracks.

"What's wrong?"

On the desk sat a single yellow and slightly metallic oblong box. Jon approached it carefully, dreading a prank from his new colleagues. He’d heard that hazing in the teaching world wasn’t nearly as bad as in other professions, but he was still cautious of a glitter bomb or a gag gift with fake bugs in it. 

“Jon, it’s just chocolate. Probably a late welcome.”

He shook his head. A post-it was stuck to the top. The same faded blue as the one on the box in his classroom that read MR SIMS E5. 

Dear Mr Sims, I’d like to sincerly apologise for my conduct last week. It was inappropriate and I caused you a lot of inconvenience. Please accept my humble apology. - Martin K. Blackwood

Jon yelped and dropped the note, earning a quizzical look from Sasha. Had he seen what he thought was sitting on the note? With the tips of his fingers, he tentatively turned the paper over.  It was just a drawing. Thank god. Martin Blackwood had, for some reason, drawn a tiny spider in black ink on the corner of the note, with a smiley in a speech bubble next to it. Jon had mistaken the cartoon for an actual baby spider, and still shivered imagining its skittering legs somehow peeling off the page and making its way up his hand. While he was preoccupied, Sasha snatched up the other post-it that he hadn’t noticed in his momentary panic.

“I’m going to need context here. Is this from an ex?” Sasha frowned in confusion. 

"No, not an- it's- ugh!" He wrung his hands in frustration. "It's from the man in the library. He accidentally insulted me, and in the moment I was quite upset at him. Now he somehow feels the need to apologise with chocolates? He put a bloody spider on the note!“

“Eugh. Spiders are… not that I’m arachnophobic or anything, but… why would he draw a spider, of all things?”

“I don’t believe this is a genuine apology.” Jon huffed, placing the note on his desk. 

“Hang on, Jon. There was another note,�� she said, waving the paper cheekily. She cleared her throat.

“This is my sorry I hope you like the chocolate It is quite tasty.”

“Christ,” Jon muttered. “The man can’t spell, and on top of that, that is the worst haiku I’ve ever seen in my life.”

He gave the box a once-over without the sticky notes. 60% dark chocolate coated raisins and hazelnuts. He hummed in mild appreciation, recognising it as something he'd only buy as a treat when it went on offer in Tesco. 

“It’s not that bad! He probably feels terrible about the whole thing, enough to write poetry about it,” Sasha giggled.

“I’d like an additional apology for the poetry. 'Chocolate' is three syllables!”

She shook her head. “You’re a cruel man. At least thank him for the chocolates!”

“I’ll email him.”

“In person, or I’ll tell Tim you said that The Office was overrated.”

Jon let out a quiet whine. “Do I have to?”

3:25, Monday

Jon skulked near the library entrance, debating whether or not to go in. Sasha had practically pushed him towards the building, her threat of instigating a Tim Lecture hanging over his head. Martin Blackwood was right in his assumption that he’d caused him a lot of inconvenience, Jon's head had been swimming with thoughts of bittersweet chocolate, spindly spiders’ legs and treacle-coloured curls. Jon frowned, pushing away that last thought. He must’ve found out that I’m arachnophobic. He's using it to try to get back at me. It's psychological warfare to gain the upper hand-

“Excuse me, are you going in?”

Jon flinched. He realised that he'd been blocking the door for some time, and a student looked at him expectantly. Grumbling an apology, he stepped into the library. Drifting between the stacks, he tried to stall for time. Young adult fiction. So interesting. The interestingest. Boy, I sure do love Percy Jackson. 

"Enjoying the young adult section, huh?"

Jon whipped around to see the sweater-clad devil himself. Martin Blackwood wheeled a returns trolley up to Jon and hefted a sizeable stack of books under one arm, easily sliding them one by one into the shelf. 

"Oh, I don't- I don't read stuff like that..." Jon trailed off.

The man laughed. "It's nothing to be ashamed of! A lot of them are really quite well written. By the way, I'm not really sure where this one would go, could you take a look?"  Jon glanced at the spine of the offered book. 829.53. 

"Anglo-Saxon lit. Just after the rest of English lit."

"Oh, thanks."

"Didn't expect to be doing your job for you," Jon chuckled slightly. 

"It's- it's been a long day." 

Jon took a deep breath. "I, uh, came to thank you. For the chocolate. It was... nice. Of you." So much for talking smack about his vocabulary. Can't even say anything other than 'nice'. Martin Blackwood smiled warmly. 

"I'm glad you liked them! Did you see my note?"

Jon bristled a little. "I did see it."

"What did you think?"

Oh, he wants to play at that game. Alright.

"I can't say I'm a fan of poetry, especially haiku. It's a bit... puerile."

"Oh." His cheery face fell a bit. "Why would you say that?" 

"It's formulaic, and a lot of it simply lacks inspiration."

"Since you're such a purveyor of fine literature," the librarian said bitterly, gesturing to the Percy Jackson books. 

"Care to explain the drawing you did?" Jon pressed. His only objective became making the man squirm.

"What's wrong with it? Not artistic enough for you? Couldn't hang in the Louvre?" he spat. 

"It's a spider. Why, did you think I'd like a spider?"

"What's wrong with spiders?" Martin Blackwood puffed up in anger, his voice becoming shriller as he grew more agitated. 

"You know what, never mind. Thank you for your immense gratitude." 

He slammed the remaining books back into the trolley, and stalked off back through the shelves. As he went, Jon heard him mutter "pompous prick" under his breath.

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I imagine it was coincidence, but Alex saying this during the MonteCook livestream last week, and this moment happening in this episode? Perfection.

[imheretofuckspiders]

tmagp 34 rant

spoilers under cut

fuck. really hitting us with the 'there's no such thing as sacrifice' idea here aren't you jonny and alex

tma made it clear that sacrifices were pointless. michael shelley. jan kilbride. tim stoker. they all died stopping rituals that never would've succeeded in the first place.

and now, jonathan sims and martin blackwood. gone who knows where to bring the manifestations of human fear far away from their own universe.

and the fears are still here. clawing their way out of a square mile of london, leftover entity radiation terrorising those unlucky enough to be caught in it.

also the PARALLELS. sam falling into a tear in reality to drag a horror away from a person he cared about. jon and martin falling out of their reality to bring the horrors somewhere else. sam so confident that he's human.

something in me hopes they'll turn the 'sacrifice is pointless' idea on its head in tmagp, since their universe is all about balance. celia hasn't woken up on a roadside yet. i can only hope.

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tmagp 34 live reaction

spoilers under cut.

god finally some answers. also i like that they didn't spend fucking ages faffing around with 'how are you from a parallel universe', because that's overplayed and boring

sam my baby shrimp. it's not his fault he's maybe doomed another universe

georgie darling. i have to say, she's an incredible leader. and i like seeing the sternest side of her, and the veiled grief she feels understanding that not only is jon as he was human gone permanently, he might be back as a full monster.

the tape recorders are little creatures now! this is not horrifying at all! and this isn't web bullshit, this is pure distilled Archivist juice now.

IT'S ALL EYES BABEY DAMN RIGHT IT IS

fuck right in the feels. she thinks jon's back and he's gone full people-eating soul-sucking monster.

also in my staunch belief that this is Not. Jon. it's not any form of Jonathan Sims. It's an Archivist. my question now is what were the tmagp magnus institute doing with archiving.

SPOOKY STATIC IS BACK BABY

god i missed spooky static

and we're getting a freddie classification for primeline statements now? i know it's an ERROR and the classification is just XXXXXXXXXXX, but why do these classifications even exist in the first place?

also this statement takes place in the tma universe so entity maniacs eat your heart out. the slaughterrrrr

beth eyre my beloved. their performance perfectly characterised the archivist more as a hungry creature than a tortured soul.

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🌍✨ A Voice from Gaza: Fighting for Hope ❤️‍🩹

Hi, my name is Mosab , and I’m from Gaza. Life here has been harder than I could ever imagine, but today I’m sharing my story with hope in my heart, because your kindness has already given us so much strength.

This journey hasn’t been easy. The war has taken 25 family members from us—25 beautiful souls we loved deeply. Their laughter, their presence, their love… all of it is gone, leaving behind memories that are both precious and painful. Every day, I carry the weight of their loss, but I also carry their spirit, which gives me the strength to keep going.

Our Journey So Far

When I first reached out, I couldn’t have imagined we’d make it this far. Your support has been a light in these difficult times, and we are so deeply grateful for every single contribution.

But the road ahead is still challenging. Every day, we’re reminded of how much we’ve lost and how much we still need to rebuild.

Here’s what life in Gaza looks like for my family right now:

🏠 Safety: The uncertainty of tomorrow weighs heavily on us.

😢 Loss: The absence of the 25 family members we’ve lost is a pain we carry every moment.

💔 Dreams on Hold: The future feels so far away when survival takes all our strength.

How You Can Help Us Cross the Finish Line Even the smallest act of kindness can make a difference:

$5 may seem small, but for us, it’s a little relief, a moment of comfort, and a reminder that kindness still exists. ❤️

Can’t donate? Reblog this post to help us reach someone who can. Every share matters more than you know.

✅️ Vetted by @gazavetters ( #309 ) ✅️

Why Your Support Matters Your kindness isn’t just about helping us meet our goal—it’s about reminding us that we’re not alone in this fight. It’s about hope. It’s about survival. And it’s about giving my family a chance to rebuild our lives, even in the face of unimaginable loss.

Thank you for helping us get this far. Your generosity and compassion have already brought us closer to a better tomorrow, and for that, I’m endlessly grateful.

With all my love and gratitude,

Mosab and Family ❤️

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After more than a month of disconnection, we are finally back...

-These photos are from today, 11/3/2025.-

Today, I am sharing a glimpse of our new life, where we have started again beside our home that was destroyed by war. Despite the pain and loss, we have not lost hope, and our determination to build a better future for our children remains unshaken.

This Tumblr house we now live in is not just walls—it is a testament to our resilience and to the love and support of everyone who has stood by us. You have always been a community full of kindness and generosity, and today, I share these moments so you can see how the light continues to shine in our hearts despite everything.

-This clip was made yesterday by my daughter Lian to make something for Amir to sleep in and the experiment was successful. This is Amir sleeping.-

But life here is still very difficult. We are still trying to stay strong, and we have built a simple shelter to live in—I will attach photos. We are waiting for the border to open so we can travel, hoping for the day when I can see my children wearing school uniforms, going to learn, playing in safe, undamaged places, eating clean food, and drinking safe water.

For now, we are just trying to survive with what little we have, as the border remains closed to everyone except those with severe medical conditions and critical war injuries.

We need your support once again. I will try to stay connected online and keep sharing photos and videos of our new life. Thank you to everyone standing with us—you are our hope in these difficult times.

My campaign has been verified here #174!

& vetted by @gazavetters number #374

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A Future Beyond War Starts With You 💙

My name is Naser, and war has taken everything from me—my mother, my sister, my home, and the life I once knew. In an instant, my world was shattered, leaving behind nothing but memories and the weight of loss.

But even in the darkest moments, I refuse to give up. Because amidst the pain, I still have something worth fighting for—my three younger brothers.

🔹 One dreams of becoming a doctor, to heal others so they don’t have to endure the pain we’ve faced. 🔹 Another aspires to be an engineer, hoping to one day rebuild what war has destroyed. 🔹 And the youngest? He doesn’t have big dreams yet—he just wants to be a kid again, to wake up in a home that feels safe, to play without fear.

But how do you rebuild a life when there’s nothing left to start with?

🏡 We Need a Home. We Need Education. We Need Hope. Right now, we are not just fighting for survival—we are fighting for the chance to live, to grow, to dream again. We are fighting for a future where my brothers can become the doctor, the engineer, the child who gets to have a childhood.

💙 This is where you come in. I’m not asking for much—just a chance. A chance to rebuild, to give my brothers a future beyond war.

Your support, whether through a donation or simply sharing our story, can make all the difference. Even the smallest act of kindness can create ripples of change.

🙏 Will you help us rebuild? Together, we can prove that war doesn’t get the final word—hope does. Thank you for standing with us. 💙✨

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Posting this iconic piece of media that I just NEVER found online isolated except in an archived reddit thread

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AYYYY OHHHHH I MISMANAGE-A THE WEBSITE I BAN-A THE TGIRLS

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You know what's a very common practice of some security agencies (specialy militarized ones?) Make themselves be needed. For example, a few years ago, my house and other houses from my neighborhood were broken into. THE DAY AFTER a dude showed up to sell a security system plan, we all knew what had happened.

In a few episodes, something terrible will happen to convince Gwen to rethink her decision to decline Brett

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Hello, tumblr user. Before you is a tumblr post asking you to name a female fictional character. You have unlimited time to tag a female character, NOT a male one.

Begin.

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tumblr polls

is it rude to blast a youtube video without headphones on public transit

yes, and i would call the cops if this happened

no, getting annoyed at other people is fascist

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yogt n cumcumber

Not enough people talking about tzatziki