Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jon glanced at the textbook, underlined the section he needed, and continued typing on his laptop. The wordcount slowly ticked up, he’d gotten most of what he wanted down, but was still about 50 words short. He’d see if he could pad it out with a few more quotations-

“Surprise!” Georgie’s voice came from behind his left ear. Jon jumped, and almost lost his laptop as something small and fuzzy dropped into his lap.

Jon set the laptop aside, and looked down at the small tabby kitten. It pawed at his trousers, tiny claws digging in reproachfully, and turned bright amber eyes up at Jon. Its mouth opened in a tiny pink yawn. “What?” Jon managed.

“I said ‘surprise’.” Georgie sat on the sofa, smiling.

Jon lowered in a hand to the kitten. It eyed it thoughtfully, then pounced, needle teeth digging into his index. “Ow.” Jon pulled his hand back. The kitten rolled onto its back, all four feet in the air. Each one was a perfect white sock. “I thought pets were never supposed to be surprises?” Jon didn’t dare to touch the forbidden belly, instead scratching the kitten behind its ears. It closed its eyes happily.

“It’s you who’s the surprise.” Georgie shifted over to look at the kitten. “Cat, this is Jon. You’ll be looking after him from now on. It’s your job to eat every spider in the flat, okay?”

A warm bloom of pure joy filled Jon. Even if Georgie didn’t get it, even if it was meant as a joke- she had still done it. She had brought him a little protector. “Thank you.” He whispered.

“Oh Jon.” She kissed the side of his face. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Yes.” He leaned against her, closing his eyes. He loved her, so much.

The kitten, irritated at being left out, batted at Jon’s hand with its paws. “Ow! Vicious little monster, isn’t it?” He went back to scritching it. The kitten began to purr, shockingly loud for such a small animal.

“Him, and he needs a name.”

“Hmm.” The kitten, apparently bored again, leaped up and tried to chew on his arm. “Good grief, he’s violent. Something military, I think, he’s brutal enough.”

Jon put down the cat carrier, and opened the door. “Out you get, Admiral.”

The fat, contented tabby strolled out. He looked around critically at the flat before jumping onto the sofa and curling up on the throw.

“He’s adorable.” Martin sat down, stroking the Admiral. He started to purr. “How old is he?”

“Quite old.” Jon took out the cat toys, and started setting up the litter box in the corner. “About- eight now, I think. That’s middle-aged for a cat. I think that’s why Georgie didn’t want to board him, he might not take well to change, and he already knows me.”

He finished, and tried to interest the Admiral in a feather toy. The cat looked at it scornfully, and jumped onto Martin’s lap, curling up pointedly. “Ouch.” Martin smiled, stroking him, “That’s got to sting.”

“I may never recover.” Jon put the toy away and sat on the sofa, joining in the petting. “My ego is mortally wounded.”

The Admiral sat up, giving him an excellent view of his anus, and hopped on Martin’s shoulder, then onto the back of the sofa. He padded over to Jon, nosing at his hair. “It’s good to see you too.” Jon scratched behind his ears. “Are you going to be happy staying with us for the weekend?”

The Admiral lay on the back of the sofa, closing his eyes as they both stroked him. The purring filled the room. Jon rested his cheek on the soft fur. “I did miss you.” He whispered.

“We can get one of our own.” Martin put an arm around Jon. “I mean, the place is small, but we could put up cat trees and- ramps and stuff. Give space to run around.”

Jon sighed. “I- can’t. You know I can’t, Martin. Not yet. I can risk a weekend, but any more and I’d be putting them at risk.” Like he had before. He wondered if the Admiral remembered it, and his heart ached. “I’m sorry.”

As if he understood, the Admiral nosed at his cheek, then his ear. Martin rubbed his back. Jon's wondered if his heart might just burst from all the love he felt for both of them. “I won’t let them hurt you.” Jon whispered into the fur, “Any of you.”

Chapter Text

“Jon?”

“Please go away.” The panic was starting to die down, but it was still there, crawling under his skin. Just not quite there enough to drown out the humiliation, which was starting to make itself felt in turn. Jon closed his eyes, pulling his knees up to his forehead. “Please.”

“If it helps, Dave’s gone. Tim’s dragged him out and Sasha is screaming at him.”

“Good.” He closed his eyes. They weren’t real. Just a stupid, disgusting prank. A bunch of little rubber spiders in the folders down from research. “He did it before.”

“Yeah, Sasha said. Seriously, fuck that guy. Tim said he’s going to spike all his sandwiches with scotch bonnet chilies.”

Jon managed something of a smile. Not real. Not real. But when he’d opened the folder, and all the spiders had poured out, he’d thought- he’d thought-

“Or- I could call Mike,” Martin continued, “He wouldn’t stand for this shit either.”

That Martin was willing to suggest that, he was really worried. His heart ached with love. “Please don’t.” he said at last, “I don’t want Elias to get angry because the Vast ate one of his researchers.”

“Then he should take better care of them.” Martin chuckled. “Jon?”

“Hmm.”

“Let me in?”

Jon looked up at the door, tried to move- but it was still too much. His whole body shuddered. “I can’t.”

“Okay.” He heard Martin settle on the other side of the door. “I can wait. Take all the time you need.”

Chapter Text

Anglerfish

I ah- I- I have no idea what to make of this. What was that supposed to be?

I asked Mike but he has no idea either. The Dark perhaps, given the alley was in shadow? I had- hoped I would be at least be able to identify whatever was responsible, but this makes no sense.

*sigh*

I will simply- have to set this one aside. Hopefully in time I’ll be able to understand it better, and file it in its correct place. But this does not bode well.

*recording ends*

Do Not Open

*sigh*

It could be the End, I suppose? The coffin would seem to suggest that much. But the delivery men and this- John don’t seem to fit. I don’t know where to start with them.

The coffin’s odd behavior could be the influence of the Stranger- or the Spiral? Or-

The control it had over Mr Gillespie’s actions when he was asleep.

No. *deep breath* No. They don’t sing when it rains. It is- highly unlikely that coffin was full of-

*short, halting breaths*

Shit

*recording ends*

Across the Street

*deep, weary breath*

I had hoped that actually knowing the greater- context around these statements would mean classifying them would be relatively straightforward. However it seems I didn’t reckon with the fact that the statement givers would not be so familiar with them, and so the result has been that the three initial statements I have recorded have left me completely clueless.

This one is much like the others, a tale where I struggle to pick out the identifying features. I admit my own knowledge it starting to seem very threadbare. While I am confident I would be able to recognise a statement dealing with the Beholding, or the Vast, it is clear that beyond that my lack of practical experience is distinctly lacking. In time I hope this can be remedied, but for now-

*another sigh*

I hate leaving these unfiled. I do not want to continue my predecessor’s habits, but right now until I can see where they go, I don’t seem to have any choice.

Martin brought me tea, so that was nice.

*end recording*

Page Turner

Well. That makes a welcome change.

I sent Mike a copy of the statement, as I expect he would like to know where his book ended up. I hope its destruction won’t upset him. Either because of any attachment to the book or because of what was bound to it. I doubt it will, Mike’s far beyond the Spiral’s grasp now. I envy him.

It does limit any follow up, as other than verifying the particulars of this case- and given my existing knowledge of the events surrounding the case of Ex Altiora, I have no reason to consider it a fabrication- there’s not much I can send the others to do. I suppose I’ll just suggest they look into it as best they can, and move to another case reasonably quickly.

I got a message back from Mike, just a short text- good, it’s back where it belongs. I’m not sure what he means by that, but I’ll ask next time we meet.

I probably won’t understand though. Some things, I suppose, are different in their sacrament.

It was nice to have an excuse to talk to Mike though.

Thrown Away

*sigh*

And once again, I am back to square one. I have no idea where even to start with this one. Three bags, each holding something that seems to align with something different. The dolls heads suggest the Stranger, the burnt Lord’s Prayer the Desolation, the teeth the Flesh. Is something trying them out, seeking which one fits best? I’m reminded of Mike’s own experiences with Leitners, trying to find the one to save him from the Twisting Distortion. Is that what’s happening? Someone trying to find an escape from whatever is hunting them?

*another, deeper sigh*

Not a feeling I am unfamiliar with. I wonder how many more are living through what Mike and I did, fumbling and searching for an escape before it’s too late. How many do I pass on my morning commute, all of us unknowing of each other? Ships in the night, like the saying goes.

Sometimes, the loneliness of this life feels almost unbearable.

*recording ends*

Squirm

It’s always nice to have a statement that can be easily filed away; I just wish it hadn’t come from the Filth.

The Crawling Rot is certainly easier to identify than many of the others. I haven’t had any experience with it myself thank goodness, but Mike did. His experiences were- unpleasant.

I remember Prentiss’ case from when I was in Research. A nasty business, although at the time I wasn’t sure if it was the Filth or something more mundane. I suppose this settles the matter.

I’ve had Sasha alert the ECDC as to Mr Hodge’s contamination. From what I heard from Mike even the slightest contact with the Corruption is enough to spread its sickness, so I don’t want to imagine what have intercourse with it would do. That is an image I did not need in my mind.

Beyond that- I’m not sure what to do. I’d rather keep them away from any follow up. At best Mr Hodge is dead and there is nothing they can do, and at worst he isn’t, and I could be putting my team in danger. I think we’d better leave this one to the ECDC.

*recording ends*

Chapter Text

Piper

Well, that was unexpected. What a statement from the 1920s was doing in a stack of mid 2000s records is anyone’s guess, but I do wonder if Gertrude’s disorganisation was more deliberate than just letting natural chaos take its toll. Still, I will not say it is an unwelcome surprise, as every other statement in this box has proven patently false.

It is also a relief to know I can still identify statements that makes themselves at least this obvious. I can hardly be surprised, the Slaughter is not exactly known for its subtlety. Although this is somewhat more- muted than I would expect from it. I wonder what intent It had in this story. Why reach out to Owen, and why want It’s account to be retold, and in poetry?

The song, and It’s pipes; few of the creatures I have heard of or encountered seem to have a affinity for- creative pursuits, and it’s fascinating that the most destructive power seems also to be one of the few to indulge in such things. An odd dichotomy, I wonder if any of the others have some similar bent?

Not that there is much follow up to be done on this, unfortunately. I’ve had the others looking into Owen’s poetry to see what they can pick out, but one glance told me I have not more liking for the art than I did during my A Levels. Martin seemed enthused though, I will gladly leave it to him.

There was one name that stuck out to me. Rayner. I’ve heard that name somewhere. I don’t think it was Mike, perhaps something when I was in research?

I’ll send a message to them and see if they can track anything down.

*statement ends*

Burned Out

*ragged breathing*

Oh. Oh no.

That was-

*a soft sloughing sound, like cloth over cloth, the sound of something hitting the floor*

Oh no. No. Stop I-

I didn’t-

Christ.

That- came out of nowhere. *deep breath* I was- I thought it was something else. Some- confusion. Lensik’s account of his father made me think of the Distortion, but the flames suggested the Desolation. I wonder- *a broken laugh* a false sense of security. They’re good at that. Then- God. The- spiders.

The- Web. It had to be involved, but I don’t think it was the only one there. Either the Spiral or the Desolation, although what they had to do with this house or Raymond Fielding I can’t begin to guess. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. The Web- loves keeping us guessing. How much is coincidence, how much is it all connected?

I-can’t. It’s too much. I don’t want to have the others look into it, but it gnaws at me. Whatever the place is, the spiders seem to be done with it. I’ll tell them if they see even the scrap of a cobweb-

Not that they’d listen. I’m mad, after all. *a bitter laugh* Crazy Jonathan Sims, terrified of every spider, but if only they knew-

Maybe one day we’ll get a statement that will convince them. I’m not holding out much hope. The Web is- thorough, and I wonder how many have managed to escape their grasp. I suspect the number is depressingly low. I never considered my own odds very good.

God, I wish I could still smoke.

*statement ends*

A father’s love

Much like the Slaughter, the Dark is reassuringly obvious in its workings. There is no space for doubt when it is concerned. I am hoping that the bewilderment I felt upon first recording these statements has passed, and that I started by ill chance with the most obtuse, and will find that the rest are not nearly so challenging to decipher.

I doubt it, but still- I wonder if I may start narrowing down suspects in the first three statements. Ones such as a Slaughter or the Desolation tend to be more obvious in their workings, as is the Dark, and from my own experience I can be sure the Vast and the Eye are not involved. Perhaps I should try a process of elimination instead? It is certainly a promising idea.

As for this statement, I can at least be confident my assistants will not be in any danger now. Robert Montauk died several years ago, and I daresay trawling through the endless essays and podcasts of true crime enthusiasts will be safe enough.

Rayner. That was where I heard the name. I can’t see the connection with statement 1106922 however. I would wonder if that Rayner’s destruction at the hands of an artillery shell was some hostile meeting of the Slaughter and the Dark- but Occam’s Razor would lean more towards it being a man with a not uncommon name dying in World War One, as millions did. Either way I could not find a connection.

What did intrigue me was that while Maxwell Rayner seemed to have mostly been active in the late nineties, the People’s Church of the Divine Host did seem to have appeared in other forms considerably further back- and every time, the name Maxwell Rayner appears. Is it really a name, or rather a title?

I remember reaching out of one of those organizations during my years in Oxford. Followers of Mr Pitch or Family of Mr Pitch- I forget which. I don’t believe they ever responded. Knowing what I do now- well. I wonder where I would be now, if they had. The Dark has no more love for the Web than the Eye does, but I don’t believe it would have suited me nearly as well as Beholding.

Still, it does make me think.

*statement ends*

Vampire Killer

*sigh*

And once again, I am completely lost.

In truth, I wonder if these- creatures actually are related to any of the Entities. It is certainly possible that there are beings, wholly natural, that humans are simply not aware of, but which are every bit a part of our world as- wolves, or lions.

Although the fact that I needed to turn the camera on to record this suggests some supernatural involvement, but for which, I could not guess. The Hunt? But these creatures don’t seem to particularly indulge in the act, any more than any other predator would in order to feed. The Flesh? Possibly, but again, there seems to be no more Viscera than would be usual in a predator’s feeding. The Slaughter? Not nearly messy or violent enough, for the records, these creatures seem very straightforwards and-

The fear. That’s what is missing. The- very well- the vampire Mr Herbert describes as feeding on his brother waited until he was asleep, and attacked then, killing him very quickly. That would be anathema were it feeding one or other of the Entities, a bare scrap of a meal.

Perhaps they are something of both. A creation of an Entity; perhaps one very different now than it was when they first appeared, left to their own devices, able to reproduce and survive on their own. Blending into the world and becoming a part of it. It’s a fascinating idea, and I wonder if there may be others. Other- discarded creatures making their own way in the world, no longer sustained by their Masters, but freed to act as they would.

Unfortunately the bag of vampire teeth meant to be enclosed with the statement  are gone, although a report from King’s College London suggested they were logged as shark’s teeth- although not belonging to any known species. I would love to follow up on this lead, but no one seems to know where they are. Or the original version of this statement, but the file number is listed among multiple information requests from the Institute’s government and law enforcement contracts.

As for Mr Herbert, Martin informs me that he decided to lie down in a break room and died then and there. A shame, as I would very much like to have learned more about these creatures. Well, I can console myself that there should probably be more than a few more vampire statements kicked around down here. I am thinking of setting up a separate file for statements that are of uncertain origin, mixed, or do not fit into any other category, such as this one.

*statement ends*

Dreamer

Oh. Oh. That is- incredible.

I did not expect to actually find a statement from a creature like myself, but that is undoubtably what this is. This Antonio Blake is describing being drawn in, his own powers manifesting.

And from the End. I don’t believe I have ever heard of any of It’s creatures. Terminus is famously passive, and I wasn’t sure if It was even capable of choosing any of its own. Clearly this suggest It does, although I do wonder what this Blake has done in order to draw It’s attention.

God, I need to find him. This statement is a recent one, and I know too well what he is going through. Terminus might be more passive and less horrific than the Spiral or- or the spiders, but it must still be terrifying. If I can just- speak to him, explain what is happening-

Well, it may not help, but it would be something to at least know what is happening, even if we cannot do anything to stop it. And- it would be good to speak to someone who understands.

Unfortunately, it does seem like Blake has done his best to cover his tracks. The name he used was fake, and while we had some footage of him from the Institute’s security cameras, it was of little help.

I had Sasha see if she could find anything from his banking records, but- *sigh* it seems like this was time of high turnover at Barcleys. I believe there were some leaks of- particularly unpleasant financing on Barcley’s part and- I do wonder. The death toll might be enough to get even Terminus’ attention. I also suspect that the suicide of Blake’s manager might be due to more than a harsh divorce.

*sigh*

I suppose it’s good to have a reminder that as cruel and merciless as our patrons are, they are not the only evil in the world. Indeed, sometimes I think they pale in comparison to what ordinary people will do to each other, with no supernatural involvement necessary.

I hope I can find Blake.

*statement ends*

First Aid

Well, that was a pleasant surprise.

It’s rare to find a statement about my own patron, even in a secondary role, as in this one. The Beholding tends to be almost as passive as Terminus, and if my case is any indication, tends towards- scavenging from other Entities rather than hunting directly.

And Keay again. I had wondered about his alignment after #0132806, and the description of that beautiful eye art- this seems to confirm it. Keay is a creature of the Eye, one acting separately from the Institute. I was very eager to meet with him, but Sasha told me that he passed away from a brain tumor last year. I- will not deny this is a blow. I hope it may be a mistake, as creatures like us are usually rather sturdier, but-

*sigh*

It is- difficult, to read of these people- people like me- and every time, I seem to reach a dead end. It is- painfully lonely. I should message Mike.

In terms of the statement, everything seems to corroborate Ms Seraki’s account. The medical records match up, and we even managed to get footage from the security cameras and-

*a softer, happier sigh*

The Beholding was there, a single frame of an eye, staring through the feed. I had it saved, and will be getting it printed out and framed. I think it will be a good addition to my wall, perhaps I could put another copy up in this office too.

As to the Lightless Flame, I am not sure what to make of this Asag. It is meant to be a demon from Sumarian mythology, but reading about it seemed to tie it more closely to the Corruption than the Desolation- but it was meant to be able to boil fish alive in their rivers. I don’t know, and it’s certainly not impossible that Seraki misheard- or the Lightless Flame was just an idiot. That is certainly a possibility, I met one of them once and it was not pleasant.

“Veepalach” might also be a mishearing of the Polish word “wypalać”, which means to cauterize or brand. It appears that Martin is more skilled in modern languages than ancient ones, I was surprised at his weak grasp of Latin, but perhaps his Masters focused more on modern phenomenon. I wonder what other languages he knows; it may come in useful if we run into any statements in languages other than English.

Ah, here he comes now, with tea, no doubt. I will ask.