Tma G/t - Tumblr Posts

Watching The Magnus Archives (I’m only on episode 40~ so no spoilers, please) and I have so many thoughts for some g/t. I’m probably gonna start on a little one shot with giant Jon bc he gives off such mean giant energy.

Feasting On Silent Screams 1/1

Warnings: Mentions of vore/graphic description of vore, minor TMA spoilers for Jon’s abilities.

The part with the graphic description has been italicised and it can be skipped. I’ve got a longer Magnus Archives one shot that I’ve got scheduled for later this month so have a little nugget I wrote today. I’ve nearly finished the entire series and so far I’m loving it.

Sasha was the only one brave enough to go into The Archivist’s office. Or she was stupid, if you asked Tim. But Tim didn’t count, if you asked Sasha.

She hadn’t seen Jon in a few days and she wasn’t sure where he disappeared off to. Still, she was taking the opportunity to go into his office and see if she could find some more pencil lead. It wasn’t something they needed but she liked being able to draw and write.

Humming to herself, Sasha glanced around the desk. There was a messy pile of paper, a tape recorder and a microphone. The tape recorder and microphone didn’t mean anything to her since she couldn’t borrow anything useful from them but she went over to the paper.

It was a pile of statements and she tsked as she leafed through them. There weren’t any blank pages and she groaned in quiet annoyance. She’d been hoping there would be a blank paper she could take a piece off.

Standing up, she brushed herself off and wandered over to the partially opened drawer. A cursory look and her eyes locked onto a pencil that had been ran down too small for a human to use.

It would easily be enough lead for a few months at least and Sasha beamed.

Pressing her front to the desk, Sasha slid herself to the edge until she could drop into the drawer, landing in a crouch. She grabbed the pencil and slipped it into her bag, grinning to herself.

There was the sound of a door slamming and light streamed into the room. Sasha mentally cursed as fear coursed through her as she backed further into the drawer.

She made fun of Tim but his fear of Jon was something she shared.

“Where is it?” There came the sound of paper being scattered, “No, no, no— none of these!” A bang as something was slammed overhead.

Sasha clenched her teeth, forcing back a yelp. Her ears rang and she felt dizzy as the sound echoed around her on all sides.

“What is that?” The Archivist sounded like he was sniffling but Sasha realised with a sense of sinking dread that he sounded like he’d caught the scent of something. Was it her? How?

“Someone’s in here.” He mumbled and Sasha trembled, tears pricking in her eyes. “Where…”

The drawer suddenly was pulled into the open and Sasha snapped her head up, faced with The Archivist’s vibrant green eyes.

“Oh, now this is interesting.” Before Sasha could even consider running, she was grabbed and brought into the open. “You’re tiny.” A fingertip tilted her head up and she was split between squeezing her eyes shut or keeping her eyes on the threat before her.

She kept them open to see the glowing green eyes that seem to look through her very soul.

“It’s incredible! According to the square cube law, something so small shouldn’t exist.” The Archivist’s unoccupied hand came up to grasp at her face. Sasha had her face squished and manipulated until it was seared into The Archivist’s memory.

It was when a finger pulled at her lips with a mumble about eating habits that Sasha snapped and bit the digit, which was quickly pulled away. “Well, I was just going to satiate my curiosity, but I suppose you’ll make a fine snack.”

Immediately, ever horror story of borrowers being eaten came to Sasha in a blur of crimson and white. She could practically smell the metallic scent of her own blood. Hear the sound of her bones crunching and muscles squelching as she was chewed into unidentifiable paste. See the spray of blood as her limbs were torn off until she blacked out from the pain.

Her panicked mind wondered which The Archivist would prefer. To eat her whole or tear her to bloody ribbons first. Would he enjoy her screams? Relish in her fear?

There was a satisfied hum from above and Sasha whimpered in terror.

When her feet touched the ground, she froze and forced her bleary gaze to focus. Jon had set her down and left the room. She didn’t know what he was doing but she didn’t hesitate.

Shaky hands dug her hook into the desk and she slid down the rope, barely feeling the burn of her hands. Sasha thudded to the ground and desperately tugged at her rope, pulling a chunk of wood out of the desk. She spooled it as she sprinted, stumbling over the thread as she ran.

When she entered the tunnels, she didn’t stop. She kept sprinting, scrambling through the tunnels with an urgency she’d never felt before.

Sasha barely remembered to toss of her bag before she collapsed onto her bed, burying herself in the pile of fabric scraps as if it would protect her. She trembled and sobbed as she curled into herself, trying to scrub the images out of her mind.

It didn’t work.

——

This one’s a little darker but I think it’s in the same vein as TMA in general. I played with how Jon’s fear-eating works, in that he can also absorb fear more passively. I have a little extra tidbit for this that gets much grittier so I may post that at some point.

In The Archives’ Walls- 1/1

Warnings- non-consensual handling, mentions of worms/killing worms. Let me know if I missed any!

Here’s the promised Magnus Archives g/t one shot. In which Jon is the smartest idiot and Martin is along for the ride.

Everyone in the archive was on edge. The worms were everywhere and it was getting on everyone’s nerves.

Martin was probably more annoyed than scared. Those stupid worms meant he had to be doubly as cautious to avoid The Archivist’s — Jonathan Sims, from how the man introduced himself when recording his tapes — notice. The man wouldn’t even spare him a second glance before squashing him like a bug.

Shaking his head, Martin forced himself to focus. If he slipped up now he really would get crushed like those spiders.

Scaling up his rope, Martin heaved himself into the cupboard with a huff. Spooling his rope up, he wandered up to the sleeve of already opened biscuits, pulling two out. He broke them into quarters and shoved them in his satchel.

Buttoning his bag closed, he dug his hook into the ledge of the cupboard and tossed the rest of his thread down. He started to climb down and touched on the counter without issue.

It was as he was fastening his hook to his belt that he saw it.

A worm.

Bracing himself, he grabbed the pin at his waist, drawing it in one swift motion. He knew the worms here had incredibly sharp teeth and he refused to end up a borrower raisin because he got bit.

It didn’t have eyes but it watched him anyway, waiting to strike. He lunged first, stabbing his pin forward, only for the worm to rear back with a shriek.

It struck out and barely missed his arm as he pinned it’s tail with his foot. He slammed his other foot on the middle of it and drove his pin into it’s head. It squirmed for a moment before it fell still.

Pulling his pin free, he put it back in the fabric that made his belt.

“Well, that was unexpected.”

Martin whipped around on his heel, immediately looking up into the eyes of the human who loomed over the counter. Damn it! How did he not notice he was stood there?

The Archivist snatched him up in a clinical grasp, pinning Martin’s arms to his sides and tilting his head up with a thumb, as if he was a rodent about to bite him. Squirming desperately, Martin struggled to force himself to breathe, terror gripping his lungs more than the surprisingly loose grip.

“What are you?” Martin’s stomach dropped as he was lifted even higher, scrutinised by The Archivist’s sharp gaze. The sound of his heart thundering in his chest nearly overpowered the sound of the human’s voice.

Martin wanted to tell The Archivist to go to hell but when he opened his mouth, he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “I’m a borrower.” He hastily shut his mouth with an audible click, horrified at how easily he gave that answer up.

“Interesting. I’ve never heard of your existence before.” Jon started walking and Martin swallowed down the bile burning his throat at the swaying motion. “I’m sure I have a spare notebook somewhere,” the man muttered to himself.

He didn’t even want to know what a man like Jon would do to document his existence. Martin would’ve renewed his struggle if he wasn’t suddenly dropped off on a desk. He fell flat on his rear with a gasp.

Scrambling to his feet, Martin snapped his head around to look for an escape. There wasn’t anything for him to even hide behind, no matter use to run and he cursed. He could try scaling down the table but it would take too long.

The Archivist returned after less than a minute with a notebook in one hand and a small box balanced against his hip in the other. The box was set on the table first before he pulled up a chair and set down the notebook, flipping it open to the first page.

“How old are you?” The Archivist asked and Martin blinked incredulously. Was he actually just… asking questions to document his existence? It wasn’t the worst thing that he could’ve been doing, but Martin refused to answer. If the word of borrowers got out, they’d all be screwed.

“I’m 29.” Again the answer came even as he tried to grit his teeth against the compulsion to talk. What the hell was going on?

The Archivist wrote down Martin’s answer in neat cursive. “Do you have a name?”

He tried to spout off a lie. “Martin Blackwood.” came out instead. No! He had to shut up! If he kept answering these stupid questions he’d put every borrower in danger.

“A family name too…” he mumbled, spinning his pen idly between his fingers.

“What the hell are you doing?” Martin asked, making Jon pause in his writing and look at the borrower with a raised eyebrow. As if Matin was the one asking a stupid question.

“Obviously I’m recording your existence. The archives are meant to investigate abnormal occurrences and I’ve never seen or heard of anything like you,” he explained simply. The Archivist seemed to think of something, “Are there more of you here?”

“No.” And thank god that there really weren’t any more borrowers in the building. There’d only been one other borrower and they left soon after the worm infestation started getting worse.

“That’s a pity,” Jon said, sending Martin’s heart pounding again, “With only one specimen I can hardly judge a whole species.”

The fear of being experimented on made itself known and his mind blanked when The Archivist reached for him. He scrambled back but wasn’t fast enough.

“H-hey! D-don’t— put me down!”

The Archivist snatched him up, grabbing something out of the box with his other hand. Kicking at the human’s fingers, Martin struggled desperately.

It didn’t do anything but annoy The Archivist who pinned Martin to his palm, lining something up next to him. He didn’t dare turn his head to see what it was.

“Stop squirming,” The Archivist reprimanded. Those words didn’t seem to hold the same power as his questions but Martin still froze at the underlying threat to his tone. “Hmm… 7.6 centimetres.”

Martin jolted when he was set back down. He saw the thing Jon had held up to him was a ruler and he was split between being offended and relieved. Offence at being treated like some lab rat but relief that he wasn’t a dead lab rat.

This continued as The Archivist took his measurements and wrote down a physical description. It was weird but it could’ve been much worse. Still, annoyance welled up as he was manhandled. If he wanted Martin’s cooperation he could’ve just asked! He knew Martin could talk and understand him.

It was when The Archivist took a photo of him on a polaroid camera that he objected.

“You-you need to get rid of the photo.” he demanded, hoping he sounded braver than he felt. He knew he was shaking like a leaf in the breeze but he couldn’t help it.

The Archivist arched an eyebrow, clearly not at all threatened and only indulging him out of curiosity. “Why?”

He didn’t even need the weird compulsion to the question to blurt out, “It puts other borrowers at risk!”

“I already have a notebook full of information on you. What’s one photo?” Jon asked and Martin wondered if it was meant to be as mocking as he sounded. His face burned.

“It’s- you shouldn’t have either! If anyone finds out about us—” Frustrated fear boiled over and tears poured down his cheeks. Jon reached a hand out but Martin flinched away and he paused.

Jon floundered and pulled back his hand, obviously at a loss for what to do. “Ah… I can- I can tear up the photo if you’d like.” he offered and Martin frantically nodded, trying to bring his breathing back to normal.

There was the sound of tearing paper and Martin wiped away his tears to see Jon dumping a pile of shredded paper into the bin. “Th-thank you,” he stuttered.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to distress you, I was curious.” Jon sat back in the chair at the desk.

“This whole thing’s been pretty ‘distressing’.” Martin muttered bitterly, sinking to sit down and hugging his knees to his chest. The constant adrenaline in his system meant he was exhausted and he muffled a yawn.

Jon winced at his words but didn’t say anything against the sentiment.

“Can I go home?” Martin asked, hoping desperately that Jon wouldn’t try and keep him to make more notes. He wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t—

“Of course! I’m sorry for keeping you like this.” Jon said.

Martin held back a sigh and forced himself to his feet. He wouldn’t give Jon even a second to take it back. “Okay, I’ll be going.”

Jon nodded, probably catching the awkwardness to Martin’s tone. He stood up and took the notebook he’d been writing in, leaving the room.

Martin wasted no time climbing down from the desk and running to the entrance into the walls. He was so glad he’d made one into the room Jon used to record his tapes.

Slamming the entrance behind him, he collapsed against it, heaving deep breaths to calm his pounding heart.

Martin was glad to get out of that one alive.

——

I’m not very far into TMA so I may’ve fudged Martin’s character but I tried. Jon gives off such neurodivergent energy so I think he’d absolutely document a borrower. Also the switching between ‘The Archivist’ and ‘Jon’ is very much done on purpose.

I'm just. Imagine how absolutely INSANE any borrower would go having to live in the walls of like. Any statement giver.

A big box is delivered to your human's door? Cool. Written "do not open" on it? You've seen weirder. It starts moaning. And then your human is walking around at night.

Your human is getting chased by a just. TIDAL WAVE of worms and now he's holed up in the apartment all day and you can't borrow.

That lady you see from the walls of the archives is distinctly not the same lady as before, but no one seems to notice. Sure.

You learn two of the people in the building you live in are all seeing and have probably seen you many times. You should probably move out.

This guy moves into your human's apartment and reads his mail outlook everyday, it's all just spooky stories. How do you even RESPOND to that. He feeds off them? He has powers?! FEAR GODS?!

Your human slowly and methodically takes out books everyday and eats them. Page. By. Page.

Just. What sort of stories do you think borrowers come up with about that? "Yeah my human was just haunted by a guy on her computer" "no way, MY human's book club dissolved very suddenly into murder!"

Like. HUMANS are terrified enough during statements. Imagine some freaky eldritch shit happening to someone already twenty times taller than you and the having to LIVE WITH THEM. Bruh.

G/tober day 2 - Handheld

Warnings:None

This is an extension of my TMA one-shot ‘Feasting On Silent Screams’ and inspired by @aaytaro-gt’s prompt list. It’s shorter than my usual stuff but enjoy anyway!

“Are you sure this is okay?”

Sasha squinted up at Jon, who switched between wringing his hands to picking at his shirt’s collar. He was steadfastly looking directly over the borrower’s head, as if scared to make eye contact.

“Of course it is. I’m the one who asked for it,” Sasha gestured to the table in front of her and Jon hesitantly laid his hand out like a platform, “You look more nervous for this than I do.” She grinned assuredly up at him.

Since they’d reached their understanding, Sasha had been curious. She distinctly remembered the nearly crushing grip and the powerlessness that came with being swept up like a toy. It still haunted her.

But she didn’t want to be scared of Jon. He was a mix of nerdy and lonely that was strangely endearing. When he apologised too, borderline begging for forgiveness for scaring her…

It was hard to stay mad.

She was also curious about being held by a human. What was it like? After all, if she found it okay, it’d be so much easier to just ask Jon to pick her up so she could get to places quicker.

Using the same false confidence from her smile, she stepped onto the man’s hand without hesitation, settling into the dip of Jon’s palm. Running a hand along the leathery surface of his palm, Sasha noted the slight heat radiating from his skin.

Looking up to gauge Jon’s reaction, she saw how he was completely frozen. His brown eyes were wide, locked solely on her.

“Everything alright, Jon?” she asked, slightly worried at the look on his face. Had she done something?

“Ah… yes, sorry. It’s just incredible how small you are- no offence! I don’t mean it to be rude, it’s more of an observation-” his rambling was cut off by a sharp laugh and Jon looked to see that Sasha was grinning up at him.

“I get it. It’s weird for me too.” She admitted, “But it’s not bad.”

“Yes, I was expecting this to set off my haphephobia, so it’s a pleasant surprise to be sure.”

“Haphephobia?” Sasha asked, unfamiliar with the word.

“The fear of touch.” He clarified and Sasha nodded. He always seemed to avoid making any contact with his assistants, but she’d just thought it was his prickly academic aesthetic. Knowing it was a genuine phobia made much more sense.

“Well don’t I feel special.” Sasha sprawled dramatically across Jon’s palm and he chuckled.

“You certainly are.”

G/tober day 11- Monster

Warnings: Mentions of death but none happen, abusing of someone’s phobias and minor TMA spoilers for Jon’s abilities

This is my day 11 of g/tober and it’s part 1 of a series I plan to finish later this month. Inspired by @aaytaro-gt’s prompt list.

“Here’s the latest statement that needs some follow up. Some giant monster in the woods,” Sasha slid the statement onto Martin’s desk with a sheepish grin. “It didn’t record digitally.” she added and he groaned internally.

No digital recording meant that this was a genuinely ‘spooky’ statement that was real. It also meant he was about to run into some giant creature in the woods in the name of research. The only comfort was that the statement had been given in general, meaning the subject had to still be alive.

Settling into his chair, Martin started to read the statement, hoping to be prepared for what he was going to he faced with.

Statement of Hazel Anteo, regarding a giant monster in the woods near their home. Statement given xx-xx-xxxx. Statement recorded by Head Archivist Sasha James. Statement begins:

I’m not crazy. I know you probably see that a lot, but I swear. I’m a rational person and I didn’t even believe in the supernatural until this happened.

Now, I know it’s not smart to walk around in the woods, not to mention doing it alone. It’s not something I make a habit of. The last time I went for a walk through that forest was probably a few years ago when I was in my last year of secondary school.

Walking was always a stress reliever for me. If something is on my mind, I just walk and think until I find a solution to whatever was bothering me. It got me through some hard times in my life and this time wasn’t meant to be any different.

I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently. I always get like this around winter: the nights are just perfect for my mind to start overworking itself with irrational fears and the cold seeps into my bones like a physical pain.

That night it was particularly bad. The chill wasn’t anything compared to the terror of the shapes shifting from the corners of my eye. It felt like I was being hunted and I desperately wanted to be anywhere but that room.

So, I bundled up and trekked into the forest. It was around 11 pm and that forest was the first place I could think of that I wouldn’t have to see people. To have people judging me for my late night fear. I just really didn’t want to have people asking questions and prodding into my business.

The forest was beautiful in the moonlight. Silver bathed the ground in patches of light that broke through the foliage high above. It made everything look so still, peaceful and it soothed me of my fear.

I walked down a slightly trodden path, where I was the least likely to trip on a root I didn’t see under the inconsistent lighting. It was an easy path to follow and my mind wandered. Slipping into a sense of ease was a relief and I basked under the light.

It’s probably why I missed the first signs of movement in the trembling ground beneath my feet.

I only noticed when a shadow flew over my head from behind, drowning out the light and whipping up a wind that sent my hair flying and my heart hammering. The shadow was so colossal that it took up the entirety of my vision. I could barely force breathes past my panic.

When the shadow slammed into the earth before me, I shrieked, stumbling backwards and falling to the mud. My eyes were fixed on the thing before me and it took me a moment to process what it was.

The thing that had slammed down was a giant foot.

With that realisation, I snapped my head up, so fast my neck stung. There was a silhouette outlined with moonlight, seeming darker than black. No, not black, it was more like it devoured all light rather than simply being black.

I regretted the sound that had ripped from my throat as what I figured to be the giant’s head whipped around, staring down at me with a piercing toxic green gaze. In that second I was an insect, pinned under a microscope with that cold gaze deciding wether I was to live or die. It knew everything about me and it was judging me.

Then it turned on it’s heel, it’s entire being lowered to the ground, still so much larger than I could comprehend. It’s hand was colossal and it’s fingers were a size that dwarfed a human as it reached down to me.

I knew it was futile to run and even if I wanted, my legs were frozen, leaving me completely at the whims of the creature.

Those fingers wrapped around me in a grip that felt mockingly light, as if the thing was using only a fraction of it’s strength and wanted me to know it. It lifted me effortlessly upwards and I clenched my eyes shut, unwilling to look my death in the eyes.

I’ve always been terrified of heights and peeking down at the ground I couldn’t see before it faded into a black void made me reel. Desperately, I hoped that it would find some other way to kill me.

Anything but dropping to my death.

I had no choice but to focus on the shadowed expression of the monster’s face. I could make out a vague idea of humanoid features aside from the ever-staring eyes. The sharp nose, thin lips and sharp eyebrows that would’ve been human if not for their huge scale.

It stared at me as giant fingers prodded and pulled at me. I was a doll in it’s huge hands and the best I could do was bite my tongue, holding back my tears.

What felt like hours passed before I was dropped to the ground, always caught seconds before I would’ve splattered into nothing. It seemed purposeful. It was like the creature knew about my fear of heights and was setting it off again and again for whatever sick entertainment it drew from my terror.

But it couldn’t know that, could it?

The moment I was put down properly, I used my adrenaline to run. To sprint as far away from the monster as possible, knowing that if it chose to make chase I’d be caught effortlessly.

For some inexplicable reason, it didn’t. There was no shadow on my tail, no ground trembling in my wake, no sign it followed me.

Yet I felt watched even as I scrambled inside my house, the gaze heavy on my very soul. I didn’t dare change into my pyjamas under that watch and I simply kicked off my shoes, crawling under the covers.

It was gone the next day, thankfully. I haven’t felt it since, but I’m haunted by it, even now. I don’t know what it was. What it wanted.

All I know is that it was enjoying my fear. Drawing it out to wring every last drop of mortal terror it could. Making me fear for my life but never killing me.

For some reason, the whole thing made me think of a cat, playing with the mouse it plans to eat.

Ooh boy! First tma g/t here we go!

...

Proposition

Tw for fear play and general Elias-ery, panic attack I think? Spiraling/circling thoughts

...

Jon used to love living in the institute. He could see all different kinds of humans and here what they were scared of. Not to say it was comforting, knowing the creatures that towered over him could feel small and terrified like he could...

But it was definetly comforting knowing that the creatures that towered over him could feel small and terrified like he could.

The lady, "Archivist" Gertrude read the stories out loud, and Jon, from when he was a little boy, had always been entranced. Much to his grandmother's chagrin, he would stand at the edge of the wall entrance to her office and listen.

He found himself wandering the walls to her office even more, after the spider. Too big, too spindly, hypnotizing. Jon was lucky a chair bumped onto the wall he was in, snapping him out of the terror of the spider and into the terror of the human.

A few years after that, Gertrude didn't show up to work. The day after, people were in and out of her office like ants in a line. The man with the clicky shoes- Elias bossed people around as they lifted boxes of stuff out of the room.

One of these days, Jon was on the book shelf. He enjoyed going behind the old dusty books and being pressed against, like knowledge was giving him a hug. Of course he could never read that big a book, it'd take him ten minutes to turn the page, but it was comforting.

That's where Jon was when he heard the clicking shoes. Elias. He froze in place, not breathing or moving a muscle. The office had been finished being cleaned out a week prior. Surely he wouldn't look at the dusty old books NOW.

"I Know you're there."

Jon bit his tongue. What the hell. He must be talking to someone else, there was no chance he saw Jon, and there's nothing Jon left behind that would make a human think "borrower" first, rather than "a few scraps of string I need to pick up".

No, there was no way Elias was talking to him.

Jon was thrown out of his thoughts at the book he was behind shifted, pulling away from him and letting the too bright lights filter onto the shelf where he was.

"Jon."

Shit.

Okay okay okay. Elias peered down at him. It's fine, he just needed to shimee behind the shelf to get out. But that takes a few seconds, and that might prompt Elias to try and pick him up. But he was exposed, standing there and breathing so hard that all the archives could hear.

He couldn't tall he couldn't think he couldn't BREATH-

Jon has lived in this place long enough to know what humans did to things they found unnatural. Maybe Jon would be in a box in a cabinet for the rest of his life. Or dissected. Or just killed like any other pest, an intruder. In his own home.

Jon backed up into the wall and shrunk into the shadow. Please no please god no-

"Oh cone on," Elias picked him up with ease, wrapping a hand around the full length of his torso like it was nothing. Jon yelped as his whole body was washed over mith motion. "Don't be like that. I thought you were interested in what we did here."

Jon was placed on a hard metal surface- a desk. He tried to back up again, not wanting to crane his neck up to look at that already way bigger than he thought human, but was stopped by Elias's cold hands.

Elias's eyes cut into him more than any scalpel could. Jon felt like his insides were already open to study. He was frigid cold, but his face and chest were damp with sweat. His breathing was unsteady, and the intake of cold air made him shiver.

"Do you have any other friends?"

"No." The answer spilt out of him. Jon gasped, slapping a habit over his mouth.

He felt like he was looking up at the spider.

"Hm," Elias hummed. He chuckled. "I can assure you I am no spider, Jon. And though I do wait for my prey to come to me-"

At that he bapped Jon on the head with a single finger, ruffling his dark hair.

"I do not intend to kill so quickly," Elias smiled. Jon didn't like Elias's smile, he decided. "I prefer my patience to be rewarded handsomely. What do you know of the archives and the institute?"

"I've lived here my whole life, humans come in here to tell stories of scary and abnormal things that have happened to them," Jon's mind raced to answer Elias was quickly as possible. "Sometimes there's scary objects and they're all kept in a room my grandmother wouldn't let me go into. The Archivist read some written stories out loud and she has been gone for two weeks. There used to be... actually a lot more people before she worked alone."

Elias hummed again. "Very astute. I would have thought someone of your sort would have wanted to keep themselves as far away from the host it leeches off of."

Elias cut off his back handed compliment and returned his full focus to Jon, pulling in his arms closer to force Jon to scuttle closer to him.

"I've caught you," Elias stated the obvious. Jon still felt his mouth go dry. "So you're not exactly in a position to refuse anything I offer you. So here's how this will work. You will fulfill Gertude's roll in reading statements and being the Archivist and you can continue living in the archives."

"And the catch?" Jon said automatically. He had heard Gertrude say that to plenty of people. The lady with the books. Her assistant that could pull any string. The boy with black hair.

Elias didn't like that much.

Hands encased Jon, compressing him tight to the point he could Varela breath. With how short and fast Jon was getting air, he doubted he'd last more than a minute like this.

"The catch is same as it always has been," Elias glared. "I can See you at any moment, I could do away with you whenever I want. I can send another spider on you, I'm sure my friend would just LOVE that. I can give you to any monster I want. I See and Know you, and all these years I let you live in comfort and ignorance. So just be thankful, and don't try and get anything else out of me."

The hands released their pressure, allowing Jon to breath. But they were still around him.

"Do you accept?"

It wasn't something he could say no to, Elias already made that clear. The fact he was asking was anything if a little insulting.

"No one can know I'm here," Jon balled his fists, looking back at Elias. "I'm... humans shouldn't know we exist."

Elias sighed. "I suppose that doesn't necessarily detriment your new job. And I do like the idea of a secret only I know. No one shall know of your existence."

Jon flinched back. If someone knew he was here, even if it was a human, they could have saved him.

"I'll... I'll do it." Jon nodded.

Elias smiled. God, did Jon loathe that smile already. "Excellent."

Elias swiftly opened a drawer, nearly throwing Jon inside. He hit the rougher wood with a thud.

"Ex- excise me!" Jon shouted up, doing his best to stay cordial as his heart threatened to leap out of his chest. "You said- I thought I wad able to return to my home!"

"Oh Jon," Elias tsked, looking down on him. The walls were not quite double his height, but still impossible to climb without his equipment. "I said you can stay in the archives, didn't I? I'm simply restricting your access. Besides, here I can watch you and make sure no one else will see you. You'll be much safer in here than in some dusty walls, where another less... compassionate human could find you, or where another spider could get you for good this time.

Jon covered his ears as the drawer slid close, the world going completely dark. Jon tried to keep his sobs quiet, knowing it was futile to keep up a defiant facade if Elias could "See" him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Archivist," Elias's shoes clicked towards the door. "And don't worry, I'll have some friends to keep you company soon."

Jon pressed himself into a corner. Stale dusty air ripped through his lungs as he cried himself to sleep.

head archivist pocket sized

thanks to @spicy-cleanness for the idea 🤌🏻

Martin sleeping in Moth Jon's hair

Very simple doodle for ya, thanks for the ask!

Surprise chapter! The long-awaited second chapter of this fic from nearly a year ago. Woo!

Surprise chapter! The long-awaited second chapter of this fic from nearly a year ago. Woo!