Tumgik
#agent cruller
ace-aro-sasha-nein · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
I found an old Psychonauts discussion page on tv tropes and—
150 notes · View notes
lunaniteart · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Old man is making some financial decisions with giant piece of bacon. Definitely it’s very safe and reasonable investment.
202 notes · View notes
vampyartblog · 1 year
Text
W.I.P. had to share because...
Tumblr media
Look at him.
16 notes · View notes
yourlocalvastard · 2 months
Text
Ford Cruller is a little bitch for making me pay 800 FUCKIBG dollars for a cobweb duster when I'm TRYING to save the WORLD
other reasons too probably but they're irrelevant to me (<isn't playing psychonauts 2 yet)
2 notes · View notes
Text
Wondering what the hell I'm missing. I'm rank 97 when I'm supposed to be rank 98 before the point of no return, 18 out of 19 Vaults cracked, returned all of the Scavenger Hunt items, got 6 Psi cards, 45 out of 50 emotional baggage sorted, returned all the brains, no cobwebs, did Oleander's punching mini game all the way through, got all of the overworked collectables, revisited every mind and made sure I got all the figments.
Update: apparently I got afflicted with a glitch where somewhere along the way, a Rank never showed up, so even when I beat Meat Circus, I won't get to Rank 101 💀
9 notes · View notes
gameboydemakes · 11 months
Video
Here’s Agent Crullers Sacred Hall in full from the Psychonauts Demake!
Music by @beatscribemusic.
[Patreon] [Twitter] [Instagram] [Kofi]
187 notes · View notes
bcdrawsandwrites · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
[ID: A Psychonauts fanfic cover. On a reddish-black background we see a stark white version of the Motherlobe, the carved eye in the center of its brain appearing alive--the swirl representing its pupil is turned downward and glowing yellow, and its sclera is black. At the bottom and in front of the Motherlobe is a silhouette of a somewhat younger Ford Cruller (during the time when he was still running the Psychonauts). The Motherlobe's eye is casting a faint yellow beam over Ford's silhouette. Above the Motherlobe is the fic's title in glowing yellow lettering, reading "Like an Unwanted Astral Projection." /end ID]
Fandom: Psychonauts
Rating: K+
Genre: Angst
Characters: Ford Cruller and Morceau Oleander
Warnings: PTSD, dissociation, mentions of canon character death
Description: It was hard enough for Ford to remember who or where he was half the time, let alone run an entire organization. He could hardly rely on his own mind these days… but that didn't stop others from relying on him.
Beta Readers: @jaywings and Pinky G. Rocket
Notes: Takes place pre-canon during the time Ford was Grand Head of the Psychonauts. This one is heavy on the angst, but at least we have the knowledge that things got better for everyone.
---~~~---
It was not one of his better days.
Ford blinked, finding himself standing in the corner of his office with a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other. He let out a cry of disgust and threw both items to the floor.
"Get it together," he growled, pressing his palms onto his forehead. "You still got a successor to train. You got an organization to run. Keep it together."
Shaking his head, he stepped up to his desk and stared down at it. Focus, focus, focus. What was he supposed to do today? ...What day was it? Was it Tuesday? Tues... no, Thursday. He had to finish reading the report on Truman's latest mission by Friday. Where was it?
Ford squinted down at the desk and hummed in disapproval. Dream fluff wrappers were scattered over cluttered stacks of papers, some of them stacked or paperclipped together, but two different reports were mixed together. Not to mention there were four different pens—at least one of which was out of ink, and he couldn't remember which one, and he kept forgetting to throw it away—a notebook he couldn't remember the contents of, a dishrag—why was there a dishrag, why was it still wet, what was it doing here when the café was on the first floor—
Dishes need washin'. Can't let 'em pile up. Gotta break out the dish soap—don't forget the gloves, you nincompoops, you wanna get your hands peelin'? Should get some a' those fancy dishwashing pods—
Ford blinked again, finding himself elbows-deep in the sink, with some of the café staff eyeing him. Gritting his teeth, he drew his hands out of the water, peeled the rubber gloves off of his normal gloves, and turned to face the workers. "Right. Just thought you needed a hand. Gettin' busy out there with the..." He glanced out into the dining room, frowning at the lone couple milling about. "...brunch rush. Anyway, I'll let you get back to it."
Another blink, and he was back in his office, glaring down at the desk, hands pressed against the wood and fingertips digging into the sides. Focus, focus, focus. Keep it together. Read the report. Not hard. Just have to... have to...
Who left this place such a mess?! Back in his day he'd never allow for somethin' like this to happen! He'd been a janitor for twenty years now, dagnabbit! He knew how to clean a—clean a...
Once again he found himself holding the broom, and in a blast of green light it was on the other side of the room and smoldering.
Ford’s breath came in slow, labored gasps, his bones trembling as his chest burned and his mind stretched thin.
Air. He needed some fresh air.
And immediately he was outside, staring out at the flooded quarry. He stood off to the side of the main entrance, past the deck, hiding under the shadow of the Motherlobe’s great pillars as he watched other agents arrive. He was not in the mood to deal with starry-eyed junior recruits stuttering over him in awe, or the older members who knew, trying to stare at him out of the corner of their eyes as though he were an unwanted hobo lingering on their property.
Ducks honked off in the distance, and a goat trotted lazily across the deck, chewing on a discarded sock. The natural sounds were interrupted by the hushed chatter of gossiping agents as they headed to their shifts. Ford turned away from them, trying to focus on everything else—anything else other than this organization that he was somehow expected to run. The squirrels chattering in a nest below, the trees rustling above the quarry, the gentle breeze causing the water to lap against the—
Freezing water lapped at his ankles, grabbed him by the wrists.
With a strangled gasp he stumbled back, one hand forward and the other at his temple, his chest heaving as he fought to breathe in the chilled air that wasn't actually chilled because he wasn't there but his lungs were burning anyway and his skin burned and his eyes burned and please, please, he didn't want to go through this again, not again.
"Ford...?"
The voice wasn't one from that time, and it was enough to shock him out of the memory. Blinking wearily, he turned to find a squat figure staring at him from the deck. His arms dropped to his sides, and he stepped back, resting his drooping shoulders against the pillar behind him.
"Morry," he acknowledged without a nod. He was afraid if he attempted it, he wouldn't be able to raise his head again for a while.
For a moment he stared back out at the quarry and waited to hear what Morry had to say. The kid had finished his training some years ago, but usually came to him to talk about missions, or ask for advice, or even just to chat. Yet now, he was silent, and when Ford glanced at him again, he found he'd barely moved.
In a rare moment Ford’s mind pulled into focus, and he straightened himself, brow furrowing. "You okay, son?" he asked, trying to take a better look at him in the shadows of the Motherlobe.
Morceau was rooted in place and faintly shaking. He held a sheet of paper in one hand, and his good eye didn't seem to be focused on anything.
Frowning, Ford stepped closer to the young agent, snapping his fingers in his face, which seemed paler than usual. "Morry? Talk to me."
Though Morceau jumped at the sound, he fell out of focus, as though falling into a trance. It wasn't a look Ford was unfamiliar with. "I... I..."
"...Your mind ain't there, is it."
Morceau swallowed, and waved his free hand over his head.
"Mmm-hmm." For certain Morry wasn't astral projecting—the body didn’t tend to wander unless the brain was entirely absent—but Ford knew the sensation. Like you were astral projecting, but with nowhere to go, leaving yourself hovering above your own body.
It also didn't happen for no reason.
Ford's eyes darted down to the paper in Morceau's hand, and he snatched it from him, looking it over. It appeared to be a letter—was it mail he'd received? How late was it now? Had the mail already come in? How did he—
Don't you know stealin' mail's a federal offense? Kids these days! Think they can go about stealin' from mailboxes—little hoodlums! Now he'd have to go out and figure out who this was supposed to go to. Who turned off the lights in this blasted place?! Well, they're workin' up here, so let's see now…
He gazed down at the cursive handwriting written in a shaking hand:
My dearest little Morry,
I'm so sorry. I would've called, but I don't know if I can speak.
Your father—
The writing blurred and twisted and spiraled.
Lucy is dead. She is never coming back.
Ford stumbled, staggering back into the shadows as his mind reeled, the icy wave of grief hitting him all over again. Foggy memories of a battle over a frozen lake—over the body of a slain friend—flooded his mind, followed by even foggier memories of the smell of wet dirt and the weight of a shovel in his hands. He came to a stop at the same pillar he'd been resting against earlier, and slid down into a sitting position, his legs failing to support him.
He wasn't sure how much later it was, but someone else—Morry—sat next to him, silently taking the paper out of his hand. It was a moment before he recalled the message that he had read on the letter—the message that had brought back his terrible memories.
Said awful memories were not done. When he looked to the side, he did not see his former mentee. Instead he saw the tear-streaked, reddened face of Bob Zanotto, expression slowly shifting from fury, to wild, soul-wracking grief. He felt the younger man grip his arms, alternatively sobbing and screaming into his chest.
Morry didn't do that. He remained still, staring out at nothing, his mind likely floating a foot or two above his own body.
Ford remembered the sensation, having felt it as he stood in Green Needle Gulch, alone, still feeling the phantom dirt and blood on his hands while not feeling as though his body were a part of him at all.
He hadn't known what to do then. He hadn't known what to tell the still-grieving Bob.
He didn't know what to tell Morry.
But, recalling what little he had done for Bob, he reached out, wrapping an arm around Morry's shoulders.
Morry gave a start, and his good eye began to focus. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he dropped the letter, covering his face, alternatively sobbing and snarling into his hands, sounding almost like a wild animal.
Ford sighed, leaning closer to the young man as his mind dragged in exhaustion. He hoped Morry wasn't expecting any words of comfort, because he had none to give.
How could he, when he himself was still grieving so many years later?
Past the shelter of the Motherlobe's upper deck, the sky seemed to be growing darker. Whether it was because it was getting cloudy or late, he wasn't sure. Either way, Truman's report would have to wait.
But it couldn't wait forever, and neither could the rest of the Psychonauts.
The sky grew darker overhead, and the shadow of the Motherlobe engulfed them.
90 notes · View notes
jnixz · 8 months
Text
In light of tumblr going down several times today, I went on and finally installed PN2 in my much more capable desktop so I can bask in the Higher Quality Resolution and take reference pictures
And of course in my observations I’ve observed that all of the Ford levels have dark nights and stars as the color of his skies
Strike City
Tumblr media
Cruller’s Correspondence
Tumblr media
Ford’s Follicles
Tumblr media
Tomb of Sharkaphagus
Tumblr media
Bonus: Agent’s Cruller’s Camp 
Tumblr media Tumblr media
(shame we can’t revisit this one manually, its so goddamn pretty)
37 notes · View notes
aquato-family-circus · 11 months
Note
You know, the fact that Sasha's Merit Badge is still signed under Ford Cruller when his other fellow agents have had theirs retconned into being signed by them is potentially hilarious, given that it could mean that Sasha's trying to cover his ass for teaching Raz how to shoot things.
Like the other two badges aren't offensively based, so they probably got a pass easily, but I can see Hollis being not very impressed that Sasha chose to teach this young man Psi-blasts when he wasn't supposed to.
At the same time, he's also not very good at hiding this, since he keeps on treating Razputin too well (by Sasha standards) that it's just so blatantly obvious who Raz learned it from.
Sasha: Oh yes, it was most certainly Agent Cruller who taught him the essentials of Psi-blasting. I was merely doing my job researching and helping the camp. Yep.
Hollis: Mmm hmmm... and the fact that this young man not only sees to look up to you, dresses like you, and you all but treat him like he's a miniature version of you is merely a coincidence.
jfkfjdkcjks that is a really good reason for why ford signed that psiblast badge instead of sasha in the sequel i love it
sasha is like "i do not have any biases toward the interns" and then sees raz Like That. his little boy. his mini me. i love sasha he's so dumb
44 notes · View notes
neopuff · 8 days
Text
Tumblr media
ALWAYS ON MY MIND
chapter eight: keep me in mind ships: sasha/milla characters: milla, sasha, oleander, hollis, otto word count: 4784 ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53435410/chapters/137330257
[chap 1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]
-
Five and a half years was a long time.
As of 1985, Morceau Oleander had been with the Psychonauts for almost thirteen years, and he’d never seen Sasha Nein work so consistently with another person. It was fascinating, if he was being honest. He hadn’t thought it was possible. But Milla Vodello was nothing if not a miracle worker.
Morceau liked the two of them. Well, he liked Milla. He tolerated Sasha in appropriately small doses, as the lanky man did to him. 
But having a friendly relationship with them wouldn’t change his goals. Oleander’s grand master plan was finally going to get in motion. After five years of agonizingly slow and pain-staking hard work, the Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp was going to open its doors to the first group of psychic children that would someday power his army of brain tanks. Once he figured out all the other details, anyway.
Whispering Rock Valley was a perfect location. The large psitanium deposits meant psychic powers would be amplified, there was a beautiful lake for normal camp nonsense, and it was a remote-enough area to avoid interference from locals. The past five years had been spent planning, excavating the grounds, building the campsite, creating psychic safety measures to ensure safety for the kids and counselors, and then more planning. It was the biggest project he’d ever worked on, and Oleander was damn proud of it.
For the very first summer of Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp, they’d just have one camp session per month and just a handful of kids per session. Oleander would be a counselor at the camp every session, but the other two (or more!) counselors could swap. He didn’t really care. He was more concerned about working on his actual plan, and enjoying how the psitanium would enhance his natural psychic abilities.
The first session was set to begin on June 9th and end on the 16th. There were only seven kids signed up, and they were all the children or relatives of Psychonauts, but Oleander wasn’t deterred. The first summer was guaranteed to be slow! Their name wasn’t out in the world just yet.
“Morceau,” Otto commented one day while walking through the Motherlobe lobby. “I think all that psitanium exposure could be good for Ford. You should bring him along and let me know if you see any improvement.”
“You want me to bring Agent Cruller to the summer camp?” Oleander had asked, thoroughly baffled. It wasn’t like Cruller could do anything about his plans, not when the man was so mentally messed up, but the thought still made him nervous. “But then…who’s gonna sort the mail? Clean the bowling shoes?”
Otto glared at the shorter man. “We can always find replacements for that. Take him with you.”
Oleander did as he was told - after checking with Grand Head Zanotto and Lesser Head Forsythe, of course - and decided to embrace it. Cruller being around didn’t need to be a setback. It was just an inconvenience that ultimately wouldn’t change anything.
“Please be gentle with the children,” Milla said to him the day before he left for camp. “They can only handle so much of your…intensity.”
“You could always come along, you know!” Oleander responded with a toothy smile. “I’ll bet you’re great with kids!”
“Ah…I, um. I’ll think about it,” she’d answered shyly, then floated away.
Morceau thought that was an odd response, and Sasha’s appearance next to him made it even stranger.
“She used to work with children. It’s been a while,” Sasha said quietly, adjusting his sunglasses. “Perhaps we’ll join you next summer.”
Oleander glared at the taller man. “I didn’t say you could come, too, Nein. You’d scare the kids half to death!”
Sasha glared back, looking slightly offended.
Morceau decided not to give the other man a chance to talk back. “I know you two are connected at the hip, but there’ll be no time for smooching at my camp! It’ll be psychic training all day, every day!” He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled.
“You are intolerable,” was Sasha’s only response as he floated away.
Notably, in the same direction that Milla had just gone. Nein wasn’t doing anything in his favor to fight the rumors about the two of them and Oleander thought it was very, very funny.
X
Milla was excited to talk to Morceau as soon as he returned from the first session at Whispering Rock. He'd gone with Agents Aaronson and Whittaker, neither of whom seemed all that excited about the opportunity, but were both asked to keep things in line. The two of them looked absolutely exhausted when they returned - like they'd been on the battlefield instead of babysitting a bunch of children.
“It was…too much,” Agent Aaronson said when Milla caught up to him. “Oleander already stresses me out. Add a bunch of preteens and I was ready to rip my hair out!”
“Oh.” Milla was disappointed by Aaronson’s reaction, not sure if she'd have felt the same. It didn't take her long to find Whittaker, who looked similarly worn out.
“You ever work with kids, Agent Vodello?” Whittaker asked, not expecting an answer. “Think about all that energy. Think about how much they don't like to listen. Then give them psychic powers and try to stop the five-year-old from setting the fourteen-year-old’s hair on fire.”
She nodded, not really sure what to say. Milla wasn't going to pretend that she didn't have a vested interest in Oleander’s camp project. But it sounded very scary. Especially the idea of children being able to create fire with their minds.
It stressed her out to think about it too much.
After talking with the two of them, Milla finally found Morceau - he'd just finished up a briefing with Truman and Hollis and looked much lighter and happier than his two compatriots.
“How'd it go, Morry?” she asked, a bit hesitant after the bad reviews she'd already heard.
“How'd it go? How'd it go?” he responded, getting louder as he spoke. “It went amazing! These kids are hungry to learn! And Zanotto’s little girl, you should've seen her! I never could've imagined such a young mind could be so powerful!”
Truman’s daughter, Lili, was the youngest camper to attend the first camp session. Everyone knew about it because Truman talked about it constantly. Ever since his divorce, his daughter had become his entire world. Milla wondered if he was trying to make up for the time he didn't spend with his ex-wife.
Milla and Sasha had met Lili a handful of times when she came to work with her father. She was feisty and adorable and occasionally difficult to keep track of. Very adventurous, always wandering off on her own.
The idea of her creating fire with her mind made Milla feel very nervous. Five-year-olds shouldn't even use a stove yet, let alone start fires spontaneously.
“The parents were so excited, too,” Oleander continued. “Everyone took a handful of pamphlets, probably to hand out to fellow psychics with their own psychic kids. This is gonna be a gold mine, I'm telling you!”
“How many children are signed up for July?”
“A week ago there were just five, but a bunch of the campers asked to come back right away so we're already up to nine!” Morceau was smiling bright and looked immensely proud of himself. “I'm telling you, Vodello, the next generation of Psychonauts is gonna be the strongest yet!” 
She smiled at him, despite the unease she still felt. Strong wasn't a word she liked attributing to children. They shouldn't have to be strong. But it was hard to deny that they'd be safer if they were properly trained on how to use their powers, especially when those powers involved fire.
“I'm happy for you, Morceau,” Milla said, still smiling. “I'm glad you worked so hard to set this up. You're really going to change those kid's lives.”
Tumblr media
Sasha watched the two of them talk. He'd been casually observing them for the entirety of their conversation, but only because he'd been looking to talk to Oleander and Milla got to him first. Sasha had been paying attention to Morceau’s camp for a while, knowing that his partner would eventually, undoubtedly, want to participate.
Years ago, before meeting Milla, Sasha wouldn't have even considered it. What Morry said two weeks ago was right - Sasha did tend to scare kids. He wasn't good at being around them. But he knew that Milla would want to check it out, at the very least. 
She’d struggled to be around children for too long in the aftermath of her incident, but in the past few years she'd worked through a lot of those feelings. It was true that she'd never get rid of the nightmares, not entirely, but she made them weaker. A little at a time. And he was proud of her.
He watched as Milla gave Morceau a little kiss on top of his head, which Sasha found himself frowning at for no discernable reason, and then he frowned deeper as Morry shouted at her retreating figure. 
“Save the smooches for your partner!”
Sasha had told Morceau on more than one occasion to stop with the comments, but knowing he was making them to Milla as well made him especially unhappy. She didn’t need to deal with that sort of thing.
As she left the lobby, Sasha levitated to where she just was and stood right next to Morceau, who took a second to notice the new presence next to him.
“Nein,” he said sourly.
“Morry,” Sasha responded, hands in his pockets.
“What do you want?” Morceau glared up at him. “Don’t tell me you suddenly care about the camp.”
“Do you already have counselors assigned for the rest of the summer?”
That question earned Sasha a suspicious stare. “July’s covered, but August is still open. Why? You’re actually considering this?”
Sasha crossed his arms over his chest. “Why is that so surprising to you? I’ve no issue with spending time outdoors. Or with…children.”
“Are you kidding? You spend every hour of every day in your lab! Do you even know how to swim?” Oleander threw his hands up. “We’re teaching these kids real life skills! How to use their psychic powers to protect themselves, but also how to find community and feel like a hero! Do you think you can handle something like that?”
It was an interesting question. Sasha hadn’t thought of the camp in such a melodramatic way before, he mostly thought of it as some sort of training facility for kids. But he didn’t attend any kind of summer camp when he was a boy, so he didn’t really have experience to compare it to. He didn’t hate the outdoors, though, he just preferred his lab because he liked getting work done. There was nothing wrong with that.
“I do know how to swim,” was Sasha’s immediate response, though it felt kind of silly to say out loud. He didn’t know how to swim well, but he wouldn’t drown if thrown into the water. “I see no reason why I couldn’t do my usual work at Whispering Rock.”
Oleander sighed deeply. “This is why I didn’t invite you, Nein. You’re not focusing on the kids! You’re just thinking about yourself. If you really want to be a counselor, you have to be a counselor. Got it?”
Sasha pouted slightly. “Got it,” he answered, hating that he was being scolded by Morceau Oleander of all people. It wasn’t like Oleander didn’t have a point, though. Sasha knew he’d have to put aside real time to pay attention to the campers and not just work on his own projects. Which would be difficult, since he often lost track of time when he was working.
But he knew that Milla would want to go and he wanted to be there with her. It would be worth it to try something new.
“We'll join you in August,” Sasha said after going over his thoughts.
“Uh-huh.”
“I'm serious.” Sasha clenched his arms tighter across his chest and tapped a pointer finger against his arm. “I…promise to pay attention to the children. I'll be on my…best behavior.” It was causing him physical pain to speak like that to a man like Oleander.
“Talk to your partner about it first, why don't you?” Morry opened a little notebook and wrote something down. “I'll hold the space ‘til the end of the day, but no longer than that!”
Sasha took a deep breath. He was so easily irritated by him. “I appreciate that.”
“But I meant what I said before, Nein. This isn't some lovey-dovey vacation for you and Vodello to cuddle by the campfire! You won't get any of the silly romantic alone time you're looking for. It's real work! And it's hard and unforgiving and you'll want to pull your hair out sometimes!” Oleander shook his head and held a hand dramatically to his chest. “But it's worth it! Trust me, it's worth it.”
“...I have absolutely no expectations for anything romantic,” Sasha said after a moment of hesitation. He never knew how to respond to Oleander when he got all intense and weird. “You need to stop with the comments, Morry.”
“You're such a tight-wad, Nein!” Morceau rolled his eyes. “But y'know what? If you can actually manage to be an attentive camp counselor for an entire week, I swear you'll never hear a joke about you and Vodello ever again!”
That got Sasha’s attention. If that was what it would take to stop the comments, then that was exactly what he'd do. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
With a grumble about being late for something, Morceau left the lobby, and Sasha stood there awkwardly for a few moments. He needed to go find Milla.
Sasha made his way down the hallway towards his lab and turned to look at the office next to his - the office that now belonged to his partner, Milla Vodello. She'd just earned the space recently and he couldn't have been prouder.
He could feel that she was in there - Milla tended to keep her mind open to him, allowing him to speak to her telepathically any time he wanted. And he was similarly allowed to enter her office any time he wanted, so he quickly stepped up and allowed the Thinkerprint lock to open the door for him.
Milla wasn't levitating in the middle of the room like he'd expected - instead, she was organizing some books and photos on one of her bookshelves.
“Hello, Sasha!” she chirped happily, still looking at the books in front of her.
“...hello,” he responded. Suddenly, Sasha felt a bit nervous. He could've just told her that he'd volunteered them for camp counselor duty telepathically, he didn't need to come all the way over to her office just to inform her. But he wanted to be present for whatever reaction she had. Maybe she'd be mad and tell him she's not ready, or maybe she'd be very happy and give him a hug.
He liked getting hugs from her.
“How's your day been?” Milla asked, levitating over to him.
“Fine.” Sasha kept his hands in his pockets, but he suddenly had an urge to smoke. He didn't usually have that urge around Milla anymore. “I…I have an important question to ask you.”
She tilted her head adorably. “What is it?”
Sasha stared at her for another moment before answering. “Um…would you be interested in being counselors at Oleander's camp? This August, perhaps?”
Milla’s eyes practically sparkled. “Really?”
“Really. I already asked him about it and there's no one signed up yet.”
She smiled at him - toothy and bright, but a little nervous. “Oh, darling, I-I would absolutely love that! But…”
He raised a single eyebrow curiously. There was a but?
“...I don't want you to force yourself to go just because of me.” She clasped her hands together and held them over her chest. “I'm not even sure if I'm…if I'm ready yet, so we can-”
Sasha interrupted her, not wanting to hear her spiral. “It's not just because of you. I'm very curious about Whispering Rock and seeing what the young psychics are capable of.” He paused, then added, “And for whatever it's worth, I think you're ready.” Sasha hesitated for a moment, then reached out and placed one hand on her shoulder. “You've made a lot of progress since you first started here, Milla. I think you owe it to yourself to try.”
The smile on her face grew bigger and bigger as he spoke, until finally Milla launched herself forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and shoulders.
Sasha took a deep breath - he was trying to get less embarrassed when she hugged or kissed him, but it was difficult. He was embarrassed. But he didn't want her to stop.
He still felt himself turn rigid as much as he tried to stop it, and slowly he moved one hand to her back. He could hug her, too. No reason why he couldn't.
Then Milla moved her hands to his head and held it in place while she left multiple little kisses on his cheek. She was definitely very happy with him.
Sasha was soaking up the feeling of her lips. One of her kisses was only an inch away from his own and it was difficult not to sweat at the thought.
“Thank you, Sasha!” Milla finally said, pulling back just a bit but allowing his hand to linger on her back. “I love this idea. I love it. August, right? I can go talk to Morry and see if we need to bring anything…” She sighed deeply and squeezed him tight again before pulling away completely. “We should talk to Hollis and Truman, too, just to make sure it's alright. But I'm sure it will be.”
Sasha’s arms felt cold and empty without her warmth. He stared at her with an absentminded smile, hoping his cheeks weren't as red as they felt (they definitely were). He couldn't fight the little smile on his face and watched as she did a little levitating spin.
“Thank you for this, darling,” Milla said cheerfully, coming down to his level again. She leaned in and gave him a peck on his other cheek. “Thank you, I love you, I'm going to go talk to Morry! I'll let you know what he says!”
Tumblr media
She rushed out of the room, leaving Sasha behind to marinate in what just happened. His cheeks were bright red and he felt sweat all down the back of his neck.
She said I love you.
Of course, it wasn't the first time the word love had come up between them. It could be a very playful, platonic term in certain contexts. But usually she'd say it around other people - when asked how their partnership was going, she'd say I love working with Sasha or it's absolutely lovely! or something along those lines.
Never before had she privately told him I love you.
Sasha knew a memory vault would've been forming in his head if not for the detailed filing cabinet of memories dedicated specifically to her. He could hardly believe the Milla Vodello cabinet started out as a single folder.
He continued to stand there in Milla’s office, taking deep breaths and trying to will his heart to stop beating so fast. He was an adult and she was his partner and he needed to figure out how to accept her affections without losing his motor functions. Hugging her back (even a little bit) was somewhat helpful. Perhaps his next step would be to kiss her back.
Sasha’s face heated up immediately at that thought. He would not be doing that. 
He…he needed to find some work to do.
X
“Morry!” Milla shouted, waving at the shorter man.
Oleander turned to look at her, a curious eyebrow raised, but then he seemed to remember something and smiled. “I'm guessing you and Nein talked?”
She levitated closer and smiled. “We did! August works perfectly for me.”
“Alright! That's good to hear!” Morceau opened his little notebook and wrote something down. “I trust you with this more than Nein, but I'm gonna say it anyway. This isn't gonna be some lovey-dovey romantic vacation, got it? Your jobs are to train these kids and that's what I expect to happen!’
Milla tilted her head slightly. Morry made the occasional joke about her and Sasha’s relationship, so it wasn't particularly surprising to hear that he also made them to Sasha. But after the little faux-pas she just committed (saying I love you to her partner was a bit much!), she felt especially embarrassed about it. But how would Morry know that? He was just being the same as usual.
“You don't have to worry about that,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her hair. There was definitely no chance of something romantic happening between them on a normal day - when surrounded by children? Out in the woods? Even less. Negative chances. “Do we need to bring anything?”
Morry shook his head. “Nothing special. Clothes, toiletries, the usual camp stuff.”
“Oh, good. That'll make it easy,” she said with a smile, happy that he didn't try to stick to the subject of romance. “I guess I'll go tell Hollis and Truman-”
“No need! I already took care of it!” Morceau smiled up at her. “Hollis pre-approved any agents who showed interest in the camp for the first two years! And you'll get paid overtime, too! Trust me, Vodello, you're gonna love it there. The great outdoors, the fresh air…and Agent Cruller has been amazing!”
“Huh?” Milla stared at him curiously. “Agent Cruller is there?”
“Mentallis suggested it. Figured the psitanium would be good for the old man’s brain.” Oleander seemed to think of something and then quickly wrote it down. “I don't know if it's been good for him, but he's been cooking and cleaning all over the camp! Making my life a lot easier. At first, I was worried about having him there, but it's been great!”
She nodded, surprised to hear all of that information. “I suppose Agent Mentallis tends to have good ideas.”
“You bet he does!” Oleander said with a smile. “Ooh, speaking of good ideas, I've been thinking about ways to promote the camp to kids who don't have psychic parents.”
“How's that?”
“We need to keep it sort of secretive, y'know, since the average person doesn't understand psychics or Psychonauts or anything we do. But we still want people to be interested, so there needs to be lots of details out there for them to see.”
Milla nodded slowly, no idea where he was going.
“And what do kids love, Vodello, that adults ignore and dismiss as silly?” Oleander spoke like he wanted her to respond, but immediately answered himself. “Comic books!”
Milla stood there awkwardly. She was never much of a comic book reader. “I'm not sure I understand.”
“Hear me out, okay? We produce a series of comic books that detail the exploits that we Psychonauts go on! Psychic kids will read them and know it's real, but random adults will assume it's just another fictional story they can ignore!”
She didn't even know how to word her next question. What the hell was he talking about?
“You seem confused. Let me give you an example,” Morry said, opening his notebook and flipping to a random page near the end. On it, there was a pretty decent drawing of a much younger Grand Head Zanotto shooting out a PSI-blast at an unseen enemy. “This issue would be all about Truman taking down the Psychic Scrambler! I'm just realizing you weren't here for that, but maybe you know about it anyway. The comic would show him at the Motherlobe, getting the assignment, then fighting the Scrambler and taking him back to base for processing! Kids will love it! They'll see this and desperately want to learn more about the Psychonauts!”
Milla held one hand to her chin, still completely confused. “Y'know what, Morry…if you think it'll work, then it's at least worth a shot, right?” She smiled at him, but she also felt like she needed a coffee. “I'm sure Hollis will like it.”
“What will I like?”
The two of them turned to see that Second Head Forsythe had entered the room and was levitating closer to them as they spoke.
“Hello, Hollis!” Milla said with a smile. “Morceau and I were talking about Whispering Rock. Sasha and I just signed up to be counselors in August.”
Hollis smiled and nodded. “That's great to hear. I was wondering when you'd take part.” She turned to look at Oleander. “Is that what I'm going to like?”
“I was telling Vodello here about an inexpensive advertising campaign for the camp!” Morry said with a proud smile. “And it'd be sneaky, too! Only fellow psychics would understand!”
She put a hand on her hip and smiled at him. “Oh, really?”
As Morceau explained his comic book idea to her, Milla watched them and wondered when their relationship had improved so much. Sometimes it felt like she was so focused on her work with Sasha, that she barely paid attention to anyone else anymore. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd hung out with Sherri, and she never worked with Agent 33 anymore. Though there were rumors that 33 avoided working with Sasha whenever possible, so that could've been the reason.
“Y'know what, Oleander?” Hollis said, pulling Milla out of her thoughts. “If you can find an artist for this, then we'll do it. We made so much money from this first week of camp - you've clearly got some great ideas in that head of yours.”
“Yes!” Morry pumped a fist in the air. “I know just the gal!” Then he ran off in another direction, not even bothering to say goodbye.
Hollis looked at Milla and smiled gently. “I'm glad you're going, Milla. Truman will be, too. He was just telling me how he knew you could convince Sasha to go with you.”
Milla chuckled at that. “It was actually the other way around,” she said shyly, tugging some hair behind her ear. She still felt a little embarrassed talking about her partner after what she'd said to him. “Sasha suggested it and convinced me to go!”
The older woman frowned. “Really?”
Milla blinked at her. Why would she lie about something like that? “Um…yes, really. Why?”
“I'm just surprised, is all. Kind of thought Sasha hated kids.” Hollis shrugged, like the suggestion wasn't strange at all. “He's always so awkward around Truman’s daughter.”
Hate seemed a bit strong, in Milla’s opinion. It wasn't like he'd had the opportunity to be around many children before.
“Well, I should be fair to him. He can be awkward around a lot of people. Except for you, of course.”
There were clearly a lot of thoughts running through the Second Head’s mind, and Milla decided she should do her best to clear them up before she said anything else about her partner that wasn't super polite. “Ah, well! Sasha is always supporting me and my, um, mental health journey, so he was probably trying to encourage me! It's very sweet of him.”
Hollis nodded her head slowly and put her other hand on her other hip. “He's really blossomed from working with you, Milla. Honestly, if you saw what he was like when he first came here, you'd hardly recognize him.”
“That's what I've heard,” Milla responded awkwardly. She really wanted that coffee.
“Well, that's good to hear. I hope you two have fun at the camp.” Hollis suddenly closed her eyes, looking like someone was talking to her telepathically. “I've got to go, but I've got a new assignment for the two of you, so make some space in your schedule for a briefing later today. Maybe around 2.”
Milla nodded, happy at the change of subject. “Of course! I'll let Sasha know.”
And then suddenly she was alone in the middle of the lobby. Milla felt oddly vulnerable - the room was too quiet. It felt like anyone and everyone was listening in on her conversations the entire time, even though she knew that wasn't true.
Probably not, anyway.
She ran her fingers through her hair and finally made her way to the Noodle Bowl. She could talk to Sasha again after getting herself a coffee.
Oh, actually - she would get a coffee for him, too! He'd probably like that.
9 notes · View notes
wybienova · 10 months
Text
shoutouts to my favorite psychonauts song that nobody knows about: The One That Plays In Ford’s Hair Salon.
the below video was recorded by me, and it’s kinda dumb and i cut it too soon but the thing is. i could not find this song on youtube anywhere!! so i had to go make my own version . maybe eventually I’ll go back and record a better version that isn’t cut off
fun fact about this song: apparently it was the original music for ford hair! back in the early trailer times where the level had you sliding around on barbershop poles . it got changed when the level changed , bc it really doesn’t fit the new level theming lmao
however!! the current ford hair music has bits of this but backwards and distorted ! which is COOL
another thing i like about this old one though is that it has the motif from agent cruller’s sacred hall <33 my beloved
im glad they changed ford hair bc i honestly really love the current concept of it and this music does NOT work . however it is a shame that this song isn’t on a soundtrack and can’t even be found on youtube because it’s GOOD
51 notes · View notes
razzle-zazzle · 5 months
Text
Whumptober Day 25: you're not delivering a perfect body to the grave
Buried Alive + Storm (metaphorically)
3387 Words; River Runs Deep
TW for discussions of memory alteration, death mention, burying someone alive
AO3 ver
“What did you say in that letter?” Raz asks.
“Nothing important, really.” The reflection of Mail Ford responds.
“Just that I loved her.” Agent Cruller continues. “She just wanted to help, but they pushed her too far.”
“How should we have known?” Mail Ford asks. “It’s not like she was marked ‘Fragile!’” The typewriter passes from his hands to Agent Cruller’s.
“But I thought I knew her, and everything she held inside herself.” Agent Cruller laments. “Ahh, I had so much to learn.”
“Ah,” Mail Ford says, “I guess some packages are better left… unopened.”
And with that remark, Raz is left standing once again in the messy treehouse. He looks at the final piece of the mirror in his hands.
“Ford and Nona…” Raz has learned so much, just from poking around in Ford’s brain. His Nona’s memories of her past have been shrouded in mystery. The Aquatos feared the Psychonauts as much as they feared the Deluginists because of this fact—surely, if the Psychonauts ever learned that Nona used to be Maligula, they would prosecute her.
But Raz has learned so much. His Nona used to be a part of the Psychic Seven! She’s one of them! She and Ford were lovers! And oh, some part of Raz’ mind is almost giddy at the realization, that Ford Cruller could have become his great-uncle—but he pushes that part of himself to the side. Now isn’t the time to be fanboying. Raz has a mission to complete!
Still, the fact that Nona and the Psychonauts are more closely linked than Raz ever thought…
Maybe hiding from them is pointless. Maybe they won’t prosecute her. Maybe they can help.
Raz sighs, and puts the last piece of the mirror back in place. He has a mission to focus on. He pulls out the typewriter, and sets it on the shelf.
The silence stretches on, for a moment.
“Razputin.” Ford’s voice cuts across the space.
Raz turns to the mirror clasped in the body’s hand. “Agent Cruller!” He grins. “How do you feel?”
The reflection frowns. “I’ve done a terrible thing.” He shakes his head. “And so have you.”
“What?” Raz’ voice comes out smaller than he wants it to. “I just wanted to help!” And to see if Ford knows anything about whoever took his Father’s and Nona’s memories—though Raz doesn’t voice that bit aloud. “I don’t know who shattered your mind,” Raz steps forwards, “But now we can find out!”
“I already know who did this to me.” Ford admits. “That’s the first thing I’ve learned in here.” The mindscape begins to tilt, slightly, the sky above Raz starting to twist. “The rest you’re gonna have to see for yourself…”
And suddenly Raz is standing in a dark forest, Ford standing next to him. In Ford’s hands is a shovel, and on his face is a grim expression. He’s no longer dressed in a Psychonauts uniform, instead wearing a shirt and jacket.
“Ford,” Raz turns to him, “What is it?” Who shattered your mind? What are you trying to show me?
Ford points with his shovel. “See for yourself.” He utters, as Raz follows the end of the shovel to a stone archway.
Raz swallows. When he looks to his side again, Ford is gone.
Guess I gotta keep going. Raz walks through the archway, and finds himself in what looks like a cemetery. All of the tombstones are blank.
Slowly, carefully, Raz continues forwards, cool mist curling around his ankles. He picks up figments as he goes, looking this way and that for the answers Ford indicated would be here. The ground starts to curve sharply downwards before him.
Raz turns around at the sound of something scraping. His eyes widen—a massive comb is slowly advancing behind him, already past the cemetery’s entrance.
“Uh oh.” Raz hops on his levball and runs, rolling along the ground and collecting figments along the way. The sky darkens as he progresses, the comb advancing behind him at a steady pace, until the only light is that of Raz’ levball, and two lanterns hanging up ahead.
The lanterns are standing to either side of a deep hole. Raz hops down into it. The comb passes harmlessly overhead.
“Agent Cruller,” Raz calls up, “I’m getting less sure I want to see this!”
And Ford is there, at the edge of the hole, pushing his shovel into the dirt. “Oh no,” he mutters, lifting up a shovelful of dirt, “I don’t think you’ll want to see this at all.” He dumps the dirt into the hole—into the grave, Raz realizes, his eyes widening. Within moments, the grave is full, and Raz is struggling to escape the dirt surrounding him. Air! He needs air!
The dirt doesn’t give, pressing in all around Raz as he struggles. He needs to get out of here! But it’s heavy, and dark, and Raz can’t breathe—
Raz’ hand bursts through the dirt, and he scrabbles for purchase on the ground. His head emerges from the dirt with a gasp, his lungs sucking in all the air they can get. Even though he’s only a mental projection and would merely be dementestrated if he failed to make it out, Raz’ chest heaves and he struggles to regain his breath.
Well, now he’s even more sure that he doesn’t want to see this.
But he has to. So he picks himself up all the way, hauling his legs out of the dirt. He pops free, but instead of landing back on the ground he floats upwards.
No, Raz realizes, looking up above him—or rather, looking below—he’s not floating, he’s falling.
“What?” Raz reaches back towards the dirt, yelping as he falls—
Very slowly.
Okay. Okay. It’s okay. He’s fine. Raz looks back down, at the shapes floating in the gloom below him. He’s not going to go splat. He’s going to be fine. He’s going to be fine.
Sharklike-shapes swim circles in the gloom. Raz angles for a figment, grabbing it as he falls towards a candle-lit ledge. He lands, and runs over to the door, pushing it open.
A bowling alley stretches out into the darkness before him. A single light illuminates the beginning of the lane—and illuminates Bowling Ford, who’s lying supine on the wood, a bowling ball resting in his hands on his stomach. Raz walks up to him.
“Hey Ford,” Raz starts, “What’s the deal with the deep six treatment?” Couldn’t he just drop a memory vault or something? Points for the presentation, but Raz is tired. He has been running around all day trying to fix this, and he would appreciate a break.
“I did what I had to do.” Ford states miserably. “I loved her, after all.”
All of Raz’ annoyance comes to a halt. “Wait, what?” Okay, now he’s wondering if he actually managed to put Ford back together, because that makes no sense. It’s like he isn’t even responding to Raz at all—what does loving Raz’ Nona have to do with burying Raz alive?
Ford lifts his head up. “Someday, when you fall in love, you’ll understand.” He closes his eyes, puts his head back down, and, without any further comment, slides along the lane. A light that wasn’t there before sits at the end of it, backlighting a set of pins that Ford knocks over in his exit.
Oookay then. Raz tries to follow, but he can’t get any further than the edge of the light. Fine. He turns around, walks out the door, and makes his way to the edge of the ledge. There’s two more like it, further down, lit with the warm glow of so many candles. Raz jumps.
He floats down just as slowly as before, but it isn’t long before he comes to a landing on the next ledge, having grabbed two more figments on the way. The window above the door is yellow, this time, instead of the pink of the ledge above. Raz grabs a third figment, and enters the door.
Raz is in the hair salon, now, a single light illuminating a patch of green and yellow tile. Barber Ford sits towards the back, atop a massive jar of Hydrocide™. Raz walks into the center of the light.
“Ford, what’s going on here? What did you want me to see?” Raz is so, so tired of having to jump through hoops. It’s all he’s been doing, today, all he’s been doing since Truman asked him to put Ford back together. Raz would really like some answers now!
“I couldn’t let her go free, she was a danger to the world!” And once again, Ford’s talking like Raz isn’t really there at all. Raz huffs in annoyance. Ford continues, “Even though it was the world that made her dangerous.”
Okay, that’s not helpful. Raz already knows all of this—for all that Nona’s memories of her life before the Deluge are gone, she can still remember bits and pieces of her time as Maligula, for all that she refuses to share those bits. Besides, Raz saw all of this when he was running around in the hair-filled mindscape of Barber Ford!
Still, Raz persists. “I know this! But who took your memories?”
“Safe. She’s safe.” Ford says, like Raz isn’t there at all. “Well, she was.” He frowns. “We all were. Huh.” Ford shrugs, “Not anymore.” He plugs his nose, and falls backwards into the Hydrocide™. Raz reaches out, but Ford’s already gone.
Just like before, Raz can’t go much further beyond the edges of the light—not that there really is anywhere to go. So Raz turns around and leaves the room, standing on the edge of the ledge outside the door.
One more ledge to go. Raz already has a good idea of what’ll be on it.
He floats down through the twisted ground making up the chasm, collecting figments as he goes. The window above the final door is blue. Raz pushes the door open, and walks out onto a wooden floor. A typewriter dominates the space, and Mail Ford sits atop it.
Raz pushes up his goggles. “Look, Ford, whatever I’m supposed to know—just spit it out!” He’s so tired. Is it so much to ask that even just one thing comes easy today? Must everything be a struggle?
“I had to hide her from the world, because they’d never forgive her.” Ford rambles. “And I had to hide her from me, because I’d never forget her.”
Raz’ heart starts to sink. Ford isn’t saying… no. No, he must be confused, or talking about something else. “Where?” Raz asks, “Where did you hide her?” He has a sneaking suspicion as to who she is. He hopes it isn’t true.
Ford shuts his eyes. “She’s with family.” He falls backwards over the bar, sinking down into the slot for paper.
Annoyance and dread fill Raz in equal measure. He was hoping for answers about his Nona, about the Memory Man who took her and Dad’s memories, made them think they were mother and son instead of aunt and nephew, left them with nothing but broken pieces when the illusion finally shattered—
Now, Raz isn’t sure what he’ll find, and instead of being excited by the prospect, he only feels a growing dread. He grabs the Half-a-Mind dancing to the side of the door, and makes his way back out. One of the shark-shaped coffins floats by, a tag dancing on its back. As tired as he is, Raz slows it down with time bubble to grab the tag, then leaps off to float down further.
He tumbles slowly, starting to fall faster and faster—
Raz hits the ground with a thud. He picks himself up, and finds next to a tombstone marked “Maligula.” More importantly, though, he’s in a coffin, and despite his protests it slams shut on him, trapping him inside.
The world around him blurs. Raz finds himself still in the velvet-lined coffin, but now it’s big enough for him to stand in, like some weirdly-shaped hall.
What is it with Ford’s mind and Raz getting buried alive? Is it Bury Raz day? Can Raz catch a break?
Probably not. Raz continues on, the velvet hall expanding around him as he goes until it’s almost the same size as a regular hallway. Clusters of candles sit in the corners of the room he finds himself in, cobwebs hanging from the walls and ceiling. Before Raz is a bed, with two skeletons lying on it.
“Ah!” Raz jolts back. “Who’s that?”
Ford’s voice comes in from all directions, even as Ford himself is nowhere to be found. “That’s your grandparents, Lazlo and Marona. They drowned in the Valermo Dam disaster, remember?”
“I already know this…” Raz mutters. Though it is kind of weird for Ford to know it, he thinks. No wonder the Memory Man shattered Ford’s mind—they must have been protecting their own identity. Which means that Ford definitely knows who they were!
(There is another possibility, sitting at the edge of Raz’s brain. He ignores it.)
“You—what?” Ford sounds genuinely caught off-guard.
“Er—” Raz backtracks. “I mean, Grandpa Lazlo died, but my grandma made it out and came to live with my father.” He tries. It doesn’t sound very convincing.
“No, Raz. She didn’t.” Raz can’t tell if Ford believes him or not. Then again, Ford apparently already knows that Raz’ Nona isn’t really his grandmother.
Something clicks behind Raz. When he turns around, the wall is gone, revealing a long hall. Raz sighs, hops on his levball, and continues forward.
Ford’s voiceover continues. “Razputin, after the fight with Lucy, she was defeated, but alive. I snuck her away from the others and brought her back to the Gulch.”
But… wasn’t Ford’s mind shattered in the fight with Maligula? How could he have brought her back to America? Could he still teleport that far with a shattered mind?
(Unless Ford’s mind wasn’t shattered at all, Raz realizes. He shoves that thought down.)
“I put her in the Astralathe—one of Otto’s inventions.” Ford continues.
Raz comes to a screeching halt at the end of the hall. The room before him has wooden flooring mixed with the velvet, a stained glass window, and a strange machine that Raz has never seen before. His heart sinks. No, no, no.
“Created to make permanent alterations to the psyche.” Ford continues, ignorant to the rising panic filling Raz’ throat. No. No no no. Can Raz go back to being buried alive? Please?
Raz spots the purse behind the machine—the Astralathe?—and darts towards it, needing the distraction. He pulls out the purse tag and attaches it. Ford’s voiceover pauses, waiting until Raz is done to continue. After a long moment, Raz continues on past the machine, towards a blue door at the very end of the room.
“But I knew the world would never forgive her,” Ford says, as all of Raz’ hopes fall apart. “So I had to hide her somewhere safe.”
Tentatively, Raz opens the door. “Oh no.” Oh no, indeed—Raz is standing in the doorway of his family’s caravan, looking out over an empty and darkened version of their campgrounds.
“I hid her among her family, Razputin.” Ford says, “Among your family.”
Raz can’t deny it any longer. “You’re—” he gasps, his throat starting to tighten. “You’re the Memory Man!” He exclaims, “You’re the one who took Nona and Dad’s memories!” Raz’ chest tightens, the weight of the world crashing in all around him. No, no—this can’t be right. No.
All at once, the scenery playing out in Ford’s mind stops. “You… knew?” He appears next to Raz in the mindscape, surprise coloring his face.
Raz can’t be in here for a minute longer. He scrambles for his smelling salts and whips them out, popping them open in front of his face. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out—
“Razputin—” Ford reaches for him—
+=+=+=+=+
Raz snaps back into his body on the mailroom floor. He looks at Ford, once, his chest starting to heave. No—he can’t do this. He never should have done this.
Ford comes back to himself, whirling around to face him. “Razputin—” He tries, but Raz is already running. He needs to get out of here! He needs space!
Raz runs, using his levball to go faster. He runs, all the way through the atrium into the lobby, outside the Motherlobe entirely, across the floating platforms—
(The water feels his agitation, and trembles in shared rage-hurt. It reaches out to Raz as he passes over it, whispering offers to play and wash his cares away.)
Raz reaches the tunnel to the Questionable Area, and keeps going. He bursts out the other end, his chest and legs burning, and he does not stop—
He can see the fairy lights of his family’s camp strung up, bright against the darkened sky. Raz dashes, intent on getting to his parents so they can all leave this place, or something—
Ford crashes into Raz from the side, stopping him from reaching the campgrounds. They tumble across the ground, Raz’ panic hitting a peak—
“Let me go!” he shouts, squirming in Ford’s hold.
“Listen, Raz!” Ford begins, “I know you’re mad—”
“Of course I’m mad!” Raz shrieks. “You’re the reason my Dad can’t remember his mother’s face! You’re the one who put my whole family into this mess, who forced us to hide Nona without any help!” Tears are bubbling out of Raz’ eyes like steam from a kettle. He finds he doesn’t care. “My family’s had to keep Nona’s past hidden all on our own just because you felt the need to shatter your own mind and run from your problems!” He can’t believe this. All his life, he’s looked up to Ford—wanted to be a hero, just like him.
But Ford isn’t a hero at all.
“You’re right to be mad, Razputin.” Ford sighs. “I was young, and I made a terrible mistake.”
“You could have stuck around!” Raz yells. “Did it never occur to you that they might remember?”
“I had hoped they wouldn’t.” Ford admits.
Raz yells. “Well they did! Except they still don’t remember before the Deluge!” He glares at Ford with every inch of anger in his body, “Nona remembers Maligula, but she doesn’t remember you!” And maybe Ford deserved that, to be forgotten by the woman he loved. But Nona didn’t deserve to have all her memories wrenched away like that. The Aquatos didn’t deserve the fear of not knowing, of always looking over their shoulders for fear of what lurked in their shadows.
“Razputin—” Ford raises his hands in a placating gesture.
“DON’T ‘RAZPUTIN’ ME!” Raz is tired. Raz is so, so tired.
“What’s all this?” Augustus’ voice breaks through the tension, and all of the anger leaves Raz’ body at once. He’s tired. He’s so, so tired.
Ford freezes like a deer in headlights. He opens his mouth—
Raz points at him. “He did it!” He shouts. “He’s the one who messed with your memories!”
Augustus’ eyes snap onto Ford. “What.” He sounds so much smaller than Raz’ father should ever sound.
Distantly, Raz notices his mother and siblings wandering over, Queepie held in his mother’s arms, Mirtala holding Frazie’s hand and rubbing at her eyes. He shoves down the part of him that doesn’t want his family to see him crying—Raz doesn’t have it in him to care.
He’s so tired.
“Why?” Augustus asks, clutching at his chest. “You—why would you—”
“Because I loved her.” Ford laments, “And I thought it was the only way to keep her safe.”
“So you took her memories?” Raz doesn’t know how he has the energy to continue yelling. Anger’s just like that, he guesses.
His mother passes Queepie over to Dion, wrapping an arm around Augustus’ shoulders. She glares at Ford. “You.”
Somehow, Ford manages to look even more rigid. “Me.” He admits.
“You have some nerve!” All of his mother’s ire turns to Ford, and Raz can’t find it in himself to defend the man. “What is wrong with you? Do you have any idea the damage you’ve done to this family?”
Ford opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.
“Wait.” Frazie pipes up, bringing everything to a screeching halt. They all turn to look at her.
“Where’s Nona?”
8 notes · View notes
psychonauts-faceoff · 10 months
Text
SOUNDTRACK ATTACK ROUND 1
(note: not all listed track titles are official as some were never named)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
LINKS: [X] [X]
14 notes · View notes
doodle17 · 11 months
Note
Hmm.... got any scenarios with Raz & Lili's children in the Motherlobe? I would like to see a few laughs. XD
You bet!
Hollis tapped her foot. "All this paperwork... how the hell am I supposed to get it all done?" She sighed heavily.
She felt a small tugging at her pant leg. She looked over, surprised. She looked to down to see a small boy, about 3 or 4, hiding under her desk. He smiled widely, revealing he was missing one of his front teeth.
"How on earth did you get in here?" She asked thoughtfully. The little boy shrugged and giggled. "Well, you can't really be I'm here. Now, let's go." She stood up from her chair and offered her hand to the young boy. He took it and the two walked out of her office.
"Alright, now let's take care of-" She stopped. Standing in front of her, was the little boy. He waved at her, she waved back, confused. "Didn't I just-" She shook her head. "Never mind." She grabbed the boys hand and walked him out the door, keeping a closer eye on him this time.
She slowly turned around, and sure enough, he was standing there again! "Are you kidding me?!" She exclaimed. The little boy laughed. She then noticed that he suddenly didn't have a missing tooth like before. Of course... she thought to herself.
"Agent Cruller taught you two how to teleport, didn't he?" She looked to the left of the boy. "And invisibility?" She said exhausted.
"Yep!" Both boys replied, the other suddenly appearing put of thin air. They began giggling, and Hollis couldn't help but shake her head, smiling.
11 notes · View notes
psi-polls · 11 months
Text
11 notes · View notes
starshadyy · 4 months
Text
Number 15: Meat Circus. The last thing you'd want in your childhood circus is someone's meat-related personal trauma. But as it turns out, that might be what you get. A Psychonaut uploaded a photo anonymously to the site showcasing his feet in a brain tank full of meat. With the statement: "This is the meat you eat at Whispering Rock." Admittedly, he had shoes on.
But that's even worse.
The post went live at 11:38 PM on July 16, and a mere 20 minutes later, the Psychonauts in question was alerted to the rogue agent. At least, I hope he's rogue. How did it happen? Well, the agent hadn't removed the Exif data from the uploaded photo, which suggested the culprit was somewhere in Lake Oblongata. This was at 11:47. Three minutes later at 11:50, the Psychonaut branch address was posted with wishes of happy unemployment. 5 minutes later, the news station was contacted by another agent. And three minutes later, at 11:58, a link was posted: The Psychonauts’ "Tell us about us" online forum. The foot photo, otherwise known as exhibit A, was attached. The Motherlobe contacted the agents in question the next day. When questioned, Ford Cruller said "Oh, I know who that is. He's getting fired." Mystery solved, by the Psychonauts. Now we can all go back to eating our meat in peace.
4 notes · View notes