#camp oleander au

[foragergnome]

lord, we come with the dust and we go with the wind

[psi-spectacular]

I absolutely fucking LOVE your king of delugion au, I don't know if you've said anything about it before but how are people like Milla, Sasha and the Aquatos reacting to Raz being missing if you don't mind me asking?

Oh it's absolute madness in the psychonauts. I mean, It would be when one of their youngest agents goes missing and no one has seen him. Thing is, Nobody realized he was missing for a good while, since Raz tends to just. Run off and spend the night wherever. Everyone kinda assumed he was just with someone else. The agents assumed he was with his family, the family assumed he heading towards Green Needle Gulch, and so on and so forth. But once everyone realizes no one has seen him in about a week, EVERYONE panics. He's not answering his phone, it's difficult to track him down, and all they find scouring the woods he was last seen in is his bag, a broken phone, and some faded footprints. It's all hands on deck trying to track him down.

Milla felt some distress in the woods around the time he disappeared, but she didn't even realize it was him and brushed it off, so you know she feels GUILTY. She's been stuck in her meditation chamber trying to track him down and did manage to pinpoint a general area, but not without some abandonment of needs. Sasha seems more detached from the situation, but he's mostly immersed himself in the technical side to try and save him. He looks stoic but he's mostly just doing his best to separate his emotions from his work, as usual.

The Aquatos on the other hand are absolutely distressed. Dona is in a worse state than she was when Raz ran away, because this time she knows, despite trying to react how she did when Raz ran away, she can't bring herself to. She knows its not his fault, but she is PISSED at the psychonauts for losing track of her baby. Augustus is trying his best to keep everyone together, he initially was part of the search and rescue efforts in the forgetful forest, But he has started to lose a bit of hope. Dion's been insisting he doesn't care ("He'll just come back like he always does, the little jerk.") But he's been staying out late into the night searching for him so... I'll let you make your conclusions on that. Frazie's been trying her best to wrangle Tala and Queepie, who are ten now and don't seem to fully understand what's going on. They keep asking when Raz is coming back and she just... doesn't have an answer.

Lili's been doing the worst I feel. They had a fight before he disappeared, which is what lead him to cool off by taking a walk in the woods. She was texting him for days, angrily thinking he was doing the silent treatment. She was so upset she didn't even notice the commotion until her father pulled her aside to ask when was the last time she saw him. She was so distressed they stopped letting her into meetings about him, but she managed to use Harold to watch from the wayside.

[freshcreationgarden]

This was beautiful.

Whispering Rock Staff Job: Life and Death

[aquato-family-circus]

I kinda like how Oleander's Basic Braining ends up showing who arguably has immense potential to go far as a Psychonaut, and the little reasons as to why some don't make it as far as they do.

Namely, that Raz, Lili, Dogen, and surprisingly Bobby all have solid potential. - Raz of course speaks for himself, since he shows himself to be flexible, quick-thinking and determined to achieve. - Lili is already a good candidate, but she's also shown to be doing her own thing because she's focusing on an innocuous detail that turns out to be important later, like how in the field these kinds of details can change everything in a mission.

- Dogen actually makes it really far, MUCH further than the majority of the other Psi Cadets considering his confidence issues; he just needs some guidance to help him through the minefield, but he makes it there eventually. He's like his grandpa in that regard; very much stuck in his own issues, but also much more competent than he fully understands or realizes. Milla had a good eye for his potential, even if she didn't catch onto Oleander's evil plan.

- Bobby actually shows that he's quite capable of getting pretty far, even further than Dogen, given that he's the last major obstacle before entering the final section of the level.

But it also highlights how he's sabotaging himself by fixating so much on trying to bully his perceived rival/enemy Raz that he discards any chance to get any further. It's not surprising why he'd be able to be a camp bully despite his personality if he's that capable and tough, but at the same time, he's basically his own worst enemy. If he could get out of his own way, he'd probably be a decently competent Psychonaut eventually.

I really like pointing out how far Dogen got, it never really occured to me to think twice abt that but the kid does have a lot of power & potential behind his self esteem and nerves and also the explosions

its no wonder also why ppl tend to like bringing bobby zilch into future aus, he makes such a mark of himself being really good at all the psychic power training but being to caught up in being a bully to get past raz. real fated rivals in bobby's mind. raz just thinks hes annoying and that would make bobby so mad he'd punch a wall

[thetomorrowshow]

survival

esh au hiiiii

Announcement: I'm going to be doing whumptober! A week from now is the 1st of October, so in addition to the next oleander update, i'll also start posting my whumptober fics :)

~

He doesn’t stay in the city because of course he doesn’t stay in the city. He’s the prime suspect in a double homicide, after all.

Still, Jimmy sticks around the streets for a while, ducking into the shadows whenever he hears a siren. After all, it’s a bit suspicious to see a dirty teenager out on his own, nothing on him but his clothes and his backpack (still with his cheap geometry textbook and his assigned English reading stuffed into it, because they make for somewhere to lay his head that isn’t hard ground).

(He’d thought about going back to school, at first. How ridiculous is that?)

He sticks around for about a month—far longer than he wants to live on the streets, but his parents are cremated and so the funeral service isn’t urgent, and is held three weeks after their death.

Nobody notices the sallow sixteen-year-old boy loitering in the church front entrance, listening to the echoes of the eulogy. They don’t notice that he spent the last bit of his money on a white button-up from a thrift store, that he’d braved a homeless shelter to be able to shower. They don’t notice the tears that streak down his face, that he desperately tries to wipe away.

Then the loudspeaker in the entrance sparks and smokes and stops working, so Jimmy leaves.

He knows he has to get away. He’s barely been surviving nicking food from convenience stores and restock trucks. He doesn’t dare show his face at any of the homeless camps around the city, nor any of the charity food organizations. He’s certain that they’ll just turn him in.

But he doesn’t have the money to go anywhere, nor the survival skills to set up in the woods somewhere, so he does what must be the inevitable. He breaks into someone’s house and steals every valuable he can find.

The house he chooses has a lot—expensive electronics and sparkling jewelry, and he feels utterly awful about it but he decides against leaving an apology note and just runs, ignoring the way the door falls off its hinges behind him.

There’s an unforeseen issue, though: for a street rat, he doesn’t really have any connections—and he’s too much of a good kid to even know how to go about making connections. The one time he tries, he somehow ends up with three necklaces gone and a small packet of white powder in exchange. That he manages to pass off for some decent money, but he gets out of that area quickly before he ends up getting into the wrong sort of business.

From then on, he robs the nice-looking houses (he doesn’t really care about security and wears a mask and hoodie to do it, and when alarms are inevitably tripped he somehow evades capture) and only goes for cash. Eventually, he’s got enough of the stuff in his backpack to rent a place far away, a shady place he’d checked out online that’s a good thirty minute drive away from any sort of civilization (and quite far away from here) and the landlord doesn’t care that he’s paying in cash.

How to get there is the next question.

The cross-country bus doesn’t run in that direction, and even if it did the price would be over $300, so Jimmy nixes that idea pretty quickly. He can’t hitchhike, that would go poorly. He can’t steal a car—he’d never finished learning how to drive, and it would be a matter of time before a crash.

He ends up doing what he’s only seen in movies—he hitches a ride on a cargo train headed in the right direction. The trainyard at the edge of the city has very few cameras; it had been a piece of cake to sneak into one of the middle cars of what seemed to be a train full of grain and hide out between the stacks of it.

In that train, Jimmy sees the countryside for the first time in his life.

He’s never lived outside Empires City, and while he’d learned about rolling fields and corn for miles on end, he hadn’t actually believed it.

He believes it now.

It goes on for absolutely ages, field after field after field, occasionally broken up by barns or houses, but not nearly frequently enough. It’s insane. Some of the fields are for livestock—there are whole herds of cows, just roaming around out there.

It’s beautiful, but soon enough, the monotony gets to him. It’s nothing like the city, with its bright lights and forever bustle, and eye spy isn’t fun by himself. Jimmy ends up rolling up his hoodie and shoving it under his head, then lying back and falling asleep.

Somehow, the trip passes mostly uneventfully. He’d done a decent bit of research at a library computer (which had flashed error screens halfway through his scouring of train depot maps) and knows that this train will take him almost all the way to his destination, leaving him with a two day walk into town and then a day of walking to reach his rental. The walking part he’s fairly confident about, and there’s a couple of printed-off maps stuffed into his hoodie pocket to guide him. What he’d been worried about was the train.

The train doesn’t break down, though. The most that happens is a couple of bags split open, grain spilling everywhere. Jimmy doesn’t think too hard about it, just hugs his backpack a little closer to himself. He always gets a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when his power manifests these days.

He hopes, if Lizzie’s alive, that she’s all right.

She hadn’t been found, either. The last time she’d been seen was by some friends at band after school on that fateful day. She’d vanished off the face of the earth, much like he had.

Jimmy swallows back the tears that burn at the corners of his vision. He can’t. He can’t think about her. He can’t think about his past at all. He just has to—he has to get away from everyone so that he never hurts anyone ever again, and then everything will become okay.

He sneaks off the train at his stop (a small depot, a couple of houses spread about and a place for the train to stop), slipping and faceplanting in the dust. He stumbles back up, hikes his backpack further up on his shoulders, and starts walking, through the tiny settlement and then along the side of the freeway that cuts through it.

There’s a gas station about three hours into his walk, thank goodness. He’s been out of water for far longer than he predicted, ever since his water bottle cracked down the side five hours ago, forcing him to drink all he could until the bottle was empty. At the gas station, he purchases a six-pack of cheap water and a pre-packaged pastry.

The pastry is moldy, of course. He eats around the black spots.

A two day walk. Into town, at least. Then another day to get to his rental. And after that. . . .

Jimmy’s not really sure what’s left of his life after that. Unless he can figure out how to control his powers, he’s stuck out in the middle of nowhere forever. He’ll have to become a farmer or something, raise chickens and grow food for himself so that he never has to subject the town to his misfortune.

For the first time, Jimmy stops to think about his long-term plans.

For the first time, Jimmy wonders if he should be alive.

-

The house sucks.

The fridge doesn’t work. There’s missing shingles on the roof, and the first time it rains the ceiling leaks all over the threadbare carpet in the living room. The air conditioning won’t turn on, and two weeks into living there the ceiling fan just falls out of the ceiling, narrowly avoiding crushing him (he walks away with some smarting scratches on his legs).

There’s some technically good things, he supposes. For instance, he gets pretty good at using a screwdriver after the cabinet doors and the doorknobs repeatedly fall off. Having a bed is nicer than sleeping on the ground, as he’s been doing for quite some time now. Even if the bedframe collapses on him during his second week. And rent is cheap!

Once a week, the city bus comes by to the bus stop a couple minutes out from the house, near the water tower (most workers at the water plant ride the bus to work), and when Jimmy eventually works up the courage (and entirely runs out of food), he rides it into town.

He doesn’t have enough money to last him forever. He can maybe survive for a year out here on what he has. If he starts a garden, though, gets some chickens like he planned. . . .

Jimmy goes back to the house with an armful of groceries, ten packets of seeds, and three chickens following him. It’s just getting to gardening season, so it’s the ideal time to set something up.

The work of turning the dirt with the rusted rake he finds in the garage is hard, but feels so unbelievably good. It’s awfully nice to have something to do, something that isn’t moping around the house, trying not to destroy everything he touches. He feels like he has something of a purpose, a purpose to plant a sustaining garden and raise three chickens and make something out of the profits.

If things go well, and he becomes less dangerous, maybe he can set up at a farmer’s market. Less exposure to the outside world than an actual job, so less chance of hurting anyone. Still bringing in a bit of money, enough to hopefully keep up with his rent.

His rake strikes a rock, which flies up and hits him square between the eyes. Right. Less planning for the impossible, more cultivating a garden.

For the second time, leaning on the handle of the rake as he rubs his forehead, Jimmy wonders if he’s meant to be alive.

-

By some stroke of luck, all goes . . . well.

The garden isn’t the best garden ever. The chickens are, perhaps, a bit more scraggly than the average chicken, their eggs more often rotten than not by the time Jimmy gets to them. But he can survive off of it, and for a teenage boy, he feels pretty proud of himself.

And he starts to settle in.

Maybe he can make this work. He can . . . he can just be a recluse, maybe work some sort of online job to pay the bills, survive off of his own garden and animals. If he saves up, he could maybe get a goat or two. Goats give milk, right? Edible milk? Having some milk would be nice.

It’s that autumn, of course, when things start to go wrong.

He’s heading into town for the first time in over a month, hungering for something other than bitter lettuce and tomatoes and eggs and Malt O’ Meal (his last box had run out that morning). Maybe he can spare some money on a frozen pizza (he knows he won’t—he’d already made a list for bread ingredients, a cookbook, and plenty of peanut butter and jelly).

The town feels . . . empty. He doesn’t pass anyone out walking or kids playing in yards, houses shuttered and doors closed. There are only three cars in the grocery store’s parking lot, and one of them is an employee.

The groceries are overpriced, but Jimmy doesn’t have any other choices. He’s thirsty, too, and stops for a bottle of water before heading to the single employee for checking out, but the shelves for bottled drinks are bare.

The cashier checks him out with an apology—

“Sorry, we’ll be getting more water on Tuesday, when the shipment comes in. If you can’t hold out until then, I’ve heard that our Belton location has some. Stay safe.”

And that, more than anything else, really worries Jimmy.

The library’s closed (it must be a holiday, or a weekend, or something), but there’s a newspaper box at the bus stop. It cracks open at his touch, so he takes a paper without paying and reads while he waits for the bus, hoping that it’s recent enough to have some news about what’s with the water.

As it turns out, it’s on the first page.

Hundreds ill. Contaminated water. Reports from analyzing labs that indicate that any water from the tap is deadly—as soon as it enters the water tower it becomes contaminated, but they’ve tried disinfecting the tower or gathering rainwater or taking it straight from the treatment plant, but nothing works. Anyone who drinks any water gets sick.

And Jimmy knows, instinctively, that it’s because of him.

After all, he lives within walking distance of the treatment plant.

It’s there, waiting for the bus, that Jimmy decides that he can’t stay here. He’d always known, deep down, that it wouldn’t work out. He’d hoped, of course. He’d hoped that the creaky old house could have contained him, held him there. That maybe he wouldn’t be dangerous if all he could hurt was himself.

Clearly, nowhere is far enough away. Even when he separates himself from civilization as much as possible, he can’t escape hurting people. He can’t escape himself.

He doesn’t move away immediately, though he’s so disgusted with himself (he can see the water tower through his window, and the now-frequent workers trying to fix it) that he wishes he could. Instead, he spends a week harvesting what he can—a few limp handfuls of lettuce and about a dozen tomatoes—and fixes what he can on the house.

When the time comes to leave, he doesn’t take the bus. He walks, his chickens following along behind, until he reaches the town.

Jimmy lifts the chickens one by one into someone’s backyard, leaving them a couple of tomatoes to eat until their new owner finds them.

He feels lucky that he hadn’t managed to kill his chickens. He really did come to love them—he had built the shoddiest of coops out of spare wood from his shed, and he’d petted each of them on the head every day, and frequently carried one around when he was too lonely to do anything. They can’t come back to the city with him, though—he’s sure that they wouldn’t survive the trip.

For back to the city is where Jimmy is headed. He’d considered just wandering, a vagrant, but he doesn’t exactly have the skills for that. He doesn’t know anything about scavenging or hunting, he hates stealing from people who aren’t already well-off, and he’s been feeling unwell for the past couple of days. He can’t survive wandering the country.

And in the city, there’s . . . well, there are more people to hurt, but there are more people to fix his problems. More places for people to go for help.

And maybe he can do some good instead of just isolating himself, get a job where he can be helpful. Balance out some of his karma.

Or maybe the train he hitchhikes on will crash and burn and he’ll die.

Jimmy’s not sure which would be preferable.

[ottosbigtop]

Can I ask you of um. Bobby ? I'm pretty sure you have in your aac au that he sort of lives/lived with Loboto and coach Oleander so umm. how do you think he felt or still feels about the whole brain stealing situation that happened at camp ? did he forgive them for that ? I think about that a lot and how it must've affected him. even if he doesn't talk about it or tries not to think about it. especially when it's also in a situation where he's the kid Loboto mentioned..

the brain stealing situation is definitely a Bad Look. Especially so because the events of pn1 are the first time Bobby’s seen Loboto outside of pictures. Ever. It’s actually the thing that prompts Loboto to come back for him, which is nice for Loboto! But it’s Bobby’s very first interaction with his dad, which really doesn’t. Bode well for their dynamic.

he absolutely pulls it out as a gotcha anytime Loboto wants to try and tell him what to do and I think it’s very effective bc Loboto doesn’t want to try to think through that and just goes “haha okay fair! Anyways!”

I have many thoughts about the Loboto and Bobby family dynamic. It is fraught with issues that stem from Loboto trying to be a dad without really knowing how or trying to learn, and Bobby just having to ride out those consequences. Not being able to apologize to his kid about kidnapping him and stealing his brain is one puzzle piece to his larger issues of avoidance.

[doodle17]

Hi welcome back to me screaming. I got another dadboto brain smush, but this time it was only half from posts. It was from me watching a silent full gameplay of the first game. It’s like watching a little 12 hour movie~

The dadboto au actually works really well with the games opening if you think of the fact that raz’s exsistance is an open secret. Cause you posted once (I think) that campers would do tests of courage by going to thorny towers only to be towed back to camp by raz and Linda plus I get the vibe that Loboto was really protective of raz going places because of his phychic-ness. Stay with me I’m leading up to something good I think.

The only people that actually know raz exists are the campers of whispering rock. He’s made good friends with the returnee campers like lili and she introduces him to others when she learns of his sheltered home. She thinks raz’s life/home is really cool and wants to spend all day hanging at his place.

The campers don’t even try to hide it, they freely talk about raz even when sasha, mila, and oleander are present. Thing is! They don’t think raz is real. They think he’s some kind of imaginary friend/game/hallucination that the kids made up. A kid living in an abandoned asylum with a mad scientist dad and a giant lungfish for a sibling is pretty far fetched. But mila encourages Sasha and oleander to play along. Cause imagination 🌈.

You should have seen how confused they were when they caught raz watching oleander’s introduction. The face sasha made when the kids calmed down because “it’s just raz guys” was pretty funny. Although how would you react to a scrawny, bandaged, bouncy kid wearing straight jacket and scarf in the middle of summer smiling like a madman and somehow knows all of the children your supposed to be watching

Sasha: “You broke into a highly secret government area”

Raz: “what like it’s hard? I live next door!”

Lili: “how come you never joined before?!?”

Raz: “cause dad said I was too little or something. But this year I’m finally old enough to start my psychonaut training! As long as I come home to check in before bed”

Omg I LOVE these ideas!! Honestly the thought of Raz being just some cryptid/imaginary friend/literally some made up creature to the adults is so fun to me.

And also the thought that (almost) every camper knows who Raz is great

Im also a very big believer that Raz has always watched each camp meeting for a couple years since he could first climb trees. That's how he pretty much memorized all of Oleanders speech

[erigold13261]

though, now that i'm thinking about it, an au where it's mirtala and/or queepie who runs away to camp whispering rock could be fun...

if you later open your inbox to find me dumping my brainrot here, i'm sorry in advance

Lol, just said this actually! Mainly Mirtala and Chloe becoming friends could be really neat! I can see Queepie fighting Bobby.

I like the idea that the two run away together for fun and independence instead of like trying to become a great psychonaut like Raz. But then they realize they need to help stop the bad things from happening and work together to fight against Oleander and Loboto.

If only one or the other run away though, I think it would have to be a few years into the future, or all the Aquatos are just a bit older because even though all the Aquato kids are pretty independent because of their upbringing, I still see Mirtala and Queepie as needing their family a lot.

Queepie a bit less, but in order to get to the Whispering Rock camp I feel he would need to be a couple years older (maybe only like one or two considering how independent he already is).

Mirtala would definitely need a few more years and a pretty big push to run away I think. Probably a big fight where her powers come out explicitly and she is afraid so leaves to try and find a place to help her stop having these powers (or to control them at the very least) which brings her to Whispering Rock.

It would be cool if in any of these scenarios Raz ends up coming along halfway through and Mirtala and/or Queepie have to save her as even though she is a powerful psychic naturally, she had no idea what was going on in the camp and was captured and had her brain sneezed out.

All this to say that Mirtala has enough psychic abilities to even do so. So I would personally never have a Mirtala runaway AU because I see her as having almost no psychic ability at all. Though I could probably think of some Queepie runaway scenarios if given enough time.

[unfriendlyamazon]

had a rough night so i thought on ygos at whispering rock psychic summer camp

CAMPERS

🧿 yugi - surrounded by the dark aura of an all powerful 5000 year old demon, sits in the sunshine and makes daisy chains for his friends. he kind of replaces lili, in that he goes to this camp every year and finds it pretty boring. his grandpa is the retired head of the psychonauts, so yugi's grown up around all of this stuff and it's lost a lot of the glamor for him.

🧿 joey - last minute addition to camp (aka he snuck in). he's mostly good at pyrokinesis, in that he can set things on fire (less good at putting them out). reads every issue of psychic tales, knows all the lore, very scared of the woods.

🧿 téa - perky go getter determined to be the best psychic she can be. has spent just about every summer here with yugi and gone the opposite direction, dreaming of making it into the psychonauts.

🧿 tristan - psi-blast sharp shooter and local cutie. yes, he's replacing the cowboy kid. his family is really rooting for him to be a psychonaut, especially his dad. tristan is less sure that's what he wants to do, but hey, camp is fun.

🧿 duke - literal clown run away from the circus. they use their telekinesis to do tricky slight of hand. their dad was using their burgeoning psychic power to zazz up the circus. very loud and obnoxious, constantly showing off, very happy to make friends.

🧿 seto - absolutely determined to be the best psychonaut there ever was. a little bit of a baby sasha nein, very interested in the testing and experimentation part. spends a lot of time in the psychoisolation chamber. pretends not to care about camp activities but gets extremely competitive over them.

🧿 ryou - like dogan, ryou wears a tin hat and worries occasionally about accidentally blowing up someone’s head. tends to go off by himself in the woods. animal lover, has been seen talking to the psi-cougars. kind of a weird kid... but he's really sweet.

🧿 serenity - her hydrokinesis powers means she spends most of her time down by lake. highly competitive camp kid. do not play red rover with her, and god help you in a relay race.

🧿 marik - supposedly camp is helping him with his murderous alter ego ("melvin") that's manifested recently. hard to trust anything he says, because he's a liar. both his siblings are at camp this year which is extremely embarrassing.

🧿 rex - obsessed with cryptids and ancient animals. spends his time exploring the caves around the camp and getting chased by psi-bears. actually pretty harmless, except for that time he tried to summon the ghost of a dinosaur.

🧿 weevil - uses his psychic powers to control and talk to bugs. laughs maniacally while creating shapes out of swarms of bees. local bully gets pushed into lake.

🧿 zigfried - because why not! very german, very annoying. talks to animals and gets them to do what he says, which is put on cute outfits and act out his operas. a control freak of a director when skit night comes around.

COUNSELORS

🧿 mai valentine - she shares milla's vibe and i love to see her in 70s clothes, so she has the party room and teaches levitation. she plans most of the camp activities, as she believes in healthy competition. surprisingly level headed, despite outward appearances.

🧿 keith howard - in charge of basic braining, definitely enjoys torturing children. tells crazy messed up stories around the campfire and no one knows if they're true or not. if anything bad happens at camp, it’s really easy to blame him.

🧿 rishid ishtar - takes his job as caretaker very seriously. is maybe the only one who realizes putting a lot of unstable psychic children in the wilderness is asking for trouble. he's focused on teaching precision and control.

🧿 solomon muto - former head of the psychonauts. basically cruller but i'll do away with the fragmented personalities. used to be a big deal, now he's retired and runs the camp store, and pretty much no one recognizes him, which he's happy with. he'd much rather spend all day relaxing and talking to his grandson.

🧿 isis ishtar - inspector from the motherlobe whos heard some concerning things about what's going on at the camp. came to investigate, always pops up exactly where you don't want her, loves to annoy her little brother.

i'd probably excise the main plot of the game and focus on psychic summer camp adventures. there might be something sinister happening around camp, and it's possible a few campers could get brainnapped (and play with a dwindling party). the jumping into people's heads thing is kind of the whole game, so maybe the camp counselors are getting brainwashed and the kids have to jump in to help them regain control. but mostly it's kids running around trying to set each other on fire and taking camp games way too seriously.

[anonymouspuzzler]

I TOLD YA THERE'D BE ANOTHER MEMORY VAULT

this was a "part two" of my last memory vault based on the "Uncle Cally" AU, this time depicting how ol' Uncle Cally started moonlighting as Doctor Loboto! I got a lot more ambitious with this one, and I think it made me drift from aping the Scott C style as closely, but I'm still darn proud of it...!! I'd like to do more in this style someday. I've got ideas...

(alt text/image IDs under the cut!)

[Image 1 ID: A title slide mimicking those of the Psychonauts memory vaults, reading "The Amoral Doctor Loboto!"]

[Image 2 ID: Cal leaning back against a portable ticket booth, looking concerned. Inside, Donatella is comforting a distraught Augustus sitting on the floor with the cash register, a speech bubble coming from him showing a stack of money with a big X over it. Outside the booth, Raz is working on sending PSI-punches at a bag of flour marked with a generic bad guy, which Cal is holding up with telekinesis.]

[Image 3 ID: Cal in a small, rickety flatbed truck with miscellaneous scrap in the bed, driving away from the circus camp under cover of moonlight. He is looking back at a billboard advertising the Aquatos, looking conflicted. The edges of the image are crowded with dark foliage.]

[Image 4 ID: Cal in his "Doctor Loboto" guise in some kind of lair, lit only by a barred window above him. There is a cartoony death ray pointed at the window next to him, with an open panel he appears to be working on, holding a drill in one hand and a "Brain Surgery for Dummies" book in the other. In the foreground is a fish in a bowl, hooked up to machinery with wires and diodes.]

[Image 5 ID: Cal, back in his circus outfit, holding a stack of cash in one hand and proudly handing Raz a True Psychic Tales comic with the other. Raz looks utterly delighted. In the background, Augustus, stretching and practicing with Mirtala and Dion, looks over his shoulder at this with suspicion.]

[Image 6 ID: Cal in the dead of night using his telekinesis to chase off two shadowy figures, who are fleeing in terror. He is standing on some crates with his cloak billowing and a hacksaw in one hand. Behind him on a wall is a poster of the Aquatos.]

[Image 7 ID: Cal, in his "Doctor Loboto" guise, checking a PO box. He is opening an envelope containing a letter addressed to "Dr. Loboto", a blueprint, some cash, and a pamphlet for Whispering Rock on which Oleander's portrait can be seen.]

[Image 8 ID: "Loboto" and Oleander at a wooden workbench. Oleander, grinning manically with his hands spread across a blueprint of the brain tank, is explaining his diabolical plan, as represented by word balloons depicting a child having their brain removed, the brain-tank shooting lighting, and Oleander holding the world in his palm. "Loboto" is leaning against the table with a finger on his chin in consideration, though a thought bubble reveals he is actually imagining Oleander as a strongman lifting a giant dumbbell, with little hearts floating around him.]

[Image 9 ID: Oleander and Cal in the Thorney Towers lab, working on the brain tank. Oleander is sitting on top of the tank's frame, holding a welding torch in one hand; he lifts his welders mask to chat with Cal with a big grin. Cal, lying on the ground next to the tank holding a screwdriver, actually pulls down his face mask to grin back. Mr. Pokeylope is visible in his cage in the background, and further back Sheegor walks in looking nervous and holding a jarred brain.]

[pocket-ozwynn]

Offline Valor: Chapter 2

[Borrower!AU]

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Word Count: 3587

CW: Blood, flashbacks of death & violence

Rowan the Crownbreaker, son of Clan Ash, knew he should feel more pain than this. 

His fingers twitched idly as he stood upon the rampart of cardboard and cobble. Through the open window at the far end of the room came a warm, arid wind that smelled of a storm. It filled the cavernous attic’s interior almost like a whispering omen from the Low Heavens. Rowan desperately wished he could close the window, but to do so would require a strength that none in Clan Ash possessed.

With no other option, Rowan opted to stand watch. He stood vigilant upon the wall for any sign of shadow that might cross the window in front of the warm amber glow of the monolithic light pole that stood as a lonely sentinel for this block of the sleepy titanic neighborhood. He even readied himself whenever he heard a cricket too loud, lest a mercenary ranger from the Forsaken Fane swoop in under cover of night.

Despite his resolve, his eyelids grew heavy. He bit his cheek and dug his fingers into the cardboard, hoping that a bit more tactility would keep him alert. He could sleep when the Lowlord lay in a pool of his own blood. 

He wasn’t worthy of rest, not yet. 

Be it the gravity of exhaustion or the absence of Ash’s typical merriment around their warrior’s sacrament, Rowan found his attention flitting down to examine the meager campfires near the base of the wall. He surveyed the loose circles of tissue paper tents and the faintly illuminated faces of the remnants of his family polishing off their crumm finalis. Typically there was laughter, singing, and dancing, but tonight the camp was silent as a grave. There would be no singing before the morrow.

As he took note of those who were alive and those who were absent, Rowan felt a pain like a dull knife carving deep in the chambers of his heart. It was a slow, methodical feeling. He hurt, but he felt like he deserved to hurt more. 

It almost didn’t seem fair.

Rowan spied his aunt, the Raidsinger Nail, slipping out from her tent and making her way over to speak with one of his cousins. Though the cousin sat outside the glow of the fires, he could only assume she was attempting to make last minute preparations for their final stand against Lowlord Yucca’s forces in the morning. 

The stairs creaked behind him. 

Rowan’s hand was a blur as fingers curled around creaking leather and plastic as he gripped the hilt of his dagger. He pivoted, the blade ready to fly from his fingertips-

-as he turned, a hand caught his wrist. Rowan grunted in surprise.

“A bit slow on the draw, nephew,” came the soft chuckle of Uncle Oleander. He released his grip and let Rowan’s wrist fall. “Rest easy, ‘tis only me.”

Rowan sighed. He sheepishly sheathed his blade. “My apologies, Uncle.”

“For being too slow? Or nearly slitting my throat?” His uncle grinned as he moved to join him upon the parapet. And though Oleander teased, Rowan couldn’t help but feel a bit of embarrassment at both his ineptitude and paranoia.

“All is forgiven, Rowan,” Oleander hummed as he laced his fingers and rested his arms on the wall. Though his lips were a permanent smile under his mustache, the glow from the campfires below cut strange shadows across his face that almost seemed to cast him in a dark, weary light.

“I see appetite has eluded you as well,” his uncle noted. “This kind of thing always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I personally try to avoid connotations between merriment and death. But your aunt typically revels in tradition. So if the Raidsinger wishes to perform one last crumm finalis, to give our clan a little faith, then I see little harm in it. Faith can be a powerful motivator, after all.”

Rowan didn’t respond. He had his own personal distaste for the crumm finalis, but that all seemed so trivial at the moment. After a few seconds of the two men studying the camps below, his uncle cleared his throat.

“How do you fare?” he finally asked as he looked toward Crownbreaker. His tone was somber. “Nail was looking for you.”

Rowan could answer honestly. In truth, he felt vivisected–laid bare before an altar of rage and anguish. But despite the pain, he still couldn’t feel anything. How do you explain a paradox of this sort?

“I fare.” Rowan shrugged halfheartedly.

There was a beat as Oleander waited for Rowan to elaborate. When he did not, his uncle turned his full attention towards the Crownbreaker. With his hand now resting upon the saffron pommel of his rapier he asked, “Is it fear? Grief? I know this last excursion into Ash Haven might have been difficult for you…and you were one of the few who made it out alive.”

Rowan shuddered. His mind went back to Lowlord Yucca…the look of fury in his eyes…the hands at Rowan’s throat. Rowan couldn’t even think of the family he lost that morning, all he could feel was the Lowlord’s fingers digging into his neck

“No,” Rowan corrected quietly. He dug his fingers deeper into the parapet till he felt the cardboard bend under his grip. “Anger.”

His uncle clicked his tongue knowingly. 

“Anger can be stoked for the most righteous of causes,” Oleander admitted with a sigh. “But it is a hot coal and if one is not careful, it can easily devour if left unattended.”

Rowan flinched as his uncle put a hand on his shoulder. Rowan felt guilty for not being able to meet his eyes. He knew his uncle was right–he was always right, but the gravity of this conversation made it feel like this might very well be Oleander’s final lesson to him. 

“Be careful with how long you let that emotion dwell, Rowan.”

Silence fell over the pair as they regarded the titanic vista beyond the faroff window. Oleander stroked his mustache thoughtfully as rolling dark clouds started to choke the Heavens Low. Oleander drew breath and went to say more, but-

Cold water ripped Rowan the Last back to consciousness. 

He gasped and flailed. Panic replaced the air in his lungs as the chill robbed him of his breath. As he splashed around, his fingers managed to find a glass rim that encircled him. He gripped the rim till his knuckles went white. His knees knocked against a wall in front of him, and his feet settled on a floor of some kind. He steadied his breathing as he slowly regained awareness…

Not drowning then. Just standing in a vertical glass tub filled with cold water.

Rowan couldn’t be sure what was happening. His memory felt melted–it was hard to grasp the last few days, let alone what happened to get him in this position.

All he could remember was Uncle Oleander’s face…his words…

The storm.

The Lowlord.

The decimation.

Even as Rowan tried to come to his senses, he saw movement around him, before him, and above him.

When Rowan finally had the sense to look up, he recoiled and pressed up against the back of the glass tub. It all was coming back to him now, like ink to water.

Rowan had nearly forgotten about the titan that saved him.

The titan was a woman with soft pink hair that cascaded past her shoulders like soft waterfalls. Her features were smooth and her eyes dark and soft. She had grace and femininity that belied her mountainous figure.

In fact, Rowan would dare say she was rather pretty.

She pulled her hands back ever so slightly and fingers the size of able bodied men curled back instinctively; however, she still kept her hands hovering within grabbing distance of him and the glass tub.

“You’re…” The Titan seemed breathless. Her eyes were wide and kept darting with microscopic movements. “...you’re not dead. That’s, um…pog.”

As soon as that last word slipped out the Titan closed her eyes tight. Rowan wasn’t sure the meaning of, but it certainly wasn’t one that the Titan had intended.

“I mean, um…wow. Sorry, l-let’s try that again,” the Titan laughed awkwardly. She pursed her lips and swallowed. “You’re awake.”

Rowan slowly nodded. He was too exhausted to verbalize any sort of response. While out of his periphery he could tell they were in the kitchen, he refused to look away from her. 

He searched her face for any indication that might suggest she meant him harm. And despite his searching, he saw nothing that suggested ill will. The memory of her words–you can trust me–was an odd reassurance that filled his chest with an uncomfortable warmth. The moment he felt that, he tried to shove down. Every lesson of Oleander bubbled under the surface of his groggy consciousness like hot tar as he considered his next move and the echoes of his family screaming in his ears: do not trust her.

And yet… 

Rowan ran a damp hand down his face as he broke her gaze. He closed his eyes and tried focusing on the feeling of his calloused skin against his scruff. The sensation was oddly grounding. He sighed, then scooped up a bit of water to splash his face.

Perhaps sensing he was finally relaxing just a bit, the Titan pulled her hands back all the way and took a seat. Earth Below, even sitting, she easily towered over the kingslayer.

Rowan got a better look at the kitchen. It was a bit tidier than some of the other titan homes he had frequented. The walls were white, the cabinets were dark black, and the fixtures brass. A massive chrome coffin with two handles on one side stood proudly off to the side–it was a Frigid Vault. Rowan fondly remembered when Aunt Nail taught him how to throw up a hook and rope to get a secure grip on one of the handles. Within the Vault lay many wondrous feasts that were preserved by the icy magics of titanic understanding. 

But for once, Rowan wasn’t considering looking for food. The thought of eating made him nauseous.

He was up on the counter by the sink. Between him and the brass canyon was his cloak, his shirt, his daggers, a pair of tweezers fit for the fingers of a titan, and a tube of medicine salve that Rowan recognized from foraging runs.

Finally, he spied a large washcloth bundled up like a hill of linen next to his clothing and weapons. It had once been an olive green, but now it was stained with blood. A lot of blood.

He could only assume it was his. 

“Take deep breaths for me, okay?”

Rowan frowned as he listened to her voice. For some reason hearing such a gargantuan person make such a soft spoken request was genuinely disarming. He’d never met a titan before–never even thought he’d meet a one–so any expectations of what might sound or act like was based around the stories told to him. Her timbre was surprisingly clear and concise, and she sounded like any Borrower woman of his own size.

Eventually he relented, and tried calming his breathing with deep inhales and steady exhales. As he breathed he felt a bit of soreness in his left side that prickled into a twist of mild pain–it was enough to make him wince. Whether or not the Titan picked up on that, she gestured to the left side of his chest with a finger.

“I, um…had to take off your shirt. Had to see where you were bleeding and why.”

Upon hearing this, Rowan looked down. He still wore his boots and trousers, both of which were properly soaked through. His muscles glistened from the water and the lawn mower's marks stood brightly in contrast–it was a deep lattice work of scars across his pallid skin that he was still getting used to.

Opposite of the burned tissue that dominated the right side of his chest, he spied a strange patch that hugged his left pectoral. It went down to his abdomen, then wrapped back beneath his armpit and nearly touched his spine. The patch’s material was rather confusing to Rowan. It seemed to be some kind of malleable plastic.

“It looked like a stitch had popped,” the Titan explained as she absentmindedly smoothed out her shirt. “It probably came loose from your run in with Chu Cu.”

Even as the words left the Titan’s mouth, she puffed out her cheeks and looked off. It was as if some kind of realization crossed her mind. She ran a hand through her hair and looked in desperate need of a drink. “This is…absolutely f@$%ing insane...”

Rowan squinted. He wasn’t quite sure what that fourth word meant, but he presumed it was some kind of titanic vulgarity. 

After a prolonged moment of silence, the Titan threw her hands up in the air.

“PLEASE say something!” she blurted. Rowan jumped in the tub at the sudden din of her words. “You haven’t said a single thing! I’m trying not to just freak out here! You’re a little man who nearly got eaten by my neighbor's cat, I just cleaned up a lot of your blood, and fixed your stitching. So I would really like some help feeling like I’m not just totally losing my mind right now!”

She looked down at him pleadingly. Rowan looked up at her as he tried to figure out a proper response. Lazuli had been the one with the silver tongue, not him. How could he possibly hope to console a titan and explain to her what he was? 

As he attempted to gather his thoughts, a look of horror washed over her expression as she seemed to recognize how her outburst might’ve come off. She put a hand to her mouth then whispered brokenly, “O-Oh f@$%! I didn’t mean to shout...I-I’m so so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare y-”

At that, Rowan actually managed a chuckle. It was mirthless noise, and it seemed to catch the Titan’s off guard.

“Believe me, miss.” Rowan ran a hand over his dirty hair and shrugged. “Far more terrifying and monstrous things have left me unphased. And seeing as you are neither terrifying nor monstrous, you have nothing to apologize for.”

The Titan stared at him. Despite partially covering her mouth, he noticed her jaw hanging slightly though Rowan couldn’t be sure as to why.

“Y-You are confused,” Rowan pointed with a groan as readjusted himself in the glass tub. He winced from the accumulated pain he’d accumulated over the last few weeks of running. “I would be too, were the roles reversed…so I apologize for any untoward anxiety I might have put into your heart.”

The Titan just mouthed a three word phrase of disbelief that Rowan couldn’t decipher. She blinked and looked taken aback. “I, um…wow. Huh. I…didn’t expect you to be so, um…”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. The Titan cleared her throat and shook her head.

“N-Nevermind,” the Titan replied. “I’m just glad you’re awake and you seem to be doing okay. How do you feel?”

How did Rowan feel?

He felt carved out��hollowed. It was like there was nothing left inside. And truthfully, he felt exhausted.

None of that, of course, was the Titan’s fault.

“I am well enough off.” Rowan waved her off. “But I am grateful for the aid. You saw the beast attempting to eat me, and you stopped it. You saw I was bleeding and suffering from the sun’s heat, and you took me in and treated my wounds and put me in a…”

He paused, then looked down at the water and the glass, upright tub. “...I believe this is a bathtub?”

The Titan looked a bit flustered before correcting him. “That’s, um…that’s a shot glass, sir.”

Rowan processed that. Then a rogue smile tugged at his lips as a flicker of amusement danced in his chest. “You put me in a cup?” 

“Okay well when you put it like that it sounds like a really dumb idea, but I was panicking!” the Titan protested with a furious blush. “I wasn’t gonna like, drink you or anything! Th-that was just the first clean thing I saw that could hold water!”

“I know, I know,” Rowan reassured with a chuckle. “Sometimes physicians simply have to work with what they have at their disposal.”

The Titan furrowed her brow. “You…you think I’m a physician? N-No, I’m just a-”

“Regardless of what I ended up in, I hope you know how thankful I am for your charity, lady-titan. I cannot recount an instance in recent memory where a titan has expressed that degree of kindness upon seeing a Borrower like myself. So, again, I thank you.”

The Titan’s expression softened. She smiled and hummed, “Oh, um…yeah. For sure. Y-You’re welcome, little guy. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

After a moment of awkward staring and Rowan standing in the cup of cold water, the Titan moved to stand. Rowan’s breath hitched as he was reminded of the Titan’s scale.

“I have…so many questions for you,” the Titan admitted with splayed hands, “but I don't want to overwhelm you. You’ve gone through hell, and I don’t wanna add to it. So, um…you just, ah…have a nice soak, and…um. You just shout when you’re done, okay? Take as long as you need, there’s no rush.”

Rowan felt a surprising wave of gratitude, but it wasn’t without discomfort. Time was not a luxury that nomads like Clan Ash could afford. So to hear the Titan wishing to simply table her curiosity till he had time to rest was perplexing. 

“Are you certain? I understand if you have questions, and I wish to answer whatever I can. If you wish to speak now, we can speak. This is not a grievous wounds, I am well able to spe-”

“I’m sure.” The Titan grinned. “Look, guy…I’m not gonna push you. You just rest and we can talk later. But, like…also, if you change your mind and just want to leave, I mean. Window’s open. But please if you do decide to leave, just give yourself an hour or so to cool off. Then make sure you get plenty of water in you, and please please stay in the shade when you’re outside. It’s a kajillion degrees, and I wouldn’t want you getting a heatstroke, okay?”

Rowan considered her words. “I appreciate that. Though I believe I will be staying, if only for a moment. I owe you an explanation in order to express my thanks for you saving me, gracious titan.”

The Titan grew visibly flustered at that. “O-Oh, I have a name ya’ know. You’re sweet but, um…gracious? And, titan? Too much, dude. I’m just a normal person–call me Zelly.”

“Zelly,” Rowan mulled over the name. “Sounds very regal. Are you nobility?”

The Titan–Zelly–threw her head back and guffawed. When she looked back down at Rowan she gasped, “Oh, you were being serious? Um. No. Definitely not nobility. Um…are you nobility?”

“Neither am I, thankfully,” Rowan wryly replied. He was reminded of polished silver and crushed porcelain floors. An open air throne overlooking the treetops. The touch of mercury. The smell of hazelnut. A friend who placed their diadem aside, and sat close to him as they sipped from pewter mugs.

The memory was like sweet vinegar to the taste.

“My name is Rowan the Last, Once-of-Ash,” he added somberly. “But you may call me Rowan.”

“Rowan the…?” Her voice trailed off. Zelly shook her head, as if opting to ask later. “Well, um…Mr. Rowan. You just get some rest, okay? I’m going to grab something from the fridge and, um, go decompress a bit.”

She turned and walked over to the Frigid Vault–which she had called a “fridge”--and effortlessly tugged on one of the handles and opened the Vault with ease. It was a feat that typically took several teams of Borrowers to do, yet she did so with one hand. Rowan could feel a shockingly cold gust of air, even from here.

“Do you want anything?” Zelly asked as she leaned back to meet his gaze. Rowan raised his hand, indicating he was fine.

As Zelly rummaged through the “fridge,” Rowan tried to close his eyes and follow the titan’s request to rest. But even as he closed his eyes, he saw the images burned into his eyelids. He remembered the sound of screaming, the smell of gunpowder, the taste of his own blood…

He remembered hearing the crunch of Uncle Oleander’s shoulder before he vanished from sight as he tumbled off the edge of the roof.

He remembered the Lowlord Yucca running Aunt Nail through with a cruel, gnarled blade.

He remembered when it was just he and Yucca standing on the precipice of shingles while the uncaring storm rained hot tears upon the bodies and blood around them.

He remembered when their blades met. He remembered when two became one, and the Lowlord lay in a pool of his blood.

He remembered how empty that victory felt. 

The dull knife carved deep. The pain pressed upon his heart. The grief was so immense that its weight made his ribs groan. No rest would come.

He would never be worthy of rest.

All left decimated, with only a single speck of Ash on the wind.

Rowan, once of Clan Ash, had truly become the very Last.

[omgbenryreal]

Psychonauts x HLVRAI crossover???!!!

Anyway, it’s based on this tweet:

The conversation:

Raz: So anyway, that’s when I had to start dodging the fire,

Gordon: Dude, I think you’re more traumatized than me, and that’s saying something cause I got my arm cut off during a contained zombie apocalypse.

(Also, I’m turning this into a fully fledged AU! So, base facts: after the science team escaped Black Mesa, they wound up robbing a few banks. Problem was, they didn’t have anywhere to hide out at. So, once Bubby found a job application for a summer camp in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, they all applied. They all wind up figuring out that yes, they are all psychics. They’re all hiding out at it, when the events of Psychonauts go down, so they each respectively help Raz and the others out. Gordon’s specialty is telekinesis, Bubby’s is pyrokinesis, Tommy’s is mind reading, Coomer’s is in illusions and Benry is a jack of all trades. Gordon helps Raz with basically everything, making sure he’s safe and saving him from danger as he saves the world, acting as his guardian of sorts. Bubby and Coomer work with Sasha on research, while Tommy works as the camp therapist with Milla. Benry originally worked with Oleander, keeping him in check, but separated and kept the kids supervised when Sasha and Milla went missing.)

[the-flying-aquatos]

Whispering Rock is more of a...say...better built camp in this au. SO anyways have some camp ideas bc I may or may not be having Raz spent more time here than he probably does in canon.

They have one big hall at the center that doubles as the housing for the counselors. Then they have smaller houses nearby, where the campers sleep/hang out if they’re not eating or attending a meeting, or participating in training. They’re situated fairly close to the water, it’s not a very long walk to the beach, and they have section off areas for training. 

A lot of the psitanium that makes this place such a good training ground is actually closer to/under the water.

A lot of kids who go to the camp develop zoolepathy whether they expect to or not, because the conditions just line up, being underwater means being surrounded by animals, and with all the psitanium around, it boosts their abilities and gives them the ability to learn such a power easier. Some don’t develop it and that’s okay, but quite a few kids do.

They take the time to teach the kids about other psychic abilities of course, communicating with sea life and basic swimming/diving skills are very important to being a psychonaut, the latter moreso than the former, it doesn’t mean you should neglect your other abilities. Oleander mainly handles that sort of thing, though Milla will never pass up the opportunity to teach kids to levitate. They’ve got a pretty tight schedule, making time for psychic training each week alongside their more prioritized training. 

The camp has a lot more of a friendlier feel due to its focus being less on creating future government agents and more on creating future marine biologists, future leaders of conservation efforts and the like. Oleander may still be rough and strict, Sasha may still be secretive and a tad bit questionable in terms of his science projects, but something about it feels less...tense. At least, for the time being.

The camp isn’t just a summer camp, but it also from time to time becomes a safe place for runaways or children who were dropped off by their parents only to never be picked up again. They take cases of children with bad homelives VERY seriously if a child were to let that kind of thing slip.

Raz...may or may not have made his situation seem just a smidge bit worse than it really was, not on purpose of course, but the adults found it bad enough so that Augustus wasn’t contacted as soon as possible. Raz was excited to become a psychonaut, he didn’t entirely pick up on the adults’ though process at the time.

[aquato-family-circus]

I'd love to read that snippet if you want to share!!

Alrighty! the Aquato section copy pasted verbatim:

The Aquatos have been making themselves comfortable in the Questionable Area. Queepie is still hanging out with Morris, who’s been showing him the basics of levitation in exchange for Queepie helping to man the station. Mirtala is making friends with the only other kid around her age, Violet*. Frazie has been hanging out with Sam at the Lumberstack; she hoped they could bond over their zoolepathy but she’s been unwillingly roped to Sam’s big Lumberstack revival plans. Dion and Gisu are kissing by the waterfall and it’s GROSS! Augustus and Donatella are unpacking the last few boxes that improbably fit in the little caravan, with Raz volunteering to bring any of Nona’s belongings over to her new (old?) house in the Gulch. Everyone has gone to one (1) swimming lesson with Oleander, which went better than you’d expect but worse than you’d hope.

*Violet is my OC bc it's my au and I get to insert fan characters into minor roles if I want to

these are still very note-like but tldr mama and papa aquato are at the camp grounds, mirtala would be by the firepit, dion's at the high spot by the waterfall, frazie's in the lumberstack, and queepie's at the treehouse

[lunar-insanity]

Aight I’ve run dry for Whispering Water. IT’S TIME FOR A NEW SWITCH UP

Psychic 7 ::

Mikhail Bulgakov Maloof Canola Clem Foote Crystal Flowers Snagrash Elka Doom Vernon Tripe Nils Lutefisk

Interns ::

Truman Zanotto Caligosto Loboto Morceu Oleander Hollis Forsythe Augustus Aquato Sheegor

Protag:

Sasha Nein

Girlfriend:

Milla Vodello

Grand Head:

Ford Cruller

2nd Head:

Lucrecia Mux

Super Star Agents:

Bob Zanotto Helmut Fullbear

“Coach”:

Otto Mentallis

And Idk everyone else can get like, tossed around a bit more or just hang out round the motherlobe/camp.

Imma call this AU: April Fools ;P

[twwpress]

Creator Spotlight: Week 3

Welcome back to our TWW fandom Creator Spotlight! For every spotlight, we’ll ask each featured creator the same ten questions as well as questions submitted by you. This week, we’re chatting with @sinistercherubs on twitter // thababes on ao3.

All answers come directly from Connor, who creates gorgeous edits and also writes fic! Let’s dive in:

1) What are your top 5 desert island TWW fics?

the still feels good series by thotsandfeelings (also, affectionately known as yale au) https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895503

gOD. What’s not to love about this series? It brings me such great memories of FINALLY being able to get into the tag after I finished the show in October 2020. It’s a classic for the “renaissance” of tww fics that came flying in.

aftershock by greatesheights https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786607/chapters/10952567

I know this was just recommended by aleena, but it bears repeating. It’s absolutely a must for everyone’s post noel watch and also for anyone who loves general senior staff.

 I fall apart (and i thought i was so smart) by roseyposeypie https://archiveofourown.org/works/30626918/chapters/75559058 

Oohhh, the journey this was. I have Rosie and this fic to thank for most of the very close fandom friendships I formed from us spiraling and speculating about this story for months.

where the oleander grows by kairach https://archiveofourown.org/works/27211249/chapters/66468748

Cue me just yelling “THE FLOWER FIC!” I’m pretty sure I have recommended this to absolutely everyone that’s watched the show in the past 2 years lmao. It’s about the found family

 nothin’ like you by sam_writes_fics https://archiveofourown.org/works/40285125/chapters/100907319

My poor samjosh summer camp au heart. This fics makes me muppet scream after every single line. Also background cjtoby, my beloved. The cutest concept ever. 

2) Do you have a favorite character to write/edit? Favorite ship(s) to write/edit? Are there characters or ships you'd like to write/edit more of?

Joshua…I think for both? Ballet AU has fortunately let me get a chance to explore writing all of them, so that’s been fun! I like to write up lots of dialogue and meta, but to actually play with them for real is interesting. I’ve only “publicly” written Josh’s POV, so time will tell if I ever get comfortable enough to move on to someone else. Editing Josh/Brad is also always a hoot. Obviously, editing j/d is a good time, but i do like the challenge of when i get the inspo to edit cjtoby, those edits end up being a lot more heartbreaking. I loooove doing friendship edits and writing about those relationships as well, (chaos twins !!!) but im looking forward to doing some studio 60 edits soon. 

 3) Tell us about your creative process (setup/location? Night or day? Snacks/beverages? Computer/phone/notebook? Music or silence? Anything else you want to share is welcome!)

I like to call it “going into my edit hole” where I will clip/airdrop, edit, color, and then post all in the same sitting. I do like to outline edits (and now fics) on my notes app because most of my outlining and planning happens from 6am-2pm when I’m not home. This usually ends up being why I start editing at 7pm and finishing 3 hours later. Most edits usually take me 3 hours from beginning to end if I have it really thought out. For edits, I do like to be home alone or locked in my room to really pay attention to the music and voice overs. I have a Ballet AU playlist that I usually play while writing that. 

 4) What video editing/writing advice do you have for others who may be reading this?

This is for editing, but practice practice practice?? I made 40 tww edits in 2021 and you can definitely see when I started to get more comfortable with coloring/lighting this hell show. Voice overs were also kinda tricky for a bit, but I just played more and more with it for different edits, and you start to see what you like and what works. I think working with the same clips and show for so long provided something to work up to. My writing advice would be to open up google docs, advice that I myself should take ;) 

5) From where do you usually draw your inspiration? (Other forms of media, music, tropes, etc?)

MUSIC!!! For about 5 years, I made gifs almost everyday for Tumblr (follow me at @karenandthababes if ya want!) and most were lyric sets. Gifs were my alternative for not having the proper programs back then for edits. I saw these characters and ships through music. Music either puts choreography in my head or it flows out an edit lol 

 6) What is the fic/edit you've written/created that you're most proud of and why?

I’m still really proud of having an almost 9k unfinished fic (i’m so sorry) published? Ballet AU started as a joke and ended up being REAL, and that freaks me out. The noel edit to Ave Maria is one I think I’m still most proud of from a creative standpoint? It wasn’t one i had planned AT ALL, came out of nowhere and ended up doing really well and hurting a lot of people, which really is my biggest joy hahaha. 

 7) What's the fic trope/concept/AU you'd read 1000 of? What's the fic trope/concept/AU you'd write 1000 of? And/or, are there any editing tropes/artists/themes you can't get enough of?

I’m team angst (derogatory) but I love hurt/comfort. (which this show gives you plenty of reasons for it) I love reunions. I love found family. I love people feeling and being loved! For edits, I’m back to just adoring a good friendship edit. Nothing beats just seeing some of these duos or trios be absolute ding dongs. 

 8) Is there anything you'd like to try writing-wise/video editing-wise that you haven't yet?

I would love to try to write my angst feelings and hcs down for tww. I’ve been really proud of stuff I wrote for another fandom and OCs that were really DARK, but I just won’t have that chance for that in ballet au (which I think people would be grateful for). 

 9) What's your go-to Starbucks/coffee shop/other drink order?

lavender oat milk iced coffee wink wink (I also swing for hazelnut most of the time)

10) Do you have any current projects you'd like to promote or anything upcoming you'd like to tell us about?

Ballet AU!!! There’s a bunch of surprises coming in ACT 2 that I think a lot of people that haven't caught up or started yet would really enjoy, still saving quite a few tags for secret plot lines. There’s definitely more edits coming :) 

Submitted questions:

From @sam_writes_fics: one song you really want to make an edit to? how long have you been making edits?

Pretty much everything on my j/d playlist lol. I think there’s just so many songs to pick from at this point for any character dynamic and ship that now it’s just when inspiration really hits. I’ve been making fandom edits since 2019, but my first tww edit was in 2021. 

From @jessbakescakes: What do you think is the easiest part of editing? The most difficult part? What’s the one thing you know now that you wish you knew when you started?

The easiest is getting the concept most of the time? Usually, it’s a song that hits my shuffle that I never thought of using and then suddenly my brain is just providing the scenes or vibes for me. After an hour of repeats, it’s an edit. The most difficult part for me usually is starting. The program I specifically use (InShot on IOS) doesn’t let you drop and move things around like working on a desktop program would, so if my beginning doesn’t work like I wanted it to but I know how my middle and end works, I just have to keep at it until I find a way that works lol. 

From @jessbakescakes: What’s the one thing you know now that you wish you knew when you started?

This is a hard question. I went to school for multimedia in high school and focused on the post production of whatever we were making that week, so it’s less of what I wish I knew and more of what I wish I had. Studying graphic design in college threw me off from my video editing, so finding a way to just do it again, even on this level, is great.

From @claudiasjeans: what’s your fave tww rarepair? what got you into fandom, either editing or writing? how did you get exposed to tww?

For a rarepair, I’ll probably say andy/cj/toby and cj/kate? I’m a huge multishipper, so my end point is always a poly relationship lmao. I think samjosh might be too popular to be a rarepair, but I’ll put that down just in case. God, if we want to get real deep, my fandom writing background comes from twilight roleplay when i was a tiny teen. It wasn’t fic, but it was definitely years of writing. Gifs led to edits. Roselle (mskimwexler) and Di (onourownside) pulled me into watching tww completely blind and it was a magical time. I just celebrated my 2 year anniversary! 

From @kennysroys: Since you’re an editor (a great one at that!) what scene or scenes from the show do you think are well edited?

What a compliment :’) Noel as a whole, jfc. It’s the only episode of it’s kind and nothing can beat that Emmy winning masterpiece. I think that’s what was so fun about editing noel, because you have to work a little bit harder with the therapy scenes because it’s already edited so well. I would love to add that I have a love/hate with editing the cold kiss hahaha. I have at one point even tried to clip the matching shots together to make longer kisses and no dice!! The cold kiss is filmed and edited like an fandom edit, the 360 is amazing for the drama of editing, but sometimes you just WISH we got some more transition type single camera kisses lmao 

From @joshatella: When did you make your first edit/how did you start editing?

I posted the Humble Josh edit Christmas Day 2020, but I think my first twitter edits were Star Wars related from 2019. I just know Bea (schiff0rd) and I both started our tww edit journey around the same time, and it’s been really fine to work back and forth with her. Remi (piketrickfoots) was a godsend and actually clipped all of j/d for us back when it was still on Netflix, so without her and my season files, there’s no way I would have been able to edit at the quantity I was last year. The Humble edit and the Silver Fox Bradley edit were my firsts, which led to the red dress edit. The rest is history lol

Lightning round from @S4MWILSON: fave fic you wrote ? fave edit you made ? would you ever make an edit to a fic ? what app/software do u think is best for editing ? fave ship you have yet to write ? most underrated tww dynamic ?

I know I’ve talked about Ballet AU a lot, so I’m gonna say you know that i'm fallin’ was a really fun start to my tww fic journey. Ofc my first published fic was santos 3, which i would really love to do a little ficlet sequel to soon. The chaos twins or santos 3 edits i hold very dear to my heart, but the he's the man edit for josh was my real big break into making things as a whole I was really happy with. We’ve actually discussed doing a fic/edit/art collab event, so maybe soon! This is really a personal preference for me who’s used every editing software besides Vegas, but I prefer editing fancams on my phone. I use InShot for general editing and Prequel for coloring. I was originally trained with ​​Premiere Pro, but anyone that’s used that program knows it’s the devil. I would love to write some cjtoby at length. As the one of the spokespersons for underrated tww dynamics, I could list for hours, but any dynamic with Abbey involving a member of the senior staff is so special to me.

Thanks again, Connor!

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