Sade Olutola
titsay
shark vs the universe
untitled
No title available
Kaledo Art
Stranger Things
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
JVL
cherry valley forever
★
taylor price
#extradirty
Claire Keane
we're not kids anymore.
KIROKAZE
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Sweet Seals For You, Always
seen from Canada
seen from Albania
seen from Türkiye
seen from Spain
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Iraq
seen from Tunisia
seen from Ecuador
seen from Colombia
seen from Nepal
seen from United States
seen from Syria
@the-real-jonathan-sims
Statement begins...
hello, my name is Jonathan Sims, head archivist for the Magnus Institute. From where I am now there are thousands of statements I will organize. It is going to take me awhile since the last archivist only did a half decent job. *ahem* I have two researchers to assist me. Tim and Sasha. And Martin i suppose, but I dont really count him. Statement end. (Blog Info is below the cut :3)
[ CLICK ]
[ RECORDING BEGINS. SUBJECT SEEMS TO BE IN AN ALLEY, TRAFFIC IS HEARD IN THE DISTANCE. ]
Statement of.. Emiru Clarke, regarding the world afte-[[STATIC]]... Statement recorded by subject June 1st, 2025.
Statement begins.
It… it's done. I thought I wouldn't survive it, but… well, I'm here now, aren't I? [[STATIC]]-re gone, locked in… I don't know where.. but I can still feel- and see- their influence over the world.
No one knows we're still alive. When the P-[[STATIC]]-were long gone. He carried me the whole way.. [ E.C LAUGHS ] Much like a sack of potatoes, to be honest. I couldn't sense anything, but [[STATIC]]-new.
We made our way across a world recovering from [[STATIC]]-o where it began.. and it was out of the very same wood of that cabin he made my funeral pyre.
It hurt.. but not like [[STATIC]]. I could feel flesh pulling away from bone, and as I burned, I found out I could see again.
I didn't know how much I could miss my heartbeat until it restarted in the ashes of the pyre.
[[STATIC]], but every few weeks, I get those urges again.. and when I submit to them, more charred flesh falls off to reveal scarless skin- a blank slate, so to speak.. but there's this growing pain in my shoulders, like something wants to push it's way out of me.
I haven't seen him again. I don't want him to- Ah!!
[ E.C GROANS, SLAMMING HIS HANDS AGAINST SOMETHING- A WALL? ]
[ BOTH THE STATIC AND HIS PAIN INCREASE TO AN EAR-RENDING CRESCENDO. THE RIPPING OF FLESH CAN FAINTLY BE HEARD. ]
Oh….
Oh God.
[ SILENCE. NO STATIC EITHER.. BUT IT FADES BACK IN AFTER A FEW SECONDS. ]
Wh…. Are.. are these wings?
… well. Guess it fits what they've been calling me now.
You probably know this is a fake name, based on what I've said.
I'm [[STATIC]]... Archangel of Fear.
[ RECORDING ENDS. ]
that's... concerning... i need to get Sasha
Have you ever thought about dealing scary stuff by just ignoring it? :>
yes. It hasnt worked yet, so I doubt it will ever work.
round two
Sister Carpenter
Jonathan Sims
Sister Carpenter
From The Silt Verses
Canonically aspec, generally accepted as aroace
[Image Description: black text on white. I think I told him, “Thanks.”
I probably could’ve said, ‘I know that I’m smart. I know I’m all of these things and more. What does that have to do with you, or you and I?’
I could have made it extremely clear that I had known in my heart, since adolescence and self-awareness came bearing down upon me like a flood, that I didn’t want the same things he wanted, and that if I was certain of any part of myself, I could say right now that I never would want them.
But I wasn’t certain about myself back then, and I still believed there must be something wrong with me, and even if I had been confident or articulate enough to explain who I was, what I did and didn’t want from other people…
…I still don’t think I owed him that.]
Jonathan Sims
From The Magnus Archives
Canonically asexual
Vote for your fav aspec | Propaganda is welcome, anti-propanganda will be blocked | Reblog for reach | Happy Pride Month!!
VOTE JONATHAN SIMS
Hey, uh, I wanted to get this out of my chest.
How do you start this “statement”? Uh-
Your body is a strange thing, isn’t it? You feel whole, you feel as though you are one full thing, that you control every aspect of your body. You control your own movements, but really—when you think about it, like really think about it—that’s all you can control. You don’t control the pace at which your heart beats. You don’t control the rushing of your blood inside your blood vessels. And you certainly don’t control the feeling of pain, or happiness, or the coldness of the air around you.
You don’t get to control what lives inside you, either.
Most people brush off our internal system as something built like a machine. Predictable and mechanical. Like it was made for very specific functions, doing very specific movements, at very specific times. To an extent, they are not wrong. But many do forget that it takes more than just peristaltic movement, for example, to digest something. It takes acids, chemicals, and sometimes living microbes. That’s also if you’re healthy. When you’re not, you may never know what is wrong in the human body until it is too late.
For the longest time, I was one of those people. I used to think of the body as self-contained. A closed system. Skin as a boundary, something that kept the outside out and the inside… contained. Safe, perhaps. Or at least, separate. I was a veterinarian, so I learned pretty quickly that though our bodies may seem self-contained, they carry tiny, microscopic living things that we may never see, or never know if we, as humanity, did not have such morbid curiosity of our bodies. Animals don’t have that problem. They don’t feel the crawling things in their skin or the breathing things under, simply because they do not know. They’re lucky beings, I suppose.
Animals carry things. A lot of farm animals do, as they are herbivores. Ruminants, specifically, carry tiny microbes that ferment plants inside the rumen. They break down fatty acids and work with the reticulum to break down the fibres. It’s easy to brush off the fact that these things are alive. These living microscopic beings are essential to the ruminant’s digestive system, and they mostly work in a sort of… symbiosis that benefits both parties. I was alright with those—I’ve never thought about it for too long, unless it was for an exam or some checkup. But some living beings—those crawling, small, horrid things—live inside other beings to burrow their way out of the parts inside us.
Parasites are… more varied in the realm of medicine I work in.
Parasites are not hard to understand, even if the person has limited knowledge of what they actually are or do. By definition, any living organism that needs other organisms as a place to live temporarily or permanently is a parasite. They can be in the form of worms, protozoa, or bugs. They’re nasty little things. I’ve had a dislike of worms since I was little; I was uncomfortable with how they squirmed, moved, and burrowed. Even as a child, I remember feeling… uncomfortable watching them. As though they didn’t belong on the surface of the world. As though they were meant to be somewhere else. Somewhere hidden. Suffice to say, I was not a particular fan of worms or parasites, for that matter, and I try to avoid cases that may deal with internal parasitic symbiosis.
Unfortunately, in my line of work, these cases are more common than you’d think, so I always end up with them no matter what I do. Best case scenario, a simple medicine is needed for a simple microorganism. Worst-case scenario… well, the parasite will try to overcome the host’s response, and the manifestation of this response is in the form of parasite adaptations, both morphological and biological in nature, as well as the parasite’s ability to avoid the host’s response. The simple fact is, cows die more often than not.
I consider myself unlucky to have been called about a case of a dying bull.
The man who called was tall, a little too lanky, and almost sickly pale. There was an awkward energy to him that’s rather striking, with watery blue eyes and a stench that I brushed off as the usual farm smell—though, in hindsight, it lingered longer than it should have. It was the scent of decay, with a mix of manure, so you can understand why I didn’t think much of it. When you’re in a field like mine, those smells tend to accompany you during work. I… I think his name was John Amherst.
The bull was already dead by the time I arrived. That, in itself, was not unusual. By the time cases like that are reported, intervention is often no longer an option. The owner, John, said it had stopped eating, grown restless in the days before. There had been weight loss, though not enough to raise an alarm until it was too late. It always seems to be too late.
For a case like this, a necropsy is needed to identify what was wrong. Parasites are strange like that. You’ll never know what crawls inside your intestines until you rip them open. I remember the body was still warm when we started the necropsy. That detail stuck with me. I wrote it down, even. Time of death, estimated to be about 15 minutes ago. External condition: no obvious lesions and no trauma. It looked… intact. Whole, in a way that didn’t quite match the circumstances. Cases like that, though most of them were medical, were always complicated. This one, however, wasn’t just complicated. It felt… wrong, somehow.
The bull lay there, unbreathing, its eyes glassy with the absence of life. As I stared into its eyes, there was movement in it that unsettled me. You have to understand, this was not the first time I had dealt with eye worms—it’s common in cattle worldwide—but the length of it, the way it was moving seemed calculated almost. I could almost hear the treacherous squelching of their wriggling, moving across the retina like a worm on a mission. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and my gaze pulled away from the spiralling thing. John asked me what was wrong before I realised I had stepped back and offered me water, but I refused politely. I wasn’t sure it would stay down.
I decided to make the procedure as quick as possible. I focused on the bull’s abdomen, taking my equipment out. The incision was made along the midline, clean and practiced. The blade met little resistance. That, too, struck me as unusual. There should have been some tension in the tissue, even post-mortem. A little more of that twitching muscle memory, especially on an animal as muscly as a bull. Instead, it parted too easily, as though the structure beneath had already begun to give way.
There was this… smell.
Not the usual expected sharpness of rumen contents or the sourness of digestion interrupted. This was something older. Sweeter. The kind of scent that clings to the back of your throat and settles there, refusing to leave. Rot, certainly, but not the kind that comes after death. The kind that begins before it. I paused, only briefly, before continuing. The skin was reflected, the muscle exposed—and even then, I could see it. Subtle movement beneath the layers, a shifting that did not correspond with my hands. I told myself it was post-mortem activity. My reassurance fell flat as my scissors got deeper.
The gastrointestinal tract of the bull was bloated. This, in itself, is normal: microbes emit gas that is now trapped in the corpse of this poor animal. But the stomach… it shifted as I exposed it. Not from escaping gas. Not from handling, I don’t think. From within. I have performed enough necropsies to know the difference. When I incised the rumen, the contents did not spill so much as… give way. They writhed. They moved and squelched and gurgled and I swear, they squealed. I could not stop cutting away the stomach, and what I saw was… I can’t explain it.
The first thing that hit me was the stench of rot. It should not have been possible. The bull has only been confirmed dead about less than an hour ago, so it could not have been decomposing already. But I know that scent well. It was the smell of lifelessness, of flesh turning into ash once more, of living beings eating their way in. Or, I suppose, in this case, they were eating their way out. I shuddered, but this comes with the job, I told myself.
As I continued my incision, I began to see what was inside more clearly. I can’t really identify which organisms I saw. Maggots, certainly. That would have been explainable. Flies lay eggs quickly, and in the right conditions, infestation can begin sooner than most are comfortable admitting. But these… These were too numerous. Too active. And among them, something else. Longer forms. Pale, threadlike bodies coiling through the mass, distinct from the usual larvae. Worms, yes, but not in the way I had ever seen them. They moved with a strange cohesion, not separate organisms so much as a single, restless thing given many shapes.
I became aware that John had not spoken in some time. I turned to him, looking for a trace of fear or disgust in his eyes, but there was nothing. He was still the strange pale man, and I did not realise at the time, but he smelled of the same rot that had infected the bull. I turned back to what I could only call a nest of maggots. In the midst of them, I saw worms, but I did not know where the maggots started or the worms ended. They were moving in spirals, and I watched and watched as more came poking out of this poor bull’s stomach. I could not pull my eyes away. Their wriggling created fractals that, if it wasn’t gruesome, were beautiful.
I began to notice that not only were the worms constantly burrowing, but my eyes had identified some that should not be there, in the stomach. It was one thing for a stomach to contain this many worms and organisms, but… You have to understand, these worms usually follow a certain classification. Some are based on its morphology, others are based on its predilection. They did not follow these rules. They coiled into each other like starving beings, slick and wet. It was almost as if they were singing, gruesome spicules harmonising under the pretence of beauty. It was not beauty. It was filth in its rawest form.
I do not know how long I stared. I do not even know when I came to.
But I snapped out of my trance as I felt something crawling up my arm.
At first, I thought it was external. A stray insect, perhaps—something from the grass, disturbed by the procedure. That would have been… normal. It was not.
The sensation did not remain at the surface. It pressed. It dragged. A slow, deliberate movement against the skin, leaving a trail of cold in its wake. I looked down. My hands… I had not realised where I had placed them. They were deep within the open cavity, submerged past the wrists in the shifting mass of rumen contents and living things. The gloves I wore were no longer clean, no longer intact in any meaningful sense. They were coated, obscured—no, moving.
For a moment, I did not understand what I was seeing.
A pale, threadlike body drew itself over the back of my hand, its length folding and unfolding as it moved with unsettling purpose. Another followed. And another. They were not simply clinging. They were climbing. I recoiled then—violently, instinctively—but the motion only seemed to disturb them further. The mass within the carcass shifted in response, a ripple that travelled outward, as though my movement had been felt. Several of them had already reached my wrist. I remember making a sound. I cannot say what it was. It did not feel like something I chose to make.
I tried to shake them off. My hands, my arms, jerked with a force that bordered on panic, but they did not fall away as easily as they should have. Their bodies bent with the motion, adhered, and maintained contact in a way that felt intentional. One brushed against the exposed skin just above my glove. I froze. It lingered there for a fraction too long. Long enough for me to feel the subtle pressure of it against my skin, the faint, searching movement as it traced the boundary between covered and uncovered flesh.
I tore my hands free from the cavity. The motion was wet. Resistant. When they came away, they did not come alone. I stumbled back, breath catching somewhere between my throat and my chest, and watched—unable to do anything else—as several of the things clung to me still, their bodies coiling slowly, persistently, as though reluctant to let go.
I gasp out a breath I did not know I was holding. John was still there behind me, as if he was watching. I didn’t care enough to look back at him, but I swore there was a hint of fascination.
I quickly found a place to wash my hands, and I scrubbed them as much as I could, trying to rid myself of the grime, slime, and itch that was slowly consuming me. I quickly told John that he should do an infestation cleaning to prevent infections, but I don’t think he was listening. He just looked at me with those blue eyes, as if wondering if I had seen anything strange. I wasn’t going to tell him about the strangeness in the bull’s stomach. In fact, I wasn’t going to come back.
So I gave him some places to call that can help sterilise the farm and left.
I still feel itchy in my hands. I thought it would fade with time, that it was nothing more than irritation from the work, something I could wash away and forget like I always have. But it didn’t stay there. It lingered, then spread—not across the skin, but beneath it. I noticed it first when I was alone, sitting still, when there was nothing to distract me from the quiet of my own body. A faint shifting. Subtle enough that I almost convinced myself it wasn’t there. Almost. But once I noticed it, I couldn’t stop. It wasn’t just my hands. It was deeper than that. Somewhere inside me, where I cannot see, where I cannot reach. And I realised, quite suddenly, with a clarity that made my breath catch, that whatever had been in that bull… I may not have left it behind.
Sometimes I hear the wet sound of the maggots singing to me about their filth. There is no beauty in it. There is only decay and squealing of the human body. What is made from the Earth shall rot.
(//if u see this in ao3 its cuz i wrote it a while ago LMFAO)
Statememt Ends.
Ill have to get Sasha to research this one, as i dont trust Tim to try and Woo someone to get the answers. Nonetheless, reading a statement about bugs and worms under skin brings back memories I wish i had burried.
[Sigh]
Recording ends.
[Click]
flesh flesh flesh flesh flesh flesh flESH FLESH FLESH FLESHFLESHFLESH
Someone get the archivist on this
I am NOT investigating that.
The Magnus Institute, London, 1843, "we're very queer here."
I should show this to Elias.
you should
go tag him
(go tag him)
@eliasbouchardunofficial
[Smirking]
The Magnus Institute, London, 1843, "we're very queer here."
I should show this to Elias.
Tumblr Sexyman Contest 2026 Round 1 Part 89
Jonathon Sims (The Magnus Archives)
Manfred von Karma (Ace Attorney)
Jon art by @drawsmaddy
IM WINNING HAH TAKE THAT ELIAS
I was just called a Tsundere.. what does that mean?
Oh no.
it is night the archivist is up late doing followup on a statement
something climbs from a darkened corner catching him unaware it begins fiddling with one of the lights then notices him "why hello! do you realize archiving the terror and doing followup does not change anything? sure it keep them remembered but paper,tapes,data they all rot, and whats the point of documenting fear? why not something that will be looked on fondly after the fact?"
"I-" Jonathan looked fairly scared and startled by the appearance by the mysterious stranger "I- i dont know- because its my job? how did you get in here?!"
"i thought knowing was your whole job? anyways i got in here due to shadows though i am a bit dizzy from the presence of the watcher do you have any water?" the figure shifts it is now clear that it is made of an oily black tarlike liquid with a vauge form of a tall person with a hat the entirety of it is pockmarked with what appears to be stars "oh you must forgive me my name is ezra pleasure to meet you have you seen tim around?"
he turned on his tape recorder
"I dont think i have any water with me right now, so no.. and I havent seen Tim around. He's probably off with Sasha... those two hang around eachother alot I suppose." He shifted his position to get a better look at the newcomer in his office "Why are you here?"
"Oh im just checking on the archives in gertrudes time one of her assistants had an interaction with something that is similar to me and i figured if she survived it then one of the assistants would aswell" it shifts pulling something from its side "its not the exact same thing but it will be similar enough" it puts a book that apears to be on stargazing on the floor next to it "if you want my statement give the book to sasha or tim dont worry if either has a strong will it wont pull them in too deep"
he cringes slightly as Ezra pulls the book from his side "I would appreciate the statement- did you say pull them in? Thats a leitner isnt it?".
“Mhm pulls you toward the stars if you don’t stop staring you will become a constellation in the book that shall guide yet another into the stars”
while they say this the stars on her body start sparking “don’t worry these are not a fire hazard may stain a statement though I’m a creature of the vast blackness but if you want more information than send one assistant out for some field research”
"I will not be giving a leitner to my assistants. The book will be going to artifact storage. Now, if you would like to reccord the statement we can begin"
"well what did i say was a need if you wanted my statement?" she has taken up the book and opens it "or would you like a look yourself?"
"I-" He shouldn't. Jon what are you doing? You shouldn't! "I- i would like a look.."
"well theres not much point of looking at starcharts inside is there? ill leave you to it ill leave a bookmark on the page i looked at myself" ezra climbs back into the shadows leaving the book on the floor.
after a few moments Jon got up and picked the book up off of the floor. He hesitated for a few moments and then opened the book
it is night the archivist is up late doing followup on a statement
something climbs from a darkened corner catching him unaware it begins fiddling with one of the lights then notices him "why hello! do you realize archiving the terror and doing followup does not change anything? sure it keep them remembered but paper,tapes,data they all rot, and whats the point of documenting fear? why not something that will be looked on fondly after the fact?"
"I-" Jonathan looked fairly scared and startled by the appearance by the mysterious stranger "I- i dont know- because its my job? how did you get in here?!"
"i thought knowing was your whole job? anyways i got in here due to shadows though i am a bit dizzy from the presence of the watcher do you have any water?" the figure shifts it is now clear that it is made of an oily black tarlike liquid with a vauge form of a tall person with a hat the entirety of it is pockmarked with what appears to be stars "oh you must forgive me my name is ezra pleasure to meet you have you seen tim around?"
he turned on his tape recorder
"I dont think i have any water with me right now, so no.. and I havent seen Tim around. He's probably off with Sasha... those two hang around eachother alot I suppose." He shifted his position to get a better look at the newcomer in his office "Why are you here?"
"Oh im just checking on the archives in gertrudes time one of her assistants had an interaction with something that is similar to me and i figured if she survived it then one of the assistants would aswell" it shifts pulling something from its side "its not the exact same thing but it will be similar enough" it puts a book that apears to be on stargazing on the floor next to it "if you want my statement give the book to sasha or tim dont worry if either has a strong will it wont pull them in too deep"
he cringes slightly as Ezra pulls the book from his side "I would appreciate the statement- did you say pull them in? Thats a leitner isnt it?".
“Mhm pulls you toward the stars if you don’t stop staring you will become a constellation in the book that shall guide yet another into the stars”
while they say this the stars on her body start sparking “don’t worry these are not a fire hazard may stain a statement though I’m a creature of the vast blackness but if you want more information than send one assistant out for some field research”
"I will not be giving a leitner to my assistants. The book will be going to artifact storage. Now, if you would like to reccord the statement we can begin"
"well what did i say was a need if you wanted my statement?" she has taken up the book and opens it "or would you like a look yourself?"
"I-" He shouldn't. Jon what are you doing? You shouldn't! "I- i would like a look.."
it is night the archivist is up late doing followup on a statement
something climbs from a darkened corner catching him unaware it begins fiddling with one of the lights then notices him "why hello! do you realize archiving the terror and doing followup does not change anything? sure it keep them remembered but paper,tapes,data they all rot, and whats the point of documenting fear? why not something that will be looked on fondly after the fact?"
"I-" Jonathan looked fairly scared and startled by the appearance by the mysterious stranger "I- i dont know- because its my job? how did you get in here?!"
"i thought knowing was your whole job? anyways i got in here due to shadows though i am a bit dizzy from the presence of the watcher do you have any water?" the figure shifts it is now clear that it is made of an oily black tarlike liquid with a vauge form of a tall person with a hat the entirety of it is pockmarked with what appears to be stars "oh you must forgive me my name is ezra pleasure to meet you have you seen tim around?"
he turned on his tape recorder
"I dont think i have any water with me right now, so no.. and I havent seen Tim around. He's probably off with Sasha... those two hang around eachother alot I suppose." He shifted his position to get a better look at the newcomer in his office "Why are you here?"
"Oh im just checking on the archives in gertrudes time one of her assistants had an interaction with something that is similar to me and i figured if she survived it then one of the assistants would aswell" it shifts pulling something from its side "its not the exact same thing but it will be similar enough" it puts a book that apears to be on stargazing on the floor next to it "if you want my statement give the book to sasha or tim dont worry if either has a strong will it wont pull them in too deep"
he cringes slightly as Ezra pulls the book from his side "I would appreciate the statement- did you say pull them in? Thats a leitner isnt it?".
“Mhm pulls you toward the stars if you don’t stop staring you will become a constellation in the book that shall guide yet another into the stars”
while they say this the stars on her body start sparking “don’t worry these are not a fire hazard may stain a statement though I’m a creature of the vast blackness but if you want more information than send one assistant out for some field research”
"I will not be giving a leitner to my assistants. The book will be going to artifact storage. Now, if you would like to reccord the statement we can begin"
it is night the archivist is up late doing followup on a statement
something climbs from a darkened corner catching him unaware it begins fiddling with one of the lights then notices him "why hello! do you realize archiving the terror and doing followup does not change anything? sure it keep them remembered but paper,tapes,data they all rot, and whats the point of documenting fear? why not something that will be looked on fondly after the fact?"
"I-" Jonathan looked fairly scared and startled by the appearance by the mysterious stranger "I- i dont know- because its my job? how did you get in here?!"
"i thought knowing was your whole job? anyways i got in here due to shadows though i am a bit dizzy from the presence of the watcher do you have any water?" the figure shifts it is now clear that it is made of an oily black tarlike liquid with a vauge form of a tall person with a hat the entirety of it is pockmarked with what appears to be stars "oh you must forgive me my name is ezra pleasure to meet you have you seen tim around?"
he turned on his tape recorder
"I dont think i have any water with me right now, so no.. and I havent seen Tim around. He's probably off with Sasha... those two hang around eachother alot I suppose." He shifted his position to get a better look at the newcomer in his office "Why are you here?"
"Oh im just checking on the archives in gertrudes time one of her assistants had an interaction with something that is similar to me and i figured if she survived it then one of the assistants would aswell" it shifts pulling something from its side "its not the exact same thing but it will be similar enough" it puts a book that apears to be on stargazing on the floor next to it "if you want my statement give the book to sasha or tim dont worry if either has a strong will it wont pull them in too deep"
he cringes slightly as Ezra pulls the book from his side "I would appreciate the statement- did you say pull them in? Thats a leitner isnt it?".
it is night the archivist is up late doing followup on a statement
something climbs from a darkened corner catching him unaware it begins fiddling with one of the lights then notices him "why hello! do you realize archiving the terror and doing followup does not change anything? sure it keep them remembered but paper,tapes,data they all rot, and whats the point of documenting fear? why not something that will be looked on fondly after the fact?"
"I-" Jonathan looked fairly scared and startled by the appearance by the mysterious stranger "I- i dont know- because its my job? how did you get in here?!"
"i thought knowing was your whole job? anyways i got in here due to shadows though i am a bit dizzy from the presence of the watcher do you have any water?" the figure shifts it is now clear that it is made of an oily black tarlike liquid with a vauge form of a tall person with a hat the entirety of it is pockmarked with what appears to be stars "oh you must forgive me my name is ezra pleasure to meet you have you seen tim around?"
he turned on his tape recorder
"I dont think i have any water with me right now, so no.. and I havent seen Tim around. He's probably off with Sasha... those two hang around eachother alot I suppose." He shifted his position to get a better look at the newcomer in his office "Why are you here?"
it is night the archivist is up late doing followup on a statement
something climbs from a darkened corner catching him unaware it begins fiddling with one of the lights then notices him "why hello! do you realize archiving the terror and doing followup does not change anything? sure it keep them remembered but paper,tapes,data they all rot, and whats the point of documenting fear? why not something that will be looked on fondly after the fact?"
"I-" Jonathan looked fairly scared and startled by the appearance by the mysterious stranger "I- i dont know- because its my job? how did you get in here?!"
