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alphashley14 · 10 days ago

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One of Us

A Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated/Mystery Skulls Crossover

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Chapter 32

Forever (Lofi)

Thunder was still rumbling softly, getting fainter and further away as the storm moved on. But even so, rain pattered on peacefully against the roof of the covered porch.

Mark Owens was spending the evening the same way always did: alone.

The old rocking chair creaked as the old man lightly rocked, simply enjoying the sounds of the rain now that it had gotten too dark out to watch the storm. A cup of tea sat on the table beside him, steam rising from the mug, and he was reading by the light beside his front door, though his eyes behind his glasses were starting to glaze over the words.

Mark sighed and stopped reading to rub his eyes with his forefinger and thumb before admitting defeat with a huff. He returned his bookmark to its rightful place and got to his feet with a groan, his knees protesting, before he picked up his tea and headed into the house.

He hardly spared the missing person poster taped to the inside of his front window a glance.

Maybe tomorrow, he told himself.

Mark made his way to the living room, where he returned his book to the bookshelf he’d built for his wife long ago. It was… quiet, tonight. He was used to the quiet by now, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. This was turning out to be one of those nights where the silence became loud, suffocating. Made him feel the absence, the ache of what once was.

Mark lit a fire in the fireplace, hoping for some semblance of warmth. And as he got to his feet with a groan, his eyes landed on the mantelpiece. His wife’s urn sat in the middle. Green and shiny, covered in floral patterns. She’d picked it herself, when she knew she was dying. “I yearn for the urn,” she used to joke, when the chemo left her sick and aching. Not that she’d meant it. Annie- Annie had been… a real force of nature. Always smiling, always positive, always determined to make the best of things, even on her deathbed. Anyone else wouldn’t have held out as long. Photos lined the mantle on either side of the urn. All the ones of Annie were from either before her diagnosis or not long after, when she still looked like herself. Before the chemo took her hair, and the cancer and the treatments slowly sucked the life out of her. His Annie, with her long, thick brown hair, round nose, and kind brown eyes shining from behind her glasses.

If only you were here, maybe Ricky would still be too, Mark thought to himself, not for the first time. Most of the photos he had of Ricky, regretfully, were from his younger years, before Annie got sick. Mark had been so focused on her… he hadn’t paid as much attention as he could have. Should have. But now? What he wouldn’t give to hear Ricky’s footsteps in the next room, to have him working at his station in the garage, or his music filling the house with life.

Mark grimaced, running a finger over the edge of the urn. It wasn’t filthy, but… dustier than he’d like. Mark stepped into the kitchen for the duster and returned to dust the mantle, starting with the photos.

Annie, standing with his younger self in the altar, in her long white dress with a crown of flowers at the edge of her veil.

Annie, sitting on the neighbor’s couch looking out the window, her hand over her swollen belly. She’d positively glowed while she was pregnant. And the morning light had formed a halo around her like an angel. The Yukinos’ dog at the time sat on the floor, his head in her lap. White and black, with a curly tail, a round head, and a thick red collar. He’d been a good dog. Some Japanese breed, he couldn’t remember the name. And the glare from the light obscured most of the dog’s face anyway.

Ricky as a toddler, holding onto Mark’s thumbs as he practiced walking, an oversized baseball cap over his head.

The family Christmas photo when Ricky was seven: their last family portrait before Annie got sick, and before Ricky’s pet joined their family.

Ricky laughing, age nine, one of his front teeth missing. A parrot had originally been sitting on his shoulder in that photo. Mark had been tempted to throw it out, but he couldn’t bear to part ways with that expression on his little boy’s face. So instead, the parrot had been meticulously and maliciously scratched out of existence with an X-Acto knife.

Ricky’s Pre-K, Elementary, and Middle School graduations. A blank spot where his High School graduation photo should have been.

Annie planting her roses in the front yard, Ricky knelt in the dirt beside her. Those poor roses would be dead in a month - she never could keep anything green alive. But that never stopped her from trying. This was one of the few photos Mark had of his wife and son together when Ricky was older, after Annie had gotten sick. Ricky was about thirteen in this photo, and Annie was pale and gaunt, her hair gone and her bald head hidden under a green knitted cap with a big pink flower on it. But all the same, she was determined to enjoy life when she could.

Ricky, barely sixteen, all limbs and awkward angles, in his yellow and brown suit at the bottom of the Williams’ staircase beside Cassidy, in her green prom dress. They had “only been going as friends” at the time, but their parents had known better. They were both smiling, and Ricky managed to look both stupidly happy and scared out of his wits.

Mark loved that photo. But not as much as the one of himself and Ricky in front of the newly painted Enigma Engine. He had a lot of regrets when it came to his son, and he knew in his bones that he should have done more. But that day? He’d been a good dad that day. Helping Ricky bring his vision to life with that van was one of his favorite memories of Ricky as a teenager. Professor Pericles hadn’t been around - he’d made himself scarce to keep stray paint from getting on his feathers and to avoid the fumes. It had just been them for once, and after a rocky start the conversation had actually flowed. They’d talked. Not about Mom, hardly about Pericles, just talked. And right as they were finishing up, the Nocendas had walked by with their son, and the couple had been more than happy to take their picture.

Then finally, Mark got to dusting the urn.

The urn. The urn, and the space left bare beside it. He didn’t like admitting to himself what he’d left that spot blank for. He’d gone to a dark place some time ago, nearly accepting the inevitable. He’d pulled himself back of course, forced himself to keep hoping beyond hope… but not before purchasing a second container, with yellow and white stripes. Hidden shamefully away in a drawer in the garage, waiting for a phone call that Mark prayed to god never came.

But it was fine. He was fine. Ricky was coming home someday.

Dust the urn… Dust the urn… Dust the urn…

Mark jumped when the phone rang, realizing suddenly that he’d been dusting the urn for quite some time.

Mark sighed and set the duster down on the coffee table before lowering himself into his chair with a heavy grunt to answer the phone. He sighed when he recognized the caller ID, but he answered it anyway.

“Hello,” he said.

“Evening Mark,” Jasmine said tiredly from the other side.

“Hey Jazz,” Mark said. Talking to Cassidy’s mother, or any of the other kids’ parents for that matter, always made him weary. But he’d always liked and gotten along with Jasmine in particular, and it was always good to hear from her. “What’s uh… what’s new?” He asked, dancing around the question they both always asked each other before anything else.

“Sorry Mark, nothing new,” Jasmine sighed.

“Oh,” Mark sighed, that teeny flicker of hope deflating. He hadn’t expected any less, but that never stopped him from asking.

“... Anything ‘new’ on your end?” Jasmine asked.

“No,” Mark sighed. “But you know you’d be the first to hear if there was.”

“And I appreciate you for it,” Jasmine replied.

In Jasmine’s mind, her daughter was dead, and so were all of her friends. But she never said it, not around Mark. But he knew it anyway. Still, she was the only one of the group’s parents who still at least entertained his notions that their children might come home alive someday.

Jasmine’s marriage to her husband Tyler hadn’t lasted a year after their daughter disappeared, and Mark had never spoken to the man again. In fact the last time he saw Jasmine in person was at the funeral. Tyler had died of a drug overdose a little over a year ago. He didn’t know the man well, but Mark had loved Cassidy while he knew her, and he’d wanted to be there for Jasmine.

Mark had not spoken to Brad’s parents in over fifteen years either. Amanda, sensitive soul she was, had a sort of mental break after her son disappeared, and the last time Mark spoke to Adam the man had asked him to only contact them again if the kids were found. It stung, but Mark knew he was protecting his wife. Lord knew he’d do the same for Annie.

And Judy’s parents? If tragedy was when people showed their true colors, then the Reeveses had surprised him more than anyone else. He rarely spoke to Ellen and she had an icy reputation to say the least, but when she heard he was in financial trouble, having spent all of his retirement savings on private investigators, she was the one who came out of the woodwork to reimburse him and then some after they hadn’t spoken in ten years.

“And don’t let me hear that you’ve spent it on more P.I.s,” she’d told him sternly, sipping her tea. “If any more investigators are to be hired, reach out to me and I’ll hire them. You’re good at what you do Mark, but you can’t do it forever. And there’s not enough money in it for the way you’re spending. If your son comes home someday, you need to be alive to welcome him. It’s your responsibility to take care of yourself until then.”

Mark had tried to refuse the money. Tried to insist that it was too much, that he didn’t need the charity. But Ellen Reeves? She’d always been an immovable object, and his life savings were pocket change compared to the Reeves fortune.

“Consider it my thanks,” she’d told him, “for being the one who stayed.”

The only thing she asked for in return was that he would call her if he ever found her daughter. His own pride had been a tough pill to swallow, but Ellen was the only reason he still had any roof over his head, much less the house his son had grown up in. And he still had no earthly idea how he would ever repay her for that. Amazingly, since then, they’d kept in touch and still talked from time to time.

And her husband? Justin Reeves, the multi-millionaire? One of the coldest, hardest, toughest sons of bitches Mark thought he knew? Three years without his beloved daughter was all he could take. He put a bullet in his mouth on the third anniversary of their disappearance. There were only eight words in his suicide note: “I’m sorry, Ellen. I’ve gone to find Judy.”

“So uh- to what do I owe the pleasure?” Mark asked, watching the fire crackle.

“Nothing really,” Jasmine sighed on the other side of the phone. “It just occurred to me that it’s been a while since I checked in, is all.”

“You called because the anniversary is coming up next month, didn’t you?”

“Do you blame me?”

“... No,” Mark sighed. All of their mental states were on very thin ice around holidays, birthdays, special occasions, and especially the anniversary, no matter how many years passed. The anniversary of their kids’ disappearance had seen Justin’s suicide, and there was speculation that Tyler’s overdose hadn’t been an accident either, as it had happened around the time of the anniversary as well.

“But,” she said, “I’m not just calling because of the anniversary. It has been a while since we last talked. How are you?”

“Fine. Fine,” Mark sighed.

“You sure? Cuz I’ve been hearing some wild stories out of Crystal Cove lately. Come on, Mark. Talk to me.”

And Mark wanted to tell her. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

He wanted to tell her that he was right, that the kids had been right. That there was a curse on the town, and their kids’ little group was part of a pattern. Mark had absolutely demolished Ricky’s room after he vanished, looking for any sign or trace of where he could have gone or what trouble he could have gotten into. And according to Ricky’s journal, he and his friends had been investigating the possibility of a curse placed on the town by a treasure brought to Crystal Cove by its founders. A curse that explained the town’s long history of paranormal activity. Everyone thought Mark was crazy for believing a kid’s silly scribblings. But that wasn’t just any kid. That was Mark’s kid. And Mark would believe anything if it meant he could bring his boy home. So he didn’t tell her. She wouldn’t believe him. No one did.

He didn’t tell her that Professor Pericles had escaped from prison either. And if she knew about it already, then she didn’t bring it up. Pericles had revealed himself to be positively psychotic after his arrest, and the kids’ families (Mark included) were terrified of him coming after them if he ever got out. He didn’t want to scare her. It had been months since the parrot’s escape, and Mark hadn’t seen so much as a tail feather. There was… probably nothing to worry about.

He also decided not to tell her just yet that the former mayor had been unmasked as the monster their children had been investigating when they disappeared. Mark was sure the bastard must know something, but a lot of the details surrounding the Mayor’s crimes and legal proceedings were being kept under wraps, so all his petitions to have that avenue investigated or to talk to the man himself had been denied thus far, and he didn't want to give Jasmine false hope.

… Almost as if something didn’t want him to talk to Fred Jones Sr.

Something that didn’t want their children found.

“Yeah, we’ve had some more monsters appear the last couple of years, but I’ve never gotten wrapped up in any of the incidents myself. Couple close calls though,” Mark said instead. “We had some supposedly alien creatures destroying businesses all over town. And you know me and construction. Business was booming. And some of the neighbors’ kids went kinda crazy, but everyone on my block’s kids are grown, so there weren’t any spookified children around here. Oh- don’t worry, all those kids are fine now though. And I’m sure you heard about the skull cattle, but don’t you worry: they never got close to the neighborhood.”

“Right… well- just remember to call from time to time, ya hear? I know it’s none of my business, but I worry about you. Crystal Cove ain’t exactly a peaceful place to retire once that ‘curse’ flares up.”

“Hehe. Yeah…” It was a known fact that long and sudden periods of weird activity were scattered throughout Crystal Cove’s history. But the word “curse” was still said with quotation marks. Like it was an inside joke - just a story used to sell t-shirts. Mark seemed to be the only person in the whole damn town who believed otherwise. “So uh-what’ve you been up to? Still enjoying living with your sister, or have you two killed each other yet?” He asked.

They chatted, catching up and reminiscing about old times, for about another hour before Jasmine gave him the polite “well, I’ll go ahead and let you go,” that signaled the end of the call.

And as soon as the phone was back in the receiver, Mark was well and truly alone again.

With a heavy sigh, his eyes wandered around the living room, at the sofa and the armchair positioned around the television next to his own. The other armchair, where Annie used to reach over to hold his hand. And the sofa where Ricky used to lay, his long limbs stretched out across all three cushions. Mark hadn’t been able to bear looking at them, empty, anymore after a particularly bad day a few months after Ricky disappeared. White sheets had been draped over each of them ever since. Mark liked to think of Annie’s as a mourning veil, and of Ricky’s as a… cover. Keeping his old haunt free of dust and stains until he came back to reclaim it.

But tonight? Tonight, they just looked like ghosts.

Mark’s eyes hardened as they landed on the spot next to the sofa, where a wooden perch had once sat. He’d made it himself, lovingly carved it with his own hands so the fourth “member of the family” could join them comfortably in the evenings. Mark had broken that same perch over his knee twenty years ago, then set it on fire in the front yard along with every other trace of its owner. Among the only signs of Professor Pericles left in the house was a photo stuck to a dart board on the wall where that perch had once stood. On impulse, Mark plucked a dart from the ashtray on the side table and flicked it at the target with practiced ease. Bullseye. But the satisfaction didn’t last.

It never did.

Mark sighed and rose from his chair with a groan, then walked over to the room’s other shelves, where he kept his and Annie’s record collection and Ricky’s old CDs. He’d stopped playing them so much after Annie died - he heard her absence in the music, without her singing along (loudly and badly). But after Ricky-

He had to fill the silence somehow.

Mark considered the classics, but once again his fingers found the edge of a familiar case, and he smirked to himself when he pulled it out and saw the smoke emerging from the full, red lips on the cover. The Mystery Skulls had come out with a lot of music since their little band got started, but their Forever album remained Mark’s favorite. He still remembered getting it in the mail one crisp November afternoon. It had been a lovely surprise. Jenny and Tedashi still called, or sent him emails and handwritten letters from time to time, keeping him in the loop about their lives and checking in on how he was doing. They’d mentioned that Vivi and her friends had started a band some time ago, and Jenny had been so damn proud when they came out with their first album she couldn’t resist sending him one of their first records straight away, knowing he collected them. And he continued to get every single one of their albums the same way since.

He was lucky to have friends like them, who still thought of him and tried to keep him in their lives, even after… everything.

But maybe not tonight, he thought to himself. It was late and he needed to wind down. So Mark returned the record to its place on the shelf and instead pulled out the one beside it: the Mystery Skulls’ “Lofi” Forever album. He still wasn’t completely sure what “lofi” was, but the best he could gather was that it was a sort of mellow instrumental electronic music. Mark liked having it on when he was reading or doing something with his hands that took a lot of concentration. Or at times like this, when he wanted to relax.

Mark pulled the record from its case and set it aside, then placed the record on the player, turned it on, and slid the needle into place. The lofi version of the album’s first song, Forever, began to play. Mark felt the music drift through the house, and felt a little less alone than he had a minute ago.

My life, my days My time, my faith My story, my soul The future in control My lovers, my team And dreaming in-between I hear the future is calling me, yeah You know my love goes on forever and ever and ever You know my love goes on forever and ever and ever You know my love goes on forever and ever and ever…

Lofi music had no lyrics, but Mark knew the words to the original song so well that he found himself quietly humming along with the words anyway. He went through the motions of his nightly routine, brushing his hair and teeth, and changing into his sleepwear. By the time he was ready for bed, Mark was getting drowsy and the album was almost at its end. He wandered back into the living room to turn the record player off and return the record carefully to its case and place on the shelf before he went back into his room and climbed into bed.

Minutes passed. Mark listened to the rain pattering on his bedroom window.

Then an hour. Sleep did not come.

Shit, it really was another one of those nights. Doing this always made him feel pathetic, but there wasn’t exactly anyone around to judge. Mark got up, made the bed, then grabbed his pillow and the blanket from the end of the bed, put on his slippers, and walked down the hall, down the stairs, and down another hallway until he stood in front of a familiar wooden door, covered in aged stickers. A wooden sign hung from it, Ricky’s name proudly engraved on the front.

After tearing Ricky’s room apart looking for clues all those years ago, Mark had meticulously put everything back where it belonged. He cleaned every now and again, but other than that it was much the same as it had been twenty years ago, albeit a bit straighter than a busy teenager would keep it. And that was how it had remained ever since: a shrine of sorts, to what had been. Ricky’s airplanes still hung from the ceiling, his books and models on his bookshelves, his collage of posters and photographs still pinned to their original places on the walls. Ricky’s backpack was even still lovingly hung from the end of his bed, slightly open as he’d left it, final homework assignments still inside. Long overdue.

Mark laid down on top of his boy’s comforter and pulled the blanket over himself, his pillow held tight to his chest. He came in here to be near Ricky in the only way he had left. That was one thing he could keep for himself that the others had lost when they moved away from Crystal Cove. In the beginning he would sit in here for hours, losing track of time. And drinking, as ashamed as he was to admit it. Hoping beyond hope that he’d hear his boy at the door, or that news would come. It never had, but even after all these years it was still comforting.

Mark rolled over and rubbed his wet eyes with the back of his hand. Yep. Definitely one of those nights. The kind of night that made him miss the drinking. But Ellen had been right about one thing: he needed to be alive when Ricky came home, and it was his responsibility to stay healthy for as long as he could until that day came.

Maybe tomorrow, he told himself.

Mark wasn’t sure how much time went by, but he was almost on the cusp of sleep when a slight sound in the quiet of the room got his attention. It was so subtle and so quiet that for a moment Mark was convinced he’d imagined it. But then he heard it again. He opened one eye groggily and glanced at the alarm clock on the side table. 10:38 - not as late as he’d feared it was. But what was that noise? It was a very slight muffled shuffling sound, and it sounded… close.

Mark sat up in bed and looked down at the floor, right at the purple rug in the middle where it sounded like it was coming from. He reached over and flicked on the lamp on Ricky’s bedside table, but there was nothing there. And yet, the sound remained.

“What in the Sam Hell…” Mark muttered to himself. He leaned in, closer to the floor, listening. Then there came a louder bump from beneath the floor.

Mark’s first thought was that there must be a raccoon or something in the crawlspace. But then a certain parrot crossed his mind, and at once Mark shot out of bed, slid on his slippers, and ran to the kitchen for one of his guns and a flashlight. He threw on a raincoat on the way out the door. He ran around to the side of the house, flashlight shining, slippers squelching through the mud, and his heart started beating even faster when he saw the door to the crawlspace slightly ajar.

Mark stopped in front of it to cock his handgun, then held the weapon out in front of him and kicked the doors wide open with his foot. “Alright!” He barked! “Come out! And godless thing you are, you’d better pray that isn’t you, Professor Pericles!”

A few seconds passed of nothing, just the sounds of the drizzle all around him. Then. A pair of reflective eyes appeared in the dark just beyond the beam of the flashlight. And a whine. Mark squinted, and moved the flashlight to reveal-

A dog.

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

Why did I do that? He asked himself.

Mystery had realized some time ago that he would need to return to the Owens house. He’d hidden something precious here long ago, something he had chosen to leave behind when the Yukinos moved and Koa abandoned his territory. But now that he was back, now that Ricky was back, he needed to retrieve it and return it to its rightful owner.

But he had been delaying the trip all night.

It was too much. Too many shapes and smells, familiar yet changed by time. It felt almost mocking. A painful reminder of what had been, no longer was, and never would be again. The passage of time didn’t usually bother him so. Living things were born, they lived a little while, passed on their genetic material to the next generation, then returned their bodies to the Earth and departed from the world: death, not an ending, but a transition to the next adventure.

It just so happened that Mystery’s time for this world was a lot longer than most.

But he was used to that. More than used to it. From the day he first sensed Vivi beginning to grow in her mother’s womb he’d accepted that more likely than not, he would outlive her. She would live, she would grow, and he would love her. Someday she may even have children of her own for him to love just as much. But one day, she would die. And she would take a piece of his heart with her, just as all of Mushi’s descendants did. That was his burden, but he was fine with that. Happy, even. For that was how it was, and should be.

That was why this place, these memories bothered him so, even after all these years: this story had not ended as it should. And the burden of those tragedies weighed heavily on his soul.

Stealth was one of Mystery’s strengths. For he was not truly mortal, but a yokai, a god, a guardian spirit. He could have slunk beneath the house as intangible as wind if he had so wished.

But he hadn’t.

Instead he had scurried under the house on four legs like a common animal in his favored disguise, covered in mud and the blood of his dinner, and made such a racket digging up his prized trinket that it had sent Mark Owens tumbling from bed to investigate.

Why did I do that? Mystery asked himself, even as he listened to Mark’s footsteps stomp through the house above him. But as soon as he saw the beam of the man’s flashlight, and Mark’s face looking down at him with anger, then surprise, he knew the answer.

Ah, that was it: I just wanted to see you again.

Mark laughed to himself when he saw Mystery. Just a dirty, wet dog peeking out at Mark with the most curious and innocent expression he could muster. His tail wanted to wag. But not yet. To Mystery, Mark was an old friend. To Mark, he was but a stranger.

“What the- well hello there,” the old man laughed, relieved, and lowered his weapon.

Mystery perked his ears up and finally untucked his tail from between his legs to let it wag.

Mark clicked his tongue at him and gave a whistle. “Hey there baby, it’s alright. Come ere’. It’s okay come ere’.” And once the old man reached out to tentatively offer him the back of his hand to sniff, Mystery knew he was in.

The trinket he’d come to collect was already gone, squirreled away with his magic, so Mystery crawled out from under the house, tail wagging so hard his whole body was wriggling, and all but jumped on Mark’s legs, licking the old man’s fingers and pressing his muddy body up against him for pets.

Twenty years. Over twenty years had passed since the last time those hands rubbed his head and scratched his back. Twenty years that put wrinkles on Mark’s face and lightened his hair, now grown out to his shoulders. Twenty years that added weight to his gut, put aches in his joints, and slowly ate away at his hearing and eyesight. He smelled of different soaps, but the same cologne. Of TV dinners and sawdust. But not a trace of alcohol or cigarettes, as there had been when last they parted. But underneath it all, it was still Mark. Mark’s laugh, and Mark’s soul. Son of Richard and Dorothy, grandson of Tobias and Mina. The same scabby-kneed little boy who used to build stick forts in the woods behind his house before he was old enough for his father’s tools. Still Mark, who talked through movies and used to sneak Koa little bits of whatever under the table at every barbecue and get-together.

I missed you.

“Hey! Hey!” Mark laughed, his big hands rubbing Mystery all over as the dog jumped and squirmed with joy. “Yes, hello! It’s nice to meet you too! Aw- what’s a nice-” Mystery didn’t protest when Mark lifted one of his legs to check his sex, “-boy like you doing under my house, huh? I bet you’re someone’s pet. Huh? Are you someone’s pet? Yep. There’s a collar under all that mud. There’s a collar under all that mud! My goodness! I bet you got scared away from home by the thunder, didn’t you? You poor raggedy thing you. Alright alright. Come on, boy. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

Now would be the time to run off. Mystery couldn’t stay. He was needed elsewhere. He’d been out too long already. Lewis was probably already home and Vivi was probably starting to worry. But when the old man knelt down to pick him up, Mystery let him.

With a little difficulty, Mark carried Mystery into the house, up the stairs, and into the master bathroom, where he shut the door behind them with a click and put him down in a large claw footed bathtub.

“Hmmm… Are these prescription?” Mark asked, gently plucking Mystery’s glasses from his snout. The old man stood up, walked over to the sink, and gently rinsed off the mud splattered on them (which Mystery appreciated far more than he let on,) dried them and rubbed the smudges off with a clean spot on his shirt, and set them on the counter.

“Now I haven’t had a dog myself since I was a kid,” Mark said, stretching his sore back. “So I’m not sure how to do this, and you’ll have to settle for old man soap.” Then he sat down on the closed lid of the toilet next to the bathtub, took off his raincoat, rolled up his sleeves, and turned on the water.

Getting a bath from Mark Owens was not on Mystery’s bingo card for how he’d predicted this evening was going to go, but as soon as Mystery realized what was about to happen he went somewhat tense and recalled every lesson he’d ever received on good behavior.

A bath.

Baths were- obviously, Mark didn’t know the significance of what he was doing. But to Mystery, baths were… important. Hundreds of years ago, a bath was the first act of human kindness he had ever received. After Mushi had defeated him, and after the pact they made, they had been in for a long journey together. Long days and nights of tense silence and a former nine tailed fox, now down to only six, hissing and cursing the matriarch of the family he was now bound to. And Mushi took his abuse with such dignity and poise it only raised his hackles further.

“I’d like to help you bathe, if you would permit me,” Mushi had told him the afternoon before they arrived. “You’ve not even allowed me to dress your wounds. And you’re covered in filth from our travels.”

“Oh?” the kitsune had leered, “And you wish to see your Master’s killer brought so low, do you? You wish to aggravate my pain further? Humiliate me? Groom me like some common mongrel PUP?!”

“No,” Mushi had said simply, already pulling her comb and soap from what few belongings she had with her. “Just the opposite. I know in our hearts we are still enemies. You hate me for costing you your freedom. And I confess, I hate you still for taking my master from me. But even I can admit, you’re too magnificent to be sullied with filth or scars. We’re to be together for the rest of my life. And you shall watch over my family even after I am gone. I want you to make a good impression, and it would be to your benefit to do the same.”

He argued. Growled at her. But like her latest descendant would someday be, Mushi was as persistent and unyielding as a winter storm, with a heart like a warm fire crackling in the hearth.

She bathed him by the river, and he did not enjoy it. The water was cold, and he was tense from snout to tails the whole while, expecting her to strike him while he was weak. There was hardly a moment where he was not growling at her, and his lips were sore from baring his teeth by the end of it. But even still, she washed him. And her hands, loathe as he was to admit it at the time, were wonderful. Working the suds into his coat with her strong, calloused fingers and gently detangling knots and debris with her comb. She talked while she worked too. Told him about her family and her comrades, and about the small temple she was already planning to build for him when they arrived. It had scared him, because he realized he’d never been treated with such care before.

It was one act of kindness of many. A single stone removed from centuries’ worth of walls around a heart he didn’t know he had. And Mushi wasn’t the only one. Over hundreds of years, her wonderful descendants and their spouses and friends poured gold into parts of him he didn’t even know were broken. Made him whole and beautiful in a way he never knew he could be. And it all started by the river, with a humble bar of soap and a pair of gentle, patient hands.

And now here he was again, over three hundred years later. A common mongrel pup being groomed in a human’s bathtub by a simple carpenter. The fit his past self would have had if he’d seen this in his future. Ha!

Mystery wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Surprise, surprise. You’re white under all that muck,” Mark chuckled after Mystery’s first rinse. “And- what’s this?”

Mystery had completely forgotten about the blood, but now that a copious amount of red was swirling down the drain, there was no denying it. No doubt, Mark was checking for injuries to see if it was his. “Doesn’t look like it’s yours,” Mark said, relieved. “Wonder what you got a hold of. Can’t be human, you’re too friendly. You got hungry on your adventure, huh?” Mark asked him, in that tone humans liked to use when speaking to something they found cute. Which was- admittedly charming, and Mystery no longer found it annoying, having lived among humans as a dog for so many years. “You hunted and ate something, didn’t you? Must’ve been a opossum or a rabbit or something. Did you kill it? Are you a vicious killer? Huh? Are you a vicious killer? Yes you are. Yes you are, you messy little thing you,” Mark said playfully, giving the dog scratches along his neck while he worked more mud and blood out of his fur.

Mystery wanted to laugh, but settled on lolling his tongue out of his mouth and giving Mark one of his most endearing expressions. If only he knew…

“Now,�� Mark said, “Let’s see who you belong to, huh?” And he reached for Mystery’s collar and flipped his dog tag over to find- nothing.

Nice try old man, Mystery snickered to himself. He’d thought to put a glamour over his and the Yukinos’ names and addresses the moment he let Mark carry him into the house. It was still there, but not visible to human eyes. Things could get complicated if Mark realized Mystery was the Yukinos’ dog. But being a kitsune, Mystery had himself surrounded with magic that made him easily forgettable, unless Mystery specifically allowed himself to be remembered. Mark would remember this in the morning, but he wouldn’t for the life of him be able to clearly recall what “the dog” looked like. Not even if he stared directly at Mystery’s photograph. He’d only remember if Mystery was standing directly in front of him in person, or if Mystery wanted him to remember.

He felt terrible that it had to be this way. But there was enough going on back at the house right now and they didn't even technically have Ricky back yet. His body was back at Destroido, fighting for his freedom with Arthur in the driver’s seat. If Mystery was finally going to reunite this family, it would be when Ricky was ready and whole. And all of that was without the potential danger Professor Pericles, Brad, and Judy posed if Mark came into the picture too soon. The timing just wasn’t right.

“Now what kind of owner doesn’t give their pooch proper tags?” Mark scoffed. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t jump to conclusions… I’ll have to take you to a vet tomorrow, see if you’ve got a microchip.” Mark let Mystery’s tag fall back to their natural place at his chest and rinsed off his hands. Then he removed his glasses, which had begun to fog up from the warm water. Finally, he took the bottle of 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner from where he’d put it on the floor, put a big glob of the stuff into his open palm, and started to work it into the fur at Mystery’s shoulders.

“You’re not mangy, you look pretty healthy, and you sure are friendly. A good boy like you must be well loved by somebody… gosh, I hope I’m doing this right.”

Mystery for one thought he was doing just fine. He leaned into Mark’s fingers while he worked, unable to keep from goraning with satisfaction. Another reason he loved baths: human hands, with their dexterity and blunt fingernails, had no equal in all the realms when it came to massages. It was only after becoming domesticated himself that Mystery understood why dogs and cats had allowed it to happen to them. As if the temptation of never going hungry again wasn’t enough, a good scratch from a human was one of life’s greatest pleasures. And the water was so pleasantly warm, too.

“My family, you know, we never had dogs,” Mark said. “I like dogs well enough, but my wife- Annie liked them too, but she was allergic. My son used to beg for one when he was younger, but I always had to tell him no. It was alright though, we had some friends down the street, and they had dogs while my son was growing up.”

The back massage suddenly didn’t feel as good. No. Please, please don’t talk about that.

“Let’s see… There were two dogs. But the first one passed away when Ricky was too young to remember it. But they got the other dog some years later. And- Hell, I must be getting old. Can’t well remember what he looked like or what they called him. Border collie, I think. Good dog- great dog, I remember that much. Maybe a little too smart and stubborn for his own good, but border collies are all smart, so that’s to be expected. And Ricky- that’s my son. Used to go over to the neighbors’ house to play with the dog, then when he got older he would babysit their little girl, and he’d take care of the dog too while he was over there. Give him baths, feed him, play with him. The neighbors used to let him wander the town as much he liked as long as he came home every afternoon, and that dog’d wander over here every now and again to visit. He was- he was a good boy…”

Mystery was much more subdued by the end of his bath, his heart heavy with old burdens. Mark let the water drain out, then had Mystery hop out of the tub, laughing when the dog shook off. Then he wrapped Mystery up in a fluffy yellow towel and rubbed him dry, quietly singing and chuckling to himself, “This is the way we dry the dog, dry the dog, dry the dog. This is the way we dry the dog, so fuckin’ late at niiight.”

But then Mark must have noticed how glum Mystery had become. “Aw, are you tired boy? Huh? You had a big night. And I bet you’re missing your home too,” Mark said sympathetically, giving Mystery more scratches on the head. “Don’t worry, I know what that feels like. I’ll start looking for your owners first thing in the morning. But first let’s get you something to eat, then we’ll get some sleep, hmm? Though - I suppose I should clean myself up and change clothes first,” he laughed. “And the bathroom for that matter. Goodness, you’d think I crawled under the house with all this mud!”

Mark opened the door to let Mystery into the bedroom, and looked confused when the dog simply sat on the carpet and looked expectantly up at the counter. “What- oh. Of course. Goodness, you are a smart dog,” Mark said, and he picked up Mystery’s glasses and put them back on the dog’s snout where they belonged.

Then Mystery, now clean and only a little damp, jumped up onto the bed and laid his head on his paws, silently watching Mark busy with cleaning up himself and the bathroom. When he was finally in clean clothes and leaving the room to put the dirty clothes and towels into the hampers in the hall, Mystery hopped down and followed.

Mark smiled down at Mystery once his arms were empty and reached down to give him a scratch behind the ears. “You really were a lovely surprise,” the old man said kindly. “Such a nice little dog you are. It would be nice to keep you, but I couldn’t bear to keep a family apart. Still, I think I’ll miss you once you go home.”

You’re a good person, Mark Owens, Mystery thought to himself sadly, as he followed the old man downstairs. That was why Mystery loved this family: they were good people, and had been for as many generations as Mystery had known them.

Mystery had seen many parents lose their children throughout his lifetime, and many of them never learned to live with that hole, or lost themselves in the throes of their grief. But for Mark, it was worse. For not only was he a widow, without Annie to share in his pain, but because Mark had been sentenced to a fate that was arguably even worse than grieving a dead child: Not knowing.

Death was final. There was closure with putting a body to rest, and comfort in knowing they were not suffering anymore. But Mark? Mark didn’t know. He didn’t know if his son was alive or dead. Didn’t know what had happened to him or where he’d gone. Didn’t know why he never came home, and he was cursed with wondering why he hadn’t already. Centuries ago, Mystery may have reveled in such anguish. But now? It was a brand of torture Mystery would not wish upon anyone, much less a human he loved so dearly.

Mystery followed Mark to the kitchen and sat on the linoleum floor while the old man bent down to look through his fridge. “Let’s see… I don’t have any dog food. And it’s just me so I don’t keep a lot of food in the house…”

While Mark was looking for food, Mystery found himself looking at the pictures stuck to the open door. The old G&E so covered in magnets and various memories that the white underneath could hardly be seen. All of the magnets were either picture frames or in fun shapes and colors, but all of them were old. The newest were from the early 80s, before Annie’s diagnosis and when Ricky was still a small boy. Others looked as though they may have been from even before Mark and Annie had gotten married. The pictures on the other hand were a hodgepodge of old and new.

The Yukino and Pepper Christmas Cards from last year, both professionally done, were both there. So was a more shoddily done one from Arthur’s Uncle Lance, which consisted of a handwritten letter and a fairly recent polaroid selfie of Lance, Arthur, and Galaham in the garage at Kingsmen Mechanics. Mystery himself was very visible in Vivi’s lap in the Yukino Christmas photo, but just as Mystery had expected, Mark had looked right at it without recognizing the very same dog sitting at his feet.

Also on the fridge were photos of the Owenses, back when they were still together, a family. But Mark closed the fridge, arms full, before Mystery could take a closer look at them. And that was when Mystery saw a familiar door at the other end of the kitchen, slightly ajar. Mark was distracted, so Mystery sneakily walked through it, into the most familiar room in the house, and yet the one that had changed the most.

When the weather was warm, Koa would often walk by the Owens house to see the garage door wide open while either Mark or Ricky worked on either their respective vehicles or some project or another, and Koa would trot right in like he owned the place, tail wagging, to say hello and see what they were up to.

The garage in the present was much messier and more cluttered than Mystery remembered. Ricky’s work station for his little models and various projects was still there, but looked to have been consolidated over time, and Mark’s own work station had sort of swallowed it, his own tools and projects scattered all over the extra table space. Most of it of course was his woodworking tools and various odds and ends, but it looked like he’d gotten more into metal work over the years too and- was that trapping equipment?

Then Mystery looked at the wall beside the door.

Oh, Mark…

The entire wall was absolutely covered in notes, photos, and drawings arranged in a big map around a single photograph of Ricky. Various ideas connected with red string. Years worth of work.

Mark had always been destined to be tenacious, but this? Mystery had underestimated him. Underestimated his resolve. Dead or alive, Mark had never given up on finding his boy, even after just about everyone else had.

Oh, Mark… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…

Then he saw it. What is a photo of the Darrows doing up there? And- the new Mystery Incorporated?!

But he couldn’t possibly- oh yes he could. Clever, clever man.

The curse. Mark had figured out what Ricky and his friends were investigating before they disappeared, and he’d retraced their steps and then some. There was nothing about the planispheric disc, but Mark had the pattern figured out, and he knew Ricky and his friends had been part of it.

Mystery needed to look closer, but that was when Mark poked his head into the garage, and Mystery had to quickly put a dopey “dog” look on his face before the man could catch him staring too closely at his map. “Hey there boy, what’re you doing in here?” He asked. “C’mon, I’ve got you some food. Baloney and-” he fake gasped, “peanut butter! Mmmm!”

He’s adorable, Mystery thought, laughing to himself on the inside.

Reluctantly, Mystery followed Mark back into the kitchen, wagging his tail in spite of his worries, and Mark pointed him to a bowl of water and a plate on the floor. On the plate was a plain baloney sandwich, cut into ninths, with a large glob of peanut butter on the side. Was Mystery already full from the entire deer he’d eaten earlier that evening? Yes. Did he wolf down the sandwich and lick up every single bit of peanut butter anyway? Absolutely. (Then again he probably would have eaten the peanut butter no matter how full he was. It was peanut butter!)

Mark took the plate once he was done, and Mystery decided the time had come to start working his magic. Just a little spell, or rather the start of one. At first there was no change. Mark got himself a glass of water and stood at the counter, sipping at it and looking past Mystery, at the pictures on the fridge with a deep sigh. Mystery drank some more of the water at his feet and kept an eye on Mark. Any minute now.

Soon enough, Mark’s eyes started to droop. Bingo.

Mystery finished his drink, licking the water from his jowls, and walked over to subtly bump Mark’s legs before he fell asleep on the spot. “Huh- what? Oh. I suppose we’d best get to bed then,” he yawned.

Mark put the bowl and his own glass in the sink, but to Mystery’s surprise he didn’t walk towards the stairs. Where is he going? Mystery followed him until-

Oh. It finally clicked. Mark had been trying to fall asleep on the first floor, not the second, earlier. Because he hadn’t been sleeping in his own room.

Ricky’s scent in his own bedroom was so faint and stale it made Mystery’s heart ache. Mark set his glasses on the side table, turned out the light, laid down back on top of the bed, and pulled the blanket over himself. Then to Mystery’s surprise, he patted his side. “Come on up, boy. Come on,” Mark said sleepily, and he smiled when Mystery hopped up onto the bed and laid down at his feet. “That’s it. That’s a… good boy…”

He closed his eyes, and Mystery listened to his heartbeat and breath become slow and even as he fell asleep. It didn’t take long. Thanks to Mystery’s magic helping the process along, he was in the early stages of REM sleep in minutes.

“Goodnight Mark Owens,” Mystery sighed sadly. He hopped off of the bed and started to quietly pad towards the door. He shouldn’t have come. Mark would be upset to find him gone in the morning. But for now, this was how it had to be. Briefly, he considered tampering with the man’s memory. But he decided against it. He had already overstepped enough just by being here.

“Ricky…?” The faintest whisper of the name slipped from Mark’s lips, and Mystery stopped in his tracks. The dog turned around to find Mark clenching the blanket in a tight fist, his face drawn and distressed. “Where did you go?... Why…… my son… M’ sorry…”

Oh, Mark…

Mystery padded back over to the man’s side and hopped up to set his head on top of the mattress beside Mark’s face. Then he reached out with his energy, gently brushing against Mark’s. Not interfering with his dreams directly, but giving him… feelings. Comfort, safety, ease, contentment, and certainty. Shifting his mind gently into a better dream. “Your son is alive,” Mystery whispered. “You were right. Ricky is alive, and he’s coming back to you…”

The hard lines on Mark’s face eased, and Mystery stopped the flow of energy as he felt Mark’s distress wane, evening out into peace and contentment. “Sweet dreams,” Mystery said. Gently, in spite of the pain in his heart. He couldn’t bear to be here another minute. Mystery hopped down from the bed and the door swung open for him without touching it. He trotted down the hall, towards the back door, but at the end he stopped.

There was a photo on the wall. He thought he’d taken the only copy of that one, but someone must have taken two. It was from a barbecue in the Owens’ front yard a few short months before Ricky disappeared. All of Ricky’s friends and their families had been there, and all of the family friends of the Owenses had been there too. The Yukinos, the Nocendas, the Kingsmen, and even the Peppers. And the whole group was in the photo, around the fire pit in the Owens’ driveway. Koa had been there too, but no one in the picture had known it. Instead of a dog, there was a large red and white glare in the top corner of the photo over the Yukinos’ heads that came all the way around, ended right next to Ricky, and sliced across the face of the parrot on his shoulder. All while curiously, not obscuring any part of any other figure in the picture. Just him.

A growl, low and savage, rose slowly from Mystery’s throat as he swelled in size, changed his shape, one tail becoming seven. He will pay, he swore to himself. Just as he had all those years ago. He will pay!

The kitsune shifted from solid to spirit and bounded out of the house through the back door in two great strides, becoming solid once he was out of sight in the same woods where Ricky used to play. He dug his claws into the wet earth, panting, heaving, furious. Trying and failing to let the familiar trees ground him. He never should have come back here. Why had he come back here?! All that had been waiting for him were memories - stark, stark reminders of just how much had been lost, and the pain that came with it. The pain that time never, ever faded.

Mark Owens slept soundly through the piercing, otherworldly scream that shook the night.

I know I'm posting this a little late, but Happy Father's Day. *Runs away to give my Dad a big hug*

Tag list! If you want to be added or removed, let me know.

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

Chapters 1-32 of 'One of Us' are presently posted on Archive of Our Own.

#one of us fanfic #one of us chapter 32 #scooby doo mystery incorporated #sdmi #mystery skulls animated #msa #msa mystery #Ricky owens #Mr. e #fanfic ocs #archive of our own #scooby doo #fanfiction #mystery skulls #Happy Father's Day #enjoy the angst :)

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alphashley14 · 10 days ago

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Happy birthday to Stan and Ford btw!! Take some really crappy doodles from the past couple days,, I feel bad about not having a full post for today 💔

#Happy Birthday Grunkles!#Stan Pines #Stanley Pines #Ford Pines #Stanford Pines

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alphashley14 · 11 days ago

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🎉🎉🎉🎉MY KINGS FINALLY CELEBRATE THEIR BIRTHDAY YUPPIEEEE!!!🎉🎉🎉🎉

#Happy Birthday Stan and Ford!#Stanford Pines #Ford Pines #Stanley Pines #Stan Pines #sea grunks #grunkle stan #grunkle ford

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alphashley14 · 11 days ago

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BDAY KINGS OF NEW JERSEY!

#PINES! PINES! PINES! PINES!#Happy Birthday Grunkles!!!#gravity falls #ford pines #stan pines

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alphashley14 · 14 days ago

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Thank youuuuu @nikicherry1234. 🥰

I want to sprinkle the show’s running gags throughout this story like Easter eggs lol. Then sit back and see who notices them. Poor Brenda and Dylan. 😂

One of Us

A Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated/Mystery Skulls Crossover

<Prev

Chapter 31

Oh What A Feeling

At about 9:30 pm, five very tired, very filthy, and very wet mystery solvers plopped their soggy bodies back into the Mystery Machine.

As far as “traps” went, according to Fred, this was one of the most unique he’d ever set. In the past, his traps had been meant to capture and restrain their intended prey, and Fred didn’t care much if the monster (or rather whoever was in the costume) got a little banged up in the process. This trap on the other hand was built to catch, but not restrain, with as little harm done to its target as possible. So all things considered, Fred had left it as simple and effective as he could with no fancy embellishments, creative theme, or room for error.

Setting it up on the other hand had been a tricky beast. Partway inside the Ghost Trucker’s old hideout, but mostly outside of it. On any other night, it would have been a fair bit of work but relatively straightforward. Tonight, however, they had vastly underestimated the storm. Rain had come down in sheets and the wind had blasted it upon them sideways, soon rendering their ponchos all but irrelevant. It was fortunate that the terrain was so mountainous and rocky, reinforced by human engineering to protect the road from mudslides and collapse. But every bit of dirt on that mountainside had turned to mud. Slick, thick mud that had each footstep ripping their shoes free from the ground with a wet squelch. Painted their legs, hands, and sleeves brown each time they slipped or had to take a knee to hammer in a spike. And even still, the rain’s complications had meant the gang would need to return tomorrow, when the weather was supposed to be better, to finish setting up certain parts and do final checks and adjustments.

“My arms and legs feel like they’re about to fall off,” Daphne groaned.

Ricky said, “I can’t tell what parts of Scooby are dog, and which parts are mud.”

The dog in question, who walked on four legs instead of two, was the filthiest of them all. And he chose that moment to stand up and start a familiar movement, to which Velma quickly shouted, “Scoobert Doo, I swear to the heavens above if you shake off in here you are walking home!”

Scooby glared at Velma saltily and flopped onto the floor with a disgusting wet plop.

“Are you all sure there’s no way to get some of this shit off?” Ricky half asked, half complained. He was not looking forward to driving back to the mansion cold and gross. What Ricky wouldn’t give to turn back the clock and suggest rain boots… He moved his sopping wet bangs out of his face and asked, “All the gear you have in here, and you don’t have a hose? Or a towel?”

“Sorry, gang. No towels. And I just took the hose out the last time I reorganized the Mystery Machine,” Fred said.

“Burrr, it’s gonna be a long ride home that’s for sure,” Daphne said, cosying up next to Fred. The Mystery Machine pulled out of the secret door, which closed behind them after a few moments. Then the van pulled away from the mountainside back onto the asphalt, and so began their ride back to Lewis’ mansion.

Ricky began to shiver, his teeth lightly chattering. Can I ask? They wouldn’t mind, right? “Uh- hey Fred? Would you mind turning the heat up? It’s- sorry. I’m really cold,” he said. In spite of the poncho, his jacket was soaked through at the neck and sleeves.

“Sorry Ricky, the heat’s already on as much as I can,” Fred said.

“The back seat takes a long time to heat up because all of the vents are in the front,” Velma said from where she was hunkered next to the front seats. “Why don’t you come sit up here? It’s warmer.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said. And he did, and she was right. After several more moments of silence Ricky quietly said, “... Thanks Velma.” And he could tell from the smile she sent him that she knew it was for more than just the invitation.

But still, Ricky was cold. Cold, and wet, and thinking. So when a little more time had passed in the silence, Ricky decided to do some of his thinking out loud. “I wonder how Mystery’s doing.”

“Oh. I’m- I’m sure he’s fine, right? I mean he is a kitsune. Fox spirit and all that. I’m sure he’s fine outside,” Daphne said.

“Well- yeah. But still… it’s so miserable out. And he was so upset… I hope he found a nice dry place before the storm got bad.”

“I’m sure he did,” Fred said. “Maybe a nice cosy uh… cave?”

“Under a house would probably be warmer and dryer,” Velma shrugged.

“Not runder my house!” Scooby cried.

“Ha! Oh god could you imagine?” Fred laughed. “You pop into the crawlspace for some completely normal reason and there’s a giant fox just under there? Like all you see is the big eyes and the teeth?”

“Oh yeah. Regardless of whether he ate me I’d be dead. Instant heart attack,” Velma said dryly.

Ricky chuckled. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He prides himself on his ability to be scary, and we don’t need to feed his ego.”

“Oh my gosh, he does. And you’re right: we don’t,” Daphne said. A round of laughter passed around the van, making everything seem a little lighter and a little warmer, even if only for a moment. But soon the moment had passed, and Ricky curled into a tighter ball to keep warm.

“Still. He’s…” He’s my friend, Ricky thought, or at least I hope he is. But he didn’t say that part out loud either. “I hope he’s okay.”

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

On another lonely, rainy, dark road in another part of Crystal Cove, a couple who had absolutely nothing to do with anything were experiencing an awkward evening for a whole different set of reasons.

“So…” Dylan said, anxiously tapping the steering wheel as he drove.

“So?” Brenda asked from where she was staring out the window, crossing her arms.

“Look, Bren. I’m sorry for bailing on you that night. It’s just-”

“It’s just what, Dylan? You basically blamed me for all those times we’ve been attacked by monsters and just left me to be attacked by that giant freaky pilgrim. And now you’ve got the nerve to come crawling back? I don’t know why I even agreed to this.”

“Look, it’s been a crazy year, okay? I think we can both agree on that. But through it all… you’ve been there.”

“Yeah. In the hospital bed next to you. For all I know you’re the one who keeps getting us attacked by monsters!”

“C’mon, Bren. It’s not my fault. And it wasn’t yours either. I’ve done a lot of thinking since that night and it was shitty of me to blame you for all that.”

“Even shittier to leave me to get attacked by a giant- EEEK!”

Wheels screeched on the wet asphalt as the car suddenly skidded to a stop. Had Brenda and Dylan not been wearing their seatbelts at least one of them would have gone flying out the front windshield.

“Dylan! What the hell?!” Brenda demanded. “It’s been raining cats and dogs out there! You want us to end up human roadkill?!”

“Brenda! Just- I thought I saw…” Dylan said absentmindedly. He was looking out his side window, squinting through the dark. “Hold on,” he said, and he put the car in reverse and slowly began to back it up.

“The fuck is there to see, Dylan? We’re out in the middle of-”

“Shh! Just- one second,” Dylan said. He put the car back in drive, but left his foot firmly on the brakes. He rummaged around the middle console for a moment before procuring a flashlight. He hit the on switch and it flickered, so Dylan smacked the side of it a couple of times to get it shining right before he rolled his window down. They could hear… something out there, above the wind, the rain, and the rustling branches. Something shuffling and grunting, a wet squelch and a hard snapping sound.

Dylan pointed the flashlight out the window. The yellowish beam illuminated a circle of dark, gangly pine trees, their branches swaying and lightly whipping to and fro from the wind. Dylan moved it down, from tree trunks to shrubbery closer to the ground, to one side, then the other-

Then that circle of light landed on a mass of muddy white fur - haunches with many lashing tails; then snapped over to land on the disemboweled corpse of a large deer - with a gigantic head connected to a long furred neck tearing into its belly.

The creature stiffened when the light landed on it, and Brenda and Dylan simply froze. A large red ear twitched. Then slowly, the monster pulled his muzzle out of its kill with a growl so deep, so primal that the trees themselves trembled. A set of glowing red eyes locked on the pair in the car, blood and gore dripping from his jaws all the way to his chest. Then finally a mouth full of sharp, bloody teeth stretched open impossibly wide and unleashed an otherworldly roar that had Brenda and Dylan screaming!

Dylan’s foot never hit the gas faster or harder so long as he lived, and the two were speeding away even as Brenda screamed beside him, “DRIVE! DRIVE! FUCKING DRIVE!!!”

Mystery watched the tail lights fade into the distance with none of his usual satisfaction. He snorted and his tongue ran over his lips to taste the coppery flesh stuck to his muzzle. Damn kids, he scoffed to himself, and his ears flicked to toss the loose raindrops from his ear fur. Ruined my appetite.

The kitsune shook himself, and a fine spray of rain water, mud, and blood misted from his long fur like a cloud. Then without a word, strong jaws locked around the deer’s mangled neck, and he dragged his kill beyond the treeline and into the secluded darkness.

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

The drive back to Lewis’ Mansion was as miserable as any of them had expected it to be. Granted - the Mystery Machine did eventually warm up, but that didn’t stop them all from being freezing cold in the meantime. It was still drizzling at the mansion when they arrived. Fred locked up the van and they all hurried inside, shivering. The doors opened without them needing to knock when they stepped onto the front porch, and shut with a dull thud behind them.

There was something different in the air, Ricky noted. Less of the tension that had been present when they left. And apparently the house was in good enough of a “mood” (did it have moods?) to be playing a little music.

Oh what a feeling every single time I’m with you, baby Hooked on your loveliness it's so surreal it leaves me hazy When I look in your eyes, it's truly clear, it's got to be love (Oh what a feeling)

And to Ricky’s delight, a pair of Dead Beats zipped out of one of the hallways to greet them. “Hey little guys,” Ricky chuckled as one of them nuzzled its head against his cheek.

“The energies or whatever must be stabilizing again if these guys are back,” Daphne said.

“I g-get that sense too, but not completely. Remember when we first arrived here? A lot more Dead Beats g-greeted us then,” Velma shivered.

“I agree,” Ricky said. “But I’m glad things seem to be getting better, and that these two are okay.”

Just then, Vivi emerged from one of the hallways. And to Ricky’s surprise, she wasn’t wearing her usual blue sweater, scarf, and skirt. Instead, she was wearing a light blue tank top and a pair of white gi pants with a blue belt. “Hey guys- whooooa, what happened to you?!” She cried, taking a step back at the state of them: soaked to the bone and dragging mud onto the clean carpets.

Then, Cassidy stepped out of the hall after her. Ricky’s heart skipped a beat, and all of the blood in his body rushed to his face.

She’d changed out of the clothes she’d arrived in. Her feet were bare and she was wearing a cropped tank top and yoga pants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Sure, Ricky was mostly used to seeing Cassidy in skin tight clothes. She showed a lot of skin back when she was still masquerading as Angel Dynamite the DJ, and no one could pull off a cat suit quite like her when the time came to get serious. But her red suit and turtleneck covered a lot more skin and it had been… a while since he’d last seen her in anything so… revealing. The V at her waistline and the muscle in her shoulders and arms were visible for all to see, and her skin was shining with sweat in the dull light of the foyer. She was dabbing the excess away from her well defined collarbones with a towel. So fucking pretty.

Oh what a feeling, is it really enough? (Oh what a feeling) Oh what a feeling, is it really love? (Oh what a feeling) Oh what a feeling, am I strong enough? (Oh what a feeling) Oh what a feeling, is it really love? (Oh what a feeling)

Involuntarily, the seldom used horny part of Ricky’s brain recalled old yet treasured memories, of his Angel’s skin shining in that same way, her arms around his neck, the taste of salt on his tongue when he kissed her in that same- Ricky quickly looked away before those thoughts could go any further.

“Are they back? What’s with all the- Oh! What happened to you?!” Cassidy cried when she saw them.

“We underestimated the weather gods, and for that we paid for our hubris,” Velma said dryly. And Scooby chose that moment to shake some of the remaining water out of his fur, much to the displeasure of everyone standing within five feet of him.

“Er- yeeeah, sorry for dragging it in the house,” Ricky laughed sheepishly, trying very hard to think about anything other than how drop dead gorgeous Cassidy looked post-workout.

Oh what a feeling with you When I love you Got to be real and with you When I love Oh what a feeling

“Alright then,” Vivi sighed. “Girls: Hot showers. Now. Boys, follow me. Cassidy, could you and the Dead Beats head to the kitchen to see what options we have for dinner? I know I should have been making plans to feed nine already, but-

“Vivi. It’s fine. I’m on it,” Cassidy nodded. And as she and Ricky’s group walked in different directions, Ricky forced himself to not look back and catch a glimpse of what that ass- outfit looked like from the back. She deserves better than to be ogled by the likes of you, you pervert!

Vivi led Ricky, Fred, and Scooby to the back of the house near the conservatory, into another room that led out into the gardens. The music slowly died off as they walked and fortunately, Ricky had himself sorted by the time they got there. When Vivi flipped on the light switch, Ricky was surprised to find them in a spacious yet practical mud room, complete with tile floors, hooks on the wall for clothes, a rack for shoes, and an enormous animal wash station that took up the entirety of one wall, complete with a shelf of various tools and bath products.

“Whoa! That’s- well this is perfect, isn’t it?” Fred laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“Hmm. This is too big for a dog. Wait- you guys give Mystery baths?!” Ricky cried!

“Yep. Sometimes he makes a mess of himself and refuses to shrink down to regular dog size for a bath in the tub. He’ll never admit it, but I think he enjoys the extra attention. And given that he’s about the size of a horse with long fur in that form, we don’t have much other choice.”

“‘Extra attention?’ I can only imagine what a nightmare those tails must be to clean! I mean I have long hair (in my own body at least,) and washing it can be a pain in the ass sometimes. I couldn’t imagine having to deal with that much of it.”

“I imagine so. And yeah, bathing Mystery is definitely a team effort. So giving Scooby a bath should be comparatively easy for you, right?”

Fred, Ricky, and Scooby looked between each other, surprised.

“Here,” Vivi said, pointing to a laundry basket, “Put on some warm water, strip, and wash that dog! I’ll send Shaggy to help you guys out and bring you some towels, then Fred and Ricky, you two can go straight up to your rooms for a proper shower once Scooby’s clean.”

“As long as the water’s warm? Sounds like a deal,” Fred said, taking off his ascot and putting it in the hamper. Ricky somewhat reluctantly did the same with his jacket and looked away, somewhat uncomfortable, when Fred took his shirt off.

Vivi turned around to give them some privacy. “I’ll send one of the Dead Beats to you, so tell them if you need anything,” she said on her way out.

Then it was Scooby, who was a dog, 38 year old Ricky, in Shaggy’s 17 year old body, and 17 year old Fred, alone and now apparently expected to strip down to their underwear. Fred certainly appeared to have no problem with it. Come on Ricky, you were having horny thoughts about Cassidy not ten minutes ago. There’s no reason to be a prude about this- But that’s Cassidy! She’s age appropriate!

Fred was already putting his shoes and socks in the hamper and was moving to take his pants off when he looked somewhat confusedly over at Ricky. “Uh… what’s wrong?” He asked.

“Oh. Uh- nothing,” Ricky said, quickly pulling his shirt over his head but not looking in Fred’s direction. “It’s just- uh. You’re 17. And uh- I know this body is technically 17 too but I’m… actually 38. And uh…”

Fred and Scooby looked confused. “Uh… So?” Scooby asked.

“Uh, yeah. We’re both guys.”

“A minor is a minor,” Ricky said with little room for argument. “If you were Velma or Daphne would you be saying the same?”

“Oh! Gee Ricky I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry,” Fred said sheepishly. “If it helps, I’m cool with it. I mean I’m almost 18. And like I said, we’re both guys and everything. I mean- I know you’re not a creep. Or at least- well, you wouldn’t be expressing concerns about it if you were a creep, right?” He laughed half heartedly. “I mean it’s not that weird. If we were at the pool I’d be mostly naked aside from just swim trunks, right? But uh- we can just leave everything on if you want.”

“I mean…” Ricky sighed and dropped the sopping wet green shirt in the hamper. “Look, Fred. It doesn’t really bother me that much. It’s not like I’m 38 in the body of say… a ten year old. But the ethics of this,” he gestured to his whole body, “-have been bugging me since pretty much the beginning. I mean I hate to get gross, but every time I have to deal with one of Shaggy’s… bodily functions, it feels… so invasive and wrong. Not just because it’s someone else’s body, but because- well. He’s seventeen. Like- I know Shaggy and Arthur are kind of dealing with the same thing, but it’s kind of different for me: an adult in a kid’s body. I mean I am over twice his age! And I know I didn’t end up like this on purpose and that there’s no other choice but… uuughhh, I’m stuck in his body and I want to be as respectful as I can about it. And the same goes for being around you and your friends. The lines of what’s appropriate here are so damn blurry,” he groaned.

“No, I totally get it. Let’s just- leave our pants on then.” Fred said, tugging them back up his hips. “I mean there’s nothing weird about a couple of guys having their shirts off no matter how old they are, right?”

“Thanks Fred,” Ricky sighed, and he bent down to take his disgusting shoes and socks off.

Shaggy came in about a minute later with a stack of neat black towels.

Fred’s face positively lit up when he saw his friend. “Hey Shag! We were just about to give Scoob a bath!”

“Raggy! Relp!” Scooby cried with mock desperation.

“Like sorry about this Scoob, but you are one dirty dog!”Shaggy put the towels on a shelf on the wall opposite to the dog wash, then joined the club and pulled his own red shirt over his head before dropping it in the hamper with Ricky and Fred’s. Then he pulled up a stool and sat down next to Ricky in front of the tub while Fred started looking through the various bath products for what would work best for Scooby. And it was only then that Ricky noticed what a sweaty mess Shaggy was. “What happened to you?” He asked.

“Like man,” Shaggy groaned, “those ladies are nuts. Like almost as soon as you guys left Vivi decided she wanted to go like, train to let off some steam. And like, Angel decided to join her. And then they decided I needed to get some exercise too!”

Ricky burst out laughing. Cassidy had started working out and taking self defense classes about three years into their exile, and she’d kept up with it pretty consistently ever since. And Vivi had her own lifetime of training and abilities. He could only imagine what those two goddesses had put poor Shaggy through.

“Like it’s not funny man! Like they’ve been kickin’ my ass all night!”

That sentence of course only made Ricky laugh even harder, and now Scooby and Fred were laughing too.

“Oh, you poor kid!” Ricky snorted. “Well, I mean- hehehe- did you learn anything at least?”

“Actually- like… yeah. They taught me some cool stuff. Doesn’t change the fact that my arms- arm, and legs feel like they’re gonna fall off. And like, I need this arm, man! Arthur’s only got one left!”

The joke landed, and it was another good minute before anyone could talk again through their laughter. And this time Shaggy was laughing too.

“So like- ha ha ho, I hate to ask but like, before we get started could you help me take Arthur’s arm off? Like it can get a little wet but Vivi said it can’t be submerged in water. And like I know how to take it off, but I don’t have it down just yet. Vivi’s helped me every time I’ve put it on or taken it off so far. The mechanism can be like, kind of hard to reach.”

“Yeah, sure Shaggy,” Ricky said, moving to help. “Just uh- tell me how.”

Shaggy walked Ricky through getting the arm off, and with a little difficulty Ricky finally twisted the right mechanism to get the arm to go limp, and with a little more work it came off with a click.

Ricky nearly dropped it when it landed in his arms. “Oh- shit this thing is heavy!” He cried.

“Like yeah. Turns out human limbs are a lot heavier than you think when they’re totally limp. And like, Vivi said that’s what Arthur was thinking when he built it: it’s like, the same weight as his other arm.”

“Hmm… explains how you balance so well,” Ricky said thoughtfully. He stood, lugging the arm close to his body, and hefted it as gently as he could onto the shelf next to the towels.

“Guess we’d better get started then,” Fred said. “All of these products are for long fur, but it should be fine,” He shrugged, showing them the dog shampoo and conditioner he’d selected.

“Like hoh boy, and now begins the tricky part,” Shaggy half laughed.

Fred and Ricky gave him matching looks of confusion. “What tricky part?”

And all at once their gazes wandered over to Scooby, crowded as far into one of the back corners of the room as he could while eyeing the bathtub like it was going to bite him.

“Scoob hates baths.”

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

“I think we may have gone a little overboard,” Cassidy said.

“You know what? Maybe we did, but it felt damn good, didn’t it?” Vivi asked.

After Mystery Inc had left the mansion with Ricky earlier in the day, Vivi’s sadness had turned to anger, and her anger had taken her to the gym. And Cassidy hadn’t been far behind. (It was that or drink an irresponsible amount of alcohol, and Cassidy hadn’t wanted to set a bad example in front of Shaggy.) They’d started out just hitting punching bags as hard as they could, and eventually Vivi had decided Shaggy, who was in Arthur’s body, needed to be able to defend himself. And so the poor boy had been dragged into the gym. And once he’d had enough, Vivi and Cassidy had let him sit back and watch while they turned their fists on each other.

And Vivi had to hand it to Cassidy: she was an excellent sparring partner. Without her weapons or powers giving her the edge, she and Cassidy were about evenly matched when it came to hand to hand combat. They’d each tapped out once and were in the middle of round three when one of the paintings had told them The Mystery Machine was back, and they had to quit early.

So while Velma and Daphne were in their rooms cleaning up and the boys were downstairs getting Scooby all cleaned up, Vivi joined Cassidy in the kitchen to explore dinner options.

Thankfully, Fred and Daphne had gone grocery shopping yesterday. Though with having to feed nine, now ten people, supplies were already beginning to dwindle. But they definitely had enough for dinner tonight and breakfast the next day. Somebody was going to need to get more food soon though.

“Hmmm… I’m not as good with food as Lewis is,” Vivi said worriedly. “He should be back pretty soon though. He wouldn’t stay out too late with no word without good reason.”

“Still,” Cassidy said, “It’s a little past ten, now. And it’s late for dinner already. Tell you what, how about you and I go run and get quick showers and a change of clothes, and if he’s not back before we get back to the kitchen, we’ll start whipping something up ourselves?”

Vivi looked down at the sweat stains on her tank top and shrugged, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Cassidy shut the fridge and the two made their way upstairs, parting ways to shower and change clothes in their respective rooms. The shower Vivi took was quick and cold. She didn’t even bother getting her hair wet and just washed her body to get the sweat off before hopping out and changing into her favorite pajamas. They were blue with turtles on them, and consisted of a short sleeved button up shirt and shorts with pockets. She was putting her slippers on and sliding on her robe when there came a knock at the door.

“Vivi, baby? You dressed? Can I come in?”

“Sure, Cassidy.”

Cassidy opened the door, now wearing a pair of deep red pajama bottoms and a cropped lime green tank top.

“We kind of banged each other up earlier,” Cassidy said, holding out a bottle of neosporin. “You mind getting my back? There’s a bruise or two I just can’t reach.”

“Sure! I didn't even think of that. Do you mind doing the same for me?” Vivi asked.

Which brought them to where they were now: sitting on the edge of Vivi’s bathroom counter in front of the mirror, checking each other over for injuries from the afternoon’s training. Vivi had finished with Cassidy already, and now Vivi was holding the back of her top bunched up around her neck while Cassidy carefully inspected Vivi’s back and sides, applying medicine to any dark spots she found.

And it had gotten quiet.

In spite of all the time they’d spent together this afternoon, they’d both fled to the gym to hide from their own stupid emotions, and they both knew it. And now here they were, alone, with an elephant in the room.

“So,” Cassidy finally sighed, “I know we haven’t talked about it but… how’re you holding up?”

Shit. Vivi didn’t want to talk about it. But she knew she might feel better if she did.

“My friend is being tortured,” she said humorlessly. “And my boyfriend and the guardian spirit who’s been protecting my family for hundreds of years are fuck-knows-where doing fuck-knows-what. And all I can do about it is hit things. How do you think I’m holding up?”

“Really well, all things considered. At least on the outside,” Cassidy said without missing a beat. “You’ve been- really good about all this, ever since it started. I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but I can tell everyone thinks so. And from what he told me about the past two days, I have to agree… Thank you for that.”

Vivi scoffed, but not maliciously. “Sure,” she sighed. “Thanks I guess.”

“I mean it,” Cassidy said, scooting away to indicate that she was done. And Vivi let her pajama top fall back to its rightful place.

“What about you?” Vivi asked, turning around.

Cassidy hesitated in answering, looking over to inspect the skull mosaics on the pink and grey tiled walls. Right when Vivi was starting to worry she wasn’t going to say anything at all, Cassidy said, “I want him dead.”

Simply. Succinctly. But with such ice and raw conviction it made Vivi suddenly very glad not to be Professor Pericles.

Vivi sighed, her fingers itching to close around the hilt of her bat, or even her sword. When bad people did bad things, Vivi believed someone should stop them, and that they should pay for what harm they caused. And often, she and her friends- her family were the ones to make sure that happened. But this? Vivi didn’t care who stopped Pericles, so long as her friend was safe. But no matter the outcome… he had hurt Arthur. And Vivi wanted to make damn sure he never could again. And she wanted it to hurt. She hated this feeling: the twist of hatred coiling in her guts. It didn’t feel like- her. But she couldn’t deny it was there. “Alright,” she said. “But if you shoot and miss, I’ll be right behind you to take my shot.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Cassidy said.

They laughed and Vivi hopped off the counter, Cassidy following close behind. Vivi threw on her robe and they left her rooms together to head down to the kitchen.

“You knoooowww~,” Vivi said playfully as they walked down the hall towards the stairs, “You should deeefinitely tell Ricky that~.”

“Tell Ricky what?” Cassidy asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just that what happened to him makes you so angry you want to kill Professor Pericles,” Vivi said innocently.

Cassidy scoffed, “Hell no! Girl, are you crazy? Why the hell would I tell him that?!”

“Oh I don’t know,” Vivi shrugged. “I just think it’s terribly romantic, don’t you? And maybe he’ll think the same? Just picture it: the one you love, so enraged by the sight of you hurt that they offer to slay your enemies and abusers for you like a sexy knight in shining armor.”

“He doesn’t love me,” Cassidy said too quickly.

Vivi stopped in her tracks, arms crossed, with a complete deadpan look on her face. Cassidy stopped too, two steps ahead, and when she looked back at her Vivi said nothing, merely raised a single eyebrow as high and judgmental as she could get it to go. “Bitch. That is a damn lie, and we both know it.”

“No, it isn’t,” Cassidy said firmly. “Look. He’s- Ricky is hurting, emotionally vulnerable, and in a teenager’s body right now. Okay? He’s acting- a lot like I remember him at that age. And- I don’t know,” she sighed, “Let’s see how he acts once he’s in his own body again, and then we’ll talk. Because right now? This is not the fucking time for me to be shooting my shot, or some bullshit. He is going through enough. Not to mention he is in Shaggy’s body, and who the fuck knows where the ethical line in the sand is there.”

“I mean- okay. You have a point about the Shaggy’s body thing, but the rest? Eh, whatever you say. And- okay, yeah. I’ll admit that makes sense,” Vivi sighed, as they began to walk together again.

But then Vivi smirked, and playfully bumped her shoulder against Cassidy’s. “... Still doesn’t change the fact that he looks at you like he thinks you’re the eighth wonder of the world,” she said. “I mean. Let’s face it: you looked like a four course meal back there, and that man looked hungryyyyy!~”

“Girl- shut up!” Cassidy gave Vivi a playful shove back, and she had to look at the wall to hide her blush, and the smile creeping onto her face.

Vivi saw it anyway though, and she laughed.

They swung by the girls’ rooms to check on Velma and Daphne, and both girls were still in the shower. To be fair to them though, the whole gang was a special degree of filthy, so the showers taking a while was to be expected. Then they headed downstairs to check on the boys.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs and started making their way towards the back of the house, it wasn’t long before they just had to follow the sounds of splashing and laughter. Until finally they found themselves outside the door to the mud room, listening in and trying not to laugh.

“Ohhh, this is the way we wash the dog, wash the dog, wash the dog! This is the way we wash the dog, so fuckin’ late at niiight,” they could hear Ricky singing between his laughter. Much to Shaggy and Fred’s amusement, but Scooby did not sound amused. There came a loud series of splashes, and whatever Scooby did had Ricky shouting between his laughter, “Scooby! You- ridiculous goddamn dog!”

“Like come on, Scoob. Like you agreed to this, remember? A whole dozen Scooby Snacks if you just take your bath!” Shaggy scolded him.

“Resistance is futile! Beatings will continue until morale improves!” Fred declared dramatically.

“BAWHAHAHA! Fred- that is not helping what the hell?” Ricky asked, laughing hysterically.

“I’m sorry! Mayor Dad used to say it. It’s funny, okay?!”

“Oh for fuck’s- Scooby! Come on! You behaved for Velma earlier and that water was freezing!”

“Ro Roap! Ro Roap!”

“Rope? Who said anything about rope?” Fred asked.

“Like not rope, soap! Scoob got soap in his eyes like one time as a puppy and he’s sworn off baths ever since! And it always gives him like, the zoomies! Why do you like - plegh! Why do you think we never bathe?!”

“Oh come on!” Ricky cried! “That is no excuse- Scoobert Doo! if you would stop- agh- struggling so much-”

Then from inside there came the telltale sound of splashing and the sound of claws on metal.

“Oh shiiiit!”

“Grab him!”

“SCOOBYYYY!”

All three idiots screamed, and Velma and Cassidy leapt out of the way of the door right as it swung open and 160 pounds of soaking wet, sudsy great dane came barrelling out of the room, claws and slippery paws skidding comically on the tile floor, dragging Ricky, Shaggy, and a stupid amount of soap scum along with him. Poor Shaggy lost his grip on Scooby and fell to the ground before they were even fully out the door - holding on proving impossible with only one arm. Ricky lost his grip and went tumbling to the floor only a moment later, right at their feet, and Scooby kept running. Down the hall, around the corner, and out of sight, leaving an extremely obvious trail of water and froth behind him.

Leaving Ricky and Shaggy on the floor, shirtless, wet, and covered in soapsuds, laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.

“Are- Ahahaha! Are you guys okay?” Fred laughed from inside the room, also shirtless, his hands on his knees, doubled over laughing.

The mud room was a certified disaster. Every surface was wet with either condensation from the steam or a splash from the ensuing chaos, and someone had used too much soap, because the dog wash was overflowing with white, frothy foam that dripped to the floor, bubbles drifting through the air.

“What the hell did ya’all do to that poor dog?!” Cassidy demanded, hands on her hips, shaking her head down at them and trying very hard not to laugh.

“We- we- we didn’t-” But poor Ricky was laughing so hard he couldn’t get out any more. Just rolled from his belly onto his back, hands over his face, cackling.

And the laughter proved contagious. Vivi and Cassidy really did try to keep it together, but soon they were laughing too. Full bodied, uncontrollably laughing, to the point that they both ended up on their asses right beside Ricky, clutching their stomachs. They couldn’t help it! Something about the sheer absurdity was just too funny! And even worse was that every time the group was on the verge of getting it together again, Cassidy or Vivi would look down at how absolutely ridiculous the boys looked, wearing nothing but their pants and covered in suds, and all it would take was making eye contact with one of them, and everyone would bust out laughing all over again. Vivi’s laughter got to the point where actual tears were streaming down her face, and then she snorted. Which made the laughter even worse. It was one of those giggle fits where the thing that originally set it off wasn’t even what was funny anymore. It was that everyone was laughing uncontrollably, and now no one could stop.

“Oh my god- ohmygod we have to stop, I can’t breathe- can’t breathe,” Vivi got out between giggles, looking up at the ceiling and fanning her face. They really did need to stop. She had a stitch in her side and her throat was getting sore!

“That was- hrk- the most ridiculous…” Fred stopped himself, still chuckling, looking down at the floor instead of at them to keep from getting started all over again.

“Like- like yeah. That was- that was crazy,” Shaggy panted between giggles, wiping the tears from his eyes. “But like, in a good way.”

“That was-” Ricky chuckled, “I haven’t laughed like that since…” And he stopped with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling and forcing himself to take deep breaths to stop the giggle fit. And Vivi wondered if he’d cut that sentence short because if he kept talking he’d start laughing again, or because he genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that.

Vivi was the only one who caught her doing it, but Cassidy was watching the expressions shift on Ricky’s face, and the only word Vivi could think of to describe the way she looked at him, before she caught herself and looked away, was love.

And Vivi? Her whole face already hurt from smiling, but she couldn’t help but grin wider. She didn’t know what the future held for those two, but what could she say? She had always been a romantic.

“... Yeah,” Cassidy finally said, “that felt… that felt good, huh?”

A beat of silence passed while they all caught their breath, waiting to make sure the laughter was well and truly gone.

Then, from somewhere in another part of the house, Daphne hollered, “WHAT DID YOU LUNATICS DO TO SCOOBY?!”

All five of them froze.

Eyes widened. Lips pressed together into very thin lines. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Cassidy shook her head slowly and looked down at Ricky. His face was positively red from trying to keep his laughter in.

“No,” Cassidy said, her voice strained as she tried to keep her own laughter under control. “Ricky Owens, I swear to god. We just stopped. Don’t you dare- Shaggy! Noooo…”

But then the tiniest little “Pft-” slipped out of Fred, and all five of them lost it all over again.

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

From the dark unseen, Lewis Pepper looked on with a sad smile. He was happy. Happy that Vivi and their new friends had found a sliver of peace, even joy, to cling to. Even for only a little while.

The thought of breaking that peace made his heart ache.

Eventually the boys, Cassidy, and Vivi pulled themselves together and went on a crusade through the house to drag Scooby back for his bath, and the sounds of the utter chaos unfolding from all corners of the house made Lewis laugh and shake his head, though he didn’t reveal himself just yet. Just silently floated through the walls and into the kitchen to get started on dinner. Eventually, based on the activity he sensed throughout the house, they won the war. And like it or not, Scooby finished his damn bath. And Fred, Ricky, and Shaggy could finally march upstairs for their own much needed deep cleans while the girls (and Scooby, though begrudgingly) cleaned up the carnage the Bath War of 2011 had left in its wake.

Not long after things began to settle down, Lewis finally put his homemade spaghetti sauce on simmer, but decided to wait before boiling the noodles. Shit, his head was all over the place. With a flash of pink fire, a long grey and red tail feather appeared in his large hand. Lewis sighed, idly twirling it between his forefinger and thumb, and asked himself how the hell he was supposed to tell Vivi and Ricky about Arthur.

This chapter is a LOOOONG time coming and took a LOT of trial and error. Originally had very different plans for it, but for the sake of narrative flow a few scenes that were originally supposed to be in this chapter were moved to much later in the story, and even then the chapter was split into two parts. What would have been the second half of this chapter will now be Chapter 32, which I'm delighted to report is almost done. In total I think I wrote about 18,000 words while trying to write this one chapter, though the final result is only a little over 7k. As for this chapter itself... listen. Listen. We have had a LOT of angst lately and are fast approaching a lot more, so for the sake of my blorbos' sanity (and keeping with the humorous part of this story's charm) I decided they needed a chapter to just be a little silly and have some fun... even with the dark cloud of Mystery's past and Lewis' bad news still very obviously hanging about. And let me tell you: I can almost guarantee no one is going to be able to guess what I'm going to show you in Chapter 32. ... But I REALLY want to see you try anyway. So be sure to pop on over to ao3 to leave a comment! I love hearing what you guys thought about the chapter, and I love hearing your predictions too!

And ofc, here's the tag list for all my beloved readers who wanted to be notified when each chapter is up. If you want to be added or removed from this list, then feel free to DM and let me know!

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

Chapters 1-31 of 'One of Us' are presently posted on Archive of Our Own!

#one of us fic #one of us fanfic #one of us chapter 31 #scooby doo mystery incorporated #sdmi #mystery skulls animated #mystery skulls #fanfiction #scooby doo #msa

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alphashley14 · 15 days ago