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morganaseren · 6 months ago

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WIP Wednesday (and also Rook Reveal!)

Tagged by: @illusivesoul

Tagging: @blackjackkent, @writer86, @this-is-something-idk-what, @noeldressari

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins

Pairing: Leliana/Niamh Cousland

Rating: T

AU: No More Dreams Must I Sacrifice

Note: Inspired by this latest commission of mine, but this came also about from the random idea of, "What if Niamh was The Warden who Leliana fell in love with rather than Niamh's older sister?"

In Niamh's canon world state (where she isn't a Warden), Saoirse sacrificed herself against the Archdemon since she declined to partake in Morrigan's Dark Ritual. In an AU where both the Cousland sisters are Wardens, Niamh would choose to sacrifice herself instead.

Neither Leliana or Morrigan want that.

Additional note: Although Niamh agrees to do the Dark Ritual with Morrigan, they aren't in a romantic relationship in this AU at least from the time of me writing this anyway.

-----

Leliana watched, unseen from one of the many dark alcoves, as the castle's staff moved about with mindless, frantic energy. It was to be expected, given the events that were to transpire once dawn broke. As such, the uncertainty that hung over them all seemed like a physical thing—one they were desperately trying to distant themselves from.

Yet, one woman set herself apart from the crowd as she moved through them with unhurried steps.

Niamh Cousland's raven hair fell in natural waves, but tonight, it appeared incredibly tousled—not unlike as if someone had spent hours running their hands through it. Leliana had intimate knowledge of that along with how easy it was to mark the other woman's skin. In fact, her gaze fell then, noticing just how half of the mage's brigandine had been left unbuckled. It exposed a wide swath of her neck and upper chest along with the intimate, mottled bruising that dotted them. Her lover's countenance also seemed a great deal more... relaxed than she'd seen her in days even as she strolled through the crowd, seemingly lost in thought. A result from her time with Morrigan perhaps?

Something dark and unhappy filled Leliana then even though she knew she had no right to. It was ridiculous. She had understood the necessity of the Dark Ritual and its end result. She knew Niamh's heart was fully hers, but like a viper, jealousy had reared its ugly head.

Her hand was fully in motion before she could truly stop herself, striking from the shadows to grab the open flap of her lover's brigandine. She heard the startled grunt from Niamh as Leliana bodily pulled her into her bed chamber, pinning the other woman back against the door as soon as it was closed. What muted exhaustion had been evident in those silvery-grey eyes soon left Niamh as she stared up at her, bewildered.

"I... Hi?" she offered haltingly with a nervous smile, uncertain what to make of the situation.

Leliana couldn't fault her for that.

While Leliana had given Niamh permission to lay with Morrigan, perhaps her lover believed she'd regretted her decision. She harbored no anger at her over it however. Rather, she regretted the circumstances that required its necessity.

But that was difficult to put into proper words, and the more she remained quiet, the more Niamh shifted anxiously beneath her, especially with Leliana still leaning over the mage, hands on either side of the woman's head. Soundlessly, she exhaled slowly through her nostrils, counting the beats while carefully keeping her thoughts from coloring her expression. Still, her smile was sincere as she regarded her lover.

"Hello, Mon Amour. Where were you off to just now?"

Niamh had been away with Morrigan for several hours. While it was understandable for anyone to desire rest after such... strenuous activity, she'd clearly been moving away from the castle's sleeping quarters.

"Oh. Well." There was an awkward clearing of her throat then. "Morrigan's resting now, but given she expended a fair amount of magic earlier, I..." She trailed off, gaze drifting askance as she bit her lip.

"Yes?"

Had Leliana not been standing so close to her, she likely wouldn't have heard the embarrassed words that followed.

"...I wanted to make her something to eat."

Silence drifted between them for a long moment.

At least until it was broken by Leliana's sudden incredulous laughter.

As a former member of the Circle of Magi, Niamh had lived an understandably sheltered existence compared to the rest of Thedas, but she wasn't nearly as inexperienced as dear Alistair when it came to more intimate matters. The man had blushed, paled, blushed again and then balked when the Dark Ritual had been presented to him. Beneath Morrigan's piercing gaze, he stammered his outright refusal to take part in it before all but fleeing to his own bedchambers.

Their leader Saoirse, and Niamh's older sister, had also declined the offer—unable to reconcile that the resulting child of such a ritual would be tainted by the darkness of their lives. As such, Niamh had been the only Grey Warden left.

Still, despite her impressive power as a mage, Niamh was a kind soul. Likely uncertain what to do in the aftermath of such an unusual situation, she had defaulted to her own familiar habits instead: providing care when and where she could.

She felt Niamh shift against her from where she'd press her forehead against her lover's shoulder in an attempt to muffle her giggling. Looking up, she saw that Niamh had turned her head away. The other woman's skin was so pale that there was little missing the way her cheeks had reddened deeply, coursing all the way to the very tips of her ears.

"Oh. No, no, no," Leliana cooed even as she tried to stem her remaining laughter. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make fun of you," she promised, cupping Niamh's chin to gently turn her back into facing her. "It's just..." Her eyes softened when she saw how Niamh looked up at her bashfully beneath the dark fringe of her hair, and she couldn't help the ever sweet ache of love unfurling inside her at the sight. "It's just so very like you..."

Niamh was always so immaculate in how she carried herself that it was often far too easy to forget that she was actually the youngest of their ragtag group. As their lead tactician, every possible scenario was accounted for, and every move was weighted so as to end in their favor.

When have you ever placed yourself above anyone? Has that thought ever occurred to you?

Knowing what she did about her lover, Leliana could see the image of a very young Niamh—little more than a child—in her mind's eye, frightened and alone in a tower forever designed to be her prison. While faith had served as Leliana's redemption in the wake of Marjolaine's betrayal, Niamh's formative years had been poisoned by the same religious doctrine that would never recognize a mage as anyone of worth.

Is that why such a notion came so easily to you? That you would ensure the safety of our lives at the cost of your own?

Perhaps that was why Leliana had so easily agreed to Morrigan's request.

And perhaps that makes me a selfish woman—a foolish one, others might say—that I would let you lay with someone other than me. That I told her yes simply because I couldn't stand the thought of being without you in whatever version of 'after' should greet us at the end of this battle.

Unconsciously, her fist clenched hard in the fabric of her lover's tabard.

"Leliana?"

She came out of her thoughts to find Niamh looking up at her with concern, but there was something in that gaze that caused Leliana to slowly tilt her head curiously.

"Your eyes changed color."

Niamh blinked.

"At the very edges," she tried to clarify, sliding her hand to cup a cheek as her thumb brushed just at the edge of one. "There's a ring of violet around them." Given how naturally pale Niamh's eyes were, Leliana had nearly missed the change that was only evident now that the the candles within the room had dimmed themselves low.

"Oh. Um. Morrigan said it was a side effect of the magic she was using. She said the ritual would have been much easier with a male Warden, but considering the circumstances..." She shrugged. "She had to use a few alternative spells to compensate for the fact that we're both women. It should wear off by morning though."

"I see." Leliana leaned in to press her lips against Niamh's temple in relief. At such close proximity, however, she caught the faint traces of Morrigan's scent on Niamh's skin, who soon began fidgeting self-consciously beneath her attention, blush deepening.

"Leliana! I haven't even washed yet! I—"

"Tell me to stop, and I will," she vowed solemnly.

That was a mercy that had been denied to her last she was in Denerim, where she'd been a prisoner rather than the last line of defense that might not even be enough in the end. She chased away the dark memory and looked down at her lover pleadingly.

"If something happens tomorrow, then I want the memory of one last night with you sealed forever into my being," she said, and the confession caused Niamh's breathing to stutter for a brief moment as she stared at her in wonder. After a time, however, that wintry-grey gaze—tinged with the lavender of spring—softened.

"Leliana, were it up to me, I'd etch your very image into the stars so that all the world would know your name and my devotion to you. If it's within my power, I would never willingly deny you anything."

"Then be with me," she breathed against Niamh's lips.

As Leliana's back fell against their bed—with deft hands quickly making quick work of the buckles on her outfit between kisses that threatened to consume her whole—she hoped perhaps against all hope that fate would be kind. That the Maker would surely smile upon them and bless them with both victory and the chance to find the happiness that had been so long denied to them.

But if it was all to be a fool's dream, then she would still have this.

No matter what happens... I love you.

-----

So because she slept with Niamh so soon after the Dark Ritual was completed, Leliana ended up getting pregnant just like Morrigan... 😅

Anyway, this is Saoibh (pronounced "Sive"; like the number "five" but with a "S" in front of it) Cousland!

I think she definitely takes after Leliana more when it comes to her facial features, especially at certain angles, but she also inherited Niamh's dark-haired good looks. 😉

I'll make a more in-depth profile for Saoibh (somewhat similar to what I did for Niamh) either tomorrow or later this week.

I should also say that while she was conceived from this AU, she will exist in other ones I have as well. I don't have any plans to write for Veilguard's storyline (I actually did enjoy the game and its characters even though I found the writing severely lacking in some areas) although that's mostly because I don't think I have it within me to do anything as in-depth as OtSttCA anymore... 😅

But y'all should know that I absolutely love AUs by now!

Would any of you be interested in reading something from my Werewolf/Vampire AU featuring a werewolf Saoibh and her centuries-old vampire lover Neve Gallus? 😏

#dragon age: origins #leliana #female cousland/leliana #lee's au ideas #OTP: What If We Rewrite the Stars?#AU: No More Dreams Must I Sacrifice

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viperpitsfilly · 1 year ago

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Hey guys. I recently lost my job and we have less than a grand to live off of. I'm not sure where another job will come out and even if it were soon I don't know and apart from that I've really been struggling mentally and emotionally. So I'll be opening up commissions. I updated the info on it so please check the newgrounds link if you're interested. Because I'm in need of cash I will try to let loose on a few of my rules but if I say no to something please respect that. Please at least reblog this to spread the word. My DMs will be open, my email is available in the commission info sheet and I'll kinda be on discord if I have you there but I'll only be responding to commission requests. I'm not really in the mood to chat with anyone other than a few friends. I'm really not in the best state right now I really feel exhausted.

And of course there's also my Etsy shop if you wanna help with that.

I will start to work on some new VHS cases and I will of course be taking suggestions for what games I should do next just let me know in this link:

#commissions #Etsy #Please help

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honey-minded-hivemind · 1 year ago

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Haunted Mansion Au. With Yandere Wolverine and runaway teen reader

Oooooo... (May I call you Ghost Anon?) Yeah, none of the ghosts like when their favorite (and only) teen groundskeeper leaves. They didn't think them running away was a possibility, either. Ghost Dad-Verine is not gonna be happy. That being said, we're doing it anyway:

The ground was slick with wet leaves and thick mud as you ran, sliding in the muck underfoot as you fled from the mansion grounds.

You had been the groundskeeper the last few months (it had been about half a year), and you'd befriended (stayed polite to) a few odd people. They dressed like they were from a different time period, appeared in odd places without making a sound, and their names matched some of the names etched on the tombstones and gravemarkers in the mansion graveyard. You'd cleaned them up, placed fresh flowers, rinsed and scrubbed away mud and slimy rot. You'd even said a small prayer or blessing over them, even if you weren't religious or were from different faiths and religions.

You should have guessed (it was obvious, looking back at it) that the people you had met were ghosts. More specifically, the ghosts oof the people laid to rest in the graveyard. And there was one in particular who was after you, seeing as he was the one who caught you leaving your notice behind as you were leaving.

"Kid! Get back here! We can talk about this!" yells Logan, otherwise known as James "Jimmy" Logan-Howlett, a man who served in the military and was known to be an avid hunter and skilled fighter. His tombstone had been commissioned by his older brother, who'd fallen into grief and insanity after his younger brother had died. It had read something like:

Here lies Jimmy, short and stout

Brother and friend when you're without

Survived the worst yet all in vain

For he fell by venom, going in pain

Suffice to say, both of them had trauma, a hatred of snakes, and were insane over the fact you were trying to leave, never to return. You figured it was because he was scared you'd die, hoping if he saw you at all times that maybe you'd survive. Maybe he was scared you die somewhere and wouldn't end up a ghost at the mansion, where he resided. Or maybe he'd just always been crazy and beyond raving mad.

"Kid! Come out, NOW! You don't want to make me come in there after you... You don't want to do this. Do you? Don't leave me! Don't- There's snakes- vipers- rattlers- They'll kill you!" he screams, and you hear the rain come down harder, nearly blinding you as you duck down into the bushes between the graveyard and woods...

"Come on out. It's just me, kid. Woukd I steer you wrong?"

"Answer me! It's not safe to be out there!"

"... Kid..."

You almost breathe a sigh of relief when it's been quiet for over an hour, only the rain and wind howling and pounding being heard for miles...

Hissssss...

You go still, slowly turning your head to side.

And there, only a few feet away from you, is a snake. You look carefully at its face, then stop breathing.

It has pits on its face...

A loud cry tears from your throat as you bolt up, tripping backwards as you fumble out of the bushes-

Only for strong, cold arms to wrap under your pits, dragging you up and against Logan, who's face is unreadable.

"..."

Finally, he says something...

"You could've died..."

You shake, eyes darting over his form then down to the bushes and back to him. You aren't sure what to say. You aren't even sure you CAN say anything.

"Ypu could have DIED! WE are going back, and YOU are staying inside! Do NOT try to leave again, or I will tie you to the couch and force you to stay still," he growls, dragging you with him, through the graveyard and winding gravel paths, right back into the old decrepit halls of the manor, depositing you in front of a large fireplace and soon starting a fire inside. A cup of tea is shoved firmly into your wobbling hands, causing you to look up.

"Drink it," Logan orders, using his own freezing hands to steady yours, forcing the cup up towards your lips. Your chattering lips open, taking a small, trembling sip. "ALL of it." You shakily down the cup, and once done, Logan take its, setting it down on a lounge table. Your vision starts to fuzz around the edges, causing you to speak up.

"Log'n... wha' di y' gi'v m..?"

Your voice starts slurring a little, soon turning into a mumble. The older man- ghost- shushes you, soon wandering off. A few moments pass, all you can focus on being your blurring vision and the roaring crackle of the fire... Something thick and wooly falls across you, making you force your eyes to stay open.

"It's a blanket, kid. You need to get warm, and I can't trust you to do that on your own, so your taking a nap while we set up a room for you," Logan explains. You try to say something, but your mouth can't form the words. Your eyes soon slip into slits, in turn closing against your will. A tired murmur hums from your mouth, but all that earns is a chilly hand on your head.

"Get some rest, kid... See ya in the morning," Logan quietly whispers, then you feel something cold pressed to your forehead... The darkness seeps in... And your conscious seeps out...

Leaving a tired teen sleeping in a manor, set in front of a burning fireplace, a tainted teacup sitting on the table nearby... And a ghost watching over them, humming soothingly as they read a book next to them, close by in case they need him...

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere logan howlett #platonic yandere wolverine #👻haunted mansion🔮 au

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alphashley14 · 1 year ago

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One of Us

A Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated/Mystery Skulls Crossover

Chapter 25

Erase Me (Original Demo)

Mystery Incorporated didn’t talk much in the few minutes before they arrived at their destination. There had been plenty of idle chatter about Hatecraft’s new boyfriend. And plenty of speculation about what exactly Mystery had said to Mr. Ellison. Or what he may have shown him for that matter - the writer had been very pale when Mystery had brought him back.

Then Lewis had dropped a bomb on them about Arthur’s flash drive. And if they had to use it, it would fall upon at least one member of Mystery Incorporated to watch it.

… All things considered it made sense why they hadn’t heard about it before now but the timing was still shit.

Daisy Blake’s impressive property, as with many wealthy homes, was surrounded by a tall wrought iron fence, and the road was blocked by a gate. Given such, when Mystery Incorporated and the Mystery Skulls pulled up to it, it fell upon Daphne to get them buzzed inside. She leaned over Fred on all fours, reached her arm out the driver’s side window, and- hesitated.

“We’re doomed,” Daphne gulped.

“Is your relationship with Daisy really that awful?” Lewis asked over the two-way radio. Having three (albeit adopted) sisters of his own, he sometimes struggled to see how siblings could be anything but inseparable. With Daphne however, it seemed that wasn’t the case.

“It’s pretty bad,” Velma said back. “She commissioned us to retrieve a necklace of hers once after it was stolen by a Hodag, and she was super rude the entire time we were here.”

“Ugh, this is a bad idea. Even if it is the only one we’ve got,” Daphne groaned.

“Come on though. She can’t be completely heartless, right? I mean she’s a doctor. Isn’t caring about people in her job description?” Vivi asked.

“Yeah you’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Daphne griped. “Well I’ve never seen her at work but I can definitely say I’ve never seen her flex a selfless muscle in her body outside of it. As for Steve, he’s… I haven’t talked to him that much but he seems like a good guy. But don’t be fooled. He’s from… ‘our world’. So he can slither around in a den of vipers just as well as Daisy.”

“Be that as it may,” Mystery interjected. “What choice do we have?”

“And if all else fails, there’s always the flashdrive…” Lewis reminded them all.

As if they needed reminding.

Without further ado, Daphne rang the buzzer.

They waited.

Daphne rang it again.

Just as she was about to hit it a third time, a voice drawled through the intercom, “Who is it?”

“Hi Daisy!” Daphne said as nicely as she could. Though there was an ugly grimace on her face seen only by the other occupants of the Mystery Machine. “Iiit’s Daphne.”

“Daaaphne. Finally taking me up on my offer to bring your little trap-maker by for polo?”

“Fraid’ not, sis. We need to talk. I’m calling in an I-owe-you from when my friends and I braved a Hodag on your behalf. Unless you’ve forgotten?”

“An I-owe-you?” Daisy scoffed. “And here I thought favors among family were supposed to be unconditional.”

Daphne took a deep breath as if she was about to shout, but Velma placed a hand on her shoulder. “Gently, Daphne….”

Daphne let that breath out, then took a second deep breath to gather herself. “Daisy,” she finally said, “you’ve made it abundantly clear my entire life that asking anything of you is pointless. That’s why I stopped trying years ago. Do you really think I’d come to you now if it wasn’t important?”

Daisy said nothing on the other end of the line.

“Please, Daisy!” Daphne groaned. “I need your help right now more than I have ever needed it in my entire life. Just- hear me out and I will never ask anything of you again. Please.”

A moment’s pause.

Then there came a loud BZZZZZZT, and the gates swung open.

Daphne sighed with relief and sat back in her seat. Much to Fred’s relief - Daphne hovering over his lap like that was giving him some weird feelings. But for now, they would have to go into a box to be sorted out later. A big, thick steel box with the best locks his brain could conjure.

They had a job to do.

Three minutes later the two vans were parked and Daisy’s mansion was towering imposingly before them. Once both groups were squeezed onto the front porch, it was one again time to ring the doorbell. “This is going to be a dumpster fire,” Daphne groaned.

“Come on. I know the odds are against us, but she’s your sister,” Vivi said, trying to be supportive. “If you go in thinking this is going to go badly, then it will. Just think positive!”

“Okay - I am positive this is going to be a dumpster fire.”

Vivi opened and closed her mouth before finally pulling out her phone. “Ya know what? That was funny. I’m writing that down.”

“Regardless of how this goes, with or without using the footage, the result will be the same,” Mystery said. “I want to avoid it if I can, but know this: we have exactly one plan and are pressed for time. Daphne - I will put a spell on your sister if I have to. So for her sake, you’d better use every bit of cunning and charm that you possess.”

“So like, it’s a good thing Daphne has so much of both!” Shaggy said, flashing her two thumbs up.

“Reah!” “You’ve got this Daph!” Scooby and Fred cheered.

With a heavy sigh, Daphne moved to hit the doorbell, but the door swung open a split-second before she could. And there was Daisy Blake, looking not too pleased to see her sister there unannounced. And even more displeased when she saw just how much company she’d brought with her.

“Daphne.”

“Daisy.”

“You sure brought a lot of friends. I didn’t realize you had this many outside your little mystery club.”

Daphne’s eye twitched. “Well - you learn something new every day, don’t you?” she said through gritted teeth. “You’ve met Fred, Velma, and Scooby. This is Vivi, Lewis, Arthur, and Mystery. Is Steve home?”

“Yeah, and he’s enjoying a quiet morning in. He worked a twelve hour shift yesterday,” Daisy said, not-so-subtly hinting that they should make this quick. Unfortunately, everyone but Daisy knew that would not be happening.

“Then we’re sorry to disturb him,” said Vivi. “But we need to talk to both of you.”

“To both of us? Just what kind of favor do you have in mind?” Daisy scoffed.

“I have a patient for you,” Daphne said. “And to say the situation is complicated would be an understatement. Can we talk about the details inside?”

To the untrained eye, Daisy’s expression did not change. But the older mystery solvers could all see a calculating glint hiding behind her mascara as Daisy gave a deceptively nonchalant shrug and waved them inside.

Daisy led them through a maze of large rooms and clean, geometric shapes. Where Hatecraft’s home had celebrated the gothic past, Daisy Blake’s home was grounded in the future. It was dominated by whites, grays, and blues with dashes of magenta, and the art on the walls was inspired by the human body.

It all made Vivi extremely uncomfortable, and she knew Arthur would hate it here if Shaggy wasn’t walking around in his body right now. The medical motifs and overall lack of character reminded her of a hospital or a doctor’s office. And indeed, many of the “modern” light fixtures and furniture looked as if they’d been taken directly from the couple’s profession. Vivi had spent enough time in hospitals for a lifetime - staying by her friend’s side while he recovered from having his arm ripped off.

Daisy led them into a spacious living room and sweetly called out, “Stevie darling, we have company.”

And while there were many less-than-pleasant things that could be said about Daisy Blake, there was real tenderness in her voice for her betrothed, and her face softened when he turned around from where he sat on the couch watching a medical drama.

Steve Poindexter was as wealthy as he was handsome. Nothing less would please a woman like Daisy. And while he was quite a few years older than her (Daisy was twenty-four and he was thirty-five) there was nothing untoward about their relationship and they were very much in love.

“Who is it, Daisy Belle? Friends of yours?” He asked, pausing the TV and getting up.

“Not at all,” Daisy said. “You remember my littlest sister Daphne, I’m sure. And these are some of her little Mystery-solving friends.”

“I know who you are,” Steve said. “Some of my colleagues were there the night you captured a Headless Horror at the hospital. And I was called in to treat one of the victims of the cicada attacks for nerve damage after the bugs wrecked his car. He couldn’t sleep through the night until you kids caught the perpetrator. And for that you have my thanks.”

Mystery Incorporated straightened a little from the uncommon moment of praise for their efforts.

“-But I get the impression this isn’t a social call.”

“I’m afraid not,” said Daphne. “We need your help. Specifically: we have a patient who needs your help.”

“That’s right - you said something about a patient. So, who is it and what’s the problem?” Daisy asked.

All seven of them glanced at each other.

“Can we sit down?” Daphne asked.

Daisy raised an eyebrow, but allowed it. And once they were all seated around the room across from Daisy and Steve, they began to tell their story.

“You said you treated a victim of the cicada attacks,” Velma said.

“I did,” said Steve.

“Then you must be familiar with Destroido.”

“Uh, who in Crystal Cove isn’t familiar with Destroido?” Daisy asked in a do-you-think-we’re-stupid? tone of voice.

“Fair,” Velma shrugged. “Getting to our point, you might have heard about those kids that disappeared in the caves twenty years ago.”

“Kids that- Oh yeeeah, those weirdos. I was a few years younger than them, but I saw them around school every now and again,” Steve said. “There was always weird stuff happening around those freaks. And their parrot gave me the creeps.”

“Oh yeeeah… I was like super little when that happened,” Daisy drawled. “Didn’t you find them though? ...Some of them, anyway? Mommy and Daddy hosted a party for trap-boy’s parents here a while back, right?”

“Yeeeah…” Fred sighed.

“Ohhhh that’s right. You’re the kid the old mayor got locked up for kidnapping,” Steve cringed.

“That’s me…” Fred said awkwardly.

“Anyway!” Dahne interjected. “We actually did find all of them. In fact the other two had both been living in Crystal Cove under new identities for some time. Cassidy Williams is actually Angel Dynamite, the DJ at K-Ghoul radio.”

“Wait- The one that exploded? Didn’t you used to be there all the time?” Daisy asked.

“That’s the one,” Daphne said, shocked Daisy had paid her enough attention to know that. “-And the last one, Ricky Owens, has been going by Mr. E… he’s the owner of Destroido.”

If Steve or Daisy had been drinking something, they undoubtedly would have spat it out. “Whaaat?”

“It’s true,” Vivi said. “And he’s also the patient we need you to treat.”

“Isn’t the owner of Destroido like… a billionaire? And a total recluse?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. How the heck did you get involved with someone like that?” Daisy asked.

“And for that matter, why doesn’t he just hire us himself if he needs treatment? Or go to the hospital? Why would he need some kids to seek out our services for him?” Steve asked.

“Like- hoh boy, those are all excellent questions,” Shaggy gulped.

“And that is what we meant when we said this situation was complicated,” said Velma.

“But before we tell you anything else - Daisy, Steve, I need you to promise that none of it leaves this room,” Daphne said. “If we don’t have your discretion, people could get seriously hurt. Possibly even die.”

Daisy started to laugh. But then she saw the look on her sister’s face, and the haughty facade melted away a little bit more. “Oh… oh shit, you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Like I said,” Daphne sighed, “I wouldn’t have bothered coming to you if it wasn’t important.”

Daisy and Steve looked at each other and came to a silent agreement. “Alright,” said Daisy, “you have my word.”

“We’re no strangers to confidentiality,” Steve said with a nod. “But I reserve the right to use my best judgment.”

“If you have any respect for yourselves, your profession, or your patients,” Mystery growled, “you’ll treasure the trust being placed in your hands and keep your mouths shut.”

Daisy and Steve stared at him. “Just so we’re clear… that dog just talked. Right?” Asked Steve.

“See, Darling? I told you weird things happen around Daphne. But I thought that was the one who talks.”

“Reah. I can talk too,” said Scooby.

Steve blinked at him. “... Huh.”

“Ha! If you think that’s weird, you are not prepared,” Vivi scoffed.

“So? Do we have your confidentiality or not?” Asked Mystery.

Steve was now wearing the same calculating look as his betrothed. “...Alright.”

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

Cassidy Williams woke very suddenly to an empty room.

What in the world? How did I- Mystery! That son of a bitch! Grumbling curses under her breath, Angel sat up with a groan, stretching this way and that to relieve the stiffness in her limbs before her eyes wandered to the empty spot on the couch where Ricky had been. Then she spotted two pieces of stationary on the coffee table. After reading them, she realized that he must’ve woken up a while ago and wandered off to find something to do.

Cassidy stood and stretched once more to loosen the sore muscles in her thighs and buttocks, and then there came a happy trilling sound. When she looked up, she found two Dead Beats floating into the room towards her. “Hey babies, how you doin?” Angel chuckled as they snaked around her neck and torso for pets. “You mind showin’ me where that fool Ricky got to?”

The little ghosts gave an affirming chirp and made a “follow me!” motion with their nubby little arms.

They found Ricky in the kitchen. The lights were off in the daytime and the only light was streaming in from a window above the sink. Bubbles drifted lazily through the air, catching the light with sparkling rainbow sheens before popping in a shower of tiny droplets like falling stars. And standing at the sink, jacket tied around his waist and his bare arms elbow-deep in soapy water, was Ricky. Well- Ricky-in-Shaggy’s-body, that is.

His back was to the door, and he was working his way through the mountain of dirty dishes from their huge breakfast that morning. There were also Dead Beats all over the place. There had to be at least twenty! Ricky would finish a dish, inspect it, then hold it up and a Dead Beat would take it and either find a place in the dishwasher or carefully stack it in one of the cabinets. Those that weren’t helping were hanging around the room watching Ricky work. There was a radio on the counter playing one of their hosts’ more upbeat, hopeful-sounding songs, and Ricky was lightly bobbing his head along while the Dead Beats pulsed and hummed to the beat.

“-In this life, it changes for the better, babe. And right now, I feel it, overtaking meee~…. Oooh. “Said please baby, please. Erase me. Erase my mind again-”

Cassidy hadn’t seen him so content since she’d arrived. For a few moments she was content to lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, and watch him. But she knew she couldn’t lurk forever.

“Hey, baby.”

Shaggy’s body jumped in a way that was utterly and completely Ricky, and when he spun around his entire face was as pink as the Dead Beats. “Ca-Cassidy! Uh- hi. I was just- dishes,” He stammered. In a way that was just as stupid as it was endearing, and his own embarrassment only turned his face redder.

“And just like before, we’ll fall in love.”

Cassidy snorted and crossed the room in a few strides, brushing the mob of ghosts away as they tried to crowd around her for attention. “Here. It’ll get done faster with two,” she said, standing at the large sink beside him. He scooted over a little to give her room, but her hip still ended up brushing against his thigh. His blush wasn’t going away. Interesting.

“We’ll fall in love again.”

“I’m uh- glad you’re up,” Ricky said as the two of them got into the chore. “I woke up a while ago and hung around for a while but… then I got hungry and when I got to the kitchen there were all these dishes so I figured… might as well, am I right? Anyway - did you sleep good?”

“Well given that a spell was put on me, I don’t think I got much of a say in how I slept,” Cassidy grumbled.

Ricky snorted. “Me neither. Though I at least wanted the sleeping potion, even if I was the idiot who took it at the wrong time. Still - do you at least feel better? It didn’t occur to me how long you must’ve been awake.”

Cassidy pressed her lips into a thin line. “Yeah… I do.” She admitted dryly, but then she waved a sudsy ladle at him and scolded, “-And if you tell Mystery that, I’ll smack you silly!”

Ricky laughed. “Don’t worry - I won’t. Can’t give him the satisfaction after pulling one over on us, now can we?”

“Definitely not,” she agreed.

As the song came to a close and the two worked in silence, Cassidy gradually realized that Ricky was tensing up again. His brows were furrowed and there was a troubled look on his face. Was he considering telling her whatever it was everyone seemed to be tiptoeing around? Or was there something else?

“So…?” Cassidy finally said, not looking at him.

Ricky jumped. “So?” He echoed, pretending not to know what she could be “so”-ing about.

“Is there anything you wanna tell me?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him starting to sweat, and the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “Uh-huh,” he croaked.

Cassidy paused what she was doing, forearms resting on the edge of the sink, and looked at him. Waiting.

Ricky looked petrified.

Probably on account of the fact that he was petrified.

He had been thinking about this, dreading this, since he’d hung up the phone with Lewis. But all those thoughts had done was draw a new weariness over him. So heavy on his shoulders it had been tempting to lie back down, close his eyes, and return to that familiar, comfortable blackness where he wouldn’t need to think about it anymore. That was why he’d left the room in the first place. Watching Cassidy, still blissfully dozing, he’d found himself envious of the peace written on her face. But now that her beautiful black eyes were open and expectant, the words were shriveling on his tongue.

What sort of expression will you make when you find out what kind of man I became without you? Ricky wondered. Will you be able to look at me at all, once you know what it took to change me?

His hands were shaking when he took them out of the water and hastily dried them with a dishtowel. “I- uh…” He opened and closed his mouth a few times.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Then finally he shook his head.

“... I can’t.”

Cassidy bit her bottom lip. She was frustrated. And honestly a little hurt. But instead of getting angry she asked, “Why not?... The others know. So you told them. Why not me?”

Ricky didn’t say it, but he knew exactly why.

Because whatever care or respect you have left for me is one of the few things I have left to lose.

“When I… told them,” Ricky began shakily, fiddling with his hands, “it was right after- well- this happened.” He gestured to himself, in Shaggy’s body. “I was emotional, and it was an emergency. But now… the words’ve just left me.”

“Then you don’t have to tell me everything yet,” Cassidy sighed, resigned. “But… can you try? Just- start wherever makes sense and tell me what you can.”

Ricky still looked absolutely terrified, but he nodded. “... okay.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then another.

Then finally-

“I said no,” Ricky said, right as Cassidy was starting to worry he wasn’t going to say anything at all. “Professor Pericles was spiraling. I’d gone along with… things I’m not proud of. But after a certain point… what we were doing didn’t make sense anymore. He was hurting people. And it was as if he was enjoying it. And that- wasn’t what I signed up for. At least I didn’t think it was. And I’m ashamed to say it, but I think it was his reckless spending that snapped me out of it. He’s spent millions. Hundreds of millions, Cassidy. Of Destroido’s money - my money. Often without permission, and never with so much as a ‘thank you.’ And ya know what? Yeah - that pissed me off. Enough that money-related questions led me to the questions I probably-definitely should have been asking all along. I knew I had to do something so- I locked him out of the system. I was losing control of the group and figured if they needed me to access every cent, then I could filter what they did with it. And uh… he- didn’t like that very much.”

Ricky still remembered the surge of fear that went through him when Pericles had launched himself off his perch. Could still feel the sting on his cheek. “-Idiot human mascot!”

“So he uh- anyway- he attacked me.”

“I’m sorry. He attacked you? How? Were you hurt?!” She demanded.

“It was just a slap!” Ricky said quickly. Only to immediately kick himself. Why is your first instinct to defend him??? “But uh… he’d- never hit me before, ya’know?” He said with a half-assed smile. “He’d- said some pretty nasty things but he’d never- so it uh… really smacked some sense into me, huh?” He laughed halfheartedly at his own joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Cassidy wasn’t laughing. Cassidy looked horrified. Ricky looked away so he wouldn’t have to see that look on her face anymore.

“It- made it clear to me that I was gonna have to do something drastic, so I went to Brad and Judy. He was out of control. Losing his mind, really. And he wasn’t even pretending to listen to me anymore. I thought if I could get all three of us to throw him out, or at least threaten to, then I could make him see reason. But uh…”

His voice cracked, and he had to swallow and pause before he could talk again. “They uh… they lied to me. They told me to my face that they were with me. But then they went straight to him. And uh… he uh…” Ricky choked back a sob, his vision blurring with tears.

‘Tell her…’ that pitiful part of him whimpered once more. ‘Come on! Just say it!’

Cassidy’s arm, still wet from the sink, slid around his. And she gently interlaced their fingers. She didn’t say anything, but she was there. Grounding him. Listening. Waiting.

“They- they drugged me and they- he put s-something…” Ricky shuddered, but he just couldn’t get those last few words out. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about the thing in his back. How dirty he felt all the time knowing that there was something inside him that could turn on him at any moment. The torture. The way Pericles had laughed while Ricky screamed…

“Cassidy, I messed up. I-I messed up so bad. I’m in so much trouble… I couldn’t refuse him anything anymore, I couldn’t leave, and I had no one to go to for help. I’m- I’m a prisoner in my own home. Then this happened, and now Arthur’s in my place. But he’s- he’s not me. He’s smart, he’s brave, and he has friends. I’m fucked - but Arthur has a plan to get me un-fucked, and he’s doing it with my body.”

Ricky paused to sniff and rub the wetness from his eyes with his wrist. “The others are uh… in Crystal Cove right now. They’ve gone to one of Daphne’s sisters for help, but in order to prove what’s happening to me and show her what we’re up against… Arthur and Hot Dog- Marcie - hacked Destroido’s cameras. Anyway… they uploaded all the footage they could onto a flashdrive and uh- and right about now the kids are probably watching it.” And his eyes were wet when he turned and smiled at her. “-And when they get back… I think I need you to see it too.”

Cassidy was staring at him with an expression that was almost unreadable. “Ricky,” she said at last. “I won’t push too hard. But please- please at the very least tell me this: Ricky… Ricky, they didn’t!”

Confusion stabbed through his other emotions. What’s with that face? “Didn’t what-” Then he thought about what he’d said, and realized what she was insinuating.

“Oh! Oh shit- NO! Nonono! It was nothing like that! I swear!”

She stared at him for a long moment, searching his face for honesty. Then quietly, she pressed her forehead to his shoulder and all but sagged against him. “Thank god…”

Oh no… “Cassidy…” When was the last time she’d- it had been years since he had last seen her this upset. He knew the sadness in her eyes. He knew the longing he either ignored, denied, or pretended not to see. And he remembered her anger. The night she’d stormed into Destroido on her bike, the night he’d been found out for being behind the Oblitheratrix, the night they’d stopped working together… he remembered her anger. He remembered the shouting, the screaming, the arm-waving and circle-walking as she raved and berated him for his foolishness. He remembered hurled insults and both of them saying things they regretted later.

And most of all, he remembered that one last tearful look over her shoulder when she left his home and never came back.

But she wasn’t angry now. She was relieved and she was scared. For him. He dared to turn so her head was on his chest, his free arm came around her shoulders, and then… he dared press his nose into her curls. “I’m sorry, Cassidy. I didn’t mean to- it really wasn’t anything like that… I’m alright… Nobody- nobody touched me.”

And yet… the connection Cassidy had made bothered him. Was it really ‘nothing like that?’ He couldn’t help but wonder. Even if nothing overtly sexual had been done to him… now that Ricky was thinking about it that way: they had drugged him. Snuck into his room while he was sleeping. And while he was defenseless and vulnerable, they… put something inside him. And after that, he could never say no again…

He remembered that dirty feeling. Then a whole new wave of revulsion washed over him as he realized fully, perhaps for the first time, just how truly violated he had been. How he was still being violated now. Professor Pericles, along with Brad and Judy, had taken over his home, his finances, his autonomy… and even if not in the way Cassidy had assumed - they’d violated his body too.

“Promise me, Ricky,” Cassidy said at last.

Her eyes were wet when she looked up at him. And they were simmering like hot coals. She didn’t know the full truth yet. But he knew that look.

Rage.

“Swear to me that they didn’t violate you. Not like that. And not in any other way. Swear it!”

He wanted to.

But he’d also promised himself that he wouldn’t lie to her anymore.

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

Daisy and Steve were looking at them like they had lost their minds.

To be fair though, if someone had come to them with the same story two days ago, they probably would have reacted the same way.

“So. Let me see if I have the facts right,” Daisy said, disbelieving. “There was another mystery-solving group that got chased out of Crystal Cove twenty years ago by their psychotic genius talking pet parrot and the former mayor in a monster costume. But the parrot escaped from the animal asylum after a robot dog disguised as your dog attacked the place. And has now joined forces with two of the aforementioned missing kids - who happen to be trap-boy here’s long-lost parents - and trapped a third one, Ricky Owens, who has apparently been living as this “Mr. E” guy for… who knows how long, in some kind of domestic violence-type situation-”

“It really does get more and more bonkers the more you put it into words, doesn’t it?” Lewis muttered. Vivi, Mystery, Shaggy, and Scooby all nodded in agreement.

“-So you’ve come here to ask my beautiful fiancee and I to surgically remove a small capsule of- mutated cobra larve from his lower back. Which the parrot has been using to torture and control him. Do I have that right?”

Daphne took a deep breath through her nose and said, as seriously as she could, “Daisy. You do not even have all of the facts for how absolutely bat-shit insane this situation is. But yeah - that’s the gist of it.”

“Oh my God, you have lost your mind.”

“Daisy-”

“Get out.”

“Please, sis-”

“You must think I’m either crazy or stupid to believe one word of this!” Daisy shouted! “Now get out!”

“We can prove it,” said Lewis.

Daisy faltered, her eyes widening with surprise. Clearly, she hadn’t been expecting proof. Mystery Incorporated stiffened. Right… the flashdrive.

Lewis pulled it out of a pocket inside his vest, and all eyes locked on the small purple piece of plastic and metal pinched between his fingers. “- We’re not just rescuing Mr. E. He’s also working to rescue himself. With a little help, he hacked his own system. There’s hours of security footage and multiple notes and photographs on this flashdrive, proving everything we just told you. If you take a look and still refuse, then there’s not much we can do. But you have no idea what he risked to get this out of Destroido. We owe it to him to use it… Please, Dr. Blake…”

Daisy’s eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed, tapping one manicured nail against her crossed arms. Thinking. Then finally, she looked over at her fiance. Steve shrugged his shoulders with a look that said ‘I’m kinda curious not gonna lie…’ And Daisy rolled her eyes to the ceiling with an exasperated sigh. “Fine. We’ll have a look. But no promises.”

“Thank you,” Lewis sighed. “Now Velma, if you would please get out your computer, I’ll leave this with you and we’ll be waiting in the van. Give us a call when you’re done or if you need anything.”

“Wait- where are they going?” Steve asked.

“You seeing that footage is us using it as intended, and Ricky gave them permission to see it. Not us,” Vivi shrugged. “It’s only right to honor his wishes.”

Velma waited a few moments for the Mystery Skulls’ retreating footsteps to disappear altogether before she opened her laptop, plugged the drive into the port, and began typing away to access its files.

And then, there it was.

File after file after file, letters and numbers stark white on a black background. Hours worth of footage, just waiting to be played. “Holy- Jinkies, there it is,” Velma said shakily.

“What? Have you not even looked at it yet?” Daisy scoffed.

“We only just acquired this footage last night, and the contents are some sensitive stuff,” Daphne said.

“Like there’s so much of it. Where do we even start?” Shaggy (still in Arthur’s body) asked. Daisy, who paid little attention to her sister’s friend group, didn’t pay his appearance any mind.

“And before we do… is everyone here ready to see this? And do you want to?” Fred asked his friends. “We don’t really know what we’re about to see, and it’s like the Mystery Skulls said - it’s our choice who in our group does. If any of you walk out now, I won’t judge.”

“Like… I feel like we owe it to Arth- to Mr. E to see it, after how hard he worked to get this to us,” Shaggy gulped. “And like- Ricky said he wanted us to see it… so like yeah. I’m not going anywhere,” Shaggy said.

“Ree too,” Scooby nodded.

“In spite of everything that’s happened… I feel like I need to see this,” Velma agreed.

Daphne and Fred looked at each other and came to the same silent agreement as the others: they weren’t going anywhere.

“Right… as to where we start,” Velma said, “It looks like Ar- Mr. E and Marcie have made a small legend at the top of the file list for things that happen in each video, and each one has a title and description too.”

“What’s the first video say? Is that when… it first happened?” Daphne asked nervously.

“I don’t think so. Look at the legend,” Velma pointed out. “He’s used a small icon that looks like a red circle to indicate each time the remote was used, and there isn’t one on the first video.”

“There are icons there though,” Scooby said. “Rut do those mean?” Scooby was talking about two icons beside the video’s title - “Confrontation1” The first one he was pointing to was spiky, orange, and yellow. Like a collision. The next was a man’s head, his mouth open and lines coming out, like he was talking.

Their eyes wandered to the legend.

💥 Physical abuse. 🗣️ Verbal abuse.

Velma hit play.

The video started out with Mr. E - the real Mr. E, still in his own body, sitting in front of his monitors. Velma recognized at once where it was - on his island office in the middle of his dramatic-ass shark moat.

“Who’s that?” Daisy asked.

“Your patient,” Fred said.

“That’s Ricky Owens?” Steve balked. “Damn - he let himself go.”

“It’s called depression and it happens to people when they suddenly lose everything at age seventeen,” Daphne snapped. And the rest of her friends were glaring at him too. Steve quickly shut his mouth.

Whatever Mr. E had been up to, the glaring light in the dim room prevented any of them from making it out on the screens. But he jumped and quickly turned it off when Professor Pericles appeared onscreen with an angry shout.

“Ricky! Ricky what have you done?! I’ve been locked out of the system!”

“I know - I did it on purpose,” Mr. E snarled, rising to his feet. “You’re out of control, Professor Pericles! And I’m putting a stop to it! I’m in charge - I built Destroido from the ground up! While you were cooling your beak in prison! It’s time that I-”

WHACK.

The five Mystery solvers went rigid with shock.

They’d heard about some of the things Professor Pericles had said and done to Mr. E. Seeing it themselves was another matter entirely. And Ricky had never said anything about- he hit him. And when they heard what he said next, their jaws dropped.

“You are in charge of nothing, Ricky Owens! You have never been anything other than an idiotic human mascot! A shoulder for me to perch upon!”

The Mr. E on the screen was so startled- so genuinely frightened of the very creature he’d deluded himself into seeing as a friend, that he was silent for a long moment. Then he gingerly touched the red side of his face, wincing. “... You don’t mean that,” he said quietly. Pitifully hopeful. Still in denial. Still desperate for something that wasn’t there, and maybe never had been.

Professor Pericles sneered down at him like a bad seed in his bird feed. “You will restore my access by the end of the day.”

“And if I don’t?” Ricky growled. Stubborn. Trying to be brave when it was clear even through a screen that he was terrified.

Professor Pericles smiled at him in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. One foot came up to touch Ricky’s large nose with deceptive tenderness.

Then he dug his talons in.

Not enough to break the skin, but just enough to hurt. Ricky hissed with pain. “You’re a very valuable egg, Ricky,” Pericles sneered. “I’d hate to have to break you.”

“Pericles- stop. That- ow! That’s enough!” Ricky shouted. He shoved the parrot off of him with a great flapping of feathers as the parrot perched himself on the edge of the chair. Ricky got to his feet before he could regain the upper hand.

“Restore. My access,” Pericles demanded.

“Really? That’s all you care about?! You hit me!” Ricky barked.

For a split-second, Pericles’ expression turned positively venomous. But then it softened. “Ricky,” he said in a jarringly tender voice. “How are we to move forward when I don’t have access to our resources? The treasure is at hand. Whatever investment we make in attaining it will be returned to us beyond calculation.”

“You mean whatever investment I make,” Ricky corrected him. “How much of your own money have you spent, exactly? Or Brad and Judy’s? Why is what I worked for worth so little to you?”

“Und here I was under the impression you’d grown up,” Pericles tutted disappointedly. “I didn’t realize you were so selfish. Isn’t locking me out rather childish?”

“I- you- shut up!” Ricky shouted! And Mystery Incorporated suddenly remembered what Ricky had said, about how Pericles knew exactly what buttons to push. “Shut up and get out! I don’t want to talk to you- I don’t even want to look at you right now. You want your access back? Earn it back!”

“After everything I’ve sacrificed-”

“You’ve sacrificed?! What about my sacrifices? You’ve cost me everything, and still you find more to take.”

“Vögelchen… You told me once that I was family. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Did it mean nothing when you betrayed me?! But unlike you, yes. It means something. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you or that I trust you. Not for back then, and certainly not for that shit you just pulled. Now get out.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you stop acting like a child!”

“Fine! Then I’ll leave! There’s plenty of places for me to go! It’s my house!”

“Don’t you turn your back on me, Ricky Owens!”

“Watch me!”

And Ricky wasn’t kidding. Mr. E stormed over the bridge, went out a side exit, and when Professor Pericles tried to follow a steel door slammed shut within an inch of his beak.

Then Professor Pericles was alone. But the video wasn’t over yet. He flew back over to the island and perched himself on the top edge of that ring of monitors, looking up at the fish swimming in the lake above. What he said next couldn’t be heard very well, with how quietly he was speaking and the way German was mixed in. But they could make out this: “My Master… my master was right. Mein Vögelchen ist only human after all… no different from…”

He was staring off into space when the video ended.

They stared at that last frame for several long moments. Visibly unsettled.

“Well- um- that was-” There were holes in Daisy’s unbothered facade. “So like- I guess he really is Ricky Owens, huh?”

“That was definitely the same parrot…” Steve muttered. “Knew he gave me the creeps.”

“Like um… that was like…” Shaggy stuttered.

“Yeah,” Fred said. None of them even had the words.

“I didn’t see any torture though…” Daisy scoffed.

And even if the way she said it was insensitive, she was right: they hadn’t seen what they needed to just yet.

The second, third, and fourth videos, according to their captions, were of Brad and Judy conspiring with Professor Pericles against Ricky. There wasn’t any footage of Ricky going to Brad and Judy with his plan to turn on Pericles, as he’d been smart enough to avoid the cameras in case Pericles was monitoring them. But because the others weren’t nearly as familiar with the placement of the cameras as Ricky, a lot of their activities were on camera. Which added yet another layer to the tragedy: if Ricky had only checked his footage at the right time, what happened to him next could have been avoided.

Then, along with video evidence of their verbal conspiracy, there was a short clip of the Original Mystery Incorporated having dinner together, and Arthur had managed to find the exact moment Brad’s hand moved nonchalantly over Ricky’s drink. Then when it cut to the end of the meal, it showed Ricky walking with a slight stagger into the hallway where his rooms were apparently located, unaware he’d clearly been drugged. Then there was a clip with a timestamp about two hours later of Brad, Judy, and Pericles entering that same hallway with a briefcase, then leaving thirty minutes after that. But there weren’t any cameras in the rooms themselves or joining hallways, so there was no footage of them actually committing the crime.

Then there was the seventh video.

The first one with a big red circle beside its’ title:

“Confrontation2+Confession 🔴”

Velma clicked on it.

Again, it was on that central island in Mr. E’s lair. Ricky was pacing to and fro across the floor, arms crossed, while Brad and Judy stood side by side watching him as if they hadn’t committed an unforgivable sin just the night before.

“He’s late,” Ricky griped.

“You know he shows up when he means to,” Judy said. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon, don’t you think Brad?”

“Right you are, Judy. You know he’ll be looking to get his system access back, and making you wait isn’t the way to do it, Ricky.”

“Suppose you’re right…” Ricky grumbled. And he looked proud. Proud of himself for standing up to Pericles for once. Happy that he still had two old friends who had his back. Hopeful that after this, things would be better. That they’d change their approach, and no one else would have to get hurt once he took the reins back.

The new Mystery Incorporated were on the edge of their seats. Daphne was holding Fred’s hand, Shaggy and Scooby were hugging each other, and Velma was anxiously tapping her heel. Even Daisy and Steven, who weren’t involved yet, were tense. There was a sort of hopelessness to watching this footage. Like watching a train wreck: they all knew how it ended.

Then Pericles arrived.

He landed with a flutter on the edge of a desk beside Brad and Judy. And when he spoke his voice was jovial, yet his remaining green eye glinted with malevolence.

“Ricky. Brad. Judy. Do forgive my tardiness. Now Ricky, what did you need to interrupt my work to talk about?”

“This isn’t a talk, Professor Pericles. It’s an intervention. Things can’t continue as they have.”

“Oh? Und how have they been?” Pericles asked. And there it was - that hostility. Almost a ‘how-dare-you?’

“As you know, I’ve revoked your system access.”

“Ja. And you still haven’t returned it, as I told you to.”

“And there it is!” Ricky exclaimed. “You can't order me to do anything, Professor Pericles. When I agreed to this partnership, it was a part-ner-ship. That means you and I. Working together towards a common goal, each respecting the other. But you haven’t respected me or anything of mine since almost the beginning. You have spent tens of millions without my permission on plans that you have gone through with behind my back. You have poked your beak into parts of my life and business that don’t concern you and I didn’t want you in. And overall - you have gone too far. It isn’t just the expenses that bother me. The collateral damage of your last few schemes have been insane.”

“Bah! One cannot make a genius omlette-”

“‘-Without breaking a few worthless eggs.’ Yeah - that’s what you keep saying. But you know what? People aren’t eggs. By the time you actually told me about that ridiculous skull cattle plan of yours, you’d already spent a fortune making them. Then by the time we expunged what was left of them out of my company, they had eaten twenty-nine of my best scientists. And at least forty of my other staff. My people, Pericles. People with families who I was responsible for. I told you I thought it was insanity, but did you listen? Their deaths are on me because I didn’t stand up to you sooner. Not to mention all the casualties in Crystal Cove, or the homes and businesses they destroyed. All for a plan that didn’t even work! I don’t care how much of my money you’d already spent on those creatures. I should’ve had them all killed the minute I found out about them!”

“But you didn’t,” Pericles said. “You’re judging my sins, Mister E? Then you're a damn hypocrite. What if not blood is your kingdom built upon, Ricky Owens? All you are is a false king sitting on a throne of poisoned land and ruined lives!”

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?” Ricky roared. “YOU THINK I LIKE THE PERSON I’VE BECOME? When I was a boy, I had a different dream for this company. I wanted…” But then Ricky gritted his teeth and looked away. “Nice deflection,” he grumbled. “But I’m not letting you do that this time. Because I might be a piece of shit, but we’re not talking about me. We are talking about you: Out of control and out of your damn mind. But you know what? I can see it on your face. I could talk myself hoarse, but you’re not listening.”

“My ears are working just fine, Vögelchen.”

“Don’t. Call me that,” Ricky seethed. “There is a difference between hearing and listening, Pericles. And if you won’t listen to me, then you’ve not left me with much choice: Get out. And I don’t mean out of the room this time. Get out of my home, out of my company, out of my life. I can’t exactly make you leave Crystal Cove, but us? I’ve talked to Brad and Judy about it already, and we’re all in agreement: you’re done. Out.”

“Out? You think you can banish me?” Pericles smirked.

“Yes. I do. Destroido is mine. So you see Professor Pericles, it’s over! You’re not the boss here, I am! And you’re out of the group!”

The camera caught Pericles pulling a big red button out of a pocket in his scarf and there came a collective gasp of horror.

The instant Pericles pushed it, Ricky’s body froze in a position that wasn’t natural. His eyes widened with shock. Horror. Confusion. In so much pain he couldn’t even muster the breath to scream.

“Oh Ricky, Ricky,” Pericles tutted. “My loyal Brad and Judy told me of your little mutiny. So, last night while you were asleep, I put mutated cobra larvae in your spine! Every time I push this button… a little venom is released.”

And there it was. Straight out of his own beak.

They saw it all. They heard Pericles boast about what he was planning to do, and they heard him laugh. They saw Brad and Judy, smirking at one another as if they were proud of what they’d done. And they saw Ricky. They saw him fall to his knees, unable to stand. They heard the sound that found its way through the audio - somewhere between a whimper and a grunt. Then finally, as the torture continued and Pericles still didn’t let up, a damn burst and Ricky cried out!

None of them would ever forget that sound.

He was convulsing, shaking, crying, begging for it to stop, making any number of promises between sobs.

And Pericles was enjoying it.

That was when Velma slammed the laptop shut with a snap, unable to bear watching a second more.

Not a soul stopped her or asked to see the rest.

And for a long minute, they were quiet. The silence was only broken by the sounds of Daphne quietly sniffling. Fred was stunned stiff beside her. Scooby was huddled as close as he possibly could to his boy, and Shaggy felt as if he was going to be sick. As for Velma? She was thinking. Thinking so much so fast that her brain was overwhelming itself. Or perhaps not. It was more like her brain was so horrified that she couldn’t conjure any thoughts at all. Silently, she put both feet up on Daisy’s expensive leather couch and hugged her knees to her chest, still staring at the closed laptop.

They would wonder to themselves later, if they lost something when they watched that footage.

Subsequently, they would also wonder what they gained.

Either way, they got what they came for.

Daisy left the room.

She straightened her back, arms crossed, and briskly yet gracefully walked out of the room, her heels clicking against the tile. Looking almost as disturbed as his betrothed, Steven rushed out after her.

They didn’t come back for a very long time.

And there it is! Chapter 25! I know I promised to post it on Sunday and I'm technically posting it on Monday, 2am isn't thaaaat late, right? I spent all day working on revisions and that lllovely little piece of fanart that I put so much of my heart and soul into. (My one regret is that Tumblr is going to condense it so, SO much 😑) I was having a really good conversation with @angorwhosebabyisthis a while back about SDMI, specifically about Ricky, Pericles, and their relationship, and they pointed out to me that the way Pericles physically abuses Ricky using a device that he has literally inserted inside of him is quite obviously an allegory for rape. And I'm not going to lie - I had never drawn that comparison before. But once I saw it I couldn't unsee it. And I think it's extremely important that more adult fans do and that it gets talked about in the SDMI discourse. Because if more people have realized it, and I certainly hadn't, then I certainly haven't seen anyone else talking about it and I haven't read about it in any other fics. Likely because in spite of its' extremely adult, dark themes, SDMI is for all intents and purposes a "kids' show." Not to mention it's an extremely heavy and oftentimes taboo topic even among adults. But while it is the former, I don't believe it should be the latter. I rated this fic M for mature from the start and have piled on the angst this much already. So even if it isn't a comfy subject, I saw no reason why it shouldn't be here. All the same, I hope my writing didn't upset or trigger anyone and that anyone disturbed by such things heeded the warnings I put at the beginning of the chapter. SO! On to talking about the rest of the chapter! Any room for doubt the kids may have had is no longer existent. How will what they've seen affect their behavior and actions moving forward? And Cassidy finally has at least some idea of what's happened to Ricky, but how will she react to the full picture? Much less when she sees it. Daisy Blake is a character I've been looking forward to playing with because we saw so little of her in SDMI and what we did see was extremely two-dimensional. Which is one of my favorite characters to write in fanfiction because it means I can do whatever interpretation of her I want, and who's to say I'm wrong? Not to mention Daphne's complicated relationship with her family in SDMI is an interesting dynamic to explore. Same goes for Daisy's dear fiance Steve, who for all intents and purposes doesn't actually exist in the canon of SDMI. All that is canonically known of "Daisy's fiance" is that he is rich and a neurosurgeon. That is it. He's basically an OC. I literally said to myself, "What is the first basic af white boy name I can think of? Steve. And what's the first sorta fancy and less-than-common surname I can think of? Poindexter." (As in Benjamin Poindexter, aka Bullseye, the Marvel villain.) And so it was. I got sidetracked into another project (look sometimes autism makes you spend three days on cross stitch, okay?) so I unfortunately haven't gotten more than a few paragraphs into chapter 26 of One of Us. So while I do hope to have it done by next Sunday as I hope, I also can't make any promises. But rest assured I do have a plan, and I intend to have it to you as soon as I can. And people... please go onto my ao3 and leave comments on my fic there once the chapter posted. Seeing the number go up on my inbox and getting to read your words means more to me than you know. Chapter 25 should be posted to ao3 tomorrow morning, and it definitely will be tomorrow afternoon.

Last thing: a while back I said I would be starting a tag list for One of Us, and unfortunately I forgot about it when I posted Chapter 24. So sorry about that. Here's to all my readers who either asked to be tagged when new chapters are posted, or liked that post. Cuz I can't tell if liking it was asking to be added to it or not and I wouldn't want to leave anybody out. If you want to be added to this list or want to be removed from it, then feel free to DM and let me know!

@void-lioness @nikicherry1234 @angorwhosebabyisthis @lunasummers04 @orithereticent @mysteryskullsblog @the-moogle-of-your-nightmares @sfcabanasstarcgs

Chapters 1-24 of 'One of Us' are presently posted on Archive of Our Own!

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the-ace-with-spades · 2 years ago

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Still on my Pacific Rim AU brainrot so here we go with the fic idea that's not leaving my head...

Backstory - so, if anyone's seen the Dossier Files I made, you might already know bits of it but:

Everything from Top Gun (1986) except for Goose's death still happened, we just move the event by around 10 years into the future so it was like 1996/7 instead. Kaiju start attacking in 2006, Carole dies in the attack on San Diego, and Mav and Goose become one of the first co-pilots along with Ice and Slider.

Goose dies in Romeo Blue when they're still connected and Mav adopts Bradley (who is 13/14 at the time). He and Ice are married already and Slider, who has another baby on the way, retires from combat after Goose's death, scared that he's going to orphan his kids, too.

Ice and Mav start drifting together and they are The Dream Team™. Obviously, Bradley watches it all as he's being moved from Shatterdome to Shatterdome with the Lucky Seven Team.

He turns seventeen, gets into the Jaeger Academy Program and the whole pulling the papers happens but Bradley is stubborn and a legacy kid so the current Marshal from their Shatterdome (I imagine Viper, maybe?) goes over Mav's head and he gets in and starts attending at eighteen. This made the situation between Brad, Mav, and Ice tense as hell (especially Mav because Bradley knows Ice is too soft to ever tell him no and it was not his initiative) but they still talk

Bradley aces the training and during it, finds his co-pilot, Darcy (OC, obviously). They get the newest Mark-III to pilot, Gipsy Danger and they instantly become The Dream Team™ too. Bradley becomes PPDC's poster boy as the late Bradshaw's kid (no one knows about the Mav and Ice thing...) and Darcy is the youngest pilot to enter the program and one the few Aussie pilots that qualified in the past few years. They're the new duo of the PR team basically and they're sold off as celebrities when they have a win after a win.

They take a year off when Darcy gets pregnant, in reserve in LA, and when they're back to active duty and Knifehead happens and Bradley goes through the exact same thing Mav went through - his co-pilot dies when they're still connected. Darcy's mind never leaves his brain and he can still feel her.

Just before this, Ice gets diagnosed with cancer and stops piloting to basically not die under the neural load. Mav is looking for a new pilot.

Something that would be a big spoiler happens between Mav and Bradley and Bradley leaves PPDC.

Mav and Ice are visiting the training program with the new recruits and Jake, the cocky son of a bastard, challenges Mav to a fight and they accidently find out they're drift compatible. And Jake becomes Mav's new co-pilot for Striker Eureka.

The world goes to shit, Ice is running PPDC as renegades and they're running out of pilots, and after over 4 years, he tracks Bradley down to where he's working as a cargo pilot at the Anti-Kaiju Wall. He doesn't know one thing though - that Bradley has a kid, a three-year-old daughter.

They arrive in Tokyo Shatterdome and Bradley meets Natasha, who, in Ice's mind is a great candidate for his drift partner (and becomes his daughter's favorite very quickly), and Bob, one of the leading upgrade engineers for the re-commissioned Gipsy. And Jake, the biggest ass Bradley's met who has a problem with him even though they've never met before.

Now, Jake is a bigger ass than usually because he had a celebrity crush on Bradley - or rather a Crush with capital C, posters in his bedroom, interviews recorded and saved on his laptop, t-shirts with Gipsy Danger and Jake Bradshaw written in the back of his math notebook included. He had daydreamed about meeting Bradley and impressing him and becoming a co-pilot pair ala Ice and Mav and when he disappeared right before Jake had an opportunity to meet him in Sydney Shatterdome, he was Mad™. It subsided with the years going and the longer Bradley was gone, the more he was becoming PPDC's new poster boy. In Jake's mind, he went from zero to hero and Bradley went from hero to zero.

And then Bradley shows up at his 'Dome and he realizes the crush isn't gone at all and he's Fucking Mad™ about it. And then he discovers Bradley's got a kid.

Some smaller details I might include somehow:

Nat was one of the crew of the Crimson Typhoon up until a year before.

Jake is half-Aussie and the accent switches places with the Texan drawl sometimes (he learned to hold it back because his dad didn't like it when he spoke with his mama's accent). Everyone thinks it's fake but Bradley realizes it's genuine because Darcy was Aussie. (Also, I added this detail because I was struggling to find a reason why Mav and Jake would have an Australian Jaeger as Americans...)

Slider's family (aside from his eldest daughter who is in college) is at the 'Dome with him, including Sara.

Bradley and Darcy's drivesuits were metallic red, now Brad only wears black. Mav and Jake wear metallic green, but it used to be metallic blue when he and Ice were drifting together.

Bradley's daughter had multiple Jaeger Plushies and ironically, her favorite is Striker Eureka because it has a dog in the decal and 'has a funny name and funny face'

When Bradley leaves, he leaves his dog with Mav and Ice (one he got when he was seventeen) and when Jake moves to the 'Dome, he basically announces the dog is now his, not Mav's, because he likes Jake better (I still don't know what dog breed, tho?? I'm hanging onto a beagle/miniature german shepherd atm)

Sara's and Ice's names are spelled this way (Sara and Tomasz) because that's how they'd be spelled if they were Polish.

Bradley carries a boombox into the jaeger every time he rides - uses his dad's and mom's cassette tapes. He's also got a couple of walkmans and his daughter her own too - decorated with stickers and glitter.

Things bordering on spoiler-y + additional dossier for Darcy and Brad's medical report under the cut:

The shit that happened between Mav and Brad was that Ice had the idea that hey, maybe you could drift together, and they could, really well at that, Mav just...didn't react well? It ended with them almost blowing up Lucky Seven and Ice erased the records so no one knew the details. They both said some shit and Bradley decided he's never trusting Mav again and he's got nothing holding him in the PPDC.

Bradley and Nat are compatible, they're actually really compatible for a pair of people who are not related/never met before, but Bob is going to be Nat's co-pilot, and Bradlye and Jake will ride together, is all I'm saying.

The mockup files not included in the previous post (with a small cameo from Penny):

Text in ALTs

(also, going to tag you here, @redfurrycat, because I thought you might like it 👉👈)

#dunno if I'll ever write it (i want to at least finish planning the fic and write the dialogue before I post the first chapter)#so here it is #also the funniest thing about this fic is my brain decided that the background track for writing this au is entirely doja cat #so i'm writting heartfelt scenes listening to paint the town red or get into it yuh #hangster pacific rim au #hangster #icemav as background #tgm

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oristendir · 2 years ago

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I haven't posted in a while, but I'm working on this twst oc fic (working is a very loose term because it's all in my head and I'm struggling to write anything down), so I thought I'd post an little snippet of it here.

For context, my OC is named Eve Stirling. He reincarnated from a fantasy world that had it's own magic. Backstory wise, he was an orphan on the streets who was picked up by a noble and trained to be a bodyguard/ personal attendant. The noble turned out to be the 'villain' of the story (not that anybody knows that), but Eve was extremely devoted to him, called him Master, blah blah blah. Long story short, the 'villain' got defeated and killed by the worlds hero, and despite Eve's best efforts, the hero's part did not kill him out of misguided assumptions of innocence. Ultimately, Eve died after avenging his master, and reincarnated into TWST, where he becomes a painter (only so that he can make portraits of his Master), and is desperately trying to find a way to bring his Master back to life in this world, or travel back to his original world to revive him there. He get's placed into Pomefiore during the sorting (not rlly important here but it felt right that you know)

The snippet takes place during the Scarabia chapter. Eve is commissioned by Kalim to make him a painting that captures Scrabia's essence (kalim's words, not mine lmfao).

Lotta backstory, but I feel like it's necessary lol. The snippet is under the cut!

-----------

“Can I help you, Mr. Viper?” he asks without turning around.

“Ah, yes.” Viper coughs lightly, “My apologies, but I have a request.”

Eve finishes the stroke and gently wipes his paintbrush before setting it down. Truly, what Viper thinks important enough to interrupt him after being specifically asked not to, he doesn’t know.

“What is it?” he turns around and startles at how close Viper is standing. He didn’t even hear him approach.

What on earth…?

“There’s something in your eye. Let me get it out for you.” Viper reaches up and gently brings Eve’s face down level with his own. Their eyes lock.

The world turns black.

“The one you see reflected in your eyes is your master. Answer me when I ask. Bow when I command. Snake Whisper.”

Stirling falls, which is an unusual reaction in and of itself.

Jamil glances down at the prone form on the ground and crouches to check his pulse. He’s not dead… surely… it would be quite the hassle if Sterling did die right now, considering numerous people are interested in his well being.

No, the pulse is still strong. Not dead, thankfully. But still unconscious.

“Of all the troublesome reactions…” Jamil mutters as he drags the other man onto the bed. “You just had to faint, didn’t you? What kind of weak…”

Jamil cuts himself off as Sterling begins to shift. He prepares to knock the other man out at any sign of trouble. He can’t afford to have any unknown variables appear at this stage of his plan.

Sterling groans and sits up, clutching at his head.

Abnormal reaction. The spell didn’t work.

Why, exactly, the spell didn’t work is a mystery for another time, when Jamil’s entire life goal is not about to be shattered into pieces. He moves to grab his magic pen, only to freeze when Sterling snaps his head over. He stares at Jamil. Jamil stares back. Sterling’s face begins to flush, and the look in his eyes as he gazes at Jamil…

It’s almost reverent. A gaze of love, devotion, loyalty, relief; everything the Asim family has ever expected of Jamil, packed hypnotically in eyes so deep, Jamil almost drowns in them.

He feels like a god under that gaze.

Sterling opens his mouth, face flushing. His voice comes out wispy and faint, barley making a noise. The words seem to come out almost involuntarily, the way they push so lightly past his lips, hanging in the air with all the weight of the world.

“... Master…?”

Eve wakes up dazed, head pounding, staring up at the ceiling of his temporary room in Scarabia. He sits up, groaning and clutches his head as his headache intensifies. He feels the same as he did back when he trained against Master, body battered and aching.

He grips his head tighter, and then freezes as the presence next to him makes itself known.

That aura…

Eve whips his head around, disbelieving and nearly breaks down.

A man sits next to him, glorious as the day Eve saw him last. Black hair perfectly straight, falling like silk strands around a strong form; skin pale and scarred from battle, stretched perfectly across sharp features; eyes red like the rubies inlaid upon his crown. A man sits next to him, staring down at him with amusement.

Eve could cry.

My God, My World, My Everything..!

My-

The image flashes briefly, pale skin turning tan, sharp features turning sly, before it settles back into place. Eve’s eyes white out in pain.

“...Master…?”

#sorry if jamils ooc i did my best #PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK I THRIVE WITH ATTENTION #also if you have any question feel free to ask me them #i love answering asks #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst oc #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twst jamil #jamil viper #twst jamil viper #twisted wonderland jamil #twst fanfic #twst fanfiction #oristendir writes

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ghoulish-etchings · 6 months ago

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Even If The Stars Burn Out, I’ll Find You In The Dark

( AKA "I’ll Find You" )

-> Fandom ;; Call of Duty MW

-> Word Count ;; 5.2k

-> Rom. Ship ;;

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Richard "Hennessy" Olsen x Simon "Ghost" Riley

-> Other Ship(s) ;;

N/A

-> Characters ;;

Werewolf!Johnny MacTavish, Wraith!Simon Riley, Viper Hybrid!Richard Olsen [OC], Vodyanoy!Viktor Krauss [OC], Black Dog!Roisin Flynn [OC], Unnamed medic

-> Chap. 1 — your hands are stained.

Chap. 2 — wip

-> Plot ;;

A mission had gone wrong. Riley usually wouldn’t let it get to his head; missions had to go wrong, at least once, or something suspicious was happening. That’s what he told himself, anyways. But this time it was different - this time, his Hennessy didn’t come back. Soap didn’t know how to explain it to him what had happened, the way they got the best of his damn canine instincts with pheromones in the air that got his brain all muddled, and the way they snatched Hennessy up like the last damn bottle of liquor on the shelf. And they tried to move on - they did! But God, there’s just… something so familiar about this new lapdog of Krauss’.

-> A/N ;;

This was a commission for zephatry !! Also, shoutout to WTNV for making me view Ghost as an eldritch horror. He looks like Cecil in my mind and I can’t get it out. Free me. Also also shout out to Far Cry 5 for the “Only You” song inspo, forever stealing from other medias I enjoy ^w^ Also!! This was super fun to write!! I am in LOVE with the plot lowk mb for going over the wc you originally asked for LMAO okay anyways enough with my yapping

The fluorescent lights buzzed incessantly, long stark hallways of the Kairos International facility almost reminiscent of a hospital, or maybe an old psych asylum. Leaning heavy on the ‘old’ - paint peeling and chipping off the cement walls, small chunks of the tile floor chipped off and kicked down God knows where, deep scratches in both surfaces that gave a sense of dread in the pit of the stomach. Walking down the hall could cause the strongest of men unease, force them to practically hear the wails of those who were tormented here; but the two whose boots thudded dully down the hall were not men. Monsters, most would scream, affronts to God, or lord forbid victims. A werewolf, tugging at the collar resting around his throat a miniscule touch too tight, and a wraith, dark eyes studying their surroundings from under the skull mask that hid the rest of his pallid face.

“Ah’m tellin’ ya-” The werewolf spoke, a huff underlaying the Scottish brogue laced into every word, “Som’in’s wrong. Ah can smell it.” His nose scrunched as he took a sniff, almost as if trying to prove his point. Simple in-and-out extraction of a target, the wraith- whose name tag claimed him to be Riley- had been told. This was their second time attempting it. The first time, the mission had gone south, the enemy using some bloody chemicals to get in the wolf’s head and distract him, snatching a concussed Hennessy right from under his nose. Now that Riley was hearing complaints about something being off, he was inclined to listen.

The wraith paused, letting out a small exhale. The wolf’s ears twitched and a low growl reached out from deep in his chest. “Sense that, Johnny?” Riley murmured, flicking the safety to fire on his rifle. Johnny backed away slowly, the bits of fur-like hair scattered around his body visibly bristling. ‘Course he did. Mutt could sense danger a mile away. Asking was only a courtesy, an illusion of normalcy. The loudspeakers in the ceiling of the hall started to buzz and crackle before a sharp ringing came about, a mild annoyance at best to the wraith, but damn near disabling to the wolf who clawed at his ears and stumbled backwards.

Riley turned on his heel, a hissed “Johnny!” rasping out as he advanced towards his partner. Just like the last damn time. Seemed they had a lot of little tricks up their sleeves to disable a mutt. Good fuckin’ thing Riley wasn’t as easy to take out. He wrapped a hand around Johnny’s thick bicep, trying to lift him back up to his feet from where he had instinctively recoiled to a crouch position. Eyes only flicking up as the loudspeakers fizzled out the noise; static, for a few seconds, then- What in the hell?

Confusion creased Riley’s sweat-laden brow as strums from a guitar crackled through the loudspeakers. Music? He pulled Johnny to his feet, the latter gripping his rifle in a similar manner to Riley as they advanced down the hall, more rapidly this time. Clearly the enemy knew they were here already, no need for theatrical stealth. This must’ve been a bloody trap. Riley grumbled something under his breath, muscles tensed and body at the ready while internally he fought the seemingly eternal battle of hanging on to his humanity, even as his veins pulsed a dark hue. Just as the two turned the corner, the vocals started, an eerie hum from the lead singer.

♩ Only youuuu… ♩

Riley faltered.

Even if it was just for a moment, he faltered. He’d recognize the soldier ahead of him anywhere. Johnny evidently shared the sentiment, the snarl dying in his throat before it could even pass his lips. Neither monster knew how to handle this as time seemed to freeze still for all parties. The choppy brown hair- though now an inch or two grown out and matted with what looked to be a viscous mix of blood and dirt -combined with the tell-tale scars just barely peeking out of the compressing bandages wrapped around the forearms. And the face- God, the face. Even hidden beneath a blindfold, unfamiliar scales and small scabs where keratin met flesh lining the cheeks - Riley could see his dove beneath the scowling soldier before him. Johnny could smell his leannan under all that terribly unsightly Kairos International footsoldiers’ gear.

♩ …can make this world seem right… ♩

Time resumed all too fast as the viper darted forward, tail flicking against the ground as leverage to propel himself at the wraith and hound. Both of the latter ducked out of the way, Johnny clamoring to the ground as his fur bristled. Lover- or- what looked- smelled- like his lover be damned, instinct was instinct and an attack was an attack. He saw the way the viper’s fangs dripped with venom as it coiled back, preparing another lung. Surely it couldn’t be his Richie. Not his leannan- mo chridhe. Just someone- something that looked like Richie. His paws thudded softly against the ground as he slowly backed away, lowering his body and readjusting his back feet. A snarl slipped out, hanging in the air as a low threat. His hesitance spoke for him as his canine vocal chords couldn't. I dinnae wanna hurt ya, hen.

♩ Only youuuu… ♩

Riley groaned, having right clobbered his head against the smooth cement of the hallway’s wall. He blinked away the pounding migraine starting to form at the crown of his head, gripping onto the edge of a pot holding some tropical plant or another to lift himself back to his feet. He observed in the moment of stillness as all three readied themselves; even the assailant seemed to have disoriented himself in his blind lunge. That was the first thing he took notice of. The blindfold. The viper seemed to still, listening. Curious. He let his gun fall to the floor. He didn’t care about orders- not now. He wasn’t planning to turn the MIA on his lover’s file into a KIA, or worse, have him painted as a traitor. There had to be an explanation. There was always an explanation.

♩ …can make the darkness bright… ♩

When the viper lunged this time, Riley was prepared. He caught onto Olsen’s shoulders, grimacing at the sharp fangs snapping inches from his throat. Olsen was stronger now- not that he wasn’t strong before, just easier to handle -and taller. Riley grunted, pushing back against the hybrid, one hand moving to Olsen’s throat for a better grip. His lip curled, jaw clenched and muscles flexing against the windbreaker under his tactical gear. “Dove,” He gritted out, gravely voice uncharacteristically soft, “I don’t know what they’ve done to you, but I need you to snap out of it.” He felt the muscles in his forearms quiver; starting to give in to the unstoppable force that was his lover. “Please, Hennessey.”

♩ Only you, and you alone… ♩

The viper seemed to let up, only for a moment.

“Who the hell is Hennessey?”

♩…can thrill me like you do… ♩

Before Riley’s mind could wrap around that, before he could even process it, Johnny barreled forward full-force into Olsen. The viper let out a pained cry, body slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch that gave Riley a nagging feel of nausea in the pit of his stomach. The wolf stood above Olsen, chest heaving as he stared down. Blood began to pool beneath the hybrid’s head, eyes fallen closed; the contact of his head with the wall knocked him unconscious. Riley readjusted his gloves, idling towards Johnny’s side and crouching by Olsen. A frown tugged at his lips as his hand came to his lover’s face and traced the burn scars in a familiar motion as he’s done so many nights before. Distorted beneath the scales and fangs, but still his lover nonetheless. Johnny whined pitifully, nosing at Olsen’s hand on the side opposite of Riley. The wraith decided here and now. He’d find a way to fix his dove, and then he’d find the fuck that did this and make the bastard regret the day his pop’s condom broke.

♩…My one, and only, youuuu~ ♩

Johnny’s ears twitched and Riley’s head jerked back as the music abruptly stopped. Footsteps from further down the hall - before Riley could reach for his rifle, it was yanked away from him. The culprit, a well-dressed older man with an unsettling appearance that you just couldn’t place as any one feature that made it as such, was softly humming the song previously playing through the loudspeakers. He had a broad smile on his face, apparently unfazed by Johnny’s low snarling or the lethal glare he received from Riley. “Isn’t he just magnificent?” He spoke with heavily-accented English- Russian, if you had to place it -and gestured with a broad swoop of his hand towards the unconscious Olsen. “I mean, my, just a fine specimen. Much more receptive to the non-mammalian traits than most others are.”

Riley’s tone was low, words dripping with a venom comparable to Olsen’s, “I’m going to kill you for this.” His words were accompanied by Johnny’s snarl, the wolf’s ears pinned to the back of his head. The older man laughed, and it sickened Riley. The fact he seemed so calm, so unbothered, got on the wraith’s last nerve. His lover was sat in his arms, transmutated into something resembling what Riley’s despised himself for his entire life, into something inhuman, acting like a bloody puppet on strings with a blindfold and- and memory loss- He started to loose his train of thought, anger building in him like a fuel to the fire of his less desirable side. He felt the power sinking in his palms, vision blurring from the darkness overtaking his sclera, blackened vapor seeming to ooze out of him as he seethed. “I’m going to grind you to bloody frog legs an’ have it with a glass of bourbon for fuckin’ dinner.”

The older man waved dismissively, another smug laugh following Riley’s threat. “You British, always so quick to believe you’ll be the one to come out on top,” He chided, crouching low to Riley’s level. The wraith didn’t notice, practically blinded by his anger, but Johnny did. Johnny started to back into the wall as the hall slowly filled with a strange vapor, near-imperceptible if you didn’t notice the slight distortion of the air around what Johnny could only assume were vents. He let out a pleading whine- damn his vocals to hell- in an attempt to get Riley’s attention, to no avail.

The man continued, “You have not considered, my friend, that this…” He gave another broad gesture towards Olsen, “Was all planned. Just a… how do you call, test-run?” He smiled, standing straight once more. It was only now that Riley noticed that it was getting more difficult to breathe, dark spots slowly appearing in his vision. He gasped for air, clutching at his own throat on instinct; Johnny doing much of the same, collapsing to his side and desperately trying to huff in the oxygen he could manage. The last thing that made it into Riley’s eyes as they darkened was that bastard’s slimy face, smug as he waved. His words rang through both men’s minds as they succumbed to the gas.

“Patience is a virtue. You will find this is all helpful, in due time.”

Riley shot awake. Instinctual panic as soon as his eyes opened, a perpetual feeling that had long ago settled deep in his bones. Usually just a nagging feeling, but when he was unsure where he was, unsafe- He clawed at the mask placed on his face, large hands attempting to peel it off before whatever gas whoever was trying to administer could get to him. He was dangerous, a monster, if he let himself fall victim to someone who could get their control over his mind or body, if he let them use him as their little puppet, his abilities becoming a weapon against the few things he truly cared for-

Hands were suddenly placed against his broad shoulders. Smaller hands, he realized, fog of paranoia- he’s not paranoid, just cautious- slowly clearing just enough for him to recognize a masked face. The owner of the hands. A medic, hair pulled tight into a low bun as military regulation called, proper SAS-standard gear adorning their body, the familiar name patch he could recognize as one of the medics meant for the 141 on their chest. Just a medic. He was home- he was safe. For now. His hands came up off the plastic mask held to his face, grasping the medic’s wrist instead in a desperate attempt to ground himself. Riley let out a breath, the blood pounding through his ears quieting just enough for him to make out their words.

“Lieutenant-” The medic fixed the mask from where Riley had pushed it astray, “It’s an oxygen mask. You breathed in a lot of fumes back there, we need to get oxygen back in your system to flush it out.” Riley gave a nod, shaky, allowing their wrists free. Christ- he let the bastard get the upper hand over him. Let him keep his hold on Richie. His eye twitched at the thought, nagging nausea building up again at the worry of what Krauss was doing with his dove, what he’s already done to break Richie that bad. His fists clenched, mind falling back to Johnny. He really should’ve listened to the damn mutt.

He reached out blindly again for the medic, unsure how else to get their attention as they had moved to the side, presumably preparing some kind of medicine or other treatment. They turned to him with an inquisitive hum, allowing Riley to lift the oxygen mask just enough for him to speak with a rasp; “Where’s Johnny?” The medic seemed to think about the question for a few moments, poking their head out the small curtained-in stall of sorts in the tent. They called out to someone, presumably another medic, and repeated the question - opting for using “Sergeant MacTavish” rather than the nickname Riley preferred. Smart one.

After they got what the wraith assumed was a response he couldn’t hear over the pounding in his head, they went back to facing Riley, preparing a syringe with a clear liquid in it that he couldn’t name, nor did he care to know. Still, though, they had a pleasant smile on their face. “Sergeant MacTavish is fine, sir. He’s in recovery now waiting to see you, actually. And you should be ready as soon as I administer some painkillers and your O2 sats are back to normal.” They explained, using a cotton pad to wipe a patch of skin on Riley’s bicep. They gestured for him to glance away, focus on anything but the needle. Common courtesy. Riley didn’t need to, but he’d comply. No need arguing with med staff - they were just doing their job.

That was… two weeks ago, if Riley had been keeping count. Krauss went radio silent, pulling back his operations. Hiding. A lesser man would figure he’s scared, but the wolf and the wraith, they knew better. This wasn’t the first time the man has done this tactic, and it won’t be the last. They’ve more information now - inside information. A victim of his had finally gotten out of recovery and had passed a psych eval to return to service, and promptly had been ordered to draft a briefing of what happened to the soldiers under Krauss’ supervision. Now armed with the knowledge of how Krauss treated his “special” soldiers- how he broke them- they could get Olsen back, and, more importantly, get a step closer to putting that frog-faced bastard in the ground.

They just had to wait. Wait for Krauss to make a move, for him to pop up somewhere like the viper he had turned Olsen into and try to strike. Then they would start on the plan they had worked on alongside the survivor. Infiltrate, disorient and knock Olsen unconscious, get him out of there, and evac. They couldn’t focus on attacking Krauss - couldn’t afford it, not yet. Not as much as Riley wanted to. Wanted to put a bullet in that bastard’s brain and empty clip after clip until he wasn’t even fuckin’ twitching anymore-

He took a breath.

Anger wasn’t helping anyone. It especially wasn’t helping his dove. A puff of his breath curled in the cool air. The team had bided their time, and it paid off - some of Krauss’ soldiers were seen trying to return to a previously raided base. Such a simple mistake that it reeked of trap, but orders were orders. Riley’s lip curled in disgust as he had to climb down to the basement, Johnny in tow, the scent of mildew from the water dripping through the not-entirely-finished ceiling and rot from the morgue invading his nose. He damn near gagged. He could guess why they needed a morgue, but admittedly, he didn’t want to think about it. For Richie’s sake.

Johnny huffed, a harsh exhale of agitation. “Cannae smell anythin’, LT.” His tongue flicked out to wet his lips; a nervous tic he had developed ages ago, one of the few things he could do without his hands that were often too busy holding a rifle. Riley let out an acknowledging hum, continuing down the near-derelict hall. The place was torn apart, worse than it had been when Krauss’ forces were originally extracted from the location. It set the wraith at unease, eyes darting around as if he expected something to jump out the shadows. Peering into rooms gave glimpses of dog kennels, faint stains from smeared blood and other bodily fluids that Riley really didn’t want to know the source of lined the floor like some demented new linoleum. His jaw clenched, eyes averting from the sight. Just keep moving. They’d find him.

Speak of the devil – As the two rounded the next corner, Johnny was tackled to the ground, fangs gnashing at his throat. The attacker was blinded, headgear limiting his sight and vision, disguising his face. Johnny grunted as the wind was knocked out of him, muscles bulging as he grabbed onto the viper’s shoulders in an attempt to push him off, or at least hold him at bay. His jaw was clenched, sweat dripping down from his furrowed brow as the two grappled, instincts flaring up in the man on the bottom. He swung his leg up, knee jamming into Hennessey’s ribcage. He felt the guilt when he saw the wince of pain as the viper recoiled, but he was too busy dragging himself away and collecting his barings to dwell on it long.

Riley was covering them - the last thing they needed was Krauss managing to get one over on them again. His eyes darted from where his rifle was aimed down the hall and to Johnny and Richie, before back down the hall again. Listen - he trusted Johnny, he did, but when Richie was like this–

Johnny lurched forward, a low growl in his chest as he pinned Hennessey down by the wrists, leveraging his weight against the other in his weak spots to keep him placant. “Richie- Richie, listen-” He huffed out, chest heaving while the viper struggled against him, tail thrashing angrily and teeth snapping wildly at the mass of man he couldn’t see. Johnny’s claws struck the headgear- Once, twice, a third time, a tinny shnk sounding every collision- before the blindfold and excessively large deafening helmet was knocked off. His heart sank at the wild-eyed expression, slightly leaner body under him fighting and struggling against hiss mass, the fear radiating off of his lover in waves that he could smell clear as day. It made his stomach turn, bile building. He’d make that fucker pay.

“Please-” He coaxed, clawed hand gently pushing some of Richie’s hair out of his face, the mats in the hair making the nausea worse. “Richie, we cannae get ya out’ta here if yer bitin’ so hard. Calm- Calm down fer me, yeah?” He tried to make his voice soothing as he could. He didn’t like talking to his lover like some stray mutt beggin’ for scraps, he didn’t like causing the terror in his eyes, but here he sat. “Easy, easy, ‘ve got ya-” He took note of the viper’s struggling slowly growing less tremorous, though the fight and fear remained. Hennessey didn’t remember him. His stomach turned in knots.

He didn’t fuckin’ remember.

He felt bad for it, he did, but he had to jab the sedative into the viper. It was a small needle, hardly cause a prick - that Irish medic that was brought on as some consultant, from a team that’s been dealing with Krauss for years, gave it to Johnny. Said it was only for last resorts, but that it would keep Hennessey out for a long time. He slowly lifted himself up off his lover, uncharacteristic frown tugging his features down as the other stilled. Riley looked over, quick to dart forward - having missed Johnny getting the sedative in the first place. His gloved hand tucked in the small crease between Hennessey’s throat and shoulder, feeling for a pulse as he picked the viper up bridal style, careful to be accomodating of the new limb. His eyes raised, a silent question hanging between him and the sergeant.

Johnny rubbed his shoulder, guilt dragging his eyes to Hennessey’s face and gluing them there. “Gotta drug from the new lass, ah.. Ben- benzo… somethin’.’ssa sedative, he should live.” He explained, finally looking up to meet Riley’s eye. The lieutenant just nodded, a gruff ‘hmph’ of acknowledgement following. He started off back down the hall the way the two came, Johnny quick to pick up the rifle that Hennessey knocked out his hands before jogging to catch up.

“Let’s get Richie out of here. He wasn’t left here on accident, and I don’t want to know what that wanker’s got planned.” The wraith rumbled, readjusting his hold on Richie to reach his radio. “This’s Ghost, need a med evac. We’ve got an injured soldier.” He waited patiently for a response as he and Johnny continued down the hall, dull thud of boots competing with the incessant buzz of the flourescent lights. The nausea returned as they passed the morgue and kennels. “Quick as possible.” He added, pace increasing. He wasn’t paranoid. Just reasonably concerned that Krauss would come back to retrieve his ‘pet’.

Soon, but much too long for Riley’s liking, a voice filtered back in response. “Wilco. Got med evac on the way, you boys just hold out.” He huffed, slightly, adjusting his hold on Richie again. On the way. They were on the way. He just had to get his lover out of this God forsaken fucking basement, get the sun on his face again, and timed evac would be here. They’d help his dove. He sealed it in his mind, quelling the anxieties that threatened to spill. Even with his attempts to keep steely defenses over his expression and posture, the wolf’s head dropped to rest on his shoulder, a hand curling around his bicep as they walked. He took a breath. Johnny’s silent assurances helped, even if only a bit. Helped better than he could do alone.

The beaming sun cast across them as they exited the basement, making the wraith wince, adjusting his hold on Hennessy once more. He stifled a surprised noise when Johnny started pulling him off - eyes falling to the chopper with medical personnel that he noticed all too late. Hm. Maybe he was getting worse. He shook the thought off, following along with the wolf as he was practically dragged towards the chopper. They’d get Richie better, they’d put Krauss in the ground - everything would be fine. He’d be fine.

The medic tending to Richie hardly glanced up as Riley practically burst into the room, Johnny in tow. “Private Olsen is still in recovery, Lieutenant.” They spoke, eyes still focused on the syringe emptying its contents into the IV’s tubes. “He isn’t supposed to have visitors at the moment. Guessing you spooked the nurses to turn tail and run?” Their eyes flicked up when Riley stepped closer, tail swishing low as if preparing for something. Not unlike Johnny’s when he was stalking a recruit to tackle. They leaned back, discarding of the now-empty syringe. A soft sigh left their lips, pushing their chair back so they could stand and move to the desk with their laptop. “I just administered another sedative, so he can’t talk much anyways.” They waved dismissively.

“But he’ll be fine?” Johnny spoke, ears twitching. He didn’t quite like being near other canines - especially ones that reeked of rot like this one. He shook his head as if to wave away the thoughts. “He’ll recover, good as new, yeah?”

His heart sank when the medic shook their head. “Yes, he will recover. But not “good as new”.” They explained bluntly, eyes still focused on the log they were typing the current medication into rather than waiting for a reaction from the two men as most medics would. It was… well, strange. “I can counteract a lot of the drugs Krauss uses to keep his pets pliant, and I can keep him in a medically induced sleep so he doesn’t remember the worst of the pain. I’m not supposed to do that second part,” They glanced up from under their mask, seeming to study for a reaction, “But I had to call in a few favors to keep them from sending your private to some general hospital. Making the most of it and trying to prove that me giving his care is more important than protocol. Either way, what happened to him is still a lot of mental trauma. That takes a lot of therapy and patience to fix.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed, an ever so slight movement, but he didn’t comment. He instead chose to sit in a chair by Richie’s bedside, hand resting on top of the other’s, while Johnny opted to stand next to the bed. He’d end up laying down in it next to Richie the moment the medic was gone, both men knew it, but he had to at least try to play good for the time being. He couldn’t be written up again, he was one or two write-ups away from a temporary suspension. Riley’s thumb gently caressed Richie’s hand, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on the knuckles through his mask.

Johnny looked over, “You said a lot of mental trauma, yeah?” He spoke suddenly, the medic noticeably flinching at the sudden break of silence. “What’re we s’pposed to… y’know, expect?” His tail twitched as he licked his lips, nerves getting the best of him. God, please tell him Richie’d remember them when he woke up. He didn’t think he could take it, being looked at like a stranger by his lover. Not again. He didn’t get any sleep the night before, the scene of Richie on the verge of tears while trying to fight him off playing over and over again. The guilt was going to kill him before a bullet to the head ever could.

Flynn seemed to think a moment, “It’s different for everyone.” They responded shortly, eyes moving back to their laptop. Upon registering a noise from the wraith, prompting them to keep talking, they let out a sigh. “Mm… It’ll mostly feel like a bad dream. A really, really violent bad dream. Krauss typically keeps his pets on a number of drugs, so it won’t be crystal clear in his memory. That means his brain will either try to block it out, leaving him jumpy for reasons he doesn’t fully understand or shooting up in the middle of the night with a dream throwing memories he was unprepared for in his face, or it’ll fill in the gaps, which is usually with things worse than what actually happened.” They explained, moving away from the desk and instead leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes studying Olsen.

“Great thing is, your…” They paused, noticing the way Riley held the private’s hand, eyes squinting a slight bit, “Your friend is a fighter. Krauss liked him. Can’t find any marks from mistreatment typical of Kairos soldiers, the only injuries are consistent with Krauss’ personal work. Olsen must’ve scared off the soldiers before they could get a hand on him, and it caught Krauss’ eye.” They looked back up, seeing the confused expression on both men’s faces, “...It’s good because it means he’s less injured than most captives end up by time they’re rescued. He fought hard and should recover good, at least physically.”

“So it’s over?” Johnny asked - more like blurted out - as his tail swished. He didn’t want to deal with this fuck anymore, not while Richie was out of commission like this. All his instincts begged him to protect far more than he wanted to maul Krauss for this. “Its- Richie’s safe, right?” A naive hope, in their line of work, but he couldn’t help it.

Flynn’s eyes seemed… almost sympathetic, just for a moment. “For you two, yeah, it’s over.” They moved off the wall as a timer on their watch went off, quickly noting Olsen’s vitals on the laptop before shutting it. “Krauss got what he wanted from you. Figured out how to get to you. What he plans to do with it, I don’t know.” They packed their laptop into their bag, making for the door, “But it won’t ever be over for Olsen. Worst thing you can do for one of Krauss’ pets is take them from him.”

“We rescued him.” Riley corrected, muscles tensing as Johnny’s arm reached over to grab his shoulder, instinctive.

Flynn shrugged, voice carrying as they left the room. “Krauss doesn’t forget a face, mo chara. Especially not his favorite pets.”

The door shut, and the wraith and the wolf were left alone, the silence deafening. Johnny huffed, easing down onto the bed next to Richie, a smile twitching the corners of his lips upwards when he heard a tired, unintelligible murmur. “I dinnae care what the medic says,” He started, voice hushed as he rolled onto his side, tucking against Richie’s side. “Rescuin’ Richie was the right choice. Wouldn’ trade ‘im for world peace.” Riley couldn’t help the soft exhale- an almost-laugh, the closest to an actual laugh you’d usually get from the lieutenant- in response. He gently leaned so his head was resting against Richie’s. Flynn’s words still hung in his mind, even as he listened to his lovers’ soft breathing, his eyes falling closed.

Krauss doesn’t forget a face. Especially not his favorite pets.

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n3on-graveston3s-calling · 2 years ago

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When you get a commission back of your OCs and now you can properly picture them & how they'd look in their verse.

Screaming crying throwing up PUNCH ME IN THE FACE

The artist doesn't have a Tumblr as far as I know, but their Twitter can be found right here. [ thank u Myka ur a blessing ]

More about these girls under the cut.

The one on the left is Suma, the youngest Fujihara child. She's 21 before the timeskip; was formerly a member of the Sapphire Serpents [ her older sister, Kiyomi's, crew + the skeletal remains of their parent's crew ] before she left one year before the story starts. She spent that year bartering her way across the East Blue on merchant ships by offering her services as a Sharpshooter.

Suma ends up joining the Strawhats after she tries to pickpocket Sanji in Alabasta before everything went Wrong. She tags along ( not of her own will, thanks Zoro for grabbing and running ), before she does join them officially. She maybe has a lil flirty thing going on with Ace.

She and Zoro also have late night conversations while taking the night shift; she navigates while he keeps watch. He knows the most about her ( majorly fucked up ) childhood & teen years.

Mizuki [ on the right ] is Suma's older sister, the fourth child in the Fujihara family. She is the literal problem child of the family. She was kidnapped when she was six by members who mutinied against her parents and was kept for almost three weeks in a shack on a small island before she was rescued. Her love for her family died when she was thirteen & had her tongue forcibly split ( all 5 children had the procedure done; only Kiyomi & Kiyoko [ oldest children ] agreed to it. ) She essentially broke when, at 18, her parents branded them all with a 'P' so they could never become Marines ( that failed with child #3, Junpei ).

Mizuki snapped; she killed their parents while they slept, jumped ship a month later, and for the past decade has been making it on her under the alias of the Deadman's Daughter. She ate the Hebi Hebi no Mi Model: Viper fruit, giving her a ridiculously quick strike as well as some funky effects.

She joined Buggy's crew shortly before the Orange Town event as a contortionist and spy. It's handy to have someone around who can fit into small places for a long amount of time. She wears this green themed clown paint that is heavily modeled after the 1920s makeup trends.

May or may not have the hots for her captain.

#one piece #one piece oc #ace x oc #buggy x oc #oc tag: fujihara family #oc tag: fujihara suma #oc tag: fujihara mizuki

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perfectisgeorgette · 1 year ago

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Georgette knew that this Toulouse Bonfamille was the right person to contact. Of course Camilo said that he was a bit scary but not much scared her. Even if it was a powerful man; although she was not sure how powerful he was. All she knew was that the word with the gals was he was viper tongued in a way. Either way she was excited to meet him; french, an artist, and she would love to network with someone like them. Her estate was slowly coming together though; all of the pieces she ordered were coming in and her living room finally felt like home. What she really needed was this portrait for ontop of the mantle. There was a large mirror standing as a place holder for now; but even Georgette was not a fan. What a waste of a good mirror sitting so high up; you cannot utilize it. Heels clicking along the tile floor Georgette made her way from the living room to the kitchen to check on the light refreshments she had prepared. Champagne, tea, some of her favorite cheeses, and fruit cut into flower shapes. Entertaining was always fun for her; even if it was just an art commissioning.

It was close to the time of his arrival; so Georgette made her way to the large mirror in the entry way. Giving herself a once over she leaned in and checked the pores in her t zone. It was time to look perfect and a single imperfection would simply not do. Licking her lips and pursing them at her reflection she was happy with what she saw. Hearing her butler announce the arrival of Mr. Bonfamille Georgette made her way into the foyer. The natural lighting against the all white interior almost made her glow. With a smile and a hand out for a shake she finally laid eyes on Toulouse and he was devilishly intriguing. "Georgette Midler; thank you so much for fitting me into your schedule. Welcome to Midler Manor; shall we make our way through the house?"

@lou-bonfightme

Art & Vanity | Louette

#Lou | Georgette #Art & Vanity #i will add pictures of the house as they make their way through it

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of-solitude-past-and-present · 2 years ago

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Hidden in the Sands (Yandere!Naga!Kunikuzushi)

Warnings: Character Death (not reader, not kuni), Some Gore (description of a corpse), Injury (of reader), Monster AU, implied semi-cannibalism (he isn't human but close enough), some blood (mostly not reader's, a little is kuni's), biting, venom, graphic description of venom effects (used on reader non-lethally), kuni-typical insults, venom effects are made up, kuni tries to kill you (at first but doesn't follow through), reader has a semi-near-death experience, threats, kidnapping, imprisonment, nonconsensual touching (SFW ofc), general yandere themes, kunibaby is Not Nice but it's okay because he's hot, reader goes through the wringer... if you prefer soft yandere, this is probably not for you. loosely based on a rp I did with a friend.

Sorry I lied about the rook and sebek HCs. I have Sebek's pretty much done I think, but Rook remains an enigma. Might post them separately, idk.

Kuni's appearance is inspired by the desert horned viper. If the formatting seems a little weird at any point, it's because tumblr messed it up when I copy/pasted it here. Might fix it later.

6.5k words or so.

The Desert of Hadramaveth.

You haven't been here before. You thought the rest of the desert was bad, between the heat which was "enough to melt a mist flower but not really" (paraphrased from a certain fox friend) and the unforgiving terrain.

This was worse, with its near-constant sandstorms. This was the second one today, and you had only just left the Tanit camp. In other areas of the desert, you were begging for a reprieve from the sun, but here, you were almost begging for it back if it meant you didn't have to worry about getting sand in your eyes and throat. It was almost, almost enough to make you consider turning around and dropping the commission.

"Do you want to hear a dry joke?"

If it weren't for your friend here, you probably would. Unfortunately, you can't turn back now that you've gotten his hopes up. The most you can do is slump your shoulders and sigh, suffocating under the endless heat, what little you could see of the sun, and what you knew was coming next.

"Sure, I'll bite."

A large, beaming grin spread across Sanad's face, and you braced yourself.

"A desert."

"That's terrible."

"Oh, come on! It's funny and you know it!"

"Does that even count as a proper j-"

You paused, looking up at the sky. In the distance, you could see a large, beige cloud. Again?

"We need to find shelter. There's a sandstorm coming."

"Well, looks like we're in luck. Where isn't shelter?" he responded.

It was true. You and Sanad were somewhere just north of the Tanit Camps, near Wadi Al-Majuj. Ahead of the both of you was the entrance to a deep canyon, lined with ancient ruins. According to the map, it was called Pairidaeza Canyon. Behind you, there was another entrance to a different canyon, and according to your map, if you went back a ways and to the right, there'd be a third one.

"Come on, let's go! I need to look through these for my thesis!" He rushed, running ahead of you.

"Careful!" you called out. "There might be bandits down there."

He immediately slowed to a stop, sheepishly turning around to move back to his place next to you.

"On second thought, take your time. Just make sure there's nobody else in there."

You chuckle, already starting a reasonable pace down the steep slope into the canyon. "Thought so. Just a reminder, we're leaving immediately once the sandstorm ends, unless we find who or what we're looking for."

Right. What you were looking for. Recently, small groups of travelers and even large caravans were being attacked. Most of the attacks occurred between the Tanit Camp and around the Passage of Ghouls. A few supplies were usually stolen, but that wasn't the worst part.

A few days later, the rotting corpse of one of the travelers or nomads would be found, half-eaten and with a twin set of puncture marks in their throat. Any useful supplies would be missing, but oddly enough, the mora was almost never taken.

Normally, you'd assume that maybe it was just a deranged serial killer, and either the bodies were eaten by wild animals or the culprit was worse than you thought. But it was strange. What serial killer had fangs like that? And if it was a wild animal, what use would they have for supplies like bedrolls and first aid kits?

The survivors usually all said the same thing; they were caught out in the middle of a sandstorm, and all they heard was a scream or shout before one of their friends disappeared. When the body was found, some key survival supplies would be missing as well. When a caravan was attacked, some supplies (and occasionally people) would even be snatched right off the backs of the desert sumpter beasts.

Hence why you and your friend Sanad were out here to crack this strange case. Mostly you, though, since Sanad only wanted to take a gander at the desert ruins for some Akademiya thing. You'd probably have gone alone (or at least tried to, before you decided the mora wasn't worth it) but when he heard that you were going to this section of the desert, he insisted on coming for his thesis or something like that. He helped pay for the trip, and he was paying you personally, so you had no reason to refuse. He was your friend, and good company to boot, even if he was a little bit skittish.

"Well, that might be possible... but you said you didn't even know if the culprit was a person, didn't you?" he inquired, as the both of you passed the first of the ruins in the canyon.

You sighed. "Yeah, I told you all about that already."

A glimmer of excitement appeared in his eyes. "Well, I've been thinking since then, and I remembered this old desert legend! Have you heard of nagas?"

"Nagas?" you parroted.

"Yes, nagas!" He nodded his head. "They're an ancient race of ferocious half-human half-snake people that supposedly existed during the reign of King Deshret. Apparently they were equal parts revered and feared, as wise and strong beings."

You raised a somewhat skeptical brow. "I thought you didn't believe in legends?"

He laughed. "The Akademiya has declared them to be just baseless nonsense, so of course I don't think they actually exist. I just think it's very interesting, and it technically matches what we know..." He trails off, looking around in awe.

"If you want to look around, you can. Tell me if you see or hear anything."

You didn't need to tell him twice. With a rushed "thanks!" and a wave, he was practically bouncing up what probably used to be a set of stairs to a higher level within the ruins, off to your left. In the meantime, you'll look around, see if you can find anything interesting.

You looked up and around, spinning on your heels. From what you've seen of the canyon so far, it's just a straight corridor with partially collapsed stone ruins on both sides, and a fallen wooden bridge that once connected them. You can see several ways to climb up higher and explore the ancient stone buildings, including the way up that Sanad went.

You and Sanad are pretty deep into the canyon at this point, and you have to crane your head just to see the top. As you do this, you notice just how many floors there are in the ruins. Some have crumbled so much they seem almost completely inaccessible. They're so high up, you can't see anything on them from your angle at the bottom.

There's just so many places to hide. The realization makes you tense up a little. Maybe you should have gone up with him.

It's so strange though. The complicated ruins, numerous hiding places, and the nearby water would make this place an ideal camping spot for bandits and thieves. But so far, you haven't seen hide or hair of anyone else. Not even an abandoned camp.

Until somewhere in the ruins, you hear an odd sound. It's hard to make out, and it sounds so much like the normal shifting sand that you almost brush it off as a natural sound in the canyon. But you hear stone crumbling and rocks falling, and you look up, seeing something move on the side of a ledge too far above you to check. It's close enough that some of the rocks hit the ground next to you. You squint, watching the ledge, waiting for whatever it was to move again, but the sound stops. The hair on your neck stands on end–from what, you aren't sure. Sanad is even closer to the source of the sound than you are, but not far away at all. Just out of sight. Was it from him? Or someone watching him?

Or are they watching you?

You're not sure, and you'll check just in case. Sanad doesn't have anything to defend himself with except for a dagger. Without another thought, you surge up the stone steps, hand subconsciously finding its place on the pommel of your sword. When you get up there, you see him standing with a hand on his chin, studying some old glowing contraption you've never seen before.

"Did you hear that?" you ask, breathing just a little heavier than normal.

He turns to you somewhat incredulously, just as fine as ever. "Hear what? I haven't heard anything. Are you alright?"

You calm down a little bit, letting your hand fall from your sword. "I'm fine. I was just worried about you. Didn't you hear that noise? I saw something move up there." You look up at the ledge the rocks came from. You don't see any way to get up there that's safe.

The sand is starting to pour in harder through the massive gap in the canyon ceiling, and the wind is beginning to howl. You and Sanad are slowly being dusted in sand.

"You're a little on edge. Relax! A sandstorm is starting and the wind and sand probably just knocked a few rocks into the canyon or something. It happens all the time." He flashed you a reassuring smile, turning back to... whatever those were on the wall. They're shaped somewhat like bowls, and as sand pours into them, sand also pours out a hole in the side into another one of them. You're not the researcher here, so you ignore it.

You let go of some of the tension in your shoulders, letting out a held breath. "Alright, sorry for bothering you then. Just so you know, if the sandstorm gets any worse, we'll be moving deeper into the canyon to get out of the sand."

He turns back to you, somewhat pleading. "But can't I stay? I'm not the one looking for the guy, so you don't need me to come with you, right?"

You expected this, just as you expect that he'll be the one choosing to come with you after what you say next. "Yeah, you could, but if something happens I probably won't be able to hear it if I'm down there."

He freezes, grimacing a bit. "Alright, alright. Let me know when you move on."

As expected.

You chuckle at him with a lopsided smile, turning back to go down the ramp. He was probably right. It seemed like such a silly thing to panic over. Of course sand and rocks would shift and fall in the desert during a sandstorm. That's probably all you saw. You're glad you brought Sanad along and not some other stuck-up researcher who would have made fun of you for it.

When you reach the bottom again, you turn your attention to the ground. Aside from the sounds of the howling wind and pouring sand, you can hear water dripping as it coalesces into the wide but shallow puddle in front of you. That's not what interests you, though.

There's a long indentation in the sand, about as wide as you are, as if something had been dragged through. It extends further into the cave, where the ground becomes rockier and the track disappears.

You crouch down to inspect them further. Chances are, it's probably a large haul of supplies that was too big to properly carry. This place is the perfect hideout for thieves and bandits, so it would be worthwhile to investigate. If you're lucky, it might be the bandit you're looking for.

The canyon starts to darken, so much so that you now have trouble making out the edges of the track. Most of the sunlight that filtered in through the top has disappeared behind a haze. The sound of howling wind grows louder, and the hiss of pouring sand all around you is almost deafening. You've had quite enough of the sand raining on and around you, so you call out for Sanad to come back. It doesn't take him long to come rushing back down the way he came.

"We're heading deeper in to wait out the rest of it," you explain.

He sends a longing look back at where he had come from. "Alright... I see," he concedes, with a dejected slump of his shoulders.

You'll humor him. "Did you find anything interesting?"

He instantly brightens up, excited to talk about whatever he found. "Yes! It's this interesting mechanism that fills with sand. I read about it in a textbook once! It can be opened and closed, but I couldn't figure out how to. I've heard if you can fill them as they were intended to be, you can get treasure from them!"

You two begin moving deeper into the canyon, and you send him a teasing smile. "With the way you're talking, I'd almost think you're the adventurer here."

He shudders. "I could never. At least, not as a full time job. You encounter monsters all the time, don't you?"

"They're not so difficult to deal with, once you're used to seeing them."

"That is not at all reassuring!" He stops to let out a breath. "No, I just want the free mora. Trips like these are expensive."

You sigh. "Well, if you want to, we can at least take a crack at it together on the way out of here."

His eyes light up again. "That's wonderful! We can even split the rewards if we manage to solve it!"

"No more than an hour, though," you warn. "With all the sandstorms, we don't have the time to waste."

"Aww, fair enough." A moment of silence passes, and he turns back to you. "Oh, I almost forgot to ask you! Did you find anything interesting?"

You think back, and the only thing that comes to mind are the tracks.

"Well, a little bit behind us, I found these drag marks. Like someone had dragged a big bag or something, I couldn't tell what."

"Drag marks? Oh, so maybe it really is a naga after all."

You turn to him in exasperation. "Didn't you just say you didn't believe in them? Besides, why'd you even tell me about them if you don't think they exist?"

He laughs. "I'm kidding! I only told you mostly because I wanted to. But I have a more realistic theory too!"

"Really now?" You raised a skeptical brow.

He turns to you, faking a gasp in faux offense. "Why are you looking at me like that? Of course I do! I don't study at the Akademiya for nothing!"

You chuckle. "Oh, go on then. Don't keep me waiting."

"What if the culprit keeps a snake around? Think about it, at the price of a little food, they'd get an unlimited supply of p–Hey! Don't laugh at me! It's not as ridiculous as it sounds!"

Apparently you weren't as good at hiding your snickers as you thought. "No, no, I'm not laughing at you. I was just imagining it in my head. From what I heard, it would have to be a pretty big one based on the size of the puncture wounds and the distance between the fangs."

He crossed his arms, looking away. Guess he didn't quite believe you. "It's not THAT unbelievable, especially in comparison to the naga theory... Haven't you seen the street performers with the snakes in Port Ormos?"

You hold your hands out in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay, you're right, I'm sorry. But your theory doesn't explain everything–what about the half-eaten bodies part? And they almost never take mora either... besides, the street performers use nonvenomous snakes."

"I guess it would be risky, but in theory, venomous snakes can be trained too! Desert dwellers tend to be... fearless. Though..." He puts a hand to his chin in contemplation, looking down. "I'm not quite sure about that other part either. Though it's not as if cannibalism was ever off the table, there's always the chance it was just wild animals that found the body after. As for mora... maybe it's someone who never gets the chance to spend it anyway?"

"Like, a recluse or something?" you pipe up.

"Yeah, exactly! Someone who's completely self-sufficient, who doesn't need to deal with other people to survive. Makes enough sense. They probably get everything they need from the people they're attacking."

At this point, the both of you are up to your ankles in water. The canyon is fairly wide at the bottom and grows so much narrower towards the top that very little sand makes it through, so you take the liberty of brushing as much of it off of you as possible. The both of you pass the last of the stone ruins. Up ahead is just bare, mostly untouched canyon. It's damp enough to support an amount of greenery that seemed a little out of place in the desert. You can still hear the wind howl, but it's a bit quieter here.

You and Sanad pass an opening in the wall to your right, leading to a dead end with a fairly deep pool and what looked to be a crumbled stone bridge.

"Your theory is a little... out there, but some of it definitely makes a good deal of sense."

"It's an early hypothesis! We'll revise it as we find more evidence."

You roll your eyes a bit. "It's alright, I'm not judging you."

You look around again. There's plenty of dry places to stop and rest without worrying about sand, so this should be an adequate place to wait it out.

"Why don't we stop here?"

"Not yet!" Sanad points further into the cave, where it opens up some more, with a rock jutting out of the center of the room, surrounded on one side by a shallow stream of water. "I can see more ruins in there! You can stop there and I can keep looking around."

You sigh, for what felt like the hundredth time. As much as you wanted to rest, it wasn't far away at all. "Alright. But we're still going back to that mechanism immediately once the sandstorm is over."

"I know, I kn–"

From an entrance to another path to your right came a blur, barreling right at Sanad. You have barely enough time to shove him behind you and out of its way before it stops in front of you both, dark claws bared.

Now that you can get a look at it, you realize it's a scarred, shirtless man with a dark head of hair, sharp indigo eyes, and... two pale, straight horns? Looking down, he doesn't have a pair of legs, but a sand-colored snakelike tail with rough scales. Even without the rest of his tail, which was hidden behind him, he's quite literally twice your size.

A naga?

He sneers at your sword as you pull it from your sheath, showing off a long pair of fangs. "A little short, isn't it?" He hisses. "Good luck with that."

"Sanad, get back!" You cry, holding your sword out in front of you threateningly. The naga seemed more amused than anything, simply starting to circle. Watching.

While you backed up to keep the naga from getting between you and Sanad, he hurriedly ran far back the way the both of you came, staying just close enough to watch the both of you.

Without warning, the naga lunged forward, one claw-tipped hand reaching out to swipe at you. You swung your sword at his arm, but missed, just barely grazing his side. Still, it was enough to force him back. He brushed over the superficial wound with one hand, smearing what little blood came from it, taking a look.

You stand there, adrenaline pumping through your veins, unsure of what to do. His reach was almost as long as yours, even though you were the one with the sword. This has to be who you're looking for, but you're beginning to think that you should've brought more people.

When he looks back at you, that cruel sneer is still set in his face, but a glint of annoyance is now present in his eyes.

"Lucky hit. Don't count on it happening again."

He doesn't hesitate, rushing forward immediately. You swing again, but it's too early, and he barely has to slow down before he's coming at you again. He's so close now that he grabs your shoulder, claws digging in hard enough to draw blood, shoving you down. In a blind panic, you're forced to adjust your grip on your sword so that you can bring your arm back and stab into his tail.

Before you even realize what's happened, you're on the ground, wind knocked out of your lungs. The arm that had held your sword is pinned to the ground by one of his hands, the other still holding onto your shoulder. You wheeze pathetically while he leans down and slides his fangs into your throat.

Your sword had bounced off of his scales, barely even leaving a mark.

The first thing you feel in your throat is pain, followed by an overwhelming numbing sensation, only interrupted by pins and needles. He chuckles as you thrash around in his hold, your free hand trying to push him off. The sensation is spreading, from your shoulder down even to your fingertips. The only thing you can do is let out a pained groan.

The pressure, from anything, from his hands on you to your own as you push and hit him, hurts. Like everything that touches you only pushes those pins and needles deeper into your skin. It's this feeling that finally makes you go limp in his hold, giving in. It gives you the chance to look up, focus on anything but him, and see that Sanad has long since abandoned you. Lucky bastard.

You hope that he gets away, at least. Even as the half-snake thing on you pulls away to hold your face in one hand, forcing you to look at him.

"Seems your little friend didn't care for you as much as you cared for him. Don't worry. I'll do you a favor and make sure he gets what's coming to him." You manage to focus on his face, smeared with your blood and that same, ever-present sneer, but with something else behind it. Something vindictive.

You grit your teeth. It stung, even though you knew it was the only reasonable thing for Sanad to do.

It's petty, and it won't do you any favors, but you lift your arm and slap him across the face as hard as you can. The impact alone sends shocks of pain down your arm, but he barely even moves.

Instead, he laughs in your face, dark amusement flitting across his hauntingly beautiful features. "What was that? A love tap? After everything, I'm surprised you can even try." He leans in closer still, your noses almost touching.

"I'm sure you feel proud of yourself, don't you? Good job! I might just leave you for last, then."

Without another word, he dashes off to find Sanad, and all you can do is pray the snake isn't successful. After all, what's a pampered Akademiya researcher to do against a man-eating monster?

You try to stand, but a bone-deep exhaustion pulls at your limbs. You can only get halfway up before your vision starts to go dark and you collapse onto the ground in a graceless heap. The pressure still hurts, a strange buzzing sensation rising alongside the needles and numbness. All you can do to help it is curl onto your side, minimizing your contact with the ground.

You lay there for a while, drifting in and out of consciousness for who knows how long. The pain is fading slightly, but you're not sure if it only feels that way because you're getting used to it.

Maybe you're dying.

A chill goes down your spine at the thought, and you do your best to dismiss it. It isn't hard, not when your thoughts are interrupted by a terrified, blood-curdling scream cut too short to be natural.

It brings you back to your senses. You keep listening, but you can't hear any more noises over the constant sounds of the canyon. Dripping water, falling sand, and the howling wind.

If that was Sanad, then since you're already deep within the snake's den, it must be only a matter of time before he gets back...

You're pushing yourself back on your feet before you know it, another rush of adrenaline supporting you. To do what, you're not sure. If you couldn't win before, you certainly can't now. But you're already running as best you can to where you saw Sanad go, though it's more of a relatively fast half-stumble than anything else. Everything still hurts, and beneath the venom you can start to feel your muscles ache too, but if you focus on moving it isn't unbearable.

You forgot your sword. You'd turn back to get it, but even with the adrenaline your limbs feel like lead, and your sword arm is so weak you don't think you could do more than carry it anyway.

You've just reached the ruins again, and looking around at all the nooks and crannies gives you the idea to hide. As sluggish and unarmed as you are, you can't fight anyway. Maybe if you hide long enough, he'll go away. Sanad might still be alive, if you can make it to him.

You don't know how long you were laying there, but if you could hear Sanad, they couldn't have gotten far. That fact is a double-edged sword, you realize. It's been a while since you heard his scream, and if the naga was coming back then it wouldn't be long until you saw him. You don't have much time.

You stagger your way as fast as you can manage to your right. You don't see anywhere to hide down at the bottom, but there are plenty of places above. It's so much harder than walking on flat ground, but you force yourself up a wooden ramp onto a stone platform. There aren't a variety of places to hide here, either, but you don't have the energy to go up any higher.

You hear the water below you being disturbed, in a way too constant to be footsteps, and you quickly duck forward to avoid being seen. You don't dare look, instead opting to slowly move towards a large stone statue to your right, as quietly as possible. With one look back to make sure he hadn't come up to check, you hide behind the stone dais that the statue rested on.

You take a breather, listening for any more sounds. You can't hear the water being disturbed anymore, but the thought of moving alone is both terrifying and exhausting. If you wait too long and he finds you gone, he'll probably come back to look for you. On the other hand, if you leave too early and he hears you...

With this in mind, you rest a few minutes more. The wind is slowing down, and there's less sand in the air than there was when you and Sanad first came through, so the sandstorm has likely stopped. At least the naga won't have that going for him too, once you and Sanad leave.

You'd stay longer, but the anxiety eats at you. It's only a matter of time until the naga comes back, and you don't know what condition Sanad is in.

You get up on shaking legs, your body begging you to sit back down and rest more. You know better, so you force yourself forward, looking over the ledge to make sure he isn't nearby.

You stumble back down the wooden ramp, turning to continue down the path to the exit. You have to stick to the sides of the path, where the sand is highest, just to make sure nobody can hear the sounds of splashing water.

Sanad can't be too far off now. Maybe he'll be in the same state you are, and you both can return to the Tanit camp and get help. You still have your pack on you, but the only thing that might be useful soon is the small first aid kit and the knife.

You really hope you won't need the knife.

Just in case, you pull it out of your pack and put in in your pocket. You're out of the water now, but you've come to a steep hill. The only way out is up. You hope you can make it.

You grit your teeth, sweat dripping down the side of your face as you force yourself up the incline. Onward and upward, you think bitterly. The overused phrase "ad astra abyssosque" parroted endlessly by everyone else at the Adventurer's Guild comes to mind. You never thought you'd make it to the stars or abyss to begin with, but you didn't think your journey would end so soon, either.

Your muscles burn with exhaustion, and you think you can feel the numbness slowly spreading further into your legs. Still, you continue upwards, at a much slower pace, even as you almost collapse a few times.

You come up to a point where the hill flattens out for a short distance. You're panting from the exertion, and you almost breathe a sigh of relief until you see what's in front of you.

"Sanad!"

Before you know it, you've staggered forward to collapse at his side. He's lying face-down on the ground in a small pool of his own blood.

You turn him over, tears pricking at your eyes, praying his condition wasn't as bad as it seemed. His head lolled to the side, face pale and eyes empty, unmoving. The blood, on the ground and splattered all over the front of his Akademiya robes, still dripped from the massive tear in his neck. It looked like a set of claws had dug into his skin and tore off the front of his throat.

Your breath hitches, and you fall backwards, dropping his body. Tears well up in your eyes. Why hadn't he done the same to you? Why did he do so much worse to-

"So, so loyal. Like a dog running to protect its master. You're adorable, really, even if you're a little late."

You freeze, only turning your head to look over your shoulder at him. He's slowly approaching, a condescending smirk on his lips. Half-dried blood covers one of his hands.

"There's no need to mourn. He was pathetic. Did you know that he only cared enough to fight when it was his life on the line?" He looked distant for a moment, before looking at you with something almost soft in his eyes. It disappeared so fast, you'd almost think you had imagined it, the condescending smirk and mock pity sliding to cover his face once more. "You poor thing. You're better off without him. No need to thank me."

You blink away the tears, an idea coming to mind. You couldn't overpower or outrun him, so there's only one possible option for you. "You're a... you're a lying bastard! What else was he going to do?" You yelled at him, pushing yourself up on unsteady legs to face him, backing over your friend's body.

"Humans are untrustworthy," he croons, following after you. His eyes don't leave you even once. He's sizing you up, and with nothing more than a moment of contemplation, his smirk widens and a victorious glint appears in his narrowed eyes. "He was using you. Once you were no longer useful to him, he discarded you. It's pretty naive to think he left you with any other thought in mind."

You don't dignify that with a response, continuing to back up. One of your hands almost moves down to your pocket, where your knife is hidden, but you stop it before he sees.

Your heel hits the sharp incline behind you, where the hill keeps going, and you fall backwards and hit the ground. A derisive snort comes from the snake.

"I've decided what I'm going to do with you. It's much better than what I did to your friend, here. You should thank me, really." He towers over you, leaning down to your level, setting a hand down on the ground next to you. Your hand twitches for your knife.

He watches you for a moment, a quiet, breathy laugh leaving his lips at your frozen state. All you do is stare at him, shaking from the adrenaline. Finally, his other hand comes up to rest on the nape of your neck, pushing you closer to him. You can feel the sticky blood on his fingers.

His eyes glimmer with excitement, and he continues while your hand slowly drifts to your pocket. "You're just helpless. I think I'm going to keep you with me, like a little p-"

You thrust your knife at him, landing a hit on his side while he lurches away. Your blood runs cold. It should have been buried hilt-deep, but instead all you've done is leave a bleeding gash. It's not quite superficial, but it won't stop him, and you know you won't be able to land another.

His lips curl in a snarl as you scramble backwards up the hill. You turn, and start running, but adrenaline can only carry you so far. You feel almost like you're in a nightmare, fully conscious and trying to run but unable to move at any pace that could possibly save you.

It only takes a moment for a large hand to wrap around your ankle, dragging you underneath him. Your face hits the ground and your hands scrabble for purchase, but the dirt and sand only give way beneath your fingers. His other hand finds the wrist with the knife, squeezing tightly enough that you can feel the pain, even underneath the lingering numb, buzzing sensation. You can't feel your hand well enough to keep holding onto the knife. The pins and needles return, and tears prick at your eyes.

He knocks the knife far away from you and flips you over to look at him, dark eyes still burning with anger. "You're alive only because I let you live. Did you really think trying that was smart? Did you finally get it all out of your system, or do you want to try again?"

You try to speak, but the words get caught on the lump in your throat. A hand slams on the ground next to you, and you shrink in on yourself.

"Well?" A glimmer of satisfaction appeared in his eyes, even as his lip curled in a mixture of amusement and contempt. "I'm waiting."

It's all you can do to croak out a few apologies and look away, unable to stand his stare.

A deep chuckle resonates from his chest, and his other face grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him again. "Good enough," he croons. "Looks like it won't be so bad for you, then."

"What? What won't?" you whimper. His hand lets go of your face, drifting down to encircle your neck. Your hands instinctively wrap around his wrist, silently begging him not to squeeze.

That little mocking smile on his face widens. His hand tightens a little, and you panic for a second, but it doesn't go any further. Instead, his eyes grow distant, thinking.

They brighten up again, an idea coming to mind. He laughs quietly to himself, pulling his other hand off the ground and trailing it down your leg. "You can call me... Kunikuzushi. I think I know what I'm going to do with you now."

"Please don't hurt me," you plead, vision blurring with tears. He doesn't even look at you, instead watching his hand as he grabs your calf and pulls it up. "It's a little late for that," he hums, adjusting his grip to hold onto your ankle instead. His fingers are long enough to wrap fully around it and then some.

"I can't watch you all the time, and I need to buy myself enough time to get something to restrain you with... besides, you deserve this anyhow."

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, but with a distressing amount of ease, he twisted your ankle to the side hard enough that you could hear the pop. The pins and needles returned to that area full-force, the buzzing and numbing sensations right behind it. It didn't hurt that much, though. You could feel an ache beneath it all, but it didn't hurt as much as it should have. You were sure you could still walk on it.

Until you looked down, where it was still in his hand, twisted so far to the side that you weren't sure it would ever be the same again. It doesn't hurt that much, but your shoulders still shake and you still start to cry.

"There, there," he murmurs, dropping your ankle to stroke your hair. He leans down lower, a smile a little too sharp to be soft on his lips. "You'll be okay. I wouldn't get a pet if I couldn't take care of it."

You try to push him away. You know you need to do something about your ankle, but he only presses closer, resting more of his weight on you so thay you can't see it anymore. "It's a bit too late for that now, don't you think?" he whispers, leaning in to press his lips against yours, too eager and with too much teeth. You flail a bit, trying to push him off, but he only chuckles into the kiss, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. An arm wraps around your waist, pushing you closer.

It feels like an eternity, but soon he's sweeping you up and slinging you over his shoulder. He turns around to go back down into the canyon, and you watch Sanad's corpse disappear over the hill.

This time, you can feel him rumble with the force of his laugh.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you."

#scaramouche #yandere scaramouche #kunikuzushi #yandere kunikuzushi #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere kunikuzushi x reader #yandere #I'm not sorry I disappeared again I was having a good time #not fully proofread. I'll get around to it another time when I reconsume my own content bc it was made with my desires in mind #the entire time I was writing this I had the words “he's so babygirl” running through my head on repeat #kuni: *tortures the reader insert*#me: yes!!! My Babygirl!!!#it's 5 am and I haven't slept yet sorry I couldn't stop thinking about him #naga scara

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