#real-time sentiment analysis

[precallai]

How AI Is Revolutionizing Contact Centers in 2025

As contact centers evolve from reactive customer service hubs to proactive experience engines, artificial intelligence (AI) has emerged as the cornerstone of this transformation. In 2025, modern contact center architectures are being redefined through AI-based technologies that streamline operations, enhance customer satisfaction, and drive measurable business outcomes.

This article takes a technical deep dive into the AI-powered components transforming contact centers—from natural language models and intelligent routing to real-time analytics and automation frameworks.

1. AI Architecture in Modern Contact Centers

At the core of today’s AI-based contact centers is a modular, cloud-native architecture. This typically consists of:

NLP and ASR engines (e.g., Google Dialogflow, AWS Lex, OpenAI Whisper)

Real-time data pipelines for event streaming (e.g., Apache Kafka, Amazon Kinesis)

Machine Learning Models for intent classification, sentiment analysis, and next-best-action

RPA (Robotic Process Automation) for back-office task automation

CDP/CRM Integration to access customer profiles and journey data

Omnichannel orchestration layer that ensures consistent CX across chat, voice, email, and social

These components are containerized (via Kubernetes) and deployed via CI/CD pipelines, enabling rapid iteration and scalability.

2. Conversational AI and Natural Language Understanding

The most visible face of AI in contact centers is the conversational interface—delivered via AI-powered voice bots and chatbots.

Key Technologies:

Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR): Converts spoken input to text in real time. Example: OpenAI Whisper, Deepgram, Google Cloud Speech-to-Text.

Natural Language Understanding (NLU): Determines intent and entities from user input. Typically fine-tuned BERT or LLaMA models power these layers.

Dialog Management: Manages context-aware conversations using finite state machines or transformer-based dialog engines.

Natural Language Generation (NLG): Generates dynamic responses based on context. GPT-based models (e.g., GPT-4) are increasingly embedded for open-ended interactions.

Architecture Snapshot:

plaintext

CopyEdit

Customer Input (Voice/Text)

       ↓

ASR Engine (if voice)

       ↓

NLU Engine → Intent Classification + Entity Recognition

       ↓

Dialog Manager → Context State

       ↓

NLG Engine → Response Generation

       ↓

Omnichannel Delivery Layer

These AI systems are often deployed on low-latency, edge-compute infrastructure to minimize delay and improve UX.

3. AI-Augmented Agent Assist

AI doesn’t only serve customers—it empowers human agents as well.

Features:

Real-Time Transcription: Streaming STT pipelines provide transcripts as the customer speaks.

Sentiment Analysis: Transformers and CNNs trained on customer service data flag negative sentiment or stress cues.

Contextual Suggestions: Based on historical data, ML models suggest actions or FAQ snippets.

Auto-Summarization: Post-call summaries are generated using abstractive summarization models (e.g., PEGASUS, BART).

Technical Workflow:

Voice input transcribed → parsed by NLP engine

Real-time context is compared with knowledge base (vector similarity via FAISS or Pinecone)

Agent UI receives predictive suggestions via API push

4. Intelligent Call Routing and Queuing

AI-based routing uses predictive analytics and reinforcement learning (RL) to dynamically assign incoming interactions.

Routing Criteria:

Customer intent + sentiment

Agent skill level and availability

Predicted handle time (via regression models)

Customer lifetime value (CLV)

Model Stack:

Intent Detection: Multi-label classifiers (e.g., fine-tuned RoBERTa)

Queue Prediction: Time-series forecasting (e.g., Prophet, LSTM)

RL-based Routing: Models trained via Q-learning or Proximal Policy Optimization (PPO) to optimize wait time vs. resolution rate

5. Knowledge Mining and Retrieval-Augmented Generation (RAG)

Large contact centers manage thousands of documents, SOPs, and product manuals. AI facilitates rapid knowledge access through:

Vector Embedding of documents (e.g., using OpenAI, Cohere, or Hugging Face models)

Retrieval-Augmented Generation (RAG): Combines dense retrieval with LLMs for grounded responses

Semantic Search: Replaces keyword-based search with intent-aware queries

This enables agents and bots to answer complex questions with dynamic, accurate information.

6. Customer Journey Analytics and Predictive Modeling

AI enables real-time customer journey mapping and predictive support.

Key ML Models:

Churn Prediction: Gradient Boosted Trees (XGBoost, LightGBM)

Propensity Modeling: Logistic regression and deep neural networks to predict upsell potential

Anomaly Detection: Autoencoders flag unusual user behavior or possible fraud

Streaming Frameworks:

Apache Kafka / Flink / Spark Streaming for ingesting and processing customer signals (page views, clicks, call events) in real time

These insights are visualized through BI dashboards or fed back into orchestration engines to trigger proactive interventions.

7. Automation & RPA Integration

Routine post-call processes like updating CRMs, issuing refunds, or sending emails are handled via AI + RPA integration.

Tools:

UiPath, Automation Anywhere, Microsoft Power Automate

Workflows triggered via APIs or event listeners (e.g., on call disposition)

AI models can determine intent, then trigger the appropriate bot to complete the action in backend systems (ERP, CRM, databases)

8. Security, Compliance, and Ethical AI

As AI handles more sensitive data, contact centers embed security at multiple levels:

Voice biometrics for authentication (e.g., Nuance, Pindrop)

PII Redaction via entity recognition models

Audit Trails of AI decisions for compliance (especially in finance/healthcare)

Bias Monitoring Pipelines to detect model drift or demographic skew

Data governance frameworks like ISO 27001, GDPR, and SOC 2 compliance are standard in enterprise AI deployments.

Final Thoughts

AI in 2025 has moved far beyond simple automation. It now orchestrates entire contact center ecosystems—powering conversational agents, augmenting human reps, automating back-office workflows, and delivering predictive intelligence in real time.

The technical stack is increasingly cloud-native, model-driven, and infused with real-time analytics. For engineering teams, the focus is now on building scalable, secure, and ethical AI infrastructures that deliver measurable impact across customer satisfaction, cost savings, and employee productivity.

As AI models continue to advance, contact centers will evolve into fully adaptive systems, capable of learning, optimizing, and personalizing in real time. The revolution is already here—and it's deeply technical.

[arolesbianism]

Everyday I see another youtube video or whatever say smth along the lines of "this character is badly written because they're unlikable/annoying/insert negative description here" and everyday I end up massively disappointed because I came here for analysis on the actual writing of a character not just a description of the feelings they made you experience

[technologyequality]

AI-Powered Brand Storytelling: How to Build Deep Emotional Connections

AI-Powered Brand Storytelling How to Build Deep Emotional Connections Let’s be real—people don’t fall in love with businesses. They fall in love with stories. If your brand messaging is all about features and pricing, you’re missing the point. People connect with the WHY behind your brand, not just the WHAT. And in today’s AI-driven world, storytelling isn’t just an art—it’s a science. We’ve…

[besttrading247]

Welcome to the Metaverse: Your Ultimate Asset Trading Guide

Welcome to the Metaverse: Your Ultimate Asset Trading Guide Hey there, fellow digital adventurer! 🤘 So you want to dive into the wild and wacky world of Metaverse asset trading, huh? Well, buckle up, because you’re in for a ride filled with virtual reality, sizzling pixels, and maybe a few cat videos (because who doesn’t love cats?). In this guide, we’re going to break down everything you need…

[sweetromanova]

Matching Napkins & Mixed Feelings🕊️

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: A story of a fake date with real chemistry and absolutely zero self control.

Word Count: 11k

Weddings were supposed to be happy.

Natasha Romanoff scowled at the cream-and-gold envelope like it had insulted her personally. Which, in a way, it had.

Natasha wasn’t sure what annoyed her more: the fact that everyone was going, or the fact that they were all excited about it.

The invitation had been couriered in a velvet-lined box, a typically extra touch from Tony, who had apparently gone full sentimental since his wedding to Pepper. Stark had insisted on hosting Wanda and Vision’s nuptials himself, at some sprawling manor house he owned in the Hamptons. Big enough to fit the entire SHIELD team, plus family, plus plus-ones.

That was the part Natasha kept getting stuck on.

‘You are warmly invited to join us for the weekend- rehearsal dinner Friday, ceremony Saturday, brunch Sunday. Formal attire. Plus-ones welcome!’

The words stared back at her from the heavy cardstock like a dare.

Everyone was talking about it. Clint was coming with Laura and their kids. Steve had RSVP’d “maybe” because apparently he was still awkward about parties and modern social norms. Sam had mentioned bringing a woman he’d been seeing, serious, apparently. Even Carol had raised an eyebrow and said, “Think I’ll ask Maria. She’s better at tuxes anyway.” And true to her word, the next time Natasha saw them they were planning on matching suits.

And Natasha? She had… no one. Which wasn’t tragic, just a little inconvenient. Because for all her sharp edges and hard-earned detachment, even she knew what it would look like when she showed up alone to a house full of love and champagne flutes. She didn’t need the stares or the nudges or the pity disguised as small talk.

Not to mention: if she had to listen to one more person ask. “So… who are you bringing?” She might snap.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The next morning, she was more in her head than she liked to admit. Her boots echoed through the sleek hallways of Stark Tower, a bitter coffee gripped loosely in one hand, the other tucking her hair back absently. She hadn’t slept. Her thoughts spun circles, rehearsing excuses, brushing off questions, imagining herself at the rehearsal dinner with an empty chair beside her and a glass of vodka she didn’t want.

Which is probably why she didn’t see you coming.

You stepped out of a side hallway with a tablet in one hand, reading something intently, just as Natasha rounded the corner.

The collision was minor. The spill was not.

Splash.

Dark liquid sloshed across your blouse, splattering your chest and neck in one fast, shocking second.

“Shit-“

You froze, flinching at the sudden heat.

Natasha swore under her breath and reached instinctively for a napkin tucked into her jacket. “Damn it. I didn’t see you. I’m sorry.”

You blinked, not out of fear, just processing the impact. Your shirt was soaked and your tablet was now dripping and beeping sadly.

“Well...” You said after a pause, “I guess I’m awake now.”

Natasha looked you over quickly, assessing but not in a threat analysis way. You were younger than her, dressed in business casual with a lanyard tucked into your jacket. She didn’t recognize your face and she always recognized people in this building.

“Do you work for Stark?” She asked, brows drawing together slightly.

You nodded, still dabbing at your shirt. “Marketing. Technically Pepper’s team. I do a lot of the external communications stuff. Press kits, campaigns, corporate fluff.”

“Figured.” Natasha said. “I know every face in this tower. Yours isn’t one of them.”

You raised a brow. “I’m new. Just finished onboarding last week. I guess you really do know everyone.”

“I make a point of it.”

The way she said it wasn’t bragging, just fact. You tilted your head slightly, as if seeing her with fresh eyes. “That’s… a little intense.”

“I’m a little intense.”

You laughed, not mocking but genuinely surprised. “Good to know.”

For a second, neither of you moved.

You were standing in a puddle of cooling coffee, your blouse stained and your morning derailed. But you didn’t look angry. If anything, you looked curious like she had just disrupted your day in a way you hadn’t been expecting and maybe didn’t mind.

“I should sort this-“ You excused. “New shirt, coffee bath, and my calendar’s erased itself. Great day.”

“I can call down for dry cleaning.” Natasha offered, already pulling out her phone. “Or get someone from facilities to grab you a spare shirt from the merch room.”

You shook your head, still smiling faintly. “It’s fine. I was overdue for chaos today anyway. Seriously, I’ll be fine.”

Natasha wasn’t used to this. Casual ease. Civilians who didn’t flinch. You didn’t try to make conversation or ask for a selfie, you just were. Steady, warm, smart-mouthed. A weird comfort she hadn’t expected on a Monday.

“No, please. The dry cleaning downstairs can have it washed and dried in 30 minutes.”

“That’s impressive.”

“And needed.” Natasha eyed your blouse, the brown stain almost bleeding further across the stark-white material. “And I’ll buy you a coffee for the trouble?”

“Aslong as I don’t have to wear it this time.”

You laughed softly, trying not to fidget too much in your damp shirt and followed the redhead as she turned and led you toward the elevator. You tried not to stare at the way she moved, efficient, confident, like she was wired tighter than everyone else in the building. There was no wasted motion. No small talk, either. She held silence like armour.

“Stark really has his own laundry service in the building?” You asked after a moment of silence, trying to fill the quiet.

Natasha glanced sideways, a trace of amusement in her voice. “This building has a quantum-powered smoothie bar. Laundry’s not the weirdest part.”

“Right. Forgot I work in sci-fi now.”

She actually smirked at that.

The laundry room was pristine, tucked down a narrow hallway you were sure wasn’t on any public floor plan. Matte steel machines lined the walls, humming softly, nothing clunky or coin-operated about them.

Natasha tapped in a short code at the touchscreen console and one of the machines slid open like a bank vault.

“Drop it in.” She said, nodding toward the opening.

You hesitated, eyeing your blouse. “Right. Should probably take it off.”

Natasha, already crouched by the control panel, paused. “Yeah.”

You started to unbutton it slowly, aware of her presence, but doing your best to play it cool. The fabric peeled away sticky and cold from your skin. You folded the shirt and passed it to her, now left standing in your bra. lacy, a soft lavender and probably not entirely office-appropriate.

You could feel her glance before she looked back at the machine, slipping your shirt inside like it hadn’t just gotten a little awkward.

“Timer’s set for twenty-eight minutes.” She smiled, her voice steady. “You’ll get it back warm.”

“Great.” You said lightly. Then added: “Just one problem.”

Natasha turned. You were hugging your arms over your chest now. “I didn’t exactly plan on stripping in front of the whole of SHIELD today, so I don’t have anything else to wear.”

For a beat, she didn’t say anything.

Then without ceremony, she reached for the hem of her long-sleeve black shirt and pulled it off in one motion.

You blinked. She was already holding it out to you. “Here.”

“Are you-“

“I’ve got a sports bra on. You don’t.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.

You took the shirt, trying not to stare at her bare shoulders, the faint glint of a scar along one collarbone. Her sports bra was simple and sleek. Functional.

Natasha Romanoff was all sharp lines and quiet edges. And yet, somehow, she was handing you a piece of herself like it didn’t matter at all.

You pulled it over your head. It was loose, warm, smelled faintly like cedar and something darker like wind after a storm. It covered you down past your hips.

She looked at you, nodded once then leaned against the counter, arms folded.

“So.” You smirked, not quite sure what to do with yourself. “How many coffee related injuries do you cause per week?”

Natasha’s mouth quirked. “You’re the first.”

“Well.” You gestured at your borrowed outfit. “Glad I could make an impression.”

That pulled the smallest smile from her, a ghost of something wry and curious.

And just like that, the silence between you didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

“I still owe you a coffee.”

“Lead the way.”

Ten minutes later, you were seated across from her in the sleek Stark Tower café, far less flashy than expected, tucked into a glass alcove overlooking Midtown. It was quiet this time of day and your coffee order had come out faster than it should’ve. You suspected Natasha had something to do with that.

“You know…” You said, cupping your hands around the mug. “I expected you to be way scarier.”

Natasha leaned back slightly, one brow raised. “Disappointed?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “Not sure yet.”

She let out a low laugh, barely audible but real. “You’ve got guts.”

“And caffeine.”

“Same thing.”

There was a comfortable beat of silence as you sipped. You weren’t sure how this had happened, being here, sitting across from her but you weren’t about to question it. Not when the tension had softened into something almost easy. Almost fun.

Natasha was watching you. Not obviously, not unkindly but carefully. Like she was trying to figure out what box to put you in. You weren’t sure she’d found one yet.

“So.” She said finally. “What were you doing in that hallway anyway? Not just wandering around looking to catch flying coffee cups, right?”

You smiled. “Helping Pepper with some last-minute wedding planning.”

That earned a groan. You couldn’t tell if it was dramatic or genuine.

You grinned. “What?”

“She’s been in a spreadsheet induced spiral for three days.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen the color-coded seating charts.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Of course she color-coded.”

“She color-coded by personality type.” You added, with a smirk.

She stared at you, deadpan. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

You both laughed and for a moment it felt like you’d known her longer than thirty minutes.

“Why the face?” You asked, stirring your coffee idly. “You groaned at the word ‘wedding’ like someone was threatening you.”

She hesitated, just long enough for you to notice.

“It’s not really my thing.” She shrugged. “Big groups. Matching napkins. PDA. Plus-ones.”

You raised your brows. “Don’t like a good open bar?”

“I like vodka.” She countered. “I don’t like pity small talk from married people asking me why I’m alone.”

“Wow.” You said, deadpan. “Whoever asked you that must have a death wish.”

“They were brave. And drunk. Didn’t last long.”

You laughed, fully this time, a rich, bright sound that made her glance up again, this time without the usual walls behind her eyes.

“Well…” You said lightly. “I also hate matching napkins and PDA. I’m also being a loner this weekend and every other weekend.”

Natasha tilted her head, amused. “Are you offering to be my plus-one?”

You shrugged with a grin. “I mean, I wasn’t but I’d be happy to be of service. Besides don’t I owe you for the courageous offer of your shirt so I wouldn’t flash government officials.”

“Pretty sure I owe you.”

You sipped your coffee. “Exactly. I’m repaying a debt. Like some kind of marketing department damsel in distress.”

Natasha considered you for a long moment then set her cup down.

“…Alright.”

You blinked. “Wait. Really?”

“You basically offered.”

“Yeah but-“

“And I accepted.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. “Wow. I didn’t think that would actually work.”

Her lips twitched. “You said it yourself, you’re free this weekend.”

You tried to look nonchalant and failed completely. “Guess I am.”

Natasha picked up her cup again. “Good. Then pack something formal. Stark weddings are never subtle.”

“Noted.”

Another beat passed. This time, the silence felt like static, charged, not quite flirty, not quite serious. You broke it with a grin.

“So… is there a dress code or expectations for being an Avenger’s fake date?”

Natasha didn’t blink. “Don’t die.”

You raised your cup in a toast. “I’ll do my best.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Your phone buzzed while you were packing.

Unknown Number:

Send a pic of the dress.

You blinked then stared at the text for a second too long.

Well, that wasn’t ominous.

You texted back immediately.

You:

Bold of you to assume I’d be into anonymous dress kinks.

But sure, what are you wearing?

It only took a second before a reply came through.

Unknown Number:

It’s Natasha.

Shut up.

You grinned, already halfway laughing.

You:

Ohhhh well in that case? Still no.

You’ll see it at the wedding. I like the dramatic reveal.

Three dots appeared… then vanished. Then again.

Natasha:

Why are you being weird?

You:

You asked for a picture of my outfit like a sugar daddy? What’s the protocol here?

Do I send you feet pics too?

Across the city, in her apartment, Natasha stared at her phone with the dead-eyed expression of someone questioning every decision that had led her here.

Then, finally.

Natasha:

Just tell me the colour.

You chewed your lip, fighting a smirk, then typed.

You:

Technically? It’s ‘shadowed evergreen with cool ash undertones and a satin twilight finish’

Ten seconds of silence.

Natasha:

What the hell does that mean?!

You:

It means it’s a very sexy forest🫶

Natasha:

That’s all you had to say at the beginning.

Also that’s not a colour.

You:

You asked.

Don’t get snippy just because you don’t understand fashion.

Another pause.

Natasha:

...Is it short?

You felt your heart skip once, just once then smiled as you typed back.

You:

Wouldn’t you like to know?

It’s fitted. High slit. Low back.

You’ll manage.

Natasha:

You’re enjoying this.

You:

You asked.

Natasha:

I regret it.

You:

You’ll regret it more when you see me.

Try not to let it become a problem.

Natasha:

What I regret not leaving you soaked in coffee.

You:

Two more days and you can have a do-over with champagne…

Three dots. No reply.

You pictured her somewhere in her minimalistic apartment, tossing her phone onto the couch and muttering something Russian under her breath.

It made you grin harder than you wanted to admit.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The trees were thinning out ahead of them, tall pines giving way to the manicured gravel drive that wound toward Stark’s Hamptons estate. But the car ride still had time to stretch, twenty more minutes of shared space and too much quiet.

You shifted in your seat and glanced over at Natasha, arms on the wheel, eyes fixed on the blur outside the window. She looked like a statue someone had wrapped in black silk.

“We should probably get our story straight.” You commented, putting your phone down and turning towards her.

She blinked, just once then looked at you. “What story?”

“How we met.” You gave her a shrug and a crooked smile. “We’re supposed to be dating, remember? People are going to ask.”

Natasha made a face like she’d just remembered she agreed to something ridiculous. “Can’t we just say we matched on some app, I spilled coffee on you, which I did and kept it vague?”

“That’s your fantasy origin story?” You teased. “You spill coffee on my shirt and you’re like Better take this one to a wedding.’”

“I’ve done dumber things.”

You laughed. “Okay, fine. Let’s workshop it.”

She sighed and leaned back into the leather. “Alright. Shoot.”

You held up an imaginary notepad. “Option one: You saved my life during a corporate hostage situation. You fell for me literally, as crawled through the air vents.”

She looked at you flatly. “Pass. Also you work for Stark, I think he’d know if there was a hostage situation with his employees.”

“I work with Pepper and can say Stark doesn’t even know what time to shower unless Pepper tells him. Anyway, no problem.” You grin. “Option two. We were seated next to each other on a red-eye. You stole my pretzels. We fought. Then we made out somewhere over Nebraska.”

Her expression didn’t change but her lip twitched. “That one’s better.”

“Thought so.”

“But I don’t take red eyes. I have a quinjet.”

“Ok, show off.”

“What else have you got?”

“The boring kind. Meet cute in the supermarket? Friend of a friend set us up on a blind date? I stalked you like a weirdo fan.”

“The last one!”

“Of course you’d say that.”

“It’s realistic.”

“Not quite, I’m more of a Wanda fan.”

“She’s getting married, tough.”

“Only because she hasn’t met me yet.”

“You’re so-“

“I know.” Natasha went quiet, not in anger but admiration, she’d met her match.

She was quiet for a moment, then said. “So what’s your real type? Since we’re lying to each other.”

You looked out the window. “Hopeless romantic. The usual.”

“Fairy tales. Flowers. Making eye contact during sex?”

“Exactly.”

She snorted. “You don’t strike me as the hearts and roses type.”

You smiled, a little softer now. “I don’t believe in love. I just like pretending it’s real.”

That made her glance at you again, properly this time.

You added. “It’s like horoscopes. Bullshit but comforting.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Then: “I hate love.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Hate’s a strong word.”

“So’s ‘forever.’”

“Touché.”

“I like what love pretends to be.” She shrugged. “But love itself? Messy. Manipulative. Weak.”

You didn’t push. Just nodded. “So what do you believe in?”

Natasha stared out the window again.

“Control.” She deadpanned. “Chemistry. Sex.”

“Ah.” You said, biting back a grin. “The holy trinity.”

She finally smiled, crooked, deliberate. “At least I’m honest about it.”

You shrugged, settling into your seat. “Alright then. New origin story? We met at a bar. You said something cold. I said something stupid. Then we slept together. And just… kept doing it.”

“That…” Natasha said, eyes still forward, “…is the most believable thing you’ve said all day.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The car pulled up to the Stark estate, all towering stone archways and elegant glass, an estate that looked like it had been custom-built to host emotionally complicated billionaires and superhero weddings.

Natasha stepped out first, looking entirely unbothered. She wore a smart-casual line shirt tucked neatly into lightweight black dress pants, sleeves pushed just enough to show her forearms. Her sunglasses sat low on her nose, her expression unreadable.

Effortless. Controlled. Of course she looked good.

You followed her out of the car, brushing your palms over the fabric of your summer dress, a soft floral number, simple and light. It was the least daring of the dresses you’d packed for the weekend. You weren’t easing into things. You were pacing yourself.

Her eyes flicked over you, unreadable.But her fingers brushed your lower back as you stepped up beside her.

Instinct? Acting? You weren’t sure. Neither was she.

Inside, the front room was alive with voices, laughter, clinking glass and the full roster of Avengers in various states of casual travel attire. Sam, Carol, Maria, Clint, Tony, Steve and Bucky, all circling round the reception.

All eyes went to you and Natasha the moment the door closed behind you.

“Romanoff brought a date.” Sam said, mock-scandalised.

Carol blinked. “Wait, seriously? You weren’t kidding?”

Maria nudged her. “Let her get a drink first, damn!"

Natasha just raised an eyebrow like this was nothing new.

You smiled, stepped closer, and casually slid your hand into hers. She didn’t flinch or pull away. Just laced her fingers with yours like she’d done it a thousand times.

Pepper spotted you across the room and froze. “Wait- What?!”

You grinned. “Hi, boss.”

“I- I- How did I not know about this?”

Natasha answered smoothly. “We’re very discreet.”

“I work with both of you.”

“Exactly.” Natasha added, stepping in close to your side, her hand still warm in yours. “She only visits me after hours.”

“Please stop.” Pepper muttered.

“We met after work.” You explained. “At a bar… we didn’t know at first. A few drinks and Natasha was all charming but just so so broody-“

“Then we slept together.” She finished flatly, cutting you off.

Sam snorted into his drink. “Okay. I like this story. Let’s go back, don’t spare any details.”

“We’ve been inseparable ever since.” You smile, cuddling up against her side like it was second nature.

Natasha’s arm instinctively wrapped around your waist.

She gave you a sideways glance, low and amused. “That’s funny. Because someone didn’t text me back for three days.”

“I was playing hard to get.” You said, nudging her. “You liked it.”

“You were ghosting me.”

“I was thinking!” You turned to Pepper. “She’s so clingy.”

“I left for a mission.” Natasha said, deadpan.

“Exactly. Clingy and mysterious.”

“Please. You begged me to take you home.”

“Well maybe because your flirting was so bad, someone had to do something about it!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so unemotionally available to talk to!”

“I was not!”

“No, she’s right. She wasn’t…” Natasha’s hand slid a little lower on your back. “She cried after sex.”

“I did not-“

Maria burst out laughing. Sam actually gasped. Pepper covered her mouth.

You gasped, indignant. “You said I was the best you ever had!”

“I say that to everyone.”

You slapped her arm lightly but enough to earn a subtle smirk in return.

“Can we get our keys before I commit a public murder?” You asked sweetly.

Pepper, still recovering, handed over a sleek black envelope. “Second floor. Shared suite. Far end of the east wing.”

“I hope the bed’s big, we need a big enough one to fit her ego.” Natasha said, locking eyes with you.

You didn’t blink. “So do I, you snore like a pig.”

Natasha just smiled. “You’ll be too busy crying after sex again to notice.”

The whole room groaned.

As you tugged Natasha toward the stairs, hand still in hers, you leaned in and whispered. “Bet you’re not used to being out-charmed in your own games.”

Natasha just squeezed your hand and muttered under her breath, low and amused. “Game’s still on.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The suite was exactly what you’d expect from a Stark estate, bigger than most apartments, with sleek wood floors, modern furniture and a full glass wall that overlooked the trees outside. One kingsized bed sat against the far wall, all clean lines and crisp sheets, like every other part of the estate, nothing out of place.

Natasha walked in first, tossing her jacket on a chair, already scanning the place like she was expecting it to self destruct.

You followed behind her and dropped your bag on the bed closest to the window.

“So.” You said, eyeing the space. “Do you want the side near the door so you can make a quick escape or shall I take that one and make things interesting?”

She glanced at you with that unreadable look. “You were projecting down there, you're the one who snores. I can tell.”

“Wow. Judgy.”

“You talk in your sleep too.”

“Oh so now you’re just fantasising.”

She let out a short breath, maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh. Hard to tell. Then she said: “Rehearsal dinner starts in thirty. Don’t be late.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying you want to match outfits or?”

But she’d already disappeared into the bathroom, and the door shut behind her with a soft click.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You changed into one of the nicer dresses you’d brought not the showstopper, that was for the ceremony but the second-best one. Fitted, with a complicated strappy back, a deep neckline and a stunning shade of red that didn’t just draw the eye, it demanded attention and held it hostage.

You were just putting in earrings when Natasha emerged.

She’d traded the linen for something sharper. Dark, tailored, open collar. A suit jacket this time, no tie. Hair in loose waves, something nobody saw often with a few braids scattered.

She stopped when she saw you. Just for a second.

And then she said. “That’s the second least daring dress you packed?”

You smirked. “I told you I was pacing myself.”

She tilted her head, eyes dragging over the length of you. “You pace like you’re trying to kill someone slowly.”

“And you look like someone who doesn’t believe in foreplay.”

“Only with people who’ve earned it.”

You stuttered out a laugh, caught off guard but you’d never give her the pleasure of knowing that. “Let’s go, there’s a champagne glass with my name on it.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The rehearsal dinner was already in full swing by the time you reached the main hall, tall ceilings, string lights overhead and a long banquet table running the length of the room. Waitstaff circled with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Soft jazz floated in from a live trio in the corner.

Wanda spotted you immediately and lit up. She hugged Natasha first, quick and surprisingly warm then turned to you.

“And you must be…” Wanda’s eyes sparkled.

“Trouble.” You finished, smiling.

Wanda laughed. “I like her.”

"How are you feeling?"

"Nervous, excited. The wedding is this easy part, it's keeping up wit this spectacle Stark forced on us."

You mingled easily. More easily than Natasha expected, judging by the way her gaze kept flicking toward you from across the room.

You weren’t loud. You weren’t fake. But you were good.

Polite. Political. Smart. The kind of person who answered nosy questions with grace and just enough mischief to keep them guessing.

“I work in marketing for Stark Industries.” Natasha overheard you say once, hand resting lightly on someone’s arm. “Which means I lie for a living but only beautifully.”

You handled Clint with charm, Bruce with kindness, and Carol with so much wit that Maria had to hide her grin behind a champagne glass.

You even made Tony pause.

“Who is she?” He asked Natasha at one point, halfway through a glass of scotch. “She works for me?!”

Natasha didn’t answer, just watched you from across the room.

You caught her eye once and held it. And smiled like you knew something she didn’t.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Wanda stood near the fireplace, her glass of wine barely touched. She watched Natasha across the room, now alone, swirling a drink slowly in her hand. The corner of her mouth twitched.

She walked over.

“I like her.” She said softly, without preamble.

“She’s good at pretending.” Natasha didn’t look up. There was no point in lying to a literal mind reader.

Wanda smiled. “That wasn’t pretend.”

“She’s charming. It’s a skill.”

“Maybe. But she wasn’t the one pretending tonight.”

Natasha glanced at her then, sharp, neutral. “You reading me now Maximoff?”

“I don’t have to.” Wanda said, swirling her wine. “You wear it like perfume."

“Wear what?”

“The way you look at her.” Wanda said, her voice velvety smooth. “Like she’s a loaded weapon you’re hoping never gets aimed at you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “She’s not a threat."

Wanda tilted her head. “Exactly.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Wanda added, low and knowing, “She wants you. And you’re trying so hard not to want her back, it’s practically screaming.”

Natasha’s jaw flexed.

“I can help you lie to everyone else.” Wanda said gently, stepping back. “But not yourself.”

And with that, she slipped away, leaving Natasha standing in the amber-lit room, silent, glass still in hand.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The rehearsal dinner had finally wound down, the last glasses of champagne drained and someone, probably Clint, caught trying to sneak dessert into a napkin for later.

The suite was dim when you returned. You kicked off your shoes, sighing like you’d just survived a battlefield. In a way, you had.

Natasha followed you in, quiet as ever, closing the door behind her.

“So?” You asked as you started to undo the copious amount of jewellery that adorned your body. “How did I do?”

There was a pause.

“You’re terrifyingly good at this.”

You grinned, stepping towards her and turning, gesturing towards the zip. “Told you I lie beautifully.”

Her hands shook as she pulled down the zip, watching more and more skin appear, the curve of a shoulder, the dip of her spine, each inch undoing her composure like thread unraveling in slow motion.

“Done.” She croaked out, immediately clearing her throat after.

“Thanks.” You smiled, holding up the dress with your left hand, disappearing into the bathroom, hearing a sigh of relief behind you.

When you came back out, you were in an oversized tee, bare legs, no makeup and smelling of a mix of vanilla and coconut. You looked casual but soft. Natasha had already stripped down to a tank top and loose joggers, sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through something on her phone like she wasn’t hyper-aware of you.

You walked over and flopped down beside her.

And the second your weight hit the mattress, her eyes flicked to yours. “I can take the sofa.”

“I think we’re a little past pretending we’re that polite,” You told her, pulling your legs up and stretching out beside her. “Besides, I don’t bite.”

Her lips curled slightly. “That’s disappointing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t if provoked.”

She didn’t look away. “Noted.”

And just like that, neither of you moved, the bed suddenly feeling too big and way too small at the same time.

You turned off the bedside light.

And in the dark, your voices felt quieter. Closer.

You rolled onto your side, your arm brushing hers. “Don’t worry. I don’t kick or snore or talk in my sleep. No matter how much you insist I do.”

“Great.”

“But I do cuddle.”

“Immediately no.”

“I can’t help it. I’m like a koala bear.”

“Yeah well I’m like a polar bear so don’t try it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You mumbled tiredly. “Big, scary, dangerous assassin. I could do some damage too, you know?”

“Oh yes, I’m so scared of the biting, cuddle threatening koala that knows all things marketing, how will I ever escape colour coded files and manipulative email- OW.”

“I told you I bite.” You simply murmured, watching through lidded eyes as she rubbed her arm where your teeth sank.

“You are insane.”

“I must be to be here right now.”

“Go to sleep.”

“You really do have a thing about control.”

“And you really like pretending that doesn’t interest you.”

You smiled into the dark. “Just trying to understand the rules of the game.”

“There aren’t any.”

You let that hang between you for a moment, the silence heavier than it should be.

“Sweet dreams Natasha.”

She didn’t respond but she didn’t roll away, either.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You felt her move before you heard her, the shift of weight on the mattress, the whisper of sheets, the near-silent sound of feet hitting the floor.

Natasha never really slept, not the way most people did. It was more like she paused… reset. Eyes still closed, you heard her zip something up, then the faint creak of the door opening.

Of course she would run more miles than you could count on both hands before a wedding like it was any other day.

You didn’t move. Just let the door click shut behind her and sank a little deeper into the pillow, the scent of her shampoo still clinging to the sheets beside you.

By the time she returned, you were out of bed, hair half-styled, robe cinched loosely at your waist, mascara in hand and one earring in.She stepped inside, sweat-slick and infuriatingly calm, like her pulse had never spiked.

Her eyes flicked over you, bare legs, flushed cheeks, one slipper on.

“Morning.” You grinned, like it wasn’t completely unfair how good she looked post-run.

She nodded once. “You start getting ready without me?”

“I figured you wouldn’t need help getting dressed.”

Her gaze lingered a second longer than necessary.

“You’d be surprised.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Is that a request?”

“Not yet.”

And just like that, she disappeared into the bathroom — leaving you there, smiling into your second earring like this wasn’t building toward something inevitable.

The sound of running water humming to life seconds later. You stared at yourself in the mirror, hair nearly finished, makeup done, skin still warm from the hair appliance and nerves.

Then you turned to the dress. That dress.

That deep shade of green, open back, structured yet slinky all at once. You’d worn it in theory before when you described it to her via text and she acted unimpressed.

But now it was real.

You stepped into it slowly, carefully adjusting the fabric where it hugged your hips, smoothing it over your thighs. The straps fell into place across your shoulders, fabric twisting at the bottom of your back in delicate, purposeful chaos.

The zipper was halfway up when the bathroom door opened

You didn’t turn around.

“Romanoff?” You called over your shoulder, playing it casual.

A pause, a few footsteps. She didn’t answer, not right away.

You reached behind you, fingers fumbling at the zipper.

“Can you help?”

A moment of silence followed before a few footsteps again. Slower this time.

She came up behind you, close enough that you could feel her body heat before she even touched you. You caught her reflection in the mirror, damp hair swept back, skin still flushed from the shower, eyes locked on the open expanse of skin down your spine.

Her fingers brushed the small of your back, just once. Then found the zipper.

She pulled it up slowly, carefully, dragging the fabric into place with the kind of precision that felt practiced. Mechanical. Except her touch lingered a second too long at the top, fingertips brushing your skin before dropping away.

You exhaled. “Thanks.”

Natasha’s voice came quiet behind you. “You were right.”

You blinked. “About what?”

She met your eyes in the mirror.

“That dress is a problem.”

“I could take it off if it’s going to cause problems.”

She didn’t flinch, just tilted her head, lips curving slightly. “You’ll have to behave yourself at dinner. We’re with the team.”

“Oh, I won’t.” You said, brushing past her on the way to the bathroom. “But it’ll look polite.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The ceremony was beautiful. Wanda glowed. Vision looked like he’d downloaded five separate wedding manuals and still managed to look overwhelmed.

You and Natasha sat close, too close in the front row. Her knee bumped yours once. You didn’t move. When the bride walked down the aisle, you leaned in just enough, your voice low, words almost too casual.

“Is it wildly inappropriate to admit I’ve been undressing the officiant with my eyes for the last ten minutes?”

Natasha choked on her breath and tried to cover it with a quiet cough.

“Unbelievable.” She muttered. “She’s at least double your age, if not triple.”

"She’s giving such divorced professor who teaches ethics but definitely doesn’t follow them energy.”

Natasha blinked. “What is wrong with you?”

You shrugged, sipping your drink. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a type. Emotionally distant women with sharp tongues and commitment issues.”

Her jaw ticked. “Charming.”

You glanced at her. “Takes one to know one.”

You’d never seen her look more alive than when she was trying not to smirk in public.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Later, at the reception, the two of you drifted between conversations, hands brushing, fingers ghosting over the backs of chairs, subtle glances exchanged across champagne flutes. Your act was flawless. But something was cracking at the edges.

Natasha watched you laugh at something Sam said and looked away too fast.

You caught her watching and smiled like you’d caught her red-handed.

At one point, Tony stood up, scotch in hand, eyes already a little too glassy and tapped his fork against his glass like he was hosting an awards show.

“Alright, alright.” He grinned. “I’m invoking a sacred wedding tradition.”

Groans went up across the long room.

“Oh, shut up. I’m being romantic.” Tony insisted. “To celebrate love, passion, mutual tax benefits, all the lovers in the room, grab your partner and kiss ‘em.”

You and Natasha exchanged a look across your wine glasses, a perfect mix of horror and absolutely not.

Then, in unison, you both made a very quiet, very dry fake gagging sound. It was subtle. Synchronized. Discreet enough for dignity.

Until you looked up and realised everyone else was actually doing it. Lips meeting. Hands on cheeks. Some modest, some… very much not from those who had indulged in a glass of champagne too many.

You froze. Natasha went unnaturally still beside you.

And then, of course. “Don’t be shy, Romanoff!”

Sam called across the table, raising his glass with a grin. “We know it ain’t your first time.”

The whole table turned.

Carol looked way too amused. Bucky raised an eyebrow. Even Pepper was watching with the kind of polite curiosity that made it worse.

You turned slowly toward Natasha.

She didn’t say anything, just arched a single brow.

You cleared your throat, leaned in slightly. “Well…” You murmured. “…you did say we were committed to the bit.”

“I said I was committed, not an exhibitionist.” She gave you a once over, slow and unreadable. “Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

And then, with every eye on you, she leaned forward.

One hand rested on your thigh beneath the table, grounding. The other found the edge of your jaw, fingers light.

She kissed you.

Not quick. Not hesitant. Not entirely performative.

Just long enough to hush the room. Just slow enough to register.

And then she pulled back, face impassive like she hadn’t just lit your entire nervous system on fire.

“Better?” She said quietly, looking around the table.

Sam raised both eyebrows. “Well damn.”

You reached for your wine without a word, mostly to hide your smile.

Natasha’s thumb brushed your knee before she let go.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

After dinner, music picked up. Lights dimmed. Someone tried to drag Natasha to the dance floor. She muttered something about bruised toes and melted into the shadows, only to appear beside you five minutes later with two glasses of wine.

You took yours and clinked gently against hers.

“To fake love.” You said.

“To real chemistry.” She replied. You didn’t break eye contact.

And for a moment, nothing existed beyond the space between your knees brushing under the table, her gaze flicking to your mouth and that magnetic pull that had stopped being part of the performance sometime around… yesterday.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You didn’t drag her to the dance floor. Not really.

You just walked up behind her during some slow jazz instrumental and held out a hand without looking like she’d already agreed.

Natasha gave you a flat look then sighed like it pained her and followed you out anyway.

She didn’t dance, not properly. She shifted her weight, let you twirl lazily in front of her, arms loose around your waist like she was making sure you didn’t trip. You teased her about her rhythm. She muttered something about ‘former assassins not being trained for ballroom etiquette’.

“Yeah but you’re holding me like you’ve done this before.” You said under your breath.

She didn’t deny it.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You ended up back at the table after a few too many wedding cocktails. Natasha stretched out beside you, one ankle crossed over the other, wine glass spinning slowly between her fingers.

Bucky was mid story when you casually dropped. “Oh, Nat? She told me when we first met that she’d have left if I’d ordered a mojito.”

“She did what?” Clint asked.

“Swear to God.” You said. “It was the mint. Apparently it’s weak.”

Natasha didn’t blink. “You told the bartender you wanted a cocktail that ‘tastes like a vacation and a bad decision.’”

You nodded proudly. “And you stayed.”

“I was bored.” She drawled. “And you were wearing that backless thing. I was curious how it came off.”

Carol spit her drink.

You just raised your glass and said. “So I won.”

“I meant to ask earlier…” Sam trailed off. “How hard were the new agents coming at you? Your arm is a mess.”

Natasha frowned, looking at where Sam had pointed and saw exactly what he meant. The smirk immediately appeared, her voice teasing. “That's not from the agents."

“Oh.” The fake couple saw the realisation set in. “OH!”

“Sorry.” You shrugged, brushing your knuckles against the blossoming bruise.

“You two are something else. Remind me to thank Pepper for putting my room the hell away from yours!”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You volunteered to get the tequila. Seemed fair since Natasha had endured dancing, your relentless one-upping and two rounds of you using her as a human shield to avoid sentimental speeches. A round of shots felt like a peace offering.

The bar was busy. You leaned against the counter, waiting for the bartender, when someone slid up beside you.

Tall. Confident. Overconfident. Drunk.

You clocked the energy before he opened his mouth.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” He sneered, eyes flicking down your dress in a way that made your skin crawl. “You here with someone?”

You gave him a polite smile. “Yeah. My girlfriend.”

“Yeah?” He grinned. “Where is she?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Somewhere very close.”

He laughed like that meant something else entirely. “You sure she wouldn’t want to share?”

You blinked. “I’m gay.”

He leaned in a little. “That’s because you’ve never tried me…”

You opened your mouth, not entirely sure what you were going to say when a voice slid in behind you, smooth and cold.

“She has.”

You turned slightly, and there was Natasha. Calm, unreadable, dangerous in that effortless way she carried herself. Her arm slid around your waist, her other hand casually taking the shot tray from the bar like this was all completely ordinary.

“She’s not interested.” She said, her voice low but sharp enough to cut glass.

The guy didn’t take the hint.

He gave her a slow once over, cocky grin in full force. “What, you speak for her now?”

Natasha’s smile turned razor edged. “When you stop listening? Yeah.”

He laughed, short and loud like he thought he was still in control. “You got attitude. Bet you’re a real bitch in bed.”

You felt Natasha’s body shift beside you. The hand on your waist tightened, just slightly, not for show this time but restraint.

She stepped in, slow and deliberate, her mouth right near his ear. “I’ve killed men for less than what just came out of your mouth.”

He pulled back, startled, blinked like he’d just realized he was speaking to the Natasha Romanoff.

“Now baby…” Natasha said, her voice smooth as silk but still humming with the edge that made your heart pound. “Are you ready to go back to the table?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve grabbed the tray of tequila and made a joke, rolled your eyes, kept the game going like nothing happened.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stared at her, flushed, breath tight, stomach doing somersaults and before you could second guess it, you stepped in.

And kissed her. Not for show. Not for the team. Not to out-do anyone. Just because she was so hot it physically hurt.

Because her voice in your ear, her hand on your waist, the look on her face when she threatened that man like it was just another Tuesday, it short circuited your good sense. The kiss was firm, deliberate, a little reckless. You felt her inhale sharply through her nose, like you’d surprised her and maybe you had.

But she didn’t pull away or laugh or joke or make it part of the bit.

Her hand came up, thumb brushing your cheek as her mouth moved with yours, just once. And the team lost their minds somewhere in the distance.

“Holy shit.”

“Okay, damn.”

“YES, NATASHA!”

You barely heard them. You were too busy clinging to the edge of breath.

Then she pulled back, barely, her eyes somehow darker than before. 

“Now I’m ready.” You breathed, pupils blown. 

“Good girl.” She murmured quietly, taking your hand in her spare one and pulling you back to the table.

And just like that, you knew you were in trouble.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

By the time the last round of drinks hit the table, you were both quieter. Not tired but full of whatever this was now. Charged. Loosened. Buzzing.

The kisses, plural now, had come and gone. One from Tony’s toast. One you initiated because she’d said baby like that.

But neither of you had really recovered.

Natasha was sitting too close, thigh pressed to yours under the table, hand resting dangerously high on your knee. Her arm wrapped around the back of your chair and her fingers running up and down the skin of your arm. At one point, you leaned in to say something and didn’t pull back. Her lips brushed your jaw like it was an accident. It wasn’t.

You fed her a lime slice with your fingers. She licked the juice off and smirked when you stared.

You said goodnight to the team, barely got the words out between half-laughs and flustered smiles.

Natasha didn’t say anything. She just stood when you did and followed. Her hand landed on your lower back like it had every right to be there.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The hallway was quiet, carpet soft beneath your heels and her presence behind you was heat.

You were laughing about something stupid, something she said in your ear that made you snort and nearly trip out of your heels. She caught your elbow automatically, steadying you, her fingers lingering. You didn’t step away.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You said without turning, your eyes a little glassy.

“I’m not looking at you.” She replied.

You could feel her looking at you.

“You’re bad at lying when you’ve had tequila.”

“I’m bad at pretending you’re not beautiful when you laugh like that.”

You stopped walking and turned to her. 

She nearly ran into you, didn’t bother stepping back. Just stared down at you with that half smile, half dare playing on her mouth.

Your voice came out a little breathless. “This isn’t part of the bit anymore, is it?”

Natasha’s gaze flicked between your eyes, her voice low. Honest.

“It hasn’t been for hours.” And then she kissed you. Not careful or playful or performative for the others.

It started soft, mouths brushing, testing but there was nothing uncertain about it. Her hand found your waist, pulled you flush and your breath hitched as you reached for her shirt like it might ground you. She broke the kiss for half a second. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to look at you.

Then her body pressed forward, backing you into the hallway wall with a clumsy, desperate kind of precision. Her mouth found yours again, messier this time, deeper and needier. 

One hand slid to the side of your neck, her thumb under your jaw, holding you there like she needed the contact. The other braced flat beside your head, trapping you in like she wasn’t giving you the option to think, let alone run.

You moaned into her mouth, surprised, maybe by how badly you wanted this. Somewhere between kisses, your hand fumbled for the key card. It slipped once. She cursed softly against your lips, took it from you and shoved it into the lock like she could break it open with willpower alone.

The door swung open. She guided you inside without looking. The room was dark, quiet, unfamiliar and none of it mattered.

You kissed her again, harder now. A laugh caught in her throat as you tugged at her blazer, fingers sliding beneath the hem. She turned you, walked you backwards blindly until your knees hit the edge of the bed.

Somewhere in the dark, her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I do.” Your answer was instant. “I want you.”

And then her mouth was on your throat, your hands under her shirt, her laugh low against your skin as you gasped. All heat and grip and tension finally snapping.

Fingers tangled in hair, knees shifting on sheets, hands gripping thighs. You felt her everywhere, her hands skimming under your dress before she near enough ripped it off, her mouth dragging across your collarbone, her breath at your ear like a promise and a warning all at once.

You gasped something, maybe her name, maybe just a sound and she answered with a shiver, a press of lips against your throat, a whispered “I know.”

And everything you hadn’t said, written across skin instead.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You woke first. Kind of.

Your eyes opened slowly, sunlight spilling across the room in quiet gold. The sheets were twisted around your waist. The air smelled like hotel linen and skin. Warmth bloomed behind you, a body, close, breathing even.

Natasha.

She was still asleep or doing a very convincing impression of it. One arm slung low across your stomach, her legs tangled with yours, her nose tucked into the back of your shoulder like she’d meant to keep her distance and just… hadn’t.

You stared at the ceiling, smiling like an idiot.

When she finally stirred, a soft sound in her throat, a stretch, a slow blink, her hand flexed where it rested on your ribs.

“Morning.” You said, voice scratchy.

She didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you, heavy-lidded and sleep-mussed and hummed like you were a warm secret she hadn’t meant to keep.

Then she flopped onto her back and muttered. “You snore.”

You gasped. “I do not.”

“You do.” She said flatly. “I knew it. Cute but loud. Like a small, overconfident animal.”

You rolled over and hit her with a pillow.

She caught it mid swing, smirking.

The sheets fell to her waist. You stared for a second too long.

She noticed but did nothing about it.

“You hungry?” She asked, casual.

“Starving.”

“I saw the menu for the brunch downstairs last night. It looks incredible, we should sneak down early to get the best stuff.” 

You grinned. “Why sneak? We’re practically newlyweds now.”

She snorted. “Right. Mission complete.”

You blinked.

“Huh.”

“Mission complete.” She repeated. “One more day of fake hand holding and pretend kisses and you can go back to emails and tinder.”

Just like that, it shifted. She didn’t mean it cruelly. It wasn’t harsh. Just a throwaway comment. A reminder. That it was fake. That it was supposed to end.

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, quiet. "Mission complete."

She didn’t notice the change in your voice. Or she did, and ignored it. You sat up, reaching for your robe, trying not to show the sting.

Her eyes flicked to you. Opened her mouth. Closed it.

But she didn’t say anything. 

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Brunch was already in full swing when you and Natasha arrived. She should have known the team would think the same as her and beat her to the good stuff.  The sun was too bright, everyone a little hungover and louder than they should’ve been. Mimosas clinked. Chairs scraped. Someone cheered when you stepped onto the terrace.

“Look who finally emerged!”

“Hey, lovebirds! Rough night?”

“Hope the hotel charged double for damage.”

You smiled, barely but just enough to be polite.

While Natasha gave them a look. “You’re all disgusting.”

Clint wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re glowing, Romanoff. I’m just saying.”

You laughed, quiet and short, and reached for a glass of juice instead of champagne. Natasha followed you to the table, sliding into the seat beside you. Her hand found your thigh under the table, thumb brushing slow circles, familiar, casual.

You stiffened. Not entirely dramatically but just enough. Then, without a word, you crossed your legs and gently dislodged her touch.

Natasha stilled. Her eyes flicked to you, studying your face like a puzzle she hadn’t realised she needed to solve.

You didn’t look at her.

You were busy stirring sugar into your coffee, listening politely to Pepper talk about the speeches later, nodding along like you hadn’t been wrapped around Natasha Romanoff eight hours ago whispering her name against her skin.

She leaned in, voice low near your ear. “You okay?”

You didn’t look up. “Fine.”

Something inside her curled. Wrong. Tight. Had she said something? Had some done something? You were happy this morning, right? Even happier last night.

This was different. You were different.

Still warm on the outside, still smiling, still engage but that spark, that electricity she’d gotten addicted to overnight? Gone. Like you’d pulled it back behind your ribs where she couldn’t reach it.

And Natasha didn’t understand why it felt like a loss.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Natasha didn’t push it.

She let you be, all through brunch, all the way to the car. No comments, no teasing. Just silence, stretched thin between you in the back seat.

She glanced at you as the engine started. “Want to talk?” She asked, voice low.

You didn’t look up from the window. “I’m just tired.”

And true to your word, you were asleep within minutes. Head tipped against the glass, arms folded across your stomach. The kind of sleep that only happens after emotional exhaustion, not rest.

Natasha watched you for a long moment before settling back, quiet. When the road curved, she took it slower than necessary. At one point, you shivered, even in the sun. She peeled off her hoodie at a stop light and carefully laid it across your lap, tucking it under your arm so it wouldn’t fall.

No one spoke the entire ride home.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

When they pulled up to the tower, she turned in her seat and touched your shoulder gently. You stirred, eyes slow to open, still soft from sleep.

“We’re here.” She said.

You blinked, sat up, then slowly started gathering your things. No words yet. No smile.

Just quiet.

And then at the curb, you turned to her, expression calm but something unreadable behind your eyes.

“This weekend was nice. Really.” Natasha opened her mouth but you kept going. “Thanks for inviting me. And… I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

She blinked. “Wait- Can we just-“ 

But you were already stepping out, already walking toward the elevators with that same gentle poise that had undone her all weekend. Not angry. Not cruel. Just done.

The doors slid closed before she could follow.

Natasha sat in the car a while longer, hoodie still warm from where it had rested against your skin and didn’t move.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

It was late afternoon when Natasha found herself standing in the common room, fingers curled loosely around a mug she hadn’t touched. She hadn’t meant to linger in the tower like a lost puppy but her legs didn’t take her anywhere else.

The doors hissed open behind her, soft heels and familiar energy.

“Hey.” Wanda said, breezing in with a duffel bag over her shoulder. Her hair was braided loose, the way she always wore it when she traveled. “I’m grabbing some things before we disappear. Don’t tell Tony or he’ll throw another brunch.”

Natasha gave a faint huff. “The last thing I need is to be sat on another table with all of them again.”

Wanda paused, looked at her properly and could sense the turmoil. “You okay?”

Natasha hesitated.

Then, finally and for once, honestly. “No.”

Wanda said nothing, just walked to the kitchen, poured herself a coffee and leaned against the counter, waiting.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I’m right where I need to be right now.”

Natasha didn’t look at her when she started. “You know I invited someone to the wedding. And I know you know it was supposed to be a fake date. But it wasn’t fake. Not really.”

Wanda tilted her head, quiet.

“There was always something there.” Natasha continued. “We kissed, more than once. We-“ She stopped, swallowed. “Saturday night, we- It wasn’t pretend anymore. But I said something this morning about the whole thing being a bit, about it being over. And she-"

Her voice cracked, just slightly. “She just… shut off. And left.”

Wanda was quiet for a moment, sipping slowly. Then, gently. “So let me get this straight. You took a girl you really like to a romantic weekend with your entire found family, made her feel wanted, kissed her like she was yours, slept with her and then reminded her it was all pretend?”

Natasha winced. “It wasn’t like that.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it?”

“She knew the deal. We were joking about it from the start.”

“And did you tell her when it stopped being an actual joke for you?”

Silence.

Wanda softened. “Nat… that girl looked at you like you hung the moon. I saw it. Everyone saw it.”

“She brushed me off.” Natasha said, quietly. “Didn’t even want to talk about it.”

“Because she was probably humiliated.” Wanda said, still kind but honest. “She gave you more than she meant to. And she probably thought you didn’t even notice.”

Natasha’s jaw tensed. “I did.”

Wanda set her mug down. “Then maybe it’s time to tell her.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You weren’t supposed to see her.

That was the whole point, sneak in, drop off the hoodie, grab Pepper’s flash drive and her backup files and get the hell out. You were already late, already unraveling.

Your bag felt like it weighed thirty pounds. You’d dropped your phone directly in some stupid water feature at the office and somewhere between your apartment and the security desk, your lanyard had vanished.

“Ma’am.” The guard said, definitively. “I can’t let you in without ID.”

“I work here.” You snapped, trying to keep your voice polite. “Well not here but for Pepper Potts so I kind of do! I’ve been in and out of this building for months.”

“And today…” He said, unmoved. “…you don’t have ID.”

“I just need to go up and drop something off. I’m not trying to hack the Pentagon for god sake-"

“I need you to calm down.” He interrupted, like it was a reflex.

You bit down hard. “I am calm.”

“Ma’am.” The lead guard said, clearly already bored. “We’ve been over this. No ID, no entry.”

“I’m literally on the list-“

“There is no list.”

“I’ve been here dozens of time-“

“And today?” The younger guard cut in, smug. “You’re not cleared. So either step aside or-“

“I don’t have time to step aside! Do you not understand I’m trying to do my job?”

The younger one moved. “And so am I-“

“No, you’re being unreasonable! Just call Tony Stark.”

“We will not be bothering Mr Stark!”

“Call any of them, they know me!” You almost begged now.

"Yeah, yeah, they always do." He laughed. "Why don't you call him?"

"I can't because my phone isn't working-"

"Convenient. If you continue to harass the Avengers or any SHIELD agents, I'm gonna have to take you into custody."

"Custody? I WORK HERE!"

“Look ma’am, I need you to calm down and come with us.”

“No.” You snapped, chest tight now. “I am not being manhandled because I can’t find my damn badge when I WORK here!”

Before it could escalate further, he moved again, grabbed your arm, too hard.

You yanked back instinctively. “Get off me-“

That was it. He spun you, fast, one hand in the middle of your back, the other twisting your arm behind you. The cuffs were on before you could catch your breath. Too tight. Metal biting into skin. The hoodie you had clenched in your fingers, her hoodie, that had been dry cleaned and ironed was down crumpled on the dirty tiles. 

“I said stand down!” He barked, like you were some kind of threat. “Do you know how many stupid people I deal with a day? Pretending The Avengers know them?!”

“I do know them!”

The pressure on your wrist made your knees buckle. “Yes and I know Barack Obama.”

“No, wait- You’re hurting me!” You gasped, trying to squirm free, tears springing hot and sharp at the corners of your eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you-“

⋆⋆⋆⋆

“Security breach in the Lobby, Zone A.”

Friday's voice came through the tower’s comms, flat and automatic. Most people ignored it.

But Sam, glancing at the monitor, frowned. “What now?”

He tapped into the security feed, projecting it on the flat screen that hung on the wall in the common room and just as the camera came into focus. “Wait, is that-"

Natasha was already gone.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You were still protesting when the elevator doors opened, his voice echoing in your ear, loud enough for Natasha to hear and to almost sprint over.

“Little girls like you need putting in their place, it’s all women’s rights these days and you think you can do what you want.” He sneered, tightening the cuffs. “You just need a firm hand like me to put you in your place.”

You didn’t see her at first. You were too busy trying to breathe, wrists burning, arm throbbing from where it had been twisted up too far. Your voice had broken halfway through yelling.

And then. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Everything stopped. Natasha’s voice cut across the lobby like a gunshot. The guards froze.

You turned, dazed. She was stalking toward you, red-faced, furious, lethal. She didn’t care who was watching.

“Take those off her. Now.”

The younger guard stammered. “Ma’am, she- she was uncooperative-“

“She works here. She’s cleared under Pepper Potts’ access and under mine.

He quickly worked to undo the handcuffs and it took one look at your face for Natasha to crumble. You knew you probably looked a mess, tear streaked cheeks, pouting with your arm held by your other, rubbing softly over where the pain was currently throbbing, drops of blood running down your arm from where he had inappropriately tightened the handcuffs. 

Natasha was in his face now, pure venom in her voice. “She’s bleeding. She was detained over what? A lanyard and a bad attitude? You think that justifies twisting her arm? Do I look like I tolerate that kind of shit?”

No one answered.

“Did she ask for clearance?”

“She said to call you but- Ma’am- Agent Romanoff, a lot of people ask to see you. Fans and-“

“I’ve heard enough.” She silenced him, turning to you, hands already at your wrists.

Her fingers were feather-light as she ran her fingers over  the marks the cuffs left, like even touching them hurt her more than you.

Your breath shuddered.

“Come on.” She said softly, eyes locked on yours now. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Natasha didn’t say a word as she led you through the tower. No more guards. No apologies. Just her hand hovering close to your back, not touching but there if you needed it.

Her room was dark and quiet when she opened the door for you. Unfamiliar but predictably minimalist. The hoodie you’d meant to return was still clutched in your good hand, wrinkled and useless now.

She flicked the bathroom light on, rummaged silently through the cabinet and returned with a small kit.

“Sit.” She said, gently, nodding toward the bed. 

You sat, too tired to argue, too raw to speak.

She knelt between your legs without hesitation, ignoring the squeeze in her chest. She didn’t say much, just moved with quiet purpose, opening the first aid kit, switching on a soft lamp. Her touch was gentle as she cleaned your wrists, one hand steadying you, the other dabbing antiseptic with controlled care. Almost too gentle. Like she was scared you might flinch away.

Her eyes kept flicking up to your face, trying to read you, trying to make sense of what she’d done, what she hadn’t said.

You flinched slightly when her fingers grazed a nasty spot on the inside of your wrist. “Sorry.” She murmured.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“I had this dry cleaned and ironed but now-“ Your voice cracked as you placed the hoodie on the bed, the day weighing heavily. “Now it’s creased and he made me drop it.”

“Shhh.” She soothed. “It’s okay. It’s okay. They shouldn’t have hurt you.”

You didn’t speak, just looking down at her to finally meet her eyes. 

“I hate that you got hurt.” She murmured, voice low. “I hate that it happened here, where you were supposed to be safe.”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s not the point.” And then she reached out, slow, careful and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Her hand lingered. Your breath caught. The look between you shifted, it was too warm, too familiar. 

You didn’t know who leaned in first.

But suddenly, her mouth was on yours.

A kiss that meant too many things. And for a moment, just a moment, you self indulged and let you let it happen.

Until the weight came crashing back. You pulled away with a sharp inhale, standing too fast. “I can’t.”

“Wait-“

“I shouldn’t have come. I just- I need to go. Pepper is waiting and I-“

You turned, heading for the door but her hand caught your arm, not tight, just grounding. “Please.” Her voice was almost a beg. “Don’t go. Just… talk to me.”

You stopped. What did you have to lose anyway?

“The weekend wasn’t fake to me.”

She didn’t speak.

You turned back around, heart pounding. “I know it started out as just some fun but I didn’t pretend. I wasn’t acting. And you were- God, you were so there. And then the second it was over, it was like none of it mattered.”

Natasha opened her mouth but you kept going, hurt spilling out like a slow unraveling.

“You kissed me like you meant it. You held me like it mattered. And then you went back to pretending. You shut me out. You made me feel stupid for believing any of it meant something. And I shouldn’t be blaming you because I knew this was fake and I’m a big girl. It’s my fault if I felt something and you didn’t but I-“

Her eyes flickered. “I did.”

“What?”

“I did feel something- I do feel something.”

You hesitated. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t know how.”

She stepped closer, carefully, like she was afraid of breaking whatever was left between you.

“You’re not stupid. You’re not overreacting. I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I should’ve said it then, I should’ve stopped pretending sooner. But it was real for me, too.”

You stared at her, trembling, still a little breathless.

“You’re not just saying it?” Your voice came out so small, it shattered Natasha’s heart just a little. 

“I’ve pretended to be a lot of things but this? I never pretended to want you.”

And when she kissed you this time, it wasn’t desperate.

It was an apology and a new beginning all in one.

You let her guide you backwards, falling slow into the sheets, her mouth never leaving yours. Her hands moved with confidence now, familiar, dragging your jacket down your arms, fingers ghosting under the hem of your shirt like a promise.

You arched up into her, breath hitching when her mouth trailed along your jaw. She was just starting to slide over you fully, knee between your thighs, when-

Bzzz. Bzzz.

You groaned. “You have got to be kidding!”

Natasha reached over without looking, snatched the phone from the nightstand, glanced at the screen, and smiled. wicked, unhurried.

“It’s Pepper.”

You sat up halfway, flushed and disoriented. “Oh god- Just ignore it!"

But she’d already answered. “Potts, now’s really not a good time.”

A pause.

Then Natasha glanced at you, smile deepening as she looked you over, shirt half-off, lips kiss-bitten. She’s… extremely unavailable.”

You couldn’t hear Pepper’s reply but Natasha eye-rolled fondly. “Pepper, I will do anything you want me to do if you just give us 30 minutes-“ She smirked. “Make it an hour and then I’ll come over and help you myself.”

She hung up before Pepper could reply, tossed the phone somewhere behind her and leaned back down with a smirk.

“Now.” She murmured against your throat. “Where were we?” You laughed, breathless and buzzing.

And then you stopped thinking altogether.

[abbotjack]

At first glance, Jack Abbot’s handwriting looks almost unremarkable — neat, steady, deliberate. The words don’t crowd each other, but they don’t drift apart either. There’s a structure to it, like someone who’s spent a lifetime forcing order onto chaos. Each word stands upright, solid in its own space, but never so stiff that it spills into the next. That control — that quiet refusal to unravel — mirrors the discipline Jack holds in his chest every day, pressing his grief, guilt, and rage into something survivable.

You can see it in the letter he writes to Raymond Orser’s family. Jack’s words aren’t clinical, but they’re contained. He doesn’t stumble into sentimentality or dress up the pain. He offers the truth plainly: I am sorry I could not save Ray’s life. He takes responsibility without dramatizing himself — the way a man who’s seen real battle understands that sometimes, even when you do everything right, it still isn’t enough. His handwriting reflects that same quiet acceptance. It’s not decorative or desperate. It’s functional, clear, pressed so firmly into the page that even if the ink wore away, the shape of his words would remain, cut into the surface.

Physically, Jack writes with a firm hand and a slight forward tilt — always moving, never wasting time. His script is quick but not sloppy, urgent but never panicked. There’s a soldier’s efficiency to it, a medic’s precision: fast because it has to be, careful because it matters. His letters stay mostly upright, bowing just enough to show you something essential — that Jack is always leaning toward action, toward duty, toward other people’s emergencies, never his own. Even the structure of the letter mirrors him: no unnecessary paragraphs, no wandering sentences. Jack writes the way he lives. He makes the unbearable survivable, the unspeakable speakable, using whatever small space he's given. His life has been a constant act of bearing witness — to violence, to love, to failure, to sacrifice. His handwriting doesn’t beg for attention. It stands steady. It says: I was here. I saw him. I tried.

And even though he couldn’t save Ray, he refuses to let him be forgotten.

If you look closer, you’ll catch it — the way Jack’s baseline wavers, just slightly, like a breath he’s trying not to show. His words don’t fall apart. They don’t lose control. But they tremble, almost imperceptibly, under the weight he’s forcing them to carry. In handwriting analysis, that kind of subtle shift says everything. It belongs to someone who’s weathered real storms — who has carried grief, fear, and failure — and still wills his hands to stay steady. Jack’s handwriting doesn’t cry out. It absorbs the cost quietly, the way he carries everything else. It’s the signature of a man who can talk someone back from the edge even when he’s still catching his own breath from standing there.

In a world where Jack has had to document more death, injury, and loss than anyone should, the fact that he still writes with this much care — that he refuses to let his words collapse into detached scrawls — tells you the most important thing about him: Jack Abbot still believes people deserve to be seen. To be understood. To be honored.

Even the way he writes "MD" at the end of his signature tells a story. It’s not a title he lifts up to be admired; it’s tucked into the rhythm of his name, almost thrown on like a quiet fact — not a decoration, but a duty. The same way you can imagine him still wearing his dog tags. The same way he still wears his wedding ring. Jack doesn’t use "MD" to separate himself from the people he treats. He wears it the way he wears everything: quietly, permanently, without performance. That fast, clipped way he writes it says more than a thousand words about him. Jack Abbot didn’t become a doctor for prestige. He doesn’t measure his worth in accolades. To him, "MD" isn’t a crown. It’s a promise. A vow to every person he couldn’t save: that he would show up again tomorrow. That he would keep trying. That no one would go unseen.

[adoregojo]

secret admirer.

hihihihihihihihi, i cannot believe i actually slept for two days in a row? wth? and also that i never did this kind of posts? im such a lazy bum mb yall, I promise I'll write a real fic soon. summary: bllk characters as your secret admirers: isagi, bachira, chigiri, reo. how they fell, what do they do, how did they confess.

isagi.y

him. just him.

you once held his shirt collar to stop him from planting flatly on the floor.

and when you walked away, you walked with his heart in your palms.

yea, just like that

but honestly, isagi himself didn't knew he was such a big sap inside

and the moment he realised you two shared a few classes was the second he almost kneeled and thanked the sky itself for this.

an absolute swoon from looking at your side profile.

he once was long gone within the abyss of daydreaming about you, he genuinely just couldn't look away.

then got called out by the teacher for being too distracted.

definitely prayed that you didn't see that.

writes your name unintentionally in his notebook.

gets so embarrassed about it later and rips the paper.

still dose it again the next day and almost ripped the whole book apart form cringing at himself.

he once was musing over you too much to the point that your name slipped out unwittingly on the dinner table.

his parents couldn't stop teasing him about it, wondering when they would see you walking down their house door.

leaves love notes in your locker almost everyday.

it's something short and simple like: "you look pretty today."

then when he goes home he'll realize how dumb that was because you literally look the prettiest everyday.

dumb, dumby.

takes time to make the first move though.

he just feels like you're way, farther away from his reach.

it's okay, he still considers himself lucky to be one of those who got admire you.

he just hoped you saw him behind all of them, even if it was a glance.

chigiri.h

omgg pretty boyyy

despite chigiri being a confident and self-reliant, the trigger words of his old injury was like a pulling a pin of a grenade to his still-raw sorrowness. something that'll always haunt him.

and what dose he dare to say when they were nothing but truthful? like a salt to his wounds, he tends to just take it and suck it up, or at least try to ignore it for his sake.

but everything flipped when you stood up for him.

from that moment on. chigiri knew that he was far a goner.

out of everyone here he's definitely the most romantic one.

reads all your favourite books and analysis it.

probably named a cat after you.

like isagi he writes love letters for you.

just a little too poetic..

it it's short then it's something like: "loving you is like breathing." or "i hope your days are filled with the same joy you give me with your existence only."

but mostly is: "my definition of love, i see the true meaning of living behind your hue of life. you shall lighten my soul with your existence alone, i was born to see you shin each day, witnessing you is a blessing from heaven itself. the day that i stop seeing you as the owner of the stars is the day my body shall vanish, yet my soul will know it way back to you. from your only and one your admirer."

what a lovesick clown.

he might be a smooth talker on the outside, but trust me the butterflies of sentimental keeps on swirling in his stomach on the sight of you.

told his mother and sister about you.

it was his biggest regrets.

because the next day his sister shouted your name in a demand for you to spend the night for the 'meeting of the future in law'.

he had to physically drag her back to the car, freaking embarrassing.

couldn't meet your eyes for a while after that.

wants to hold your hand.

like, really badly.

it's just that feeling your skin against his cold, pristine hands must've feel like the loveliest, cosiest thing.

the thoughts alone are making him go crazy.

he confessed first, just couldn't help himself.

he just hoped if you would go to the end of the world alongside with him.

bachira.m

the sunshine boy himself.

the definition of fell first AND fell harder.

it all started when the class was ordered to work as duo for a project, something he always despised.

you may say that because bachira was definitely not having the word 'smart' in his book, you'd be right actually.

but mainly since no one really wanted to group up with him.

it was embarrassing, to just sit there and wait to be picked was putting him under the lights that pointed him out as the most pitiful creature in the room.

then you pocked him on the shoulder, and asked him if he wanted to be your partner.

and when he didn't see the sarcasm reeking from you, he knew he tripped hard, and couldn't find it anywhere in his feet to back him up.

it was strange, bachira never had a company, let alone a crush.

but the signs were there, and were painfully vulnerable.

painted you in art class multiple times; you with a smile, you reading a book, you sniffing a sunflower.

maybe also you and him... holding hands or hugging...

stares at your face a way, way too long.

he tells himself it's to crave your features better and detailed.

even he doesn't believe that however.

he draws your eyes a lot.

his second favourite colour is your eyes hue.

he was never the best at writing romantic poems, and his hand writing is just........

so he insisted gets you a gift!

which is a rock.

yes you heard me, rock.

he would even paint a little face with a smile on it and leave it on your desk by the end of the day.

almost went bald from joy when you had it hanging as a small march on your bag.

and when you had a bad day, that goes unnoticed by him.

so imagine your surprise when you would find two pairs of rocks, one kissing the other who had a sad expression on it face.

that somehow that foster a blissful smile on your face. like that little action extinct any remains of the past negative you carried.

and bachira was more than happy to be the reason for your happiness.

definitely rambles about you to his mom.

and his monster.

he once ha a dream about you two smooching.

cried when he woke up because he wanted it to be real more than anything.

you two confessed first, at the same time.

and boy was he dancing on cloud nine at it.

he almost smooch you that moment and then.

reo.m

it's mister perfect everyone, cheer.

you fell first, he fell harder.

no, literally. you fell. tripped flat on the floor.

and somehow, that made the reo mikage heart move.

?????????

love at first (fall??) sight.

he definitely leaves a trail of gifts for you everywhere.

your chair, desk, locker, bag.

he switches between chocolate and flowers to letters and perfumes, necklaces, etc..

you say how he picked them?

easy, see something that reminds him of you, he buys.

and it's pretty foolish since he sees you in almost everything.

reo is convinced that you're within everything that shins beautifully.

he actually paid the teachers to let him be in the same classroom as you.

paid even more to get a seat next to you.

rip to whoever was sitting next to you.

he once heard that a guy was bothering you.

the next day the guy was the talking of school because he suddenly moved out of town due to his dad losing his job.

hm, must be karma then.

has a shrine of you.

but you didn't hear that from me.

talks about you none stop to nagi and ba-ya.

genuinely sobbed when he imagined you with someone else.

has a flight under your name.

made a makeshift doll of you so he can practice his confessions on.

had a mental breakdown of the idea of you rejecting him.

reo can the most horrible, miserable day to a human kind to live.

then he sees you smiling

BOOM

he's all happy and smiling again, also a little giddy.

you once greeted him good morning, the next day he was planing what ring would suit you the most.

had two planes to write on the sky: 'will you go out with me?' and your name next to it in a shade of a heart.

now, you definitely cannot reject that. (Please don't)

have a nice day everyone.

[precallai]

How Smart Voice Bots Transform Feedback Gathering for Modern Businesses

Smart voice bots for feedback are emerging as game-changers, transforming how businesses interact with customers and gather valuable insights that drive strategic decisions.

The Evolution of Customer Feedback Collection

The journey from paper surveys to digital forms was just the beginning. Modern businesses recognize that static feedback forms often result in low response rates and limited engagement. Customers today expect interactive, personalized experiences that respect their time while providing value. This shift in expectations has paved the way for smart voice bots for feedback to revolutionize traditional data collection methods.

Voice-enabled feedback systems represent a natural evolution in human-computer interaction. Unlike traditional surveys that require customers to read, process, and manually input responses, voice bots create conversational experiences that feel intuitive and engaging. This technological advancement addresses the fundamental challenge of survey fatigue while capturing more nuanced customer sentiments.

Understanding Smart Voice Bots for Feedback Systems

Smart voice bots for feedback are sophisticated AI-powered systems that use natural language processing (NLP) and machine learning algorithms to conduct interactive conversations with customers. These systems can understand spoken language, interpret context, analyze sentiment, and provide real-time responses that guide the feedback collection process.

The technology behind these systems combines several advanced components:

Natural Language Understanding (NLU): Enables bots to comprehend spoken language, including colloquialisms, accents, and emotional undertones

Conversational AI: Facilitates natural, flowing conversations that adapt based on customer responses

Sentiment Analysis: Identifies emotional context and satisfaction levels in real-time

Machine Learning: Continuously improves response accuracy and conversation quality through data analysis

Key Advantages of Implementing Smart Voice Bots for Feedback

Enhanced Customer Engagement and Response Rates

Traditional feedback surveys often struggle with completion rates below 30%. Smart voice bots for feedback dramatically improve engagement by creating conversational experiences that feel natural and less burdensome. Customers can provide feedback while multitasking, during commutes, or in situations where typing would be inconvenient.

The interactive nature of voice conversations encourages more detailed responses. When customers feel heard and understood, they're more likely to share comprehensive feedback, including specific examples and emotional contexts that written surveys might miss.

Real-Time Data Processing and Analysis

Unlike traditional feedback methods that require manual analysis and interpretation, smart voice bots for feedback process information instantaneously. This real-time capability enables businesses to identify trends, address urgent issues, and capitalize on opportunities as they emerge.

The immediate analysis extends beyond simple sentiment scoring. Advanced systems can categorize feedback by topics, identify recurring themes, and flag critical issues that require immediate attention. This rapid processing transforms feedback from a reactive tool into a proactive business intelligence system.

Accessibility and Inclusivity

Voice-based feedback systems naturally accommodate customers with visual impairments, learning disabilities, or limited literacy skills. Smart voice bots for feedback make participation accessible to broader demographic groups, ensuring that businesses capture diverse perspectives that might otherwise be excluded from traditional feedback processes.

The multilingual capabilities of modern voice bots further expand accessibility, allowing businesses to collect feedback from international customers in their preferred languages while maintaining consistency in data analysis and reporting.

Industry Applications and Use Cases

Retail and E-commerce

Smart voice bots for feedback in retail environments can capture immediate post-purchase sentiment, gather product-specific insights, and identify service improvement opportunities. These systems can integrate with point-of-sale systems to trigger timely feedback requests, ensuring high relevance and response rates.

E-commerce platforms utilize voice bots to understand customer experiences throughout the purchase journey, from browsing to delivery. This comprehensive feedback helps optimize user interfaces, improve product descriptions, and enhance customer service protocols.

Healthcare and Patient Experience

Healthcare organizations leverage smart voice bots for feedback to understand patient satisfaction, identify service gaps, and improve care quality. The private, conversational nature of voice interactions often encourages more honest feedback about sensitive healthcare experiences.

These systems can integrate with patient management systems to trigger feedback requests at optimal times, such as post-appointment or after discharge, ensuring timely and relevant data collection.

Hospitality and Travel

Hotels, restaurants, and travel companies use voice bots to capture guest experiences in real-time. Smart voice bots for feedback can be integrated into room phones, mobile apps, or dedicated devices to gather immediate impressions about service quality, amenities, and overall satisfaction.

The immediate nature of voice feedback allows hospitality businesses to address concerns during the customer's stay, potentially converting negative experiences into positive ones through rapid response and resolution.

Implementation Strategies for Smart Voice Bots for Feedback

Technical Integration Considerations

Successful implementation of smart voice bots for feedback requires careful consideration of existing technology infrastructure. Businesses must ensure compatibility with current customer relationship management (CRM) systems, data analytics platforms, and communication channels.

Cloud-based solutions often provide the most flexibility and scalability, allowing businesses to implement voice bot systems without significant infrastructure investments. Integration with existing customer databases enables personalized conversations and contextual feedback collection.

Designing Effective Voice Conversations

The conversational design of smart voice bots for feedback significantly impacts their effectiveness. Successful implementations focus on creating natural, flowing conversations that feel authentic rather than scripted. This involves careful attention to:

Conversation flow: Logical progression that adapts based on customer responses

Question design: Open-ended prompts that encourage detailed responses

Personality and tone: Consistent voice characteristics that align with brand values

Error handling: Graceful recovery from misunderstandings or technical issues

Privacy and Data Security

Implementing smart voice bots for feedback requires robust privacy protection and data security measures. Voice data is particularly sensitive, requiring encryption during transmission and storage, along with clear policies regarding data retention and usage.

Businesses must ensure compliance with relevant regulations such as GDPR, CCPA, and industry-specific requirements while maintaining transparency about data collection and usage practices.

Future Trends and Innovations

The evolution of smart voice bots for feedback continues to accelerate, with emerging technologies promising even more sophisticated capabilities. Emotional AI will enable deeper understanding of customer sentiment, while predictive analytics will help businesses anticipate customer needs and preferences.

Integration with Internet of Things (IoT) devices will create opportunities for contextual feedback collection, where voice bots can gather insights based on product usage patterns or environmental factors. This contextual awareness will provide richer, more actionable feedback data.

Conclusion

Smart voice bots for feedback represent a transformative approach to customer insight gathering that addresses the limitations of traditional survey methods while opening new possibilities for business intelligence and customer engagement. As these technologies continue to evolve, businesses that embrace voice-enabled feedback systems will gain significant competitive advantages through deeper customer understanding, improved response rates, and more actionable insights.https://precallai.com/

The implementation of smart voice bots for feedback requires thoughtful planning, technical expertise, and commitment to privacy and security. However, the potential benefits—including enhanced customer satisfaction, improved product development, and more effective business strategies—make this technology investment increasingly essential for modern businesses seeking to thrive in customer-centric markets.

By leveraging the power of conversational AI and voice technology, businesses can transform feedback collection from a necessary obligation into a strategic advantage that drives continuous improvement and sustainable growth.

[furryrun]

CRYPTOAİSİGNALS - PRO+

Navigate Crypto Markets with Precision: CryptoAISignals

Introduction:

In the dynamic world of cryptocurrency trading, staying ahead of market trends is crucial for success. At CryptoAISignals.com, we empower traders with cutting-edge tools, including Whale Hunter Signals and advanced crypto indicators. Elevate your trading experience with our premium services designed to keep you one step ahead in the crypto arena.

Whale Hunter Signals: Unlocking Market Secrets

Real-Time Whale Movement Analysis: With Whale Hunter Signals, gain insights into the movements of significant players in the crypto market. Stay informed about large transactions that can impact market dynamics.

Strategic Trading Opportunities: Identify strategic entry and exit points based on whale activities. Our signals are meticulously crafted to help you make informed decisions, enhancing the precision of your trading strategy.

Customized Alerts: Receive real-time alerts directly to your device, ensuring you never miss a significant market event. Tailor your notifications to suit your preferences and trading style.

Crypto Indicators: Navigating Market Trends

Comprehensive Technical Analysis: Our platform provides a range of crypto indicators, empowering you with the tools needed for in-depth technical analysis. Make well-informed decisions backed by robust market insights.

Market Sentiment Analysis: Understand market sentiment through our indicators, offering a comprehensive view of how traders feel about various crypto indicators. Use this valuable information to refine your trading strategy.

User-Friendly Interface: Accessing advanced indicators doesn't have to be complicated. Our user-friendly interface ensures that both novice and experienced traders can seamlessly incorporate these tools into their trading routine.

Trading Signals Telegram: Real-Time Updates at Your Fingertips

Instant Notifications: Join our Trading Signals Telegram channel for instant updates on market movements, new signals, and other crucial information. Stay connected with the market wherever you are.

Community Collaboration: Engage with a community of like-minded traders. Share insights, discuss market trends, and exchange ideas in a collaborative environment.

Accessible Information: Receive concise and actionable trading signals directly on Telegram, providing you with the information you need without overwhelming you with unnecessary details.

Why CryptoAISignals.com?

Precision and Accuracy: Crypto signals and indicators are designed with precision to provide accurate insights into market movements.

User-Centric Approach: Whether you are a beginner or an experienced trader, our user-friendly platform ensures an accessible and efficient trading experience.

Comprehensive Insights: From whale hunter signals to advanced indicators crypto trading signals offers a comprehensive suite of tools to meet all your trading needs.

Real-Time Updates: Stay ahead of the curve with real-time updates, ensuring you never miss a lucrative trading opportunity.

CryptoAISignals.com is your go-to platform for navigating the complex world of cryptocurrency trading. With whale hunter signals, advanced crypto indicators, and real-time updates on trading signals telegram, we provide the tools you need to trade with confidence. Join us at http://cryptoaisignals.com/ and embark on a journey of informed and successful crypto trading.

[bhaalble]

I like that Last Unicorn quote as much as the next guy but I do always wind up feeling a little detached from analysis that paints Astarion's disapproval as purely envy. Partly because. No one's doing this for Lae'zel for instance even though she has similar disapproval and similar trauma (all she can remember is a hostile physically and emotionally exploitative environment which expected perfect strength and obedience from her or else she would be punished or killed). But also partly because it feels pretty detached from everything he actually has to say about it.

The thing about Astarion is he loathes weakness. He loathes sentiment and he loathes dependence. You can see this when he actually opens his mouth up about the people he disapproves of saving, but also incredibly loudly when he talks about the other companions, as well as his fellow spawn. If Lae'zel submits to Vlaakith he talks scornfully about how some people just come to love their chains. He's confused and put off if Wyll submits to Mizora to save his father. In every conversation with his fellow spawn (at least when hes not actively manipulating them) he's dismissive and harsh, and clearly he's perfectly willing to sacrifice them for the sake of himself.

There's an obvious origin point of those feelings, of course. Cazador's abuse is designed to actively kill off empathy in his spawn, both towards each other and towards victims. The last time Astarion prioritized someone over his own skin he got locked in a tomb for a year. We can see glimpses of it with the other spawn too, how his siblings are (apparently uncompelled at first) willing to drag Astarion back to their master for their freedom, how Petras' first dream of freedom is getting to drain another person dry. Astarion certainly doesn't seem to feel any real sense of solidarity with them, likely because Cazador understands that them building a community is a threat to his authority the way it was to his own master.

I'd also argue its Astarion projecting his own self-loathing outwards. So much of his quest is about his desperate attempt to escape from who he was. He's been given a chance to slip free of the limitations of being a spawn. He clings to that because of course he would. He also instinctively begins to run over everything in his path, because if there's anything he has learned over the past 200 years its that good things can always be taken away unless you make sure to remove any and all possible threats to that scrap of well-being. He's disdainful of people in need of help because they represent who he fears to go back to being! He calls his siblings "poor fools" while refusing to confront the fact that had it not been for the tadpole he would be in exactly their position, forced to cling to the hope that Cazador is telling the truth for once because escape isn't an option either way. He becomes irritated when Tav slows down to help the unfortunate because they represent roadblocks on his own path to safety.

There's an idea in mental health stolen from airplane safety: that you shouldn't help anyone else until your own mask is secure. What they don't tell you, speaking from personal experience at least, is that PTSD, especially for long term trauma, has a way of making you feel like your own mask will never be secure. And while that's scary, and it sucks, and there should be the utmost patience for it: no one is going to realize that mask is secure for you. Eventually you are going to have to accept the fact that you are breathing just fine. Eventually you are also going to have to accept that people asking something of you isn't them endangering you, even if it can sometimes (often) feel like it. It doesn't make you obligated to help them. But it does mean you have to stop reacting to them like a threat, because not 5 minutes ago that was you.

I think the idea that he's only mad because he's jealous is a gratifying fantasy. He didnt feel safe before, but now through your PC and the power of love he'll feel warm and cozy enough to forgive you for not being there to begin with. But I also think Astarion cannot live in a reality where he's never pushed back on. His instinctive self-protective movements are a coping mechanism, yes, but coping mechanisms developed under survival conditions can also be a way of keeping you frozen in your trauma. Outside of the environment they were necessary for, they can even hinder you from growing in the ways you need to grow to move past what happened to you. Sometimes, you need to stop a baby tiefling from getting crazy murdered by a snake because it turns out. That can happen to anybody not just people who are weak and stupid and deserve to die anyways not like me I'm normal-

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.3)

go check out part 1 and part 2 if you'd like! this is a long one, sorry guys.

if you haven't already i'd recommend you check out pt. 1 & pt. 2 (linked above), but if you haven't checked them out i've been going over some of the main things people have been criticizing ba's characterization for: 1. the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one" 2. his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character 3. the neighbor's kid interaction

alright, so this last point is purely based off of one page of the entire comic: the one where the child of one of jason's neighbors is dragged inside his home when his mother see's jason coming.

first off, i love this page. it might be my favorite page in the entire issue. everything about it is great. just thought i needed to say that.

anyway, there's some people who are seeing this page and reading it as "jason protects kids! that's one of his big things! why are they scared of him?"

here's the thing, though: the kid isn't scared of jason, the mom is. the kid is literally playing dress up as the red hood-- he's not scared of jason, if anything he's trying to replicate him. little kids dress up as their heroes all the time; why is this kid any different? it doesn't really make sense for the kid to dress up of something he's scared of (not everyone is as weird bruce wayne), especially a real person that could be a real threat rather than a concept. i doubt you see many kids in gotham dressing up as the joker or something, because that's just asking for trouble.

the dress-up honestly seems like a ploy for attention to me. the kid clearly knows that red hood lives in his building (which is honestly so funny. take off the mask jason you're giving you're position away (actually this is a really good instance for analysis but i'm determined to not go on a tangent)). if the kid knows red hood lives in his building, what better way to get his attention that dressing up as him and playing pretend? if the kid was scared of him, he wouldn't want to draw that sort of attention to himself. if he had a sort of hero-worshippy thing going on like i suspect, then he would want to get jason's attention. to sum it up,

it's the mom who pulls him away when jason nears, because she either a) perceives him as a threat, b) doesn't want her kid to try and replicate him even more, or, the most likely option, both! the kid isn't scared of him, but the mother believes they should be.

once again, we come back to the whole perception vs. reality theme i talked about in part one! we've come full circle, everyone!

when looking at the neighborhood's perspective of the red hood, ba gives us a few contradictory examples. there's the kid and the mother, obviously, but there's also a slew of other citizens who interact with him at the beginning of the issue, both in fear and camaraderie.

the unhoused man and the people outside of his building clearly have a familiarity and are comfortable with him, while the shopkeeper is terrified and literally has a banned poster on his wall featuring jason (i am so curious what he did to deserve that, if he even did anything at all). from this, it appears that jason's reputation teeters between fearful and familiar-- a sentiment that also colors jason's relationship with his family.

furthermore, this concept underscores just how lonely jason is-- one of the only good relationships he had in his current life was his fucking landlord, for gods sake, and he's dead.

i think it's important to note that jason doesn't respond to the friendly greetings from the men-- he could attempt to build camaraderie, the roots are there, but he chooses not to. he could work to try and show the mother that her son is safe with him, but he chooses not to. why? jason is obviously lonely (as ba states in the panel below) and he caves pretty easily when damian asks him for help (both of them are so desperate for human interaction its tragic). so why does he distant himself from the community?

obviously it is in part due to the vigilante lifestyle, but it is also jason's perception of himself and how he believes others perceive him, especially in regards to his family (ba is literally hitting readers in the head with that theme baseball bat).

he doesn't see that the kid with the mask looks up to him, all he sees is the mother pulling him away. he sees the banned poster in the store. and, as ba narrates, "he was sure he'd been forgotten about" by his family. utrh is jason's twisted way of attempting to reach out and connect with bruce, and obviously that doesn't work-- so he chooses loneliness over rejection.

like in part one, though, damian refutes this idea by describing bruce's perspective, showing how what jason believes differs from actuality. bruce hasn't forgotten about him and doesn't hate him, as he suspected, but instead harbors guilt over the situation and desires to make it better, which jason must come to understand to be able to open the locked door and begin to move past his trauma.

so, that's what the little kid in the red hood outfit looks like to me. i actually have a lot more i'd like to say about the boy wonder, especially in regards to the whole "door to my past life" thing and what ba does with lighting and blocking in his artwork, so i may do a little post on that as well! i was gonna try and shove it into this one, but i've run out of room! i hope you guys liked my analysis, if you'd like to chat about the boy wonder or any other comics, my dms, asks, and reblogs are happily open! thanks for reading! :)) <3

pt. 1 / pt. 2

[besttrading247]

NFT Trading Opportunities in Decentralized Markets

NFT Trading Opportunities in Decentralized Markets Welcome to the Wild West of Digital Art! Hey there, fellow digital cowboy! Saddle up, because today we’re riding into the untamed territory of NFTs (non-fungible tokens) and decentralized markets. If you’ve been lurking in the shadows of the internet, contemplating whether to jump on the NFT bandwagon, now’s your chance! This article is all…

[signode-blog]

Mastering the Art of Trading with Open Interest: A Comprehensive Guide

In the dynamic world of trading, understanding the intricate details and metrics can make the difference between success and failure. One such critical metric is Open Interest (OI). While many traders focus on price action and volume, integrating Open Interest into your trading strategy can provide invaluable insights. This comprehensive guide will delve into the concept of Open Interest, how to…

[birdsandbeetlesandmoths]

So. Sonic 3. That was. certainly. hoo boy *collapses to the sound of a metal pipe falling*

Spoilers and thoughts under cut (LONG POST)

Well, my pre-movie post was SO WRONG. I think most stobotnik fans were, thinking that Stone would be the one dying. I- truly wasn’t expecting it.

I’ll get back to that in a second, let me get all of my silly things out of the way/the things i was hype about/had to crush my partner and friend’s hands about while witnessing.

The antics between Gerald and Ivo were expected but oh my GOD JIM CARREY. you are a national treasure, have fun in retirement. we will miss you greatly, but this being your final movie (probably) is a great thing to culminate your absolutely stunning career.

Anyway, their dance sequence was fucking insane, and as much as I was cringing, I was grinning through it too. The fight on the Eclipse cannon was also questionable BUT HOLY FUCK NOW I GET THE PRAYING MANTIS/FLY REFERENCE. (Thank god it wasn’t directly about stone and robotnik but i’m already cooking how i can connect them). Spanking? Also in my Sonic movie. But yeah.

Gerald and Ivo could never be more alike in intellect, but different in morals. Evident through Gerald’s fixation on avenging his daughter with no remorse or thought for whoever will get in the way, throwing away Ivo and the whole of the world as a result). He’s willing to kill himself, but as Shadow says and believes, that isn’t what Maria would have wanted.

I used to not like the Wachowskis. I was already a little unsettled when the first movie released by the fact that characters unrelated to previous Sonic media were being utilized as major plot elements, but during the second and third movies, I began to absolutely love them.

This third movie cemented that love. The father-son relationship between Tom and Sonic specifically. My heart was aching in the first scene at their little campsite, Happy BEarthday, and their heart-to-heart in Sonic’s old cave, talking about Choice (an analysis incoming) and that you always have a choice, and that your lungs (heart) will help you find the right one.

I think this movie might’ve done. One of the best jobs of displaying found family. The sibling relationship between Tails, Knuckles, and Sonic was the most heartrendingly beautiful and achingly real thing I’ve seen in a while. And it really hits you, the fact that they’re kids.

And the amount of silly little jokes, Tails having his gadgetry and Knuckles with his blunt personality, Sonic tying them all together with his wit and charm, it all became slightly surreal to see. To see something so happy, so delicately real.

Oh my god, on the trio, Knuckles saving both Sonic and Tails from falling to Earth. I was gasping that whole time, truly being sent into the moment. Movies and media rarely do that to me in the emotional sense.

AND AS FOR SHADOW AND MARIA

Holy fuck at least I was right about that part in my pre-movie wishes. I thought it was interesting how they adapted it, and it definitely made for it to be slightly more believable and less complicated.

But oh my gosh them. Skating around the lab, messing around together, introducing Shadow to that great 70s music and dancing, watching movies together and just being kids!! And don’t even get me started on the rooftop scene. Shadow was so vulnerable and self-conscious, and Maria comforted him in a way that touched me. Understands him in a way that no one else ever has, as everyone else only saw him as the experiment and the subject, while she saw him as his own person, with thoughts and emotions and curiosities.

It paralleled Sonic and Tom in the cinematography too, and the sentiment was all the same. That Shadow can choose who he wants to be. (I Am All I Am and Choice. Trust, it’s coming soon)

Maria and Shadow made me unbearably happy. It was all I could’ve ever asked for and more.

Shadow and Sonic were an absolutely crazy duo this show. Dude, in their fight versus each other? Both going Super and absolutely going at it, and Shadow having the absolute gall to accuse Sonic of not caring about his friends, that he was clearly here alone because he abandoned them, and mention Tom, which caused Sonic to go completely over the edge, and actually punch him straight into space and lose his Super.

Sonic and Shadow reconciling over their shared feeling of grief, Sonic sharing his pain, emphasizing the love that will be able to help them heal, Shadow reciprocating, and then Shadow remembering Maria after looking up at the stars, realizing, from Sonic’s words, that this truly wasn’t what Maria wanted, just that whole moon scene between them is living in my head rent free and I need to see it over and over again.

HOLYYY SHIT THEY PLAYED LIVE AND LEARN WHEN SUPER SONIC AND SUPER SHADOW TEAMED UP AND BEAT THE EVER LIVING FUCK OUT OF THOSE ROBOTS. Me and my friends were going so fucking insane in that theater.

Shadow remembering Maria (possibly for the last time) as he sacrifices himself to push the Eclipse cannon away from the place that Maria loved. Remembering all of the good moments, the love between them, that is all he wanted if he was going to leave the world for good. (Well, I mean, he’s still alive, but the amnesia route is still optional)

Sonic actually going slightly insane this movie was also very interesting to watch. His absolute- like, his vision went RED when Shadow mentioned Tom. That was what set him OFFFF. His abuse of the Master Emerald and even threatening his own best friends/siblings over this— god the emphasis of choice in this film I want to sob.

Also, yall already KNOW I WAS BALLING ABOUT THE AKIRA SLIDE, SNAPCUBE REFERENCES, AND EVERY TIME SHADOW BREATHED OR MOVED. Literally could not contain myself from absolutely sob-cry-screaming at Shadow and (Keanu did a great job btw) his entire story, his joy with Maria and his pain all after. (His Super form looked fuck beautiful, a new colorful hue every time I saw it)

All in all, Robotniks were hilarious, Maria and Shadow were beautifully tragic and just generally so so SO adorable and loving. I’m so glad that Tails and Knuckles got more serious appreciation and screen time this movie as well, because as much as Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles were sidelined in this movie (to put forth Robotniks and Shadow, understandably so), it still felt more fulfilling and real than in the second movie. Super forms continue to be beautiful onscreen, I would like to collapse and die from hearing ONE OK ROCK and Live and Learn.

AHEM. Now, clearly, I will be making a separate post solely about Stobotnik. Along with the multiple Stone-centric fics burning a hole in my brain and the choice and grief analyses awaiting my attention. Bear with me as I have SO MANY THOUGHTS.

We won. . . but at what cost.

My friends, my partner, you already know. We died and were promptly revived together in that theater.

[leezuhh]

a big alien stage mizi character analysis, based on the new/final?? episode:

my interpretation of karma is that mizi's self-hate entirely fuels pretty much her entire monologue about how humans are selfish beings; she knew that sua wanted to/was going to die for her, and she couldn't stop it, so from the very beginning of alien stage, she's blamed herself for it.

mizi feels like she couldn't stop it, and that she didn't love sua enough, or the right way, to be there for her or to die for her. i think mizi destroyed the rocket hoping she'd die in the explosion: she imagines hyun-woo and hyuna, ivan and till, and then her and sua free and finally able to embrace (but not luka, the only one who she never held any positive sentiment towards; i can't imagine she wanted him to be free, so she didn't picture him being freed). that only in death can there be true hope for them, true and pure love.

and while she's wallowing in her shame and self-hate, holding till's body, she thinks that hyuna's passion, and her and the rebels' mission to launch the rocket was all for nothing. that it never mattered, because they all died in the end, because they were human, and flawed.

but when she holds till, and suddenly realizes that he's alive, she gets a bit of hope back. till has always been a rebel against the aliens, always fighting them at the expense of his own health, and when she hears his heartbeat, her mind clears, just a bit. we see the scene where sua is rehearsing her own death again, but this time, with what really happened: mizi runs and comforts sua. presumably, this memory is something she's suppressed in her self-hatred. maybe she believed she was too selfish, too much of a flawed human for the moment to be real.

i really hope this isn't the end for alien stage. if it is, i'll be satisfied; i think the ending of karma was open-ended enough to leave hope for the future of the characters (i have some thoughts spinning around in my head about luka and the cycle of abuse tho) and their stories. it makes me sad that mizi's final perception by the rebels and aliens alike is that she was a villain/"witch", but it's interesting that the immediate result of her actions to destroy the bomb is the human children in the audience happy and smiling, laughing. in the end, humanity perseveres; till lives on as a rebel, saving children trapped just like they were, and even though the fate of mizi herself is left unknown, i don't think she died. i think she's out there, and no matter what she does, i'm glad that, even just for a moment, she was able to see the love and humanity that she was able to share with others, and that they shared with her.