#artie visage

[kimuromou]

[ A Shigeo commission @digouezh got for me ;-; ]

art by Oenjan. do not reblog / use without permission.

[ghostsbrokenbyfairytales]

ARTY going as Tulio with Wolf who's going as Miguel.

[crazedhatesoul]

[ofglories]

I'll add his section and bio later but here's the newest Fate OC to the list: Taliesin.

[phasescfthemoon]

say my name and everything just stops i don't want you like a best friend

[randoimago]

Day 30 - Mutual Pining

Fandom: Critical Role

Character(s): Artagan

Type of Request: 31 Days of Oc-Trope-R

Note(s): Because of Jester, I feel like this archfey pining isn't as creepy and greek mythology-esque as it definitely could be

He is a powerful fey being, he does not pine for anyone. If anything, people and creatures pine for him. He's gorgeous and magical, who wouldn't pine for him?

And that's why he easily noticed you enjoying his presence. At first, he wasn't interested, sure the idea sounded fun. Maybe give you a chance to see how long until he made you snap. Jester immediately got on his case as soon as he started making comments. It's not his fault that you're thirsty.

But you're also not doing anything and it's causing him to grow more curious. He thought it was shyness. Maybe some cliche self-doubt because he's a fey being and you're not worth his time. But he doesn't see any illusions when he does make his presence relatively known. Instead, you just act pleasant, and it gets under his skin.

He starts to want to do things to try and get a different reaction out of you. He doesn't want the niceties or the pleasantries. So, he asks Jester what you're scared of. Find out little pet peeves of yours. Jester thinks it's a bit weird, but she gives him some info.

He absolutely uses that info to mess with you a bit, sees what causes what reactions for you, hangs onto every time your eyes light up because he made sure a specific flower grew in your path or made sure to lead you in the direction of where a baked good you enjoy is being sold. Not because he likes you or anything, but because he likes those reactions.

And then Jester gives him things that he likes, and he is happy and ready to thank Jester, except he learns that it's actually from you as a way to say thanks for his actions. Artagan begins to defend himself that it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart or anything silly like that. But he'll take the present because he likes gifts.

It's just a cycle of Artagan throwing things he knows you like in your path and you giving Jester presents to give to him. And anything he does have the time to pop in as himself, it's just politeness from you when he knows you like him. This cycle is only slightly skewed because at some point, Artagan begins to wonder if maybe you don't like him. Was that an assumption he made? Are you just nice to him because he's Jester's cool uncle figure? He wants to tear his hair out at the idea that he's been messing and courting you all this time for nothing.

"That's it, I've had enough!" Artagan is taken out of his chaotic thoughts of 'what if he saved you from a swarm of wasps, maybe you'd like him then' when Jester suddenly made that exclamation. "Arty, just tell them your feelings."

"Jester, I have no idea what you're talking about." He's an archfey, deny and gaslight and he'll be fine because he's not ready for this conversation with her. Especially because he knows how tricky she is, he helped raise her, in a way. The glare she gives him would make him sweat if he could (he'd never ruin his visage by sweating).

"I am not going to be in the middle anymore. Tell the truth or I'll go and tell them everything you've said to me about them," she says and Artagan gasps, a bit too dramatically, at her words.

"We made pinky promises Jester."

"Pinky promises be damned, this is love!"

There was a part of him that wanted to deny the love concept, but Jester wasn't budging. So, he said he'd think about it. He'd need some time to figure out a good way to do this and didn't want it to be some cliche. Jester gave him one week, material plane time, and he was very proud of the strong-arming she gave him.

So, one day, Artagan popped in as a simple merchant you thought you were buying from - he had no idea who actually owned the stall, but he doubted they'd mind you being given free stuff in the name of love - and he gave you a bright smile and asked if you come here often.

It's dumb, it's cheesy, but it causes a smile from you and you both talk, and he flirts. He thinks you flirt back? For his ego, he says you are. And then he flat out says, "I've been trying to court you for the past several months. So, are we going to be a thing, or will my heart be broken, and I vanish in a swarm of pigeons to go brood?"

The amount of relief he feels, not that he'd admit it because he knew your feelings all along, when you say that you do like him back. That you had done your own "courting" by having Jester give those thank you gifts. It's good, it's great, the actual stall owner is coming back so he needs to skedaddle really quick, but he'll pick you up that evening for a date fitting of an archfey's love. Good luck.

He doesn't think his heart has ever raced as much as it is now (well there was one time with this half-elf twink but-) and he never wants to do this again. He really hopes that he doesn't mess up with you.

[heartreigns]

☽☾ ⸻ JAYNA ARRYN ⸻ ☽☾

“death before dishonor..."

the basics.

legal name // jayna arryn title // ruler of the vale, lady of the eyrie, defender of the vale, warden of the east alias', nicknames, etc // jayn, jay, the witch of the vale, lady of the moon, the young widow, the falcon queen age // thirty-five zodiac // aquarius religion // publicly the faith of the seven, privately the old gods

bloodlines.

father // artys arryn, previous ruler of the eyrie mother // morgena arryn nee upcliff siblings // utp arryn, utp arryn spouse // dorian arryn nee corbray, antony arryn nee mormont children // none

visage.

face // jessica alba hair // black with warm, chocolate undertones in the sun, it's length easily reaching her hips. it is often worn down and loose in the traditional arryn-style, with hair and head ornaments, including things like the occasional veil. it is rarely worn up but when it is pearled hair nets are her preferred style. eyes // dark grey with black flecks height // 5'5ft build // thin, lithe

headcanons.

born the eldest child of artys and morgena arryn, jayna was the child every parent dreamed of, she was quiet, obedient, intelligent and independent.

jayna grew up with her siblings, and a young squire named dunstan from house corbray, fostering under lord artys arryn. they were all fairly close, as they all were similar in age, and of course as they grew, jayna and dunstan began to have romantic feelings for one another.

as the heir to house arryn, she spent most of her child studying extensively and being tucked close under her father's watchful eyes and care, and he taught her himself how to use a sword, a bow and arrow, and how to ride a horse, how to hunt with falcons and other birds of prey, as well as politics and the like. however house arryn is known for their reclusive nature, and most of his lessons revolved around keeping out of the business of the royal family, staying aloof above the rest of the world and their wars, schemes etc.

more of a scholar then a warrior, she excelled more in her study of the written word and of politics then she did at the sword or the bow.

as she grew her hand became highly sought after, her beauty renowned across the seven kingdoms, some had even wondered if she would one day wed one of the targaryen princes and take him as her lord consort of the vale. however, the arryns have often valued freedom in choosing their spouses for generations, and her father artys arryn did not press her to marry for politics or duty- but rather to marry someone that made her happy.

when she turned sixteen, dunstan corbray became her sworn sword and a knight of the vale at eighteen years of age, wielding his houses' ancestral sword lady forlorn in her name and honor. they began to become more romantically involved at this point in their lives.

a few years later they married, and her mother died shortly after of illness.

their marriage was bliss, and when artys arryn died in a hunting accident, jayna took the throne of the mountain and vale at age twenty-five.

she tried for years to have children but dunstan and her never managed it, in desperation jayna turned to her upcliff relatives- rumored sorcerers, witches and wizards, for help, and this was when rumors of the ruler of the vale being involved in magic and dark arts first began to circulate across the seven kingdoms.

nothing worked however, and it was the only sadness in her otherwise perfect marriage and perfect life.

when dunstan died violently- the maesters swore he died of illness, but jayna became obsessed with the idea that he was murdered through poison.

more rumors began to spread that the lady of the eyrie spoke to the dead, and spent many nights under the full moon trying to raise her dead lover and former husband back from the dead.

eventually her advisors pressed her to remarry to help shake off these sordid tales, and to continue with her duty of strengthening and expanding the arryn bloodline, her time to have an heir was running out.

with recent events, many would expect jayna arryn of all people to support prince rhaenys' love marriage to catraena, but she however doesn't- the arryns have married for love more then for politics for generations, but they hate acts of dishonor more then they advocate for love and freedom. and in fact she detests prince rhaenys and his scandals, as far as she is concerned, the vale will never support such a king.

this was really short and kind of just a brain vomit so it isn't written the most eloquently sorry sorry but this is just a quick gist of jayna arryn <3

[alphashley14]

One of Us

A Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated/Mystery Skulls Crossover

<Prev Next>

Chapter 18

You Can't Change Me

“Okay. I thiiink I’m almost in,” Marcie said from where she was hunched over her computer.

“That’s fantastic, because I just finished compiling those tapes. The flash drive is ready for-” 

But that’s when Arthur stopped mid-sentence, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up in a way that was oh-so familiar. The Dead Beats tapped each other and began to trill excitedly, zooming around the room. All at once, Arthur felt the tension leave his body. For in that moment, he knew he was the safest he’d been since the moment he’d first woken up in Mr. E’s rooms. Because Lewis was here. 

“Hey Marcie,” Arthur said with a weary smile, “Remember that ghost I told you about?” 

“Yeah. Why? And what’s with them?”

“You’re about to meet him."

And that’s when a familiar voice echoed tentatively through the room, so quietly that a non-believer may mistake it for the wind. 

“Arthur…?”

In an instant, Marcie was on her feet.

“Yeah, Lewis.” Arthur sighed. “It’s me.” 

… And that’s when the ghost of Lewis Pepper floated into the room through one of the walls. 

Marcie backed away, gasping in utter awe as the skeletal figure drifted across the room. The Dead Beats joyfully swarmed their master, but he paid them little mind save a thankful pat on their heads for their efforts. His attention tonight was all on Arthur. Lewis finally stopped before him, and in a flash of pink fire he transformed to appear as if he were still alive. Which meant that not a single emotion in his expression was hidden behind his fleshless visage as Lewis took Arthur in. He may have known about the body swap already, but Arthur imagined that seeing him like this must still be quite a shock. 

“Hey Lew,” Arthur sighed tiredly.

Lewis reached out to cup the side of his friend’s face. “Oh, Arthur…” He sighed with relief, “Gracias as dios. You look… like shit.” 

And that’s when the two of them busted out laughing and collided in a tight hug. “Lewis, I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am to see you!” Arthur cried. 

“I’m just so glad you’re okay!” Lewis exclaimed. “Are you okay? Those bastards! Did they hurt you? I’ll kill them!” 

“I’m fine, Lewis. Really,” Arthur laughed. If you asked, he would deny it. But even under the circumstances he sort of loved the attention. “I mean uh- just this,” he held up Mr. E’s injured hand. “But it’s not bad. And Ricky did this before I got here. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kingsmen!” Lewis shouted, flames rippling across his body. Even though he was used to it, Arthur jumped. And poor Marcie nearly hit the ceiling. Catching himself, the ghost took an imitation of a breath to calm down. “Don’t hide, Artie,” he pleaded. And that face- 

Come on Lewis! Don’t look at me like that… 

“I overheard Pericles and the others talking about Ricky- about you. I know something happened. Just-” And Lewis threw his arms around Arthur once more. “Talk to me, dude. I promise I’ll hold off on doing anything until your plan’s done just- I’m scared for you. We all are.” 

Oh come on. Now he’s just making it unfair. 

“Okay,” Arthur sighed, pulling Lewis away from him. “I’ll tell you. But what happened- I wanted it to happen. I did it on purpose. So you can’t go and do anything crazy, okay? You have to promise me, Lewis.” 

The Dead Beats placed their nubby hands on their non-existent hips and glared at Lewis expectantly.

“... Okay Arthur,” the ghost said. “I promise.” 

Arthur let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Thanks, Lew.” 

“You guys like… do remember that I’m still here, right?” Marcie asked shakily.

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

Mystery decided it was best to start his tale at the beginning.

“I was born in Japan around the year 800 CE,” Mystery said, treasuring the looks on his guests’ faces at the admission of his true age. 

“Like. Zoinks.” 

“Jeepers!” 

“Jjjjjinkies…” 

“It’s- it’s the year 2011,” Ricky gasped, counting on his fingers. That would make you- whooo~ daddy-o… Twelve-hundred years old!” 

“Correct,” Mystery said with a twinge of pride. “But nothing in my long life would be relevant to where we are today until the 1700s, smack in the middle of Japan’s Edo period. It was the feudal age of Japan, the land divided and ruled by samurai and the political climate unstable. The Onna-musha were revered female warriors, and yet had been losing power and influence for the past two centuries. And as for me… I had just obtained my ninth tail. 

“A kitsune’s age can be estimated by the number of tails they have,” Mystery went on to explain. “The older, wiser, and more powerful we become, the more tails we have. A kitsune is born with a single tail, then gains one about every century until they have all nine. When that happens, we change from our original coloration to either gold or brilliant white. Which, as you can see: I am,” Mystery said with a bit of vanity, fluffing up his snow-white coat.

“But wait a minute- uhm…” 

Not a single one of them was subtle about counting Mystery’s tails, swaying fanned out behind him - now seven of them in all.

Mystery may have been offended. But because it was them, he just laughed. “I see you all have noticed,” Mystery said, “that I have two less tails than I used to. Just wait, and all will be revealed.”

“I would like to start off by admitting that the way in which I got my tails is… less than desirable,” he sighed. “Please understand. Unlike the zenko, yako like me live in a harsh world outside of Kitsune society. Given such, we don’t have access to the resources, numbers, or stability of the zenko. We are constantly under threat of being outcompeted by other yokai or slain by human warriors. We can gain power through study and training. But for a lot of yako, that approach isn’t realistic. And even then the more practical and effective way can be a death sentence. Unless that is, you’re good at it. And I was very good at it.” 

“And what… was the other way?” Velma gulped. She, like the others, could sense where this was going.

“Gaining experience and glory through cunning and combat. And also… sucking away a human’s life force… and devouring their flesh.” 

And as expected, they looked at him like exactly the monster he knew himself to be.

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

Lewis was… smiling after Arthur finished telling him what happened in the hallway a few hours ago. He didn’t say anything at first, then he merrily exclaimed, “I’m going to rip his fucking wings off.” 

“Oh no you don’t!” Arthur snapped. “Lewis, you promised.”

“I know. And it’s taking eeevery little bit of self control I have to keep that promise right now. But eventually. Someday soon. After you’re safely out of this mess. I’m going to rip his fffucking wings off and burn what remains!” Lewis roared! His eyes flashed black with anger, the flames of his wrath flaring along his shoulders. 

“Wow,” Marcie said, “You weren’t kidding about your friends being protective of you.”

“I know you’re angry,” Arthur said, placing a hand over Lewis’. “And I’m so blessed to have a friend like you who gets this mad on my behalf. But right now getting angry is counterproductive and vengeance won’t solve anything. Angry people get sloppy. Professor Pericles is smart. But right now he’s also clueless. Which means we need to be smarter, and take advantage of this opportunity to take him by surprise while we have the chance.”

“I know that,” Lewis said, taking another imitation of a deep breath to calm himself. Then he got a look on his face, like a lightbulb had lit up above his head. And he chuckled darkly.

“What undoubtedly diabolical thought just entered that skull of yours?” Arthur sighed. 

“I know you said not to think of vengeance,” Lewis said, “But I just realized: anything I could possibly do to Pericles would be the easy way out. If I want him to have the worst fate possible, I ought to just sit back and toss him to Mystery.”

Arthur visibly shuddered at the thought, clutching Ricky’s not-missing arm.

“Mystery? You mean your dog?” Marcie asked with a tilt of her head. “Wait no- he’s secretly a kitsune, right?” 

“The thing you must never forget about Mystery,” Arthur cautioned, “is that he was a monster once. He tamed the monster a long time ago. But he loves us… so much. And if it’s for our sakes… he won’t hesitate to bring the monster back.”

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

“I told you I was worse than Pericles,” Mystery said, not meeting their eyes. Not wanting to see the looks on their faces.

“How many?” Ricky asked quietly, “How many people did you-... did you kill?” 

“Probably over a hundred,” Mystery confessed. “I don’t remember them all. After a while they blur together. Please understand… back then- the kitsune I used to be placed little value on a human life. You’re frail. Mortal. Most of you have no magic. Your lives are even shorter than a single kitsune tail cycle. I hate to compare the two, but I doubt you recall every insect you’ve squashed. Or every pig that’s died to feed you.” 

Velma started to object. “Human beings are a lot different than-” 

“Do you think I do not know that now?” Mystery snapped. “I was an animal. A beast who had no real respect and only knew manners when it suited me! A hypocrite who only thought I had honor! You speak of the difference between men and pigs, but as far as that monster was concerned, THERE WAS NONE!” 

Mystery’s shout echoed off of the walls and the fireplace behind him flared high and red, accelerated by the power behind his confession. They were all left stunned to silence in its wake. A hush hung in the air like smoke, and not one of them dared breathe. 

Then, from the direction of Lewis’ record collection came the tell-tale sound of a record falling onto the player, followed by a needle being set in place. 

And suddenly the silence was filled with the thrum of an acoustic guitar. Right as the resonance of a familiar voice joined the strings, everyone caved to their own curiosity and turned around. 

“I've been this way my whole damn life I swear to God, you can't change me. I've been this way my whole damn time I swear to God, you can't change me.”

The little pink culprits were looking at the group sadly, softly trilling. 

“And I know it just seems like a long shot, And I know it just seems like a long shot, But I'm trying, I'm right here trying. Oh my God, ooh~”

The Dead Beats came around to each person, rubbing up against people soothingly before settling around Mystery. 

“I've been this way my whole damn life I swear to God, you can't change me. I've been this way my whole damn time I swear to God, you can't change me.”

They couldn’t talk. But between the Dead Beats’ expressions and song choice, their message was clear: 

Please don’t fight. He’s not like that anymore.

“And I know things seem crazy right now, And I know things seem crazy right now, But I'm trying, I'm trying! Oh my God, ohhh~”

“Thank you my friends,” Mystery sighed with a nod. “I think our guests understand what you were trying to say. You may turn the music off, now.” 

On the other side of the room, one of the Dead Beats lifted the needle from the record and placed it down to the side once more. 

“You guys really do have a song for every occasion, don’t you?” Ricky said observantly, his eyes following them as the Dead Beats slunk back to the dark recesses of the room to let the living have their chat. 

“You know I really hadn’t realized it until recently, but apparently we do,” Mystery chuckled, shaking his head. 

“So uh-” Fred nervously cleared his throat. “I know you’ve asked us to judge you for who you are now instead of who you were. You weren’t the only one of your kind who- who ate people. So there must have been a reason. Why did you do it, Mystery?” 

“Blood is the currency of the soul,” the kitsune replied. “Among ghosts and yokai, devouring weaker beings to absorb their power is common practice. For a yako like me, life outside of Kitsune society is a savage place. If I didn’t become strong, I ran the risk of being devoured myself. When magical creatures like me consume another sentient life (humans especially,) we aren’t just sustaining ourselves. In absorbing them, we steal their abilities, their memories, their knowledge, and their human form.” 

“Their human form?” All six of them echoed with disbelief. 

The kitsune chuckled, “Yes. Their-” And in a red flash, a man stood where the great fox had moments before. “-human form.” He was very handsome - about 5’3 and of a wiry build, with a head of long, wild black hair akin to Mystery’s mane save two red locks that hung down by his ears. He was dressed in traditional Japanese garments, complete with a red and white bonsai tree kimono. But there was something distinctly… uncanny valley about him. He had a long, straight nose, pointy ears, and when he smiled he revealed a set of fangs inside his mouth. 

“Like what you see?” The kitsune teased, swaying his seven still-present tails behind him. “I have a couple of different human forms I’ve perfected over the years. This is the one I used most often back then, but as you can see there are a few ‘holes’ in it,” he said, gesturing to his fox-like features. 

“You mean you can turn into different people?” Daphne gasped. 

“Why of course. I am a kitsune after all. We use different forms to achieve different means. If my purpose is seduction, then I can attract some with this form or-” There was another flash, and then before them stood… a woman. “-Others in this form,” Mystery said sultrily, batting her eyelashes tossing her long, white hair. She crossed her arms in such a way that it pushed her sizable chest forward and cocked a curvy hip to one side with a coy smirk.

“L-like… zoinks,” Shaggy said stupidly. Velma elbowed him hard. 

“Oh dear God please never do that again,” Ricky said, looking away. His face was positively crimson… how adorable.

Mystery laughed, leaning forward in such a way that it gave all of them a perfect view of her cleavage down her top. “Aww. Do forgive me, children. It’s just so fun messing with humans like this. But, as you can imagine I hardly ever use this form in the modern era. In fact the one I usually prefer is-” 

And one last time, Mystery changed. 

It was clear immediately that Mystery’s intentions were less… nefarious when he designed this form. In fact there was something rather innocent about it. He was about the same height as his other masculine human appearance, but his hair was much shorter and stuck out similarly to his mane as a dog. His features were much rounder and softer, and the fox features were much less noticeable - his ears weren’t noticeably pointy, his tails were gone, and his fangs were much less pronounced. He was dressed smartly in a white collared shirt and red waistcoat, his gold spectacles were back, and he had white pants, black boots and gloves, a red cravat, and a gold ornament in the shape of a question mark at his throat. 

“Yeah. I like this one much better,” Velma said. 

“Agreed,” Ricky and Daphne said at once. 

“The thing about kitsune is we can never quite turn completely human,” Mystery explained. “Some fox features always remain, though we get better at hiding them with practice and experience. As far as my human forms go, this is my most recent design. So of course it’s more ‘human’ than the rest.”

“So these people never… existed?” Fred gulped. “You didn’t like, steal the faces of your victims or something?” 

“Oh, no. Nothing like that,” Mystery said, waving his hands and sitting down on the armrest beside Fred. “Kitsune just take the ability to turn human from consuming them. This person is a face I made up based on my true form, my form as a dog, and other humans I’ve seen. This one was actually heavily inspired by Vivi’s father, Mr. Yukino, and his associates at the University.” 

Mystery looked forlorn over at the fire. “Still,” he said, “you’re right. That doesn’t change the fact that the knowledge and power I have, my ability to do this among other things… I got it through violence and bloodshed. I’m not proud of that, and I can’t change it. But what I can do now is make sure those lives I took weren’t in vain, by using that power going forward to protect people who are worth protecting.” 

“So you haven’t killed anyone since back then?” Daphne asked.

“I wish I could say yes,” the kitsune said, “but that would be a lie. What I can say is that I have not devoured a single human in all that time. Every person I have killed in the past three hundred years has given me ample reason to do so, and I have done it only in the interest of protecting others or defending myself.” 

“Then… how did you change?” Ricky asked, fiddling with his jacket strings and not quite meeting Mystery’s eyes. 

“I was grabbed by the tails and wrangled into changing,” Mystery laughed, reminiscing. “Where to begin? Ah! Do you remember what Vivi told you about the night Mushi was given her gift?” 

“She was hunting a yokai!” Daphne exclaimed. “Was she hunting you?” 

Mystery nodded, sliding off the armrest and returning to his true form. “I mentioned a few minutes ago that I was… good at hunting humans. Did I not?” 

They nodded. 

“If you’re a yokai who has resorted to being a man-killer, it is of the utmost importance not to draw too much attention to oneself. On the island of Japan alone, humans outnumber kitsune at least ten thousand to one. Even back then. And they aren’t meek herd animals either. If you’re a yokai, and you kill the wrong human or make it obvious that you’re the culprit, their warriors will come after you as ruthless and unrelenting as ants. Big, loud, monkey-looking ants wielding fire and big, pointy sticks. No matter how strong you are, the strength and persistence of the human spirit has eventually slain even the mightiest of us. If you want to avoid this fate, you have to be smart about it. And for most of my life, I was smart about it. I won’t go into too much detail about such a shameful thing, but I will tell you that I was only caught a handful of times during the first eight hundred years of my life, and increasingly less as I grew older and wiser. And each time I was caught, I was usually able to escape unscathed. Then I’d disappear for anywhere from a few months to a few decades, wait for the heat to die down, then start again elsewhere. That is, until I obtained my ninth tail.” 

Mystery sighed and looked up at the ceiling, silently cursing his past self. “Idiocy,” he began again, “has no age limit. Many like to believe that foolishness is reserved for the young. Allow me to stand before you as a living testament that this is not the case. I don’t believe I ever, in my millennia on Earth, acted more imbecilic than in my ninth century of life. I was so proud of myself when I obtained my ninth tail. I had gone nine hundred years on Earth without being slain by spirit nor man, and now I was among the most powerful of my kind. My maximum potential for power was at last in my grasp. I thought I was invincible. And I acted as if I was invincible. I killed where I wished, when I wished. I acted carelessly with magic. Flaunted my so-called ‘cleverness’ and power by using it on beings dumber and weaker than myself. I became vain, arrogant, gluttonous, and needlessly cruel. Even more so than I was already. Not so unlike the way a certain parrot has become, if I do say so myself,” the kitsune growled. “To everyone… except one.” 

“Shiromori,” Ricky guessed. 

Mystery nodded. “She was an accident, as I told you earlier. I’d been a nine-tailed fox for at least sixty years when she was born. As to why I kept her, I wish I could say it was ‘love at first sight’, but that would be a lie. I kept her partially on a whim, but also because when it comes to life, longevity breeds boredom and she was something new that I could study. At the very least, I thought she could be useful in the future. And given that I had reached sexual maturity with the growth of my ninth tail and would probably be searching for a mate within the next century or so, I thought it wise to practice parenting on this little… whatever it was in preparation for rearing my own kits someday. And perhaps potential partners would find a suitor attractive who’d already proven himself to be a capable father.

“As for what kind of father I was to Shiromori… that’s debatable. I looked after her. Raised her. Helped her figure out her powers. I was hands-off enough that she was able to make mistakes and find strength on her own. But I was not neglectful. Shiro was cared for and wanted for nothing. I taught her as both father and teacher, and every other yokai within a hundred miles knew that anyone who tried to harm or otherwise eat her would be met by my teeth. Eventually I fell in love with my child, though I was too prideful and not self-aware enough to realize nor admit it at the time. And Shiro loved me as her parent. So looking at it that way, yes. I was a good father.

"But on the other paw… I raised her to be like me. And as you know, I wasn’t exactly good. Children are a product of their environments. I became the way I was through the ambition my parents taught me and what I had to learn in order to survive. And Shiromori became the way she was exactly the same way. Modeling my behavior at the time gave her little regard for the lives of humans or other yokai, and a streak of arrogance and overconfidence that often got her into trouble.” 

“And I take it that caught up to you?” Ricky asked.

“That it did. Ours was an unsustainable and irresponsible way of life, but I was so sure of my own power that I thought no one could stop us. My final mistake began when Shiromori and I went on a killing spree in a village about thirty miles north of the capital city of Edo, which eventually became modern Tokyo. I imagine that news of such a violent act by a yokai so close to the capital would have been distressing to the Emperor to say the least, so a samurai was dispatched to slay me.

“Needless to say, he tracked us down. I sent Shiromori into the forest to hide while I engaged one of the strongest warriors in Japan in combat… and I won. I had killed a samurai! And I was proud of it.”

The glimmer of old pride passed over Mystery as quickly as it came before he was once again scoffing with disgust at his past self. “If you thought I was vain before, I became a real peacock after. Gloating about my victory the whole way, Shiro and I took the samurai’s sword and helmet - with his head still in it, as trophies. We retreated to Aokigahara - ‘blue tree meadow’. About 50 miles west of Edo. It was a favorite spot of mine. I really ought to go back someday, but I don’t think I’d take any of you humans with me if I did. Aokigahara has since ancient times had a reputation as a home to yūrei - ghosts. On account of the fact that in times of famine, people would leave their sick and elderly there to die.” 

“Jeepers! That’s horrible!” Daphne cried. 

“It was surprisingly common practice across Japan actually,” Vivi said, having come back into the room and sat on the armrest beside Daphne. “It’s called ubasute. And Aokigohara was a favorite spot by many to do it.” 

“Suicide is considered an honorable act in Japanese culture,” Mystery said. “A fact that unfortunately has given Aokigahara a more modern nickname in English - Japan’s Suicide Forest.” 

“Jinkies! I’ve heard of that place!” Velma exclaimed. “It’s one of the biggest suicide hot spots in the world. It’s broken multiple records for the number of bodies found in it. People travel there with the express purpose of killing themselves. It happens so often that the locals see fit to organize police and volunteer search parties to comb the forest for corpses or survivors of suicide attempts every now and again.” 

“There are signs posted all over the place advertising suicide hotlines and asking people to think of their loved ones,” Ricky added. “It’s really sad.” 

“Correct on all counts,” Mystery confirmed. “Even people who go there not intending to die often get lost or fall into the holes and caves that are present in the volcanic rock throughout the forest. It isn’t exactly a human-friendly place, and mortal wildlife is extremely rare. It’s teeming with yūrei though, and certain kinds of yokai are welcome. Which is why I thought it the perfect place to lie low for a while and have a vacation of sorts until the humans got over it, just as I had many times before.

“What I did not know was that my final murder had incited the wrath of one of the Samurai’s close friends: a talented young Onna-musha famed for her blue hair. As you could probably guess, her name was Mushi.”

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“You really are amazing Arthur,” Lewis said after Arthur and Marcie were done going over what they’d accomplished so far.

“Eh, don’t give me too much credit,” Arthur shrugged sheepishly. “There’s no way I could have done any of this if it weren’t for Marcie.” 

“-But you deserve a lot of credit too,” Marcie interjected. “Mr. E could have come to me. He had weeks. But he didn’t take the leap. You did. And I don’t think he would’ve had the skill to do some of the things you’ve done so far either. That’s the whole point of this swap.” 

“I’m sensing some animosity,” Lewis said.

“He’s been blackmailing me for months and I literally only found out today that he was probably doing it for my own safety. I know what Arthur’s told me about him, but I’m going to need to see this for myself and hear an apology from his own mouth before I even consider being buddies with him,” Marcie grumbled.

“Which is totally understandable. And valid. But I do encourage you to give him a chance. I’ve been with the guy all day. It’s gotten deep a couple of times. I really think he and Mystery Inc. have reached an understanding. Even Velma is acting friendly with him now.”

Marcie blinked at Lewis with shock at that last statement, but she quickly shook it off and went back to her computer, blushing. “Why should that affect my decision?” 

Lewis and Arthur glanced at each other and exchanged knowing smirks. 

Interesting… 

“Just saying. All things considered,” Lewis said, playing dumb, “she’s the one with the most reason not to like him out of everyone in the gang. So if even Velma’s been swayed, then that says a lot, doesn't it?” 

Marcie ducked down even further, pretending to be focused on something else. “I suppose…” 

“By the way,” Arthur said to Lewis, “It’s your turn to update me. What’s been going on at the house? Any developments? How are you? How are Vivi and Mystery? Did you tell them about uh… us? And what did you tell them? How did they react? How is Ricky? Is everyone getting along?” 

“Alright Artie, alright. Slow down!” Lewis laughed. “And to answer your question, things have been good for most of today.”

“Buuut?” Arthur prompted, and Marcie was clearly listening too.

“Ricky had a bit of a… reaction to Mystery being a kitsune. Understandably. But when I left, they were talking it out. And assuming it went well…” Lewis cringed.

“Oh no. What?”

“Right about now, Mystery should be telling them about… his past.”

Arthur’s face went pale with realization. 

“... Oh. Thaaat could go a lot of ways, couldn’t it?”

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“Now children, if you doubted my sincerity before then doubt no more,” Mystery said with a flourish. “Because I’m about to entrust to you a piece of information that my kind would rather the world forgot about: I’m going to tell you how to kill me.” 

“There’s like- a specific way?” Shaggy said bewilderedly. 

“Indeed there is. Now I’m sure it’s possible to kill a kitsune via other means, but they’re far from as effective as what I’m about to tell you.” 

“I don’t want to know,” Ricky said quickly. 

Mystery’s head snapped over to him in surprise. 

“I mean think about it. I know you want to give this to us as a sign of trust. But what if Pericles forces our hand somehow and makes one of us tell him how to kill you? I know this goes against what we talked about earlier, but I don’t want anyone else to die because of me. Knowledge is power, but knowing this sounds like a burden that I don’t want. Please, Mystery. If the others are okay with knowing, then tell them. It’s your decision. But just- let me leave the room first?” 

The kitsune stared at him for a long moment. “How wise you’ve become,” he muttered. 

“It isn’t like nobody knows this,” Vivi piped up. “Mystery’s told Lewis, Arthur, and I. So if he like… turns evil or something crazy like that, then we do in fact know how to slay him.”

“Well then… Ricky’s right. I don’t want to know either,” said Fred. “You’ve given us enough of your secrets as is. Keep this one. I don’t want your life in my hands.” 

“Me neither,” Daphne agreed.

Shaggy and Scooby nodded as well. 

Velma hugged herself nervously. “I… would like to know,” Velma said. “I’m sorry gang, but he’s been telling us for the past twenty minutes about how he used to enjoy killing innocent people. And I don’t know if I can trust somebody who used to be that bad. I would just- feel a lot better if the odds were evened out.” 

“And that is wise as well,” Mystery said with a nod. “And I know I can trust you to keep a secret, Velma.” 

Without saying a word, the kitsune stared at Velma for a long moment. Then suddenly she jumped, looking positively bewildered. Her face changed from confused, to understanding, to accepting, then she nodded at Mystery. And a moment later her eyes widened and momentarily flickered over to Mystery’s tails, but she looked away just as quickly.

“Got it?” Mystery asked. 

“Yes,” Velma nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Like um. I’m confused. You didn’t say anything,” Shaggy said, scratching his head.

“Telepathy, my dear Norville,” Mystery said, puffing up his chest. “A rather neat and useful little trick if I do say so myself. Especially when one needs to communicate without being overheard.” 

The five of them stared at him. Telepathy. Because of course.

“Back to the matter of my transformation,” the kitsune said as he resumed his story. “As I told you all earlier, kitsune gain tails as we grow older, wiser, and more powerful. What I did not tell you is that we can lose that power if we lose our tails. Anyone with a prayer of slaying a kitsune would know this.”

“Mystery!” Ricky snapped. “Did I not just say I didn’t want to know-”

“I told you how to weaken me, not how to kill me. There is a difference. And the former is important for what happened next. Because Mushi did know this. And she took great advantage of it.

“Our battle shook the forest to its roots. Unlike her samurai friend, Mushi had power that took us completely off guard. Those powers combined with her own strength, skill, and cunning made Mushi formidable even against Shiromori and myself at once.” 

“She cut off two of your tails. Didn’t she?” Daphne asked. 

“She cut off three,” Mystery corrected. “I only regrew one of them as of a few years ago. It takes much longer to earn back and regrow a lost tail than one that hasn’t grown in yet. And it took- a lot… to regain my seventh tail. As for my fight with Mushi, with three tails down and my creation on the verge of being slain, I had no choice but to yield. But instead of killing me, Mushi made a deal with me: that she would spare the lives of myself and my daughter if only I would submit to her, and fight at her side. I had little choice but to agree.”

Mystery scoffed at his past self. “And what’s really sad is that’s what it took for me to realize how much Shiro meant to me. My pride was shattered. I had lost a third of my tails - a third of my power. But what scared me the most was Mushi’s sword poised above my Shiro, and a life flashing before my eyes without her in it.

“All the same, that’s a fate I suffered anyway. I had to leave her behind that day, wounded and unconscious. When she awoke it would have taken her a long time to fully recover. I have little doubt in my mind that she thought my abandonment the ultimate betrayal - that I had chosen a human over her. I spent so long running from her. It was over three hundred years before I saw her again, and even then I never got the chance to explain myself, to tell her the whole story, to apologize.” 

“-And it’s all my fault,” Vivi sighed. 

“No. It isn’t,” Mystery growled. “I refuse to allow you to do that to yourself, Vivi. Though it seems that my prior efforts to rid you of that ridiculous notion have been futile.” 

“But-” 

“But nothing. It was a messy, complicated, dangerous situation from the get-go and the only way it could have ended was badly. Or need I remind you that Shiromori wasn’t the only thing that attacked us that night?” 

The two Mystery Skulls stared each other down. Jaws set, eyes narrowed, stubbornly refusing to look away. 

“Uh… what else attacked you that night?” Scooby asked with a tilt of his head. 

A very different energy passed between them at Scooby’s question, and Mystery looked away. “A story for another night,” he growled with finality. “All you need to know right now is that Vivi is an extremely good person. I have assured her countless times that her actions were correct back then, but she can’t help but wonder what could have been. I believe she fantasizes that she, the boys, and Shiro could have been friends. And that perhaps the Mystery Skulls may have five members after all if only the events of that night had gone differently.” 

“You don’t know they wouldn’t have,” Vivi said.

“I know that Shiromori didn’t have the time to change nor the found appreciation for humans that I did. And it’s very likely that she was still killing people before she caught up with us. I loved her. But she was a monster, Vivi. Just like me.” 

“Just like you used to be,” Vivi corrected. 

“If you knew,” Mystery said, “what I have done to protect this family, and all of the times I have failed to protect this family, I do not think you would say the same.” 

“Then maybe that makes me selfish but whatever it was, I’m glad you did it!” Vivi shouted. 

An extremely tense, awkward silence fell over the room. Mystery was furious, but his tails had stopped lashing and he looked positively stunned. Vivi was red in the face, stiff with anger. And Ricky and the kids had shrunk down into their seats, not daring to make any attempts at deescalation.

“It’s been a long day,” Vivi said finally, still not breaking eye contact with Mystery. “I think we’re at a good stopping point for the night. Right, Mystery?”

“Correct,” the kitsune said, also not looking away nor blinking. “I think Vivi and I have a couple of things to talk about, and it’s impolite to impose one’s internal affairs upon guests. So if you please, I think it would be best if you all retired for the evening.” 

“But like-” 

Velma slapped a hand over Shaggy’s mouth before he could say something stupid. “Yep! Great story! And I’m suddenly really tired. What about you E?”

“Yep. Exhausted. Goodnight Mystery. Night Vivi.” 

“Night!” The others echoed. And the six of them skedaddled so fast they left dust clouds in their wake.

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“I see,” Arthur said once Lewis was done summarizing their day. “Well. Regardless of how that conversation is going right now, I’m glad Ricky’s in a safe place and that you guys are being good to him. Knowing that makes me feel like… what I’m doing is really worth it, you know?” 

“Of course,” Lewis said. “We could tell how important this was to you. And Ricky… isn’t bad to be around. All of us can tell that he really is trying. So speaking of trying, what’s your plan going forward from here? Is there a plan? And what do you need me to do?”

Arthur’s eyes lit up at the question and he snapped to attention with a grin. “General Fleach,” he said in a playful commanding tone, “Brief Private Pepper on our plan of attack! The next phase of the operation begins at 0030 hours!”

“Aye aye, Major General Kingsmen,” Marcie said with a salute, going along with the bit. “So the first phase of Arthur’s plan, obviously, was collecting information and allies. And he’s done that,” she said, pointing to herself with her thumb. “Simultaneously, he also completed phase two, in which he provided Pericles, Brad, and Judy with false data on his- or rather Mr. E's, mental state and the effectiveness of the venom. As a result they’re bound to be much more cautious with him for a while, which buys us time and privacy to carry out the rest of the plan. Which brings us to phase three: accomplishing what we needed to accomplish. And we actually finished the first thing right before you got here.” 

“Oh really? What did you do?” 

“First,” Marcie said, “Remember this, because this is important: A while back I hid a camera for Velma in one of Destroido’s main hallways. And that’s where Arthur put on his little ‘demonstration’ earlier. Which means that Velma already has access to proof on video that everything Mr. E has been telling you about the cobra larvae in his spine is the truth. She just needs to go in and check the footage from about 4:00 to 4:30-ish.” 

“I did that on purpose,” Arthur said, “in case we couldn’t get the proof I really wanted.” 

“That proof being?” 

“This,” Arthur said. And he held up a small, purple flash drive for Lewis to see. 

“We hacked into Destroido’s security recordings for the past two weeks,” Marcie said. “And we got em’. There’s proof there that a lot of the bad things Destroido has done since Pericles and E started working together has been behind E’s back. Definitely not all of it, but definitely more than I would’ve thought. The Horrible Herd for example? The mutant cows that almost ate Crystal Cove? E didn’t know about that until it was too late to go back, so he didn’t have much choice but to go along with it past a certain point. We got footage of Mr. E plotting the coup, and Pericles’ conspiracy with Brad and Judy. And everything they did to him afterward. The footage is all there. Labeled and organized.” 

“And here I thought you didn’t like him,” Lewis said, taking the flashdrive from Arthur. 

“I don’t,” Marcie said. “But the proof’s all there that he realized what path he was on and tried to fix it. And even so, I don’t care how much I don’t like the guy. Nobody deserves what’s on those tapes.”

“This is one of the things I need you to do,” Arthur said. “Even if we fail at everything else we’re aiming for. If these recordings get out of here, then we have a way of making sure everyone knows that Ricky isn’t like them. He fucked up. It’s true. And maybe there are some things he deserves to be punished for. But if there’s a trial, Ricky doesn’t deserve to get roped in with Pericles, Brad and Judy. Any judge and jury would have to take his attempts to fix things and what he went through for that into consideration!”

“You’re right,” Lewis said, closing his fingers around the precious object. “I’ll make sure this makes it to the others.”

“Also. Before you watch that,” Arthur said, “make sure you tell Ricky about this and get his permission to see them first. There’s… some sensitive stuff in those recordings. If you watched it without him, without his permission, it would be a really shitty thing to do. So make sure he knows about it.”

“Don’t worry,” Lewis said. “You can count on me to do this right.”

“Thank you, Lewis. But I’m afraid that’s not all I need you to do. Two nights from now, Marcie and I are going to make our escape. And in order to make sure it goes off successfully, we need you to be waiting for us. But not just that. There are preparations I need you and the others to make. Because after we get out of here, we need to get this thing out of Ricky’s back ASAP. I mean like immediately after. I need to go straight from here into surgery. And I have a plan for how we’re gonna do it. Pericles is never going to see it coming.”

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

Vivi and Mystery listened intently to the others’ fast retreating footsteps and only when they were fading into the distance did one of them speak.

“You, Lewis, and Arthur,” Vivi said evenly, “are my world. You are my universe. You are my happiness. I don’t care what we’re doing. The Mystery Skulls, together until we join Lewis one by one and greet death as an old friend. Then after that? So long as I am with the three of you, death is but the next great adventure. That is the destiny I want. And not a single one of us would even be here if it weren’t for you. You have watched over my family for centuries. Even before we knew your true self, you were there. For my entire life. Watching over us and keeping us safe. So whatever you’ve done and yes - whoever you’ve killed to bring us where we are now, I’m grateful for it. Because of all the possible timelines that could have been, I get to live in the one where the four of us are together.”

“Are we?” Mystery asked. “How ‘together’ are we, Vivi? Let’s review. Arthur is presently imprisoned in another person’s body under the wing of a psychotic parrot. In a situation that may have never happened if it weren’t for my actions in Crystal Cove over twenty years ago. And how long exactly will Arthur be with us, Vivi? Whether you admit it to yourself or not, he is as much a third wheel now as he was when you and Lewis started dating. I know you have made efforts to not shut him out. But inevitably, that’s what happens when two-thirds of a trio are in a relationship. What happens when he meets a nice girl, or perhaps a boy, who would rather do something other than solve mysteries with us? What happens then?” 

Vivi recoiled at the thought. No! Artie belongs with me and- 

“-And where is Lewis right now?” Mystery demanded. Vivi snapped her attention back to the argument and shoved whatever-the-fuck-that-was into a box for later. “Lewis has gone to talk to Arthur. He’s the only one who could possibly hope to get into Destroido to talk to Arthur because he is a ghost. As in he is dead. And it’s once again because I failed!” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Vivi said, without a drop of doubt in her voice. “Everything that happened twenty years ago? No one could see what the curse was doing but you. You protected us. And when it got to be too much, you got us out. We might have died here if it weren’t for you. And three years ago? The caves? Reverb? None of us could have seen it coming. Not even you. For a guy who’s been preaching to Ricky all night about not blaming himself for things out of his control, you’re sure doing a lot of it right now. You’re not a god, Mystery. Even if you’re related to them. And even gods can’t do everything, because if they could they would have dealt with that damn entity themselves and it wouldn’t be on us to slay it. You are the only reason what happened that night wasn’t worse.” 

“Worse? How could it have been worse, Vivi?” Mystery nearly yelled, but he remembered that they didn’t exactly want to be overheard, so he checked his tone. “You were so traumatized by what happened that night that albeit temporarily, you blocked Lewis out of your memory entirely. Lewis is dead. I watched that boy grow from a kit, convinced his family to move with ours to Tempo, looked on with approval as your friendship blossomed into love. But when he needed me the most, I could do nothing but watch him fall!” 

“You may have watched him fall,” Vivi reminded him quietly, “But you didn’t see him land.”

And Mystery saw it on her face, the moment her mind was transported elsewhere. At the bottom of a cliff, looking on in helpless horror as the love of her life gasped and trembled, blood gurgling past his lips and the light leaving his eyes. His blood pouring down the stalagmite running through his-

Mystery crossed the room in one great bound and pulled Vivi, shaking, into his embrace. A paw and seven tails wrapped delicately around her and her arms encircled his neck, her face buried in his soft fur as she was grounded back to the present. 

It was a long moment before Mystery spoke.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Vivi croaked, rubbing her eyes under her glasses before the tears could fall. “It wasn’t Arthur’s either. Reverb is to blame, and he’s been destroyed. Beyond death. Beyond rebirth.” 

“He was a coward,” Mystery said. “Hiding in the bodies of others and using them to do his dirty work. I should’ve been able to handle the likes of him.” 

“And you did.” 

“Arthur-” 

“-Is alive today because of you. You know that, right?” Vivi asked, looking up at him. “We’ve had this conversation many times before. Had you not acted, Reverb would have possessed Arthur entirely. And what would he have made him do next? Jump to his death after Lewis? Go after you? Go after me? Maybe move on after that and hurt some more people too?” 

They were quiet for another few moments, clinging to each other to stay in the present, lest they slip into the horrors of their past. 

“... I want him back,” Mystery murmured, feeling as vulnerable, pathetic, and weak as he’d ever been. “I need him back, Vivi. There’s still so much I have to say- so much I have to make up to him. He’s still afraid of me…” Mystery shuddered, feeling his throat closing. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It was 3 years ago. Mystery was a kitsune. He wasn’t supposed to feel regret. But why, when he was with her, did it feel so easy to let these feelings flow? “He shies away from this form. Even when I’m a dog, he flinches at the mere sight of me. And all because I-... because I-” 

A terrified orange eye on the verge of turning green. A hoarse cry for help tearing from Arthur’s throat. And all Mystery had been able to do was- the taste of Arthur’s blood in his mouth- deep laughter reverberating throughout the cavern- his child screaming-

Mystery was both grateful and angry in that moment, that his ancestors had blessed him with the oh-so human ability to cry. And he was even more grateful that his friend had left him her granddaughter to be with him through it.

At this point I should just stop wishing for short chapters. The chapter is how long it's gonna be and I don't have much control over that. I give up! And ya know what? Maybe that's a good thing. Cuz not gonna lie, this might be my favorite chapter of the whole fic so far. The storytelling, the worldbuilding, and the angst was so fun to write! The argument between Vivi and Mystery at the end took me by surprise, but I loved getting to explore their relationship and their shared trauma, and to show a bit of Mystery's vulnerable side. As we all know, Mystery's backstory is speculation at best in the Mystery Skulls canon. When the next MSA video is released mine will likely be proven to be completely inaccurate. I just took what little we did know with my limited knowledge and research on Japanese History and Mythology (and depictions of Japan's spirit world that I've seen in various media which may or may not be totally inaccurate) and went from there. If I have anything totally incorrect or in any way depicted something in an offensive way (which was completely not my intention) feel free to correct me. I wanted to give Mystery a human form, but there's so much fantastic concept art out there of human Mystery that I couldn't choose just one, so I just went with the idea that he has multiple. As for the three that showed up in this chapter, the first was taken from @RavenouScorpian's fantastic Human Mystery design. The third one was taken from the Human Mystery design by @phantriicks. And the second one was just me picturing Mystery as a hot anime fox girl. Because he's a mischievous fox spirit and I feel like he'd take one look at anime, realize humans are actually into that shit, and be like: "Disgusting! Give it to me now!" Lol he has no pride when it comes to fucking with humans. Another thing I enjoyed doing this chapter was alluding to future reveals. What did Mystery do 20 years ago? If Ricky allows the others to see those tapes, how will they react? And what else does Arthur have up his sleeve? Still no Cassidy this chapter, but patience young padawans, patience. I promise it'll be worth it! Chapter 19 is currently in progress at just over 3k words, and I'mma go ahead and tell you: Things. Are about to get. Nuts.

I also wanted to give a quick thank you to Lucarn on ao3 for his wonderful in-depth comments on Chapter 17. I loved them! 🥰

Chapters 1-17 of One of Us are presently posted on Archive of Our Own.

I intend to post Chapter 18 to Ao3 in the morning.

[icarianonager]

The Institute: Episode IV

The Erebusian Excogitation

“Hi, Dad,” Artemisia said. She sat in her swivel chair in the anteroom to Launch Bay 31-A, her face illuminated by the soft white backlight of her laptop. A few of her robots were scampering about, tending to her mech’s systems, but most were at their charging stations, except the unit she kept on her person.

“Hello, Arty,” Wulfrik said. His full-vue bespectacled face was thin and greyed, with fluffy white handlebars over his lip and an unkempt cumulus cloud of haze about his head. “It’s good to hear from you. I heard you got caught in a little giant robot on giant lizard fight a few days ago?”

Artemisia nodded. “Yeah.”

“Glad to see you’re still up to your old mischief. How did you get the mech running?”

“I got some help,” Artemisia said. “Heard my next door neighbor Andromeda was a programmer. Stole some important stuff from her and she offered to build an OS in exchange.”

Wulfrik guffawed. “Bold! But did you not just consider asking her directly?”

“My way was more fun.”

“I suppose,” Artemisia’s father said. “But you shouldn’t make a habit of it. That’s a way to make powerful enemies, some of whom won’t take as kindly to having their resources snatched.”

Artemisia nodded. “It turned out alright anyways. She likes mechs and good food too, so there’s that.”

“Well, that’s good,” Wulfrik said.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you though,” Artemisia began. “Andromeda wants me to collaborate with her lab. The scientist she works for said you’d have to approve that.”

Wulfrik stroked his mustache. “That’s true,” he said. “But it’s really your lab. Do you want to collaborate with them?”

“I don’t see any reason not to. It’d help me expand my resources, and I don’t think they’re really that interested in changing the path of my research.”

“Then I will make the arrangements. Who do I need to talk to?”

“Dr. Ivan Hibernius Zimov. Department of Nuclear Physics.”

“Oh,” Wulfrik said. His eyes narrowed. “Him.”

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Dr. Stefan Andros and Dr. Katherine-Marie Voltaire descended farther down into the Hades Deep. The dusky light of the upper levels faded to a grim blackness, the only illumination coming from suspended bulbs far in the distance. They disembarked the J8 monorail at its terminus on the 170th sublevel.

“This laboratory no longer exists in the Institute records,” Dr. Andros explained as he approached a nondescript patch of wall. “Security is too foolish to search down this far. They assume that what’s in the records must be true.” He swiped his hand across a hidden sensor, and the concrete facade descended, revealing an iris scanner. Placing his eye close to the black concave disc, rays of blue laser light shot from various points, analyzing the shape of his eyeball and his iris’s composition and color. A low ping marking a successful scan rang out, and the door shot open into an airlock.

The lab past the short sealed hallway was spacious, filled with more of the same tanks as in Andros’ upper lab, containing even more abominable chimeras in the same vile translucent green cocktail of genetic modification chemicals. Lord Andros had been kind enough to include a small automated pizza cart in his funding, so that his workers would feel comfortable overnighting in the lab. It was a garish blast of color in the otherwise drab lead and chartreuse-tinted room. A few doctoral students saluted their Lord as he entered the lab space with Dr. Voltaire trailing behind.

“I suppose you have several questions about why you are here at all, Dr. Voltaire,” Andros said. A few students rushed over to remove his hazard armor, squires removing the cuirass from a noble knight, revealing a pure white lab coat over a blood red tie and finely pressed black slacks underneath.

“I do, my Lord,” Voltaire said.

“Okay, stop that,” Andros said, his visage stony. “The ‘lord’ thing is only for peons. You are not a peon, you are a colleague.”

“Yes, my - yes.”

“Good. Now, your question?”

“Yes,” Voltaire began. “What can I do for you? You freed me from Security’s clutches, but for what purpose?”

Dr. Andros smiled a grin of perfect pearls cut into the shape of teeth. “You are one of few computational biologists specializing in the effects of transuranium elements on human biology. I have a need for someone who understands the complex web of interconnected systems underlying biological... components. We have been successfully able to merge many of our specimen’s systems together, but human structures continue to elude us,” he said.

“Human genetic testing is forbidden by Institute policy,” Voltaire said.

Andros’s fists clenched, and his cocky smirk transformed to a rough snarl. “What is the Institute?” he said, turning away from Dr. Voltaire. “Let me tell you: the Institute is an anchor dragging us into an abyssal plain of ignorance. The Institute was meant to be a rising flame of progress, and yet it has become stuck in a darkened mire of restrictions imposed on we scientists. Our research is not to be funded by outsiders, our experimentation methods must be just, our inventions are not to be sold for profit. Inhumane, immoral, and sinful, they screamed at me. The Institute is a barrier to progress, and so it must be destroyed.”

He revolved back to his colleague, but she seemed to be gazing off into space. “Dr. Voltaire,” Andros said, snapping his fingers in front of her eyes. “Dr. Voltaire, are you listening?”

Voltaire shook herself out of her hypnotic state. “Yes, of course,” she said. “It’s just... excuse me for one moment.” She ambled over to the pizza cart.

Andros’s eyes narrowed. “How exactly did you break into the Zimov lab?” he asked.

“I used a DNA rewriting retrovirus,” Voltaire said as she started typing in her order. “Keyed off... oh no.” Fear gripped her face in a pale mask of cold terror.

Andros broke into a quiet cackle.

“How could I have made such an idiotic mistake?” Voltaire fumed, bashing her hand against the machine. “Of course this is happening now.”

Andros’s laughter crescendoed into a maniacal crow’s horrid quorking. “You took the DNA of his stupid fat apprentice and didn’t expect it to affect you in any way?”

“Be quiet!” Voltaire said. “We’ll find a way to fix this. There must be.”

Andros’s guffaws halted like a train slamming into a concrete wall. “I don’t have the resources to design retroviruses,” Andros said, “And your lab was seized when you failed in your operation against Dr. Zimov. You were sloppy and careless. I hope that as my colleague you will not be this foolish again.”

“There must be something we can do!” Voltaire said. “I will not end up like her.”

“There isn’t time,” Andros said. “We have many more operations, and all that remains of my funding must be concentrated on that. I can possibly spare a few things to help you manage the effects of the virus, but ultimately the easiest thing for you to do would be to exercise restraint.”

“Pah! If truly it is that pathetic glutton’s genes which run through my veins now, that’s going to be a tall order.” The pizza cart dinged, and a warm cardboard box slid out on a metal tray. Voltaire mechanically picked it up and walked past Andros. “Come on,” she said. “Show me where my desk is so I can at least have a table to eat this at.”

“Did you hear nothing about what I just said about restraint?” Andros asked.

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Andromeda sat on her bed late that night, idly browsing websites, a spoon periodically migrating from her mouth to a jar of smooth and sticky chocolate-hazelnut spread and back, when Natalya texted her.

“I need help with something,” Natalya said.

“Yeah? What is it?” Andromeda replied.

“Well, not so much as I need help, but I need you for something. I just want you to come over. I’m studying right now.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Andromeda said. “Slow down.”

There was a pause. Finally, Natalya sent her next message. “Do you want to help me help you learn to study?”

Andromeda responded with an emote of a person looking confused. “Did you ever ask Dr. Blackstone what he thought about your studying habits?” she asked.

“Yes,” Natalya answered.

“What did Dr. Blackstone tell you?”

“He said that I was overworking myself, and I ought to have a night off,” Natalya answered. “I don’t know about not studying entirely, but at least it might be good to have some company? Maybe I can show you a few tricks that will help you be more motivated and organized?”

Andromeda thought for a moment. On one hand, she was perfectly comfy right now, having ascended into a state of pure relaxation with her blanket atop her and a thick pillow behind her head. She adorned herself in only her favorite periodic table t-shirt and a pair of grey flannel sweatpants, both of which were a few sizes too small. A thick vanilla icing layer of pale belly chub rolled out from below the actinide series in an illegible third row to the f-block, and a shelf of ass fat formed a split diopter lens cut off by her overtaxed waistband. “How about this?” she said. “You come here. I’m actually caught up in some work right now, something I can’t easily get away from.”

Natalya’s delayed reply bore muted skepticism, but she finally said, “Okay. I guess that works too.”

“Great. See you in a few,” Andromeda replied.

Not a second later, a text came from Artemisia bearing an emote of a grey robot.

“I can’t work on the mech right now,” Andromeda said.

Artemisia responded before Andromeda could finish her follow-up statement. “No. Want to watch mecha?”

“Bring it over here. Maybe Natalya will like it. She’s coming over to study.”

“Okay.”

Andromeda chuckled. “Odd?”

The blue A.I. shimmered on top of her phone. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to place some orders for me. Friends are coming over. Let’s start with an extra large pepperoni pizza, and we’ll see what I can think of from there.”

Odysseus sighed but made the order anyways.

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Veritas Tower was Ilmarinen’s tallest, a 500-story-high monolith of polished grey steel criss-crossing light azure crystal. It would have been the tallest structure on the island entirely, but it was dwarfed by the spire of the Ilmarinen Spatial Tether immediately behind it, which shot into the sky past the cloud tops like a rocket trail clad in titanium. Along with the most high-tech, important, and productive laboratories, as well as many hangars for Security ornithopters, Veritas was home to the administrative portions of the Institute of Advanced Studies, most importantly the Office of the Institute Director and the Security Division. Vanya had to take a very long elevator ride up to the 498th floor to reach Roniger’s office.

The Security Director’s office was a great panopticon over the entire island. A colossal glass pane opened like a gargantuan square eye onto the fireflies of blinking red collision lights and the black-and-white checkerboard of scientists and students burning the midnight oil. This high up, the sea fog rolled in thick banks, occasionally redacting a portion of the Ilmarinen skyline under an opaque smudge. The room was rather spartanly furnished, with only a desk and two chairs. His desk was a heavy burnished steel affair, with a combined touchscreen and holoprojector embedded in the center showing various security camera viewpoints and alerts. A high-back black leather armchair formed the centerpiece of the room, in which the Director loomed over his visitors like a displeased lion and maintained his scowl for most of the day.

“Hello, Dr. Zimov. I’m glad you were able to meet on such short notice,” Director Roniger said, crushing Vanya’s hand with his beefy palm. The Director towered over his guest like a mountain, his lustrous blue eyes glaring down below a grey-capped peak. “I know you scientists are often very busy.”

“I felt this was important considering the circumstances,” Vanya said, rubbing his crumpled hand lightly and taking a seat in front of the director’s desk in the admittedly less impressive guest’s armchair.

“So tell me more about this... acid snail your lab assistant encountered,” Director Roniger said, lowering himself into his own mammoth chair and pressing his hands together. His voice rumbled in a bass monotone like a diesel engine.

“There is not much more I can report that my messages have not already told you,” Vanya explained. “It came from a drainage pipe that runs along the ceiling of the Blackstone lab. Since his lab was directly beneath the Andros lab, we can only assume that the snail originated there, somehow entered the drainage system through carelessness or malice, and eventually grew large enough to block and burst the pipe. That was when my apprentice and Dr. Blackstone’s student stumbled upon it.”

Roniger rose from his chair and approached the window. “Interesting how your apprentice keeps getting caught up with Dr. Andros’s pets,” he said. “She was also one of the mech pilots that faced off against Andros’s escaped lizard.”

“She hadn’t told me,” Vanya replied, the apertures of his goggles slightly widening.

“I’m not suggesting she’s responsible for this,” Roniger said. “That’s unlikely. Stranger coincidences have happened at this Institute, but connections are of prime importance.”

“Of course.”

“I want you to know something, Dr. Zimov,” the Director said, turning back towards Vanya. “Dr. Andros remains at large. His A.I. was uncooperative and escaped capture. Also, Dr. Voltaire has been freed from prison.”

“You believe Andros aided in her breakout?” Vanya asked.

“The chemists have told me the lockup she was held in was cut into with a highly caustic solution of sulfuric, hydrochloric, and triflic acid along with polymer-digesting enzymes,” the Director said. “Dr. Blackstone confirmed these same compounds were found within the snail’s mucus.”

“Seems that you have found the smoking gun. What do you plan to do next?”

“Dr. Zimov -” Director Roniger began as he returned to his seat.

Vanya smiled. “Please, Director, call me Vanya. Dr. Zimov is my father.”

The Director’s expression remained in its state of permanent displeasure. “I’m not a scientist. My only goal is to keep people safe. I’ll never understand why some of you put so much effort into destroying one another, because that’s not the way I think. Devious machinations aren’t my way of doing things. I don’t think the way you do, so I’m asking for your advice.”

Vanya thought for a moment, processing information with the aid of his cybernetic brain. “Where are his graduate students and apprentices?” he asked. “Can you track them more easily?”

“As far as we know, they have gone off the grid. Their living spaces are already under watch.”

The nuclear physicist continued to think. “You realize he has another lab?” Vanya asked. “I’m probably the only scientist in the entire Institute who has only one research space.”

“Dr. Andros has no other labs on record that we haven’t already searched.”

“Do you think someone like Stefan Andros is going to keep everything he has on record?”

“Of course not,” the Director said. “But that doesn’t give us much to go off of.”

“No, it does,” Vanya contradicted. The Director’s eyes narrowed and his grimace deepened. Vanya stared him down. “What isn’t on the record is just as important as what is,” he said.

Roniger’s expression relaxed. “Go on.”

“If he gave up one of his official labs, that would be on the record. If someone else took it, then that will also be on the record. But if he gave up a lab and no one else has taken it....”

Roniger nodded. “Then it’s possible he’s still there.” The Director turned in his chair and stared out his window towards the gaping maw of the Hades Deep to the north.

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Natalya arrived at 9:00 PM sharp, still dressed in her clothes from the lab, though her ensemble had become a bit rumpled from hunting down an acidic snail for most of the day. She rapped her knuckles against the metal door to Andromeda’s room. For a minute, there was silence, then a groan, followed by shuffling. Andromeda threw the door open, a bleary look on her face. “Oh, hey,” she said. She turned to let Natalya pass, then slammed the door behind her.

“Feel free to set your stuff down wherever. Sorry the place is a mess,” Andromeda said. She threw a pair of worn blue panties into a pile of dirty laundry and kicked it under the bed. “Haven’t called the cleaning androids in a few days.” She walked past Artemisia, who had set up her laptop on the floor and was playing some sort of mech shooter game that Natalya didn’t recognize. “Oh, yeah, and Artemisia’s here.”

“You don’t do your laundry yourself?” Natalya asked.

“No? Why would I ever want to do that?” Andromeda asked.

“I find it relaxing. It’s part of my weekly routine.”

“You have a weekly routine?”

“Structure is important to keeping yourself happy,” Natalya said.

“Pfft.” Andromeda dismissed her, falling back onto her bed with a whump and flipping open the box of pizza for another stringy slice dripping with orange oil and dotted with red circles of pepperoni. She folded the large isosceles wedge of cheese, tomato sauce, and leopard spotted dough into a more manageable size and stuffed into her maw. “Feel free to help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge or out or whatever,” she said through a mouthful of thick crust.

“Uh, thanks,” Natalya said. “But I think I’m okay. I try not to eat outside of mealtimes.”

“You don’t keep snacks in your dorm?” Andromeda asked.

“No. I don’t have a lot of time to exercise, and....”

“What? You’re worried you’ll end up chubby if you keep food around?” In emphasis, Andromeda jiggled her tank of a tummy.

“Yes!”

“You need to stop worrying about things. There are easily 250 treatments for obesity that the Institute has developed. It’s not a problem.”

“Then why don’t you do something about it?”

“Because - because I don’t care.” Andromeda’s face went a bit pink.

Natalya squinted. “Okay, whatever you say.”

“Regardless, trust me,” Andromeda said. “Snacks are the key to any good study or work session. I guarantee you’ll multiply your productivity by at least 300%.” She motioned to the still-open box.

Natalya weighed her options. She tentatively reached for a slice of pepperoni, halted, and then relented to Andromeda’s advice. “Do you have plates?” she asked.

Andromeda snorted. “Do I look like someone who would ever want to do dishes?”

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In the gloom of the Hades Deep, Dr. Voltaire sat at her new desk typing away at line after line of code. Andros had immediately set her to work optimizing systems all across the lab, plus developing new models for potential experimentation. Cloaked in her black lab coat and donning green advanced vision goggles, her fingers skated across the keys as she poured out each new block of commands. Occasionally, however, her right hand picked up a spoon and dove into a tub of chocolate ice cream.

Andros stood at the door to her office, a muted snicker escaping his lips like a leaky gas line.

“So far it seems your attempts to resist that girl’s genes have been fruitless,” he said.

“Be quiet,” Voltaire snapped back.

“Unfortunately, I’m not going to do that. We have plans to discuss. For the next stage of our operations, we need kurchatovium-354, a substance I know you’re familiar with,” Andros said.

“Then place a requisition form,” Voltaire said. “The accelerators produce enough per week for everyone to use, unless a scientist decides to snipe you on the last 200 grams and so you have to break into his lab and steal it from him and then you inject yourself with the DNA of his apprentice which lo-and-behold gives you an impossible-to-satiate appetite!” She gobbled up her container of frozen dairy faster and faster with each word.

Andros grabbed her spoon-wielding arm. “Do not be stupid, Dr. Voltaire,” he said. “We are proceeding into uncharted waters now, and the Institute requisitioning systems and courier androids cannot follow us there, lest Institute Security catch wind of our plot. Luckily, I happen to know of two potential sources of the element, both of which are presently unguarded and ripe for the taking.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Voltaire asked, wrenching her arm free from Andros’s grasp to scoop up another bite.

“You are familiar with the security of the Zimov lab.”

“Unfortunately.”

“What precautions do you think my agents should take to ensure their success?” Andros asked, pacing behind her like a caged tiger.

Voltaire pondered the question. “His A.I. That’s the only thing you need to worry about. It’s responsible and driven, as all constructs are. Zimov’s apprentice is a worthless layabout, and the great idiot Vanka himself lacks caution. They won’t be a problem.”

“I imagine not, considering Dr. Zimov is meeting with the Security Director as we speak,” Andros said. “That greater idiot makes all his appointments public for some reason. I’ll leave it to you to handle his construct. There are some tools I have acquired that will aid in distracting an A.I.”

“Good. Where is the other sample then?” Voltaire asked.

“Do not worry yourself over it,” Andros said, turning back into the main lab. “Just know that with this strike we will have resolved two vendettas in one night.”

Andros had two loyal subjects, two perfect tools that he used for jobs like these. They were a pair of apprentices who had served in his lab for several years now, performing experiment after experiment with the obedience and accuracy of a well-built and well-handled sniper rifle. Like a double strand of DNA, they were rarely separated, to the point that many often forgot which was which. “Hamner. Hahn,” Andros called. The two apprentices approached him from their mutual work station and took a knee at their lord’s feet.

“What do you require of us, my Lord?” Francine Hahn (or maybe it was Faith Hamner?) said. Skeletal with prominent cheekbones, her puffy black high-collar jacket hung off her frame like her shoulders were a thin plastic hanger. A monocular cybernetic with a dark green lens covered her left eye, held to her face over her dirty blonde hair with black straps.

“Yes, my Lord, how may we best serve you?” Faith Hamner (or maybe it was Francine Hahn?) said. Just as scrawny as her partner and adorned in a similar ebony anorak, the second apprentice distinguished herself with her right-mounted mechanical eye and jet black hair.

“I require kurchatovium to complete the Plan. Each of you take a hazard suit with the standard loadout, a radioactive materials transport container, an EMP charge, and an MP10 and travel to Altair Tower,” Andros ordered. “The first sample may be found on the 15th sublevel, in the Zimov lab. The second is inside Launch Bay 31-A, entry to which may be found through a separate cargo elevator inside the tower. If you face resistance, eliminate it. Go.”

The two apprentices smirked and said in unison, “It will be done, my Lord.” They suited up in crimson hazard armor brandished with the Andros laboratory logo: a rampant black chimera with the three heads of a roaring lion, a bellowing ram, and a hissing snake; a pair of leathery bat wings; and a scaled lizard’s tail. They armed themselves with a pair of 10mm submachine guns, which could be folded up to the size of a stapler and kept hidden in thigh-mounted hardshell cases.

“Andros is really choosing us for this, huh?” Hahn said to her counterpart, stacking a magazine with brass as she boarded the monorail to the surface.

“Probably an easy hit,” Hamner replied. “As fun as it would be to watch this gun turn someone into red mist, doesn’t look like it’ll be necessary.”

“Have you ever seen that movie where the guy’s head blows up?” Hahn asked. She slipped the loaded magazine into one of her pouches.

“Which one?” Hamner replied.

“You know the one. The one with the really big head explosion.”

“Scanners?”

“Yeah, that one. I bet it’ll do that if you point it at someone’s head.”

“Do you think someone in this place has a gun that makes people’s heads melt?” Hamner asked.

“Like in Raiders of the Lost Ark?” Hahn said.

“Exactly.”

“I dunno, probably. Those people in Laser Physics always come up with a new doomsday laser every other week, so just make one a wee bit smaller. Perfect head melter.”

“We need to ask Lord Andros to get one of those.” Rising out of the depths, the monorail car sped away from the Deep Labs to central Ilmarinen, where the spire of Altair Tower awaited.

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“What exactly is supposed to be funny about this?” Natalya asked.

Andromeda was watching a video of a horrible yellow goblin, his lanky arms stretched out into a T-pose, wobbling about as if he were having a seizure. An announcer didn’t so much sing as recite verses in a frenetic shout over a one-note slap bass and choppy drum beat, trying to get kids to call an ancient phone line.

“I dunno,” Andromeda said. “It’s just... mesmerizing.”

The video ended with the announcer breathing out, “Two dollars a call....”

Another pizza box, adorned with a smug mustachioed Italian in a chef’s hat bearing his precious pie, had joined the first in a heap on the floor, and a third was well on its way to join its brothers, with only a few greasy slices remaining. Natalya had insisted they get vegetarian, since it was “healthier,” and so she felt a bit less restrained biting into a slice loaded with artichokes, mushrooms, red onions, olives, and broccoli than the meat lover’s with fennel sausage and extra pepperoni.

“Well, thanks for that distraction,” Natalya said, grabbing her fifth slice from the box and wobbling back over to Andromeda’s desk. She groaned as she thudded back into the chair. It looked like someone had stuffed one of Andromeda’s pillows under her shirt. “I’m going to see if I can actually get some work done after an hour of this nonsense. I thought you said the snacks were supposed to help me focus?”

“I dunno,” Andromeda said. She gulped down a bottle of fizzy black cherry cola, flooding her taste buds with sugar and fruity flavor. She pointed to Natalya’s distended belly with a smirk spread across her face. “Looks like you’ve been focussing more on shoving pizza down your throat.”

Natalya’s cheeks puffed out. “Well, that’s because - that’s - it was good okay! I haven’t had pizza in... at least a year.”

“What is wrong with you?” Andromeda asked.

“What’s wrong with you?” Natalya shot back. “Do you really eat like this every day?”

“Nah,” Andromeda said. “This is a special occasion. I’d usually only eat one whole pizza.”

“There’s three of us here,” Natalya said, waving at the three pizza boxes. “Do the math, genius.”

“Glad to see you can keep up with a world-class binge eater then,” Andromeda said with a wink. She patted her engorged belly. The full lower roll, up to her navel, had slipped free from the confines of her shirt.

Natalya stormed over to her, her face pouty, her left index finger fencing an invisible opponent. She kept trying to come up with some sort of retort, but all that came out was, “You... you... you....”

“There’s still ice cream in the freezer if you want it,” Andromeda said.

Natalya sighed, her shoulders dropping like a sack of bricks. She shuffled over to the freezer and grabbed a quart of rocky road, slammed it on the desk, and began to attack the lumps of dark chocolate, marshmallows, and almonds with a spoon.

Andromeda rolled over. “Are you winning, Arte?” she asked the other girl. Artemisia’s rounded cheeks were filled with chocolate pudding, and her eyes were firmly locked on improperly disassembling the army mechanical warriors that stood in her way. Her belly formed the perfect bean bag cushion on which to rest as her fingers performed a clacking Irish riverdance across the keys. She shot Andromeda a thumbs up without taking her eyes off the screen.

“Well, that’s good,” Andromeda said. “Glad someone’s having fun at least.” A burp escaped her lips like a rumbling rubber truck passing by.

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Odysseus did not have a body. He was a construct of differences in voltage and the flow of

current through an impossibly complex system of transistors and diodes spread throughout a network of processors and mainframes, housed in a box the size of a small washing machine. He was a being of pure thought whose only purpose was to provide assistance. He could manifest himself in any system that allowed him access, and his blue avatar could appear from any device with an embedded holoprojector when called.

A.I. constructs were a bit like corals on a tight-packed reef. If their networks came in contact with each other, the tendrils of data could spread between them and wage a war of dominance over the other’s systems. For this reason, an A.I. guarded access to their own mainframe with their life.

Odysseus’s security had been breached.

It would be impossible to convey exactly how it felt, because the true answer is that it did not feel like anything at all. If one had observed the battle, all one would have seen was the blinking of some indicator lights on a large black cube. All one would have heard was the revving of fans and hard drives as the numerous processors fought back with all their might against the invader.

However, in human terms, it started with an itch in the back of Odysseus’s mechanical mind, an insurmountable feeling of dread and annoyance. He attempted to contain it, but it simply continued to pop up elsewhere in his systems. Again and again these tendrils of fear scratched at the edges of his network. A prelude to a greater assault? Or a distraction? As a precaution, he shut himself out of every system he was connected into, quarantining himself to contain the threat. Inside another corner of his brain, he smiled to himself. The Zimov lab would remain secure, thanks to his watchfulness.

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Hahn and Hamner slipped into Altair Tower like a pair of shotgun shells into a well-crafted barrel: precisely, smoothly, and without incident. Their sensor dampening masks hid their presence from whatever Security cameras might have spotted them as they boarded the elevator to the 178th floor. The door to the room they sought had a hole blasted into it that still hadn’t been fixed for some reason. Perhaps whoever lived here did not spend much time in it. The pair slipped inside, quickly found the hidden elevator, and descended back down into the laboratory below.

As the elevator car pulled into its stop in the launch bay anteroom, every overhead light flashed on. A swarm of tiny robots stood in phalanx formation.

“Great,” Hamner said, stepping off the elevator, then pulling out and cocking her submachine gun. “Micro Machines.”

“Hey, listen up, metal men,” Hahn called out, standing alongside her partner. “Show us where the kurchatovium is, and we promise not to disassemble all of you. Just a few.”

“No!” one of the robots shouted.

“Ignoring our commands is a violation of the Second Law of Artificial Intelligences,” Hamner said. “So, unfortunately....” She took aim at the robot and let a three-round burst of 10 millimeter fire ring out. The android crumpled in a pile of sparking electronics and twisted metal.

If the robots had lungs, they would have gasped. Instead they wordlessly looked to one another, and then screamed. The horde charged forth as an automatic fusillade pierced through the air. Column after column of androids fell before the barrage of full-metal jackets. Just five managed to reach Hahn and tackle her to the ground, pounding their tiny fists into the glass visor of her hazard armor. Hamner dealt with a similar assault, kicking bots aside as she attempted to gain distance before the mob knocked out her legs. Despite their diminutive stature, the nimble robotic servos packed a bit of power in them, enough to scratch the paint and cause a few minor dents, but not enough to break through the hardened tungsten-steel composite shell of a hazard suit. Hahn threw her assailants off her with swift kicks and a few volleys from her MP10. With a few carefully aimed salvos, she managed to free her partner from the crush of androids hammering away at her breastplate. They dispatched the last remaining robots with a final few showers of lead.

“That takes care of that,” Hahn said. “So where’s the stuff?”

“Probably in the launch bay,” Hamner said, looking over the collection of screens and computers in the center of the room. She stuck a data spike into the system and uploaded the designs for the mech into her hazard suit. “This is just the control room or something.”

Opening the great steel doors to the launch bay took the application of the hacker’s key in their standard loadout, a nasty collection of scripts designed to overload DNA, palm, fingerprint, and other standard Institute security systems. They were hard to come by, but Lord Andros had the will, the means, and the connections. Hahn whistled as they stumbled upon the titanic blue mech towering inside the bay. “Why doesn’t Andros have toys like this?” Hahn asked.

“We just have different ones,” Hamner said. “We get monsters, they get mechs. It all works out in the end. Let’s just get the kurchatovium and get out of here. Should be in the back reactor core panel.”

The panel hissed open on its pneumatic servos with the flip of a few external servicing levers, revealing the lead and plastic casing around the ring of radioactive metal, about five centimeters in diameter, which served to focus and control the volatile fusion reaction powering the mighty machine. Removing a few titanium latches let the ring fall free into Hamner’s awaiting storage tube.

“One sample down,” Hahn said as Hamner latched the container to her belt.

“Do you think we even need face-melting lasers if our hits are going to be this easy?” Hamner asked.

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“Who ate all the ice cream?” Andromeda asked, peering into her empty freezer.

Natalya, splayed out in her chair like a beached sea star with a round protrusion attached to its center, wiped a smear of rocky road off her mouth. “Uh, you did Andromeda.”

“Shit,” Andromeda said. She shoved through a pile of detritus, a small lake of discarded ice cream cartons and pizza boxes and takeout containers, and past Artemisia, who had rolled onto her back, her chubby tummy and fat tiddies rising and falling with her snoozing breaths, to plop back down on her bed. “Hey, Odd, can you get us more ice cream?”

The A.I. did not respond.

“Odd?” Andromeda asked again. “What’s up?”

There was still no response.

“Maybe he’s rebooting or something,” Andromeda said. She thought for a moment, then asked, “Do you want to try the best ice cream in the world?”

“I really need to get some work done,” Natalya said. She scowled. “Thanks to your brilliance, I’ve spent the whole night chowing down instead of doing the studying I need.” She punched the empty container of ice cream off the desk. “Ugh, I should have known this was a terrible idea. Friends are just a huge distraction when you need to work.”

Andromeda grunted, heaving her overstuffed body off the bed to get over to her desk. “This is part of me helping you,” she said. “You’re overworking yourself. Even when you’re trying to relax, all you think about is work.”

“And all you think about is how to get more calories into your gullet!” Natalya snapped. “Do you ever do any work at all?”

“Yeah? Like I told you, giant lizard, giant mech, et cetera. Plus we just had an adventure today.”

“What about other than that?” Natalya said, her tone sliced with daggers.

“I built an ice cream gun,” Andromeda said. “I was just gonna go get it, but if you just want to work, fine. I don’t want to distract you anymore. So sorry this didn’t turn out the way you planned.” Her words were laced with subtle sarcasm, perhaps a bit too subtle.

Natalya sighed. “No, it’s fine. Dr. Blackstone did say I needed the night off. Maybe you’re right.”

“Oh,” Andromeda said, a bit confused. “Okay. So do you want more ice cream or not?”

“I dunno, I think I’ve had enough,” said Natalya. She belched into her fist. The south pole of her obular, turgid gut peeked out from the splayed bottom of the flaps of her blouse.

“Nah, trust me, if you don’t have this, you’re missing out,” Andromeda said. “Oh, and, yeah! Vanya’s out of the lab meeting with Security, we’re totally in the clear for this.” She grabbed her goggles off her desk and threw her labcoat on, not bothering to button it up, not that the too-tight garment could do that anyways. From the freezer, she grabbed a nondescript silver cylinder covered in frost. “C’mon, we’ll be back quick,” Andromeda said, motioning for Natalya to follow her. “If you still want to study, we’ll have plenty of time once we’re back.”

They descended down into the bowels of Altair Tower and through the complicated security of the Zimov lab. Andromeda’s presence was enough to get the two of them past the DNA lock. Odysseus remained eerily silent when he did not ask for authorization, but Andromeda paid it no mind. “Ah, yes!” Andromeda rushed over to the work table, on which the cryonic beam lay. She twisted out one of the canisters at the rear and replaced it with her custard canister. “There. Back to its intended use. Natalya!”

“What?” Natalya said. She held her empty ice cream carton as a makeshift bowl.

“Watch this,” Andromeda said. She fired the ice cream gun into the carton. The beam of frozen dairy ripped through the bottom and splattered against the floor. “Shit, guess we need to adjust the force...” She fiddled with one the knobs on the side. “Alright, we’ll go for take two of the ice cream gun back in my room. Trust me, it’s the best.”

“He’s using the kurchatovium for an ice cream gun?” a voice Andromeda didn’t recognize said, slightly tinny coming through a crimson hazard suit. Said voice had a partner clad in identical armor who was pointing a submachine gun at Andromeda’s chest. A haze of grey smoke hissed from the burned electronics of the airlock.

“Odysseus, security breach!” Andromeda called. “Code Alpha Epsilon Delta!”

There was no response. Both breachers cackled. “I think your A.I. might be a bit faulty tonight,” the submachine gun wielder said. “So drop the gun, and don’t do anything stupid. It’s not like you have -”

Andromeda fired a blast of frigid custard at the invader. It splorched against the first’s hazard armor, but had no effect. She wiped the soft serve to the ground with a gauntleted hand.

“Got that out of your system?” the first said. “Good.”

“You’re not exactly a hard target to hit with your girth, tubs,” the second said, brandishing her own weapon at Natalya. “Though your friend might be capable of dodging a few shots.”

“Do something stupid again, and we’ll make sure you both sleep with the fishes,” the first said.

“Or get your heads melted with our head melting gun, which we’ll soon have,” the second said. The first shot her a look, though what that look held was concealed by her opaque reflective visor.

Andromeda weighed her options. The α-particle gun lay on a shelf nearby, but just out of reach. Any move and the two would open fire, and she definitely wasn’t quick enough to outrun a bullet. Out of options, she tossed the cryonic beam down as hard as she could, hoping to break it, but the shatterproof casing held firm and the gun only slid closer towards the two hitwomen.

“That’s a good girl,” the first said, picking up the cryonic beam. “If you want to call Security, you’ll need to wait until we’re out of the tower. Our team should have knocked the building off the grid. Have a nice day.” She and her partner left through the fumes obscuring the airlock.

“What... what just happened?” Natalya asked.

“How could I be such a fucking idiot?” Andromeda shouted, slamming her fist into the worktable, which did nothing but hurt the side of her hand. “The A.I. goes down and I just waltz down here like a chump thinking nothing’s wrong.” Her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor. “Vanya’s gonna kill me.”

“A-at least we’re alive?” Natalya said. “They had guns. They could have -”

“Of course they had guns! They planned this all out perfectly. Step 1, take the Tower off the Security grid. Step 2, take down the lab A.I. Step 3, steal their shit. ”

“There was nothing we could do,” Natalya said. “Let’s just get Security as soon as we can.”

Odysseus’s blue figure rushed to life in the center of the room. He gazed around the room. “The attack on my systems has abated,” Odysseus said calmly. “But I now see it was a distraction.... I will take full responsibility for this when Dr. Zimov returns.” He turned to Andromeda. “The cryonic beam has been stolen,” he said. Andromeda merely nodded in reply.

Blood drained from Andromeda’s face like water from a tub with the plug pulled out. Her fists were clenched and her mouth as a thin line. “We just got hit,” Andromeda said.

=0101011001100001011011100111100101100001=

Vanya was sitting on the monorail back from Veritas Tower, pondering what good his discussion with the Director would have. Perhaps he had given Security a vital key, or maybe he had just pointed out something obvious. Roniger had been impossible to read, as if he’d been trained in being inscrutable as well as deadly. For all the dangers the Institute posed to its students, faculty, and staff, the man had an incalculably difficult position.

A message buzzed on his phone. “We’ve been hit,” Andromeda said. “They were smart. KSCB taken.”

His left hand shaking too much for him to type, he passed his phone into his right cybernetic hand, which instead nearly crushed it. “Andros,” he muttered to himself.

[yhancik]

Two recent examples of neural images leaking into the world that caught my attention. They both got a lot of visibility after being shared outside of their original context, which had the press show us why they were fabricated images.

I'm interested in the original context of both, because they each illustrate a particular use of tools like Midjourney or StableDiffusion.

The fake Assange was created by a certain "The Errant Friend". Lamenting that Assange "has been effectively removed from the public's eye since his arrest", they created this image (part of a series) "to make his documented suffering real". It's an artist's impression, meant to "evoke a visceral response in the viewer" based on their own understanding of the situation, more than a fake meant to mislead. But it's of course not neutral.

The bloody elderly belong to a satirical project, referring to the current demonstrations in France against Macron and his pension reform. The series of pictures, shared on a Facebook post clearly stating these images are AI generated, take us to the year 2043, when France is facing a wave of protests against yet another pension reform, this time pushing retirement to age 98.

I guess I find them interesting because they were both created with an artistic intend (even if the first one maybe initially didn't make it too obvious), but escaped their creators to be shared as genuine documents. It says something about the use of these AI tools in art, but maybe also about art in general, and how it can be "read" in a different way outside of its arty-context.

I don't think these two cases in particular are illustrative of "the dangers of AI". Part of the issue here actually comes from how we care so little about the source of the images we share (sometimes stealing pictures for clout), and the consequences of that decontextualisation. Alison Jackson never needed AI for her work, yet i has known the same fate as the pictures above. But indeed, it gets a bit trickier when convincing-enough fakes can be generated so easily.

[kimuromou]

[ everybody stop what you’re doing and LOOK AT THIS LOVELY CHIBI @digouezh got for me of shigeo ;;;;;;; HES SOOOO CUUUUTEEEE I can’tttt :sob: my little baby… o(-< I love him so muchhcucuhcuchhch ]

artist credit

[ghostsbrokenbyfairytales]

Arthur "Arty" Drake

[jeweledstone]

Steel/Fairy type Corviknight line based on King Artie from the Paramount Noveltoons short "Horning In"?

Artidee -(lvl 18)-> Corvscion -(lvl 36)-> Corviking <-(Dynamax)-> Gigantamax Corviking

Battle Info:

^ Defense, Speed

v Sp. Attack

Artidee, Corvscion

Weak to(x4): N/A

Weak to(x2): Poison, Rock, Ice, Steel, Electric

Resistant to(x1/2): Grass, Dark

Resistant to(x1/4): Fighting, Bug

Immune to(x0): Ground, Dragon

Corviking, Gigantamax Corviking

Weak to(x4): N/A

Weak to(x2): Ground, Fire

Resistant to(x1/2): Normal, Flying, Dark, Grass, Psychic, Ice, Rock, Fairy

Resistant to(x1/4): Bug

Immune to(x0): Dragon, Poison

Info: In medieval times, Artidee was seen as a sign of peace and prosperity. Villages visited by flocks of this pokemon were said to experience bountiful harvests.

Old myths tell of people who found all of their heart’s desires by following a Corvscion to its nest.

Often found leading a flock of Artidee and Corvscion, wild Corviking have become rare in modern times. Old myths and fairy tales in Galar claim this majestic pokemon has the ability to grant the wishes of kind-hearted people.

With a wingspan of over 100 feet in length, Gigantamax Corviking covers the entire sky in its visage. Despite its intimidating appearance, you have nothing to fear from this pokemon as long as you have no evil in your heart.

[the-nerd-beast]

Arty: "I don't feel safe."

Is it any wonder she ICly prefers to stay in her visage when the mortals can be so hostile to dragonkind?

[tarubunart]

Welcome to Yueris

The long stretch of color lapsed into a bright, brilliant white... before at last, the visage of Yueris Prime was revealed in all its splendor. They soared through a sky of pale pinks and blues, over a city of brilliant blue domes and silvery and white marble. The grand city of Noblespout rested in the center of the Rosado, a forest of twining thorns and steep waterfalls.

In the very center of the city laid the Ivy Sanctum, a compound behind towering marble lattice walls, composed of multiple buildings including the main palace. As they entered the space, the skies above melded into a rich purple. The beasts which towed the carriages at last hurtled towards the ground, covered in silver grass. Blossoms of all colors spread through a spacious garden, extravagant fountains dispersed along a gleaming, opalescent pathway.

Despite the swift descent, the interior of the carriages remained steady and still until proper landing. The wide wings of the palace surrounded them on all sides, intricate rococo features embroidered onto the arches and balconies, stood stark from the classic white in brilliant golds and silvers.

(written by @celestialbathwater )

The Aestival Gate Magi are the first to arrive to Yueris for the Starbloom Gala. During the festivities of the week, they encounter a collection of interesting people...

( @celestialbathwater’s Figment, @limey-blue-arty-do’s Oriadne)

[exheroibus-moved]

✧ ARTY TAGS.