Tma Fanwork - Blog Posts
low-key don’t know what to do with this thing (fan-made tma spiral fear experience in an amusement park) I wrote but I found it appealing read myself even if it was pretty short. Any warning I will put in the tag to the best of my ability.
Long day of being at a amusement park with friends, it’s crowded, then I get a message that my mother is here to pick me up, beginning to feel rushed to dash into the crowd and take a turn at a shop I recognize, then again, and again, and again.. my legs feel like they’re about to give out under myself and yet feels like there is no end in sight. In hope of any more clarity on where to go I look around to find that the sky has gone cloudy, there is less people or none at that matter, I cannot find any maps and resort to finding a park worker. Twisting and winding the amusement park is and I have not found any staff, or anyone, I am tense. The sandals I have chose to wear have begun to blister my feet, I take them off and the cold stone decorated path I run on will not help. Finally a shop, it’s open, why wouldn’t it be? A cashier, hair blonde and very curly, thank goodness someone else is here. I approach screaming hello, my throat weak from dehydration and how long I’ve been running.
Pat
Pat
Pat
They(?) look up, I feel uneasy, I ask how to get to the entrance from here. They do not respond, I stare, it stares.
Run
Run
RUN
FEET BLISTER AND BURST
THIS PAIN MAKES ME STUMBLE AND FALL
I CRY IN FEAR
THE SCREAMS AND LAUGHS
MY SCREAMS AND THE DISTORTED LAUGH
OF A MAN I DO NOT
CAN NOT
COMPREHEND
A FACE CONTORTS IT’S FEATURES INTO A SPIRAL
FINGERS TOO LONG GRAB AND PIERCE
I KICK AND CRY
AT A POINT
I HAVE MY HANDS AROUND A THROAT
THE LAUGH BECOMES A WEEZE
THE GRIP HAS LOOSENED
ITS HANDS HAVE LEFT MY WOUNDS
HANDS PRY AT MY HANDS
MY HANDS TIGHTEN
I HEAR IT GASP
IT HAS NO PLUSE
THERE EXISTS THE BONES
TO STOP
THIS HELL
I WILL BREAK
ITS NECK
AND ESCAPE
The moment ends and now I’m back. A crowd around me I see, blurry eyes and a throbbing headache. There are staff around and the sirens of an ambulance. I bring a hand to my head. Blood, I look down, the wounds have not bled through my clothes, no signs at all, I pick myself up and like a sore thumb in the crowd,
I
See
It.
Though that moment had been too quick, my vision goes blurry and blacks out.
I’m awake, a hospital I assume and I am safe.
“Somewhere else”
Jmart my beloved (cries), they’re very dear to me
Also, happy Pride month!
TMA 21- Freefall
“Just the empty, blue sky in all directions as he fell into it. He wanted to pull the ripcord, to unfurl his parachute, but his hand wouldn’t close over the grip. So he just fell.”
I love this ep, generally I really like the ones about the Vast
The Burden of Truth | The Magnus Archives | Part 1/??
I finally decided to post this fic!!! I've never posted writing before so apologies if the formatting is weird.
DESCRIPTION: Season 2 Jon manages to find and listen to Gertrude Robinson's warning tape that she left for the next Archivist. Unfortunately, he is already sleep deprived, terrified, and deeply paranoid, so these disturbing revelations don't exactly calm his nerves...
NOTES: The tape I am referring to is the one that plays in episode 161. If you would like a refresher on what is said, you can find it here, and this is the post I made that kinda explains where I got the inspo for this. This fic takes place between episode 069 and 070. Also, I used [these] to indicate thoughts and internal dialogue.
WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 1-4 OF THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES!!
The Archivist, Jonathan Sims, sits at his desk. He holds a tape recorder in one hand and stares down at a different tape that lays in front of him. He draws in a shaky breath, steeling his resolve, then–
The recorder clicks as he turns it on.
“I-I don’t usually record a supplemental before a statement, but I just feel like I need to get this one out before—“ He cuts himself off. “In case something happens to me. I found a tape down in the tunnels. One of Gertrude’s. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed the police had dropped it, left it behind, but I know that’s not it. I know that they never found it because the tape was hiding. In the wall. I don’t know why the tape chose to reveal itself to me [Chose. Why did I say that the tape chose me, it can’t choose anything, it’s a tape. Am I really this far gone?] But it did, and I have it now. I don’t know why I’m feeling like this. I have this strange dread, like I’m, I don’t know, breaking a rule? Doing something that I’m not supposed to do. Crossing a line that I’m-I’m not supposed to cross. I know this is just a tape [It is never just a tape] but this one, it… it feels different somehow. Important. I-I don’t know. I guess… I guess I just have to listen to it.”
He turns the tape off, replaces his cassette with Gertrude’s. He takes a deep breath, pushing down his doubts, then plays the recording.
Click.
There is silence. Drawn out, suffocating silence that is only exaggerated by the whirring of the tape recorder. The Archivist tries to pick out and verbalise one of the thousands of thoughts and questions that have flooded his mind. They race and push and twist in a whirlpool, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. He attempts to speak, but the only sound that comes out of his mouth is incomprehensible stammering. He leans back in his chair and tries to calm his shuddering breaths, his racing thoughts. After a few moments, he speaks.
“I don’t know what to do with this.” He tries to keep his voice controlled, pronouncing each syllable as clearly as he can, but his distress remains apparent, and despite his efforts the words still tumble over one another as he continues.
“I don’t know what to-to think of this I-I… okay. Okay, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. There is no proof that any of that was true. [But I know how to prove it. She told me.] Perhaps…perhaps Gertrude was just a little…confused in her old age. Lord knows this place can drive you mad, what with the [The what? The supernatural attacks? The paranoia of never knowing who to trust? Or is it the oppressive, unrelenting sense that you are being watched. Watched by something you cannot see or touch or know. Is that what I am referring to? Is that what is driving me mad?] the… strange nature of our work here.
“Still, I would be a fool to brush this aside or- or to ignore it. After all, dementia didn’t shoot Gertrude Robinson three times in the chest. No… no she must have… gotten too close to the truth. Known or-or said too much. Or maybe she had done something to make someone [Elias. You know now that it must have been Elias.] upset. At the end there, I think she was planning on… burning down the archives [The Eye wouldn’t like that] or-or someplace else? I don’t quite remember, there-there’s just so much. She…she was with Jurgen Leitner. The Jurgen Leitner. Sh-she knew him! She was working with him! She…”
It was all becoming too much for him. He stands and begins pacing the cramped office, muttering more to himself than to the tape recorder clutched in his hand.
“What did…what did she mean? …Leitner… she told Leitner…she told him to–“
The realisation washes over him, stopping him in his tracks.
“She told him to go back to the tunnels. Back to the tunnels! He-he was living down there! What if… no. No not what if. It was him. I-I know his voice now, I know it! That was his voice I heard down there, down in the tunnels. That was Jurgen Leitner that told me to ‘leave’ and that made the…made the…the walls close in on me. Walls…could it…could it have been him that hid the tape, that gave it to me? It must have been, he has that book the… the Ruskin book, I think Gertrude called it! It can shape the tunnels! It was him who kept the tape and him who gave it to me! But - but why?
“Could it have been because of the… the [Come on, Jon. You can’t keep avoiding the topic. You need to address it eventually.] the… other things she talked about? The stuff about fear and - and gods and… rituals? And what she said about Elias [You mean Jonah Magnus] and the institute? That it and - and I serve some voyeuristic god of fear? That Elias [Jonah] can see through all eyes? And that I am a-a ritual? What does that - what does that mean? It doesn’t make any sense. It can’t be true, it’s just too absurd. It’s ridiculous! It can’t be true, it just– it just can’t. I cannot believe that it’s true! But… but Gertrude did. She believed every word she said in that tape, I-I can tell. I know.
“When I… broke into her flat I saw that… well, it didn’t make any sense to me then, but now it… In her flat, all the eyes had been cut out. On photographs, book covers, everything, she had cut out the eyes on all of them. It must have been because she didn’t want Elias [Jonah] or - or [The Eye, the Ceaseless Watcher, The Great Eye That Watches All Who Linger In Terror And Gorges Itself On–]
“–Or anything else watching her!” He exclaims, desperate to cut through his own spiralling thoughts. His voice is shaky as he continues, “She believed it, and I… oh god. What if… am I being watched? By- By Elias or whatever god controls the Institute? Can he see me right now? Is he listening to me record this tape? I need to - I need to make sure that— I have to be more careful. I-I should–”
He turns the tape off.
<><><>
The Archivist’s office is in complete disarray. Each drawer had been pulled out, their contents dumped out unceremoniously, each lightbulb removed and haphazardly screwed back on, and the statements that he had so carefully been organizing were left scattered on the floor. He collapses onto his chair, exhausted. He glances uneasily once more at his locked office door, then picks up the tape recorder.
“Alright. I have searched my entire office for anything even vaguely eye-shaped and have thankfully found nothing,” he relays, slightly out of breath. “I have also found no hidden cameras or audio bugs. It seems that Elias was indeed telling the truth when he said that the Archives have no security cameras.” His voice catches when he says Elias’ name, the voice in the back of his mind reminding him [You mean Jonah Magnus.] He shakes off the thought, not wanting to deal with its implications quite yet.
“I’m- I… I don’t think Elias has seen me. If he had, I doubt I would have gotten to listen to the tape and survive this long. Gertrude was— No. He killed Gertrude, likely because she disobeyed him. I don’t think I was supposed to listen to this tape. If he knows that I have… then he will kill me too. I’m sure of it.”
A familiar dread settles in the pit of his stomach, but it holds more weight than he’s used to. He has grown accustomed to paranoia, but not the feeling of his anxieties being so thoroughly justified.
“I still don’t know about the others. I’m not sure how involved they are in all of this. If they are working with Elias to do a ritual for this Eye god, I need to be much more careful. Tim and Sasha are already upset with me for stalk— uh, for investigating them, so I will have to find a way to avoid any more suspicion. Martin… I’m still not sure what to make of Martin. I wouldn’t say that I trust him. I can’t afford to trust anyone here. But… Martin seems innocent enough, seeing as the only lies that he seems to have told were on his CV. Not to mention that he may be the only one here who is even somewhat on my side. Sometimes, it even feels like he’s trying to take care of me. But what if it is all an act and he is just trying to manipulate me into– into… I just have to remain cautious. But if he– or - or the others aren’t working with Elias, then they are likely in just as much danger as I am.
“I-I need to know who I can trust, who I can…” The Archivist lets out a frustrated breath. “I. Need. Answers. Real answers. I need to know if what she told me was all true [There is a simple way to prove it. She told you how] and I need to figure out what I am supposed to do with this information! Where… where can I get answers? [The tunnels.] Who can I… wait.” He comes to a realization, recalling words from the tape. He continues restlessly, “Wait, Gertrude didn’t record this tape for me, not exactly. She recorded it for Sasha. Which means she must have trusted her. Sasha… I need to- I need to talk with Sasha. I need to ask her–”
The Archivist stands to rush out of his office, but he halts, noticing the state of the room for the first time. His eyes scan the room and land on the clock. He exhales sharply in disbelief.
“Good lord, is that the time? I… I’ve been here for far too long. But Sasha…” he lets out a dry laugh. ”Well, Sasha has likely been in her home and asleep for quite a while now. Sleep… I haven’t been sleeping much recently. I-I think it has been two, may-maybe three days now? It’s been hard to… I should get some sleep. No! No, I-I need… I need to… [I need sleep and I need answers. I can only get one of those right now]. Alright. Alright, o-okay. I will go home and try to get some sleep. Being here for too long may look suspicious so… yes. Well, goodnight.” He lets out a small chuckle. “Or morning, I suppose.”
Click.