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artist-issues · 4 months

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Would love to know your thoughts on the Planet of the Apes series, or at least the newest movie!

This is so kind of you, to ask!

I started watching those movies before my formal education. And they're in that teeny little corner of my brain where I just like things, without having examined why I like them. In that teeny little corner, I have my critical thinking and movie analyzation turned off, and I just enjoy things like singing animals even if the movie is objectively bad (I'm looking at you Alpha & Omega 🫠) or Transformers. So yeah, Planet of the Apes falls in there.

I know. I just made a post about how important it is to train your tastes for good stories, and accept no junk food...and then the very next post was like "the future is meaningless but the monkey movie is now" ^^" Look there's a time and place for examining why you like things and I'm just saying I haven't gotten down the list to why I like the monkey movies yet!

Until now! Partly because you're asking, partly because watching the new one made me start to think about what I liked about the first three...because the new one hit me differently. So what I'm getting at is, I'll answer you, but I'm going to be "thinking out loud" and we'll find out what I think of those movies as I type, and it's going to be rambly. Sorry! (Skip to the bottom to read about the Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes.)

I Miss Caesar

My favorite character in these movies is actually Koba, but Caesar is the heart and soul of them.

There's nothing particularly unique about Caesar as a main character—he's a coming-of-age, great-leader-from-nothing Savior-type character. He doesn’t have many character flaws, he’s the idealist, etc.

But what makes you, the audience, love Caesar so much is that you get to see his story, and the whole driving hook of the movies—“apes with human intelligence”—embodied in him, from the very beginning.

Caesar has two really awesome things going for him. The first is that he is an ape, and you get to see his intelligence and his empathetic, human nature, grow in real-time. The audience is excited to see how he’ll respond to the simplest thing because he’s so believably a super-intelligent ape. You’re like, “ooo, he just noticed that he’s wearing a leash, and the dog is wearing a leash, so how will he respond to that comparison? Ooo, now he’s meeting other apes, is he going to notice that they aren’t as smart as him? Ooo, he just attacked a neighbor, but he’s smarter than the average animal on a rampage, so how will he feel about the moral repercussions of violence?” We want to watch an animal that’s becoming self-aware; it almost doesn’t matter what he’s doing, we’ll watch it, because that’s fascinating. That’s the first thing he has going for him.

But then the second thing he has going for him is that, even if he were human, he’s just a really inspiring, likeable character. If you rewrite Caesar as a human (but somehow keep the equivalent of “gradually becoming self-aware of his uniqueness as a creature” plot point) his story is still really compelling. Think about that scene where he learns what he is, for the first time, point-blank.

Once he learns who he is and what he is, he does not immediately turn bitter, or resent his adoptive father, or even try to change the status quo of his own life. He looks sad, and very contemplative about it, but when he loses his temper and gets taken to the ape sanctuary, he still wants to go back home. He wants to go back to living in an attic, with brief excursions to the woods on a leash. At that point he already knows, on some level, that he’s a super-intelligent freak of nature and could resent Will for making him that way or keeping him a secret. But he doesn’t.

He also shows mercy to Rocket, the bully ape, and makes him super-intelligent.

He also shows signs of being interested in Cornelia, his eventual wife—before she turns super-intelligent. While she’s still significantly stupider, on a whole lower plane of intelligence, than him.

They give him all these little touches, like the fact that he wants to play ball with the other apes immediately when he meets them, instead of being shy, or treating their naked stupid selves like they’re beneath him. Like the fact that he asks Will’s permission before he goes climbing. Like the fact that he gives them all super-human intelligence, instead of keeping that superpower for himself and leveraging it to his own advantage, or gatekeeping it for only the apes who are nice to him.

He’s awesome because he’s got all the protective, trusting, loving, humility of our favorite pets. But then he takes all those pure qualities and combines them with supernatural intelligence, and “noble leader of the pack” traits. So he feels like a wise king, even in the second movie, when, from our perspective, he should just be…a naked ape who talks in broken English and lives in a tree fort.

Probably the best character trait of Caesar’s is that he inherits this “family” mentality from his adoptive father, Will. He thinks that the difference between apes and humans is that apes are loyal and love one another, specifically “like a family.”

And what that means to Caesar is that you would do anything to keep your family safe. Because that’s what Will did. Will only made the serum that started this whole franchise because he was trying to cure his father of Alzheimer’s. Will was always willing to break rules and cheat the system and change the world if it meant he could keep his family safe, and that included Caesar, who was not his blood relation.

So to Caesar, being a family means you would never hurt the people in your family; you can’t hurt them yourself, and you can’t let anyone else hurt them—and you can’t do things that would lead to them getting hurt, like starting a war.

And that’s just really appealing. A noble leader whose whole heart is “family,” but also, he’s this really interesting animal-that-learns-human-empathy.

I was going to talk about Koba, but this is too long, so maybe in another post. Suffice to say, I think the first two movies do a really good job of pacing everything, so that you have plenty of time to fall in love with Caesar, feel like you’ve watched him discover who he is and decide what to do with that in real-time, and then feel fully invested in the world he’s trying to build.

Basically what I’m saying is, I think I just really love Caesar, and so does everyone else who watches him, because he’s really well-done. And Andy Serkis smashes this role out of the park. It’s like my favorite thing he’s ever done. He does it perfectly. And in the fourth movie, I just go into it…already missing Caesar.

War For the Planet of the Apes

I didn’t like this movie as much as the first two. The first two I’ve seen over and over again. But the third one is not as enjoyable.

I think I don’t enjoy it because a lot of it feels like gratuitous misery. I mean, I understand—traditionally, in an epic-scale trilogy, you develop your main characters over the course of the first two movies. They learn who they are, they commit to a mission statement born out of the lessons they’ve learned, and then, in the third movie, that lesson learned gets tested with the “ultimate challenge.”

Well, so, Caesar learned he was the leader of basically a naive species and the founder of a new world—and the lesson he took from that was, “to keep my family safe, I must protect them from hate.” (I know that’s broad, but what I mean by that is, Caesar initially took the apes to the woods when they were “reborn” as their own species to hide them from humans, who would fear and hate what they couldn’t understand. But then he had to protect them from a new form of hatred; the hatred of Koba, and other apes like him, who hated humans so much and hated anyone else being in power so much that he was willing to hurt “family” to satisfy that hatred.

So what’s the ultimate test of “to keep my family safe, I must protect them from hate?” Giving Caesar hate. Caesar is not a hateful character. He’s like the total opposite of that—that’s why he can single-handedly defend the ape species from Hate in general.

But you murder his wife and child in the first part of the movie?

That’ll do it!

Plus, it’s been a long, hard fight and nothing he has done since the “war” against “hate” started seems to be working, so he’s understandably tired even before Blue Eyes and Cornelia die. Then they die. And then the rest of the tribe gets nabbed. And Caesar is ready to focus all his energy on revenge, just like Koba.

So yeah, that’s the correct “ultimate test” of everything Caesar has learned as a character, to put him through in this trilogy. But honestly, it was just too sad to enjoy watching.

And remember how I said that the two things Caesar has going for him as a character that make the movies (which are all about him) so enjoyable are:

He’s a well-written, inspiring character outside of being an ape (we just talked about that side of the 3rd movie, how it’s the conclusion to that character.)

The movies are well-paced so that you’re fascinated by watching an animal become increasingly human-like and empathetic, without losing the best parts of a noble/niave/animal nature

Well. The problem is that, because of the way these movies go, the apes have to become less animal as the story goes on. The whole point is that they’re as smart as humans now. So they’ll make human-like mistakes, and start to come to some of the same “conclusions” as “early man” did.

What I’m saying boils down to, they stop acting so much like believable apes in War for the Planet of the Apes. They talk out loud more often than they pantomime or speak through obvious body language. Heck, Caesar has full on monologues or confrontations with the human villain, the Colonel, in the third movie.

What made his interactions with humans before so appealing to watch was that he would still act like an ape. When he wants the humans to drive him to his old home, he just lays in the back of the car and grunts and taps the window when they’re getting close to make them stop, without explaining himself. Like your dog might, straining at his leash toward home when he wants to be done walking. But we, the audience, like that sort of thing because with Caesar, we know there’s human levels of understanding behind all the appealing animal actions that make us think of our pets.

It’s that sweet savage naivety. It’s that fascinating simplicity meeting human wonder. You like watching Malcolm try to explain why they need to get the generators on, while Caesar just silently looks back and forth from him to the machines, because it’s fun to try and figure out what’s going on in his head. It’s fun to watch how the animal with superhuman intelligence will communicate that he sort of understands what the stranger wants. It’s also fun to see how the new species of superhuman apes will still act like animals with each other.

The whole fact that, even though they’re just as smart and technically non-savage, mentally, as we are, but there’s still a part of the apes that will just follow Koba if he beats Caesar in a fistfight, is fascinating. The fact that Caesar is the most “evolved” of the apes, mentally and emotionally, but when Koba challenges his leadership or insults his love for his family, Caesar will just straight-up start ripping him to pieces with his fists, is fascinating. You keep watching to see what an anthropomorphized animal really looks like, because they make that part so believable.

But in War for the Planet of the Apes, the Apes don’t have that contrast as much. You’re not getting to see civilized, fully-realized human characters share you, the audience’s, fascination with apes who are still figuring out what it means to be empathetic. You’re not watching anthropomorphized animals anymore as much as you’re watching…hairy, superstrong humans. Which brings us toooo…

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes

Sorry it took so long to get to the part you asked me about 😅

They’re just hairy, superstrong humans in this movie. That’s all. They’re very clearly super-humanly intelligent, they walk less like apes and swing through trees almost not-at-all after the first climbing part of the movie. They talk out loud (even though sign language wasn’t completely abandoned, which I appreciated) even when they’re just talking to themselves. They look more human, in the face. It’s just a joy to watch Koba, and in this movie, Proximus, even though they’re bad guys, because those two characters have the most animal-like faces. So you love to watch their snarly, long snouts and teeth speak human words, in ape-tones.

But the main ape characters all have human-like faces. Too human-like. They look uncanny-valley-y in some shots. (Except Anaya, who I liked best out of the new main three apes.)

And like I said, they have these more-advanced cultures, which just makes them feel more human. It felt like I was watching a movie about, like, a tribe of post-apocalyptic humans meeting the leftovers of civilized humanity. Not anthropomorphized animals meeting the leftovers of civilized humanity.

I kept waiting for the apes to have those fascinating interactions with the human characters. I kept waiting for May to teach something to Noa and the other apes, and for them to get all fascinated and have like, an animal reaction. That never really happened. The closest moment to that was when she switches on the lights in the bunker and the apes whoop and stumble around confusedly. Or when Noa learns to curse. 🫠 Also, the apes don’t have any kind of interesting reaction when May murders the other human of her own kind. They just stand there, looking sort of surprised, while dramatic music plays and May looks stressed. It felt like that should’ve been a moment where the apes realize something profound or scary about humanity (that she’d turn on her own so quickly,) or respond to her like they might an alpha-animal who just killed a challenger, or something like that. But that doesn’t really happen.

The movie was kind of full of moments like that, where it felt like they were building toward something profound…and then concluded on a vague or undecided note. Can humans and apes live side by side? …We don’t know. Was Caesar using apes for his own gain, or was he a noble elder? We don’t know. (Well, we do, but the main characters don’t.) Was May just trying to re-establish a communicating human community, or are she and the other humans out to retake the apes’ world? We don’t know.

Other random notes:

The cinematography was really good. There were moments where I felt like I was standing in the scene, or like I was on a ride at Disney World that believably sprays you in the face with water even though it’s a virtual environment, or pumps the smell of trees into the room to make you feel like you’re there. I don’t know what it was about the way this was shot, but I felt like I could feel the sun, and the wind, and smell the rain, etc. I actually can’t remember the last time a movie made me feel that way, so the cinematography was great. The animation is good, too, despite the uncanny valley ape faces.

I can’t decide if I like Noa. I could tell they were being very protective of the value of slow pacing, and maybe that “feel-like-you’re-inside-the-screen” cinematography was meant to help with this, but I also felt like they were trying to make us feel like we were vicariously on Noa’s long, scary, melancholy adventure with him. It was definitely supposed to be an epic-scale coming-of-age for that ape character.

But I was a little bored. I didn’t need to see him walk from one end of a field of vision to the other every single time he entered a new area. (Especially not when he’s just walking, or worse, sitting on a horse who’s just walking. When he’s an ape. And all you want to do is see him climb and swing and flip.) I also thought the actor did a really good job of emoting, but there were so many scenes of him choking on blood after a hard fall or a fight, or crying, or gazing sadly into the middle distance for a long time. It was like, “I get it. I don’t need so much of this.”

Also, there were things I didn’t care about emotionally that I felt like I should have, in order to empathize with Noa. First off, his father and his father’s death. Noa made lots of anxious expressions and clearly wanted to please his father, I guess…but there wasn’t really an indication that his father was a tough guy to please. Or that they were super close. We didn’t get enough scenes with the father before he died to make us feel emotion that would carry us all the way through Noa’s journey, in my opinion. Even his two best friends—I felt like they were building up to some thematic thing about growing up together, doing everything together, etc. But they didn’t. That sort of went nowhere.

I also felt like the most compelling parts of the movie were when May had not yet revealed herself to be intelligent, and Noa didn’t like her…but they were slowly starting to trust and understand each other. When she stands up and calls his name, that was my favorite part of the movie. Not because it was a great callback to the impactful, iconic “The Animal Spoke” moments of Caesar. But because it was her, a dumb brute, learning to trust and rely on this alien-like creature that was so much smarter than her, and building that dynamic.

It was just that I was missing “animal interacts with human” fascination. But then it turns out they’re both human. Noa is just hairy and strong, and May is not.

Also I didn’t love the whole spin they took to communicate “nature over unnatural progress” with Proximus. I get it. The eagles are symbolic of nature and living in harmony with it. Proximus is symbolic of trying to cheat nature and jump the gun unnaturally. But I’m a Christian. I don’t find anything compelling, inherently, about the idea that it’s “nature” that causes us to “evolve” to what we’re “meant to be.” It also doesn’t even make sense within the context of these movies. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t have the reason apes become super intelligent and free be a non-natural drug…and still say that the non-natural drug was a bad choice with world-ending consequences. Which is it? Try to control nature? Or don’t? Because if you don’t, the apes still get treated like dumb brutes and rounded up for experimentation. And Alzheimer’s is never cured. But if you do, yes the brutes get freedom, but all of humanity goes through a brutal virus, your father’s suffering is prolonged, and your girlfriend tells you “some things aren’t meant to be tampered with.”

So like, which is it? Should the vault be opened and shared with the apes? Or should the eagles knock the mean unnatural King Ape off the cliff? I don’t know.

I don’t love that the movie ends with so much of that. But I guess it had to. Thats the logical next step of a series that is about a new species continually growing to be more human, and it’s the next step for setting up the next phase.

So that’s how I felt about all of that! Thanks for asking. Maybe I will talk about Koba someday.

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comikadraws · 17 hours

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what do you think is the reason why people hate tobirama so much, his hatred of the uchiha aside?

Honestly, I think it is just his prejudice against the Uchiha. Or well, for the most part, at least. Specifically, the reason is that a lot of the stuff Tobirama says reads as racist when brought into perspective with our contemporary understanding of the world. I have talked about this at length in another ask on how, while this was probably not Kishimoto's intention, this interpretation of his character is still valid.

What does, of course, factor in as well, is that Tobirama comes off like an asshole a lot of the time and has a sensitivity stat of 0. Furthermore, the group that he is "racist" against is fairly well-liked in the fandom. It is very similar to how many fans hate Danzo more than Orochimaru - Not because one is actually worse than the other, but because he harmed their favorite characters. It is not entirely rational but it is valid nevertheless, and I personally share that sentiment.

The discourse surrounding Tobirama was 100% inevitable and this is both good and bad. For one, it showcases that we as a community are critical enough to question and empathetic enough to reject racist ideas. But also, many of those discussions still seem to miss the point entirely.

There are fans who will reject the possibility that Kishimoto ever not intended for Tobirama to be a racist. Fair enough at first (because everybody is entitled to their own interpretation), but the same fans will then insult your intelligence because you do not share their interpretation, as though there was enough evidence to disprove yours or only support theirs.

And then there are also fans who agree that Kishimoto did not intend to make Tobirama a racist in his canon but will demand you reject the canon rendition of that story anyway for political reasons. And if you don't, and if you take an intentionalist approach, or if you simply just analyze this intended canon, that makes you a racist, somehow.

But you get the gist. Tobirama, for many people, is not a character but a representation of racist politics. Hating him, therefore, is a vehicle to address real-world problems in a fandom context. And not hating him will then often result in real-world harassment. This pressures people into agreeing with his haters, continuing the cycle.

#something something fandom has become overly politicized and invited aggressive fandom activists #said fandom activists have good intentions usually #but some are self-righteous enough to bully and harass #which then causes more damage than good #anti tobirama #pro tobirama #naruto discussion #naruto #meta #tobirama #tobirama senju #naruto ask #ask #anon #anon ask

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brunhielda · 13 days

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Am currently rereading “Wizard of Oz” in prep for running a high school musical based on said book.

Let me tell you, reading an introduction by someone who either did not know of or chose to completely ignore Baum’s feminist beliefs is absolutely WILD.

I finally had to stop when Mr. Barbarese said “Oz is a place where good dominates, but where you will also find that impossible contradiction, the good witch. This is by all evidence Frank Baum’s invention and arguably his lasting contribution to the representational vocabulary of Western Literature.”

EXCUSE you?!

Ignoring all feminist folktales in which women use what is traditionally “witchcraft” to save the day, only for it to be labeled something else because the woman is good, or even older tales in which “the witch” is a purely neutral character seen only as an agent of change- ok. Fine. Annoying and dismissive, but expected.

But to completely miss the work done by BAUM’S OWN MOTHER-IN-LAW, Matilda Gage, on the discussions around the word “witch” and how it was used to describe ANY woman of power to dehumanize her, whether she was in the right or no, the very essays that BAUM BASED HIS GOOD WITCH OFF OF- that was too far.

You do not get to mention the shift in public consciousness around the word “witch” without mentioning Matilda. No sir. You have lost all credibility.

I mean, he was already on thing ice for struggling to understand anything basic about Dorothy’s traveling companions- (he recognized the irony without understanding why it was there, like, huh?) but I was willing to look past it for the intriguing contrast and comparisons he was making between Oz, Wonderland, and Neverland. Then he tried to talk character archetypes again and just fell flat on his face.

Like- wow. Way to somehow say “this author had powerful female characters” while also completely leaving women out of the discussion. I just… how???!

This intro read like all my earliest academic essays- trying to prove a point while dismissing or ignoring anything that might refute or confuse the issue, leaving it full of complex academic jargon without much depth.

According to this text- J. T. Barbarese is “an authority on children’s literature, (and) teaches at Rutgers University in Camden New Jersey” as of the publication of this edition in 2005.

I now have some concerns for those who studied Children’s Literature at Rutgers in the early 2000s.

Can we just decide you need to be a woman or at least somewhat queer to try to analyze anything Ozian? Can we make that a ruling?

Sorry- obscure rant over. Please go on with your day. 🙏

#storytelling #character analysis #the wizard of oz #l frank baum #american literature #classic literature #literary analysis #who the hell is J T Barbarese and who gave him permission to ramble through an into to the classic?#feminist literature #feminist movement #Baum was a hard core suffragette and anyone who doesn’t at least mention it didn’t understand his writing #anyone who doesn’t mention Matilda Gage in the same breath is leaving out facts of importance #all 3 of her companions suffer from traditional masculine societal norms and then are set free by a little girl #like- what book have the male scholars been reading?!#my hyperfixations #are children’s literature #and fairytales in particular #can you tell #extended rant

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revenantghost · 1 year

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HELLO THERE!! hope you're having a nice day and happy pride month :D

I had a question about how they stopped the sand steamer in tristamp or how did the plant help them more specifically...

did the plant mess with gravity to stop it? was she the one who made the storm at the end? if she created the storm somehow, what was the point? Vash's old friends could've still come down and pick them up right? or they didn't want to be seen?

by the way, THANK YOU SO MUCH for making the Trigun book club my dash is flooding with manga screenshots and different analyzes from sooo many people, and it's only the first week!! I'm so excited for future chapters

HELLO! Thank you, and you too!!! <3

I have been wondering this since I watched the episode. And I'm happy you brought up the sandstorm because I felt I was the only one when I assumed the same thing, but I'm not alone! I'm justified!!! But that was Home's (ship three's) sandstorm that constantly surrounds their ship! They mention it in passing after this moment and I only caught it because others have mentioned it, though it's definitely generated by their own plants. (So you're correct--it's plant-generated)

Now, if we're taking cues from the other Triguns, in the manga, Vash stops his sister's heart for a moment in this moment? And the crew says that all signs of vitals are cut off. (Also note that I got that from reading other folks' posts as well, I missed it in my sprint through reading it the first time lol--but since I'm reading it right now, I flipped to that page to confirm). It would make sense as to why he apologizes to her here in Tristamp then, especially with his pre-July mindset. In the manga, this gives Kaite the chance to engage the brakes (which is the role Wolfwood plays in Tristamp), so I imagine this stunt of Vash's stops/stalls the engines.

In the manga, the plant is just going out of control; in Tristamp, they can't control the ship because Legato's a little shit. So Tristamp Vash may or may not have temporarily killed her for a moment there, but at the very least, they got the engine to finally quit while Wolfwood burnt the SHIT out of his hands engaged the emergency brakes.

In '98 I'm pretty sure we get even less of an explanation, but I've only watched it once so I could be wrong.

TL;DR: We don't have an exact explanation yet! Only Nightow logic to go off of. But I think about it a lot and this is what I've settled on for now. Hopefully this makes sense, and anyone feel free to make any corrections to what I misread/misunderstood!

OH MAN, I'M SO HAPPY SO MANY PEOPLE ARE PARTICIPATING IN TRIGUN BOOKCLUB!!! It's so wild and exciting to me, I'm thrilled you're enjoying it too!!! <3

#Trigun #Tristamp #Trigun Stampede #Trigun Meta #My Trigun Meta #Please do feel free to correct me if I'm a buffoon here

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lia-land · 6 months

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House of Sky and Breath

4.5/5 stars

*Spoilers by House of Sky and Breath by Sarah J. Maas.

I should mention that I’m obviously aware that these books are meant to be basically fairy porn with a plot and not analyzed as if it’s Shakespeare, but then this blog wouldn't exist. SJM has become one of my favourite authors and this book is one of my new favourites, but I also love analysing, so let's get into it.

Do Danika’s secrets ever end? This series feels like Pretty Little Liars at this point and Danika is Alison.

The prologue was very long and boring. I can see how it was relevant for the rest of the book, but while reading it, it just dragged on. Not a very strong start. It could have been shorter.

Ember seems like such a toxic parent. I’ve yet to enjoy a single interaction between her and Bryce. I understand that she is protective, but she’s outright rude and brings things up at the most inappropriate times. For example, at the ballet. I don’t think she was supposed to seem like this, but that’s how her character has come across so far.

My favorite line from this series so far is “Can we go back to how the Prince of the Chasm was sitting on my lap?” which is actually even funnier when it turned out to be Rigelus. He really just showed up, dropped a bunch of important info, caused some drama, and left. He seems a bit like a copy of a certain High Lord from A Court of Thorns and Roses, but I will not digress as to not spoil that series. My Aidas (I suppose Rigelus?) and Bryce ship continues to thrive. Him dropping the info about Cormac being a secret agent was gold. Although, somehow, Cormac got less interesting after that. SJM has a tendency of turning ‘evil’ characters into good ones and making them boring in the process. I miss the “see you at the altar” Cormac. He was more fun to read about than rebel Cormac. Just to add, I listened to parts of this book on audible and the narrator gave him a thick Scottish accent that I could not stand because it felt so out of place and I’ll probably never stop associating Cormac with it, so maybe I’m biased.

Strangely enough, the ending of this book reminded me of Divergent. It’s been a while since I’ve read a book where the plot leads to the city/world being some sort of experiment or having some specific purpose. I didn’t expect this from SJM, but I’m really liking the direction so far. Hel actually being good was such a great twist. I think a lot of why I have enjoyed this series so far is because unlike ACOTAR and Throne of Glass, social media isn’t full of spoilers yet. I’m getting to experience most of the story with no idea of what will actually happen. I did know that Aidas was actually Rigelus, but it was still interesting to see how it would end up that way.

It was way too convenient that Ithan and Bryce found the college papers when they did. What if she’d found them a year ago? Or the year before that? Or never at all? Unless there’s some bigger force at play, this was far too specific and was lazy writing to drive the plot forward. Ithan just happened to want to have a little sword fight with himself and breaks that specific table? Conveniently when they’d hit a dead end on the emails? The ‘explanation’ is “Urd must have sent her back to the apartment just now. For this.” No, it wasn’t the Urd. It was just lazy writing. It could have made more sense if these papers were discovered in book 1 and Bryce just wouldn’t have thought anything about them until now. Unless later on it turns out that the Asteri or Gods or some bigger force has been guiding these characters into specific situations in order to advance a specific agenda, this was lazy. But I would consider using that as an excuse to also be lazy.

I also had to roll my eyes at the mystic being the Fendyr heir. That just felt like it was thrown in for the sake of being a plot twist and making Ithan’s character have somewhat of a storyline. I actually don’t see the point of Ithan’s character at all to be honest. We’ve had him in two books now, but for what reason other than his one liners? Shoutout to “that sounds medically dangerous!” I assume he will finally have some purpose in the final book, but so far, he’s been in two 800 page books and I have no idea why. Unless we count the very convenient breaking of the table so that Bryce could find those documents. In that case, thank god for Ithan! Where would the story be if he hadn’t talked to that journalist, pissed off Sabine, got kicked out of the pack, ended up at Bryce’s apartment, played with the sword on Bryce’s coffee table, and broken it to reveal the papers. Personally, I feel like this story could have been exactly where it is now without Ithan’s character.

I can’t decide if I like Tharion or not. He gives me the ick sometimes, like why are you putting your bare feet on someone else’s coffee table !!! Good thing the coffee table broke a few chapters later. I feel like I should dislike Tharion because he’s quite awful to Sathia and literally admitted to lying about agreeing to marry her just to sleep with her. He also ditched her at the mating ball to go and fuck some shifter in the gardens. Him kissing Bryce while she was teleporting was also weird. I actually think he’s the closest character to the men I tend to be attracted to and then look back and think what could I have possibly seen in him? The answer lives in that part of my brain that tries to justify the behavior by thinking that Tharion is a good guy deep down and is just misunderstood and had to stay in the engagement because the alternative was the wrath of the River Queen. Then I’m thinking he put himself in that situation and deserved it. And then I’m thinking maybe he didn’t deserve such harsh consequences. I go back and forth about how I feel about him. He’s exactly the type of guy you’d have a one night stand with and then fall for and try to change while you ignore his red flags because you think he’s the one and that his confidence is hot, only to realize later that you wasted your time and he’s actually just a massive ick. He pretty much just thinks with his dick, but I really enjoy reading about his character and I find him more interesting than Cormac and Hunt. There’s a lot of potential for him to grow as a character and I hope we see that in the next book.

I have to admit that I have no clue what Sunball is and I just assume it’s baseball. I didn’t pay attention to it in book 1 because I didn’t think it would come up as often as it does and now I’m too lazy to go back and find it’s description. This applies to a lot of my world building knowledge in this series. I’ve only recently noticed that CBD and CCB are not the same thing. No clue what the difference between Lunathion and Crescent City are. Confused about how the humans are still at war with the Asteri if they’re meant to be super powerful? Are the Asteri purposely letting it continue so that “the Vanir have something to rule over” or was this never explained? I don’t even really know who the humans are at war with to be fair. Is it even the Asteri? There was so much of an info dump at the start of book 1 that it all got muddled. SJM knows how to world build well so I don’t know why it was done differently in this series. I love the detail of this world and it’s general vibe, but it could have been introduced better. For example, has it been explained yet why Fury was at the Summit? What does Jesiba actually do? There are things that I don’t know if I forgot from the world building info dump or if we’re purposely not meant to know yet. The problem with this is that I can’t google it because it might be a spoiler until after I’ve finished the series, but it could also be something that I should know and just skimmed over, so it’s a cycle. I’d especially appreciate a map of the entire world, rather than just CC. Additionally, all three books have been released at the time of my reading, so I’m reading this series back to back, but I can’t imagine how I would have kept up if I had to wait at least a year between books because I definitely would have forgotten most of it. When Rigelus asked Bryce if she knows what the star on her chest is and she said “let’s assume I know nothing”… I felt seen.

I did know prior to starting this series that there was an ACOTAR crossover, but I wish I didn’t know that because that would have probably been the best cliffhanger ever. I don’t know how people waited so long for book 3 after reading that.

tldr; I love this book for what it is: an easy to read romantasy book with hot sex and a fast paced plot. It wasn’t written to be picked apart like I’ve done here, but I tend not to include the things that I liked in these reviews as much as what I thought could be improved. This was one of the most immersive books I’ve read and I’m actually enjoying it as much as I enjoyed ACOTAR, which is very high praise from me.

#sarah j maas #book review #crescent city #house of sky and breath #house of earth and blood #bryce quinlan #hunt athalar #ruhn danaan #house of flame and shadow #ithan holstrom #danika fendyr #tharion ketos

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sunshineandalittleflour · 6 months

Text

Writing Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 fics and see if there’s a pattern!

WHOOPS sorry @onetwistedmiracle this took me a billion years (9 days) to do, the passage of time is simply not real to me. See twisted's post here and read her stuff, it's good. I will follow her lead and also pic ten fics that I wrote by myself, just to try and keep things easier lol

I'm bad at tagging people because this account is a side blog and I really only talk to twisted on it (is this an invitation to talk to me? Maybe! But please don't be offended if it takes me 9 days to reply), but if you want to examine your own writing style, consider this a lazy tag.

The last ten fics I wrote were for Critical Role and Star Wars (I miss you Check! Please, eventually I work work more on mine and twisted's collab fic and see you again)

1: You could be the one that I love, And now I'm standin' here, hopin' it gets to you

Molly had the feeling that so long as Caleb Widogast’s hand was on the small of his back, he could do anything.

Part 9 in my Molly/Caleb/Essek threesome fic, spicy but they're IN LOVE. I do love to start with a character thought/name.

2: I'm in new territory, somehow, it kinda feels like home

“What?” Padme said, her voice feeling hollow in her own chest.

A rare gen fic for me, I usually write explicit, but this was a fun prequel AU because I love to turn tragedies into opportunities. I also love to start with dialogue, just get RIGHT into things. It's also a short sentence, idk why.

3: Oh, if it's real, if it's sweet

“I’ve made a mistake,” Anakin said, and Luke sighed.

Another teen rating, can you believe I built my AO3 page on writing porn? More dialogue, I just think it's funny. And a short sentence!

4: Wherever you are, we are seeing the same stars

The day after Anakin left, Shmi almost sold C-3PO.

Surprise, it's dialogue AND a short sentence. Am I a two-trick pony? Maybe! Check out this kick flip!

5: Feeling like a face in the crowd

What Molly liked most about Essek and Caleb’s house—besides the fact that they lived in it and he, like, loved them—was just how many nooks and crannies it had.

This is the longest starting sentence thus far, maybe the longest starting sentence ever for one of my fics LOL I usually leave the run-ons for a third of the way through. And it's not dialogue! Shocker! This is also part 8 of my threesome purple wizard series, so the foundation has been laid and I could get a little weird with it?

6: All we got is us now

Ahsoka hadn’t spent a lot of time with Leia Organa.

We're back on the short train with a character driven statement. This is also part 5 of my pretty places series, so, again, there could be something to the already established aspect of it, or nothing at all!

7: Look how you made me

“Jester has questions,” Fjord said with a sigh.

Dialogue, but this time it's not from the POV character. I'm not doing a very good job analyzing things, but I am having a good time.

8: A message in a bottle is all I can do, Standin' here, hopin' it gets to you

Caleb Widoghast and Essek Thelyss lived very different lives from Mollymauk Tealeaf.

Character driven thought! Writing is hard, okay, and you gotta start somewhere. Definitive statements and dialogue are nice jumping off points.

9: I'm reaching for you

The first time Molly had sex with Caleb and Essek, he called himself an Uber right after.

This one is earlier on in the threesome series; timeline-wise it's like...the second story? 1.5 technically, since it happens mid first story? But I wrote it fifth, so. Establishment theory does or doesn't gain traction here, I don't think I know what I'm saying anymore.

10: 'Cause you could be the one that I love, I could be the one that you dream of

“What’re you thinking about?” Caleb asked, drawing his thumb across Molly’s temple, winding a purple curl between his fingers.

And we're back on our dialogue train! Dialogue starters, my beloved.

I don't know that we (I) learned anything, but it was fun to wander back through my most recent fics. Hopefully this will inspire me to write more fanfiction, but right now I am DEEP in the trenches of my own dungeons and dragons character, so. It's gonna be a minute.

XOXO

#sunny writes things #fanfiction #first lines #writing patterns #critical role #idk the molly/caleb/essek ship name so just pretend I tagged that #star wars #dinluke

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kolbisneat · 2 years

Text

MONTHLY MEDIA: February 2023

Okay I didn’t watch any movies this month BUT I’m very excited for the D&D movie and I watched plenty of youtube.

……….TELEVISION……….

Arcane (Episode 1.01 to 1.09) It took a few episodes for me to get invested (and a few mid-season eps that felt like a CW series...only young beautiful people allowed) but by the end I was into it. I know nothing about League of Legends and to the show’s credit, I couldn’t tell when there was fanservice. I’ll check out season 2 if it happens.

The Great (Episode 2.01 to 2.08) Loved the first season and currently love the second. Still a few eps left but it’s kept me guessing the entire time. Stellar characters, very funny, and the world continues to walk the edge between whimsical and dangerous.

Spy x Family (Episode 1.01 to 1.07) Super fun premise and very funny. I’ve only just started but I hope we get to see more of Yor’s world. It seems to be spy-centric and psychic-centric (which, based on the name and current plot, makes sense) but I hope it can start weaving in more of her role in the future.

Cunk on Earth (Episode 1.01 to 1.02) Sure I’ve only seen two episodes but both were very funny. Something about her timing and delivery just works every time for me.

……….YOUTUBE……….

Chronically underwhelmed? This might be why... by Daily Mindtrap A concise reflection on why we’re not having as much fun as when we were kids. Touches on a lot of thoughtful points though my hatred of subscriptions does make me a little biased. VIDEO

The Decline of Tim Burton by Broey Deschanel One thing that scares me as an artist is that I’ll get stuck in a spot and start copying and reiterating on my own work to the point that it becomes caricature. Just a random thought and totally unrelated to this video. VIDEO

How To Analyze Movies – Film Studies 101 and What Do The LOONEY TUNES Mean In 2023? by Patrick Willems Both really great in their own way. Film studies 101 is fairly universal as a lot of the topics apply to all art. And the Looney Tunes share a room in my mind palace with the Muppets: concepts I love but haven’t connected with anything of theirs in the last 15 years. VIDEO (Film 101) VIDEO (Muppets)

……….READING……….

Your Friendly Neighbourhood Death Pedlar by Jimmy Sangster (Complete) The cover was so good and the write-up pitched it as a comedy that I took a gamble on a thrift store find. Swing and a miss. Comedy is difficult in your own time let alone 50 years after being published. Are the offensive bits a sendup of the time, or have they just aged poorly? Comedy that requires context doesn’t land for me so this whole thing fell flat. Anyway all this is to say I’m a sucker for a good book cover.

Confronting Capitalism by Vivek Chiboer (Complete) An easily digestible primer on Capitalism and it’s...faults. It really gave a lot of insight into the structural problems with politics in a capitalistic system and for that alone, I recommend. I wish the last chapter (talking about how a society moves past capitalism) was a little more robust, but hopefully I can find some other books to fill in those gaps.

Batgirl/Robin Year One by Scott Beatty, Chuck Dixon, Marcos, Martin, and Javier Pulido (Complete) Great introductions to both characters and the perfect balance of fun and dangerous. It feels like there are real stakes while not getting too dark. I’d love if a Batman movie could strive for this sorta tone, you know?

……….AUDIO……….

Paranoid by Black Sabbath (1970) One thing I appreciate about getting into Girl Talk years ago was it introduced me to bits of really great albums. And I somehow missed that Ozzy Osbourne was the lead singer. Anyway filling in a lot of blind spots here and War Pigs holds up so well. The whole album really.

……….GAMING……….

Oz: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The group is unearthing some underground tunnels and playing the political game as well. If you want to read more of the recaps, they’re over here!

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The Mof1 group is busy making plans and saving Pirates. They recently acquired some protective suits so they’re now exploring the iron mines and its fluctuating temperatures!

And that’s it. See you in March!

#Monthly Media #Kolbisneat #Andrew Kolb

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eisforeidolon · 2 years

Note

I was involved in Sherlock and Voltron fandoms and let me say that SPN fandom (in regards to hellers) exhibits the same fandom behavior.

They over-analyse every minuscule detail rather than watching the actual show and narrative and story that's being told. They believe in the stuff they created and over-analyzed. They believe they are a selective group of people in the fandom who ''can see The Real Intent'' of the show.

They create a circlejerk and echo chamber community among themselves to make themselves and other people believe in those ''metas'' that they came up with, then at the end final stage-- blame other people, creators for ''queerbaiting''. And going as far as to claim that there are conspiracies regarding why their ship didn't sail.

Sherlock fans' conspiracy - they legit made hundreds of paged essay or videos on YT explaining why Johnlock was always meant to be canon. Their conspiracy was that the writers were somehow restained from doing so. There was a secret finale episode that has never aired on screen. It was changed at the last second.

Voltron fandom made the same thing- writing hundreds of pages of ''analyses'' and ''essays'' that somehow *definitely* proved that their gay ship Klance was going to be canon and it was sooooo obvious but the ''dumb dumb'' GA was just missing it. Only the shippers could see The Real Intent of the writers and that intent was making Klance canon.

Hellers thought Destiel was there to see, it just wasn't apparent to the others who couldn't Read The Obvious Text. They came up with so many scenarios, essays, and conspiracies that were so far-fetched that even sometimes other fandoms made fun of them. The ''rogue translator'' bullshit, which was was like ''the secret sherlock episode''. Hellers saying there was actually a destiel reunion at the finale but it was deleted, Misha actually filmed it but then the evil CVV came and just deleted those scenes and Castiel's love was supposed to be reciprocated but they restrained the writers in a conspiracy theory way. They compared CVV to ''Chuck who was meddling with the finale and the real story''..... You get the point.

It is always pathetic and toxic when a fandom involves such drama and a group of people who never seem to get rid off their holy than thou attitude and delusions. It is especially bad when they drag other people into this mess too

Yeah, unfortunately, hellers are not unique.

I think it's possible they might hold the current batshit crown for taking it the furthest - I don't know of any other obsessive shipper fanbase that has kept watching a different show about other characters convinced it's only being made to validate their ship? But the absurdist meta, the insistence only they are smart and special enough to Really Understand the canon, the harassing of TPTB on SM, the conspiracy-think, the cult-like echo chamber that attacks anyone and everyone who doesn't agree, even if it's just a matter of not toeing the chosen line hard enough - all of it has shown up to greater or lesser degrees elsewhere.

In general, I think social media has made it a lot easier to for people to find and get sucked down deep into echo chambers that wholeheartedly believe blatantly stupid shit. When you combine that with fandom, which has long been made up of fanatic fans and already had issues with sectioning off into groups to war over whose woobie and/or ship is best? It's an unfortunate circumstance, but not really a surprising one to see this sort of thing not only present but building towards increasing extremes.

#destihellers #fandom issues #askboxery #anonymous

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stevensavage · 1 year

Text

Expected Enjoyment

(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve's Tumblr, and Pillowfort. Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

I was discussing popular works with Serdar, and both had experienced the pressure to enjoy something everyone else was enjoying. I felt it had gotten worse in the last two decades and was honestly getting the hell on my nerves. There were more choices, but it seemed more pressure to like certain things, and I’ve been trying to articulate it.

I grew up with “Must See TV” and every year had some blockbuster in the theater, but that was different. Dallas was big, but people seemed to accept it might not be your cup of tea – and I was ten, so I didn’t care. I loved Star Wars, but it was a bolt-of-lightning thing, and no one expected everyone to like it. There were Big Things, but I don’t recall the sheer pressure to like them.

The ever-expanding world of cable television, foreign films, anime, and the internet brought us even more options. In the 1990’s the idea of something being Mandatory Fun (apologies to Weird Al) was alien to me – there was something for everyone and more of it all the time. Why have something feel mandatory?

Then came Harry Potter. I am loathe to discuss it due to the author’s horrid transphobia, but as this is a historical rant and thus I strive for accuracy.

Harry Potter was something everyone seemed into, and I felt pressure to read it, which irritated the hell out of me. I think the fact that it was an internet sensation made it omnipresent, people didn’t get you might not be into it because all their friends were. It was an internet-fueled Blockbuster.

(I did eventually read it, by the way, after people had backed off.)

To this day, the internet and social media have a selective amplification effect. Something can take off, amplified by social media algorithms and good marketing, and soon you’re sick of hearing about it. Chats, posts, memes, etc. all amplify certain things repeatedly – people doing marketing for free. At some point, you’re missing having a political argument with your crazy relatives because they’re busy telling you about this new TV show you have to watch.

The wealth of movies, shows, and books we have doesn’t free us either – and I blame social media and marketing for that as well. People can easily find fellow fans – and assume everyone else has similar interests. Algorithm-driven ads target you relentlessly. More choices somehow led to more pressure, and we’ve forgotten not everyone cares about the same things. Now we just have more not to care about.

Finally, you have the synergy of media universes: Marvel, Star Trek, and Star Wars. These giant unified properties (and marketing efforts) amplify each other. Show A leads to movie B, leads to webseries C, all funneling you into a giant media matrix. Throw in social pressure and social media amplification trying to manipulate you, and you start feeling like you’re a very poor take of They Live, only you’re not as cool as Rowdy Roddy Piper.

We’re living inside a giant marketing machine of technology and social habits.

I’m not proposing a way out, I’m here to analyze and complain. Perhaps I’ll present some brilliant solutions in the future, but right now, I understand better, saying “no” more, expanding my horizons, and just doing what I like.

Maybe I’ll have more to say. But now I’m just glad to have it out of my head – and into yours. So I’d love your thoughts.

Steven Savage

www.StevenSavage.com

www.InformoTron.com

#media #pressure #mandatory fun #culture #social media

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humanwheatleyslefttoenail · 4 years

Note

why do you ship chell and glados if glados is basically her mom

Okay this is actually a pretty common misconception in the fandom that unfortunately a lot of people have taken as canon, but I’m feeling nice so I’ll answer your question.

Basically, anon is referencing a theory from around 2012 that Caroline is Chell’s mom. The evidence for the theory is as follows:

- The turret opera calls Chell “bambina”, which means “little girl” in Italian

- Chell’s name can be found on a Bring Your Daughter To Work Day science project

- GLaDOS references the possibility of Chell being adopted multiple times

- GLaDOS is significantly nicer to Chell after discovering she’s Caroline

And, anon, you’re right, it does sound like a pretty good argument at first glance. The problem is that a lot of these points don’t actually hold up to scrutiny.

For example, although “bambina” literally translates to “little girl,” it’s often used in the same way “baby girl” is used in English - it can mean child, but contextually it’s usually a flirtatious term. (Source: Cambridge Dictionary)

For Chell’s science project, it doesn’t work as evidence for the theory because GLaDOS killed the scientists around 1998-ish, when Caroline had presumably been uploaded several years earlier and Cave was already dead. Also, Chell’s in her 20′s, and since we know from Lab Rat/Portal 2 that people don’t age in stasis, and that Doug put Chell at the top of the test subject list only weeks after the takeover, Chell was 28 at the time of the takeover. The science project is really only an Easter egg and doesn’t actually fit into the canon timeline let alone prove anything about Caroline and Cave.

GLaDOS talking about Chell being adopted is a pretty strong point, I’ll admit, but also it’s important to remember that maybe half of what GLaDOS says is true. And even if we take what she says at face value, she also says there’s a man and a woman in stasis with Chell’s last name, which could not have been Cave and Caroline because they were already dead at that point. And the official book Final Hours Of Portal 2 confirms Cave and Caroline were not married and could not have shared the same name anyway. It was also the 50′s, an an unmarried couple of two likely famous people having a child would’ve been scandalous, and yet we see no hint of something like this affecting their company.

Also, although GLaDOS is nicer to Chell after the Caroline reveal, that’s not necessarily indicative of a mother-daughter relationship, and neither is any of their interactions. It’s just. GLaDOS being friendlier.

Finally, when this theory was made (and let’s be honest - it still is happening) Chell was constantly whitewashed to hell and back.

Chell is Japanese-Brazilian, and Cave and Caroline are white, so it would be a near impossibility for her to be their biological child (and insisting otherwise is kinda. just. whitewashing). And although people will cry “adoption!”, based on what I’ve previously proven, that’s pretty much impossible. This theory that somehow she’s Cave and Caroline’s daughter erases an important part of her identity. [Disclaimer, I am white, but this is what I’ve heard from around the fandom]

With all that said, the idea that she’s the daughter of Cave and Caroline really doesn’t hold weight when you really analyze the canon. It’s surface level analysis that doesn’t hold up. And honestly? The idea kinda cheapens the story. It’s much more powerful that GLaDOS learns to care about Chell and becomes kinder than just. Oh, she remembered she’s related to Chell.

But to actually answer your ask.

Why do I ship them?

Well, they aren’t mother and daughter, I think that’s pretty obvious now. But if you actually look at a lot of subtext in Portal 2, without the lens of the mother theory, it’s actually pretty romantic!

I know that sounds ridiculous, but bear with me!

Now - it’s totally okay if you don’t ship them. I get it. Their interactions in Portal 1 and the first half of Portal 2 are toxic if not outright well. Y’know. Murderous. I completely understand why that turns people off from shipping them, and ultimately, shipping is a personal thing. To each his own.

But before you judge me, let me present my case.

Exhibit A: Portal

Portal is kinda gay. No, really. Chell and GLaDOS are enemies in this game, but the entire focus is on their relationship (good or not) and the power struggle between them. They are opposites, two sides of the same coin, different representations of opposite ideologies. People have analyzed Portal as a relationship metaphor, or as a metaphor about women’s role in society - either way, the heart of Portal is the complicated dynamic between Chell and GLaDOS.

That’s not necessarily enough to code a romance, but a lot of popular (and especially popular queer ones) ships begin with opposite ideologies, symbolic powers colliding. Portal cements their relationship as a toxic one, something on the verge of falling apart and hurting both parties in the end. The ending image, of Chell and GLaDOS side by side after the battle, reinforces the symbolic parallels between the two.

The companion cube is also pretty symbolically important to this interpretation. It’s literally a representation of someone’s heart, and you are told to protect it and preserve it under GLaDOS’ orders, and then you have to destroy it regardless of how you actually feel about doing that. You are destroying GLaDOS’ heart, so to speak.

There’s also the ending song, Still Alive. The lyrics speak for themselves.

They hint that GLaDOS’ feelings about Chell are more complicated than they may appear (if she’s not being sarcastic...) and she literally talks about Chell breaking her heart (also, think back to the companion cube. Yeah.). The entire song is structurally similar to many a breakup number, with the laments of “I’m glad it happened, but also leave.”

At the end, we also see that the long promised cake GLaDOS was supposedly lying about was real the whole time. Before Portal 2 came out, it was mostly interpreted as a stinger ending (along with the nicer lyrics of Still Alive) to make you question GLaDOS’ true motives and intentions.

She actually did have a real cake waiting for you. (Side note - not really evidence, but in Argentina, “torta” means cake in Spanish. It’s also a slang term for lesbians. So. Do with that what you will). The cake is what GLaDOS offers you to lull you into the sense that she cares about you, so discovering that “the cake is a lie” wakes you up to the realization that she doesn’t. Except then the idea is subverted one last time, at the very end, showing that the cake is real and at least some of what she said she meant.

You also see the companion cube. You know, GLaDOS’ symbolic heart?

Now, okay, you might be thinking I’m extrapolating a bit too much. And you might be right. But Portal is not the only game in the series, and if you’re asking me about Cave and Caroline you obviously know about Portal 2.

Exhibit B: Portal 2

If you thought Portal was gay, Portal 2 turns that up to 11.

Even before GLaDOS wakes up, you’re treated to some visual subtext. A few of Rattmann’s drawings representing the events of Portal 2 focus a lot on the relationship between GLaDOS and Chell, with more of the cake symbolism.

In this, you can see a face layered on top of GLaDOS. This could be foreshadowing about Caroline, and likely is, but also resembles his other drawing of Chell. It insists that Chell is a part of GLaDOS, or reinforces parallels between Chell and Caroline, hinting at something either way.

In this picture, we also see Chell standing on top of GLaDOS, in the same position where the overlay of the feminine face was, again referencing the parallel. It also presents them as opposites, fundamental parts of the same thing and both connected to the same basis, but on opposing sides.

When GLaDOS wakes up, she returns to her antagonistic role, but there are more hints to something deeper just like in Portal.

Here, in her awakening lines, she references Chell not unlike an estranged ex. Also worth noting that GLaDOS is pretty much the personification of testing (in a sense, she is testing since she can control all of Aperture like an extension of her body), and insinuates that Chell loves to test. And that she reciprocates that feeling.

In test chamber 10, she says this:

It’s supposed to be threatening, but it does read as almost... sentimental.

There’s also another chamber with companion cubes in Portal 2. I already talked about their symbolism in Portal, and the same pretty much applies to them here. However, GLaDOS says something interesting about them during this level:

Once again, meant to be intimidating, ends up coming off as “well, GLaDOS, why were you going to give Chell a heart shaped representation of yourself that says ‘I love you?’” And you might think I’m stretching the GLaDOS’ heart metaphor thing a little far here, and I might agree, if the companion cubes didn’t literally sing Cara Mia for you.

Cara Mia is the turret opera from the end of the game, which is all about how much GLaDOS cares about Chell. More on that later. But the companion cubes play a song called Love as A Construct, and when you get close to them, they sing a specific part of the song that has the tune of Cara Mia. These things literally exist to sing about GLaDOS’ feelings.

Which makes this line a lot more. For lack of a better term. Tsundere-ish.

Then, right before the escape, she starts talking about the confetti from her fake surprise.

I really don’t have to explain this one. What else does GLaDOS consider an inconvenience but might miss anyway? Or, more aptly, who else?

Then, during the escape, she teases a (fake) final test chamber in front of you, and forms the panels in the shape of a heart. No, really.

Up to this point, a lot of the points I’ve presented are interspersed with a fair amount of antagonization on GLaDOS’ behalf, more Foe Yay than anything actually hinting at something deeper than GLaDOS being conflicted about whether she loves or hates Chell. But things really ramp up after Wheatley’s betrayal, when the two of them are forced to team up. (I should also note here that “enemies to lovers” is a pretty classic queer romance trope.)

Here, GLaDOS is put on an equal level with Chell and they have to rely on each other if they want to survive. For the rest of the singleplayer campaign, GLaDOS becomes a lot nicer and even friendly to Chell. There comes a point where she starts referring to Chell as a teammate, calling them “we.” She begins to consider them one unit, two opposites unified. Here’s what she says after the lemon rant:

You can not only see her using we, but actively talking about how her and Chell are going to fight Wheatley together. There’s also that last line - “let’s explode with some dignity.” GLaDOS has fully accepted the very likely possibility that she and Chell might die together. That she might die on the same level, and the same team as Chell. And she seems... surprisingly okay with that, as long as she and Chell go together.

It’s during the Old Aperture levels that Chell and GLaDOS also discover that they have a lot in common. This is the part of the game where GLaDOS figures out she’s Caroline, that she’s human. Or, that she’s like Chell. And Chell discovers (from what we can tell anyway) that Caroline is kind, that she’s funny and smart and so many of these things she never noticed about GLaDOS before. Now also with the knowledge she is fighting alongside another human being.

You can also draw parallels between Chell and Caroline, both intelligent women ultimately betrayed by their seemingly innocuous male friends before being trapped in Aperture and forced to team up with one another in a way that will free both of them. We see that really, GLaDOS isn’t that different from Chell - she too has been imprisoned in this place against her will, but in a completely different way. Once again, the idea of two sides of the same coin applies here.

I’ve written another meta about this before, but I also think the whole idea of repressing a part of your identity and hating it, before bonding with another woman and then realizing that it’s okay to be like her and to be on her side. It’s okay to be yourself and meeting her is what helps you discover this new part of yourself. Is kinda inherently gay. GLaDOS’ discovery of her own humanity just fits so well into a queer realization narrative, to me at least.

Then, Chell and GLaDOS escape Old Aperture and have to get through Wheatley’s tests.

Here, GLaDOS isn’t just begrudgingly on Chell’s team. She’s actively helpful. She wants to help Chell solve tests, defends her from Wheatley’s insults, and makes jokes to lighten the mood. Things that can really only be explained by her caring about Chell, especially the part about the insults. See below.

After the two escape Wheatley’s testing track, right before the boss fight GLaDOS has a few other things to say.

GLaDOS is not going to betray Chell, because of some kind of conscience. But she could easily ignore that back in her body, and yet? Here she’s deciding not to, and for no good reason. She didn’t have to say that to Chell, but she did, because she cares and she wants Chell to live.

And then, moments before the fight:

The final lines imply that GLaDOS does not think of Chell as an enemy anymore, and that it doesn’t matter what Chell thinks because they are in this together and they are getting revenge together. It’s pretty heartwarming to be honest, to know that even in a fight that will almost certainly kill you, she is there rooting for you and caring about you, even if you don’t feel the same way about her. It no longer matters to GLaDOS whether you even reciprocate - you staying alive, you making it through is enough for her.

So Chell fights Wheatley and sends him into space, all well and good, and at this point, GLaDOS has the option to kill Chell. But not only does she not, she actively saves Chell, and holds her hand in the process. If you don’t believe me:

And not only that, but when Chell goes unconscious from her injuries, GLaDOS sits and waits for her to wake up. It’s also implied that GLaDOS carries her to the elevator, since it’s where she wakes up but not where she passed out. In the scene where Chell blacks out, you can also hear the part of Love As A Construct that sounds like Cara Mia. Yeah. Yeah.

If you think that this cannot possibly get any gayer, you are wrong again, because then GLaDOS makes her final speech. Which is really just a love confession, let’s be honest.

The “surge of emotion?” Do you mean love, GLaDOS? And the idea of GLaDOS considering Chell her best friend, despite everything these two have done to each other? The idea that GLaDOS, out of all people, forgives someone?

Except this isn’t even Chell’s final send-off. GLaDOS writes her an entire opera of turrets, that sing a literal love song. (Note what I said earlier about the use of the word “bambina”).

It really can’t get any more obvious than that. “My (affectionate romantic term here), my dear, I adore you.” How. Is. That. Heterosexual. In. Any. Way.

So Chell goes to the surface, set free by GLaDOS (think of the saying “if you love something, set it free), and you think that’s the end. Until GLaDOS gives you a companion cube so you aren’t alone on the journey, and from the burn marks, you know it’s your first companion cube. Her original heart, her first gift to you, a piece of her that she wants you to carry with you to remind you that she does care about you after everything. It also gives the lyrics to Still Alive a much more genuine meaning.

Portal 2 ends, and then the ending song, another GLaDOS number plays. Just like Still Alive, Want You Gone is structurally a break up song and very obviously about GLaDOS missing Chell and “counting on” (read: caring about/loving) Chell’s tendencies and quirks.

She’s accepted Chell completely, and yet also given Chell the one thing she wants most. Only wanting Chell gone can mean GLaDOS not wanting Chell in her life anymore, but can also mean she wants to give Chell the freedom she’s wanted for so, so long. It’s the best thing she can give.

In the co-op campaign, GLaDOS also references still caring about Chell.

And that’s the end of the Portal series. Except. Brace yourself. Despite the games being over, there is STILL more subtext somehow. It gets. Even gayer.

Exhibit C: Supplemental Evidence

Valve has made a lot of extra/cut content for the Portal series, and I’ll be looking at some of it below.

This official valentine from Valve shows GLaDOS offering a romantic partner cake, which as we’ve established before, is very symbolic of GLaDOS’ feelings about and/or relationship with Chell.

There’s a lot of other concept art and official art that emphasizes their relationship too. See below.

There’s also some cut GLaDOS lines that are even gayer than the source material and again, sound like confessions or references to a breakup:

The idea of “discovering things about someone”... how much more obvious can it get?

The developers have even confirmed a lot of my commentary on Chell and GLaDOS’ relationship in The Final Hours Of Portal 2. See these quotes from the book/this post:

The devs literally describe it as a romance. They use terms like “cheating,” they wanted to write a romantic duet, JoCo purposefully wrote the endings like love songs. It is literally, blatantly said by the creators of the game that their relationship is interpreted romantically. By the creators of the game.

And if Word of God confirmation isn’t enough for you, have a song written for a cut alternate ending by GLaDOS’ voice actress, Ellen McClain. The song is literally nothing but GLaDOS talking about caring about Chell, about not wanting her to die/leave GLaDOS alone, about wanting to bake a cake with Chell, about waiting for Chell to wake her up. It’s so genuinely sweet and sad, and really, really romantic in the most heartwrenching way possible.

JoCo also came back for the Portal levels in Lego Dimensions, writing one final breakup song for GLaDOS to sing about Chell. It comes off as GLaDOS not wanting to admit she misses Chell even though she obviously does, trying to replace their relationship but failing, and even explicitly forgiving Chell/wanting her to come back.

Also, the “finally I understand,” as if only now GLaDOS understands just how deep her feelings for Chell are... What else can I say?

In Lego Dimensions, GLaDOS also outright rejects anyone who isn’t Chell.

In Conclusion:

Why do I ship Chell and GLaDOS?

Well, ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether I ship them.

Because I think it’s glaringly obvious Portal does.

#chelldos #chell #glados #portal #portal 2 #tw fatphobia #whitewashing #fandom racism #long post

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Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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super-unpredictable98 · 2 years

Text

The Eighth Child (~TUA AU~) - Season 3

Chapter 2: Welcome to the Hotel Obsidian

Warning: Strong language, mention of blood, mild sexual content

(The Eighth Child Masterlist)

"HEY! Stop pushing me!" I screamed as Diego squeezed me into Luther's back. "There has to be a better way to go inside!"

"Hotel Obsidian, I missed you, you slutty old dame," Klaus draped one arm over my shoulder. "Absorb her into your bosom, back in her heyday she played host to world leaders-"

"I just wanna lay down, if she has a bed, that's good enough for me," I rushed to the front desk.

"Okay okay, Ms. Mürrisch, it's perfect to hide, no questions asked. I used to come here all the time after you moved out," he explained following me and ringing the bell. Maybe nobody would ask questions, but they sure were staring and whispering about us... "Chet! Mon frère! So great to see you, I'd like my usual suite por favor. And I'd also like to know the rates for a wedding reception. We would need a buffet and an open bar for seven-"

"I've never seen you before," the tall and slender man said without a trace of enthusiasm.

"See? I told you, discreet," Klaus whispered.

"And who are you, mister? Aren't you the cutest?" I started petting the dog sitting on a little pillow on the counter. "Mr. Pennycrumb, oh that's such a nice name!" I cooed after checking his tag.

"Stop scaring my dog," Chet asked and I backed off, even though he was so softspoken and well-mannered, he could be a little scary. "How will we be paying today? We require cash upfront."

"Empty your pockets," Luther asked.

We all did as he asked, but all of our pockets were full of surprisingly useless stuff: mints, chocolate, coins, a hairnet (what the fuck had Spacey been doing?), and...

"Condoms? Really?" he looked at Klaus' hands.

"What? Vicky gets horny in unexpected places!"

"Here, what can this get us?" Luther took off his watch and looked at my hands with that look he used to give me when I had the biggest steak at lunch. "Give him your ring."

"I'd rather give him your left testicle, it's my engagement ring!" I said in a hushed voice, taking off my earrings instead. "Here, they are vintage from 1962, can I get a room just for me and my fiancé?"

Chet analyzed the earrings and the watch for a few seconds with a magnifying glass before turning to get three keys. "Mazel tov, enjoy your stay."

"Wait! Why do Klaus and Vicky get a room and the rest of us has to share with everyone else?" Diego protested as we all headed to the elevator.

"It's better this way, do you really wanna hear their... noises all night?" Five sighed. "Meet back in the bar in two hours so we can make a plan."

"That's a good point," Luther agreed.

"I have a plan," Diego said. "We attack the Sparrows, we take back our house, and then we punch dad a bit until he admits that we're better and he loves us more!"

"Don't sweat it, man. Those shit birds are staying put for a while," Klaus tried to reason. "I bet they're as wipes as we are. Kicking our asses looked exhausting."

"As if any of that would work..." I groaned, walking into the elevator and giving Luther a pointed look. "If you fart again, I will kick you back to the moon."

"Do you have any intel on the Sparrows right now? You seemed to know so much about them back there," Allison asked.

"Um..." I closed my eyes, concentrating, and for the first time I was able to read a mind on command, I was so proud of myself. "Yes! They are working out."

"Working out?" Diego scoffed.

"Running on the treadmill... They say Luther is stupid, can't say I disagree. They say Klaus is the weakest link."

"Oh, I'm flattered," my fiancé laughed tragically, something he was very good at doing somehow.

"And they're scared of me and Vanya."

Once we entered our room, Klaus immediately embraced me from behind, his hand snaking up my black blouse. At first, I thought he was trying to be naughty, but his agile fingers reached into my bra and pulled a roll of dollar bills.

"I knew it! You do have money!" he started cunting and the more he did, the higher his brows would go. "Why didn't you use it to pay for the room?"

"I took everything I had in cash from the store, I was kinda saving that for wedding stuff, maybe a romantic date..." I admitted. "I didn't wanna share, I've been sharing everything from the moment I was born, this one time I wanted this one thing for myself."

"Aw, Schnucki! I understand, don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"But now everyone's hurt, God knows when we'll be able to get married anyway," I sat on the old-looking bed and stared at the window, at the huge billboard with a picture of the Sparrow Academy on it.

Even in our prime, we didn't have that, we were famous, but not the face of the city by any means. "I'm so tired of this, I'm tired of changing timelines and losing you. We've been dating for four years, but out of these four years, we spent what? Two weeks together? We never went on a proper date, dinner and a movie or playing at the arcade, a walk at the park."

"I know, I know. We used to do that when we were younger, but it wasn't the same," Klaus took me in his arms, lovingly this time. "From now on we have all the time in the world, we're gonna fix this situation with the Sparrows and then we can live our happy calm lives, just like in college. We can even see if that flat is still there, maybe we can move back there."

"That would be amazing!"

"And that bakery you wanted to open when we were kids, maybe you can take some classes and learn all the stuff you need to know... Then I'll help you, I'll work for you, I'll cheer you on, I'll do whatever you want me to."

"How did I ever get so lucky to have you?"

"Guess you were just really nice in a past life," he joked. "I feel like I'm the lucky one. I thought I'd never see you again after you left, I thought my life was over."

"Klaus, don't say that, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Vicky."

"Oh," I grimaced once I took a good look at his face again. "Let me get a first aid kit or something to take care of these cuts..."

"No rush," he held me into place. "Would you wanna try out one of these condoms first? I always thought men looked really sexy right after getting the shit kicked out of them, what do you think? All the blood probably makes me look so manly right now, huh?"

"How can you think of sex at a time like this?" I laughed, already laying down and letting him undress me.

"How can you not? We're home, we're safe, we're together..." he slowly kissed his way up my chest. "The rest is the rest, as they say in your language. The only bad part is we just have two hours, I don't know if I can do everything I want in such little time."

"What do you have in mind that would take you so long?"

"Pleasuring my lady, my prophetess," Klaus threw his hat to the side and before I realized, he was on top of me. "Remember what I taught you when we were younger? That demonstration with my fingers on your palm when I was teaching you how to touch yourself? Now it's time for my fingers to go elsewhere."

——————————————————

With our systems properly drained of tension and stress, Klaus and I joined the other boys in the lounge to discuss the new terms of the current reality over Chinese food.

"Took you long enough..." Luther huffed angrily. "What do you want?"

"Kung pao chicken," I stole one of the boxes, wondering where they got the money to order all that. "So, what do we know, Five?"

"We know that you two Flowers in the Attic are almost an hour late," Five gave us the dirtiest look. Who could ever need a dad when we had a brother like him? He's old enough to be our dad if we really think about it...

"Sorry, had some catching up to do," Klaus smirked before opening his mouth for me to feed him. "Planning wedding stuff... Ew, you guys! You should try chewing the food, you might actually taste it."

"I haven't eaten in days!" Luther argued with his mouth full.

"Five seems pretty chill though," I pointed out, happy to see him finally relax. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel great! I've had a nap and a shvitz. What else does a man need?" he calmly munched on his moo shu.

"I don't know, brothers who don't eat like barn animals?" Klaus teased.

"That's rich coming from the guy who would inhale entire cakes Victoria used to bake before anyone could get a single piece," Five pointed out. "But I guess we all know why you were always so hungry..."

"Hey! I'm a recovering addict, don't bully me!" he cried dramatically.

"So I've been thinking through our little timeline snafu," Five started. "And I'm pleased to report that in my professional, expert opinion, we are totally in the clear."

"Awesome! So everything is totally fine?" Luther asked.

"More or less, there's one... small thing. Nothing we can't manage. Dad didn't adopt us as babies, but those babies still exist here."

"Awww!" Klaus frowned, probably imagining that his other self had a much better life than him.

"Oh, I bet other Vicky is tanning in Copacabana beach right now, she owns her business, and is married to a man almost as amazing as Klausie," I sighed wistfully. If it wasn't for him, I don't know what I'd do with myself, he's the only thing that made all of that fight worth it, and for that I was very grateful.

"Could be, odds are we all have identical versions of ourselves walking around out there, living completely different lives," Five shrugged as if that was completely normal.

"Our doppelgängers!" Luther gasped.

"That's a made-up word," Klaus scoffed.

"Is it? If I remember correctly, doppel means double and ganger means goer, so doppelgänger is german for double walker, which is exactly what a doppelgänger is?" I murmured.

"Oh! Now you know all about German... See if I ever give you a private lesson again, missy."

"You're just mad because of that man from the newspaper that one time from Vegas who looked exactly like you, the Irish fella who was getting out of prison," I giggled, remembering how angry he got when I made a comment about their similarities.

"No! I don't care! And I have nothing to do with that guy anyway-"

"No guys, this is serious!" Luther interrupted. "I learned all about this in Texas, tell them about the paranoid psychosis!"

"Whoa whoa, I thought you said that wasn't a problem, paranoid psychosis doesn't sound good," Diego grimaced.

"Okay, yes, technically if you're near your doppel for too long, you'll go insane. So, if you ever see your other self..." Five explained.

"Kill them!" Diego exclaimed.

"Sleep with them," Klaus nodded.

"Avoid them!" Five finally finished the sentence.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Luther looked at my fiancé.

"Oh come onnnnn, as if you wouldn't climb Luther mountain..."

"Ew!" I snorted which only made Spacey angrier at my disgust.

"Not your type, Vivi? You like a slimmer model, don't you?" Klaus wet his lips and winked. "It's so sexy how into me you are. I can't wait until we're hitched and we can finally try all that stuff you've been begging me to do."

"Dude! Gross!" Diego recoiled.

"It's called love, hermano."

"It's called perversion," Luther dropped his food with a huff.

I don't know what he was so offended about, if I ever were to sleep with another one of my (ADOPTIVE) brothers he would be the last one in line. Well, second to last because I'm not a criminal. And the worst part is that I know he feels the same way about me, he just had a wounded ego.

"Would you fuck my clone?" Klaus asked me, resting his chin on his fists.

"I would fuck every Klaus on the planet, at the same time even, but don't worry, you're my favorite," I offered him a smile before kissing his cheek gently.

"But how do we make sure to never cross paths with ourselves?" Luther asked, ignoring my remark.

"It's easy, we're the Benetton ad of superheroes, born all around the world until dad brought us here, which he no longer did. Vicky has a point, her other version is probable in Rio doing whatever they do in Rio, Klaus is probably in Berlin hopefully doing something better than this Klaus... Nothing to worry about," Five waved dismissively.

"You know, I'm a little offended that dad unadopting us didn't change the timeline at all," Klaus mused. "It's like we don't matter."

"I never said it didn't."

"And how do we know what changed?"

"We'll figure it out," he said as Diego ran away leaving his food behind. "The point is that we did it. We saved the world, stopped the apocalypse, and made it home safe in time for dinner. So whatever dad changed, whatever timeline we're in now, we can handle it. We won."

——————————————————

"Hey, I know we were supposed to be hiding from the Sparrows, but I remember something about a date? I thought I might take you out to get some ice cream," Klaus murmured in my ear as he came out of the shower and into the room. "Will you go on a date with me, Victoria Maria?"

The silly grin that spread across my face must've been enough of an answer, because he nodded happily, offering me a dress. It was very much like the ones I was used to wearing living in the '60s, but it wasn't mine.

"Where did you find this?"

"I borrowed from the lost and found," he held up his own outfit too. "I need to look my best if I wanna impress my date, I might get lucky tonight..."

"You might," I chuckled, taking off my robe to put the dress on, it was a little loose on me, but it still made me feel beautiful. I just wish I had some makeup, but nothing could take away from that moment.

I gave Klaus the money so he could pretend to pay for my ice cream (I got salted caramel toffee and Klaus chose moose tracks) and we found ourselves a bench at the park. That place I was dreading so much that morning was now romantic and inviting. The stars were shining bright and the weather couldn't be more perfect, there was only one little issue...

"So, usually people get to know each other on dates, but I already know you like the back of my hand," I tilted my head, watching the way his eyes sparkled. "And you know me better than I know myself."

"That is true, some perks of near-incest," he joked. "I don't think there's much to know about a person after you've watched them pissing themselves after drinking too much soda before going on a rollercoaster."

"KLAUS! I was eleven and it was my first time trying soda, let it go!"

"Twelve is way too old to be pissing your pants in public," he cackled even harder. "And I had to burp you like a baby after cause you couldn't sleep, remember that?"

"NO! Shut up!" I whined, giving him a shove. "Should we start pulling out embarrassing stories? Cause I think you have a few more than me. Rushing to the ER with that deodorant stuck in your asshole? That was fun..."

"Hey, nobody warned me about the flared base back then!"

"Licking that battery every day because Diego told you it would make you grow pubes?"

"Okay fine, we know each other as well as two people can, but this is still nice. Just you and me, having a nice quiet sober time, just like when we were roomies."

"I miss those days, that was the best time of my life."

"Mine too, I regret not telling you back then how much you mean to me," he mumbled, stealing a spoonful of my ice cream. "Maybe if I did you wouldn't have moved out."

"Don't blame yourself for that, I was young and stupid, I thought this was wrong. I thought a guy like you could never like a girl like me."

"A guy like me?" Klaus smirked.

"Sexy, confident, funny."

"And what's wrong with a girl like you? You've always been my rock, Victoria, I need you to be stable when I can't. I need you to hold my hand when I do something stupid."

"But I'm not hot like you or the other people you've dated..."

It was true, I never felt hot. I felt weird most of the time, my hair was always a mess, my freckles made me stand out in the worst way possible (at least I thought so at the time), and I was tall and awkward like a baby giraffe.

"Have you ever had public sex?" Klaus suddenly asked.

"No, what about me tells you I had public sex in my life? Most of the sex I've had was with you anyway."

"Very well," he threw his cup away and offered me his hand. "Let's find some alleyway or bathroom and I'll fuck your brains out."

"Can't we just go back to the hotel?" I laughed without understanding.

"No, I can't wait that long, you're too hot and way too sexy, I can't help myself."

"Now you're just being silly. Come on, you don't have to pretend just to-"

"Oh, I'm not pretending, Liebling" he brought my hand to his crotch to prove he really was in need of some special attention. "Hearing you call me sexy and funny is such a turn-on."

"And you expect me to have sex with you on our first date?" I teased, throwing my empty cup out as well.

"Huh... I think I know you well enough to say you will. Come on, I'll show you how hot you are."

#umbrella academy fanfic #umbrella academy klaus #umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves x oc #klaus hargreeves #tua fanfic #tua #tua klaus #tua au #fanfic #multichapter #robert sheehan character fic #robert sheehan fanfic

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pigeonp0st · 3 years

Note

Reader jumped off the cliff in Vormir instead of Natasha 😈

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #8

Words: 2,826

Warnings: Reader dies...angst

Notes:

Thanks you for requesting ;) and thanks to @gaytrashgoblin for proofreading. I had fun with this one...I’ve been having fun writing a lot lately.

————

There’s something sick and twisted about the world's constant need to fail the good people in it. Weirdly enough, that’s the first thought you have when Wanda turns into dust in your arms.

Then, the next;

“We failed.”

———

When Natasha finds you crouched by Visions body and staring lifelessly at, it she pounces on you, wrapping her arms around you more tightly than she ever has before and repeating, over and over again, “thank god.”

She’s sobbing into your shoulder with her relief, and your arms are hovering over her back, frozen. Frozen because you’re in shock, frozen because you don’t feel like you’re you. You feel like you're watching someone else’s life, because the Avengers don’t fail. They can’t fail. They...failed?

They failed, you failed, and too many are gone now. Too many are gone but Natasha isn’t, so you sag into her arms and you clutch onto her as tightly as she’s holding on to you, and revel in the fact that you lost everything, but you still have everything. You have Natasha.

It should be enough...but somehow it isn’t. Somewhere along the way of reluctantly becoming an Avenger you started to want more, more than just her, and you curse yourself now for loving these idiots who risk themselves so much. These idiots who mean too much.

———

Natasha is clingy after the...blip (that’s what people have come to call it). She’s clingy, and angry, and devastated, and you push aside everything you're feeling and do everything you can to take care of her for five years, because it’s much easier to analyze and argue about Natasha’s self deprecating habits than to sit down for a moment and realize that you’re not okay.

It’s easier to pull Natasha in at night when she wakes up from one of too many nightmares and tell her that you’re there, that you’ll always be there, when you’re not allowing yourself to think about how much you wish you disappeared with the rest of them.

It’s easier to yell at Natasha for her drinking than to talk about why some days you’re unable to get a drop of sleep, and other days all you do is sleep.

It’s easier to pretend Natasha’s nightmares are what keeps you up at night, and not the way your skin crawls at the possibility of closing your eyes for a second and not seeing her there.

It’s easier to stand alone in front of the doorway of Wanda’s room, replaying the moment she disappeared over and over again, then to do it with Natasha next to you worrying about whether or not she’s letting you down.

——

Time Travel. Getting the infinity stones before Thanos can get his hands on them.

Hope. Hope for the first time in a long time. You look over at Natasha and notice the spark that's in her eyes, the spark that’s been missing for five years, and feel your own type of hope too.

Whatever happens, you’re going to make sure everyone comes back, but more than that you’re going to make sure Natasha gets to see it.

——

You and Natasha are assigned to get the soul stone in Vomir.

The whole trip up the mountain you feel this unexplainable dread and you don’t know why. You don’t know why until;

“In order to take the stone you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul for a soul.”

Natasha is silent and tense as she takes this information in. You begin forming your plan.

——

“We both know what needs to happen here,” Natasha sighs, finally standing up and deciding to stop putting off the inevitable. You glance up at her, not moving an inch other than to tighten your grip on your gun.

You have a plan. A plan that to you seems full proof, but if Natasha goes psycho before you can manage to even say something then you’ll just have to shoot her.

“If you jump off that cliff I'm jumping after you. Titanic style, Nat. Don’t test me,” you pause, narrowing your eyes at the way her own hand tightens on her gun, “don’t even think about trying to physically stop me from jumping because there’s other ways people can die, ways you can’t stop me from when you aren’t here. The Avengers won’t get the stone if I’m given it.”

Natasha tenses again, her jaw locking and her eyes harder and more angry than they’ve ever been looking at you. You know why, it’s totally justifiable, but it still hurts. “Everyone doesn’t come back if we don’t get that stone.”

“Yep.”

“Y/N!” Natasha yells, her voice echoing all around you. “This isn’t a fucking joke, okay? We both know you wouldn’t do that.” Natasha says that but there’s this small barely noticeable uncertainty in her eyes, and it’s all you need.

Natasha won’t jump if there’s even a slightest chance that you’d jump after her. If there was even a slightest chance that you’d fuck up everything everyone has been fighting for, and you wouldn’t—you couldn’t—you think most of her knows that...but nothing in life is certain, and so much uncertainty in something so integral to the mission is too big of a risk.

“You’re...this is your plan, huh?” Natasha says quietly after a moment, wheels visibly turning in her head. “And if I said I'd do the same, if I said I'd jump after you if you didn’t let me do this?” She asks, curious.

You had enough time to think about that too. “You aren’t willing to take the risk that I’m telling the truth when I say I'll jump too. I’m willing to take the risk that you aren’t.”

There’s a long pause where Natasha says nothing, and during it you start to wonder if you read her all wrong. You start to wonder if this is a risk Natasha would take, just to make sure you stay alive, but then Natasha grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pushes you off the log you were sitting on and straight to the ground and you think you’re screwed.

Your instincts have you pointing your gun at her thigh and tightening your grip on the trigger, heart beating a mile a minute, but before you can pull it you feel a tear fall on your cheek.

Natasha’s crying, you realize, heart in your throat. “I’m sorry,” you want to say, “I’m sorry, Natasha. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for not being strong enough the first fight, I’m sorry for not being strong enough for the five years after, I’m sorry for not being strong enough now—strong enough to let you die. I’m sorry for wanting you to live through another death because I’m too weak to do it myself.”

But all you manage to get out is a broken, “Nat,” and you think she understands anyways. You think she understands because she shakes her head roughly and slumps down on you, burying her face in your neck and breathing you in.

“I’m sorry I can’t choose you over the world,” Natasha whispers, voice breaking. And then, angrily; “how dare you?” She asks, pulling away to glare at you so brokenly you start to feel guilt—so brokenly that you're selfishly glad you won’t have to be there for the aftermath of how you destroy Natasha. “How- how could you make me choose when you know…”

She doesn’t finish, just sobs and shakes her head, but you know. You know what she was going to say.

How dare you make her have to choose the world, when you know she wants to choose you.

It’s an admission of defeat that doesn’t leave you feeling victorious.

“You’ve been an idiot before, I can’t risk you being an idiot again. They need that stone,” Natasha gets out between sobs, wanting to explain because she needs you to understand. You already do though. You already do.

“I get it baby. I’ve been too unpredictable,” you laugh but it’s humorless and Natasha only shakes harder. “I’m sorry for all the missions I've sabotaged for you.”

How does one do this, you wonder. How does one just walk off a cliff to save the world, to save the women they love, with the women they love watching. How does one decide when they’ve said all the goodbyes they need to say and are ready, when you don’t think you could ever be done talking to Natasha, when you don’t think you’ll ever be ready to leave her if you’re leaving her alone.

You think you're done and that the world can’t hurt you anymore, but then it hurts you more, and how can you leave Natasha in a world like this one if you’re incapable of showing her it can get better too. If you’re incapable of showing her that there’s beauty in life too.

“Don’t hate people,” you ask quietly, “don’t hate people, or the world, because you had to sacrifice me for it. The world is beautiful, Nat. The world is beautiful,” and as you say it you think back on five years where you were incapable of seeing it and you’re left to regret it all.

That’s the irony of life. You realize things and you see them as they are when it’s too late.

“There’s poetry in life. There’s meaning in everything. Look for it when I'm gone, okay?” You beg, closing your eyes and feeling this. Feeling Natasha on top of you, shaking but there, feeling the breeze, feeling the ground beneath you, feeling the coldness, and the warmth, and everything in between, feeling the beat of your heart, and the breaths you take. Feeling the love. The love that’s there when everything else becomes not good enough.

“Look at the sun when you want to feel me, and listen to the rain when you want to hear me. Listen to the others, you aren’t alone even when I'm not there.”

“Stop,” Natasha pleads breathlessly, squeezing you so tightly you’d be worried about the bruise it’s going to leave later if there was a later for you. “Stop talking. Stop it—stop. You can’t—you can’t. It’s unfair. It’s unfair.”

You nod, opening your eyes again and gently nudging a shattered and broken Natasha off of you. “I was done anyways,” you tell her with a smile, glancing at the cliff you’ll be jumping from. Natasha’s hand holds onto your wrist tightly when she looks at the cliff too.

Her eyes are more expressive than they’ve ever been right now, and you can see how close she is to saying ‘fuck it’ and jumping instead. You can see it in how tense she is, like she’s physically fighting herself to stay, you can see it in the way her breath quickens, the way her eyes narrow like she’s trying to think of another way, and you decide that it’s time to go before she decides she’s willing to risk.

“Close your eyes and count to ten.”

Natasha’s eyes snap back towards you. “I love you,” she says quickly, “I love you so much,” and then she’s kissing you, and pulling back much too quickly , and you're shooting her in the thigh, shooting her because she had this look. This terrifying look on her face that was entirely desperate, crazed, and determined. She was heart over head, when you needed the opposite.

You run towards the edge of the cliff as soon as the gunshot rings out because Natasha is an immovable object and when she wants something a bullet in her leg isn’t going to stop her.

“You’re a real asshole Nat!” You growl out, dodging a grappling hook.

Natasha doesn’t have a lot of long distance weapons on her other than the grappling hook and her gun, and she’s not fast enough to get to you with an injured leg, that’s what you think until she shoots some weird electrocuting web thing at you.

It only takes you out for a couple of seconds, but she still manages to catch up to you in that time.

And now...now you’re scared. Now you’re terrified.

She’s on top of you again, eyes hard and unrelenting as she pushes you into the ground and tries to get up again. You prevent her by wrapping your legs around her waist.

“Natasha! What about Clint’s family?! What about Wanda? What about Peter, he was just a kid, what about—”

“What about you?!” Nat chokes out roughly, struggling against you. “What about you, Y/N, and what about— what about me?”

“It’s either you lose or I lose,” you say softly, freeing your hand from Natasha’s grasp and finding the knife Tony made for you in its safety sheath. It’s hot enough to cauterize a wound—he made it that way because he said you got injured too often—and you brought it just in case. “And Natasha, I’m too selfish and my ego is too big to be okay with losing.”

“There’s no winner here,” Natasha says a moment before you press your scathing knife against her injury.

The yell she releases then is nothing compared to the earth shattering cry she lets out when you manage to escape from under her and leap over the edge of the cliff with one final look over your shoulder and a smug; “I really hope there isn't a hell.”

The whole way down you think of Natasha’s face before you went over the edge, pleading and so unbearably sad. So unbearably unwilling, and not ready to let you go.

Your final thought before you hit the ground is; “The world was really beautiful because of you, Nat”, and then you only have an instant to wish you could have had time to tell her that.

———-

They bring the people they lost from the snap back, but they don’t bring everyone back.

It’s victory, they all know, but it doesn’t feel like victory. It doesn’t feel like victory because Vision is gone, Gamora is gone, Tony is gone, you’re gone, and none of them will ever be the same again.

It’s victory on the back of sacrifice, so it isn’t good enough. It isn’t good enough to be worth celebrating. They’re all just so tired. Natasha is so tired.

They won, but she doesn’t feel that, all she feels standing there is the phantom touch of your hand on her back, and your lips against her ear, asking her to not hate the world, asking for her to look for the poetry of things—but she thinks that if life is full of poetry, then her life is just one tragic poem.

She still tries though. She opens her eyes back up and tries to think of anything other than the way her heart feels so much heavier than it did with half the world gone.

When she looks up at the sky, the clouds and smoke part just a bit and she gets washed in the glow of the sun.

Look at the sun when you want to feel me.

Natasha’s breath catches in her throat, full of too much emotion, and her legs give out from under her, because suddenly the world is beautiful. Suddenly you’re there, and the world is full of poetry too, because there has always been poetry in the way that you have always been there for her when she needed you the most.

“Thank you,” Nat whispers, clutching a hand over her heart and trying to find the words to communicate with you that she needs you forever. That she needs you back. Trying to find the words to say that the sun and rain aren’t enough, but knowing that you realistically couldn’t hear her anyways.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect us from the ugly of the world. I’m sorry I let us live in it for too long,” Natasha thinks, “I’m sorry it was all I could see when you were right there showing me the beautiful.”

———

Wanda is the one to find Natasha after people start wondering where she is. She finds her with her face pressed into the dirt, and oddly enough—the lowering sun peaking through the clouds only touching her.

When she wakes her up Natasha’s eyes are frantic and scared until she looks up in the sky and sees the sun still there. Still on her somehow.

“Are you okay?” Wanda forces herself to ask, even though she knows the answer.

Surprisingly, Natasha nods and laughs, exhausted and delirious. “As long as the sun is still up.”

It’s the closest thing she’s got to you, Natasha doesn’t say.

It’s the only warmth she thinks she’s going to feel for a long while.

It’s the only thing she can find beautiful in the world anymore, even as she tries to look harder for other things like you asked.

It’s the only thing she feels, and the only thing she wants to feel anymore. It’s the only thing she has.

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