The love I hold in my heart for Helmut Fullbear
Anddfff here’s the second batch of these! Monster au makes me wheeehehheeh
The "a platypus? *puts on hat* PERRY THE PLATYPUS??" Joke but with Helmut in Nick's body and/or Helmut's brain in the little brain ball
new muse just dropped
helmut fullbear from psychonauts is unfuckable!
Just wanted to show off my Helmut Fullbear inspired phone case and popsocket. Love these honestly.
lil idea for something I’m planning to draw but what if helmut in his mental world’s clothes looked more like marching band stuff to match with like the other psychic senses, I think that’d be cute...
Fandom: Psychonauts Pairing: Helmut/Bob Rating: G Summary: There's no reason the reunion needs to wait until Grulovia! What are psychoportals for if not to allow a man to hold his husband, even if it's only in the mind?
-AO3 link in the notes!-
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Helmut said. “Very festive.”
Bob blinked a few times.
Flowers had bloomed from every vine that wrapped around the struts of the greenhouse. They dangled from the ceiling and up the walls. The distillery was almost completely hidden beneath a cascade of lilacs, the bunches of tiny purple flowers almost overpowering the scent of alcohol.
Bob hadn’t asked them to do it. But then, he hadn’t asked them to get the kid to help him either.
Carefully he sat Helmut down on the floor and shut the door behind him. After a few seconds, the ball jerked forward and began to trundle across the floor, occasionally bonking into furniture.
“Don’t think I don’t see those mushrooms though.”
“If you don’t bother them, they won’t bother you.”
“Their presence bothers me. It’s harshing my groove.” He ran into a chair leg with a hollow clunk. “Ow.”
“Careful,” Bob said, absentmindedly, as he dug through his beard for the tools he’d stuck in there, hanging them in their hooks on his work bench. At Helmut’s wordless grumble, he added “Otto says you should get the hang of it in a day or so.”
“I think he gave me a defective one. This stupid thing handles like a sack of cement.”
“And what does that make you, exactly?”
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.” With some difficulty, Helmut maneuvered the ball back around and began to roll towards Bob’s ankles, picking up speed.
Bob waited until Helmut was an inch or so away, and lifted his foot. Helmut, unable to fight his own momentum, shot past Bob and into the dark space beneath a low table bearing an oversized spider plant.
Smiling, Bob approached the table and leaned down, peering into the shadows.
“So, how’d that work out for you?”
“Treachery,” Helmut said, flatly. “Betrayal.”
Bob started to laugh, a deep laugh he felt all the way through his chest. He hadn’t laughed like that since Helmut had died. It felt...good.
“Unbelievable. Fate has stuck me in an oversized hamsterball and do I get sympathy? Understanding? Offers of assistance?”
“Oh, you drama queen,” Bob said, still grinning. The spider plant swung a few of its dangling tendrils under the table and batted Helmut back out and into Bob’s hands.
“No!” Helmut went on, tone growing more melodramatic with every word. “Mockery! Laughter! You jest at my misfortune; my own husband!”
Bob lifted the brain ball to eye level, though Helmut didn’t have eyes at the moment.
“You,” he said, “are ridiculous.”
“It’s nice to hear you laugh,” Helmut said, warmly.
“Feels nice to laugh,” Bob replied.
“We need to hurry up and get my body back, because I don’t know how long I can take not being able to hold you.”
The metaphorical lightbulb went off over Bob’s head.
“Wait here,” he said, setting Helmut down on the workbench and hurrying over to a cabinet.
“Wh- hey! Don’t leave me up here! I’m gonna fall off!”
“You’ll be fine,” Bob said, not really listening.
“What are you even doing over there?”
“Hang on a second,” Bob said. “I know it’s here somewhere, I just don’t know what I did with the damn thing…”
“Did with what? Bobby!”
Bob abandoned the cabinet and moved to the drawers, pulling them open and rifling frantically through twenty years of accumulated junk. He didn’t want to tell Helmut until he found it; didn’t want to get his hopes up if--
“Aha!” Bob’s hand closed around a small rectangle of wood. Feeling a little breathless, he held up his psycho-portal triumphantly.
“Bobby you’re a genius,” Helmut said excitedly, rolling back and forth along the table. Then he stopped, and made a noise as if he was clearing the throat he didn’t currently have. “So,” he said, in a suave sort of voice, “my place or yours?”
Bob chuckled and scooped up the brain ball, settling down on the bed.
“Do you need a minute to clean up? Hide the dirty laundry, wash the dishes?”
“I promise you’ve seen way worse.”
“I believe it,” Bob muttered. He told himself it was only excitement that was making his hands tremble as he opened the lid of the ball. “Ready?”
Bob dropped the psycho-portal.
For a moment, everything was bright and loud--colors and music and people cheering and gasoline and fried food and someone shouting his name--and then it was dark. Not total darkness, though. It was a place of stars, with only the music of the stars to be heard.
Bob shook his head, disorientated twice over by the sudden changes.
“Sorry,” said a voice behind him. “I thought this might be a little more appropriate for a dramatic reunion.”
And there he was. The face Bob thought he’d never see again outside of dreams or nightmares; the green eyes that had haunted him for decades staring down at him with a rare solemnity.
They didn’t speak. Here, now, words were small and pale and hopelessly inadequate. What could be said? What words could possibly hope to put true voice to feelings as deep and dark as these?
Helmut’s grip was so tight Bob thought his spine might crack if he wasn’t currently a mental projection. Bob began to tremble, and then to shake, and then he buried his face in his husband’s shoulder.
“At least promise me they’re happy tears,” Helmut said, his own voice thick. Bob choked out something that might have been halfway to a laugh and nodded shortly. “Alright then.”
It took a few minutes to get himself under control but at last Bob managed to tilt his face up to look at Helmut again.
The kiss was even better than the hug, but sure enough, the tears came again.
“Jeez, Bobby, don’t tell me I’m that out of practice,” Helmut said, brushing them away. His own eyes were overbright, glittering in the starlight.
“Hah. No, it’s not that, I just…” Bob fell silent as words failed again.
“I know,” Helmut said. “I know. Me too.”
The second kiss lingered as they held on tight, both feeling as if they were the only people in the universe.
And to each other, in that moment, they were.
Bob became aware of the world shifting around them, of silence being replaced by quiet, touched by the sound of running water and a soft breeze through long grass. When he raised his head, he found they were no longer surrounded by stars. He recognized the place, for all it had the dreamy quality of a mindscape.
“Haven’t been here in a while,” Bob managed to say, his voice shaking just a little, but his smile strong.
“Thought it might be nice to take a trip down memory lane,” Helmut said. “You know, now that I can do that again.”
They settled on the vibrant red grass, arms still tight around each other, watching water like liquid galaxies slide by.
It wasn’t exactly right. Everything had the slightly vague, soft feeling of the mental world. Senses were off, ever so slightly, even in Helmut’s mind, when the man felt the world so closely. Helmut was not as warm as Bob remembered him, his hands were missing their calluses, and neither of them was breathing.
But it was enough. To have Helmut’s arms around him, to hear his voice, to know that he was there and that when Bob opened his eyes in the real world, Helmut would still be there...
It was more than enough.
“Tomorrow, if you want, we can come out here for real,” Bob said. “It’s not quite the same as it used to be, but it’s still a good view.”
“Didn’t Raz say it was a tourist trap now?”
“Nah,” Bob said, “That’s on the other side of the gulch.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to share our spot. Hey--wait, wasn’t the other side of the gulch where you and Otto…?”
“Yup,” Bob said, grimly. “You can get a lovely view of the diner and a parking lot from up there now. Great place to muse on the workings of the universe.”
“My condolences,” Helmut said, gravely. “But let’s be real, you two were never musing on anything. You were just arguing.”
“We were doing both. We were multitasking.”
Helmut laughed, and it was such a wonderful sound that Bob had to look up at him and see that smile again. It was exactly as wonderful as Bob remembered it being.
“I love you,” he said. Words he never thought he’d be able to say again. Helmut smiled, and though his tone was joking, his eyes were an endless ocean of sincerity.
“Huh, no kidding, I love you too. How wild is that?”
“Wild,” Bob agreed, and pulled him down for another kiss.
“Is this going to happen every time I kiss you from now on?” Helmut asked, wiping a tear from Bob’s cheek.
“Dunno,” Bob said. “I think we’re going to need to keep trying and see.”
“Oh well if you insist.”
Went and revisited the reunion kiss from this post bc I’d still been figuring out how to draw the gay old men, and I think I have a stronger handle on their funny big shapes now ❤️
you're fine, my love, nevermind, 'cause i'm here
It's almost spooky time and I think they should carve pumpkins together
helmut, waking up in his own body for the first time in decades: oh i HAVE to kiss my husband or i will DIE for real this time
I’ve been thinking way too much about that Grulovia trip to get Helmut’s body back….
Bonus grandpas in love:
I know that maybe the way the Psychic Six got assigned to the Senses has symbolism but a part of me is pretty sure it's just what sensory experiences Helmut synaesthetically associates their names with
I do care about the plot and like the other characters, but as soon as I saw helmut fullbear, my brain laser-focused on him. he's just. so hot.
Bob Zanotto from Psychonauts 2 is a gay demisexual trans man with PTSD and depression who uses he/him and 🌱/🌱s pronouns, and he’s married to Helmut Fullbear, a polyamorous gay trans man with PTSD, anxiety, ADHD, and synesthesia who uses he/him and psy/psych pronouns! They’re both friends with Compton Boole, a demiromantic demiman with severe anxiety and PTSD who uses he/him, they/them, and bee/bees pronouns and is in a QPR with Cassie O’pia, an autistic aromantic bisexual beegender person with PTSD who uses she/her, bee/bees, and sting/stings pronouns!
They’re friends with Otto Mentallis, an autistic loveless aromantic asexual agender man with PTSD and ADHD who doesn’t understand pronouns, but goes by he/him most of the time! Otto is friends with Ford Cruller, a GNC straight man with PTSD and psychosis who goes by he/him and psy/psych pronouns and is in a relationship with Lucrecia Mux, a panromantic aceflux trans woman with PTSD who uses she/her and 🌊/🌊s pronouns!
dni transcript here
The first time they held hands was on a technicality, but that didn't matter in the moment