#whatever. beach episode time. i think <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[johnslittlespoon]

listen ik they say don't make decisions ab ur life past 9pm. and it is in fact 3am. however. it's with a heavy heart that i say i am scrapping TAS ch3

LMAO jk sry that sounds much more disastrous than it is, i'm keeping the first 4k words of it and rewriting the rest, and i'm moving the last like 5k words of it to ch4

i realized as much as i aimed to make this fic slow emotional burn with a fast burn (? lol) into nsfw, i am a Piner at heart, i gen don't think i'm capable of writing anything bucky pov without pining?? plus slowburn KNOWING hot spicy times will be coming (no pun intended) in abundance makes the burn even more fun

it's not that i'm unhappy w what i wrote bc i'm having a great time, but i think what i have rn feels too rushed for how shy john still is around gale (and how new all this is to him in general) and it's way too fun to write poor john having to sweat over gale from a distance. he needs another week or so of suffering with his crush while also getting comfier around gale. i have a new plan for the second half of ch3 now, but unforch just means it'll be a bit longer before i post it :')

sryy on the bright side tho that probs means less time in btwn ch3 and 4 bc i'll already have lots of ch4 written! ok silly late night decision made, gotta trust the process, i wanna do this version of our boys justice and keep it realistic alongside the spice :-)

[eevees-hobbies]

HIHIHI may I request some Sakura please, your greatness 🧎‍♀️ who despite his tough boi act, absolutely worships the ground his lover walks on and showers them in love (before, during AND after sex) oooou it’s rotting my brain i need him to cuddle me stat

Author’s Note: Ah, so you’ve come to me with a Sakura request, I see. And a cute one like this, too? I get it, anon…I do. I get it because you and I are a lot alike. Sometimes you like the idea of Sakura bending you over and delivering loud, nasty, toe-curling backshots to you as he talks shit in your ear (same, same), but other times you crave a different version of him. You crave a soft Sakura, a comfortable Sakura, a tame Sakura that doesn’t flinch when you touch him but instead leans into your touch and looks at you with absolute devotion, right? Me fucking too. So you want broken-in, house-trained, and domesticated, Sakura? My pleasure. 

Content Warning: Fem!ReaderXHaruka Sakura. Business (fluff) in the front & party (smut) in the back! Smut will be below the last divider. Sweet Sakura, who shows you love through some love-language type things. And then intimate love-making. You make love while half-asleep (mmm). Tame smut. Eve mentions Bridgerton again because there is now continuity in my stories, and I’m not sorry about it (don’t ask me about the show; I’m on season 1, episode 3, but I love the idea of it). Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 2K

Divider by Saradika. Banner by me.

Sakura had watched you all day, and he hated what he was seeing. You two had planned a beach day on a rare day off for him and a light work calendar day for you. But when the universe hears about plans, it often laughs aloud and offers a wrench.

He couldn’t quite understand the intricacies of your work-from-home job beyond that shit was hitting the fan. You sat dutifully in front of your laptop, answering constant pings coming from god-knows-where and from god-knows-who to the point that Sakura felt he could time them perfectly. 

Ping

…

Ping

Yup, perfectly timed. 

And with each call or message you answered, he saw your shoulders rise closer to your neck, the tension making you hunch in a way you’d certainly feel later.

And he couldn’t help you with whatever the fuck KPIs or logic models were, but he could help you in other ways. So, he grabbed his keys and set out for the day.

As your workday concluded, your fingers found the bridge of your nose in an attempt to massage away the tension migraine that was rearing its head. Not only was today stressful, but as you looked around your empty apartment, you found Sakura to be gone. You hoped he wasn’t upset about not going to the beach, but you’d understand if he was.

As you stood out of your ergonomic office chair to stretch, ready to open the refrigerator to cook something up quickly, the door to your tiny abode opened. 

You let out a breathy laugh—Sakura is blocked from your line of vision, and only a few single tufts of black and white hair peek over the various restaurant and grocery bags in his arms. As you croon your neck to watch him struggle his way inside, you also see that he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers with an unmistakable logo tucked firmly under his armpit.

He’s grumbling as he sets the items down on the kitchen island; something about hating living so high up, but you can’t bring yourself to dial in on his ramblings as you read the names of your favorite places on the bags.

“You got us ramen, kitten?”

“Yeah. Miso with extra beansprouts like you like, with some Gyoza on the side. It’s probably cold since it’s like climbing a fuckin’ mountain to get up here, but I can heat everything back up.”

He begins removing food, snacks, face masks, popcorn, and drinks from the bags. Your heart pangs with remorse at even thinking he was upset about your inability to go to the beach. Sakura is complicated, but he’s not childish.

“Also, Umemiya said something about the flowers, but you might have to text him about that. I zone out when he starts talking plant-talk.”

“Same,” your arms find his waist, your cold hands sneaking up his shirt and rubbing at his prominent v-line as you wrap yourself around his whole person. “Thank you for this. I love you so much.”

Sakura blushes, a personal trait he’s tried to stop fighting long ago. “Sure, but go ahead and sit on the couch. New episode of Bridgerton tonight?”

You rub your palms together excitedly, “I’ll get the fuzzy socks, kitten!”

After getting through half an episode of Bridgerton, Sakura noticed you were fighting a losing battle with your sleep needs. Heavy eyelids and your head growing slack on his shoulder were all the signs he needed to turn off the TV and scoop you up in his arms.

“Bath,” you mumble against his chest. 

“Bath,” he offers in return.

“You sure?” he mumbles against your lips, “your eyes are barely open.”

“Mmm, but my legs are open, baby. See?” You wrap your thighs around his midsection, trapping him in and pulling him closer.

The heat radiating from your clothed cunt is undeniable, you’ve probably wanted him all night, and fuck, he felt the same way.

Sakura’s lips trace the curve of your jaw with gentle kisses and flicks of his tongue until his face is nestled in the crook of your neck. Your pulse is calm—so slow that he wonders if you managed to fall asleep until you shift under him and let out a sigh.

“Sakura...need you.”

“Yeah, babe. You got me. I’m right here.”

As he pulls the seat of your underwear aside, the slit of his cock already giving way to shiny droplets of precum, he sinks into you with a sigh escaping his lips at the familiarity of you. He can’t help but think of all the ways he loves you. Moments like this make him feel like the best version of himself—someone worthy of being loved and giving love. 

He briefly presses his forehead into the valley of your breasts, letting your slick walls adjust to his girth. You’re wearing one of his white tee’s and smell so unmistakably like him that he’s positive you put on his deodorant after your bath. The thought of being so connected that you dress and smell like him while still maintaining your own smell makes him want you more.

His cheeks rub against your breasts, soft and heavy even through the pesky fabric, and because even one barrier is a barrier too many, he is now lifting the shirt over your head and tossing it to the corner of the room. 

His cock twitches at the erotic sight of you, fully naked except with your panties shifted ever so slightly to the side, puffy pussy lips wrapped around his cock, and hole stuffed to the brim with him. He’d call it a fantasy if this weren’t his real life. 

His feather-soft touches—reserved only for you—cascade from your stomach down your hip before the idea of not moving and not making love to you becomes too unbearable. His hand grips one of your thighs, and he pulls his hips back slightly, dragging the length of him against your silken walls and then forward, your pussy so wet, so creamy, and welcoming for him.

In his mind, he’s giving thanks, thanks to the shitty universe that finally felt enough pity for him that he was blessed with you. 

He has to steel his resolve, however, because when he begins to think like this—think about how lucky he is to have you, to be buried inside of you—he’s prone to lose himself to you far earlier than he’d like and he wants this tryst to last. 

“Haru, feel so good.” your words are slurred and dripping with the slow drawl that comes with sleep, but your body is deliciously reactive for him. The creamy sounds of his cock mixing with your thick slick fills the room so lewdly and loudly that it makes both your cheeks heat up as your love is audibly personified. 

“You do, too. P-pussy feels amazing.” 

He loves you so much his heart hurts. His other hand finds yours, entangling his long fingers with your own. And the way you rub at his bruised knuckles, fresh from a fight, doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Even in your half-awake state, you still care for him and want to ease his discomfort. 

He slots his lips against yours where they belong, wishing that he could give you a more heated kiss, the kind that you like where he lets you suck on his tongue, but this is perfect, too.

You open your mouth, ready, so willing to accept him. He’d never say no to you, and he’s not going to start tonight. His tongue eagerly slips into your warm cavern and is immediately greeted by yours as he traces and flirts with it. 

God, the taste of you is perfect.

If he could drink every bit of your saliva, thick and minty, he would. 

Sakura pulls back, his chest aching a bit as he does so, but this question is important.

Breathy, soft whispers from a mind and body that is so lost in his lust for you can’t stop him from checking on your well-being. “Is this… you ok?”

“Mmmhmm”

His thrusts are steady and deep, practically slow, as he pulls out until the head of his dick stretches your tight hole to the thickest part of him. He’s then languidly pushing back in, savoring you and how you feel around him. He knows the feeling so well, yet it feels novel every time.

His eyes watch your face as your brows furrow; your tongue darts out past your lips to moisten them, the way your mouth falls open when he grinds the tip of his dick against your g-spot.

You’re so beautiful. 

His hand travels down and finds your clit. His thumb gently pushes the hood back, flattening the pad of his thumb he gently flicks at the sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re so warm and drooling with want from him that he lets out a whimper.

 “I love you.” 

Your breathing quickens, but you lap up his words like they are a scarcely available resource. When Haruka Sakura tells you he loves you, he means it. 

“Love you too, Kitten.”

“I want to make you cum. You think you can be a good girl for me and cum?” 

“Yes, baby, I’d love that. Almost there, please don’t stop, Haru.”

“No, never.” 

He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, moaning as your fingers rake through his hair. Every part of you is his favorite, but your breasts hold a special place in his heart. He sucks on them maybe a bit too eagerly, but you don’t seem to mind; as he pops each nipple out his mouth, they glisten with saliva and stiffen into needy peaks.

Your pussy is clenching him more now; he can tell that you’re close, and he loves that he can do this for you. 

His thrusts have picked up slightly in speed, but they’re harder—communicating more want—the headboard now bucking against the wall and making consistent banging noises. As your cum splashes out of you with every flick of his hips, your inner thighs and his abs being coated in nothing but your slick, you pull him down flush against your soft body.

You see your orgasm before you feel it like fireworks exploding in your brain and setting off each pleasure sensor as your eyes dilate. You get that wonderful lightheaded feeling that comes with taking too many rapid breaths in a short amount of time.

Sakura moans as you clench around him, your walls gripping the head of his cock and massaging that sensitive spot on the underside of his dick. He can feel hot, white streams of his cum pouring into you, filling up every inch of you until your walls are painted white with his seed. He gives you a few more final, deep thrusts to ensure that his nut is deep and buried in what’s his, his thighs trembling at the idea of you being stuffed to the brim with his love, making him absolutely weak.

“Mmm, pervert. Did you just nut inside of me?”

He pulls away, leaning across the bed to grab a towel that’s settled nearby—first to clean you up, dabbing at your folds and thighs, and then himself.

“Sorry, should have used your face for target practice. Go pee so you don’t get a UTI.”

He helps you up; your eyes are still half-open as he guides you to the bathroom. As he hears the click of the door and the sound of a steady stream hitting sitting water, he turns to continue his routine. 

Sakura grabs the previously discarded white tee, places it on the bed for you, and then heads to the kitchen. He grabs a glass of water and a granola bar, just in case, and places both items on your side of the nightstand. 

He looks down at the sheets and briefly considers changing them; streaky, white, wet stains stand out as evidence of your lovemaking, but he hears the sound of water coming from a faucet, and he doesn’t want to hinder your sleep any longer.

You exit the bathroom, rubbing your eyes and yawning. 

“Here,” he says, getting up with the shirt, pulling it over your head and down your body, and then guiding you back to bed.

You snuggle up next to him, and you drift off. Typically, Sakura might spend this time staring at you, wondering what you’re dreaming about as your face gives way to adorable expressions in your sleep, but this time, he joins you in your slumber instead. 

[ofswordsandpens]

Finale Thoughts

The show stuck the ending far better than I thought it would and when compared to the preceding episodes it knocks it out of the park. That being said, I think because the bar was so low going in, that it makes this episode feel spectacular when really every episode should have done this well, at minimum.

Solo Lessons and Ares Battle

I'm so happy they included the one-on-one training sessions with Luke since its so essential to foreshadowing. I also liked the setting in the woods but why was it like autumn/fall in the flashback lol? However, I think that did unintentionally add a dreamlike quality to the scene which I did really like so whatever I'm here for it.

That being said I do wish these scenes were in episode 2/3 alongside the other chb stuff instead of being a flashback in the finale because it makes it just so on the nose that Luke's the traitor. However, the shot panning from Luke's extended sword to Percy's on the beach ate I can't lie.

Honestly it may have been interesting if they had established some of the solo lessons early on in episode 3 and then done periodic flashbacks to expand on them throughout the series. That way, its not so obvious that Luke's the traitor in the final hour and we also get cool transition shots and establishing that Percy is thinking about what he's learned from his lessons with Luke.

#Relieved that the Ares and Percy fight was not a single sword strike and then cut to black. Glad we had some action. Still think we should've pushed the limits much harder tho.

Oh but Percy's wave did go hard. They actually made the wave much bigger than what happened in the book and now I'm just sitting here wondering why we couldn't see some more of this instead of 10,000 cut to black scenes every time Percy uses his powers.

I wish we had gotten this Ares's reaction from the book when he lost: "The roar that followed made Hades’s earthquake look like a minor event. The very sea was blasted back from Ares, leaving a wet circle of sand fifty feet wide." Show Ares's reaction seemed so anticlimactic in comparison.

And no curse???? huh??

I know Ares was like "we're enemies 4 life now" but the curse and dialogue from the book goes so unbelievably hard: “You have made an enemy, godling. You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Perseus Jackson. Beware.”

Why couldn't show Ares say that??

Olympus, Zeus, & Poseidon

[Insert aw, she's ugly John Mulaney Meme]

sorry Olympus could've should've been prettier.

Like Olympus in the book felt a lot more wondrous and lush and colorful. But in the show it seemed so dull. Idk if its cause the "war's happening" or whatever it was just bland. a wash of dull-looking cgi and then an instant cut to the Big Palace.

Lance Reddick's Zeus was amazing tho. He had that godly presence I've been waiting for.

And Toby Stephens's Poseidon? oh I loved it.

I especially loved their conversation in greek.

I still wish however they would have done effects on the gods' eyes. Like glowing with energy or something when they get emotional. I felt like I was waiting to see electricity burst from Zeus when he was yelling at Percy.

And so it turns out that the reason why they changed it to Percy missing the deadline in the show was to create a situation in which Poseidon surrenders a war for his son.

And listen, if this scene existed in a vacuum I'd be so here for it. I guess a part of me can't fathom the solstice being anything other than a hard deadline. I enjoy the scene without context, within context I have mixed feelings about it.

But the "do you dream?" convo between Percy and Poseidon. Oh my god no notes. I loved it.

Some more book dialogue that I wish made it: “You did well, Perseus. Do not misunderstand me. Whatever else you do, know that you are mine. You are a true son of the Sea God.”

Luke's Betrayal

Okay here's where we get some high highs and low lows.

Some things I sincerely liked:

The setting. Fireworks going off in the background. The lantern illuminating the side of Luke's face with the scar. So visually nice.

Luke actively trying to recruit Percy! I've always joked that if Luke was just a little smarter he would have tried to persuade Percy to join his side rather than immediately kill him. And I do like that the show went this direction.

While I do mourn the loss of the scorpion them battling via swords is a great subversion of the sword mentor/mentee dynamic they share. It makes the scene tense and fast pace.

And its all of the above that makes me wonder why we didn't have more of this throughout the show: talking while battling, visually appealing and dynamic settings, unique visuals, etc.

I love how triggered Luke was at Percy's mention of meeting Hermes. I still hate how much Hermes introduction bogged down the show but damn if it didn't lead to one singular funny moment.

Percy getting a hit in on Luke and then immediately apologizing

"I didn't think you'd give the shoes to Grover." Oh that was cold.

Walker and Charlie deserve their flowers and more they were fantastic and carried.

Now things I DIDN'T like:

I don't like how Percy pieced it together with the information he did have... which honestly isn't a lot in the show? If he was going to figure out that Luke was the traitor I would've have had Luke show more of his bitterness like he did in the book. Like the fact the show never even mentioned Luke's failed his quest loses the entire element of Percy succeeding an "impossible" quest and being celebrated while Luke only got a scar and a chip on his shoulder from his failed one.

Luke's scar shoulda been worse idc.

Percy should have been mortally wounded. That's where we run into an issue with there being no scorpion because yeah, a fatal sword injury probably would've been a bit much to depict. I also 10000% think that Luke is enough of a baby to get his daddy issues triggered and then try to off Percy for it even if his original intention was to recruit him.

Also the fact that you see Luke raise his sword for a damning blow and then the very next day you have Percy like "I don't think Luke was trying to kill me." and Chiron agreeing? asdlkfjsdlkf WRONG.

Also, sorry, I don't like that Annabeth was there.

But if you're gonna have Annabeth there, her reaction to Luke betraying her and trying to hurt Percy should've been way more severe than a solemn "I heard everything."

She shoulda been crying, questioning, yelling even if she had suspected him. It's one thing to suspect it, it's another to see the person you consider your family to actually prove it true.

(And this isn't on Leah! It's 100% on the directors cause what was the thought process here? Her brother figure betrays her and she's like :/)

And sure, in the book Annabeth isn't actually all that surprised by Luke's betrayal when Percy tells her about it... but we also never got to see her initial reaction to it. Percy was out for 2 days.

Just, if book Annabeth had been there, she would've been so emotional and that's okay!! let Leah show off her chops!

Sally

I mourn book Sally. I mourn her arc. I mourn the power of Sally unapologetically petrifying Gabe with Medusa's head.

One of the most iconic storylines from the book and it was sanitized in the show to the point that it lost all sense and meaning.

Honestly one of the biggest disappointments of the show for me.

Other

I love the fact that a flower is the searcher's license for satyrs its just so silly and sweet.

I love Annabeth sincerely hugging Percy but also using it for strategizing purposes it feels very on point for her.

Also her braids at the end!! so sweet!

I am very very bitter that Percy didn't see the fates. This + the changes made to Sally's characterization and arc... the show truly doesn't get it.

[rosemarymonths]

Introducing Rosemary Month 2023, all throughout October!

You can submit art, fanfics, music, cosplays, meta analysis, shitposts, etc, for the prompts!! I’ll be keeping track of the tags: #rosemary and #rosemary month2023 for submissions!! Or you can simply just @ this acc so I don’t skip over yours by accident!

Prompts:

Day 1: From The Start

Imagine rosemary at their very beginning of their dynamic or at the first step of their romantic relationship!

Day 2: Turtle Consorts

Rose and Kanaya hanging around Rose’s consorts would’ve been pretty cute!

Day 3: Meteorstuck

Imagine any Meteorstuck shenanigans Rose and Kanaya got into together!

Day 4: Hurt/Comfort

Obligatory sadstuck day, but with added comfort for safety measure!

Day 5: First Kiss

Either imagine Pre-Retcon Rose and Kanaya’s first kiss, or the unseen post-retcon kiss! Or maybe you want to explore a different way they could’ve had their first kiss?

Day 6: Quadrants

Time for some rosemary quadrant smearing!

Day 7: Birthdays

How neat would it be to see Rose and Kanaya celebrating each other’s birthdays?

Day 8: Cats

Imagine Rose and Kanaya playing with a bunch of cats!

Day 9: Rain

Rose and Kanaya going through rainy weather, or just explore anything you want to do with rain.

Day 10: Rays

After the rain, Kanaya and Rose finally get some sunshine.

Day 11: Game Over

Explore the absolute heartbreak that is Rose and Kanaya’s deaths, either during the catastrophe or the aftermath within the dreambubbles.

Day 12: AUs

Any AU you want!! Been thinking about a MLP AU lately? A Little Prince AU?

Day 13: Family

Explore either Rose and Kanaya with their own little family, or just them with the other Strilondes/Maryams! Or both!!

Day 14: Alpha Timeline

Imagine either Alpha Rose x Beforus Kanaya, or post-retcon rosemary! Whichever one you like best!

Day 15: Tropes

Explore your favorite rosemary tropes!! Or a trope you’d love to see with rosemary!

Day 16: Scars

Rose and Kanaya bonding over their shared scars, either literal or metaphorical.

Day 17: Flowers

Either Kanaya simply infodumping about her botanic skills to Rose, or just pretty flower art, you decide whatever!

Day 18: Stars

Perhaps Rose and Kanaya stargazing, or aesthetic pieces! Go crazy!

Day 19: Date Night

Imagine Rose and Kanaya finally going on a somewhat decent date this time around.

Day 20: Robots

Assigned meat rosemary day, or just do whatever you wish with robots and rosemary!

Day 21: Double Date

Imagine rosemary going on a double date with another ship you like!

Day 22: Dreambubbles

Either Rose and Kanaya having dreambubble fun times, or perhaps more Game Over angst?

Day 23: Domestic

Explore Rose and Kanaya’s sweet domestic life, as they deserve!

Day 24: Strider Third Wheeler

It wouldn’t be Rosemary without Dave trying to tag along like he’s their five year old son, right?

Day 25: Proposal

Who do you think proposed? Rose or Kanaya?

Day 26: Wedding Anniversary

Rose and Kanaya celebrating their marriage!!

Day 27: Snow

Imagine Rose and Kanaya undergoing snowy weather!

Day 28: Fnaf Day

Exactly what it says. Happy Fnaf Movie month

Day 29: Beach Episode

Imagine Rose and Kanaya just having some beach summer fun times

Day 30: Clothes/Style Swap

A good ol’ fashioned clothing/style swap between Rose and Kanaya!

Day 31: Halloween

Happy Halloween!! Are Rose and Kanaya trick or treating? Passing out candy? Going to a party?Scaring little kids to death maybe?? Do whatever halloween fun you want with these two!

[billdenbrough]

this one is kinda convoluted to explain LMAO basically @naturecalls111, @wyverningx and i were discussing one of mina's wips on twt (the summer beach episode, the finished version of which can be found here) and the convo turned to kevin dealing with aaron's thighs around his head. mina said something about still deciding which way kevin would be facing, which i think meant like. left or right. but i was still fixed on the legs around his head and was like. what. like i was thinking forward or back, got confused, so wrote her this to explain what i was visualising, and then she was like ok now post LMAO notsfw warning!! kevin's fantasies get reasonably in-depth and also vaguely unhinged. but it's shenanigans-y <3

Kevin’s top three fantasies this month—he’s pretty diligent about cycling them through, keeping them seasonally relevant, you know—are, as follows:

Kevin’s gold medal—origin unimportant to the fantasy, though it was the Olympics last time—is over both his and Aaron’s necks at the same time, forcing them to press in close, the way Kevin likes. He doesn’t know if this one is physically feasible—maybe he can get a custom ribbon—but he doesn’t care. It makes him feel hot all over, cheeks flushed and dick leaking, to think about the two of them pressed that close together, naked and sweaty and the exhilaration of victory flowing through them both. Kevin’s pride and satisfaction, and Aaron looking at him, that proud smile, rare but fierce, and it’s all for him. Eyes intent, dark, wanting Kevin, proud of Kevin, celebrating Kevin. Kevin’s not too proud to admit that sometimes he can come from that alone, even before he imagines his hand wrapped around both their dicks, or kissing his name out of Aaron’s mouth, or Aaron fucking into him while Kevin tries—and fails—not to chase his mouth for a kiss.

Aaron is sitting on the edge of the pier, ostensibly looking out over the ocean while the rest of their friends do whatever it is they’re doing. Kevin doesn’t bother to fill in those sorts of details in his fantasies, and the auto-complete in his brain is impeded by the fact that when he’s with Aaron, he doesn’t pay attention to them in the background unless they’re being especially loud, annoying or incorrect. So in Kevin’s head, they’re mostly an unfinished sketch background, doing something or other while Aaron looks over the ocean, looking at a distance like some character in one of Jean’s arthouse films. The reality of it is that Kevin is swimming beneath the pier, bobbing his head over Aaron’s dick. Kevin is often a merman in this, when the athlete part of his brain wakes up enough to be like, your muscles would give up before you made Aaron come, and you can’t have that, which is annoying but true. So sometimes Kevin is a merman, and then he has a tangential fantasy in those cases which involves whisking Aaron beneath the ocean and showing him how cool and handsome and good-at-things Kevin is in his natural element, and Aaron is like okay, sure, but can I look at your gills again? in an attempt to not seem so awestruck by Kevin, but his cheeks give him away every time, because Kevin always knows Aaron in his head, even when his fantasies lend themselves to something else. That’s a tangent, anyway. The important thing is sucking off Aaron at the beach while everyone else is there and can’t tell. Kevin came to that one in the shower earlier.

Aaron’s thighs are around Kevin’s head. The reason doesn’t really matter. These days, it’s usually some stupid competition at the beach, because it’s summer and everyone Kevin knows is a competitive asshole, or they’re Andrew, meaning just an asshole, or Jeremy, meaning just competitive. Aaron is sitting on Kevin’s shoulders, his quads visibly working as he clenches his thighs tight around Kevin’s head. Kevin at one point had to fact-check this, wondering if maybe he was just contouring Aaron’s thighs in a horny haze, but no. When they next went to the beach and Kevin watched Aaron’s legs as he took a running jump off the edge of the pier, there was definite action in the quadriceps. Unrelatedly, Kevin had to excuse himself by jumping into the ocean too. Matt had been baffled and Seth had given him a look somewhere between calculating and disgusted, but for the most part, Kevin thinks it was a successful swerve. Anyway. Kevin’s fantasy. Aaron’s thighs are around his head, clenching tight, and Kevin’s dick is hard as a rock. Sometimes Aaron notices, and says something. Sometimes Aaron notices, and his dick stirs against Kevin’s head. Sometimes Aaron doesn’t notice, or doesn’t say anything if he does, and Kevin gets edged by his own fucking head, painfully hard while Aaron says stuff like hurry up, I want to beat Neil or a little to the left, the light is to the left, do you have working eyes or stop fucking moving, I don’t want her to claw out my eyes because you’re complaining about your shoes, I can almost reach her. But that’s usually enough for Kevin, the idea of being so completely surrounded by Aaron’s body heat, the firm muscles in his thighs, the softness of the skin on the underside, pressed against Kevin’s shoulders.

So Kevin is really at a loss when that fantasy starts playing out in person, but develops in a direction he’d never anticipated. Specifically, Neil and Aaron grappling, and then Neil not letting go—because he is the worst person on the entire planet—when Nicky sneak-attacks Matt, Matt loses his footing a little and falls sideways, and Neil fucking swivels Aaron around Kevin’s neck on his way down into the ocean.

Aaron’s startled whoa! is going to live in Kevin’s head forever, probably. Part of him is also impressed at Aaron’s quick instincts, moving his feet enough that they don’t get caught on Kevin’s chest and unbalance them too.

Most of him is stuck in the current moment, though, face-to-face with Aaron’s crotch.

He can feel his dick against his face. He can smell it.

He—horrifyingly, desperately, unsurprisingly—wants to taste it.

[hyaesia]

Hi Cat, I am here to annoy you and ask you about your Beach Ep Thoughts ™

With best,

Lavii :3

oh god okay where do i even begin ... in general that was the most devastating ending in fiction ever i think... and i think the sigcorp series might be the only series ever to be able to pull it off. it's crazy how sounding out what we already knew would happen was still so !!! poignant!!! the music was spectacular. the art was spectacular. freebird's commitment to rpgmaker is astounding and i love it (though i know last hour and onwards will be unity)

more specific thoughts:

i loved being able to see more of rox and rob, particularly i love that rob is just a Really Strange Guy instead of the only normal sigcorp employee like a lot of us thought he would be, i think it makes his & rox's dynamic all that much funnier. two weird and offputting guys on totally opposite sides of the weird and offputting spectrum

even though the plot was very In Your Face compared to every other entry in the sigcorp series (this was made to answer questions about IF, after all), there's still so much to discuss and theorize about! i've spent So much time already discussing how i suspect neil died w/ friends (which i could make into a whole other post. tbh) and whatever the hell was going on with the quintessence cast ?? (more on that later)

i loved seeing eva's walls crumble down. she lied about the journey mattering more to her than the ending, of course she did because she works the worst job on the planet and she has to lie to herself to keep going. i can't think too long about her in the very ending asking such vulnerable questions to neil about if he'd really do all those sweet relationshippy things for her or putting her head into her arms and sobbing after he asked how it happened.oh.my god

i genuinely thought the quintessence guys from the teasers would be cameo characters, which yeah they were for the most part! but lunair was so interesting... what did she mean when she said she's something else entirely!! where did she come from why is she in on the simulation with faye!! the only rational thing i can come up with is quintessence being a side-project by neil leaking into the simulations but then that makes her comment before irrelevant... head in my hands

and i love/hate how the Entire series has been a simulation by eva... god especially minisode 2,,, realizing that party Never Happened and it was just her trying to make a happier memory for herself. do you think that was the last christmas neil ever celebrated? do you think she ever really gave him the sound recorder, or was it her present self playing 4D chess with their memories? it'll be a very long time until i can bring myself to replay any of these games knowing i'm being complicit in eva's unhealthy grief habits. well fucking done kan gao .how did you do it

shorter thoughts that don't need their own paragraphs: the minigames were so fun, the spectator mode for xtreme beach was such a fun touch; i loved the ingame confirmation about colin and river being deskmates; i think last hour will be the last hour of neil's life; after kan's tweet last year about last hour & the beach episode being the good and bad ending respectively, i placed my bets on beach being the good ending. i really hope i'm wrong now actually after seeing it; and finally i've already listened to world in a memory 200 times, it makes me nauseous every time

in conclusion: i need to hug eva rosalene so fucking badly

[schmergo]

If I had a podcast-- which I don't think I could ever do because people say I have a strange and off-puttingly untraceable accent and vocal quality that would probably distract from any audio content I'd put out-- but IF I had a podcast, I'd slowly start slipping weird stuff into that boring little stretch in the beginning where the hosts greet one another before talking about that week's content.

Like, I know the audience is only ever half listening to that part anyway. I know I am. I don't really care about if one of the hosts is "wearing a super cute new sweater she got from the TikTok store" or if another one is planning a hiking trip with her fiance. I want to hear about some small Appalachian town's niche cryptid legend or whatever.

So first I'd slowly start slipping in mildly contradicting information to test the waters. "Oh yeah, we're going on a beach trip next month, so I might be recording from this beach house. I'm excited because I haven't been to the beach in years." And slip that in for like 3 months in a row (but not every week) and see if anyone notices.

Then start making up pets. Then change the pet's name. Change it again. Add another pet that I've had since college.

Then briefly reference my nice next door neighbor Brian who watches the pets when I go to the beach house next month.

Change the pet's name again and this time casually mention my daughter. My daughter loves the beach. She's so excited to go to the beach house next month. She's never been to the beach.

Next episode I mention I'm looking for a good petsitter for my upcoming trip. Mine fell through.

Next episode, I just throw in there, "Yeah, I'm just busy stocking up for the beach trip. Sunscreen, new towels, water toys, bug spray, cave sloth spray. Yeah, the beach has a cave sloth problem right now, but they say attacks are really rare."

Next episode (this is a true crime podcast) I mention that this episode hits close to home because there's a missing person case in my neighborhood. My neighbor Brian's daughter went missing. People think the noncustodial parent took her out of state. She's probably safe, but we're all worried about her.

Next episode, I'm leaving for the beach tomorrow. I'm bringing my (only) dog with me. I spent forever cleaning out my car. Took forever getting the bloodstains off the upholstery, you know how it is. How do those even get there?

Next episode I just casually mention, "Spiders don't bother me, but I'm a little squeamish about palmetto bugs. And cave sloths. The thing that creeps me out about them is that when they take you into the pocket dimension in their cave, nobody from your previous life remembers you anymore. Oh, and I don't mind mice, but rats are a big NOPE."

I'd casually refer to myself as a childfree adult in the next episode.

Then I'd talk about how I wish my fellow podcast host could buy the apartment next to me. It's been vacant for years. Nobody has ever lived there since I moved in.

[humbledragon669]

S1E3 – Hard Times Write Up P4 - London (1941) and Soho (1967)

So, was anybody actually fooled into thinking that our angel was really working for the Nazis in this scene? It was a little confusing at first I’ll grant you, but the moment we see him giving away books, particularly first editions, and especially first editions of books of prophecy, that should have given the game away to all and sundry. I do love how much Aziraphale is enjoying himself in this scene though, like it’s all just a big, exciting game that he’s winning at.

His use of the phrase “our side” is interesting to me, particularly if we take into account the conversation he has with Crowley about sides at the end of this episode. But I’m getting ahead of myself. In truth, I’m not sure whether he uses the phrase as part of his own Heavenly cover story or because he really does believe that his “side” is now with the Allies in the war. If it’s the latter, it would suggest that his allegiances sit more squarely with humanity in deference to Heaven at this point. That said, he very quickly switches to it being “your people” when he realises he has no control over the situation. I’d just like to take a moment to appreciate the extreme reaction we see on Aziraphale’s face at that point – it actually feels like it’s over-reacted to the point of falsity, but it’s clear from the following dialogue he was not aware he was being double crossed. I can’t help but laugh every time I watch this little clip:

Ah, what a surprise! Crowley has arrived to save Aziraphale at exactly the right time, despite not having seen or spoken to each other since their disagreement over the holy water in 1862 (as confirmed in the Script Book). It’s like he somehow knew exactly where the angel was and that he was getting himself into trouble… Not only that, he’s putting himself through some severe discomfort to come and save the day. (Side note: anybody else find the image of Crowley walking on a hot beach in bare feet extremely amusing?) Aziraphale genuinely appears surprised to see him, so as with Paris I don’t think he knew the demon was within his proximity - although there is a look of recognition on his face as he realises who it is walking down the aisle towards him (and what a cute image that is), his first question is to demand to know why he’s there.

Crowley is more than happy to declare that the ONLY reason he’s in that church is to stop the angel getting into trouble. No excuses, no stuttering, just a flat-out statement – I am here for you. I’d really like to think that we might get a bit of backstory about how Crowley is always in the right place at the right time for Aziraphale in season 3 – it’s just one of those little bits of canon I’d like to have more detail about (I know, I know: “what and see”).

I have to hand it to Crowley in this scene – he still has the dignity to be insulted at the suggestion that the Nazis are working for him even, not lose his temper that the suggestion has been hurled (rather thoughtlessly) at him by his only friend, and reiterate that his reason for being there is for Aziraphale, all whilst trying to preserve the skin on his feet. Having seen how quickly the demon can lose his patience (and temper), this feels like it would have taken quite an effort to achieve.

We find out two things from Glozier here: first, that Crowley is “famous”, presumably amongst the Nazis, though we don’t find out what he’s famous for. Whatever it is, it’s not so impressive that they’re not prepared to kill him. Second, that he has changed his name again – retaining the “Crowley” as a last name, implementing a first name (Anthony) and a middle initial (J). I’m sure I’m not the only one that enjoys the lovely bit of small talk that goes on between them both as Crowley hops around, as if discussing this bit of news were the only thing on either of their minds. I also love that the demon seems genuinely invested in whether Aziraphale likes his choice or not, and Aziraphale’s response that he’ll “get used to it” says so much about how he feels about their relationship at this point. He actually doesn’t look particularly impressed with the new name, and perhaps it’s telling that we never hear Aziraphale refer to him as Anthony (even though he did adapt the new name when it was changed from Crawly).

Crowley’s realisation that there’s a whole font of holy water, completely unguarded, serves as a poignant reminder of the previous scene, despite the fact that he’s still hopping around in a now vaguely irritating way. It makes me wonder if this is where he gets the idea that he can get hold of his “insurance” without Aziraphale’s help by robbing a church (as will be seen in 1967).

We’re back in the land of hidden communications in this next exchange:

This feels like the angel and demon partnership that we have, so quickly, come to love. Teamwork, understanding, and a little bit of sacrifice to achieve a common goal, without the need for explicit declarations of intent. It’s so very different from the strained conversation we saw in 1862, but this definitely feels like it’s a truer representation of their partnership.

I want to take a moment here to talk about something that feels inconsistent to me in the scene that follows the explosion. I had initially wondered about the fact that the ground no longer appears to be consecrated after the bomb has hit the church (Crowley has stopped hopping around like a madman), but having done some (very shallow) research it would appear that churches can only be considered consecrated if they are suitable for worship. Seeing as that bomb pretty much obliterates the building, I think we can probably declare the ground now deconsecrated. My brain however is focussed on that font of holy water. When the church was blown up, that font, including its contents, would have gone everywhere. And I mean, everywhere. There’s no way that Crowley was getting through that explosion without some of it getting on him, or something that he touches (like the book bag he’s about to tear out of a dead Nazi’s hand). I have supposed that there is a possibility that it would have evaporated in the heat, but I’m not sure that fixes the problem – water evaporated becomes steam and Crowley would likely have inhaled some of it. So we’re left with two possibilities here – either Aziraphale did something that would cover these eventualities in his own miracle or Crowley actually can come into contact with holy water. Not that he’d ever be able to test the latter theory of course, it’s a pretty deadly experiment for a demon to be carrying out. I think the former of the two possibilities is probably the right answer, even then it seems like a bit of a stretch – what exactly did Aziraphale’s miracle do?

Moving on, we have another instance of Aziraphale calling Crowley a name that the demon would not wish to have as a label – “kind”. And as with Paris, the reaction is a very different one from what we see from him at Tadfield Manor, this time simply attempting to brush it off but this time the exchange happens without his glasses.

Not only that, there’s a little smirk on Crowley face suggests he’s actually rather pleased with the outcome of his actions.

Aziraphale seems very humbled by Crowley’s intervention here too, which is not something we’re used to seeing from him. I suspect he knows that he was in genuine danger during the meeting with the Nazis and is well aware of what a huge favour he’s just been afforded. And I’m sure he’s probably thinking about how badly things ended between them the last time they met. He also knows that thanks and appreciation are not something that Crowley does, so tries to make light out of it pointing out the most trivial of the consequences that this act of kindness has granted him – the paperwork.

But Crowley’s not done with his gifts, is he? If we set aside the question hovering around how he even knew there were any of Aziraphale’s prized books to be rescued in the first place (no seriously, how does he know? Maybe he saw them on the table before Harmony bundles them into the bag in the church, but he doesn’t seem to be paying that much attention), there’s no doubt that this is probably the most thoughtful gift someone could ever give the angel. And Crowley knows it very well – the relish on his face when he knows he’s about to deliver something that will give Aziraphale so much joy is absolutely previous.

And here we are. You all know what’s coming. In fact, there has so much coverage been done of the rest of this scene, that I’m not even going to bother talking about it.

What kind of fan would I be if I didn’t gush about the finger touch and Aziraphale’s look?! I’m going to try not to spend too much time on it though, purely because it really has been talked about by every single person before me, and will continue to be discussed by many.

So, the things I love about this are everything the fact that neither of them flinches when their fingers touch (this despite us not having seem them physically touch in any of the previous historical scenes); that they establish and maintain eye contact for the touch; and (last, but most definitely not least) that Crowley actually lifts his thumb to stroke Aziraphale’s finger when their digits meet. Seriously, that last one really gets me – it says so much about his knowledge of his feelings and his intent with the saving of the books. In all honesty, I watched that GIF about 10 times before moved on with the rest of this write-up, this tiny moment genuinely makes my heart sing. I also happen to love the extreme nonchalance of Crowley asking Aziraphale if he wants a lift home, as if none of the previous 5 minutes has just happened. Side note: this will be the first time that Aziraphale will meet the Bentley. He likely doesn’t even know that Crowley has a car, so being asked if he wants a “lift home” will be a first in their 6000 years of friendship.

And then of course, there’s Aziraphale’s look as Crowley leaves the scene.

He’s so adorable isn’t he? Only finally realising how important he is to Crowley, and that the feeling is mutual, after he’s been handed a bag of old books prised from the hands of a dead Nazi. Silly angel.

So the first thing I’ll point out about this scene involves a bit of gazing into the future (as far as the series was concerned anyway) – the pub that Crowley meets his cronies in is the Dirty Donkey. Which means he was conducting this meeting directly across the road from Aziraphale’s book shop. And has probably been hanging around in the general area of Aziraphale’s book shop. Like, a lot. It’s never talked about (or not yet anyway) so we have no idea of how frequently Crowley is in the area or why he picks this particular pub to conduct his criminal activities from, but it’s certainly worth noting.

Let’s give David Arnold another tip of the hat for his treatment of the theme tune for scene setting. This time we hear it in the stripped back tones of a 60s guitar sound, not so dissimilar to Buddy Holly’s style (apologies, that’s another bit of future gazing, unless you’ve read the Script Book, in which case you’ll know that Buddy Holly should have featured very prominently throughout season 1). Holly actually died in ’59, but that doesn’t stop this piece of soundtrack doing what this soundtrack always does so beautifully – enhance the setting of a scene.

I also quite enjoy the fact that the format of this scene appears to mirror the one from 1941 – opening with just one of our heroes, who appears to be getting themselves into potential danger, with the other coming to rescue them. There’s also a symmetry in the giving of gifts – Aziraphale’s presentation of the holy water mirroring Crowley’s saving of the books. It’s a lovely way to communicate to the audience that we are meant to view them as equals, and that they balance each other out (just as Crowley says way back in the Kingdom of Wessex).

We shouldn’t be surprised that Crowley refuses to tell his “employees” what exactly it is they’re going into the church for – I should think they would consider there to be something highly suspicious about breaking into a church to steal holy water after all. And I would dearly love to know what it was that Shadwell spent time in prison for, I mean I know he’s a distinct oddbod, but criminal? I wouldn’t say he had it in him. And for the record, £300 (the amount being paid to each criminal to do this job) equates to about £5.5K in today’s money. Not a bad little earner.

Let’s talk geography for a moment, shall we? Specifically, I’m talking about the alleyway that Shadwell has squirreled himself away down. Which looks suspiciously like the alleyway that runs down the side of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death in season 2 (again with the crystal ball, I know. There is a point, I promise).

The picture doesn’t make it painfully obvious, but the ramp, steps, and barrier that you can see on the left-hand side of the alleyway are a match – 1967 on the left, season 2 present day on the right. Not only that, we get a glimpse across the street from the alleyway entrance when we see Crowley turning towards his car.

Knowing what we know about Whickber Street from season 2, the positioning of the Bentley would appear to be directly outside Aziraphale’s shop, though the shop fronts tell a different story. What would seem to confirm that Crowley has in fact parked his car directly in front of the angel’s shop is the entrance to the corner unit – again 1967 on the left, season 2 present day on the right:

Perhaps this is just “the magic of television” and the need to re-use the same set for multiple different settings for cost purposes. I’m not so sure about that, but it seems almost too obvious for Crowley to be hanging around Soho in such a blatant way if he was trying not to be seen by Aziraphale. After all, the angel has been in the Bentley in 1941, so would know what it looked like, and it’s not like they would have been a common car in 1967.

I also want to take a quick moment to consider that Shadwell is hanging around an area in London that is painfully at odds with his views on sex workers, as we see in the way he speaks to Madame Tracey later. Perhaps those views are established later in his life, maybe even as a result of his spending time in London’s Red Light District (or at least, it was in the 1960s).

If you didn’t know something was about to happen as Crowley opens the car door, you should perhaps feel a little ashamed of yourself because… it’s the magical miracle noise! We know it’s not Crowley doing it because we can see him getting into the car, so I think it’s fair to say we should be assuming it has something to do with Aziraphale before we see him on camera. What I don’t understand is why he apparates inside the car. Or possibly why he bothers to apparate at all – as he’s about to point out, he works in Soho so it would be easy enough to simply approach Crowley on the street at any time. Perhaps it’s to ensure that the demon can’t make a hasty get-away? That doesn’t make a lot of sense in the declared canon of the series at this point. However, it’s my belief (and that of most of the fandom I think) that something happened between them after the scenes we get to see of 1941. I also think Aziraphale got spooked by it and left sharpish (more of that in the 1941 apology dance fanfic when I get to it). If we take that as canon, Aziraphale’s cautionary tone and covert apparition, along with Crowley’s look of surprise and longing at Aziraphale’s appearance make a lot of sense all of a sudden.

It looks as if Aziraphale is really struggling to say what he knows he must here, and the way Crowley reacts when he realises that the angel knows exactly what he’s planning makes it pretty clear that he’s not exactly comfortable with the topic of conversation either. I actually find it painful to watch this whole conversation (and I don’t think I’m the only one, though it’s not as tough as some we’ll come to later in both seasons). From the subtle revelation of how much Crowley has taken Aziraphale’s refusal to provide him with the holy water to heart (seeing as he knows exactly how many years have passed since that disagreement), to the searching look Aziraphale gives Crowley after he hands over the thermos (almost as it he’s trying to memorise his face), and everything in between, this is the most emotionally available we’ve seen the couple being with each other. And it takes its toll on them both – Crowley is rendered speechless and Aziraphale almost in tears, breathing heavily to try and stave them off. The angel is making a personal sacrifice to ensure Crowley stays out of danger here and Crowley knows it. What really is there to say, other than “thank you”? Alas, Aziraphale draws the line there (in a vaguely symmetrical fashion to what we say in Paris, when he asks Crowley if he can say thank you for the rescue), so he has to come up with something else. It’s such a desperate little gesture too - the only thing that he can offer to show any sort of favour in return is to offer Aziraphale a lift.

There’s a little reflexive noise from Crowley in response to Aziraphale’s refusal of his offer that really does convey how disappointed he is, and for once the angel is paying attention. I suspect he tells him not to look so disappointed because he finds it very hard to deny Crowley anything when he knows he really wants something. He even offers an alternative, something with promise and future in it, something that sounds suspiciously like a date.

Perhaps one day we could… I don’t know… Go for a picnic… Dine at the Ritz…

Crowley’s not done though, he’s going to keep trying to string out this meeting as long as he can. Let’s just bear in mind that his offer to take Aziraphale anywhere he wants to go is rather a moot point – they’re in Soho, a very small area of London, which is where Aziraphale works and lives. Even if we ignore the fact that the Bentley appears to be parked within 6 feet of the door to the book shop, there really wouldn’t be any need to drive to get from one place in Soho to another place in Soho. As such, I think this offer is simply Crowley wanting to spend time with Aziraphale, and it’s something he wants so much that he almost pleads with the angel to reconsider the invitation.

Tiny side note: the bullet holes you can see in the driver side window are referenced in the book. They’re actually a sticker, tied to a James Bond film promotion. The only time Crowley has ever put fuel in the Bentley he did to get it.

Aaaaaand we’re here. At the line. You all know the one.

Hnnnnnnnnh.

The first time I watched this show, I was only half paying attention and I just thought he was talking about Crowley’s driving. It wasn’t until I rewatched prior to bingeing through season 2 that I realised he really isn’t, and I can tell you it hit me like a tonne of bricks. If we assume it’s likely they haven’t seen each other since 1941, which makes sense if we’re also assuming that something happened between them at that time, Aziraphale has only been in the Bentley once before this (well, maybe multiple times in one evening, but you get the drift). What’s to say that one experience was typical of Crowley’s driving? Decades have passed since that evening, so it’s not out of the question to consider that his driving style might have changed in that time. And why not just say “yes thank you, but do you think you drive a bit slower”? Or even for Crowley to offer to drive slower on his behalf? No, this heartbreaking line has nothing to do with the driving at all, and Crowley’s lack of resistance to it and look of resignation says he knows it but has no idea who to talk the angel down from his position. This scene ends in the Script Book with Crowly driving away and Aziraphale watching him go, but my head canon has given me a different outcome here (which fits with what we actually see in the show), which I’ll be writing a fic about in the future.

This one has run a little long (hardly surprising given that it covers the 1941 AND 1967 historical scenes). I toyed with the idea of splitting into two parts but that felt excessive, particularly given I still have to deal with, what I think, is the first of the ineffable divorces later in this episode. As always, questions, comments, discussion, all welcome!

[maranull]

Malenia beach episode headcanons?

She'd absolutely wreck everyone at volleyball even without eyes.

She could also show why dexterity is so heavily associated with water ;)

I wonder about your ideas 💕

Sure!

I think she wouldn't swim much in deep water though. Gold doesn't corrode in salt water (says a very quick search) but all the weight of three metal prosthetics would make swimming annoying to say the least.

She does like walking and running around in the swallows though.

She also likes rowing a lot so often she rents a boat and goes along the coast or maybe at some island that's visible from the beach.

The swallows are basically the only place she would accept a wrestling challenge from you (or play along to a surprise attack) cause tossing you around in the water is way safer than a floor.

Though one time she actually send you flying three meters in the air so she toned it down a bit after that.

As you said, she dominates at volleyball. (she casually wins 1v5s)

She's also amazing at Frescobol and will hit insane jumps and dives.

After showering she will theatrically complain about her hair so she can get you to comb them.

While not a fan of clubs (way too much noise), she really enjoys getting a drink and chilling at the beach at night. Just talking and listening to the waves and the faint music from the bar/club/whatever.

If she rented the aforementioned boat overnight, she might take you for nightly boat date.

That's all I got! <3

[h2ojustaddmako]

Headcanon: Why Will and Bella's relationship felt so fake

Will & Bella's relationship is a controversial one for a lot of reasons, and for a while I couldn't really put my finger on it, and I don't think many people can too. It lacks chemistry, for sure - but it often feels neglectful, dishonest, and harming to both parties. I was chatting over this with @devisrina when finally it hit me.

You see, as a gay man, I always found some reflection in Will's character. He was this quiet, loner boy, he liked spending time with the cool, interesting girls, and he never really bonded with any male character (he's friendly with Lewis, but I'd never imagine them hanging out). He definitely has a complex with strong female characters like Sophie and Rikki, where he quite literally adores them, and I think with Bella it was quite similar.

I think Bella started out as his fascination; she was a gorgeous, gorgeous girl, and she seemed mysterious in a way he HAD to find out. He never had a crush on her, it was more this unharmful obsession. He quickly tied her to his obsession with Mako, and she became just another pawn in his game. She was much more open or easy to get to than either Cleo or Rikki, so him choosing her was natural. As I said, he never liked her romantically.

Bella, on the other hand, had a sweet teen crush from the beginning. Of course, he's good looking, but what she liked the most was the fact he's not like other guys; he didn't care about her body or partying, he wasn't the archetypal teen boy, she even says it straight to his face. But she's confused, as Will never seems to recuperate her feelings for him. Sure, he gives her plenty of attention, but that attention leaves her confused as it's never clearly romantic. She keeps going back and forth between trying to get close to him, to accepting it's not gonna happen and he doesn't care about her that way. Poor baby girl.

Then came a turning point. Will finds out Bella's a mermaid. Suddenly, his interest in her specifically skyrocketed, and all he wanted was to spend time with her. You know how some gay men are obsessed with female musicians or whatever? They appear so iconic and cool to them, they want to be them? Or at least, constantly be around them. I think it was like that. Bella was already gorgeous and talented as fuck, with heaps of confidence he could only dream of, and now, she was also a fucking mythical being that can dive forever and explore the oceans gracefully. There's nothing closer to a dream coming true for Will. For Bella, it was a confusing time; as Will started to get closer, she took it as a chance to take things to the next level. Will too was confused - why does he feel all these feelings towards a girl?

You see, deep down, Will knows he's gay. He's been into men ever since he remembers himself. But he's in the tender age of doubting yourself, so when he starts caring so much about a girl, and getting this feeling of constantly wanting to be around her, he mistakes it for love. Will starts questioning whether he might be bisexual after all.

We get a clue about it in the show. Bella starts suspecting that Will only loves the mermaid in her, and not her, which is 100% the case, but Will was still in his denial stage, so they kept going after that. The Beach Party episode, was peak delulu for Will, because, being put on the spot, he had to admit out loud something he wasn't sure of himself, but was boiling inside him for months now. That led to the most inauthentic relationship ever put to screens where Bella thinks he finally loves her, and Will decides to give it a chance before realising it's not really what he wants.

I don't think they lasted much past the end of season 3. I feel bad for Bella for going through it, mostly for all the time she's been in the dark, thinking it was something wrong with her, or just truly being disappointed about how long it all took.

At the end of the day, Will comes out as gay and Bella moves on to date with a guy who really likes her for who she is, and has all those qualities she's looking for in a guy, now also including an attraction to women.

The end

P.s. i do think they were pretty good friends during the middle of the season when it was all blurry for both of them, and that connection was genuine but ever so often shrouded in weird romantic fog that was unclear to neither of them and kept this friendship from reaching its full potential. Will gave her the special attention she wanted, while Bella understood him and was great at listening and giving advice. That made them a good combo, just not romantically.

[th3-c0ll3ct3r]

It's clear from the way Helluva Boss is operated that most the scenes that are shown in the trailer are going to be from the next 2 to 3 episodes and we're gonna break some of them down!

Full Moon:

Is the musical episode that came far the actual episodes we found out that Stolas is planning to give Blitzo an Asmoden-Crystal to truly get an answer as to of the blitzo actually wants him or not

We get confirmation that he does take the crystal from the scene

So it's evident that they do break up. However I believe that he takes the crystal not because he doesn't want to see Stolas, it's instead because they want nothing to hold them back and no one has leverage over the other.

However I think this makeup will come in a layer episodes, that being Apology Tour. (but that's later stuff ekshdjwkdb)

And I also believe that the mirror shattering scene is right after Blitzo break up with Stolas, because we know from the clips and from previous episodes that he was hopeful that's something good would come out of this.

I believe this breakup scenario will span though much longer in universe time period like through days.

It's clear that in this scene this will be the scene in which they break up and it's clear buy Blitzo's character and his straightforward attitude that Stolas is not going to get a word in before they break up from Blitzo's resolve

HOWEVER IN THE EPISODE APOLOGY TOUR, THEY'LL "make up"

I believe Blitzo will internalize what stolus has said with Fizz and we'll go on a apology tour.

He will apologise to Bee/Vox, Veroica, Stolas but be unable to apologise to Barbie-wire as she's gone off the grid to avoid him.

Bee/Vox will accept the apology with open arms.

Stolas will ACCEPT IT but more in a "let's start over" with no strings attached.

Veroica will hate him for the rest of his life but won't actively try to avoid him.

Barbie-wire will avoid him for the rest of his life, aka till season 3.

Barbie-wire and Veroica deciding to hate him even after his apology will highlight the fact that his actions still do have consequences and he can't just be handed everything because he's sad.

And this scene is from apology tour, and it's the beginning of the episode.

I think this isn't internalization of his guilt before he goes on an Apology Tour

He hurt Veroica EMOTIONALLY.

Got Vortex hurt 'physically' as he had to fight for Veroica in the beach episode.

But Stolas is the forefront of his guilt because he hurt him EMOTIONAL and got him hurt PHYSICALLY.

And the Pumpkins are there because it relates back to the Harvest Festival we're Blitzo first had to defend Stolas.

I don't think this prince who is already in deep trouble is going to be singing about his affair partner that he used as an escape from his abusive, manipulative and also problematic as well as probably cheating on him partner- and how it wasn't worth it.

HOWEVER I believe the way Stolas and Blitzo properly make up is AFTER they had to defend each other from Andrealphus because Visago??? Statan, Bee, Ozzie and Fizziroli??? Will defend him.

If be Andrealphus and Mammon VS Visago, Statan, Bee, Ozzie (and Fizz).

It's clear things don't go Andrealphus' way simply because he's seen attacking Stolas and Blitzo, which I assume he summoned them after the trial. Only intending to summon Stolas with the intent on killing him because the trial did not go his way but ended up accidentally summoning both of them as Blitzo was trying to make up for past mistakes in Apology Tour.

And the reason why Stolas will not die here is because Andrealphus didn't count and accidentally summoning both of them.

NOW TO THE MAIN COURSE OF WHY I THINK WHO'S GONNA DEFEND WHO

Andrealphus obviously once Stolas' position as a prince instead of a Marquis (or whatever he is), and it's doing this ploy to get his position.

Mammon is after Blitzo because he along with Ozzie were the people to try and convince him to quit. Which costed Mammon alot of money.

When we see the Fizz bots attack Moxxie and Millie I think those were sent out with the intent of catching Blitzo, but he wasn't there in the van on the mission doing whatever they were doing, because he was too busy making up with Stolas in Apology Tour. YES I THINK TRIAL WILL LOWKEY SPAN OVER 2 EPISODES BECAUSE IT'S IMPORTANT-

They will loose.

Bee will defend them because she's seen there situation and seemed like one of the most empathetic rulers. And she's also dating a hellhound so we will be a bit hypocritical if she went against them.

Ozzie will defend them because he's also dating and imp and he's also getting away with it so why can't Blitzo?

And then the kicker. I think Satan well also defend Stolas and Blitzo. This is because Imps are primarily from the Wrath-ring and it would be an insult on his people if he didn't defend them. Despite Blitzo not being born in the Wrath-ring.

I also believe that Satan will see as a noble regard of strengths that both are defying the odds so we'll let it be.

AND THAT'S ALL FOR THEORY TALK FOLKS

[moonspirit]

Hello, Moon

Here is a headcannon we would love to hear from you about.

Since AOT is an anime that never gave us the typical beach episode as is so common, 

What do you think something like that would be like with the Ambassador Gang,

Can you picture the mischief those rascals would get up to at the beach? Id love to hear your thoughts!

Here are a few ideas I have, what do you think

Jean, Reiner, and Connie are all trying to do the beach buff thing to varying degrees of success.

Armin starts looking at lovely seashells, totally in heaven, and then he turns to see Annie in a bikini. Poor boy, he won't even stand a chance.

Bloody nose,red face

Armin has to insist he is not ill

Reiner,Jean and Annie quickly realize what happened and the two boys are laughing their heads off,

Armin and Annie are embarrassed,

Jean is laughing until he sees Pieck  in her swimwear, (I don’t know if she would be a bit more conservative with her swim wear, I always see her as choosing a one peice) despite that she is rocking it

Jean is also quickly afflicted like Armin was

Reiner is in fits

Connie legitimately believes the beach may be contaminated(he’s precious like that)

Regardless they continue their day goofing off and swimming, Armin takes Annie behind a large mound of rocks to “Look for Seashells” wink wink nudge nudge

Its a good day for all,

As always I love hearing your ideas on this.

Obligatory beach episode!!! We were robbed of more lighthearted aot content tho, yes!

When it comes to Annie & Pieck in swimsuits, idk, maybe it's just me, but I see them as wearing comfortable things haha xD So that could be a tshirt and shorts, or just a very very comfy bikini/one-piece/whatever, easy to move around in; but whichever it is - you're right that there are two (2) nosebleeding boys!

RIP Armin in particular, because Annie looks so cute no matter what it is she's wearing. A tshirt and shorts? Well it's cutely tied up at her waist so it doesn't get in the way, and her shorts are baring plenty of her strong legs. When she gets into the water then, he's the one that has to keep a check on his shorts because the sight of her wet shirt = hot as hell. And then her hair is wet, water running down her neck, sand sticking on her arms and legs, the outline of her (bikini?) underwear visible through the clothes. She's the one that's making him sweat, not the sun!

(But she's so pale, her skin burns easily, and Pieck takes her sweet time rubbing sunscreen on her much to Armin's regret. He wishes he was doing it. Pieck is very evil, as expected.)

There is no Ambassador beach episode without somebody pitching in the idea of burying Reiner in the sand and building him a mermaid body. That normally comes with building a pair of sand-boobies too, but his boobs are already so big, they decide to leave it. The result is Reiner sipping tender coconut water as he lies there under the sun, sand mermaid body and all ft. natural human tits.

Connie proposes beach volleyball! It's him & Pieck vs Jean and Annie. It's a tough match, Pieck's endurance vs Annie's agility mainly, while Reiner's their referee stuck in the sand. What's Armin doing, you ask? Well he's the pretty dainty princess, sitting under the beach umbrella and reading a book.

Not for long because they decide to kidnap him and throw him into the waves.

The six of them go for a swim! Underwater exploration! Cool fish! Colourful sea plants! Weird creatures! It's all fun and games until somebody spots a shark fin (obligatory Jaws episode?).

Beach lunch! Cold fruits and drinks! Lazing around under the sun! Playing sand games! Building a sandcastle! Turning heads (because they're all so hot, my god). Getting tanned and sunburnt!

And lastly, beach sunset viewing :3 With the fiery orange light colouring their faces, the six of them sit, quiet and tired, watching the sun go down. There's nothing more beautiful at that moment except for the shared silence of their friendship, a precious intangible thing, alive and breathing. And how many more such sunsets will they watch together?

Many. They have time now.

(That's when Aruani sneak off to "look for seashells" hehe XD)

[longbobmckenzie]

THTH2 Episodes 1-3 Thoughts!

Eeeek it's THTH2 (Too Hot to Handle the game) time!! Last season fizzled out halfway through but based on the first few episodes of season 2, I've got hopes that this one will be better!

First of all, it's 15 episodes as opposed to 10 - there's room for development (and more bombshells/dumpings!)

There's more customization! I feel like it's improved, although others have said they had a harder time with it. I'm not a huge fan of the hairstyles and outfits we've been given so far, but we'll get more

In the initial episodes, there are 5 friends and only 4 LIs - that might be a little disappointing at first (especially since the friends are all hot - URGH I want Santiago!!), but this actually fixes some of the problems with the first season

More non-romanceable characters is a good thing because it means there will be more storylines besides MC/LI and Jada/Justin/Carter

A lot of us started to hate Jada after a while because she kept popping up and we were forced to be friends with her. Having more friends is a good thing because we'll be able to talk to more people instead of just one person. I'm hoping there will be some branching involved where some scenes are dependent on who your highest relationship is with, but we'll see!

Less LIs is fine for the reasons above - sure there's less choice up front, but with next to no branching in S1, every route was the same, and there were only 3 couples at the end. It didn't make sense. Plus...

We're already getting at least one bombshell next week! It's highly likely they'll be LI(s), and no doubt there will be more people incoming

In Season 1, all the LIs had hard-ons for MC even when MC didn't show them any interest - so far that doesn't seem to be the case, and I love that. It was weird that 9 people were obsessed with us, honestly. This time, our choices matter more

They're already setting up a love triangle! It makes so much more sense to have a LT early on when everyone's new rather than force it with a bombshell we don't even like midway through the season

The characters so far seem to have more personality traits than just whatever their jobs/interests are. Hopefully I'm not speaking too soon, and there is definitely still some of that, but I feel like I've already had deeper chats with them. And they ask about us too, and we can define a bit more of a personality for ourselves

More under the cut...

I picked Antoine so far (love a Canadian hockey player!!). He's basically an upgraded (yes, I said it) version of Theo (the art style is slightly improved - the smiles aren't as creepy this time!). I wasn't a Theo girlie but so far I'm vibing with Antoine

I was a Liam girlie, but Liam 2.0 (Wesley) doesn't have quite the same appeal. He's still hot, but Idk, he's not my Liam

There's a fun Antoine glitch (not sure if any of the other characters have it) where he's fully naked. It's pretty funny

I've already broken a bunch of rules, mwahaha!

The list of achievements this season is interesting 👀 There's an achievement for getting eliminated, which I will definitely be trying to do. And stuff about the others trusting us (probably a way to earn back money)

They still have the "beach hut" confessionals, but I feel like those episodes are shorter, which is great because they could be a drag on replays before, or when you just want to get to the next episode

Santiago is my boy, I'm loving the representation with him. I'm curious if we'll ever get a chance to get our hands on him even without romance, because we do have a flirty vibe and I would absolutely jump at that chance!

Overall, I'm excited to see how this goes! It does seem like they've taken our feedback so far, the initial episodes felt a lot like last season but that's not at all a bad thing - last season started off great, and this one has too. I do think this season has better potential overall and my fingers are crossed that it delivers

[glass--beach]

the troglodyte post is getting me bad cause it's so accurate to my life rn. At least my hopeful projection of my life as I'm in my troglodyte era. I started our uber competent cause of immature parents, working at like 15 and shit, and now im 21 and have been taken care of by my bf for 2 yeara lol. basically inernt creatively and professionally. how did you pull urself up and get to pre-god complex era that'd help a fellow biploar? thank you Ms. Glass Beach

i don’t know your life or anything but to me that sounds like you had to grow up fast & burned yourself out which is a super common & understandable experience… not saying it isn’t bipolar because a lot of what we call mental illness is the brain adapting to a life situation in a way that becomes a problem once the initial situation has changed. gonna be honest for me i’m like cycling every two weeks to a couple months or so, i have no control of it, and both extremes are pretty fucking awful. being at the top believe it or not is the absolute worst bc i feel possessed, i have no filter and can get very delusional so i’m constantly doubting everything i think and say. having the platform i do has led to some public embarrassment over that. i ride the waves, i don’t control them. i’ve been in a very low place for the past month and whatever the hell’s been going on with me was definitely in some way a ripple effect.

btw now that i’m exploring plurality a bit i am trying on the possibility of my manic episodes being a separate personality, that’s how it’s always felt anyway. i certainly operate in fundamentally different ways that contradict my usual convictions. the dr who diagnosed me barely got to know me & at the time i was eager to cherrypick facts to fit into that diagnosis but i’ve known there’s things that don’t quite line up. none of it is super hardcoded anyway diagnoses are just methods of understanding i think.

again i don’t know your life but it sounds like to me the best thing you could be doing is taking care of yourself. your 20s are in my opinion in large part about unpacking your childhood experience and seeing what coping strategies you don’t need anymore & giving yourself space to breathe. nobody has a perfect childhood & we tend to just tank through all the bad shit for the sake of survival to the point where it becomes repressed and doesn’t seem that bad until it just hits you out of nowhere as an adult. don’t worry about trying to achieve a whole lot creatively just do whatever bits you can here and there to keep yourself sane. you’ve got a lot of life ahead of you! <3

[farfromstrange]

Austin: Chapter 1 [Owen Sleater x F!Reader]

Chapter 1: Welcome to Atlantic City!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read Me on AO3

Chapter Summary: You make your way to Atlantic City, and things do not go as planned from the moment you step off the train to meeting a very handsome but also very cheeky Irishman at Nucky Thompson's estate.

Chapter Warnings: foul language, mentions of murder, illegal activity, plot, Owen being a cheeky bastard, Season 2 spoilers, foreshadowing, slight angst (?), kind of a "I hate him" situation (enemies to lovers *cough*), mentions of misogyny

Word Count: 7.2K

A/n: This chapter is longer than the first, which was not planned, but the juices were flowing. The meeting was originally planned for Chapter 3, but then I realized that Nucky Thompson was no longer at the Ritz at this point in the show, so I had to improvise, so yeah. Anyway, first meeting, and it even made ME blush. But then again, I had to add a little bit of angst for the slow burn. (I'm always so scared of inaccuracies because the 1920s were very complex, so if you find any, just ignore them.)

Set from Season 2 episode 9 onward!

This series is rated E for explicit! 18+ only!

The train ride from Austin to Atlantic City takes you two days. You’re no stranger to long-distance traveling, but being stuck in a carriage with strangers for hours on end would never be your first choice for an adventure.

You’ve been to Canada and Mexico; you have made a deal with the Italians on the West Coast, and you have conspired with the Russians in Coney Island. You hold friends in high places all over the world, but not once have you been to Atlantic City. 

It’s not that you don’t love the beach—you have quite the affinity for the ocean, actually—but you told yourself that you were better off not messing with the powerful forces that have owned the Boardwalk ever since liquor first became an object of illegal trade. As feared as you are in Texas and all neighboring States that profit from your work, Nucky Thompson is—well, used to be—equally as feared in his part of the criminal underworld. 

The times you have shown your face in the past, the people present have not lived to tell the tale. If someone shouted from the rooftops that Mr. Austin is, in truth, a woman, it would cause quite an uproar. Your spite is not the only factor in this equation because you’re not the only person who has something to lose. You’re not like those you despise; you care about what happens to those who work for you, knowing that they are risking just as much in this business as you are every day.

If someone told your name and spread the news that you did not die in the fire you set that night eighteen months ago, the connection could bring on a myriad of consequences. You would have nowhere to run but to prison. You killed a man, and justice has a way of kicking criminals in the ass. You know that very well. When you disappeared though, you swore to do whatever it would take to keep the walls around you stable enough to survive, and you have been doing well so far.

Nucky Thompson’s letter was the Trojan Horse that has now forced you out of your shell. You are far too exposed—far too vulnerable here, even though no one knows who the woman with the red cowboy boots sitting on the back of the train is or where she’s from, and they don’t seem to care at all either. 

You care though. And you know the truth. You care too much about what other people think. If you want to be able to stand your own against them, you have to be more confident, but you always find yourself held at gunpoint by your insecurities.

You won’t know what more could happen until you confront the man who chose to throw very lively bait at your feet that you couldn’t help but dig your teeth into. Now, you’re being pulled toward Enoch Thompson and Atlantic City instead of away from the chaos that has erupted around him.

If you had sent your right-hand man—if you had sent Anthony, out of all people—you fear that he might have come back to you in a box, but he has a hard time acknowledging the fact that you are far more dangerous than you let on.

“I can’t believe you left!” his voice is so loud you have to take a look around the small phone booth to see if anyone on the outside can hear you.

“I had no choice,” you snap back into the receiver. “You read what he wrote. If there is even the slightest chance he knows who I am, we’re in a lot of trouble.”

Anthony sneers. “You really want to believe a guy who’s on trial for several crimes and is about to lose everything he worked so hard for just because he sent you a letter out of desperation?” 

You imagine his green eyes glaring holes into the atmosphere. His bottom lip must be swollen from how many times he gnawed on it, and his dark hair is probably disheveled because as he told you once before, you make him want to rip his hair out. One by one. He tends to be quite dramatic.

“You’re smarter than this,” he says. He utters your name, and his voice takes on a softer touch. 

A train horn blares in the distance, but your focus remains on the man on the other end of the phone line.

You sigh. “Because I’m smarter, I had to go,” you try explaining. “You can’t deny that a man who has everything to lose is almost as dangerous as one who has nothing to lose. And if Nucky has everything to lose, so do I,” you say. “He has the power to take everything away from me, and I have to make sure he doesn’t know the truth. And if he does, I have to find a solution. Me. Because he wants to see me, not you.”

“He wants to see Mr. Austin,” Anthony corrects you. 

“Exactly. And who’s he?”

“A name on paper. A myth.”

“No, Anthony. Who is Mr. Austin?” you ask.

The pause is filled with a heavy silence. Then, he opens his mouth, and he murmurs into the telephone, “You are.” He acts as though it hurts him to admit it. 

It hasn’t always been like this.

You nod, but his reaction doesn’t sit right with you. It may not be audible through the phone, but he knows you well enough by now to read your body language even from miles away. 

“That’s right,” you say. Your voice remains calm, though your words do not. “I’m your boss. I own this fucking business, and I know what I’m doing. I know you always attend these kinds of meetings for me, but this is an emergency, and I had to leave without dragging you or anyone else into it until I’ve found a solution.”

“You’re insane.” It is less of an accusation than it is a statement. 

“No, I have to make sure that a man my father once considered a friend doesn’t burn his legacy to the ground. He already had one shitty friend try it, and we both know how that turned out. I saved his legacy from certain downfall. I killed for it. And I intend to protect it with my life, no matter what it takes.”

In the background, music overlaps with the distinctive sound of voices and the clinking of glasses. 

Anthony sucks in a sharp breath through his nose. “No matter what it takes, huh?” he asks, and it leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. “Even if it means revealing your face, your identity, even your name to a stranger? No matter what it takes?”

“Don’t patronize me!”

The fury tugs at your heartstrings, tearing a hole into your soul. What started as a bout of frustration is starting to turn into an inferno of anger. It consumes you, threatening to set you on fire. The beast inside of you begs to be set free.

“You do realize that if you go there and he doesn’t know who you are, he may as well connect the dots and then screw you over anyway, right?” He doesn’t stop. “You’re serving him the gun on a silver platter, Jesus fucking Christ!”

When he yells at you, you see red. “He already has it!” your voice bounces off the glass around you. “He already has the gun, I’m sure of it,” you tell him. “I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling about this, and I have to burn this son of a bitch out before it’s too late. Before—before he can burn me. Us,” you emphasize. “He is in an impossible situation, and that makes him a million times more dangerous. But that also makes him valuable, and if I can talk with him—figure out what he meant and talk some sense into him—I can come home and we can forget this ever happened. But for that, I have to give him what he wants first.”

Again, Anthony seethes, “Nucky Thompson is not a man you can trust.”

“I don’t trust him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do business with him.”

“Is that what you think?”

“The better question is, do you think I’m less capable than you because you’re such a strong, invincible man?” By saying it out loud, you have found a way to spit him in the face.

His hand grips the receiver so tightly that the line crackles. He exhales a growl. “I think that you should have thought this through and discussed it with me,” he says. “You should have called a meeting with the rest of the team, and we could have talked about this.”

“I discussed it with you in great detail, but you wouldn’t listen,” you counter. “Now, I’m here, and I won’t stop until I get what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

“Control.”

He calls your name. “That’s it. I’m taking the next train to Atlantic City.”

“No!” you stop him. “I need you to keep things going in Austin. Make sure everything runs smoothly. I’ll call you when I find out something new.”

“Not happening. That man is too dangerous for you to deal with alone. Even with half his empire gone, he still holds too much power. I’m coming. End of discussion.”

You chuckle, but it lacks amusement. It’s a dry, empty, and entirely emotionless chuckle that matches the look in your eyes. “You underestimate me, Anthony,” you say. “May I remind you that I’m in control here? You are not in charge. I am. I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in Nucky Thompson’s head if he decides to stab me in the back. And I won’t hesitate to do the same with you or anyone else who dares to cross me. So don’t ever fucking underestimate me again. Your responsibilities are back home, so that is where you are going to stay or I swear to God I’m going to make you regret it. Are we clear?”

“I’m not undermining you, I’m just concerned—”

“No, fuck you!” This time, one of the women passing by the telephone booth, stares at you, and she seems utterly appalled at your language. You tilt your head. Her eyes widen, but before you can yell at her to turn around and walk the other way, her husband pulls her away. 

“I’m not listening to this—” You place your lips close to the speaker, “Stay where you are. Do as I tell you to, and wait for further instructions. Do not come to Atlantic City, and don’t ever fucking doubt me again,” you spit. “That’s an order!”

The line clicks, and the entire booth vibrates at the force with which you hang up the phone. 

You take a deep breath to calm the erratic drumming of your heart against your ribcage. You need to slow the adrenaline in your veins before it melts you from the inside out. Your knuckles crack when you stretch your fingers, smoothing out the fabric of your dress. You take another deep breath in, then exhale. 

The clock strikes noon. You reach for the suitcase you managed to cram into the small telephone booth. The sturdy leather feels slippery on your sweaty palms. You always travel light; you don’t plan to stay for much longer than a week, anyway. One suitcase of clothing should suffice plenty. At least that was your train of thought before you arrived at the bustling train station of Atlantic City. 

A soft, salty breeze brushes your cheeks when you step outside. You can hear the rushing of the ocean in the distance. Children run along the pavement, followed by their parents. Everyone is dressed so much differently from the fashion you see every day. 

The South isn’t New Jersey though, and you should have figured that styles may vary over thousands of miles apart. You receive a few curious glances; is it that obvious that you don’t belong here? A group of women passes by you, and you swear you can hear them giggle when they are a few steps further away. You wonder if it’s the red boots that are made for farming rather than a city close to the coast, or maybe it’s the way you carry yourself, wearing your uniqueness on your sleeve like an elegant piece of jewelry. 

You came here with one suitcase and a clear mission; you won’t let anyone ruin that for you. Not Anthony, and surely not a group of strangers who are probably more prone to gossip than you ever were in your lifetime—and probably ever will be. 

When you left early that morning, you tasked Beth with calling Nucky Thompson. She is responsible for all of your appointments, but when she heard his name, she was rightfully hesitant. You didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you left her with an excuse and a pile of guilt in the pit of your stomach.

At three o’clock, you will face him, and you will pray to a God you don’t believe in that it will all be over after that. One night of rest, and you will be on the same train back home. That is what you are hoping for.

You heard that Nucky lost his suite at the Ritz-Carlton after the charges were filed against him, and he retreated to the comfort of his home. You can’t say that you have a lot of empathy; you would prefer a room at the Ritz over one at the Marlborough any day anyway. 

Hopefully, the small glimpse of the Boardwalk you get as the cab pulls up to the hotel will be the last you see of Atlantic City for a very long time.

The car comes to a halt, and the driver curtly tells you, “We’re here, Miss.”

You nod, then reach into your coat. “What’s your name?” you ask him. 

He frowns at you through the rearview mirror. “Carter, Miss,” he stutters. “Ben Carter.”

“Ben. Carter.” You retrieve a stack of money. “I like you. I could use your help.”

His entire body stiffens. “M-my help?”

“Mhm.” You lean forward. “I need someone to drive me around the city today.”

“I’m a cab driver. I—”

“I’m aware, but tell me, is there anything you wouldn’t do for money?” The bills rustle next to his ear as you hold them up.

“How much is that?” Ben asks breathlessly. 

“500,” you answer. “Although I’m open to giving you more if that’s what it takes.”

“For a day?”

“Yes.”

“Is there a–a catch?”

You chuckle, placing the money in his shaky hand. “All I ask is for your driving skills and your discretion. Can you do that for me, Ben?”

The wheels turn in his head. He’s considering your offer. That much money isn’t so easy to come by, especially not for a cab driver. You’ve learned over the years that if you play your cards right, you can get just about anything.

Ben stares at the dollar bills for a few more seconds before he meets your eyes. Sweat drips down his temple. “Where do you need me to take you?” he asks. 

Your lips curl into a smirk. This poor man doesn’t know a thing and yet you are playing him like a fiddle. But he doesn’t need to know the truth. To you, he is only a means to an end. You will pay him, and he will give you what you need in return for a reward. After your stay in Atlantic City, he will never have to see you again.

The small piece of paper is tucked safely into your shirt. You retrieve it, still neatly folded, and hand it to him. “I need to be at this address,” you tell him. “Three o’clock.”

He glimpses down at the note. “Nucky Thompson,” he reads aloud. “Isn’t he–”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t ask questions. Discretion, remember?”

“Yes, Miss. I’m sorry. I was just wondering—”

You cut him off once again. “Why don’t you wonder in silence while you help me carry my bag inside? Answers are earned, and it is my choice whether to answer or not.” You smile. It appears as sweet as sugar, but even the deadliest poisons smell deliciously of almonds. “You can still opt out, but I’d be taking the money back,” you add. “I would tip you nicely for the ride, of course, and I would let you leave without a word, but you wouldn’t get more than that.”

The man considers your words for a moment. You’re giving him a choice, but he isn’t quite sure which one would be the right one.

“Tick tock, Ben,” you purr.

He clenches his fist around the money. “I can be discreet,” he says.

You chuckle. “That’s what I thought. Now, about my bag–” You hand him another bill, not paying much attention to the amount. “It’s rather heavy, so I would appreciate it if you could carry it to my suite for me.”

The look in your eyes is destined to turn him into stone if he were to make the wrong move. As Ben looks at you, he swears you resemble Medusa, an ancient goddess in the back of his cab who is as dangerous as she is powerful. He has no other choice but to cater to your every need. 

When you get to your suite, you notice instantly that the windows open toward the ocean. Beth was gracious enough to book you a room with a beach view, and while you appreciate her thoughtfulness when it comes to your comfort, you don’t plan on extending your stay, no matter how nice the view may be.

Yet again, you find yourself staring at the Boardwalk, watching the people pass by. They all have a story of their own to tell. They all have their own set of opinions and values, some of which no one will ever know about. You could be an expert at reading human behavior and still be wrong in your interpretation. In the end, most people are experts at shapeshifting to fit into whatever category they want you to think they fit into, and trustworthiness isn’t just black and white; you have to be prepared to get disappointed.

Elegant houses with high walls, porches, and front yards pass you by as Ben drives you to Nucky Thompson’s home. Children are playing by the side of the road. You would consider this neighborhood one of the wealthiest you have seen today. And probably one of the safest, too. 

“We’re here,” Ben says.

You look up from your fidgeting fingers. “Thank you, Ben,” you reply.

Time to walk into the lion’s den. The only thing you have on you is your wit and what little research Leo conducted for you. That has to be enough. You just have to be smarter than the smartest man in Atlantic City. How hard can that be?

You knock on the door. You expect his secretary to answer. Maybe a maid or a butler, but when you look up, your shoulders straightened and your face blank of emotions, you are met with the face of a beautiful woman. Her hair is tied up, her dress flows effortlessly down her frame, and she’s wearing a delicate pair of heels that add a few inches to her height. 

Your brain takes a moment to reload. Nucky could have at least created a professional atmosphere, but this woman does not seem like she works for him. Every person in Nucky Thompson’s life could become a threat to you. Every person you meet that you have not intended to meet brings you one step closer to irreparable damage. But perhaps that has been his plan all along. 

“Hello,” the woman greets you. Her eyes are wide with bewilderment. 

You stutter. The blood rushes to your head. “Um, good afternoon–”

“May I help you?” The Irish accent starts to come out, and you put one and two together. 

Leo told you about Mrs. Schroeder. Margaret. You were right to assume that she isn’t one of Nucky Thompson’s goons. Far from it.

Inhaling a deep breath, you gather your thoughts to form an appropriate answer that won’t give you away entirely. “I’m here because I have a meeting with Mr. Enoch Thompson. I’m sorry, am I at the right address?” you ask.

“Oh!” Her face lights up with realization. “No, yes, of course. You are at the right address. Mr. Thompson just isn’t home yet.”

“I am a few minutes early, I’m afraid.”

Five minutes. It isn’t all that much. You try to be nice, but inside, you’re fuming. Not at this poor woman, not at all, but rather at Nucky. You haven’t even met him yet, but you already feel a deep disdain for this human being. How your father managed to consider him a friend is beyond you. Perhaps he was different back then—it has been a few years—but you highly doubt that. 

You clear your throat. “I take it you’re the lady of the house?” 

Margaret blinks, then smiles. “Yes, I believe that would be me. I’m Margaret Schroeder,” she says.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Schroeder. Or is it Mrs.?”

“It’s Mrs., actually.”

“Apologies, Mrs. Schroeder.”

“No apologies needed.” She curtsies, which is endearing, in a way. Her eyes roam your body from head to toe. She’s trying to figure you out; you can’t blame her. “And who might you be?” Margaret asks. There is a hidden pressure to know the nature of your appearance hidden behind the niceties.

You can’t blame her for not wanting to let a stranger into her house, but the question leaves you grappling with the possible answers that could keep her off your back while still sounding truthful enough for her to believe you.

“Austin,” you blurt out. It wasn’t well-considered, but you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Austin?” she questions.

“Yes, ma’am. My parents didn’t know what to name me, so they considered all cities in the State of Texas before settling on Austin. I’m aware it isn’t very conventional, but they liked to pride themselves on being free spirits,” the lie flows past your lips effortlessly.

Using your alias while at the same time branding yourself as another character entirely is risky. You shouldn’t rely on your gut feeling. Margaret may seem innocent, but there is always a certain risk. You can only hope that she will buy it. If not, you have yet another bridge to burn.

Margaret gasps softly. “You came all this way from Texas?” 

Thank God it is the only thing she took away from your explanation. 

“I represent Mr. Austin in his business,” you state. “Mr. Thompson will know what that means.”

Her reaction tells you she doesn’t know what you mean, at least, and it takes an ounce of the weight off your shoulders.

“Well, Austin,” Margaret says, still suspicious of a stranger in her home but less tense, as it seems, “Would you like to come inside? I’m sure my—Mr. Thompson will be back any minute. He probably just got caught up in some business.”

You nod. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”

She steps aside. You take in the spacious entrance hall. It is bathed in soft sunlight, filling the entire house with life. A set of stairs leads upstairs. The property is nothing short of extravagant, and you wonder how far the walls reach. 

Your eyes meet those of a brunette standing in the doorway to what you assume must be the living room. Her hands are crossed before her, fingers tangled in the white fabric of her apron. You suppose she must be a maid, or at the very least a housekeeper. 

Margaret nods toward her. “Katy, would you please take Miss Austin’s jacket?” she asks. 

The woman—Katy—steps toward you with a curt smile. She opens her arms. “May I?” she says. 

You take a moment to process the clear power dynamic, then quickly slip out of your coat. It’s not too cold outside—you wouldn’t even consider it hot, just comfortably warm—but you hardly ever wear jackets out of practicality. You wonder if any woman does. Your sleeves are short, barely covering your shoulders. The first time you wore what you wanted without care was simultaneously the last.

Showing your shoulders is considered preposterous, but only if you’re a woman. That isn’t different in Atlantic City. You could get fined for wearing a skirt that is a few inches too short in a public setting, but only if you’re a woman. You can’t wear your hair down if you have long hair or you will get scrutinized, but only if you’re a woman. What doesn’t get scrutinized is the fact that men can’t keep their disgusting fingers to themselves. They don’t respect the word ‘no’ as a full sentence. They wouldn’t even let women vote until they started fighting back. 

Men have the right to make rules about how you, as a woman, are supposed to present yourself as an individual. If you don’t follow the rules, you are immodest and impure. You’re not a woman if you don’t bow down to a man. Perhaps it was the way you were raised but it has always felt so wrong to you to allow the supposed superior sex to play with you as if you were a toy and set rules for all women just because they are secretly afraid of the power they hold. 

As infuriating as it is though, you wouldn’t want to be thrown in jail. You were threatened once with it, and you decided that you can’t fight back if you’re constrained. Instead, you conform, and you bottle up the rage that has consumed you and your ancestors since the beginning of time. You pour it into fragile glass bottles and place it on a shelf, but that very shelf is about to break under the weight, and God knows what may happen then. 

One day it will be different, you wish. But that day is not today, and perhaps it won’t be for centuries. 

You want to tell Katy that you can take care of your coat yourself, but this isn’t your home, nor is it your family. The last thing you want is to come off as rude. You don’t want to overstep or appear in a negative light. 

“Thank you,” you say, and her smile becomes more genuine. 

You turn back to Margaret. “I hope I’m not intruding, Mrs. Schroeder.”

She shakes her head. “Nonsense,” she says. “Punctuality can be quite the curse when you’re meetin’ with an unpunctual person.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true.”

Children’s laughter sounds from somewhere to your left, and you peek around the corner to see a little boy and a little girl sitting on the floor. 

“Are they yours?” you dare to ask. 

“Yes. That’s Emily, my youngest,” — she points to the girl — “And her brother, Teddy.”

“They’re adorable.”

“Thank you. I’m quite proud of them.”

You watch the two kids play under the watchful eye of another maid. They’re still so carefree; safe and sound under their mother’s wing. Things were easier when you were their age. When you still had hope. You enjoyed sitting on the floor of your childhood home and playing with your toys just as Emily and Teddy are doing now. Sometimes, you miss being a child who only knew what she wanted to know; a child living in her fantasy world, far from any kind of illicit affairs. 

Then again, rumor has it that Margaret lost the father of her children to Nucky Thompson, and even though he was a bad man, it was a huge cut in their lives that affected everyone in the family. It will get easier to deal with, maybe, but they won’t forget.

She utters the name you gave her, and you instantly tear your eyes away from the little humans in the living room. “You can settle down in the conservatory,” she tells you. “It’s a lot more quiet there.” 

“Of course,” you answer. Margaret guides you down the hall and through another doorway. You try not to stare too much as you pass the lavish decor. 

The sunlight hits your face as you come closer to the well-lit conservatory that stretches out longer than you expected. “Would you like some tea?” she asks. 

You wave her off. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly accept that.”

“I’m sure Katy wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m good, honestly, but thank you.”

“Very well then.” She smiles, but the more she does so, the more you start to believe she is forcing her reaction. The tension in her shoulders is palpable. You wonder if it’s because of you, but it couldn’t possibly be; you don’t pose a threat. Maybe it’s the connection to her partner that concerns her, and you can’t blame her for that. 

The conservatory is filled with green plants and colorful flowers. They seem to shimmer under the natural lighting. It’s cozy, you have to admit, and certainly a lot more comfortable than waiting outside the door on the front porch in a neighborhood you don’t belong to.

“Feel free to, uh, take a seat,” Margaret says, pointing toward the table. “I will be taking the children to the beach in a few minutes, but I’ll make sure someone fetches you once Mr. Thompson is back. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let the maids know. They’re at your service.” 

You offer her a disarming smile. “I appreciate it.”

She bids her goodbyes, wishing you a good day, before she turns on her heel and leaves you to your own devices. 

The big windows are calling for you. You inhale the oxygen that has been purified by the greenery. For the first time since your train rolled into Atlantic City, you feel a little lighter. You don’t feel like the reality of the situation is pressing down on you and drowning you in misery. You can breathe again. 

You dare to step closer to the flowers. The red of the petals offers a stark contrast to the green. You play with the sunlight on your fingers, then gently move the tip over one of the delicate blossoms. Your heart jumps with the sudden realization that you could easily break or injure it. 

The floral scent fills your nose, but it isn’t too overwhelming. Unlike roses, while looking beautiful with an intense shade of maroon, this flower is rather shy. It may look like it would smell like a thousand gardens all at once, but it’s treacherous. 

“I didn’t realize Mr. Thompson hired a new gardener,” the Irish accent makes your head whip to the doorway. 

“Excuse me?” you blurt.

Gelled-back dark hair and hazel eyes that rival the plants in the conservatory. The man is clutching his hat to his chest. A gray jacket covers his stoic frame, but it’s the way he carries himself that catches your attention the most. He exceeds the kind of confidence that he hides behind a shy smile.

“My apologies, ma’am,” he says, “I was only joking.”

You scoff. “I’ll have you know, I was merely admiring the flowers, not tending to them.”

Who does he think he is, you ask yourself, that he believes he has the right to look the way he does—act the way he does—and talk to you like that? It’s outrageous.

His plump lips part and the only words he seems capable of uttering are sickeningly cheeky. Whoever he is, you want nothing more than to turn around and leave. Because this man is too young to be Nucky Thompson, but he has more than enough audacity to pass as someone in his position. Or someone working for him. 

When Margaret said she would have someone fetch you, this is not what you expected. Young, tall, and handsome as hell. Your stomach curls into a tight coil. No, you don’t like him. You can’t like him. You swore yourself you would never stoop this low, but one look into his eyes, and the blood pools in your cheeks like scarlet mountains.

The stranger chuckles as he approaches you. “Of course. A lady of refined taste, I take it?” The glint in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

With every ounce of blood your heart pumps through your body, heat fills you from the inside out, threatening to melt you into a puddle—an annoyed puddle. 

“And just what would you know about my taste?” you challenge him. 

He shrugs. “Only that a woman as lovely as yourself must appreciate the finer things in life.”

You want to burst like the ticking time bomb people have told you that you are. 

You clear your throat. There is a slight edge of flustered uneasiness to your voice. You try to swallow it, but the smirk on his lips tells you that he must have heard it loud and clear. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mister…” 

“Sleater, ma’am,” he interjects. “Owen Sleater. I work for Mr. Thompson.”

He’s smooth, and God, he knows he is smooth. It’s written all over his face, those defined cheekbones, and his sharp jawline. It’s like he has been painted by a Greek God. Or he is the Greek God. Either way, this Irish—your first instinct was to call him a fucker when you first laid eyes on him—is getting on your last nerve. 

He’s clean-shaven, but the shadow of a once-there beard is visible. He’s a beautiful man, stunning even, and that annoys you even more. With his fake innocence and his desperate attempts to come across as a pure gentleman while he is teasing a total stranger into oblivion for a probably very sadistic purpose. You should not allow your mind to even go in that direction. Not when he makes you so nauseous. 

“Well, Mister Sleater,” you find your voice again, “I have to disappoint you,” you say. “I’m not easily swayed by a smooth talker.”

Owen—his name suits him, you have to admit—raises his eyebrows. His forehead wrinkles a little as he does so. “What are you swayed by then?” he inquires. 

“Not you, that’s for sure.”

You can see your reflection in his eyes; his color blends with yours, drawing you in. Owen chuckles, probably to save some time to gather himself. 

He stutters. “You have quite the sharp tongue, Miss…” he trails off, waiting for you to fill in the gap.

Once again, you stare into the face of a very big problem. You shouldn’t be here. You consider the possibility that Anthony may have been right, just for a moment; maybe you should not have come on your own, and maybe you should have taken him with you because everything suddenly feels like it’s falling apart.

You push the thoughts away. “You may call me Austin,” you say. 

“Miss Austin, ma’am.” A flicker of recognition crosses his face. “Are you, by any chance, related to one Mister Austin?” Owen asks. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I do, ma’am.”

“That doesn’t mean you are entitled to an answer.”

“Trust me,” he chuckles, “I’m well aware of that.”

He exposes you with his gaze. You’re standing in the eye of the storm with nothing to protect you. Even in your best dress, you are naked and vulnerable. You cave when you meet his eyes. You try to be strong, but it’s useless. 

Self-awareness is a virtue not many possess; Owen is aware, but he chooses not to care. There is a difference that exceeds worlds in distance.

The only way for you out of this is to change the subject. “Would you happen to know your way around botany?” you ask. The subject isn’t entirely different; it was Owen who started the conversation with a similar context.

“I know a thing or two, yes,” he answers.

“Can you tell me what kind of flower this is?” You trace your fingertips over the red petals of the flower before you. “The color’s lovely.”

“I believe these are Alstroemerias, ma’am.”

His way of saying it melts like butter on your tongue. “Alstroemerias,” you repeat. “Quite a beautiful shade of red, isn’t it?”

You don’t care about his opinion, at least you don’t think you do, but the conversation is flowing and you can’t possibly stop it. 

“Very much so,” Owen says. His lips break into another smile. “And they suit the color of your eyes.”

The addition makes your head spin. You swallow, and you brush off his words with a scoff. “Are you always this cheeky, Mr. Sleater?”

“Only sometimes, but it’s been known to get me into trouble.”

“I’ll have you know that confusing me with the gardener does not help your case.”

There it is again, that glint. The mischief. “Not appreciative of my jokes, I see,” he muses.

Your jaw clenches. “I can appreciate a joke when it’s good. Have you seen me laugh since we met?” The words come out a little harsher than planned, but he takes them with the same lightness he seems to take everything with. 

Owen chuckles. The sound rumbles in his chest. “I, uh… No, I haven’t.”

Your body reacts to the sound of his voice in a way that makes you angry at yourself. “Checkmate,” you say. You beat him, and that’s all that is supposed to matter.

Owen though? He just won’t stop.

“Consider me beat,” he retorts. 

“And yet you’re still talking.”

The distance between you shrinks with each passing moment. Owen takes a step closer. You can feel his breath on your skin. He smells of Whiskey and gum. 

“Perhaps I just can’t resist a challenge,” he says.

“Is that so?” you ask. 

He brushes lightly against the back of your hand, reaching for the flower. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you pull away instantly at the shiver that rolls through you. It’s a tidal wave. 

He chuckles as if he knows that he is overstepping, but once again, he doesn’t care. Owen wraps his hand around the stem. The other slides into the pocket of his slacks to retrieve what seems to be a pocket knife. He drags it just a few inches below the flower’s petals, and it falls into his palm. He’s so gentle one wouldn’t think his fingers are calloused and his knuckles are cracked until they have felt them on their skin.

You tilt your chin up defiantly. “Now look at what you did—” You point at the broken stem, “You violated the poor flower. Don’t you have any regard for Mother Nature, Mr. Sleater?”

Owen leans in, his chuckle only another breath on his lips as he slides the flower behind your ear. The smell is a lot more dominant now that it is touching you.

“It’ll heal,” he states. He says it as though he knows exactly what he’s talking about, and he is probably not wrong. You wish he were, but he isn’t. 

Flowers and plants heal. They grow back. They bleed—sometimes they even make human beings bleed—but they often grow back. Nature is a lot more resilient than humans could ever be.

You should pull away and put an end to this dangerous game before it goes any further, but at that moment, with this stranger placing a flower he has claimed goes beautifully with the color of your eyes behind your ear, all rational thought flees from your mind because you can’t quite comprehend what is happening. What has this day turned into? He’s rendered you speechless, shaking in your cowboy boots, and the blood in your veins freezes even as it is boiling.

You’re too close to losing your composure.

The floorboards creak. You turn to the doorway for what seems like the millionth time. Katy looks between you and Owen, and something static crackles in the air. Her kindness from before has disappeared behind an iron wall. 

“I’m sorry,” she says curtly.

You look between her and Owen. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Miss, Mr. Thompson wanted me to tell you that he is ready to receive visitors now.”

Finally. This is what you came here for. You touch the flower behind your ear, and when you look at Owen who looks almost guilty, his affection that has melted like butter before is starting to grow over with toxic mold. 

“Thank you,” you tell Katy. Reaching for the flower, you remove it. 

“He said he is supposed to have an appointment with a Mr. Austin right now,” Katy adds. “I’m not sure if that is important.”

She is avoiding Owen’s eyes like the plague. You can’t blame her. Now that you have made the connection that this Irish fucker flirted with you even though he had a thing or two with his employer’s maid… You grab his hand and place the Alstroemeria in his hand rather roughly, closing his fingers around it.

“Mr. Austin,” he murmurs. 

You should panic, but there is nothing but emptiness in your dead expression.

“He couldn’t make it,” you state. 

“Could he now?” Owen is slowly but steadily connecting the dots. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Unfortunate, isn’t it?”

He scoffs. You turn away from him, the flower now squished in his hand. Katy looks like someone just kicked her, and you wish you could put that smile back on her face. Of course, Owen Sleater has to be a player. You should have figured as much. He can’t possibly keep his hands to himself.

On your way out, he calls out to you, “Mr. Thompson doesn’t like it when people waste his time.”

You stop on your way to the stairs, following behind Katy who is showing you the way even though she has no obligation to. A smirk grows on your lips. You have the upper hand now, and he has no idea. 

“I’m not wasting his time,” you say. 

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.” You look over your shoulder. “Because I’m his appointment, and Mr. Austin doesn’t like to be kept waiting, especially not by inappropriate flattery,” you tell him. “Have a wonderful day, Mr. Sleater.”

His fallen face is the last thing you see before you turn around and make your way upstairs to the office, hoping that it will all have been worth it once this day is over, and you can finally forget it ever happened. 

tagging: @ebathory997 @kal-0n (if you want to be added, let me know)

[aboutiroh]

I'm not sure if this is something that has been discussed before, but the pacing of book 3 has always bothered me a little (not enough to consider the writing as less than phenomenal, but still). There's actually a few things that I think could have been handled better and I just grouped them under 'pacing issues' as an umbrella term, even though it's not always the most fitting term. Most of these aren't even really issues, but just my personal preference.

For instance, I always thought it's a pity we didn't get more episodes with the Gaang after Zuko joined the team. I love the fieldtrip episodes, but we barely got to see team avatar travelling together (and Toph didn't even get a fieldtrip!). There's a lot of untapped potential there and we're free to explore that ourselves of course, but having more canon storylines would've been nice and I think it wasn't impossible. (This is a segue into issue nr. 1):

Book 3 spends too much time preparing for the invasion.

The Gaang spends half a season to prepare for the invasion (they mostly just travel to the meeting point). This makes no sense to me as we, the viewers, know that Azula knows all about it (as King Kuei so nicely tells her about those plans in 2x19 "The Guru"). (Which btw, he could have mentioned to the Gaang after learning that Azula was not a Kyoshi warrior, but I'll let that slide as Kuei is canonically a useless person).

They build up towards a fight that we know is doomed to fail and that on itself is okay, but that moment could've happened earlier in the season (not so early that Zuko doesn't have the time to finally understand what his destiny truly is). If the invasion failed earlier in the season, Zuko (and Suki) would have joined earlier. Many episodes in early book 3 could easily take place after the invasion (thinking of "The painted lady" or "The puppetmaster", maybe(?) "Sokka's master" and "The runaway", though some elements would have needed altering, e.g. the Sparky Sparky Boom Man subplot (I say we get rid of it entirely)).

Conversely, there's one episode, or rather conflict, that should have occurred before the invasion. (Segue to issue nr. 2!):

2. What even was the invasion plan, really?

After the invasion fails, we learn during a beach party that the Fire Lord is planning to literally burn the entire world when the comet arrives, so the Gaang's new plan of discretely hiding and training until the comet passes turns out to be pretty pointless. Aang suddenly has to face the Fire Lord much earlier and more importantly, when Ozai's at his most powerful, which is less than ideal. So the combat training recommences. It is at this point that Aang suddenly realizes he's not willing to kill Ozai. He's of course right to feel conflicted about it, and it's understandable that his friends don't completely understand just how important this is for him. It's a necessary and significant moment in the show, but it's just strange that they haven't had the discussion before.

Aang knows he has to defeat the Fire Lord pretty early on. Throughout book 1 and book 2 he's preoccupied with learning to bend the elements (when he's not riding animals or escaping imprisonment or facing whatever other problem the plot throws his way). It's too early to think about the technicalities of what that defeat exactly entails because priorities, I totally get it. But by book 3, they have a pretty elaborate plan to invade the Royal Palace. It's just never explained how they will defeat the Fire Lord. Hakoda explains the plan as follows:

The eclipse only lasts eight minutes, not enough time for the whole invasion. And the Royal Palace is heavily guarded by firebenders. So that's where we'll need the eclipse's advantage the most. When this is finished, the Avatar will have defeated the Fire Lord. We will have control of the Fire Nation capital, and this war will be over!

Assuming the plan was not to kill Ozai (because Aang would have felt conflicted about that), how exactly would Aang defeat the Fire Lord in those eight minutes? Was he just supposed to knock him unconscious and then immediately put him in a cooler cell? If that's the case, I didn't see them carry one around. Aang had thought about the possibility of not coming back from the battle (as he tells Katara just before leaving), so it would only make sense for him to consider the possibility that it could be Ozai who would not make it out alive because of him.