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homocrafting · 2 years ago

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turns out whatever instinct in me makes me want to make tma aus is unstoppable and all consuming. so here's qsmp tma au focused on the brazillians:

cellbit- he HAS to be the archivist ok this man is so eye aligned it's not even funny. HOWEVER because qcellbit and fcell are the same person, Events happened to him before he became the Archivist, ala from the archives grian. local paranormal enthusiast finds dead half eaten bodies, gets arrested for it (he SWEARS he didn't eat those people), goes to prison for 10 years, goes nuts (becomes F!Cell), kills himself in the island, wakes up in his room and Felps tells him "bro you disappeared for 10 days are you ok" and he's just like. What.

Worth mentioning that he fucking speedruns the archives. also known as the qsmp. Cucurucho, who is kind of like elias but a bit less (I inagine the Host would be elias, wjoever they are), thinks "wooo new archivist I wonder how long it'll take them to find out abt the horrors" and then cellbit shows up 3 days later running on 2 hours of sleep and 20 mugs of coffee with a consipracy board connecting a bunch of statements and theorizing about entities

ALSO the web is around him like all the time. if you pay attention there's at least 2 spiders near him at all times, usually hidden because he squishes them when he sees them. he's tangled in the web of lies that is the plot I'm making for this au and his ass is NOT beating it

Felps- Stranger type of guy who doesn't even know and takes like. a year to realise something's up with him. don't worry abt it ok I don't know why he's stranger-y to me either. it's the vibes just trust me

Mike- ok so. I am Very unsure for pac and mike, PLUS I've not seen herobrine a lenda, which means I don't know all their backstory, BUT I'm thinking Lonely for Mike, so far? he kind of distances himself from everyone after richas dies with him, so far is the only person I've not seen much gay happenings happen to, tends to disappear to fuckall nowhere apparently, as one does. also the fact that, back in prison, he seemed to have the most difficulty connecting with others.

also, the Desolation hates him personally. he doesn't know why. his house has burnt down thrice. he gets burnt by the littlest things for no reason. he's banned from the kitchen. an avatar of the desolation tried to kill him once. he watched his own son die in front of him. this is based on nothing from qsmp or anything I've seen Mike do I just think it's funny

Pac- I can only think of Vast and Spiral for him tee bee eich. Leaning heavily towards the Vast because, you know. gestures to the giant hide and seek maps, and also O RAIO, even though I have 0 context for that. he just... he explores the world and made giant hole (yeah yeah holes are the buried but consider: it's big.). it's his "I can show you the world" vibes. again dude just trust me

note abt tazercraft: both of them are very, very touched by the Spiral. reason? Chume Labs

Forever- I'm thinking either the Buried (mostly the digging aspect- he's destroyed a whole mountain and dug up and entire desert), or the Hunt (his intense hunt for Phil's love, the insane grinding that could be seen as hunting for resources, the werewolf hc my beloved). Leaning more towards the Hunt bc dogboyyyyy

The plot I have in mind is very different from the tma plot, but I'm not sure of everything yet, so for now you get this little bpnus :)

[CLICK]

[Cellbit]

We've been back from the Adoption Center for about a day now. Not a timely update, but things happened, and, well.

We found... we found a weird... creature. It- he? Acts human, although he can't talk. He communicates with us through a little notebook, and overall acts incredibly childish. He sure looks like a child. One with- with some material akin to... to egg shells as skin. He has hair, despite apparently being all... eggy. It's black and curly, covers his face. He doesn't like it when we try to move it away from there, but we're working on a safe way to see what's under there.

He seems not to know where he came from, but I know he's lying. It's- there's no way he doesn't, not with what he said, I don't care if Pac and Mike or, hell, Felps believes him, He called us fucking- he called us dads! That's the first fucking thing he said! It has to be some kind of trap, some kind of spy, I don't know yet but when I find out I'm going to fucking-

Shit. That wasn't too professional. Alright, where were we.

We brought him to the Institute. Forever and I weren't thrilled about the idea, but it was 3 against 2. I can't believe Felps would- I get Pac and Mike, there's something wrong with them I'm sure of it, but Felps? I underestimated his braincells. What am I talking about, he doesn't have any.

(Soft chuckle)

We, we named him Richarlyson, he seemed to like it. We asked his name first, but all he did was draw a- (Snort) a stick figure shrugging.

The only clothes he has are a singular oversized Brazil shirt. The moços and Felps want to go buy him clothes.

I don't know how they'll justify the kid having, I don't know, pure white hard skin, but they said not to worry about it, so I guess I won't! I won't. I fucking won't.

... I'm gonna follow them tomorrow. Just to be safe.

That's all for today, I'm gonna go- I'm going to check some statements, see if there's anything even remotely related to this.

This is Cellbit, Head Archivist of the QSMP, which I still don't known what stands for by the way, signing off.

[CLICK]

#cellbit #forever player #forever #richarlyson #felps #tazercraft #pactw #mikethelink #brazil world domination #qsmp #hmmm I need a tag for this au #the quesadilla archives #<- idk if that's gonna be permanent but that's it for now #favela five

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deathbyhertouch · 2 months ago

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Kinktober Day 5: Freeuse

(i think if they were to make an adaptation of TMA, Yasmin Finney would be amazing as Sasha/Not Sasha)

Sasha James x afab!reader

warnings: smut (18+, mdni) , freeuse, oral (sasha receiving), public sex, voyeurism, caught in the act, fingering

word count: 832

kinktober masterlist

It was another boring day down in the archives of the Magnus Institute. You were supposed to be helping Sasha and Tim organize some of the older files for Jon to analogue. It was hotter than fuck outside and Elias deemed it ‘not hot enough’ to turn on the air conditioning yet (it was the middle of July). You had all long since abandoned filing the statements, now moving on to fanning yourselves and talking to each other.

“What’s your wildest fantasy, James?” Tim teased, loving to watch the smaller woman squirm.

“Hmm, probably…. doing it somewhere i’m not supposed to? I-i haven’t thought about it much, Stoker.” She squeaked out, her dark cheeks flushing a rosy pink. You smiled at the image, picturing yourself bending her over the desk you’re all currently melting on. Your little workplace infatuation with the shorter woman grew into a full-fledged crush on her.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N? We’ve lost her, Tim.” Her chipper voice pulled you out of the daydream that made you horrible wet. You blinked rapidly, a small smile on your lips.

“Sorry, what?” You asked, spurring the brunette to repeat herself.

“What’s your dirty fantasy?” Sasha asked, placing a hand on your knee, her big brown doe eyes making you weak in the knees. You gasped, the closeness of her face to yours, and her hand touching your sweaty skin.

“I-I…uhhh….erm, bending a girl over the desk and fucking her while she works.” You rushed, the words spilling out of your mouth in a hushed tone. Sasha chuckled, her eyes twinkling as she shook her head at you.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that. That’s okay, we can change the subject if you’re uncomfortable.” She consoled you, rubbing her thumb across your knee. You were now a sopping puddle, ready to combust if she made any more contact with you.

“Tim, can you run out to that Thai place and get us some takeout? I’ll pay.” Sasha said, turning to the redheaded man, handing him a few bills. Tim nodded, standing up to stretch his legs.

“Good idea, i’m fucking starving. Be back in 30.” He spoke over his shoulder, halfway to the door already. Sasha thanked him before turning back to you after the door shut behind him.

“I lied, earlier. I found it really hot, i’ve been waiting so long to get you alone. Now that I’m 99% sure you are as into me as I am you.” She mused, her hand resuming its place on your leg, slowly inching upwards.

“You like me back? Fuck, Sash. C’mere.” You spat, grabbing her hips and pulling her onto your lap before crashing your lips to hers. She moaned into the kiss, before tugging her glasses off her face. You felt her tongue slide across your bottom lip, making you moan into her mouth. She giggled, grinding her hips down on your lap.

“I have an idea, you game?” She asked, breaking the kiss, much to your soft pout. You cocked an eyebrow at her, nodding anyway. She laughed, clamoring off your lap, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the filing cabinet.

“Okay, I’m going to get back to working on these statements, and I want you to eat me out. I wanna see if you can make me finish before I finish these.” She proposed, making you smirk.

“You’re on, Sash. Now get started.” You grabbed her hips, turning her towards the cabinet. You made quick work of pulling down her pleated skirt and panties.

You spread her cheeks, before licking a stripe from her clit to her entrance. She moaned, before catching herself and focusing again at the files. You moaned at her taste, slipping your tongue into her entrance. She gasped as you began to fuck her with the muscle. You brought your thumb up to her swollen nub, slowly circling it as your mouth began to build up a fast rhythm.

Her arousal was leaking out of her pussy, coating your chin as you inhaled her essence. She tasted so sweet and musky, you could die here and be totally fine with it. Her hips were bucking against you, signaling that she was growing close to her orgasm.

You sped up the circles on her clit, pressing your face deeper into her warm, wet cunt. You lapped at her folds, suckling them gently as you smacked her on the ass. She whimpered, the blood rushing to where your hand left it’s mark. You chuckled into her, smacking her again. You spit on her pussy, watching goosebumps creep across her skin.

“Oh fuck, Y/N. I’m so fucking close.” Sasha whined, feeling her reach her breaking point. You slipped two fingers into her pussy, and pulled her clit into your mouth. She cried out, her climax crashing over her in waves.

“Good girl, Sash. So fucking hot.” You cooed, helping her pull her skirt and panties back on.

“Well, well, well… what have we here?”

Love, A

#kinktober 24 #kinktober #tma smut #the magnus archives smut #tma x reader #the magnus archives x reader #sasha james smut #sasha james x reader

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osspial · 8 months ago

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relistening to tma and I just got to tma 71 - underground. goddd. the narrator is such a fascinating individual. I dont think there's any other person in tma that has the same "well. I guess this is my fate now" reaction as she does. she's on a muddy dirty ghost train for far longer than should be physically possible and her reaction upon it grinding to a halt is to try and find the driver and see what's wrong. she sees another victim of the Horror and sees the door seal shut behind her and decides "i guess im going to die. nothing to be done about it now. I'll just lie on the floor and hope it's a dream". she seems so unphazed by it. I wonder if the fears spit her back out because she's such a perplexing unflappable person. they just had no idea what to do with her. absolute legend.

#tma #tma 71 #tma spoilers

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thecatspasta · 4 months ago

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Hello Tumblr. I dont like it. It is the very air I breathe it is the blood pumping my heart and the nerves flowing to my brain. It is my everything, a simple like is an understatement of a feeling I have towards it that I cannot describe no matter how many words in any language would be provided to me

#garlic breath #tma #the magnus archives #one of thes days ill get back on the tma grind

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rainbowchewynuggets · 2 years ago

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TMA Encore #15

Everything feels smaller and emptier now. Further away than ever.

Jon spends a long time looking for Martin, calling his name. He hasn’t heard anything back. He feels like he’s being wrung out like a rag as the Entities revoke their favor in him. His head hurts terribly.

There’s a grinding sound rising behind him. As he zig zags around in search and the sound steadily grows, he starts getting scared that he’ll never find Martin. That something happened to him.

Jon finally feels his hand brush something warm. Martin’s hand. He turns around and clasps it as it clasps at his. They can hear each other. See each other. They’re relieved to see the other alright.

They decide to go look for the others. On the way, Jon retells his revelation to Martin, who listens intently.

They get interrupted by the grinding sound catching up, and the terrain pounces on them to drive them further away from Not-Jon. As they run, they encounter many branching paths. Rather than agonizing over which are right and which could lead them to worse traps, Martin suggests that they not overthink it and just pick the ones that appear to be the best choice based on the information they have in hand. Jon’s stomach turns, but he agrees. He refuses to grant the enigma his doubt and indecision. He squeezes Martin’s hand and lets him pick the lane.

Their method proves true. They quickly escape the upheaving terrain and–amazingly–find Tim and Sasha.

The two are aghast to see Jon and Martin in one piece each. The boys don’t have much of a plan for the moment, but they want the two of them to come along before the landscape catches up. Tim and Sasha hesitate.

Martin: What’s the matter?

Tim and Sasha have the grace not to let Jon know that they heard his tape, but they ask if he detonated the TNT after he split off in the tunnels.

Only then does Jon’s stifled memory resurface. He saw the blast from halfway down the tower shaft. The explosion had reached him before the emerging hellscape did. He remembers the scorching and crushing pressure. They all remember.

None of them could have survived. They’ve been fabrications within the Entities’ sphere of influence the entire time. It could explain why Jon and Martin’s avatar status progressed so quickly and why it has gone back out with the tide. Their minds have been kneaded so that they couldn’t realize it on their own, even as they clambered over the wreckage that killed them.

It’s a deflating revelation. If any of them manage to escape, there’s no telling how much of what they do will directly serve the Fears. Even without Jonah, the Institute, or the Mother of Puppets in play, their fates are still not their own. At the same time, how can they throw away the hard-won revelation that they do–no matter how small–have agency here? At least enough to walk away, to refuse to act. It could make all the difference, and it’s certainly more than Not-Jon has shown himself to have.

They talk it out.

There are two options. They could stay here as the creature digs his way out in hopes of not spreading the Extinction themselves. There’s a chance he’ll die here, leaving the rest of them to handle the hunger until they too pass away. If Not-Jon escapes or Not-Martin succeeds him, they’d be difficult to stop. Or, the group could try to monitor their manipulation and escape, themselves. If they’re fast, they might be able to trap the doubles before they get out–assuming that they won’t invent a reason not to.

The safest thing to do from there would be to avoid involvement with any other rituals or disturbing activity, no matter the circumstance. It would be too much of a risk to participate, even with good intentions. As much as they’d all love to put this behind them, the probability of actually doing it with how much they know seems… unlikely. There’s a good chance they’ll inherit the full brunt of the hunger.

On the other hand, how can they justify not acting on their knowledge of the Entities in some way? They could, as Not-Jon had said, save lives.

It could all be part of the Fears’ plan to have them escape, Tim argues. But then, what about the plan to have Jon take over? It’s possible for them to have two plans, Sasha simply replies.

Jon explains that the Fears have no plan. He saw it himself–they’re creatures with as abstract a concept of their prey as their prey has of them. Avatars make plans on behalf of the Fears’ desires. Even if their motivations are somewhat influenced, they aren’t being “puppeted”. Martin agrees. If the Fears had that kind of control, they would have won already. As long as the four of them try to stay actively aware of their impulses and shortcomings, they might be alright.

Sasha asserts that it won’t be that simple. They just destroyed a massive site of power and became part of an irritant to residing avatars. Trouble’s going to seek them out.

Sasha: For all we know, they’re already on top of us out there.

Martin: Or it’s been no time at all. There’s no way to know how much time has passed in the real world.

Tim: I guess we could just bolt and hope they never find us. The avatars wouldn’t necessarily know what we are just because they get headrush when we happen to pass by.

The other three perk up in surprise at Tim’s comment.

Tim: That doesn’t mean I agree. I still don’t think we'd be able to keep it together out there.

They continue to debate the same points for some time with no consensus. There will be massive risks no matter what they do. The near certainty of failure burns in the back of Jon’s mind. The possibilities nag and bite.

His attention drifts, tracing a path back the way they came.

He knows he could still corner the creature if he tried.

Martin: Jon. Jon.

Jon stops staring off.

Jon: Right, sorry. What were you saying?

Sasha: We can’t agree on going. But we’re willing to… try it. We try to find a way out without letting the place get to us.

Martin: Which might work better this time if we know what we’re doing.

Tim: And if we can’t do it, we stay.

Jon rubs his neck.

Martin: You don’t think we should do it.

Jon: No. But that probably means we should go for it.

Utilizing a mix of Sasha and Tim’s methods and Jon and Martin’s methods of counteracting the hellscape, they begin trying to find their way out. If they’re lucky, they might find the hole in the wall from before–or some other loose trapping that could be pried apart as the hellscape twists itself tighter and tighter around them. The wet parts are starting to dry, making them brittle.

They can’t find a stable path, of course. The journey quickly becomes intimidating, and the environment punishes that to the fullest extent of its ability. It’s grueling and frustrating and never seems to get them any closer to their goal. Jon constantly has to fight the impulse to abandon the others, especially as the Fears descend upon him to remind him of what they want. But he stays. He fights not to pry, but the same thing is happening to the other three inside their heads. And they stay. They face their obstacles and the danger they pose head-on, with the unfounded certainty that they can handle it. It becomes a kind of shared psychosis. Their blind faith allows them to put more trust in each other, which bolsters their fluidity as a team. That trust only deepens with time. Their mission demands it, as their exit eludes them for days, weeks, an eternity. They never escape, but they survive.

Not-Martin watches from afar with the burgeoning sight of the Eye. Long invasive fingers pull at his consciousness, seeking refuge from the rapidly decaying vessel they chose, used, and have wasted. Not-Martin knows that it’s happening at some level, but he can’t really feel it.

He had tried hard to stay in his cell. But there he was, outside of it, once again steeling his nerves to kill his partner a second time and looking for something sharp. That is, until the group caught his attention.

Hearing their discussion felt like white noise at first. It took a while for the meaning to sink in. He watched as they shakily put their theory into action. Without the paralyzing logic of the enigma in play, they seem more... themselves. Not that he really remembers what that means.

Not-Martin fully expects them to fail. To give in, to be crushed or show signs of insidious sway.

The group continues to evade the hideous alien presence that now saturates the very fiber of their being. Of his being. He keeps watching, a motionless phantom waiting for its grim reality to reach the foolish occupants of the haunted wreckage.

It always happens. Why would this time be any different?

As time passes, the definitive proof of this radical solution that he knows won’t arrive doesn’t arrive. The group falters. They fall apart.

Not-Martin lets out a deep sigh. He hadn’t noticed himself tense up.

He catches himself hesitating to move on as the victims of the enigma languish in tatters.

Knock it off, he thinks. He shouldn’t be drinking this in. He has work to do.

But before he can tear himself away, the members of the team change their scattered course. Slowly, difficultly, they come back together and start again. Their observer counts their inches of progress as they face their first obstacle. They fail to be defeated, moving on to the next. Their quest is the same as before, with its tiny little victories. Only now, Not-Martin isn’t watching for failure.

A nagging feeling prompts him to wonder why.

His punishing journey has taught him that the only way to progress against the Fears is not to care what happens next. These four people fighting tooth and nail to see an uncertain future reawakens a piece of him he’d been trying to kill for ages–something he had set out with into the unknown, but had had to leave behind in order to continue.

That piece remembers how repulsive the Lonely feels. It’s the part of him that felt something at seeing the passions of others reflected in himself, despite his isolation. The desire to realize his own passions despite the dread that always held him back.

Life. His life.

He’s been dead for so long, the remains of a failure long ago. But now, he feels acutely aware that he’s still here. Still acting. Just as they are.

How much of that time has he spent trying to destroy himself? Watching his partner destroy himself? For what? They still became part of the trap. Betrayed the promise they had made to defy evil that had threatened to swallow them. The future he had hoped for that had carried him out of the Lonely’s shore and through the apocalypse.

One way or another. Together.

But it isn’t over yet. They’re still here. They still have that promise to keep. They could still have that future, however brief. They could be themselves again.

And the thought of that, looking at where he is, nearly scares him to death.

Not-Martin feels something burn inside a frozen hollow place that grew over the years of detachment. It’s barely there, but a drop of warmth feels like a fire when you’ve become accustomed to the deepest cold.

It’s so hot, he falls to his knees with tears in his eyes.

He clutches his chest, desperately trying to hold on to the precious feeling as instinct tries to force it back.

He feels paper-thin, like he could expire in the breeze.

Nevertheless, he gets to his feet and sets off toward the root of the island, high above him.

The creature slithering and scraping in the darkness below him answers without pausing.

NJ: Go back, Martin. It’s almost over.

Not-Martin–or just Martin, here–can’t find it in him to argue, looking at the circumstances. He’s too winded from the climb anyway. He settles back against an outcropping of busted wood.

Jon notices the lack of response, but only turns his head for a moment as he tears at the last of the rubble with unraveling hands.

The shade on the ridge sits silently. There are arguments he knows he needs to make and vanishingly little time to make them, but he suddenly can’t find the will. It’s all he can do to hold on to his warmth as it drains the cold determination that was preserving his inertia.

Below, the shrapnel flays away more of what’s left of his partner with each stroke. It kills him to watch. He looks away, but it kills him all the same.

To his surprise, Jon slows to a stop and speaks first.

NJ: Have you seen what the others are up to?

Martin picks himself up a bit to answer.

NM: Yeah. I was surprised, but it seems to be working so far.

NJ: They’re persistent, I’ll give them that.

He sighs tiredly.

NJ: Still can’t risk letting them out, though.

NM: They kind of make me miss the old days. Never thought I’d say that.

Jon makes a haggard noise that he thinks might have been a chuckle. A long silence follows.

NJ: I miss the way we used to be, too. I’d nearly forgotten.

His voice is quiet and fragile with regret. Martin can barely hear it.

NM: It’s working, Jon…

NJ: For how long?

Nothing.

Martin’s guard drops, and his partner can feel what’s going on inside him.

Jon turns himself around in the pit with concern. His many green eyes wink up from the darkness.

NJ: Martin, what did you do?

His voice is alarmed, and it wakes Martin up.

NM: I’m letting it go. The whole plan. I don’t… I don’t want this anymore. I want us to make it through this. It doesn’t have to be the end yet.

NJ: It’s too late for that. You’re going to get killed if you turn back now.

NM: No. I’ll be fine. They’re right, Jon. Neither of us are going to pull off what we’re trying to do. The Fears only have more of us the more we think we’re pulling away.

NJ: It’ll be even worse if we give up. We can’t just unleash this thing.

NM: We don’t have to give up, either. I was wrong. This is how the Entities win, Jon. It’s how they always win. It’s our fear. We play their games and fall right into their hands because we’re scared of what’s going to happen. So this time, why don’t we just go on and find out? Maybe we can try to get back a little of what we’ve lost while we’re at it.

The man within the creature can feel the meaning of the words. Emptiness reawakens with longing for all the things that both of them were so committed to think weren’t possible for them.

NJ: How can you believe that?

NM: I don’t. But we don’t have to. We’ll just do it anyway.

NJ: Martin, stop.

He feels weaker by the second.

NM: We promised. This is our last chance.

His partner extends a hand toward the pit.

NM: I can’t come down and get you this time. You have to come up.

Jon hesitates.

They’re right there. Just behind the door.

They knock again.

The rapping of Their fingers shakes the tenuous shape of the wreckage loose. Martin falls, followed by a crunch.

NM: I’m–I’m stuck.

Jon knows. Pain. Blood. The cuts are deep. His partner is going to die.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The creature is paralyzed, the consequences of loss and failure shrieking at each other at the forefront of his mind.

It’s happening again. He has to choose. If he shares the burden with Martin, it would relieve the vulnerability. Martin will live, sustained only by the maddening burden of Jon’s mistakes–and so will the Fears. If he leaves, Martin will die. No matter which he chooses, he’s still being drawn forward by fear.

Jon has never been more sick of it.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The sound of screeching, straining metal echoes up from the pit.

Martin: Jon?

Jon’s knifelike fingers claw at the rubble, showering him with brick and glass. The components that lead into his back–buried deep in the remains of the Institute, connected to beings beyond reason–drag behind him like an anvil. Partway up the climb, still far from his partner, he runs out of leash. He pulls with the final ounce of strength that never seems to leave him to hoist the entire mess upward, but he only ends up breaking some of what’s holding him together. It falls and clatters in the darkness.

This will destroy him. He knows it.

Martin: Jon, can you hear me?

Jon: I hear you. I’m coming. Just keep talking to me.

The certainty of defeat has sobered his panic.

Martin: You remember the cabin?

Jon: Before or after I read the mail?

Martin: ^smiles^ Before.

The wreck comes loose, and Jon slides down.

Jon: I remember getting stranded on the road the night we got there. We had to walk to the nearest town. It was terrible.

He starts up again and loses more parts.

Martin: Yeah. It wasn’t so bad, though, looking back.

Jon: Well, not compared to the walking we did after the cabin.

Martin: That doesn’t seem as bad either, now. There… there’s a lot I don’t regret about the times we’ve had to go back. Or the time we spent driving each other up the wall at the Institute. I think I could do it all again if you were there with me.

Jon: ...I would too.

Martin doesn’t seem to hear him.

Despite it all, Jon aches to walk straight into the eye of the abyss with Martin’s hand in his again. Even though they’ll fall apart. He wants it more than anything.

He just has to make it a little further.

Something yanks him downward. He clings as tightly as he can and cranes his head back to see the speck where Martin is. With that movement, he snaps a crucial thread holding him together. Layers of his horrible body separate with each movement. He burns, the foul soil in his chest smoldering to dust. He doesn’t care.

He keeps moving. Just a little further.

His hands fall away on contact, leaving weak spindly limbs of armature to climb with. His body is a tangle of loose snares that rapidly shakes apart. Cords and ventricles tangle and burst. The tether that leads back down into the dark remains intact as the creature is left with less and less of himself for ignoring his keepers. The pain reaches new unbearable heights. Pieces continue to fall as he slowly climbs.

Martin hears the clatter come closer, even as it grows thinner. Gasps and shudders echo up the walls of the heap. He stretches his best arm downward as Jon reaches up.

————

First

(Two parts left!)

Index

#the magnus archives #mag200 spoilers #magnus pod #tma fancomic #tma encore 15 #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #tim stoker #cw body horror #cw mutilation #cw impending death #not jon #not!jon #not martin #not!martin #not-jon #not-martin

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