#oleander screeches | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gvtted-ratz · 3 months ago

Text

BEFORE YOU READ:

- Read all tags/ratings if there are any. They are important and give you all you need to decide if you want to actually read. If you do not like the tags/rating, please do not read.

- We ask that anyone who is FEM aligning/identifying to not read our MLM fics. You can still send requests, however, we do not do FEM readers.

- You can find all our works on AO3. Only registered users can view/comment.

- Minors/ageless/blank blogs are not welcome, and you will be blocked. Respect our wishes or you will be blocked. We go through all our likes, followers, and reblogs.

Want to request? Find the rules: here!

Want to see all the fics? Find them: here!

BEWARE

Lawrence Oleander x M!Reader

Last Edited: 30/07/2024

TW: drugging, foul language, alcohol consumption, self-indulgent, self-harm scars, talk about addiction, 2nd person POV, reader wears a skirt, open-ended ending

Requested: No.

Word Count: 2,311

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes from gvtted-ratz (writer/creator): Male Reader wears a long skirt because fuck gender norms. We will add, the self-harm scars talked about here are present everywhere on the READER. Title is from the song: Beware by Deftones. We’ve been having a rough time with some IRL things, taking a toll on our health. The song this fic is loosely inspired by can give you some insight on our thinking. Our moods have plummeted a bit, and we hope that by making this fic, it will get a little better. If you really enjoyed this fic, feel free to comment, maybe? Those are so much nicer to read/see than Kudos or Hits. Thank you again for taking time to read our little hobby writing.

Notes from @rppik (editor/co-writer): mkee

It’s late when you leave your flat, the long piece of fabric around your legs swaying as you stroll down the side walk. Outside is neither hot nor cold, perfect for the walk towards the bar you frequent.

With how you’re dressed, along with the fact that it’s quite late, you look more like a sex worker more than anything. Now, you’re no lady of the night, but you do respect them; they’re putting themselves out there, sometimes in danger, just to get by in this hell-run world.

You may have paid a few for their company before, feeling lonely on nights you can't ignore that you really don’t have anyone. No friends. Family is more strained than loving. Neighbours are more shit than chill. A night with one of the sex workers, whether it be at a restaurant or even at your own place to enjoy some snacks or movies, passes the time.

They don’t say it to your face, but you can see the pity; imagine getting hired by some guy in a skirt, just to find out you’ll be hanging out with him, no sex involved. Sure, it’s a break from the usual clients, some more rough than others– but on the other end of things, you’ve just been hired by some weirdo who looks like he’ll cry if you ask so much as a “Why hire me if not for sex? Don’t you have anyone to hang out with?” It’s pretty sad if you really think about it.

You can feel your thoughts start to become syrup in the worst ways: sticky, slow, and annoying to get rid of. The hope is that this funk will pass, washed away with ease by being near others, like you so desperately crave. Or maybe you can wash it down you just have to grab a few drinks first.

The bar’s closed door looks inviting in the dark, light spilling from the window and onto the dull concrete below your shoes. The doorknob is in your hand before you even know it, entering the building without a second thought.

The air is warmer than that from outside, with the lights all an orange hue. It appears cozy and welcoming; if anything of the opposite occurs, you know that the stoner in the back will be the one to remove whatever ruined the atmosphere. You only know this because you’ve watched that scrawny stoner drag a black-out drunk woman out of the place. She had been screeching on top of throwing punches; not only did she not land any of her hits, she was banned from the place too. There’s been others like her, but that kid really does know how to get them out of the building.

It’s busier than usual, making it much harder for you to sit in your usual spot. The deep-rooted shame of being stared at if you were to choose your preferred seat makes you hesitate. The scars that decorate your skin show an ongoing battle against the very real urges that have grown attached to the vessel you call a body.

Said urges are like that of a Japanese Barberry shrub. The poisonous whispers that plague your mind dig into your very being like the spines on the shrub’s twigs. It takes time to remove such invasive growth, made even more difficult when both the plant and your urges have a multitude of small twigs and branches, snuffing out the light to keep anything else from growing. The shrubs attract the black-legged ticks, just like how your scars attract the glaring stares of those who won’t understand. The yellow flowers that hide under the foliage during the spring are a taunt; you’re clean for the moment, although, it won’t be for long. The red berries soon arrive, lasting far longer than you’d like. The beads of red across your skin is just another thing to ruminate on. Cleaning them or simply wiping them away leads to more; there aren't any animals out who want to lick up those droplets, unlike the fruit on those shrubs. Once the fruit is gone, the cycle starts anew. A never-ending addiction that seems to be engraved in your soul.

A spot near the back catches your eye. The area is a bit darker than the surrounding place, lights more dim than the rest. A few tables are filled, but there is one that is nearly completely empty. A blonde man sits by himself there, no drink in sight. With there truly being no other option that you’re willing to take, you approach his table. He doesn’t give you a glance, possibly thinking you're just passing by. It’s only when you reach to pull out a chair that he looks up.

You try to plaster a friendly smile on your face, however, it comes across as more strained than anything.

“Mind if I sit? There’s nowhere else really,” you say, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible. You’re not sure of what to do if he declines. Seemingly sensing your dilemma, he gives a small nod. His eyes look anywhere, everywhere, but you.

“Thanks! You waiting on someone?” You take the seat in front of him, thinking about how it would be too personal to take one next to the guy. One would say it’s more intimate to sit across from someone, since it’s easier to ‘gaze into your partner’s eyes, seeing all the love they hold’ or some bullshit. Maybe you should stop reading all those books on shitty romance.

“Oh… Yes. He hasn’t shown, though…” He seems reluctant to talk much more. The more you glance over him, the more it becomes obvious he’s uncomfortable. Whether that’s because of you or because of the setting, you’re unsure.

“You good? I can leave if it’s me, you know,” you try to help ease him a bit. You really don’t want to try fighting through the crowd, but you will if it means making someone less tense because of you.

“No, no. You’re uh… Fine. It’s just crowded,” he tells you, still not looking at you. You hum in acceptance at his words. You lean back, getting a bit more comfortable as you pull out your phone. Usually, you’d be drinking by now, but you really don’t want to make the one guy you’re sitting with get even more tense. He did say his “friend” stood him up.

“Uhm..” You look up from your phone, raising a brow as the other man starts talking again. He fidgets in his seat as he gets the words out. “Are you… A girl?” That startles a laugh out of you. You’re used to being asked this, mostly because of the skirt. What you didn’t expect was to be asked by this guy.

“It’s the skirt, isn’t it?” A smile threatens to overtake the neutral line on your lips. His ears have a red tint to them. Looks like you’ve hit the nail right on the head.

“I don’t see anyone other than women wear skirts, so I… I thought you might be one.” He looks embarrassed to admit it; it only serves to make you chuckle.

“You’re fine, you’re fine. To answer your question, I’m not a girl. I just like skirts,” you end up waving your hand dismissively. It gives the impression that you’re not bothered by his question, which, in turn, makes him crack a small smile.

“I’ll be right back,” the unnamed man says, looking a little bit more confident. You give him a nod, looking back down at your phone. It appears that you’ve cracked a bit of the ice around the guy– a win in your book.

You scroll through different apps and webpages. There’s not much else to do while the guy is gone. The blond is cute, you can’t help but admit. He does have a five o’clock shadow that would rival any shut-in’s. Then again, he seems highly introverted.

You wonder how he met his friend and why they bailed on him. Thinking it over, the blue-eyed man didn’t seem excited like one does when meeting with a friend; it was more nervous than anything, like they were meeting for the very first time.

The clinking of glass meeting wood draws your attention away from your phone. A quick glimpse of an alcoholic beverage in front of you has you putting your phone away. The shaky smile is back on his lips, looking around the place again.

You look at your drink, feeling like something isn’t exactly right with it. In a moment of lack of impulse control, you grab his drink instead, taking a sip from it. The whiskey burns, but not enough to get you tipsy from just the sip. The man looks surprised at your decision, bringing your drink closer to himself.

You set your claimed drink on the table, looking over the guy again. The five o’clock shadow and red-rimmed eyes shows how exhausted he is; you weren’t going to only go off the dark circles under his eyes, considering many people under stress have them too. “Thanks for the drink,” you take another sip to show that you appreciate the gesture.

“Uhm. Right…” The blonde man is back to his nervous fidgeting again.

“I gotta ask, though. What’s your name? Pretty lame to buy a guy a drink but not offer your name.” You’re trying to joke with him while also trying to dog for intel on him. You don’t know him nor does he know you; plus, he bought you a drink, so you might as well get to know the dude.

“It’s Lawrence,” the nervous energy dissipates the moment he says his name, eyes looking completely lifeless. Just saying his name seemed to have flipped a switch in the guy’s head. It’s a bit creepy to see such a fast switch up.

“Right… Well, nice to meet you, Law,” you give him a lop-sided smile. You’re really trying to butter him up by giving him a nickname. Maybe you really are that lonely to try and befriend some dude at a bar.

“Nice to meet you too,” though he words it like a good thing, his eyes are still empty of emotion; they remind you of a desolate river that never seems to end or have a spot to even begin.

“Any reason why your friend might’ve stood you up? You seem to be pretty chill.” Another drink of the iced whiskey washes away any nerves that try to pop up. It starts to feel like a bad idea the more you drink.

“No… Maybe he was busy. Sometimes he gets too busy and can’t make it.” You shake your head at his explanation.

“Still shitty to not give you a call in advance. Or at least a text. If any friend of mine stood me up on a busy day like this, I’d be pissed.” It’s like he suddenly remembers how crowded it is, his meek demeanour returning. Lawrence hunches over a bit, trying to make himself seem small. At this point, you’re starting to think he’s either acting or on something other than the drinks he got you both.

“Well, how about you?” His question surprises you for some odd reason. You weren’t expecting him to be curious about the guy sitting across from him, who, for the record, took his drink.

“What about me, Law?” More whiskey flows down your throat.

“Why are you here?” You finish off your drink, grimacing a bit at the burning. You let out a cough to try clearing the feeling. The last bit even tastes bitter, much different from the usual chilled whiskey you’re used to.

“Lonely. I don’t have anyone at my shithole of a flat, and I can’t exactly keep a friend around. Especially not after high school. Motherfuckers dropped me faster than a cat does a rat,” while you force out a bitter laugh, the frown you possess shows that it still upsets you to this day. “I wouldn’t be coming down to the bar, chatting up random patrons if I did have people, you know. This is all I got for socializing and getting out of my place, Law.”

The blank look is back on his face, staring at you in thought. “Something wrong, Law? Don’t like the scars on my face?” You motion towards the different discoloured dots from acne picking; on one check is a healed gash from the corner of the mouth towards the ear.

You can’t say you regret all the scars you’ve caused; however, you do feel shame when people stare too long at them. They’ve become a part of your life you feel lost without. They remind you of the bad and good, despite the mutilation of your own skin. When they fade to the point of being forgotten, you always end up having to remake them; you just can’t let go of that false comfort of control you have.

“Oh. No, it’s not that,” that dull tone grates on your nerves. There’s a bundle of alarm bells that start to distantly ring in the back of your mind. Maybe the alcohol had dulled your senses, since they’re only now starting to vibrate with sound.

“Then what is it?” Your voice sounds weird to your own ears, like it’s not real. There’s a cold feeling spreading throughout your body as parts of it go numb.

“You’re a little different from the others. But you’ll leave all the same.” He looks warped, maybe even distorted, as your vision swims. You’re getting weaker, limbs not wanting to cooperate. Your tongue feels heavy in your own mouth. The only sound you can let out is this confused gurgle as you try to say something, anything. For a split second, you think you smell decay before everything fades away into inky black.

#gvtted ratz fics #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #my fics #x reader #x male reader #btd 2 x reader #btd 2 x male reader #lawrence oleander x reader #lawrence oleander x male reader #btd 2 lawrence x reader #btd 2 lawrence x male reader #mdni blog

9 notes · View notes

marwhoa · 2 years ago

Text

request: Could you possibly write another rottmnt leonardo x y/n? About the aftermath of them exchanging numbers? Maybe like them hangout at night like a little cute midnight date

🝮 “ the treasure’s treasure ”

rise!leo x g/n

author’s note: i’ve been contemplating for a while whether chair-ry would get a sequel ,,, It’s hard to live up to your very first fic :))) !!! also i’m so tired rn

word count: 3.5k

Sitting upon a park bench, someone was sharing a conversation with the moon and stars, patiently anticipating the arrival of a special someone they had met earlier this week.

“ You should have seen him,”

They said, shaking their head as the wind blew in a manner that could have been taken as the luna above laughing alongside.

“ He said to me, ‘Catch you on the flip side!’ and leapt into a portal. What’s worse is I actually laughed, but he wasn’t there to see. ”

They weren’t speaking to any particular person. In fact, maybe it wasn’t the sky they gave their words to. Perhaps their conversation was with themselves, and the moon simply happened to listen in. Antsy fingers rose up, gingerly holding their new brooch. While the index finger began tracing the oleander’s rim, their other hand was holding up their phone to see a notification, “ running late! “

“ Pft—how do you run late with the ability to teleport? ”

Pocketing the phone, you were smoothing out your clothes when a hand reached out and took yours, twirling you towards him and dipping you. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes met a familiar shade of cerulean.

“ Can’t a man lose himself to time in the practice of ‘dress to impress’? ”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you clung to the silly boy who smiled brightly at how much of an upper hand he had here.

It was summer, so you were a bit confused by the leather jacket he donned. Underneath was a plain short sleeve—blue, shocker! And a pair of denim jeans. Rather plain, no? Not like you were focusing on that though.

“ Don’t drop me! ”

In some kind of mixture between laughing and screaming, your hands held on for dear life, and Leo decided to dip you a bit further, just a tad bit lower.

“ Oh no, my grip—it’s slipping! ”

He teased, busting out laughter as you screeched “ don’t you dare!! “ The moment you both shared was lighthearted, pulling you both closer. Grip loosening, you momentarily reminisced upon the many, many messages you both shared back and forth over the days leading to today. It was your idea, actually—sticking your neck out for your hero in green. The relief that you felt when he agreed was tremendous.

He brought you back up to your feet, letting go and resting his hands against his knees while laughing up a storm. You wiped tears from your eyes and caught a bit of his contagious laughter.

“ Kee—keep this up—Pft—a-and we’ll wake the whole neighborhood, Leon! ”

There was a quip or two resting on his tongue, urging him to tickle you with all his funniest jokes, but nothing could have made him interrupt how it looked when you laughed and smiled. You truly were framed as though you were “ the world’s precious treasure”, and boy had he no idea how to show the universe how grateful he was for a chance with you.

“ Wouldn’t want that, Y/N. ”

You didn’t even seem to mind who or what he is. He could tell just by how you held his hands and said his name, the way you looked at him—just, everything. It had only been a week, and already he was head over heels. Just how magical are you?

“ So, what is this special thing you said we had to see? ”

Right, as the initiator, that makes you the leader as well. With a shy smile, you waved your hand in a “ follow me ” motion and left the black bench to follow the park’s path. It was only a few more steps until you turned off path. Despite being confused, he trusted you enough to follow blindly.

Only, he was confused when you both finally made it to your goal. The park had a lake, and sure it looked nice—but only during the day. At night it was more like an eerie void of inky black. It was only the two of you, framed by the rustling of branches, crunching of rocks under your feet, and the light sloshing of the water against the shoreline.

“ I know I’m drop-dead gorgeous, but not exactly looking to be murdered just yet, Y/N. ”

Joking, he leaned into you with a nudge. One push later and you were spreading a blanket you brought along the ground.

“ Oh hush, who would want to kill you anyways? Too easy! ”

His gasp was reward enough. Beside you he sat, as both of you shifted your attention to the water.

“ Now, we wait. ”

You responded, pulling up your legs to your chest. One of your arms laid atop it, and then you laid your head against it. Leo leaned backwards. His legs stretched out and crossed while his hands planted behind him, supporting his weight.

“ wait for what? “ he asked after the cloud of awkwardness passed and room for speak opened. You hummed, insisting he was more than capable of waiting. Taken as a challenge, he immediately accepted and the minutes turned to an hour as you both talked about any and everything.

About him, his brothers—little extras added since you had heard a lot of it already through your daily texts and video chats. Since trading numbers, you had both talked to each other so much. Perhaps a few hours of a sleep were omitted, but who cares? The hours spent together was so much fun. Calls while cooking, calls in the morning, even some calls where you both slept together. There was even one that lasted even through a teeth-brushing montage ((prior to this, you never would have expected someone to be able to make a contest out of that, but never had you ever done your brushing routine THAT quickly.)) But in return, you shared even more little tidbits about yourself, your family, etcetera.

The longer you both went, the more similarities you were able to discover about the other. To say it lit a flame of hope in your chest was an understatement.

Eventually the conversation fell into nonsense, little games of truth or dare, “ I Spy “, and even would you rather. That had served to be… quite interesting.

You and Leo had leaned down, laying in the blanket and staring up at the sky. Arms. Crossed, forearms as makeshift pillows behind y’all’s heads. After growing tired of I Spy, Leo snapped his fingers in a “ gotcha! “ moment.

“ Would you rather get a paper cut every time you turn a page or bite your tongue every time you eat? “

“ Really, would you rather? ”

“ Are you admitting defeat? ”

“ What! You can’t ‘win’ would you rat—oh forget it. ”

You groaned out loud, dragging your hands down your face to ready yourself for this. There were some rocks under the blanket, embedding into your back, so there was a long second of contemplation as you mindlessly moved them and laid back down. With a drawn-out exhale, you turned your head to look at him.

“ Well, either is so messed up, but I think bite my tongue—I do it accidentally a lot already. Might as well up my odds. What about you? ”

Leo chuckled in a way that could only spell out trouble—or a devious loophole.

“ Papercut. Why? Because,”

He holds up his phone, shaking it.

“ Internet, baby. No page turning necessary. ”

“ No fair! And, you’ll never be able to read a real book without cuts. ”

“ I’m prepared to make that sacrifice. ”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms dramatically and tapped your fingers against your forearm. What’s a good question you can ask? A real conundrum—with no loopholes!

“ Ah! Would you rather have a pause or a rewind button in your life? ”

This one throughly perplexed him. Either that, or the “ hmming “ was just him messing with you. You had your answer already, but his was what you were more curious about.

And his response only made you more curious.

“ Rewind, definitely, ”

He sits up, turning on his side and resting his head into his palm while his elbow digs into the blanket.

“ I’ve found a sound I wouldn’t mind hearing on replay. ”

“ Oh yeah? ”

You asked with sitting up, hands laid behind your back to hold you up. The statement was spoken with an intonation practically begging him to continue. Alas, he didn’t seem to catch on, so you followed it up with,

“ And what’s that? ”

“ Ah, ah, that’s not how the game goes. It’s my turn. Would you rather have everyone able to read your mind or for everyone you know to have access to your Internet history? ”

Immediately you were laughing in an incriminating way, averting your gaze anywhere but the questionner. Oh god, both were such mortifying scenarios.

“ Oh shit, that’s horrible, Leo. You’re the worst at this game! ”

“ I think you mean the best. ”

“ Eeeeek, okay, internet history. I can just clean it up! ”

“—No erasing, either! ”

Cue the hitting, as you lightly hit him with your fists!

“ No fair, no adding clauses afterwards!! ”

Leo laughed all the while, taking your light little barrages.

“ What about you, tough guy! ”

“ Internet history, but definitely deleting stuff. ”

“ YOU!! ”

With an “ oof! “ Leo was pushed over onto his back by you, further pinned down as you took your rightful throne upon his chest. It was hard, likely due to the plastron he had. While you weren’t putting all your weight into him, you were still sitting on him enough for him to be slightly inconvenienced.

“ Someone is a sore loser.”

Groaned Leo in a low voice as he accepted defeat.

“ No, you are. So, my turn! Would you rather… ”

There were a few seconds filled not with your voices, but rather with the chirping of bugs filling the space. What was a good question… Ooh, perfect!

“ Would you rather find true love today or win the lottery? Knowing you, you’ll say—“

“ Lottery—“

“ Ah-hah! I knew it. ”

“ I would rather win the lottery because I already found loved. ”

There was a…

A fondness—a sweetness and a comfort—in the air immediately. It felt akin to that of moments in movies when two character would, or /should/, kiss, and that feeling only deepened as you lowered your gaze to meet his. Leo’s voice had said that so… So gently, so lovingly.. His eyes filled you with a warmth, an addictive sight that you almost couldn’t look away from.

But still, you did. To calm your thundering heart, you looked away with a breathy laugh.

“ Wow, that sure was… Just, wow.. ”

Your eyes trailed to the water, noticing it was finally time. Leaning up off him, you brushed your clothes of any dust, and crouched to pick up some rocks near the blanket. Leo had risen up to a seated position, watching you curiously.

“ What about you? ”

He asked sincerely, eyes on you as you looked down. The collected rocks were rolled in your hand as you contemplated your own answer.. You held out your open hand, gesturing for him to give you his.

“ I think… I would choose the true love today, just to… Make sure it happens, y’know? Don’t want to get too cocky and lose a good thing. ”

As you took his hand, there was a little spark and a bit of heartbeat skipping, but pretty easy to ignore. In his palm, a sizable pebble was placed.

“ A rock? ”

“ For skipping. That’s the real surprise the whole time. What we were waiting for. ”

“ Ah yes, waiting to skip rocks, I’m really swooning over here. ”

“ Not that, you dumdum! What comes after. Just—throw it with me, okay? ”

Nodding, you both stood up, reeled your arms back, and began the countdown

Three,

Two,

One!!

And off the rocks went, skittering along the water—his faster than yours, amazingly so—but that wasn’t supposed to be the focus. The true point of it all was what happened with each tap to the water’s surface.

Lines of orange, like plane runways lined with neon hues, streaked and bloomed with every touch. By the time the rocks twirled and blipped through the lake, sinking down to their new home, the orange lights had fanned out into the air like teensy fireworks. Zipping from here and there, the little balls of energy bobbing and plinked along the water—awakening their neighbors until nearly the entire area here was covered with the little buggers.

“ Fireflies? ”

Leo inquired, amazed at the sight. It was a genuine reaction, not masked at all for any “ cool guy act ” or a “ more mature act ”. No, you were getting the exact response you hopped—the orange reflecting in his eyes, the toothy grin, and the playful glint when he turned back to you.

“ Not quite. ”

You shook your head and held out your hand, clicking your tongue as one would to a cat. By the first click, some of the closest little sprites were already skipping over to you as though copying the rocks bouncing past them earlier.

“ They’re like, little balls of warmth, little sun sprites, see? ”

They were tiny, too small for their heat to hurt. It was more of a welcoming warmth tickling your hand. Their little frames would roll and bump into each other, rubbing themselves all over your hands. That’s probably fine.

Leo stuck out a finger, reaching to poke one, then freaking out as it zipped in a spiral-motion up his finger and arm.

“ AH—! I, I mean. Act, just acting, haha.. How did you find these…? ”

“ I was waiting for you to ask! ”

You plopped back down onto the blanket and patted for him to follow. More of the sprites were surrounding you, and thankfully it seemed that their fire wasn’t a spreadable kind.

“ That word you said to me last week, yokai? I know you said, ‘Oh you’re a human, rah rah rah, no need for you to know!’—“

“—I don’t sound like that—“

“—hush, anyways! I think they’re yokai, don’t you think? I looked the word up when I got home, supernatural beings! ”

He could tell you were pretty pleased with yourself.

“ Y/N, I only said that to keep you safe. Need I remind you who needed to be rescued by a handsome blue knight? ”

He puffed out his chest, even flexing a bit. One little sprite appeared to be trying to copy him, but given their circular bodies, you weren’t too sure.

“ I already said thank you, and you can’t blame me! Who seriously just ignores something so—so, so groundbreaking! I mean, yokai? They’re fictional creatures, except now nonfiction because I saw them, I was chased by one! So, yeah, excuse me for looking into it. ”

Shrugging, you crossed your legs and leaned forward. Hands on the blanket, palms facing up, you invited the sprites to hop on or off. Soft giggles followed their little brushes against your hands.

“ Right, still doesn’t answer how you found these guys? ”

He followed your example, watching them curiously twirl his digits—thicker yet fewer than your own hands. It seemed like one of the little guys was putting pieces together as it flipped back and forth between your hands. In the end, they bobbed over to you, and Leo muttered a “ going to cry about this later ” playfully.

“ Well, I found them way before the ‘chairable incident.’ ”

“ Ooh good one, is that what we’re calling it? ”

“ Thank you, and yes—no interrupting, mister Leonardo! ”

“ Hey, that’s mister Leo to you! ”

“ Pft—well, I always through they were fireflies or pollen, but after that night you dropped me off, I was curious! So, I came here again and again, stirring them and trying to call them over. “

Y/N’s eyes were scouring over the little guys, turning to the water to see the others. It seemed they were searching for something.

“ Hmm, well anyways, it took a while, but the other day when I did it, one of them came over to me! Seeing them up close made it all make more sense. ”

Leo had noticed you looking around and followed your gaze. Alas, he gave up soon after realizing he didn’t know what to look for. Silence joined you both, sitting right between while your focus was on the cute little sprites. Some had already rolled back to the water. They seemed to float on top, similar to how oil and water “ mix ”. Few remained though, leaning into your hands, climbing your legs, or rummaging through your hair specifically. Leo had a hat, a beanie, and one sneaky little guy did manage to squirm on inside of it.

Your attention only shifted as a little purple sprite slowly bobbed over. It was hard to see them in the inky water, but this special little guy had a flickering ability. Whether the others did too was anyone’s guess, but this one! He only flickered in and out, illuminating with the fiery orange and then fizzling into the camouflaging purple. He was the first to come check you out when you tried calling for the little creatures.

“ This is Blinker! He’s a little special, isn’t he? ”

A tad bit bigger, he rolled and fluffed up in your hand—only stopping when Leo leaned in and reached his index towards him. Blinker ignited immediately, bobbing and then spiraling up Leo’s finger just like some of the others did.

“ Wow… Well, you sure know how to plan a first date. I have some real competition, huh? ”

He slouched over, resting his head against the palm of his hand while watching you with a lazy grin. Blinker had already began burrowing, slipping up into the sleeve of Leo’s jacket.

“ Oh? You sound like you’re wanting a second date already. ”

Copying his position, you grinned in a way that could only be saying “ oooooohhh, you liiiiikeee meee, don’t you? ”

“ Ah,”

A sound like a cough and he was casting his gaze to the right side, as though something away from you was much more important. His left hand moved to cover his cheek, and you recognized it all instantly. He was blushing, wasn’t he!

You leaned forward, taking his wrist and holding it away from his face. His attention was back on you, with big blue eyes staring, waiting.

“ I knew it, you’re blushing! I made you blush, mister handsome knight. ”

He stuttered then held his tongue, looking away. Didn’t even try to deny it! He was blushing, you made him blush!

There was a warmth surfacing on your cheeks, especially upon seeing his other hand move to take your other one. He didn’t make any eye contact, but your fingers were interlaced. Now one hand cuffed his wrist while the other hand locked with his hand.

“ O-Oh.. ”

You muttered, leaning back a bit to sit. After some silence, your handcuffed motion loosened, and he didn’t waste any time. His other hand was slowly lacing with yours. Sitting cross-legged, you both reflected each others sitting position while your hands rested between, holding the other fondly.

“ Mm.. I, maybe I wouldn’t mind a second date. ”

It was your turn to avoid eye contact this time.

“ Really? I’m glad. ”

His voice was softer than you had yet to hear it. So little time, yet already you were seeing newer sides of him. The sprites were floating around you both, basking both of you in warm golden hues. A summer breeze rustled the trees as they leaned in, anticipating the next move. Crickets sung their music, and the waves bumped the shore as if coming closer to see the moment. It was as if the whole world came to see, see who their treasure had chosen.

All the imaginary eyes were resting on you both. They were overjoyed to see the special one, the treasure’s treasure.

Everything dispersed as you gave a nervous cough. Both of you looked away, recoiling your hands and wiping them against your clothes.

“ W-Wow! T-The time, right? ”

“ Time? Oh, yeah! Yeah, it’s so late, I should get you home before it’s too—is it cold to you? Wow, so chilly! ”

Scrambling for your things, you both hopped up and waved goodbyes to the lake’s lights. Leo held up his hand, flicking his fingers until a blue shimmer enveloped his index finger. The stripes on his face shone as he reached out and traced a portal in thin air.

“ A gentleman would never let you walk home! ”

You leaned forward to walk through the portal, but were tugged back.

“ Ah—! No, uh, you can’t. I um, you’re. ”

He was trying to come up with something, then settled for clearing his throat and holding out his hand.

“ Safety reasons, portal passengers have to hold my hand. ”

Part of you felt like that was a lie. The other part of you knew you weren’t a portal expert. And another part of you maybe just wanted to go along with it regardless. So, you gave him your hand. He gently pulled you close to his chest.

The world held its breath as the two of you met each other’s eyes. There was so much emotion. You looked at him with something that he couldn’t yet pinpoint, but god he was addicted to it.

Please never stop looking at me like that, he thought, as his arm moved to rest along your waist and hold firmly. Through the portal, you basked in the familiar tingles and tickles, giggling as you both stepped out at your door, in your home.

“ How did you know—? ”

“ From our video-chats. Remember when I said you talk too much when it’s late? “

“ What! I thought, I thought you just meant—what else have I told you?! ”

“ Er, don’t worry about it, seeya! ”

“ Wait! ”

He was quick to try and leave the same way he had once before, falling through a portal, but you were quicker. Grabbing onto him, he stared wide eyed and quickly closed the portal as you both thumped against your floor. His hand was holding your waist securely, mentally condemning you for such a reckless move.

On the spot, you chuckled nervously and tried to come up with a reason to have stopped him…

“ Ah, er…. W-Wanna stay for, um.. Dinner? ”

#leonardo x reader #leo x reader #tmnt Leonardo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt leonardo x reader #rise tmnt leonardo x reader #rise tmnt leo x reader

120 notes · View notes

acutiewithagun · 1 year ago

Text

(I'm so sorry, a misclick lead to multiple things and the ask was deleted by accident. They asked for a Donniexreader and Donnie goes to reader for help with stress. To answer the questions, I do primarily write for yanderes. But I can pretty much do anything. As long as it's not against my rules.)

Taglist: @oleander-nin

Even a genius gets stressed

The sound of the window sliding open filled your room as you laid in bed. It was late but the sound woke you up. But before you could see what it was you felt the bed dip and arms wrap around you. You tried your best not to move too much, as to not alert the person hugging you that you were conscious.

They got closer, hugging you against them as they pressed their face into your neck. You finally open your eyes and unknowingly let out a soft sound of confusion. The person flinched slightly and nuzzles their snout against your neck.

Wait... snout? You turn your head slightly and noticed your softshell turtle companion. You smile softly, already knowing what the affection was all about. Donnie has a habit of clinging to you when he's frustrated or stressed about something. It's a way to let off a bit of steam without blowing up.

"So what problem caused this little situation?" He hugged you tighter and grumbled into your skin. "Dum dum dragons decided to snatch up a part I really needed." You nodded with a hum as you shifted, causing the turtle behind you to nuzzle into you again.

"What did you need it for?" It was quiet for a moment as you felt the hesitation in the air. "Don-" "Just a small project that means a lot to me. I would not register it as in dire need of being completed. However I care deeply about it." Another hum of understanding left your throat as you lay still. Even though he is being affectionate, Donnie would snap at you if you tried to touch him. It's simply stress, frustration he can do nothing about at the moment.

You gave a sigh and and gave the bed a few taps. "I'm going back to sleep, but if you want to rant about those guys I'm listening." He nodded as you closed your eyes again.

The sound of angry words and insults towards the group he loathed so much, faded as you drifted off again. The arms wrapped around you gave you a sense of comfort as you slept. Even if you couldn't reciprocate the gesture, it was still nice.

Warm sleep encapsulated your mind, although there were no dreams, it was comfortable. Even when you partially awoken, sleep pulled at your mind. You no longer felt your turtle partner by your side, so you rolled over to hopefully get more sleep.

"You are the cause of and release of all my stress and anxiety..." It was spoken in a whisper as a three fingered hand brushed hair out of your face. "...Alas, it will be better soon, I must wait just a bit longer." You peeked through partially parted lids at Donnie who was sitting in a chair he pulled beside the bed. You watch as he simply gazes as you lay soundly and lull back to slumber.

A gentle poke to the side causes you to bolt awake with a screech of surprise. You glare at the purple perpetrator who pulled you away from dreamland. "Glorious morning to you too, I extend my thanks for allowing me to pester you with my nightly stress rant." He has the biggest smirk on his face, knowing what he did. You grab a pillow and hit him with it. "Yeah, it's no problem. Just stop waking me up like that every single time. I'll end up strangling you one of these days."

You rub your eyes free of sleep as he throws the pillow back at you and placing the chair back. You scowl at him and decide you were too tired to deal with it. "So why are you still here? Don't you have something to invent or whatever." He gives a hum as he rummages through your clothes.

"You obviously didn't listen to my entire rant or have simply forgotten. I informed you that Leo and April forbade me from my genius today. They said I needed to, quote unquote, 'touch grass'. After looking up the definition of the phrase, I figured spending time with my partner would meet the definition." He pulled out his desired choice of outfit and tossed it onto your bed. "Mhm, so what do you have planned for us Mr. Genius?"

You bundle up the mess fabrics and get out of bed as he sits on the edge. "Simple, trip to a coffee shop and a walk through a park. And to help you in any way you need assisting of course. Does that suffice for you?" You grabbed the door handle with a nod. "Sounds good, I'll do a basic morning routine and come back." Donnie gives a curt nod as you leave the room and to the bathroom. Small outings were common as he had lived his entire life in hiding. But now that yokai and mutants roam around freely your spiny softshell takes full advantage of the situation.

You enter the bathroom and do the bare necessities, brushing your teeth and such. It only takes the amount of time for your turtle partner to completely clean your room. You had had many arguments about him doing so, however he just did not care. You roll your eyes at the now smug Donnie sitting on the bed from where you left him.

"We have talked about this Dee." He tilted his head up in a pompous manner. "You just don't accept my brilliance, oh woe is me." You walked over and flicked his forehead with a playful expression. "Woe is me, I have to deal with your brilliance on a daily basis." He gave another hum at this and stood up. "Well, you should consider yourself blessed to be allowed in the presence of a genius."

Donnie offered his arm to take, which you do. What you don't expect is for this dumb dumb to pick you up and carry you out your window. "Hey, I have a front door Donatello!" He smiled as he activated his hover pack. "And I have a genius built, trademarked, hover pack. Your point exactly?" You give him a teasing glare as you both head wherever he decides you would go.

(Sorry it was so short, the concept was simple and didn't need a large amount of writing.)

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt oc #rottmnt self insert #yandere rottmnt #a cutie with a gun writes

35 notes · View notes

julie-hollis · 7 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

Name: Julie Hollis (née Chaichana)

Age: 34

Occupation: Owner of Shear Beauty/Cosmetologist

Affiliation: Neutral

Gender & Pronouns: Cisgender Female (she/her)

Faceclaim: Nattasha Bunprachom (Yoghurt Nattasha)

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

tw child neglect

Julie Chaichana’s mom was only a mother in the loosest sense of the word. But she was the only parent Julie had and no one gets to pick who they're born to.

As a young child, Julie loved the constant cycles her mother went through. Each new hobby came with a new home, a new city, and a new man.

With each move, Julie found herself surrounded by more adults than children her own age. Julie buried herself in her studies and tried to be a good girl but she learned sometimes it didn’t matter how good she was, bad things happened.

Well-meaning neighbors noticed. They made some noise after Julie spent a whole week alone. Her grandmother was forced to take full custody, and Julie was forced to move to Paxton, Arizona. She was only ten.

Julie developed a bit of a wild streak as a teenager. Much like her mother, she preferred to spend time with her friends and school went on the back-burner.

Julie technically met her husband, Caid, in middle school, but they didn’t start dating until high school. He was supposed to go to college on a scholarship and Julie was supposed to move with him. She liked cutting hair and there were plenty of salons in the city.

Things didn’t work out that way, though. As that last summer came to a close, things changed. Caid was going off the college path to go to rodeos; instead of moving to the city, he would travel and while Julie could have tagged along things began to sink in: she didn’t want to bounce around for years on end. She didn’t want the uncertainty of another loved one constantly coming and going from her life.

So, despite the regret she later felt, she broke things off. They had periods of silence and friendship over the years, but the underlying tension always remained.

When a career-ending injury led Caid back to Paxton for good the silver lining was they were finally on the same page. They were engaged, married, and parents within the next three years.

Shear Beauty was an inheritance of sorts. She was a mother who was hungry and worked hard. When the old lady had to retire and only had a gaggle of sons who didn’t want the place, she gifted it to Julie.

Julie’s been working hard to keep the place competitive amidst the changes to Paxton. Some years have been easier than others, both professionally and personally, but Julie’s determined to keep going for her family and herself.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐂

Julie likes to think that she doesn't want much out of life. She wants her kids to have a good life: loving parents who love each other, a couple of pets, food in their bellies, a roof over their heads. Stability -- that is all Julie ever wanted and most days she thinks the two of them have it all figured out. Her husband's involvement with the Cowboys has never brought trouble to their door and that's enough for her worry to stay at bay; it doesn't mean they’re gone, though. They might have a roof over their heads and food on the table, but money's never exactly been plenty for the Hollis family. As the town's climate begins to change, Julie finds herself with business offers that are difficult to refuse. For the past couple of years, Julie's managed to stand her ground and keep her eye on the business and her family. She'll do just about anything to protect the life she has. It might not be much to most, but it's hers and Julie will not let it go without a fight.

Inspiration

Camila Dunne (from Daisy Jones and the Six), Tyra Collette (from Friday Night Lights), Astrid Magnussen (from White Oleander)

Aesthetic

Her momma’s smokers cough, locks of hair dusting the floor, laughing while line dancing, a screen door screeching on the track, hoop earrings strewn across a scarred coffee table, work boots with slip dresses

#about

2 notes · View notes

corvydwytch · 2 years ago

Text

Song of the Harpy (1)

In which the blackbird returns...

She could still recall the stillness of the woods around her, the deafening roar of the wind as it picked up around her, and the blood that caked onto her hands as she knelt in the mud. She remembered how hard it was to breathe, how still her being had become as she gazed at the dead bird in her hands. No. Not just a dead bird. This bird was a friend. A dear, dear friend, one of three, that she’d known since she was a fledgeling. And now the bird was gone. Cold, in her hands. Her tears burned as they fell in streaks down her dirt-stained cheeks, her breath stuck in her throat as she continued to sit there, motionless.

The stench of iron was so thick that it seemed to create a film in her lungs. Delphinia shuddered, but it felt like all the blood had soaked into the ground beneath her. She could still hear the soft croaks of the bird’s dying breath echoing in her ears. There was… someone talking. She barely remembered who.

Then, something in her snapped. And the last thing she remembered was lunging forward, screeching a battle cry so loud it shook the trees around her, a clawed hand pulled back, ready to strike, and the sound of thunder cracking in the distance-

Delphinia’s eyes snapped open, adrenaline shooting through her system as her body locked up. Every muscle screamed danger; a stark contrast to the beautiful green mountainside that was passing just in front of her. Rain softly fell against the window in a soothing rhythm as quiet piano music played from the radio. Had it not been for her heart beating against her ribcage, she would’ve tried to fall back asleep.

She blinked once, twice, prying her cheek off of the seatbelt that it was resting on as she observed her surroundings. The leather underneath her fingers felt like it had just been cleaned, and there was the faint scent of bergamot that barely covered the lingering scent of iron that haunted her even in the waking world. The area where she sat was spacious and antiquated. Wood and silver accents covered what wasn’t leather as a soft light shone from the car ceiling. A calligraphic “T” could be seen as embellishments throughout the passenger area. So they had taken the private car, she thought bitterly to herself.

Across from her, her older brother Hemlock, was oblivious to his surroundings as he continued to read softly to himself. A few stray locks from his nose-length black and white hair fell in front of his eyes, yet he seemed too engrossed in his book to really care. To his right, the steel of his derby-style cane glinted in the light, resting lightly against his legs. She was pleasantly surprised to see him sitting across from her, albeit confused. Why was he here? Wasn’t he supposed to be in Europe? She was happy to see him, of course. Ever since he and her other brother, Oleander, graduated college, they’ve been studying abroad. And while they were both enthusiastic about sending letters, it wasn’t the same as spending time with them in person. In the cloudy light, she noticed how pronounced the dark circles under his eyes were, even as the pupils darted from line to line, page to page. The gaunt of his cheeks had become more evident as well, and though he had always been the more pallor twin, he looked undeniably exhausted.

She tried to speak once she sat straight, but found she was unable to make a sound outside of a breathy squeak, which caused her mouth to snap shut audibly. That seemed to bring her brother out of his trance, his head shooting up to look at her. In any other circumstance, his bewildered expression would’ve made her smile, but she felt just as exhausted as he looked.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he smiled gently, closing his book shut and placing it on his lap. “Did you sleep well?”

She tried to speak again, yet nothing but a hoarse croak escaped that caused her throat to burn. She grimaced, hand reaching up to instinctively rub at the front of her neck, but nodded at her brother’s question anyway.

Hemlock’s shoulders relaxed a bit at her response. “Good. I’m glad you were able to get some rest, little lark. The drive has been long, but uneventful. We should be reaching our destination within the hour.”

She tilted her head at him, using one hand to sign. ‘Where are we going, Hem?’

He furrowed his brows for just a moment before his smile returned. “The doctors deemed that you were physically okay enough to return to school. We weren’t sure if you were alright to shift, so we opted to just drive you there instead.”

Delphinia looked down, pursing her lips in thought. Wasn’t she just at Nevermore? She had just started a new school year not too long ago. She remembered being excited specifically, as it had been announced that on top of Outreach day, the school had decided on a field trip to an undisclosed location. Her friend Enid couldn’t stop talking about it for days when it was announced. She recalled lying in bed for a long time, her throat hurting, but not much else. She shrugged. Then-

Oh. Oh.

The realization must have been evident on her face.

“The doctors mentioned your memory would be spotty for a few weeks, but it should return to normal. You’ve been through something no young harpy ever should go through, but you are not the only one,” he reassured, reaching over to pat her knee. “I can promise you that between when you left and now, you’ve been safe and in good hands. I still have the leg pain from prying Ollie from your bedside to prove it.”

At the mention of the other brother, Delphinia rolled her eyes, choosing to count the raindrops that cascaded on the window instead of answering. Hemlock looked like he wanted to say something else, but chose not to.

“Your friends have sent plenty of letters,” he tried again. “I read a few out to you. Are you excited to see them again?”

She didn’t look back, but raised her hand in a ‘so-so’ motion.

Nevermore Academy. The school that was made for outcasts, by outcasts. It’s (in)fame was known by all through the freaks and vagabonds of the world for being the one place where an outcast could be themselves. It offered state-of-the art programs, extracurriculars, and all the weird academic perks anyone could ask for. Creatures of all kinds, from far and wide, were welcome there.

But it was one of Delphinia’s least favorite places.

Unlike the more social abominations of the world, such as vampires, werewolves, sirens, psychics, or even gorgons, harpies had a tendency to keep to their own kind, very far away from the likes of modern civilization. Rumored to be the children of wind spirits, those of harpy blood preferred to stay where they believed they originated: in the wild amongst the endless ocean of skies, free to travel to wherever their hearts desired. But the expansion of the modern era forced many families to give up their nomadic lifestyle, and according to her father, theirs was one of the first to truly embrace living among the mundanes, even if it meant permanently roosting. Or so he claimed, anyway. Delphinia never understood the appeal, especially when it came to Nevermore.

Why be amongst the boisterous and the arrogant when she could find the same in a gyrfalcon? Sure, she made friends, but all of them were too enamored by the illusion of the invincibility of youth and the prospects of fitting in. If she was being honest, though, she felt relieved that she was missed in some capacity, even after what happened.

The voice of the chauffeur interrupted her thoughts. “Master Hemlock and Lady Delphinia, we are approaching the gates of Nevermore.”

And like the looming arch of a graveyard, the gates of the school creaked open as the car approached. The rain had let up by now, but the sun still refused to shine through the clouds. Hoards of blackbirds lined the fences and the surrounding trees, their gazes following the car with a bone-chilling stare. The hoard sat there like the gargoyles, watching and waiting. But she was not afraid.

Hemlock chuckled and shook his head. “That little rat has no idea what he’s unleashed, has he?”

Delphinia let a cruel smile reveal her pointed teeth. ‘Who knows?’

taglist: @dyhlanobrien

#wednesday 2022 #the addams family #addams family oc #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x oc #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #rowan laslow #ajax petropolus #Original work

11 notes · View notes

the-consortium · 1 year ago

Note

mr. bile, will you do your podcast,, i know that your are rather busy.. but i would love to hear about the biology and how it can be improved!

Oleander bares his teeth and slams his forearm with force against a stone door frame. The barely recognisable ornament there shatters, but so does the skull of the screeching, rat-like mutant beast that has bitten into the ceramite armour with scratching claws, probably trying to chew its way through the narthecium.

The Astartes whirls around, facing the rest of the pack. In one hand his sword, its force field howling aggressively. In the other, a heavy, leather-bound book, which he hugs tightly. But the death of the leader seems to have unsettled them. The first fights for the vacated rank break out and before Oleander can decide whether to simply mow down the entire population, the pack disappears into the wide cracks in the wall, hissing and snarling and leaving behind scraps of fur.

Oleander takes a breath, shakes the remains of the dead mutant animal off his glove with a disgusted snort and turns around. The light from his helmet lamp travels over the dark mountains of accumulated books, laboratory equipment and failed experiments that fill this abandoned part of the old palace, several dozen kilometres from the main area currently occupied by the Consortium.

He looks at the map in his iris display. He was here when the complex was still in use, but since then several corridors and laboratories have been sealed off for various, mostly very deadly reasons. The path he wanted to take leads through an area with too much radiation. He will have to dodge through old laboratories marked "Experiments, Hormone Mutation". More monsters.

He sighs, hugs the book tightly and sets off. Things rustle and chirp in the walls.

Three hours later, he slaps the leather-bound treasure on Fabius's desk, undoes the seal on his helmet, takes it off and shakes his sweaty hair free. "Here. The book. What exactly did you just send me through hordes of rather interesting and well-adjusted mutants for?"

Fabius reaches for the book. Unseals it with a genetic fingerprint and flips through the tightly handwritten pages. A dried leaf falls out, sails in spirals to the floor.

The Chief Apothecary looks up absently, his mind seemingly completely on the book. "Oh, that. Yes, I've decided to do a second episode of my podcast. And I'm sure some of my old notes will be put to good use."

A blush of anger creeps onto Oleander's cheeks. He leans forward, propping a heavy ceramite glove on the table in front of Fabius. Bends down to his unarmoured master. "I have once again risked my life and health for your vanity?!"

Fabius just looks at him, completely neutral. Not threatening in any way. Still, Oleander feels compelled to add a respectful "…. Chief Apothecary."

Fabius tilts his head ever so slightly.

Oleander withdraws his hand. Straightens up and walks out of the room.

Arrian, who is working with Tzimiskes on the broadcast relay, hands him a cup of coffee with a wordless shrug.

#Warhammer #Ask Post #The Consortium #Oleander Koh #Fabius Bile

4 notes · View notes

of-light-and-shadow · 7 months ago

Text

𝓐 𝓕𝓮𝓵-𝓣𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼 World of Warcraft OCxOC Action/Adventure/Romance/Hurt/Comfort Chapter 3

"She's never where she is. She's only ever inside her head." - Janet Fitch, White Oleander

“Rent’s due on the first of the month,” grunts the gravelly-voiced Orc matron, muscles straining as she hauls open the stubborn door. The hinges screech in protest, swinging to expose a rather dismal interior. "Water ain't my problem. There's a well down the path. You can get firewood from the Wyvern’s Tail for a few coppers. Questions?”

Gently shaking her head, Vela maintains a polite posture with her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her landlord grunts in response and departs, allowing the door to groan shut behind her as Vela absorbs the details of her new home. It's not the most luxurious place she's ever occupied, but it’s a roof over her head. With a sigh, she places her bag next to the door, taking a moment to explore and assess what she might need.

The initial room serves dual purposes as both a living room and kitchen area. The main window offers views over the Drag, with snippets of conversation from pedestrians below reaching up to the high ledge where her hut is perched. The sofa is aged and carries an old smell, yet it’s nothing that can’t be remedied with thorough cleaning. The fireplace sits cold and barren, absurdly filthy, along with an ancient cauldron suspended from its inner hook. As Vela surveys the space, she hums thoughtfully. It’s not entirely hopeless; some additional shelving would be a must in the coming days. Venturing down a brief corridor, she discovers a tiny washroom containing a wooden bathtub. Although hot water won't be available, she appreciates not having to travel to the local bathhouse just to get clean. A few steps further reveals the bedroom—just spacious enough for a single bed and an rickety desk. A window nestled against the same wall as the bed overlooks an abandoned garden patch with soil that has seen better days, though she’s sure with a little love and care it could bloom once more.

Vela steps back into her living room and takes a moment to gaze at her surroundings, a wide grin spreading across her face. It’s not much, as she doesn't have the means to afford anything nicer, but it's hers. This shabby, worn-down hut is now her home. Something that she bought, something that she gets to make her own. Tears well up in her eyes as she takes a deep breath, overwhelmed by emotion and pride. And her silly smile widens even further because she has never had something like this in her life—something that she worked for on her own.

Vela dives into her task with a relentless fervor. Her sparse possessions are tucked away promptly, her armor and blade set on the wooden desk in the bedroom. Then, she launches herself into a ruthless campaign of cleanliness. The house's front area is her initial battleground, where dust particles are evicted en masse, swirling out of the open windows and doors in a furious storm. Even the critters aren't spared from Vela's unyielding onslaught. They scurry for safety as she yanks out the couch cushions and subjects them to a merciless beating with a sturdy stick she scavenges from somewhere. Each thwack sends clouds of dust flying, slowly but surely purging every last speck from their fabric homes. By midday, she's wrestling with the stubborn hearth, excavating years worth of soot and grime that clings to her skin like a second layer of clothing. But when she finally steps back to admire her work, satisfaction radiates off her soot-streaked face.

After devouring a quick meal, Vela continues her cleaning crusade throughout the rest of the house with similar intensity. She scrubs and sweeps until every corner gleams as the early evening paints the sky in hues of orange and purple. Vela concludes her day-long battle by dragging in the straw mattress from outside, where it had suffered its own brutal cleaning session—more akin to an intense beating than anything else. Once it's back on its bed frame, Vela sinks onto it without hesitation or ceremony, succumbing to exhaustion after a full day spent taming her new home into submission. Only a few rebellious floorboards remain loose underfoot and some holes in the thatch roof persist above.

Vela grins, all in all a successful day.

Her stomach protests its lack of food then. Vela clutches at her belly in discomfort before she pulls herself to her feet. There’s no food in her house, save for the small lunch she packed earlier in the day, and a quick look into her coin purse tells her she has just enough money to buy herself a meal for the night. She hums in thought for a moment before she grabs her blade from her desk and straps it to her side. The Wyverns Tail is nearby, and though she’s never been to the local tavern she’s sure they sell food. All the better, because she can also pick up some firewood for her newly cleaned hearth.

As dusk falls over the valley walls, shadows creep in like silent intruders and street lanterns sputter to life in the evening breeze. Vela steps out onto the main thoroughfare, heading towards the bustling Valley of Strength. The night is already alive with activity and she finds herself involuntarily pausing to drink in the spectacle.

She watches as a magister sweeps by majestically, robes flowing like molten lava behind her - an awe-inspiring sight that leaves Vela momentarily breathless. A vulpera merchant's boisterous laughter echoes from the tavern porch as he shares a jovial exchange with an elegantly dressed forsaken woman. As if snapped back into reality by an orc man’s gruff sneer when he nearly collides with her stationary form, Vela quickly mumbles an apology and hastens up the porch steps.

Inside the tavern, she carefully navigates through throngs of patrons until she reaches safety at the bar counter, where she timidly orders their least expensive dish while counting out her meagre coins with a hint of regret once food is secured. With her modest meal in hand, Vela withdraws to an inconspicuous corner of this lively hub. There, she plunges into the surrounding spectacle while savoring her simple fare. The taste soon fades into oblivion, supplanted by the captivating scenes playing out before her. She remains seated even after finishing her dinner, scrutinizing faces that blend together until two trolls near a notice board seize her attention. Curiosity flickers within Vela as she leaves her seat for further investigation.

The board is crowded with bounties and notices in handwriting that spans from rough scratches to elegant strokes. As Vela's eyes flit from one notice to another, unease causing her to shuffle restlessly on her feet. After thoughtful consideration, one particular notice ensnares her interest - an advertisement for a mercenary company named The Wyvern’s Watch. To Vela's delight, it discloses that their base is situated right within Orgrimmar itself. With each step now driven by newfound resolve, she heads toward this enticing opportunity.

Navigating the valley proves more time-consuming than expected - nearly half an hour - but eventually she finds their barracks tucked away across the city nestled against one of the walls. And much like the tavern, there’s music and laughter that fills the air.

As Vela enters the barracks, a cacophony of voices, laughter, and clinking dishes engulfs her. The cavernous space of the mess hall is a hive of activity, with large wooden tables groaning under the weight of overflowing platters and flagons. Patrons are scattered even on the second-floor balconies, their bodies forming silhouettes against the railings as they engage in animated conversation. The room is awash in warm torchlight that bathes every nook and cranny except for the shadowy recesses beneath the balconies where solitary figures find solace.

Her gaze is drawn to an elevated table at the room's end where a trio holds court over the talking masses. A Shal’dorei man sits in the middle, his pale blue hair shimmering under torchlight like moonlit snow. His robes bear intricate armor plates that glow with a phosphorescent luminescence akin to constellations strewn across a midnight canvas. To his right rests a troll woman whose intimidating physique is accentuated by her muscular arms crossed over her broad chest. Her eyes flicker with an unspoken challenge beneath her heavy brow ridge as she leans back in her chair, exuding an air of gruff indifference. On his left lounges a Vulpera, his back nonchalantly turned to the room’s bustle as he sprawls comfortably on the table. His fox-like features are softened by an impish smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh, it’s not often someone’s brave enough to approach our table.

The Vulpera's teasing remark breaks Vela from her observations. She feels warmth creeping up her cheeks as she tightens her grip around their recruitment notice — a nervous reaction not missed by the perceptive Shal’dorei.

"Your notice worked Rikka," he muses aloud to the troll woman, who responds with an indifferent grunt before turning his attention back to Vela. His gaze sweeps over her, scrutinizing and analytical. "What brings a Blood Knight to our humble establishment?"

Vela blinks in surprise, her eyes darting to her unassuming tunic. How had he known? A scoff from the Vulpera interrupts her thoughts as he playfully thumps the Shal’dorei on the arm.

"Jil'lal," he chides, "We've warned you about prying into people's minds."

Jil’lal hums with amusement and shakes his head, “I can’t help it when she keeps her thoughts so easily accessible.” He turns his mischievous gaze to her, “But Grix is right, and I apologize for my intrusion.” He taps his temple lightly, indicating his mind-reading abilities, “It's a useful skill, don't you agree? A good way to weed out troublemakers.”

Vela nods, feeling nervous and swallowing hard. But before Jil’lal can say more, Rikka leans forward in her chair, "Ya didn't respond to 'im question. Why would ya be seekin' work from us? Ain't dem fancy knights pay enough gold?"

“You'd think with all that fancy armor they wear,” Grix snickers.

“I'm only an Initiate,” Vela snaps before she can stop herself. She can feel her anger rising like bile in her throat. “And my monthly wage doesn't cover my rent or put food on my table.”

"Does the Order condone you lending your abilities to us?" Jil'lal inquired placidly, his eyes never straying from Vela's. "I'm unfamiliar with many Knightly Orders that would tolerate any of their members, even initiates, engaging in mercenary activities."

“The Order's only concern is that I do not recklessly slaughter entire villages without purpose. As long as I remain faithful to the Order, uphold the honor of the Blood Knights, and complete my assignments, I am free to earn my keep in any way I see fit.”

Grix chuckles and jokes, "Maybe we should start considering wholesale village slaughter. Sounds like it could be profitable."

"On my deathbed," Rikka grumbles, "At least I be havin' some standards."

The Vulpera shrugs, "Your loss."

Jil'lal's hand rises, causing his two companions to quiet down. "Let me ease your concerns by telling you that The Wyvern's Watch only accepts assignments to protect clients or hunt down specific monsters. We don't engage in mindless killing if we can help it. If you're still intrigued, we can give you a chance to test your skills. We'll pair you up with one of our senior members and see how you perform. Does that sound agreeable, Rikka?"

The troll woman grins wickedly, “Aye, and I be knowin’ exactly who ta assign.”

"Well then, what is your answer, recruit?"

"My name," Vela interjects quickly, "is Vela, and I accept your terms."

Grix smiles, "Excellent! Normally we'd have you sign a contract with us, but since this is just a trial run, we'll save that for later. Rikka, do you want me to take Vela to 'tall, dark, and moody' or…?"

"I'll be doin' it, t'ank ya very much," Rikka's voice rumbles like distant thunder, her chair protesting beneath her as she rises to her imposing stature. She beckons Vela with a jerk of her head and the younger woman obediently falls into step behind the towering figure. As Rikka carves a path through the barracks, the soft murmur of conversation following them as they watch their progress with unabashed curiosity.

They stop beside a secluded table tucked away in the deepest shadows under the overhanging balconies. The only inhabitant is a lone figure, huddled in the farthest corner. His back is to them, his focus seemingly consumed by the polished weapon laid across his thighs and the rhythmic grind of a whetstone against its surface. Vela squints to get a clearer view, but her vision is obstructed by both the darkness and the waterfall of black hair that spills down his back. The only sign that he's cognizant of their presence behind him is a subtle tensing of his frame and the flicker of his long ears; otherwise, it's evident he has perfected the art of appearing unbothered.

"Xander!" Rikka bellows, her voice rippling with an unwavering confidence that his distant attitude can't touch. "I got some good news fer ya! Ya be getting a partner now, an' guess wha'? Ya can’t say no! Ya best be treatin’ her right, she'll be joining ya on ya next assignment."

Before either Xander or Vela can voice their objections, Rikka disappears. Xander finally lifts his gaze from his task while Vela swallows through the thick lump in her throat. A nervous giggle escapes her, and she glances at the man with piercing red eyes and a half-mask covering his face. The silence between them feels endless until Vela can't take it anymore. Her face turns bright red as she bows deeply, her hair falling over her shoulder at the gesture.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says, her voice trembling, “My name is Vela. I look forward to working together and learning from you.”

Xander offers no response. He simply redirects his focus back to his weapon, leaving Vela feeling awkward and out of place. She shuffles uneasily from one foot to the other, uncertain of how to proceed. After enduring a few more moments of discomforting silence, she clears her throat and attempts to engage him once more.

"Considering… we'll be partnered on a task together, I was curious about when exactly we're scheduled to—"

"Be at Orgrimmar's main gate at dawn tomorrow," Xander cuts in abruptly. "Don't be late."

Vela gulps down her anxiety and nods in agreement even though she is aware he isn't looking at her. "Understood," she murmurs timidly before quickly making her exit, hurrying away as swiftly as her feet can take her. She doesn’t feel better until she’s back in the safety of her house again, resting her back against the closed door as she breathes a sigh of relief. It’s only after a few moments, catching her breath as she stares at her empty hearth, that realizes she forgot to pick up firewood at the Wyvern’s Tail.

With a soft curse under her breath, and knowing its too late to go back out, Vela resigns herself to a cold night’s sleep.

#my writing #world of warcraft rp #wow rp #blood elf #world of warcraft #wow oc #monster boyfriend #he's a demon hunter so it technically counts?

1 note · View note

blondiexbiites · 8 months ago

Text

"Your brother? Is he cute?"

She craned her head a little to peek outside. The geese honked peacefully as they waddled from one section of grass to the other, herded by a cantankerous old male. Once there had been an uproar with the geese and Boo Boo, the cat, got into a dispute over which one had the right to the patch of cool green grass beneath the oleander shrub. Madison stomped over to the screen in her tank top, shorts, and flops to shout at the screeching animals to be quiet, and that was the most exciting event of the day.

That was the way most of her days went during the summer. Things picked up during the fall, when the tourist season began and her two favorite souvenir shops downtown began doing lively trade. With the job course, her days would be even busier than usual, but the summers were a time for relaxing...not job searching. Still, the funds she had acquired during her time as a vampire carried her far, but buying this home in an ass expensive house market had been a huge mistake. Seriously, why the hell were humans making everything so goddamned expensive???

Oh, wait. She was human now.

Fuck.

"And you can forget about me being a soldier!" Madison shuddered and inspected her pearly pink nails in the soft lighting of the open window trying to imagine what her beautiful hands would look like with callouses and scars. "I'm too cute to run around in the sands of Iraq!" Madison pouted her pretty pink lips and batted her eyes at the slayer, trying to make herself look as innocent as possible. "Although...I could be your little helper." She flashed a sweet smile, teeth perfectly white. ""I could be your personal agent! Oh! Oh!...Maybe your fashion designer! Just imagine...Hot Slayer...WITH A HOT TAN!"

@shchvnts

Because of the hot weather, she was on her printed shirt and shorts. And it was a smooth night for her, she had been out to run a few errands like groceries and filling up a gas on her car, then went back to her home to do some chores. Despite she had some maids to do for her, she still wanted to help to make things easier for them, and as soon as she finished everything, she thought of visiting Madison.

Now lounging on the sofa close to her with a celebrity magazine on her hand, the words caught Trinity's attention, and she understood some cured ones have never liked being human. Even her ancestors have created a concoction for that. Trinity wasn't that sure if she should react badly at Madison because of her vampire heritage, but hearing Madison's side, she could tell by the other's tone she didn't like being human.

"Well, if killing's what you're comfortable at, you could sign up for the army so you can have the chance to kill terrorists. Hitman? Well, you could but I'm not that knowledgeable about the criminal underworld around here." A shrug, then shifting her gaze towards Madison, "There's an opening for personal assistant at my brother's work, but I doubt you want it, Maddie."

#please excuse her #she's in denial at the moment #because she's now just realizing that being human is hella expensive

3 notes · View notes

betbeton · 2 years ago

Text

𓆸 Rip out my Heart ♡

Ren Hana × Reader

Warnings - Crotch Kicking, Mild Blood, Collar Mentioned, Unsafe Pain Play, No Explicit Penetration

18+ Minors DNI

·GN Reader·

·Request·

Lawrence Oleander Version

・❥・ Masterlist

Enjoys inflicting all sorts of pain on you

From stabbing you in the arms or legs to digging a needle into the skin beneath your eyes

He's down for it all at least once

Though his favourite would have to be kicking you in your crotch so hard you swear you can hear your poor bones crunching

or bitting into your skin only to tug back with a mouth full of your blood before making you drink it along with his spit

He only dishes out proper after care if he feels he's gone a little too far otherwise he'll just patch you up and send you on your way with that clunky collar firmly around your neck

The moment the front door hand clicked open and those dreadfully silent footsteps followed the little fox eared bastard all the way to your, recently, shared room you knew you were fucked . . . As Ren slid the door open with a sickening little grin on his face you felt your stomach churn and bile threaten to spill from your clenched lips. All the prompting you needed to be given to drop to his feet despite the nausea running rampant in your body was a snap of his fingers. Hands shaking where they rested against your bent legs as you squatted at his feet bracing yourself for the inevitable impact as he circled you like a predator would a tasty meal. Head down turned as his dress shoes came back into your line of sight. A soft whimper left your throat as he moved one foot back only for the whimper to morph into a screech pf pain as you dropped to your knees as his shoe made impact with with your crotch, writhing were your quickly bruising sex rested against his expensive shoe. Though you be things would be much worse for you if you didn't right yourself quickly, stuffing aside all your blossoming pain as black dots crossed your vision you righted yourself. Only for your head to be tugged harshly by his clawed hand your tear streaked face mashed into his clothes cock as he cooed out how good you were for him and how you deserved a big reward for being so obedient. Though any euphoria his soft words would have given you were rendered white noise in your ears as he harshly tapped his foot against your crotch.

#btd headcanons #btd x reader #btd drabble #btd ren #ren hana

199 notes · View notes

bcdrawsandwrites · 2 years ago

Photo

[ID: A Psychonauts fanfic banner. The background is dark blue water. On the left side is a small black goldfish, its tail swooped to the right side as it looks up at the viewer with a frightened expression. It appears to have, at first glance, large mismatched eyes, one slightly green and one slightly red, but they are actually mechanical attachments of some sort. Superimposed over the fish is a transparent reflection of adult!Loboto, wearing red and green glasses (reversed, as the image is mirrored) instead of his loupes we usually see him with, and a black skull cap instead of his usual shower cap. The fish’s head is roughly in the center of the reflection of Loboto’s red eyeglass lens. On the right side of the banner is text written in white: “Chapter 6: Unforgiving Underworld Part 1.” /end ID]

Psychonauts Ruin Everything

Fandom: Psychonauts Rating: K+ Genre: Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort Characters: Razputin Aquato, Caligosto Loboto, Morceau Oleander, Otto Mentallis, Lili Zanotto Warnings: References to criminal activity Description: A few days after the whirlwind of events of Psychonauts 2, Razputin receives his first mission as a Junior Psychonaut: go into the mind of the recently-re-captured Caligosto Loboto and make sure he’s ready to be released… and if not, well… go from there. But it shouldn’t be that hard, right? Loboto’s all better now that his moral compass is back… isn’t he? Beta Readers: @jaywings and @of-science-and-stars

---~~~---

Chapter 6: Unforgiving Underworld (Part 1)

Summary: In which Raz and Oleander find themselves on the bad side of town.

---~~~---

The sunlit office faded, taking its warmth with it.

Raz's whole body jerked as though he'd been dropped onto the cold sidewalk he now stood upon. A chilly wind whipped around him, its damp gusts finding their way through his sleeves and open jacket, and he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. "Ugh. Coach, are you there?"

"Present," Oleander responded, and Raz turned around to find him standing a short distance off. He was looking up at their surroundings, and Raz followed his gaze.

All around them loomed impossibly tall buildings, immediately bringing Lungfishopolis to mind. But Raz and Coach weren't giant, and it wasn't nighttime here; no lights gleamed from the foggy windows, and the overcast sky left the ground shadowless. The heavy atmosphere threatened rain, but it never broke. Police sirens wailed in the distance, but never seemed to get closer. Motors hummed as a driverless car occasionally rumbled down the street, tires splashing through shallow puddles. When Raz watched one of the vehicles, he noticed that the direction it was driving in led to a much brighter part of town. The sun was shining in the distance, and he could faintly hear the voices of people happily going about their day.

Eyebrows rising, he headed down the sidewalk in that direction, only to find himself stopped by traffic cones and caution tape; the sidewalk past that was completely gone, a bottomless pit taking its place. With a frown, he stepped out onto the street to move around the ruined sidewalk, only for a car to come zooming in his direction.

"Yikes!" Raz cried, staggering back before it hit him. Once the car was gone, he stepped out into the street again, only for yet another vehicle to appear out of nowhere, tires screeching as it sped down the street. This time Raz stepped back, but also fired a time bubble at the car. To his disappointment, the bubble fizzled out before it could slow the car down.

"Hm!" Oleander rubbed his chin as he stared at the street. "Looks like this area's off-limits for us."

"Looks like it." Raz sighed, staring longingly at the brighter side of the city before turning his back to it. Before them lay the rest of the city, shadowless and gray and damp. He tugged his jacket tighter around himself. "This looks cheery."

"Yeah, that's... putting it mildly." Oleander huffed before striding past Raz. "Well, forward march! Let's scout out the place."

"Yes, sir!" Raz responded, hurrying to Oleander's side.

Further down the sidewalk, Raz could see dull figments scattered here and there, some of them moving back and forth. One that leaned against a building was a man in a hat and a trench coat, its collar pulled up to hide his face. One of the moving ones was a woman hurrying down the sidewalk, holding her purse close. Another figment showed a child, looking lost and scared.

The last one made Raz pause, his mind yanking him back to a time when he was much smaller, just before Queepie was born. His family's caravan had briefly stopped in a big city like this, and everyone had split up into groups to put up posters advertising their show. He'd been paired with Dion, but his older brother had constantly nagged him for being too slow. At one point Raz had just finished putting up a poster, only to find Dion wasn't there. When he couldn't find him, he decided he'd just set up the rest of the posters on his own, and set out to do just that. But as he had set up the last poster, he realized that the buildings around him looked a lot less friendly... and so did the people. In fact, one person had grabbed him by the arm, but before they could say anything, a rock had come flying at them and knocked the person in the head. The next thing Raz knew, Frazie had grabbed his hand, and they were both running back to the caravan.

At the time he had brushed the experience off as being just another weird part of traveling, but he still remembered his parents saying something about... about...

"Hey... Coach?" Raz waited for Oleander to stop before turning to face him. "Is this the 'bad side of town'?"

Oleander cast another glance around them and frowned. "Looks like it."

"Why is this in Loboto's mind?" Looking back at the frightened child figment, Raz reached out to touch it, and felt a hint of psychic power rush through him as he absorbed it. "Do you think he got lost here?"

Eyebrows furrowing, Oleander looked away. "Guess you could say that. He's definitely not around here, anyway," he remarked, looking about the street disapprovingly.

That was true—they'd been here for several minutes and had yet to run into Loboto. Back when Raz had dived into his mind at the Rhombus, he'd seen him as the First Mate immediately, and later when Sasha had implanted the construct in his mind on the plane, Loboto had been there right at the start. And then yesterday, it hadn't taken Raz long to hear Loboto's voice in the cardboard diorama, or see him as a kid in the hospital... so where was he now?

"Let's keep moving," Raz suggested. "We've gotta run into him eventually."

The two moved on, their feet occasionally splashing through shallow puddles on the damp sidewalk. Something moved out of a narrow alleyway up ahead, and for a split second Raz's heart jumped, only to fall when he heard the telltale no! of Censors. Five of them were charging in their direction, wearing little blue police uniforms and waving their stamps threateningly.

Immediately he and the Coach dropped into psychic stances. Raz fired a psi-blast at one and watched in satisfaction as it ricocheted off two more, taking them down instantly. Oleander, meanwhile, swung a psi-punch at one Censor, which crashed into the remaining one behind it, and both fizzled out of existence.

"Good to know he's still sane," Oleander said, only to pause. "Relatively, anyway."

But Raz was more focused on the alley the Censors had come from. "Wonder what they didn't want us to see." Frowning, he slipped into the alleyway, and Oleander followed. There were no lights here, and only the narrowest sliver of gray light came from the entrance and the sky above. He wondered if this place would be blocked off someplace further in, too, but it extended onward with no sign of the other side. There was the occasional figment of a rat or cockroach, but otherwise, the path ahead seemed devoid of anything. At one point, Raz turned around to find the entrance to the alleyway a long distance off.

Oleander followed his gaze. "This is ridiculous! Where the heck is—"

"Caligosto?!" came a hushed whisper from immediately behind them.

Heart jumping into his throat, Raz spun around to find a young man standing behind him as though he'd always been there. The man, who couldn't have been older than twenty, stood taller than both Raz and Coach (not that that was particularly difficult), though he was hunched in on himself, tugging his dark red letterman jacket emblazoned with a large "S" closer. He had faint sea green skin and messy orange hair, large bags under his eyes, and his face was pale and shiny with sweat.

On top of that, the other end of the alleyway, in spite of being nowhere in sight moments ago, was now a short distance behind him.

"Where have you been, man?!" the young man hissed. He cast a terrified glance over his shoulder.

"I... think you've got the wrong person," Raz said, taking a step back and feeling Oleander's hand on his shoulder. "I'm not—"

"Geez, this—this isn't the time for this, they're gonna find us any second—!"

"Who's 'they'?" Oleander asked, eyes narrowed. "And who're you, for that matter?"

The man staggered back, rubbing a hand over his face with a strained sound of exasperation. "Knock it off!" he cried, and, for some reason, turned back to Raz. "I need you to get rid of this stuff!"

Something occurred to Raz, and he used a quick clairvoyance on the mental figure. As he suspected, the man was seeing him as someone else: specifically, as a person who looked similar to First Mate Loboto. He didn't appear to see Oleander at all, which might mean that he was seeing both Raz and Oleander as one person.

"Ah!" Raz exclaimed, standing up a bit taller and trying to make his voice sound more nasally and lilting. "I'm sorry, I seem to have lost track of things! Can you remind me what 'this' is?"

"The money, Caligosto!" the man whispered harshly. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out several enormous stacks of bills, which he proceeded to chuck clumsily at Raz and Oleander. If he noticed they caught the bills with TK, he didn't seem to care. "Go hide it! And remember, I get half!" With that, the man spun around and charged back out of the alley.

Within moments, there was a screech of tires, followed by the sound of shouting, which was then followed up by a series of nos, punctuated with a louder, much deeper NO.

Oleander glanced from the money to the end of the alleyway and back. "Uhh... this won't look good."

"Oh man, it sounds like Loboto's friend is in trouble!" Raz exclaimed. "C'mon, Coach, we've gotta—"

He looked back at the Coach, only to find him fleeing in the direction they'd come from. Groaning, Raz followed, looking over at the stacks of money he held in TK. "Man, this is bad... They're probably gonna expect us this way, too." While a few Censors weren't so bad on their own, fighting a swarm of them on top of a Heavy Censor in an alley where he would barely have any room to dodge would be bad news. Even with Coach at his side, they didn't have enough room to fight together.

The chorus of nos behind him grew closer, and Raz winced. I wish I knew where to find a place we can hide...! he thought frantically.

As though in response, a few stray thoughts appeared just ahead of Raz, leading up to a fire escape. Perking up, Raz whistled to Oleander and waved him closer.

Oleander spun around with a glare. "Pipe down, we've gotta—" He paused upon seeing the stray thoughts, and nodded. "Right. Good work, soldier!"

Raz went first, launching himself into the lowest thought and jumping higher and higher until he was able to reach the fire escape. Once his feet connected with the rickety metal, he turned around, and was surprised to find Oleander using what appeared to be a green psychic-energy grappling hook to grab onto one thought before the whole thing shifted into the shape of a cannon, firing him from thought to thought. Before he had time to question it, Oleander was at his side and prying open the window.

"Let's move!" the Coach commanded before scrambling in head-first.

Hearing the deep "NO!" of a Heavy Censor entering the alley, Raz had no time to argue, and climbed through. Immediately he spun back around to shut the window behind him, and watched the horde of Censors charge through the now-empty alley. "Whew," he gasped, feeling his shoulders droop as he leaned against the windowsill. "That was close!"

"Sure was." Oleander glanced down at the money in his hand again, frowning. "But what are we supposed to do with—"

"I'll be taking that," came another voice from behind them. A second later, a hand deftly swiped the bundle of money out of Oleander's grasp.

Raz spun around and found himself having to lean back to meet the gaze of a person that could only be a college-age Loboto, who stared at him from behind familiar red-and-green glasses. Messy strands of hair stuck out from beneath a skull cap, and he wore a dull vest over a collared shirt. Before Raz could say a word, he stooped down to swipe the money from Raz's hands.

"Bower didn't make it back, I take it?" he remarked, flipping through the bills.

"N-no, he got caught," Raz said, his heart sinking as he hung his head. "I'm sorry... But I think if we went back, we could help your friend!"

"Friend?" Loboto grunted, turning around to face the bed behind him. He stooped down to shove the money under the mattress. "He told me himself that I was on my own as soon as this was over. It was a brief partnership, nothing more."

"A brief partnership for a robbery!" Oleander put his hands on his hips. "What were you thinking?"

Loboto straightened, one corner of his mouth quirking as he turned to look at Oleander. "That robbing a business is a bit more profitable than selling pilfered goods to pawn shops."

"Wait, what?" Raz gave a start. "Why are you doing all this?"

Brows furrowing, Loboto crossed his arms. "Oh, I haven't the slightest idea," he remarked, casting his gaze about the room. Raz followed it, and realized they were in a tiny studio apartment, the kitchenette dirty and its appliances out of date, and the bed's sheets messy and moth-eaten. A tiny table and chair stood in one corner, atop which sat a few weighty books and a small stack of mail.

Raz almost stated that he was used to living in a small space, but held his tongue. Instead he tugged at his sleeve. "I mean... if you cleaned up a bit and replaced some stuff, it wouldn't be... too bad."

"Geez. You ever think of getting an honest job?" Oleander remarked. "Wouldn't've had a problem joining the military at your ridiculous height."

"The military isn't keen on taking in soldiers with mental deficiencies," Loboto said, his smile taking on an angry twinge. "But yes, in fact, I did think of getting an honest job."

Part of Raz knew he was talking to a mental figure, not the Loboto from the present day, but he couldn't help himself: "You can still do that! It's not too late to—"

"And how do you know that?" Loboto was suddenly towering over Raz, his glasses gleaming. "You think you can just barge in here and suddenly think you know everything about me?!"

Shuddering, Raz took a step back, only to bump his head against the wall. Oleander was quick to step between them. "You're college age and got rich parents," the Coach said, and Loboto's head snapped over to glare at him. "You gonna tell me you can't even go to school?"

Loboto's mouth twisted into a snarl as he bent down to glare into Oleander's face. "Yes, I am telling you that."

Raz blinked; he hadn't gone to school either, but that was because his family traveled so much, and he had to be homeschooled by his parents. Casting another glance around the room, however, he got the feeling that wasn't the case for Loboto. "Could you tell us... why?"

"Why, indeed!" Loboto cried, straightening and spinning around. Hands behind his back, he began to pace back and forth in the tiny space the apartment afforded him. "Why, when I was at the top of my class in every subject! Why, when my parents paid my tuition for a college on the other side of the country!"

Raz nearly expected Oleander to make a nasty comment about that, but the Coach was silent, looking away.

Meanwhile, Loboto continued to pace, his voice heightening in pitch as he went on. "Why, when all I did was provide a correction to one of my good professors!" He snatched a book off the table and a handful of the mail with it, glaring down at it. "Why was that enough to deem me a psychic sympathizer?!" he cried, his final words emphasized by the book's being chucked across the room. It hit the floor and slid to a halt in front of Raz and Oleander, and a slip of paper that had accidentally been nabbed with the book skidded alongside it.

While Oleander plucked the paper from the floor, Raz hoisted the book into his arms and held it up to get a good look. A large tooth emblazoned on the cover caught his eye, immediately followed by the title: Advanced Dentistry, 15th ed. That wasn't much of a surprise, but what Loboto had said earlier...

"University of Stoneton School of Dentistry..." Oleander read from the paper, then looked down and to his left side, frowning in thought. "Stoneton, where have I..." Suddenly he stood upright, eyes wide, only to deflate. "Oh gosh, they criminalized it in this state."

"Wh-what was criminalized?" Raz asked, but something nasty tugged at the back of his mind, some awful bit of trivia lurking at the back of his memory. "Wait... I remember that name from True Psychic Tales Issue 356! Stoneton is the capital of one of the states most infamous for..." He faltered, unable to finish the sentence.

...for its harsh treatment of psychics and anyone who allied with them.

"My parents spoke highly of this place," Loboto muttered, a bitter twinge to his voice. "They thought it would be an excellent university for me to continue my studies..."

"Well, uh, maybe you could go to a... different college?" Raz provided, only to flinch back when Loboto whirled on him.

"Yes, clearly that's something I'm capable of affording right now!" he snapped. When Raz looked up at him fearfully, he faltered, shaking his head and looking down at the bed where he'd hid the money. After a moment, he stepped toward the window, opening it up to stare out into the alleyway. Hesitantly Raz stepped up to his side, following his gaze. "This is only temporary. Once I've got enough funds, I'm leaving this rotten town." And he stepped away again, taking a few paces toward the bed.

Memories of the multiple pages of criminal reports flooded Raz's mind, and he wilted. "Right... temporary."

"Sounds like a plan," Oleander remarked dully.

"Speaking of leaving," Loboto went on, "I think that's what you two should be doing. Now." And without warning, he raised up his foot to swiftly kick Oleander in the gut, sending him stumbling backwards into Raz and knocking them both out the window.

Raz yelped as he hit the fire escape, and before he could lift himself up, he was crushed under Oleander's weight. "Oof...!"

"Sorry," Oleander grunted, and pushed himself to his feet. "Hrmph! That no-good thief sure didn't get much better from there."

"But why?" Raz stood and dusted himself off. "Why would he want to just... stay a criminal?"

"Guess that's what we're here to find out..." Oleander leaned over the fire escape, glancing down the alley. "Coast is clear, now, at least."

"Right..." Sighing, Raz hopped over the edge, grabbing a thought bubble to float down to the ground. Instead of levitating with him, Oleander dropped the fire escape ladder and began to slide down that instead. Oddly, the floor seemed a lot further down than it had been before, and Raz's thought bubble nearly flickered out by the time he reached the ground. Likewise, the ladder Oleander was using appeared far longer than it should have. In fact, they definitely passed at least a couple floors of the apartment before finally reaching the ground.

Before Raz could think too long about that inconsistency, another thought struck him. "Oh! I wonder if Loboto's friend is okay." Immediately he turned toward the end of the alley where they'd found him, only to pause.

"What is it, soldier?" Oleander asked, and stopped at Raz's side. "Oh, come on!"

Once again, the end of the alleyway was nowhere in sight.

"Well... maybe we'll find him if we keep going?" Raz suggested.

The Coach sighed. "Doesn't look like we have a choice, anyway."

With that, the two continued to walk down the alleyway. A shimmering fish figment flopped up and down over a shallow puddle, but otherwise the alley was dark as it had been before. And quiet.

"...Hey, Coach," Raz found himself saying. "Why do you think Loboto's parents sent him... here? I thought they didn’t want him to be a dentist."

"Why do you think?" Oleander said, his gaze still locked on the path ahead. "You were the one who found out what his parents did to him, Raz."

He was, but the thought still settled badly in his stomach. Quickly he pushed it aside; getting upset at what Loboto's parents had done wasn't going to help this mission—not now, anyway.

As they continued walking, Raz's jacket and turtleneck clung to his clammy skin, and he tugged at his clothing and shrugged his shoulders in discomfort. Even Oleander removed his helmet for a moment to wipe the moisture from his brow. "Sheesh," the Coach muttered. "Is it gonna rain or what?"

"Glad it's not just me." Raz cast his gaze around the dim alleyway, noticing that the buildings to either side of him were now dripping with moisture from the sheer humidity. It was like early morning dew, but more unsettling. On top of that... he squinted at the fire escapes and windows above; maybe it was the weird atmosphere playing tricks on him, but they seemed to be uneven, the windows no longer strict rectangles (like a rhombus? parallelogram? trapezoid? Raz wished he knew more geometry terms), and the fire escapes seemed to warp to one side or the other. "That can't be up to safety standards..."

"In case you haven't noticed," Oleander began, casting a side-glance at Raz, "I don't think any part of this mind is safe."

"Oh, it shouldn't be that dangerous of a mission," came an unfamiliar voice from directly in front of them.

Both Raz and Oleander jumped, finding themselves once again abruptly at the opposite end of the alleyway, and once again faced with a new mental figure. This one was a fair deal calmer than the frenzied college student they'd encountered previously, hands in his jean pockets and back leaned against the damp wall. He stood relatively short (though still a head above the Coach), and had dark, greased-back hair and pale purple skin. A cigarette hung from his lips, and the smoke he exhaled from his nose spiraled lazily into the air.

"Wait." Raz stepped toward the man, brow furrowed as he pointed toward him. "How do you know about the mission?"

The man laughed. "Appreciate the caution, Cal, but we're alone here."

Oh, so it was like this again. Raz opened his mouth to speak, only to jump when Loboto's voice suddenly spoke up beside him: "Oh really? Then would you mind providing me with the details again? As I've conveniently forgotten."

Head whipping to his side, Raz could see only Oleander, and a quick glance around confirmed that no one else was there. Was that... you? Raz thought.

Oleander glanced at him with an embarrassed shrug. Used to do that when I was annoyed with him. Never thought it would come in handy.

Now the mental figure's face twisted in a frown as he bit down harder on the cigarette. "Don't test my patience. We need you to plant the bug tonight. Do that, and you'll get your pay. Got it?" With that, he stepped out of the alleyway, and Raz and Oleander followed.

Any relief Raz had felt at stepping out of the dark, cramped alley was quickly vanquished when he saw just where they'd stepped out to. It was another section of the same gloomy city (or was it? Come to think of it, did this mental figure come from a time shortly after that of the last Loboto they'd encountered, or later on?), which now appeared somewhat more warped, as buildings in the alley had. The skyscrapers here seemed slightly bent out of proportion, leaning to a center point in the night sky above. (Wait, night?) Any street lights around them that still functioned were flickering and dim, and it was hard to distinguish one building from another...

Well, aside from what was most definitely a massive warehouse that stood in the center of the area.

"That's the place," the mental figure said, tipping his head back to regard the building. "We confirmed they'll be out for the next few hours, so we're leaving it to you to get the job done."

"Great!" Oleander exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "We—er, I'll definitely do that."

"Right." The man stepped back, taking another lazy drag from his cigarette. "Well, get to it."

Raz exchanged a glance with the Coach before they both turned to look up at the warehouse again. They made their way toward it, and Raz found himself glancing around uneasily as they got closer. "What kind of 'bug' do you think that guy was talking about?" he asked as he cast a glance over his shoulder. "Does he mean the spy kind of bug, or... a beetle?"

"Unless he's tryin' to employ scare tactics, I'd assume it's the spying kind," Oleander replied, stopping when they came in sight of the door. There were two Censors standing in front of the door, these ones dressed in trench coats. Raz made short work of them with a psi-blast, and the Coach tried the door, only to find it locked. "Hm. Shoulda' figured it wouldn't be that easy."

Already Raz was hurrying around the side of the building, looking for another opening. Upon spotting a window that was barely cracked open, he used TK to slide it open further. "Over here, Coach!" he called. After using levitation to bounce upward, he hoisted himself up into the window. Remembering something Oleander had said before they entered Loboto's mind, he waited there until Oleander was below him, and used TK again, this time to help the Coach follow him.

The two dropped down into what appeared to be a restroom that hadn't been cleaned in far too long. "Okay, I know this is a mental bathroom, but eugh!" Plugging his nose, Raz hurried out of the room, only to balk upon finding himself in the much more open warehouse. It wasn't pitch black, but it was dark enough that Raz feared one misstep could send him crashing into something. Pallets of rotten, burnt hardwood, charred boxes, and half-melted plastic buckets were scattered all throughout the place—it had been partially cleared out, but some had been left to collect dust. Too much effort to clean up entirely, he assumed.

Figments of men with guns and suitcases full of money were scattered here and there, but that wasn't what they were looking for right now. They walked around the pallets for a moment before Oleander perked up, and Raz noticed a faint blue glow out of the corner of his eye. Edging between two decaying stacks of hardwood, he spotted an open door that the blue light originated from.

"It's a fish tank," Oleander said before Raz could voice his curiosity. "Can barely hear 'em from here."

They crept into the room, finding it to be an office that was moderately better cared-for than the rest of the place. What stood out in particular was the safe in one corner of the room, and the large tank that sat across from the door. Several fish swam within, some with brilliant silver scales and others with black and white stripes. Raz couldn't hear them talking, but zoolepathy wasn't something he was well-versed in, aside from with rats and mice, anyway. He might be able to hear them better if he CV'd into one, but what would be the point in doing that now? Shaking his head, he turned back to the Coach. "This isn't really getting us anywhere. What bug are we even supposed to plant? We don't have one!"

To his confusion, Oleander ignored him, placing one hand on the fish tank and the other to his temple, his good eye glancing around as he strained to listen. "Dang aquatic accents," he grumbled, brow furrowing. "Slow down, slow down... Huh, really? Where?"

"What are they saying?" Raz asked, staring into the tank again. Some of the fish were facing Oleander, while a few swam in place, staring pointedly at a castle decoration.

"They said some new guy was just put in here." The Coach lowered his hands and peered into the castle, and his eyebrows raised as something began to move within. It bumped into the entrance a few times before wiggling its way out; it was a black-scaled goldfish with enormous eyes. "Huh, telescope-eyed fish."

Raz huffed out a small laugh as he watched the fish awkwardly swim around the tank, bumping into more decorations and even other fish. "You'd think with big eyes like that, it'd be able to see better."

"Wait, hang on." Oleander put a hand to his temple again, and his face darkened. "...Those aren't his eyes."

"Huh?" Curious, Raz squinted to see into the tank better before finally CVing into one of the nearby fish to get a better look. To his surprise, the little goldfish did not have giant eyes, but rather cameras strapped to its head over its own eyes. Quickly he brought himself back, scratching the back of his helmet. "Cameras? But why—"

The door creaked behind them.

"Done admiring my work yet?"

Heart jumping into his throat, Raz spun around to find Loboto standing where the open door had been resting against the wall. Once again he was wearing a black skull cap, and the rest of his clothing was equally dark, aside from his glasses—still the same red-and-green as always.

"Loboto!" Raz exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"My job," he retorted, striding up to the fishtank to gaze into it.

"Your job?" Oleander frowned up at the mental figure. "I thought you said this whole criminal gig would be temporary."

"Oh, times change," Loboto said, grasping his right wrist behind his back. "And plans do, too, when you're a wanted criminal." A harsh laugh forced its way up his throat. "It's a bit hard to apply to a new college after that!"

"W-wanted?" Shuddering, Raz took a few hesitant steps back. "What... did you do?"

"Oh, just a few thefts here and there. Not quite as exciting as it used to be, but it's a living," he replied, stooping down to get a better look into the fish tank. "This one, though... this was fun. I've been learning different trades in my spare time. Building things is quite entertaining..."

Oleander glanced from the tank and back up to Loboto. "You stuck a camera on a fish."

"Wrong!" Loboto slapped the top of the tank, causing the fish within to dart about erratically, and spun around. "I stuck two cameras on a fish!"

Hearing a light tapping noise emanating from the tank, Raz turned to see the little goldfish was repeatedly bumping into the wall. "...Why?"

"Wheeler needed help... retrieving some money from a former partner that had neglected to pay him back. He saw my tinkering work and asked if I could plant a bug. I told him no, of course, but I could plant a fish." His yellow teeth glinted in the light of the tank. "Fluoride's been an excellent subject."

"Fluoride?" Raz looked away, frowning as he tried to piece together what that meant.

"...He means the fish," Oleander muttered. He was staring into the tank again, his brow creased in worry. Following his gaze, Raz could tell the fish within looked... unsteady.

"This job paid quite well, too! And there's plenty out there looking for more... underhanded work, hm." Loboto stepped past the two of them, striding toward the doorway. "Excellent pay, fascinating work, and new clients every day..." He looked back, tipping his head, but his smile was empty. "What more could you want?"

Before either of them could answer, Loboto ducked through the doorway and stepped out into the warehouse. Oleander and Raz hurried after him, only to find the mental figure had disappeared into the shadows.

Raz's shoulders fell. "What happened to wanting to be a dentist...?"

"Guess he was happier with this career path," Oleander said. "Didn't sound like he regretted it, anyway."

A low whine echoed from the office, and the two spun around. Seeing the bug-like mental construct hovering near the fish tank, Raz took a psychic stance. "Spoke too soon, Coach!"

"No kidding!" Gritting his teeth, Oleander followed suit. While he reached out with TK to yank the Regret's weight away, Raz fired a psi-blast, fizzling its form immediately. "That was fast," the Coach said, dropping the weight and watching it fade away.

"I mean, they're not really all that tough on their own."

The Coach shook his head. "No, I mean for him to regret this job. Though he could just be regretting it now, in hindsight."

"Oh, maybe." Raz nearly followed Oleander as he headed back out into the warehouse, but turned around briefly to look at the fish tank one last time. For some reason the fish were now all swimming closer to the floor of the tank, like they were trying to avoid something at the... top...

Something was bobbing belly-up in the water, and Raz didn't stick around for a closer look. He turned and fled after the Coach, his stomach turning as he left the darkened office and dark memory behind.

It was easier to get out of the warehouse than in as they stepped out the previously-locked front door. The man—Wheeler, apparently—was gone, leaving this corner of the city even more barren than it had been before. "Now where do we go...?" Raz asked, wrapping his arms around himself in spite of the humid air.

The Coach surveyed the area for a moment before signaling to his right. "This way, soldier."

It only took Raz a moment to spot a figment of a thief carting away a suitcase full of money, looking strikingly like the man they'd talked to earlier. It was moving down a road leading away from the warehouse, leaving a trail of dollar-shaped figments flickering behind it. Raz and Oleander absorbed the figments as they followed the road leading further into the city. But something was... odd.

Raz noticed it when an uneven crack in the asphalt nearly caused him to trip. He hadn't been paying too much attention to the state of the road, but looking back, there were a fair number of cracks back where they'd first left the warehouse. It certainly didn't help that the road they walked was at enough of a decline to make it awkward to traverse. Looking at the path ahead, it was only getting worse, with the road gradually becoming more broken and uneven, with the occasional pothole that they had to step around.

"Sheesh, these roads're worse than a midwest street after a bad winter," Oleander grumbled.

Raz eyed a particularly large pothole as they passed it. "No kidding. My dad broke a wheel driving down a road like this once."

The road wasn't the only thing to change, either; the buildings around them leaned further and further inward, their windows and doors continuing to warp into strange shapes. When they finally reached the main street, Raz instinctively grabbed the Coach's wrist and dove to the sidewalk on the right just in time to avoid an oncoming car that swerved around the corner. Raz had crashed forward while the Coach had fallen onto his back, but they'd both escaped being hit. "Yikes!" Raz cried, hopping upright and dusting himself off. He reached down to help Oleander back up. "That was a close one, huh?"

But Oleander did not immediately accept his offer, instead staring up at the sky. "That's... not normal."

Blinking, Raz followed his gaze, and his eyes widened. "N... no, it's not."

There was no sun, no stars, no moon overhead; the skyscrapers had leaned inward so far that the very tops of them were joined together, completely blocking out the sky above.

"It's... not that bad," Raz remarked as he helped the Coach to his feet. "When I went into Boyd's mind, it was all streets and stuff too, but—"

"—twisted around, yeah, I know," Oleander said with a wince. "Don't gotta remind me of that mess."

"Right, sorry."

Slowly they proceeded down the sidewalk, finding themselves occasionally glancing back up at the warped ceiling high above. No, it wasn't as warped as Boyd's mind, but that didn't stop it from making Raz shudder, unease crawling up his spine.

The occasional figment dotted the sidewalk, depicting shady figures walking to and fro. A few streetlights that lined the road were flickering, and lights blinked on and off through misshapen windows in the nearby buildings, creating a constantly-changing lighting within the dim street. Cars occasionally sped down the road, bumping and rocking wildly against the busted asphalt, though they were driverless, as all the others had been. There were no true signs of life in this place, not even mental constructs, and a faint wind occasionally blew over the streets. To their right, most of the doors were flush with the walls and unable to be opened, with doorknobs that could not be turned, though Raz kept glancing at them, wondering if they might be able to continue their investigation into another place.

Finally he spotted it: a door that was actually set into the building. Raz nudged Oleander to get his attention before approaching the door. Just as he reached for the knob, however, the door flew open, and Raz had to leap backward as a mental figure stumbled out. She wore a blue jean jacket and a dark blue skirt, as well as, oddly, a large sunhat whose bright colors stood in stark contrast with the rest of her outfit. Though it was hard to see her head beneath the hat, she appeared to have short hair.

"Woah!" Raz exclaimed, holding up his hands in defense. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I—"

"TV...?" the woman mumbled, straightening and tipping her head back to look up at the buildings above them. Her eyes were half-lidded, and her mouth was hanging open. "Basketball practice?"

"...Welp." Oleander crossed his arms as he watched the woman stagger down the street. "Guess that was bound to happen at some point."

"So he really was removing brains before you worked with him?"

The Coach's brows creased as he looked away. "Well, yes, that's one of the reasons I sought him out. Though the proximity was a pretty good bonus," he muttered. "Not that I'd want to go through all that again, but—"

"Man, I wonder how he got his hands on that sneezing powder," Raz said, rubbing his chin as he watched the woman continue to stumble off.

"We had to make it from scratch when I worked with him. Was a real hassle." Oleander paused for a moment, as though reminded of something, and shuddered.

"Wait, but if he didn't have access to it before, then how did he—"

Wind whistled through the city streets, and a gust of it hit the sunhat on the woman's head, blowing it straight off. Bandages covered her scalp.

Raz froze, exchanging glances with Oleander, who looked just as alarmed as he felt. Without a word they both scrambled through the open door and up the cramped apartment staircase. A closed door sat at the top of the stairs, and without a second thought Raz threw it open. This couldn't possibly be as bad as he suspected, could it? Loboto hadn't really gotten that bad that quickly, could he?

But to his relief, he was greeted with a plain, if small, living room. A rabbit-eared TV sat in one corner with a chair facing it, and a small tower of books sat atop a side table to the left of that. It would have looked like a perfectly normal apartment had it not been for the shelves lined with well-kept dental tools along the left wall. A strange sight, to be sure, but it wasn't exactly uncharacteristic for someone like Loboto. Directly across from them was the entrance to the kitchen, whose light was on. The sound of a running faucet and clanking silverware nearly drowned out a disgruntled hum. "You turned back around again, Shirley. Head down the stairs, not up."

"Uh, we ain't Shirley," Oleander said, taking a hesitant step toward the kitchen.

The mental figure within clicked his tongue before shutting off the faucet. "You don't sound like my two o'clock either, unless you got a very bad case of strep throat since you called this morning. Anyway, give me a moment!" With that, the faucet switched on again, and the clanking of silverware resumed.

"Hang on, Loboto." Raz squeezed past Oleander and into the kitchen, where Loboto was presumably washing his dishes. "We just wanted to ask you some... questions..."

Loboto, now bearing a much more familiar silhouette, stood with his back to Raz as he hunched over the sink, his arms elbow-deep in the water. This time, he wore a long apron as well as the tall, wide shower cap that had seemed to resist Raz's powers. It didn't have any patches on it, but it was very much the same shower cap with its distinct floral pattern. "Could you not wait a moment?" Loboto asked, slowly turning to look over his shoulder. He still bore his original red-and-green glasses, which he seemed to be glaring through. "I'm busy."

At first Raz wondered why Loboto would be so upset about a common household chore being interrupted, until he noticed... the suds in the water were distinctly pink. And to Loboto's left, sitting innocuously on the counter, was a large jar containing a bright pink brain suspended in transparent green goop.

"Oh," Raz squeaked. He could faintly smell the hint of blood beneath the cleaning chemicals, and it was enough to bring up memories of butchered meat and twisted rabbits. The world began to tip.

"Keep it together, soldier," Oleander muttered behind him, placing a firm hand on Raz's shoulder to keep him steady. He raised his voice to speak to Loboto. "So what's the big idea, here? I know you've got freakishly long legs, but it's a heck of a jump to go from stealing money to stealing brains."

"You wouldn't be the first to take an interest in my career," Loboto said, lifting his arms out of the sink. Pink-stained water and suds dripped from his gloves, as well as the oddly thin piece of silverware he held between his fingers. He twirled it absently. "I'm quite popular these days."

"Quit dodgin' the question!" The Coach glared at him. "How'd you get from one thing to the other?"

"Such a hurry!" Without looking away, he held the silverware under the faucet and rinsed the suds off of it, revealing not a butter knife, but a surgical knife. Gently he dried it off with a towel before setting it aside. "Removing a bad tooth takes time, you know... as does removing a bad brain." He reached over to pat the brain jar affectionately. "I've done all sorts of work for clients! But the ones who would stop by my... office took note of my collection of dental tools. They used to be just that—a collection! But one client suggested that it would be a shame for them to go to waste..."

"R-right," Raz stammered, trying to bring himself back. "You were arrested for practicing dentistry without a license."

"Pshaw! Of course not!" Loboto waved a dismissive hand. "I haven't dealt with the police in ages now and I've yet to acquire an arrest record! And unfortunately no, I've not practiced true dentistry yet." He glared out the kitchen window, frowning. "That would be the dream, wouldn't it?"

"But then—oh." Raz swallowed. "You're... removing brains with dental tools?"

Loboto let out a giggle. "Pulling bad teeth, pulling bad brains—not much of a difference if you ask me!"

It made Raz sick to think about, but it still didn't feel like it was adding up. Oleander was right—this still felt like too big of a jump. Loboto had been involved in criminal activity the last times they'd seen him, yes, but he'd seemed... relatively sane. "There... is a difference, though. And I... I think you know that."

There was an uncomfortable silence save for the humming of the light above them. For a moment Loboto stared at Raz, his smile twisting unpleasantly. "Yes," he hissed. "How observant! Yes, a cavity doesn't form instantly. The patient misses a day of brushing, then another, then another, maybe they eat a sugary snack here and there... Meanwhile the plaque and tartar build up and erode the enamel..." He trailed off, wandering back to the sink and reaching in.

"So what did all that... plaque and tartar look like for you?" Oleander asked, crossing his arms.

The soapy pink water sloshed as Loboto retrieved a wicked-looking dental pick from the sink and proceeded to rinse it off. He was quiet for another moment before he spoke up, pitching his voice slightly higher. "'These tools, Cal... They look like they would hurt,'" he said distantly, watching the clean water drip from the hooked tip of the tool. "That's what that one client, Nora, told me. 'No,' I told her, 'in the right hands, the procedures can be mildly unpleasant at worst.'" With a skilled flick, the water was gone from the hook, leaving it perfectly clean and dry. "'So,' she went on, 'could those same hands... make them hurt? Perhaps, enough for a patient to beg, and plead, to give whatever information you want?'"

He stood still for a moment, turning the pick thoughtfully in his hands.

"'It would be a shame for them to go to waste...'"

Raz looked between the dental tool and Loboto, and he knew it wasn't the tools Loboto was thinking about.

He knew the feeling. Dion had once tried goading him into "making himself useful" and using his TK powers to pickpocket the rich parents of a bratty kid that kept whining during one of their shows. Their brother hadn't really meant it, Frazie had told him later—their family was not a band of thieves, and Dion was just trying to get him in trouble. But that hadn't stopped the thought from turning in his mind. If Raz wasn't able to join the Psychonauts, then wouldn't his powers just be going to waste? Why didn't he just do something like use his telekinesis to swipe someone's loose change, or chuck pine cones at unsuspecting people like Frazie often did?

Ultimately he'd decided he wouldn't do that—he would either use his powers for something good, or not at all. And "not at all" wasn't an option for him—he was going to join the Psychonauts, and he wasn't going to let anyone else stop him. But that clearly wasn't what happened with Loboto and his dental skills.

"...You could've used them to help people," Raz muttered weakly.

Loboto cocked his head with an unhappy smile. "That ship has sailed."

"But... but it hasn't!" Raz found himself stepping closer, even as the Coach shook his head. "Maybe you can go to another college, or... or find some other way to get your license? Or even find something else you can do that doesn't involve... this."

"That ship has sailed," Loboto snapped. "Gone! Fled off into the horizon, never to return!"

"But—"

The floor shook.

Dental equipment rattled in the room behind them, the walls cracked, and Raz and Oleander managed to scramble a few feet further into the kitchen as the ceiling of the living room caved in behind them, entirely blocking the doorway.

"You see?" Loboto tugged at one of his gloves until it came off with a snap. "Too late to turn back now."

Raz stared in dismay at the damage; he couldn't even see the room they'd originally been in anymore. "Oh man..." Yet as he stared at it, he realized that the debris before him wasn't made of a lot of heavy building materials—only dense brown dirt and powdery drywall. Frowning, he reached out with telekinesis, grabbing a piece of drywall and tugging on it. With a bit of effort, he managed to dislodge it from the wreck. "Hey, check this out!" he called.

To his relief, Loboto took a few steps closer, staring at the collapsed room and then down at the bit of debris Raz had pulled from it.

"See?" Raz said, smiling. "We might be able to clear this away!"

The mental figure stared for a few moments before hesitantly reaching out toward one of the other pieces of collapsed drywall.

"That's it!" Grinning, Raz looked over at Oleander. "Coach, you could use your psi-punch to—"

"No, no," Loboto blurted out, yanking his hand away and taking several steps back. "No use in that." He stared up at the blocked doorway again before shaking his head and turning away. "It'll just fall apart again anyway."

Raz's face fell. "But—"

"Anyway!" Loboto perked up, turning around to drain the sink before removing his other glove. "Much to do! A lot of interesting work ahead!" With another giggle, he snatched up the brain jar and marched out of the kitchen through a second doorway.

Sighing, Raz looked back at the collapsed room. "I... I didn't think it seemed that hopeless."

"Yeah, but you ain't the one who's been livin' in this fox hole. It's like he dug himself one and decided to stay there." Oleander eyed the dirt that accompanied the wreckage. "Literally, it looks like."

"But why would he decide to stay here? Did he... make friends?"

"I dunno; he's mixin' with some nasty sorts here," Oleander muttered. "But you never know with this guy."

"Maybe we can find out. C'mon!"

With that, Raz waved Oleander through the door that Loboto had absconded through. Out the opposite side of the kitchen was a hallway that seemed oddly long and winding for something in an apartment building, and always seemed to move slightly downward. The walls here were cracked, and more dirt seemed to be drifting through some of the thin holes. Figments of rocks and picture frames filled the otherwise empty hall. The old carpet muffled their footsteps, but the building was otherwise silent, up until it wasn't.

"OH, REALLY?!" came Loboto's snarl from down the hall, causing both Raz and Oleander to jump. "Classic crooked criminals conspiring to cheat competent creators out of their cash! It was only the finest in anti-psychic technology! See where you can get a better deal on—" There was a pause, followed by the CLANG of a phone against its receiver.

"Well, he... definitely wasn't friends with whoever that was," Raz whispered.

"That's a shocker," Oleander muttered as he crept further down the hall. A light shone from an open doorway, and as they approached it, they could hear Loboto grumbling under his breath.

The room itself was a small office of some sort, with a drafting table on one end covered in blueprints, a fish tank at the other end, and a desk directly across from the door. Sitting atop it was the phone they'd heard earlier, as well as another blueprint. Loboto was towering over said blueprint, his shoulders hunched, his hands gripping either side of the desk. While they couldn't get a good look at all of him since his back was turned, he looked no different from the last they'd seen of him, save a patch on his hat.

"Rough time with a customer, I take it?" Oleander asked, leaning against the door frame.

"What's it to you?!" Loboto growled, refusing to turn around.

"We, uh, just wanted to see how you were doing," Raz offered. "Didn't you say you had some interesting work to do?"

"Yes. Quite fascinating work!" He tipped his head up, giving a flourish with his hand. "I was hired to create anti-psychic defenses! Quite desirable in the criminal world, though not something unheard of." Giggling, he tapped his shower cap. "But they don't make that technology available to just anyone, so I had to figure it out myself. Lots of very hard work..."

Raz couldn't help but shudder. "But... they didn't want it?"

"Oh, no, they wanted it, quite a lot! But—"

The Coach perked up. "Ah, I get it. They took your prototype and got someone else to produce it for less money."

Without warning Loboto banged both his fists against the desk, sending the fish in the nearby tank darting about frantically. "UNGRATEFUL!" he cried. "Ungrateful unpleasant untruthful underhanded—!"

"They aren't all that bad, are they?" Raz asked, only to flinch when Oleander gave him a sidelong glance. "I mean, they're criminals, but there's gotta be some of them you liked working with."

For a while the mental figure before them was silent. His tense posture began to loosen, his shoulders drooping and his fists unclenching.

"You've been doing this for a while now." Raz took a few steps into the room, taking another look around as he did so. There was a workbench he hadn't seen initially pushed against the wall closest to the door, tools scattered atop it, as well as another blueprint. It was close enough that he could see what looked like the schematics for high-tech goggles drawn onto it, but that wasn't what was important right now. Turning back to Loboto, he went on, "There's gotta be some you had a good relationship with... right?"

"...I tried."

Raz paused.

The volume, or lack thereof, was not the only thing that caught him off-guard. The uncharacteristic softness of Loboto's voice immediately yanked his mind back to the hospital, and to the younger version of the man before him, so much smaller and so much more afraid.

It didn't last long, however, as Loboto's voice gradually rose in volume: "I did every little thing they asked. I put my two-hundred-and-ten percent into every task. I put EVERY part of me into these jobs!"

And when he whipped around, leaning down to face Raz, two gleaming lights stared into his own eyes, the robotic optics (not goggles, Raz realized as his stomach dropped) twitching left and right to take him in. Before Raz could say anything in response, a green field of psychic energy suddenly surrounded him, putting a barrier between him and Loboto, who gave a bemused grunt. His optics swiveled to the doorway, and Raz followed his gaze.

Oleander stood with one hand to his temple, fixing Loboto with a challenging glare.

"Hrmph." Loboto straightened and took a step back. "They didn't trust me much, either."

The three exchanged a few tense glances, and the psi-shield did not fade.

"...Well, that's how it goes!" Loboto exclaimed, whipping back around to face his desk again. "They're clients—customers! Not coworkers, after all. You work with 'em once, maybe twice, and that's the end of it!" Cheerily he plucked the blueprint off the desk and rolled it up, tossing it over to the drafting table. "Back to work now, of course! Lots of opportunities, and lots of work to go with them. I'll need some time alone for this."

After a moment Oleander lowered his hand, and the psi-shield flickered out. "Guess that's our cue to leave." He cast another glare at Loboto before stepping out the door.

Raz hurried after him, lowering his voice. "I don't think he was going to hurt me, Coach."

"I've got one eye, private, and apparently I can see better than you." Turning to Raz, he tapped his own temple as they proceeded down the hall. "Didn't you see what he did to himself? Replacing his own eyes with that? If he doesn't have a qualm with hurting himself, what's he gonna do to you?"

"I dunno!" Raz shrugged widely. "Maybe he had to do that! You didn't really give me the chance to ask him!"

"You don't know him very well, then."

"Or maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do," Raz retorted, only to wince.

"What's that?" Oleander whipped around to glare at him. "You wanna run that by me again?"

Well, it was too late to back down now. Raz stopped walking and turned to face him. "You're not giving him a fair chance. All you do is fight with him!"

"Yeah, and you would too if you had to work with the guy like I did."

"Weren't you the one that hired him?'

"Nevermind that! Point is, I've dealt with more of this guy than you'll ever have to."

"So what happened, then?" Raz snapped. "You said something happened that made you not trust him, so—"

"AAGH!" Loboto squawked from his office. "I said I needed to be alone! What are you doing here? Shoo, shoo!"

Several loud whines were all the warning they got before three Regrets came buzzing out of Loboto's office. Upon spotting Oleander and Raz, they whined loudly again, one of them taking one hand off its weight to point at them dramatically.

"Oh, great," Oleander said, staring deadpan at the mental constructs. "I guess these ones aren't too bad to deal with, at least—"

"NO!" "No!" "NONONO!"

Half a dozen footsteps came trampling down the hallway, and Oleander took several steps back. "Spoke too soon!"

Gritting his teeth, Raz reached out with TK and yanked away one of the Regrets' weights, then slung it forward. Its owner buzzed out of the way, while the weight crashed into one of the other Regrets behind it. The third Regret, meanwhile, swooped forward to drop its weight on Oleander, who tossed up a spiky shield over himself at the last second. The weight bounced back up at the bug, smashing it into the ceiling.

As the Censors came into view, Raz jumped forward and shot a psi-blast at the final Regret, which ricocheted over to two of the constructs behind it. The final Censor, a smaller one, seemed to notice that it was now alone. It stopped its charge, looked from Raz to Oleander, then let out a high-pitched "nope!" before turning around and bolting.

"Huh!" Oleander dismissed his shield, dusting his hands off. "That takes care of that."

Raz held up a finger, about to point out that Oleander hadn't actively participated that time, when the walls started shaking. The cracks in the walls began to grow, more dirt pouring from them, and Raz spread his arms out to keep his balance. "I-is this another cave in?"

"NO."

Another set of footfalls came pounding down the hall: two Heavy Censors running shoulder to shoulder, their enormous arms punching through the walls as they charged forward.

"Oh no, no, no!" Raz cried as he and Oleander took several steps back.

"Yes!" came the shout of the tiny Censor, which sat atop the two Heavy Censors' shoulders.

"Retreat!" Oleander shouted, turning tail and running. Raz couldn't argue with that, and followed suit. The hallway wound further down through whatever building this was supposed to be, the walls cracking further as the Censors destroyed them, though the ceiling remained intact, at least. Once or twice they stumbled over the uneven flooring or rocks that fell from the walls, but the two Heavy Censors moved ever closer, their low-pitched voices growing louder.

"We're dead meat if those things catch up!" Oleander panted.

"Please don't say that—"

"You think we can take these things in a narrow, collapsing hallway?"

"No, I mean 'dead meat.'" Raz gestured awkwardly as he ran. "It's kinda a bit too soon for that—"

"Oh, sorry."

Just ahead, there seemed to be a room at the end of the hallway, and Raz's eyes widened. "There! I think we can make it!"

"All right, hang on!" Gritting his teeth, Oleander dove forward, skidding through the doorway, and Raz dropped into a skilled roll just behind him. The second he was through the door, he spun around, looking up. The wall of this room was made of stone and dirt for some reason, but he didn't have time to parse out why. The Heavy Censors were nearly at the door, and without a second thought, Raz fired a psi-blast at the wall above, causing it to rumble.

The Heavy Censors paused in the doorway, looking around in confusion, while the smaller Censor between them looked up. "Oh, no!"

The wall and doorway above them collapsed, crushing all three Censors, who faded out of existence with pained "nooooo"s.

"Good work, soldier," Oleander said as he stood, brushing actual dust off himself this time.

"Thanks." Raz brushed himself off as well and began to turn around. "Now, were you gonna tell me what... you..."

He froze.

"...Where are we?" he asked.

And the quiet echo of his own voice answered: “...are we?”

#razputin aquato #morceau oleander #caligosto loboto #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #psychonauts 2 spoilers #fanfic #my art #my writing #psychics ruin everything

91 notes · View notes