#so why are they coming to my posts to bother me?

[juniperskye]

Come bother me, baby.

Based on the following post: Inspo  you are the bane of young Aaron's existence - back when he was just an agent under Gideon and Rossi. A pain in his ass…so when you transfer to avoid your feelings for him, he begs you to come back. Okay listen, I know that Hotch didn’t really work under Rossi in the beginning, as Rossi had already left…but we’re all gonna pretend for the sake of this fic. Also – Haley just never existed in this, and that’s ok.

Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader

Fluff

Word count: 4164

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, female reader, she/her pronouns, age gap (Hotch is 28 and reader is 25), some explicit language, canon typical violence, mentions of case details, reader has experienced the loss of her parents, mention of holidays, mention of food/eating. Mention of reader being a mom, inaccurate timelines, let me know if I missed anything!!!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

July 1993

The year was 1993, Jason Gideon and David Rossi were just granted permission to hire two agents to expand the team. They agreed that they would each pick an agent, that way there’d be no room to argue. They interviewed a total of 17 potential candidates, 13 of those were interviewed by Rossi and the other 4 by Gideon.

Aaron Hotchner had been the 7th file in Rossi’s stack, it was an impressive resume, one that was filled with cases he’d worked as a prosecutor, and then a number of cases he’d worked as a profiler in the Seattle Field office. He now was here in Quantico, Virginia, hoping to gain a spot on the BAU. To Rossi, Aaron had stood out amongst the others, he’d sat through all 13 interviews, and nobody could match the passion for this position like Aaron had. It had been an easy choice.

You had been the 2nd file in Gedeon’s stack, and honestly he’d been let down by his first candidate…so when you walked in, more than qualified for this position, he excused the other two candidates.  He didn’t feel the need to interview them, his gut told him you were the right choice. Your file had been padded with your numerous degrees varying from bachelor's degrees in psychology and criminology, to a master’s degree in forensic psychology, ending with a PhD in psychology. For the last year you’d been working in the Phoenix field office as a profiler. And while you didn’t have a ton of field experience, Gideon had been thoroughly impressed with your tenacity and overall enthusiasm for the profession.  

--

September 1993

Things had started off okay…mostly. Aaron definitely treated you like you were a child, though you were only three years younger than him. While you’d spent a lot of time expanding your knowledge of this field, Aaron had worked as a prosecutor immediately after his completion of law school. You weren’t sure why he thought he was so much better than you…you were a doctor after all.

It had started in the most dismissive way possible. You’d accidentally spilled your coffee at the round table, it had spread fast, covering his copy of the latest case file. You apologized immediately, offered him your copy while you went to print another. He shook his head at you, muttering something along the lines of you being young and unprofessional.

You had thought about going to Gideon to complain but ultimately decided against it. It would only make him see you as more of a child. So, you’d worked your ass off to prove yourself, you needed to show him that you were an asset to the BAU and not a liability.

--

May 1994

“I think this unsub is female.” You stated confidently.

“Are you insane?” Aaron scoffed.

“Before you completely dismiss me Hotch, hear me out.”

“Don’t call me that.” He hissed.

You had to physically wipe the smirk from your face before explaining your theory to the team. You’d pointed out how meticulous everything had been, how much care had gone into the murders and the disposals.

“If we really break everything down, it’s all done with so much care. The bodies haven’t just been dumped, they’ve been cleaned, redressed, and neatly placed in beautiful locations. The field of flowers, the hillside, by the art installation at the park.” You’d gestured to the photos pinned on the corkboard.

Looking around you could see the impressed look Gideon was wearing, it was bordering smug as he turned his gaze over to Rossi with a nod. Rossi couldn’t do anything other than shrug – you’d made a good point, who was he to question your expertise. But then there was Aaron…he was looking around in disbelief, nobody was even going to question it?

Aaron was pissed that you had been right. Three days after that briefing, you taken Helena Murphy into custody. She had lost her siblings in a car accident when she was in her teens, and a recent fender bender had been her trigger. She’d been taking the lives of young people who had resembled her siblings and laid them to rest somewhere beautiful…unlike the highway guardrail that had ultimately taken her family from her all those years ago.

Gideon and Rossi both gave you kudos for narrowing down the profile the way you had. The police officers at the Milwaukee PD had congratulated you and subsequently thanked you for your hard work. Aaron wouldn’t even look at you.

Needless to say, the flight home was tense.

--

August 1994

“Ugh it is soooo hot!” You whined, fanning yourself with a loose manila folder.

“Would you stop that?” Aaron asked.

“Stop what?” You feigned innocence.

“Bothering me! Your fanning is blowing all my papers around, just cut it out.” He huffed.

“Sure, thing Hotch.” You offered a sickly-sweet smile.

“Don’t call me that!” He shook his head and continued his report.

You stood from your desk and removed your blazer, showing off the fitted tank top you’d been wearing underneath. You made your way up to the kitchenette to retrieve some ice water and the ice pack from your lunchbox. At this point, you’d do anything to cool off.

You sat back down at your desk, sipping the water and crunching on the ice, while shifting the icepack from your chest to your neck. Aaron was so distracted by your constant moving that he had to speak up again. But as his gaze landed on you, he was rendered speechless…only for a moment, but it was enough time for him to notice the way the condensation from the icepack had dripped down your chest and when you slid it back to your neck, he could see the effect the could had on your breasts. His throat went dry.

“Stop messing around, it’s distracting.” He ordered.

“You’re no fun Hotch.”

“Would you just stop bothering me? You’re doing it on purpose now.” He sighed.

“Oh, fine.” You conceded.

--

November 1994

You made your way into the FBI building, hanging on one arm is your go bag, packed and ready to go. On the other arm is your purse, struggling to stay up on your shoulder as you held onto a basket filled with baked goods.

“Happy Holidays Jim!” You greeted, handing him a loaf of pumpkin bread.

“Thanks doll, you too! Did you get called in?” Jim, the head of security, asked.

“No, not yet anyway. I just figured I’d stop by.” You shrugged.

“You weren’t celebrating?” He questioned.

“Oh, um no, not this year.”

“Well doll, thanks for the pumpkin bread. Happy thanksgiving.” Jim smiled.

You made your way around, passing out different backed goods to people you saw every day, Maureen the receptionist, Mike from IT, and Sandra who was the director’s assistant. You’d even gone as far as bringing something for the BAU team members in the event that you did get called in.

Speaking of…

Gideon rushed into the bullpen of the sixth floor, in his haste he nearly missed the slight step down into the main section of the floor where your and Aaron’s desks sat. He was ferociously pressing the buttons on his pager – surely sending a page to the team informing them of the newest case.

Your suspicions were confirmed when yours beeped from your desk, drawing yours and Gideon’s attention.

“Jesus, I didn’t realize you were here. What are you doing here already?” Gideon asked.

“No reason to celebrate…I thought I could make myself useful here.” You shrugged and offered Gideon a container of gingersnaps.

“Thanks kid. Can you go get the files from Anderson?” Gideon requested.

“Of course, sir.”

Aaron arrived next; shock evident on his face when he saw you coming back from retrieving the files. He was about to make a snarky comment about you being here so early when Rossi came in behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.

--

The four of you were on the plane heading to Oklahoma, you were seated next to Gideon, going over the file, passing theories back and forth. Aaron was sat next to Rossi, stewing in a feeling the bordered annoyance.

“I can feel the steam blowing out of your ears.” Rossi teased.

“Sorry I just don’t get it…she got there so fast. She just – she just bothers me.” Aaron huffed.

“She was already there kid, she was at the BAU before Gideon even got there, he told me.” Rossi explained.

“What do you mean she was already there? Why would she have been at the office already?”

“I assume to keep herself busy. She lost her parents when she was in college, so she doesn’t really have anyone to celebrate the holidays with. She brought everyone at the office treats.” Rossi smiled, popping another bite of his banana nut muffin into his mouth.

“I didn’t know. That’s uh-that’s…” Aaron didn’t quite know what to say.

“Check your bag Hotch.” Rossi smiled and went back to his file.

Placed neatly in the outer pocket of Aaron’s bag was a cellophane bag containing snickerdoodles, his favorite. A red ribbon tied the bag closed and attached to it was a small note…

Sorry for bothering you all the time. Hopefully these can make up for a little bit of it.

Aaron took a bit of one of the cookies., rolling his eyes because, of course, they were perfect. He couldn’t help but feel bothered by your inability to be bad at something.

--

February 1995

You hated valentine’s day, it had always been a sore spot, all your friends swooning over the overpriced chocolate and roses that their boyfriends would get them. Not you though, you hadn’t received a valentine since freshman year of high school when Mathew Smith taped a rose to your locker. Matt had been nice and all, but he was looking for something…unserious.

You got yourself dressed and dragged yourself to the BAU. Everyone was so chipper as you entered the building, greeting you…but you met the majority of them with a scowl. Stepping off the elevator and going over to your desk, surprise overcoming you as you’re met with peonies and a pack of razzles. You moved them around, trying to find the note, coming across a yellow sticky note.

I thought these could be repayment for the pens you got me for Christmas.    -Hotch

You smiled at the signature, he’d hated when you called him Hotch, you’d been the first to do so and he was annoyed at how unprofessional it had initially seemed, he’d tell you not to call him that and claim you bothered him on purpose, but as Rossi and Gideon joined in with the nickname, he slowly grew to like you…it!

Aaron sat at his desk, plopping into his chair with a sigh. Your gaze lifted to meet his, a timid smile gracing your features.

“Hotch”

“Don’t bother me today.”

“Thank you.” You smiled.

“Don’t mention it.”

--

May 1995

May and June had become your least favorite months of the year. After losing your parents, you thought Christmas would be hard, and it was…but you’d found friends in school who would celebrate with you.

It was Mother’s Day and Father’s Day that killed you. People didn’t invite their orphaned friend over to celebrate those holidays with their family because…well because that’s weird.

These two months brought with them the painful reminder that your parents were gone.

Truthfully, you’d been glad to get the page letting you know that a case came in, it would have been a welcomed distraction…if it hadn’t been in your hometown.

Aaron could see how tense you were. He was trying to profile you, figure out what had you so worked up. He knew this time of year had to be difficult for you, seeing as Rossi told him you lost your mom. But he could tell there was something deeper, rooted within you.

It took some time, but after sitting back and observing, he figured it out. A few different officers knew you by name and were on a first-name basis with you. You’d been extremely familiar with the layout of the city, not needing directions to the location you’d gone to earlier. This must be your hometown.

--

“Alright guys, nice job today. So, we are flying out first thing tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Rossi said.

You were slow to pack up, gathering your things, chatting with a few of the officers before heading out of the precinct. You didn’t really know what to do, you didn’t want to go back to the hotel, but you also didn’t want to go around town. You had too many memories here, it was too hard to go around and picture all the times you had with your parents around here.

“Hey, you want to go for a drive with me?” Aaron asked

You couldn’t even mask the shock as it etched its way across your features.

“Sure.”

At first you had no idea where Aaron was heading, the drive feeling unfamiliar…but then all at once you’d figured it out. He was driving to Blue Grove Cemetery.

“What the hell are you doing? Why are we here?” You questioned, anxiety lacing your words.

“Look, I can’t imagine how hard it must be to go through May and June, now that they’re gone. I thought it might be nice for you to see them before we head back tomorrow.” Aaron explained.

So many feelings were running through you. Initially anger, why would he blindside you like this. But then that morphed into panic, you didn’t want Hotch to see this side of you, the weak and vulnerable side. But lastly was this weird warmth…it was slow moving like molasses, sticking to every part of your body.

--

Aaron parked and let you control the pace. He waited to move until you reached for the handle on the door, slowly exiting the SUV. You stood there, still, unmoving, unsure if you could do this. Aaron grabbed a bag out of the back seat before walking around to meet you where you stood.

“I’m sorry, I – I don’t…”

“Hey,” Aaron placed his hand on your shoulder gently. “Take your time.”

You nodded at him gratefully.

Eventually you began to move, leading Aaron through the cemetery. You’d passed headstone after headstone until you came to a stop at their gravesite, resting just below a beautiful tree, offering just enough shade to allow you respite from the heat.  

Aaron laid out a small blanket, letting you sit first, hesitating for a beat.

“You can sit…please.” You asked, more than told.

Aaron sat next to you silently. He pulled the bag in front of the two of you, removing its contents, a sandwich cut in half, a bag of kettle chips (your favorite) and lastly two diet cokes. As you watched him, you smiled, you may bother him once in a while…okay all the time…but he cared. Whether he’d admit it or not.

The two of you sat there, eating, enjoying the cool breeze that the afternoon offered. After some time had passed, you found yourself telling Aaron about your parents. How your mom loved to bake, and she would tell you that food brought people together. You told him how your dad did everything himself, he never called in a specialist for everything.

Aaron chimed in with how you’d clearly taken after them and it made you an incredible profiler…and there it was again, that warm feeling.

You’d recognized it… it was the same feeling that bloomed within you on valentine’s day, and before that, on Christmas. You’d bought hotch these really fancy fountain pens he’d mentioned in passing and he got you a coat, a nice warm one, since you didn’t seem to own one.

This warm, sticky, sweet feeling was rearing its ugly head…and you were pretty sure it was called love.

--

July 1995

That warm feeling had burrowed its way deep into your core and you were freaking out. You’d been doing everything you could to act normal around Hotch, you were worried you’d been failing miserably.

“I think your agent has a crush on my agent…” Rossi said to Gideon, peaking out the window of his office.

“That’s interesting, because I am pretty sure your agent has feelings for my agent.” Gideon challenged.

“Do you think they’ll figure it out?”

“Not any time soon.”

--

You flicked a paper football over your screen onto Hotch’s desk. He glanced up at you, only his gaze didn’t hold its usual annoyance, instead there was something that mirrored amusement written there.

“Are you trying to bother me some more?” Aaron asked.

“Um, yes. That’s my job; to bother you…didn’t you get the memo?” You teased.

“I must have missed that one.” He let out a breathy chuckle.

You went back to your report, working diligently. All of two minutes passed before the paper football knocked against your hand as it landed on your desk. You laughed and shook your head gently, there was that stupid feeling again.

--

October 1995

Your knuckles rapped gently against Gideon’s office door. You were shaking, your stomach twisted at the thought of what you were about to do. It had taken you a little while to figure out the best option…knowing that it wouldn’t be professional to continue working with Hotch with these feelings you had for him.

You’d looked at all the openings here at Quantico, trying to figure out which position would best suit you. Ultimately, counterterrorism was looking for someone with a background in psychology, so it just made sense. Which brings you to now, you were about to go into Gideon’s office and request the transfer.

“Come in.”

“Hey Gideon, I uh…I need to talk to you about something.” You stumbled a bit.

“Go ahead.” He gestured to the chair opposite him.

You sat, taking a steadying breath. “I’m requesting a transfer. To counterterrorism.”

“No.”

“Gideon, you-”

“No.” He began. “I am not going to sign a transfer request for you, especially not to counterterrorism, you have exceptional skills, and we need them here.”

“Gideon, I have to transfer. I feel – I have…” You trailed off as your eyes found Aaron beyond the window in the bullpen. “I can’t work with him, not when I feel like this.”

Gideon took a deep breath, looking at you and taking in the longing gaze you wore. He didn’t fully understand what thoughts were running through your head, but if this is what you felt you needed to do, he wasn’t going to stop you. You were a very strong and capable agent…he trusted your judgement.

“How much longer do we have you here at the BAU?” He asked waving for you to hand him the paper.

“Two weeks.” You sighed. “I’m sorry Gideon.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re smart and you need to do what is best for you.”

--

November 1995

“Alright guys we have a case, round table in five.” Rossi called out into the bullpen.

You gathered your things, knowing you wouldn’t be travelling with them for this case. You figured you’d sit through the round table, offer a few theories and then let them go on their way.  Aaron watched you slowly grabbing a legal pad and your signature pink pen, he chuckled grabbing his own paper and one of the fountain pens from the set you bought him.

“Before we begin I just want to say that I am so proud of how you have grown and flourished with this team, and while it is a huge loss for the BAU, counterterrorism is lucky to have you.” Gideon stated, looking at you.

“What? You-you’re transferring?” Aaron asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“When…when are you leaving?” He asked.

“Today is my last day.” Your gaze shifted to your lap.

“We can talk about this later, let’s go over the facts of the case.” Gideon demanded.

Through the entire briefing Aaron’s eyes were burning into you. He couldn’t focus on the fact of this case because he was completely hung up on the fact that yours wouldn’t be the face across from him anymore…you weren’t going to be there to flick paper footballs at him, or to hum songs all day, to crunch annoyingly on baby carrots. Who was going to bother him if you were gone?

After you finished going over the case, you couldn’t help the sting behind your eyes, slowly realizing that this was it, your time at the BAU was done. But you held your head up high and steeled yourself. You offered Gideon a handshake, Rossi pulled you into a tight hug, and Aaron…well he brushed by you with a curt nod.

--

Aaron was miserable throughout the entirety of the two weeks they were away on this case. He was moping, and it wasn’t going unnoticed. Rossi and Gideon shared a knowing look, thankful that he was finally figuring it out.

They hadn’t quite expected it to take him so long to do something about it.

--

December 1995

The bullpen was so quiet without you. Aaron felt uneasy; he was the only one in the center of the floor now that you were gone. His file going long forgotten as he sat back and thought about things for a bit…

When he first saw you, you’d entered the elevator at the same time for your interviews, you’d offered a quiet thank to him for holding the elevator for you and he couldn’t deny then how cute you were. But then you’d both been hired on as profilers and he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to think that anymore, so he shoved the feeling down.

Then you spilled your coffee all over the table, effectively ruining his file, but you’d cursed, burning your hand as you quickly tried to clean it up. He wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you it would be okay, so he fled.

It was so many things after that, your intelligence and the passion you had for profiling. Your baking, always noting people’s favorites and bringing them sweets, just to see them smile. The way you listened, remembering something he’d brought up in passing and gone out of your way to order his favorite pens.

Oh shit. He was in love with you. He’d fallen in love with you and had been too stupid to realize it.

--

Aaron moved with a purpose, rushing through the FBI building, making his way up the two flights of stairs it took to get to counterterrorism. He burst through the door, drawing attention to himself, his eyes frantically scanning the room in search of you.

He moved forward, noticing you across the room. He reached you in a few long strides, stopping just before you.

“Hotch…what are you doing here?” You looked around, blushing profusely.

“Sweetheart, you need to come back to the BAU.”

“I can’t…Aaron I-”

“I know that I have given you no reason to believe this, but I love you sweetheart. I need you to come back to the BAU, come back and bother me, baby.”

“No.” You shook your head in disbelief.

“Well yes.”

“Aaron, no.”

“Yes! Come bother me, baby. Bother me for the rest of my life.” Aaron begged. His hands reaching forward to cup your face.

“Okay” You gasped.

Aaron pulled you into a kiss, the agents surrounding you erupting in cheers for the both of you.

--

Bonus scene – May 2016

“Happy Mother’s Day sweetheart.”

“Happy Mother's Day mom!”

“Thank you guys!” You smiled, feeling nothing but joy looking to those who surrounded you.

Before you was your incredible husband and your three children, two sons and a daughter. They had gotten up early to make breakfast for you before they headed off to school. There had been a bouquet of peonies, cards, and a pack of razzles.

“Jack, are you okay to get Zoey to school today? We got called in pretty early.” You asked.

“Yeah mom! I have practice though, so Jason and Zoey might have to hang out a while.”

“Don’t worry about that bud, Will offered to pick them up when he picks up Michael.” Aaron patted Jack on the shoulder.

“Alright kids, we will see you later, be safe and please text me when you get to school!” You called, heading out the door with Aaron hot on your tail.

--

Aaron and you made your way into the BAU hand-in-hand. You glanced around at this team you built together, and you couldn’t be happier. Aaron made his way toward his office, noticing you’d stopped and before he could say anything, Dave clapped him on the back.

“Leave her be. She’s admiring this family you’ve built together.”

You looked over to where Aaron and Dave stood, offering a bright smile. You then made your way down to the floor, greeting Emily, JJ, Derek, Spencer and Penelope.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

[alwayzadorbs]

Idk if ya have any rules or if you only do nsfw but could I have some hcs on how lucifer is with a crush and how he asks asks reader out? You can include some nsfw though as I wouldnt complain about it ;) My brain has been rotted by lucifer smut mmgh

Thank you for reminding me to post a Guideline for asks. Here ya go, I hope you enjoy, Anon!

Rating: Fluff

Lucifer couldnt figure out what was wrong with him, Why were you the only thing on his mind? Whenever his mind drifted off, he found himself thinking about your smile. Then, just for a minute, he thought about holding your hand. Feeling flustered, he shook his head.

"Why am i thinking about a lowley human?" he sighed, attempting to fixate on his workload.

Scribbling in the blank notes, he squinted a tad. Slipping back into his previous thoughts, letting his mind go back to the image of you two, together. Lucifer thought about how you would react if he surprised you with an article of clothing or classy jewels. And if he did, what kind of item would be the most fitting?

His heart beat faster as he pictured you wearing what he picked out, buffing his pride just from a fantasy. Lucifer thought about you wearing his color, red, not just any tacky red, Deep, ruby red. He chuckled, before coming back to reality.

"Wait, did I actually write down their name??" he looked down in disbelief, quickly erasing the words.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Lucifer stood by the entrance of the RAD garden, fixated on what he was holding. Earlier he had texted you to meet him where he was standing, now he was waiting for you to arrive. He would finally get to tell you what he'd been burning to say. By this point, he realized that he was in love with you.

Tracing his finger against the smooth surface of the Jade bracelet he had bought for you. Lucifer cracked after seeing it in the window of an antique artifacts shop, he'd been trying to find a way to ask you out, and this was perfect.

He quickly shoved the bracelet into his pocket upon hearing the thump of your footsteps.

"Hi Lucifer, You wanted to meet me here? What's the occasion?" You smiled, not knowing it warmed his heart to see.

"no occasion, I just didn't want my obnoxious brothers bothering us. Come with me, I want to show you something." he chuckled, turning on his heel to enter the garden.

"Oh a stroll with the ever-busy Lucifer, are you sure there's no occasion?" you trolled alongside him, teasing him a bit

You breathed in deeply, inhaling the scents of the garden. You took in the sights, viewing a mix of flowers from the demon world and the celestial realm.

"What, I'm not allowed to spend time with you, just the two of us?" He smirked, stopping in front of a patch of red, strange-looking flowers.

He leaned down, plucking one of the flowers from the ground. "Do you know what this is, Mc?" he said, holding it up

"No, I can't say I do. What is it?" you cocked your head to the side, feeling a familiar sense within the flower

He inched towards you, tucking the flower between your ear and head. "Lycoris radiate, The red spider lily. You've probably seen it before, it's from the Human world. As you know, this garden features a variety of flowers, some from the Celestial Realm and some from the Devildom. But..." he paused for a moment

"There were very any human world flowers here, and in light of your presence...I campaigned for one to be planted here." He smiled, gazing into your eyes

"I also wanted you to have this," he continued, reaching into his pocket "I saw it in the window of an Artifacts shop, and I knew you had to have it."

"Lucifer...you really did all this for me?!" you laughed, reaching for the bracelet

"So you haven't figured it out yet?" He chuckled, bringing your hand into his "I Love you, Mc." He said, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist.

"I Love you too, Lucifer!" you laughed, leaning into his arms to embrace him in a hug.

"For a moment, I thought you might not say it back" He cupped your face, leaning in to kiss you

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Writers note

I will make a smut version soon! i won't leave you guys high and dry!

[revelboo]

Everytime I think about the pure unhingedness of the current situation megs is in is so unserious, like imagine making a rebellion against this dictator and going through all the hardships of this unseemigly long war only to end up pregnant? And it’s not even yours!?!!? Kinda - being forcibly pseudo surrgate turned reversed hostage husband married to this squishy small alien that you assumed was more pet but nooo turns out your soldiers have been fucking these things and now you carrying your second in command, who has been up to this point, trying to kill you, and now. NOW. YOU. ARE. ONCE AGAIN: Pregnant with his and the alien’s kid. Like you fucked yeah, but you are now forced into a polycule with alien and two of your best soldiers because of you trying to be nice, for once, and look what it did! The slight good thing is that it can maybe save your species but like miner megatron or gladitor megatron would’ve never expected to be anywhere near this absolute shitshow of drama that everything is alright megs is right in. Still accidental mpreg/baby mama/you are not the “father” megatron was never in my bingo card for ANY year. Speedrunning the entire series since i found it yesterday has been a something. Idk. Love it tho. Your writing is amazing, but im reeling because WHAT. Great work.

Yeah, poor guy is not having fun.

A little shy of 2000 followers, it’s at 1996 this morning, but I wanted to go ahead and post this extended chapter to cheer myself up after getting into it with the car dealership I got Soundwave from this morning because the window they just replaced is already leaking again. 18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Everything Is Alright Pt 132

IDW Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

Megatron doesn’t want this moment to end. Wants to just feel you drifting through him, to enjoy this intimacy. This feeling of belonging that he’s not had in so long. Or, if he’s honest with himself, ever. Even in the mines there had been companionship, brotherhood, but nothing like the feel of being so tangled in someone else that he can’t tell where you begin and he ends. Because right now he can pretend. Pretend you’re someone who loves him, that he loves you. That the fragile spark he’s cradling within himself is really his. It’s all a lie, though and he swore to never be deceived again. Not even by himself.

But he needs this so much. Knows you’re his now, as trapped as he is. Bound to each other by accident for life. Needs to believe that you might eventually love him. That this will get better, less broken over time. Hurt less.

Trembling as his servos wrap around your wrist and gently separate you from his spark, you make a soft sound of protest at the loss. For a moment, teetering on the edge of crying though you're not quite sure why as his arm curls around you and he rights his plating. And he brushes his mouth against your forehead before letting his helm fall back against the berth, the uncharacteristically gentle touch making the urge to cry worse.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you got roped into this mess," you whisper. Even if he'd been delighting in tormenting Starscream, going out of his way to antagonize him, he'd still not really deserved to be saddled with you for life. You and Star.

"Are you?" He asks, optics fixed on the ceiling and not bothering to look at you. Most likely furious with you for what you'd unconsciously done to him. He's yet to take it out on you, though. Hasn't yelled or threatened. Just seems oddly resigned to this and it makes you feel even worse. Had felt that longing for more echoing through the bond and it hurts. Aches through you.

Before you can come to your senses and second guess yourself, you lean forward and brush your mouth against his in a quick kiss. "You didn't have to save me. You could have let me die and be done with Star, too."

He's just staring at you. Like he isn't sure what to make of you before he drapes an arm across his optics. "I could have been permanently rid of Starscream?” He mutters as if it had never occurred to him until now and you smile despite yourself.

Blowing out a breath, you look up when someone knocks on his door and he slowly lowers his arm, head turning. And then huffs out a bitter sounding laugh as the door opens and Soundwave hesitates just inside the doorway. His visor brightening when he spots you and guilt seizes you by the throat. Not sure what to say to him after what Star had done to your bond with him, but unable to not feel like it was your fault. That you could have stopped Star. Could have fought for your bond. And now you can’t even meet his optics.

“For Primus’s sake,” Megatron growls, rolling slightly so you slide off of him onto the berth as he pushes off and mass shifts. Looming over you, a big hand splayed near your head. “Fix this.” He demands, venting to stir your hair. “Watching you two pining for each other is torture.”

Breathless, you watch him straighten and reach to lay a hand on Soundwave’s shoulder. Before going out the door and leaving you both alone in his habsuite. “Little one,” Soundwave whispers, keeping his distance and you feel it. This new distance and hurt between you. Feel it and hate it.

Sitting up, your jaw works as you press your fists against the tops of your thighs. “I’m so sorry,” you manage, voice breaking and then you’re crying. Knowing it’s all your fault. That you could have done something. And he’s just staring at you, before he rocks into motion. Barely aware of him mass shifting and joining you on the berth. Of his arms curling around you when he goes down on his knees and pulls you into his warmth.

Wrapping his arms around you as you cry and just keep apologizing, your voice ragged and small, he realizes you blame yourself. Even though you couldn’t have stopped Starscream, you’re hurting, too. Brushing his mouth shakily against your forehead, he can’t help but think that maybe if he hadn’t tried to push you and Megatron together to protect you, that Star wouldn’t have tried to sever his bond. Wouldn’t have felt threatened and lashed out. “It wasn’t your fault, little one.” Trying to reassure you as you hide your face against his neck and he feels the dampness of your tears on him. Crooning to you like he would a cassette as he gently grips your chin and makes you look at him.

“I let him,” you whisper, sounding so lost it hurts.

“Couldn’t have stopped him,” he counters, leaning his helm against your forehead. “Bonds can be repaired. If you still want that?” Still want him. Because how he feels hasn’t changed. Even if he has to share you, he wants to bond you. To claim you as his. The swim through your warmth and light again, know you better than he knows himself.

And those teary eyes look up at him as you loop your arms around his neck. Letting him settle himself with you in his lap. Retracting his mask, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips, those words spilling warm through him. Words he’s been desperate to hear.

Servos threading through your hair, mouth sliding hungrily on yours and you open up for him. Letting him taste you as his glossa slides against your tongue. Shifting the plating protecting his spark as he lifts his head. “I love you, too, my little one. My mate.” His little spouse. And you bridge the distance, reaching for his spark and arching against him with a breathless sound.

Expects you to flee and to have to chase you, but you rush to him. Pouring into him, your emotions still a mess of grief, love, and guilt as he cradles your warmth. Soothing away the pain, understanding what you need from him. For him to be your calm, your shelter from the other two when they’re at each other’s throats. And you’re so tired and hurt. Overwhelmed by all of it as he wraps himself around you.

Coaxing you gently to accept him. To claim him as yours. Because even though this isn’t what he would have imagined, this craziness is the family he’s found and he wants it. Even if it comes with Starscream and Megatron as brothers even as they hate each other. He’ll take it for you. For a future. For a chance at a family. Sparklings. Wants it so bad it hurts. To spark you and raise a family with you.

Feel him coaxing you, can feel that not quite a question right there and you accept. Reaching for him as he curls himself tighter around you. Aware of your real body, his mouth brushing against yours even as you’re here tangled in his light. Feeling that bond spangle through you, tying you to him and feeling right. Feeling like home. And his hunger and need spill into you. His desire to spark you lighting through you even though you’d been worried about it when Megatron had brought it up.

But you want this with him, you realize. Whimpering when he carefully separates you from his spark, mouth sliding against yours as if in apology as he rights his plating to hide away that warm light. Those big hands sliding against you as you reach up to cup his face. Pressing kisses against his mouth, his cheek, anywhere you can reach as he hooks an arm around you and carefully lays you back. And you’re all need, arching up into him as your hands stroke over plating. “Please,” you whisper, wanting him. Wanting everything. “Soundwave.”

His mouth covers yours again, the kiss becoming more demanding. Urgent as he frees his spike and you feel it brush against your inner thigh, branding you with his heat. And he growls when he shifts against you, finds you, and presses deep to make you gasp.

That familiar spike stretching you as he shifts against you, hips pumping. His mouth moving against yours, glossa sliding against the seam of your lips and stealing inside as he thrusts inside you, your fingers dip into seams, clinging to him.

Thrusting deep into your wet heat, you whimper into his mouth and you’re where you belong once more. The bond finally whole like it should have been all along. Your emotions spilling into him, familiar and right. His little mate in his arms. Your need and love urging him to claim you. Growling as you hook a leg around him, hips rocking to meet his thrusts as needy as he is. And he wants all of it, all of you, mouth brushing yours as he breaks the kiss and your head lifts, breath warm against his lips as you try to claim his mouth again.

“Let me spark you,” he growls, your lips brush his. Those eyes he loves opening and he needs this. Wants it so much his spark aches. Just the thought of you carrying his sparkling nearly enough to make him release right then. “Let me have this.”

“Spark me,” you whisper and he groans, hips pumping as he shifts over you, trying to find that angle you like. That spot that makes you shatter for him. “Soundwave.” Voice a ragged whimper, he mouths your soft skin, rolling his hips and you cry out. Coming apart under him, little fingers digging into seams as you tighten on him.

Hips bucking urgently, he urges one of your thighs up higher. Driving deep as you fist his spike and listening to those little, needy sounds that are just for him. Because right now, it’s just you and him. There’s no other mates, so drama. Groaning as his thrusts falter, he shifts his plating. Snares you with his spark as he’s filling you. Hips still rocking as he coaxes you. Asking. Pleading as he tangles in you, your scent, your body, your light all his. And he feels you accept him, reaching out in return as he shudders against you, filling you again as his mouth opens on a groan against your jaw. His little mate. Finally his.

Previous

[laurelwen]

Sorry, it's me again. There's this thing that has been...whispering in the back of mind since I read this post for the first time. Nigel wrote: "... I removed a rat's heart and pretended to be disgusted" Why on earth would he feel the necessity to PRETEND to be disgusted in front of Alex?

I've taken a minute to answer this because it's a very good question but difficult and complicated to answer within the context of the film. For those who aren't sure what you're referring to, please see this post transcribing Nigel's notes.

The short answer is: I don't think the people making the props were entirely consistent with the character as scripted. I think most likely they were given some general directives (such as "make sure it highlights the words "egocentric megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur") Outside those few directives, they just sort of let their poetic license run free, injecting their own ideas of a what a "fucked up weird guy who dissects animals" would say into the text, and creating a different version of Nigel than the movie presents us with. The worst example of that is the newspaper article in Alex's book--which doesn't make ANY sense in the context of the film. No one really expected crazy fans to obsessively pause the movie and use photo enhancing techniques frame by frame to determine what was written in his journals or the text of the article, so I think there was a lot of leeway and perhaps some laziness when it came to the props.

It's hard for me to come up with an IN character justification for Nigel to have written that, because it doesn't gel with my observations of him as presented in the film. The journal entry itself is written before he is kidnapped by Alex and the dynamic of their relationship shifts. This IS the entry that made Alex angry enough to kidnap him and teach him a lesson in the first place. This is the Nigel who barely responds to Alex's confrontational anger over the dissection in the dorm room, the Nigel who seems to be completely unmoved by or even very aware of how his actions might impact others. He doesn't care enough to even consider what effect he has on others, and even if/when he is aware, I sincerely doubt he'd bother to *pretend* anything. Nigel doesn't seem interested in pretending to be anything other than what he is, a defining trait that causes him a lot of problems.

Later in the movie, Nigel does shift a bit into a more puckish role. He fucks with Alex in a variety of ways, very noticeably in the train scene when they're going to visit his secret room. He's playful, mischievously antagonistic, poking and prodding Alex and seeming to enjoy his discomfort. This demeanor is more in line with the kind of guy who might write about deliberately messing with his roommate's head. But I still don't know why he would feign disgust in the middle of the dissection given that he's been dissecting animals regularly and Alex would have no reason to think he's grossed out by it.

I suppose if we apply that puckish attitude backward and say that Nigel was already trying to mess with Alex even before the kidnapping, we could sort of squint our eyes and imagine him being very over the top Fake Disgusted as he waves the heart around in Alex's direction. I still don't find that very likely, but it's the best I've got.

If you wanted to, you could use this as part of a theory that Nigel was the real instigator all along and had been intending/planning to manipulate Alex from the moment he was transferred to the school and forced to share a room. In such a reading of the film, all of his behavior could be seen as pretense in some way, including his initial lack of reaction to Alex--calculated to rile Alex up, put him off balance, etc.

I don't personally buy in to that interpretation, just as I don't buy into Alex being the sole instigator. I think either reading ascribes far too much power and control to these teenagers, however intelligent and manipulative they may be. But if you want to go that route, here's a supporting piece to add to your puzzle.

Thanks for the ask and I hope this rambling mess makes at least some sense!

EDIT: please read my reblog of this post. @silhioutte pointed out the very obvious mis-read of this line.

[Like Minds Masterpost - Main]

[tsams-and-co-memes]

@darthhopehay tagging you because this was your suggestion

I picked a random spot in that episode and ran with it, and inserted my guy Flare (link contains an image of him with his glow up paint job), because why not. This is my attempt at getting back into writing, so it might be a little clunky, but eh. If you wanna see his OG look, you can look here

Blurb under the cut, because I don't think it'd be great to make a super ultra mega long post and make it so that everyone has to scroll 5 miles to get past it

"Ugh, loud baby noises! Listen, I'm just here getting my sugar!"

Moon stared up at Lunar, momentarily baffled. "You what?"

On the other side of Lunar, Sun curled his tiny, now toddler sized hands into fists. "This motherf—"

A sharp squeal pierced the air and Lunar blinked, abruptly stopping what he'd been doing and stepping back to look at Sun. "....Why do I get the feeling that I was just cursed at?"

Sun's discontented baby sounds continued, and Lunar let out a heavy sigh. "You know, whatever Moon did, he did a good job getting Sun's energy right, 'cuz this one has just a lot of hostility, and it feels like a lot of cursing is coming out of it."

Both babies began to babble at the same time and Lunar makes a face, not happy with the situation he's found himself in; small children, he could handle. Babies? Not so much. He watched for a moment as the two babies that looked suspiciously similar to his elder brothers began to chatter and coo to each other, then rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the cabinet he'd been digging around in, determined to find the numerous Reeses peanut butter cups he'd stashed there. Everything was as normal as he'd expect, all things considered.... and then Moon climbed up onto the countertop and snatched the jar of peanut-free peanut butter.

He stepped back, his confusion palpable. ".....I don't understand how that child just climbed up the counter. Ok then."

Moon hopped down from the counter as carefully as his baby body would allow, then uncapped the jar of peanut butter and stuffed his hand inside it, very messily beginning to write one letter at a time across the cupboards. Lunar stood back, a brow raised as he waited to see what was written. "C... A... LL... M.. ON... TY. Call Monty? Why would I—is that actually both of you?"

The pair of babies immediately squealed in response, and Sun picked up the discarded jar of peanut butter, angrily throwing it at Lunar. Lunar stepped to the side, concern written all over his face as Sun continued screeching. "Oh god, ok, I'm assuming you're screaming at me, but I can't tell. I'm gonna call Monty."

Lunar picked up the jar of peanut butter, placing it back onto the kitchen island before dialing Monty's number. It rang once... twice... three times... then a fourth, and then promptly went right to voice mail, much to no one's surprise.

Not bothering to leave a message, Lunar hung up and sighed heavily. "Ok, I called Monty, but it went to voice mail. I'm not sure what you want me to do here."

"Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me." Moon's expression soured. "Of all the times for them to ignore their phone, why now?!"

Sun let out a string of angry obscenities, his rays flattening in distress. Dazzle was the only one home currently, and she was the last person he'd ever want to find out that he and Moon had been turned into babies.

Lunar lifted his hands, forcing an awkward, apologetic smile. "I'll wait a bit and then try again, ok? Monty's probably busy right now; I'm sure it's not a huge deal. We'll figure this out, I promise."

Sun screeched, picking up the lid to the jar of peanut butter and throwing it at Lunar, only succeeding in bouncing it off of Lunar's leg. Lunar picked up the lid, opting to look anywhere but at his brothers as he screwed it back onto the jar. He didn't need to understand them to know they were less than happy, and he could feel it every time they looked at him. Part of him wondered what he should do; they were his brothers, so they knew how to do things and take care of themselves, and they'd likely be peeved if he tried to help them. At the same time, though, they were small and significantly weaker than normal. There were things they were going to need help with, regardless of if they wanted it or not. Solar was out, so he wouldn't be able to help with this, and Monty was preoccupied doing....... Monty things, so they weren't available at the moment, either. Lunar considered calling Earth, but it'd been one of her bad days, and she was likely in bed resting. Lunar felt bad for even entertaining the idea of bothering her, so he decided that she also wasn't an option.

That left only one person in the immediate family. Flare.

Lunar attempted to call Monty again, but when it went to voice mail, he sighed. Yep. Flare was the only other option.

He dialed Flare's number, and after the first couple of rings, Flare answered, his voice as flat and unenthusiastic as ever. "Hello?"

Lunar smiled awkwardly. "Heeeeeeey, uh... we have a problem. I'm at Sun and Moon’s house, and I'm gonna need your help."

There was a pause before Flare responded, a hint of concern in his tone. "What kind of problem? Is everything ok?"

Lunar's gaze flicked over to Sun and Moon. Sun was sitting on the floor, giving the thousand-mile stare as his rays drooped, and Moon was anxiously pacing back and forth, cooing to himself. Lunar cleared his throat. "Uh, well... no one's hurt, but there's another issue. I have no idea how it happened, but Sun and Moon got turned into babies."

On his end of the call, Flare's brows lifted, and he made a face. "They what?"

"Got turned into babies. I'll send you a picture, lemme just—" There was a pause as Lunar snapped a photo of Sun and Moon and sent it to Flare.

Flare opened the image and looked at it, silent for a few seconds, before he seemingly made a decision. "I'll be right over. Don't let them out of your sight."

Lunar nodded. "Got it. The door should be unlocked, so you can just walk on in."

The call wrapped up, and Lunar turned his attention to his brothers, sighing softly. "Ok, so I did get someone's help, but it's not Monty."

Sun and Moon both looked up at Lunar, and Lunar continued. "Since Monty’s not picking up the phone, I called Flare. He's on his way now. Maybe he can help you guys get to Moon's lab or something, so this can be reverted."

Sun's small body tensed up, and Moon felt an immediate sense of dread. It's not that they disliked Flare. On the contrary, they thought he was a good guy. A lot of his actions and behavior were still dictated by programming and protocols, though. This meant that while he was definitely someone who'd keep them safe until they went back to normal, he was also likely to be a helicopter sibling.

Lunar herded both babies to the living room, and within minutes, Flare arrived, letting himself into the house. As he entered the living room area and spotted Sun and Moon, he immediately found himself locked into a staring contest with them, his expression blank aside from the way his brows shot up in surprise. Not taking his eyes off of them, he spoke. "....So this is what we're dealing with. Interesting."

Sun began to walk away, but Lunar blocked his path, chuckling awkwardly and very pointedly ignoring the way Sun made a series of angry baby noises at him. "Yeah... yeah, this is it."

Sun's angry babbling came to an immediate halt as he was scooped up by Flare, and he stared at Flare with wide eyes. "Flare, I'm about to lose my goddamn mind. Please, for the love of god, put me down."

Only hearing cooing sounds, Flare let out a soft huff and tilted his head, his rays slowly spinning and almost mimicking a buffering circle. A barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of Flare's lips, and he did the exact opposite of what Sun wanted; he followed his programming and held Sun closer, one arm underneath Sun and supporting him there, while the other hand rested on Sun's back. Sun's rays shrank, and he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. The swirls within Flare's rays slowly went between being dimmer and brighter, and his entire demeanor softened.

Seeing the position Sun was in, Moon tried unsuccessfully to bite back a snicker. ".....How's the cuddling, Sun? You comfy?"

Sun immediately narrowed his eyes and glared at Moon. "Shut the hell up. Don't even talk to me."

Lunar and Flare watched intently as the babies babbled back and forth to each other, and Lunar couldn't help but chuckle, seeing the look on Sun's face. "Well someone's not very happy."

Flare huffed, his smile widening ever so slightly. "No, I would think not." He paused, then let out a soft sigh. "Are we taking them to Moon's lab then, or?...."

Lunar scrunched up his face, looking back and forth between Sun and Moon thoughtfully. "Mmmn..... we should, but I feel like we should do something else first."

Flare glanced down at Lunar, unbothered as Sun squirmed and attempted to wiggle out of his arms. "Such as?"

Lunar made sure to meet Moon's gaze, then Sun's, before he gave an impish grin. "I think Earth should see them. It's been a rough day for her, so this might help cheer her up."

Sun and Moon immediately began to screech in protest, and Flare arched an eyebrow in amusement. "You might be right, Lunar." He paused, then added, "What about Dazzle? I'm assuming she's asleep right now, and we shouldn't wake her up or leave her here alone."

Lunar made a sound in acknowledgment, shrugging his shoulders. "I'll stay here and keep an eye on things, in case she wakes up. You're the baby magnet; I'm sure you could manage a trip to Monty and Earth's place by yourself."

Flare sighed and shook his head, still smiling slightly to himself. "I suppose so. Try not to burn the house down while we're gone, ok? Sun would be pissed."

Lunar couldn't help but snicker. "Yeah, yeah, I know. If I can help it, I won't destroy anything."

Flare shifted Sun in his arms and then began to approach Moon. Moon began to back away, his head craned back to look up at Flare. "....Pick me up and I'll fight you.”

Without hesitation, Flare scooped Moon up despite the warning and hummed. "Knowing you, you just threatened me. Am I right?"

Moon screeched, smacking Flare's face with his tiny hands and squirming as much as possible, and Flare sighed again. He shifted both babies in his hold, making sure they were secure, and then began to walk toward the door. "Alright, we're off, Lunar."

"Ok, have fun. Let me know how Earth and Monty react to Sun and Moon." Lunar grinned, watching as Flare made for the exit.

Just as he was about to reach the front door, Moon's tiny hands plopped right over his eyes, and he paused. "Moon, unless you want me to accidentally drop you and Sun on your heads, you probably shouldn't do that. Move your hands, please."

Moon stubbornly refused, keeping his hands in place, and Flare raised an eyebrow. "I'll make it up to you and Sun once this is all sorted out and you're back to normal, I promise. I'm only taking you to see Earth because it'll make her happy. Do you really want to deprive her of happiness after how much pain she's been in today?"

There was some hesitation, before Moon reluctantly moved his hands, grumbling unhappily under his breath. "....Oh, you stupid, no good, manipulative twink. There will be payback for this, so help me god."

[queenlua]

your post about adding excitement to a story by increasing the pressure on a character was not something i’d heard before and i found it super useful. are there any other pieces of writing advice you find foundational and would be willing to share?

glad you found that tidbit helpful!

first, i’ll give my default caveat of “i’m just some guy on the internet, so take this with however many grains of salt you need”

plus my general caveat on… all writing tips/tidbits/advice? which is:

i find that, past the basics of “knowing about exposition/rising action/climax/denouement” and such, most writing advice ends up operating as a dusty old toolbox i open up now and again.  something in my story's not working; i’m not sure how to fix it; i pull out my little toolbox of tidbits i’ve accumulated over the years and see if any of the screwdrivers and wrenches in there actually fit.  the kinds of tidbits that are useful for me may be ACTIVELY DETRIMENTAL to someone else; someone who chronically overtightens their screws probably shouldn’t be told “have you tried tightening the screws more :D;;;;” or whatever.  and in particular what works for me is probably oriented towards genre-y stuff.

BUT, Y’KNOW, GIVEN ALL THAT

here’s the tidbits i find myself returning to over & over!

* three is a very powerful number.  i have a tendency to write myself into situations where you have Two Interesting Characters Doing Verbal Head-Games With Each Other, and that stuff can be tremendously fun, but it tends to run out of steam very quickly.  adding a third character to the scene combinatorially increases the dynamics available for you to play with.  so if you’re stuck, throw someone else in there.  (relatedly this is why awful dinner parties are Peak Literature™)

* if you’re writing a romance: put a sticky note on your monitor that says “WHY CAN’T THEY BE TOGETHER NOW?”  if at any point you don’t have a good answer to that, you’ve fucked up; rework the plot.

* this is a shlocky tidbit from the South Park creators that totally works: list all the scenes in your story, and then, between each scene, see if they are connected by THEREFORE or BUT versus AND THEN.

so., e.g., “the ocean levels in Tellius are rising, THEREFORE kilvas wants to migrate from their sinking islands and onto Serenes, BUT Reyson is opposed to that move, THEREFORE…”

that gives you a stronger structure than, like, idk, “the war ends AND THEN kilvas moves to Serenes AND THEN Reyson and Naesala get in a fight…”

you want it to be mostly “THEREFORE/BUT” and very few “AND THEN”s.  just a tighter overall plot structure

* each scene should accomplish at least two things.  the most common two things for a scene to do are “advance the plot” and “develop a character”; i have a hazy memory that when i first read this advice, there was a list of, like, 1-3 other things a scene’s allowed to accomplish?  but i cannot REMEMBER that list, lol.  but use your imagination; i’m sure you can think of another valid thing.

i think this is more useful as debugging/editing advice than upfront advice—often, when you’re writing something, every scene will *feel* necessary, but upon reread, you’ll notice your attention is drifting, this doesn’t quite feel tight enough… and you’ll realize, oh, ugh, i just had three scenes in a row that existed Solely To Hit A Plot Beat; why don’t i combine those three scenes into one, condense the action, and also make sure a character’s doing something actually interesting/new while i’m at it.

(i think i see this plaguing a lot of novels that come out of nanowrimo in particular.  i mean, not me, because i don’t have the fast-twitch muscle required to do nanowrimo, but when i read other people’s nanowrimo stuff, it often feels like it was galloping through a bunch of plot beats without bothering to do anything else interesting.)

* if you're stuck on a particular scene/chapter, stuff to try:

delete the current sentence and start over

delete the current paragraph and start over

change the font and reread what you've got so far

open the document on a different screen and reread what you've got so far

print the thing out and reread what you've got so far

open a brand new document and rewrite the whole scene/chapter/etc from the start (NO PEEKING AT THE ORIGINAL VERSION)

go outside and look at a bird for a bit

take a nap

shoot a whiny discord message to a friend about it (even if it's solely rubber ducking, this can be helpful) (though if you have any friends who are good at writing AND ALSO willing to put up with your shit and offer helpful feedback AND ALSO you're not too mortified by your writing dilemma to share it with them, that's even better) (btw, any friends reading this: if you want to opt-in to messages like this from me, LET ME KNOW lmao, i'm really shy on this front!)

if you're DESPERATE: open a new document and just write out, like, "Character X wants Y. Character Z wants Q. These are the sources of pressure on character X. These are the sources of pressure on character Y. I want R to happen but I feel stuck because of M" and so on, just... really trying to dissect what the scene's trying to accomplish? most often, the outcome of this is, i'll notice in that "thinking aloud" document that i'm circling around some central question that I Don't Know The Answer To, and i need to answer that question to usefully proceed. sometimes this will be painfully obvious in hindsight. (e.g., sometimes you'll go back to your outline and you'll realize you've literally just hit the bullet point that says UGH OKAY THEY GET TOGETHER SOMEHOW I'LL FIGURE THIS OUT LATER, and you're like, ugh, fuck, it's now later, why is past-me such a bitch!) but them's the breaks. (in particular, i remember getting catastrophically stuck on a "meet the parents" story until i realized i was... avoiding actually writing out the "meet the parents" scene... which feels "well duh" in hindsight! but, like, hey, in order to write that scene, i needed to commit to some specific decisions on What The Story Was About, the same way artists gotta eventually erase a bunch of sketchy lines to commit to the Lines They Will Actually Be Inking, and that decision point feels hard and scary and no wonder i waffled lol)

okay so that's all the super-specific-concrete advice. here's some stuff that's more big-picture but i've still found personally useful:

* i once went to a talk where a novelist said she doesn't start writing a novel until she knows exactly what she wants it to look like on the bookshelf. as in: is it a schlocky trade paperback or is it a beautiful hardcover thing with fancy paper? does it have IMPACT FONT for the title or something handwriting-y? how many pages is it? and so on.

in service of this aim, she never writes any of the novel (no notes, no outlines, no snippets of dialogue, nothing) until she has that image vividly in her mind + she can't physically STAND not writing it any longer. for her, this process allows her to be sure that she knows what her novel is about—not necessarily in every single detail or plot beat (though, often she has a lot of that in mind before starting), but in terms of "what am i trying to say," "how do i want the world to look at it," etc, and she's found through hard experience that, while it's easy for her to start novels, it's often hard for her to finish them unless she has that crystal-clear image in her mind.

i can’t quite do her purity-of-method (my brain is scrambled eggs; i HAVE to write down snatches of dialogue and such before i get started on something or it all leaks out of my ears), but i see a lot of wisdom in it.  i do a lot of prewriting & thinking & scribbling out little snatches of dialogue and such before i really begin writing. i think everyone develops their own little heuristic for when they can be reasonably confident they know what their story is about, so you should try and figure out what that heuristic is for you & learn to trust it if you can? (a common one you hear a lot is "i have to know how the story ends / what the ending feels like," which makes sense; endings usually have a lot to do with what a story is About. i know NK Jemisin mentioned once she can't really start until she's nailed down the voice, and that also makes sense to me—you read The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms and it's very clear that her choice of voice is a large part of what drives the story, it has a propulsive force of its own; it's The Thing that blasts the whole thing open for her. for me, i'm not sure i have a tidy heuristic, but there's a point where i've written enough snatches of dialogue plus bits of scenes that i've unlocked some core thing that i'm really excited about—i keep spinning out bits of dialogue and setting and such that are related to that thing, i'm so excited to see how that thing plays out across the story, i look at my outline and see only possibilities and wonder instead of connective tissue that needs to be filled in... and then, yeah, i'll know i'm cooking, but not one second before!)

note that the story is allowed to surprise me & change on me once i get properly started—my longfic changed substantially when i realized Reyson’s perspective needed a LOT more room to breathe than i had accounted for in the outline, and then changed substantially again when i realized the butterfly-effect-style implications that keeping Leanne around had for my entire storyline—the ending wound up being TOTALLY different than what i'd originally planned!—but like, in that case, i don't think my sense of what the story was about ever fundamentally changed; i just added two more huge elements that orbited that about-ness. if that makes sense.

* i think about this passage from Bayles & Orland's Art and Fear a lot. i'm actually not sure that advice is helpful for literally everyone—i do see people who somehow manage to write the same fucking thing over and over, for years and years, and never seem to develop their craft or make any movement toward saying something interesting.

but i do think most people are developing something even when it feels like "the same thing over and over," and as someone who probably tends toward too little output, i found it a useful reminder that returning to familiar forms, themes, and characters across pieces is intensely useful if it gets you in front of the keyboard again, so don't stress over novelty too much. (i find, if i'm still returning to a particular form/theme/character, it's because i feel like i still have some interesting new perspective on it that's genuinely worth exploring. if i have actually exhausted a topic, i'll know it because i myself will get bored, but anyone else's opinion is irrelevant!)

* ursula k le guin's steering the craft is more focused on craft & nuts n bolts than plot-debugging-type-things but i thought i'd give it a shout-out here because i've just found it so perpetually useful over the years. in particular we could all stand to read our stuff aloud more often; that fixes a lot of problems and she goes on about that in detail in chapter 1 haha

* oh, also, re: my "put more pressure on the characters" advice—you've probably already intuited this, but i think i found that framing more useful than the kinds of "raise the stakes / make sure every character has Stakes / Wants Something" advice you're likely to find in screenwriting workshops, because this framing feels like a more... abstract... way of talking about the same thing?

like, often those two types of advice are addressing the same problem, but when i start off thinking about "where is the pressure on these characters," i don't just have to think "time to heap more pressure on them," i can also, like. observe. where the pressure points in my work are. i'm not presupposing a solution. maybe there's a ton of pressure but it's the wrong kind of pressure. maybe there's a ton of pressure but there's nowhere satisfying for that pressure to go. it's very woo/fuzzy but yeah i use the general principle of "pressure" to frame a LOT of how i think about story construction; maybe that'll be useful to you!

* FINALLY, i don't have a nice packaged heuristic/tidbit/tool-shaped thing for this one yet, but i've been thinking a lot about how much perspective really Changes Everything about a work. your choice of PoV should be exceedingly deliberate; you should be taking maximum advantage of your choice of PoV at all times (what do they know? what don't they know? how do they think about the world? etc); also if you're editing something and you're noticing a lot of unconscious perspective breaks, that's a warning sign something's going badly wrong in how you're approaching the story overall—perspective should just be unconsciously correct if you're hitting stuff right imo

OK WOW SORRY THAT GOT SO LONG but hope at least one of these lil bullets are useful for ya! happy writing~

[nickistuffs]

Fan to Partner

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference

Summary: Please don't think I'm weird Harry

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: None. Fluff 💗

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

…

There was something Y/N had never told Harry—not before they were even a ‘thing,’ and not since.

She had been a fan of him for years.

Not just in the casual, “I listen to all of your music” kind of way, but in the “I’ve been following you since you were posting update videos from the X Factor house” kind of way. The type of fan who had watched every 1D concert video followed his solo career religiously, and—if she was being completely honest—had a poster of him on her wall that she hid out of sheer embarrassment.

And now, here he was, lounging on her couch, the late afternoon sun casting a golden glow on his face, illuminating the high points of his cheekbones, the soft curls falling into his eyes as he flipped a page in his book.

He looked so… pretty.

Fuck.

How did I even pull him?

Lost in thought, Y/N didn’t realize she had been staring until Harry smirked, catching her gaze out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey, you,” he said, breaking her daydream.

She blinked rapidly, heat creeping up her cheeks. “Hey,” she responded, offering a shy smile.

Harry tilted his head, observing her with that knowing look. “You wanna talk? I can see the cogs in your mind turning.”

Y/N hesitated, nervously tapping her fingers against the kitchen counter. “I will… if you promise not to laugh at me.”

Harry put his book down, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Don’t worry, we listen, and we don’t judge.”

She giggled at the ‘brain rot’ reference,(he was secretly watching her doom scroll through Instagram reels) the tension easing just a little.

“Come here, sit with me,” he said, patting the spot beside him on the couch.

Dragging herself over, she sank onto the couch next to him, hugging one of her plushies for comfort. Silence stretched between them for a moment, Harry waiting patiently for her to gather her thoughts.

“I’m a big fan of yours, Harry,” she finally blurted out, gripping the plush a little tighter. “Like… X Factor days fan. Watching your 1D concerts kind of fan. Then following your solo career kind of fan. For God’s sake, I have a poster of you on my wall that I hide because I’m embarrassed.”

As she rambled on, Harry let out a chuckle.

"Do you want me to sign your poster?" teasing her further.

Y/N immediately froze, her face crashing into her plush as she let out a muffled shriek. “You promised! AAAHHH!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Harry said through laughter. “But you have to admit, you sound a little ridiculous.” He nudged her playfully. “It’s sweet. At least now I know you actually care about what I do.”

She groaned dramatically into the plush before peeking up at him. “Yeah, but… there’s something else.”

The playful atmosphere shifted slightly, the air between them growing a little heavier.

Y/N took a deep breath. “While we’re in the spirit of honesty… I was actually terrified to meet you at first.”

Harry frowned slightly, leaning closer. “What? Why?”

“When you gave me my journal at Felice, I was scared I had done something wrong,” she admitted. “You’re… well, you. A person who probably doesn’t want to be bothered, and I’m just this weird person who—”

“You’re rambling again, love.”

She exhaled sharply, biting her lip.

“Listen to me,” Harry said, his voice softer now. “You are perfect. This—everything you’re saying—is exactly why I wanted to be in a relationship with you. Because you are you. Even the weird parts. Especially the weird parts.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch so gentle it sent shivers down her spine.

“And I’m happy you’re not that scared of me anymore,” he added with a smile. “I want us to open up to each other. No holding back.

Her throat tightened with emotion. “I’ve never felt like this before,” she whispered, before wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

Harry held her just as tightly, pressing his face into her shoulder. “Thank you, Y/N,” he murmured. “For even giving me a chance.”

And in that moment, any lingering fears she had melted away. Because Harry wasn’t just the person she had admired from afar for years. He was here, with her, choosing her just as much as she was choosing him.

Y/N pulled back, looking into Harry's eyes, searching for something deeper, something more that he hadn’t said yet. There was a hint of vulnerability in his gaze, something he hadn't shared before, and she could sense he was about to say something important.

"Harry?" she asked, her voice soft with concern. "What is it?"

He took a deep breath, his gaze shifting downward, almost as though he was wrestling with something heavy. He rubbed the back of his neck in that familiar way, looking vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen him before.

"I don’t let a lot of people in, Y/N," he admitted quietly. "Not really. It’s hard to know who genuinely wants to be here and who just likes the idea of me." His words lingered in the air, heavy with truth.

Y/N’s heart tightened, the weight of his confession pressing down on her. She instinctively moved closer, her fingers lightly grazing his hand.

"But with you," he continued, looking up, his gaze steady now, "I never had to wonder. You’ve been real with me from the start, and that means more than I can ever explain."

She swallowed hard, her chest swelling with emotion. “You don’t have to explain, Harry,” she murmured, her eyes soft with understanding. “I’ve always wanted to know you—not the person the world sees, but the real you. And I’m here for that, always.”

A tender smile spread across his face, and he gently cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb over her skin. “You’re incredible,” he whispered

But Y/N could sense the hesitation still lingering in him. The weight of his words had shifted, like he was preparing to share more of the truth that had been weighing on his heart. He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing.

“There’s something else,” Harry said softly. “Being with me... it won’t be easy. This life, this world—it’s hard to navigate. I’m not an easy person to be with, not with all the attention and everything that comes with it.”

Y/N felt a pang of nervousness, but she also felt an overwhelming sense of determination. She nodded, her gaze unwavering as she met his.

“I know, Harry,” she said gently. “I’ve known from the start. But I’m not afraid of that. We’ll figure it out, together. If there’s anything I’ve learned from romcoms, it’s that we can handle anything as long as we’re on the same team.”

Harry exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding, visibly relieved. “You’re right,” he said, his voice tinged with gratitude. “You chose one hell of a person to be your first boyfriend, huh?”

Y/N laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with affection. “I did, but I’m glad I’m here. We’re in this together, Harry. Whatever comes with it, we’ll make it work. I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.”

Harry pulled her into a tight hug, his heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Y/N’s arms tightened around him, holding onto him like she never wanted to let go. At that moment, the fears and doubts seemed to fade into the background. They both knew there would be challenges ahead, but they were ready to face them together, as partners.

And as Harry pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, Y/N realized that sometimes the hardest things—the most difficult relationships—are the ones worth fighting for.

Together, they’d find their way through whatever came next. And with each passing day, they’d become stronger, not just as individuals, but as a team.

…

As Harry pulled back from their hug, a light chuckle escaped Y/N. She couldn’t help but tease him, feeling a bit of mischief bubbling up inside her.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “you definitely got lucky. I mean, you are my first boyfriend.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh, am I?”

Y/N grinned and leaned back on the couch, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at him with a teasing smile. “Mm-hmm. You’re the first person I’ve ever been with who makes me feel… this way.”

Harry's eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re playing with me, aren’t you?”

She shrugged dramatically. “Maybe,” she said, her voice low and full of humour. “But hey, I’m just saying, you’re the first in a lot of things, Harry. First boyfriend. First to see me be this... ridiculous.” She giggled softly at herself, the mood light and easy.

Harry’s lips quirked up into a grin. “Oh, I see. I’m the first in everything, huh?”

Y/N leaned in, her smile widening, her eyes glinting with playful affection. “Well, yeah. You’re the first to get to be this close to me, the first to make me feel this comfortable, the first to get me to actually open up like this…” She paused, teasingly looking him up and down, then locking her gaze with his. “And I’m definitely hoping you’ll be the first... in other things too.”

Harry’s eyes widened slightly, his breath catching at her boldness. She could see him trying to suppress a grin, but she could tell he was flustered, his cheeks turning a soft pink.

“Bloody hell, Y/N,” he muttered, shaking his head with a smirk. “You really know how to turn the tables on me.”

Y/N leaned back, her eyes sparkling with mischievous delight. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Harry laughed softly, shaking his head. “Well, I guess I’ll have to be prepared for whatever else you throw my way, then.”

“You’ll be fine,” she said knowingly raising her eyebrows. “You’re the first to handle me, after all.”

And with that, Harry couldn’t help but smile, the warmth between them growing. As playful as the moment was, there was an undeniable sense of affection and trust that only made their bond stronger.

Together, they’d find their way through whatever came next. And with each passing day, they’d become stronger, not just as individuals, but as a team.

"But can you actually sign my poster?" She shyly asked him as Harry laughed at her adorable request.

…

I actually love them. <3

[feech]

Thanks for this. I really appreciate. I do want to say that had I not found your post I was going to make my own post about this moment BECAUSE it hit me so hard as a white person. But this was an all black show for a reason and I'm trying to amplify black voices as best I can. I am NOT staying silent right now. im am doing everything I can right now to listen and learn and then spread that information (specifically to a few family members). It's not that i don't think it's my place or that I don't have anything to contribute. It's that I KNOW that black people have a deeper understanding of this than I do and they dont need to hear my thoughts. My dad on the other hand who said he was "not bothered one way or the other" absolutely does need to hear my take though because quite frankly he should be bothered. It should upset him and his humanity to look at and think about where all the symbolism in this performance comes from and what it means.

The internet does not need my take in this particular conversation because there are millions of people with lived experience that can and will say it better. The white people in my life who don't understand? Those are the people that i need to talk to because they're not even aware that they're doing it but they aren't ready to hear these things from black people yet. Its my job right now to make sure that they are examining why that is. Its my job right now to listen to black people and help spread their words and to help protect them from the people who aren't willing to learn.

this part of kendricks halftime show has been on my mind violently since i saw it.

the street lights, chalk outline dead bodies (red clearly symbolizing bloods, blue crips, which is only more proven by Serena doing the Crip Walk wearing all blue), and the only ones left alive and dancing are the ones in white (who clearly represent white people)

and the way theyre in a circle on the upper left hand of the rectangle makes it look like the betsy ross flag

kendrick lamar the man you are

[watchmenanon]

mlvns are preaching on the byler tag about us properly tagging our stuff with the anti mileven tag but they are the first ones to come and comment on posts that are properly tagged with the intention of gaslighting and bothering us.

[s0fter-sin]

one of my favourite aspects of supernatural that you very rarely see in paranormal shows is that sam and dean are already versed in the world they live in. there’s no sudden discovery of ghosts and demons and now they have to learn about them along with the audience; they are born into it and already know all about it. it allows the audience to follow their personal story instead of also trying to figure out this new world and its rules

the first season is full of knowledge we never see them learn; “w*ndigoes are in the minnesota woods or- or northern michigan. i’ve never even heard of one this far west.” […] “great. well then this [his gun] is useless.” (1x02), “you don’t break a curse. you get the hell out of its way.” (1x08), d: “it’s a god. a pagan god, anyway.” […] “the annual cycle of its killings? and the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. like some kind of fertility right.” […] s: “the last meal. given to sacrificial victims. d: “yeah, i’m thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some pagan god.” (1x11)

almost every episode in the first season is a monster they’ve faced before that they then explain to the audience in a way that should feel patronising; like it’s the same speech given over and over again but instead, the audience almost feels included in the knowledge. it’s stated with such an innate confidence and comfort in said knowledge that it feels like we already knew it too; “spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors. if they want inside, they just go through the walls.” […] “the claws, the speed that it moves; could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog.” (1x02), “it's biblical numerology. you know noah's ark, it rained for forty days. the number means death.” (1x04), “no no no, not the reaper, a reaper. there's reaper lore in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names.” […] “you said it yourself that the clock stopped, right? reapers stop time. and you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why i could see it and you couldn't.” (1x12)

they already know and, at least in the first season, already have what they need to kill whatever they’re hunting; already know to salt and burn bones for spirits, fire for a w*ndigo, exorcisms for demons, a silver bullet to the heart for shapeshifters. there’s only three times in the entire first season that they run into something new to them; 1x14 when sam gets his first vision that leads him to another psychic, 1x16 when dean calls caleb for help on the sigil he put together and he tells him about daevas, and 1x20 when they find out vampires are real- and they only don’t know that bc john thought they were hunted to extinction and not worth mentioning

(there’s also technically two half instances if you count one of them knowing something the other doesn’t - sam figuring out the tulpa in 1x17 and dean already knowing about the shtriga in 1x18 - but those still rely on sam and dean having prior knowledge)

even when they’re uncertain about facing something, it’s not bc they don’t know what it is; it’s precisely bc they know what it is and acknowledge that it’ll be a difficult hunt (“i don't know, man. this isn't our normal gig. i mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. this is big. and i wish dad was here.” 1x04)

so much of the tension in paranormal shows typically comes from the main character(s) not knowing what is happening to them/the people around them and having to find out how to resolve it. supernatural is unique in that it operates more like a police procedural. the tension comes from solving the clues and identifying patterns to figure out who (what) the killer is and intercepting before they can take another victim

it’s such a different tone to go for when compared to other shows that came both before, during, and after its run. it sets sam and dean on even footing with each other since they both have the same knowledge going in, and it puts them in a place of authority usually reserved for an outside character

the shows i compare spn to most is charmed, buffy and teen wolf; every main character in those shows are brought into the paranormal world knowing nothing, putting them on the same level as the audience, and they have their mc interact with others already knowledgeable about that world in order to overcome their problem/monster of the week. the audience organically learns about this new world as the characters learn about it. it’s a sound writing strategy that prevents “as we already know”-style exposition but something that complicates it is if your world building isn’t unique or intriguing enough, this slow introduction can become boring

we’ve seen shows like these before; sitting through the same tropes of characters learning to use their powers, struggling with no longer feeling normal/relating to the regular world around them, and not knowing how much they can trust the people already involved in this new world gets repetitive. all three shows eventually reach the same level of comfort with their new world that spn starts with but if the characters aren’t enough to draw you in, you can end up dropping it before they reach that point (and often, before the overarching plot can really kick in and evolve the show beyond the villain of the week format)

it’s the superhero origin movie in tv format; dragged out and overplayed. dropping the audience into an established world of course comes with its own problems but you also have the benefit of pre-existing established character dynamics that let the audience slot in like they’ve always been there instead of just getting to know all the characters while the characters also get to know each other

sam and dean already knowing about the supernatural lets the audience immediately get to the core of the story; the conflict between sam and dean, the search for their father, and the mystery of what killed their mother

[jontaro-kun]

God I love women I wish they were real

[oceanwithouthermoon]

sometimes i think about how the people who hate on my takes on here would talk to each other and its always phrased like the twitter fandom drama i see but completely irrational and it makes me giggle

"calling kusuke abusive just because he shot his brother with a lethal weapon, plotted his murder, planned to use their grandparents to assist in hurting/killing him, and tried for years to expose his secret to the entire world against his will and through knowingly hurtful means in order to destroy everything he cared about is so stupid! what a stretch!"

"the saiki k fandom is so damn sensitive. i shoot my brother with massive guns all the time and its not abusive because he just blocks it!" HELPEKSJJSJSKSKKS

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[2hoothoots]

i was having a chuckle to myself last night about Gristol, and how his plans are basically:

Restore Ford Cruller's memory

Find Maligula

???

Profit

but then... of course they are, right? this is Gristol we're talking about. Fatherland Follies drives home again and again that he's still operating on a child's logic, a warped and reductive version of the world that he never bothered to grow out of. both of his memory vaults center on the images of his childhood, this idealized version of the past that he clings to no matter what. and that's still how he remembers Maligula, too - as this saviour figure, who rushes in to help him when he's in trouble.

[ID: Two slides from Gristol's memory vault, Glory to Grulovia! Left: Gristol clings to Maligula's back as she summons waves to sweep away his assailants. Right: Gristol and Maligula waving from a balcony as the people cheer. Gzar Theodore brandishes a dagger in the background.]

like so much else, Maligula represents a return to this idyllic childhood - to the peace and simplicity of his youth, when he was free from worries and responsibilities. in his mind, he doesn't need to make any further plans - once Maligula's back, everything will go back to normal. Maligula will make everything better.

...is what i thought, but then i remembered this line:

[Screenshot source. ID: Gristol, in Truman's body, bows on his hands and knees in front of the newly-awaked Maligula. The caption reads: "Yes, High Priestess! I am here to correct the mistakes made by my father!"]

and that's kind of interesting, right?

to be clear: this happens directly after Maligula sees Helmut-in-Gristol's-body, and recognises him. her line before this is:

"Little Gzesaravich! Have you come to pay for your father's sins?"

my first thought was that Gristol hadn't expected to still be in Truman's body by the time he managed to find Maligula, and this was him trying to placate her and buy some time until he could explain the situation. but watching the cutscene back, that's clearly not what's happening here. Gristol is answering as himself, and his response of throwing himself to his knees before her is, as far as i can tell, genuine.

so what is going on here?

in Fatherland Follies, there's this line in the ride narration that stuck out to me:

"Why didn't the Gzar help Maligula in her time of need? No one knows, but historians agree - it is Gzar Theodore's biggest failure."

other lines mention Gzar Theodore's "mistake", and it's wording Gristol himself echoes in the screencap above. evidently, he believes that his father abandoned Maligula, leaving her to her fate at the hands of the Psychonauts, and it was that mistake that lead to them being driven out of the country - that mistake which he seeks to correct. maybe he even feels like he has a debt to repay to her for his family turning their backs on her all those years ago.

the 'High Priestess' thing, though - that's kinda weird, and threw me for a loop the first time i played the game. it took me until my second playthrough to connect the dots, and remember how the room in the Lady Luctopus - Gristol's room - was full of Delugionist scribblings and symbols.

[Screenshot source. ID: left, the walls of the hidden backroom in Gristol's hotel suite, covered in scrawlings of eyeballs and Maligula's name. Right, the pinboard from the hidden backroom. On its surface are photographs and newspaper clippings connected by pieces of string.]

i mean, look at this stuff! he had a whole conspiracy board and everything!

we learn very little about the Delugionists and their beliefs as a whole during the game, but i think drawing the connection here suggests two important things. one: that Gristol was in deep with this stuff. i don't know how he linked up with them - maybe via old family connections, or just good old-fashioned digging (we know he's skilled at worming his way into peoples' good graces, after all) - but it seems likely that he's begun to internalise their ideas, maybe even warping his own memories of events. and two: the Delugionists themselves are, if you'll pardon the pun, pretty far off the deep end.

like... i understand why PN2 didn't go heavy on the "mass-murderer cult worship" aspect of things, in the end, but man this is such a tantalising glimpse into the wider mythos around Maligula. Gristol is proud and haughty and thinks himself above everyone else; the fact that his first reaction seeing Maligula is to throw himself to the ground at her feet says so much about the way he's come to see her. he's not just trying to bring back Maligula, his childhood bodyguard. he's trying to bring back Maligula, the High Priestess of the deluge, the semi-mythical figure whose supporters believe even death couldn't stop. he doesn't even flinch at the way she confronts him, and maybe it's because he's bought in so completely to this deified figurehead, this idea of Maligula; more a living force of nature than a person. and it all comes back to the same place: an abdication of responsibility, not just to the person who protected him when he was little but to this avatar of floods and destruction. Maligula will make everything better.

i'd write more about my thoughts on the Delugionists but that'd be taking a hard turn into speculation, and this is already kind of long and rambling so i'd better end it here. but what an unexpected and evocative line, right? it's some of the only stuff we have to go off of regarding the Delugionists as a whole, but i think it does such a good job of hinting at the wider story - at teasing another layer to the mythos surrounding Maligula, one whose ripples we see throughout the game but which never quite breaches the surface.

[cybergothvox]

At the end of the day, is kin just someone who identifies as their kintype or not? Is it anyone who actually identifies as their kintype, or do they have to perform all these 'correct' behaviours and social dances to prove that you kin- pardon, that you are kin- correctly?

[liesmyth]

Can’t wait to watch the Eurovision!

embarrassing for you mate!