#lovelylj

[chaoticgeminate]

Kelly! 15, 29, 46 for your fanfic asks!

Oh my DOG I love that GIF LJ 💕💕 thank you for the questions I love them.

15. What's your favorite time to write?

Either really early in the morning or really late at night, I can focus better when things are still of that makes sense. No kids playing outside, no crazy work day traffic sounds, no people making a lot of noise (even though I always have my headphones on with music anyway)

29. What's something about your writing that you're proud of?

Self praise? 😑 How dare. I think the best answer I can give here is world building, I'm still trying to teach myself to break put of narrative story telling and I produce concepts via dialogue or even through passive story telling like journals the character reads, but I put a lot of time and effort into making a world and trying to prevent potholes.

46. If you could only write one type of AU for the rest of your life, what would it be?

I mean is it not obvious? High fantasy always. The amount of play with high fantasy concepts is so massive, it's a sprawling tundra of potential. Crafting new cities and realms, choosing the best alternative races for favorite characters, all of it has SO much potential to create some fun chaos.

[chaoticgeminate]

LJ omg I cannot.

First off, hell yes to the bestie bond here, Lacey and her hubby are total MVPs. 100/10 adore the relationship there, and the fact that Alan was just as supportive makes me smile stupid because we need more Alans in the world.

Secondly, Eric can get bent. I am glad we kicked him to the curb, not only is there something better waiting at the end of the tunnel but he sounds like he belongs in a dumpster.

Thirdly, that reunion? I am a mess right now, so excited to see Jack win us over again. And prove why he's the perfect partner for us. This was a delicious first entry for the sequel to my favorite Jack story, LJ.

I am ready to devour the adventure of these two all over.

Chapter 1: I Once Had a Different Path

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"

Summary: It's only been a year.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: T, discussions of a bad relationship, drinking, little bit of angst, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Welcome back to Westworld Whiskey! Almost the moment I finished Cognitive Dissonance the idea for this fic leapt into my head, and I've been trying to figure it all out since! The outpouring of love for this story makes me unreasonably giddy, and I am so excited to share what Jack and Sugar have been up to.

This story takes place exactly a year after the events of Cognitive Dissonance. Honestly, the Westworld timeline is confusing as heck, and so much happens that the public wouldn't know or see, so in terms of the show it's taking place after the fall of the Delos theme parks early in season 3. I'm taking some liberties with how Westworld and the world around it works, but we should all have a good time because of it. For those not as familiar with later seasons, the "real world" takes place in 2053 in a modern futuristic setting.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The glow of sun on your back, baking into your skin and spreading golden through your limbs, makes today feel like a really freaking good day. You’re wearing your favorite outfit, your shoes are comfy on your feet, and the air is just warm enough that you don’t have to wear a heavy jacket. When the door to the coffee shop schicks open, the uplifting scent of dark roast and cinnamon sugar practically dances on your tongue.

Strike that. A fantastic day.

Lacey is already at her favorite sitting spot, a low table with two high-backed armchairs jammed in a corner far from the automated baristas and hiss of milk froth. She catches sight and waves, bright peony pink in her chiffon dress. Curled in the chair she’s akin to neapolitan ice cream, and just as cool when she gestures to your waiting cup. Not before jumping up to give you a hug, though.

“I’m so glad to see you! It’s been too long!” she exclaims, a sentiment you’ve often heard from long-lost acquaintances but Lacey puts every ounce of honesty behind it. You give her another squeeze before settling in your proffered chair, cradling the thick retro ceramic mug in your hands.

“Well you’ve been pretty busy, Mrs. Hughes,” you sing-song, back, knocking your shoes off so you can settle more comfortably. “How was the honeymoon? The photos were gorgeous.”

You descend into vacation chatter, looking at photos on Lacey’s phone and laughing over whatever little anecdote she shares. The coffee buzzes pleasantly in your veins, bittersweet on your tongue. The sun streams in the café window and drapes warmth across your shoulders again. 

It feels like the perfect day.

"How's married life treating you?"

Lacey smiles, bright enough to crinkle her whole face, and the radiance of it blooms in your chest.

"Not much different really, which is probably for the best," she says, taking another sip of her coffee. You're prepared to ask her something else, some follow-up question, when she reaches over and squeezes your hand.

"You look really good, too," she says, her eyes softening. "I know it was hard, with the wedding and everything going on with Eric at the same time, but...you look so much happier."

Your throat tightens, but it's a welcome feeling for once.

"I am. Much happier."

She’s right. It was hard. Once you were alone with your thoughts, your decision made, all of the terrifying reality had crashed down on you. You’d sobbed in your car, half curled in the driver's seat, trying to will yourself to go inside and face Eric. 

It didn’t get any better once you finally did. The shouting, the accusations, the tears, and shockingly a chair kicked against the wall so hard it left an ugly dent. He never laid a hand on you, but the anger raked across your pounding heart, the cruelty sinking into your flesh like teeth. You grabbed just enough of your things to escape, his bellowing voice following you as your hands shook.

What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?

What the hell did Lacey say to you?

Are you fucking serious? 

After all I’ve done for us?

I can’t believe you’re being so selfish.

What has gotten into you?

The words echoed between your ears while you laid in your motel room bed, too raw and ashamed to call anyone for a place to stay. You woke stiff and silent and achingly alone, and regret welled in your throat.

Were you being stupid? Were you giving up the life you were supposed to have?

But then the day passed, hours spent driving aimlessly with the radio on low, long walks on bike paths lost in your thoughts. And while failure burned behind your eyes, the dreaded whispers of why didn’t you try harder creeping into your brain, the vice grip in your chest began to unwind. A lightness you hadn’t felt in years began lifting your shoulders, your head, even the corners of your mouth. 

The neverending ache was finally gone. 

You slept better that night, and in the morning you called Lacey. She drove out to pick you up, her tight embrace ushering in a new flood of tears. 

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry,” is all she says at first, rocking you back and forth like when you were both young and upset about a schoolyard fight. Then more pointed questions, her face hardening as you detail the slow descent into unhappiness you’d been hiding from her for years.

“He never did anything bad. I just…I couldn’t…” You struggled to voice all the fears that still lingered until she squeezed your hands.

“He didn’t have to treat you badly to not treat you the way you wanted. And if he can’t change, or doesn’t want to change, then this isn’t right for you.”

A fresh wave of tears followed the well-worn tracks down your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She rubbed at your face with a crumpled tissue.

“Everything is going to be okay.’

It took a few days before the tornado of Lacey’s true feelings pulled to the forefront. Later she’d tell you she barely kept her cool while you cried in her living room, Alan instructing her to punch it out at the gym rather than overwhelm you. But barely settled into your temporary housing, she rang you in the middle of the day. 

“We’re getting your stuff.”

“What…?”

“Eric is at work, Alan did a drive-by and checked. He’s waiting with the truck. I’m picking you up and we’re getting your things, then we’re going to leave your key on the table and never go back.”

She was chatting in low tones with Alan when you answered the door, face lined with concern. The stern expression melted into dismay when she took in your tired eyes and sloped shoulders.

“That motherfucker should be ashamed of himself for doing this to you,” she spits out, crushing you into a hug that almost suffocates you.

“Lace, I was the one…” you tried to say, but she cut you off with a sharp chop of her hand.

“I’ve got plenty to say about Eric and what I think about him when everything settles, but I’ll tell you this - I fucking hate him for making you feel like this. And we’re going to get your things and never see him again.”

So you did, emptying your drawers and shared closet - always less room allocated for you than him. Lacey shuffled through mail and tossed in anything that had your name on it in a bankers box. Later you’d have to disentangle your lives, but for now you could take solace in having your toiletries back, and placing your photos and family heirlooms safe in Alan’s truck. He helped move your grandmother’s hope chest into the truck bed, and silently drove as Lacey let you lean on her shoulder. Your childhood stuffed dog sat in your lap, and its gentle weight gave you a moment of relief.

Eric’s shouting through the phone later that night sliced across your chest, but only for a brief moment. You’d left the ring on the counter, and that thankfully shut him up.

The following months had been a blur of canceled engagements, severed services, broken agreements and bitter voicemails. Eric tried a few times to entice you back, forgiving you for having cold feet and wanting to get dinner, coffee, to talk. Your heart tugged at the softness in his voice.

We can still make this work.

But then the cold reality of the situation crept in. He wanted the picture-perfect life he thought he deserved. He wanted to have everything without working for it. And most of all, he wanted you to be grateful for him giving you everything he thought you deserved. Not what you wanted, but what he decided you should want.

That was never going to change.

Lacey and Alan helped where they could, but you didn’t want to taint the excitement of their upcoming nuptials. So you told them you were fine and signed a lease on a modest apartment while you picked out the barbs of Eric’s latest outburst. You picked out a dress for her wedding and were secretly grateful that she didn’t make you a bridesmaid. You didn’t think you’d be able to keep it together in front of all her family and friends. You drank too much champagne and considered a tumble with one of Alan’s single friends but instead threw up in your hotel room toilet and woke up fully clothed on top of the bed. The first thought that greeted you once you could see through your headache was, “Thank fuck I’m not getting married.”

The giggles were sharp against your sore stomach, but with that you finally felt something in you begin healing.

“...and I know I wasn’t around as much as I could have been, and it kills me that you were going through it alone, and on my bachelorette for crying out loud, how insensitive was that…”

Lacey’s diatribe brings you back to the café and your cooling coffee and Lacey’s earnest grip on your hand. You shush her with a few squeezes.

“You were a big part of why I finally got up the courage to leave. And I am so fucking glad I did,” you say, earning another smile that glitters with morning light. 

“I think someone else also had some influence,” Lacey says, looking pointedly over her cup as she takes an innocent sip. Your brow furrows briefly before the implication of her tone slams into your chest.

Jack.

“That was a year ago…holy shit, today,” Lacey exclaims, twisting her wrist to verify on her smart watch. 

“Wow, yeah,” you say weakly, swirling the dregs of coffee in your cup.

Yet again, Lacey isn’t wrong. Jack did open your eyes to a world that could offer the care and comfort you were yearning for. But you’d been forced to push memories of him to the back of your mind. 

Weeks after the breakup, with Lacey lying on your brand new bed in your half-empty apartment, you told her about your weekend with the suave yet gentle cowboy. She interjected with excited “I knew it!” and “Holy shit yes!” exclamations as you recounted the cattle run, the innocent lie, the dinner, and the lust-filled night (heavily redacted, met with disappointment). Once the story was told you laid beside each other, silence stretching until she finally said, “I’m so happy Jack helped you realize you deserve more.”

So were you.

“Did you ever think about booking another weekend?” Lacey asks, placing her cup down so she can more fully watch you, playful smirk making you roll your eyes. “I mean, before all the stuff in the news about them.”

Guests injured in the park. A veil of silence and NDAs falling over Delos. An uncertain return.

You chew on your answer for a moment. It’s easy to chalk up not going back to the current state of the park, but in recent weeks you had been thinking more and more about Jack. Maybe it was some old movie you caught late at night, horses riding across gloriously wide plains. A cowboy hat or two you swore you saw in a crowd, only to be tricked by perspective and light. Strong, broad silhouettes that reminded you of large hands, a clever mouth, a warm embrace.

Tell her the truth.

“No,” you finally sigh, putting your cup down a little firmly.

You couldn’t.

“Why not?”

“It’s all fantasy, I’m not into that more than once.”

You couldn’t bear to see him again.

“Not even a little more fantasy with a certain cowboy?” Her eyes drop to your left hand, and you realize you’ve been slowly rotating the turquoise band she gave you on your ring finger. When you returned the engagement ring it became a comforting weight replacing what you’d given up. You fold them instead under Lacey’s watchful eye.

“It’s not real,” is the excuse you give.

He’s not real, and you can’t have him.

Lacey shrugs, looking at the time again and gathering up her coat.

“Real enough that you changed your whole life over it,” she observes, not unkindly. You stand up as she gathers her purse.

“It was a perfect weekend. Going back would have ruined it.” 

Him not remembering you would have ruined it.

Lacey sighs but acquiesces, giving you a hug and confirming your next coffee date in a couple weeks. They’ve become a sweet schedule you look forward to more than you thought.

Once she breezes out the door, all summer blush and cosmopolitan chic, you join the line to get a coffee to go. The machine at work is dismal, and you’d much rather spend the four dollars. You enter your order on the cool blue holoscreen and step to the side to wait. The warmth of a good conversation bubbles in your veins, a beam of sunlight caressing your back. Even the brief memory of Jack you allow - his hands soft on your skin, the tender brush of his nose on your cheek, how safe you felt in his arms - fills your heart to bursting. A smile plumps your cheek. Today really is an exceptional day.

But oddly enough, your toes are wet. 

Looking down, you can’t help but let out an exasperated, “Oh c’mon you idiot,” as you realize you didn’t put your shoes back on, and have now stepped in someone’s spilled beverage. So maybe not the perfect day, but you’re close enough to home to swing by and grab a new pair of socks. Shaking your head, you spin on your heel to retrieve your abandoned shoes.

You could have done it a breath sooner, or later, and never been the wiser. Or you could have kept your damn shoes on - do we live in a barn, your mother’s voice echoes in your ears - and avoided the issue in the first place. But today, on an exceptionally perfect day, you turn and take a step just as someone passes behind you, propelling your frame into their broader form. You almost bounce, but the stranger catches you by your shoulders, large firm palms wrapping around your biceps.

“Whoa there,” a deep voice says, laced with a southern drawl. It tickles something in your brain, neurons firing at memories close to the surface. 

“Shit, sorry,” you mumble, stepping back to apologize properly to the man you almost bowled over. As your eyes begin their ascent the voice is clearer, sharp as a bullwhip crack.

“You okay Sugar?”

Your breath freezes in your throat, eyes snapping to the man’s face. He swims in your vision before the soft curl of his brown hair, the delicate trim of his mustache, the hawkish curve to his nose comes into focus. If that wasn’t enough for your short-circuiting brain to manage, his plush lips part in concern, deep chocolate eyes darting across your face.

Jack?

“I - oh,” he says, his grip tightening on your shoulders. You wrench back, stumbling a half step away, still locked on his face.

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack

People are looking at you now, agape and struggling to pull in a full breath, your brain tumbling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

Can’t be.

Jack.

Not real.

Jack.

How?

Jack.

“I can explain…”

Then the whole world shifts, and you’re falling.

NEXT

[hoelysapphic]

beauty and elegance.

@lovelyljes

[techyblogger]

Is there a version of yoast for Blogger? https://www.reddit.com/r/SEO/comments/aeb0j7/is_there_a_version_of_yoast_for_blogger/

I don't want to switch to WordPress. I have another blog that I switched to WordPress and I'm testing it out for now.

I saw in a fb group that this person improved their stats and engagement using yoast.

Is there a version of yoast for Blogger?

And is there a version of yoast that's not as expensive for WordPress?

Thanks

submitted by /u/lovelylj [link] [comments] January 10, 2019 at 02:03AM

[hoelysapphic]

@lovelyljes

Educational fox lesson 🦊

[chaoticgeminate]

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out 💗

I am gonna smother you in love when I come home, LJ, gonna hunt you down and share drinks with you and then hug the hell out of you.

Thank you lovely ❤

[chaoticgeminate]

Kelly! 21,40,48!

LJ! My love! Have a Pedro and a long distance cuddle!

whats a random piece of advice you want to give?

Never let anyone tell you it's too late or you aren't good enough to pick up a new skill, new hobby, or some sort of trade. If you have something you're passionate about pursue it relentlessly because there is ALWAYS a chance you'll succeed in obtaining the thing/achieving the thing/learning the thing.

how do you feel about sprinkles?

I am team sprinkles but only on vanilla, chocolate, or mixed soft serve/custard. Or, for the aesthetic, in a yellow/white birthday cake for funfetti. I would honestly love to learn how to make sprinkles myself since I've seen some people do it with royal icing and natural food coloring sources.

whats a talent that you have?

Why did my brain immediately jump right to the gutter? 😅 My wife will say I have many talents however a more appropriate one to the ask is that I can identify most (if not all) spices and herbs by scent.

[chaoticgeminate]

When you get this you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (spread the love)❤️❤️❤️

Man oh man, five things about me that I like? LJ what are you doing to me, being so lovely ❤

Definitely have to start with my ability to be honest to myself and admit when I'm wrong about things and just being too stubborn.

After that I think I have to go with my creativity, because my desire to write and create has led to me to some of the most amazing people and the best friends.

Next is my refusal to give up on things, be it people or projects or tasks. Hasn't let me down yet!

Uh, next would be how much I love sharing things. Whether its pictures of food I've made, stories I've written, random thoughts (and thots), or even just sharing good vibes and a cheerful mood with others.

Last would be, uh, I guess my hands. Because it's with those that I basically do everything. Write, cook, comfort... I can take care of people and make people happy with them, so I like them.

[chaoticgeminate]

🌊 ✨💖⚡☄if you're receiving this, you make someone happy💞🌊⚡💖✨☄go send this to 10 people who make you happy or who you think need cheering up.💞✨🌊✨⭐☄If you get it back then the better🌊💞💖

But also since you sent this please have my favorite Pedro:

LJ you are a darling, not only are you so sweet but you send along your favorite Pedro?

Adoration and hugs for you for a thousand years.

I too adore that GIF of him being all sweet and cute. I'll share my favorite in return >:3

[chaoticgeminate]

When I tell you I binged this series, I mean I binged this series. As in I read every part of this all the way up to the newest release in one straight go. Because I COULD NOT stop reading this, every single part of this captured me and made me immediately jump to the next bit. I almost burnt my wife's breakfast because I needed to keep reading more about these two.

Between their history together, their reunion, Din's feelings and the fact that there definitely was something more there the first time around that they're finally confronting? I'm hooked.

I love these two, I love their story and their relationship's growth, I adore the way Din is slowly confronting his feelings and the conflict between his creed and his heart here.

You will NOT be disappointed when you give this story a looksee, I promise.

LJ is wonderful and I love her so please read her fics okay?

Episode 1: One Very Good Night (12k)

A bad night out with a friend leads to a much better one with a mysterious Mandalorian.

Episode 2: Good Company (18k)

Many years later, a not-so-stranger finds himself in a cantina on Tatooine.

Episode 3: Me or the Thought of Me (9.5k)

The Razor Crest has never been home to more than the Mandalorian.

Episode 4: Galaxies Collide (3.5k)

Everything you need to know about the Mandalorian is in his hands.

Episode 5: A Sweet Response to Tragedy (5.8k)

A trip to the market defines Mando’s boundaries.

Episode 6: Bloom (4k)

Mando offers a lesson in restraint. And blasters.

Episode 7: Ache (3.2k)

In the aftermath of illness, Mando takes another step.

Episode 8: Both Sides of the Door (13.3k)

Nevarro holds many revelations about your companion, and Mando comes to some of his own.

Episode 9: Soft Fires (5.3k)

You’ve learned much about the Mandalorian, but his tiny green companion is still a mystery.

[chaoticgeminate]

🎶✨️when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)🎶✨️

More K-Pop stuff because it's what I've been jamming out to all morning~

Red Light - f(x)

Pretty Savage - BLACKPINK

I don't Need a Man - miss A

Dynamite - BTS

FIRE - 2NE1

[chaoticgeminate]

Kelly! 2,10 and 25 for your soft asks ❤️

Hello LJ, my darling 💙

2: what’s your feel-good movie?

My feel good movie is My Neighbor Totoro, because well... Totoro. There's just something about the magic of Ghibli movies that always can make me feel better when I'm down. Spirited Away is my top favorite movie of all time but when the sads hit I turn to Totoro.

10: what’s something you’re excited for?

This one is kind of a toughie but honestly? It's going home. I haven't gotten to see anything in the UK or EU really, between COVID and my wife being deployed as much as she was while we were here since we had to have someone watch our baby kitty... but it's a little lonely over here since I'm 5 hours ahead time-wise of all my friends so I'm staying up until 3-5am just to be able to talk with people.

(Though I am working out time to go see our girl Skye when she's in the area 💙)

25: what’s the best personal gift someone could give you (playlist, homemade card, etc.)

Recipes. There's something really personal and sweet about a favorite recipe so when someone gives me that, trusts me with that little bit of their favorite things be it a meal or a dessert, it makes me feel really special.

Soft Asks

[chaoticgeminate]

Kelly! For the emoji asks, 😈🧐✨

LJ, my love 💙 of course you ask me to say nice things about my writing 😅

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Yep! In my fic "Like a Good Neighbor" I cut it right before the smut (mainly because there's a sequel planned anyway) and the amount of people who were very upset with me is not a small number 🤣

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

Yes, to a degree that can sometimes be a little obsessive. Like, a good example is my Fantasy AU-verse. I have a whole folder on my bookmarks toolbar with subfolders for all sorts of online references and a few books I've ordered all based on myths and legends and fantasy worlds.

I don't usually even post a story unless I've put at least a few days minumum of research into it first.

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

Do I have to? Okay fine, uh... I'm good at worldbuilding and coming up with settings and concepts for all my stories.

Emoji Ask Game

[hoelysapphic]

Phoenix Pride 2019

Tumblr | @lovelyljes

Instagram | @elysjanphotos

[chaoticgeminate]

Oh my gosh LJ I am so fucking ready for this. This is a stellar set up (as much as I want to punch RC's fiance in the face but eh) and I am already HOOKED.

Chapter 1: Never Realized I’d Been Here Before

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader

Summary: It's only a themed resort.

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: T, some introspection, not much in this chapter but will be explicit in later chapters, 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Welcome to Westworld, babes! I am playing fast and loose with both of these fandoms but it should be entertaining at least. This starts out around Episode 6 of Westworld S1, but you don't have to watch past Season 1 to know what's going on.

And with that...do you know where you are, Dear Readers?

Cross-posted on AO3

Cognitive Dissonance Masterlist

“Is this the high-tech version of going to Hooters for their hot wings?”

Lacey almost aspirates her champagne, instead blowing it painfully through her nose and onto the limo carpet. You scrunch your face up in concern, half for her and half for the security deposit you and the rest of the bachelorette party put up for this extravagance.

“Holy shit, I can’t breathe,” one of the other girls, Dina, says as she tries to pull in sips of air between braying laughs. You just met but you like her style, no restraint when she’s enjoying something. The five other girls are letting out peals of laughter and it makes you puff your chest out just a little bit. You might not be the hottest one in this group of tens (that would be Sophia, who is literally a model) but if you could make them laugh then this bachelorette, and the ensuing wedding, would be a piece of cake.

Hah, a piece of wedding cake you think, but the girls are still fanning their faces. Your comedic genius would have to wait.

Lacey lurches over to your side of the limo and you hook your arms under her armpits, preventing her from draping her white dress on the newly-dampened carpet.

“I am SO glad you are going to be in my wedding!” she squeals as you hoist her up into the seat. The party was starting a little early, which always made you want to do the opposite.

Be the Mom friend.

Make sure everyone is hydrated and at their proper destination.

Then once things settle down and you’re on the tour or narrative or whatever they call it, then you can relax.

Speaking of, a gentle rolling stop signals your arrival at this weekend’s entertainment. When Beth, Lacey’s maid of honor, asked where she wanted to spend her bachelorette, there was hardly a moment’s hesitation.

“I want to do one of those wild Delos parks,” she said excitedly, a chorus of raised eyebrows circling the room. “The Western one.”

“Really?” Dina spoke first, voicing what everyone was thinking. “You? Want to go rough it in a fake Old West saloon? We could just go to Montana, it would be a lot cheaper. And real.”

“I mean, don’t you think it sounds interesting? Like it’s all robots, top to bottom.” Lacey is practically vibrating, which maybe makes more sense to you than her work friends. Lacey was a horse girl, grew up riding and going on vacations to dude ranches. As polished as she was now, paralegal making her way up to lawyer in a well-to-do firm, she was still a country girl at heart. You would know; you’d attended many of those trips when you were kids.

“Plus,” she says, leaning forward enough that you reached a hand out to keep her appetizer plate from tipping, “what better way to spend my last hurrah as a single woman than at a resort where nothing is real?” Her smile twists in a wicked curl and you watch the other girls start to catch on.

Who needs Chippendale's and male strippers when you can have a world built around you, anything at your fingertips with no consequences?

The tickets were booked and bought within the day.

Tumbling less than gracefully out of the limo, the “Magnificent Seven” T-shirts that will soon be swapped for period clothing make you a beacon for the Delos staff.

“Welcome to Westworld,” a thin, beautiful blonde with gorgeous eyes and full lips says, motioning to follow her to the monorail system. You’d heard it was underground, but nothing about how modern it was above. White domes and glistening water features and feeling like you’re two hundred years in the future. A whole world decades in the past hiding below.

“Wait, we need a photo!” Lacey shouts, directing the girls away from the Delos guide who looks more exhausted than perturbed. Beth fishes out one of those instant cameras that prints tiny Polaroids and lines up the group. Everyone holds up Lacey stretched across their arms, her laughing wildly as you all smile for the camera. Then Beth takes a bunch of individual ones, the girls doing their best Instagram poses. You hang back a bit, keeping an eye on everything going on and ready to round up the group if the staff were looking peaky.

Beth shouts your name, and you wave your hand to refuse but she’s got the camera up to her eye and is not backing down. Dropping your hands and giving a pleasant smile, she snaps a photo and hands it to you. Waving it for a second while it develops, you look at your tiny image. The backdrop of the city makes you look very cosmopolitan, your smile small but friendly. You look nice, you guess.

“Look at that hottie!” Lacey coos over your shoulder, trying to snatch your photo away. You giggle and play keep-away before stuffing the photo into your bra with a triumphant, “I dare you.” Lacey laughs and winks.

“It’s my bachelorette, who knows what will happen?” You roll your eyes and let her lean on you.

“Right this way, ladies,” the Delos host finally says, and you assist with moving the girls in the right direction. As the building looms closer you finally let some excitement thrum through your veins. The girls are marveling at the entryway, chatting happily between each other. Lacey has linked your arms and it feels like weight sliding off your shoulders.

Maybe it would be a nice respite from the stress of your life. Let the weekend be carefree. Don’t think back to the argument that followed you out the door.

“What am I supposed to eat while you’re gone?”

“You’ve been guilting me about this for weeks. You know how to order takeout.”

“You didn’t tell me it was this weekend.”

“I told you several times. I put it on the calendar.”

“You should have said it more. It’s messing everything up.”

“I’m literally going to be gone one night.”

“Don’t get snippy with me.”

“I don’t understand why you’re upset.”

The rounds and rounds of the same argument you always have with your fiancé when you go out without him. The moaning and groaning, the wheedling to cancel even though there’s no reason to. Then the anger when he accuses you of ditching him, questioning whether you’re sneaking off, despite sharing your entire itinerary with him.

The words he spits at you as you leave, then takes back via text ten minutes later.

Maybe it was good you can’t bring cell phones in. A complete unplugging would be refreshing. Let you just enjoy the weekend, whatever it might bring. Some antics you’re sure, bachelorette party shenanigans and then back to your life.

You could use the break.

+ + + + +

Program boot sequence >>

Host: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

Storyline: The Golden Circle

Role: Antagonist, double-cross

Begin startup sequence >>

Host Online //

+ + + + +

“What speaks to you?” the perfectly manicured and pleasing host says as she leads you through an extensive wardrobe you’d kill to have in your own closet. Racks bespoke for you, lavish accessories, grouped by general theme. It feels much too extravagant to focus.

“Nothing flashy, I’m easy,” you say, eyes skipping over the more risque outfits. Some of the girls will definitely go for the feathers and silks. You hope Lacey picks out something fun, she should get as dressed up as she wants for this. You? You’d rather be in something a little more subdued. Comfortable would be nice too, especially if whatever narrative the girls choose involves any traveling.

“This is nice,” you say, tugging on the skirt of a long blue dress, buttoned up the front over a white cotton blouse and a pleasantly flared skirt. You wouldn’t get sunburn, and the color makes you think of cornflowers in a grazing field. The host pulls out your selection, appraising it without comment before gathering more items you’ll need. Shoes, flat and comfortable. A belt with some of the necessities: coins for “purchasing” from the hosts (everything was already included in the bill, and anything you take out you’re charged for), some handkerchiefs and other odds and ends a lady would have.

As you dress, zippers and hooks replaced with foreign clasps and ties, you finally start to feel some of the wonder of the resort creep in. Sure, it’s probably a little campy at times, but you know Lacey will love it, and hell, maybe you’ll even get to do a little horseback riding.

If all the other girls are willing to do some “roughing it” between the saloons and the possibility of dashing cowboys.

That part twangs your stomach. You’d read the disclosures on their site. Anything goes. The hosts are just machines, after all. You can yell at them, shoot them. It’s implied that you can fuck them too, which makes your shoulders roll back uncomfortably. Maybe you’ll excuse yourself when the night gets too rowdy. Stargazing, even if it's most likely a projection, would be a nice way to slip away if things get handsy.

A poke of plastic against your breast makes you pause as you walk down the corridor to the next room. The little Polaroid picture, the one you stuffed into your bra to keep Lacey from snagging, is still tucked against your flesh. Your mouth twists at this; you were supposed to leave all your belongings at the first check-in. Your phone was locked up in a storage box, your clothes left behind to follow. It would be best for you to hand the photo to the host helping you before stepping into the park.

But holding the photo, seeing a smile you’ve rarely worn lately, makes you want to keep it close. The host would probably toss it out, and you suddenly want the tiny slice of happiness printed on plastic to remind you that you could be. Against possibly better judgment you tuck the photo into the small bag hanging off your belt. As long as you didn’t show anyone it shouldn’t matter. There was some fine print you’d read about the hosts not being able to process anachronisms anyways. It’s promptly dismissed from your mind as you enter another room.

“There’s one final touch,” the host says cheerily as you study the rows of hats lining the walls. Some are clearly meant for men, but there’s a selection of women’s bonnets and headscarves.

“Which would you prefer,” she says, gesturing to the rows of head wear. You contemplate the selection before your eyes skim across a flat-brimmed Gambler hat, light brown and feminine. You doff it and check your reflection in the mirror by the exit.

It amazes you, the work that goes into running this place. You aren’t the easiest to shop for, yet this ensemble fits comfortably and flatters your favorite attributes. Even the hat, which you'd never wear otherwise, compliments the tone of your skin and gives you a more authoritative air than without.

You like how you look. You didn’t expect that.

“Right this way ma’am,” the host says, leading you down a hall to a black door. The noise grows as you get closer, laughter on the other side as the host smiles and ushers you in.

The stark difference between the sterile walls and clean light of the wardrobe area and the bustling interior of this train car shock the words out of you. Door closing quietly behind, you take in the deep cherry wood walls, plushly carpeted floors, and the array of people chatting together. You spot the other girls gathered up by a cocktail table. You were right; many of them chose lavish ensembles. Silks and ostrich feathers and scandalously ruffled skirts. They look amazing, like the glossy photos from the website.

You suddenly feel awkward refusing the extravagance. You didn’t mean to swim against the current and you’re afraid you look like you think less of them.

All that uncertainty disappears when Lacey walks in. You manage to sneak into the group and cheer when she swirls the expensive-looking purple silk skirt, beaded bodice catching the light as she bats her eyes playfully. Her hair is intricately styled, as most of the others are, and she’s touched up her makeup. She looks perfect, but there’s a tiny ping in your heart at her choice. When you vacationed as kids it was more likely you’d be in overalls and ratty t-shirts, stinking of bug spray and sunblock as you let the wind from the ponies’ canters bat at your cheeks.

Not today, you muse.

As they fawn over each other’s outfits, Dina gives you an approving look (she’s all dark beautiful skin spilling out of crimson finery) and comes to stand beside you.

“You look good, girl. Looks like you’ll be schooling us on how to behave,” she cackles, and you warm even more to her.

“I doubt I could ever make any of you behave,” you snicker back, earning an even more approving look. You’ve almost let out the breath you’ve been holding. Just a little more and then you can enjoy yourself. Maybe even let go of some of the pain that’s been plaguing you.

Anything can happen in Westworld, right?

+ + + + +

Deploy host >>

Name: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

Location: Mariposa Saloon

Protocol: >> Engage female guests until 1500 hours >> At 1500 hours, join hosts Tequila, Merlin, Ginger and Eggsy at Statesmen HQ >> Initiate Golden Circle storyline

Protocol accepted //

Host deployed //

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