cryptidheights

[cryptidheights]

been working on bracelet-ifying the last paragraph of the intro to house of leaves. sorry for the shit picture but its literally 10 feet long right now.

"Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you'll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You'll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. And then for better or worse you'll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you've got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.

And then the nightmares will begin."

this is turning out insane

[cryptidheights]

lads no fucking the house!!!!

the house has filled itself with chintz

[cryptidheights]

"Inside were human teeth arranged in a smile."

The snack that smiles back amirite? Or maybe bone apple teeth-

A little poster(??) of one of my favorite TMA episodes!!! The image of an apple having a complete set of human teeth in it was just *chefs kiss*

[cryptidheights]

lodging ritz crackers in the hollows of my cheeks like a large hamster, chewing through them like a socially anxious wood chipper

[cryptidheights]

in the words of john mulaney, ice tea

(a magnus archives crackfic)

this. happened. i was having a flask of ice tea at work and this popped into my head. this is a lot of tim screaming dramatically, melanie being annoyed, and martin being a king. we are ignoring canon because this fic is primarily about how the magnus archives is an office comedy and here it is treated as such. they all work at the archives. elias is nowhere to be seen. jon has eye powers but is not in pain. it is used for comedy only. tim is happy. we are laughing. things are good.

________

“What the fuck, man.” 

Tim places his hands on the back of Melanie’s chair and spins. She’s already flipping him off by the time they’re face to face. 

“Leave me alone, Tim, heaven knows you have bigger things to worry about–Tim, are you high?”

“Your tea is cold,” Tim continues unperturbed, pupils dilated, “on purpose. I can see the frost.” 

“You’re high at work,” Melanie counters, “and I was just trying to see what the Americans were on about. It’s suffocating down here anyway. You wear those stupid Hawaiian shirts, I drink iced tea.” 

“There are some things better left undiscovered, oh, wait till I tell Martin–” 

“Don’t tell Martin, this is so stupid, Tim–”

“MARTIN!” 

“Tim, what the hell–” 

But Tim has already snatched the flask of tea off Melanie’s desk and is halfway down the hall, hollering for Martin. Melanie catches up with him just as he kicks in the door of Martin’s office. 

Martin knocks his chair over. “Tim! What’s the matter?” 

Tim shoves the flask under Martin’s nose. “Melanie,” he gasps, out of breath, “was drinking iced tea.” 

Martin blinks. 

“It’s heresy,” Tim continues. 

Silently, Martin takes the flask and unscrews the lid, glancing at Melanie for permission. She throws up her hands. 

“You’re insane,” Tim whispers theatrically in Melanie’s direction. 

Martin takes a sip. He takes another. “Blackberry tea in this?” 

“Yeah. PG Tips, too.” Melanie looks like she is desperately keeping her fingers from Tim’s throat. 

Martin grins. “It’s good.” 

“WHAT??” 

“A little sweet for me, but really delicious,” continues Martin serenely. “Good mix, Melanie.” 

“Thank you.” One of Melanie’s rare smiles skirts the corners of her mouth. 

Tim has both palms shoved against his eyes. “I want to erase this horrendous tragedy,” he says, voice muffled. 

“Go take a nap, Tim.” Martin reaches out and pats Tim’s arm. “Go on.” 

“Okay.” Palms still pressing grooves into his eyelids, Tim shuffles out. There is the sound of an office chair creaking in Tim’s office a couple doors down and a blood-and-thunder sigh. Then soft snoring. 

Martin bursts into laughter, smile stretching from ear to ear. “He’s something when he’s high, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Melanie is grinning now. Martin’s laugh has that effect on people. “He’s damn annoying. But also pretty funny.” 

Jon sticks his head in as Martin takes off his glasses to wipe his eyes. His hair is pulled back in a bun so messy he looks a little like he has spider legs sticking out around his face. The “Mum Life” mug in his hands (“because he’s got eyes in the back of his head,” Tim had giggled at the office Christmas party to a round of groans) has five soggy tea bags draped inside it.

“Was someone screaming?” 

“Tim’s high,” Melanie and Martin chorus. Jon rolls his eyes. 

“Can someone tell Basira to look for his stash again, please? This is becoming a problem.” 

“She won’t be happy.” 

“She will if it stops Tim from causing office drama. He was singing carols in her office yesterday at three in the afternoon. I think if I hadn’t walked by she’d have shot him.” 

“I’ll ask,” Martin says, and gets a gentle smile from Jon.

“Thank you.” 

“Did you get that statement recorded?” 

“No.” Jon leans against the doorframe, looking exhausted as usual. “Tim swapped it out when I stepped out for tea an hour ago. It was total gibberish. What even is a ligma?” 

Melanie suddenly gets very still. Martin chokes. 

“You–he–Jon, it’s nothing–” 

“I definitely have no idea–” 

Jon heaves a huge sigh. “Another sex joke, then?” 

Martin is two shades redder than he had been five seconds ago. Melanie manages to choke out a “yup”. Jon ages another three years. 

“I should have known.” He shakes his mug in the general direction of the kitchen. “Don’t know why I even assume it’s anything else, now…” 

Melanie releases the biggest wheezing laugh Martin has ever heard from her when Jon disappears around the corner. 

“That’s even worse than when Jon asked what a dab was.” 

“Basira,” Martin begins, already on the phone, “Yeah, hi, sorry, it’s about Tim’s stash again–” 

“NOBODY TOUCH MY OFFICE,” hollers Tim from down the way, suddenly awake, and Martin can hear Jon groan, overstimulated. When Jon shuffles back by Martin’s office (was he still wearing house slippers? Did Jon sleep in the Archive?), he has a set dead look in his eyes. 

“If the weed isn’t gone, I will start an apocalypse,” he drones, “also, I took another one of your teabags, hope that’s all right.” 

“Course it is. Let me know if you need more.” 

“Make sure to take Melanie with you if you go to the shop,” Jon calls over his shoulder, penguin-shuffling his way down the hall. “So she doesn’t kill Tim either.” 

“What makes you think I’ll kill Tim?” 

“He just stole the dates from your desk.” 

[cryptidheights]

verdict is yummy

Today I will be trying rum raisin ice cream for the first time, we’ll see if it’s up to snuff

[cryptidheights]

very much something Jon would like. A nice change from the usual flavors—tastes a little pretentious. it’s probably the rum

Today I will be trying rum raisin ice cream for the first time, we’ll see if it’s up to snuff

[cryptidheights]

mmmmm I like it

Today I will be trying rum raisin ice cream for the first time, we’ll see if it’s up to snuff

[cryptidheights]

mmmmmmmmmm

Today I will be trying rum raisin ice cream for the first time, we’ll see if it’s up to snuff

[cryptidheights]

The flavor is hmmmm

Today I will be trying rum raisin ice cream for the first time, we’ll see if it’s up to snuff

[cryptidheights]

The Barbie and Ken mug shot meme but it's s1 Jon and post-s5 Jon who's time traveled back and pulled s1 Jon into all sorts of crazy shenanigans

[cryptidheights]

Today I will be trying rum raisin ice cream for the first time, we’ll see if it’s up to snuff

[cryptidheights]

When your brain churns out more toxic crap than whatever they’re dumping in the oceans these days

[cryptidheights]

[ID: Digital fanart of Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives sleeping on a sofa with a serene expression. He is wearing a dark gray t-shirt with a pink blanket covering the bottom half of his body and a white pillow under his head. He is holding The Admiral, who is also lying down peacefully. /End ID]

Guy stumbling out of his house as fast as he can with a piece of toast hanging from his mouth trying not to be late for @jonsimsandcats day

[cryptidheights]

Tma fans reblog with the episode that made you realise oh this silly little horror podcast is severely fucked up actually

[cryptidheights]

I don’t wear sunglasses at work but that doesn’t prevent me from wearing a black leather belt and sleek boots and a black button down in my best attempt to look like Mr. Anthony Janthony Crowley himself in the workplace

[cryptidheights]

Not me being late for @jonsimsandcats day...

They take in a stray cat even though Martin wasn't thrilled at first, but the cat liked him more in the end. Jon is someone who wants to be liked by all cats, but they ignore him most of the time and Martin is the dad who doesn't want a pet but ends up being inseparable from them.