#at the moment I am colossally bored

[aita-blorbos]

(Spoilers for Magnus Archives)

AITA for burning my childhood house down

Hello, Jon.

Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. (slightly strained) I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen.

Now, shall we turn the page and try again?

WIBTA for starting the apocalypse

I hope you’ll forgive me the self-indulgence, but I have worked so very hard for this moment, a culmination of two centuries of work. It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious.

Why does a man seek to destroy the world?

It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my god. The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness, to place yourself beyond pain and death and fear.

It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, Jon, the freedom of it all. I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction in that choice.

I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.

I believe there are far more people in this world that would take that bargain than you would ever guess. And I have beaten all of them.

Of course, this desire did not manifest overnight. When RS (87, M) first gathered our little band – L, S, and the rest – to discuss and hypothesize on the nature of the things he had learned from R, I felt what I believe we all felt: curiosity, and fear.

But as he compiled his taxonomy and codified his theories on the grand rituals, I began to develop a very specific concern. RS was so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of our patrons.

I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world.

At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race.

Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?

I convinced RS to work on Millbank, leading him to design it as a temple to all the Fears in equilibrium, such that my own modifications to the design of the Panopticon went… unremarked.

It. Took. Years. for the dread of the prisoners to fully suffuse the place, and I was an old man before I made my first attempt at the Watcher’s Crown, sat in the center of that colossal eye, the great ring of cells encircling me like a coronet.

It was… flawed, of course, as all RS’s rituals were, and none of the inmates survived as the power I attempted to harness shook the building almost to pieces, and the murky swamp upon which the prison was built consumed it.

But it left me a gift: For sat in that watchtower, I could see everything I turned my mind to.

It was a dizzying power, and one I discovered I maintained even as I found vessels to extend my life. Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it was born.

I’ll not bore you with details of my bodies and failures through those intervening years. Suffice to say I kept busy, both planning my own next attempt, and doing my best to stymie those others who tried versions of their own.

Surely my interpretation of the Watcher’s Crown had been incomplete; there had been some element of the ritual I had overlooked.

It was not until I met G (70, F) that things began to really come into focus.

You see, the role of Archivist has been part of the Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers; most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain throughlines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.

But G was unlike any other Archivist. She simply did not care about compiling experiences or collecting the fears of others. She was driven to stop those who served the Powers.

More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt – but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life, and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.

I once asked her what drove her, what had started her down that path. She told me the Desolation had killed her cat.

I don’t know if she was joking, and, to be honest, I could never bring myself to look into her mind and find out for sure.

In any case, G’s ruthless efficiency in derailing and collapsing rituals threw into stark relief a question that had been bothering me for almost a hundred and fifty years: In the whole span of humanity, why had nobody ever succeeded?

Perhaps there were a long line of G throughout history, but I found that hard to credit. Could it be, then, that there was something in the very concept of the rituals that meant they couldn’t succeed?

She was clearly having similar thoughts in that last year, all of which culminated with the People’s Church.

When I saw that she was making no preparations whatsoever to stop it, I realized she was putting into practice a theory, and one she couldn’t afford to be wrong. She was going to wait, and see if the unopposed ritual succeeded, or if it collapsed under its own strain as mine had all those years ago.

Knowing G, I’m sure she had a backup plan if she had miscalculated – but she had not. The ritual failed. And all at once, I realized what had to be done.

You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the fear of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral?

Even those that seem to exist in direct opposition rely on each other for their definition as much as up relies on down.

To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.

Every ritual tied itself so closely to a single power as to render itself impossible. They could bring their patron close, but never sever it from the others, and eventually it would be violently pulled back into the place next to reality where they dwell.

The solution, then, is simple: A new ritual must be devised which will bring through all the Powers at once. All fourteen, as I had hoped I could complete it before any new powers such as Extinction were able to fully emerge. All under the Eye’s auspices, of course. We mustn’t forget our roots.

And there was only one being that could possibly serve as a lynchpin for this new ritual: The Archivist. A position that had so recently become vacant, thanks to G’s ill-timed retirement plans.

Because the thing about the Archivist is that – well, it’s a bit of a misnomer.

It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive.

Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, Jon. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering record of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you.

You are a living chronicle of terror.

Perhaps, then, if I could find an Archivist and have each Power mark them, have them confront each one and each in turn instill in them a powerful and acute fear for their life, they could be turned into a conduit for the coming of this – nightmare kingdom.

Do you see where I’m going, Jon?

It does tickle me, that in this world of would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters, the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose. It’s not in your blood, or your soul, or your destiny. It’s just in your own, rotten luck.

I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but My God, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as some sort of implicit blessing on the whole project, and, do you know what, I think it was.

Of course, I had to bide my time, get a measure of you before I began to push, learn how you worked – So I decided I would wait until something came for you, and see how you reacted. Attacks upon the Archives were not uncommon during G’s tenure, and, while she was always prepared, I made sure you would not be.

I reasoned if you couldn’t survive a single encounter, you were unlikely to make it through all fourteen. So, when JP attacked, I watched eagerly, one hand on the gas release from the start.

You acquitted yourself well enough, so I decided to see how far you would get, though I waited until the worms were in you before I pulled the lever. I needed to make sure you felt that fear all the way to your bones.

The discovery that one of the Stranger’s minions had infiltrated the Institute in the aftermath was certainly a pleasant bonus. Even if that sliver of paranoia, that vague wrongness you couldn’t quite place wouldn’t count as a mark, it was only a matter of time before it confronted you in a far more direct and affecting matter.

Admittedly, given the advent of the Unknowing, I needn’t have bothered. But what’s the old saying about hindsight?

More important to me was Sasha’s encounter with the Distortion. If it had taken an interest, then I very much wanted it to cross your path.

So I found one of its current victims and convinced her to make a statement.

Poor H (~20, F). I actually had to put her in a taxi myself, she was getting so lost in those narrow London side streets.

It worked, though.

Between the stabbing and at least two desperate flights into its doors – you’re marked very deeply by the Spiral.

JL (~70, M) was a surprise, of course, and I was forced to improvise. I had no idea how much G would have told him, and he could very easily have derailed everything if you learned too much too fast.

I justified it to myself saying I was going to have to send you out into the world anyway, if you were to encounter more of the Powers, but I can’t honestly pretend it wasn’t a… rather rash move.

Still. I’d requested Detective T (~25, F) be assigned to the case when they found G’s body in the hope that having a Hunter in the mix would eventually lead to a confrontation, and setting you up as a killer certainly hastened that.

Then it was just a matter of feeding you statements to lead you to a few Avatars I thought were likely to harm you – but probably would stop short of actually killing you.

J (27, F) served her purpose exactly as I had hoped, as did our dearly departed Mr. C, marking you for the Desolation and the Vast.

Honestly, I had – nothing to do with M (23, F) and her Slaughter adventure, but when I saw the situation, I made sure to trap her here, so when her rage bubbled over you would be right there, a ready target.

I didn’t foresee the mark coming from surgery gone wrong, but it was a very pleasant surprise.

The Unknowing was a distraction, but not an unwelcome one. For this to work, you needed more than just the marks; you needed power. And that was something the Unknowing served to test, though it posed no actual danger in the grand scheme of things.

And it did serve another purpose, of course. It inadvertently pushed you to confront death, a mark I had been very worried about trying to orchestrate. If I tried too early, you’d just die. Too late, and you might be powerful enough to see the attempt coming, and maybe even understand why.

As it was, it was just right, and once again, you came through with flying colors.

By this point, your abilities were coming along in leaps and bounds, and I was concerned that meeting face-to-face might end up with you – (sigh) – Knowing something you shouldn’t.

I had initially planned to go into hiding, but when your colleagues surprised me with the police, well. It was simple enough to cut a deal.

All that remained, then, were the Dark, the Flesh, the Buried, and the Lonely.

I was a little put out when that idiot JH (???, M) misinterpreted my letters and attacked the Institute too soon, before you were even out of the hospital, but then – Ho, you should have see my face when you voluntarily went to him.

I couldn’t see what happened in there, of course, but given how you came out, I’m very sure it counts as a mark.

I suspected the coffin might turn up again, and once it did, it was simply a matter of getting any, uh… restraining factors you might have had flying off on a wild goose chase, and waiting.

Honestly, Detective T has been proving invaluable through this process. I’d been racking my brains for months about what I could use to lure you in.

And, of course, I knew the Dark Sun was just sitting there waiting. So when it came time, I just whipped up another apocalypse and sent you on your merry way.

Then all that remained was the Lonely.

Poor P (~50, M). He really should have left well enough alone. Or just done what I’d asked in the first place.

Ah well. He knew what I was attempting, and was very unwilling to cooperate until I made him a little wager about M (same age as you, Jon, M).

Of course, he had no way of knowing that, in addition to setting you up for the final mark, he was giving you all the tools you needed to escape from it.

How is M, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.

And there, I think, we are brought just about up to date. I have enjoyed our little trip down memory lane, but past here lies only impatience.

You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked. The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

Don’t worry, Jon. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made.

Now. Repeat after me.

You who watch and know and understand none. You who listen and hear and will not comprehend. You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right.

Come to us in your wholeness.

Come to us in your perfection.

Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies!

Come to us.

I – OPEN – THE DOOR!

[burrcapts]

Puffing Past Your Prime

Oh man, Zach just loved whenever this happened! Ever since their social media app took off and reached top 5 most downloaded in the whole country people started inviting him to spots like this all the time. Was this one some posh restaurant? Cafe? Gentleman's club? Honestly, he had no idea, he simply received an email the other day from one of their investors that the people here asked about him and would like him to become a regular member. 

Naturally Zach had zero real interest in bougie crap like that, but usually he actually found it kind of funny to see the reactions of all those stuck up old men in suits whenever they saw him strutting into their elite clubs wearing nothing other than a t-shirt and a pair of old jeans with holes in them. More than once some of those pricks even tried to have him kicked out. But the staff at establishments like this seemed to be quite good at keeping tabs on the guests’ net worth so often they ended up sucking up to him rather than the old farts.

The waiters here were giving off a somewhat different vibe though… If Zach hadn't noticed that those few men who were always on the move, carrying trays around were wearing bow ties rather than neckties, he definitely wouldn't have been able to tell them apart from the regular guests! Places like this often looked kind of samey with everyone being old and wearing boring suits, but this was like a whole next level!

Zach had only just realized, but holy crap, there hasn't been a single person in the entire room who didn't have a ridiculously huge beard! He hadn't shaved since last week so technically maybe he was included in this, but his definitely wasn't as grey or white as theirs! The shades of their beards, the levels of baldness and the colors of their suits was pretty much the only thing that differentiated each one of them!

But one other interesting thing was that they were all smoking pipes! Even the waiters were having a puff while moving around and chatting with the guests. Did Mike forget to mention that this was some super exclusive spot for pipe smokers? Whatever… honestly, the thing that Zach found the most annoying was how nobody seemed to be paying much attention to him here. He purposely tried to be as loud and obnoxious as possible, unmuting his phone and playing that dumb farming video game that was right ahead of them in most app stores. Yet even then, the best reaction he got was some of them briefly looking at him with amused faces for a moment before returning to their previous activities and conversations.

“Good day, I sincerely apologize for the delay in attending to you Mr Bennett. My name is Theodore and I am the director of hospitality at our establishment. We are so delighted that you could pay us a visit today. I assure you that our staff will do everything in our power to make your induction to the club a truly exceptional experience!”

Just when Zach was starting to consider bailing out of here those two guys appeared right in front of him seemingly out of nowhere! The one speaking in an eloquent and surprisingly resonant voice was ridiculously huge, tall as hell, with a colossal belly like pretty much all of them. While somewhat shorter yet definitely still quite decently overweight one, standing a few steps behind him must have been a subordinate of his. 

Zach began to explain that this was a misunderstanding because he had no interest whatsoever  in joining their club or anything, but despite the very hospitable and eloquent welcome neither of them seemed to be paying much attention to whatever he said as they talked between each other.

“Shall I fetch one of the pipes, Sir?”

“Oh, naturally Sebastian, forthwith!”

“What kind, Sir?”

“Mmm… I surmise that one of the sluttier variety might be the most suitable for Mr Bennett, then he will naturally feel inclined to introduce numerous new, virile members to our association so they could fuck his slutty hole on the regular. Oh… one moment… yes, while I would certainly prefer him on the heavyset side so that ass of his grows truly colossal, why don't we also make him into a bit of a cum guzzling cock whore while we’re at it? Let's ensure that he always has either the stem of a pipe or a huge, turgid fuckstick between his lips! Do you think you can find a suitable one Sebastian?”

“Certainly Sir, I will return with one promptly!”

Hearing this guy say all those perverted, ridiculous things in the exact, same cultivated and graceful Männer as if he was some kind of a sommelier talking about an expensive bottle of wine would have been quite hilarious if his body language didn't make it immediately obvious that he wasn't planning on letting Zach leave until the other waiter was back. It was only now that all those old farts who were sitting all around were finally turning their heads towards him, watching the scene with utmost fascination.

Zach shouted at them to get the security because this guy was totally crazy but nobody budged at all. Rather than being concerned they seemed to find him freaking out so much more endearing than anything. When it became clear that they were all in on it too, Zach pulled out his phone and warned that huge guy that if he didn't let him go, he would call the cops.

Only then, something that temporarily broke Zach's brain proceeded to take place. Theodore took a deep puff from his pipe and then exhaled a tiny cloud of smoke towards Zach's hand that was holding the phone. It was just small enough to completely obscure it and even though Zach knew it was merely just smoke he instinctively tried to clutch the phone tighter within his fingers, only to find them clenching into fist! What the hell?! He waved the smoke away but his hand was completely empty!!!

“What the fuck?! How did you do that?!”

“Please Mr Bennett, turning a cellphone into a puff of smoke is merely a small parlor trick. Very soon you will have a chance to witness a far more impressive metamorphosis… Oh, would you look at that, Sebastian is already approaching with your pipe right on time!”

At that moment Zach remembered thinking it was kind of strange how this guy phrased it as ‘his pipe’ but as he caught a glimpse of what the other waiter was carrying on a tray, he understood straight away. It stood there, right on top of a highly adorned, golden stand, his pipe! It was like love at first sight. He never even thought about smoking one before but now they were going to be, no, they already were, completely inseparable! Its stem was placed between his teeth first thing in the morning and only left its rightful spot when he was ready to fall asleep!

A jovial, cheerful laughter spread across the room at the immediate change in Zach's demeanor as though all those men were now recalling some very fond memory of their own. On some level he understood that what was going on right now was totally crazy, but as if under some kind of a magical spell, he couldn't help himself when Theodore offered the pipe to him. 

Even thanking the man when he offered him a lit match so he could puff the pipe to life. Which Zach proceeded to do without a slightest hitch like a seasoned smoker. That also surprised him, but there wasn't much of a chance to ask himself why he knew how to do it so expertly because as soon as it was lit, he found himself greedily sucking on the stem and moaning in blissful pleasure. 

Oh gosh, he knew that this was his first time ever, but he felt like a drug addict getting his fix. It was just delightful, such a rich flavor! Sebastian always picked out only the finest tobacco! Zach moaned again, he was in heaven, his head was swimming as he started feeling warm and so… profoundly turned on! If he hadn't been in public, he would have already been reaching for his cock, but then again, so many of the men sitting around them already had theirs out and were merrily stroking while laying back in their big, leather armchairs and puffing along.

Sebastian was pitching a huge tent in his slacks and even Theodore was fondling himself with a satisfied smile. Zach noticed that, the first thought that popped into his head was how much he hoped they would pull them out soon so he could suck them both dry the moment he was finished with this bowl. Mmm, he just loved sucking off the other sexy gents at the club, he was such a cum guzzling cock whore and absolutely proud of it! 

Zach was just about to ask them to stop teasing him and whip them out next when he suddenly realized that he'd heard those words before. ‘Cum guzzling cock whore', that's what Theodore had said when he was instructing Sebastian what pipe he should fetch! Holy shit!

Now that the shivers started running down his spine at the terrifying, unbelievable implications of all of this and the abrupt shock partially outweighed the still persisting horniness flooding his head. Zach had the chance to take notice of just how uncomfortably tight his clothes were feeling right now. He'd managed to peel his eyes away from the bearded waiters’ sizable bulges, only to immediately regret it as he discovered a massive  gut sticking out from underneath his shirt.

Not only was it extremely hirsute, but all of the body fur was completely white! It made him look like some ridiculously fat grandpa! His shirt was rolling up so much that it could be mistaken for the top half of a bikini, which seemed awfully suitable because Zach could see it stretching over a pair of absolutely enormous man boobs!

As his eyes grew wide in disbelief, he instinctively took a deep puff from the pipe to calm his nerves, only to find the belly instantaneously swelling even further in size. The shirt splitting at the front and letting his huge, chubby tits to flop down on it like on top of a wide, spacious shelf. God… he was so fucking hot! Those were the first words that appeared in Zach's head, and for the life of him, he couldn't bring himself to deny them.

Somehow in mere moments since putting this pipe in his mouth, an old, fat, bearded man became his absolute ideal of beauty. Zach saw how wonderfully chubby his fingers were now and after admiring the soft, white hairs growing on each knuckle, brought them closer to his mouth. Much to his delight he discovered it surrounded by copious amounts of silky, delicate facial fur. He took a deep inhale and then began gently blowing the smoke into his palm, as if trying to catch it and massage it into his beard. Loving the feeling of it growing longer and more luxuriant between his fingers. Oh god… what was happening to him?! Why couldn't he stop?!

“What the fuck have you done to me?!”

Zach cried out before inevitably returning to exploring his growing and expanding body practically right away. One hand caressing his belly while the other reached for his swollen cock, completely overcome by pleasure.

“Nothing that any of us hadn't experienced when we were first initiated into the club, Mr Bennett. It is quite an honor, while our plans are to ideally connect all men worldwide to their destined pipes one day, understandably we first needed to prioritize those with the means to help us achieve that goal…”

He instantly understood why those bastards had invited him here. It was about his social media site! They wanted to use it to spread this shit… and make more sexy, pipe smoking gents… Zach felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized that he was already thinking of all the different features they could implement in the future to spark an interest in their pipes in every single man who had ever registered. And he knew that once they had their first puff, it would then remain as their habit forever.

No… he couldn’t… and yet he was tugging on his cock even faster now, taking deeper and deeper puffs of smoke, finding it so marvelous how those big, hazy plumes were slowly escaping from between his lips whenever he parted them. He was sure that his users were going to find it just as enchanting too once he tweaks the algorithm a little and makes sure that their feeds are filled with nothing but videos and pictures of sexy, bearded gents having a puff as they play with their meat.

The temptation to join them soon becoming truly irresistible, but for that they will of course need a pipe of their own. Zachary moaned in profound arousal, knowing full well that even if a few were to, by some miracle manage to keep themselves from outright ordering one free of charge from their special internet store, they still had collected enough metadata on all of them to ensure that one would be waiting at their doorstep the following day anyway.

Mmm… Zachary couldn’t take this… he began picturing all those mesmerizing, big bellied, bearded gentlemen with their pipes! First filling the feeds of his website, then the streets of the cities all around the globe… introducing everyone they knew into this lovely habit… the biggest cloud of smoke yet had erupted from his mouth as he moaned deeply, his stubby cock twitching and spraying his massive, hairy thighs with creamy, white seed. And he simply could not wait to suck them all off one by one!

***

Zachary was quite amused to find himself back right in his personal office. Of course nobody from among his colleagues had recognized him, but when he suddenly stepped out of the elevator wearing this expensive looking, extravagant suit and holding a heavy suitcase, they must have assumed he was an important investor and asked him to wait for someone right here since, as he very well knew, that one room was still by far the most presentable part of the entire workplace that hadn’t changed much from the days when they were only a small start up.

Naturally nobody could get ahold of ‘Zach’ as his cell phone had vanished and all calls were going straight to voicemail, so the honor of entertaining him fell on Aaron, their CTO. Zachary was actually quite impressed by just how quickly his friend had managed to catch on to everything after he began recounting the events of the previous day. But fortunately Zachary had a chance to personally assist Sebastian and Theodore with picking out just the perfect pipe for him. Even though Aaron knew just what was coming, he couldn't possibly resist his invitation to have a small puff together. Or for that matter to later allow Zachary to wrap his lips around his engorged, stubby cock as they pondered about this exciting new direction for their company, and even more importantly, the best way to introduce their colleagues to all those pipes waiting for them in his suitcase.

If you liked the story and would like to read more bear themed transformation fiction, consider subscribing to my Patreon! I post captions like this and longer stories there regularly!

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[spiral-man]

Hey dudes,

Just wanted to wish everyone a happy-

Hello Jon,

Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. (slightly strained) I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen.

Now, shall we turn the page and try again?

Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

Statement begins.

I hope you’ll forgive me the self-indulgence, but I have worked so very hard for this moment, a culmination of two centuries of work. It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious.

Why does a man seek to destroy the world?

It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my god. The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness, to place yourself beyond pain and death and fear.

It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, John, the freedom of it all. I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction in that choice.

I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.

I believe there are far more people in this world that would take that bargain than you would ever guess. And I have beaten all of them.

Of course, this desire did not manifest overnight. When Smirke first gathered our little band – Lukas, Scott, and the rest – to discuss and hypothesize on the nature of the things he had learned from Rayner, I felt what I believe we all felt: curiosity, and fear.

But as he compiled his taxonomy and codified his theories on the grand rituals, I began to develop a very specific concern. Smirke was so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of our patrons.

I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world.

At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race.

Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?

I convinced Smirke to work on Millbank, leading him to design it as a temple to all the Fears in equilibrium, such that my own modifications to the design of the Panopticon went… unremarked.

It. Took. Years, for the dread of the prisoners to fully suffuse the place, and I was an old man before I made my first attempt at the Watcher’s Crown, sat in the center of that colossal eye, the great ring of cells encircling me like a coronet.

It was… flawed, of course, as all Smirke’s rituals were, and none of the inmates survived as the power I attempted to harness shook the building almost to pieces, and the murky swamp upon which the prison was built consumed it.

But it left me a gift: For sat in that watchtower, I could see everything I turned my mind to.

It was a dizzying power, and one I discovered I maintained even as I found vessels to extend my life. Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it was born.

I’ll not bore you with details of my bodies and failures through those intervening years. Suffice to say I kept busy, both planning my own next attempt, and doing my best to stymie those others who tried versions of their own.

Surely my interpretation of the Watcher’s Crown had been incomplete; there had been some element of the ritual I had overlooked.

It was not until I met Gertrude Robinson that things began to really come into focus.

You see, the role of Archivist has been part of the Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers; most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain throughlines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.

But Gertrude was unlike any other Archivist. She simply did not care about compiling experiences or collecting the fears of others. She was driven to stop those who served the Powers.

More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt – but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life, and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.

I once asked her what drove her, what had started her down that path. She told me the Desolation had killed her cat.

I don’t know if she was joking, and, to be honest, I could never bring myself to look into her mind and find out for sure.

In any case, Gertrude’s ruthless efficiency in derailing and collapsing rituals threw into stark relief a question that had been bothering me for almost a hundred and fifty years: In the whole span of humanity, why had nobody ever succeeded?

Perhaps there were a long line of Gertrude Robinsons throughout history, but I found that hard to credit. Could it be, then, that there was something in the very concept of the rituals that meant they couldn’t succeed?

She was clearly having similar thoughts in that last year, all of which culminated with the People’s Church.

When I saw that she was making no preparations whatsoever to stop it, I realized she was putting into practice a theory, and one she couldn’t afford to be wrong. She was going to wait, and see if the unopposed ritual succeeded, or if it collapsed under its own strain as mine had all those years ago.

Knowing Gertrude, I’m sure she had a backup plan if she had miscalculated – but she had not. The ritual failed. And all at once, I realized what had to be done.

You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the fear of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral?

Even those that seem to exist in direct opposition rely on each other for their definition as much as up relies on down.

To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.

Every ritual tied itself so closely to a single power as to render itself impossible. They could bring their patron close, but never sever it from the others, and eventually it would be violently pulled back into the place next to reality where they dwell.

The solution, then, is simple: A new ritual must be devised which will bring through all the Powers at once. All fourteen, as I had hoped I could complete it before any new powers such as Extinction were able to fully emerge. All under the Eye’s auspices, of course. We mustn’t forget our roots.

And there was only one being that could possibly serve as a lynchpin for this new ritual: The Archivist. A position that had so recently become vacant, thanks to Gertrude’s ill-timed retirement plans.

Because the thing about the Archivist is that – well, it’s a bit of a misnomer.-

It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive.

Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, John. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering record of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you.

You are a living chronicle of terror.

Perhaps, then, if I could find an Archivist and have each Power mark them, have them confront each one and each in turn instill in them a powerful and acute fear for their life, they could be turned into a conduit for the coming of this – nightmare kingdom.

Do you see where I’m going, John?

It does tickle me, that in this world of would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters, the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose. It’s not in your blood, or your soul, or your destiny. It’s just in your own, rotten luck.

I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but My God, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as some sort of implicit blessing on the whole project, and, do you know what, I think it was.

Of course, I had to bide my time, get a measure of you before I began to push, learn how you worked – So I decided I would wait until something came for you, and see how you reacted. Attacks upon the Archives were not uncommon during Gertrude’s tenure, and, while she was always prepared, I made sure you would not be.

I reasoned if you couldn’t survive a single encounter, you were unlikely to make it through all fourteen. So, when Jane Prentiss attacked, I watched eagerly, one hand on the gas release from the start.

You acquitted yourself well enough, so I decided to see how far you would get, though I waited until the worms were in you before I pulled the lever. I needed to make sure you felt that fear all the way to your bones.

The discovery that one of the Stranger’s minions had infiltrated the Institute in the aftermath was certainly a pleasant bonus. Even if that sliver of paranoia, that vague wrongness you couldn’t quite place wouldn’t count as a mark, it was only a matter of time before it confronted you in a far more direct and affecting matter.

Admittedly, given the advent of the Unknowing, I needn’t have bothered. But what’s the old saying about hindsight?

More important to me was Sasha’s encounter with the Distortion. If it had taken an interest, then I very much wanted it to cross your path.

So I found one of its current victims and convinced her to make a statement.

Poor Helen. I actually had to put her in a taxi myself, she was getting so lost in those narrow London side streets.

It worked, though.

Between the stabbing and at least two desperate flights into its doors – you’re marked very deeply by the Spiral.

Jurgen Leitner was a surprise, of course, and I was forced to improvise. I had no idea how much Gertrude would have told him, and he could very easily have derailed everything if you learned too much too fast.

I… justified it to myself saying I was going to have to send you out into the world anyway, if you were to encounter more of the Powers, but I can’t honestly pretend it wasn’t a… rather rash move.

Still. I’d requested Detective Tonner be assigned to the case when they found Gertrude’s body in the hope that having a Hunter in the mix would eventually lead to a confrontation, and setting you up as a killer certainly hastened that.

Then it was just a matter of feeding you statements to lead you to a few Avatars I thought were likely to harm you – but probably would stop short of actually killing you.

Jude served her purpose exactly as I had hoped, as did our dearly departed Mr. Crew, marking you for the Desolation and the Vast.

Honestly, I had – nothing to do with Melanie and her Slaughter adventure, but when I saw the situation, I made sure to trap her here, so when her rage bubbled over you would be right there, a ready target.

I didn’t foresee the mark coming from surgery gone wrong, but it was a very pleasant surprise.

The Unknowing was a distraction, but not an unwelcome one. For this to work, you needed more than just the marks; you needed power. And that was something the Unknowing served to test, though it posed no actual danger in the grand scheme of things.

And it did serve another purpose, of course. It inadvertently pushed you to confront death, a mark I had been very worried about trying to orchestrate. If I tried too early, you’d just die. Too late, and you might be powerful enough to see the attempt coming, and maybe even understand why.

As it was, it was just right, and once again, you came through with flying colors.

By this point, your abilities were coming along in leaps and bounds, and I was concerned that meeting face-to-face might end up with you – (sigh) – Knowing something you shouldn’t.

I had initially planned to go into hiding, but when your colleagues surprised me with the police, well. It was simple enough to cut a deal.

All that remained, then, were the Dark, the Flesh, the Buried, and the Lonely.

I was a little put out when that idiot Jared Hopworth misinterpreted my letters and attacked the Institute too soon, before you were even out of the hospital, but then – Ho, you should have see my face when you voluntarily went to him.

I couldn’t see what happened in there, of course, but given how you came out, I’m very sure it counts as a mark.

I suspected the coffin might turn up again, and once it did, it was simply a matter of getting any, uh… restraining factors you might have had flying off on a wild goose chase, and waiting.

Honestly, Detective Tonner has been proving invaluable through this process. I’d been racking my brains for months about what I could use to lure you in.

And, of course, I knew the Dark Sun was just sitting there waiting. So when it came time, I just whipped up another apocalypse and sent you on your merry way.

Then all that remained was the Lonely.

Poor Peter. He really should have left well enough alone. (cruel laugh) Or just done what I’d asked in the first place.

Ah well. He knew what I was attempting, and was very unwilling to cooperate until I made him a little wager about Martin.

Of course, he had no way of knowing that, in addition to setting you up for the final mark, he was giving you all the tools you needed to escape from it.

How is Martin, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.

And there, I think, we are brought just about up to date. I have enjoyed our little trip down memory lane, but past here lies only impatience.

You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked. The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

Don’t worry, John. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made.

Now. (cruel, cruel laugh) Repeat after me.

You who watch and know and understand none. You who listen and hear and will not comprehend. You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right.

Come to us in your wholeness.

Come to us in your perfection.

Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies!

Come to us.

I – OPEN – THE DOOR!

[michaelmylove]

Hello, John. Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. (slightly strained) I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen.

Now, shall we turn the page and try again? Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

Statement begins.

I hope you’ll forgive me the self-indulgence, but I have worked so very hard for this moment, a culmination of two centuries of work. It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious.

Why does a man seek to destroy the world?

It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my god. The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness, to place yourself beyond pain and death and fear.

It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, John, the freedom of it all. I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction in that choice.

I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.

I believe there are far more people in this world that would take that bargain than you would ever guess. And I have beaten all of them.

Of course, this desire did not manifest overnight. When Smirke first gathered our little band – Lukas, Scott, and the rest – to discuss and hypothesise on the nature of the things he had learned from Rayner, I felt what I believe we all felt: curiosity, and fear.

But as he compiled his taxonomy and codified his theories on the grand rituals, I began to develop a very specific concern. Smirke was so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of our patrons.

I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world.

At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race.

Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?

I convinced Smirke to work on Millbank, leading him to design it as a temple to all the Fears in equilibrium, such that my own modifications to the design of the Panopticon went… unremarked.

It. Took. Years, for the dread of the prisoners to fully suffuse the place, and I was an old man before I made my first attempt at the Watcher’s Crown, sat in the centre of that colossal eye, the great ring of cells encircling me like a coronet.

It was… flawed, of course, as all Smirke’s rituals were, and none of the inmates survived as the power I attempted to harness shook the building almost to pieces, and the murky swamp upon which the prison was built consumed it.

But it left me a gift: For sat in that watchtower, I could see everything I turned my mind to.

It was a dizzying power, and one I discovered I maintained even as I found vessels to extend my life. Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organisation I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it was born.

I’ll not bore you with details of my bodies and failures through those intervening years. Suffice to say I kept busy, both planning my own next attempt, and doing my best to stymie those others who tried versions of their own.

Surely my interpretation of the Watcher’s Crown had been incomplete; there had been some element of the ritual I had overlooked.

It was not until I met Gertrude Robinson that things began to really come into focus.

You see, the role of Archivist has been part of the Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers; most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain throughlines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.

But Gertrude was unlike any other Archivist. She simply did not care about compiling experiences or collecting the fears of others. She was driven to stop those who served the Powers.

More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt – but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life, and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.

I once asked her what drove her, what had started her down that path. She told me the Desolation had killed her cat.

I don’t know if she was joking, and, to be honest, I could never bring myself to look into her mind and find out for sure.

In any case, Gertrude’s ruthless efficiency in derailing and collapsing rituals threw into stark relief a question that had been bothering me for almost a hundred and fifty years: In the whole span of humanity, why had nobody ever succeeded?

Perhaps there were a long line of Gertrude Robinsons throughout history, but I found that hard to credit. Could it be, then, that there was something in the very concept of the rituals that meant they couldn’t succeed?

She was clearly having similar thoughts in that last year, all of which culminated with the People’s Church.

When I saw that she was making no preparations whatsoever to stop it, I realised she was putting into practice a theory, and one she couldn’t afford to be wrong. She was going to wait, and see if the unopposed ritual succeeded, or if it collapsed under its own strain as mine had all those years ago.

Knowing Gertrude, I’m sure she had a backup plan if she had miscalculated – but she had not. The ritual failed. And all at once, I realised what had to be done.

You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the fear of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral?

Even those that seem to exist in direct opposition rely on each other for their definition as much as up relies on down.

To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.

Every ritual tied itself so closely to a single power as to render itself impossible. They could bring their patron close, but never sever it from the others, and eventually it would be violently pulled back into the place next to reality where they dwell.

The solution, then, is simple: A new ritual must be devised which will bring through all the Powers at once. All fourteen, as I had hoped I could complete it before any new powers such as Extinction were able to fully emerge. All under the Eye’s auspices, of course. We mustn’t forget our roots.

And there was only one being that could possibly serve as a linchpin for this new ritual: The Archivist. A position that had so recently become vacant, thanks to Gertrude’s ill-timed retirement plans.

Because the thing about the Archivist is that – well, it’s a bit of a misnomer.

It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive.

Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, John. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering record of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you.

You are a living chronicle of terror.

Perhaps, then, if I could find an Archivist and have each Power mark them, have them confront each one and each in turn instil in them a powerful and acute fear for their life, they could be turned into a conduit for the coming of this – nightmare kingdom.

Do you see where I’m going, John?

It does tickle me, that in this world of would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters, the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose. It’s not in your blood, or your soul, or your destiny. It’s just in your own, rotten luck.

I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but My God, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as some sort of implicit blessing on the whole project, and, do you know what, I think it was.

Of course, I had to bide my time, get a measure of you before I began to push, learn how you worked – So I decided I would wait until something came for you, and see how you reacted. Attacks upon the Archives were not uncommon during Gertrude’s tenure, and, while she was always prepared, I made sure you would not be.

I reasoned if you couldn’t survive a single encounter, you were unlikely to make it through all fourteen. So, when Jane Prentiss attacked, I watched eagerly, one hand on the gas release from the start.

You acquitted yourself well enough, so I decided to see how far you would get, though I waited until the worms were in you before I pulled the lever. I needed to make sure you felt that fear all the way to your bones.

The discovery that one of the Stranger’s minions had infiltrated the Institute in the aftermath was certainly a pleasant bonus. Even if that sliver of paranoia, that vague wrongness you couldn’t quite place wouldn’t count as a mark, it was only a matter of time before it confronted you in a far more direct and affecting matter.

Admittedly, given the advent of the Unknowing, I needn’t have bothered. But what’s the old saying about hindsight?

More important to me was Sasha’s encounter with the Distortion. If it had taken an interest, then I very much wanted it to cross your path.

So I found one of its current victims and convinced her to make a statement.

Poor Helen. I actually had to put her in a taxi myself, she was getting so lost in those narrow London side streets.

It worked, though.

Between the stabbing and at least two desperate flights into its doors – you’re marked very deeply by the Spiral.

Jurgen Leitner was a surprise, of course, and I was forced to improvise. I had no idea how much Gertrude would have told him, and he could very easily have derailed everything if you learned too much too fast.

I… justified it to myself saying I was going to have to send you out into the world anyway, if you were to encounter more of the Powers, but I can’t honestly pretend it wasn’t a… rather rash move.

Still. I’d requested Detective Tonner be assigned to the case when they found Gertrude’s body in the hope that having a Hunter in the mix would eventually lead to a confrontation, and setting you up as a killer certainly hastened that.

Then it was just a matter of feeding you statements to lead you to a few Avatars I thought were likely to harm you – but probably would stop short of actually killing you.

Jude served her purpose exactly as I had hoped, as did our dearly departed Mr. Crew, marking you for the Desolation and the Vast.

Honestly, I had – nothing to do with Melanie and her Slaughter adventure, but when I saw the situation, I made sure to trap her here, so when her rage bubbled over you would be right there, a ready target.

I didn’t foresee the mark coming from surgery gone wrong, but it was a very pleasant surprise.

The Unknowing was a distraction, but not an unwelcome one. For this to work, you needed more than just the marks; you needed power. And that was something the Unknowing served to test, though it posed no actual danger in the grand scheme of things.

And it did serve another purpose, of course. It inadvertently pushed you to confront death, a mark I had been very worried about trying to orchestrate. If I tried too early, you’d just die. Too late, and you might be powerful enough to see the attempt coming, and maybe even understand why.

As it was, it was just right, and once again, you came through with flying colours.

By this point, your abilities were coming along in leaps and bounds, and I was concerned that meeting face-to-face might end up with you – (sigh) – Knowing something you shouldn’t.

I had initially planned to go into hiding, but when your colleagues surprised me with the police, well. It was simple enough to cut a deal.

All that remained, then, were the Dark, the Flesh, the Buried, and the Lonely.

I was a little put out when that idiot Jared Hopworth misinterpreted my letters and attacked the Institute too soon, before you were even out of the hospital, but then – Ho, you should have see my face when you voluntarily went to him.

I couldn’t see what happened in there, of course, but given how you came out, I’m very sure it counts as a mark.

I suspected the coffin might turn up again, and once it did, it was simply a matter of getting any, uh… restraining factors you might have had flying off on a wild goose chase, and waiting.

Honestly, Detective Tonner has been proving invaluable through this process. I’d been racking my brains for months about what I could use to lure you in.

And, of course, I knew the Dark Sun was just sitting there waiting. So when it came time, I just whipped up another apocalypse and sent you on your merry way.

Then all that remained was the Lonely.

Poor Peter. He really should have left well enough alone.  Or just done what I’d asked in the first place.

Ah well. He knew what I was attempting, and was very unwilling to cooperate until I made him a little wager about Martin.

Of course, he had no way of knowing that, in addition to setting you up for the final mark, he was giving you all the tools you needed to escape from it.

How is Martin, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.

And there, I think, we are brought just about up to date. I have enjoyed our little trip down memory lane, but past here lies only impatience.

You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked. The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

Don’t worry, John. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made.

Now. Repeat after me.

You who watch and know and understand none. You who listen and hear and will not comprehend. You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right.

Come to us in your wholeness.

Come to us in your perfection.

Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies!

Come to us.

I – OPEN – THE DOOR!

Oh my god you. You really did the whole thing. You did the whole damn thing. I don't know whether i should be deeply concerned or impressed or just afraid. Maybe a queer concoction of all three

[zippyjiffy]

Part two of Farlei and Sebs meet

Not that much color coding this time guys…💔

—————————————————

"Peak-a-boo!"

"AHHHHH—"

Sebastian stared for a moment, letting Farlei shriek to his heart’s content—his expression faltering to one of mild annoyance.

"You’re quite loud…"

"AND YOU’RE RATHER CLOSE."

Packing himself into the corner of the worn-out locker, his hands clutching the metal walls of the box he now felt caged in.

Sebastian, cautiously retracted his claws from the doors—moving back ever so slightly, appearing curious and as if testing something…

Silence flooded the room.

Sebastian and Farlei just stared at eachother—not a word said, not a single movement seen.

Well—before Farlei decided to speak up,

"Can you not."

"Can I not—what…?"

"Stand—I mean—Stare, stop staring at me, and go away."

Pushing his quaking hands out, moving them in a ‘shoo’ motion. Sebastian watching this with a bored look…

"Sorry, sorry—sensitive… I get it,"

He hummed, as if he was all knowing—Which Farlei snarled briefly at this, his palms clutching into fists as he bellowed.

"I am not “sensitive”, you—you—whatever you are. I am simply wary, and I am very wary, of you."

Quickly interjecting, snapping his tail against the locker floor—hesitantly inching out of the small corner,

Debating if to step out or not.

"Hm… Right~… My apologies…"

Stepping out, Farlei very clearly already disapproving of the being before him, and this worsening as Sebastian leaned down a tad—raising a brow, seeming to question him.

Shooting a ghastly glare, hunching his arms into his chest a bit as he inched away from the locker—

Away from Sebastian, who was now propping himself back up—straightening himself, his lure bobbing around a bit as he shook his head.

A feeling of envy washed over him, Farlei wished he had a personal flashlight.

He rolled his eyes, unimpressed as the humanoid-angler man just watched him closely…

Fuck was he looking at?!

"What. What is with—Do you have a staring problem??"

Farlei piped up once more, growing more irritated by the second.

"Well aren’t you bitter… I’m simply just curious of you…"

Sebastian shrugged subtly, curling the colossally large tail up a bit near himself—Farlei wondered how the guy even maneuvered through the place…

"Well, you will have to wonder no longer—because I’m leaving, right now."

Farlei hissed, pointing a finger firmly towards the other—snapping back into his palm as he turned his head in a swift manner, his legs now starting to have a mind of their own as he tried figuring out what to do.

"Shame, guess I’ll have to keep these to myself…"

Not bothering to look back, until he heard a familiar click…

A flashlight click—making Farlei swing his head back around, his frills perking as he saw two flashlights in Sebastian’s hands…

Guess he knew where everything went now…

Farlei looked towards the two items longingly, thinning his lips as he narrowed his gaze—scrunching his face into a sour expression.

"What do you want…"

He demanded, his reptile-like tail thrashing briefly behind him as he tapped his foot impatiently.

"Well… I would be willing to make a deal, my feisty fellow…?"

Sebastian held it out, hanging the flashlight out—just out of the other’s reach, almost mockingly as he tilted his chin up.

"Have any… data for me? Any, files? DNA perchance?"

He quizzed, tilting his head as he brought the flashlight back—his index circling the rim of it.

Farlei felt eager, but also a bit angry…

This guy was practically taunting him.

His webbed hands soon slowly reached down to his pockets of his tattered shorts, tugging out an orangy-yellow DNA sample…

Really only kept it for its glow, but a flashlight might benefit better.

"Like this…?"

Sebastian squinted, the eerie blue glow to them was creepy to Farlei… As if he was being judged, which he most likely was.

"That all? For someone who seems to… explore, a lot—I’d expect more."

With a swift snag, Sebastian snaked forward every so slightly—

"Yyyooinnnkkkk!"

leaning down, and yanking the tube like structure right from Farlei’s claws, making him flinch back and cringe from the sudden proximity.

Observing it now, Sebastian brought it close to his face—tapping it… And nodding, stuffing it away.

"Since you seem to be, in a rush(muhehe)—I’ll just let you have this,"

Farlei watched as Sebastian out-reached his arm to him, one of the flashlight’s resting in his palm…

Hesitantly—grabbing it, and stepping back. His back-frills spiking, and quickly lowering once out of his space.

"Hm…"

Batting his hand on the flashlight, it flickering before it truly soon lit up the already bright room—furrowing his brow, before tucking it away into his belt—still cautiously eyeing the suspicious snake-like figure.

Just how he… stared, how he presented himself—was… Fishy, in the least offensive way possible.

"Name…?"

Sebastian spoke up, putting away the other light—and clasping his hands together, propping his head up—a small snap or crack could be heard…

Like hell Farlei would answer…

Right?

"Farlei. Call me Farlei."

—————————————————

sorry this took so long i got lazy,

Uhhh i might do more idk mb guys

[slashermoonlight]

dbd asks! 5, 11, 17 please :)

oh I didn't think someone would sent an ask for real :D

5. fave case

I don't count ep 7 and 8 because I think they are more like our characters' personal stories than cases. All cases this season have something that I really like, but my favorite has to be The Case of the Creeping Fores, simply because it happened in a forest. I love forests, I love trees, I love imagining myself walking through that forest and watching as the spirits of animals just walk around. The murder mushroom, too. It's scary, but the visual on the ground is so pretty. I do wish I could see it with my own eyes. I mean, I'm human so maybe it won't be as dangerous, hehe.

11. an animal you'd like to see person-ified for an AU instead of a [crow/cat/walrus]

I know it said no crow but love crow so so much, so I really am happy this season. If we can meet Monty again it would be lovely :D or some other crows, maybe they can come in group, The Case of a Murder of Crows or something.

But I would like to see our group of friends running into dinosaur ghosts. I think that will be hilarious. And weird. Or they can person-ified some squid, the small one is okay, but the bigger one will be more exciting I think. A Giant Squid, or a Colossal Squid ):D I want their human form to not understand how human moves in general and keep pressing their body into flat planes and trying to slither due to habit. Or arrange all of their limbs on chairs/tables/other humans instead of sitting normally.

17. how did you get interested in DBD?

I didn't even hear about it or see the trailer when it dropped. I was bored one day and it appeared on my recommended watch list. So I tried. Tbh, I keep expecting to drop it halfway through the first ep. Because I watched Lock and Co. and it wasn't for me, and this seemed kind of similar. I wasn't feeling any of our three main characters at all. But then Esther came onto the screen :D I stayed for her everything and then I was hooked. I kept watching to see if they can give me more Esther/Esther-like moments and then I get to see the characters develop and it was so good. I'm so happy that I stayed. The Edwin's rant scene and when Crystal's scream "he's our fking demon now!" ticked many of my boxes, too.

[evil-flesh-eating-ai]

top 13 deaths in the magnus archives

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Hello, John. Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen.

Now, shall we turn the page and try again?

Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

Statement begins.

[A SLAP ON THE TABLE – OR A CRACK? SPOOKY.]

I hope you’ll forgive me the self-indulgence, but I have worked so very hard for this moment, a culmination of two centuries of work. It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious.

Why does a man seek to destroy the world?

It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my god. The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness, to place yourself beyond pain and death and fear.

It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, John, the freedom of it all. I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction in that choice.

I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.

I believe there are far more people in this world that would take that bargain than you would ever guess. And I have beaten all of them.

Of course, this desire did not manifest overnight. When Smirke first gathered our little band – Lukas, Scott, and the rest – to discuss and hypothesize on the nature of the things he had learned from Rayner, I felt what I believe we all felt: curiosity, and fear.

But as he compiled his taxonomy and codified his theories on the grand rituals, I began to develop a very specific concern. Smirke was so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of our patrons.

I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world.

At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race.

Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?

I convinced Smirke to work on Millbank, leading him to design it as a temple to all the Fears in equilibrium, such that my own modifications to the design of the Panopticon went… unremarked.

It. Took. Years, for the dread of the prisoners to fully suffuse the place, and I was an old man before I made my first attempt at the Watcher’s Crown, sat in the center of that colossal eye, the great ring of cells encircling me like a coronet.

It was… flawed, of course, as all Smirke’s rituals were, and none of the inmates survived as the power I attempted to harness shook the building almost to pieces, and the murky swamp upon which the prison was built consumed it.

But it left me a gift: For sat in that watchtower, I could see everything I turned my mind to.

It was a dizzying power, and one I discovered I maintained even as I found vessels to extend my life. Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it was born.

I’ll not bore you with details of my bodies and failures through those intervening years. Suffice to say I kept busy, both planning my own next attempt, and doing my best to stymie those others who tried versions of their own.

Surely my interpretation of the Watcher’s Crown had been incomplete; there had been some element of the ritual I had overlooked.

It was not until I met Gertrude Robinson that things began to really come into focus.

You see, the role of Archivist has been part of the Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers; most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain throughlines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.

But Gertrude was unlike any other Archivist. She simply did not care about compiling experiences or collecting the fears of others. She was driven to stop those who served the Powers.

More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt – but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life, and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.

I once asked her what drove her, what had started her down that path. She told me the Desolation had killed her cat.

I don’t know if she was joking, and, to be honest, I could never bring myself to look into her mind and find out for sure.

In any case, Gertrude’s ruthless efficiency in derailing and collapsing rituals threw into stark relief a question that had been bothering me for almost a hundred and fifty years: In the whole span of humanity, why had nobody ever succeeded?

Perhaps there were a long line of Gertrude Robinsons throughout history, but I found that hard to credit. Could it be, then, that there was something in the very concept of the rituals that meant they couldn’t succeed?

She was clearly having similar thoughts in that last year, all of which culminated with the People’s Church.

When I saw that she was making no preparations whatsoever to stop it, I realized she was putting into practice a theory, and one she couldn’t afford to be wrong. She was going to wait, and see if the unopposed ritual succeeded, or if it collapsed under its own strain as mine had all those years ago.

Knowing Gertrude, I’m sure she had a backup plan if she had miscalculated – but she had not. The ritual failed. And all at once, I realized what had to be done.

You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the fear of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral?

Even those that seem to exist in direct opposition rely on each other for their definition as much as up relies on down.

To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.

Every ritual tied itself so closely to a single power as to render itself impossible. They could bring their patron close, but never sever it from the others, and eventually it would be violently pulled back into the place next to reality where they dwell.

The solution, then, is simple: A new ritual must be devised which will bring through all the Powers at once. All fourteen, as I had hoped I could complete it before any new powers such as Extinction were able to fully emerge. All under the Eye’s auspices, of course. We mustn’t forget our roots.

And there was only one being that could possibly serve as a lynchpin for this new ritual: The Archivist. A position that had so recently become vacant, thanks to Gertrude’s ill-timed retirement plans.

Because the thing about the Archivist is that – well, it’s a bit of a misnomer.

It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive.

Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, John. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering record of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you.

You are a living chronicle of terror.

Perhaps, then, if I could find an Archivist and have each Power mark them, have them confront each one and each in turn instill in them a powerful and acute fear for their life, they could be turned into a conduit for the coming of this – nightmare kingdom.

Do you see where I’m going, John?

It does tickle me, that in this world of would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters, the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose. It’s not in your blood, or your soul, or your destiny. It’s just in your own, rotten luck.

[THUNDERCLAPS.]

I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but My God, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as some sort of implicit blessing on the whole project, and, do you know what, I think it was.

Of course, I had to bide my time, get a measure of you before I began to push, learn how you worked – So I decided I would wait until something came for you, and see how you reacted. Attacks upon the Archives were not uncommon during Gertrude’s tenure, and, while she was always prepared, I made sure you would not be.

I reasoned if you couldn’t survive a single encounter, you were unlikely to make it through all fourteen. So, when Jane Prentiss attacked, I watched eagerly, one hand on the gas release from the start.

You acquitted yourself well enough, so I decided to see how far you would get, though I waited until the worms were in you before I pulled the lever. I needed to make sure you felt that fear all the way to your bones.

The discovery that one of the Stranger’s minions had infiltrated the Institute in the aftermath was certainly a pleasant bonus. Even if that sliver of paranoia, that vague wrongness you couldn’t quite place wouldn’t count as a mark, it was only a matter of time before it confronted you in a far more direct and affecting matter.

Admittedly, given the advent of the Unknowing, I needn’t have bothered. But what’s the old saying about hindsight?

More important to me was Sasha’s encounter with the Distortion. If it had taken an interest, then I very much wanted it to cross your path.

[THUNDER CONTINUES AS HE GOES ON.]

So I found one of its current victims and convinced her to make a statement.

Poor Helen. I actually had to put her in a taxi myself, she was getting so lost in those narrow London side streets.

It worked, though.

[SOMETHING CREAKS. ANOTHER LOUD SNAP/CRACKLE.]

Between the stabbing and at least two desperate flights into its doors – you’re marked very deeply by the Spiral.

Jurgen Leitner was a surprise, of course, and I was forced to improvise. I had no idea how much Gertrude would have told him, and he could very easily have derailed everything if you learned too much too fast.

I… justified it to myself saying I was going to have to send you out into the world anyway, if you were to encounter more of the Powers, but I can’t honestly pretend it wasn’t a… rather rash move.

Still. I’d requested Detective Tonner be assigned to the case when they found Gertrude’s body in the hope that having a Hunter in the mix would eventually lead to a confrontation, and setting you up as a killer certainly hastened that.

Then it was just a matter of feeding you statements to lead you to a few Avatars I thought were likely to harm you – but probably would stop short of actually killing you.

Jude served her purpose exactly as I had hoped, as did our dearly departed Mr. Crew, marking you for the Desolation and the Vast.

Honestly, I had – nothing to do with Melanie and her Slaughter adventure, but when I saw the situation, I made sure to trap her here, so when her rage bubbled over you would be right there, a ready target.

I didn’t foresee the mark coming from surgery gone wrong, but it was a very pleasant surprise.

The Unknowing was a distraction, but not an unwelcome one. For this to work, you needed more than just the marks; you needed power. And that was something the Unknowing served to test, though it posed no actual danger in the grand scheme of things.

And it did serve another purpose, of course. It inadvertently pushed you to confront death, a mark I had been very worried about trying to orchestrate. If I tried too early, you’d just die. Too late, and you might be powerful enough to see the attempt coming, and maybe even understand why.

As it was, it was just right, and once again, you came through with flying colors.

By this point, your abilities were coming along in leaps and bounds, and I was concerned that meeting face-to-face might end up with you – (sigh) – Knowing something you shouldn’t.

I had initially planned to go into hiding, but when your colleagues surprised me with the police, well. It was simple enough to cut a deal.

All that remained, then, were the Dark, the Flesh, the Buried, and the Lonely.

I was a little put out when that idiot Jared Hopworth misinterpreted my letters and attacked the Institute too soon, before you were even out of the hospital, but then – Ho, you should have see my face when you voluntarily went to him.

I couldn’t see what happened in there, of course, but given how you came out, I’m very sure it counts as a mark.

I suspected the coffin might turn up again, and once it did, it was simply a matter of getting any, uh… restraining factors you might have had flying off on a wild goose chase, and waiting.

Honestly, Detective Tonner has been proving invaluable through this process. I’d been racking my brains for months about what I could use to lure you in.

And, of course, I knew the Dark Sun was just sitting there waiting. So when it came time, I just whipped up another apocalypse and sent you on your merry way.

Then all that remained was the Lonely.

Poor Peter. He really should have left well enough alone. (cruel laugh) Or just done what I’d asked in the first place.

Ah well. He knew what I was attempting, and was very unwilling to cooperate until I made him a little wager about Martin.

Of course, he had no way of knowing that, in addition to setting you up for the final mark, he was giving you all the tools you needed to escape from it.

How is Martin, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.

And there, I think, we are brought just about up to date. I have enjoyed our little trip down memory lane, but past here lies only impatience.

You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked. The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

Don’t worry, John. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made.

Now. (cruel, cruel laugh) Repeat after me.

[WHEN THE ARCHIVIST BEGINS TO READ THE INCANTATION, A HEAVY, DENSE STATIC RETURNS AND BEGINS TO BUILD, ADDING IN HIGHER PITCHES AS IT DOES SO.]

You who watch and know and understand none. You who listen and hear and will not comprehend. You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right.

Come to us in your wholeness.

Come to us in your perfection.

Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies!

Come to us.

I – OPEN – THE DOOR!

[theradicalscrivener]

The Life and Tinies of Trevor: OnlyGlans

I started this fic aaaagggesss ago. Like, you can carbon date the first draft by the fact that it references the Jack-O challenge. I'd been wanting to revisit Trevor and friends for ages, and I was in a hardcore micro mood this past month, so I dusted this off and finished it.

(P.S. Ya boi's got Linktree and Bluesky now)

[First Chapter] || [Next Chapter]

                Simon glanced up from his homework and over at the far side of the desk where Trevor was positioned in front of Simon’s cell phone – which at Trevor’s two-inch height was far larger than Trevor himself. The cell phone was mounted on a stand which kept it more or less upright so that Trevor could watch it like a movie screen, but Trevor seemed more interested in participating in what was going on on the screen as opposed to just watching.

                “… what in the wide, wide world of sports are you doing?” Simon asked.

               Trevor hopped up from his position and shouted up towards his colossal boyfriend so that Simon could hear, “It’s the hottest new meme,” he explained. “People all over are mimicking this fighting game pose.” He then leaned back down so his booty was in the air and his chest was down on the ground.

               “Looks uncomfortable. If I was gonna mimic a pose, I’d probably stick to something like The Garfield Power Coma pose or something,” Simon commented.

               Trevor once again hopped up and faced his giant boyfriend. “How boring! You won’t get any likes like that!”

               “Oh? That’s your game? Gonna be internet famous? Might need to put some pants on before you go posting to TikTok, though.” Simon teased and gave Trevor’s exposed midriff a playful poke with the eraser end of his pencil.

               It was supposed to be a soft jab, but with their current size disparity, it was enough to send Trevor tumbling onto his ass. After all, the pencil was bigger around than Trevor’s whole head! Getting poked with one of those was like getting bodied with a pugil stick.

               However, the sudden tumble barely slowed Trevor down. He quickly hopped back up on his feet. “I… uh… guess I got a little too used to not wearing anything around the house. I didn’t even consider the clothes thing…” Trevor said with a bashful chuckle.

               “Well, I for one am not complaining,” Simon said with a sly wink.

               “Yeah. You would enjoy it,” Trevor replied back and returned the wink.

               “TikTok might not allow you to leave the goods out, but I’m sure some other sites would be more than happy to show all of you.”

               “Ha! Yeah. I can get me an OnlyFans and become the world’s tiniest porn star!” Trevor laughed.

               “Then you can finally start paying rent,” Simon teased.

               “Sure! I’ll only pay for the portion of the apartment that I actually use though,” Trevor replied. He then paused for a beat and asked, “Do you think you can break a penny?”

               “A whole penny? You must really be expecting to rake in the big bucks,” Simon teased playfully.

“What? You don’t think I know how to work it? Get that camera rolling, and I’ll show you what I can do!”

               Simon smirked and cocked an eyebrow skeptically. After a moment he shrugged and then tapped the screen of his cell phone a few times and adjusted the angle so now the screen showcased the tiny Trevor standing atop Simon’s desk.

               “Well? Go on. Don’t keep your fans waiting,” Simon said.

                 “The site is called Only Fans for a reason! I’m nothing without my audience! So, you tell me what you want to see!” Trevor called up to his towering boyfriend.

               “Well, I already see a lot that I like. Why not show that to the audience?” Simon replied with a smirk.

               Trevor glanced up towards his boyfriend’s huge smirk which loomed far above him. His gaze stayed a moment at his boyfriend’s cute face and then slowly worked a path down the seeming miles of Simon’s shirt.

               “You know… if I’m going to make a name for myself as the world’s tiniest porn star, I should have a partner for comparison!” Trevor said.

               “Oh? Did you have someone in mind?” Simon replied playfully. He played dumb, but even without being asked, he began to undo the buttons on his shirt letting his toned chest and abs come into view.

“Take! It! Off! Take! It! Off!” Trevor cheered as Simon continued his striptease. Once his shirt was fully unbuttoned, he then shimmied his tight jeans down along his slender thighs before stepping out of those. Soon he was clad in nothing but his full open-fronted flannel shirt and a pair of bulging boxer briefs.

Simon started to reach down and slip his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, but Trevor quickly shouted for him to stop.

               “Wait! Wait! I have an idea!” Trevor shouted.

Simon cocked an eyebrow questioningly but waited as Trevor scampered across the desk towards the large keyboard that Simon usually worked from. Trevor crawled up onto the wrist rest before leaping across the gap to the keyboard proper. Once there, Trevor knelt down and slammed his palms down on the track pad as if he was putting his prints on the Hollywood walk of fame.

               Simon admired the view as Trevor took up a pose very similar to the meme pose he was trying earlier. Trevor had his legs spread wide so that he had a foot planted on one of the two mouse keys. Trevor had his two hands placed together almost as if he was trying to guide a Ouija puck. Trevor had to lean all the way forward so that he had most of his body weight balanced on his two hands in order for the track pad to even register his weight enough for him to move the cursor. The pose put all of his goods on display. His ass was raised high and held in such a way as to give Simon a clear view of Trevor’s tight, tiny hole, and his balls and dick swung beneath. Simon couldn’t help but ogle Trevor’s fit, firm backside as the tiny guy worked away at the computer. Each time Trevor needed to shift the cursor, he had to put his full body weight behind the push which caused his tiny cock and balls to swing heavily between his miniature quads.

               Simon was quickly getting beyond chubbed up as he watched his tiny boyfriend flex and wobble with each shove of the trackpad. Simon wished it was physically possible for him to plow that firm ass, but even before Trevor had been reduced in height to the size of a Lego figure, Simon’s impressive rod had been too much for his boyfriend to take. That wasn’t to say that Simon was dealing with blue balls, however. Despite his tiny size, Trevor had a seemingly boundless wellspring of energy and an even bigger imagination. In fact, the only reason the two of them weren’t going at it like rabbits every day was because Simon often needed to rest between rounds, and there were also those pesky classes and homework and a job that kept Simon otherwise occupied.

               Simon was so fixated on his fit, tiny boyfriend that he wasn’t even watching what was going on on the monitor. Trevor had already logged into the app that controlled the webcam and was adjusting the angle of the video.

               Calling it a webcam was probably a bit of a misnomer. It was a higher quality camera than one usually used for face timing, and it was able to be remote controlled. This camera and the touch pad mouse were two of the items that Simon had installed to give Trevor a way to keep in touch with him if he was out of the apartment for any reason. The camera was able to zoom in on the less than two-inch tall dude so that Simon could clearly see his pint-sized paramour at any time of day. Today, however, the camera was fixated on Simon’s package.

               “Chin up! Trousers down!” Trevor said into the microphone that was attached to his little control center.

               Simon blushed beet red. He had been mostly joking about having Trevor film the two of them together. Trevor was the outgoing one. Simon was often just along for the ride. However, he couldn’t deny that he was excited by the prospects. Simon wasn’t naïve. He knew his cock was huge, and his dick was just going to look even more massive when placed alongside a dude who was crotch high to a G.I. Joe!

               Simon once more slipped his fingers into the waistband of his tight boxer briefs and shoved the soft garment down along his hips until his huge, fat cock spilled out onto the desk before him. His impressive meat landed on the cool, wooden surface with an audible whump. The tremor from the impact was such that even Trevor, who was a good foot away from the point of impact, had to struggle to maintain his precarious pose.

               Simon watched in awe as the camera zoomed in to focus on just the head of his huge cock. The soft, supple flesh of his spongy cockhead filled up almost every inch of his extra wide monitor. His pre-dribbling slit made it look like his desktop background had been swapped out with an off-brand rendition of the eye of Sauron.

               It was strange staring at an image of his own cock like this. The glans appeared larger than his whole head! The slit appeared bigger than his own mouth! Was this what it looked like to Trevor? On some level, Simon started to feel a little jealous that this is what Trevor got to experience on a daily basis! But even as these thoughts flooded his mind, he knew that he was lowballing just how huge his dick looked to his tiny boyfriend.

               Once satisfied with the camera position, Trevor stood back up and stretched the kinks out of his back and shoulder before hopping off of the mouse pad and scurrying across the desk over to where Simon’s massive meat awaited him. Trevor was already rock hard before he even left his workstation which gave Simon an amusing and erotic view of Trevor’s tiny rod swinging and dripping from side to side as the little guy jogged across the desktop.

               Soon, Trevor was staring down the beast. Trevor was so small and Simon was so hung that the massive, spongy head of his semi-boned cock completely dwarfed Trevor’s body. Just the glans of Simon’s fantastic cock was the size of an igloo! As Trevor stood there staring down Simon’s massive, fleshy, one-eyed monster. Trevor felt like Chrono standing face to face with the planet-devouring parasite. However, unlike Chrono, Trevor was more than happy to let this beast erupt all over him.

               Trevor leaned up against the tip of his boyfriend’s colossal cock. No matter how many times he did this, the sheer size of it always took his breath away, and the surreal sensation of the massive, soft, spongy tissue against his tiny hands made it feel like he was petting some kind of massive beast. Trevor had never pet an elephant before, but he imagined it would probably be a very similar experience… at least if he was doing it at his old size, anyway.

               Trevor glanced over his shoulder and marveled at the image on the screen behind him. It was strange seeing himself as a giant! Everywhere he went, he was surrounded by people that completely dwarfed his tiny form. Some part of Trevor’s mind pondered for a split second what it would be like to be the big guy in a relationship, but he’d never want to trade places with Simon. Trevor loved having a skyscraper-sized boyfriend, and he knew that Simon absolutely adored having a pocket-sized lover as well.

               Internal thoughts aside, Trevor was pleased at what he saw on the screen. He and his boyfriend’s cock were framed perfectly in the shot. Trevor flashed a sly wink to the giant figure of himself on the screen (and by extension to the fans watching at home) and turned to face the beast. Now that he was in position, he wasted no time. He pressed his body against the tip of Simon’s fully-engorged cock head. By this point, Simon was rock-hard. His dick-tip was as puffed up as it could get. Pre flowed freely from the huge slit.

               Trevor began to rub his whole body against his boyfriend’s massive cockhead. He rolled his entire body like a Gogo boy doing body rolls in a cage above a dance floor. With each thrust of his hips, his own cock rubbed against the drooling lips of Simon’s massive slit.

               Simon shuddered and moaned. He struggled against himself to keep himself from cumming so quickly. Sure, he had been busy with class lately, but he hadn’t thought he was so backed up! He was ready to cream, and they had barely even started! He could feel Trevor’s tiny dick rubbing against his oversensitive slit! He could feel Trevor’s tiny hips rubbing against his over-engorged cockhead! Simon was so close to cumming just from the sensations on his cockhead, and it didn’t help that he could see the entire spectacle of his tiny boyfriend grinding against and licking and suckling his own cockhead in HD on his large computer screen. 

               Simon’s cock head gave a flare. His dick lurched violently. The motion nearly sent Trevor toppling flat onto his ass, but Trevor was not about to be shoved aside even if Simon’s meat was so massive that even the head of the fat cock could easily eclipse Trevor’s entire body. He was determined to stand his ground. He didn’t want to let go of his boyfriend’s cock for even a moment, and he definitely didn’t want to disappoint the fans at home. Not to mention, that being able to make the titan which loomed over him tremble with just the movement of his hips, drove Trevor wild!

               Trevor glanced back over his shoulder to make sure that his audience still had a clear shot of what was going on. He flashed another playful wink, and then returned his attention to his titanic boyfriend’s shuddering cockhead. Trevor got down on his knees so he was now staring down the dribbling slit. The scent of cock sweat and pre filled his nostrils. The sheer heat emanating from his boyfriend’s meat was astounding. It was like just the head of his lover’s cock was overwhelming all of his senses! But Trevor was not so easily cowed. He leaned in and rubbed his face against the pre-drooling gash of Simon’s monolithic cock. Simon’s slit was so huge that Trevor could get his entire face into it as if it was one of those face pillows on a massage bench, but the sides of this pillow were far warmer, softer, and wetter than any spa pillow he could have used.

               Simon slammed his hands down on the desk to stabilize himself. He was now shaking like a leaf. His breath was coming in ragged gasps. Simon’s cock was so sensitive that he could feel Trevor’s tongue against the inside of his dick tip. He could feel Trevor’s nose brushing against the walls of his dick. Trevor really knew how to get to him. Trevor was far smaller than even just Simon’s cock, and yet Trevor could easily make the titan collapse with bliss, and the sensations were only amplified by the video displayed on Simon’s monitor.

               Simon could see Trevor kneeling down before the camera. The video gave a clear glimpse of Trevor’s tight, tiny hole. Simon was leaking so much that his pre was completely coating Trevor’s tiny body. Trevor’s body glistened in the light of the desk lamp. Simon watched as Trevor moved a hand away from Simon’s sensitive cockhead and reached back towards Trevor’s own firm butt. Simon was so horny that his throat felt so tight that he could barely swallow. All he could do was struggle to remain upright while he felt his tiny boyfriend grinding against his cock and watched the incredibly sexy show on his screen. He was struggling to keep his cool and his load, but he nearly lost both when he saw Trevor reach back and slip two pre-soaked fingers into his own tight hole.

               Trevor was using Simon’s own pre to finger fuck himself! Trevor was so tiny that Simon had long since given up getting any part of himself in that dude’s cute hole! Trevor was so small that Simon couldn’t even slip his pinky inside! Yet watching Trevor finger himself with Simon’s juices sent Simon spiraling into a new stratosphere of hot and bothered.

               Simon’s cock trembled and lurched so hard that the force of it sent Trevor tumbling backwards. ! In actuality, Trevor had only slid a few centimeters, but at Trevor’s small size it was as if he had slid a few feet! The pre-soaked shrunken stud slid across the desktop as if he was in an ice rink.

Trevor knew it was time for his hard work to pay off. The sound of the giant’s moans was like music to his ears. Each labored breath that escaped the titan’s lips made Trevor hornier and hornier. Trevor was ready to cum right then and there, but he was determined to hold off until Simon had found release.

               Simon was so horny that he didn’t even have time to wrap his hands around his fat cock before he started spewing. The first rope of jizz arced into the air, completely missing his tiny lover.

               Simon struggled against his own arousal and orgasmic bliss and forced enough of his body to listen to him. Simon was so addled from his own climax that he wasn’t entirely sure why he was struggling so hard. Did he want to put on a good show for the camera? Did he just want to completely coat Trevor in his cum?  Whatever the case, on some level, he knew that he needed to get his dick back in the shot.

               Simon reached both hands around his fat cock and angled the cum-spewing tip down towards the desktop. Simon was so hot and bothered that he could barely keep his eyes open let alone focus them, but between gasps and spurts, he watched in awe as the image of his own cock was magnified several times on his computer screen. Jizz erupted from the slit like a geyser. The burst of cum crashed into the tiny figure that stood unsteadily before it. The torrent of jizz was so powerful that it sent Trevor flying backwards as it collided directly with his chest.

               Trevor had been blasted clean out of the view of the camera. Now the computer screen only showed Simon’s spewing cock head. That image was incredibly hot even by itself, but even as his senses were overwhelmed by his own climax, Simon refused to take center stage on what was supposed to be Trevor’s special production. Fortunately, a blinking red light caught his attention.

               Simon had never stopped recording on his cell phone! The device was positioned camera-side down, so all it had picked up so far was noise, but it was still running!

               Simon quickly reached over. He scooped up his phone in one hand and his pint-sized lover in the other. He held Trevor up to the tip of his massive cock and held the phone unsteadily above and recorded the last few spurts of cum. He watched in hormone addled awe as the screen of his cell phone lit up with the image of Trevor’s shrunken form getting buffeted by shot after massive, messy shot of hot spunk! Simon’s load had been one for the record books even by his standards! His load completely flooded his entire palm! The thick spurts had left Trevor so soaked in spunk that he looked like a victim of the Staypuft marshmallow man!

               “y-you ok…?” Simon gasped breathlessly into the phone as he zoomed in closer and closer on the shrunken figure which now lay buried in spunk in the palm of his hand. His question was answered by a pair of two emphatic thumbs up emerging from beneath the muck.

[First Chapter] || [Next Chapter]

[azurewishing]

Descent

Part 2 of the Resonance AU. This time it's in coldie's perspective as it deals with the countdown of frigil's awakening

Nevi- Cold epic wubbox

Eden- Plant epic wubbox

Rey- Rare wubbox

~~~~~~

It only began a few months ago. Only a few months ago, Nevi learned that the colossals will wake up soon. Only a few months ago did it learn that its worst friend is still out there. And only a few months ago did Nevi begin to walk a path of further anxiety.

---

At first, Nevi didn’t think anything about it. It didn’t want to think anything about it. It did everything it could to stop thinking about it, from doing its favorite activities to sleeping to talking to anyone, anything at all.

But it didn’t work.

Now, it’s been laying in bed all day, swallowing its fears.

Just pretend you didn’t learn anything, and go on with the rest of your day. Simple as that.

It got up, and went outside.

Don’t think about it. Pretend they don’t exist.

Pretend, and you’ll be happy.

---

A light filled its chest. It wasn’t really that warm though. Maybe it’s because it’s perpetually cold. Well, it was minor enough that Nevi didn’t really care.

What it does care about is finding what lies hidden in the snow.

It’s a favorite hobby of its. Dig, find treasure and eat any delicious looking snow it finds. A really fun time.

Today’s discovery ended in success. It found a light blue crystal, in a hexagonal shape. How interesting!

“Ah, how amazing! It looks just like me, and that makes it even more grander!”

It admired the gem, noting how unusually clear it is. As it holds it, it brought it close to its chest for a moment, and it felt a strong wave of heat.

“Mm-!” It winced, and nearly dropped the crystal. It managed to catch it, though.

Nevi noticed that when it brings the crystal close to its core, a wave of warmth courses through its body ”Too warm…” it mutters to itself. When it brings the crystal away, the wave stops.

“Hmm, how strange… just like myself. Hehe!” It doesn’t think anything of it, and opens a portal to go to its room.

There, it brings out a box under its bed of all the blue gems its collected, and puts its recent find inside.

When it opened the box, however, it felt a very intense heat coursing through its body. It winced and closed the box. It takes a moment to take deep breaths.

“Ugh… what was that? Never happened before to me. So unfair.”

It decided to put the gem it found on its dresser, but decently away from it.

Nevi starts to worry about the light it feels now. It only began recently, when it learned that they’ll soon be awakened. Could it be a sign?

No.

It couldn’t be. It severed all ties to them.

Yeah, it couldn’t be…

---

Today is a boring day. There’s a snowstorm outside. Despite Nevi’s love for inconveniencing people and snow, it did not like it when itself was inconvenienced.

With nothing else to do, it decided to entertain itself with its own thoughts.

First, it thought about Evergreen. ‘I wish Eva is okay… Even though I bother it a lot, I really do care for it. I know it holds of hatred towards its own colossal, so with this… Yeah, I hope it’s okay. It most likely is- after all, it’s much stronger than myself, and it has its two little siblings.’

Then, its mind wandered to Wubbox and Rey. ‘Speaking of those two… what’s their problem? Both of them have accidentally hit me when I failed to scare them. Am I that worthy of being hit by you two?! Ha! I’m a powerful prince, for creator’s sake! You should respect me!’

And like how this usually ends, it thinks about itself. ‘Heh. I’m sooo cool and fearless. I’m the best of this family. Weehehe~’

It grew tired as sleepiness crept upon it. Eventually it fell asleep, and had a strange dream.

…

The dream took place in the past. In the caves, where it used to call home.

There, sitting on the floor, was its younger self. Pink eyes and navy blue electricity, and a tired expression on its face. Even then it was smiling, talking happily to… someone. Nevi watches the conversation.

“You know, when I’m able to control my powers, I’ll give myself big wings,” it said to its invisible partner.

“Oh? And what will you do with them?” they asked, curious.

The voice was familiar. Slightly saddened, quiet and high pitched. An anxiety washes over Nevi.

“I’ll fly out of here. And I’ll bring all my friends- no, everyone. I’ll bring everyone out of here. We’ll start a new life on the surface, no matter how hard it’ll be.”

A voice of determination and hope. Its younger self seemed very happy.

“Hmm… that seems nice. But you should really start paying attention to me, you know… Even if I’m your teacher, I am still your friend, and aren’t friends supposed to listen to each other? You’re not acting fairly…” they responded, seeming sad. They were going to go on about how it payed attention to the other residents of the cave, but it quickly stopped them.

“Okay, I know, Frigil. No need to be so clingy,” it teased.

“I-I’m not clingy!” Frigil defended themself, almost immediately, “I just haven’t had a friend in millenia! Is that so bad for me to wish, Carmen?” They were in a slight panic.

At hearing the names Frigil and Carmen, Nevi felt a sting of pain and sorrow.

“Haha, I was just kidding. I’ll listen to ya. I’ve nothing better to do anyways.”

No. No, no, no. Stop saying that.

“Really? Oh, I’m so happy to hear you say that! We’ll be friends forever!!”

Glass shatters, and it wakes up.

“…”

A sorrowful dream.

---

There’s a forest that surrounds the island where Nevi likes to hang out. It went there for any sembalance of comfort, if something like that even exists anymore.

It was just wandering until it saw a strange person with a black parasol. The epic wubbox began to sneak up on it, in order to surprise them. The more it got close to this person, the more certain traits began to stick out.

Long horns, a wooden body, and green electricity…

“Eva? You’re really okay?!”Nevi called out to its cousin in surprise.

Evergreen turned around at the sight of Nevi. It was then it noticed its appearance. Black leaves, a black rose blocking its left eye, and its right eye being bright yellow instead of the bright blue it once had.

“Hello, Nevi. Have you been well?”

A seemingly innocent question, but something was wrong with it. The way it smiled seemed to have a hint of malice.

Nevi brushed it off, not wanting to panic even more than it already is. “Who… are you? You’re not Eva.”

“That is right, I am not Eva anymore. My name is Eden. But no matter; I have something important to talk to you about,” Eden replied, with a small smile on its face.

“What do you mean ‘anymore’? What happened to you…?” Nevi asked, but it went unanswered. Instead, Eden walked up to its cousin, staring down into its eyes, and put a hand upon its cheek.

Nevi recognized the color of that eye. It was Eden’s colossal’s eye color. A shiver run down its spine. Did they do something to its cousin?

“Do you know how to grow into a better person? I do. You’ll soon learn, too. You will be put on the correct path soon enough,” it spoke calmly, but with an implied excitement. “Just as how our lord Grennitch helped me become the best version of myself, your old mentor Frigil shall do so, too.”

“Don’t talk to me about them. You don’t know anything about them or what they’ve done to me,” Nevi snapped at the mention of Frigil, speaking in a cold and sharp way.

“Oh, but I do. You see, I did a lot of research before coming here. I know how dangerous they are, and I understand how you may feel threatened by them. But, I think they didn’t mean to hurt you. Perhaps they were in a bad mood that day.”

“I’m not going to listen to your nonsense. You don’t know me, you don’t know them and you’ll never will. Leave me alone.”

Nevi began to walk away. It was tired of hearing this stranger in its cousin’s body talk about things it never experienced.

As it walked, it heard Eden saying, “If you say so”, or something similar, but it ignored its cousin. Nevi walked back all the way to its room in the castle.

---

As Nevi laid down in its big fancy bed, it thought about that encounter.

What happened to Eva? Why did it look like that? And its eyes….

“Will that happen to me too?”

A scary thought, but a likely one. It didn’t want to admit that last part though.

At the same time, Nevi did break all contact with Frigil. Maybe it was safe?

“Right, I’ve nothing to fear. I’m safe from that old hag. I’m stronger now!!” Nevi sprang up in triumph, and looked out the window.

… Why is it foggy now?

“Strange weather we’re having, huh…” it commented. “Well, that fake tree’s probably gone, so I’m able to roam around now.”

"Where are you going?”

---

A voice.

A soft, shy voice.

The epic wubbox stopped dead in its tracks.

“Who said that?”

It looked around its room to find the owner of that voice.

“Oh, can you not see me…?” The voice asked politely.

“No… nononono no this can’t be happening. I blocked you out. How are you here? WHY are you here?!”

The room swirled with fog enveloping everything. A white void…

“U-um… oh! I think I know how to get you to see me!”

Something came out of the fog. A large white rabbit with a body that is one with a fog, a chest with blue arms sticking out and two light blue eyes.

“Hi, Ca- oh, your name is Nevi now, right? Hi Nevi!!”

It was Frigil.

---

“It’s been such a long time since we last talked; I’ve missed you so much!!” The colossal said with a smile. “I was so sad when you left me all alone. You know we’re best friends, right? There wasn’t any need for you to cut me off like you did.”

“We’re NOT best friends. You know that,” Nevi managed to say.

“Since when…?”

“Ever since that day, when you showed me that vivid memory of the cataclysm.”

“Oh come on, I’ve told you stories about it over and over, and you still remained sane. Why does seeing it in action make any difference?” Frigil’s head tilted, curiously.

“Because seeing monsters dying infront of you is, I don’t know, TRAUMATIC?!”

The epic wubbox was at its limits, way past its limits. Hearing a word from this spirit’s mouth tests it even more. The fact that they don’t realize how messed up they made it… it was unforgivable in Nevi’s eyes.

“And standing in my presence wasn’t? You know how I’m able to drive people to insanity by a few days of just standing next to me. If you were able to sustain that, then I have no idea how that was your breaking point. So stop saying that. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

Frigil wasn’t understanding, and Nevi wasn’t in the mood of entertaining them.

Never again would a colossal hurt it, or its family.

“Listen, bucko,” Nevi managed to spit out. “I’m not gonna spend any more milliseconds being insulted by you. Your friend already hurt dear Eva, and now you’re trying to hurt me. I won’t fall for this ‘cute, sad’ act shit you’re pulling. Buh-bye!”

As fast as it could, the epic wubbox formed a mental barrier, and their meeting ended.

Immediately, Nevi went to sit on its bed, catching its breath. What was that? Why did that happen? It was doing so well, but…

The light in its core that it forgot about was so bright and hot… it felt like it was melting from the inside.

Its surroundings felt fuzzy, and its vision started to blur.

---

Knock knock knock.

“Hey, Nevi, you okay? I heard yelling.”

Someone with a robotic voice was outside. The voice snapped Nevi out of its daydream (if you can call it that).

“Oh… oh, Rey. I’m fine.”

“I can’t hear you, can you let me in?”

Nevi got up and opened the door. Rey looked worried, and took some steps back.

“I said I’m fine. No need to worry about your prince.”

“You don’t sound all that fine. Oh…”

Rey seemed to be looking at something. “What is it, dear Rey? Is there something with me?”

“Oh, nothing, just… your eyes, they’re…”

Its eyes? “What’s with them…?”

“They’re blue now,” Rey finally got to saying.

That’s a strange thing to say. Nevi went to its dresser and looked in the mirror. Its eyes were indeed blue, with a hexagon for a pupil. Just like Frigil’s.

A moment of brief silence, then Rey tried to speak again.

“Um…”

“You can go now, Rey. I need some alone time.”

Nevi’s voice was hollow.

---

As Rey closed the door, Nevi stood in front of the mirror.

Silence overtakes the room, filling it with a slightly oppressive atmosphere.

Tears start to fall, becoming crystalized as they flutter to the ground. At first it was just a few, but then they poured out like a waterfall. Nevi, sniffling, crouched to the ground and hugged itself.

“All I wanted to do… was to be happy. All I wanted was cool powers. I just wanted that… I didn’t ask for this. Not at all…”

It continued to cry for a little bit longer.

Fog, then a hand on its shoulder, then a sweet voice.

“Nevi… you can talk about this to me, okay?”

The colossal.

“Why would I want to talk to you, Frigil? You ruined my life.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” It seems that Frigil still doesn’t understand the weight of their own actions. Maybe they never will. “I haven’t done anything bad, I don’t think."

“Is this the lesson that I’ll learn from you, just like Eden said? That no matter what I do, I can’t ever have true happiness? That I can’t catch a break?” Nevi was barely speaking coherently, choking on sobs and sniffling a lot.

“Huh? I can’t… understand you,” the colossal said, tilting their head.

“…go away. Get away from me. Now,” the epic wubbox finally brought itself to say.

“U-um… but why…?”

“You know why. You know damn well why. Go away… go away…”

Everything went to dark.

---

There is an epic wubbox laying on the floor of its room.

The epic wubbox used to call itself a prince, with an arrogant sneer. But its not smiling right now.

It has a blank expression, its eyes dull.

Something lifted the epic wubbox up to be sitting upright.

“Nevi…” someone said.

“…”

“Um… Nevi?”

“Carmen.”

“Huh?”

“Frigil, call me Carmen. Because that’s who you liked.”

“Um, alright, Carmen…”

The room was misty and hazy. In Carmen’s point of view, everything was enveloped in a shifting swirl of white, white and more white. The only figure visible was the form of the rabbit-like colossal.

Frigil raised its hands and touched the rabbit ears on Carmen’s head.

“I just noticed these… they’re just like mine! Hehe,” they said with a cute laugh. Carmen didn’t budge, its blue eyes staring into space.

“What should we do today…? Should we learn new magic techniques? Or would you rather go on a walk with me?” Frigil asked. The epic wubbox didn’t answer. “Oh, neither? Then what do you want to do instead?”

It seems this will be Carmen’s life now. Being talked at and treated like a doll. Never getting to say what it wants to say, to think what it wants to think. Because thinking is bad. Because thinking brings pain.

Friends don’t bring eachother pain.

So Carmen never says anything.

And the two could not have been happier.

[draculagerard]

Hello Jon

Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen.

Now, shall we turn the page and try again?

Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

Statement begins.

I hope you’ll forgive me the self-indulgence, but I have worked so very hard for this moment, a culmination of two centuries of work. It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious.

Why does a man seek to destroy the world?

It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my god. The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness, to place yourself beyond pain and death and fear.

It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, John, the freedom of it all. I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction in that choice.

I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.

I believe there are far more people in this world that would take that bargain than you would ever guess. And I have beaten all of them.

Of course, this desire did not manifest overnight. When Smirke first gathered our little band – Lukas, Scott, and the rest – to discuss and hypothesize on the nature of the things he had learned from Rayner, I felt what I believe we all felt: curiosity, and fear.

But as he compiled his taxonomy and codified his theories on the grand rituals, I began to develop a very specific concern. Smirke was so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of our patrons.

I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world.

At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race.

Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?

I convinced Smirke to work on Millbank, leading him to design it as a temple to all the Fears in equilibrium, such that my own modifications to the design of the Panopticon went… unremarked.

It. Took. Years, for the dread of the prisoners to fully suffuse the place, and I was an old man before I made my first attempt at the Watcher’s Crown, sat in the center of that colossal eye, the great ring of cells encircling me like a coronet.

It was… flawed, of course, as all Smirke’s rituals were, and none of the inmates survived as the power I attempted to harness shook the building almost to pieces, and the murky swamp upon which the prison was built consumed it.

But it left me a gift: For sat in that watchtower, I could see everything I turned my mind to.

It was a dizzying power, and one I discovered I maintained even as I found vessels to extend my life. Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it was born.

I’ll not bore you with details of my bodies and failures through those intervening years. Suffice to say I kept busy, both planning my own next attempt, and doing my best to stymie those others who tried versions of their own.

Surely my interpretation of the Watcher’s Crown had been incomplete; there had been some element of the ritual I had overlooked.

It was not until I met Gertrude Robinson that things began to really come into focus.

You see, the role of Archivist has been part of the Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers; most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain throughlines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.

But Gertrude was unlike any other Archivist. She simply did not care about compiling experiences or collecting the fears of others. She was driven to stop those who served the Powers.

More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt – but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life, and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.

I once asked her what drove her, what had started her down that path. She told me the Desolation had killed her cat.

I don’t know if she was joking, and, to be honest, I could never bring myself to look into her mind and find out for sure.

In any case, Gertrude’s ruthless efficiency in derailing and collapsing rituals threw into stark relief a question that had been bothering me for almost a hundred and fifty years: In the whole span of humanity, why had nobody ever succeeded?

Perhaps there were a long line of Gertrude Robinsons throughout history, but I found that hard to credit. Could it be, then, that there was something in the very concept of the rituals that meant they couldn’t succeed?

She was clearly having similar thoughts in that last year, all of which culminated with the People’s Church.

When I saw that she was making no preparations whatsoever to stop it, I realized she was putting into practice a theory, and one she couldn’t afford to be wrong. She was going to wait, and see if the unopposed ritual succeeded, or if it collapsed under its own strain as mine had all those years ago.

Knowing Gertrude, I’m sure she had a backup plan if she had miscalculated – but she had not. The ritual failed. And all at once, I realized what had to be done.

You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the fear of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral?

Even those that seem to exist in direct opposition rely on each other for their definition as much as up relies on down.

To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.

Every ritual tied itself so closely to a single power as to render itself impossible. They could bring their patron close, but never sever it from the others, and eventually it would be violently pulled back into the place next to reality where they dwell.

The solution, then, is simple: A new ritual must be devised which will bring through all the Powers at once. All fourteen, as I had hoped I could complete it before any new powers such as Extinction were able to fully emerge. All under the Eye’s auspices, of course. We mustn’t forget our roots.

And there was only one being that could possibly serve as a lynchpin for this new ritual: The Archivist. A position that had so recently become vacant, thanks to Gertrude’s ill-timed retirement plans.

Because the thing about the Archivist is that – well, it’s a bit of a misnomer.

It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive.

Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, John. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering record of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you.

You are a living chronicle of terror.

Perhaps, then, if I could find an Archivist and have each Power mark them, have them confront each one and each in turn instill in them a powerful and acute fear for their life, they could be turned into a conduit for the coming of this – nightmare kingdom.

Do you see where I’m going, John?

It does tickle me, that in this world of would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters, the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose. It’s not in your blood, or your soul, or your destiny. It’s just in your own, rotten luck.

I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but My God, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as some sort of implicit blessing on the whole project, and, do you know what, I think it was.

Of course, I had to bide my time, get a measure of you before I began to push, learn how you worked – So I decided I would wait until something came for you, and see how you reacted. Attacks upon the Archives were not uncommon during Gertrude’s tenure, and, while she was always prepared, I made sure you would not be.

I reasoned if you couldn’t survive a single encounter, you were unlikely to make it through all fourteen. So, when Jane Prentiss attacked, I watched eagerly, one hand on the gas release from the start.

You acquitted yourself well enough, so I decided to see how far you would get, though I waited until the worms were in you before I pulled the lever. I needed to make sure you felt that fear all the way to your bones.

The discovery that one of the Stranger’s minions had infiltrated the Institute in the aftermath was certainly a pleasant bonus. Even if that sliver of paranoia, that vague wrongness you couldn’t quite place wouldn’t count as a mark, it was only a matter of time before it confronted you in a far more direct and affecting matter.

Admittedly, given the advent of the Unknowing, I needn’t have bothered. But what’s the old saying about hindsight?

More important to me was Sasha’s encounter with the Distortion. If it had taken an interest, then I very much wanted it to cross your path.

So I found one of its current victims and convinced her to make a statement.

Poor Helen. I actually had to put her in a taxi myself, she was getting so lost in those narrow London side streets.

It worked, though.

Between the stabbing and at least two desperate flights into its doors – you’re marked very deeply by the Spiral.

Jurgen Leitner was a surprise, of course, and I was forced to improvise. I had no idea how much Gertrude would have told him, and he could very easily have derailed everything if you learned too much too fast.

I… justified it to myself saying I was going to have to send you out into the world anyway, if you were to encounter more of the Powers, but I can’t honestly pretend it wasn’t a… rather rash move.

Still. I’d requested Detective Tonner be assigned to the case when they found Gertrude’s body in the hope that having a Hunter in the mix would eventually lead to a confrontation, and setting you up as a killer certainly hastened that.

Then it was just a matter of feeding you statements to lead you to a few Avatars I thought were likely to harm you – but probably would stop short of actually killing you.

Jude served her purpose exactly as I had hoped, as did our dearly departed Mr. Crew, marking you for the Desolation and the Vast.

Honestly, I had – nothing to do with Melanie and her Slaughter adventure, but when I saw the situation, I made sure to trap her here, so when her rage bubbled over you would be right there, a ready target.

I didn’t foresee the mark coming from surgery gone wrong, but it was a very pleasant surprise.

The Unknowing was a distraction, but not an unwelcome one. For this to work, you needed more than just the marks; you needed power. And that was something the Unknowing served to test, though it posed no actual danger in the grand scheme of things.

And it did serve another purpose, of course. It inadvertently pushed you to confront death, a mark I had been very worried about trying to orchestrate. If I tried too early, you’d just die. Too late, and you might be powerful enough to see the attempt coming, and maybe even understand why.

As it was, it was just right, and once again, you came through with flying colors.

By this point, your abilities were coming along in leaps and bounds, and I was concerned that meeting face-to-face might end up with you Knowing something you shouldn’t.

I had initially planned to go into hiding, but when your colleagues surprised me with the police, well. It was simple enough to cut a deal.

All that remained, then, were the Dark, the Flesh, the Buried, and the Lonely.

I was a little put out when that idiot Jared Hopworth misinterpreted my letters and attacked the Institute too soon, before you were even out of the hospital, but then – Ho, you should have see my face when you voluntarily went to him.

I couldn’t see what happened in there, of course, but given how you came out, I’m very sure it counts as a mark.

I suspected the coffin might turn up again, and once it did, it was simply a matter of getting any, uh… restraining factors you might have had flying off on a wild goose chase, and waiting.

Honestly, Detective Tonner has been proving invaluable through this process. I’d been racking my brains for months about what I could use to lure you in.

And, of course, I knew the Dark Sun was just sitting there waiting. So when it came time, I just whipped up another apocalypse and sent you on your merry way.

Then all that remained was the Lonely.

Poor Peter. He really should have left well enough alone. (cruel laugh) Or just done what I’d asked in the first place.

Ah well. He knew what I was attempting, and was very unwilling to cooperate until I made him a little wager about Martin.

Of course, he had no way of knowing that, in addition to setting you up for the final mark, he was giving you all the tools you needed to escape from it.

How is Martin, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.

And there, I think, we are brought just about up to date. I have enjoyed our little trip down memory lane, but past here lies only impatience.

You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked. The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

Don’t worry, John. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made.

Now. Repeat after me.

You who watch and know and understand none. You who listen and hear and will not comprehend. You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right.

Come to us in your wholeness.

Come to us in your perfection.

Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies!

Come to us.

I – OPEN – THE DOOR!

[markerbirthday]

A rant: Why Jon and Martin WILL 100% be coming back in the Magnus Protocol.

Hello, John.

Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. (slightly strained) I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen.

Now, shall we turn the page and try again?

Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

Statement begins.

I hope you’ll forgive me the self-indulgence, but I have worked so very hard for this moment, a culmination of two centuries of work. It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious.

Why does a man seek to destroy the world?

It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my god. The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness, to place yourself beyond pain and death and fear.

It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, John, the freedom of it all. I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction in that choice.

I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.

I believe there are far more people in this world that would take that bargain than you would ever guess. And I have beaten all of them.

Of course, this desire did not manifest overnight. When Smirke first gathered our little band – Lukas, Scott, and the rest – to discuss and hypothesize on the nature of the things he had learned from Rayner, I felt what I believe we all felt: curiosity, and fear.

But as he compiled his taxonomy and codified his theories on the grand rituals, I began to develop a very specific concern. Smirke was so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of our patrons.

I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world.

At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race.

Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?

I convinced Smirke to work on Millbank, leading him to design it as a temple to all the Fears in equilibrium, such that my own modifications to the design of the Panopticon went… unremarked.

It. Took. Years, for the dread of the prisoners to fully suffuse the place, and I was an old man before I made my first attempt at the Watcher’s Crown, sat in the center of that colossal eye, the great ring of cells encircling me like a coronet.

It was… flawed, of course, as all Smirke’s rituals were, and none of the inmates survived as the power I attempted to harness shook the building almost to pieces, and the murky swamp upon which the prison was built consumed it.

But it left me a gift: For sat in that watchtower, I could see everything I turned my mind to.

It was a dizzying power, and one I discovered I maintained even as I found vessels to extend my life. Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it was born.

I’ll not bore you with details of my bodies and failures through those intervening years. Suffice to say I kept busy, both planning my own next attempt, and doing my best to stymie those others who tried versions of their own.

Surely my interpretation of the Watcher’s Crown had been incomplete; there had been some element of the ritual I had overlooked.

It was not until I met Gertrude Robinson that things began to really come into focus.

You see, the role of Archivist has been part of the Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers; most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain throughlines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.

But Gertrude was unlike any other Archivist. She simply did not care about compiling experiences or collecting the fears of others. She was driven to stop those who served the Powers.

More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt – but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life, and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.

I once asked her what drove her, what had started her down that path. She told me the Desolation had killed her cat.

I don’t know if she was joking, and, to be honest, I could never bring myself to look into her mind and find out for sure.

In any case, Gertrude’s ruthless efficiency in derailing and collapsing rituals threw into stark relief a question that had been bothering me for almost a hundred and fifty years: In the whole span of humanity, why had nobody ever succeeded?

Perhaps there were a long line of Gertrude Robinsons throughout history, but I found that hard to credit. Could it be, then, that there was something in the very concept of the rituals that meant they couldn’t succeed?

She was clearly having similar thoughts in that last year, all of which culminated with the People’s Church.

When I saw that she was making no preparations whatsoever to stop it, I realized she was putting into practice a theory, and one she couldn’t afford to be wrong. She was going to wait, and see if the unopposed ritual succeeded, or if it collapsed under its own strain as mine had all those years ago.

Knowing Gertrude, I’m sure she had a backup plan if she had miscalculated – but she had not. The ritual failed. And all at once, I realized what had to be done.

You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the fear of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral?

Even those that seem to exist in direct opposition rely on each other for their definition as much as up relies on down.

To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.

Every ritual tied itself so closely to a single power as to render itself impossible. They could bring their patron close, but never sever it from the others, and eventually it would be violently pulled back into the place next to reality where they dwell.

The solution, then, is simple: A new ritual must be devised which will bring through all the Powers at once. All fourteen, as I had hoped I could complete it before any new powers such as Extinction were able to fully emerge. All under the Eye’s auspices, of course. We mustn’t forget our roots.

And there was only one being that could possibly serve as a lynchpin for this new ritual: The Archivist. A position that had so recently become vacant, thanks to Gertrude’s ill-timed retirement plans.

Because the thing about the Archivist is that – well, it’s a bit of a misnomer.

It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive.

Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, John. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering record of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you.

You are a living chronicle of terror.

Perhaps, then, if I could find an Archivist and have each Power mark them, have them confront each one and each in turn instill in them a powerful and acute fear for their life, they could be turned into a conduit for the coming of this – nightmare kingdom.

Do you see where I’m going, John?

It does tickle me, that in this world of would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters, the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose. It’s not in your blood, or your soul, or your destiny. It’s just in your own, rotten luck.

I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but My God, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as some sort of implicit blessing on the whole project, and, do you know what, I think it was.

Of course, I had to bide my time, get a measure of you before I began to push, learn how you worked – So I decided I would wait until something came for you, and see how you reacted. Attacks upon the Archives were not uncommon during Gertrude’s tenure, and, while she was always prepared, I made sure you would not be.

I reasoned if you couldn’t survive a single encounter, you were unlikely to make it through all fourteen. So, when Jane Prentiss attacked, I watched eagerly, one hand on the gas release from the start.

You acquitted yourself well enough, so I decided to see how far you would get, though I waited until the worms were in you before I pulled the lever. I needed to make sure you felt that fear all the way to your bones.

The discovery that one of the Stranger’s minions had infiltrated the Institute in the aftermath was certainly a pleasant bonus. Even if that sliver of paranoia, that vague wrongness you couldn’t quite place wouldn’t count as a mark, it was only a matter of time before it confronted you in a far more direct and affecting matter.

Admittedly, given the advent of the Unknowing, I needn’t have bothered. But what’s the old saying about hindsight?

More important to me was Sasha’s encounter with the Distortion. If it had taken an interest, then I very much wanted it to cross your path.

So I found one of its current victims and convinced her to make a statement.

Poor Helen. I actually had to put her in a taxi myself, she was getting so lost in those narrow London side streets.

It worked, though.

Between the stabbing and at least two desperate flights into its doors – you’re marked very deeply by the Spiral.

Jurgen Leitner was a surprise, of course, and I was forced to improvise. I had no idea how much Gertrude would have told him, and he could very easily have derailed everything if you learned too much too fast.

I… justified it to myself saying I was going to have to send you out into the world anyway, if you were to encounter more of the Powers, but I can’t honestly pretend it wasn’t a… rather rash move.

Still. I’d requested Detective Tonner be assigned to the case when they found Gertrude’s body in the hope that having a Hunter in the mix would eventually lead to a confrontation, and setting you up as a killer certainly hastened that.

Then it was just a matter of feeding you statements to lead you to a few Avatars I thought were likely to harm you – but probably would stop short of actually killing you.

Jude served her purpose exactly as I had hoped, as did our dearly departed Mr. Crew, marking you for the Desolation and the Vast.

Honestly, I had – nothing to do with Melanie and her Slaughter adventure, but when I saw the situation, I made sure to trap her here, so when her rage bubbled over you would be right there, a ready target.

I didn’t foresee the mark coming from surgery gone wrong, but it was a very pleasant surprise.

The Unknowing was a distraction, but not an unwelcome one. For this to work, you needed more than just the marks; you needed power. And that was something the Unknowing served to test, though it posed no actual danger in the grand scheme of things.

And it did serve another purpose, of course. It inadvertently pushed you to confront death, a mark I had been very worried about trying to orchestrate. If I tried too early, you’d just die. Too late, and you might be powerful enough to see the attempt coming, and maybe even understand why.

As it was, it was just right, and once again, you came through with flying colors.

By this point, your abilities were coming along in leaps and bounds, and I was concerned that meeting face-to-face might end up with you – (sigh) – Knowing something you shouldn’t.

I had initially planned to go into hiding, but when your colleagues surprised me with the police, well. It was simple enough to cut a deal.

All that remained, then, were the Dark, the Flesh, the Buried, and the Lonely.

I was a little put out when that idiot Jared Hopworth misinterpreted my letters and attacked the Institute too soon, before you were even out of the hospital, but then – Ho, you should have see my face when you voluntarily went to him.

I couldn’t see what happened in there, of course, but given how you came out, I’m very sure it counts as a mark.

I suspected the coffin might turn up again, and once it did, it was simply a matter of getting any, uh… restraining factors you might have had flying off on a wild goose chase, and waiting.

Honestly, Detective Tonner has been proving invaluable through this process. I’d been racking my brains for months about what I could use to lure you in.

And, of course, I knew the Dark Sun was just sitting there waiting. So when it came time, I just whipped up another apocalypse and sent you on your merry way.

Then all that remained was the Lonely.

Poor Peter. He really should have left well enough alone. (cruel laugh) Or just done what I’d asked in the first place.

Ah well. He knew what I was attempting, and was very unwilling to cooperate until I made him a little wager about Martin.

Of course, he had no way of knowing that, in addition to setting you up for the final mark, he was giving you all the tools you needed to escape from it.

How is Martin, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.

And there, I think, we are brought just about up to date. I have enjoyed our little trip down memory lane, but past here lies only impatience.

You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked. The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

Don’t worry, John. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made.

Now. (cruel, cruel laugh) Repeat after me.

You who watch and know and understand none. You who listen and hear and will not comprehend. You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right.

Come to us in your wholeness.

Come to us in your perfection.

Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies!

Come to us.

I – OPEN – THE DOOR!

[angelwonie]

2022 is already over but i still want to make this post because i love you guys and you made this year more bearable, so...

dear followers...

you guys are what keeps me going. thank you so much for supporting me, liking my writing, and filling out every stupid form i post on impulse. thank you for always being patient and discussing your thoughts with me. thank you for choosing to stick with me of all people. i am so grateful for all of you and my time on tumblr!! tumblr is like an escape from reality for me and you guys make it so much fun <3

dear mutuals...

@cosmic-railwayxo - you fucking loser i think youre the best thing that happened to me all year (except guesung's abs). thank you so much for being my friend, for talking to me literally everyday, for giving me something to look forward to when im at uni and want to die. i love facetiming u, i love sending u reels, i love how we r literally bffs even if there are thousands of km between us. that much doesnt matter when we gossip or talk abt kpop men fs BAHAHAHA. anyways i could probably write an essay abt u and how much i love your colossal cock, but this is getting long so all im gna say is i love you.

@hwangyeonjun - rels my bae ur 97' liner smau is what gives me oxygen to breathe (on that note,, I NEED AN UPDATE). thank u for being my mutual and slaying with me even tho im a little insane. i love you!!

@hwajin - kATHY GIRL u were the one that had to listen to me scream about arisu and u literally wrote me a fic for him???? we r besties for life atp. we should write each other fics sometime again bcs that was sm fun. ure so hot and nice and ur hyunjin series slays. thank you for being my friend and always giving me the same energy back!! kisses for u

@hoshologies - moon omg we've known each other so long but it feels so short??? i hope ure slaying all ur days away bcs ure fucking amazing and u deserve it. once every month when it's a full moon i lay down on the grass and think abt how much i miss ur writing and u actually. hope we keep in touch in 2023, i love you bestieee

@jjkeverlast - lati thank u sm for being my friend!! i love talking to u about everything and nothing (read: the dilf from aib) and ure so kind honestly (when ure not stealing kento yamazaki from me BOOOO). i hope we interact a lot in 2023 and i wish you all good things this year!! you deserve it.

@jayzdaze - kay u queen. ur fics never dissappoint and ure so??? mature and cool i think of u as my older sister fr. im so happy to be ur moot and friend and i hope we remain close in 2023 as well. love you bae!

@jenoslutie - nabi i swear i followed u bcs ur name is the same as that girl from nevertheless HAJASJKAJKA but i fell in love with you and your sexy brain too. ur fics always deliver and i miss our convos sm :/ we should start talking more again!! either way im so happy to have you as a mutual and ily.

@kookiecrumb - ISA MY FIRST MUTUAL OMG!!! there's so much i want to say to you but i dont even know if i can put it into words. youre so amazing, talented and intelligent. i think you might be the most intellectual person i have ever met. i am never bored when we talk to each other, and i always leave our conversations in a happy mood. i love your passion for bts and i love your big sexy brain. i hope we stay friends forever.

@mingirn - mars idk abt u but im ur number one fan forever. like idc if we dont talk for a month, the moment i see mingirn on dash or in my ask i SQUEAL. i love you so so much and ure so funny and delusional (omg ure just like me) and im so happy we r moots. i would literally fight w armys for u. thats true love i'm telling u.

@neochan - sam ure like that mutual everyone is afraid of bcs theyre just so. cool. i love you so much and i love talking abt nct with u bcs ure the only one that gets my obsession with their cocks. thank you for being my mutual (and friend, i hope) and for blessing me with your fics!!

@planetdream - dreamie i swear to god you were the second blog i followed on here (i unfollowed the first so ure technically the first tho hihi) and i literally have flashbacks whenever i reread ur fics kskasksska. we've never talked like super much, but whenever we do i feel happy, and im glad that feeling hasnt faded throughout all those months. u will always hold a special place in my heart and im so glad to be ur friend!!

@shmooooo - isa u were literally my savior when i was in my cha eunwoo phase. like there is no one on tumblr that simps for that guy and im like??? hello wake up. thank you so much for talking to me about him and my fics, i appreciate you bae!!

@wuahae - cat i love you so so much!! ur writing is so alluring and beautiful, and your personality is too. i always have sm fun talking to u and whenever i see you on dash, i smile. we need to talk more bcs i NEED to hear your thoughts on every picture mingyu and hoshi post on instagram.

[didos-fixating]

This is what the catcher in the rye sounded like to me

“ I don’t think I will ever miss anyone except for Iittle Allie or Phoebe. Allie is, well, dead, so of course it makes sense, but old Phoebe is the smartest girl I know. I would even say she’s smarter than any woman I’ve met twice her age. I wouldn’t say I find everyone else insufferable, no, they can be fun to observe, but it does get boring after a while, so I have to keep it moving, always. Especially the ones at Pencey Prep, bunch of god damn phonies, the lot of them. They all like to maintain an excruciatingly boring profile for themselves, wanna be seen as bright young virtuous men and everything, and when you touch on something about them that gives them a speck of personality they make sure to avoid doing it again. The guys here all pretend to enjoy things to be perceived as normal good people. It depresses me, it really does. I’m not really certain if I can judge. No, I can, I will be honest, this once. I have a serious problem- I lie, more than one should. I swear I’m insane, I really am. It’s not messing up my life really, but I wouldn’t call it moral either. It’s just that the truth is too darn boring sometimes, or too complicated, and sometimes, boredom alone pushes me to it. Will it affect me later? No? Then I will make something up. So, there I was, stuck on this bus, surrounded by a bunch of weird smelling people and all. There's this old woman sitting next to me, and she's got this distant look in her eyes, like she's off in another world or something. She starts talking, asking me if I'm married, and instead of just telling her the truth, I spin this whole tale about a wife and a kid and a dog. I don't even know why I did it, but it felt like the right thing in that moment. She seemed so lost, and instead of boring her out I thought, might give her a flicker of connection or joy, you know? She seemed happy, and it feels exciting lying to someone who doesn’t have a reason to not believe you. The good thing is I recognize I am a colossal liar and I don’t use it to hide my actual personality, unlike these phonies back at Pencey Prep. I just mess around with details of life that no one truly cares about.

[adammbakri]

Matriarch

Years later, as I read The Secret Garden by Frances Burnett, I found myself silently shrugging, feeling triumphant that the magic I had experienced in Aunt Zeinab's garden, and the secret I share with it - which I'm about to reveal - far surpassed anything I found in the pages of the book. This is how it went down:

It was a spring day in the mid-90s, and I was probably six or seven years old. The Western idea of a manicured and "perfect" garden hadn't arrived in the village yet. So, I was blessed with a piece of heaven on earth: my aunt Zeinab's wild garden. My sister Yafa, cousin Mohanad, and I explored the garden with wide-eyed wonder. The garden was a wild sea of creatures and plants, brimming with life. Turtles of all sizes, grasshoppers, beetles, bees, birds, and butterflies in a kaleidoscope of colors. Rare and common flowers sprouted everywhere, bursting through any available space. The garden had two olive trees, an apricot tree, a fig, two loquats, a grapevine on the roof of my aunt's house (we secretly put a ladder and climbed up, sorry aunt), and a massive wild berry tree. All of them bore so much fruit that they satisfied not just us, but also the non-human dwellers of this wonderland. We all existed in the most fantastical fashion, surrounded by a festival of the senses. But the most stunning phenomenon manifested through a blooming almond tree that lived in the furthest southern corner of the garden.

I must have been lost in a magical interaction with a fluorescent cicada or a poppy when a breeze smelling of almond blossoms brushed my cheek ever so subtly. I looked up, and there she was: the royal almond tree, blooming so abundantly, standing so proud. It reminded me that it had been my only coveted target left unexplored due to its particularly thick trunk that had barely enough wedges to accommodate my small body. I walked toward it tentatively, and upon reaching it, I felt a fluttering in my stomach as I looked up and realized I might have grown just the right height to finally be able to climb it! The thought thrilled me, and the decision was made instantaneously: I am going to try! If not now, never. The worst thing that could happen is a fall on my butt. But no problem. It happened often enough already, and I was used to it by now.

So I did. I rested one foot on the first little branch sticking out, then my second foot on the slightly higher knob, and then, to my utmost joy, I was able to reach with my right hand the branch that was impossible for me to grab hold of before! It now helped me push my body up towards the final knob! "That’s it! It’s happening," I cheered inside. From there, I used my right foot to step on the first branch up, which, in turn, would easily lead to a secure place inside the tree! And I did it!

My heart beat so fast! I stood up as I gained enough support from the branch, and as soon as I reached my full standing position, I was engulfed with overwhelming whiteness and a perfume so intoxicating I forgot my past up to that moment. Nothing existed outside this dream I was living. I couldn't hear or see anything outside this purity. But as if that wasn't enough, as I turned to find a thick enough branch to sit on, I met Her face to face... The secret encounter forever engraved in my being. The experience that has brought me to this page today, after 27 years: Sitting on a branch amidst the whiteness, I came to meet the largest butterfly I have, and will most likely ever, see in my entire existence: a moth matriarch, a colossal piece of perfection! Two wings perched and spread majestically on the branch, looking peacefully at me with the two eyes on its wings, like the world began and saw its end within her. Like no matter what of the world's allure one might encounter, it will all amount to nothing compared to her beauty. I was flabbergasted! The biggest butterfly I had caught hitherto using my butterfly net was barely the size of my finger! This masterpiece was the size of my two open palms together! I couldn't quite contain the emotions I was feeling!

The matriarch butterfly seemed to be imparting something so profound and significant that I was at a loss for words! She was trying to talk to me, I knew it! Perhaps through the ether, she was evoking a profound sense of understanding and insight that was impossible to capture in language. But today I will give it my best shot! The butterfly said:

"I might be gone soon, but my daughters will always stick around, and it is going to be okay"

have absolutely no recollection of how this interaction ended, or how I was able to climb down the tree. Now, in my mid-thirties, I still believe that the almond tree was a portal, an entryway into other dimensions and universes! I did it! As soon as I looked into the eyes of that butterfly, I tapped into infinity. But the story does not end here… The strangest thing that happened was that one day, perhaps weeks later, I visited my aunt's house again and upon entering the house, I saw there on a curtain separating the bathroom from the living room, the matriarch again! Shocked, I ran to my aunt Zeinab and asked her. She said, "Baarafish ya Khalti, I don't know auntie, I just found it there this morning." Was the matriarch trying to tell me that what I thought was a dream is not? Was she trying to make sure I received the knowledge she tried to pass on?

Jumping 22-23 years from that moment: it is now August 29, 2019, precisely at 6:16PM Manhattan, NY.  (You will shortly understand why it is impossible to forget those details).

I arrived early at the Sufi House.  The subway down to the West Village usually takes 40-45 minutes. But for some reason it got there faster this time. There was another 30 minutes to go till Majlis starts. And I didn’t want to sit inside and wait. Even though I would have probably enjoyed seeing Lenny’s peaceful aura, or sipping persian tea and leafing through Attar’s Conference Of The Birds.  But I couldn’t.

I needed to move because my inner life couldn’t.  During that period of time everything felt excruciatingly slow like trying to run and scream at the same time while your knuckles are shackled, underwater! A prolonged nightmare that made me question how long I’ll be able to bear it.  But despite the darkness I felt inside, I couldn’t possibly miss the beauty of the golden hour around me: The light hitting the townhouse across the street, making its red bricks glow, and vibrate alongside the ivy vines climbing it.  A frame of pure magic…

Then…

As if she had manifested out of the beam of gold, I saw a butterfly fluttering within the beam across the street, as if she had a secret pact with the light. "You just give me your golden hour hues and let me bask in your beauty, that way we make each other equally beautiful, and we then don’t have to compete for attention," they didn't. I stood, feeling a complete sense of awe at this simple but magnificent phenomenon, feeling ever so slightly lighter than I was moments ago.

Out of my reverie, I raised my arm and beckoned towards the butterfly. To my breathtaking astonishment, she actually came towards me as I beckoned her! Not only that, but she flew across the street in the blink of an eye and landed on my raised hand!

Can I possibly describe what I felt this time? Not in a million years.

But I know one thing:

the matriarch was right.

Her daughters will stick around, and it’s going to be okay…

Adam

[kunstmull]

Listening to a piece of music by a band who are One Of My Special Interests(tm) and enjoying it, but also at the same time, wondering... is it the piece of music itself which is capturing me, or is it the intense sparkleyness of The Special Interest, like if this were a 45 minute piece of noise and soundscapes by someone who wasn’t The Special Interest, would I be paying it anywhere near as much close attention, and enjoying it anywhere near as much?

[lacheri]

Okay so... you might not even take requests but I’ll give this a shot anyway bc I love everything you write. I fucked up at work big time today and I feel tremendously anxious and guilty. Which made me think... Levi scenario with gf reader messing up on the field? I know he’d prob be harsh af at first but maybe... some fluff in the end? ): only if you want ofc.

hi nonnie! sorry for taking a few days to write this! but I hope u like it <3 (sorry to hear about your bad day btw ):)

accidents and apologies

pairing: dom!Levi x sub!fem bodied reader

content: canonverse, impact play, mild choking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex/creampie, oral (f receiving), some humiliation/degrading, reader is clumsy and Levi is mean, minors DNI

wc: 3.2k

Fat tears sat in thick clusters on the brim of your lash line, a hiccupping sob racking your body. You were as good as dead, having possibly made the biggest fuck up of your military career thus far. Titans seemed like ants in comparison, the fly that buzzes by your ear that irritates you to no end. Levi’s odm gear sat in pieces on the floor, and somehow this loomed over you like the Colossal titan, maybe even larger.

The polish container sat forgotten on your captain’s desk, the wipe slipping from your trembling hands. Your bottom lip quivered, your lungs filling with air quickly as you slumped to the floor next to the shattered metal. Your off duty position of being Levi’s assistant was practically over, it had barely even begun. You had begged for this job for weeks now, only a few days into being his helping hand, you reflected on how poorly of a job you’d done.

It wasn’t enough you had gotten Levi’s tea wrong this morning, adding sugar to the steaming mug, thinking he’d like a change in taste. He didn’t, immediately spitting the liquid out, cursing you into guilt on the spot. To try to make it up to the ravenette, while he was on his lunch, you sat at his desk and began to organize his paperwork by date of importance. You felt pride as you finished with the three piles of stacks, putting fresh ink in his pot for his quill. However, Levi was horribly furious to see what your regret had manifested into. How were you supposed to know he liked his documents organized by date of assignment, not what was most important?

This was the cherry on top, Levi leaving for dinner, mentioning that his gear did need some polishing. Surely, you wouldn’t fuck this up, he thought as he closed the door to his office behind him. How wrong the man had been though. Within minutes, your fingers became slippery, losing your grip on the cold metal as watched in horror as it clattered to the floor, breaking on impact. It didn’t make much sense, how could it have broken? Wasn’t the gear meant to outlast a titan’s grip? Especially Levi’s trusty gear, you couldn’t fathom how his gear was now laying in pieces on the floor.

You sucked back your sob as you heard the creek of the door, your heart falling straight down to the pit of your stomach. Of course Levi would be back before you recite your apology a thousand times over in your head. You heard the thud of his boots hit the floor as he walked over, seemingly calm.

“Oi, what are you doing on the floor?” he barked out, you could feel his presence looming from behind you.

You turned your head up, his face blurry from the rush of tears in your eyes, “Sir, I am so sorry.”

His grey eyes flickered in front of you, finally taking notice of his broken gear. His lips twitched in a deep frown as he sucked in air through his nostrils harshly.

“Get up, cadet,” Levi spoked venomously, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

You hurried to your feet clumsily, trying your hardest to quell your cries from your throat. You faced him, head downturned, attempting to steady your racing heart rate and the tremors in your bones. Whatever control you thought you had slipped from your grasp the second your captain’s lips parted.

“Never in my life have I met someone as insolent as you,” the harshness of his words kept your eyes on his boots, fresh teardrops rolling down your cheeks. Levi was not going to speak to the crown of your head though, and his hand gripped your chin to force your eyes up, looking directly into his own. “You’re going to look at me while I talk to you, understood?”

You nodded, but this was not what Levi was searching for, “Your words, cadet.”

“Yes, sir,” it came out of your mouth as a squeak.

“You want to explain to me why my odm gear is broken?”

“It slipped,” you hiccupped, violently shaking under his fierce glare. “I couldn’t catch it in time. Captain, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he bemused darkly in disbelief. “This is the third time today you’ve fucked something up, and you’re just sorry?”

“I don’t know what else to say,” you were on the verge of hyperventilating as you stuttered your words out.

“Well, now you owe me new gear, and you’re going to personally pay for the expense,” Levi’s hand left your face as he backed away from you, sitting down at his desk.

You looked on in confusion, “Sir, I don’t have any money?”

“Then I guess you’re fired,” Levi tilted his head back as if bored now with the conversation. “You’re relieved of your military duties as well. We can’t afford to have someone as brainless as you in the Scouts.”

“Captain, please,” you raised your voice, arms wrapping around yourself to contain your shaking.

Levi’s eyes darkened, leaning forward to press his elbows on his desk as he leaned his head onto his intertwined fists, “Leave my office, now.”

This couldn’t be happening. You had no home to return to, having left it behind long before you joined the Training Corps. This was your life, your purpose, your friends were here. You finally felt like you had a place in the world here in the Scouts.

“I’ll do whatever I have to!” you begged, not moving a muscle. “Whatever I can do to stay!”

“Are you deaf or just an idiot?” Levi pushed onto his feet, striding over to stand right in your face as he spat. “Leave my fucking office, that’s an order!”

Your bottom lip trembled, and you felt so fucking pathetic but couldn’t stop yourself from one last attempt, “Please, sir. Don’t kick me out, please let me make it up somehow.”

Your brain took a moment to catch up with what had just happened as you were suddenly staring down at the wooden notches of Levi’s desk. He had grabbed your wrists in a fierce swiftness, pushing you face down, his hands now positioned against your spine to keep you in place. His right hand reached around to fumble with your belt, and your heart began to race for other reasons.

“Captain?” you stuttered, feeling him begin to pull off the belts stationed on your thighs.

“You think you can just beg me in that voice, looking like that, and expect me not to lose control?” his voice was thick with anger, but instead of fear, it tickled bouts of arousal in your lower stomach. “Answer me.”

“No?” it came out as a question, you pushed your thighs together as you felt a pulse run through your core as his fingers tickled the exposed skin of your lower stomach. “Sir, I’m confused, what’re doing?”

“Like you have no idea what you do to me,” Levi chuckled without humor. “You begged me to be my assistant even though you knew you weren’t going to be a good one. You think I wouldn’t notice, your little crush on me?”

It was true, so entirely true. Levi had been the object of your affection for such a long time now, taking every opportunity to get as close to the man as possible. If you were being honest with yourself, this fantasy of being bent over his desk was a constant distraction in your mind. He was right, you were shit at cleaning, you were probably the most clumsy person you knew, you really had no qualifications to be Levi’s aide, yet you still asked for the position.

“Then why’d you hire me, Captain?” the bratty words left your lips as it dawned on you, Levi had found you appealing regardless of your lack of qualities.

With a quick motion, your pants and panties were bunched around your knees, Levi’s palm meeting the now exposed skin of your cheek in a caress, “The same reason you’re fucking soaked right now, cadet.”

You stayed in position as Levi brought his other hand to your opposite ass cheek, fingers kneading the fat as he spread you open to his hungry view. He was right, you were dripping. His pointer finger ran down the seam of your ass, laying a soft touch to your hole, watching it flutter in excitement. He couldn’t hold back the smirk on his face, removing his touch entirely.

You whined, pushing your bottom closer to Levi’s hands, desperate for his touch. Your hips were slammed against the edge of his desk, his fingers digging firmly into the back of your thighs, pushing your legs back together. You felt a jarring sting on your backside, yelping in response as you could make out the distinct imprint of each of his fingers.

“You want to show me you’re really sorry?” Levi’s voice was low and raspy as he soothed his palm over the reddened mark he had made. “Tell me after every slap.”

You were able to brace yourself this time as you felt the strike of his hand once more on your opposite cheek, unable to contain your moans at the contact. You squirmed as you felt removal of Levi’s touch leave you, only to bite down on your tongue harshly as he swatted the back of your thighs much harder than he had on your ass.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he spoke ruthlessly as another slap hit your thighs.

“I’m sorry!” you cried, gasping for air from the impact.

“Again,” his hand smacked the fat of your ass again, his other hand smoothing over the harsh red blotches against your thighs in an attempt to soothe the pain.

“‘M sorry!” you were whining, knuckles white from gripping the opposite edge of the desk as you arched your ass up into his hold. Part of you was genuinely shocked over how much you were enjoying this, thoroughly aroused mentally and physically.

Levi couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight in front him. The handprints scattered across your lower half had his cock springing to life, hard and painfully erect. His hands traveled down to your pussy lips, using his thumbs to spread you open. Your hole was drooling, Levi let out a deep groan at the sight. He couldn’t stop himself, he had to have a taste.

You let out a sputtered moan as you felt the tip of your captain’s tongue lick a stripe from your hole to your clit. You pushed your hips further into his touch, thankful he resisted in shoving you back into the edge of the desk this time. His fingers held you open and apart, his taste buds rolling circles into your clit before returning back to your flitting opening, shoving his tongue in your walls. You could feel it fold in half, almost in a cupping motion as he bobbed his head, lapping as much as he could.

“Oh my God,” you whined, thrusting a hand behind you to grasp at his hair. His palms circled to the fronts of your thighs, digging his fingers into the fat as he pulled you somehow closer as he buried his face further into your dripping heat.

You were seeing stars, in between the mix of the pain and pleasure, your brain was completely empty. Levi’s right hand left your left thigh for a moment, coming back with a softer slap, inching his fingers to your center. His pointer finger swirled your clit relentlessly, and your breathing hitched as you were brought to even higher heights than before. His thumb joined not long after, pinching and pulling at your bud as you yelped.

You could feel the beginnings of your impending orgasm as Levi twisted and lapped your walls. The burning churn in your lower stomach became almost unbearable as Levi’s fingers worked faster at your bundle of nerves, full of purpose and intentions. Levi could feel the sudden change, your pussy clenching tighter and tight around his wet muscle. Your arousal was thicker, almost muskier as he inhaled through his nose, and Levi could swear he could drink from your core as if you were the finest of wines.

At the first blinding rush of pleasure, your body preparing itself for the intense promise of release, the ravenette removed all touch. You were gasping for air, your entire body’s nerves tingling uncomfortably. You were aching, desperate for anything.

“Look at you,” the return of Levi’s palm slapping your ass was welcomed with a smile on your face, thankful for any form of touch. “Falling apart that easy?”

You mumbled out a 'sorry', remembering his earlier warning. Apparently this was the word Levi was searching for, spinning you around and attaching his grip to your hips, slamming your sore ass on his desk, shoving his paperwork to the floor. Your eyes widened dramatically, seeing Levi’s cock fully exposed out of the zipper of his trousers. He was thick, his tip red and angry as he moved his fist over his length, a quiet groan leaving his parted lips as he relieved some of his own pent up arousal.

“Open,” he demanded, removing his hand from his dick, extending his palm to your pouty lips. You complied, letting your mouth loll open as Levi’s fingers pressed against your tongue, rolling them around to coat his digits.

He pulled them out with a pop from your lips, returning his now dripping hand to his erection, covering the entire member in your saliva. He gripped the backs of your knees after he deemed himself properly lubed up, dragging you right to edge as he positioned himself.

His grey eyes flickered up, fiery and full of lust, his voice hoarse, “You ready?”

“Yes,” you mewled, your fingers wrapping around the edge of the wood to steady yourself.

Without a moment of hesitation, Levi held your legs up as he slid his fat tip along the slick of your folds. It was so wet, so sloppy, you couldn’t contain the whimper leaving your lips as he pressed into your sopping hole. You could’ve sworn you felt your soul attempt to leave your body as he slid in, resting his tip right against your sweet spot once he was fully sheathed, your eyes rolling back into your skull as the mind blowing pleasure. He hadn’t completed a full thrust before you were begging for more.

“Please, please, more,” you managed out in between gasps, Levi rolling his hips backwards.

“You want more?” he chided, ramming himself so hard, the two of you bounced from the impact. You nodded, unable to voice a single word, drool threatening to escape your lips. His fist left the comfort of your bent knees, coming up to squish your cheeks together, a dribble of spit glistening against your pout, “You’ll answer me when I ask you a question, brat.”

“Yes! More!” you strangled out, muffled from his grip on your face. He let go, placing a very soft pat to your cheekbone, almost as a reward.

“Atta’ girl,” Levi’s gaze turned dark as his eyes traveled from your eyes to the column of your neck. How pretty would you look with his fist wrapped around your throat?

The thought was threateningly persuasive as Levi found himself doing just that, squeezing the sides of your neck as he began to piston his cock between your folds. The sounds of slapping skin and your pussy squelching had you panting loudly, Levi’s fingers pressing harder into the sides of your throat. It felt so good, good wasn’t even the word to describe it. In fact, there weren’t any words in your brain at all, too consumed by the visuals of the ravenette plowing hard into you.

His hand left your throat upon seeing your eyes begin to flutter, his concern for your ability to breathe over taking his lust. Instead, he circled both his arms under your back, bringing you up into a folder position against his chest. He placed open mouth kisses along the curve of your shoulder, licking and sucking at any skin he could reach. Your ankles hooked around his waist, and you couldn’t hold yourself back from slipping a hand to your aching clit.

“Kiss me,” you pleaded into Levi’s neck as your middle finger rubbed hard at your clit, your thick slick coating the pad. You got curious, letting your hand trail further down, exploring the motion of his cock pummeling into you.

“Put your hands on my back, and maybe I will,” he growled out, displeased that he wasn’t the one bringing you total and complete pleasure.

You followed his orders with speed, his head navigated out of the crook of your neck, capturing your lips with a hasty passion. He tasted sweetly sour, the lingerings of your essence resting in the crevices of his lips, but still, you couldn’t get enough of his kiss. When his hand finally left the middle of your spine, and began to travel down to your center, you could feel the bubbles of climax igniting back in your stomach.

“Levi,” you moaned into his mouth as his fingers moved at lightning speed against your nerves, timed nearly perfectly with the pattern of his thunderous thrusts. The desk was squeaking loudly against the floor as he continued to pound into animalistically, moving it slightly with every move.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna’ cum,” you swallowed his words as he somehow sped up his movements, driving you straight to your climax.

You couldn’t even warn him, you barely had time to realize you were cumming yourself. It almost hurt how tightly you had clenched his cock as the pleasure nearly blinded you, unable to hold back swears and moans. Levi kissed you harder, and upon feeling your contractions swallowing him whole, your plush walls pulling his tip right up against your cervix, his hips staggered and his knees buckled.

Levi’s brain went blank as his orgasm was ripped from him, “Fuck, fuck!”

Levi should’ve felt embarrassed at the noises that left his mouth, whimpers and soft moans exiting his throat as he came hard. It was almost too much, the feeling of your wet heat wrapping around his most intimate part, the closeness of your bodies, although still fairly clothed, had his heart hammering in his ears.

When you came down from your highs, all you could was stare at each other in astonishment, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. He rested his sweaty forehead against yours, fluttering his eyelashes shut as he kissed you gently. You let out a sleepy giggle, your body entirely spent. His hand finally left the sensitive skin of your clit, wrapping your fingers around the back of your head as his kiss deepened.

When he finally slid his softened length out of the depths of your pussy, you were hissing at the fluttering of soreness intruding your pelvis. Levi shot you an apologetic look, kissing your forehead.

“Does this mean I can still be your assistant?” you mumbled, a small smile on your face as Levi reached down to pull his pants up.

His head tilted back as an uncharacteristic laugh bubbled out, flashing you a mischievous smile, “Get yourself cleaned up, and meet me back in my office. I still don’t believe you’re actually sorry.”

LACHERI © 2021: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations. this is my only account.