#will i stick to my ten chapter outline?.....we'll see

[cheriekos]

"Here are the facts: Viktor is, perhaps, dead and experiencing a particular version of punishment for his misdeeds in life. Why else would he be experiencing something like this? The other fact is something more helpful to understanding the why of it all - he wakes up to a different lifetime, and once he falls asleep, he leaves it behind. He's yet to relive the same life twice. He knows he hasn't because everything has been just different enough to indicate that fact. But he's yet to figure it all out. And - well. A willful part of him doesn't want to." - (or, Viktor dies with Jayce in the Arcane - but doesn't get to stay dead.)

first chapter of my viktor centric time travel/dimension travel jayvik fic is up!! take a peek, leave a kudos or a comment! i love jayvik woooo!!!

[homosexual-fanfiction]

lol the poor little blurb that inspired this timeloop fic

i wrote it in 2019 as the intro to another fic that i ended up cutting it from because i didn't think it fit well enough. then i stumbled across it again in december and reread it and thought huh, this would be an awesome introductory piece to a timeloop fic.

started drafting, and now. approximately four months and ten chapters in. i'm considering cutting it again

[nattyontherun]

More On To Oblivion:

hi-ho, can't sleep so since i've posted the fic already, short as it is right now, i thought hey! lemme just do some explaining for why the fuck it's the way it is?? that way i make my job less hard with the writer-y bits!

(i can't sleep so i'm talking,,,, shhh i didn't say that)

On the Rating:

thinking of changing that, actually . next chapter, so ch3, will be more of the same - build up for the plot at large which is, ngl, a wee bit more complicated than i thought it would be in writing ch1. i don't have a hard and fast, bullet pointed skeleton for every chapter but i've got a very generalized outline of things i want happening... and the fic being rated for Teens feels lacking. no it absolutely is lacking.

would it be disingenuous to leave it at T until the plot changes up enough to warrant a level up? or should i change the rating now and leave everyone to wonder at my justification as the fic (very slowly, UGH) progresses? questions, questions and no answers in sight as yet.

the cast!

unlike in HF where we really did just have like, two MAIN main characters in shisui and sasuke, to oblivion has an ensemble cast🙏 the taggings are listed in order of both how much of the character we'll see in-fic and how much we'll focus on them. where HF was all about growth and healing with minimal outside interference, this fic is... well it has a plot🥹

in one of those oneshots i wrote after HF, there's this scene where shisui rants up a storm at sasuke about konoha, how rotten it can get yk? just, having to live in the village knowing that the truth of your family's murder has been suppressed to keep the peace - when the "peace" used to justify that extermination didn't even last more than a handful of years. this fic directly confronts that. actually, it's specifically because every single character engages in the village whether as the leader, in kks' case, or as proponents to its growth and success post-war, its kind of a necessity that everybody has an opinion about what goes on yk?

i feel like ppl who came into the fic expecting romance and fucking are gonna be disappointed by that sjshsjshshsh there's gonna be SOME of that, but very minimally, and right at the end lmao. fic subscribes to the idea that there is no room for personal growth within self and relationships in an environment in perpetual turmoil lmao

the polycule 💃

it's still happened lmaooooo, like i just get crazier about the idea the more i sit with it! though, i forgot to say in the AN, and i'm too much of a sleepy cat to go back and edit it in, but i meant to mention that kakashisasu(???!!!ship name???!!!) isn't gonna be like a right angle. like... the dots connect in all directions despite how things are playing out rn! 🙏

i will say, however, that development for each relationship on a personal, one on one level, is different between each pairing because yk, they enter the story in different stages of their lives with different agendas and opinions abt each other. kkss are halfway in love already, but kkshs probably need to fight it out for another several dozen chapters before they can even stand to look each other in the eye without wanting to kill smth and that's not even touching shsasu who haven't!! even!! met up yet!!! (gawd what did i get myself into?? lmao😭)

the timeline

woof. the timeline! WOOF! HF had the benefit of sticking incredibly close to just one stream of happenings in a very linear format,,,, to oblivion? not so much. the past, whether it's ten years ago, during the fourth war or even just prior to the fic happening is AS important to the story as the story itself, unfolding. if i decided to tell this fic in a linear fashion, a, it would be very boring and retrace too much of canon and b, it would be very LONG. like staggeringly long, enough that i'd probably tire of writing the fic long before i even reached where we are right now in the fic - there is SO MUCH yet to uncover

what i will say is that canon largely stays the same except for some staple fanons of mine, some seen in HF, and others very specifically for this AU. for the obvs staples, there's madara is final baddie and no VOTE2 so no losing arms for either of my babies - god forbid. the major deviation from HF is that i've reduced how debilitating Ssk's mental health issues (if you will) can be in presenting themselves, though we do have some of it cropping up within the fic if you're the type who reads very line by line. there's also, ofc, the fact that shisui has been ALIVE for all this time - but i'll save all the explaining for that to shisui when the time is appropriate.

but yes, it's because the past matters SO MUCH for how this fic develops that i really saw no other way to progress with it than mixing everything up. and i do mean EVERYTHING. what i will say is that there are certain periods where we can kinda cluster scenes together to form an idea of how all this shit is happening only Now.

war/between canon era: so far we only got one scene from here, from ch2

pre-tribunal, post-war - a LOT of scenes fall here, so it's broken up even further into two periods: 1. while sasuke is incarcerated post 4th war and 2. after he's left incarceration but before the tribunal (ch1 has a LOT of afterward scenes, in particular)

pre-massacre: these scenes will tend to be more kkshs focused so happy hunting for when there's more of them!

pre-trial, present day after shisui appears: this is the main storyline and will be the easiest to follow, go figure!

pre-trial, immediately post-tribunal: i've only written perhaps a scene or two(?) from this period, i don't see it cropping up as much as the others because it's only there specifically for relationship and character building. i'm squeezing a lot of post-canon pre-fic character development in to explain away why some of our faves may be acting a wee ooc, and i can't begin to explain how consequential the tribunal is, personally and politically for all of team seven oh lawd😭

i can't stress enough that i drafted much of the bedrock of this fic immediately after HF,,,, but while my intention (heh, hehe) (translate what the characters before "to oblivion" stand for, okay, its funny i swear!) remains the same as what it was then, my focus has become more... hm, exacting. sharpened.

writing is an inherently personal affair, i think. to write is to put meaning to the thoughts that swim around your head, whether that's by poetry or prose, through the guise of imagery or character work. i write fic because i like writing fic, and wanna be able to read work that satisfies me personally. i've got an itch in my brain and to oblivion has become, essentially, an outlet for my thought process. so if there's anything you find in it that speaks of a very particular kinda way of thinking, shall we say, keep poking at it. i very much am having a conversation with you.

and that's a wrap, i have a shift in seven hours and i desperately need sleep sjsjsshhsshsh

[switchedandbewitched]

Switched and Bewitched

Chapter 3: Gosh That Takes Me Back... Or Forward

Read Chapters 1-7 on AO3!

“What -- and I cannot stress this enough - the fuck.” Daphne was staring at The Malt Shop with

utter disbelief. What had once been a cozy, cool place to hang out and kick back with the jukebox on had been clearly turned into a novelty restaurant. 

“Like, it’s okay, Daph. We can go somewhere else, we don’t have to go in there,” Shaggy said, taking Daphne by the shoulders and steering her away. 

Daphne pulled out of his grip. “No! It’s the only... the only place... we’re going to go in there and we’re going to like it.”

Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby exchanged a threeway nervous glance and Velma gestured towards the door. “After you.” 

“I’m sorry, but we don’t allow dogs in here,'' the host said. He raised his eyebrow at the state of The Gang. While Shaggy had a chance to change at the Shaggleford estate, Daphne and Velma still donned their filthy and somewhat torn clothing plus Shaggy’s arm was in a sling, Velma’s missing shoe had been replaced with an aircast for her sprain, and Daphne’s face had a large bandage covering something in the realm of 15 stitches. “But... we could seat you outside...”

The Gang agreed, despite the fact that Daphne looked as though she may burst into tears at any moment. 

“$18 for a burger?!” Velma cried. A few other patrons turned to look at her and she lowered her voice. “This is highway robbery.”

“Like, it doesn’t matter. I have money my uncle left us,” Shaggy said. “The real problem is this menu! No sardines anywhere.”

The server came over, a skinny teenager in a cheesy 50’s uniform. “Hiya folks, welcome to The Malt Shop, the most authentic nifty fifties experience in California. What can I get for you?”

“We'll take four cheeseburgers. Strawberry shakes, and fries," Velma said, handing all the menus back to the server. 

"Oh, and could you, like, throw some green olives on top of my shake?" Shaggy asked. 

"Um..." the kid stuttered and reached for the menus. "I'll ask the kitchen."

Velma wasted no time throwing the files from Red Herring down on the table and cracking them open. The contents ranged from articles posted immediately following the disappearance all the way to true crime pieces published in the last few years. Apparently the Coolsville 4 had their own History Channel documentary. She started by pulling out the photos of the crime scene and The Gang poured over them, studying every inch with French fries in hand and exceptionally terrible milkshakes. Everything was exactly how Red Herring described it: nothing beyond a bit of evidence from each of them was found in the swamp, and it wasn’t particularly helpful evidence, either. 

"Jinkies! I think it's a clue!" Velma exclaimed. 

"What is it?" Daphne asked. 

Velma pointed to the photo of Shaggy's ripped shirt piece. "Look there. It looks like Shaggy's shirt is caught on some sticks but if you look a little closer..." Velma grabbed the pen that was clipped to the folder and outlined a shape. "It's covered in mud and hardly noticeable but it looks like --" 

"Rold!"

"That's right. Scooby, it looks like Shaggy's shirt is caught on a gold... I can't tell...?" Velma responded. “Cna you?”

"Not me. So what does that mean?" Daphne asked. 

"I'm not sure yet."

"Like, maybe we could ask... my great great nephew or whatever. I know my uncle and I bet he has files just like these somewhere," Shaggy suggested. He tossed an olive into his mouth with gusto. "Like, we should probably head back soon anyway and see if they're done setting everything up.” 

Velma turned back to cast a longing glance at The Malt Shop and instead was met by a dirty look from the server. “I don’t know what his problem is,” Velma said. “We tipped ten percent!”

“Like, don’t worry about it,” Shaggy said. “Half the stuff here doesn’t make sense.”

“It sure would be nice to have the Mystery Machine,” Daphne lamented. “This whole walking all over town thing is making my feet hurt. I didn't exactly pack sensible shoes.”

The rest of the trek back to Shaggleford Estate passed in heavy silence. As time passed in 2022, The Gang grew increasingly uneasy about the likelihood of returning to 1969. Plus, with Fred in the hospital, morale was even lower. 

Upon return to the Estate, there were at least four cars in the driveway and the front door was ajar. Daphne pushed the door open with her fingertips and it swung back, nearly whacking what appeared to be an even ganglier, scruffier version of Shaggy (if that was possible) in business casual wear. 

“Oh!” Daphne cried. “Sorry!”

“No problem, ma’am,” the man said sheepishly. “It’s quite alright.” 

The Gang filed into the foyer.

“I’m T-Timothy Shagburg, Shaggy’s g-great-nephew,” the man informed them. “B-but please, call me T-Tim. You must b-be Shaggy, of course.” Tim turned to face Shaggy who was reeling at the uncanny resemblance. Tim did appear to be older than Shaggy but they shared a near identical build. Tim proceeded to hand Shaggy a manilla file folder. “And... you must be D-daphne, Velma, and Scooby.” Each one received their own folders. “I d-do b-believe I’m missing Fred Jones?” 

“Freddie’s in the hospital,” Daphne said. “He got hurt when... when we... left.”

“No, no, that won’t d-do. I will send a car to fetch him. He can stay here with round the clock care, if needed,” Timothy said. “Uncle Shaggleford provided strict instructions to start working on this project as soon as possible. Please review each of your folders.”

The Gang cracked open the folders and revealed IDs, debit cards, copies of the police report from their initial disappearance, instructions from Uncle Shaggleford, cover stories, and other miscellaneous documents. 

“Hey! They all have driver’s licenses and I have a “California State ID card’,” Velma protested. 

“Hmm.” Tim scrolled to Velma’s file on his tablet. “Ah, I see. It states here that you never received your d-driver’s license.”

“That was 52 years ago!”

“Well, like, Velma... that was also yesterday...” Shaggy said. 

“Regardless,” Time interrupted. “We will be taking you all for a d-driving lesson. The rules of the road are a little d-different than they were in 1969.”

“Like, what’s with the names? Casey Kasem? Sounds fake, man,” Shaggy said and held up his ID which read: Casey Kasem, DOB 03/04/2003, HGT  6’0, WGT 160 lbs, HAIR BRN, EYES BLK. 

“Stefanianna Christopherson is a bit of a mouthful. Am I supposed to remember that?” Daphne asked. Daphne’s new identity listed her 21st century birthdate as 09/30/2003, height as 5’7”, and weight as 130 lbs. “And I’m barely 125 pounds, thank you.”

“Please, Ms. Blake, Ms. Dinkley. We understand this is a very d-difficult time for you. We have set everything up as b-best as we can but there will be incon... incon... inconveniences.”

Daphne sighed and slid her license into her pocket. She missed home. 

“Now if you would all please follow me,” Tim said and began walking towards the basement door. “We have put together a presentation to assist with acclimation.” Tim opened the door and gestured to the well-lit staircase with a flourish. 

Velma sat back on her overstuffed leather office chair. “Nine eleven.”

“Yes,” Timothy said. He picked up a remote off the table and clicked a button. The projector screen began to roll back up into the ceiling. 

“I really did not see that coming with Nixon,” Daphne said. 

“Hey, like, at least gay marriage is legal now...” Shaggy’s attempt to lighten the mood was unsuccessful. It was possible The Gang had just witnessed the most depressing series of powerpoints, videos, and documentary clips in history. 

“Perhaps this will cheer you up,” Tim said and called someone into the room over his earpiece. A woman in a business suit appeared and nodded at The Gang. Her appearance, though professional, was somewhat diminished by messy hair clipped back away from her face and uneven bangs. 

The woman pushed her glasses up her nose. “Sir.” 

“This is Marcie Fleach, our head of IT and Cyber Security. Marcie, d-do g-give them their cellphones, please.” Tim wrung his hands together nervously.

Marcie set a black briefcase on the table and popped it open. Inside were brand new smartphones, which The Gang only recognized as the rectangles everyone seemed to have their noses glued to. 

“Rike, ro I ret one, roo??” Scooby asked. 

“I’m afraid not, Scooby. B-but I’m sure Shaggy will b-be happy to share. Please consult the calendar in your phones for all important meetings and appointments. The g-goal is to minimize your conspicuousness as much as possible.”

Velma hesitantly unlocked the phone at the instruction of Marcie and navigated to the calendar app. It was filled with all sorts of stuff: Thursday weekly debrief, Scooby Vet Appt, 9am 21st Century Lessons (daily), Driving Lessons, Trap Engineering and Design (Fred), Smart Technology Skills (Velma), and the list went on. 

“Um, I would love to learn about modern computers but this is a little...” Velma trailed off. 

“A little structured, don’t you think?” Daphne asked. 

“Like, we usually just go with the flow, man,” Shaggy finished. 

“Rith re row,” Scooby agreed, nodding. 

“Yes, of course, b-but in order to maintain the integrity of the project, or mystery as you all would say, we need to keep on t-track,” Tim argued, but retained an anxious tone. 

“What exactly is the ‘project’?” Velma asked. 

“To figure out time travel, of course,” Tim said. 

“While we do have a mystery on our hands, Mr. Shagburg, the mystery for us is not how we got here -- It’s how we get home. If we find out how we got here incidentally, that is a phenomenal scientific feat but really we just want to go home to 1969,” Velma said. 

“Velma, I’m not sure you fully understand the scientific ramifications of this event!” Tim urged. “Nothing like this has ever b-been recorded in history! We could solve some of the b-biggest questions in the universe!” Tim’s voice became more forceful as he went on and The Gang shifted uneasily at the change in demeanor. 

The Gang looked at each other. What would happen if they said no? As it stood, everything was being provided for them by the Shaggleford trust. 

Velma smiled, uncomfortable. “You’re correct, Mr. Shagburg. The scientific implications of us traveling through time are massive. Which is why we are going to request our schedule open up just a bit in order to support us looking for clues and solving this mystery. Plus, it wouldn’t feel right to continue without Freddie.”

“Quite right, Velma. Fred should be here any moment. His room has b-been set up on the first floor with a nurse. Shaggy, you have b-been moved upstairs. I hope you d-don’t mind.”

“Anything for Freddie. Like, he’s one of my best buds,” Shaggy said.

“Tomorrow we will handle the next order of b-business... finding out what really happened to you out in the swamp. However, I'm sure you're all quite t-tired and could use some rest."

The Gang made no arguments there, they were exhausted. They made their wait up to their bedrooms in a slow trickle. Each room was more or less the same: a dresser filled with their regular clothes, an empty closet, a desk, a bookshelf with some of the best reads from the last fifty years, and, most importantly, huge king beds with fluffy pillows and a stack of blankets.

Around midnight Velma heard someone knock gently on her door. Click. It began to creep open and Velma tensed in her bed, pulling the covers to her chin. Intruders don’t typically knock first, you scaredy cat, she told herself sternly.

“Like, Velma?” 

She relaxed into her pillow. “Shaggy, you scared me half to death!” In the moonlight Velma could see Scooby charge towards the bed. He licked her face a few times and then settled in next to her. Shaggy closed the door quietly and sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He sighed. “Like, I don’t... I don’t know. I think there’s something wrong with me. Man, I think this whole time travel thing really messed me up.” He sniffled quietly. 

Velma rubbed her eyes and sat up, sliding her glasses on her face. “What do you mean? Do you feel sick? Are you injured?’

“No, no, I feel... I feel fine. Like, my shoulder still hurts but... It’s... something else. You’ll think I’m crazy,” Shaggy replied. There were tears now, steadily streaming down his face. 

Velma slid her hand over his shoulder. “Shaggy, I believe that ‘crazy’ has left the building. This whole thing has shown me that anything is scientifically possible, even if we can’t even conceptualize it yet. Hit me with it.”

“I’m seeing things... Well, like, not seeing things. More like I’m remembering things, but they never happened. Sometimes it’s monsters I’ve never seen and sometimes it’s people or places I’ve never met or been to. Like, I don’t understand. It feels so real. And you’re there too... and Scooby, and Fred, and Daphne, and sometimes others and they, like, seem like our friends. But, again, I’ve never met them.” Shaggy finished his confession with another sigh and jumped off the bed to pace around the room. 

“Jinkies,” Velma said. “It’s happening to me, too. Tell me what you’re seeing.” Velma gingerly picked up her phone and opened the notes app Marcy had shown her. Pen and paper would have been preferred, of course, but Timothy had not yet provided The Gang with much other than their folders and cellphones.

Shaggy closed his eyes and described the images that floated through his brain with as much detail as he could. First, The Gang was running from a giant Yeti but that melted away to Chinatown on New Year’s Eve. A face Shaggy didn’t recognize flashed before him and he mentally clawed at it, trying to hold onto it for another moment. It was a little boy in a yellow sweatshirt, but Shaggy still had no idea who it was. For a moment, he didn’t even know who he was, as he watched himself, dressed in a red shirt and blue pants, turn into a horrifying monster. The image shattered as a high pitched voice yelled “Scrappy Dappy Doo!” in his brain. A town sign drifted into view: Crystal Cove. 

Shaggy shook his head. “Zoinks, like Velma I can’t do this anymore. I ... I can’t.. I want to go home.” 

“It’s alright, Shaggy. I have a theory. I’m seeing similar... visions... but also different ones. I can remember us in Hawai’i, chasing a witch doctor, for example and a woman turning into a vampire.”

“That, like, doesn’t ring a bell.” 

“Crystal Cove, though, I remember that, too. I see Crystal Cove High School. We’re all there, you, me, Fred, Daphne. We’re, um, we’re dating --”

“Dating? But like --”

“-- Yeah, I know. As I said, I have a theory. We need to talk to Fred and Daphne before I can form a complete hypothesis, and -- Hey, what about you, Scooby-Doo?” 

“Rike, rat rabout re?” Scooby mumbled, mostly asleep in bed. 

“Do you remember anything weird or wrong?” Shaggy asked. “Something that hasn’t really happened yet?”

“Ri remember rappy. rand ra raveman! I ron't remember ranything relse.” 

“A caveman?” Shaggy asked. 

“That can’t be right,” Velma said, brow furrowed. 

“Like, crazy left the building, right Velma?” 

Velma shook her head. “It’s late. Fred needs rest and Daphne is worried sick. I’m not going to wake them up unless you are.”

“Me either, but, like, Velma?”

Velma laid back down and pulled the covers up. Scooby snuggled up to her back, nearly as long as she was tall. “Yes?”

“Can I sleep in here tonight?”

“If you hog the covers then I’m pushing you out of this bed.”

“Like, understood.”

Read Chapters 1-7 on AO3!