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seiberries · 11 months

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Hello! Can I ask you for Rin, Reo, Nagi and Chigiri headcanons? How they'd react if they find out that their s/o is an amazing dancer (maybe something like k-pop girls group cover dance or something like this)? Thank you so much!

thanks for the request!! i like dancing, so this was fun to write! <3

blue lock boys: kpop cover dancer s/o hcs

includes: chigiri hyoma, itoshi rin, mikage reo, nagi seishiro warnings: mild swearing!

chigiri hyoma

finds out as you film a cover in front of him, he smiles the whole time. you really were so amazing; he basically falls in love all over again.

the boy’s heart warmed, loving that you were enjoying yourself.

were you really his? it becomes one of the rare moments where chigiri is rendered speechless- no playful banter or snarky comments.

after the song finishes, the air is loud with claps from your boyfriend; his eyes showed all that he felt.

wants to learn from you, honestly. dancing requires a lot of focus and precision with how different body parts coordinate, so he asks about how you change your legs to go from once dance move to another.

there are concepts from dancing that he starts to utilize on the field.

while memorizing steps isn’t for him, he really enjoys doing just dance. it’s a competition that way, winner gets a wish from the loser.

oh, it’s so on.

itoshi rin

he’s really impressed, though he won’t express it out loud.

and that is because, rin... can’t really dance.

his body programmed itself to know football and football only, so he finds dancing very impressive.

the striker somehow finds you even more alluring than you already are, a silent pride fills his chest.

he catches himself humming the songs you dance to, they’re in a private playlist of his. it’s hidden, and he has to be alone to listen to it.

imagine the shit the other blue lock boys would give him for listening to TWICE, his image would be ruined. (in his opinion, he’d rather not hear shidou yap about it.)

you know about it though, it’s incredibly cute. his airpods disconnected, you heard cupid by FIFTY FIFTY play from his phone as he showered.

when he came out, a knowing look glossed your face- rin could practically hear your thoughts.

you yapping about it was okay, he’d much rather you than the antennae freak. (rin would probably return the broken nose to his teammate if it were the case.)

has multiple anonymous accounts to like your videos, and you have no idea about it. if anyone ever leaves a bad comment, rin is on their ass in dms.

the things he says to them would make even sae shiver.

mikage reo

reo insists to fund your covers, immediately.

the outfits you wear are suddenly the same as what the idols are styled with. the locations where you film at are reserved entirely for you, no distractions. even the filming process, which originally just consisted of you recording and editing- now involved a team of professionals.

he loves spoiling you.

i imagine that he likes to dance with you too, he’s very willing to learn choreography. multiple videos are uploaded with both of you dancing.

totally a natural too, his moves are fluid. dancing becomes a shared pastime for you two, he documents all of it to brag about how wonderful his s/o is.

his favorite concepts are refreshing ones, he listens to new jeans frequently. (hype boy and omg are his top songs!)

tell him your favorite group, he’ll have a private meet and greet arranged by the time their next comeback happens.

with a text from reo telling you to go downstairs, you’ll just be surprised to find your ult group sitting at your dining table.

nagi seishiro

the boy doesn’t understand how you can memorize so many movements, and then execute them after. it looks like so much work. (it is!)

when nagi watches you dance, he really watches. it’s like he takes note of every action you put out, his attention solely on you.

would ask a lot of questions, he’s interested in anything you’re interested in. he likes how you get excited over it.

genius-y as ever, he memorizes some of the choreos you learn in his head. he wouldn’t be opposed to doing some of the lower difficulty ones, it gets him many kisses as a reward.

your affection is more than enough of an incentive for him to get moving. but he’s exhausted after, so you better recognize his efforts!

cuddles are in session immediately after, he used up so much energy. (it was a thirty second tiktok.)

his teammates are in shock that you got him to move for something other than basic needs and football.

how do you do it?

the answer is simple- nagi seishiro loves you enough to “bust a move”, or two.

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moodymisty · 1 year

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Hi! If you’re looking for cute ideas still, imagine how the clones would react to a “birthday party” for them. Obviously the date is questionable as well as the concept of them being “birthed”, but it was something Y/N wanted to do to show them that they are happy the batch exists and that they got to meet them all

Author's Note: Awwww this is precious;;; I hope you enjoy <3

Relationships: Gn!Reader with no relationships, at least overtly. The whole thing is pretty platonic but go wild

Warnings: Fluffy fluff, Pre-Echo, mentions of alcohol

Is this going to be enough cake?

You stare at the cooking tin through the window of the oven, pondering if you'd made enough as the cake slowly rises. Wrecker eats a lot of food, and you know Hunter has a secret sweet tooth.

But the big question beyond all of the cooking prep work you've been doing today, is would they even remember why you're doing all of this in the first place?

You had just mentioned the conundrum mostly out of curiosity, but ended up not getting the answer you had wanted at the time.

"The closest thing we would have to a 'birthday', would be the day that we were removed from our growth pods. The date doesn't hold any significance to any of us."

Well, it wasn't much to work with; But you could figure it out.

A decent amount of time had past since than, more than a few months, and they'd surely forgotten about that little conversation, but you hadn't. Once you'd saw the day Tech had mentioned right around the corner on the calendar, you'd began secretly prepping.

Mostly just making a ton of food, and buying some good drinks. You want this to be a time to relax, more than anything.

Pulling the cake from the oven once it dings you sit it in the conservator and close the door, hoping it will chill it fast enough so you can frost it. And you made quite a large amount of frosting, far more than even someone with a super sweet tooth would probably want.

But in the meantime, you decide to give Hunter a call so he can gather the troops and bring them to you. It's only moments after you call that he picks up, hearing that it's quieter than usual in the background.

"Hey, you guys have shore leave right now, right?" You instantly get to the point.

"Well hello to you too," Hunter snorts. "Yeah, we do. Why?" Maybe you got lost in your own excitement a bit, taking a look at the cake and giving it a poke to see if it's still warm. Still a little too warm, but it's getting closer.

"Hello, Hunter." He can hear the way you mockingly sing it; Clearly rolling your eyes and smiling, and laughs. "And I was asking because I have something for you guys."

That catches his attention, more than a little bit. His voice is audibly perked, when he speaks again.

"What is it?" You don't really blame him for asking, but you refuse to let this remain anything less than a complete surprise. That was half the fun of this, after all.

"If you want to know, come over. I have it all set up already." Hunter isn't exactly the most pleased that you won't fess up the answer right away; But he can't say he isn't curious. As are his brother surely, as it's not likely they haven't overheard part of this conversation.

"Alright; We're on our way. Be right there."

Hunter hangs up shortly after to head out, and so you take the time to make sure any remnants of your mess of dishes is done. Whether or not you enjoy cooking and baking, it's impossible to enjoy the cleanup.

After you finish doing so you have just enough time to pull the cake out and frost it, slathering it with more than enough frosting to give even the most stalwart soul a sizable sugar rush.

Only the best for them, you think; Looking over your feat.

It's a mess; There's so many different types of food and a few bottles of drinks, some not alcohol just in case.

You never thought you'd do this much for something like this, let alone enjoy it. But it's hard not to be proud of your work, as well as excited to see if they like it.

That's the most important thing out of all of this after all. You consider it a way to thank them for always being there for you. Even when they were actually lightyears away. Even if it hasn't been that long since you met them, you can't imagine life without them.

In your own thoughts the sound of someone at the door nearly startles you out of your wits, looking to see how much time had passed since you'd finished cleaning up. Less than you thought it would take for them to get here; Even if they had no clue what to expect they still rushed out here quite quickly, which you find more than a little bit sweet.

Opening the door, it's not long before you're instantly bombarded with demands for clarification on this whole thing.

"So, what's this surprise?" Tech pushes past Crosshair who glares at the back of his head as he speaks up. He's looking at you to prove he's right, as he begins unraveling your plan.

"I believe I know what it is; Perhaps is it related to when you a-"

One quick motion of your hand and sharp array of nonsensical noises quiets Tech, even if he is startled and not necessarily pleased about it.

"Don't spoil it! I know you remember, but can you just let them be surprised?" Catastrophe averted, you step back and let them in, before gesturing at your kitchen and the array of food that is laid out. Hunter was probably able to smell it from outside the door. The sight makes them all noticeably perk up, either from how good it looks, or just the sheer volume.

"Happy, as Tech put it awhile back: 'being removed from your growth pods' day!" For a moment they're all too busy eyeing the food, before looking back to you when you start talking again. You put your hands back down and look at them, smiling a bit more nervously. You can't help the way you rub one wrist with your hand, hoping this all isn't too much.

"I know you said clones don't celebrate all that stuff; So just think of it as me just finding a good excuse to feed you all. As thanks for always being here with me."

Needless to say, Wrecker is sold on this, and instantly moves to trap you in his arms, gripping you tight and lifting you off the ground. Thankfully Tech closes your front door behind him, as you're a bit too preoccupied at the moment.

"We can start celebrating it! It'll be a new tradition for all of us." They all don't seem apposed to the idea, given by the way Hunter nods, and even Tech cracks a smile.

"I'll mark it on the calendar." Hunter crosses his arms and watches as Wrecker finally sits you down on solid ground, and you brush the front of your clothes flat again.

"No point in thanking us; You couldn't get rid of this lot if you tried." Crosshair walks by you and rustles the top of your head, making an amused noise when you try and push him off.

You know he's trying to still sound like an ass, but what he says still strikes a cord with how nice it actually is. They're not gong anywhere. At least not without you, as you all shove yourselves into your kitchen.

Wrecker is trying to grab as much food as he can hold, Tech is watching and poking at each and any every thing, Crosshair is attempting to pop open a bottle of liquor, looking around in your kitchen for the right tool before just using his vibroknife. Hunter watches it all, while leaning against the countertop and shaking his head, having already snagged a bit of food.

When you step beside him and watch as well, he puts his arm around your shoulders and squeezes you briefly into a one armed hug, serving as a silent 'thank you'.

Life is good.

Join the taglist here: @seriowan @starborncyare @simp-legend @chad-something @coffeyorky @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @merkitty49

#the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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shanesbluechicken · 1 year

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Hi <3!

If you're not busy can you do a vampire headcanon with Penny? I just love her! First bachelorette I plan to marry <3

Thanks! Take care!

The farmer is a vampire (Penny, Harvey)

Look at all the Penny-love!

Shane

TW: mentions of blood, heavy language

Gender: neutral

Penny

So you know the spot under the tree where she is always chilling at? You don't know it's hers and it gives you great protection against the sun light so you find yourself hanging out there during your free time.

I mean, you can't just isolate yourself from the other town members even though the sun might burn you alive. They'd get suspicious of you and you wanna build trust.

One afternoon after you did all your work at the farm you find yourself sitting under that tree again, feeling the nice spring breeze on your face and listening to the chirping of birds. Penny, with a book held close to her chest, walks up to that exact same spot and turns away almost immediately as soon as she sees you there.

"Hey, wait! There is no need to leave! I can go away if you want me to. I didn't realize this is yours."

"No, no, please. I wouldn't want you to get up just for me. I can still read."

Her voice is so quiet and soft that you nearly didn't understand a word she said.

Penny finds it a bit strange that you're always completely covered in clothes. Even your face is barely recognizable with the huge straw hat and the sun glasses.

But no matter how curious she is she never asks you about it, afraid that you could take offense. The other residents did ask you a lot of stuff in the beginning though so she heard it all from them.

"Have you lived with your health condition since you were born?"

She nearly gave you a heart attack, but not because of her question. The two of you usually sit in silence under this tree and you sometimes forget that she's even there.

"I'm sorry for invading your personal life like that. Forget I asked."

"No, it's fine. And no, it hasn't always been like this, but it did start many years ago."

She finds herself feeling more and more comfortable in your presence and even brings snacks. Much to her disappointment you decline them.

"Are you allergic?"

"Uuuhhh yeah."

Every lie you tell her makes you feel a little bit worse, because she's just the sweetest woman you've ever met. You can see on her face that she has tons of questions for you, but she simply can't bring herself to ask them.

It's difficult since of course it's convenient that she doesn't ask many questions, but at the same time you're dying to tell her every single one of your secrets. You're slowly, but surely falling for her.

Little do you know that's the case for her as well.

She opens up more and more to a point where is even starts to rant about the latest books that she's reading. You love how passionate she gets with the small library in town and it's as clear as the sky that she adores teaching Jas and Vincent.

You find yourself walking her home one night and it's killing you to see her beautiful smile disappear upon seeing the dark trailer. Her mother is at the saloon again as it seem.

"Do you wanna stay at my place? There's something I've been meaning to tell you anyways."

Yes! The moment of truth!

You have no idea how she will react. The only information you have of her opinion about the supernatural is this one romance book she once read where the main love interest is a vampire. Though, you know better than to mix fiction with reality.

When you break it down to her and tell her that you're far from human she...wants to leave.

"Please don't get me wrong, I'm not scared or anything, but it is a lot to digest. I'd like to be by myself for now...if that's alright with you."

"Absolutely."

It takes her around two days until she shows up at your doorstep in the morning. The sun hasn't even come up yet and you still look like you just woke up from the dead.

Immediately you get a thousand apologies thrown at you for visiting you in this early hour, but it's your Penny. The door is open for her at any time of the day. Or night.

Something heavy seems to fall off your shoulders when she tells you that she'd love to continue where you guys left of.

But in return you have to answer all her previous questions where you lied about your health conditions and allergies.

And she's taking it surprisingly well? Wow? But she has seen her fair share of life.

Nothing really changes between you two and why should it? Only difference is the bond between you and the kind woman that grew stronger than ever after your confession.

You stopped hiding your peculiar eye color behind those dark glasses and Penny even found a particularly thick umbrella between her old stuff that could protect you more than your simple hat.

Late night walks are a daily ritual now, because that's the only time she can SEE you.

Your cold body temperature I very welcome in summer and during particularly hot days she tends to cling onto you, but winter. You could chase her.

Harvey

Out of all town members he's the biggest problem. Obviously it's going to be pretty hard to hide your not so human identity from a doctor.

When you introduce yourself to him he of course suggests to give you a check-up some time of your first week here. You're a new patient and he wants to see your condition. Another solution would be that you give him the name and address of your old doctor so he could request your medical file.

Little does he know that you haven't been to a doctor ever since you turned into a vampire. Why would you need one after all? You're immortal! So how the fuck will you get out of this mess now?

After this you kinda try to avoid him. Not in an obvious way where you run the other direction as soon as you see him. It's more of an awkward attempt to escape conversations with him when he starts one.

He's not stupid. He notices it after a couple times.

"Hey, listen. Did I do something to upset you? If I'm being too pushy with the appointment then please tell me."

The fact that he lowkey has a crush on you isn't helping his sad state either.

You quickly explain to him that you're just scared of doctor's appointments and clinics which is kinda the truth.

That's a huge relief for him because he was afraid that you might not like him.

Now he's a grown man and knows how to deal with a crush, but he's still so nervous around you. It's your good looks that intimidate him so much and there's something weirdly enchanting about you as if you're not from this world.

Harvey still gets his shit together and asks you out for a drink in the saloon just to find out that you "have a sensitive stomach and have to be careful with consuming drinks and food".

Quickly you add that you'd love to go out with him anyways! Just not into the saloon.

So our hot doctor organizes a cute date night at the beach with candles and a blanket.

This dating thing you guys got is going extremely well so far until one day you're nor feeling like yourself.

The blood that was donated to you ran out and its difficult to stock up here. Back in the city there was a special clinic just for vampires where people who knew about them donated their blood. The times where your kind hunt others down to feed on them are long over.

One thing leads to another and eventually you end up at Harvey's clinic. He enters the room with the most terrified look you've ever seen on anyone and as soon as his eyes lock onto you all color leaves his face.

"But- but you're dead!"

"Harvey, listen. I can explain-"

"You were dead when they brought you in!"

"I still am. Kinda."

He's checking your pulse, your heart beat, everything. You're right. There is nothing. You're dead. Or should be at least, but here you are sitting infront of him, talking as if nothing ever happened.

You have no choice, but to explain your current situation and much to your surprise he takes out a notepad and starts writing.

"Is there a way I can contact this clinic? We can't have you pass out like this again. You could get seriously hurt."

It warms your heart to see how Harvey still supports you 100%.

In the beginning he was a bit hurt by the fact that you've been lying to him the entire time, but it didn't take long for him to realize how complicated your situation and position was. He wouldn't have told you either.

That man backs you up and makes sure you're being fed properly and regularly.

No joke the best husband you could have gotten.

Masterlist

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv x reader #stardew x reader #sdv headcanons #sdv imagines #sdv penny #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey #sdv penny x reader

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just-antithings · 9 months

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(Big of a long one, sorry)

I just came across another one of those "if you put your Hogwarts houses in your bio you're a terf" posts, and in the tags one of the people was talking about how they had a Gryffindor tshirt that was their favourite thing to wear which they just threw away because they'd rather never have such a thing touch them again. Fair enough, what anyone is comfortable with in their personal life is none of my business. But it did remind me of something similar that happened with me.

I own a perfectly good Fantastic Beasts t-shirt. It's the kind that has a simple design and good enough material to last YEARS. I did, of course, buy it before I knew about all this JKR business. Then couple of years ago I was faced with the fact that I own some HP merch and the dilemma of whether or not I should throw it away. This surprisingly came down to a moment where I properly understood and defined my own politics to myself.

At the same time that I had some people in my circles insisting on these performative measures, I was also learning about fast fashion and the very real impacts of clothing trends on the environment. After reading up on it enough and seeing the gross appropriation of "thrifting", it became obvious that the solution is to "reduce" waste, to stop buying more clothes than you need, to stop throwing away perfectly good clothes, to stitch up clothing that needs mending instead of replacing it, etc. The best clothing for the environment is the one already in your closet. That idea. Was I going to make an exception in this case and throw away this t-shirt because someone might think me a class traitor for it, even though whether I keep it or discard it doesn't actually change the support JKR doe or doesn't have anymore? On the one hand it was just one tshirt and it would keep me safe from my peers in those liberal circles. On the other hand it made me feel shame like i had never felt before. It reminded me of every other performative thing I've done in the name of activism and how little it has amounted to. I'm the kind of person who still has my wardrobe from five years ago almost intact with very few changes. Wasteful consumption has a very real cost and I don't do that anymore, so when it came down to tossing that tshirt out it ended up meaning more than it should have. I kept the tshirt. It's still in great shape, it's gonna last many years more as well and save me that much more consumption waste.

What if i had given it away? Would some random person who hasn't ever heard of the JKR drama (consider: I'm not from the West) suddenly become a Terf by wearing it? Would it keep HP and JKR relevant because some person who hardly even knows HP is now wearing a second hand tshirt from someone? When I went to another trans friend's house, who has been there for the community every single day, who has worked hard at the ground levels to create safe spaces for queer people, who has advocated for trans rights in our country, and when i saw their HP merch, what kind of an asshole would I be to call them out on it or say that I suddenly don't trust them because they made a reference to some book we all read as kids? In that moment, sitting with that friend, I also realised how far removed our day-to-day lives actually are from what was considered activism in online spaces. The latter can be great when it's about spreading information and having discussions. But something that reeks that much of simply a performance? Idk, I don't think people talking about HP in their daily lives or wearing an old Gryffindor tshirt or reblogging a gif has as much power over the queer struggle as people here seem to think. It's getting a bit annoying how because I see more posts talking about HP just to tell people who are engaging with it to die than i see actual posts by people just talking about the book. I think the former are the ones actually keeping it more relevant than it is

#mod erin #ask #posted without comment

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peninkwrites · 1 year

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Bok 📓

AH! hello! It has been days!

I have so many ideas I haven't done anything with yet lmao, but here's one I haven't shared yet!!

An au that takes place in the dsmp canon titled Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil.

Basically I wanted to write a fic with a deaf Tubbo, blind Ranboo, and mute Tommy. Tubbo would be deaf from the Red Festival onward, Ranboo has slowly been going blind his whole life from his tears. Tommy only goes mute after exile.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about the logistics and what that type of thing would change (I'm partially blind and love projecting <3)

Post Red Festival Tommy learns sign language along with Tubbo, and he would translate for him when other people didn't sign or if Tubbo couldn't keep up reading lips. One of the things Tubbo misses the most is the sound of Tommy's laugh, but it helps that he can see the way Tommy cackles. When Ranboo joins the server, Tommy briefly serves as the main translator for the two of them, because Ranboo has a really hard time learning signs when he can't really see them, and he can't write very well. (in this, instead of a memory book, he has a tape recorder!)

When Tommy is exiled, his absence is felt as a friend and as their translator. Ranboo works hard to write better, sometimes the lines trail off or overlap, but he practices working as Tubbo's minutes man, which is even more important in this au because even though Quackity is okay at signing, when things get heated people forget and Tubbo has an even harder time keeping control as president, so he needs those notes for reference, but there's also an extra dose of tenderness between Ranboo and Tubbo, as even though there's this slight disconnect they try so hard to understand one another.

When Tommy returns, when there's the community house fight, immediately everyone knows there's something seriously wrong. Before, at their first meeting, Tommy could sign his irritation and Tubbo didn't question it, but once it gets to the community house, everyone knows there's something wrong with Tommy, because even when he signed, he was ALWAYS loud. But even as he's told he has to defend himself, to plead his case with all these people watching him, he doesn't say a word. He signs, but only so many people can understand him.

AND! Tubbo and Tommy's fight. They would be incapable of fighting and talking at the same time, they'd need to have their hands free to sign, so what do they choose? Violence or communication? Maybe in the end they want to tell the other that they were hurt more than they wanted to hurt each other, y'know?

In the aftermath, after doomsday, the three of them end up sort of joined together by this need to help each other talk. Like. Tubbo always voices Tommy’s signs aloud for Ranboo, and Tommy will sign what Ranboo says in case Tubbo can't read his lips (which, sometimes he feels nervous about reading Ranboo's lips because he doesn't want to stray too close to eye contact and make Ranboo uncomfortable) The three of them communicate best when they're all together. When it's just Ranboo and Tubbo, Ranboo tries to write stuff down best he can. When it's just Ranboo and Tommy, Tommy will trace letters onto Ranboo's palm. Eventually, Ranboo gets a text-to-speech function on his comm, so Tommy can type out things and then Ranboo can hear them. Tommy and Tubbo do pretty well talking just the two of them, they sign. But Tubbo notices Tommy doesn't laugh like he used to, and sometimes before when they were sitting beside one another, Tommy would talk loud enough Tubbo could feel the vibrations in his chest, but that doesn't happen anymore.

If the three of them have some trouble communicating with each other, the rest of the server is worse. Even if it's not a literal communication problem, Bench Trio understand each other in a way others just can't.

Just, following the path of canon, there are so many other things this could bleed into. Beeduo divorce, Wilbur's revival, doomsday was so much Techno and Tommy shouting back and forth at each other, so what happens instead? Does Ranboo feel safe moving out to the arctic, where the blinding white snow makes what little vision he has left absolutely useless? Tubbo's presidency is a hundred times more isolating because without Tommy, he realizes how much he relied on him to translate.

So, yeah. :') been thinking about this one for literal years lmao.

#ask games #thank you for the ask!!#lixaisa #my writing #clingyduo #benchtrio #beeduo

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cutekittenlady · 1 year

Text

Emmet and Ingo go on a Road Trip

((I just wanna write so I'm doing random prompts I find using this bad boy Link))

"This was an excellent idea."

"Hm."

"We needed to get away for awhile."

"Did we?"

"Indeed!"

Emmet could only hum in response.

"It is unhealthy to work so often with no breaks! This road trip has been long overdue! We are due for a long week of rest and relaxation!" Ingo said cheerily, "Just the two of us! Plus Chandelure and Eelektross. And the rest of the team of course."

"And stowaway." Emmet said raising his hat to show the small joltik that was there.

Ingo chuckled, "Yes, and stowaway."

As Emmet replaced his hat, Ingo said, "It is a good thing Emmet. Really. We need a break."

"You have certainly said so."

"I say so because it is true."

"Or because of the intervention."

"Ah... yes, uh... that too."

The intervention had been unexpected. They'd arrived at the station only to find a circle of chairs, and all the depot agents gesturing them to sit down.

As it turned out, Isadore had taken it upon himself to look at the twins accumulation of paid days off. What he'd found had been... interesting.

Okay so maybe they hadn't taken a vacation in 3 years.

And maybe they'd built up a lot of overtime that they were carefully hiding.

And maaaybe when they realized the agents were going to force them to take a vacation they tried to run.

But that wasn't their fault! There was just so much to do in the subway! So many trainers to fight!

Being subway bosses was like a fantasy dream job for both Ingo and Emmet. It was hard to step away from.

But here they were. On the road. Heading to some hotel in Undella Bay to soak up some rays, build sand castles, and whatever else came to mind! It would be good for them! True there were no trains in Undella. And true there was no battle facility there. And true Isadore had said he'd called ahead and instructed the gym leader to absoutely NOT battle them.

But that was FIIIINE.

It wasn't like the only two things they knew was trains and battling!

"Yes a vacation is exactly what we need!" Ingo said. "We can make sand castles! And drink berry juice! And visit the sea port!"

Emmet just pulled his hat over his eyes and said nothing.

"Yes! We definitely needed this road trip!"

"Hey, uh, guys?"

They both looked up from the back seat.

"Can you stop calling it a road trip when you're not driving?"

"We are terribly sorry sir!"

"Can you also stop yelling!"

"Of course-! Ah... I mean. Of course."

"Thanks." The driver said refocusing on the road, "you know I couldn't help overhearing. If you guys need to get the battling out of you're system I happen to know Caitlyn of the Elite 4 has a villa in Undella town."

The twins looked at each other.

"Isadore said we weren't to work."

"Yes, but it is not work." Emmet pointed out. "Caitlyn is technically a colleague."

"Hm true. It would be visiting a peer."

"Yes. Pluuus, technically our jobs are only on the subway! We can't be doing our jobs on a beach."

"But... we are still subway bosses aren't we?" Ingo asked.

"Of course!"

"Ah good."

"And if we get berry juice and build sand castles after~"

"then it still techinically counts as a vacation! Bravo Emmet!! Please, driver, full speed ahead to our next station!!"

The driver was unperturbed.

"Speed limits 30 on this stretch of road bub."

"Ah certain, safety precautions must be observed. In that case, make post haste for our destination!"

"We're still three hours out."

"Ah. Then we shall wait patiently driver."

"My name is Jerry."

"Our apologies we shall wait patiently Jerry."

"You two are the weirdest fares I've ever had." Jerry muttered, "And that's saying something."

#submas #subway boss emmet #subway boss ingo #ingo #emmet #pokemon ingo #pokemon emmet #pokemon #warden ingo

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12timetraveler · 1 year

Text

Beware the Jabberwocky

Summary:

Arthur and Hosea go on a boys trip. But when Arthur picks the wrong mushrooms, they take a trip of a different kind

CW: Mushrooms, recreational drug use

Word count: 3936

Notes:

For my dear friend @hoematthews on his birthday. Based on a late-night conversation we had with some other friends. I hope you enjoy!

AO3

~~~~~~~~

"So what are we hunting exactly?" Arthur asked, realizing he really had no idea what they were doing out here.

Hosea had asked if Arthur wanted to go hunting, and after weeks of doing job after job after job, constantly working, he was ready for something different. Any sort of change of pace.

"Moose, didn't I say?" Hosea chuckled, looking over his shoulder at Arthur.

"Oh. So we're just pretending we're going hunting," Arthur chuckled. He and Hosea had gone after moose many times over the years, but never caught one. Arthur had only even seen a moose a handful of times in his life, and never when he was looking for one.

"Nonsense," Hosea huffed. "I've been watching this area for a while. It's a little lake, remote in the mountains. All the wildlife around drink from it. Including a number of moose. We'll catch one this time, you'll see."

"Whatever you say," Arthur huffed. He wouldn't horribly mind if they just wasted time. Hosea was probably his favorite person to waste time with. He always ended up with a story to tell, and came back to camp feeling refreshed. Just getting out of camp with the man, spending a few days watching the lake for the elusive megafauna, that was just fine with him.

~~~~~~

They reached the lake just before nightfall. No time for hunting that night, but just enough time for Hosea to catch a couple fish while Arthur set up camp. Since they'd be there a couple days, Arthur used the canvas of his travel tent to make a sort of lean-to between the trees in case it rained. But he set up their bedrolls around the fire.

He knew his old friend would want to lay out under the stars, weather permitting, and enjoy the view. He'd likely tell Arthur the same stories he always did, legends and myths that made up the constellations. Arthur didn't mind. It was nice to hear Hosea talk about simple things.

It reminded him of the old days when he'd wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares and go sit by the fire only for Hosea to join him and talk his ear off until the sun rose. Back when it was just the three of them, and he was nothing but a gangly little street urchin.

So much had changed, and yet he always found comfort in Hosea's voice. Most of the time nowadays Hosea was busy helping the others in the gang. He was good at talking folks through their troubles. But that meant he didn't have as much time for Arthur as he used to. Arthur didn't get many chances to just sit with him and listen to him talk anymore.

"A feast befitting kings," Hosea crowed, drawing Arthur out of his musing. He approached the makeshift camp holding a pair of sockeye, which he'd already bludgeoned and gutted.

"Nice catch," Arthur hummed, looking up at Hosea from where he sat by the fire. "Here. I can filet 'em,"

"You'll do no such thing," Hosea huffed, swinging the fish away from Arthur's reach before sitting down by the fire. "You'll lose us all the meat the way you butcher fish. I'll do it,"

"Whatever you say," Arthur sighed, but there was no malice behind his voice, only familiar affection.

Hosea was right, it was quite the feast. The fish were so savory and tender, even with the crude ways the men had of seasoning and cooking. When Arthur lay down on his bedroll he felt pleasantly full and sleepy.

Across the fire Hosea was also settling down on his bedroll, grunting and groaning dramatically as he settled in on his back, hands resting on his chest. It was quiet for a moment, just the crackle of the campfire and the sounds of night.

"Do you see those three stars lined up," Hosea started, pointing up at the sky. Arthur couldn't help but smile as his earlier prediction had been right. "That's Orion's belt,"

"Is it?" Arthur hummed tiredly. He knew all the constellations Hosea knew. He'd been shown them time and time again. He didn't even have to look for it, he knew right where it would be.

"Yep," Hosea chirped. "Goes right across the constellation. You can see Orion himself, just around it,"

"So I can," Arthur murmured, his eyes closing.

"And right there, do you see the big dipper? It's crystal clear tonight," Hosea murmured.

"Oh yeah," Arthur mumbled.

"You know, escaped slaves used to call it The Drinking Gourd. They used it to guide them north to freedom,"

"Well I'll... Be," Arthur sighed, barely even awake.

"The big dipper is also part of Ursa Major, the great bear..."

Hosea kept talking long after Arthur was snoring. He knew how Arthur liked to hear him ramble.

~~~~~~~

The next morning the hunt began. After a breakfast of bread and some pheasant eggs, they set out from camp along the lakeshore.

The lake was truly stunning. The surface was smooth and sparkling in the morning sun, disturbed only by ripples of fish catching a morning meal of mosquitoes. The image of the trees and mountains reflected off the surface of the lake like a giant mirror.

It didn't take Hosea long to find some large moose tracks. Unfortunately they headed directly into the water, so they couldn't be followed more than a couple yards. There was no sign of the moose on the other side of the lake.

Hosea led Arthur up a slope overlooking the water, and the two sat there for a while watching the wildlife visit the lake, hoping their large friend would stop by. Plenty of other animals came to the lake. Elk and deer, foxes and rabbits, even a pack of wolves drank across the way, but after hours of sitting and watching no moose came to drink.

Some time after noon Hosea sent Arthur down to the lakeshore with some potent herbivore bait, hoping to lure the moose down. It certainly drew in a number of ungulates, but never a moose.

Finally around mid afternoon they decided to circle the lake and look for tracks that might lead them to their quarry. But the only tracks they found were old, or too small for a moose.

Along the way Arthur gathered some plants on the shore. Mint and burdock root and some mushrooms that looked like parasol mushrooms. Arthur was always a little hesitant with mushrooms because he really didn't know what the dangerous ones looked like. But these looked enough like parasols that he was confident in picking them.

By the time they were almost back to their temporary camp, the sun was starting to dip low in the sky. Arthur had a bag full of plants and mushrooms, but no moose.

"Well, seems our friends have eluded us today," Arthur huffed, stretching his shoulders.

"For now," Hosea sighed. "I'll see if I can catch us a rabbit to eat,"

"Alright. I'll get the fire going again," Arthur said, clapping Hosea on the shoulder. He could tell the old man was a little disappointed, but not completely disheartened. Mostly he was just tired after circling the lake. Arthur knew letting him hunt dinner would boost his spirits some.

Arthur had the fire going strong by the time Hosea returned to camp with a rabbit, already skinned and gutted.

"Good catch," Arthur hummed. It had been a big rabbit, he could tell.

"Not bad," Hosea shrugged, passing the rabbit carcass to Arthur. "Any of those plants you picked today good with rabbit?"

"Mmm maybe," Arthur hummed, opening up his satchel. He looked through the bundles of herbs in his bag. "Could stuff the rabbit with some mushrooms and wild carrot to cook. And a couple spices," Arthur pulled out the plants.

"A rare feast," Hosea chuckled, sitting down and pulling out his knife. Arthur handed him the carrots and Hosea chopped them roughly with his knife while Arthur halved the mushrooms and stuffed them and the carrots into the rabbit before sticking it over the fire to roast. As rustic and thrown together as it was, it was fancier than the usual plate of stew.

Soon a nice aroma filled the air as the rabbit meat cooked at the carrots and mushrooms began roasting in what little fat the rabbit had.

Both Hosea and Arthur were feeling a little funny, but both assumed it was likely just from being out in the sun. Neither had made the connection between the funny feeling and when they started handling and cooking the mushrooms.

The fire cooked the rabbit quickly, and soon enough their supper was ready. Arthur carved the rabbit and dished some out onto Hosea's mess-kit plate before dishing some out onto his own.

After a long day of hunting, the men were ravenous, neither worrying much about talking or table manners. Before long they'd scarfed down the rabbit along with the mushrooms and carrots, and licked those plates clean.

"What kind of mushrooms were those, Arthur?" Hosea asked as he licked up the last crumb.

"Just parasol mushrooms," Arthur shrugged.

"Really? Didn't taste much like parasol mushrooms," Hosea hummed. "Must have been something to do with cooking them inside the rabbit,"

Hosea set his plate aside before flopping down on his bedroll with a contented sigh. Arthur followed suit, rolling into his back to look at the stars.

Arthur was starting to feel really funny, almost like he was drunk. But not quite the same. Not any kind of drunkenness he'd ever felt before. He felt floaty and spinny, like he was drifting through a dream, but he was sure he was awake.

The stars above him began to twinkle brighter, and the colors seemed to shift in a beautiful rainbow of colors. The stars rippled like scales on a fish across the sky. It was all Arthur could do to stare open mouthed at the light show above him.

"H-hosea?" Arthur mumbled dumbly. Hosea hummed in response. "The stars look different to you?"

Hosea had been drifting off to sleep, feeling thoroughly relaxed after dinner. He opened his eyes and frowned upat the sky. When had the sun risen? And why was the sky such a strange purple color? But... No, there were stars, and the moon out. But the world was much brighter than it had been a moment before.

"Now that you mention it..." Hosea grumbled, rolling into his side. The world seemed to zoom in and out as he did, before settling into something akin to focus. "W...woah. Arthur you... You've grown!"

Indeed the man laying across the firepit seemed to have grown at least three feet in length.

"I have?" Arthur grumbled, holding up his hands, looking for any sign of growth. Arthur pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking over at Hosea. His eyes widened comically as he took in the sigh of his friend.

"Y... You're a moose!" Arthur gasped.

Indeed before him, instead of his oldest friend, a man who was more father to him than his own blood, an anthropomorphic moose sat on Hosea's bedroll. He had sprouted ears and magnificent antlers. His nose had grown long and looked remarkably squishable. His body had sprouted fur and though he moved like a man, pushing himself to his hind legs and using his front legs as hands, he now had hooves.

"Am I?" Hosea asked, looking down at his hands. And as if by magic, Arthur was right. No longer did he have fingers and hands. Instead he saw two large cloven hooves. He looked back at Arthur, who only seemed to be growing bigger, but was somehow still looking up at him with comically wide eyes.

"What... Are we dreaming?" Arthur mumbled.

"I don't think so..." Hosea hummed, still staring at his hands. "But..." He couldn't help but giggle. "But I'm not sure what else could be happening,"

"Maybe a bear got us," Arthur huffed, starting to panic a little. "Maybe we got mauled to death. Is this heaven?"

"I doubt it," Hosea chuckled, walking over to his giant friend. He practically had to break his neck to look up at Arthur as the man stood up. Hosea settled one cloven hoof on Arthur's giant arm. "Don't worry so much, huh. What's that thing Javier says sometimes? Que sera? Just relax,"

Hosea had a sneaking suspicion of what was happening. He'd tried his fair share of substances. They were very popular among theater troops. He'd never had an experience quite like this, but he was sure it was something in that realm. But telling Arthur would only make him anxious, and he knew during experiences like this, anxiety and fear were not your friends.

The sound of a flock of ducks coming to land on the shore near the lake caught both of their attention. Moose and giant both turned to look at the water.

Hosea gasped as he saw the lake before them, sparkling under the purple sky. The water was a rippling rainbow of colors. Shades and hues Hosea had never seen before. Colors no human had ever witnessed, he was sure.

Arthur was focused on the ducks along the shore, frowning as they laughed at him. They teased him for being so strange, for his hair cut and the scruff of his beard. They mocked the way he could only walk, and couldn't fly like him. None of their words really upset him, or cut him deep. But had they been some barfly he'd likely have smashed their faces in. But fighting ducks just seemed unfair. They were too small. Especially with his new size.

"Come on Arthur, let's get a close look!" Hosea cheered, inexplicably grabbing Arthur's arm with his large hoof and dragging Arthur behind him toward the lake.

"At the ducks?" Arthur grumbled. He wasn't sure he wanted to get even closer to the mean old ducks.

"No at the lake! Look at it!" Hosea gasped, coming to a stop right at the shore.

Arthur blinked, not quite sure what Hosea saw in the water that had him so excited. But as he studied the waves he began to see it. Or at least he saw what he assumed Hosea was also seeing.

To Arthur the water seemed to be made of flower petals. Reds and yellows and whites and oranges all rippled in waves across the water, lapping at the shore in front of him. Arthur bent down and scooped some of the petals up in his hands. They seemed to trickle out between his fingers like water, something between a liquid and a solid.

"Remarkable," Arthur murmured, watching the petals ebb and flow before him.

"Let's go swimming,"

Arthur looked over to see moose Hosea shedding his clothes until he was just down to his drawers.

Hosea tossed his clothes on the shore, ready to leap into the lake of colors before him. He whooped as his feet splashed into the rainbow water. It was crisp, like mountain lake water should be, but something about the cold water seemed to warm him, like the rainbow of colors was filling him with light.

Once he was deep enough, Hosea dove into the water, letting the strands of color and light woosh over him. He was pleasantly surprised to find that even if he swirled the water, the colors never muddied. They just swirled together before pulling back into separate streams.

Hosea surfaced, gasping for air. "Come on in, dear giant boy," he called to Arthur at the shore. "The colors are incredible,"

Arthur shucked his clothes quickly, getting down to his drawers as well. He'd always loved the feeling of flower petals against his fingers. He couldn't wait to see what they felt like as he swam through them.

The water was cold, and the moment he was up to his hips Arthur felt his balls draw up inside him. But against gritted teeth he kept moving through the water. The petals swirled around him moving aside for him but hugging to his body as well.

"Isn't it incredible?" Hosea asked, laying on his back in the water and floating around him.

"It is. I've always wanted to swim among them," Arthur mumbled, still wondering at the petals around him.

"Me too," Hosea admitted, thinking of all the rainbows he'd seen in his life.

The two men spent some time just swimming around, lost in their own hallucinations. Time meant nothing to either of them. It may have been a half an hour, it could have been a week. In fact it seemed to be both combined.

"Ahh. Just listen to the musical sounds of nature," Hosea sighed.

Arthur paused, listening for what Hosea might be hearing. Slowly the ducks, the fireflies, the crickets and frogs and bats, all the creatures around the lake began singing a familiar tune.

<I>The ring dang do

Now what is that?

It's soft and round like a pussy cat

Got a hole in the middle and it's split in two

That's what they call the ring dang do</I>

"I didn't know they knew that song," Arthur mused.

"Of course they do, Arthur," Hosea chuckled loudly, slapping Arthur's bare back. "They wrote this song,"

Hosea of course was referring to the loud symphony of quacks and ribbits and chirps that seemed to drown out all other sounds. It was growing so loud in fact he couldn't even hear Arthur humming along to Ring Dang Do.

"We should go back to camp," Arthur said after a moment. The water was cold, and he wasn't entirely certain but he thought it may have snapped his balls off. He no longer could feel them between his legs.

"What?" Hosea called, as if talking over a great cacophony of sounds.

"Camp," Arthur yelled back, grabbing Hosea's hoof-hand and tugging him back to shore.

Arthur didn't bother trying to find their clothes. He was pretty sure he saw his shirt fly off with a couple of ducks when Hosea started yelling.

Back at camp, the two settled onto their bedrolls once more. Arthur not so subtly pulled at the hem of his drawers, checking to see if his balls had indeed frozen and fallen off. He breathed a sigh of relief when they still seemed to be there, though he swore for a second his scrotum blinked up at him, but he didn't want to think about that too hard.

"Is the sun rising or setting?" Hosea asked.

"Erm... I think it set a while ago," Arthur mumbled, not really trusting himself.

There was a big ball of light in the sky but he wasn't sure if it was the sun or the moon. Or maybe it was gods eye staring down at his miscreant children.

"The stars are still out so it must still be dark," Hosea mused. He easily located Orion's belt in the sky.

But... Wait, had Orion always worn a gun belt? Since when was Orion a gunslinger? Oh shit he was drawing his weapon.

Hosea quickly reached for his rifle next to his bedroll, aiming up at the sky. At the same moment Orion pulled his gun, and the two gunslingers fired.

Hosea wasn't sure where Orion's bullet landed. His own shot seemed to go just over Orion's shoulder. Like gentlemen they'd both shot over each other, neither wanting to take the other's life.

"A draw," Hosea called out, setting his rifle aside.

"Nice shot," Arthur hummed, looking at the new home in the sky that Hosea's bullet had ripped through. He obviously had not seen Orion draw his gun on Hosea, else he likely would have tried to tackle the constellation out of the sky.

"Thank you," Hosea said proudly, laying back on his elbows.

He sighed, staring up at the stars once more.

The two men lay there for a time, lost in their own hallucinations. Eventually they both drifted off to sleep, just before sunrise.

~~~~~~~

When Arthur woke up, the sun was high in the sky. Actually it seemed like it was already on its downward journey, on the western half of the sky. They'd slept through most of the day already.

Arthur took a moment to take stock. He was still in nothing but his drawers, and it was only the shade of the trees they were camped under that had saved him from a terrible sunburn, laying out in the sun all day.

Arthur looked over the smoking coals of their dead campfire. Hosea was curled up around his bedroll like a cat, knees tucked up under his chin. That could not be comfortable, especially on older joints. Carefully, not quite trusting his balance after the night he'd had, Arthur pushed himself to his knees and crawled over to Hosea.

Carefully Arthur guided Hosea to lay on his stomach instead, easing his muscles out. Hosea grumbled and groaned, stirring but not quite waking up. He weakly tried to swat Arthur away.

"Come on, let me sleep," he grumbled.

"Fine, but if you keep sleeping like that your back is gonna seize up," Arthur chuckled.

Slowly Hosea seemed to wake up, rolling into his back and blinking up at the bright sky.

"You know, Arthur," Hosea grunted as he pulled himself to his feet. "I don't think those were parasol mushrooms,"

"Really?" Arthur huffed, rolling his eyes. "What gave you that idea?"

"But you know what?" Hosea sighed, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. "I ain't felt that good in... I don't know how long," he chuckled.

"Yeah, I suppose," Arthur huffed a laugh. He had to admit, he hadn't slept so well in quite some time. True now he had a bit of a hangover. The sun was quite bright and he still felt sleepy. But he also felt relaxed and calm.

"Why don't we take a walk back around the lake to were you found those mushrooms. Take a closer look," Hosea hummed with a little gleam in his eye. Arthur recognized all to well the signs that Hosea was not-so-subtly trying to coax him into going along with something.

"What, you wanna do that again?" Arthur laughed.

"Why not?"

"Well I think it'll be pretty hard to hunt a moose when the trees are dancin',"

"Ah forget the moose," Hosea scoffed, waving his hand dismissively, smiling at Arthur. "You and I hardly ever get to just relax and have some fun. Let's just take a few days and... Let loose,"

"Whatever you say," Arthur shook his head. But Hosea could tell from his big grin that he was on the same page, just as ready as Hosea to have a good time.

~~~~~~~

"Well," Dutch called as the two rode into camp some days later. "You two sure took your time. Did you catch the moose?"

"No?" Hosea mumbled, uncertain. "No I don't... I don't think so,"

"You don't... Think so?"

"We got a little, er... Distracted," Arthur chuckled sheepishly.

"Distracted by what?" Dutch asked, looking between the two. Suddenly Dutch felt like he was faced with a young John and Arthur having just gotten back from doing something they shouldn't have been. "Don't tell me you two spent the entire trip drunk out of your minds," Dutch sighed.

"Er... Something like that," Hosea sighed.

"I did manage to find some mushrooms. You can have some if you want," Arthur mumbled, holding out a handful of the special mushrooms.

In sync Arthur and Hosea burst out laughing, nearly falling over with glee at Dutch's confused face.

#arthur morgan & hosea matthews #mushrooms #recreational drug use

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the-hydroxian-artblog · 2 years

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I saw your SCP-682 comics (among many other masterpieces) and i just gotta ask- SCP-5000 reveals why 682 finds humanity so disgusting, so I'm wondering if -B also noticed *that* and how'd they take it

Very good question. There's some kinda... weird aspects of SCP-5000, and implications made by project Dammerung-related stuff, but I fully confess I mostly understand it second-hand from voice-over work from the likes of the Exploring Series, and SCP Explained.

Gonna ramble a long while about my own headcanons, and finally what Styx would likely think; in brief, he sees "It" as mostly just a benign tumor.

If anyone is unfamiliar with any of this, please scroll on by. This is long, and requires knowledge of SCP-5000 and SCP-2718 for context.

What I gathered though is that "It" is why humans feel pain, and that if the afterlife is just being a self-aware corpse as O5-11 described, feeling constant pain "feeds" "It". Hence, "You're not supposed to feel pain". Cure yourself of "It", and you'll get to not feel empathy, or pain, and die without issue.

A lot of the story is left up to interpretation, but it's presented as a nightmare scenario in the most literal sense, where the idea is scary enough to make you want to suspend your disbelief so that it has full effect. There's weird... holes to it, though.

When properly examined, "It" is something that exists in the collective unconscious of humans, but... animals feel pain. Animals feel empathy, at least in some capacity. It's a practical chemical reaction and instinct-complex to strengthen pack bonds.

I have to assume SCP-5000's canon isn't "materialist", as in, humans aren't just neuron-signals in meatsuits and nothing more. In that case, the "Individual consciousness" is implied to be sacrosanct, and anything else exploiting the "Individual" is a malicious, unjust force. There's a strong objectivist/individualist moral implication about SCP-5000, which already by default doesn't sit so right with me, as "no man is an island"; no matter how much you want to act like a unique individual, there are natural beliefs every individual will latch onto, such that the formation of a collective unconscious is just inevitable, and therefore the formation of "It".

I think beings like canon 682 see this as an inherent moral evil, and rationalize this evil as suffering, as from an empathy-less perspective, the individual is always supreme, so anything that subverts the individual is "disgusting". Even still, if the Foundation is trying to do humans a favor, what is the motivation? Just that the wailing of humanity is disgusting to them, and they'd like it to be silenced? That doesn't really justify anything short of a clean scorching of the earth, rather than the bizarrely sadistic approach taken by the Foundation in SCP-5000. If SCP-2718 only works via "It's" influence, then taking the inefficient, weird sadistic approach to exterminate humanity implies a motivation on their part that doesn't stem from empathy (that they aren't supposed to have) or logical self-interest (that they'd supposedly be left with). If all humans were wiped out, there'd be nothing for "It" to feed off of, and it's not a stretch to assume the Foundation could've done way more efficiently than they did.

All information we get as justification for wiping out humanity from the changed-Foundation's and 682's perspective is already biased, and riddled with logical inconsistencies that only more inconsistent conjecture can explain. Supposedly, "It" is such a threat that wiping out humanity is the more humane alternative, but with this information and these deductions, I feel that you can't really rationalize that or ignore some clear bias the heartless Foundation has.

So to finally answer your question: Ideally I'd rather just assume in my canon that the entity doesn't exist, but if it were to, SCP-682-B/Styx Nacht II would figure that "It" is not something separate from humanity, nor is it the same as humanity itself. "It" is "civilization" and "society", something that inevitably manifests in the unconscious of any species that becomes developed enough. Society isn't "good" or "evil", but the purpose of empathy is to keep the bindings of "society" strong.

So in his opinion, the ideal is to neither fear "It", nor believe "It" to be "supreme" over your own self. Hold this belief, and your afterlife will be fine, and the entity can't exploit you. Completely shackling yourself to empathy will make you suffer, but you'll still suffer if you try "hardening your hearts". The answer lies in the middle. "Suffering" is inevitable, even without "pain". Killing the entity doesn't solve that, and something else would take its place anyway. This is what he'd understand, and that normal 682 wouldn't.

I like SCP-5000 for the sprawling horrific scenario it is, but on a logical level, even with Foundation-canon weirdness, it kinda just comes across as a biblical apocalypse story written by an objectivist having a nightmare.

Hopefully I.. sort of explained myself, and didn't write something totally incoherent.

#Styx Nacht II #SCP-682-B #SCP-5000 #SCP #SCP Foundation #headcanon

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notanotherinfjblog · 6 months

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As an introvert, how much do you choose your friends vs. how much do they choose you and you go along with them - whether it seems like a good idea or not?

Interesting question, anon, thank you! Prepare for a ramble.

I'm honestly not sure if it's really that different for introverts than for extroverts. Extroverts may have more acquaintances because they are better at striking up conversations with people, but friends are a much bigger deal than acquaintances. Becoming friends is a mutual decision. You can't befriend someone who doesn't want to befriend you back. I remember sort of befriending an ESFP in high school. She clung to me and liked me a lot more than I liked her. So I was friendly with her and she was part of our friend group, so yeah, we were kind of friends, but I never sought her out in the way that she sought me out. The connection was not mutual, so we never hung out one-on-one. You can only become proper friends if both parties want to.

The going along with people whether it's a good idea or not that you mention is something that I'd rather associate with young people. You're not quite sure yet where you fit in and where you belong, and then someone comes along and is nice to you, so you follow them just to belong somewhere. I certainly did that as a teenager, but I'm not in touch with any of the people anymore that I became friends with in such a manner. But even in cases like these it has to be mutual. You make the decision to go along with them. Or you're too afraid to say no (which is also a decision in itself if you ask me). No one is forcing you to go along with them but you. But then again: going along with people is not the same as actively choosing them to be in your life.

I guess that's the advantage of getting older: you are much more secure in who you are and become less willing to waste your time on people that you don't really like all that much, so you end up handpicking your people (or at least that's been my experience). Let's take my ENTJ friend as an example. We happened to meet at work, liked each other's company and so we keep seeking each other out on a regular basis. Since we work on completely different things and sit in separate offices, we have no real work-related reason to talk to each other besides maybe a quick "hi" in passing, and yet both of us keep making the decision to spend more and more time with each other. Or another example: my ESTJ friend adopted me during our first week of university. So yeah, she chose me first. I was shy, socially anxious and had no idea how anything worked. She was extroverted, kind and seemed to know how everything worked. And I liked her, so I chose her back. I allowed her to adopt me. She knew it took me a while to warm up to people which made it hard for me to approach people and make friends, so she told all her university friends about how cool I was, hoping that they'd want to become friends with me too. And guess what? It worked. But forming a friend group is still an entirely different thing than choosing people to be in your life. In a friend group, you are usually not equally close to everyone. You are close to some and better acquainted with others who came along as a package deal. I'm not a student anymore and the only two people from our old university friend group that I'm still very close to are said ESTJ and an INFP. All three of us live in different states now and yet all three of us keep making the decision to reach out to each other on a daily basis. We actively choose to remain a part of each other's life every single day.

Something that I always find interesting is that I gravitate towards different MBTI types for different levels of intimacy. I'm acquainted with so many ESFJs it's unreal, and I really like becoming acquainted with them. There have been a few ESFJs in different friend groups throughout my life, but I've never been really close to any of them even though ESFJs are one of the types I get along best with. We are similar enough to understand each other, but too similar to gain anything from each other's company. I also tend to get along very well with ISTPs, but neither of us ever seek each other out. When we meet, it's all good, we enjoy the conversation and then we part ways. But whenever I meet TJs, something in me usually says YES!! BEFRIEND!!! BEFRIEND!!!!! BEFRIEND!!!!!!!! They are the ones that I actively choose. And more often than not, they choose me back.

#ask

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potterandpromises · 7 months

Text

sorry for not winning you an arcade ring: chapter 9

Things do not go as rehearsed. [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8]

Also on AO3

(You know the deal by now: it's the same day as the last chapter but it's been several hours. We return to our heroes in the hallway outside of the restrooms of whatever venue this rehearsal is taking place in.)

"I'm just a tiny" —with a tense hand, Will signs 'tiny'— "bit worried about this wedding."

Theo nods in commiseration. The rehearsal's mostly been about who stands where when, and for him, establishing and memorizing visual cues. But it's also included things like designating a person (Lester) to call 911 in case of stabbings, shootings, poisonings, et cetera. Such things do not inspire confidence in the fake wedding investigative complex.

(If asked again, he'd agree in a heartbeat.)

Behind Will, Sazz Pataki saunters into the hallway, says something, and pauses next to the restrooms. "I'll tell you what— I've been the only thing standing between Charles and— injury. But— pressure, even for me—"

Theo rests his eyes, lets them wander down to Sazz' shoes.

His gaze snaps back to her lips. He feels, by reflex, a smile fix itself to his face.

She takes no notice.

Moments pass like eons. Eventually, her and Will quit their small talk, and she goes into the restroom.

Theo turns away, has to force himself not to break into a run.

"I'll be honest," Charles says into his phone, "I was kind of hoping it wouldn't get this far and that by this point, we'd already know who the killer is."

"Well we didn't get that lucky, did we Charles?" Oliver stands up and hastens to the front of the room.

He ushers Charles to sit down, and turns to address the table as if from a stage. "Even though I do run in the same circles as Linda Sharpton and Christopher W. H. Garnier, I simply haven't been able to spend the necessary time with all of our many, many suspects in order to deduce who our killer is."

Lucy yawns from behind her hands.

"At the rehearsal dinner for my son Will’s wedding, he let anyone and everyone take the proverbial microphone and make an impromptu speech. In the spirit of that gesture, anybody wanna come up here and take a stab at figuring out who the killer is? ‘Cause now’s the time where we’re supposed to fully explain our epic deduction skills live in front of the entire world."

Lucy lightly kicks Mabel under the table, whisper quotes: 'stab' with an exaggerated flare of her eyebrows.

But actually, at this point, it's as good an idea as any.

Howard stands up from his chair, resolute. "I have a theory."

He walks to the front of the room and proceeds to spout a theory so obviously based on a personal grudge that it provokes absolutely no reaction from anyone else in the room. He nods like he's made a point anyway, and steps away into the darkness.

(And they'd hoped this killer reveal party would look a little more professional then the last one.)

What if it doesn't work? Somehow, Mabel had never considered the idea. If they don't succeed tomorrow, her and Theo will be...not legally married, she's pretty sure they'd need to write their names on a certificate or something for that to be the case. But they wouldn't tell people it was all a hoex immediately, right? They'd need to solve the case first.

Or they'd just... never tell anyone, and fake a break up the way they're faking the relationship. That option should feel safer, more comfortable, but it doesn't.

Mabel sips her sparkling grape juice. This whole thing is starting to feel like objectively too much to ask.

Behind her, the door opens. She turns, sees Theo with a tense set frown. He walks briskly towards her, and trips.

He falls flat on his stomach.

Mabel stands. Simultaneously, Theo pulls himself onto his hands and knees, stares at their co-conspirators like a dear in headlights.

She helps him up. "You okay?"

He doesn't answer, doesn't let go of her hand, just looks past her at Sazz reentering the room.

She frowns, thinks 'concussion.' But, she's fairly certain he didn't hit his head.

He drops her hand, takes a step back, and scans the room, takes in the many pairs of eyes on him.

Jonathan clears his throat, resumes his conversation with Howard. "So, anyway..."

Theo puts on one of his fake, slightly awkward smiles, and looks down at Lucy still in her seat. His own seat had been on the other side of the table.

"I think—“

“Oh, yeah.” Lucy pulls her chair out. “I’ll leave you to it. Ursula brought some sort of new Gut Milk cookie, so I’ll just try one of those.”

She really hopes Lucy doesn’t think her and Theo are going to grope each other under the table. The evidence does not support that hope— Lucy was nowhere near as awkward with Theo when they first met.

Mabel sits down. With a nod of thanks, Theo takes Lucy's seat, and, oh, places his hand on her knee. Maybe...? No, she doesn’t think he would just do that. Then again, they don’t actually know each other that well. Or at least, they haven’t spent that much time together.

He removes his hand from her knee, gives her an extremely tight lipped smile, and signs something quickly, almost under the table.

Again, he rests his hand on her, a few inches higher this time, tentative.

At the front of the room, Sazz speaks. Something about protecting Charles with her life, something about knowing him all these years and believing he would never settle down for good because, wait, Sazz stole his girlfriend? twice? Mabel will have to ask about that later.

“Although he could never manage to keep a good woman, Charles has achieved something even better: living long enough to attend the wedding of a woman who’s like a daughter to him.” That’s actually sweat, if extremely backhanded. Mabel can’t quite focus on anything other then Theo’s hand on her thigh.

His fingers move, trace a pattern like a figure eight. Repeat.

Not a figure eight.

An S.

“I wrote that last minute,” Sazz says. “Was it a little hollow? It felt a little hollow to me. I’ll tighten it up.”

Without looking at him, Mabel places her hand over his, lets him know, hopefully, that she understands his intent.

His hand stills under hers. She pulls away.

Mabel stares forward, steadfast.

Her breath hitches. No one notices.

Sazz is walking away, heading for the alcoholic cookies. Mabel glances at Theo, urgent.

He doesn't look at her. His fingers drag quicker atop her dress skirt.

D-I-D —he taps the center of her thigh once— I-T.

Blankly, she looks around at too many faces, at eyes that still linger on them.

She gives Theo the slightest nod, and begins to plot.

#only murders in the building #theobel #omitb #mabel mora #theo dimas #fanfiction #my fanfic tag #fic: sorry for not winning you an arcade ring

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cr1mson5returns · 9 months

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Personal under the cut. I'm just feeling many Things.

I had an appointment today at a charity/non-profit health clinic. I've been struggling to get my medical and psychiatric needs met for several months, since I'm currently uninsured. Since it was my first appointment there, I had to fill out some new patient paperwork - demographic information and contact information, the works, including an emergency contact.

And I hesitated, because...traditionally I've always put my dad in that space as my emergency contact. When I was a kid, he traveled a lot for work, and so it was smarter to put down my mom because she was more likely to be in town. But as I got older, I started putting down my dad, because he was more likely to have a level head about the situation, especially if it was anything self-inflicted. But today, sitting in that clinic, I couldn't bring myself to put down my dad's information. I just didn't feel comfortable with the idea. So I put in a friend's instead, even though I hadn't asked him beforehand if I could, because he's one of the few people I have local anymore who could reasonably show up in case of an emergency.

I'll concede that if it was life or death and truly very serious, I'd at least want my parents to know where I was, if not what happened to me. But anything less than "your daughter will literally die in 24 hours or less" I don't really want them to know about. I stopped allowing them access to my medical records when I moved out, because things had gotten so toxic as a result of me coming out. I didn't want them to have information they could potentially use against me. I just didn't have the strength to unpack that revelation back then.

It felt really strange to make that choice after so long of hearing "they're your parents, they deserve to know" on loop in my head. But the reality is that biological proximity to me doesn't mean they deserve anything from me. Not after the way they treated me, not after everything that happened to me. I didn't want my dad to walk me down the aisle at my wedding in 2020 because I felt like he would do it out of a sense of obligation, not because he loved me. I disinvited them because of how awful they were about everything leading up to the wedding. When I found out a relative had given them the livestream link, I was outraged. I hadn't wanted them to have access to that moment they didn't really care about. That they never even publicly acknowledged after it happened.

There's a part of me that feels like I'm giving up on my family by maintaining this no-contact state of being. Many different people have emphasized their feeling that I should be open to the idea of reinstating contact one day. But the thing is...I don't think my family deserves it. I don't think it'll ever be worth the anxiety of wondering if they've really changed, or the anticipation of the terrible treatment happening again. I don't think I could handle the idea that I'd fold back in just to have to exit once more. I can't imagine a world where they're willing to change their behavior. They loved the idea of who I was more than who I actually was, let alone who I am now. Sometimes I'm crippled with this fear that they'll mail me something to my old address, and it'll get forwarded to where I currently live. But then I remember that they never recalled my address the same way they did my oldest sister's, and they'd have to actually miss me to mail me something. Even if they did mail me something, I'd probably just throw it away. I can't hurt myself like that anymore. I can't go back to those places and mental spaces and all the things that kept me under that abuse for years.

Still, there's a part of me that craves that chaotic feeling of wondering if I'll ever be good enough for them, so I might as well try again because it might change this time! They might actually love me and be proud of me for who I am this time! But it never changes. I was always hurting myself with those efforts. It has to stop. Even when it's new and scary.

So I have a new emergency contact for the first time in my life.

#cr1mson talks life #emotional breakdown blogging #trauma recovery #emotional abuse

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iviarellereads · 11 months

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Nona the Ninth, John 5:18(1)

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one!)

(No icon) In which someone starts to really use his powers.

IN THE DREAM, night had fallen, or what she assumed was night. They were lying atop the hill they had climbed and he was pointing out all the constellations that they would be able to see if it weren’t for the thick green cloud and the softly falling flakes of ash. They were lying head-to-head, their eyes aimed at the right part of the sky to see, or in this case not see, the Southern Cross. The stars were sweet and familiar, but she did not know their names, though they seemed to be at the tip of her tongue. She asked him why it was called the Southern Cross. He said that was just one name for it, but the stars were in a cruciform pattern and it was only visible from the southern hemisphere. He said when he was little he’d been taught it was the anchor of a ship.(2) He still preferred that, he said. Liked the idea that the Milky Way was pinned down and couldn’t go anywhere. Said when he was a kid he hated change, any change at all. She had quite liked change—mostly. But he did not want to dwell on that. So she asked him about the fingers trick, and he was happier to talk about why it had upset everyone so much.

After everyone in the gang has had a chance to see him do it, they needed to come to terms with it. C- and G-, despite being raised religious, took it better than anyone. M- was an atheist since age 12, even though her best friend was a nun. A- giving her "a benzo and a shot of whiskey" helped too, John thinks.

Still, they all wanted to believe in him. They all wanted a miracle. P- worried about a zombie apocalypse, but Ulysses and Titania weren't zombies, they were fully controlled by John's commands and will.

He and she sit in the fallout ash for a bit.

After a moment, he said: I knew it was fine. I knew I’d touched something, come away with something, that could be used for good. Could be used to fix everything, used for you.(3) I only had to figure out how. There was so much to figure out. But I’d got a dream team on tap, eh?

Then they started testing the limits. What he can and can't do, how much he can control them, from what distance. They even dug up a graveyard, to P-'s annoyance at having to cover it up, and he could "raise" the bodies of the long-dead as well.

At that point, they knew the biggest risk was getting caught, getting institutionalized, or weaponized by more stakeholders. Maybe they'd seen too many movies.(4)

He said, So we figured that what we had to do was make as big a noise as humanly possible, turn to the public. Find out if anyone else was like me, if there was someone out there who could do the same thing. And there was a way we could do just that. It was a different time back then. I didn’t want to do it. It felt too—kill switch, too awful to contemplate. Too grisly. Too shitty. But it was the only trick we had up our sleeves. He sighed and said, “We had the internet. We decided to stream.” She said, “What is this internet?” And he said, “See, I did make a utopia.”(5)

=====

(1) "Hereupon therefore the Jews sought the more to kill him, because he did not only break the sabbath but also said God was his Father, making himself equal to God." Well, that certainly seems relevant, are we four for four? Of course we are. I don't love the layer of "the Jews sought the more to kill him" because that sort of thing has been long, long used to justify antisemitism, but some people are probably getting more upset at John for not complying and giving up, considering how hard they worked to shut him down. Meanwhile letterizing brings us to THETOWER. Well, we certainly saw many towers at Canaan House, but this feels more specific somehow. THE tower, or perhaps The Tower, not just any old tower. (2) It's true! The constellation the North knows mainly as the Southern Cross, or Crux, is known in Maori culture as the anchor on the Milky Way's boat. (3) That sneaky "you" again. (4) How many of us haven't made wild plans for things like nuclear attacks or zombie apocalypses because we've seen too much fiction to not think about it on some level? Even though the risks are so low for most of the world. (5) The joke almost as old as the internet, that the internet is hell and cursed and we'd be better off without it. We wouldn't, mind, but I still laughed.

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #ntn #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #emperor john gaius #harrowhark nonagesimus

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peregrineggsandham · 2 years

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Updates on that blind Hollow Knight playthrough (sorry, my speculations and musings got... wordy and poetic). Friendly reminder I am working off of incomplete info/context so far:

[spoilers]

I would die for Hive Knight

2. I would also die for my growing family of Grimmchild, a bunch of flying grub versions of me, three weaverlings, Hornet (who is apparently my half-sister if I am understanding this correctly, I went and found the Weaver's Den and had a Moment of Comprehension), and my imprisoned twin (?) whom I swear I am going to break out of there if it kills me holy shit this puts that first ending/battle with them into such heartbreaking context. And Mato, who claimed fatherhood rights. And our growing collection of kindly grandparents. Also we're adopting Dung Defender, he's family now, I don't make the rules.

3. I cannot decide/determine if the king and queen made the vessels kingsmould-style and never expected them to be people in the first place, in which case taking the Hollow Knight and leaving the rest to die was a tragic mistake... or if they made them children-style and then tossed them into the abyss in an effort to hollow them out, meaning the tragedy is not only that this failed and they never realized it but also that they fully believed/understood that they'd killed thousands of their children...

(...and still believe it - the White Lady said she thinks I can hold the infection, that the Hollow Knight was "corrupted by an idea instilled", but our siblings' journal entry reads "fragment of a lingering will" and nothing hollow would meditate with Mato or sit with Quirrel or bow back at the start of Grimm's dance - suggesting we all were never hollow and yet still she claims us - needs us - to be empty...)

I think the latter option fits better with "no cost too great" but it also means it was a very explicit sacrifice of children, not of constructs that they just... didn't realize were children. So. That's. Something.

4. Quirrel is fine. I do not care about the obvious implications. I have seen too many friends die now to assume the worst. Cloth said she was leaving Hollownest and Quirrel said there was nothing left here for him, or something to that effect, so I choose to believe he is with her. There is no body. If the Old Stag can hope, so can I.

4a. Corollary: Nailsmith is also fine.

5. I would like to apologize personally to everyone I privately chucked at for finding Grimm vaguely attractive. I. Mm. I, uh, I understand. (It's that dramatic flair combined with polite ass-kicking. Great taste in decor, color, and music, holy heck the music.) His fight was the best thing since Hornet Version 2, or even the Mantis Lords...

6. ....AND WE'RE DOING IT AGAIN TOMORROW. Well. I say "again". Again but more so. (I have been practicing, I see what I need to do, I just need to do it. I can consistently get him to the first round of... can I call it his pufferfish form? That's what I've been calling it. I'm sorry. It's just. It's so silly. I love it.)

6a. Corollary: I thought a lot about what to do with the Troupe. I'm not looking up what happens if you break the lantern or don't - I went there to speak with Brumm (and panicked and left when he started whaling on the lantern) and on the one hand it sounds very much like they are all slaves to an endless cycle of death and rebirth (?). All things need to end. On the other hand... what would ending that cycle do? They don't really seem to be causing any harm - eating nightmares? The people have plenty to spare! Honestly in this world, normal dreams seem to be worse. I'd take the nightmare, thanks. At least the music kicks ass.

And this cycle doesn't seem like the endless stasis imposed by the King on Hallownest. This seems as old as time. So, end the cycle and... what? They are vessels, all of them (lowercase v, vessels, not Vessels) for the Flame - so they say - and they may not always have been. Once, perhaps, they were their own people, now chained to this... giant beating flaming heart. Grimm likely is chained most of all. Burn the father, feed the child, I get it, his will be the last flame the Grimmchild devours. I expect he'll die, and the child will take his place. But dance and die and live forever, the poem says - what is inherited, exactly? Flame, yes. Title? Name? I doubt they'll be the Grimmchild Troupe from this point on. Godhood? Even memory? When Grimm is staggered in his battle, he splits into a number of little things, almost shades, little Grimmchildren. How many have there been?

That's why the White Lady compared us, I assume - we are both the children of kings, set to inherit the title and all the horrors that come with it. What will becoming such a thing do to Grimmchild? All things considered, giant beating heart of patchwork and flame and all, Grimm seems... fine, really. Chipper enough. Certainly no one but Brumm has expressed a desire to leave - but then, if he's right, the child was born into servitude, and a desire to leave is absolutely secondary to having the choice to do so. Maybe ending the cycle would free them all. Maybe the son would not have to eat the father. Or maybe it'd destroy them both.

Would that be preferable?

Another consideration: They are vessels, in their own way. Would we be freeing what they contain?

We took the place of the Hollow Knight, in that first ending. So does the Grimmchild take the place of the father, if I'm right. Everyone is being frustratingly vague about this Ritual business. If we ever find a way to defeat the infection, and not merely recontain it, will the bugs it has taken be left behind, living and whole? I doubt it. They are already dead. (Myla Myla Myla Myla Myla). So, is destroying the lantern akin to destroying the infection, or more to breaking the seals?

Nightmares and dreams aren't all that different, but at least the former seems content to only visit for a while rather than to sit and spread and infect. Though I imagine it helps that they are still storied, still talked about in hushed tones - unlike whatever forgotten Light the Seer spoke of before her... ascension. Not death. I refuse to think we lost another friend. Point is, if the Nightmare King and this dream-making Light are kin, the former seems to treat his... vessels?... much more kindly. Namely, they are still alive. They sing! They dance!

So what would be left of Grimm and his child if you tore the heart out from them both? Maybe the others would survive - Brumm gave us his flame without death, after all - but would they be themselves? Would they be happier? Emptier? It doesn't matter. Forget them.

Ha! Forget them! Now there's a sobering realization! I don't think the troupe's presence is an active harm to Dirtmouth, or to the kingdoms surrounding what is left of Hallownest. But even if it was... I, and our little friend as I play them, would still prioritize Grimmchild's wellbeing over that of the ruins of the kingdom - and its remaining inhabitants. And even the rest of the troupe! Maybe that's cruel! Maybe that's wrong! But it's the exact opposite decision to what the Pale King did, and I think we are too young (we are still a child) and too ancient (the kingdom is long-dead and we were born before its fall) and too unused to thought (after all, we returned from outside the kingdom, where memory and mind are fuzzy if either the plaque or Quirrel are to be believed) to fully comprehend nuance.

After all, I have hardcore leaned into the little friend (been also calling them little ghost since that's what Hornet calls them and I think the fandom as well?) taking one look at Grimmchild and deciding immediately that they could be a better parent than the Pale King.

But... there are still costs too great.

(In fairness we did also yeet our infant into the abyss but we also jumped down and we climbed out again together and also they had wings, so. it's fine.)

They're already touched by Void through our influence - the eyes of their charm leak black, and that has to mean something. Maybe this is a dead kingdom that we can exist in together. Two kings with nothing to rule except our own lives. Maybe we can break the cycle - later, on our own terms, and after hearing every side of the story.

I'd gone to consult with Grimm, after speaking with Brumm - but he was asleep, and his nightmare was a dance. I am so very, very excited to dance with him again.

So we are completing the ritual.

...eventually.

...as soon as this little fucker just. when he just. just stays still for a- just stand still for a moment and let me- alright look-

.....

.............

........................

7. Also I still don't know what I'm supposed to use all of these rancid eggs for, good lord, we must smell like a sulfur pit.

8. Also how many iterations of Zote are there???

8a. Bretta can do better.

#sam says stuff sometimes #hollow knight #spoilers #I'm sorry I have a Lot of Thoughts #please remember I am probably still missing context!#trying not to look things up ahead of time #but I realize now that THIS is the 'NKG' I was warned about #and honestly? I'm definitely getting the hang of it and it shouldn't be too bad #I think #at the very least it's very very fun

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staggeringsmite · 3 years

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where’s the post that’s like “hey just write the scene you wanna write you don’t have to do the rest just do the one scene” bc there’s one that’s living in my HEAD

#sitting on so many ideas just in case i get something that they'd work for the fic exchange even though i know the chances of that are slim #and i should just DO one #but also why can i only write for acoc it just makes my brain go brrr

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helloalycia · 3 years

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overstepping [one] // jane banner (Wind River)

summary: after getting several voicemails from your colleague and best friend with her asking for your backup, you attempt to call her back, only to get no answer.

warning/s: mentions of rape, murder and injuries.

author’s note: this is a two parter because i finally watched Wind River and it broke my heart but also lizzie was v cute and i felt the need to write this, hope you like it x

part two | masterlist | wattpad

"C'mon, work you stupid phone," I complained for the millionth time, before standing on the chair to get a better signal.

When I saw the bars in the corner of the screen increase, a grin appeared on my lips. I loved my parents, but the fact that they lived in a remote cabin in Tennessee with zero signal was not my favourite thing.

When the bars remained, my phone decided to actually be helpful and receive all the messages, calls and voicemails I missed. I did a brief flick through, noticing nothing was too important that couldn't wait for me to return to work. As an FBI agent, I rarely got time off. And now that I had taken a two month vacation to spend with my parents, I was adamant on enjoying it, even if I was missing work a smidge.

Next were the calls, which I noticed were mostly from my colleague and close friend, Jane Banner. I furrowed my brows, realising she'd left me several voicemails, too, which was strange since she knew I was on a break from work. What could be so important?

I sighed, glancing down at my uncomfortable position standing on the chair and leaning above the wardrobe. It was the only place in the house with decent signal and the only other place that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere was twenty minutes out. Telling myself I'd just listen to one voicemail to make sure everything was okay, I played the earliest message.

"Hey, Y/N. I'm sorry, I know you're on a break, but I just had to talk to you," it began, and Jane sounded troubled. "I was in Vegas, as you know, but I've been called out to a reservation in Wyoming where this poor girl was–" She paused, releasing a shaky breath. "She was raped and left to die out in the cold. I thought I could send in another team to take a look – y'know, usual protocol. But the coroner won't rule it a homicide and you know what that means."

I swallowed hard, knowing exactly what that meant. If it wasn't ruled a homicide, no backup would come and we had to move onto the next case. But if this girl was raped and left to die, the rapist was still out there and wasn't getting caught by the FBI.

"I can't just leave it and go," Jane continued quietly, with that recognisable passion for her job evident in her voice. "I have to do what I can. But I... I can't do this alone. It's not like other cases, Y/N. It's different out here. And there's only so much their police department can do. I know you're on a break, but I was hoping that, maybe, you could come out here and help me? It's the Wind River Indian Reservation. That's it, I guess. Bye."

The message ended and I found myself chewing on my lower lip anxiously, unable to think about anything other than Jane now. She'd worried me with that one voicemail alone – I couldn't imagine what the others said.

She was usually so good at dealing with cases, but this seemed different. She sounded shaken up, attempting to put on a brave face by the sounds of it. What was so different about this case? She didn't need me. She was capable.

Curiosity got the better of me and I played the second message, ignoring the discomfort in my arms as I stretched to maintain the signal. It was left a day after the first one.

"Hey, so I just remembered that you said you don't get much signal up there with your parents," she began apologetically. "I don't mean to– shit, it's so cold..." There was a pause, a noise in the background, then she continued, "Sorry, just turning up the heating. Anyway, I was saying. I don't mean to intrude on your break. I just– I'm hoping you'll find signal and hear this because I could really use your help. I think we've got a lead on who may have done it. It was hectic today. Really could've used that backup."

She chuckled dryly at her attempt at a joke, but all I felt was guilt. She sounded exhausted within a day of being there.

"I hope you get this," she finished with a sigh. "I should go. Got a busy day tomorrow. Hope you're doing okay. Bye."

I wasted no time in playing the next message. Three days into her case.

"I don't know why I keep sending these," she began with a hoarse voice, and my heart clenched at the sound of it. "You clearly aren't getting them in time. But it's easier talking to you like this than not at all."

It went quiet, so quiet that I thought she may have finished and forgot to hang up. But then she spoke up again, a whimper escaping her lips.

"It's so hard," she admitted. "We've covered worse cases, but this one... everything about it makes me uncomfortable. Something doesn't feel right. I've got a lead – we think it might be the boyfriend who did it and we're gonna see him tomorrow. But I don't know."

I frowned, squeezing my phone tightly because I didn't recognise the girl speaking as my friend. This girl sounded broken and I wondered what she could have discovered that made her like this.

"I've got the police department with me for backup," she said with a sniffle. "And Cory, he's a hunter whose been helping me with the case. They're all gonna be with me tomorrow. But I wish you were here, too. You always make things easier."

The lump in my throat wouldn't disappear no matter how many times I swallowed it. She made things easier, too. Always. And all I wanted to was be by her side and be there for her like she always was for me.

"Sorry about this," she said with a watery laugh, and I could imagine the embarrassed smile on her face as she did. "I sound like such an idiot. Never mind these messages. Just enjoy your break. I shouldn't be worrying you like this. See you when you get back."

The message ended and I checked to see if there were anymore, but to my disappointment, there wasn't. That message was from a few days ago and she hadn't sent anything since which was concerning in itself.

Trying not to panic for no reason, I called Jane. Hopefully everything was okay and I was being stupid. She was a fully-trained FBI agent. She could take care of herself. Right?

The call rang and rang, but nobody picked up. One missed call. No biggie. She probably heard it and couldn't find her phone or something. So, I tried again.

More ringing and no answer. Okay, no big deal. Just try again.

Another call and no answer. The chewing on my lip became more intense. Why the hell wasn't she picking up? Was she still working the case?

I waited an hour, trying again at ten minute intervals, unable to fight my concern. But there was no answer every time and I realised that I couldn't sit and wait for her to call back. Not after how she sounded in those voicemails.

No, I had to go there. She needed backup.

—

Wyoming was way colder than I could have prepared for.

I mean, technically, I prepared for nothing. I bid my parents a goodbye, threw some random clothes in a bag and caught the next plane over there. I tried for Jane's phone constantly, knowing she was never one to ignore me for this long, but there was no point. She wasn't answering, which could only mean so much.

When I reached the reservation, I had no idea where anything was or what I was looking for exactly. I just knew that as soon as the taxi dropped me off in the centre of town, I didn't know where to go.

There were a lot of locals hanging around, so my first port of call was to ask them if they'd seen Jane around – or Agent Banner, as she may have introduced herself. I showed them a picture of her on my phone, described her with vivid detail, but they just stared at me like I was crazy. I was starting to believe I was at one point, until I stopped by the convenience store.

As worried as I was for Jane's whereabouts, the chill in my bones was real. Especially my hands, which I was certain would fall off any minute. So, I decided to buy some gloves and also ask the cashier if he'd seen Jane around or heard anything of her. Whilst I was doing that, a customer caught my attention, probably having overheard my conversation.

"Did you say Jane Banner?" he asked with a quirked brow, interrupting my purchase. "The FBI lady, right?"

I nodded quickly, facing him. "Yes, that's her! D'you know where she is?"

He nodded casually. "Yeah, she's in the hospital. That big shootout that happened a few days ago, right?"

My stomach dropped. "The what?"

"The shootout," he repeated, not aware of the concern in my face. "At the drill site. A bunch of officers were killed and the FBI lady was one of the only one left standing." He tutted as he shook his head. "Very lucky that one."

A shootout? The hospital? Only one left standing? No wonder she hadn't been answering her calls.

"Can you– do you–" I stopped, clearing my throat and trying to stop freaking out. "Which hospital?"

After getting the address from him, I caught a taxi to the only hospital in town and prayed to God that Jane was okay. The one thing she'd asked for was backup and I couldn't even give her that. If I'd just looked at my messages sooner... fuck.

Getting past the front desk and to Jane's room was no issue at all. A quick flash of my FBI badge was enough for the receptionist to give me the details and wave me through. My heart was constricting in my chest the longer it took. What if it was really bad? What if that customer's intel was outdated and Jane was– no. I couldn't afford to think like that.

Upon finding Jane's room, I spotted an older man leaving through the door, being careful to close it behind him. I didn't recognise him at all.

"Excuse me," I called, earning his attention. "Is that Jane Banner's room you just came from?"

He seemed surprised, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I was speaking to him, before nodding. "Yes. Sorry, who are you?"

I pulled my badge from my pocket and showed him, though I doubted anyone would take me seriously when my eyes were watering at thought of Jane being severely injured.

"I'm her friend," I said, swallowing down the lump in my throat before lowering my badge.

"Oh, you're the backup that didn't come," he said with realisation.

My eyes flickered to the floor guiltily. He wasn't exactly wrong.

"I didn't mean it like that," he added quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

I shook my head, lifting my eyes to meet his. "It's okay. I should've... I should've been here." It went quiet as he didn't know what to say, so I looked to him halfheartedly. "I assume you're from the police department, one of the ones who helped Jane."

"Not exactly," he said, before putting out his hand for me to shake. "Name's Cory. I'm a hunter by trade."

Returning his handshake, I recalled Jane's voicemail. "Oh, yeah, she mentioned you... thank you for helping her out."

When I couldn’t, I added in my head.

He offered me a small smile and I couldn't find it in myself to return it. I must have looked like shit, since he gave me a pitiful gaze.

"You want me to catch you up before you go in?" he asked, nodding to Jane's door. "She's okay by the way."

I nodded, sucking up a breath. My nerves were eating away at me the longer I didn't see Jane – half of me was terrified of what I'd find, and the other half was afraid she'd be upset or angry because I left her to it, even when she pleaded for my help.

Cory and I took a seat down the hall and he proceeded to explain about the case and how they found the guy who raped that poor girl. The shootout was the worst bit, making me shiver with discomfort. Apparently, Jane had gotten blasted with a shotgun, puncturing her torso and neck despite the vest she wore. All of the officers with her were killed and by the sounds of it, Jane almost was, too. But Cory managed to take out the criminals and the rapist himself. When he was finished telling me, I had no words.

"She's a bit shaken up, but her surgery went well," Cory reassured with a short nod. "Does she know you're coming?"

I shook my head, voice thick with emotion. "She wouldn't answer her phone. I guess I know why now."

Cory nodded, rubbing the back of his neck before sparing me a consoling glance. "She talked about you a lot. I think it'll cheer her up seeing you. You should go."

My eyes met his, teary and stinging with unshed tears. "Thank you so much."

He shrugged bashfully, but he didn't realise all that he'd done. I gave him a small, tight smile before standing up with a sigh. No point dwelling anymore – I had to see her.

Pushing my selfish feelings aside, I sucked it up and approached Jane's room. She would either want to punch me or not, but either way, I had to see if she was okay. And so, when I opened the door slightly, heart racing in my chest, said heart jumped in my throat at the sight of her.

She was laying on the bed with wires stuck in her and, only from what I could see, bandages were covering the side of her neck. I thought she was sleeping at first, but then her head tilted towards the door curiously, and bright blue eyes widened with disbelief.

"Y/N?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "What are you– how did you get here?"

I closed the door behind me and hesitantly approached her bedside, unable to stop my eyes from soaking in the sight of her. She looked so feeble and vulnerable and unlike how I saw her last. Then, Cory's words came back to me and I began to imagine the worst scenario of her getting shot, blood seeping from her wounds, the life draining from her eyes...

"Y/N," she called, and I looked to her startlingly, hoping I didn't look as troubled as I felt.

"Sorry," I said, clearing my throat. "I, er– the messages. Voicemail. I heard them and tried calling you back, but..."

She pursed her lips, exhaling with a wince and looking up at the ceiling, as if suddenly remembering she left messages in the first place.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," I said quietly, guilt seeping back in.

"No, no, don't be," she said, and I just about noticed the pink dusting her cheeks. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have interrupted your vacation like that. I know you said you wanted a break and–"

"Jane, no, don't even say that," I cut her off, reaching for her hand in an instant. She looked my way, eyes flickering between mine nervously. I squeezed her hand gently and said, "I should have been here. You needed me and I– I didn't come. Maybe if I had, this could have ended differently."

She tried to smile, but I could see the discomfort in her eyes. "It's not that bad, honestly. It just looks bad."

I pressed my lips together, eyes falling to the bandage on her neck. Even though it was big and covered her wound, I could still make out the bruising around it from the impact of the shell. I didn't imagine the torso wound looking any different, and that thought alone made me regret leaving her alone. It was very much as bad as it looked; I knew that and she knew that.

Her lips trembled as she avoided my eyes, her own tearing up. I pushed away my guilt momentarily and changed the subject.

"So, I met Cory. He seems like a great guy."

She didn't say anything as she seemed lost in thought. Either that or she was trying not to cry in front of me. I hoped it wasn't the latter, since the last thing I wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable.

"You know," I said, when she wouldn't speak, "I'm pretty sure I told you to stay safe before I left for my vacation."

At my poor attempt to lighten the mood, she cracked a small, tight smile, but a smile nonetheless, and my racing heart slowed down momentarily.

"I'm glad you're okay," I said, now that I had her attention again, and she looked my way with a softened expression. "Kind of okay. But you know... okay."

Thankfully, she knew what I meant and her hand tightened around mine.

"I'm glad you came," she returned, and I couldn't look away even if I tried. She was always able to trap me with a single gaze.

With a tug of her hand, she motioned for me to sit on the edge of her bed, so I did. And then she began to ask me about my vacation, what I'd been up to this past month, how my parents were... basically anything and everything except for the case. And it was understandable, since she was reminded of it all the time. If I could be a form of escapism for her, so be it. It was the least I could do.

We spoke for hours until the nurse came in to let me know visiting hours were over and I'd have to come back tomorrow. With a regretful sigh, I got up from my seat on her bedside and stretched my limbs.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, a slight frown on her lips.

I smiled awkwardly, realising I didn't think that far ahead. "I'm not gonna lie, I don't know. I came straight here. There's gotta be a hotel or something in this town, right?"

She nodded and flicked her hand to the shelves on the other side of the room. "You should stay in my room in the inn. Key's in my bag over there."

"Oh, I don't have to do that–"

"Y/N, it's not like I'm going to be staying there anytime soon," she cut me off, smiling halfheartedly. "Please."

I chewed on my lip and nodded, giving in. When I grabbed her keys from her bag, I stopped by her bedside and gave her a supportive smile.

"I'll back first thing in the morning, if you don't mind," I said, and she finally gave me a smile that reached her eyes.

"I'd like that."

I nodded, resting a hand on hers and squeezing comfortingly. "Goodnight."

—

Though I knew Jane was okay, I still couldn't stop myself from thinking about her all night. The sight of her wounds and the broken expression on her face was enough to keep me awake. And the guilt that came with it all... why couldn't I have just picked up my damn phone?

As promised, I returned to Jane's hospital room the next morning, this time bringing some breakfast snacks from the hospital cafeteria since I knew the food would be much better than whatever they were serving her. Judging by the content expression on her face when I gave it to her, I was right.

When she finished eating, she was able to sit up slightly and move over on her bed, urging for me to join her and watch some TV with her. There was no way I was going to turn down that offer, so I slid next to her and kept a packet of sliced apples between us as we watched whatever was playing on the TV.

About halfway through watching, she spoke up randomly, taking me by surprise.

"When are you leaving?"

I tore my gaze from the screen and realised she was staring at me with intense green eyes.

"When you're well enough to," I answered truthfully.

She looked down to her hands. "You don't have to stay with me. You can go."

I studied her profile, knowing it was the wrong time to appreciate how stunning she looked even when she was makeup-free, sporting a bed head and tired.

"Do you want me to go?" I asked softly, afraid I may have overstepped.

She was quick to shake her head slightly, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine with glossy ones. "No."

I nodded, trying very hard not to smile, cleared my throat and grabbed her hand. "Then I'm not leaving. I'll be right here until you get better and I can take you home."

A ragged breath escaped her lips as she nodded in response. We both looked back to the TV and I noticed she didn't let go of my hand, her fingers warm to the touch and giving me goosebumps at the contact. But I wouldn't have had it any other way.

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