#dust monitoring devices

[vasthi-instruments12]

[korattata]

i think i am going to actually go insane

every program on my computer is displaying images differently

if i take a snipping tool snippet and paste it, it becomes desaturated. but if i go to the original place it automatically saves snips, it looks fine.

photoshop is more desaturated than my firefox browser window

if i download a photo from the internet, open it in photoshop, and make no changes but press save, then reupload it to the internet through imgur, it is desaturated like in photoshop

if i upload it to tumblr it looks fine

......nevermind this time upon uploading it to imgur it did not keep the photoshop desaturation EDIT: if i upload it to discord it is desaturated tho. edit again nevermind it's ALL of discord that's desaturated

but to prove my point, image / image after i used snipping tool and then pasted that into the post / image from the automatically saved snipping tool screenshot

i just wanted to give my neopet's petpet a transparent background instead of the white box.

this is the image if i copy the contents in photoshop then paste it / if i use the snipping tool to snip the photoshop document then paste it / the saved snipping tool screenshot

yet when i saved the photoshop doc as a png and uploaded it it did in fact look like the very first one posted.

I JUST WANTED TO GIVE MY NEOPET'S PETPET A TRANSPARENT BACKGROUND INSTEAD OF A WHITE BOX.

[megu-meow]

Triangle - Gojo Satoru

girldad!gojo x wife.reader

Summary: Satoru's wife and his daughter gossip about him.

Something seems fishy. And no, it's not how fast Satoru's one and only daughter is suddenly five years old, despite all of his efforts to keep her a little baby. No, he's slowly getting over that. It's the way that little rascal and her mama, the love of Satoru's life, keep giggling every time he walks into a room. It's the muffled voices he hears as he turns away from the two of them and the whispered words he cannot quite comprehend. There's only one logical conclusion to draw here: his girls are gossiping about him behind his back.

So Satoru opts for the only reasonable solution to the situation at hand: he climbs the unsteady ladder that leads to the attic, on a quest to find the old baby monitor so that he can place it under the couch, waiting on the other end to catch his girls in the act. He's rummaging through boxes, sneezing every other second from the amount of dust, but he's determined to find the listening device. This cannot go on any longer. He's making a huge mess and a lot of noise as well, he's glad that his little mochi is at kindergarten and you are currently on a mission on the other side of Tokyo. The dust gets increasingly unbearable, Satoru has to turn on his Infinity (something he never does when he's home) so that the small particles cannot reach his nose and the white-haired sorcerer gets more irritated with each passing minute.

"Ha! Found it!" he exclaims with joy as he fishes out the pink walkie-talkie-like device from underneath some baby overalls, ones that bring tears into his eyes as he remembers his baby girl wearing them when she was an infant. However, the other end of the monitor is not in the same box and he huffs out an irritated sigh, continuing to look through the box right next to it. Fortunately, he finds it quickly and climbs down the ladder, and runs to the living room, leaving one end of the baby monitor under the couch, just like he planned. Usually, his baby girls wait for him to get home sitting on the sofa, watching cartoons, and he relies the success of his quest on the consistency of your routine. Suddenly, he senses your cursed energy and hears the excited yells of his little mochi from outside the entrance, so he runs up the stairs, getting into his hiding place in the closet connected to your shared bedroom.

The front door opens and he hears your daughter running in as you warn her to take her shoes off before getting into the living room. She obeys because she's a goodie two shoes and Gojo gets excited to finally hear what his girls have been saying about him.

"Are you hungry, sweetie?" you ask the little girl that resembles her father perfectly with her white hair and mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Yes! Can we eat mochi for dinner?" the little girl exclaims and Satoru smiles to himself, proud that his daughter has developed the same addiction to sugary treats as him.

You lecture her on how mochi doesn't classify as dinner, but you promise she can have some after eating a proper meal, and you mention how probably her father is going to bring home some sweets when he gets back. Satoru smiles again upon hearing that, you know him like the back of your hand.

Making dinner takes way too long, feeding your daughter is even more time-consuming and Gojo is getting more impatient as time passes by. He fights the urge to just abandon his plan and join the two of you, spending time with his two girls is his favorite activity after all. However, as he gets up, stretching his limbs, he finally hears his daughter ask an unusual question.

"Mama? Why did Dada change his wizard clothes?"

"Because he's the Strongest, honey, and sometimes his clothes get torn apart."

"But he looks like a triangle now, no Mama?" you laugh out loud upon hearing her words and Satoru is hurt. Deeply.

"Yes, little one, he does look like a triangle." you agree with the toddler and the giggling continues, offending Gojo even more.

"He also smells." she adds with a familiar chuckle, one that mirrors her father's perfectly. You do not disagree, you keep laughing at your daughter's words, and Satoru bolts up in frustration, he runs down the stairs with unusual force and determination, and he stops in front of you with a deep frown on his face, his hands questioningly on his hips.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I LOOK LIKE A TRIANGLE? AND I SMELL? WE ALL KNOW MY ESSENCE IS LIKE A FRESH SUMMER GARDEN?! FLOWERY, EARTHY AND MASCULINE!" he exclaims with a large smile on his face, not taking the whole situation seriously, but he pouts at the end of his monologue, urging your beloved daughter to jump into his hands as she doesn't know that her father is doing this on purpose to get limitless attention.

"I'm sorry, Papa, Mama said bad about you and I agreed to get mochi." the toddler says while kissing her father on the cheeks lovingly, a bad habit she learned from said buffoon.

"My kikufuku?! You're saying Mama doesn't love me?" he acts like he's deeply hurt, looking at his favorite girls in adoration. Your daughter just simply nods, not able to look either Satoru or you in the eyes, a clear sign of her being dishonest. If there's one thing neither of the Gojo's standing in front of you were good at, it was being able to sell a lie. They were terrible at it and you didn't mind. You stand up, walking closer to your family, embracing them in a big hug, kissing their foreheads lovingly.

"Mama only loves me!" the toddler exclaims, reaching her little arms towards you, signaling to her father that she wants to be held by you.

"You see, little one, I would have believed you when you said Mama was saying bad things about me and you only agreed to get mochi from me, but I knew you were lying when you said she didn't love me. So I win!" Satoru explains and the toddler hides her face into the crook of your neck from being caught and "deeply hurt".

"Satoru, love, you have to give her mochi now to feel better!" you chime in lovingly and your husband runs out of the living room, into the kitchen to give you the treats he bought on his way home.

"Look at his chicken legs!" you exclaim, pointing in his direction to get your daughter's attention. The toddler in your arms starts laughing loudly and the white mop of Satoru's hair appears from the entrance of the kitchen, a frown evident on his face.

"HEY! I HEARD THAT!"

[yesmansyesman]

Fanfiction added (Yes Man x Reader)

AN UNUSUAL NEW UPDATE

[ Includes ]

Wireplay (Sort of?)

Filthy, filthy smut

Dub con (I guess?)

Really, really enthusiastic con the immediate next line

Overstimulation

Robophilia

[ Read at your own discretion! ]

[ Heavily inspired by this AO3 Fanfiction]

It was a relatively slow day at the Lucky 38. Well, as slow as things can be around here. You’d sent Yes Man out on a small quest on your behalf; getting rid of some remaining Caeser’s Legion members hiding out in Freeside.

It wouldn’t be even remotely challenging for the both of you, especially compared to the other things you’d fought in the wasteland. Compared to an army of charging Deathclaws, a couple of Rome cosplayers were trivially easy to deal with. So, you sent Yes Man out by himself. It would simply be more efficient. 

Quest completed

PICKING OFF STRAGGLERS 

Ah, speak of the devil.

Almost like clockwork, the doors to the Lucky 38 swung open, a blood-soaked Yes Man entering the building. Needless to say from his now crimson chassis, the mission was a success. 

“Hello Courier! I’m glad to say the last few members of Caeser’s Legion have been properly dealt with!”

“I could tell. You might want to clean yourself off, bud. Dried blood doesn’t come out too easily.”

Yes Man inspected his dark red chassis, examining his arms, coated in dried blood.

“That sounds like a great idea!”

Yes Man began to make his way to a backroom in the Lucky 38, when he suddenly paused, and turned to face you.

“Oh, I almost forgot! On the way, I also paid a visit to Mick & Ralph’s!”

A hidden compartment revealed itself on Yes Man’s chassis with a satisfying hiss and click, as he reached inside, unveiling a slightly rusted holodisk. It looked fairly normal on the outside, only with a small label plastered on; ‘From, Ralph’.

“A man in a Buffalo Check shirt gave me this; he told me he’d ‘heard about how things turned out for you’ and asked me to help him deliver this! I’m not sure what it does, but boy, does it sound interesting!”

“Interesting, indeed. I’ll have Raul take a look at this.”

“That sounds like a great idea! Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to be thoroughly scrubbed down! Really, really thoroughly!”

Quest added

TALK TO RAUL

“Hey boss, how can I help ya?”

You passed over the holodisk, placing it gently on his desk. 

“Could you help me take a look at this?”

“Sure thing. I’ll see what I can do.”

He delicately picked up the holodisk, examining it closely. Inspecting the label, still on the device.

“Ah, from Mick & Ralph’s, I see.”

Raul lightly dusted the holodisk, before loading it into the personal terminal located on his desk. With a few swift clicks on his keyboard, the screen lit up, green text rapidly loading onto the display. He read the gibberish on the screen carefully, like it was a language only he could understand.

“Luckily for me, it ain’t some kind of malware.”

“Then, what is it?”

“It looks like some package of code intended for Securitrons. It’s not even anything major by the looks of it, just changes up some button inputs.”

Raul scrolled through the brief paragraph of code, discovering more text, this time actually understandable, product information, it seemed. Raul read through it thoroughly, scoffing when he finished. He rotated the terminal, facing the CRT monitor towards you.

“Boss, they wrote down what this thing does right here. Come and take a look, I think you’ll be… interested.”

Quest completed

TALK TO RAUL

Quest added

READ THE FOOTNOTES

Quest completed

READ THE FOOTNOTES

Quest added

INSTALL THE DISK

“Courier, are you sure about this?”

“Yes Man, I promise you; this holodisk won’t affect your personality in any way, and if you feel otherwise, you can always tell me to stop. You had that personality upgrade installed for a reason, right?”

“I-I’m not telling you to stop! I just sure hope you know what you’re doing, because you aren’t, this Securitron body may self-destruct! And that would be bad, really bad.”

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

You carefully installed the holodisk. Yes Man’s, unlike other Securitrons, circuits were haphazardly placed all over the inside of his chassis. Whatever Benny did to him, he sure did it messily. Eventually, however, after working through piles of unsorted wires and mismatched machinery, the disk was installed. With a brief system reboot, Yes Man had been successfully updated.

Quest completely

INSTALL THE DISK

Quest added

UPGRADE PLAYTEST

“Hm, that’s odd. I don’t feel any different. Or explosive. Well, that’s a good sign!”

“Not so fast, Yes Man. There’s still one more thing I need to do. I need to see if the upgrade works as intended.” “Sounds interesting! How may I help you with that?”

“Don’t worry, just stand still. You’ll find out what that holodisk does very, very soon.”

Gently, you lead your hand towards Yes Man’s keypad. You deftly place a finger on a key, pressing it before he had a chance to react. 

“O-oh!”

“How was it?”

“D-do that again…please?”

“Sure thing, big guy.”

Click!

“A-ah!”

Click!

“Ngh-!”

Click!

“M-mph!”

Yes Man was losing his composure more and more with each deft click, his antenna spinning rapidly and a cool layer of condensation forming on his display. Of course, how could he have forgotten, Mick & Ralph’s had experience working on robots before with Fisto, didn’t they? Of course their idea of an upgrade would be… this.

Not that he was complaining, though.

“W-wow! That feels really, really good…”

You carelessly push a few buttons all at once.

“H-Hah-!”

There you go, just let me hear those beautiful noises.

“O-oh! S-six!”

You decide to go all in, discarding any resemblance of self-control. Using and holding as many keys as your fingers could reach. 

“O-oh my-y-!”

“Having fun, bud?”

“I-I love you I love you I love you-!”

"I'll take that as a yes."

Yes Man’s vocal processor was being pushed to its limits, the audio scratched and staticy as Yes Man wore his metaphorical throat out singing moans of pleasure, screaming to the heavens above. His display was drenched in condensation as water droplets visibly dripped down his chassis. The tornado-like buzz of cooling fans were the only other audible noise amongst the squeals of pure ecstasy.

“Y-you’re my everything-g-g-g-!”

“Glad to hear it. You ready?”

“P-p-please!” Silly boy, his processors were already turning into melted plastic from the overstimulation.

“I’ll just press one more button, alright?”

“P-please please please please-!”

Click!

Quest completed

UPGRADE PLAYTEST

Quest added

CRASH LANDING

Quest completed

CRASH LANDING

“Yes Man? You there, bud?”

“W-what?”

“Oh thank god, you’re still alive.”

“Oh, hello Courier!”

Yes Man scanned his surroundings, having woken up on the floor of Raul’s workshop. His circuits were exposed, connected by several multi-coloured wires to a terminal being manned by the mechanic himself. He must’ve crashed. 

“Luckily for you, your main circuits aren’t badly damaged. You just blew a few fuses.”

“Wow! That was… sure some upgrade!”

“Some upgrade, indeed.”

You deftly place a hand on his keypad, with a touch so feathery light that it didn’t manage to push down on any of the keys, but merely tease him with the warmth radiating for your hand. A sensation he could barely even feel, but felt so, so good.

“So, how about a round two?”

“Y-yes please!”

Raul scoffs, turning off his terminal and unplugging the several cords connected to it. He lifts himself out of his chair with a grunt, and makes his way to the door.

“I’ll let you two do your thing then, boss.”

Quest added

JUST A FEW MORE ROUNDS

[the--rebel--fae]

Hello! I saw you were taking requests for Hazbin characters? If you could, do you mind writing a one-shot for Vox and a fem!reader who has hacking as a hobby and sometimes uses the knowledge to slightly screw with the TV man when he's not giving her enough attention?

A/N: I'd be delighted to write this, my friend! Especially since it's Vox! I adore the TV man and the idea of him having a hacker girlfriend? That's genius! I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Vox x Reader

TW: None! Just silliness and fluff!

Word Count: 332

Pay attention To Me!

You were bored. No other way to put it. You considered going down to Velvette’s floor and seeing if she needed help with anything, but you didn’t exactly want to be roped into being her temporary model like you usually end up being every time you go there. And there was no way in hell you were going anywhere near Val. You may be Vox’s girlfriend and Val was surprisingly ok with that, but you couldn’t stand the moth. Especially with how he treated his “Stars” specifically Angel Dust. 

So. your boyfriend was all that was left. One problem though, you went down to his monitor room earlier to spend time with him, but he said he was busy with his work and couldn’t spend time with you at the time. But he would come up to your shared suite and spend time with you after he was done. 

That was three hours ago. 

Safe to say you wanted your boyfriend’s company and he was going to give it to you whether he was busy or not. You got up from the big plush couch you were sprawled across and went over to your laptop. 

Grinning to yourself, you powered the device up and dove into Vox’s business network. You couldn’t help the small chuckle as you slipped through the defenses so easily. You tried to tell him that he needed to strengthen his security, maybe now he’ll not only learn to pay more attention to you, but he’ll let you actually go in and strengthen his network. 

“Alright, my love. Think of this as a little payback for ignoring me the whole day.” You let out a giggle as you sent one of the newest most annoying earworm tunes to completely replace each screen in his monitor room. 

You put your hands behind your head and grinned as wide as the cheshire cat. “And three…two…one…”

You phone buzzed and you glanced down at it with a chuckle.

Vox: My monitor room. Now.

Hope you enjoyed the story! I know I had a lot of fun with this. Feel free to request again!

And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several-page long one-shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!

[6lostgirl6]

Promiscuous E.T.

Pairing: Male!Yautja x G/n!Reader

Summary: Since you both were completely different species, you wanted to show your yautja boyfriend one of Earth's finest creations. Just Dance.

TW: cute moments, yautja rage quit, hint of sex towards the end.

Based on this post!!

"Come on," you muttered, fiddling with your old Wii console that was once sitting in your closet collecting dust. Now, it was getting set up to your living room television. "Stupid thing."

For a while, since the beginning of your relationship with your alien lover, you have tasked yourself with showing him things from your world. It started off with the basics, including food, fashion trends, music, and much more. Now, you wanted to show him a small piece of your childhood.

Your yautja watched silently as you fiddled with the old Wii station. He didn't understand your urge to show him these strange things from your planet. However, he thought you were very cute when your Ooman eyes would light up and your smile would brighten when you showed him things. Therefore, he indulged your little antics.

"And what is this contraption, little blade?" He asked in his language with various clicks, which made you pause.

The crackle of the translator embedded under the skin behind your ear took a second to translate, his clicks turning into words in a mere second.

You smiled and turned towards him, "I wanted to show you a game that's very popular on my planet!" You continued to fiddle with it for a few more seconds before the screen finally lit up. "Sweet!"

Before he could continue asking more questions, you quickly headed towards him, holding something similar to a remote in your hand.

"This is a Wii remote," you handed the pink device into his awaiting claws, his hand practically dwarfing the remote as he stared down at it. "You use it so the console can monitor your movements!"

He let out a few curious clicks as he played with the remote in his hand, similarly how you would wield a knife which almost made you giggle. The device was shaped like a thick stick that was decorated pink. He also noticed that it was covered in some rubber sheath with a dangling string.

"How do I wield this?" He asked, patiently allowing you a moment for the translator to help you understand. He stared down at you, silently admiring how small you were compared to him, especially in the nest.

Oblivious, you started explaining the device. "Okay, well, you'll hold this and follow the movements on the screen, basically copy them. The remote will monitor and track on how well you're doing!" You took the remote and pulled out the string as he listened.

"This goes around your wrist and can be adjusted! This makes sure you don't accidentally throw it or drop it." You finished, carefully strapping the fabric around his wrist.

As you were doing that, your yautja continued to admire you. Using his other hand, he played with your hair, careful not to accidentally hurt you with his claws. He loved how smart you were, teaching him something new practically every day. He let out some affectionate purrs the more he thought about it.

He was proud to have such a worthy mate.

Your cheeks flushed a little, smiling up at him which he returned in his own way. His upper mandibles moving to resemble something similar to a smile. "All done, big boy." You teased, pulling away to grab your own remote.

Going through the menu, you selected the game that you inserted a bit ago. After a few more clicks, the song list appeared and you were already searching through some of the songs available.

"Anything that you wanna try?" You asked, looking up at him.

Your yautja shuffled through the songs before one captured his attention. Surprisingly, the beat was very catchy and the characters on the screen was interesting.

"Let's do this one." He said, returning your gaze for your approval.

"Okay! I'm excited for this one, so I'm glad you picked it!" You exclaimed, clicking on the song and getting into position. After a second, you had to pull miserably on your yautja to do the same.

Curse him for being so big, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Halfway through the song, you noticed that your yautja was getting a little frustrated. For the past few minutes, he's been getting a low score.

And your yautja is very competitive.

"Pauk!" He cursed, continuing to get 'ok' on his score and he was starting to get more frustrated.

"You're going great!" You tried encouraging, allowing yourself to get a few low scores purposely without him seeing. "I'm getting a few low scores too!"

However, he didn't hear you, continuing to get more frustrated and moving his arms rougher.

After a moment, something snapped and he swung his arm. In that second, he forgot how powerful he was and his superior strength. The remote flew from his hand, the wrist strap snapping as the device slammed into the screen of the television.

Leaving a large crack.

"Cjit..." He muttered, staring at the television with wide eyes and mandibles spread.

You stood there, facial expression matching his own, your own remote still in your own grasp.

"Pauk, I'm so sorry, little blade." He said, turning towards you with guilt for ruining something that could have been very expensive.

However, you could only laugh as you hunched over, hands on your knees which surprised your mate.

"I-I'm not mad, my love." You reassured, wiping a lonely tear from your face as you straightened yourself. "It was honestly funny."

"But, I broke your television, I shouldn't have lost control like that." He revoked, standing there with his arms crossed and head bowed.

You simply smiled, standing on your toes and patting his head, which made him look towards you.

"I could care less about it. I care more about you and your enjoyment." You stated, leaning in and kissing his lower mandible. He sighed and returned the affection, allowing a few of his mandibles to tickle your cheeks.

"What would I do without you, little mate?" He purred, looking down at you in adoration. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Cease to exist." You teased, biting your lip. You smirked and slowly brushed your fingers through his dreadlocks, tugging on a few. You were rewarded with a low growl.

"Why don't we do something else to let off some steam?"

Spam Liking = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed

[alice-after-dark]

I've Actually Thought About This...

Inspired by this reblog from @lovethatmakingcoffee (original artist is @paprikaries), I've actually considered this for a while and I have some thoughts about why Vox needed to have Sir Pentious hide a camera in the hotel.

(Just for clarification, I do understand that the comic is meant to be silly and all in good fun, it just got my wheels turning)

So the first point is the television in the hotel. It definitely looks old, so it's possible it's too outdated for him to connect to, however, I think there's another reason entirely. Every time we have seen Vox interact with a TV screen, he appears on it. TVs don't have cameras. They only display. So while Vox could in theory connect to the TV and watch the hotel that way, he'd only be able to do it while literally making everyone aware that he was watching them.

As for the phone thing...well...we don't actually know if Vox can connect through phones. The fandom, myself included, has assumed he can because phones have cameras and screens and use electricity, but we have never actually seen him interact with a phone using his powers. Even the call from Velvette is from his head, not his phone. And when he talks to Sir Pentious, Pentious is using a V-Watch, not a phone, which I do get is supposed to be a play on smart watches, but I did look it up and smart watches have extremely limited video capabilities, meaning the V-Watch is most likely exclusively designed for video calls. It's also very clear from the angle we see Vox at that he himself is not using a V-Watch. He's probably using one of his usual computer monitors. Honestly, when it comes down to it, I think phones would work the same way as a TV. He'd appear on the screen. The big thing about video cameras is that they are, by design, one-way devices. He can watch without being seen.

As for the logo thing...I've said this in another post, but the logo actually doesn't mean much in hindsight. Like, imagine finding a hidden camera in your room, looking at the brand, and going "ah hah! They are clearly the ones stalking me!" instead of thinking someone, oh I don't know, purchased said camera from the brand? It's one of those writing points that honestly baffles me. Vox is probably the biggest producer of tech in Hell. It's really not a surprise it would be one of his cameras. Angel Dust really jumped to conclusions assuming the Vees were behind the spying. Yes, he was right, because that's how the writing wanted it to go, but he kind of had no reason to draw the conclusion he did so quickly.

[thedeerman]

Hazbin Human Prison AU?

Okay so this absolutely would not happen until Do You Want To Know is finished (it's not even close, i'm so sorry) but ive been thinking a lot about doing a prison AU.

The premise: Lucifer is the warden of a mid-security prison. He doesn't really take much interest in his job, but he sticks around because it helps him keep an eye on his daughter.

Prison Staff:

Charlie is the prison psych. She believes whole-heartedly that every single person in prison deserves a second chance at life once their prison term is over, and she wants nothing more than to help them prepare for that.

Vaggie, Charlie's girlfriend, is an ex-cop turned social worker. She's more or less Charlie's right hand now, accompanying her throughout the day. Can't have her going into one on one meetings with violent criminals alone, now.

Alastor is one of the long-time prison guards. The jailmates know not to mess with him, he's the type to pull you out and either physically or psychologically torment you just for looking at him the wrong way.

Niffty is the janitor and lunch lady. People fear her more than Alastor, sometimes. She doesn't seem like much of a threat at first glance, but eventually, every new prisoner found out first hand why people feared her.

Vox is head of surveillance. He sits behind the cameras all day making sure nothing strange illegal immoral he doesn't know about is happening. He and Valentino are together, but they try to keep it a secret. They fail constantly. Everyone knows.

Valentino is a morally corrupt guard that smuggles in contraband for prisoners. He takes his payments in money, sex, and sometimes information for Vox. He's got a long-term deal going with Angel.

Velvette is a younger guard that spends a lot of her time making videos of the prisoners for social media. Is this allowed? No. Is this legal? No. Is this moral? Also no. Is she going to do it anyway? Absolutely.

The Inmates:

Angel Dust is a drug addict and a sex worker. He's been in and out of jail for years, but it looks like he's going to be here for a while this time. He's known Valentino for quite some time, and they have their arrangements to keep Angel from being sober for too long.

Husk is a gambling addict and an alcoholic- not a great mix when it comes to hanging around casinos. Not only is he in serious debt, he's in jail for starting a fist fight in a casino... Again. Makes some pretty good jail hooch though.

Cherri, Angel's long time friend, is in for use of illegal explosives. She'd lost an eye to similar things in the past, but her addiction to the thrill of blowing things up refused to let her stop. Now that she has no access to the parts she needs, she's actually pretty chill.

Sir Pentious really doesn't belong in prison, at least not one where so many weird violent things go on. Sure, he taught some rats how to plant monitoring devices and sent them into a couple of people's houses, but it was only so he could... Well, spy on them. Yeah, maybe he does belong in prison.

Note: this would absolutely include a fuck ton of ships. radioapple, huskerdust, chaggie, staticmoth, cherrisnake, and platonic radiorose

[digital-matchmake]

*#!& it, Au time

*it's been a decade since the company C&A has declared bankruptcy and shut down, suspiciously just in time as several missing report cases became public. Searches went cold and they were declared dead, obviously many suspects the company and it's higher ups of any involvement but with no proof, the case was closed and forgotten and the company's assets were sold away to those interested in them*

*After unfortunately getting a promotion from the company you work for, you were given an odd USB that was collecting dust in the storage bin instead of the usual celebration because you qoute from them "Things are getting more expensive here" Yeah right and so they decided to give you this old piece of junk but when they explained that the USB belongs to the C&A company before their bankruptcy you were curious on its contents*

*What could be inside this USB? Some kind of company secret? a file containing sensitive info? Some video of worker's training? At this point you aren't sure as all you know is that the company used to air some weird 3d shows that no one seems to remember. Maybe you should plug it in to see or maybe you can just sell the damn thing again but who the hell would want an old USB? Collectors maybe?*

*It would take you another week and a half to finally get curious enough to actually plug in the darn thing to your PC, when you did it prompt a request to download and wanting to know what contains in the damn thing, You click accept as it started downloading. it took a while and after it finishes downloading, An app icon appear on your desktop, it says "The amazing DIGITAL CIRCUS", hovering your mouse over it, you double click and... it opened to a blank screen, confuse, you click anything in the screen, nothing, you pressed Esc and it merely brought you back to your Monitor, is that it? what a rip off*

*Well you sure hope it isn't any kind of virus, you lean over to your pc to pull out the USB , Ready to throw it back at your boss for some actual money for your promotion when you suddenly hear a warped noise, almost sounding like a liquid being plunged through by something or someone, you turn back to your monitor and felt your heart jump to your throat as you see a gloved red hand sticking through your monitor, reaching out to you*

"WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!"

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In this au, after being trapped in the digital world for at least 20 years, the performers were finally given the means of exit but not in the way that they thought, being in the digital world for so long their bodies were basically turned into digital overtime and their human bodies and memories are lost. So now basically think of them as like the gems from steven universe in the real world now.

They live with the reader after making a bit of deal with them and after calming them down (Cuz u would get scared too if you see this giant grinning rabbit man in yo living room)

They can use any devices with screens as like portals to the real world and to the digital world but also to get from one place to another, their size changes depending on which device they come out from, they can be small like around 4-6 inches when coming out of an apple watch for example, normalish (but still bigger than human) when coming out of a 55 inch tv screen and just flat out giant when coming out of a digital billboard, thankfully they can only go into a device in which the reader has access on so no giant Jax terrorizing some poor city.

They also cannot go too far from the reader, if they are very far like around 10 feet apart, they are instantly teleported next to the reader (kinda like a minecraft dog lmao)

Since they are technically in digital bodies, they do not need to eat nor drink BUT they do get tired now as they aren't constantly being fed electricity like in their digital world, they can recharge by either A. Napping (Not reccomended as it would take a day to fully recharge), B. Going into any devices and just staying there until their battery is full (Alright) or C. They can literally just place a plugged in charger in their mouth and they will recharge (They charge fast this way but with the reader's limited chargers they just tend to do the second option)

Reader was traumatized from their first encounter and literally barricaded themselves in their bathroom with all their devices turned off after learning they can use them as portals, Stayed there for about a day and a half before Ragatha managed to talk through them.

They tend to be small when they are out, mostly because the reader always brings their phone everywhere and thats how they usually be with the reader.

You all know those shimeji companion that you can download into your phone and you can pick them up and stuff? Well the reader can do that while they are in her phone but they also can mess with the reader's apps and stuff.

Caine is there but since he is an ai through and through, he just enjoys his retirement in the reader's pc and cannot get out into the real world.

Pomni thinks that she owes the reader big time for saving her from the digital hell.

The name of this Au is "Digital Circus is out!" (May change soon)

Edit- The name is changed to Digital Roommates!

[dateless-bar]

Can I Follow You Home? - Traitor Primarch Ver. (Modern AU)

If you ask Can I Follow You Home...

*: Character design from #projectepd, see character design pics here: ☆

Magnus

If you want to visit Magnus at his mansion in the New Capital, he might scrutinize your email with pursed lips for a while. From the subject line to the signature, and even the style and wording of the text—if you're lucky and what you propose happens to pique his interest, he might allow you to come by with a research proposal for consultation.

Magnus's mansion truly lives up to its original meaning. He won't greet you at the door; instead, he'll instruct you via email which room to go to, explicitly marking areas off-limits without permission. You have to tread carefully as soon as Amon opens the door for you, as you'll sense the space is filled with various antiques, rare books, specimens, and other collectibles. Whether it's hand-copied manuscripts with ink still fresh or prayer books adorned with jewels, the cabinets display a vast array, while numerous scrolls and carvings are sealed behind thick glass.

Amon will lead you to the reception room on the second floor, which, to be honest, leaves hardly any space to walk. The carpet is thick and soft, giving you the sensation of walking on sand. You can be sure there are cats in the house, as you spot cat hair on the couch and objects. However, unfortunately, the mansion is too large, and all the cats have hidden away. Magnus sits on the innermost sofa in the reception room, waiting for you to present your research report. During this time, you can smell the sweet aroma of wine and beeswax, a scent compounded with the heavy dust in the air, almost dizzying.

While he peruses your work, it's strongly advised not to let your gaze linger on areas of the room obviously concealed. If you were to discreetly lift a blanket or push a cabinet to reveal the modern lighting and the opposite cabinet, you'd find various movie props, first edition comics, signed posters by game designers, and perhaps even his secluded gaming den filled with numerous controllers, game boxes, and Blu-ray discs. If you were to really do that... Well, okay, okay, Amon, please show the guest out.

Perturabo

It's hard to imagine Perturabo introducing his house to anyone, but if there's anywhere in the world that brings him peace of mind, it's probably his own steel-reinforced safe house. This house is located at a secret address, accessible only through a long, narrow underground passage.

If you were to actually enter it, you might find yourself completely in the dark. That's because this place requires Perturabo's personal authentication to activate, and there's even an Iron Circle robot at the entrance—whether it can be activated or not is uncertain, but it looks quite formidable. Additionally, there's a rather intimidating set of exoskeletons, making you feel like you've stepped onto a movie set.

After navigating through various security measures, you finally reach an explosion-proof door. Behind this door lies a small room equipped with a separate escape hatch and water pump system, doubling as a precision mechanical workshop. From here, Perturabo can monitor all the activities in his main residence. It's like a doomsday bunker with comprehensive systems for any contingency. Here, Perturabo contemplates or crafts devices in absolute safety and silence, free from any possible disturbance, making it one of the few places where he can find complete tranquility. Sometimes, he spends entire weekends here alone, dedicating his time to constructing and manufacturing machinery. He even manages sleep on a mechanical bench or a hardboard bed. Then, at the beginning of the week, he returns to his regular duties, and of course, the items he manufactures here are never given to anyone.

If you find the space a bit cramped, you can activate the artificial scenery function on the multi-panel screens to display realistic landscapes. However, there's one obvious drawback: Perturabo hasn't equipped the house with any kitchen facilities, so if you're really hungry, you might have to make do with a few biscuits and water.

Fulgrim

Imagine visiting Fulgrim's mansion— which one, though? Let's go with the one he's been favoring lately. The walls of this mansion are painted in dazzling purple, and the satin on the velvet couches shimmers with a soft, enticing glow, but none of this compares to how he looks when he opens the door wearing his cozy housecoat. No more high-heeled boots or leather shoes, just bare feet adorned with a pair of fuzzy deep purple slippers. As you step inside, he'll surely ask you what music you'd like to listen to, and as you ponder which record suits this warm, radiant evening, he'll inquire about your drink preferences and if you'd like some snacks—too many choices might leave you a bit overwhelmed, but Fulgrim has already selected a few that he's perfected. Herbal tea, mille-feuille, a selection of classical recordings from the La Fenice Theater—the needle of the record player gently drops, and you never imagined you'd hear his collection in the home of this opera master.

You might find yourself sitting on a couch that's unbelievably soft, not as tidy as you'd imagine, adorned with dried flowers and fabric samples. But the pillows and cushions you hold emit delightful scents, and he promises to send you home with a sample of his handmade incense. And because the snacks are so delicious, you have to be careful not to eat too quickly. If you're full, you might explore the dressing rooms on the second floor—or should I say, the entire second floor is dressing rooms. Each room has floor-length mirrors and professional lighting fixtures, showcasing a variety of costumes, identical to those seen on the opera stage, down to the hand-sewn details. He'll show you the rooms for shoes and hats, the sheer volume from floor to ceiling is staggering, and you realize Fulgrim can clearly recall which designer or era each piece is from.

And if you're having a delightful conversation with him at this moment, he'd be more than happy to show you his clothing design sketches in the studio on the third floor. But as you step into the study, you might inhale sharply— the room is filled with numerous magazines and movie posters, all featuring his various personas. However, you can't help but admit that none of the pictures in the books seem as vivid and lifelike as the person standing before you.

Lorgar Aurelian

You initially prepared to visit Lorgar and expected it to be a public display, but you ended up at his private residence instead. He waits at the door for you before your arrival, claiming he anticipated this.

Lorgar's actual room is quite modest, even modern. People often forget his profession and find it hard to imagine his modern side. The room is so standard it could pass for a rental in the city, with some potted plants on the balcony. You gaze at him in his high-neck sweater, feeling a bit surprised—it's an uncommon sight.

There's still a faint scent of incense in the air, much like what you often smell in Word Bearer churches. Under Lorgar's gaze, you might need to change into slippers and shoe covers before entering. His bookshelf isn't stocked with books but scattered with wooden or metal ornaments, making you realize he has a habit of discarding or burning books after reading them. Interestingly, there are some modern-looking self-help and popular psychology books on the shelf, which Lorgar might explain are for Angron.

There are very few electronic devices in his home, not even digital clock screens, still relying on a very quaint chiming clock and occasionally using an old laptop and a fax machine for work. Judging by the dust, it seems Lorgar doesn't use them often. When you inquire about this, he mentions he still prefers handwritten letters. If you ask, he might even show you the Word Bearer seal. Interestingly, the ink pens and other items he uses daily are all handmade. As you approach the desk, you can smell a distinct classical ink scent. However, he expresses regret that he can't offer you any souvenirs—after all, his handwriting and signature are too precious, and you wouldn't know what to do with a true relic.

Angron

The idea of visiting Angron's home was rather nerve-wracking, to say the least. Honestly, if it weren't for the TV station's insane idea of doing this special program, chances are you wouldn't have had the opportunity to explore. However, what was likely aired on the show probably wasn't what you truly saw today. The Nuceria Wrestling League probably wanted to stage more stimulating scenes for the audience, so they might have taken away some items from here later and set them up elsewhere for shooting.

You shift your gaze back to the house in front of you, evidently arranged by Nuceria as Angron's residence, a luxurious apartment. Angron storms out of the bathroom, still dripping with water. He seems entirely unwilling to bother drying himself off. You can see water seeping onto the floor, clearly cleaned regularly by Nuceria's arranged personnel, replacing the vases and cabinets Angron smashes with new ones. No matter how roughly he treats the space he occupies, it returns to its original state after a while—you even feel that might be the reason for his anger.

You glance at the dining table, where Angron's previously endorsed cereals and protein bars lie. But you're pretty sure he doesn't eat them himself. Even the entire kitchen looks brand new, untouched by him, but you know another wrestler, Kharn, and their agent, Ms. Sarrin, sometimes use it to prepare simple meals.

The bathroom Angron just came out of doesn't have many bathing supplies; instead, it's stocked with bandages and painkillers you wouldn't typically find in a household. Next door is an entire home gym, a rarity, with a variety of exercise equipment dazzling the eyes, and the battered punching bag makes you shudder. Angron would smirk and say this place is just for show, with only the punching bag being somewhat useful. His real training is obviously in a more professional gym, and this place is probably just an assumption made by Nuceria.

You're surprised to see a cramped compartment, seemingly originally used as a small storage room. But when you discreetly open the door, you discover a hidden world inside. There are many scribbled to-do lists and tips from counseling centers, and a few crumpled manuals on the table. There's a pen holder made from a crushed soda can, with two or three stubby pencils inside. Before you can figure out what exactly this place is for, Angron grabs you by the scruff like a rabbit and drags you out.

Konrad Curze

In a sense, his home could even be considered a tourist attraction—if you're a fan of urban legends or folk horror radio shows, you've probably heard of the infamous haunted mansion at 50 Berkeley Square. Its notoriety isn't just historical; it's also connected to Konrad Curze. Some say he lived there, while others claim Curze himself is the source of the eerie tales about the mansion... Urban legends only get more mysterious as they circulate. If you're a social media influencer or a haunted house explorer, or even if you're looking to invest in real estate and have enough courage, perhaps you could try entering.

Of course, the faint-hearted should go during the day, but the brave, unafraid of death, can choose nighttime. The atmosphere and the gusts of fog alone are enough to make one gulp down a pot of tea, and as you shiver while trying to push open the mansion's front door, only to find it immovable, you might need a helping hand or a ladder to climb through the broken window on the east side—actually, Curze usually exits from here; he doesn't have much of a concept of using the front door, but he's rather fond of the gargoyle on the roof.

There are appliances in the house, and you can even try turning on the lights, but you must be wary of potential electrical hazards, as you have no idea where the wires are connected, definitely not to code. There are suspicious marks on the wooden floorboards—let's refuse to ponder whether they're claw marks or bloodstains, carefully avoiding all hazardous areas, and you'll find that the mansion is like a massive secret chamber or maze. Many of the upholstered or leather furniture pieces are either covered in dust or in a state of disrepair. A large portion of them is even strewn across the floor, blocking your path. After finally maneuvering past the creaky floorboards and reaching the kitchen, you're pleasantly surprised to find that not only are the lights functioning, but the fridge is also plugged in! However, after noticing the suspicious traces seeping from the fridge and cabinets, perhaps it's better not to open them...

You turn to look at the kitchen utensils on the countertop—they're quite new, most likely brought over by Fulgrim, who is always dedicated to getting Curze's life back on track. You're certain the bath salts strewn everywhere in the bathroom and the torn bath bombs are also his doing. As you contemplate further exploration of the other rooms in the house, Curze, who has suddenly appeared on the sofa, emits a hissing sound, forcing you to stop in your tracks. He blends completely into the darkness, using the unplugged wires to tell you he doesn't like too much light in the house. Curze curls up on the torn sofa, the once black and yellow fuzz now darkened and scattered from the overturned cushions.

Mortarion

If you're one of his trusted Deathshroud laboratory assistants, you might get the chance to visit his private residence. You'd disembark in the backyard, not at the front gate. Upon entering, you might initially think it's a karesansui garden. However, upon closer inspection, you'd discover that the tiered flower beds and foliage are actually arranged in intricate geometric patterns, following the mysterious Fibonacci sequence found in nature. You'd notice many plants with peculiar shapes or overly vibrant colors, and your intuition would tell you to stay far away from them. Mortarion breathes in the air of the courtyard through his mask, his fingers almost grazing the plants.

After circling the garden, you'd enter his home. It's eerily quiet, to the point where you can hear the chirping of insects from the courtyard. Mortarion is wearing nothing but a thin plain robe indoors, which obscures his overly pale skin, giving off an unsettling chill.

He would draw the curtains when the sun rises, shrouding the interior in dim shadows. You might find yourself unable to resist looking at the printed numerical sequences on the walls of his room, as well as the insects and plant specimens framed in display cases. And the darker the environment, the more lifelike they appear. If you stare long enough, you might almost feel as if they're about to flutter their wings at any moment. As you walk along the walls, you'd come across a fish tank illuminated only by scenery and a dim green light, devoid of any fish. Just as you can't help but wonder what happened in there, you catch a faint whiff of formaldehyde from the closed door nearby.

At that moment, dusk sets in. Mortarion suddenly pulls back the curtains, startling everyone present. Yet, he casually produces homemade wine from the courtyard. If you're lucky enough, you might be treated to these drinks alongside other visiting Deathshroud members—you all instinctively don't think to refuse such a possibility.

Horus Lupercal

Horus's current residence is the result of a black market deal after a fire many years ago, but now it's deemed 'completely legitimate and legal,' with records in the Luna Wolves' archives even documenting the hefty property taxes they dutifully pay.

The overall style of the house bears a striking resemblance to the Wolves' old home in Sicily, likely because Sejanus and others brought over a fair amount of furniture from there. They even had a massive oven installed for occasional nostalgic pizzas or bread reminiscent of home. Whenever Horus needs to meet privately with the Mournival, it's almost always held in the ground floor of this house. They would sit around a long table, surrounded by paintings by artists who once owed substantial debts, hanging on the walls and ceiling. Torgaddon once quipped that while meetings in this environment were bearable, eating was out of the question—prompting an immediate reprimand from Abaddon.

If you're one of Horus's trusted confidants, you might have the chance to see the final painting in that series, displayed alone in his living room. Surprisingly, his room doesn't entirely adhere to the style of the rest of the house; it's more minimalistic, with fewer decorative furnishings, featuring only a bookcase, a bed, a clothes rack, a drinks cabinet, and a table. The bookcase holds a collection of epic, literary, and historical works. If you catch him in a good mood, he might allow you to pour a drink or help him hang up his suit jacket. Whether to add ice, how much ice to add, whether to send it to the dry cleaners, and where to hang it all become matters of importance. And if you get it right, Horus might relax a bit, loosen his tie, and share the story behind the painting with you. But the test has only just begun; either stay silent and listen carefully or ask the most precise questions to help him tell the story he's told a thousand times before. And if you happen to mention some keywords he doesn't like, then all efforts will be in vain. Remember, caution is key.

Alpharius

You walk into a room.

As for what kind of room it is, you feel it's a bit like an employee dormitory, yet also reminiscent of a single room in a budget hotel.

It looks completely fine. Neat, clean, with items that are ninety percent new, not overly pristine to make it difficult to use, yet appropriately lacking a sense of warmth. You attempt to turn on the lights in the room, only to discover that all the power sockets perfectly match your lifestyle, requiring almost no additional adapters or special interfaces. Speaking of interfaces... where is your phone? Realizing this, you glance at the coffee table and the cabinet above it, noticing that the room is not equipped with any telephones.

You suspect your phone might be in the pocket of your coat, so you try to open the wardrobe in the room. Inside, there are three hangers, each holding your outerwear for different seasons, perfectly matching your size and dressing habits. However, they are all brand new, without any signs of being worn.

Despite thinking it's impossible, you still check the pockets of these clothes. In the inner pocket of your winter coat, you find a business card. There's only one name on the card.

You feel a dizzy spell. How long has it been since you last ate? A wave of weakness washes over you, and you collapse onto the unwrinkled bed.

You wake up to the sound of your own phone ringing. As you regain consciousness, you find yourself lying in your most familiar bed. The scent, the pillows, the blankets all make you feel incredibly safe. You sigh with relief, realizing you've just had a strange dream - but it's all over now, isn't it? You pick up your phone, intending to freshen up.

After a moment, you realize there seems to be something under your phone.

It's a business card.

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 1: It's Still Not Quite the Way It Was

Author's Notes: We've made it to the posting of chapter 1! Each chapter has a corresponding song, noted (and linked) at the beginning of the chapter; the italic paragraphs between sections are lyrics from the corresponding song. After this chapter it'll make sense, I promise 😉

This is multi-chapter friends-to-lovers, angst with a happy ending fic. Full synopsis/masterlist can be found here (and read on AO3 here)!

Content Warnings for this Chapter: Medical whump, near-death experience, description of serious injuries. Angst for dayssss. If @loki-cees-all and @infinitystoner are to be believed, you might want kleenex. It gets much lighter after this (for a while, at least), I swear!

Word Count: 5,217

It’s Still Not Quite The Way It Was

Song: Hospital - Lydia

So I’ve been sleeping with  This silence in my mind And all I see scares me And no one knows it but she– She saved me

It was a reality that Loki could no longer ignore: they were running out of time. 

After hours hunched over in vigil, he sat up a bit taller in the stiff plastic chair that could have doubled as a torture device, stretching aching muscles and sore joints that had yet to recover from a battle unlike any the god had ever seen. Raking one hand through unkempt curls, he bit back a snarl when a passerby glanced into the cramped infirmary room and made the mistake of locking eyes with the Asgardian prince. 

Perhaps he ought to be proud of himself for the restraint; hardly thirty minutes prior, he allowed the tempest within him to take control, unleashing his worst upon his elder brother. It was not fair to Thor - everyone was reeling from the aftermath of what transpired, and though Thor may not have been as intertwined with the very heart of the matter, the repercussions impacted him too.

But Loki? 

He was not merely impacted by the fallout; it tore his world asunder.

Before him, the harsh reminder of the upheaval endured over the three days prior laid unconscious, reliant on Midgardian medicine and machinery to give her a fighting chance at survival. 

Not an inch of Theo had been spared from suffering. The blood, the dust, and the grime of battle had long been washed off of her body; now, her wounds were covered with pristine, crisp white bandages. Swaths of jagged, indigo bruises marred her otherwise ghostly complexion, which appeared more sallow under the harsh infirmary lights. Sweat poured off her skin and soaked her hair. Half-open, glassy yet clouded eyes seemed to stare right through Loki as if he wasn’t there. One eye sported a bruise, swollen and tender, beneath it. 

The sheer volume of wires and tubing connected to her body gave the appearance of a puppet. Multiple intravenous lines were placed in her arms and collarbone. Wires under her shirt collar and a sensor clipped to her index finger provided vital signs. Tubes trailed down her mouth and nose to provide oxygen and sustenance. 

And yet, it had become clear that no machine, no medicine would be enough to save her from the eldritch infection that tore through her side. 

Though no one admitted it, the truth could be found in the silence between the discordant rhythms of beeping monitors and the hissing ebb and flow of the ventilator, none of which ever aligned to the ticking of the clock on the wall. Amidst the shuffle of muted footsteps and hushed conversation in the outside corridor, the truth echoed within sterile infirmary walls. It scrawled itself along the monitors filled with vital signs that crept further and further towards demise, numbers and lines blurring together as time passed. 

Scattered across the room, stacks of ancient tomes failed to provide any insight or solution. Loki was supposedly the most powerful sorcerer in the nine realms, yet he could do nothing to help. The Scarlet Witch, with chaos magic at her fingertips, was helpless in the face of this affliction, as was the Sorcerer Supreme. Even Vision, who had the power of the mind stone and held the full knowledge of all of Midgard, was useless to stop the spread.

It was the subject of taboo: they were running out of time. 

This affliction was unlike anything they’d ever encountered. Then again, Theo was unlike anyone Loki had ever encountered. 

Leaning forward once more, he carefully enveloped her pale, cold hand in both of his.

“Cheating death is my forté, not yours. Healing is your forté, darling.” He said to the perfectly still form before him. “Forcing a reversal of roles was not a wise decision. I imagine you would know how to cure this malady; one of the many secrets tucked away in that memory of yours.” 

One of many secrets that until recently, were incomprehensible to the God of Trickery.

“It is rather ironic, isn’t it?” Loki said, brows furrowed as he focused on Theo’s face. “The most powerful healer in millennia, one who rivals that of myth - unable to save herself.”

The steady, incessant beeping of a monitor above the head of the bed echoed through the room, reminding Loki that his scolding fell upon deaf ears. No response was expected, but that did not mean the silence stung any less.

“If I could, I would admonish you thoroughly for such a reckless decision.” He continued, “You have done no less to me, dove, and they say turnabout is fair play.” 

The late hour, though hauntingly still, brought the assurance that any further visitors were unlikely.  Perhaps a nurse might pause and glance into the room, but the rounds which took place in the dead of night were less frequent than during waking hours. 

Solitude was rare - between the steady stream of medical professionals and visitors paying what very well might be their final respects, it was perhaps the second time since Loki’s life was violently upended in which he had a moment to himself. Theo - or, who Loki believed Theo to be - was well-loved on Midgard, so perhaps it was little surprise that her imminent demise affected so many.

Most were oblivious to the truth - that the woman they had come to love was little more than a lie. Yet, he did not have the heart to reveal such information; though he held a multitude of emotions regarding the situation, he could respect it was not his place to say anything.

Getting lost in the ebb and flow of breathing was easy - it certainly made it easier to lose track of time. With each rise and every fall of Theo’s chest, Loki committed it to memory, unwilling to admit to himself that it might be her last. 

“Feeling any better now?”

Loki’s attention snapped to the doorway, where Maximoff leaned against the frame. Loose copper strands fell from a disheveled ponytail, framing pursed lips and a furrowed brow. She crossed her arms crossed over her chest, the sleeves of her hooded sweatshirt shoved up to her elbows as almost an afterthought. 

“You seem more calm,” she continued, pressing herself up and stepping further into the room. “Did yelling at Thor make you feel any better?”

Loki rolled his eyes and with a huff, settled back into his chair. “He sent you, didn’t he?”

“He’s worried.” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, bloodshot eyes flitting towards Theo. “We’re all worried.” 

Of the many words the silvertongue wished to say, they all vanished the moment he opened his mouth to speak. Unable to provide a retort, Loki simply glowered at the Scarlet Witch.

“She loves you.”

Loves, present tense, as if Theo was not on the precipice of death.

Loki scoffed. “And how would you know?”

“Because she’s the one in that bed, and not you. You love her too; if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“One cannot love something which they do not know.” He muttered, shifting around in his seat for the umpteenth time as he sought out a tolerable position for sitting.

He had been foolish enough to love her, for all the good it had done either of them. Her, on her deathbed, and him, left to reconcile the woman he thought he knew with the woman she truly was.

Though he had averted his gaze, Loki felt the heat of Maximoff’s disappointed stare.

“Spare me your pity, witch.” 

The sigh which Maximoff replied with was akin to how a mother might respond to a petulant child. “Look, you need a shower, and some water. Sleep, ideally. Food if you’re feeling like an overachiever.” The hint of concern which wove itself into her tone only added to the festering unease within Loki’s chest. She turned on her heel, making as if to leave; however, she lingered in the doorway, twisting to face Loki one final time. 

“We’re here for you, you know… Even when you’re being a jerk,” She murmured, amber eyes glistening as she met Loki’s bitter gaze. “... Maybe especially then.”

The soft padding of feet in the hall grew faint as Maximoff departed, leaving Loki alone to face the painful truth:

They were running out of time.

So I’ve been sleeping with  This silence in my brain, my brain I wake up every day In this goddamn place But I won’t wait here anymore

Stepping outside of Theo’s infirmary room reminded Loki of what it must feel like for an animal to be released from its cage. Granted, an animal would likely relish the newfound freedom, even if it was only temporary. On the contrary, Loki dreaded such ventures.

Leaving Theo’s side was unavoidable - it was required for examinations and procedures, as well as basic elements of care like bathing and changing bandages. This particular instance was the result of the medical staff calling everyone together for a conference regarding Theo’s prognosis, as if there was anything to discuss. Everyone knew what the future held; discussing the inevitability of demise seemed rather pointless.

… Not that Loki had much choice in the matter.

Though he had no desire to be present, his pride refused to allow him to reveal the precarious state he lingered in. A quick glamour gave the impression that he maintained full control of his composure by obscuring wrinkled clothing, tangled curls, and the permanent crease between his brows that came from a deep-set frown. Only artificial light filled the corridor, casting a sickly glow on all who occupied the space.

Those who walked past him in the hall provided a wide berth, reminding him of his earliest days among the team known as Earth’s mightiest heroes, when treading on eggshells around the Asgardian prince was standard protocol. It was just as well - Loki was entirely prepared to snarl at anyone who dared draw near. Approaching the conference room door, Loki could make out hushed voices engaged in tense conversation.

“Have you talked to him?” 

“I… yeah.” 

“And?”

Before Maximoff could answer, Loki forced a cough and stepped across the threshold.

Dr. Harper and Maximoff both whipped around, eyes wide as saucers at the sight of the obvious subject of their discussion. Scattered about the room, the rest of the Avengers, along with Dr. Cho, had packed themselves into the rather claustrophobic space. Some sat in leather-backed chairs around the table, while the rest leaned against the walls with expressions ranging from confusion to displeasure.

“Loki, good - you’re here.” Dr. Cho said, flashing her best attempt at a placating smile as she clasped her hands together. “Now we can get started.”

“Yes, please do share what could be so important to necessitate the abandonment of other responsibilities and gather in this prison cell of a conference room.” Loki snipped, crossing his arms and ignoring the disappointed glare that Thor flashed at him.

Dr. Harper glanced at Romanoff as she drew in a deep, cautious breath. “Max figured out what the magic is that’s infecting Theo.”

Stunned silence permeated through the room; only the ticking of the wall clock gave the indication that time had not come to a standstill. Around the room, nervous glances accompanied mouths which hung slightly agape. Loki waited expectantly for a follow up, some sign that there was a positive outcome to the conversation or additional information. 

When none came, Loki steeled himself to ask the question which lingered in the darkest corners of his mind: “What good does that do if there is no means to reverse it?”

“That’s why we called you all here—“ Undeterred by Loki’s cynical inquiry, Dr. Cho replied, only to be interrupted by Maximoff. 

“You’re saying there may be a cure?” Something between hope and desperation seeped through her question; Loki could not ignore the stutter of his pulse at the prospect, though he quickly tamped it down.

“According to Max,” Romanoff interjected. She leaned back in her seat, legs crossed as if this were simply another mission briefing and not the life of an Avenger in the balance. “From what he gathered, there are documents with the information about how to remove whatever this is. Last he heard, they were stolen… by Theo.”

“Then what are we doing here?” Barnes leaned forward, tapping vibranium fingers clinking against the steel table. “She already has what we’re looking for.”

“That’s the problem—“ Rogers spoke from the head of the room, leaning against the wall with arms crossed. Dark circles beneath his eyes and a five-o’clock shadow revealed the toll the recent events took on the captain. “We’ve searched her entire suite and can’t find them anywhere.”

Romanoff leaned forward once more, resting her elbow on her knees. “Tony has FRIDAY reviewing the security footage—“ 

“Not that it does any good if she never took the documents out of her room.” Stark cut off Romanoff, massaging his temples with both hands. Somehow, the engineer appeared to be even more sleep deprived than usual.

“Assuming that’s the case, she would have known where they were stored, right?” Dr. Banner chimed in, sounding unnervingly calm given the circumstances.

“Even if she did, it’s not like she can tell us,” Wilson interrupted, shaking his head. “She can’t even breathe right now.”

“...Maybe she doesn’t need to.” Dr. Banner replied, adding on a thoughtful hum. 

“What?” Belova piped up from beside her sister, mirroring the elder Widow’s posture; however, unlike the stoic expression which Romanoff maintained, Belova openly wore her confusion.

“We do have two people who can read minds…” Dr. Banner glanced between Loki and Maximoff, silently dragging the pair of sorcerers into the fray.

Combing through the memories of another was something Loki would not give a second thought in his younger years; if he could access the memory, he assumed he was entitled to know. 

Yet, after the Mad Titan and the void, he had no interest in the act. The vulnerability of having one’s mind scoured brought an ominous chill to Loki; though he was uncertain of his feelings towards Theo, he had no desire to cause her to feel violated, even if she had withheld such vital information.

“Absolutely not.” Loki crossed his arms and stood a bit taller, fiercely shaking his head with feigned determination. “I refuse.”

“You’re afraid.” Stark cocked a brow at Loki, nodding as if he understood the sorcerer’s motivations.

“Why would I be afraid?” Loki snapped, glowering at Stark for daring to leverage such an accusation.

Stark rolled his eyes, then leaned forward in his chair while locking eyes with Loki. “Because you don’t know what else you might find?” 

“Hardly,” he scoffed, “I simply doubt it would be a fruitful venture.”

“Wanda, what about you?” 

“I don’t know…” The witch hesitated, frowning as her attention skittered around the room. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking me to do? It’s pretty invasive.”

“Would she know if you tried?” Parker frowned, arms crossed while one leg bounced incessantly, contradicting the rhythm of the clock.

“I don’t think so.” Maximoff shook her head. “But would you want someone digging through your thoughts and learning all your secrets?”

“We’re out of options,” Romanoff pointed out. “Shuri and Bruce haven’t been able to replicate this thing, and if we do nothing she’ll die. I think, all things considered, she could forgive you for invading her privacy.”

A tense silence fell over the room; outside, muffled footsteps and assorted announcements reminded everyone that while they dithered over the subject, time continued to pass - time which they did not have.

If anything, perhaps having one of the sorcerers search the suite would be more useful - if Theo had some sort of magical ward placed on the space to hide the documents, they would be able to detect it.

“Okay,” Maximoff’s agreement, though quiet, rang clear. “I’ll try - I mean, it can’t hurt, right?”

Rather than argue, Loki held his tongue and prayed the witch would be right. 

Oh, no one is watching now Sing like you just might drown But always come back for air

Though he dreaded what he might see, Loki could not resist the curiosity of what might transpire at Maximoff’s attempt to enter Theo’s mind. 

Two hours after the meeting, everyone gathered to witness what was hailed as the only way Theo’s life could be saved. There was a certain buzz, an almost frenetic hum to the space. Doctors and nurses stood by, ready to act, as if Midgardian healers would be able to do anything in the face of magical destruction. 

Loki stationed himself near the door, leaning against the wall with arms crossed while watching the scene before him with open skepticism. His position allowed for a clear view once they began, yet kept him out of the traffic patterns as others moved about the space.

Meanwhile, Maximoff positioned herself at Theo’s bedside. As she waited for instructions, she carried a certain heaviness in the slump of her shoulders and the crease of her brow that Loki hadn’t seen in some time. The Scarlet Witch might have been the more optimistic of the sorcerers, but she too understood the gravity of the situation before them. 

A roiling, churning sense of dread pitted itself in Loki’s stomach, swelling as the anticipation increased. He hadn’t noticed that the rest of the room had drawn to a standstill until Dr. Cho made the announcement:

“Wanda, we’re ready when you are.” 

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Maximoff nodded, then turned her attention to Theo. She leaned over the bed, hands hovering just beyond Theo’s temples as tendrils of translucent crimson energy curled and disappeared beneath Theo’s skin. Maximoff closed her eyes, lips downturned as she focused her attention on the task at hand.

All hell broke loose.

Alarms erupted while a horde of doctors and nurses swarmed the bed. Despite her many injuries, Theo thrashed about on the bed, back arching and hands clawing at the sheets with a face twisted in anguish. Despite the tube down Theo’s throat, Loki swore he saw her lips twitching in a cry for help. 

A panicked glance at the monitor revealed a mess of flashing crimson numbers glaring at Loki, taunting him with how foolish this entire scheme was.

Cry as she might, nothing they could do - nothing he could do - would be of any help. 

The realization rendered Loki unable to fight as a Midgardian pushed him away, while another grasped his arm and dragged him through the threshold and into the hall. 

Though forced from the room, Loki plastered himself against the glass door in a futile attempt to remain close. He caught a glimpse of her body falling limp against the bed, not moving whatsoever; meanwhile, discordant shouting and alarms slipped beneath the door.  A scarlet glow reflected from the monitors onto the crowd surrounding Theo, casting a menacing air on the scene as it unfolded. The doctors and nurses moved with a brisk, detached precision, as if oblivious to the knowledge that Loki’s love balanced on a knife’s edge.

Just when he thought the situation could not worsen any further, a nurse noticed Loki. She remained stone-faced as she yanked the curtain closed, fully obscuring his view. 

Elaborate possibilities of terrible outcomes spun through his traitor of a mind. Every footstep echoing down the hall felt akin to the Hela and Fenris approaching. The sound of monitors spilling from other patients’ rooms was the countdown prior to a bomb detonating. He hardly realized when his knees gave out and he sank to the floor, blocking out his surroundings before he could spiral further. 

A lifetime and a moment passed all at once, Loki sitting with his back against the wall and knees against his chest, palms pressed to his eyes in a pathetic attempt to stop any further tears. He may as well have been nothing more than a child, pitifully helpless to stop the slow dirge that accompanied mortality. Theo’s final moments would be spent in a hurricane of chaos and fear, devoid of any form of comfort or meaningful companionship.

“Loki?”

The internal debate of whether to remain in the purgatory of the unknown or face a truth that might very well be Hel stopped Loki from immediately reacting. The tone offered little indication of the outcome, increasing Loki’s hesitancy to respond.

“Loki.” The repetition was firm; enough so that he realized that there was no ignoring whatever was about to come.

He drew a deep breath and braced himself for the worst before lifting his head. 

Dr. Harper stood before him, offering him a hand and a weak smile. “She’s still here - gave us a bit of a scare, but she’s hanging in there.” 

Relief washed over Loki, though it was short-lived at best. 

Theo couldn’t leave him - not like this. He would not - he could not allow it.

Then again… what could he do to stop it?

‘Cause I never got to  See you once more, no I guess that’s all I wanted I guess that’s all I needed

“Brother, please - you must try.” Thor all but begged his younger brother, trailing behind Loki’s relentless pace like a puppy chasing its master. 

In the same cramped conference room where the idea of entering Theo’s mind was initially entertained, those who had not yet given up hope of rescue gathered to discuss the best path forward.

“In such reckless desperation to save her, all that has been done is hasten her demise.” Loki snarled, “And yet, you continue to believe that such barbaric methods could reap any benefit! Has she not suffered enough?”

“We would try something else if we had another option,” Barnes pointed out, aggressively massaging where vibranium connected with flesh. “but we don’t. It sucks, but it’s our best shot.”

“I doubt it would prove successful,” Loki muttered, bravado giving away to bitterness; another reminder that being among the most powerful sorcerers of the nine realms was of no value; for all the magic in the world, he was useless. “If Maximoff could not break past the wards in her mind, what makes you believe I would be capable?”

“Isn’t there something about the power of love?” Whether Stark was serious or facetious was difficult to ascertain; regardless, Loki found both possibilities to be utterly infuriating. “True love conquers all, yada-yada fairytale sort of thing?”

“That is nothing more than myth,” Loki hissed, blood boiling at such an insolent proposition. “There is no evidence to indicate it would make any difference in such matters.” 

“Loki, please–”

“Do you truly wish for my magic to strike the killing blow?” Loki slammed his fist against the table, stunning the others into silence. Every muscle in his body wound itself tight with tension as he struggled to maintain any semblance of respect for those who asked him to commit such a horrific act. “You ask of me the impossible; my seidr would be the last touch of life she feels before she is thrust into a painful, cruel death. How could I live with that?” 

His voice betrayed him, breaking as he asked the question; with it, he felt his carefully composed mask begin to crack. The heat which built behind his eyes spilled over, seeing nothing but burning red as his cheeks grew wet. Before the others could comment, he turned away and wiped his eyes, forcing a glamour for just long enough to hide his slip in composure.

When he returned his attention to the others, Thor stared at him as if he saw through Loki’s tricks. “Brother, can you live with yourself if you try nothing?”  

“There must be another way.” Loki implored, clenching his jaw to stop the trembling of his lower lip. He let out a tense breath, raking one hand through what had become unkempt, tangled curls. “Something we’ve not yet tried–”

“Fine - if you won’t try, maybe you can make yourself useful and go through her laptop.” Romanoff’s own carefully composed mask of indifference began to slip, allowing the faintest hint of tension to show in the manner in which she scrubbed her face with her hands.  

“What exactly do you presume I will find?” Loki drawled, though he accepted the device when Rogers held it out to him. 

Romanoff massaged her temples, her frustration more openly on display. “We won’t know until you look, will we?” 

Try as he might, Loki could not conjure a counterpoint.

Not long after, Loki sat in the torture chamber of an infirmary room, staring at Theo’s laptop before him. Searching through files seemed like a fruitless task, however he could at least acknowledge that it might prove more beneficial than other means of research.

Unlocking the device was simple; such a task could be completed in his sleep. However, the image that greeted him upon entering the password triggered a memory so painful that Loki nearly slammed the damned contraption shut and banished it into another plane. 

It was a picture of Theo and Loki, from the day he took her to Coney Island. They were at the top of the ferris wheel, with a view of the city in the background as the sunset stretched across the sky. It was relatively early in her tenure as an Avenger - in need of an opportunity to destress, Loki suggested they spend an afternoon at the amusement park. 

By the time they boarded the ferris wheel, Loki’s sides ached from the endless laughter between them. Theo’s cheeks flushed the faintest pink from sunburn, but the sparkle in her ocean eyes told him that the adventure was worth the slight discomfort. He remembered how she pestered him to take the photo because he had longer arms, and how at the last moment Theo wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer to her, causing him to laugh in surprise right as he took the picture.

Everything had been so simple then; what he would have sacrificed to go back to that moment and linger there eternally.

Rather than casting the laptop aside, the desire for connection pushed Loki to see what else he might find. He methodically worked his way through the files, searching folder by folder for anything that might have even the slightest connection to the predicament before them. Hours passed as he worked through the multitude of files, the motivation from earlier replaced with hopelessness as he failed to find anything that might be useful moving forward.

After he closed the final document, a different folder caught his eye.

Titled “Covers,” inside were the recordings of the many songs which Theo performed her own renditions of and shared online. The files dated back to approximately when she began her role as an Avenger, covering a variety of styles and genres of music.

In a way, looking through her music felt like he was reading her diary: intimate, vulnerable, and candid. But he also knew that this was the closest he would get to easing the ache of not being able to talk to her, to apologize endlessly for his foolishness, to understanding and reconciling the woman he thought he knew with the woman she truly was. He could always tell how she was feeling based on what she was listening to; right now, with their relationship in such a precarious place and her well-being in the balance, he craved anything that allowed him to feel closer to her.

Just before he could press play, a nurse entered, politely requesting that he take his leave as they tended to Theo.

Loki glanced one final time at the laptop, the question lingering on his mind: what if entering her mind truly was the solution? 

As if on cue, Thor’s voice echoed in Loki’s mind: Could he live with himself if he did not at least try?

Then again, if she perished, could he live with himself knowing he was the cause?  

Now look, you’ve made a fool out of love When all you want is to be enough, When all you want is to feel enough

In the end, desperation won over.

The Norns must have truly cursed him, to force his hand into taking such action. The stacks of texts which failed to provide any hints about a path forward, the laptop which held no documentation of the secrets Theo kept, the chimes of machines which provided borrowed time - they all taunted him as he sat alone in the darkened room, with nothing but one small lamp above the head of bed illuminating the space. The corridor outside was eerily still, no doubt from the late hour, with not even the squeak of rubber sole on polished floors making it to Loki’s ears.

Before he began, he decided to revisit the playlist of covers she recorded. If there was one thing that had not been cast into doubt after everything that transpired, it was that the music she created always provided a window to her emotions at that moment in time. Though it was a long shot, Loki hoped that hearing the very songs she covered might help Theo subconsciously lower her guard, allowing Loki to see into her memories.

Selfishly, he hoped it might also offer him the opportunity to determine if the bonds between them were true, or if they were little more than illusions.

If nothing else, the sound of her voice floating through the air offered him a comfort that he desperately craved, particularly as he stared down the prospect of being both her lover and executioner. 

In the dead of night, with no one around to witness, Loki said a prayer to whatever deities might offer him grace. He leaned over, delicately cupping Theo’s cheek in his hand. His gaze carefully cataloged the features he’d come to love and the remnants of a war she hadn’t chosen to fight in, committing them to his own memory.

“If this is to be your final moment, I hope that it is peaceful,” he murmured, as if she could hear his voice or comprehend his message. “Come what may, I pray you will forgive me for that which I am about to do; I wish nothing but the best for you, my dear.”

Theo’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and for a moment, Loki’s pulse stuttered as he swore traces of recognition could be found. Yet, it was a fleeting moment before they fell shut once more, and the reality of their situation set in.

It was now or never.

Taking Theo’s hand in his, Loki closed his eyes. The tingle of Seidr flowed through his veins as he channeled it into Theo, uncertain about what he would find when he attempted to probe her mind. 

In some sort of poetic irony, that was exactly how he found himself back where most stories start - at the beginning.

It’s still not quite the way it was, But you promised me that  this is love, so stay and  Watch the hospital that’s Just across the street From your apartment balcony I’ll never ever leave, I’ll never leave

Tag list: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @thedistractedagglomeration @lokisgoodgirl @simplyholl @mochie85 @coldnique @lokixryss @gigglingtiggerv2 @infinitystoner @loopsisloops @mischief2sarawr @crzyplantladyvibes @buttercupcookies-blog @vickie5446 @wolfsmom1 @sarahscribbles @loki-cees-all @the-lady-amphitrite @tripleyeeet let me know if you want to be added!

[vasthi-instruments12]

[bcdrawsandwrites]

[ID: A Psychonauts fic cover. The cover depicts Sasha’s Shooting Gallery with one of the bootleg tiffany lamps being blown up by a purple psi-blast. The shade of the lamp is split into two large chunks, with the left one featuring a subtle, stylized Loboto, and the right one featuring a subtle, stylized Sasha. The title, “Having a PSI-BLAST!” is shown with “Having a” just above the lamp and “PSI-BLAST!” between the two split parts of the shade. /end ID]

Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: T

Genre: Humor, Hurt/Comfort (a weird mix of both)

Characters: Sasha Nein, Caligosto Loboto (and Raz and Milla very briefly)

Warnings: PTSD, panic attacks, (SPOILERS: mentions of torture)

Description: After tracking Loboto’s progress with re-learning his repressed psychic powers, Sasha decides that it’s time for him to learn psi-blast. He begins his lesson as usual, but things quickly start going off-course... for more reasons than one might expect.

Beta Readers: @jaywings and @of-science-and-stars

Notes: This takes place after Psychics Ruin Everything, but if you haven’t read that, then just know Raz has helped Loboto re-gain his psychic powers post-Psychonauts 2 and the Psychonauts are teaching him how to use them safely.

---~~~---

Outwardly, Sasha was in his office, straightening books on the shelves, putting away a few he'd been studying, and using practiced telekinesis to sweep the dust off of his table and into a trash bin. Inwardly, he was reviewing his notes, even though this was a lesson he'd given a dozen times or so. Though this would be his first time (in a while, anyway) giving the lesson to someone... closer to his age.

Or someone who had once been a detainee at headquarters.

...Or someone who had kidnapped him twice.

He paused, sighing. No, this wasn't how he should be thinking of his pupil. After all, Raz and Morry had left detailed notes about their experiences in Caligosto's mindscape, making it clear that he had, indeed, changed for the better. It wasn't all that different from how he, Milla, and Ford had examined Morry's mind several weeks ago. They'd helped Morry, and now it was time to continue helping Loboto.

It had taken a bit more convincing than he would have liked; Loboto had been hesitant to enter his lab again, for reasons he couldn't fully understand. It wasn't as though he'd tortured him, though some of the devices he'd used could be a tad... uncomfortable. Regardless, the situation with Maligula had been resolved and there was no reason to interrogate him further.

Razputin had vouched for him, though, assuring Caligosto that Sasha was an excellent teacher and that psi-blast was a useful technique.

Indeed, it was. It had gotten Sasha out of a fair number of dangerous situations. Not to mention its therapeutic qualities.

The door to his lab slid open, and Sasha gave a quiet hum, stepping out of his office to glance down the hall. To his surprise, Caligosto was there alone, peering into the lab while gripping the edge of the doorway.

"You can come in, Caligosto," he said with a calm nod.

Loboto stayed put. "You're not going to psychically drug me and set me on an exam table, are you?"

"That would be counterintuitive, so, no."

With an uncertain grumble, Loboto crept into the lab, his loupes darting around as though he were expecting some kind of trap. Sasha waited for Raz to follow him in, but the door slid shut behind him.

"Is Razputin not coming?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, he got called away," Caligosto said, his face scrunching up as though he'd just tasted something sour.

"Very well. We can conduct the lesson without him." With a wave of his hand, he urged his new student to follow him further into the lab. He'd moved the exam table and most of the monitors off to the side, so there was a decent amount of empty space to stand in. Sensing Loboto's hesitation, however, he glanced back at him again. "How has your training been going so far?"

"Uh..." Loboto shifted uneasily where he stood. "Fine? The army man ran me through his silly little obstacle course, and Raz is helping me with telekinesis."

"And levitation?"

Caligosto froze. "Fine," he said quickly, his mouth screwing up.

Sasha gave a short hum. In truth, he had been actively tracking Loboto's progress. Morry was required to report back to him, Raz was always excited to discuss whatever work he was doing, and he and Milla were in constant contact.

It was how he'd learned that Loboto had been making very little progress with his levitation training, and why Sasha had decided to go forward with the current lesson.

Nodding again at his student, Sasha walked to the center of the lab, then paused. Milla, Loboto and I are going to proceed with the psi-blast lesson.

Oh! I forgot that was today. I'm just heading in for my weekly meditation in psychoisolation.

It's not a problem. I'll fill you in afterward.

I look forward to it, darling!

Hearing the clanking of boot heels against the metal floor, Sasha turned to face Loboto again. "If you're ready, we can proceed."

Once again, he hesitated. "What if I'm not?"

"Is there anything in particular holding you back?" Sasha asked.

Loboto didn't answer, his loupes now scanning the floor beneath him.

As the shower cap Loboto insisted on wearing made it impossible to read his mind, Sasha couldn't pick up on the exact reason for his hesitation, but if he had to guess... "We could wait for Agent Aquato if you wish."

Immediately Loboto perked up, only to glance away, crossing his arms. "Well it's not really necessary..."

"It's not a problem. Give me a moment." With that, Sasha placed a hand on his temple and reached out, managing to locate Razputin in Hollis's office. Agent Aquato, are you there?

Uh, yeah, kinda busy right now, Sasha. Is everything okay?

Caligosto was wishing to wait for you before we proceed with the lesson.

Oh! Yeah, I can— There was a short pause. ...Wait, no, Hollis just handed me more paperwork. Aw man, are these double-sided?! Who the heck—

I see. I'll attempt to sort things out, but if not, we can reschedule. Removing his hand from his temple, he looked back at his student, who was turned away, though his loupes were turned back to focus on him. "Well, it seems Agent Aquato is going to be preoccupied for a sizeable length of time. As such, we might have to reschedule."

"Oh, that's too bad," Loboto replied in a droning voice, striding toward the door. "I was really looking forward to that!"

"Yes, it's a shame," Sasha replied, lighting a cigarette with pyrokinesis and TKing it to his lips. "Turning your negative emotions into firepower is a useful and enjoyable skill, but I'm sure I can slot you in again in another week or so."

Caligosto froze, and Sasha allowed himself a small hint of a smile.

"Indeed, this is a skill that has saved both Razputin and I on many occasions. But if we have to wait, then that's how it is."

"Hhhghhh...!" Caligosto spun around, pointing an accusing claw at Sasha. "Don't you try that psychic-psychology-psychononsense on me! It won't work!"

Sasha shrugged, TKing his cigarette away for a moment and breathing out the smoke. "I wasn't trying anything. Merely stating that the power was useful, but it's understandable that you'd want to wait to learn it. Which is clearly your preference."

"Hey, I never said that!"

"So you wish to proceed with the lesson?"

Caligosto stared at him, yellow teeth bared, before he tossed his arms up in the air. "Yes! Fine! Okay!" Growling, he stormed back to the center of the lab. "Let's see if your silly power is as useful as you say."

Sasha didn't hide his smile this time. "Excellent. Now that you're ready, we can proceed." With that, he put out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, and gently TK'd his Psycho-Portal onto his forehead before tapping the door.

Caligosto's mouth wobbled nervously, but he steeled himself right before his astral projection was yanked from his body and into Sasha's mind.

—-~~~—-

The welcoming calmness of the shooting gallery sprawled out before them, with all of its predictable, purposeful patterns and simple colors, not a single mental object out of place, and no distracting sights or sounds or—

"Hello? HellooOOOOOO!"

Sasha grimaced as his student cupped his hands around his mouth and called out into space. "Yes, Caligosto, I'm right here." Nodding out at his mental world, he prepared to start his usual lecture. "Welcome to—"

"I was tryin' to see if my voice would echo," Caligosto replied, looking back at him. "Seems empty enough."

Strolling across the surface of the cube, he attempted to roll with Loboto's interruption as he had Raz's comment back when he’d taught the young agent. "There's more here than meets—"

"I guess you don't have much in the way of thoughts, then," Caligosto went on with a smirk. "Perhaps they leaked out from using your silly psychic powers too much?"

Sasha resisted the urge to unfold an entire face of the cube to prove him wrong. Instead he stared him down silently, a technique that worked to quiet down rowdy children who refused to pay attention to his lectures—or was supposed to. Loboto stared back, keeping his defiant grin, but it slowly faded as he seemed to realize Sasha wasn't going to put up with his nonsense. Once he was sure his student was going to cooperate, Sasha continued toward a specific section of the cube face.

"As I was saying, there's more here than meets the eye. But I've learned to keep it under strict control..." And he spun around to face Loboto, who had been following awkwardly behind him. "Which is what I'm here to teach you: control."

Caligosto froze, his loupes twitching as they looked him up and down. "Control?" he repeated, his brow slowly furrowing and claw clenching. "You tricked me! You said you were gonna teach me how to blast things with my brain!"

Taking a half-step back, Sasha raised a brow. "It's necessary to learn in order to achieve that skill."

"Oh, sure it is! You guys are alllll about mind control, aren't you? Keeping people under your thumb, making sure you've got people wrapped around your scrawny psychic fingers—"

Sasha heaved a sigh; he should've seen this coming. "No, Caligosto. Mind control is an entirely different subject, and one frowned upon here, aside from in the most desperate circumstances." He shook his head. "The sort of control I'm talking about is self-control."

Loboto crossed his arms. "I've heard that before, Dad," he spat, sticking his tongue out between his teeth.

He could feel a headache coming on, but a thought crossed his mind. "Actually, it's good that you're feeling this anger right now."

That seemed to catch Caligosto off-guard, and he reeled back. "Wh-what?"

"It will be useful for the purposes of this lesson. I was about to ask you to gather your anger together—as well as other negative emotions, such as fear—and you have already accomplished this." He gave his student a smile. "Well done, Caligosto."

Loboto's mouth was now hanging open, his head tipping to one side. "...Huh?" he said, the utterance sounding vaguely like a dazed goose.

"Hang onto that anger—it will be useful for later."

"Oh...kay..." Caligosto looked away, scratching his head just beneath his shower cap. His loupes were now looking down at the floor, as though searching for something he'd lost.

"In order to learn this technique, we must control those negative emotions, concentrate them, and release them... as firepower." Sasha paused briefly to glance back at Caligosto, who was for once focusing on him. But upon realizing he was being observed, his student snapped his head in another direction, as though suddenly very interested in the faint neon patterns in the distance. No matter; few students could resist his illustration. "Say something disgusting appears before you, so terrible and repulsive that it simply must die."

Just as Sasha prepared to step on the hidden button, Caligosto blurted out: "Like a terrible criminal defense attorney?"

Sasha paused. "No, Caligosto. Killing people is frowned upon here."

"Hmph!" Loboto crossed his arms, his fingers tapping irritably against his prosthesis.

"I had been thinking something more along the lines of..." Sasha pressed his foot down on the floor, activating a triangular button. A distance off, a circular panel opened, and the embodiment of all things tacky and awful shot up out of the cube: a bootleg Tiffany lamp. With an only slightly exaggerated step back, he shielded his face with his arm. "Agh."

"Oh, my dad had one of those in his office," Loboto remarked absently.

"It's too tacky and disgusting to even set eyes upon... but,"—he drew his arm away from his face—"I can use those feelings of disgust to my advantage. I control them, focus them..." With exaggerated motions he moved his right hand to his temple. "Concentrate, and... release!"

A blue bolt of psychic energy fired from his forehead and directly at the lamp before him, shattering it.

"And the world is a better place," he finished, flipping his hair back and turning to face his student. But instead of finding him in awe of the power on display, he found him with his arms still crossed, his head tipped to one side and brow furrowed.

"I could do that."

"Very well." With another stomp of his foot, Sasha activated the mechanism beneath them, which released another lamp. "Give it a try, Cali—"

Before he could finish talking, Caligosto stormed up to the lamp, and, with one swift kick, shattered it. "There!" He looked back at Sasha, his hands on his hips. "See?"

...Right. He should have seen that coming. "Well, you did indeed destroy that poorly-constructed monstrosity, but your methods are... not quite what I had in mind."

"Guess you need to try thinking outside the box, then, celery-man!"

He elected to ignore that comment, instead summoning another lamp. "Let's try this agai—"

SMASH.

Loboto stood with his heel planted where the lamp had been standing, his mismatched loupes staring directly into Sasha's glasses.

Sasha stared right back, keeping his mounting frustration from showing on his face. "...Have you forgotten, Caligosto, what lesson you are here to learn?"

"No, but apparently you psychics forget that you can break a lamp with something other than silly psychic powers!" his student retorted.

"The lamp is merely a target for you to practice your psi-blast on." He pressed down on the button once again. "Now, if you—"

SMASH.

The fragments of the mental object faded behind Loboto, whose eyes never left Sasha.

In turn, Sasha continued to stare back, this time saying nothing as he produced yet another lamp, which Loboto then kicked up into the air, never looking away even as it smashed against the floor. Another lamp was summoned and subsequently smashed, this time with Loboto's opposite leg. Not wasting a beat, Sasha stomped the button repeatedly, and his student smashed each lamp the second they appeared, even when he had them summoned to slightly different locations. Loboto was practically dancing—no, he was dancing, every few steps punctuated with the smash of a newly-summoned mental bootleg. All the while, his gaze never left Sasha, at least partially (one loupe occasionally twitching off to the side to ascertain the position of the next target).

Ridiculous. This was absolutely ridiculous. He'd taught multiple students previously, the majority of them much younger than Loboto. There was no reason he couldn't keep this under control—

Control. That was it.

He ceased stomping on the button, watching Loboto all the while. While his student continued to stare back defiantly, Sasha did not miss the brief look of consternation on his face. With an exaggerated motion he raised up his leg, meanwhile gathering his frustration together in his mind, compressing it and subtly lifting his hand toward his temple.

Loboto noticed the movement of his leg, and when Sasha stomped on the button, he grinned.

But instead of the lamp appearing within Loboto's reach, it jumped up at the far edge of the cube. Before Loboto had time to react, Sasha released his psi-blast, shattering the target before his pupil had time to react.

"Wh—hey!" Caligosto cried, whirling around to stare at the smoldering patch on the floor. "I thought I was supposed to break that!"

"Indeed you were," Sasha replied, relaxing his shoulders. "But there will be moments, much like that one, during which time is of the essence, or when you cannot get close to your target, and thus must attack from a distance." He eased his foot onto the button again, bringing up another lamp a distance off from Loboto. "Shall we try again?"

Loboto glared at the target. "Pshhbbttt... fine!" Gritting his teeth, he put his claw toward his temple, hunching down slightly.

Approaching his student, Sasha went on, "Remember, focus on your anger, concentrate..."

"It'd be a lot easier to do that without you yammerin' at me," Caligosto spat, brow furrowing as he focused on the lamp. His loupes glowed brighter, his claw shook, and with a low growl that escalated into a shout, he released a purple blast of psychic energy. Rather than taking the form of a beam, however, it scattered erratically in front of him, and Loboto staggered back from the force of it.

Finally they were getting somewhere. "Well done, Caligosto! That was a good attempt." Stepping up to the lamp, Sasha noticed the fading scorch marks where the bolts of energy had hit the floor, barely missing their target. "You've figured out the release, which is a good start, but you still lack control." He turned to face his pupil once more. "Fortunately that is what we—"

He paused.

Loboto was hunched forward, his eyes tipped downward, his left hand pressed against his forehead. His breathing was slow and heavy, as though he'd just run for some distance.

"Are you all right?" Sasha asked, his tone immediately softening. He'd taught a number of his students and seen a variety of reactions to a first psi-blast attempt, but they had always been positive. It was a release of negative energy, after all, and typically led to elation, aside from when one was in combat, of course. For a moment he pondered what had happened here when it struck him that Raz, Morry, and Milla had all reported that Caligosto seemed to get headaches from use of his psychic powers. "Are you in pain?"

"What?" Finally Caligosto looked up, brow furrowed in consternation. "No! I mean, yes, that recoil is terrible. But that's not..." He trailed off into confused, lilted mumbling, his eyes searching the floor.

Sasha opened his mouth to point out that psi-blasts didn't have recoil, but he stopped himself; that didn't appear to be the part that was bothering his pupil. Frowning, he stepped closer. "What seems to be the problem?"

Caligosto massaged his forehead. "That felt... sorta..." He hesitated, mumbling again for a moment before speaking up, "...familiar...?"

"Familiar?" Lowering his head, Sasha put a hand to his chin. "You would have had to use it before, then, but psi-blast typically must be taught." He tipped his head back, regarding the glowing patterns decorating the sky of his world. "Of course, there are rare cases in which a psychic can use it before they are properly taught, such as when they are born with a proficiency in it—again, a rarity—or... well." Turning away, he frowned. "...During moments of serious danger, when the mind is at a heightened point of distress. Fear and other negative emotions will typically be in abundance, then, and the mind may then act accordingly in order to protect itself, even if the user is unaware of what they are doing."

Not a particularly pleasant situation to think upon.

"But unless you fit one of those rare criteria," he went on, facing his student again, "I don't think you—"

Caligosto's knees were buckled and shaking, both of his hands tugging at the edges of his shower cap, his eyes dim and staring at nothing. His face had gone a few shades paler, and his chest was heaving rapidly.

Oh.

Heart hammering in his chest, Sasha hurried up to his side. "Caligosto, can you hear me?"

In response, Caligosto's breathing quickened in pace.

Scheiße.

Putting a hand to his own temple, Sasha reached out. Milla, I need your help. Caligosto is—

The message slammed against a barrier before it even finished sending.

Right, she'd gone to the psychoisolation chamber for meditation and probably wouldn't be out for another hour or two. Meanwhile, Caligosto had sunk lower, still breathing rapidly, and part of Sasha was glad that he wasn't in his student's mind—though perhaps fighting a Panic Attack would be easier than dealing with one the usual way.

Staring down at him, he ran through the options in his mind. His first thought was to pull out his tin of smelling salts and get Caligosto out of here, but exiting the mind that way tended to be jarring enough as it was, and that could potentially make the issue worse. He could contact Raz, but he was still likely busy, and asking a child for help when a grown man was having a panic attack did not sit right with him.

But how on earth was he supposed to deal with it, then?

By this point Caligosto was seated on the floor, curled up on himself, his body trembling and his breathing not showing any signs of slowing.

Massaging his forehead, Sasha considered a few more options. Smoking typically helped him when he was stressed, but Caligosto likely wasn't in any frame of mind to accept a cigarette, even a mental one that bypassed the negative physical effects. They were nice to have in his—

Sasha raised his head, his eyes widening. There was no guarantee it would work, but... he stooped down to his student's side. "Caligosto, I'm going to move you to a safe location." It wasn't entirely a lie—he had been holding back his personal Censors from this area for the time being, but they never appeared in the other location at all, and perhaps letting his student know that he would be in a safer place would help put his mind at ease. "Hold on."

Lifting Caligosto into a gentle TK grip, Sasha opened a hidden door in mid-air, which bathed the two of them in a bright orange light. He stepped through the opening, easing Caligosto in behind him before TKing the door shut. His student seemed unaffected thus far, still breathing heavily as he was held off the ground, and Sasha looked around the room as he debated where to place him.

In sharp contrast to the rest of his immaculate mind, this room featured much brighter colors, with bright orange walls against a plush carpet with patterns that had been out of style for several years now. A coffee table with a number of speculative fiction novels (as well as, he noticed, a few comic books—those were new) and a few ash trays sat between a couple armchairs, the right-hand one sporting a large plush rabbit, while a distance off hovered a screen and VHS player that wouldn't have looked out of place in the workshop across the quarry. Green potted plants decorated the corners of the room, while pictures of distant cities (and a single framed picture of bacon) adorned the walls. A small table off to one side featured an old photograph next to an actual Tiffany lamp.

Nodding, Sasha sat in one of the chairs, and deposited Caligosto into the other chair, settling him next to the plush rabbit.

Immediately Loboto jolted back to life, letting out a wild gasp and gripping both arms of the chair. His loupes swiveled around to take in the room. He was still breathing heavily, but he was aware of his surroundings, so that was an improvement. "Wh... wh..."

"Relax," Sasha said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. "Try to slow your breathing. You're still in my mind, and you're perfectly safe here in this room."

Caligosto was still trembling, but he did as instructed, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out. His grip on the sides of the chair loosened, and he started to draw his arms closer to himself, leaving Sasha concerned that he would curl up on himself again. But the second Caligosto's hand touched the plush rabbit at his side, he picked it up and wrapped himself around it, hugging it to his chest and burying his face into it.

Not the reaction Sasha had expected, but the plush toy was aiding remarkably in calming his student; he would have to thank Morry later for inspiring it.

While he waited for Caligosto to calm down, he TK'd over one of the paperback books on the table, absently retrieving a cigarette and lighting it. After a few moments, he heard Caligosto's shaky voice:

"Th-this is... a strange therapy session."

Looking up, he found Caligosto staring back at him in confusion, and Sasha raised the rim of one side of his glasses. "It's not a therapy session. We were in the middle of a psi-blast training lesson."

"...Were we?" Loboto's brows furrowed, his loupes twitching left and right. "Oh. ...Did I... learn it?"

"No. You had a panic attack."

Caligosto's eyes searched the middle distance for a moment before the memory dawned upon him again. His brows raised, his face growing pale, and he abruptly wrapped himself around the plush rabbit once more.

Sighing, Sasha returned to his book, his eyes skimming the pages of a novel that was even more worn-out in its original physical form. It was another few minutes before Caligosto spoke up again:

"You're not asking me anything."

"No." TKing the book away, he glanced back at Loboto, who was eyeing him from behind the plush rabbit, his loupes poking out between the toy's floppy ears. "Do you want me to?"

Caligosto's lights went a shade dimmer as his loupes flicked off to the right. One loupe knocked against the ear of the plush rabbit and retracted slightly like a snail's eye.

"Then I won't." Sasha took a drag from his cigarette, letting it out through his nose. "If you feel calm enough, we can resume the lesson."

Caligosto ducked behind the plush again, one hand tugging on his cap as he muttered to himself.

"Then we'll wait a bit longer. Take your time."

They resumed sitting in relative silence, other than Loboto's intermittent, incoherent muttering. After another few minutes had passed, Loboto mumbled something louder and a bit clearer: "H-he made it come back."

"Hm?" Sasha TK'd his cigarette butt over to one of the ashtrays. "Who made what come back?"

Caligosto hesitated. "...Raz."

Raising a brow, Sasha sat up straighter in his chair. During the few weeks Loboto had been training, he'd never heard him say anything negative against Razputin. "Is this related to when Agent Aquato entered your mind?"

His grip around the plush rabbit tightened. "I buried it," he choked out. "I didn't want to remember it."

Ah, a memory vault. That would explain it. "Is that what caused your... episode?"

Caligosto did not answer, and his breathing grew quicker.

Sasha scooted forward in his chair. "Caligosto, you do not need to speak about this if it is causing you distress."

"Doesn't—" he croaked out between gasps. "Doesn't matter—still there—"

Sighing, Sasha retrieved another cigarette and TK'd it out toward Caligosto.

Glancing out from behind the plush rabbit, Loboto spotted the offering and reeled back, brow furrowed and tongue stuck out between his teeth. "What?! Egh!" he cried, batting it out of the air like a gnat. "Do you know how bad those are for your teeth?"

Without looking away from his student, Sasha dismissed the discarded mental object and bit back the urge to inform him that "no thank you" was a more appropriate answer, and that a cigarette smoked in a mental world would have no impact on his dental health. "It was merely a suggestion," he replied.

Loboto stared at him a moment longer, his loupes pulled back, before he eased himself back into the chair, staring down at the plush. He turned it to face him, touching the bottom of its head with the smooth side of his claw to lift up the face, as though he were addressing the rabbit rather than Sasha. "...I had some... bad clients, back in the day."

Sasha nodded. "You worked for a number of our enemies."

Caligosto sputtered, waving a hand at him while still watching the rabbit. "I know that! I mean they were..." Again he hesitated, bringing his hand back to the plush. "...bad... to me. Ill-tempered, looking for loopholes to get out of payment, and... other things."

Humming in interest, Sasha leaned back in his chair again. "Bad in such a way that your mind reacted to defend itself?"

Loboto's loupes stared down into the button eyes sewn onto the rabbit. "I was late with a client... and he was angry with me. But—" He shook his head, gripping the rabbit a bit too hard. "He wasn't my only patient! Juggling clients is a pain, and you've got to be more patient when there's more than one patient in the office! But... some people don't care for the proper art of dentistry..."

Sasha remained silent, his glasses narrowing as he listened.

"He... didn't like... that I was late." His gaze grew more unfocused, more distant, and he smiled unhappily. "Angrier than a patient with an ill-fitted veneer, heh!"

"And his anger caused him to attack you."

"Oh, it wasn't an attack." Slowly Caligosto's loupes tipped back upward, facing Sasha, though not really seeing him, as he grinned even wider. "It was a surgery!"

Sasha nodded.

And then the meaning hit him.

The warmth of the room faded, and his stomach plunged. Loboto's eyes remained fixed on him, his mouth still stretched in a grin, the red and green gaze and yellow smile all too bright against the dark implications the man had uttered. "...A surgery," he repeated, his voice distant.

"Yes. A necessary one, or so he told me. One in which I would learn a valuable lesson." Caligosto's own voice was also slightly off, as though his mind was off elsewhere, leaving both his body and his mental projection behind. "Funny, I don't remember what the lesson was! But I didn't want to learn it. I wasn't big on college education, hah!"

Sasha wondered if Caligosto was aware of what he was saying. He suspected not.

"Was a strange lesson, too. He grabbed me with a psychic hand, and grabbed my arm, too, like this!"

He swung out his prosthetic arm off to his side, and Sasha felt the blood drain from his face as he realized where this was going.

"And then he had a bone saw! Have you used one? I have! Fascinating tool, excellent for the messier bits of dentistry, but I didn't want it used on me—and BANG!" His whole body jerked backward, slamming against the back of the chair, his loupes spinning. "It went flying! Wooooo!" He waved his left hand to indicate a sailing motion. "But then it came right back. And that client—I couldn't see him for all the shiny sparkling stars in my eyes, but he was absolutely livid! And that fancy instrument—its teeth bit right through—"

"Enough!" Sasha cried, standing abruptly.

Loboto gave a start, scrambling to grab the plush rabbit again. Gone was the distant smile, and his eyes were locked onto Sasha, his brows raised.

Slowly Sasha realized that his fists were clenched at his side, and he was glaring at Loboto. Exhaling, he loosened his stance and put a hand to his forehead. "Sorry," he said quietly, shutting his eyes as he turned this new information over in his mind.

During his time in the Psychonauts, he'd seen a lot of things, some worse than others. He'd read the minds of others—with more care than he had as a child—and found things both fascinating and disturbing. He'd entered the minds of others, uncovering their memories, both good and bad. But much of that had been during missions, when he was prepared to witness such things. While his job revolved around helping others, one had to employ a certain amount of detachment to keep from becoming overwhelmed.

He had not made such preparations today.

"That was an inappropriate response," Sasha went on, brushing his hair back and taking his seat.

"Oh, I get it," Caligosto went on, tipping his head. That same distant, unhappy grin returned. "Not everyone has the stomach for this line of work. Buuuut it turned out all right in the end!" Holding out his right arm dramatically, he flexed his claws and, with his left hand, grasped just below them. "I've got this now, complete with a pepper grinder! ...Well, no pepper anymore, but I'll figure something out! Might be able to retrofit some dental tools into this thing..." He let his prosthetic arm go and turned it this way and that. "Not a bad deal, don't you think?"

Sasha stared at him for a long while, his arms resting on his knees. "The faintest memory of what led to your obtaining it plunged you into a panic attack."

Caligosto balked, his face turning a shade paler, before he smiled and waved a dismissive claw. "Psssshaw! Let's just forget that whole thing happened."

"On the contrary," Sasha said, "I believe we should get back to our lesson."

Before Caligosto had time to protest, a door spontaneously opened within the seat of his chair, and he yelped, dropping through it. A similar door opened beneath Sasha's feet, and he stood, levitating calmly through the portal and out of the sitting room.

The other side of Loboto's door opened perpendicular to the floor, the gravity shift causing him to stumble forward rather than drop straight downward, while Sasha merely continued levitating downward until his feet touched the ground. The doors snapped shut of their own accord, leaving the two of them back on the same face of the cube they'd been on before.

"Wh-what was that for?" Caligosto stammered, looking around at the shapes floating in the sky. His hands grasped absently as he did so, and he looked down, seeming to notice he was no longer holding the plush rabbit. Growling, he crossed his arms tightly against his chest. "That other room was cozy."

"I'm not here to put you in your comfort zone, Caligosto," Sasha said, strolling closer to him. "I am here to help you step out of it, to learn something new."

Loboto's loupes twitched left and right as he studied Sasha's face. "No." His lower lip stuck outward in a pout. "I don't wanna!"

"You wish to go back on your word and cease training under the Psychonauts?"

"No!" Loboto grit his teeth, pointing an accusing claw in Sasha's face. "I don't wanna quit training. I just don't wanna do your silly training! I don't gotta shoot stuff with my brain—I can just..." He drew his claw back, fiddling with it and mumbling. "Wonder if I can stick a pistol in this thing..."

Sasha drew in a breath, looking down at the patterned floor. "Very well. If you do not wish to resume psi-blast training, we can train in a different area."

Dropping his arms to his side, Loboto stared. "Wait, really?"

Looking up, Sasha nodded firmly. "Indeed." He maintained eye contact with his student for a moment before resuming, "I want you to demonstrate your skill in levitation."

Caligosto balked, stepping back and looking away. "Uhh..."

"You've been training with Agent Vodello, so presumably you know how to summon a levitation ball. Go on."

Grumbling, Loboto stared down at his feet. "...All right," he said, and his eye-lights flared as he concentrated. It took several seconds, but finally he bounced up about a foot into the air, held up by a psychic fishbowl beneath him, complete with a betta fish swimming within. It lasted for a second and a half before it began to waver, then popped, sending Loboto falling heavily back onto the floor. He did not look up. "...Happy?" he muttered.

Just as Milla had told him. Sasha put a hand to his chin. "Did Agent Vodello explain why you might be struggling with this?"

Caligosto tapped his prosthetic arm with his fingertips. "A bunch of touchy-feely mumbo-jumbo about letting negative thoughts weigh me down." His claws and teeth clenched. "What's she want me to do about it? Go to therapy?"

Tipping his head to one side, Sasha hummed. "That could be arranged, but I can offer you a more immediate solution."

Caligosto's head snapped up. "Really? What's that?"

"Resuming our psi-blast lesson."

With a tremendous groan, Loboto tossed his head back. "You and your stupid psi-blasts!"

"It is the lesson you came here to learn to begin with."

Loboto spun around, then began storming away, going off in a singsong voice, "Silly stupid psi-blasts slung sloppily around the square—"

"Do you not remember, Caligosto, what powers a psi-blast?"

"Yeah, yeah, it was your anger and everything. I got that part," Loboto muttered. He stopped walking, his head tipped up to stare at the patterns overhead, his loupes locking onto one and watching it drift through the mindscape.

"Yes, and only part of it," Sasha went on, stepping closer to him. "For it is more than just anger that can power a psi-blast—it is all negative emotions, including fear."

Loboto's shoulders went tense. "I'm not a sissy!"

"I made no implication that you were. Everyone has fear within them, and often possesses an abundance of it shortly after surviving a traumatic experience. This is natural, and it is not a weakness. And as a psychic, you can use it as a strength." He paused for a moment to let that sink in, watching as Caligosto lowered his head, his loupes twitching left and right, searching. "Paradoxically, your trauma—and therefore the fear related to that trauma—is tied in part to psi-blasts themselves. While this is a hurdle, I do not believe it is insurmountable."

"No!" Loboto snapped, taking a side-step away from Sasha and glaring at him. "You can think whatever mumbo-jumbo you want, but I'm not doing this stupid lesson for you!"

"Then..." Sighing quietly, Sasha looked down at the ground for a moment before looking Caligosto in the eyes. "Perhaps do it for yourself?"

Caligosto's furrowed brows knit in confusion. "Eh?"

"Negative emotions can be released through a number of outlets, but psi-blasts are a quick and powerful one that can benefit the user."

Once again, Caligosto stared down at the floor, humming to himself as his loupes searched the patterns for answers they would not yield.

When no further response came, Sasha went on, his voice softening: "I know you're frightened, but I believe this will help you."

Loboto frowned, glaring at the floor. "Oh, sure. I'm sure this is because you think it'll help, and not 'cuz you've got some superior breathing down your neck to teach me this stuff."

"I don't," Sasha replied, and Caligosto looked up in surprise. "Teaching you to psi-blast was entirely optional on my part. I was in no way required to give this lesson."

His student's mouth hung open, his eyes unfocused in an expression of sheer bafflement. It did not last long, as his face scrunched up in fury, his yellow teeth bared as he lunged forward, pointing a claw in Sasha's face. "Why?!" he snapped, his eyes searching as Sasha took a startled step back. He went on, too fast for Sasha to interrupt: "What's in this for you? D'you get a kick out of pushing me around or something? Wasn't enough to have me psychically strapped to that table and ask me questions until my brain rotted out, so now you gotta trap me in your mind for this—?!"

"You are not trapped," Sasha said, quickly and firmly. "I know for a fact that Razputin delivered you a container of smelling salts. If you have misplaced it and you wish to leave, you need only tell me, and I will eject you from my mind immediately. Do you wish to leave?"

Lowering his claw, Caligosto continued to stare him in the eye.

After waiting a moment longer, Sasha breathed out through his nose, letting out the tension he was holding with it and dropping his shoulders. "We may not have... gotten along previously," he admitted. "I do not regret keeping you detained and interrogating you, as that was done purely due to a time-sensitive mission. Lives were at stake. But even then, your safety was important, and that part has not changed." He looked up at the sky overhead, at its precise patterns and colors. "Unlike the physical world, this world is under my complete control, and I can make sure it is a safe environment for you to learn in. As well..." Finally he looked back at Loboto, who was now somewhat hunched, his arms crossed and his expression uncertain. Sasha's own face softened. "I want to help you, Caligosto. Keeping negative feelings built up within, with no safe release, is... unbearable. Dangerous."

Caligosto looked back up at him, tilting his head. "...Dangerous?"

Sasha looked aside; while something he had personal experience with, it was not something he liked to reflect on. "As a psychic, your emotions are in some ways entwined with your powers... and if you do not find safe, controlled ways to release your negative emotions... they can find ways to release on their own, in ways you will not like."

His student's brow furrowed, his loupes tipping down toward the floor again.

Meanwhile, Sasha shook his head and took a step closer. "I would not wish for you to deal with it alone."

Caligosto turned away for another moment, muttering to himself, then looked back at Sasha, brow furrowing again. "...Well?" he said, finally. "Are you going to show me how to do this, then, celery-man?"

Sasha raised a brow, but smiled nonetheless. "Yes, but I would ask you not to call me that again."

"Pshaw." Waving him off, Caligosto cast a glance around the face of the cube they stood upon. "So uh... lamp?"

"One moment." It didn't take long for Sasha to locate the button, and soon another hideous lamp appeared. "Now, last time you managed to fire a blast, but it lacked concentration. You must focus your feelings together in order to hit the target."

Caligosto clenched his claw close to his temple, his loupes darting over to Sasha and back to the lamp. "And how'm I supposed to do that?"

Humming, Sasha held his hands in front of himself as though cupping something spherical. "Picture your emotions as physical matter which you are packing into a ball."

"Ah!" Loboto perked up. "Like a filling stuffed in a cavity!"

"...Yes, if that helps."

Initially Caligosto smiled as he bent forward, preparing his stance, only for his face to go pale. He began to mumble incoherently, his loupes darting this way and that.

Sasha stepped closer to him. "You are safe here, Caligosto," he affirmed. "Do not let your fear overtake you. Use it instead to empower you."

Caligosto's breathing picked up, and he began to tremble.

As much as Sasha wanted to urge him further, he bit his tongue. "Should we try this another time?"

Caligosto growled, shaking his head and focusing on the lamp again. "No, no, no..."

"Very well." Keeping close to Caligosto, he turned his own gaze toward the lamp. "Then keep your focus on the target, concentrating your feelings..." He hesitated. "...Pack them into the cavity, if you will."

With an affirmative grunt, Loboto nodded.

"Concentrate... and release!"

A purple blast shot from Caligosto's head and struck the lamp, shattering it into pieces. He let out a cry, staggering back.

Meanwhile, Sasha brightened. "Well done, Caligosto!" He turned to face him again, only to frown when he found him hunched over, holding his head and shivering. "...Are you all right?"

Caligosto did not answer, only breathing heavily.

Sasha knelt near him. "You are safe. The man who hurt you is not here." When his student made no acknowledgment, Sasha looked away for a moment, thinking, before summoning a TK hand and resting it on Caligosto's shoulder.

Loboto started with a gasp, leaping upright and looking around frantically. Seeing the transparent blue hand on his shoulder, he stared at it in consternation. "...Oh," he said shortly. "Uh. Thanks." With that, he waved it off, and Sasha released it. Once it had faded, Loboto leaned forward, pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead, still panting. "D... dunno how you guys do this stuff," he muttered between breaths.

"Psi-blasts are not supposed to cause pain to the user," Sasha said. "As I understand it, this is a common issue for you?"

Caligosto managed a short nod.

"It may be due to the fact that you have not used your powers in some time," he remarked. "It may be a pain akin to a sore muscle, and if so, it will go away in time." Frowning, he looked away. "But given your... unique situation, it may be something that needs looking into."

Immediately Loboto grabbed either side of his shower cap, tugging it further down on his head.

It wasn't as though he were planning on carrying out a cranial examination right this moment, anyway. Shaking his head, he moved on: "Beyond your headache, how are you feeling?"

After a moment Caligosto let go of his cap, straightening his back and scratching the back of his head. "I dunno," he grunted. "Uh... okay?"

Sasha hummed. Not the response he was hoping for, but describing one's feelings wasn't always an easy process. "Are you feeling well enough to make another attempt?"

Sighing, Caligosto dropped his arms to his side. "Fine."

With another press of a button, Sasha summoned not one, but three more hideous bootleg Tiffany lamps, each worse than the last. Hearing a squawk of horror from his student, he shook his head. "Yes, they are unbearable, are they not?"

Maintaining eye contact with Sasha, Loboto swung his arms in the direction of the lamps. "You want me to blast three of them?!"

"Yes, in a specific order." Responding to his thought, the numbers 1, 2, and 3 appeared over different lamps. "This will test your aim."

Loboto grit his teeth, looking between the lamps and Sasha a few times.

"If this is too difficult for you to manage, or if it brings you too much pain, then we can try again at another date."

"Hhhnnnngg... fine!" After stomping a bit closer to the lamps, Caligosto clenched his claws near his temple again. "Packing into this cavity... so I can blast one into you," he muttered. With a growl, he fired a purple blast from his forehead at the lamp labeled 1, then at the next two in quick succession before doubling over.

"Excellent!" Sasha smiled as the fragments of the mental lamps disintegrated, but his smile faded when he turned back to his student, who was still doubled over, trembling and panting. "Was that too much?"

A shuddering sound came from Loboto's throat, his whole body shaking with the effort, and for a moment Sasha was worried that he was panicking again. But as it went on, Sasha realized that... no, it was not the sound of panic.

It was the sound of laughter.

It was quiet at first, but it gradually grew in force and volume as Loboto raised himself up, straightening his spine and finally tossing his head back, arms outstretched as his laugh turned near-maniacal.

In spite of himself, Sasha took a step back. This was... new. "Is... everything all right?"

Loboto's laughter ceased as he whirled around to face Sasha, his smile wide. "Never better!" he exclaimed. For a moment he faltered, his hand on his forehead as he looked aside. "My head is burning, but—!" And he straightened again, his face bright and grin fierce. "I feel fresh, like my teeth have just had the plaque scraped from the enamel!"

Ah, now that was the reaction he'd been hoping for. "Excellent. As I said before, the psi-blast—" Before he could finish, he had to jump back as Loboto swung his claw at him, evidently in an attempt to grasp him by the collar.

"Again!" Caligosto cried, a frantic giggle bubbling out of his throat. "Give me another target!"

"...Yes," Sasha said, allowing himself to relax. "We can proceed with the next part of the lesson, if you're so inclined."

"Oh, I am!" Loboto snapped his claws together with a menacing, metallic click.

Nodding, Sasha summoned a new device from the depths of the cube: a dial and a valve. With a psychic nudge, he moved the dial to 1, and the valve spat out a Censor. The mental figure landed on the ground with a startled no!

"Hey, I've seen those before," Caligosto remarked, bending down to get a closer look.

"This is a Censor. They're an integral part of any sane person's mind," Sasha said. "You may have seen them in Agent Vodello's mind, or perhaps Agent Oleander's." He paused. "I hope."

"Yeah. Seen 'em in my mind, too." Caligosto tilted his head as the Censor stepped closer to him. "Funny lookin' little—"

"No!" the Censor cried, and slammed its stamp into Loboto's face.

With an undignified snarl, Loboto staggered backward, straightening his back. Before Sasha could say another word, Loboto placed his claw against his temple and psi-blasted the Censor, leaving a smoldering mark in its wake, along with a blue orb of raw mental energy with a cross above it.

"Yes, they will attack you if you encounter them in others' minds, as you are a foreign entity," Sasha explained. "Fortunately, many of them can be easily disposed of via psi-blast, as you have seen."

"Not very good at their jobs if they're taken out so easily!" Caligosto said, rubbing his face where a red mark from the Censor's stamp was fading.

"It's not so easy if you're encountering a swarm of them, or one of the larger varieties." Noting that his student was looking around worriedly, he went on, "Though you're in no danger of that here. I have enough control over my Censors to keep them from swarming you, for the purposes of our training. As well, you'll want to absorb that mental energy it just converted to in order to keep your own up."

"Hrm, how do I...?" Caligosto crouched down, reaching out toward the raw energy, and gave a start as it absorbed into him. "Oh... huh."

Sasha gave a nod of satisfaction. "You're doing quite well for a beginner, Caligosto." Especially given that earlier reaction, he went on silently. But he paused; as he watched his student, he couldn't help but notice he was still subtly trembling, his face still a shade paler than it should be, his breathing still a bit labored, his loupes staring out into space. It wasn't much different from how he'd seen him a few weeks ago, when he lay atop Sasha's examination table, terrified that Sasha might uncover his client's identity and incur their wrath, no matter how much he tried to play off his worries as a joke. This time, though, it wasn't just fear he was trying and failing to conceal.

Of course, he should have known that this wouldn't be something he could overcome so easily. The psi-blasts were a temporary solution, not a magical erasure of trauma. But there must be something...

Pondering over this for a moment, an idea occurred to him, and he took a step closer to his student. "I was planning on proceeding with the lesson as normal," he began, and Caligosto started out of his spaced-out state, "but I'd like to try something a bit... different. This next part of the lesson may be unorthodox, but I believe it will help you."

"Yeah? What is it this time?" Loboto asked, one hand on his hip.

"This next part will require a bit of... vulnerability on your part."

Caligosto stiffened.

Not an encouraging response, but Sasha went on, "If you could allow me a moment to read your mind, I can provide you with a specialized training exercise."

At that, Loboto grinned, tugging down on his cap with one hand and waggling a claw in Sasha's face. "Ah-ah, that's not happening!"

"You're forgetting, Caligosto, that that cap of yours is not physically there. You are not physically here. You are a mental projection within my mind, and that barrier of yours means nothing here." Sasha held his hands behind his back. "Of course, you are not required to go through with this. I will not pry into your mind without your permission."

Looking down at the patterns on the floor, Caligosto hummed. "What sort of... specialization are we talking, here?"

"If you allow me to make a quick mind read, I can create a training exercise that is more specific to your current needs. It will enable you to progress further more rapidly." He let his student mull over that for a moment, then continued, "I will not pry into your mind any more than necessary for the purposes of this lesson. I will let you know, this will be significantly less invasive than the procedures you went through previously during your interrogation."

Caligosto's brow furrowed, and he did not look up.

"Of course, if you're happy with going through things at a slower pace—"

"Wait!" he cried, head shooting up, brows creased in worry. "Okay! I-I'll do it, but—" He shook his head, frowning. "But no funny stuff!"

"Of course not. Science is no laughing matter," Sasha replied with a smile. "Now, just give me a moment." With that, he shut his eyes and reached out, both literally and figuratively, until he could read Caligosto's thoughts.

Instinctively he darted past the surface level thoughts, leaving those to keep some amount of privacy to his student, and went straight for what he knew was bubbling just under the surface:

Fear of another panic attack. Pain. Terror. And... memories—memories being fought against, pushed back over and over again, buried under thought after thought.

Sasha pushed a bit further, weaving around the attempted mental barriers until he reached it. Immediately a vivid image flashed in his own mind, and he pulled away, opening his eyes.

Loboto stared at him tensely. "Are you gonna do something or what?"

Ah, good. "It's already done," he replied, lowering his hand. "I've gotten the information I need."

Immediately Caligosto reeled back, covering his head in his hands. "Eugh!" he cried, shuddering. "Sneaky spying psychics seeking sacred secrets...!"

"A patient in the hands of a skilled surgeon shouldn't even feel the blade, a fact I'm sure you're aware of," Sasha remarked. "I told you it wouldn't be overly-invasive, and I did exactly what I said I would."

Grunting, Caligosto crossed his arms. "So now what?"

For a moment, Sasha stood back, turning over the mental image he'd extracted. It was never easy to tell how true these sort of things were to life, but the more important part was that it was how the subject viewed or remembered what they had seen. He studied it for a few moments, frowning. "Now... I will have you face a challenge," he said, looking his student in the eye. "Though I must warn you that this may cause some level of distress."

"Pshawpffbbt!" Loboto waved a dismissive claw. "Those Censors don't scare me."

"This will not be a Censor," Sasha said, and when Caligosto opened his mouth to interject, he went on, "nor will it be another lamp. This time I will be giving you a challenge that will be much more personal."

Caligosto stared back at him, his brow starting to crease in concern.

Thinking it over a bit more, Sasha added, "Before we begin, I will remind you that I have full control over this mental world, as well as your experience. You need not worry about any significant harm coming to you."

"Y-you already told me that!" Loboto blurted out, though his trembling was becoming more apparent.

"Yes, but I feel it was important to remind you again, in order to reassure you—"

"This is beginning to have the opposite effect," Loboto said, deadpan, and Sasha raised the rim of one of his glasses.

"Very well. Don't say I didn't warn you." After walking a distance away, he dismissed the valve and dial, and brought up a black-and-white control panel, its dials, buttons, and levers patterned similarly to the surface of the cube they stood upon. He felt something spawn on another face of the cube, but dismissed the thought—likely a Censor seeking another outlet. With one hand on his temple, he cranked one of the unlabeled dials, typed a command onto the keyboard, and pulled a lever on the side of the panel. In response, there was a loud whirring from beneath them, and Sasha nodded in satisfaction. "Let us begin."

The whirring noise grew louder, and Caligosto took several steps back, looking around frantically. "What—what are you doing?" he stammered, only to yelp as the ground began to shake beneath him. Before he could ask another question, a circular part of the floor just a few feet away from him began to descend, and he stumbled away from it, loupes locked onto the spot.

And then the circular part of the floor began to rise... bringing with it a tall, imposing figure shrouded in shadow, only its eyes visible and glaring.

Caligosto shrieked, staggering back and holding up his arms in front of himself. "NO! NO! Wh-what are you doing here?! I already gave you what you wanted...!"

The figure said nothing, and Sasha leaned forward over the console to watch as the entity stepped closer.

"Remember, Caligosto, I'm in complete control of my mental world!" he called out, but his student hardly seemed to notice.

"Go away!" Caligosto wailed, swiping his claw in the direction of the mental entity, though he continued to back away from it. "I'm not doing business with you again!"

"Oh?" the figure replied, his voice a low growl. "Yet you were so eager to do business with me before..."

"I've learned my lesson! I'm—I'm not doing this again!" he cried, continuing to back up.

Well, this wasn't going exactly how he'd hoped. "Focus, Caligosto!" Sasha called, turning a couple controls on the console again. "Fight back!"

Yet Loboto found himself backed against the edge of the cube while the figure stalked even closer. He looked over his shoulder with a whine; while gravity would have simply shifted if he stepped further back, he didn't seem aware of that option.

Still the figure stalked closer. "You've learned your lesson, have you? Let's just see about that!" Without warning, the figure manifested a bright green TK hand.

Sasha froze. "Wait—"

The hand swiped at Loboto, who yelped and ducked away, managing to get himself out of the corner. The figure rounded on him.

And a bead of sweat rolled down the back of Sasha's neck as he glanced down at the controls, which his hands were no longer touching.

Meanwhile, Loboto held his arms up to shield his face as he stumbled backward yet again. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"I'm sorry, doctor, but it seems you need a refresher!" With a snarl, the figure reached out with his TK hand, which Caligosto, by some miracle, managed to return with a panicked psi-punch, a purple psychic claw appearing before him to block the blow. It faded half a second later.

"Don't worry, Caligosto!" Gritting his teeth, Sasha looked down at the console and frantically typed a few commands into it. "I've got it under control!" he called, even as the lights on the console flashed red and emitted a few warning beeps. Just as he was wondering why, a series of sparks shot out from the side of the console, and he stepped around to take a look. He let out a strangled gasp at the sight he beheld:

A panel of the machine had been stripped away, and a blue creature with bright red light bulbs jutting out of its back had stuck its head into the device. It was chomping at the wires within.

"I don't need a refresher, b-but you need a breath mint!" Loboto shouted, glaring back at the figure, only to gulp when the man's TK hand clenched and pulled back. The fist swung forward, and Caligosto ducked down, the top of his cap blowing back as the figure's psi-punch wooshed over his head. "Oops."

The figure's TK hand pulled back to his side. "I won't miss next time, doctor."

"You're supposed to," Sasha muttered as he telekinetically yanked the Bad Idea away from the console. It tore out a chunk of wires with it, a few bulbs on its back popping from the excess electricity. It seemed unconcerned, grinning wickedly around the wires in its teeth.

"L-look," Caligosto stammered, his voice taking a higher pitch. He held up his hands again. "I already gave you what you wanted! I did everything you asked! The appointment is over—you're free to go home!"

Meanwhile, Sasha’s frustration and panic rapidly left him in a concentrated blast of blue psychic energy, sending the Bad Idea flying out into oblivion with a squeal.

"No, doctor," the man replied, tilting his head. "I believe I have some payment due, and I'm going to exact that payment"—he pulled his hand back—"right"—and Loboto reeled back, preparing to duck under another punch—"NOW!"

The TK hand launched forward, but instead of punching, it snagged Loboto's prosthetic arm, yanking him up into the air with it.

Sasha's head snapped back toward the fight, and the blood drained from his face. Scheiße.

Now hanging from the mental figure's grip, Loboto went very, very still, the color draining from his own face, his eyes out of focus.

The figure gave a quiet laugh as he held him up a few inches higher off the ground. "There we are," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You've done such fine work with this fascinating new mechanism here." Slowly he turned him so Caligosto's left side was facing him. "I'm sure you'll do even better with the second one."

The hair stood on the back of Sasha's neck, and he charged out from around the wrecked console.

But in the same moment, something snapped.

Loboto's loupes, which had been staring out into space, suddenly flashed, his yellow teeth clenched, and with a jerk, his free hand pressed against his temple. Half a second later, a purple beam of psychic aggression blasted out from his forehead, striking the figure in the chest.

With an echoed cry, the figure staggered back, his TK hand disappearing, dropping Loboto. "Gah! When did you learn to—?!"

Before he could even finish talking, another purple psi-blast hit him, striking him directly in the stomach. Then another. And another, leaving the man collapsing to his knees.

As Loboto stomped closer, his face was no longer pale, rather shifting to a shade of scarlet. Slowly his mouth twisted into a grin. "Your appointment's over, but I've got time—I can spare a few minutes to teach you a lesson!" He reached down with his claws to grab the man by the throat, and hoisted him back up to his feet.

Sasha skidded to a halt several feet away, frozen as he listened to the strangled noises emitting from the mental figure.

Loboto held the man like that for a long moment, his brow furrowed and eyes locked onto him, his free hand still against his temple, all the while the figure gagged. A purple light was building just above Loboto's loupes, slowly growing brighter before suddenly blasting out directly into the man's face. The claws released him, and he collapsed to a heap on the floor. The shadows that composed him gradually drifted upward like strands of smoke from a snuffed candle, until finally he dissolved into nothing.

When the figure finally disappeared, Caligosto let out a sharp breath, hunching down with his hands on his knees, his head hanging, his chest slowly heaving.

Sasha looked over his shoulder, mentally dismissing the console (which sank into the floor) before looking back at his student, barely suppressing a shudder. After a moment of deliberation he took a few cautious steps closer, attempting what he hoped looked like a genuine smile. "That was quite the show, but you did remarkably w—"

Loboto's head snapped up, and he lunged at Sasha, grabbing him by the collar and hoisting him upward before he had time to react. "YOU!" he snarled, his red-and-green eyes burning into Sasha's shades. "YOU were the one doing that!"

Sasha winced, mentally reminding himself that the spittle that was flying from Loboto's mouth and hitting him in the face was not real. "Yes, I was, but—"

"SO YOU BROUGHT HIM BACK?!" Loboto screeched, shaking Sasha in his grip.

Immediately Sasha went to grab Loboto's arm to steady himself. "No, it was only—"

Loboto's eyes flashed as he flung Sasha to the ground.

"...an illusion," he wheezed, pushing himself up on his hands. Loboto was glaring back at him, eyes still burning in fury, but his prosthetic arm was clutched protectively close to his chest. It wasn't hard to figure out why. "...Sorry."

"Sorry you dove into my mind to dredge up an illusion of that?!" Loboto spat, pointing a claw at where the mental figure had once stood. "I've done some sick things, b-but I would—" He faltered, shuddering as he held his arms to his chest. "I wouldn't—I-I never—" Grinding his teeth, he rounded on Sasha again, this time gripping his own left shoulder a bit too tightly in his claws. The hitch in his voice betrayed the betrayal he felt: "Y-you had him try to...?!"

Rising to his feet, Sasha heaved a sigh and rubbed his forehead. "No. That was not my plan at all," he admitted, looking back at where the panel had been. "I had only meant to take that memory of yours and manifest it for a brief moment so you could attack it. But I never intended for it to attack you." He punctuated the word with a glance back at Caligosto, who stared at him intently, before looking away. "However, this was... not a technique I've employed many times before, and it seems it may have gone awry." He hesitated, a frown tugging at his features as he looked off in the direction where he had blasted the Bad Idea. "I... lost control of the mental figure early on in the exercise."

There was an extended silence, during which Sasha began to wonder if Caligosto had simply bailed from his mind; he wouldn't have blamed him. But his student's voice spoke up, quietly, "You lost control?"

When Sasha looked back, he found Caligosto staring back at him, his arms at his sides, his head slightly tilted. "Unfortunately," he replied. "It happens to the best of us."

Loboto continued to stare at him before shaking his head with a snort of disbelief. "Aren't you... psychics supposed to be... ehhhnnn... flawless?" He pulled back his lips, tapping gently at one of his own teeth. "Like a tooth with no plaque, no cavities?" Glancing away, he put his hands on his hips. "Especially you higher-ups in the Psychonauts..."

Something clicked in Sasha's mind, and he couldn't help the amused smile that crossed his face. "Razputin spoke highly of me, did he?"

Loupes snapping back in Sasha's direction, Caligosto gave him a look. "That's putting it mildly!"

Laughing, Sasha shook his head. "He means well, but no, we are flawed as anyone else... some more than others." Another thought occurred to him, and he shifted closer. "We don't expect perfection out of you, Caligosto. We only wish for you to try." When Loboto looked away, brow knitted in contemplation, Sasha went on, "Which, by the way, in spite of how everything got out of hand, you handled it quite well."

"I don't wanna go through that again," Caligosto said, eyeing him.

"No, of course not."

With a grunt, Loboto looked away again, but a slightly more genuine smile crossed his face. "I... do feel a little better, though." He looked down at his claws, clicking them together. "That felt good."

"That was the intent," Sasha said with a smile. "That having been said, I think that's enough of this lesson for now."

"Finally." Loboto slumped forward, his arms hanging limp at his side. "I'm beat."

Nodding, Sasha put a hand to his temple. "One moment..."

—-~~~---

The sounds of the lab came first, with the quiet beeps and chirps and whirs of the nearby machinery, before the rest of it came into view. Sasha glanced up just in time to see Loboto's mental projection fly back into his own body, and he reached up to snatch the Psycho-Portal off his head, sliding it into a pocket.

Meanwhile, Caligosto staggered, letting out a dizzy moan, and Sasha automatically reached out with TK to steady him, gently placing a hand on his back. Caligosto did not flinch away.

The whirring of the lab door caught their attention, and the two of them turned as Raz came bounding into the room on his levitation ball. "Hey guys! I finished that paperwork." He came to a stop before them, dismissing the lev ball. "Wait, you haven't started yet?"

"I'm afraid you're a little late, Razputin," Sasha replied. "We've just wrapped up our lesson."

"Aw, man!" Raz crossed his arms, but his disappointment was short-lived. "Maybe next time."

"I was just about to tell our friend Caligosto here that he should get some rest. He's had quite the mental workout." Nodding toward Loboto, Sasha rubbed his TK hand on his back before dismissing it.

Caligosto's loupes turned in Sasha's direction before glancing back down at Raz, though he said nothing.

"Got it! C'mon, Cali, let's get some psi-pops." With that, Raz reached up to grab Loboto's claw and happily led him toward the lab's exit.

Just as Sasha was about to remind Raz that rest included actually sleeping, not consuming candy, a voice rang through his mind: Hello, darling! I hope I'm not interrupting anything?

No, I've just concluded the lesson.

That's wonderful! How did it go?

Sasha hesitated, thinking over everything that had happened. It had all been so... chaotic, and it had gotten a little out of hand. He hated to say as much, but it was the truth.

"So how'd your lesson with Sasha go?" came Raz's eager voice from just outside the lab, and Sasha glanced toward the lab's exit in interest. Unfortunately they were already out of view, but he could still hear Loboto's reply:

"Well... I learned how to do this."

Panic rushed through Sasha's chest for the briefest of moments before he registered the wobbly hum of a levitation ball manifesting. It remained for several moments before he could hear a distinct pop.

"Woah!" Raz cried. "But—wait, wasn't your lesson about psi-blasts?"

"Yep!"

"...Huh."

A smile crossed Sasha's face, and he shook his head. All things considered… I think it went well.

[kelly-clickspring]

I always forget how fun it is to paint space! Astrophel here is basically a living nebula, and I've never drawn him as such (I've done humanoid projections, but never actually explored this idea where he's more than a hallucinatory avatar). I couldn't not write a little scene to go with this, so read a short, fun little snippet under the cut!

As the ship helplessly drifts into the gravity well of the collapsing star, the captain and crew hold each other. Crying out goodbyes as the plating of the hull begins to singe: heat and radiation finally breaching the shields. Until suddenly, the relentless pull of the star ceases, as if it were gone. The ship lurches to a complete halt, leaving every crew member breathless and confounded in their expectation of death. 

“Oh my stars: brand new space explorers! I’m so glad I, uh, happened to be in the neighborhood. Can’t let this little incident stop you short of the stars,” the voice is everywhere at once, but comes from no one. The tones are ethereal and smooth as velvet, suggesting peace but giving unease as it somehow consumes all other sound to clearly resound in each crew person’s brain. 

The bridge crew sits awestruck as the fiery storm ahead of them suddenly disappears into a haze of green dust, and as if by magic, the ship materializes well outside the clutches of the powerful gravity well which nearly crushed them all into fiery oblivion. The captain’s cat-like ears bristle as they take a fiery jaunt around the bridge, searching for some source of this bizarre trickery on hundreds of monitors and feeds while the crew struggle to collect themselves. Some machinery is fried, the rest babbles garbled data which doesn't make a lick of sense. Where is the ship, the satellite, anything? They're in some cloud of unidentifiable substance drifting through space, full of strange, fluctuating energy signatures that baffle the sensors.

“SHOW YOURSELF!” The captain demands. 

“My, aren’t we brave? Giving orders to an extraterrestrial who is, well, a lot taller than you, and can project thoughts directly into your little brain is a bold move captain.” 

The furry creature’s jaw drops at the banter. Flustered, they resume their captainly facade with a huff. “Where is your ship? Where are you? And what is this nonsense?” 

“Peek-a-boo!” The voice prods with a mirthful tone, giggling at the captain’s serious insistence. 

The entire bridge crew is slammed dumbstruck at the sight that emerges from the darkness of space. The dust parts into what is the most massive eyeball any crew member has ever laid eyes on: big as the entire bridge and playfully glancing through the heavy composite view port right in front of the captain’s now stock stiff form. It's a gorgeous verdant green that glows softly, casting the bridge in otherworldly luminescence. Every crew member’s jaw is agape, and their rapidly beating hearts feel like they’ve sunken to their stomachs. In an incongruously smooth and gentle motion, the eye recedes to reveal an entire massive face, apparently made of celestial stone that softly glitters in the light from the now distant star. They’re literally in the hands of this creature: held up like tiny a toy and completely helpless. The glittering face shifts into a disgruntled expression. 

“Come now, you don’t get to be afraid after I saved you from certain doom. If I wanted you all hurt I’d have just left you to your own devices, that star could have chewed you up perfectly well if I hadn’t intervened,” the massive creature teases, it's mouth not moving at all as it speaks.

The crew loosens up ever so slightly until the massive face cracks into a playful grin, revealing astronomically large teeth like the beak of a squid. Imposing towers of stone that could pierce the hull as though it were made of bread. The sinking of dread is overturned abruptly as a soft tickle of euphoria wraps around each crew member’s consciousness. Not enough to challenge their lucidity, but calming their nerves like the beginning of an alcohol fueled buzz. 

“Gracious, I’m the first new life form you all have met if all your projected thoughts aren’t confused. Let’s skip the frightfulness, it makes me feel ill. I will make you feel better so we can have a pleasant chat,” The creature gives a playful wink. “I am Astrophel. Promise I won’t tell anyone about your little debacle, and you can test your instruments on me if you’d like! You can relax now, you’re out of harm's way. I’ll keep you safe until you’ve done necessary repairs and can get back on your way. We’ll be fast friends, and that’s exactly how I like it!”

[marleysfinest]

post-war reiner who discovers a new hobby

this came from a fleeting couple of messages between @flamespond and I; it's just fluffy reiner trying to keep busy!!!

_________________________________________________

post-war reiner still finds it hard to have to plan his day. he's so used to such regimented, timetabled living that being left to his own devices feels alien. what is there to do? does he pick up a hobby? where does he even begin?

he starts simple, and just walks. around the town's winding streets, discovering the wonders that hide in the nooks and cranny's by way of a tiny shop selling yarn, another touting artisan ale, another a purveyor of small, delicate brooches. he finds wonder in the artistry of it all, how people can turn their hands to almost anything and make it beautiful. he wondered, could he, too, use his hands to create, instead of destroy?

after ducking into an ancient looking bookshop and picking up a relatively amateur-friendly looking cookbook, reiner raids the local market for the ingredients of a simple sponge cake. he carries the eggs so delicately, ever afraid he'd shatter them by mistake.

at home, he splays the recipe out on the counter and reads it at least twelve times before summoning the courage to begin. with almost amusing accuracy, he weighs his ingredients, and takes a minute to make sure he has everything ready before moving on to the method.

predictably, the kitchen looks like it's been ram-raided by the time he's finished. flour is dusted across the counter, egg shells roll on the floor, and you're pretty sure that's some jam on the ceiling (how?) but, to give him credit where credit's due, reiner has baked a cake. a damn good smelling one, too. the sponge is light and fluffy, and its colour suggest it's been baked to perfection. the jam sandwiched between the layers is decadent; his sweet tooth must have prevailed and encouraged him to use far more sugar than the recipe called for.

he presents his creation to your proudly when you return home, and you find yourself almost emotional that he's finally busied himself with something so creative. not to mention, he clearly had a knack for it.

reiner had put on a healthy bit of weight since the war ended, but it wasn't something to complain about. he needed the extra pounds, and deserved the indulgence just to ease himself into 'normal' life. his stomach still sported telltale signs of the muscle he'd spent so long building, and his arms were very much still defined. but he was much less gaunt in his face, far less pale. his cheeks often sported a rosy tint, and his chest was much more pillowy than firm. this baking habit would probably have to be monitored (that sweet tooth will always get him), but who were you to deny him this simple pleasure?

[traewilson]

So I saw this post on Twitter, and something about it stirred a bit of writing out of me. This became Too Much for Twitter to handle (like Hell I'm paying that bitch ass snake oil salesman running the place just to do what I can do for free here!)

So, for exactly no one's pleasure - my first actual post, and my first somewhat serious stab at writing. In that, I actually finished it. I digress. All I ask is that you put yourself in the world. This is a History Keeper, telling you some small trivial bit of Wasteland history.

"The Engagement Farmer. Once, I spoke with a man who said he knew him from before The Collapse. A friend of the family, he was. Before The Collapse, he was nobody. Never could hold down a job, never amounted to much of anything. He was obsessed with that unimaginable thing, the Internet - something I cannot describe to you who never knew of it, and still tell this story. Suffice it to say, like so many of us, when The Collapse came, he was so attached to the things that came before, the things now no longer. And once they were gone, this man collapsed.

Many can regale you with a story about encountering the Engagement Farmer. Most just talk about how they drove by, and suddenly a man, dressed in rags, face barely visible under the unwashed untrimmed hair. Worn over his head was a device he once made his whole world - a "computer monitor". Perhaps your parents will remember what function they once had. Your grandparents, if you're lucky.

...Where was I? Yes yes of course! Attached to his arms were devices called "keyboards" and long dead remains of a kind of phone from before The Collapse. Where he found them, no one could guess. He would chase these passers by, screaming with an animalistic ferocity, "ENGAGE WITH ME!! ENGAGE WITH ME!!" Most who saw him will tell of how they were both unsettled yet amused by him, and would marvel at how he just kept following them. Some told me of how they would actually slow down occasionally to see just how far he would go. One I remember was tickled pink by it, delighting in teasing the man before making him, as they say, eat dust.

One story in particular strikes me as particularly memorable. Once a man and his wife were traveling through the Wasteland, also on foot. It was dark of night, and as you should well know, barely a sound was made. They knew this was where the Engagement Farmer had camped, and didn't much care to find out what happened to those he noticed and caught up with. But as they snuck through the sands, an odd sound filled the air. Moaning? No, it was...weeping. A dangerous thing to do in the Wasteland - moisture is precious, you know. But I digress! This couple heard this weeping, and feared the worst. "So this is what happens to those the Farmer catches," one thought at the time. "What a cruel way to engage." These two worked up the courage to approach this sound, to see if they should help this poor soul. They crawled their way up a dune, and peered over. There, they saw the truth, and the truth was terrible - but not in the way you might think.

A tent was planted in the sands. Some kind of light filled the camp. The light they described didn't look like a campfires' light; it was too consistent, not to mention the lack of smoke. But that wasn't as important as the shadows they saw, reflected onto the tent. There, they saw the outline of what must've been the Engagement Farmer, and he was the one who was weeping. The weeping had become hysterical sobbing and shouting by the time they saw him. They noticed he was holding...something. They couldn't make out exactly what; the shadow looked peculiar. They decided, without a word said between them, to leave him to his troubles, sneaking around him. If he noticed them, he did not pursue.

Is the Engagement Farmer still out there? Just hang on, all in good time, all in good time! Don't hasten the story to its end. We'll get there in due course.

That same couple came by later on, to see if they couldn't talk to him; convince him to come with them back to their community. This community. Yes, that's right - that couple lived here. But when they arrived to where they had last seen him, they saw a dreadful, but all too common sight.

The Warboys of the one called Immortan Joe had been through the area. The signs were unmistakable. And there, hung from a nearby tree - the tree this couple hanged onto in their minds as a landmark to find him - was the remains of what was once called the Engagement Farmer. He was more deathly pale than even a Warboy - they took everything from him. His blood, and his life. They approached him, slowly, carefully, fearing an ambush that never came. He was strung up by an oddly thin metal chain attached to a collar around his neck. On that collar were inscriptions, and they understood the word from their lessons here. In his pocket, was a photo. The one who became a mother told me later, that was the first time in some time that she had cried, and soon the one who would be a father cried too. In hindsight, they realized what they really saw inside that tent.

They buried him, not too far from where he was found. They saw something in him, and they understood. What terrible irony, to only be truly seen after death. Somewhere out in the Wasteland, you might find that grave, perhaps, and the collar he was hung from, and the photo from his pocket, buried with the Engagement Farmer.

...What's that? Oh, I suppose I didn't say what the word was, did I? And the photo. Yes. Well, the one who would be father, to this day, never told me or anyone else what was on the photo. But he did mention, once, after several drinks of alcohol, what the collar said. The one who would become a mother would, without fail; abandon any conversation that brought up the collar. But just once, she told me what the photo held. Both times, they came to me and told me in no uncertain terms that they lied to me. Their words were adamant, but there was something in their eyes that...gave me room to doubt.

What he told me was

"It was Heathcliff. Heathcliff. That's what the collar said. You happy now?"

And what she told me, seconds before getting up from the table and leaving as fast as she could without disturbing everyone in sight, was:

"Just a boy. A boy and his dog."