Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

ARCHIVIST:

Ugh, I always have so much trouble with these old things. Why do we have to use them again?

UNKNOWN:

Because not only is it Archival Policy but a lot of these recording just will not be digitised and so a few Archivists—

ARCHIVIST:

YES YES! I know that, I’ve read all the history on this place, okay? These Tape Recorders are just so annoying! 

UNKNOWN 2:

Just because you’re frustrated doesn’t mean you can yell at Charlie!

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, I’m Sorry Charlie. I didn’t mean to yell.

CHARLIE:

No Problem boss! Alexis and I should go, give you space to record!

ALEXIS:

Wait, I never—

ARCHIVIST:

Please do, that would be wonderful. Thank you Charlie, Alexis. Would one of you mind getting started on the next one?

CHARLIE:

Sure thing!

[DOOR SHUTS]

ARCHIVIST:

[SIGH]

Statement of Sasha Courtney, regarding her interaction with a Strange man at the train station. Original statement given 10.02.2023, Audio recording by Karl Jacobs, Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT):

There isn’t much to say. This even kinda just happened, no lead up or anything. I do know you people do like a bit of context and backstory, I’m sorry that I cannot give you that.  

I have to catch the train to work. That happens everyday. I walk up onto the platform to await my train. Usually there are heaps other people waiting there too but for some reason there was only me and this strange man. He wasn’t really wearing anything to keep the cold out whereas I was all rugged up but okay, maybe he was immune to the cold or something.

It was all okay, until he spotted me. 

He ran up to me and was yelling and screaming about ‘Death’ and ‘Limbo’ or something like that. He had grabbed my arms so there was no way to escape. I watched him, he was smiling maniacally, his trench coat was long and torn, ripped bits everywhere and parts that seemed burned. It was then I saw it, the gaping hole in his stomach. It was as if someone had ran him through with a sword. 

It was terrifying.

He kept yelling about not being alone, thanking god or whatever. I tried staying away from him. Eventually a train came, stopping at the station.

The door had my name on it.

He seemed sad, muttering about me leaving him alone, about being left all alone again.

I didn’t say goodbye, I just left. Boarded the train and watched as it sped away from the station.

I woke up in hospital. Apparently someone bumped into me and i fell and knocke day head pretty hard. I was in a coma. I got discharged yesterday. Not that it matters. I wont take the train to work anymore, I’ll just bike.

I cant stand being in a train station anymore. Not when I think of him.

ARCHIVIST:

Statement ends. 

Now, it seems to me that this is just a coma dream. Alexis did some research and checked up with the statement giver, nothing like this has happened again and we have no other records of similar events in the… credible part of the Archive.

I will simply file this in the discredited section and move on.

End Recording.

[CLICK]

Chapter Text

ARCHIVIST:

Statement of Marcus Slitly, regarding his odd odd co-worker. Original statement given 21.04.2017, Audio recording by Karl Jacobs, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement Begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT):

I’m here about my co-worker, Phil Craft. He, uhm, he…

Well, I’ll just get into it. I don’t work anywhere fancy, just a small business close to my home. In fact, Phil and I lived only a few houses down from one another! See how much good that did him…

Phil always took one day off each month, always on the full moon. He never came out to do any celebrations or anything else with us all. Everyone else said he was just rude. Regardless, I wanted to at least be on good terms with him. So when I saw he didn’t have a car I started driving him home.

He was always quiet, as if he was sad about something. I guessed he was just sad about not getting his dream job or something. He was only young, probably just in his late 20’s to early 30’s. Definitely younger than me.

Remember how I said that he’d always take the full moon off? Yeah. Well, one day he requested the day after as well. This was very odd for him. As far as we all knew he just stayed inside that night. But hey, what did we know?

I also requested the day off, I thought something might be wrong you know? I headed over to his house and knocked on the door.

I remember how sickly he looked, his eyes weren’t fully focusing and his pupils were blown wide. He was pale and his hair was sticking to his face, I assume with sweat. He was also swaying on his feet and his hands were so shaky.

I didn’t really have anything to help but he invited me in instead of saying that he was sick or anything so I did. I went in and he sat me down at his table.

He asked me if I wanted tea or a coffee or anything. He actually had to ask twice. His house was in disarray, as if someone had broken in and were rummaging around for something. Since he was offering though I said yes, said I could make my own, nicely of course.

He smiled and it looked like he was in pain. He made me the tea and himself a cup of coffee. His hands shook so much when he passed me my cup, it looked like it was all going to just spill on the floor.

He asked me why I wasn’t at work. I asked him the same. He said it was because he was just a bit jittery. I didn’t pry further. There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence. But then, Phil just fell off his chair. His eyes closed and he just fell. He didn’t seem to be breathing so I grabbed my phone and called an ambulance. They got there quick enough and luckily they were able to bring him back.

The police came and investigated where he lived. Apparently he had taken a multitude of drugs earlier and they had come back to bit him. Illegal drugs, that is.

They found them all in his basement. He was going to be arrested but he managed to get out of the hospital I guess because I never heard of it and my brother who is on the police force said they didn’t get him.

Not worthy of the archives yet? Well, just wait, this is where it gets weird. The drugs he had taken were ones that a certain cult uses to greet lady death on the full moon, to be temporarily dead. Not only that, but a month after all this I saw him again, holding some teenager’s hand. AND THATS NOT THE WEIRDEST BIT! He had these massive wings on his back, like, bird wings but bigger.

He was an angel. He looked much better than he ever did whilst working at the company. And he smiled and waved at me. Thats my statement. Believe it.

ARCHIVIST:

End statement.

Now, I don’t believe in stuff like this so this is immediately discredited. The on,y thing that is real is the people in this story existed. Phil Craft had drugs he used to follow some insane religion and was never seen again after escaping hospital before his arrest, probably ran off and died from drug overdose somewhere in the bush.

Charlie did look into Marcus. He is no longer alive, he died soon after he gave this statement. He had a sudden heart attack.

I will be filing this in the discredited part of the Archives.

End Recording.

[CLICK]

Chapter Text

ARCHIVIST:

Statement of Ranboo Beloved, regarding his sleepwalking. Original statement taken 16.12.2018, Audio recording by Karl Jacobs, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ATPRCHIVIST (STATEMENT):

I’m Ranboo Beloved and I sleepwalk.

Not the typical ‘oh! Look at that person go, walking randomly and bumping into doors and stuff!’ type of cartoon sleepwalking but the scary type. I’ll wake up outside my house in weird places, most of the time I’m holding a journal of some kind, usually the same one. My memory book. So yeah, I sleepwalk.

I have a list here of some of the places I’ve walked while asleep, I always keep record, in case its needed for some reason.

I know this sounds like the kind of thing I should be going to the doctors for but… there’s just something I can’t explain… When I sleepwalk I—

[DOOR OPENS]

ALEXIS:

Yo, I have those addresses you asked for.

ARCHIVIST:

[CLEARS THROAT]

Really? Thank you Alexis.

[UNCOMFORTABLE SILENCE]

ALEXIS:

Were you doing the whole monologue thing—

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, I was doing the Monologue Thing now leave!

[SILENCE]

[DOOR CLOSES]

ARCHIVIST, RESUMING:

Now, where was I? Oh yes!

When I sleepwalk… I don’t just walk. I teleport. Don’t believe me? I live in the USA, this morning I woke up standing in front of this institute, don’t have a plane ticket or anything! I don’t know how I’m going to get back… I’m sorry, I should leave Thanks for listening.

ARCHIVIST:

Statement end.

Now, Mr. Beloved seems like he is very troubled by this occasion. I would recommend to him to seek professional help and yes, it os true that somehow he got to London without buying any sort of tickets, in fact, he just appeared!

But teleportation?

No, I don’t believe it. I had Alexis check the list of addresses that were with the statement.  He has bee to approximately 6 places in Britain whilst sleepwalking. And two of these places concern me…

He has been to many train stations around Britain, like the one from the statement about the odd man in the train station. Then, he has been to Phil Craft’s house from the previous statement. Unrelated he has been to someone named ‘George’’s house as well as a the Innes residence and a Ravine in the middle of nowhere, as well as our office of course.

I am unsure of where to put this file and for now it will be going into the discredited pile.

End recording.

[CLICK]

Chapter Text

ARCHIVIST:

Statement of Clay Wataken, regarding his brother’s supposed metamorphosis—

CHARLIE:

I think the word that the Greek’s used was Apotheosis!

ARCHIVIST:

[SIGH]

Charlie, when I said you could sit in on this statement, it didn’t mean you could interrupt.

[SILENCE]

Statement of Clay Wataken, regarding his brother’s supposed apotheosis. Original statement taken 15.02.2020, Audio recording by Karl Jacobs, head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begin.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT):

How should I start this? I guess at the beginning…

My twin brother and I used to be really close. I mean, we were identical twins! It was kinda expected of us. He always said he was the older one, I’d argue by 5 minutes and he’d smile and say he was still older.

Anyways, we were living together. Neither of us wanted to be alone and so it kinda worked out. But yeah, we were living together, I saw everything that was happening to him.

It was a few months ago, he started spacing out a lot. He always said he was getting lost in his own head. But now… now he said… he said that there were voices. He said that they were offering him things. He didn’t say what they were offering him until right before he disappeared. He said they gave him power, thats what they were offering him.

I guess he accepted, said he would make a bargain on my behalf as well. I though he was just joking or something but i was starting to get a bit worried. I told him this and he said that as my older brother he had to look after us, that he had to make everything right in the world as it was his duty.

I laughed it off. It was at this point it started to legitimately scare me. I started hanging out with Nick more, started talking with George online more. Anything to spend some time away from my brother.

One day, I woke up and he was standing in my doorway, knife in his hand. He had blood dripping off of him. I ran over and checked him for wounds, there were none. It wasn’t his blood.

I should’ve said something to the police but when I checked the news there was nothing about someone being missing so I kinda let it go. I really shouldn’t have done that, not that I don’t think the outcome would’ve been different but at least I might’ve been free.

Every morning, he would vomit. I was gross, I could never watch. I tried being there for him but he started talking about leaving and murder and cleaning the world and it scared me. He talked about the apocalypse, how he wanted to have us above everyone else, how he was literally gonna give me the world.

I was—AM scared.

One day there was a mask on the kitchen counter. I couldn’t touch it for some reason. It had… it was like an emoticon, you know? Like a big XD on it. Anyways, he picked it up and put it on and just… left. Walked out of the house and… I haven’t seen him since. I reported the incident to the police, said he was missing. They haven’t been able to find him. It’s been 3 months.

I saw him in my dream the other night, he changed his name. I hardly recognise him, in all the green robes and wings and the void… he said he had the power to help me, but first I needed to join him.

I don’t know what that means but you guys look into stuff like this right? Can you find him? Please help him.

ARCHIVIST:

Statement end.

[LONG PAUSE]

CHARLIE:

I think that Mr. Wataken misses his brother.

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, that much is obvious. The reason I wanted to read this one is because last night in the news, it revealed that Clay himself is now missing.

CHARLIE:

I think that maybe he joined his brother.

ARCHIVIST:

[SIGH]

Perhaps…

End Recording.

[CLICK]

Chapter Text

ARCHIVIST:

Statement of Tobias Scarfree, regarding an odd student in his English class, Original recording made 24.09.2015. Audio recording by Karl Jacobs, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT):

Okay, so I just start a the beginning then? Okay, ugh…

So I’m a teacher, I teach English at the local University? Yeah, well It’s English! We don’t get many odd people in, although some may argue that we are all odd, but thats not what I’m talking about.

So, it was my new class for the year, I was going to have around 15 students? We had a few drop out before the year even started. I was standing at the lectern, getting ready to greet the new faces I would be stuck a year with when the door had slammed open.

The man who came through was at the bottom of the register, he had the oddest name and was a last-minute addition to the class, though he had all the scores to get in.

He didn’t look like your typical English nerd, most of the students were dressed casually but neatly and he was dressed neatly, I suppose, but he was wearing more punk stuff?

And his hair was long, probably down to his waist? And it was a cotton-candy pink, I remember that because the roots never showed through as a darker or light colour.

Anyways, an odd appearance isn’t going to make me judge a man, I told him to take a seat. He sat right up the very back and just stared at the front while I talked. That went on every single day. Every time I glanced over it was as if he just never blinked, didn’t have the eyelids to do so. I thought, ‘Perhaps he just doesn’t want to miss the lecture?’

But when it came to hand in his first written assignment. I told them they had to write a short story, one about a person who overcomes some kind of challenge.

He wrote about himself slaying a man to get the coffee he so desperately wanted.

He… he did fulfil the prompt and it was beautifully written so I gave him good marks, though the thought of having to read it again made me gag and almost vomit. I just tried to ignore everything about him. 2 days after that there was a report of a dead man, killed the exact way the man in his story was.

If I had been more observant to him then maybe I could’ve reported it to the police.

Looking back on it now, every single story-writing assignment came back like the first one, in gruesome detail. I’d tell him to write about a new experience, he wrote about a man’s first time getting stabbed in the gut. I’d tell him to write about something spilling, he writes about someone spilling their organs.

Every. Single. Damned. Time.

And every single time, a news report would pop up one or two days later, the exact scenario he had written out displayed in an actual murder.

I wish I could describe him more, he gets fuzzy every time I try to add more details onto his silhouette of pink hair and punk clothes. I think he came into class wearing a crown at one point?

Oh! You want to see the written stories? Yeah, had to make copies of them all fro school purposes. You can have them.

What was his name? I don’t know, should be on the top of the papers. Now that I’m done, I have to go, I’m gonna be late to another class.

ARCHIVIST:

Statement ends.

I’m going to be honest, it just sounds like a simple serial killer case. Perhaps these documents would’ve been better taken to the police.

I did have Charlie look into it, the name written atop the papers is Dave Blade, Odd name, and according to the internet he doesn’t exist.

There are no records of him anywhere, not even in the college’s databases, and Mr. Scarfee has refused to come back in for a statement.

For this reason I’m simply going to file it away for later review.

End Recording.

[CLICK]