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contains: reader referred to in second person pov, gender neutral reader
You never were quite sure what to think of Ruggie.
He put on a brave face, almost constantly, but you could see through it. You could see his frustration at his position, at Leona, even at the campus as a whole.
More than that, though, you could see his loneliness.
You weren’t sure why no one else seemed to notice - maybe they didn’t care, maybe they didn’t know how to help, maybe they just couldn’t see it. It didn’t really matter though.
Not when you could see the pain he held in his heart, and not when you could do something about it.
If no one else would step up to help him, the sweetest boy you knew, then you’d just have to do it yourself.
You tried to start small. Occasionally offering him snacks you ‘couldn’t finish’, or intentionally being roped into helping him with his tasks for the day. You weren’t the most well off either, but you didn’t mind. You were used to sacrificing some for Grim, anyways, what was one more person?
Though, to your displeasure, he must've noticed what you were doing as he started doing the same thing for you.
From the outside looking in, it must have looked like some weird type of courting, the both of you aggressively pushing food on the other with thinly veiled threats if one of you weren't taking care of yourself.
And, soon enough, it even... started to feel like that for the both of you.
Little exchanges at lunchtime became sitting together the whole time, joking threats turned to quick-witted flirting, and excuses for giving food to the other soon dissipated.
All this, to say, you two slowly found yourselves growing closer and closer, affections growing and swelling. It wasn't long until everyone knew how close you were, and, well - Ruggie wasn't lonely anymore, now was he?
So first, I just want to say that I love Mortified, especially the arcs involving Ereshkigal and Innana. The whole thing is absolutely incredible, and I'm always thrilled to see an update. Second, I was rather hoping to offer you a prompt I've had swirling about my head. What if there is some sort of research facility exploring "that which is unknown and previously thought to be impossible" (i.e. magic but they don't call it that because people don't really know about magic and ghosts in this AU) and Danny's class is invited to go on a field trip there. At first, everything is normal, but just after the class leaves the researchers realize that their instruments show that some sort of Eldritch Horror is nearby and they start freaking out, but it's just Danny. I don't know where else this would go though.
Mr. Lancer chewed on the end of his pen. It was a disgusting habit, he knew, but he could never quite get himself to kick it, especially when he had a problem to confront.
Said problem was, presently, that enough of his students had expressed an interest in careers in ectology and paranormal science that he really had to give them a relevant field trip. Unfortunately, there were very few reputable options for such a field trip. The Fentons were unsafe, Axion Labs refused to give tours, the GIW were essentially a government sponsored hate group. Most other ‘ghost hunting agencies’ were outright scams.
But there had to be something nearby. Or at least in the state. Maybe not something that explicitly or solely dealt with ghosts, but something.
Maybe...
Oh!
He shifted to sit straighter in his chair. That would work. He started typing an email.
.
“We got a what?” repeated Johannsson.
“A field trip request,” repeated Deer.
“Like... from a school?” asked Johannsson, cautiously.
“A high school,” confirmed Deer, sounding rather stunned.
“Do they... know what we do here?”
“Evidently,” said Deer.
“Like, they know we research magic and telepathy and stuff.”
“Yes.”
“And astral projection, higher-dimensional beings, alternate universes, that kind of thing? Fringe science?”
“He says the junior class is interested in the ‘paranormal sciences.’”
“Wow,” said Johannsson, finally bringing his coffee up to his mouth and sipping at it cautiously. “Where,” he started, “where are they from?”
“Um,” said Deer, peering at her computer screen. “Casper High. One sec.” She started typing. “It’s in Amity Park? Do you think it’s a joke?”
“Ah,” said Johannsson. “No, that tracks, actually, if it’s Amity Park. We’ve got some weird readings on file from there, if you look it up.”
“It’s close,” said Deer. “If we get readings, why don’t we have a presence there?”
“Another agency called dibs first,” said Johannsson. “We have enough trouble. No need to step on toes.”
Deer looked up at Johannsson incredulously. “We fight eldritch abominations from the edge of reality,” she said. “Is the boss really worried about stepping on toes?”
“Hey, that’s how we get funding,” said Johannsson, shrugging. “We don’t want to end up like MKUltra.”
“MKUltra was a scam, Steve. And also mostly illegal.”
“Yeah?”
Deer shrugged. “Anyway, should I send this on, or...?”
“Yeah, go ahead. The boss will probably get a kick out of it, if nothing else.”
.
“I would not have told the boss about this if I knew I’d be the one babysitting a bunch of teenagers,” said Deer through a clenched smile. She jerked on the hem of her blouse, not used to the more formal clothes she was wearing on this momentous occasion.
“Yeah,” said Johannsson, “but it isn’t like we get a lot of people coming into this profession for this profession. And they’re kids. So be nice.”
“I’m always nice,” grumbled Deer.
“Well, look like it,” said Johannsson, elbowing her. He caught sight of the yellow school bus. “Here they come now.”
They waited until most of the students had gotten off the bus to approach.
“Hi,” said Johannsson, “you must be Mr. Lancer.”
“That’s me,” said the rather frazzled-looking teacher. “Come on kids, let’s get settled down. Listen to our guides. Let them introduce themselves.”
“Yeah, hey,” said Johannsson, waving. “Welcome to the Edge Institute, where we study that which is unknown and often thought to be impossible.”
“Hi,” said Deer, frowning at one group of students in particular. Johannsson followed her eyes.
The trio in question didn’t seem particularly out of the ordinary. Except... Well, there was a reason Deer worked here.
“I’m Steve Johannsson,” he said, getting back on track. “This is Sylvia Deer. We mostly work in report processing and assessment, but that brings us into contact with all our other departments, so we’re more than suited to show you around.”
Sylvia put her thumbs up. “Yep,” she said.
“Most of what we work with isn’t terribly dangerous, however, there are exceptions to that rule, and we have some classified projects, so don’t wander off. Stay within view of us at all times.”
“What if we need to use the bathroom?” asked a student.
“Well, that’s different,” admitted Johannsson. “We’ve got a couple scheduled stops, so make sure you go at those times. Other than that, don’t go through any doors we don’t open for you and don’t touch anything without asking first. Got it?”
There was a soft murmur of assent.
“Come on, kids,” said Mr. Lancer, clapping, “he asked a question.”
The murmur became slightly more unanimous.
“Right,” said Deer. She jerked her head towards the building. “Let’s go.”
“Anyway,” said Johannsson, “this is reception, which is the only part of the building freely open to the general public. If you do need to go to the bathroom, they’re right there. We’re going to hang out here for a few minutes, get everyone taken care of.”
Most of the students made their way to the restrooms immediately, however, that one trio stayed put.
“Hey,” said the smallest of the group, “do you guys hear that?”
“Hear what?” asked Johannsson.
“Um,” said the boy, slightly rocking forward on the balls of his feet, “there’s, like, an alarm or a siren going off? It’s really faint, but is everything okay?”
“We’d get a text,” said Deer. “Not to mention an announcement on the PA system.”
“And the radios,” said Johannsson, tapping his.
“Right,” said Deer, nodding. “Maybe you have tinnitus or something?”
“Isn’t that recurrent, though?” asked Johannsson. “He’d know if he had it.”
“I do not have tinnitus,” said the boy, firmly. “I really think there’s an alarm going off. Or maybe someone has a mosquito ringtone. Gosh, I hate those...”
Johannsson glanced at Deer and noted that she, once again, was staring at the children rather intensely. Mostly at the boy, but that made sense since he was the one speaking.
“Danny has good hearing,” said the girl, who was decked out in an array of gothic and mystic symbols. One which, on closer inspection, would probably be fairly effective at passive protection.
Johannsson wondered if that was the result of research, intuition, or sheer luck.
Perhaps that was why Deer was looking at them like that?
“Maybe I’m just imagining it,” said Danny, shaking his head. “Let’s go to the bathrooms. There’s probably a line by now.”
Once the kids were gone, and Johannsson and Deer were more or less alone in the entry hall, Johannsson turned to Deer. “Think we should call Detection?”
“Yeah,” said Deer, pulling out her phone. “There’s something not right, here.”
“Maybe he’s a sensitive?” suggested Johannsson. “He could be picking up a project.”
“Or maybe he’s like you and he’ll break every piece of tech invented in the last twenty-five years as soon as he touches it. Or he was cursed by a goddess, like Vicky in Containment. Or maybe he just has tinnitus and is in denial. I still don’t like this.” She finished dialing Detection and brought the phone to her ear. “Hey, I-” She pulled the phone away, glared at it and cautiously brought it back. “What’s going on? An incursion? Then why aren’t we on lockdown?”
Johannsson’s blood ran cold. “An incursion? How big?”
Deer held up a hand. “That doesn’t- You know we can’t detect everything! It doesn’t matter if nothing else gets triggered, the protocol is lockdown until we can determine- If you had done your job, the kids would still be on the damn bus!”
At this point, Deer’s shouts had drawn the attention and worry of Mr. Lancer and several of the students who had emerged from the bathrooms.
“Is everything alright?” asked the man.
Johannsson glanced at Deer. “No,” he decided, just before the security shutters slammed down and the emergency lighting came on. “I’m really sorry,” he said, “but it seems like some of our colleagues were overly excited about your tour and didn’t, er, follow proper procedure following a, uh, event. So-”
The PA system stuttered into life. “Attention. A level seven entity has been detected. All nonessential personnel, please proceed to the nearest shelter. Repeat-”
“Seven?” echoed Johannsson, starting to sweat. “Seven?”
“It’s probably a false alarm,” said Deer, putting away her phone and smiling in the way only people who feel very ill do. “None of the other incursion detectors went off. No radiation associated with dimensional breaks or anything. We should still get everyone to a shelter. Maybe you can round up everyone from the bathrooms?”
“Right,” said Mr. Lancer, who was enviably calm.
“Is an entity like a ghost or something?” asked one of the kids, who clearly weren’t grasping the gravity of the situation. “How strong is a seven?”
Level seven entities couldn’t be described in terms of strength alone. They were eldritch, uncaring gods that tore at the fabric of reality with their very presence, creatures that had no business being on the material plane. They shed bright magic and dark science in their wake, leaving those unfortunate enough to see them grappling with madness that was not.
He really wanted to know what was happening in Amity Park (ghosts?) that made these people so blasé about the alarms, flashing lights, and security shutters.
Wait a second.
He unclipped his radio from his belt. “This is Johannsson, calling detection. Can you describe the signal to me? Over.”
The radio crackled. “Slowly rising over the last thirty minutes, peaking and plateauing in the last ten. Why? Do you have something? Over.”
The bus had arrived ten minutes ago. Johannsson closed his eyes. “Maybe. Will inform. Over and out.”
He looked over at the bathroom where Danny and his two friends were emerging. Danny had his hands pressed over his ears. Whenever the overhead lights flashed off, the boys eyes reflected green. Just for a second.
Yeah. Johannsson had something. The question was, what was he going to do about it?
Recently a lot of discourse has been popping up around me and I’d like to throw in my two cents.
Maybe I’m dumb for pointing out the obvious and everybody has already clicked this together in their heads, but here I go anyway.
I feel like the way people treat Billy Hargrove in fandom space is because of Dacre. Nothing’s wrong with him, but Dacre is 26! Billy is ten years younger. We see a 24-26 year old man on screen, and it makes people a lot less sympathetic to him because of it. (To clarify, I think the casting was good for this series for a multitude of reasons, but it backfires in this case scenario) This isn’t to say that what Billy did wasn’t fucked up, but… people don’t really see a 16 year old.
I don’t think that we, as a fandom should overlook the shit Billy did (pretty sure Billy was written in s2 to be VERY disliked so duh) but it’s important to acknowledge that yes, 16 year olds can and will grow up one day. Maybe they won’t; maybe they will. It’s still not ok to attack people for writing/creating fiction in which Billy is interpreted to grow up and change himself. It’s not impossible.
It’s fine to not like Billy. He’s awful in canon, yeah. He’s also fake. Stop aligning the way we interact with media identically with reality. We know the difference.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
