I Wrote This In A Notebook When I Was Supposed To Be Sleeping. I Had No Idea Where This Story Was Meant
I wrote this in a notebook when I was supposed to be sleeping. I had no idea where this story was meant to go and I was very tired but I thought you guys would like it anyway <3
Imagine performing your own autopsy. Seeing your perfectly clean naked corpse lying on a metal slab as cold and lifeless as itself. As your hands make the first incision, the skin snags and damages your scalpel’s blade, as if your body is still trying to prevent others understanding it, still as stubborn from beyond the grave as it was when it was alive.
Despite its…your resistance, after plunging and slashing and prying with your now ruined scalpel, practically begging for the flesh to open up to you, to tell you what happened to us, to just let you in, the skin gives way. Practically caves in, even, and a wretched stench fills the ice-cold room.
Gazing into your own gaping chest cavity, you see atrophied muscle, liquefying organs, decaying tissues and thick, gunky blood. Your body was only in storage for about a day and a half and found dead an hour before that. Nothing could rot it that fast, especially in cold storage. Your eyes water, but whether it’s from the smell or the fear that one day you will become this, are already becoming this, you can’t tell.
Nothing could make your body rot that fast. Not if it had just died. Maybe that corruption was there all along. Maybe it’s already within you. Maybe you brought it upon yourself.
You swear your body looks at you, it’s expression a mix of resentment and pity. It knows. It knew the whole time. They say ignorance is bliss, but knowledge of ignorance is purgatory and you must either learn, condemning yourself, or stay a fool forever.
There is only one way you can save yourself. You rip your shirt off and turn and plunge the blunt, mangled scalpel into your own chest, eliciting a reflexive gasp despite the cold numbness spread throughout your body. It slashes messily, like a rake across soil, and you see a puff of fungal spores burst from the wound.
You fall to the ground as faceless assistants haul your body into a metal storage unit, like you dragged the corpse from. The last thing you see is a single tear falling from the corpse’s eye before you are locked in the cold steel coffin and you are forced into darkness.
Hours later, long after all your internal functions have ceased, you hear footsteps draw closer. As you are pulled once again into the light by the assistants, you see your chest fully unblemished and out of the corner of your eye, you see yourself enter the room with a fresh scalpel and a haunted look in your eyes.
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I don't usually dabble in realism - but this was a gift for someone very meaningful in my life. And some things just deserve to be painted as they are.
This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved
(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)
Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!
He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.
He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.
At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)
The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.
The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.
Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.
Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D
I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.
If this post gets 2000 notes I'll read actually read Homestuck. No spamming
Since people seem to like my pride outfit!
You can literally make anything and anyone problematic if you try hard enough seriously give me people and things and I’ll make them all “problematic” right now.
Thank you everyone in the notes, I have now started s8 ep1 from grians channel and it seems pretty good :) only mildly disappointed to learn it’s only a horror story when shipping is involved lol
Can someone please summarise hermitcraft??? I hear it’s a Minecraft series but it has weird eldritch eye things and it intrigues me. Is it like parkour civilisation but fucked up? I need answers or if it’s too big to sum up just tell me where to start I need a new hyperfixation
