#Gardens of Flesh and Bone

[babyblueetbaemonster]

Help I'm dummy old and the crack of my bones keeps alerting the Shambles!

[canisalbus]

I just read the tags in your previous ask and ouch, I felt that in my bones

I gave eyebrows to one of my ocs after they got compared to Marylin Manson. That was ONCE and I'm still salty about it, I can't imagine 13 years of that. You're not being oversensitive at all.

As for Machete's name itself, I think it's beautiful and it suits him really well!

.

[finalpam8000]

I just finished The Magnus Archives for the first time last week! And thought it might be fun to compile the episodes that scared me the most and see which ones spooked the rest of the fandom as well!

[muffinlance]

Final fight final fight LET’S GO final fight--

[mag200]

MAG171: The Gardener

graphite, watercolor, and ink // kofi

[themagnustournament]

Redemption Round 3 - Match 5

It's another battle of the domains! Jared the Gardener brings 152 votes from last round, and Martin's Quiet comes with 133. Which avatar wins?

MAG 171 - The Gardener | Spotify - Acast - YT | Wiki | Transcript

Considerations of the Flesh. Recorded by The Archivist, in Situ.

MAG 186 - Quiet | Spotify - Acast - YT | Wiki | Transcript

A dialogue on solitude. Recorded by Martin Blackwood, in Situ.

[avallachs]

*zofeia voice* refusing to let my twin’s ghost find peace in the hereafter and chaining her to this plane through magic so i wouldn’t have to say goodbye isn’t enough, i have to dig up her bones from the yard and hide them under my bed

[ask-emoripals]

uhhh idk it's a figure?? i'm not really into this stuff but please show your collection or else uh i'll kidnap mari /j

📖: If you do that Sunny will definitely flay you alive for kidnapping his older sister. I’m not getting the figure if I don’t know what it is, and you’re Not getting a peak at my collection!

🎹: My little brother, inspite of his knife collection, is very responsible with them and only uses them as self defense…… but making sure I’m not kidnapped would count as self defense, so good luck.

📖: H-how long were you here?

🎹: During the part where you talked about my baby brother flaying anon alive, why? *Winks and makes a smug grin* There’s really no shame on having a collection my ever lovely Hero.

[flowercrown-bard]

What I love most about the magnus archives s5 is that the entities that I didn't find scary at all in seasons 1-4 are suddenly the ones that hit the closest because it's no longer supernatural horror in an otherwise realistic world but something far more real wrapped in abstract metaphors

[reubenyeoart]

A fun little doodle in between work stuff today.

[marsgalaxias]

I lead a very interesting and eventful life, and frequently my friends have joked I live in a sitcom, and I honestly don't think I've done anything other than take advantage of my opportunities. my mindset can pretty much be summed up as, "nothing matters, but everything matters, and nothing changes, but everything changes!" like it's literally just about putting things in perspective for your happiness. you do you, bro.

[atlasascending]

Over The Garden Wall? Oh, you mean the scariest thing I have ever watched?

[pansyfemme]

no one even wants boypussy anymore.. everyone’s posting some avant garde shit about eating the flesh of someone and its like we’re in the garden of eden and what if we were transsexual but our bones were in a pile of rubble and and ohhhh let me mix your sweat and tears in with my fucking cous cous.. whatever happened to liking clit or perhaps ass

[themagnustournament]

Redemption Round 2 - Match 10

It's a battle of Fear Domains! The Gardener had only 85 votes in Round Two but 286 total, and The Worms left Round One with only 65 votes.

MAG 171 - The Gardener | Spotify - Acast - YT | Wiki | Transcript

Considerations of the Flesh. Recorded by The Archivist, in Situ.

MAG 166 - The Worms | Spotify - Acast - YT | Wiki | Transcript

Lamentation of those left below. Audio recording by the Archivist, in situ.

[regal-bones]

SWORDTEMBER DAY 20 : SUMMONER

Visage of the Leviathan 🐍🩸 “‘> I feel your gaze, basilisk. It chills me to my core. I worship at your feet, your stolen egg, and bleeding mother. Yet still I feel your eye burn hot and angry within me. Watching me. Testing me. > Will you reward me? When sinew and bone rain from the sky, when we make our impact, what of us? Will we churn within that red mist, or live with you as gods in your breathing garden? Are we but limbs? Broken, twisted, reaching backwards. A means to an end. > I love you, basilisk. My body, my heart, my tattered soul. I feel your gaze, hot and angry within each one. > Spare me, O Leviathan. I live to be your servant.’ - Musings of The Flesh ”

Of twisted flesh and crimson ichor. This sword is from the video game I’m making, LAST SPROUT! There’s more info in this post here, but about 90% of my work for this project is over on patreon!

I also did another sword from the game last year, The Inventor’s Blade, and I have also drawn The Leviathan before! You can see em by following these links!

Yesterday’s sword!

You can support me on Patreon for £1 and help me make stuff like this!

[shotmrmiller]

since i'm rambling about self inserts? (is that it?) now you're miserably turning over on the bed, pulling the comforter over your head because you wasted a whole whopping 70$ for MW3 only to get an unfinished game and a piss-poor half-assed shock value main character death.

You fall asleep thinking about what you'd do differently- how johnny wouldn't die so needlessly, maybe even convince Captain Price to let Johnny put a bullet in Makarov's head in that helo.

And when you wake, your surroundings are different. The bed is too small when yours is a king, the innerspring mattress creaks when you sit up, even though you explicitly bought a memory foam.

The walls are spartan instead of the personalized decor you had. Looking over the edge of the bed, the floor isn't carpet. It's an ugly, white vinyl tile.

Where the fuck are you?

Your hands are callused but the only time you even got one was when you tried your hand at gardening, only to eventually realize you could kill a cactus with your brown thumb.

Hopping out of bed, you beeline to your bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Almost everything is the same. Eyes, hair, body, height.

Only difference is your flesh. It's littered with scars- both old and new. A thick, pink jagged line across your clavicle (a blade?), a puckered star shaped keloid above your hip bone (A gunshot wound?)

Stepping back out into the room, you carefully survey the space around you. A tac vest you swear you've seen before hangs on the back rest of your small chair.

Two black glock-19's sit on the desk. How do you know that? You don't know lick about weapons.

There's a large sheathed blade by your nightstand table. Didn't Rambo have one of those?

Suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. You're dreaming. Jesus. Maybe you should start reading some smut fanfiction before bed to get Simon in your-

A knock at your door pulls you out of your degenerate thoughts.

oooookay.

Padding quietly to the door, the metal of the handle feels shockingly cold. How wildly vivid.

"Ye- what the fuck?"

What the actual fuck?

"Language."

...

Your mouth gapes in utter disbelief. "Simon?"

His dark eyes narrow behind his skull mask. "Chummy, are we?" He steps forward, forcing your neck back at an uncomfortable angle to keep your eyes fixed on his. "You and I, Sergeant, ain't friends. It's Ghost to you. Clear?" he snarls.

You swallow thickly. "C-Crystal, sir."

He tips his chin forward. "Get decent, I'm to take ya to the debriefin' room."

what?

"Now."

Spinning on the balls of your feet, you hastily dress, and grab the vest on the chair. UK flag on it. Tactical. Heavy as hell.

Your hands move on their own, and fingers smartly clip buckles, pull up zippers and close the pockets- as if you've been doing this your whole life.

What is happening?

When you get to wherever it was you were going, you're met with more recognizable faces.

Captain Price stands in front of Laswell, bulky arms crossed as he speaks to her in a hushed tone.

Gaz sits on a chair with his head hanging back as he blankly stares at the ceiling, trademark cap in place.

And then there's- "Bonnie!"

Johnny.

"Good to see Simon dinnae eat ye on the way here."

Simon Ghost doesn't react to the jibe at all.

Why are you sitting in the middle of the 141 listening to Laswell debrief about Hassan? Why aren't you waking up yet? You're lucid. The sharp sting of your nails digging into the palms of your clenched hands isn't dulled.

"Good hunting."

This can't be happening.

This isn't real. The heavy helmet strapped to your head. The weight of the bulky tac vest full of equipment. The painfully tight straps around your thighs. The way the rifle feels in your hands, solid and dense.

Not real.

Until you're offloading with Bravo Team in Al-Mazrah on the search for Major Hassan. The tall grass grazing your pants, the NVG's over your eyes to help you see in the dark. The harsh recoil of a weapon you've only ever used in a video game. The gurgling sounds of the enemies as they choke on their blood by your feet. The bullet whizzing past you, clipping your cheekbone. The burning sting of it, white-hot pain.

Real.

It feels fucking real.