#not everything needs an immediate payoff

[akanemnon]

Not only are you gonna fight a bunch of flowers, Susie. You're gonna fight a wedding bouquet!

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[tak-byvayet]

Cannot stand that genre of post that's like "How can you say x character is boring? [Lists off a bunch of stuff about said character that are technically true but aren't actually given enough space in the narrative to be caught and appreciated by the average viewer/reader/player/whatever.]"

I actually think that's bad writing. If you can't even hook me on a character well enough to get me to pay attention to all the background info you created about them, that character is, in fact, boring.

[bearflinn]

Writing Advice: Worldbuilding as Tension

One of the most common pieces of advice/points of critique I see for writers of all skill levels, is avoiding exposition dumps, often accompanied by the age old 'show don't tell'.

When writing fiction in general, but especially sci-fi and fantasy, it's important that the reader understands how your world differs from our own. And worldbuilding is one of the few places where you're less likely to get hit by the proverbial SHOW hammer, since some things, like the rules of your magic system, are difficult to show. So telling becomes more permissible.

However, it can be incredibly tempting to just infodump at every opportunity. Especially for those of us who have a wiki with more words than the finished project will have. But as I'm sure you've heard before, doing this can break immersion and destroy the pacing of your narrative.

While there are multiple ways to make exposition engaging, I'm going to focus on the approach I use most commonly: The Drip Feed.

Filling an Ocean One Droplet at a Time

Before we get into the actual methodology, I want to take a moment to dissect how and why exposition dumps can be problematic.

The Problem: Context, Relevancy, and Retention

Context is both the thing we're trying to communicate, and the source of excessive exposition. It starts simple, like maybe the reader needs to know that the main character is poor. And I guess I should explain why they're poor. Next thing you know you've spent 4 pages describing the socioeconomics of your world.

That's what I call 'context chaining'. Since everything in fleshed out worlds is interconnected, it can be very easy to just keep on filling in the gaps. Preemptively answering any questions the reader might have. The problem?

Relevancy. When you introduce a ton of worldbuilding in one fell swoop, the vast majority of it won't be relevant to the current place in the narrative, even if it will eventually be relevant for the story overall. Which, you guessed it, hurts:

Retention. Without immediate relevant context for the worldbuilding you introduce. Readers won't have anything to anchor the information too. Calling back to the example I used earlier, readers will remember that the character is poor, and they will likely remember why. Anything beyond that is unlikely to be retained.

The solution?

Restraint and Trust

For many of us, the world we've built is a large draw of the narrative we're crafting. However, one of the best ways to draw people into your world is to talk about it as little as possible. But how will they know about x?? They won't, until it matters.

Now I'm not talking about soft worldbuilding. This will work for both hard and soft worldbuilding (honestly it's even better for hard worldbuilding).

Instead of straight up telling the reader about the world and all of its intricacies. Introduce the most complex aspects as questions that you answer bit by bit throughout the narrative. As an example, maybe our poor character is struggling to buy food because they went into debt casting spells.

Suddenly, the reader is wondering: Why do spells cost money? Who controls the supply of magic and/or components? Is spellcasting something everyone can do? What kinds of magic are more valuable than eating? and so many more.

But here's the key: don't answer them. At least, not until absolutely necessary or there's an organic place to do so. Wait until the perspective character is directly interacting with one of those questions. Maybe they walk past a trickling fountain, revealing that the mana wells are running dry. And later debt collectors come for the main character, revealing who controls the mana.

Unanswered questions are a huge source of tension, and worldbuilding can provide a subtle sustained undercurrent that you can leverage to propel the narrative in slow points and/or make your payoffs hit even harder. All you have to do is answer the right question at the right time.

The best part of this method is that by waiting until your perspective character is engaging with a part of your world. It allows you to convey exposition and character at the same time. But what about worldbuilding that the characters don't interact with directly? It doesn't matter.

Well it does, to you as the author. But in general, if something doesn't matter to at least one of your characters, it won't matter to your readers. If your character isn't a politician, they aren't going to care about the intricacies of your political system. So why would the reader?

In short, keep any worldbuilding closely tied to your characters' experience, and let the reader wonder. The end result is a smoother and more engaging learning curve that pulls the reader in. Giving them the satisfaction of putting the pieces together themselves.

If you have any questions or additional thoughts let me know!

[starlightarchery]

I'm pretty sure this is an unpopular opinion, but the "lack" of content in Lucanis's romance makes complete sense to me. Honestly I never saw it as lacking at all. I can understand why some people do and of course it would've been great to have more content, but to me, there is narrative sense to the way his romance is written.

Just looking at the last year or so of his life, Lucanis has been imprisoned, tortured, and to top it all off, possessed. He is sharing his body with a demon and constantly fighting to make sure he keeps control. And when he finally comes back home? Immediately finds out his grandmother is supposedly dead, and for all intents & purposes, it's in retaliation for HIS jailbreak. Already he is picking up broken pieces of his old life and cutting himself on them. It's no state to be jumping into a relationship from.

I've said before - and there's plenty of dialogue from him supporting it - that Lucanis spends most of the game trying to pretend he can go back to his old life; that he can be the person he used to be.

"I thought I still had this."

"Whatever else I am, I'm supposed to be a professional."

"I don't fail my contracts."

All of these things add and add to his turmoil until it's set to topple right at the start of the "Inner Demons" quest. He finds out his grandmother is alive! He should be happy! Instead he's caught in emotional upheaval, overwhelmed by everything he's been pushing off, and he has to make a decision, he has to keep going, he has to has to has to. And he can't. To the point that Spite has to intervene and say the one thing Lucanis won't.

"Help us."

And then, after getting to Lucanis, Rook literally tells us the man's struggle outright.

"As bad as the Ossuary was for you, it was better than the alternative. [...] You could solve those problems with a blade, but healing again? [...] There's no simple answer there. And if you fail, you could hurt the ones you love."

Lucanis was raised in violence. He still has a good heart in many ways, but that doesn't change the fact that he was more than likely never taught the emotional skills needed to navigate his problems any other way than with a knife. Which means that for 90% of the game, he is not ready to open his heart to someone. Even the 'almost kiss' scene is Lucanis attempting to replicate some of who he was, until something in him realizes that kissing Rook wouldn't be a one and done situation. No no, he wants them. And the minute that hits, he pulls away again, until the time comes in the endgame that he realizes losing Rook forever is scarier than never making the attempt to be together.

TLDR; Lucanis is a traumatized slow burn with one hell of a payoff in the end, you just gotta be patient with him.

P.S. - Once again, this is just my opinion, you are free to agree or disagree as you'd like; this is just based on my own experience with his romance.

[somaliapearls]

a raging hurricane

(part 2 of “a quiet storm”)

Top Gun masterlist

part 1

✈️ jake “hangman” seresin x fem!reader

genre: romance, angst, emotional resolution

wc: 4.3k

summary: Your and Jake’s relationship begins to unfold…

warnings: Strong emotional themes, sexual tension, smut!!, slow-burn payoff, fluff, vulnerable confessions, mentions of past intimacy, future-talk, established relationship feels.

a/n: “Better Man” by Leon Bridges

The kiss deepened before either of you had time to second-guess it.

Jake’s hands gripped your waist like he was scared you’d disappear. His lips were warm and urgent, like he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than he ever admitted. Your back hit the wall behind you, and you let out a gasp when he pinned you there, breath ragged, lips dragging down to your jaw.

It wasn’t just heat—it was heartache. Desire threaded with all the things neither of you had the guts to say when you were sober and surrounded by rules.

“You have no idea,” he whispered against your neck, “how long I’ve wanted this again.”

You threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging gently, grounding yourself as your chest heaved with something that felt dangerously like emotion.

“Jake…” you breathed.

“I know,” he said quietly, eyes meeting yours again. “I know it’s messy. But I can’t keep pretending that kiss didn’t mean something.”

You wanted to argue. Wanted to throw up every wall you’d ever built between you. But all that came out was a soft, “It did.”

His expression changed—just a flicker—but it was enough to undo you.

Jake kissed you again, slower this time. Less desperate. More deliberate.

Like he was memorizing the moment.

You let it happen. Because whatever this was, you weren’t ready to let go of it either.

⸻

Sometime Later

You hadn’t meant to end up on the couch with him, curled against his side under one of the base’s regulation throw blankets. But after the kiss—after several kisses—you’d both needed a moment to breathe.

Jake had pulled away first, brushing his thumb over your lower lip like he couldn’t believe he’d finally kissed you again. You’d expected him to crack a joke. To say something cocky. But instead, he’d just held you.

Silently. Like he didn’t trust himself to speak without ruining it.

Now, your head was on his shoulder, one of his hands resting lightly on your thigh. The air between you had calmed—less heat, more gravity. Like the eye of a storm had settled between you.

“I didn’t plan this,” he murmured into the stillness.

You tilted your head, voice soft. “Plan what?”

“This. You. Us.” Jake gave a small, humorless laugh. “I’ve been chasing everything else so hard—rank, recognition, wins—but none of it’s ever stuck. You did. And I hate that it took me this long to admit it.”

You stared at him, your chest twisting. Jake Seresin wasn’t the type to get emotional. Not like this. Not without meaning every word.

You slid your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. “Then stop running from it.”

He looked over at you, green eyes full of something dangerously close to hope. “You serious?”

“I don’t kiss people I don’t care about,” you whispered. “Even when it’s a bad idea.”

Jake smirked faintly. “And I’ve always been your worst idea, huh?”

You smiled despite yourself. “You still are.”

He leaned in slowly, brushing his lips against your forehead with a softness that felt almost too intimate to bear. “Then let me prove I can be your best one too.”

You knew it was a risk. You’d known it since the moment he’d walked into the room. But you’d never been one to back down from a risk.

Jake’s lips were soft but insistent against yours, and you couldn’t help but respond. The heat between the two of you was immediate, electric. It felt like every touch, every breath, was amplifying the tension that had been building for far too long.

You moaned into the kiss, unable to help yourself as Jake’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging slightly, and you shivered at the sensation. It was exhilarating, thrilling, and it felt like everything you’d been denying yourself for so long.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Jake whispered against your lips, his voice husky. “About you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you pressed yourself closer to him. “So have I,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

Jake’s grip on your waist tightened, his lips moving to your neck, trailing kisses along your skin. It felt incredible—the way his mouth moved over you, the heat of his touch, the desperation in his movements. It was like every moment you’d denied yourself, every time you’d told yourself no, was being made up for now.

You gasped as his teeth grazed your collarbone, his hand sliding up to cup your breast. The touch was electric, and you arched into it, needing more. Jake’s hand moved to the buttons of your shirt, undoing them slowly, deliberately, like he was savoring every second.

When your shirt fell open, Jake’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire. He looked at you like he was starving, like you were everything he’d ever wanted. The intensity of it was overwhelming, and for a moment, all you could do was stand there, caught in his gaze.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the edge of your bra. “I can’t believe you’re here with me.”

You couldn’t respond. All you could do was feel—feel the heat of his touch, feel the way your body responded to him, feel the years of tension and desire finally reaching a breaking point.

Jake’s hand slid behind your back, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. When he pulled it away, he let out a low groan, his eyes roaming over your body.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth.

The sensation was incredible—his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, his teeth grazing lightly, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You moaned, your hands fisting in his hair, holding him close as he worshiped your breasts with his mouth.

It felt so good, so right, like everything else had just melted away and all that was left was the two of you, lost in this moment of pure desire. You couldn’t think; you could only feel—feel his touch, feel his lips, feel the heat building between your legs.

Jake’s hands moved to your pants, undoing the button and zipper with deft fingers. When his hand slid into your panties, you gasped, your legs nearly giving way beneath you.

“You’re so wet,” Jake murmured, his finger sliding through your slick folds. “So ready for me.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. All you could do was nod, needing him to touch you more, to never stop. Jake’s fingers were magic, finding your clit and circling it slowly, teasingly, before sliding lower to push inside you.

The feeling of him stretching you, filling you, was indescribable. You moaned, pressing yourself against his hand, needing more. Jake added another finger, his thumb finding your clit again, and you felt yourself climbing higher and higher, the pleasure building with every stroke.

“Jake,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “I’m… I’m close.”

He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with desire. “I know,” he said, his fingers moving faster, harder. “Let go. I want to see you come apart.”

And with that, you did. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you and pulling you under. You cried out, your body shaking as Jake continued to stroke you through it, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

When you finally came down, Jake pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth to taste you. The sight of it was so erotic that you felt yourself growing aroused all over again.

“You taste amazing,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “But I want more. I want all of you.”

You nodded, unable to speak, as Jake quickly undid his own pants, pushing them down just enough to free his erection. He was hard, so hard, and the sight of him made your mouth water.

Jake pulled you closer, his tip brushing against your wet folds. “I need you,” he said, his voice raw. “I need to be inside you.”

“Yes,” you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you up.

He entered you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely. You gasped at the feeling, at the stretch of him inside you. It felt incredible, perfect, like nothing you’d ever felt before.

Jake started to move, his thrusts slow at first but growing faster, harder, as his control slipped. You clung to him, your arms around his neck, your legs tight around his waist, as he pounded into you.

It was intense, passionate, all-consuming. Every thrust felt like it was touching a part of you that had never been touched before. Jake’s lips found yours again, kissing you deeply as he took you right there against the wall.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Jake growled against your lips. “Wanted you. Needed you.”

You couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but moan and cling to him as he drove into you again and again. The pleasure was building again, faster this time, more intense.

“Come for me,” Jake whispered, his voice strained. “Come with me.”

And as if on command, you did. Your orgasm hit you hard, making you cry out as you clenched around him. Jake followed soon after, his thrusts becoming erratic as he found his release inside you.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Jake held you close, his forehead resting against yours. For a long moment, neither of you moved, just holding each other as you both caught your breath.

“That was…” Jake started, trailing off as he searched for words.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah. It was.”

Jake pulled out of you slowly, setting you down gently before tucking himself back into his pants. You fixed your clothes too, though your fingers felt numb, your whole body still buzzing from what had just happened.

“So,” Jake said, breaking the silence. He looked at you, a small smile playing at his lips. “We should probably talk about this, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a little giddy. “Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

But for now, you were just content to be there with him, to feel the warmth of his body next to yours, to know that whatever this was, it was real, and it was finally out in the open.

Later That Night

You didn’t sleep much.

Not for lack of trying—Jake had offered to leave, had even stood to go once, but the way your hand clutched at his shirt told him everything he needed to know. Instead, he stayed. Curled behind you on the narrow couch, one arm tucked under your neck, the other draped protectively over your waist.

Neither of you said anything.

Because in that quiet, tangled moment, words felt unnecessary.

But you both felt it.

The shift.

The realization that whatever you’d been tiptoeing around for so long wasn’t going away.

⸻

The Next Morning

You woke first. Jake’s chest was warm against your back, his breathing deep and even. Your heart thudded as you took in the view—the faint scruff on his jaw, the bare skin of his shoulder where the blanket had slipped, the way he looked peaceful in a way you rarely saw him.

And it scared you how badly you wanted this.

Wanted him.

You slipped out of his grasp carefully, feet cold against the tile floor. You didn’t go far—just into the hallway, where the reality of morning light felt like a slap.

Because what now?

What happened after the kiss? After the almosts?

You barely had time to think before the door cracked behind you and Jake stepped out, still shirtless, hair a rumpled mess, sleep in his eyes.

He squinted at you. “You ran off.”

You crossed your arms, unsure what to say. “Just needed a minute.”

Jake nodded slowly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know. This feels real.”

“It is.”

You looked up at him, finally voicing the fear that had been gnawing at your edges all night. “And if we ruin it?”

Jake reached out, hand curling gently around yours. “Then we rebuild it. Together.”

You stared at him.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like running.

You just nodded, fingers tightening around his.

The silence in your room wasn’t heavy—it was soft. Comforting. Like the kind that settles after a storm has passed.

Jake sat at the edge of your bed, head in his hands, elbows on his knees. His shoulders rose and fell slowly, like he was trying to find the words before he lost his nerve.

You stood by the window, arms wrapped around yourself, watching the morning sun wash over the base. You could still feel his warmth on your skin, the imprint of him in your bed, but the weight in the air wasn’t about lust anymore.

It was about everything that came after.

“I’ve loved you since before Vegas,” Jake said finally, voice low but steady.

You turned slowly, heart stumbling at the raw honesty in his tone.

He looked up at you then, eyes clearer than you’d ever seen them. “I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d run. I thought I’d screw it up. Hell, maybe I still will. But I’m tired of pretending that night was just a fluke. It wasn’t. You weren’t.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight.

“I didn’t say anything either,” you admitted. “I thought if I gave it time, the feeling would go away.”

Jake gave a bitter smile. “Did it?”

“No,” you whispered. “It got worse.”

That admission cracked something open. He stood, closing the space between you slowly, giving you time to back away—but you didn’t. His hands found your waist, grounding you, like he needed to touch you just to be sure this was real.

“I never knew how to want something that wasn’t flying,” he said quietly. “But then you came along. And suddenly it wasn’t the sky I was chasing anymore.”

You leaned your forehead against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin and warmth and something safer than anything you’d known in years.

“I’m scared, Jake,” you confessed.

“I am too,” he said. “But I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.”

⸻

Weeks Later

It didn’t happen overnight. The relationship took root in quiet moments—late-night dinners in the mess hall, his hand on your knee during briefings, your voice in his ear after a rough flight.

People noticed. Of course they did.

Hangman—Jake Seresin—wasn’t exactly subtle.

But neither of you cared anymore.

You weren’t sneaking around. You weren’t hiding. You were building.

One night, months into the new normal, you came home to find him sitting on the floor of your apartment, back against the couch, guitar in his lap. He looked up as you entered, that soft smile he saved just for you already tugging at his mouth.

“Playin’ for someone?” you asked, dropping your keys and toeing off your boots.

Jake shook his head. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime,” you teased, flopping down beside him.

He strummed once—lightly, almost absentminded. Then he set the guitar aside and pulled you between his legs, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I’ve been thinking about the future,” he said, fingers curling lightly over your ribs. “About flying. About us.”

Your pulse kicked up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “I want to build something real with you. Something that doesn’t depend on where we’re stationed or who’s deploying next. I want… I want a home.”

You turned in his arms, meeting his eyes.

Jake Seresin wasn’t perfect. He was proud and reckless and had a tendency to push buttons just to see if he could. But he showed up. Over and over again.

You reached up and touched his cheek. “Then let’s build it.”

⸻

Six Months Later

You stood in front of a mirror, heart hammering, smoothing down the simple white satin of your dress.

It wasn’t a traditional ceremony. No frills. No pews. Just you, Jake, and a few of your closest people standing under the open sky on a patch of coastal grass where you’d once watched him fly.

Phoenix zipped the back of your dress and gave your shoulders a squeeze. “You ready, Mrs. Seresin?”

You smiled, nerves twisting into something brighter. “I think I’ve been ready for him since Vegas.”

She grinned and pulled you into a hug. “Go knock him dead.”

⸻

Outside, Jake stood with his hands in his pockets, looking unfairly good in his dress whites. His eyes found you the second you stepped into view, and the world seemed to fall away.

No more fear. No more maybe. No more almost.

Just this.

Just him.

Just forever.

⸻

The Wedding

Jake had never looked at anything the way he looked at you walking toward him—like you were something sacred. Something his heart recognized before his mind could name it.

You wore no veil. No train. Just a simple white dress and a quiet, tearful smile that knocked the air from his lungs.

He was shaking when you took his hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, barely holding it together.

Jake chuckled, eyes shining. “Hey, darlin’. You look like a damn dream.”

The officiant spoke, but neither of you really heard it. Your whole world was wrapped up in each other—in the way your fingers interlaced like you were two puzzle pieces meant to fit, and in the unspoken vows already written into the way you looked at each other.

When it came time for the real vows, Jake took a breath, steadied himself, and began.

“I thought I was gonna fly solo for the rest of my life,” he said, voice thick. “That was the plan—stay untouchable, never get too close, always leave the door cracked so I could get out easy. Then you crashed through every wall I had without asking permission.”

You smiled, tears falling freely now.

“I never expected to fall in love with someone who’d hold my ego in check, challenge me, and still believe in me when I didn’t deserve it. But I did. And I do. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. You’re my home. And I’m never leaving it.”

You exhaled a shaky breath and laughed softly, wiping your cheeks.

Your vows came slower, broken up by emotion.

“I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to keep people at arm’s length, scared that if I let someone in, they’d leave or change or ruin the peace I finally found. But then you… you came in loud, all charm and cockiness, and somehow underneath it all was this quiet, steady strength I didn’t expect.”

Jake’s eyes never left yours. Not once.

“You made me feel safe to be messy. To be real. And you loved me not in spite of the hard parts—but because of them. I don’t want perfection with you. I want mornings and late-night talks and hard days we get through together. I want forever with you, Jake.”

Neither of you remembered the exact words the officiant said after that, only that you were suddenly being told to kiss your husband.

And Jake didn’t wait.

His hands cupped your face like you were fragile, like this moment would break if he rushed it—and he kissed you slowly, reverently. The world fell away again, and this time, it stayed gone.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he whispered.

“Good,” you said. “I’ve got plans for us.”

⸻

Later That Night

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in navy and soft gold. You were barefoot on a porch at the little beachside inn you’d chosen for your quiet honeymoon. Waves crashed gently below.

Jake stepped out behind you, arms slipping around your waist, lips brushing your neck.

“Mrs. Seresin,” he murmured, teasing. “That’s gonna take some getting used to.”

You leaned into him, laughing softly. “You’ll survive.”

His hands slid down your arms, turning you to face him. You looked up at him in the dark—still Jake, still cocky and complicated and loyal to the bone. But softer now, too. Centered.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “I want all of it with you.”

You smiled and took his hand, leading him back inside, where candles flickered low and the air was full of quiet promise.

“You know what I’m gonna love most about being married to you?”

“Hm?” you asked, sleepy and warm against him.

“That every time I fly, I get to come home to you.”

Your heart ached in the best way.

“You always have,” you whispered. “Even before today.”

Jake kissed your forehead and pulled you close. “I’ll never stop choosing you.”

Your wedding night was a slow burn of desire, the kind that starts in your toes and creeps up through your body until you’re trembling with need. You’d waited so long for this moment, for the chance to truly be alone with him, and now that it was here, you couldn’t quite believe it.

Jake stood in front of you, his tuxedo abandoned in favor of a simple white shirt and black trousers. His eyes were dark with hunger as he watched you, drinking in the sight of you in your lacy white lingerie. You felt a shiver run down your spine under his gaze, anticipation building in your core.

He reached for you then, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you close. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension coiled in his muscles.

“I’ve been dreaming about this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “About peeling this lace off you, about tasting every inch of your skin.”

You whimpered, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. “Jake,” you breathed. “Please.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His mouth crashed down on yours, hot and demanding, as his hands began to explore your body. You moaned into the kiss, arching into his touch, desperate for more.

Jake broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he growled. “So perfect.”

His hands found the clasp of your bra, undoing it with practiced ease. The lace fell away, revealing your breasts to his hungry gaze. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly turned on.

Jake’s mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking and licking while his fingers pinched and rolled the other. The sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Jake,” you gasped. “Oh god, that feels so good.”

He didn’t stop, his mouth working your breasts until you were a writhing mess beneath him. Then, slowly, torturously, he began to kiss his way down your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel as he went.

By the time he reached the edge of your panties, you were trembling with need. Jake could see it, could feel it in the way your thighs quivered beneath his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmured, nipping at the lace. “So wet for me already.”

You whimpered, pushing your hips up towards his mouth. “Please,” you begged. “I need you.”

Jake didn’t make you wait any longer. With one swift movement, he tore your panties away, leaving you completely bare before him. His breath ghosted over your slick folds, and you nearly came undone right then and there.

“Hangman,” you moaned, using his call sign in a way you never had before. It seemed fitting, somehow, for this moment when you were both so exposed, so vulnerable.

His tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as pleasure surged through you. Jake growled against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs as he devoured you.

It didn’t take long for him to find your clit, sucking it into his mouth as he slid two fingers inside you. You were tight, hot, and so fucking wet for him. Jake’s cock throbbed at the feel of you clenching around his fingers, but he forced himself to focus on you, on bringing you to the edge.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “Let me taste you.”

His words, combined with the relentless movement of his fingers and the suction of his mouth, sent you spiraling over the edge. You came hard, crying out his name as your body shook with the force of your orgasm.

Jake didn’t stop, drawing out your pleasure until you were begging him to stop, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding your body. Only then did he relent, pulling back to look up at you with dark, hooded eyes.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, kissing his way back up your body. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a deep, hungry kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only made you hotter, needier.

“My turn,” you whispered against his lips, pushing him onto his back.

Jake raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this bold side of you. “Whatever you want, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, a slow, seductive curve of your lips. Then, with deliberate slowness, you began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest inch by tantalizing inch. Jake watched you, his breathing growing heavier as you worked your way down to his waistband.

Once the shirt was gone, you turned your attention to his trousers, undoing them with deft fingers. Jake lifted his hips to help you, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs.

You didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath. As soon as his pants were out of the way, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down, freeing his erection.

Jake groaned at the sight of you kneeling between his legs, your breasts swaying gently as you moved. He reached for you, but you shook your head, pressing his hands back against the bed.

“Not yet,” you said, your voice a sultry purr. “This is my time.”

Jake nodded, though his hips jerked involuntarily at the sound of your voice, at the sight of your pink tongue darting out to wet your lips.

You leaned down, your breath fanning over the head of his cock. Jake’s whole body tensed in anticipation, his fingers curling into the sheets.

The first touch of your lips was almost too much. Jake’s hips surged up, seeking more of your mouth, but you held him down, keeping control.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “Your mouth feels incredible.”

You didn’t respond, too focused on the task at hand. You took him deeper, your tongue swirling around his length, your hand stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Jake was losing it, his hips moving in time with your strokes, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Darlin’,” he panted. “You gotta stop. I’m gonna come.”

You pulled back then, releasing him with a soft pop. “Not yet,” you whispered, straddling his waist. “I want to come with you.”

Jake’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you sank down onto his cock. You were so wet, so ready for him, that you took him all in one smooth motion, both of you crying out at the sensation.

“God,” Jake gritted out, his fingers digging into your skin. “You feel so fucking good.”

You began to move then, rising up and sinking back down, setting a slow, torturous pace. Jake’s hands guided your hips, helping you find the perfect rhythm.

With each thrust, you could feel him hitting deeper, touching places inside you that made you see stars.

It didn’t take long before you were both on the edge, bodies straining together, sweat-slicked skin sliding against skin. Jake reached between you, his thumb finding your clit as you rode him.

“Come with me,” he growled, his hips snapping up to meet yours. “Now.”

The combination of his cock filling you and his thumb on your clit was too much. You came with a scream, your body clamping down on his as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Jake followed you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his release.

You collapsed on top of him then, both of you breathing heavily, hearts racing. Jake’s arms came around you, holding you close as you came down from the high.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “That was…”

You nodded against his chest. “Yeah.”

Jake chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “I think we’re gonna have a really great marriage.”

⸻

Six Months Later

The apartment was a little cramped, the baby room was still a work in progress, and Jake had nearly burned dinner trying to multitask, but it didn’t matter.

He stood in the kitchen, holding you from behind as you stared at the ultrasound picture on the fridge, your hand resting over his.

“I still can’t believe we made a human,” he muttered, grinning into your hair.

“I can,” you teased. “I mean, we had a lot of practice.”

Jake chuckled and kissed your temple. “You sure you’re okay with me still flying?”

You turned in his arms, grounding him with your eyes. “I married a pilot. I knew what I was signing up for. As long as you keep coming home, we’re good.”

He cupped your cheek, gaze soft. “Always.”

⸻

Epilogue: Years Later

The sky above the backyard was streaked with pink and orange. A little girl with green eyes and your nose was running barefoot through the grass, giggling as Jake chased after her, pretending to be a monster.

You watched from the porch, pregnant with your second, heart full to the brim.

Jake scooped your daughter into his arms, twirling her until she shrieked with delight.

Then he looked at you—the same way he had on your wedding day, and every day since. Like you were everything.

And you were.

He came over, breathless, flushed from laughing, and kissed you slow.

“Still flying high, Hangman?” you teased.

He rested his forehead against yours. “Only when I’m with you, darlin’.”

The end.

[utilitycaster]

The thing about Ashton saying "WHAT DO YOU WANT" is that I really do understand that they are coming from a place of great pain and a genuinely awful life (and the Arch Heart doesn't really give a good answer either, which is similarly frustrating) but we keep getting this answer throughout the campaign, if not for the Arch Heart at least for other deities, and it's that most simple and also frustrating of answers: consistent effort.

Why did FCG catch the eye of the Changebringer? consistent, repeated prayer, even if it wasn't perfect and could get kind of silly or even annoying to others. Orym is not a worshiper of the Wildmother, but he still repeatedly has reached out and tried to talk to her in good faith (pun unintended). And looking back at others from past campaigns, we learn of their ongoing service - in the cases of those who are introduced as already faithful, often from a young age (Pike, Caduceus, Jester though her deity is not one of the Prime/Betrayer pantheons). Both Vax and Fjord made considerable sacrifices of their own without promises from the gods first, in addition to smaller, regular moments of worship in the course of their stories.

I've never loved the line about there being no atheists in foxholes, because frankly I think it's unfair to atheists and paints them as selfish, fickle, and spineless when many atheists are none of those things. But I do think that a lot of the anti-god arguments fit into that sort of philosophy, that the gods are only to be paid attention to in the moment of great and desperate need and neglected otherwise, and we've seen the attendants of temples repeatedly say that isn't how it works; it takes time. The gods don't necessarily answer a single yell off the cliffs of Zephrah or a single visit, but they do see the repetition and respond to that.

I think everyone in the fandom, regardless of how they feel about the gods, understands there's not going to be a quick easy painless fix to this mess once Ludinus set it in motion, but I do think a lot of people expect there to be a lot of quick fixes to other things (in the story, in fandom, and in real life). And yeah, it does suck that Ashton, having a terrible time, might have had more luck had they prayed or gone to the same temple regularly for a while without necessarily seeing results...but it's also very real. You do have to take your stupid mental health walks regularly for a while (let alone your meds) before there's a payoff. you do still need to do the dishes while you're depressed or sick lest they pile up and make things worse. consistent effort that doesn't always have immediate satisfying results is extremely unglamorous and also it's how you have to do basically everything in life. Even in a time of crisis you need to avert the crisis and then get back to the slow and consistent work of fixing it and improving things in the aftermath.

[natsaffection]

Auge um Auge Pt. 1 | N.R

Investigator!older!Natasha x Robber!younger!reader

Warnings: Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22) heist, hostage

Word Count: 4,6 K

A/N: This is the first of many. I tried to design the phone calls in a way that you can tell who the scene is currently focusing on. If the text is written in italics, it means the person is just be heard over the phone, we can’t see the person. Does it make sense? 😀✨

Inside the café, you sat alone at a corner table. You had chosen this spot instinctively: back to the wall, with a clear view of all the windows and exits. A cryptic clue had brought you here, an anonymous message about “an opportunity to make good money” and your curiosity had pushed you to accept. You didn’t know how carefully orchestrated this “coincidental” meeting really was.

A man entered, moving deliberately slowly as he looked around. Then, his eyes met yours. With that one deliberate glance, you felt his unspeakable presence. Without asking, he sat down across from you and placed a worn leather briefcase on the table between you. For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. The quiet hum of conversations and clinking cups in the café filled the silence, but in your immediate surroundings, it felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared.

“Thank you for coming.” he began, his voice so smooth and even that it could have calmed thunder. “I know the message was vague. But if it caught your attention, then I believe I was right to seek you out.” Your posture remained guarded, one hand resting on the table, the other hanging loosely below, close enough to your bag where you kept a small knife. You had reasons to mistrust strangers offering you “opportunities.” Yet something about his demeanor made you hesitate in your suspicion. “Who exactly are you?”

He tilted his head and offered a slight smile. “My name isn’t important right now. What matters is that I know you. I’ve done my research. Born in a small village outside Madrid, left at nineteen to find work in the city. Smart, but restless. Various odd jobs, some of questionable legality.” He paused, letting the words linger in the air. “You have certain..talents. Quick thinking. A knack for improvisation. And most importantly: a silver tongue when you choose to use it. A gift for distraction.” You stiffened, a flicker of indignation flashing in your eyes. “Do you run background checks on everyone who responds to your cryptic messages?”

“I only contact people who have the potential to be exceptional.” he replied simply. “You’re resourceful, charming when it suits you, and you know how to read people. That’s exactly what I need.” You felt both flattered and uneasy. Your head swirled with questions. Who was this man? Why you? Yet his way of speaking made you curious enough to listen, if only to figure out what game he was playing.

After a moment of silence, the man leaned forward and opened the worn leather briefcase, revealing a neatly arranged set of papers. “I have a plan..” he said slowly, each word precise. “A plan that requires a group of very specific individuals, each with their own unique skills. The payoff, if done correctly, will be unimaginable.”

He slid a sheet toward you, a digitized blueprint of the Spanish National Bank. You raised an eyebrow, forcing yourself not to overreact, but your pulse quickened. Everyone in the city had heard of elaborate heists, but this? This was a whole different league. “You’re seriously planning to rob a bank?” you asked in a hushed voice. His gaze didn’t waver. “Not just rob it. Print. We’ll control the bank from the inside and print our own money. Theoretically billions, without harming any hostages, if everything goes according to plan.” He let that sink in before continuing in the same calm tone. “I want to be honest. It’s dangerous. But if executed with precision, we can pull it off with minimal risk.”

You swallowed hard. Small-time cons, pickpocketing, the occasional forged ID, those were nothing new to you. But this was on a scale you’d never imagined. “Why me?” you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady. The man clasped his hands together. “Because the role I need to fill is unique. I need someone who can manipulate from a distance. Someone who can talk, persuade, and distract. The police will send their best negotiators, their best investigators. I need our best talker to run them in circles.”

You studied the blueprints, “And you think I can do that?” He smiled faintly, a hint of warmth breaking through his cool exterior. “I know you can. You see, most of the people I’ve recruited so far are experts in other areas..lockpicking, explosives, hacking. But none of them have your talent for conversation and deception. We need you to mislead the police or divert their attention through phone calls if necessary. Maybe even face-to-face, under the right circumstances.” His expression grew serious. “You’ll be the voice standing between them and us.”

Your thoughts raced. This was insane. But the promise of such an enormous reward, combined with the sudden spark of possibility, tugged at you. Could you really pull this off? Deceiving the police? You couldn’t deny the thrill of excitement pulsing beneath your skin. “That’s..a big challenge.” The man nodded. “I’m aware of that. And it won’t be easy. You’ll be taught, trained. I have an entire plan for handling negotiations, exploiting their psychology. But your role, your brilliance in improvisation will be crucial.” You clenched your jaw, forcing the surge of adrenaline back. 

“Let’s say I agree..What guarantee do I have that you won’t let me take the fall if this all goes wrong?” His eyes softened. A carefully orchestrated expression of compassion. “I don’t pick people just to abandon them. I want every one of us to leave that bank alive and wealthier than we ever dreamed. I’ll make arrangements for everything, including your safety.” 

You studied him closely. There was something reassuring about his self-confidence, the way he radiated unshakable calm. But a heist of this magnitude? If you got caught, you could forget the next twenty years of your life maybe more. “Why not just hire a smooth con artist?” you asked, still skeptical. 

“I didn’t hire you,” he corrected gently. “I chose you. I’ve followed your career closely. The forgeries you pulled off last year, the incident in Valencia. You disappeared right under the police’s noses. That means you’re not only skilled with words but also unafraid of taking risks.” He tapped the blueprints again. “You’re exactly the person I need.” 

You took a sip of your latte, your thoughts racing. Part of you wanted to run, to go back to the life you knew. But a larger, bolder part of you was intrigued. Maybe it was pride, maybe ambition. At twenty-two, you were restless, searching for something bigger than petty crime. 

The man noticed your hesitation. “Let me put it another way. If you stay on your current path, how much will you make in five, ten years? Enough for a run-down apartment, enough to get by. If you join me, you walk away with a future you can shape yourself, no more scraping by, no more limited horizons.” You took a deep breath. “I’m not suicidal. I’m not looking for a thrill.” 

“Neither am I.” he replied. “But I believe in orchestrating the perfect plan. And you can help make it perfect.”  The next half hour was spent discussing hypothetical scenarios: the bank’s security forces, how negotiations typically played out, the psychological profiles of the best police investigators. With every insight the man revealed, you felt more convinced that he knew what he was doing. There was an almost obsessive thoroughness to his approach and it was infectious. 

Finally, as the coffee cups were empty and the café had grown quieter, the man leaned back in his chair. “This won’t be a short operation. We’ll spend months at a remote location preparing. You’ll learn negotiation tactics, how to handle phone calls, modulate your voice. We’ll plan for every possible scenario.” You raised an eyebrow. “Months? You’re serious.” 

“I’ve been planning this for years.” he said plainly. “And I need complete dedication. If you say yes, you have to be all in.” Your heart pounded loudly in your chest. Your entire future, one path leading you further into small-time cons, the other a leap into the unknown hinged on your next words. You stared into his calm, patient gaze and found something you rarely saw in others: unshakable conviction. “Alright..” you said, your voice quieter than you’d intended. “I’m in.” The man nodded, a flicker of relief and satisfaction crossing his face. “I promise you.” he said, closing the folder. “You won’t regret it.” 

You left the café with your thoughts racing, the images of the blueprints burned into your mind. Outside, the night felt sharper, colder. But inside, a new spark had ignited a heady mix of fear and possibility. You realized this was the turning point in your life. Whether it led to ruin or triumph, you had stepped onto a path few dared to tread. 

That night, as you tossed and turned in your..let’s call it an apartment, the man’s calm smile replayed in your mind. His words echoed: You’ll be our best negotiator. You’ll be the one to stall them. Despite your nerves, excitement coursed through your veins. You imagined talking to lead negotiators, deflecting their questions with clever half-truths, steering them off track to protect your newly formed crew. You thought about one day facing the country’s best investigators, outwitting them, buying precious time. You could hardly believe you’d agreed, but there was no turning back. If the man’s plan was as flawless as he claimed, you would leave that bank with a fortune and a reputation for pulling off the greatest heist in modern history. 

Days later, you stepped out of the car. Before you stood the hideout, a large, slightly rundown estate hidden among dense woods. You slung your backpack over one shoulder, trying to mask your nerves as the man led you inside. The house’s interior was simple but functional. The walls were a dull beige, and the furniture looked like it had been pieced together from secondhand stores. At the end of the hallway, you spotted a large whiteboard covered in notes and diagrams. 

“You’ll live here with the others.” the man said, opening the door to a modest bedroom with a single bed and a small desk. “This will be your space. I hope you’re comfortable sharing your time and ideas with the team.” 

“Are they already here?” you asked, stepping out of the room. “They’ve been waiting for you.” He replied. “Come. It’s time to meet your colleagues.” The team was spread out on mismatched chairs and sofas, chatting loudly and tossing playful insults. When you entered the room, the conversation stopped, and all eyes turned to you. 

“Everyone..” the man began, gesturing toward you. “This is our final recruit. She’ll handle external operations, disinformation, strategy, and hacking. You’ll rely on her as much as on each other.” The silence lingered until a tall man with slicked-back hair stood and walked toward you, his steps measured and deliberate. He extended his hand, his gaze cool and appraising. 

“What should we call you?” he asked. You shook his hand and met his gaze. “I guess we’ll figure that out.” Berlin grinned and stepped back as the others introduced themselves. Tokyo was the first to offer her hand, her grip firm. “You’re sure she can keep up, professor?” You scoffed. “I’ll manage just fine, thanks.” Rio grinned and waved from the couch. “We had a bet about what kind of person you’d be. I said tech genius.”

“And I said brat..” Nairobi added with a wide grin, arms crossed. “Let’s see who’s right.” The next morning, you sat at a long wooden table in a makeshift classroom, a notebook open in front of you. The rest of the team was scattered around the room, some leaning back in their chairs, others fiddling idly with pens. 

The Professor stood at the whiteboard, methodically sketching the layout of the Spanish National Bank. His voice was calm yet compelling as he explained the plan. “This..” he said, circling a section of the blueprint, “is the control room. Once we’re inside, we’ll take control of the security systems and isolate the bank from external interference. And this is where you come in.” He looked directly at you, and you straightened in your chair. “Your job will be to monitor law enforcement communications, lay false trails, and manipulate media coverage. We need the public on our side.” 

“Understood.” you said, jotting down notes. “What kind of false trails are we talking about?” 

“Think like a magician..” the Professor replied. “The hand the audience sees is never the one doing the work.” Tokyo leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes. “Why does she get to stay outside while we risk our necks inside?” 

“Because I can lie better than you.” you shot back with a sly smile. The room erupted in laughter, and even Tokyo couldn’t suppress a grudging grin. After another long day of lectures, the crew gathered in the common room. A half-full bottle of whiskey sat on the table as they relaxed. Nairobi leaned forward, her eyes sparkling mischievously. 

“Alright, it’s time.” she said, tapping the table. “What’s your city name, new girl?” You blinked. “I thought that was just for the people going into the bank.” 

“Nope!” Rio said with a broad grin. “If you’re part of the crew, you need a name. House rule.” The others immediately started throwing out suggestions. “Paris” said Nairobi. “Elegant but a little edgy.” 

“New York..” Tokyo chimed in. “Got attitude.” 

“Vegas!” Denver called out with a laugh. “A wild card…” You rolled your eyes. “You’re all terrible at this.” Berlin, who had been silent until now, took a sip of his drink and grinned. “How about Lisbon? Unexpected. Like her.” The room fell quiet for a moment as everyone considered the suggestion. You looked at Berlin, surprised by the thoughtfulness of his choice. 

“Lisbon..” Nairobi said, testing the word. “I like it. It suits her.” Over the next few weeks, you grew closer to the crew. Despite their teasing and larger-than-life personalities, they worked seamlessly together under the Professor’s guidance. One evening, Nairobi found you sitting alone in front of the whiteboard. “Everything okay?” 

You hesitated before admitting, “This..this is bigger than anything I’ve ever done. What if I screw it up?” Nairobi placed a hand on your shoulder. “We all feel that way. But we’ve got each other’s backs, okay? You’re not alone.” Late that night, you found the Professor in the study, surrounded by blueprints and diagrams. You hesitated in the doorway before stepping in. “Why did you choose me?” you asked quietly. The Professor looked up, surprised by the question. “Because you’re brilliant. And because I saw something in you..a willingness to challenge the system.” You frowned. “But I’m young and Inexperienced.” 

“You’re also adaptable.” he replied. “And resourceful. Those are qualities no amount of experience can replace.” Slowly, you nodded, his words sinking in. For the first time since joining the crew, you felt like you truly belonged. 

Exactly four months later, the bank was a scene of chaos. The echoes of screams, hurried footsteps, and the loud clatter of boots filled the marble halls. Tokyo was leading a group of terrified hostages into the main hall, her rifle slung over her shoulder. Beside her, Berlin radiated calm authority as he issued orders to the crew. “Rio, secure the hostages. Nairobi, lock down the printing area.” Berlin’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. “Denver, check the security personnel. I don’t want any surprises.” 

“On it.” Denver replied, moving toward the staff members who had been removed from the security room earlier. Behind the locked doors of the bank manager’s office, your voice crackled through the earpieces. You weren’t physically in the bank but monitored everything through surveillance cameras the crew had hacked. Your calm, steady tone stood in stark contrast to the tense atmosphere. 

“Tokyo, you’re pacing too quickly..” you said. “You’re making the hostages nervous.” Tokyo scowled but slowed her steps, muttering under her breath. Berlin, catching her reaction, chuckled quietly. “It’s like having the Professor in our ears. How delightful.” 

“I heard that!” you retorted sharply, though there was a hint of amusement in your voice. “And Berlin, fix your posture. You’re less intimidating when you slouch.” Berlin smirked and glanced at the nearest camera. “She’s lucky she’s not in here with us.” 

A few miles away, in an unassuming abandoned warehouse, you sat at a desk cluttered with monitors, laptops, and cables. Wearing a headset, your eyes flicked between various camera feeds, one of the hostages in the bank’s main hall, another of Rio working on the vault door, and another of police cars setting up barricades outside. 

The Professor stood behind you, arms crossed as he studied the feeds. He was calm, but his fingers twitched slightly against his sleeves, a small sign of his nerves. “How does it look?” he asked quietly.  “So far, so good.” you replied. “We’ve got the media narrative under control. I published the fake manifesto this morning, so they’re already painting us as anti-establishment rebels. Public opinion should swing our way by this afternoon.” The Professor nodded, satisfied. “And the police?” 

“They’ve set up a perimeter.” you said, pressing a few keys to pull up a live drone feed. “But they’re waiting for someone to take command. I’m guessing that’ll be their negotiator.” As if on cue, a new voice crackled over the police radio you had tapped into. You froze, your eyes narrowing. 

“Natasha Romanoff, FBI. I’m taking command.”  She stepped out of a sleek black SUV, her expression unreadable. Dressed in a sharp black suit, her red hair tied neatly into a ponytail, she exuded authority. The air buzzed with tension as officers bustled around, setting up barricades, unloading equipment, and securing the area.  Natasha surveyed the scene with a practiced eye. Her gaze lingered on the massive front doors of the bank, barricaded from the inside. On nearby rooftops, snipers had taken position, their scopes trained on the windows. A young officer hurried to her side, clipboard in hand. “Agent Romanoff, the perimeter is secure. No one gets in or out without our clearance.” 

“Good,” Natasha replied, her tone crisp. “Have we made contact?” 

“Not yet. They’ve refused to answer the phone lines.” She nodded and stepped into the command tent. Inside, monitors displayed live drone footage of the bank’s exterior and a floor plan of the building. Natasha studied the images, her mind already working through possible scenarios. The officers in the tent glanced at her cautiously. She had a reputation. Efficient, methodical, relentless. Natasha didn’t tolerate mistakes, and everyone knew it. 

“What do we know about them?” she asked, crossing her arms as she addressed the room.  “They’re highly organized!” an officer replied. “They took over the bank in under five minutes. No one’s been injured, but they’re heavily armed.” 

“Any demands?” She asked. "Not yet. But we found this outside." the officer said, handing Natasha a printed copy of the fake manifesto you had planted earlier. "They claim this is a statement against corruption in the financial system. It’s already all over the news." Natasha scanned the document, her sharp eyes taking in the calculated wording. "They’re trying to sway public opinion to their side.." she murmured. "Clever. That’ll make it harder for us to take an aggressive approach." 

She tossed the paper onto the table. "Establish a line of communication with their leader. I want to know who we’re dealing with." Natasha reached for the phone connected to the bank’s central line. She knew this call wouldn’t be about negotiating, it was about gathering information. She needed to figure out who was on the other end, what they wanted, and how far they were willing to go. 

Inside the bank, Berlin picked up the ringing phone with a charming smile. "This is Berlin." he said smoothly. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" 

"This is Natasha Romanoff, FBI." she replied. Her voice was calm but firm, leaving no room for pleasantries. "I’d like to speak to the person in charge." 

"I’m afraid that won’t be possible right now." Berlin said with amusement. "But I’ll happily take a message." Natasha’s eyes narrowed. "My only concern is the safety of your hostages. That’s my priority." 

"Of course it is.." Berlin replied, his smile audible. "And you’ll be pleased to hear they are..so far..perfectly safe." Natasha paused, listening intently to the faint background noises on the line. Muffled voices, the sound of footsteps on marble, and something else, a faint beeping, like an alarm. 

"You’re playing a dangerous game." she said finally. "But I’m very good at games." Berlin chuckled softly. "I’m sure you are. But this isn’t chess, Agent Romanoff. This is..theater. And the show has just begun." He hung up before she could respond. 

Back at the hideout, you listened to the conversation through the tapped line, your headset firmly in place. Leaning back in your chair, you chewed on your thumbnail, analyzing Natasha’s voice. "She’s sharp.." you murmured. "If we’re not careful, she’ll see right through us." The Professor nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Then we’ll have to stay one step ahead of her. Remember, the goal isn’t just to survive this heist. It’s to make them believe they’re in control, right up until the moment they lose everything." 

You glanced at the screen displaying Natasha’s image from a news feed. Her piercing green eyes, the way she moved with calm authority..it was unsettling. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel something else. Admiration, perhaps. Curiosity. "Be careful." the Professor said, noticing your gaze. "She’s not just your opponent. She’s your equal." 

The rest of the team was already hours deep into securing the hostages and working on the vault. Berlin’s voice crackled over the comms: "Lisbon, it’s your turn. She wants to speak to the mastermind. Time to give her a show." Adjusting your headset, you took a deep breath. Your nerves were taut, but you masked them with a confident grin. "Understood. Let’s do this." 

You activated the line and pressed a button on the soundboard. A calm, distorted male voice filled the air: "This is Lisbon." In the command tent, Natasha picked up the phone. The room fell silent as the officers leaned in to catch every word. Natasha held the receiver to her ear, her expression neutral, but her eyes sharp as razors. "Lisbon." she repeated. "So, you’re the one pulling the strings here."

"Correct." your distorted voice replied. "And you must be Agent Romanoff. I’ve heard quite a bit about you." Natasha ignored the flattery. "If you’ve done your homework, then you know I’m here to ensure your hostages come out alive. That’s my only concern." You pressed a button on the soundboard, triggering a soft, deep laugh. "And here I thought you were here to negotiate." 

"That depends." Natasha replied smoothly. "What do you want?" Leaning closer to the microphone, you tapped your fingers on the desk, guiding the conversation. You knew Natasha was trying to size you up, searching for any slip, any weakness, but you weren’t going to make it easy for her. 

"What do I want?" Your distorted voice pondered, deliberately stretching the pause. "I want justice. The kind that makes headlines. The kind that shakes the foundations of a broken system." Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. "You’re talking about the economy."

"Very good, Agent Romanoff. You catch on quickly." 

"Don’t patronize me." Natasha snapped, her voice tight with tension. "If this is about making a political statement, you’ve already made it. But taking hostages isn’t the way to change the world."

You smiled, pressing another button to play a short, dismissive laugh. "Isn’t it? History would beg to differ." 

Natasha’s jaw tightened. "If you think you’re the first person to try this, you’re mistaken. I’ve seen how these situations end, and it’s never in your favor. You can still stop this." 

"Stop?" you repeated, genuine amusement creeping into your real voice beneath the distortion. "Agent Romanoff, I didn’t plan this for years just to ‘stop’ now. But I appreciate the offer." 

Natasha changed her tactic, her tone softening. "How about this. Give me something in return. A gesture of goodwill. Release a few hostages, and I’ll ensure you get a fair hearing." You hesitated for the briefest moment, not because you were considering it, but because you felt the sincerity in Natasha’s voice. For a fleeting second, the tension felt personal, almost disarming. But then you steadied yourself, pressing another soundboard clip. 

The voice came through, cool and calculated, "A generous offer, but unnecessary. I assure you, our hostages are perfectly safe, as long as you follow my instructions." 

"And what are those instructions?" 

"Patience, Agent Romanoff. All in good time." Natasha leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as she studied the voice on the other end. Something felt..off. The rhythm was too perfect, too controlled. It reminded her of an actor reading from a script. She decided to apply pressure. 

"You know, you’re remarkably composed for someone running an operation of this scale. Most people would sound different." Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you played another soundboard clip: a soft, measured chuckle. "I’m not ‘most people,’ Agent Romanoff." 

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. "No, you’re not. But you know what? I don’t think that’s your real voice. You’re hiding something." Your grin faltered for a fraction of a second before you recovered, quickly playing another soundboard clip. "Believe what you want. It changes nothing." 

"Maybe not." Natasha replied, her voice colder. "But you should know one thing about me: I don’t stop until I find the truth. And when I do, you’ll regret underestimating me." You glanced at the Professor, who gave you a small nod of approval. Deciding it was time to end the conversation on your terms, you spoke with finality. "I look forward to it, Agent Romanoff." you said, your real voice still hidden beneath the distortion. "In the meantime, I suggest you focus on keeping the public calm. The more chaos you allow, the less control you’ll have. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?"

Before Natasha could respond, you cut the line. You took off your headset and exhaled deeply, running a hand through your hair. Your heart was still racing, but a hint of pride coursed through you. You had held your ground. The Professor approached you, his expression calm but thoughtful. "Well done." he said. "But you need to be careful. She’s already suspicious." 

"She’s sharp.." you admitted, leaning back in your chair. "It almost felt like she could see right through the soundboard." 

"She’s testing you." he replied. "She’s looking for cracks in your façade. But she won’t find any as long as you stay focused." You nodded, though your mind lingered on Natasha’s voice. There was something about it..something unsettling yet magnetic. You pushed the thought aside, knowing there was no room for distraction. 

In the command tent, Natasha set the phone down and leaned back in her chair. The officers around her whispered among themselves, but she waved them off, her mind already working at full speed.  "He’s good." she said aloud, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced. "Ma’am?" an officer asked. 

"That voice.." Natasha continued, her brow furrowed. "It’s too smooth. Too controlled. Whoever that was, they’re hiding behind a mask. And I’m going to find out who they really are. Bring Hill here. I want her to look into this." She stared at the bank, her green eyes sharp with determination. The game had begun, and Natasha Romanoff was ready to play. 

-

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Revision Strategies

When the time comes for revision, it can cause stress for writers of every level.

After all, it can be hard to delete or change words you spent hours writing.

To help reduce this stress, the following lists a few revision strategies.

READ IT ALOUD

Although it can be awkward at first, reading your work aloud can be one of the best revision strategies.

1. Catching Typos

When reading silently, your brain might skip over or correct small errors because it makes educated guesses about what the words are trying to say.

However, reading aloud forces you to slow down and see what is actually written.

2. Identifying Sentences That Flow Awkwardly

If you have ever read an incredibly long sentence in someone’s work, you know that it can be hard to follow the person’s train of thought.

These sentences are hard to catch in your own writing, but reading aloud will make them almost impossible to miss.

It is natural to take a breath in between sentences, so if you find yourself out of breath while reading aloud a single sentence, or having difficulty following the main idea/s of a sentence, the sentence likely needs to be revised.

SHARE YOUR WORK

It can be unnerving to ask others to read your work, but the payoff is more than worth it.

1. Another Reader Can Offer A New Perspective

It is easy to miss small details in your own work, especially when you have been looking at the same document for a long time.

Furthermore, because you are an expert on your own topic, you may not notice whether your essay effectively lays the groundwork necessary for those unfamiliar with the topic.

Ask a friend, family member, or a writing consultant to read your draft and offer feedback.

Moreover, telling your readers what to focus on ensures they pay special attention to the elements you want to revise.

2. Edit for Grammar Last

Even a grammatically-sound paper can fall flat if the content does not meet a reader’s expectations.

Your top priority during revision should be to make sure that you have made your point/s clearly.

Save the editing of punctuation and grammar until after you finish revising a draft.

3. Manage Your Stress

If you get a lot of feedback on what to revise, make and prioritize a list of the comments.

After taking the time to digest everything, focus on each individual item on your list.

Cross off items as you complete them so that you have a physical representation of the work you have finished.

TAKE TIME AWAY

Leave yourself enough room in your schedule to take time away from your completed rough draft; time away from your writing is an important part of revision.

1. Recharging Throughout the Process

It is taxing to begin revision immediately after finishing a draft and can discourage writers.

Giving yourself a break between writing and revising allows you to rest and recharge, so when you revise, you have more energy to spend on the process.

2. Refreshing Your Perspective

Taking a break allows you to distance yourself from your work so that you can read through it more objectively.

This fresh perspective allows you to see what might need clarification, refined organization, elaboration, or other revision work.

3. Coming Back from a Break

Instead of immediately jumping into sentence-level revisions during your first read-through of a draft, focus on reading your writing from start to finish at least once without interruptions.

This enables you to see how well your writing flows, catch any repetition, and determine whether anything might be missing.

Writing Notes & References

[papervenom]

✩ chapter sixteen: the yule ball ✩

summary: your fourth year starts with the return of the triwizard tournament— and a relationship with cedric diggory that should feel steady, but doesn’t. when harry’s name gets pulled from the goblet, everything shifts. the trio starts to crack, and being with cedric only adds to the tension. you’re sure about how you feel , you love him. but someone else is pulling for your attention, and it’s getting harder to ignore. a slow-burn, character-driven take on goblet of fire, told through your perspective

chapter warnings: alcohol use, romantic tension, jealousy, fluff, yearning, and a little angst

word count: 8.0k

authors note: IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! guys… writing the yule ball has been something i’ve looked forward to ever since starting this series, and i really wanted to do it justice. that’s why it took me (literally) two fucking years to get it together. i ended up writing so much that i had to split it into 2 chapters soo... next chapter is ready and will be posted soon!! it does contain smut (another reason this one took me forever, i wanted the payoff to really feel worth the long, slow burn this story has been) and i genuinely hope i captured all the emotions right. this part of the series is so special to me and i can’t wait to share it with u!

i also just wanna say thank you to everyone who’s been reading, liking, reblogging, or even silently lurking, it all means the world to me. but a special shoutout to @cherrycolacigs, @iwannabeapinkaesthetic , @milkpeanuts476, and @snowvies for ur sweet words. i was genuinely so giddy and warm reading ur messages and just so so grateful. your kindness reminded me exactly why i love sharing this story. truly, thank you <3

finally, i made a yule ball playlist because i got carried away (as usual) and wanted you to be able to live this chapter out with me. thank you again for being here. i can’t even explain how much it means to me. hope you love the chapter. i love you. i love you. i love you. 💋 – k

INSATIABLE MASTERLIST⋆˙⟡

December 17th, 1994

The long-awaited day of the Yule Ball finally came, and to distract myself from the incessant nerves coursing through my body, I accepted the twins' invitation to go out onto the castle grounds that afternoon to kill some time.

The snow had been untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way to and from the castle. 

Harry and the Weasley siblings had been partaking in a snowball fight, which Hermione and I chose to watch rather than join in when we saw just how violently they were lunging the snowballs at each other.

Instead, we were going over the steps for the opening dance that we had been practicing with our Triwizard Champion dates. 

Hermione and I clumsily twirled around in the snow as we clutched onto each other, giggling as our feet sank into the thick, ice-cloth— making us nearly topple over.

It was when the five o'clock bell chimed across the castle that Ginny came to take us upstairs so we could start getting ready for the ball.

"What, you need three bloody hours!?" asked Ron, looking at with disbelief and paying for his lapse in concentration when a giant snowball, thrown by George, hit him hard on the side of the head.

"Oi, (Y/N). You gonna be putting on that Victoria Secret tonight, eh?" Fred called out after I had ignored Ron and turned to walk up towards the castle. 

When I processed what the twin had said, I whirled around in shock.

"Harry!" I immediately bellowed at my friend for telling the twins about the shopping I did over the summer. This made the identical brothers laugh as I dove down to grab a handful of snow, which I proceeded to chuck at Harry, who dodged it swiftly.

"Whose secret?" I heard Ron ask cluelessly, making the boys cackle even louder, but I just waved them off with burning cheeks as the girls and I left, going up the stone steps and into the castle.

"What was Fred on about?" Ginny asked curiously, making me hide my face in my hands as Hermione's simper grew wider on her face.

"Back in America, Harry and I went to the mall to do some shopping, and I visited this Muggle store called 'Victoria's Secret' to buy some...stuff," I explained vaguely, my face feeling like it was on fire against my palms.

"What kind of stuff?" Ginny continued to inquire suspiciously.

"Like... sexy underwear," I replied meekly, breaking into a grin as Ginny's eyes widened in realization.

"Oh, Gods— the absolute cheek of that tosser!" Ginny exclaimed, referring to her brother's crass comment and sounding much like her mother.

"I wouldn't expect anything less of him." I sighed, "If anything, I'm annoyed with Harry for telling them. Gossipy little twerp." I muttered before announcing the password to the Fat Lady and yanking her portrait wide open— rapidly bounding up towards our dorm rooms to get everything together.

Once in the room, the three of us sprawled out our ball gowns and accessories over the plush mattresses of the four-poster beds and took turns showering before we had to help each other with hair and makeup. 

Embarrassingly, I was planning on wearing the satin ivory set I had bought at Victoria's Secret tonight. 

Especially after Cedric made it so apparent that we would spend the night together.

I hadn't told anyone about this despite Fred's teasing earlier. It felt good to have it be a private matter and not reduced to gossip.

So I quickly put it on and admired how sensually it adorned my body, accentuating my curves alluringly as the delicate fabric clung to me. 

I gawked at myself in the bathroom mirror, never having felt sexier in my life, before shrugging on my bathrobe quickly before anybody walked in on me and saw me in lingerie— which would've definitely raised suspicion.

When I rejoined my friends in the dorm room, I found Hermione lying on her bed as Ginny brushed soft-pink, shimmery eyeshadow on her eyelids.

"So you two haven't kissed yet?" murmured Ginny lowly as she rummaged through her makeup bag for blush. 

"Of course, we haven't! We've barely exchanged a few words with each other. There's a language barrier, so communicating takes us a while. Last night, we spoke about his Quidditch and about books we enjoy... but that was it, really..." 

"Would you kiss him tonight?" I asked, looking at my timid friend through our vanity mirror as I towel-dried my hair.

"Oh, I don't know... If it feels right," Hermione admitted softly, her voice quivering. Ginny and I grinned at each other as we swooned over how adorable Hermione was.

As the minutes passed, other voices could be heard in the tower, and the Gryffindor girls started pouring inside their dorm rooms and bathrooms to prepare for the ball.

I overheard arguments beginning to transpire as my housemates bickered over how long they were waiting for each other to get out of the shower, and I felt grateful that we started getting ready as early as we did.

Before I knew it, dusk fell and I was standing at the top of the girls' staircase— wearing my perfectly fitted ball gown complimented by the sparkly earrings and luxurious, golden chandelier necklace I had purchased at Gladrags.

I felt unreasonably nervous as I shifted my weight on my stilettos, waiting for Ginny and Hermione to put the finishing touches on their looks.

It didn't help that many of the girls would ogle as they passed by me to get downstairs to meet their dates. 

It made me strangely self-conscious, even though I knew I looked impeccable. 

Ginny styled my hair perfectly, with loose curls that cascaded over my shoulders. A plaited braid tied the hair away from the front of my face, which presented the smokey, seductive makeup look she did on me. The look consisted of hues of brown and sheer golden eye shadow that made my eyes look sultry and hypnotizing. She then paired the elegant look with dark rose lipstick— the same shade as my dress.

There wasn't a hair out of place to me. If anything, I felt slightly overdressed than the other girls, but I decided not to overthink it because I knew Cedric would see me and think I was the most gorgeous thing he ever laid eyes on, and that's all that mattered to me.

"Oh, (Y/N)! Look at you!" Hermione cried softly, and I turned around to find my beautiful friend clutching her face in awe as she admired me. 

There is something so bizarre about seeing your friends dressed stylishly in a school setting. 

And seeing Hermione in the dress we picked out at Gladrags, only this time with her tidied curls and made-up face, nearly brought tears to my eyes.

"You look so pretty, 'Mione!" I cooed, immediately pulling her into an embrace, which she returned enthusiastically by squeezing me tightly.

Ginny appeared behind her, seeming proud of the looks she did on us. Luckily, she had the time to work her magic on herself. She styled her hair straight but wrapped two braids around her head like a crown. She kept her makeup simple, just as she did with Hermione, with a slight tint of peachy-pink lipstick and blush.

"Don't go spoiling my hard work, now," Ginny scolded us playfully as we turned to hug her. We all giggled, buzzing with excitement as we finally went downstairs to join the others.

The Common Room looked strange when it was full of people wearing a variety of colors instead of the usual masses of black school robes. 

All the Gryffindors were slowly exiting the tower to head to the Great Hall.

As expected, the boys were already gathered by the fireplace, waiting on us.

Each of them looked undeniably handsome.

Harry had on the dark green robes that Mrs.Weasley purchased for him over the summer, which indeed brought out the color of his eyes. I was impressed to see that he seemed to have actually combed his hair for the occasion— it looked less tousled than usual.

Fred and George were wearing what were clearly second-hand dress robes draped over their matching brown vests. Instead of the traditional bowtie, each twin sported a dark-colored, thick corduroy ribbon, which suited them well.

Neville, Dean, and Seamus wore black dress robes with a black silk vest underneath. Their white dress shirts contrasted with their bowties' dark colors, and each looked nicely groomed and put together. 

And then there was Ron. 

There was no getting around the fact that his robes looked more like a dress than anything else. 

In a desperate attempt to save face, it seemed like he decided to use a Severing Charm on the ruff and cuffs, and it worked reasonably well because at least his dress robes were now mostly lace-free. However, he hadn't done an impeccable job because the edges still looked depressingly frayed. 

We got a good look at the boys before they even laid eyes on us. I watched as Ron nervously pulled stray threads out of his cuffs, his blue eyes scanning the room as he stood lankily beside Harry.

"Merlin, have mercy on us..." Fred murmured, being the first one to notice us. He had his tongue in cheek, grasping onto his typical humorous undertone, but the indiscretion in his gaze was serious as his eyes trailed up my figure.

I rolled my eyes, turning away from him slightly in embarrassment as I suddenly felt rather exposed in the expensive, crimson-red gown's low-cut neckline and skin-tight material.

"You ready?" I asked Harry, who was wiping the lens of his circular eyeglasses on his dress shirt.

"Er, not really..." he mumbled shyly, putting his glasses back on and shrugging when I frowned, "I'm just not looking forward to that opening dance."

"I feel bad for you if you're going to let a stupid opening dance ruin your night. You're going with Cho Chang! What could you possibly complain about?" 

Harry smiled coyly, nodding in silent agreement as a scarlet tint blushed his priorly pale cheeks. 

Next to him, Ron was admiring me with parted lips and adoring dopey eyes. His hands were buried deep in his black dress pants pockets, and the ruffles on the lapels of his antiquated dress robes rose and fell quickly as his breathing became heavy.

Behind him, Parvati was waiting at the foot of the stairs, seeming uncomfortable as she watched Ron gawk at me. She looked very pretty, in robes of vibrant pink, with long, dark hair braided with gold and shimmering bracelets glimmering at her wrists. 

"Parvati, you look amazing," I complimented her earnestly. 

She smiled at me bashfully, and Ron seemed to wake from his trance as he finally noticed his date waiting for him. 

He sauntered over to her awkwardly, giving her a tight smile.

Lavender, Angelina, Ginny, Katie, and Alicia paired off with their boys, and we all set off towards the Entrance Hall, where Cho, Viktor, and Cedric were waiting on Harry, Hermione, and me.

Walking on the castle's marble floors with heels on was something so foreign that I appreciated Harry's chivalry for offering his arms for Hermione and me to cling onto. 

Ron had tried to be the one to help— having discourteously let go of Parvati to get to me, but Harry was closer, and it only made everything more uncomfortable between Ron and his date. 

When we rounded the corner to walk down the stairs towards the Entrance Hall, we saw just how packed it was with students, all milling around waiting for eight o'clock to strike, which was when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. 

The people who were meeting partners from different Houses were seen edging through the flock, trying to find one another.

I scanned the room for Cedric, and when I finally spotted him pushing through the crowd to get to me, I let go of Harry and started walking down the staircase hastily—holding onto the barricade as my heart thumped harder in my chest with every eager step. 

Soon, Cedric was within arm's reach, and he surprised me by wrapping his hands around my waist. He then proceeded to pick me up and spin me around instantly. 

I laughed giddily— clutching onto his shoulders tightly as the hem of my gown and his dress robes whirled around us.

We had caught the room's attention by the moment he put me back down, but we remained wrapped in each other's arms.

Cedric looked strikingly handsome— his black dress robes were made of a refined, silky material that matched his bowtie. His look was sophisticated and resembled a classic tuxedo.

"I'm the luckiest guy here," Cedric murmured, his grey eyes soaking me up as his hands ran up and down my sides lovingly.

"And I'm the luckiest girl, you look soo good," I gushed, reaching up to cup his face in my hand.

Beside us, Harry and Cho had approached each other timidly.

"You— er— look nice," I heard Harry say stiffly.

"Thanks," Cho replied distractedly, her covetous gaze on Cedric and me before turning to Harry with a polite smile. 

It was then that a group of Slytherins emerged from their dungeon, with Draco Malfoy leading in the front. 

He wore black velvet dress robes with a high collar, making him look like a vicar. His dress shirt and bowtie were all white, washing him out and making him look paler than usual. 

Clutching onto his arm was Pansy Parkinson, wearing the same emerald dress I had tried on at Gladrags, and behind them were Crabbe and Goyle, both wearing green and resembling moss-colored boulders. Neither of them seemed to have managed to find a partner, which wasn't astonishing in the slightest.

Blaise and Theodore strolled into the room coolly soon after. 

They looked attractive in their tailored robes, but I still disliked the arrogance in their demeanor as they boredly glanced around the room and completely ignored their dates, who were both Slytherin girls whose names I didn't know.

"Look at that," Cedric brought my attention to the window next to us that overlooked the lawn right in front of the castle. 

It had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights— meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.

"That's gorgeous," I sighed, resting my head on Cedric's shoulder. He hummed in agreement, pressing his lips sweetly to the top of my head. 

"Champions over here, please!" Professor McGonagall called us over towards the big oak doors of the Great Hall, and Cedric intertwined our fingers and led us to meet the others.

When we arrived, Fleur Delacour was already standing next to Professor McGonagall, looking marvelous in silver-gray satin robes. He was accompanied by Roger Davies, who looked flustered—he could not believe his good fortune of being Fleur's date.

"Oh, mon Dieu! (Y/N), you look absolutee divine!" Fleur gasped, pressing a hand on her chest delicately.

"Thank you, Fleur. You look great!" I grinned appreciatively.

Roger and Cedric shook hands politely while Cho, Harry, Viktor, and Hermione approached next.

Hermione was smiling rather nervously beside Krum, who was brooding, as usual. On occasion, Viktor would peer over at Hermione, and his features would soften—which I thought was very cute, and I made a mental note to tell her about it later.

With a grandiose wave of Professor McGonagall's wand, the large wooden doors of The Great Hall opened, but she had us wait until all of the other students entered before giving us any further instructions. 

Viktor's fan club from the library stalked past us, throwing Hermione looks of most profound loathing. 

Pansy Parkinson gaped at me as she walked by with Draco, who faltered in his step as his icy eyes seized me up. 

Our Gryffindor friends entered the Great Hall next. Ron slouched beside Parvati glumly. Neville enthusiastically spoke to Ginny while she listened intently to whatever he was saying, and the twins winked at us as they passed—their arms draped around their dates while wearing shit-eating grins. 

"Now, you are all to enter the Great Hall in procession right after the last of the students have taken their seats, and Professor Dumbledore has given his introduction. Miss Delacour, you and Mr. Davies will take the lead. Miss Granger and Mr. Krum, you will be next..." Professor McGonagall spoke as she moved us around in a single file line. Cedric and I were to enter right behind Hermione and Krum while Harry and Cho followed right after us. 

We waited for Professor Dumbledore's muffled voice to beckon us in, and at Professor McGonagall's signal— we were all soon stepping into the Great Hall, where everyone was on their feet, cheering boisterously and clapping for us. 

I knew that the cheers were directed towards the Champions, but there was an exhilaration that came with the honor of having an entire room praise you. 

While glancing around the room, I was greeted with numerous smiling faces, in addition to the typical entranced looks I was so used to getting from boys.

Around us, the walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. 

The House tables had all vanished, and instead, there were about a hundred smaller, candle-lit ones, each seating about a dozen students.

Professor McGonagall escorted us past all these tables and onto the bright dance floor, where we were to perform the dreaded opening dance.

We took our positions with Cedric's right hand on my waist and the other raised and clutching onto mine.

I steadied myself by grasping onto his shoulder as I anxiously scanned the room. 

It was then that I became very aware of how sweaty my hand was against Cedric's and even more aware of everybody's eyes on us.

It had been easy to downplay the dance earlier when Harry was fretting about it, but now that the moment had arrived— I understood his apprehension. 

"Hey. I'm right here, darling. I've got you." Cedric reassured soothingly, sensing my nerves and squeezing my hand tightly in his.

When my eyes met his, I instantly felt at ease— the perturbation vanishing into thin air as if his consolation were my antidote. 

It was miraculous how he could assuage me with a mere look and a few words.

I nodded firmly, taking in a deep breath just as Professor Flitwick tapped his baton on his stand to begin directing the small ensemble that was the Hogwarts orchestra.

Soon, the gentle first notes of Tchaikovsky's 'The Nutcracker, Op. 71 started to play, and we initiated the choreography steps just as we had rehearsed them many times before.

Cedric led the dance as we slowly revolved on the spot to the romantic, tender waltz—the sound of flutes and cymbals bouncing off the walls as we held on to each other's eyes. His lips parted, his pupils blown wide as he gazed down at me.

Nothing else mattered to me anymore. 

The attention did not encompass us or the rest of the dance routine—it came to us instinctively, as if our bodies were in sync and we were improvising the dance on the spot. 

All I knew was that this precise moment was paradise, and I wanted to remember every intricate detail.

The way my hand fit in his.

The familiar smell of his own personal scent tinged with his favorite cologne.

The warmth that filled his eyes whenever he'd look at me.

Cedric's beauty was so unparalleled it was almost devastating. 

I let him overpower all my senses to keep this memory for my lifetime. 

The waltz's tempo picked up to a dramatic flourish, and with every crescendo of the violins— Cedric would spin me around in delicate pirouettes like a ballet dancer in a music box. 

I barely caught a glimpse of Professor Flitwick's baton swishing faster as the music built up, the room spinning past me quicker and quicker with every elegant turn I made. 

And then the music exploded to the waltzes' climax. Cedric raised me up, his hands wrapped around my waist as he lifted me into the air and twirled me on the spot— eliciting a gasp from the audience at the synchronization of the Champions' dance number.

I gripped Cedric's shoulders for leverage, my heart beating furiously as I watched his chest heave and his grey eyes praise me as if I had crafted the stars above us myself.

He brought me down slowly, pulling me closer to him and taking my hand once more as we neared the end of our dance— the growing passion between us becoming more absorbing by the second. 

Despite the hundreds of people surrounding us, I felt alone in this room with him. 

My heart kept swelling in my chest, and it didn't take long before I realized I was utterly in love with Cedric Diggory. 

And my love for him consumed me.

Just as the music reached its' last few soft, romantic notes— Cedric leaned down to rest his forehead against my own, and I felt his sweet, warm breath on my face. 

I was so overwhelmed at that moment that I could've shed tears because I wanted it to last forever.

The only thing that could've made it any more perfect would be reaching up to kiss Cedric's saccharine lips, but I had caught sight of Professor Dumbledore from the corner of my eye— making me realize where we were, so I took my head out of the clouds and decided against it.

Cedric was evidently thinking the same thing but didn't seem to care about whose presence we were in because as soon as the waltz had ended, he leaned down, and our lips met briefly.

It was just a tiny peck, but it was enough to trigger the constant primal flight reaction he gave me. It felt like a massive inundation of adrenaline that swept through me like a drug and made me feel profoundly alive.

The Great Hall broke into cheers of admiration, pulling me back to the present. A rupture of applause had us Triwizard couples bowing and curtsying before we turned towards the top table where we were to sit for supper.

"Our Triwizard Champions, everybody!" Professor Dumbledore exclaimed, and the cheers got increasingly louder.

Dumbledore beamed happily at us as we began taking our seats— Headmaster Karkaroff and Madame Maxine sitting on either side of him.

I was surprised to see Karkaroff wear an expression of remarkable interest as he watched Cedric and I draw nearer. 

Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing lavender silk gown, applauded us politely and immediately praised Fleur in exuberant French as she sat beside her Headmistress.

When Cedric and I sat down in front of our glittering golden plates, no food was served, but small menus were placed in front of each of us. 

We picked them up with uncertainty and looked around for someone to take our orders, but there were no waiters. 

Professor Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down at his own menu and then said very clearly to his plate, "Pork chops!"

And just like that, pork chops appeared. 

Getting the idea, the rest of the table began placing their orders to their plates, too. 

"Hm... roast beef?" Cedric asked politely, leaning forward and speaking into his plate, which, in a blink, was full of the most exquisite serving of roast beef I've ever seen. 

"Would you look at that, angel? Roast beef," Cedric murmured delightedly.

"I can see that," I spoke through giggles, watching him in fascination as he raised his goblet, mulling over his first drink of the night handsomely.

The flickering candlelight only defined his already chiseled features— accentuating his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. 

He looked as if he were sculpted by angels.

"Red wine, please," he finally decided, and the cup was soon filled with the maroon liquid.

"Go on, love. Speak to your dinnerware," Cedric urged humor in his tone over how bizarre the sentence he had spoken sounded. 

Humming inquisitively, I scanned the menu and chose the creamy rigatoni pasta with sausage and sun-dried tomatoes.

I hesitantly conjured it up, and when it popped up on my plate, I couldn't help but gasp in pure fascination— making Cedric chuckle giddily beside me.

"I fucking love magic," I commended as I picked up my utensils to eat.

To my right, Harry and Cho shared an uncomfortable silence as they ate their dinner.

Occasionally, Harry would peer over at Cho and offer her a meek smile, but he'd immediately look away— red splotches forming on his cheeks.

"Wonder how Hermione feels about this complicated method of dining. Surely it's plenty of extra work for the House Elves?" Harry muttered to me when he noticed me looking— relieved to converse with somebody to distract himself from the stiff tension he was having with his date.

We turned to look at Hermione, half expecting her to be defiant towards her supper, but for once, she didn't seem to be thinking about S.P.E.W. 

Instead, she was in deep conversation with Viktor Krum and hardly noticed what she was eating.

Not wanting to isolate Cedric from our conversation, I nudged him gently and jutted my chin towards Hermione and Krum while we fell silent to overhear their conversation.

"Veil, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking," Krum was telling Hermione rather enthusiastically, "Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these— though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them, Hermy-own."

"Her-my-oh-nee," she pronunciated very slowly and clearly. 

"Herm-own-ninny," Viktor replied ploddingly.

"Close enough," Hermione said with a shrug, catching our eyes and grinning. 

"No, she doesn't seem to mind about S.P.E.W right now at all," I teased— making Cedric and Harry laugh brightly as they nodded in agreement.

"Spew? Sorry?" a shrill voice asked. I realized that Cho was the one inquiring, with her eyebrows pulled together in disdain.

"Oh, er—" Harry began blundering, almost as if he had forgotten she was there to begin with. "It stands for Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Hermione formed like an... alliance in favor of the Hogwarts House-Elves." 

"That sounds pointless," Cho stated, scoffing a tiny laugh. "I mean, that's what they're there for, right? To work? They like it."

Although I didn't have a fiery passion in my heart for S.P.E.W like Hermione did, I felt a compelling urge to defend our little association once hearing Cho ridicule Hermione's beliefs regarding the House Elves.

Hermione had put hard work into S.P.E.W, and I didn't think Cho had any right to mock it, despite any personal opinion she might've had.

Noticing my subtle vexation, Cedric cleared his throat uncomfortably before speaking up.

"Well... we're all members of S.P.E.W, Cho... We've got pins and everything," he explained, giving her an amiable grin that momentarily made me forget what we were even talking about.

"Oh! Well, that's... wicked fun! I was only joking, by the way... I'd love to join!" Cho deferred, just as captivated by Cedric as I was— but he simply gave her a tight smile, much like Ron did when approaching Parvati earlier, and let the conversation drop. 

The rest of our dinner went by wonderfully.

Professor Flitwick continued conducting the Hogwarts Orchestra, who now performed string quartet instrumentals of known love songs.

Eventually, everyone in the Great Hall had finished their meal, so when the time came to enjoy dessert— the same previous method was to be performed with the brand new menu that gave us our sugary options.

I ordered a cheesecake, and Cedric ordered a chocolate caramel tart—and we enjoyed them as he told me about how the Hufflepuff Quidditch team was planning on making the necessary arrangements to organize a friendly match with the other House teams since the games were canceled this year because of the Tournament.

He had taken a quick bite of his tart and chewed intently before continuing his explanation of the Quidditch preparations when I interrupted him by giggling endearingly because he had a tiny bit of caramel peeking from the corner of his lip.

"What? Do I have food on my face?" Cedric asked, his expression alarmed as he started wiping at the opposite side of his mouth from where the caramel was.

"You do, actually," I cooed and reached out to swipe the candy off with my thumb.

Cedric then took advantage of the proximity of my thumb to pop it into his mouth, sucking it gently, which sent me into a laughing fit as I tried to pull away.

"You looked sweeter than the tart," Cedric explained cheekily once I got my thumb back and leaned forward to plant a big kiss on my cheek. 

Meanwhile, Fleur was criticizing the Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies a few seats down.

"Zis is nothing," she said dismissively, looking around at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall. "At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course... zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like zat." she stated as she slapped her hand onto the table impatiently.

Roger Davies was watching her talk with an idiotic look on his face, and he kept missing his mouth with his fork. 

I had the impression that Roger was too busy gaping at Fleur to take in a single word she was saying.

"Absolutely right," he said quickly, slapping his own hand down on the table in imitation of Fleur. "Like that. Yeah."

I watched this play out as I told Cedric about my education before Hogwarts.

Ced watched me with grave interest— clinging onto my every word and seemingly comprehending all of it, unlike Roger.

Frankly, I felt alleviated because even though Veela blood coursed through mine and Fleur's veins— I was fortunate enough to find a guy whose interests transcended past my looks.

I felt terrible for Fleur, but she seemed pretty accustomed to it.

"Doesn't America have Ivermory, though? Why didn't you enroll there?" Cedric asked curiously.

"I wanted to— I did. When I discovered it was the next best thing after Hogwarts, I begged my mom to let me study there. But Ivermory was too expensive for us... and a bit elitist since America is so massive compared to the United Kingdom. They didn't allow just anyone in. So, instead, I was homeschooled to complete my Muggle education — which is a requirement by law in the states. Simultaneously, I would meet with a wizard who would teach me to repress my magic. I had just finished all of my studies when Dumbledore showed up to get me to study here," 

"And I thank my lucky stars every day," Cedric murmured, his eyes peering down at me adoringly as he wrapped an arm around me to pull me closer— gently kissing my exposed shoulder. 

Heat rushed onto my cheeks at the affection, as I was still getting acclimated to Cedric's comfort with displaying public affection.

When all the food had been consumed, Professor Dumbledore stood up and asked the students who weren't sitting at the Top Table to do the same. 

Then, with a swish of his wand, most of the smaller tables zoomed back against the walls— leaving a few scattered around the Great Hall in order for more of the floor to be cleared for dancing. 

The only table that remained intact was our table, where the Champions, their dates, their Headmasters, and the rest of the Hogwarts staff sat.

There was a brief silence, during which all that could be heard was the curious chattering of the students as they stood awkwardly against the wall. Soon, The Weird Sisters trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause. 

They were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. 

I watched with grave interest as the band picked up their instruments and began playing their first song of the night, which sounded a lot like Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and the Shondells.

"Wanna dance?" Cedric grinned broadly, and since I wanted to make the most of our night— I instantly agreed.

All of the Champions and their dates got onto the dance floor, whether of their own volition, like Cedric and me, or because McGonagall pressured them to do so—which I felt was Harry's case.

Once again, we were the only four couples on the dance floor, which would've made me nervous if I hadn't been eased by the sweet peach wine I drank earlier with my dinner.

I understood the appeal of The Weird Sisters, a rock band with influential undertones reminiscent of Pulp and Radiohead. 

Soon, many other students had mustered up the courage to get onto the dance floor, so the Champions were no longer the center of attention. 

Ginny and Neville were dancing nearby while the Weird Sisters performed a cover of the French song 'Aline,' and I could see Ginny frequently wincing as Neville accidentally trodded on her feet.

Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime and was so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely tickled her chin. However, I was impressed by how gracefully she moved for a woman so large.

Soon, the band's ballad turned into a punky, upbeat song titled 'Do the Hippogriff,' which caused a riot among the students. 

"Alright, Hogwarts! Are you ready for some real music?" the lead singer yelled into the mic, eliciting screams from the entire crowd at his feet. 

"C'mon, I want to see your hands in the air! This is our last song of the night before your Professors resort to playing you their show tunes!" the singer continued, now drawing boos from the students.

Then, the song's fast tempo was initiated, and I watched in awe as my peers went crazy.

Fred and Angelina were dancing so exuberantly that people around them were backing away in fear of injury.

Beside them, George and Katie were head-banging so vigorously and flapping their arms like Hippogriff wings.

But Cedric, who had let loose and started jumping quite out of rhythm to the music, his chestnut locks flying unruly, caught me off-guard.

"What?" he asked breathlessly as he watched me suppress my laughter as I held onto his hand.

"I finally found something you're not good at!" I exclaimed over the loud music— my amusement growing when Cedric's jaw dropped in mock offense.

"How could you say that with those two on the dancefloor? Huh?" Cedric asked, his eyes pointing towards the Weasley twins, who were now break-dancing pretty horribly while Angelina and Katie cheered them on.

"You do have a point... Forgive me?"

Cedric sucked in air through his teeth, and his eyebrows knitted together— as if he were debating whether to forgive me or not.

"I don't know if I can," he joked, the corner of his lips twisting up to a smirk as he wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling me closer to him.

"I'm begging you to reconsider. I take back what I said— you're allowed to dance as foolishly as you'd like," I pouted, offering him the biggest puppy eyes I could muster.

Cedric broke into a big, goofy smile as he peered down at me.

"Fine, but only if you dance just as foolishly with me," 

"Deal," I agreed as I stuck my hand out, which he shook firmly as if we had just made a business transaction, "but I am going to need a drink first."

"Coming right up," Cedric chimed, his hands nestling my face as he leaned to kiss me leisurely. His warm lips glided over mine for a few passing seconds before he left me flustered and faint.

I stepped down from the platformed dance floor, taking fixed breaths to steady my erratic heart.

As I looked around the Great Hall, I saw many people sitting down, which made me pity them for all the fun they were missing out on.

Far off in a corner, Draco Malfoy and his friends watched everyone else snidely— as if they were far too prestigious to even consider dancing.

Ron was also sitting down with Parvati. She was speaking to him, but Ron wasn't paying attention to whatever she was saying because he was too busy glaring at me, which took me aback.

When the Weird Sisters had finished their set— everybody cheered them on and begged for an encore, but they still exited the stage despite the students' protests. 

In turn, Professor Flitwick marched up the stage holding a vinyl record, seeming to have renounced the title of band conductor for the night and been assigned the role of DJ.

We all watched uncertainly as he put the record on, unsure of his music selection, but when 'Ballroom Blitz' by Sweet started playing, everyone cheered with approval and started dancing again.

"Let's sit down, shall we?" I overheard Harry say to Cho, who was holding onto his hand and attempting to get him to stay on the dance floor.

"Oh, but— this is a really good one!" she tried to persuade him.

"Er, no, I don't like it," Harry lied. I knew he did because we listened to it a lot over the summer.

With lucky timing, a friend of Cho's invited her to dance— if you could even call it that since the student body was now tipsy and energetic as they aimlessly bounced around the dance floor. One of the Weasley twins even started to stage dive.

Wanting to join in on the fun, Cho gave Harry a little apologetic smile, leaving him staring hopelessly after her and then glumly walking back towards the table where Ron and Parvati were sitting.

I strode over to them just as Harry was opening a bottle of Butterbeer— taking a seat right next to him.

"What is wrong with you?" I hissed as Harry was downing his drink.

"Wha—?" he asked, puzzled with a mouthful of beer.

"You've been drooling over Cho Chang since last year, and now you've got her! Why aren't you conversing with her and showing her a good time? After all the trouble you went through to muster up the courage to get her to go with you, you're gonna ignore her now? Seriously!?"

"I don't have her; she's been staring at you and Cedric all night," Harry snapped back, his green eyes accusingly squinting at me.

I fell silent because I noticed it, too, but when I realized that I had no fault in this, I continued to argue with him in my defense.

"So? Does that mean you must spend the entire night in awkward silence and belligerent dancing? You're a great guy, Harry. Show her that! She is just as lucky to have you as her date as you are to have her." 

Harry didn't retort but simply grumbled into his drink, and I knew the conversation would end there.

Besides him, Ron was furiously staring off into space as Parvati sat beside him with her arms and legs crossed— one foot jiggling in rhythm with the music. 

Now and then, she'd throw a disgruntled look at Ron, who was completely disregarding her.

I reached over to pinch Ron in the arm and decided it was his turn to get a scolding.

"Ouch! What was that for?" Ron exclaimed, rubbing the spot where I had pinched him.

"And you? What's your deal, then?" I confronted him, raising an eyebrow.

He stared at me sternly, eyebrows knit together as his blue eyes roamed my face. I responded by tilting my head towards Parvati, who was gazing longingly at the dancefloor.

"Well, that's just none of your business," he muttered before turning away from me defiantly.

I rolled my eyes just as Hermione joined us— her face flaming red and sweaty as she fanned herself with her hands.

"It's so hot in here, isn't it? Viktor's gone to go and get some drinks. Would you care to join us?" 

Ron gave her a withering look. 

"Viktor?" he asked. 

"Yes?" Hermione replied, her voice raising in surprise. 

"Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"

Hermione gave him a look of pure confusion— her eyes flickering over to Harry and me as if to confirm if Ron was being serious or not.

"What's up with you?" she questioned when she noticed me glowering at him because of his sour mood.

"How could you not tell me?" snapped Ron scathingly, "he's my favorite Quidditch player, and you didn't tell me! I thought we were friends!" 

Now, I was just as bewildered as Hermione. We both looked at Harry for answers, but he simply shrugged.

"Ron, what— ?" I scoffed.

"She could've at least told me! But instead, we had to find out the day of the ball. It's senseless!" spat Ron. 

Hermione was lost for words, gaping her mouth open and shut like a fish out of water as she struggled with what to say.

"I'm sorry..." she said after a moment, her voice quivering as she was clearly attempting to control her anger. "What would make it better, Ron? An autograph? Maybe I'll have him sign that model of him up in your dormitory?"

"Shut up," Ron mumbled, choosing to ignore Hermione's ridicule.

"You need to control yourself, Ronald," she warned as she jabbed a finger at him. Stop projecting your anger toward your friends and figure out what you're really upset about." Hermione said this, glancing at me briefly before storming off across the room and disappearing into the crowd.

The air was tense as we were left stunned and silent.

Hermione made it clear that Ron was lashing out at everyone because he was upset about something else, and it was pretty obvious what he was irritated about.

I mean, he had been shooting daggers with his eyes at Cedric and me the entire night.

Ron peered at me sheepishly, but I broke eye contact, not wanting to bring attention to Ron's feelings toward me tonight.

All I wanted was to get back to enjoying my evening with Cedric.

"Are you going to ask me to dance at all?" Parvati asked Ron, having gotten fed up with our drama.

"No," replied Ron flatly, his rude attitude returning.

"Fine," seethed Parvati, and she got up to join her sister, who was in the company of an entire crew of Durmstrang boys who had no dates and were eager to dance.

"I'm going to go find Ced," I informed Harry and rose to my feet.

"Alright," he replied boredly.

"You should go find Cho," I advised him, and this time, he seemed more susceptible to my suggestion because he nodded and scanned the room for her.

It seemed like Ron's loss of his date, warranted by his bad temper, awoke something in Harry, who had a lot more to lose if his crush got bored of him and found someone else.

It wasn't long after that I had seen Harry approaching Cho more confidently— the both of them falling into a dance that seemed more cosy than the ones they shared before.

"Vare is Herm-own-ninny?" asked someone behind me, pulling me away from my thoughts.

Viktor Krum stood grimly, clutching two cold Butterbeers in his hands.

"I was just with her— I think she went to the top table to look for you. Have you seen Cedric?" I asked, eyeing the drinks and wondering if they'd bumped into each other.

"No. Veil, if you see her, tell her I haff drinks," Krum said and slouched off.

I glanced at the top table, which was now empty. Professor Dumbledore was dancing with Professor Sprout, Ludo Bagman with Professor McGonagall, and Madame Maxime with Hagrid—the gigantic pair cutting a wide path around the dance floor as they waltzed through the students.

I continued to weave through dozens of people in search of Cedric, who was nowhere to be found.

I thought he'd be at the bar, but when I got there, I only saw a House Elf frantically serving drinks to a nagging group of students.

I grabbed a flute of champagne that looked unclaimed for and set off to continue searching for my missing date when I heard a voice I, unfortunately, knew too well directed towards me. 

"You look beautiful tonight," 

I sighed privately before turning on my heel to look at Draco, who was languidly leaning against the bar with what seemed to be a whiskey in hand.

"Thank you," I replied dully, meaning to walk away just then but staying instead for a reason unknown to me. 

"You look like a vicar," I added, taking a sip from my champagne.

Draco let out a genuine laugh. 

One that startled me because the last time I'd seen him laugh like this was the night at the Courtyard the year prior.

I watched him with vivacity as he grinned with teeth, shaking his head at my joke.

"Well, that's not a terrible thing," was all he said after his laugh.

"Suppose not," I responded dryly.

"No, but really, (Y/N)... You look gorgeous. So gorgeous that if you were my date, I wouldn't dream of losing sight of you. I don't think I'd be able to look away." 

I stood there stiffly, trying to ignore the tiny hairs at the back of my neck that were rising as his eyes drank me up.

"Um, thanks..." was all I could say, finishing the last of the champagne and hoping its effects would influence me soon.

He was going to say something else when Headmaster Karkaroff joined us.

"Mr. Malfoy," he greeted Draco leerily. I was surprised to see how Draco tensed up—standing rigidly straight on his feet as his eyes broke away from me to look at his shiny, black dress shoes.

"Good evening, Headmaster," Draco murmured respectfully.

"How are you enjoying yourself?" Karkaroff asked, his dark eyes flickering between Draco and me.

I really wanted to leave now, but it felt impolite to do so.

"Fine. Thank you." Draco answered.

"Wonderful... do tell your father that I send my regards," 

My eyes instinctively widened.

We knew by now that Igor Karkaroff had been a  Death Eater because Sirius told us so, but this seemed to confirm it. 

I mean, we weren't sure if Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater himself, but after what Draco said at the World Cup, I feel like it'd be ridiculous not to assume so.

I tried to seem impassive as possible, but I made a mental note to tell Harry about this later.

"I will pass it on, Headmaster. Have a good night..." Draco said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye as he stalked off to the corner where Pansy and the rest of his friends were. 

I gave Karkaroff a polite smile before turning to walk away myself— but was stopped in place when he called after me.

"Miss (Y/L/N)?"

"Yes, Headmaster?" I asked cordially, walking back to him hesitantly as my heartbeat began to pick up its pace. 

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to keep you... but I have just been so curious. I can't help but notice an American accent, yes?"

"Oh! Yes, Headmaster. I transferred to Hogwarts from America last year. Professor Dumbledore proclaimed that I was far advanced regarding my magical abilities and offered me to expand my studies here." 

"How very... interesting. He doesn't do that often, Dumbledore. I mean, there must be many bright witches and wizards in America... Have you ever wondered why you?"

Something in his tone was strange, making it seem like he already knew the reasoning. 

And although his question seemed rhetorical, Karkaroff still waited for an answer.

"Oh, um... I suppose there are. I guess I just got very lucky..." 

"Very lucky, indeed... You remind me of somebody I used to know. An old friend. Exceptionally bright wizard. Tell me, is your surname paternal?"

"No, sir. Maternal. My mom raised me." 

"And your father?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," I replied shortly, his curiosity irking me as it hit dangerous waters that were too personal for me.

Karkaroff was sneering down at me as if there were an inside joke that he was sharing with himself— which made me outrageously uncomfortable.

As if by a saving grace, Cedric finally appeared with our two drinks at hand and nodded nobly at Karkaroff but kept cautious eyes on him.

"Very well," Karkaroff said, clapping his hands together. "I won't keep you two any longer. I wish you both a good night."

"Thank you." we both replied, and Cedric watched him walk off before turning to me.

"Was he bothering you?"

"No... he was just asking questions. Got those drinks?" I asked casually, trying to divert his attention from my odd conversation with Karkaroff, which I was still trying to process.

Cedric passed me my cold drink, which I downed immediately. I placed the empty glass on the bar's countertop and pulled him towards the dancefloor just as 'Super Freak' by Rick James started playing.

"Let's dance”

✩ next chapter: you feel like heaven ✩

[vivsinkpot]

The Words We Don’t Say: Dialogue Should Reveal, Not Just Inform.

Every line of dialogue is a tiny window into who your characters are, not just what they need to say. In real life, people rarely say exactly what they mean. They dodge, hint, exaggerate, fall silent, or say one thing when they feel another. Your characters should, too.

Good dialogue isn’t about giving information cleanly — it’s about revealing layers.

For example:

A character could say “I’m fine,” while tightening her grip on the table so hard her knuckles go white.

He could say “You’re impossible,” but his voice is soft, almost laughing — meaning you’re impossible and I love you for it.

She could say “I hate you,” in the rain, soaked through, desperate — meaning don’t leave.

The surface words and the real emotions don’t always match. That’s where the tension lives.

That’s what makes dialogue linger.

Three quick tricks to deepen your dialogue:

1. Layer emotion under the words.

Surface: What are they saying?

Subtext: What do they really mean?

Conflict: What’s holding them back from just saying it?

E.g. Two best friends sitting in a car after one of them has announced she’s moving across the country.

She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, staring straight ahead.

“You’ll forget about me after a week,” she said, light, almost laughing.

Surface: She says he’ll forget about her.

You’ll forget about me after a week. (The outward words are casual, a joke.)

Subtext: She’s terrified of being left behind, feeling abandoned.

I’m scared you don’t care enough. I don’t want to be alone. Please tell me you’ll miss me.

Conflict: She doesn’t want to beg him to stay — she’s too proud, too afraid he doesn’t feel the same.

She wants to stay close, to ask for reassurance — but fear of rejection makes her hide her true feelings under humor.

2. Use silence and body language.

• A pause can scream louder than a speech.

• A glance away can whisper I’m afraid better than a thousand words.

E.g. After her apology, it’s his silence — heavy, raw, unspoken — that says everything words can’t.

After an argument, she finally admits, in a shaking voice, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He says nothing.

Instead, he leans back against the wall, scrubbing a hand across his mouth, looking everywhere but at her.

The silence stretches between them — heavy, aching, almost unbearable.

When he finally does speak, his voice is hoarse: “I know.”

Breakdown:

Pause: His silence after her admission isn’t empty — it’s full. It screams his hurt, his struggle to forgive, his overwhelming emotions.

Body Language: Scrubbing his hand across his mouth, looking away — it all whispers I’m overwhelmed. I’m hurt. I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling.

Result: The tension between them becomes almost physical without a single extra word.

3. Let characters miscommunicate.

• Real conversations are messy.

• People interrupt, misunderstand, react to what they think they heard.

• That tension is pure narrative gold.

E.g. A confession turns into heartbreak when he misunderstands her words and walks away before she can explain.

She pulls him aside at the crowded party, her voice low and urgent.

“I need to tell you something — about us,” she says.

He stiffens immediately, crossing his arms. “Don’t bother. I get it. You regret everything.”

She blinks, hurt flashing across her face.

“No, that’s not what I meant—”

But he’s already turning away, anger burning in his chest.

She watches him go, the words she was really about to say — I love you — still caught in her throat.

Breakdown:

Miscommunication: He interrupts and jumps to conclusions, assuming the worst.

Realism: Conversations are messy; people hear what they’re most afraid of hearing.

Narrative Gold: Now, there’s heartbreak, regret, and a perfect setup for future emotional payoff when they finally untangle the truth.

Some brilliant examples to study:

‘Normal People’ by Sally Rooney — where miscommunication becomes the air between them.

‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen — where formality and wit mask tenderness and fear.

‘Six of Crows’ by Leigh Bardugo — where silence says what pride refuses to.

Dialogue is not just a tool for moving the plot.

It’s a doorway into the heart of your story.

Open it carefully.

[genericpuff]

Do you have any big plans for Rekindled this year? Like specific moments/events/developments? Also, would you ever consider going back to a weekly upload schedule?

welllll as for stuff that's like, in the immediate near future, we're gonna be tackling a VERY famous scene in LO that I have some fun ideas for that will hopefully make it feel familiar but with its own twists for y'all to enjoy. Considering the current roadmap the story is on and what's been established over the past few "days" within the story, I'm sure y'all will figure out pretty quick which scene I'm talking about ;333

But in the long-term over the course of this year... I don't wanna speak too soon, but I think this is the year that we're finally gonna enter the biggest turning point of the story, so big that it literally diverts LR's plot away from the blueprint of LO and we end up in truly new territory. Granted, there are still some elements of the original LO present after that point, but what we do with those elements is entirely different. I think it's gonna parallel well, because while LO's S2 era took a massive turn away from everything it had been building up towards throughout S1, LR's "second season" will be taking a massive turn towards those setups and outcomes that were clearly abandoned (or just not thought of entirely, even the stuff that was like... plainly obvious to anyone who was paying attention lmao).

I'm hoping that after we've reached that point, the path that LR walks will feel way more satisfying for the readers like myself who felt that everything beyond S2 of LO was a complete misfire and lost potential. Again, it will hopefully feel familiar to those who remember that era of LO - but still refreshing and interesting to really drive home how this is meant to be an interpretative rewrite of what could have happened if LO hadn't gotten distracted and had actually stuck with its original plotlines and themes. I think the biggest one of those themes that was present in LO but never fully realized will be everything concerning "Persephone" herself, the Act of Wrath, and everything that led up to her moving to Olympus.

It is a little nerve-wracking, because it'll be at that turning point where I truly have to carry this story's progression for real and can't use LO quite as much to guide me through the dark, but I'm also excited because it's where I finally get to loosen a lot of the limitations that were set from the foundation of LO and really go wild with everything that I had been hoping LO would be. It's when I'll really get to write some proper payoffs to the things that I've been building up to from the foundation of the original comic as my starting point. It's where things are really gonna start to feel truly "new", at least in my opinion!

As for what that massive "turning point" is... I'm not gonna say specifically what happens, but you will absolutely know it when you'll see it. Obviously there are already a lot of differences between LR and LO in terms of the plot threads and how everything is being progressed, but this one turning point in particular is a huge one that fundamentally opposes one of the biggest flaws of LO that would define its downhill decline in its storytelling for the rest of its publication.

But for now, until we get there, I'll leave the rest up to your imagination ;3

---

As for the update schedule, I would honestly love to be able to return to the weekly schedule again, but currently my work-life balance is just not gonna allow for it :'0 For those unaware, when I'm not making Rekindled, I'm also working my day job as a contracted tattoo artist which comes with its own load of responsibilities and obligations, many of which are what I need to fulfill in order to do things like pay my rent and, y'know, not die LOL In terms of the work-life balance, even when I'm not working on Rekindled, there's still a lot of work taking up my life LMAO (including a second retail job that I've been doing a seasonal position for, though it's wrapping up at the end of the month~)

While I love making Rekindled and spend as much time as I can each week working on it (and I wish it could be like, the only thing I had to worry about LOL) it is still just a fanfiction project that I create for free, and so it just can't be at the top of my priority list, at least not without sacrifices from those other obligations - but those other obligations are, again, what I need to do in order to not only survive, but to ensure that I can afford to keep making Rekindled, even if it's at a slower pace than I would like.

That said, Rekindled is still a very high priority for me! It's just a matter of balance, and changing to a bi-weekly schedule was part of maintaining that balance. It was either that, or stick to weekly and make the episodes shorter, but I ultimately settled on the former option because it allowed for a healthier work-life balance (which is still not even super healthy but I'm working on it lmao) and because the rhythm of my writing wouldn't have worked as well in shorter doses, especially not with many of the plotlines we've been tackling as of late. It can be a drag to wait every two weeks, but it means I can bring y'all episodes that are fully realized to their full potential, rather than hacking them up into tinier portions that might not read as well and would require a drawing schedule that wouldn't fit well with my current circumstances.

All in all, while I do wish I could be back to making episodes on that weekly schedule, it's really only because I would love to bring you all more of the story more often, because there's a lot that I'm really excited to show you all! But the bi-weekly schedule is currently more viable for both myself, Banshriek, and the comic as a whole, because it means we get the time we really need to make every episode feel special with every update <3

[ruegarding]

hello! I hope your having a good day! If you don't mind me asking, what is your opinion on the Cupid Scene in Hoo? And if you could how would you change it?

my opinion on the cupid scene…well, i don't think a traumatic coming out scene is automatically bad. the problem i have w it is that rick capitalized on shock value instead of good writing. rick retconned a bunch of things to make nico alone and miserable so that he could have this scene, and it was completely unnecessary. ppl can have friends without coming out. and, as i’ve repeatedly said, the way hoo is written is literally a repeat of his arc in pjo but worse, because we’re acting like important events in pjo didn’t happen in a series that’s supposed to be a sequel to pjo and rick is inconsistent so the payoff is questionable.

the solution is…good writing. creating a cohesive and intriguing plotline where this scene is either necessary or scrapped if it isn’t.

thus begins an unnecessarily deep dive into all the retcons, inconsistencies, and general what-the-fuckery of nico’s arc in hoo bc i’m the verbose king and we've accidentally stumbled into something i have a lot to say abt.

first retcon. in son, frank explicitly says that nico does not make him nervous and describes nico as mysterious. not weird, creepy, off-putting, or anything similar. and nico is! he is clearly hiding things and shows up infrequently. this is a neutral description, and frank goes on to say that pluto’s powers, and specifically the underworld, isn’t enough to make him dislike pluto or nico.

also this, showing nico is comfortable enough around frank:

but then in hoh, frank thinks going somewhere with nico, alone, is terrifying.

at worst, frank would’ve felt awkward. they’ve never had to talk alone bc nico is at camp jupiter for hazel and doesn’t have any reason to talk to frank by himself. if frank didn’t want to be alone w nico bc of that, it’d make sense. but that’s not what’s said or implied! and nothing has happened! nico got kidnapped, they saved him, and since then he’s been chilling on the boat, exactly as weird as before, if a little more understandably distressed. like, nothing happened to change frank’s opinion this drastically. even the difference between pluto and hades (wealth vs death) doesn’t matter bc nico uses his powers in son. also frank literally summons a skeleton guy in son and hazel is a zombie, like…

(the source isn’t important but i've been quoting these five seconds for years)

oh! and that’s not all, it gets worse!

these scenes from hoh are incredibly infantilizing. why are we treating nico like a feral dog that needs to be domesticated??? yikes. and once again, it’s not true! nico was fine talking w ppl in pjo (if a bit over-enthusiastic). and then in son he was perfectly civil and was fine having the conversation abt the quest. his issue w ppl was that his powers/parentage put ppl off, and, even in son, that he had to keep a secret.

nico is perfectly capable of speaking like a normal person and working as part of a team (see: final botl battle, final tlo battle, the sword of hades). like, nico’s struggle in hoh should be 1) that ppl are calling him creepy behind his back (and therefore has nothing to do w his social skills) and/or 2) that he just survived an incredibly traumatic experience and is understandably withdrawn. neither of these are properly addressed and instead the implication is that nico is hiding himself bc he’s gay and everything will be solved if he accepts himself.

edit: i never actually explicitly stated this, but nico's queer coding and disability coding overlap, which is why this infantilization/ableism is important enough to highlight despite the conversation specifically being abt the queer aspect of it.

second retcon. percy…as i’ve said many times before, percy explicitly calls nico his friend in tlo.

this immediately makes hoo trying to act like they don’t know each other and were never close a retcon. they were friends, they saw each other frequently, nico made silly jokes w percy…and we’re ignoring all of this in hoo.

i've talked abt this previously (in response to tsats), but nico is the one putting distance between him and percy. percy reached out to nico repeatedly thru pjo.

when percy notices that nico excludes himself, percy finds a private place to talk to nico and assures him that percy wants him around and offers solutions to his discomfort (this is not percy’s responsibility. percy is a child). when nico insists that he won’t stay, percy sees it from nico’s perspective and, instead of forcing nico to do something against his will that may totally backfire, says “i hope we don’t have to be enemies,” leaving room for nico to decide whether he’s willing to be friends.

bc percy understands the root of nico’s issue (that no matter the accommodations made at camp, there’s always going to be the implicit message that he doesn’t belong there), he addresses it and uses his wish to make sure that nico has a home at camp.

and when nico tries to prove he’s useful, percy proves he would’ve invited him in whether nico was or not. bc he thinks nico deserves to be a kid.

“i wonder if [nico] had ever had a birthday party,” percy thinks at his own birthday party where he didn’t invite his friends bc he felt it was too much of an inconvenience, in a story where he never had friends prior to these ppl he didn’t invite, and the only person he had for twelve years of his life was his own mother. and percy uses his own loneliness to empathize w how lonely nico is.

percy is not some distant figure nico is idolizing. he's a kid trying his best to care for another kid at a time where no one else did, while experiencing his own trauma. all of their hang-ups exist bc of that.

going back to their relationship in hoo, even trying to make percy uncomfortable w nico’s powers (and therefore not wanting to associate w nico) doesn’t work bc percy has gone on record and said he thinks some of nico’s powers are cool and has neutral responses to others, not to mention percy is also a big three kid who makes other ppl wary (i could write a whole meta on how what percy finds disturbing w nico’s powers is directly tied to what percy finds disturbing w his own powers, but i’ll restrain myself. please clap).

and if that wasn’t enough, the entire reason percy stood up to hera in botl is bc she was willing to let nico die specifically bc he doesn't fit in bc of those powers.

this plotline was tired before it even began.

you could argue that all of this changed w nico’s betrayal in tlo. but then why didn’t percy tell anybody when it happened in tlo (annabeth would’ve reacted to it if he had)? why did percy trust nico to come when he called? why didn’t any of percy’s animosity come out afterwards at camp? and in the throne room, percy didn’t have to single nico out w his wish. he didn’t have to watch nico to make sure he was settling in. but he did. and because he did, any writing that suggests percy doesn't trust or care abt nico bc of that is bad writing. maybe rick forgot this, but u can be angry w and hurt by the ppl you love and still love them.

even the justification that nico lied in son isn’t good enough to completely change their relationship, bc it’s pretty clear why nico lied and percy says he can’t stay angry at nico when they rescue him, and let me remind u, anger is a core part of percy's character. while nico lying might be enough for characters like leo and jason, who have no rapport w him, to doubt him, it’s not enough for percy. and why are we so obsessed w dismantling percy and nico’s friendship anyway? why is that necessary to the story? like i said before, ppl can have friends without coming out. isolating the only queer character (at the time) isn’t necessary.

this conflict doesn’t even work in hoo bc their distance is still one-sided…

when did percy not give nico a second chance in hoo? the only times they’ve interacted prior to this was when percy remembered nico in son and tried to talk to him and then when they saved his life. and then nico brushes off percy's gratitude and tells him to back off. this is not nico idolizing percy who doesn't care abt him. this is percy reaching out and yet again nico putting distance between them.

and, obviously, this doesn’t work at all w pjo when the entirety of botl exists, you know, where percy chose to trust and protect nico and then went out of his way to make sure nico knew percy held none of nico’s anger against him. it’d be one thing if nico was supposed to be wrong, but considering how there’s an entire arc in hoo abt jason being the first person to trust nico, and tsats seriously acts like percy only ever talked to nico when he needed something, it’s safe to say this comes from a place of stupidity.

ok. this sections getting long, so i moved the it was stupid to have percy give jason a reason to doubt nico section to a new post. but know that i'm aware and i think it's stupid.

back to the point of all these retcons w percy. there's nothing in hoo that necessitates changing percy and nico's relationship from pjo. while percy in hoo is never cruel to nico, they act like strangers for some reason. so, it's changed for no reason and it's written poorly.

sigh. and then all of chb is retconned (or recycled if you’re feeling generous).

the ppl at camp accept him while his cabin gets built. pretty nice. then in boo nico reveals they got tired of him after a week–which is still summer–despite there being an influx of kids from all descents, some of whom would be weird or uncomfortable or whatever this justification is. that’s not even mentioning how percy’s own experiences (remember how he was ostracized…multiple times…) should have made them more accepting of nico.

why…was this necessary at all…? especially when u have an entirely different camp that treats nico as weird bc they didn’t have that good experience w him? this is really what gets me. if rick wanted to be lazy and repeat nico’s arc, he could’ve done so without retconning things.

for example, with the seven, leo, piper, jason, and maybe annabeth (she doesn’t have much to say abt nico in pjo), i could understand having animosity towards nico, as well as camp jupiter, but retconning established relationships to make ur only (at the time) queer character isolated and miserable only to then have his coming out be violent and traumatic is. well. bad! especially when the person who is w him for that experience is not someone he has built any sort of camaraderie w. nico isn’t choosing to trust jason, he’s being forced to.

and the whole nico-needs-to-learn-to-trust-ppl plot doesn’t work anyway bc of rick’s inconsistencies.

jason has a moment much like frank where he doesn’t want to go anywhere w nico bc nico is so weird and scary. nico has every right to pull himself away from ppl who treat him like he’s got something contagious. and there’s more:

“since when does jason defend nico,” as in they have shit on nico before and jason has not, in the past, defended nico. as in nico had every reason to not trust jason prior to this bc everyone, including jason, were talking shit behind his back. why are we acting like nico is being unreasonable? oh no, y’all are talking behind my back…clearly it’s my fault bc i push everyone away and that has nothing to do w ur behavior or anything…yes this is good writing.

and we’re supposed to believe that jason (and reyna and hedge and will) is the first person to be kind/reach out to nico, but we have this scene from botl where percy comforted nico and gave him a piece of his childhood back:

and this is after percy cleared the air to make sure nico knew he didn’t hate him and offered to make accommodations for nico at camp and then respected and understood why nico wouldn’t want to. like,

woah, you’re telling me that a character reaches out to nico after a traumatic experience in an act of kindness and this helps nico grow as a person? and it happens multiple times?! yeah, apparently rick and fandom have completely forgotten abt this (also hazel exists???). they’re even phrased similarly! “maybe it’s time to take a risk and embrace something you’ve pushed away.” furthermore, they both support their point by helping nico, percy by inviting nico into his home to enjoy cake and ice cream, jason by drinking from the chalice. once more w feeling: nico has been loved the entire goddamn time!

i get what rick was trying to accomplish w the whole cupid scene concept. which is that it’s okay to be gay and that it can feel very “othering” to be gay. nico has to accept himself in order to make friends. that’s what this

and this

are trying to say, right, but this doesn’t work when you’ve blatantly retconned established relationships to have characters push nico away for his powers/parentage/whatever. nico’s struggle is not an internal issue that can be solved by accepting himself, it’s an external issue caused by how other ppl treat him for his powers/parentage (which he has never been shown to reject btw).

the thing is, the powers-as-queerness metaphor only works when you don’t have, you know, characters who aren’t queer going through similar ostracization. not only was percy ostracized at chb in tlt for his powers/parentage (very similar to nico!), percy has a moment in this same book where his powers terrify annabeth, and then piper in the next book, in which he, you know, lets himself almost die to poison bc he feels like he “deserved it” for using those powers. again, this is not queer-coding for percy (unless…?). moreover, like i said, nico doesn’t reject his powers, so the whole queer-coding w powers and needing to accept himself is already iffy (...rejecting powers...hold the fuck up…percy isn’t…unless…). even the out-of-time metaphor doesn’t work bc it’s something he shares w hazel, who is not canonically queer (unless…?!). so, already, we’re on shaky metaphorical ground. all of this could work, theoretically, if combined w strong writing, but combined w the retconning and inconsistencies, this plotline makes no cohesive sense.

we’re supposed to believe that nico is the one pushing everyone away while they are secretly super supportive while simultaneously being shown that everyone talks and thinks shit that affirms nico’s thoughts abt them that makes him want to pull away. and then in boo we completely ignore that these ppl have been pushing nico away and suddenly everyone (reyna, hedge, will, etc) is supportive.

pick a struggle!

also nico’s coming out scene in boo sucked (yeah this is the segue).

this is the culmination of nico’s arc in hoo. he’s finally accepted himself enough to speak the truth without pressure. we ruined percy and nico’s established relationship for this. and they don’t even have a conversation. then nico walks over to will bc percy, “regular guy” percy, is “not [his] type.” don’t look too deep into that.

so, how would i fix the cupid scene? well.

there were a million different ways to write a better arc for nico and earn that cupid scene. for example, rick could’ve stuck to a plotline.

the trust plotline could’ve been good. bc this exact thing is what causes the accidental kidnapping situation in tlo. nico doesn’t trust percy enough to tell him the truth and chooses to manipulate and lie to percy instead. this choice is what sets up their conflict bc percy views this as betrayal (something that’s important to a guy who’s fatal flaw is loyalty).

it’s also interesting bc nico does choose to trust ppl in hoo; he eats the pomegranate seeds despite not knowing that someone is coming for him, he just trusts that someone will (we’re ignoring what boo says abt nico’s tartarus experience bc fun fact! that is also retconned). and it pays off, bc not only does he get saved, we see hazel and percy even willing to challenge the other members of the seven to make sure he gets saved. so, it’s not a lesson he’s already learned, it’s a lesson he’s learning. but, going back to the main question here, would the cupid scene still be necessary? was being dragged into tartarus and almost dying not enough spectacle?

regardless, my biggest problem w the cupid scene in all of this is that it gives the impression that u have to come out in order to have ppl love u and trust u. a much better message to send is that the ppl who love u will love u before and after u come out. no isolation necessary.

[crowleysgirl56]

IT’S FINALLY HERE SQUIRRELS!

OMG I’ve been biting my nails for weeks on how he is going to react. Already from the thumbnail we can guess that he is not happy and has reacted the exact same way as us.

So let’s dive into my highlights of his reactions. As always, under the cut to avoid spoilers. Here we go.

- Already from Danny’s opening monologue he’s guessed exactly how most of this episode will go in terms of plot beat and story structure. But it is clear he doesn’t know about the 90 minute finale.

- Love how Danny’s immediate response to Crowley’s heaven disguise is “You’ve only made him hotter!” Funnily enough he mentions “it looks like he invented whiskey”. Funny considering David Tennant did that add for whiskey…

- Danny is everyone when he heavily sighs when Maggie accidentally invites the demons in.

- Danny finally gets his payoff about the fly being the key.

- About Beelzebub and Gabriel. He so casually says “I kinda want them to fall in love and I’ll murder anyone who disagrees with me”. Yeah, well…at least ONE angel and demon couple got to do that and go off together! I also love how within 6 minutes he is 100% invested in their relationship.

- “David Forgettit. Azirawho”. HOW DARE YOU SIR!

- Good Omens fandom: deep dives into why no one recognises The Metatron when he’s in his corporal form. Danny when the Metatron enters the books shop: Who’s this guy? Is this God? Did they recast God?! (Crowley then says the last time he saw him he was a big floating head) Oh it’s Zordon! Proving that, yep, it is THAT simply to trick everyone, no deep dives necessary.

- Danny points out Muriel is holding the Crow Road, but then doesn’t try to deep dive into why that’s important. And yeah, if you didn’t know what that book is it doesn’t really mean anything, but looking back at that scene, it is framed so deliberately that it HAS to mean something.

- And now we finally get to it. Danny’s ENTIRE journey of reacting to the final fifteen. I could devote an entire post to everything that he says and does. The clutching of his chest and chair, the pleading of David Tennant to stop being such a great actor, his joy and heartbreak and yelling of “THEY KISSING!”, the depths of despair of wanting to start up smoking, to getting really drunk even though it’s 11am, and to becoming addicted to cocaine. WE. ARE. ALL. STILL. THERE. MY FRIEND!

- It’s funny how Danny went from being such an advocate for Aziraphale this entire time to just holding his head in his hands exclaiming “what the fuck I can’t even, I can’t even, why would you do that?” right at the very end.

Danny’s whole reaction is interesting in that it’s such an immediate reaction, he doesn’t have the luxury like us who have spent the last year and a bit overanalysing everything with a fine tooth comb. Because it’s almost like, maybe that is how we should be reacting? Love to hear everyone’s thoughts on this and his reaction.

And that’s the end. Hopefully he will react to the final 90 minutes once it’s released. What a journey. Now, I really feel like I need to rewatch the entire show over again.

[isuggestdistortion]

Really important question. What’s the best way to distort somebody. Like what’s some great build up, I’m making a campaign and I need to give my four campaigners the horrors.

Ooh! I actually have a lot to say about this one!

There really isn't a "best way" to distort someone, since the experience is highly dependent on the individual and their circumstances, but I'll try and offer some guidance, since that's what I'm best at :)

General Advice

Setup and Payoff

Something incredibly important not just to a dramatic reveal, or climactic moment (like, say, someone distorting for example) but to any plot event in general is the concept of setup and payoff.

Basically, if you want to have a big moment, it has to be hinted at throughout the story beforehand. It especially needs to be hinted at towards the beginning of whatever arc it's relevant to.

[[CANTO 6 SPOILERS]]

For example, in mission 1 of Canto 6, Heathcliff has the lines "You've no idea how many times I imagined it, played it out in my head. Returning to that bloody manor, smashing every little thing in that place to bits until there is nothing left", immediately followed by "If I ever lose the plot and push myself to the brink of no return, I trust that one of you louts will pull me right out of it"

These lines are the setup to his eventual distortion towards the end of the canto, what he attempts to do after distorting, and the subsequent struggle to bring him back to his senses. One of the reasons it works so well is because it was hinted at like this. It didn't come out of nowhere.

[[END OF SPOILERS]]

Theme and Narrative

We can't talk about Distortion without talking about what it represents symbolically, narratively, and thematically.

Distortion represents an embrace of desire, and of the self. An acceptance of the Id, and rejection of the Ego (hey, those two psychology concepts sound a little familiar, don't they?)

It's a return to the purest, most primal form of humanity. To a time unburdened by the innumerable menutiae of the modern world that we humans were never designed to endure. That's part of the reason why it feels so freeing for those who partake in it.

For a character, it can mean an acceptance of their own fate or powerlessness, the embrace of a fervent desire, or a physical manifestation of their strongest emotions (anger, fear, sadness), or even a shattering of a worldview.

Its something that signifies that, at this moment, this character has lost everything, and the only solution is to give in to the parts of themselves they locked away in silence. Once they've had a taste of desire, it comes in like an unstoppable wave.

Knowing the Source Material

Also of great importance is knowing how distortion manifests in the source material, and how it's used in the context of its own world and narrative.

That, and knowing how it works from a rules perspective. The aura of pressure that surrounds a person when they distort, how they have that fun little conversation in their head, while everyone else only sees one side of it, the fact that the physical form and abilities of a distortion are often a direct representation of their desires, that sorta stuff.

Distorting NPCs

Make the Players Care

If you want to subject your players to the horror of an NPC distorting, the players have to not only have known the character before they distort, but will have to have grown attached to them as well.

Have the NPC show up on earlier story arcs before the arc where they're most prevalent. Have them help the players. Maybe they stumble across the party and help them out of a tough situation. Maybe theyre the ones to cheer the players up after a particularly sad moment. Maybe they're just fun to talk to, or they have meaningful conversations with the players about their journey.

Allow the players to really connect with the NPC. Maybe drop some hints here and there that something isn't quite right about them, or that they're trying to hide some sort of secret.

Once the players have grown attached, that's when the signs should start getting worse. Let the players experience the slow dawning realization of what's happening, and that it might already be too late. All the signs were there, how could they have never noticed them before?

Make the Players Lose Something

If you're feeling particularly evil, you can also make the loss of an NPC hurt even more by giving it direct in-game consequences.

Maybe they were a chef for the town, and their sudden absence means food is going to be more expensive for the party in the foreseeable future.

Maybe they were a shopkeeper, and now the players are going to have to find somewhere else to buy items.

Maybe they were a town guard, and now thst they're gone, there's not as many people left to defend the town from monsters, so more dangerous monsters start to surround the area.

You can even use this to justify an increase in difficulty over the course of the story. It can even give your players a new goal to work towards if they can't be saved, and if they can still be saved, it gives them a direct gameplay motivation to save them.

Distorting Player Characters

Communication

First off, if you want to have a player character distort, or think it could be interesting, talk to your players. Ask them what they like about the campaign, and what their plans are for their characters' arc.

Try to weave these into the story whenever you can, and talk with each player to make sure they're satisfied by their role in the story and how their character is developing. Also, ask if they have any new ideas, because a lot of the time, they will.

Ideally, a player will come to you and ask about how to implement a distortion into their character arc, but you can also mention it as a possibility to pique their interest.

The big thing though is that both the GM and the player should agree on how to handle something like a distortion in their arc. Never do anything major with a player's character without the ok from the player. Make a plan for how it's going to happen so it can be the best scene it can possibly be!

Secrets and Aftermath

Make a plan with the player about what they want the aftermath to be like. Do they want distortion to be the end of that character, with them dying distorted as the finale to their arc? Do they want to become a boss for the players to face? Do they want the players to be able to save them and pull them out of their distorted state? Plan the ending with them in advance.

And don't be afraid to be secretive. Keep the huge reveal just between you and that one player so the rest of the party can be shocked and fully immersed in the moment when it comes. Using DMs to communicate secrets to individual players is always a valuable tool in this regard.

The Moment of Truth

Crisis

Now we get to the actual scene. Distortion starts with a mental break and/or low point for a character. Even without what's to come, whatever just happened is something that would be enough to do lasting psychological damage to the person who's about to distort.

A Voice

The character starts hearing a voice in their head. Hearing any sort of voice would utterly terrify them, but something about it just feels almost natural. It's as if this calm, patient, and understanding voice is a sign that everything is going to be ok. It's that of someone who cares when no one else will, one that wants to guide them to whatever they need above all else.

Memories

The character begins remembering the events that led them here, as the voice in the back of their mind expresses their sympathy. Its tone is almost curious, like it wants to learn all it can about your struggles so it can decide how best to care for you in this moment.

A Desire

The voice then asks a simple question. It asks what it is that you truly desire. You answer, and the voice makes it so.

Conclusion

Ok wow this was a long post, but it's something I genuinely love talking about so I hope you can find some good advice in here (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)

[eponastory]

Ah, Sarcastic Chorus...

Let's break down the 'I'm going to fix you' argument for Katara.

First off, no one can 'fix' anyone. Going into a relationship thinking you're going to change somebody and make them different is going to make that relationship bad. It's not necessarily toxic, but bad. Why? Because it's not your job to 'fix' the other person. The only one who can do that is the other person. You can only 'fix' yourself.

A lot of relationships fail because of these expectations.

I'm going to talk about fanfiction here for a moment since I've been writing a Zutara story. Since Zutara isn't Canon (but we really wish it was) and all, I only have what does happen in Canon and what happens in fanfiction tropes I see a lot.

In the show we get these wonderful little moments where Zuko and Katara are fighting each other (book one), and it sets a nice theme of opposites attract. The motifs are there with all the color symbolism... it's nice. That does immediately set our brains to 'oh they are so going to get together'. There are a lot of nuances to that, and it's lovely.

I'm not going to lie, Katara is in that group dynamic of 'The Heart' role, and yes, it does put a little pressure on her character to care for everyone. It's my least favorite role for a character and it's a bitch to write when you want that character to be independent.

Anyway, back to Katara. She's the mother figure, the caring and nurturing one that has to help everyone else sort out their problems while she has to internalize her own. It sucks. It really does. So when we get to TSR in Book 3 and she is practically berated by everyone for not acting like herself... she gets pissed, rightfully so because she had to help everyone else with their bullshit until Zuko finally joined. This is where Zuko becomes a foil for her.

Just to be clear, a foil is basically a character that encourages change to happen within a dynamic. It can be a group or a pairing. Usually, that character had opposite goals or a different personality. Zuko started out as the antagonist, but when he joined the Gaang, he's now a foil for the entire group.

Back to what I was saying... what was I saying? Oh yes!

So Katara is rightfully pissed because she needs to deal with her trauma when everyone is suddenly 'this isn't who you are'. No, this is exactly who she is. She is very much like her element. Water is fluid, it can be calm and it can be a torrent... which is exactly the way she is written. It's always been her, she just put everyone else's problems above her own. Now that she has to deal with her problems, it's chaotic for everyone else.

And yes, she does have survivors guilt.

That is her main problem, so now she has to deal with it. And Zuko gives her that chance.

This is getting pretty long, so I'll try to wrap everything up here.

Zuko doesn't need to be 'fixed' he's already done that himself by himself. Joining the Gaang was essentially a fresh start for him (I use that term lightly) which is why he is so awkward when he goes to talk to them at the Western Air Temple (or is it Eastern? I don't remember ahhhh. Fibro brain!) And it's so cute and I just want to hug him. I digress, but it's great.

He's got a shitty past, but he is trying to change himself even further by accepting responsibility for what he did to them individually. In Katara's case, he has to work hard for her. It's lovely, and the payoff is great. I know for sure that is what I see in their relationship. He cares so much about her that he works hard to win her trust again. Why? Because she showed him compassion in CoD, and that struck a chord in him. Her strength is her compassion when he was taught by his sociopathic narcissist father that emotions like that are a weakness.

That my dear Kat*angers is why we love this ship.

It's a beautiful dynamic between them that I would have loved to see Bryke explore, but they just gave us the most vanilla bland version of a romance they could find by pulling a D&B (Game of Thrones writers) and subverting expectations. It sucks.

TLDR version.

Katara doesn't have to fix Zuko.

[zhuoyichenpretty]

aww yeah ep 20 GOOD

I guess I do (very casual, broadstroke) episode commentaries now, halfway through the show lmao. Spoilers below!!

Bai Jiu BETRAYAL?

Wen Xiao WANTED?

Zhuo Yichen DETECTIVE-ING?

Ying Lei BACK?

*crowd cheers*

The dots are connecting like crazy with the big bad's whole inner core crusade and also with the simultaneous demon case like I did not recognize Ao Yin as the demon Li Lun first released eight years ago but oooh do I enjoy that minor payoff.

Love the repeated use of the demonic-spell-restraining sigils now that we've been introduced to them though I wonder why the Bureau doesn't ever seem to make use of them. Maybe they don't deal with enough powerful demons to need to paint those in their own (very empty) dungeon? Or perhaps just plot convenience. (edit: someone has pointed out the Bureau indeed uses them!! I'm just blind <3)

Anyway I kind of wish in the Chongwu Camp dungeon PSJ fought a little bc she's so cool in action and their bailing was a little abrupt, but it makes sense that they'd have an immediate getaway plan. Also this is an ep 19 comment but that line Mr. 3-Face Mask delivered about PSJ being fated to always be betrayed by her little brother(s) HURT. So good.

Back to the Bureau, I do love me a good framing, and I'm also happy to get a tiny bit of the episodic demon-murder-case style back. WX was v clever to hide out in Situ Mansion, and (small detail but) I appreciate that the others catch her up on the Bai Jiu thing onscreen. As an aside, I also like that the actress for WX got to be double-casted even just briefly. Seeing some of the actors get to play around with portraying various extremes in characterization and costuming is a ton of fun.

And then yay Bai Jiu backstory at last~! It's crazy how much that blood moon fucked up everyone's lives eight years ago huh.

Everything ZYC says to him is on point (and honestly, ZYC is really quite adept at comforting others, he just sucks utter ass at it when it's his fault and he has to apologize lmaooo) but of course my favorite scene in the whole episode is as follows:

The very slight shine in the waterline, the bittersweet smile/grimace as, deliberately or not, ZYC's words indirectly echo everything about the circumstances between the two of them right now??? Whew. They did that for me specifically.

Anyway, this was a good one to chew on for me, packed with plot movement enough that I didn't feel unsatisfied with just one episode. I'm glad that so far it seems like the release schedule bears in mind what episodes should be watched in pairs for maximum effect (eps 16/17, 18/19 specifically) and which ones are okay to stand alone for the day, but I also don't want to speak too soon haha. We'll see how ep 21 fares.

Also since this is a ZYC stan account (lmao) I have some obligatory ZYC thoughts that I haven't managed to fit anywhere else. I've been meaning to comment on this for a while now and was reminded by this episode: I love the fact that ZYC actually smiles quite often. I think it's a bit surprising every time he does because he so easily fits the archetype of stoic broody action hero, but it really is just an archetype he's fit himself into, and it's never clearer than when they flash back to smiley baby!ZYC (how freely and purely he used to give those smiles away...).

On the other side of this is also how caustic and biting he can be with his words, whether sarcastically or otherwise, and how clearly his face telegraphs his emotions in general. I love that he actually emotes quite a lot and isn't cold and unaffected in the least, just pouty frowny and awkward.

The last piece to this for me is probably his age (which I very much appreciated being established super early on) and how convincingly TJR portrays him as young and inexperienced and extremely earnest. He's so sincere in everything he does that it really doesn't take much to move him, which also (imo) makes his arc less overdone.

We all know from the start what direction his development will likely go, how he'll learn he's mistaken about ZYZ and how he'll grow to have a more nuanced view of the world as he creates more bonds with others. But he's so emotional and emotionally aware that it doesn't really take much push and pull to get him there. And actually, it's not untread ground to him—he is moreso thawing, in part returning to the open-hearted nature that he had to very abruptly shutter away rather than fundamentally changing as a person. I think to me, that makes his character more compelling to watch because his cynicism about the world is perhaps the least sincere thing about him. It's entirely learned, and not by choice. Relatable.