#(but its nothing too major methink)

[supahstarrr]

dra girls girls girlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllz

[f1daydreamers]

𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏]

gif credits: @u-u-piastri81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

Summary: Oscar is a visitor at your first art exhibition – not exactly his scene – but it's one that he contributed to financially to help you out, an upcoming artist he's taken a bit of a liking to.

Warnings: criticism but not always constructive, fluff, Reader and Oscar being cute, this man in a suit (audience may faint from the gifs), angst, maybe Oscar is a little out of character but I just upped his rizz by a solid 20% because I love him but he's way too shy to do any of this methinks :)

A/N: I know nothing about this profession icl but I got major black tie and exclusive event vibes from the gifs so this is what came out of it. I did a ton of research to make sure it wasn't too unrealistic but experience beats knowledge so if you guys read any things that need some correction, lmk!

Yeah, I never expected this to be so long but once I got to writing, I couldn't stop so hey, enjoy!

Word Count: 4.6k words (17 mins reading time avg)

…

Safe to say, this wasn’t Oscar’s scene.

Standing among collectors, art enthusiasts, curators, and industry professionals meant feeling a little out of place was a tad understated.

But he wanted to be here tonight. Of course, being invited is one thing but accepting the invitation comes with a whole new world of formalities he hadn’t prepared for.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, busy greeting and socialising with what looked like a few critics and journalists.

The notebooks in their hands were a dead giveaway but your hand drumming on your leg was another. You were anxious.

Oscar took a sip of his drink, the one he was offered when he received an entry pass coming through the venues' doors. He knew how much this evening meant to you, both in the months of planning and the dreams that preceded it.

Initially, the idea seemed farfetched, but as you dove straight into creating the collection, photographing it, staying up late to create statements that wholly captured the essence of your creative process, the once exciting prospect of submitting it to a gallery felt somewhat dissatisfying.

In a few conversations with Oscar, you’d shared your aspirations of seeing your portfolio bask in the limelight. However, the reality of organising a self-funded exhibition in a rented space would blow your budget out of the water.

You don’t know at what point but he’d made the decision to donate a significant sum of money to your artist fund, covering a major portion of the exhibition's expenses.

It helped you realise all those curious questions about possible venues, dates, and basic costs weren’t just to fuel his enthusiasm, but to sincerely offer his support.

You were grateful beyond what words could describe, and the least you could do was ask him to be here today.

You were nervous partially because you had critics and community leaders alike wandering around the space, conversing about your work you’d spent years dedicating blood, sweat and tears to.

But you were also nervous because he was here tonight.

Even if you’d drawn a squiggly line on a blank canvas, Oscar would marvel at it like it was the most beautiful thing on this planet, but tonight was when he was finally seeing your work in all its completion.

He brought your vision to life and the last thing you wanted to do was make him think his investment was a waste.

Last you’d checked, you hadn’t seen his brown wavy hair anywhere around the venue, his innocent smile playing on your mind even when you were entranced in conversation with fellow artists.

You stepped in front of a painting no one else currently seemed to be trained on, focusing on inhaling and exhaling your breaths, fidgeting with your fingers by your sides.

Tonight, was the most important day of your career by a mile.

“Excuse me.” Someone spoke up behind you and you inhaled a deep breath before whisking around to greet them. But your eyes grew soft, and your smile grew amicably at the man glancing downwards back at you.

“Do you know where I could find the host of the evening?” He asked, his smile mirroring yours, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass.

"Oscar," you breathed out, and the F1 driver had to force himself to disregard the palpable sense of relief that accompanied the utterance of his name.

The way it effortlessly rolled off your tongue, it left him wanting to hear you say it repeatedly.

“You made it.” He nodded his head, “I did.” Initially, he had doubts about attending, but considering the venue was conveniently located close to his hotel near Silverstone and his flight to Budapest wasn't until Monday evening, he managed to find the time to come.

You drew in a breath, "you look good." Your compliment was genuine, whenever you'd met up with Oscar or came across photos on Instagram, he was either in racing gear or in casual outfits. To see him in a suit was different. A good different.

"Thanks. Pretty sure I should be counting my breaths though." You chuckle as he looks down at himself, the shirt was a little smaller than he would've liked.

A testament to how life in Formula 1 was like and that his neck size had grown exponentially.

"Each one could be your last," you joked, adding on and he nodded.

"Exactly." His laugh culminated into a final chuckle, melting into a warm smile.

When you looked away, seeing the waiters you'd hired tonight refilling cups as people wandered around, Oscar took the opportunity to let his eyes drag over your figure.

"You look beautiful," his compliment drew a smile from you.

You briefly cast your gaze downward before lifting it to his chest then finally up to his eyes. "Thank you, Oscar."

He responded only with a curt nod; his eyes trained on your face before he tore them away to have a look around him.

"How's it going?"

You hummed, thinking about your answer. "It's okay. There's a few paintings that are getting lots of attention, others a little less."

"Did you expect that?" He asked and you reasoned, you knew when you began this collection that people would naturally gravitate more towards some pieces anyway, that's the advice you were given everywhere you went.

"Yeah, I'd be lying if I said I didn't." Oscar took a sip of some liquid courage before pointing at the painting you'd just been standing in front of with the rim of his glass.

"I like this one." You turned as he took steps towards it, his shoulder grazing yours. "This is the last one." You mentioned as he skimmed over the statements planted on the wall next to the artwork.

"I think it's an elderly couple, and the mirrors all around them are portals into a specific memory of their relationship." He said undisputedly. You look up at him, your mouth parting slightly in surprise.

"Yeah, how did you figure that out so quickly?"

"It's almost like you were brainstorming ideas to me on call a few months ago." You scoff, rolling your eyes but ultimately impressed by his memory.

He hadn't spoken much during that phone call, so you'd assumed he wasn't paying much attention to your endless rambles.

"I never realised you were actually listening." You softly said and Oscar turned his head to look at you.

"Every word." He reassured, and a warm feeling encompassed your chest at his affirmation.

His gaze traced over the painting once more. While he had never hesitated to express his belief in your talent, seeing your artwork displayed in such a way stirred a whirlwind of emotions inside of him.

He was proud of you and excited for you, knowing that you had undertaken this journey for your own sake, garnering an array of artistic admirers. It's no mean feat to organise an event like this, take a risk so early on in your career.

"I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you." You snap him out of his thoughts, turning your body towards him, standing a few feet away.

Oscar mimicked your movements, turning so he was facing you, and placed his now empty glass on a bar tray that a waiter had extended to him, refusing a refill.

"Why do you think you need to repay me? Remember, it was a donation." He said matter-of-factly. You let out a sigh.

Despite his repeated assurances that he expected nothing in return, you couldn't shake off the feeling of indebtedness that lingered in your thoughts.

You found yourself dwelling on the late-night conversations, wondering if your eagerness to discuss your plans had inadvertently conveyed desperation.

Your gaze drops and without hesitation, he reaches his hand out and gently slots it into yours, his thumb caressing over your skin in a soothing gesture. Your heart skips a beat or two, the warmth of his hand was relieving.

"This is the best way you can repay me. Living the dream." He smiles and you nod, finally lifting your eyes to meet his. His voice was a calming anchor amid your thoughts.

"I'll never forget how you made it possible though," a small smile graced your lips, and he let out a chuckle.

"Yeah, you never miss a chance to mention it," he quipped, his eyes dancing with amusement. You playfully rolled your eyes, a good-natured sigh escaping you as you did.

Oscar's hand retreated to his side, and a subtle longing for his touch flickered within you. Nevertheless, you mask it with a smile that grew as you exchanged a couple more jokes.

...

He courteously held the door ajar, giving a nod to a man entering the bathroom who appeared to appreciate the gesture. Letting the door close behind him, Oscar took out his phone to check the time.

Absentmindedly, he began scrolling through his notifications: a mix of sports updates, a message from his mum, one from Mark. Yet, none seemed particularly urgent.

Just as he was about to tap on one of the notifications, his attention was drawn upward to the sound of your voice.

You were engaged in conversation with a man, his journal held in his hands, and sunglasses perched atop his head. Oscar's gaze briefly went back to his phone screen; he made no overt effort to eavesdrop.

Despite this, fragments of your conversation found their way to his ears anyway.

"I must say, your work is quite disappointing. The lack of technical skill is evident in every piece." Oscar's eyebrows furrow as he observes openly, a marked departure from his earlier disinterested demeanour.

You clear your throat as you try to collect yourself, bringing your fingers up to your mouth to hide your quivering lip.

You had previously cautioned yourself that not everyone will like your work, but experiencing such candid criticism directly was far more destructive than you could have expected.

"Um, okay. What sort of things did you not like about it?" You asked, trying to find some sort of valuable insight from such a respected critic in your community.

"The colours are garish and clash horribly. It's clear that you have no understanding of colour theory or composition." You nod, gathering some form of strength to just take his words on the chin but you were failing rather miserably. Your stomach was sinking, and your eyes were watering slowly.

"It's a shame that your efforts have resulted in such subpar creations." Your jaw tightens and as you scramble for the right words to respond with in your mind, a hand presses into your lower back from behind.

"Excuse me. I want to purchase a piece, but I can't seem to find your sales assistant." The accent is unmistakable, and you muster a smile as you turn to face him.

"I'll help you." Your voice is unsteady, your emotions deflated.

"Thank you," Oscar responds, though his gaze carries a hint of concern. He moves to follow you but before he can do so, the critic extends his hand to grasp his arm, waiting until he's certain you're out of earshot.

"Coming from a collector, don't bother." He smirks, his conviction clear. Yet, the F1 driver's face remains impassive.

"Sorry, I don't remember asking you. Now, if you don't mind." He looks down at the grip on his arm, his fist clenching by his side. The critic seems taken aback at the blank expression looking back at him, devoid of any gratefulness.

He swallows before loosening his grip.

Oscar rounds the pillar just as you press down on the handle to the fire door exit at the distant end.

He contemplates whether he should grant you some space, but he wonders if doing so will only make matters worse.

Pausing briefly, he contemplates his choices before deciding to make his way toward the fire exit anyway. His hand firmly grasps the handle, and he proceeds to push open the door.

With your back turned towards him, you're unaware of his presence. Your palms are pressed against your face as a means of stifling your sniffles hence the closing of the door registers faintly, the sound hardly penetrating your thoughts.

It's only when the crunching of gravel beneath someone's shoes reaches your ears that you realise you're no longer alone. But oddly, you know there's only one person who it could be.

The combination of embarrassment, distress, and sheer exhaustion was what left you feeling so overwhelmingly emotional.

Aware that you don't want Oscar to witness you in this state, you quickly swipe at your cheeks, hastily erasing any traces of tears from your face.

You whisk around, smiling up at him and nodding your head. "I'm good Os. It's not always going to be a perfect score, right?" His heart swells at the nickname you called him, very few people did so, but hearing it from you felt special in a way.

"He's a dick," the F1 driver bluntly responds, his tone carrying a hint of anger.

You chuckle softly, but the sigh that follows is slightly shaky. A wave of heaviness crashes over you again as the critic's hurtful words echo in your mind, your stomach sinking in response.

Oscar picks up on the shift of emotion and his eyes soften at your teary and lowering expression.

Without a word, he opens his arms and pulls you into an embrace. You don't resist; instead, you bury your face in his shoulder, your shoulders trembling as silent tears escape your eyes.

His arms encircle you tightly, offering a comforting refuge as your emotions spill over again.

His chest rises and falls with each steady breath, the rhythm providing you with some comfort despite how irritated you're getting at yourself for letting one conversation bother you this much.

As he holds you, his chest aches both for your vulnerability and the anger he feels towards the critic who provoked it. You reluctantly pull away after a minute or so, a mixture of gratitude and sadness in your eyes.

But in the moment, you can't help but feel that the money he donated for the exhibition might have gone to waste, that your efforts fell short.

Disappointing your clients is business but disappointing him felt personal, he was the reason you even had a chance to do this, and it'd turned out horribly.

"I let you down," you say quietly, and Oscar's eyebrows knit together as he studies your expression.

"How? Every piece I love, Y/N." He responds, placing his hand on your forearm, his touch warm. It sends a flurry of goosebumps over your skin which you're sure he would've picked up on considering his attention to detail.

He positions his index finger under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes which you do. Your legs suddenly feel like they're incapable of keeping you upright, your face warming under his gaze.

"You didn't let me down." He whispers.

Oscar's concern remains palpable as his hand doesn't fall back to his side. His eyes hold a depth of emotion, the colours in his eyes becoming more distinct.

The connection that you can sense increases, and it's as if the unspoken understanding between you becomes more profound in that moment.

His cologne surrounds you but it's his gaze that flickers to your lips, a fleeting but unmistakable gesture. You realise that he's leaning in closer and there's a fraction of a second when it feels like the world around you fades.

The possibility of his lips meeting yours feels tantalisingly close.

But just as the moment deepens, you're both interrupted by one of the assistants, their voice breaking through the charged atmosphere.

"Sorry," the assistant interjects, sounding somewhat hurried. "There're a few clients waiting to speak with you Y/N."

Oscar slowly pulls back; he tucks in his bottom lip between his teeth and his expression shifts from one of intimacy to one of polite neutrality.

He offers you a subtle smile, the connection lingering between you even as the assistant's words redirect your attention.

"Of course," you reply, your voice steady despite quite the hurricane of emotions storming inside of you. You look to the assistant, ready to face the responsibilities of the exhibition once again. As you move away, you steal a glance at him, his gaze locked onto you for a moment longer before he nods.

That damned connection between you and Oscar remains, but now only punctuated by unspoken possibilities.

...

"Thank you, ma'am." you say with a warm smile as the elderly woman clasps your hand, offering kind words about your artwork while draping her shawl over her shoulders.

Once she'd left, you looked around to see if there was anyone else remaining in the space. Oscar had left a while ago considering he was on a flight tomorrow to Budapest.

Though a tinge of disappointment lingered within you, you understood and bid him goodnight.

You wrapped up a little later than you would've liked, a couple of your pieces had sold so you had to coordinate transport for them.

For the remaining few, you'd wrapped them up, gathered the papers for each one before loading them into the van to have them delivered back to your studio.

Oscar eventually made it back to the space he'd rented on Airbnb, staying in a hotel for a week definitely wasn't something he was fond of doing, a neatly packaged box of takeout planted on the small table.

He threw the crumpled paper bag into the bin and settled onto the couch, his phone in hand. He opened Instagram, scrolling through his feed to pass the time it'd take for him to get sleepy.

As he tapped through the stories, your profile picture caught his eye. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he watched it whole. The familiar scenes of the exhibition unfolded before him – videos capturing the venue, the artwork.

His gaze lingered on the art as if he hadn't been there tonight, his mind wandering into the world you had created. It wasn't just the work itself that interested him; it was the glimpse they offered into your mind, your perspective, and the emotions you poured into your work.

The admiration he felt for your creativity was intertwined with the growing fondness he was developing for you as a person.

Once you'd reached home, you dropped on to the couch with a sigh of relief that the day was done.

So, when your phone started vibrating besides you, you groaned and brought it up to your ear, not bothering to take a look at the caller ID.

"Y/N," you closed your eyes and waited for the other person to respond. They stuttered first before speaking up, "should I - should I reply with my name, or do we just get into the conversation?"

You lightly gasped, chuckling and straightening up on the couch. "Oscar, sorry. I'm still in work mode I think." You rubbed your forehead and the F1 driver poked through his food with a fork on the other end.

"No harm done. You back from the venue?" He asked and you stretched your legs out in front of you, fiddling with the hem of your dress.

"Yeah, only just. Perfect timing, Piastri." He smiled at your response, "I pride myself in that."

"I'm sure you do." You joked teasingly and fell back on the couch again. The similar onset of warmth and goosebumps from earlier bubbled up again inside of you.

"I thought you would've knocked out by now." Oscar hums, swallowing his food as he traps his phone between his ear and shoulder, throwing the now empty box on to the coffee table in front of him.

"Yeah well, I needed to eat. Luckily for me, there was a long queue at every takeaway place tonight." He retorted sarcastically and you scoffed, "typical London."

He agreed wordlessly before shifting his body horizontally, propping his head up on the armrest, his legs splaying over the leather sofa.

"What did you end up getting?" He made a humming sound as he reached for the receipt he'd tossed carelessly aside, bringing it up to eye level.

"Caribbean chicken curry." He said slowly, squinting to read the half-printed letters. Your stomach rumbling beneath you helped you remember that you too hadn't eaten for majority of the day. Your last meal was breakfast with a few snacks you always have on hand.

"Sounds good. I'd kill for some chicken curry right now." You mumble and Oscar's head turns to look up at the clock hung on the wall above the television.

"How 'bout I bring some?" He asks nonchalantly and your heart skips, you stutter in your response, glancing at the digital clock blinking at you from the corner table.

"You'd do that?" You say, a little more high-pitched than you would've preferred.

He smiles, refraining to say something corny. "Yeah, well I mean it's not my bedtime for another hour so..." He trails off thus leaving you to make the decision.

You don't even care about the food anymore, your stomach is doing somersaults from the mere thought of seeing him twice in one day.

"Only if it's alright with you. If you need to sleep, please sleep." You insist and there's a pause, you could swear you hear keys jangling on the other end of the phone before Oscar confirms.

"I'll be there in a bit."

...

You're changed into some slightly more flattering pyjamas than your regular animated giraffe ones when you hear a knock on your door. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you walk the length of the hallway and reach for the doorknob.

Giving it a couple of moments, you open the door to find Oscar standing there, a warm smile on his face that mirrors your own feelings.

He's holding a paper bag up and you smile, "my saviour. Come in."

He slides past you, toeing his trainers off and pushing them up to the wall so they weren't in the direct pathway, allowing you to lead him into the living room.

He places the bag on to your wooden dining table and you sigh in delight, the smell of the food faintly wafting out of it.

"How much do I owe you?" He shakes his head, letting you take the box out of the bag.

"Only your eternal gratitude," he replies, his lips curving into a smile as he takes in the sight of your light expression, your eyes lit with appreciation.

"You already have that." You chuckle.

Eventually, you begin eating, all the while holding a conversation. With each passing minute, a subtle worry creeps in - that he might decide to leave soon. Not that you're against him getting his rest, but your own enjoyment of his company is growing stronger by the second.

The idea of the evening ending prematurely becomes less and less appealing. The warmth of his presence, the humour in his words, the hesitance you initially felt about him leaving transformed into a silent plea for him to stay, at least a little longer.

"I'm going to go up and use the bathroom, head over to the couch, make yourself comfortable." You insist and Oscar nods. His feelings he was aware of when he reached back to his place had tripled since he'd got here.

His leg had been bouncing the entire duration he'd been talking, he was nervous but albeit not understandably. He'd visited your place a few times now, he'd known you for nearly a year.

Nothing about the fluttery sensation in his belly, the excitement prior to seeing you, the attraction, the thoughtfulness, made any sense to him.

But at the same time, they made perfect sense. He likes you. A whole lot.

Realising he was getting a bit warm, he pulled the hoodie over his neck to reveal just a plain white tee underneath.

Tossing it on to the dining room chair he was previously sat on, he plops on to the couch, bringing the calf of his right leg up to rest on the knee of his left, his arm outstretching on the back of the couch.

You eventually return, having brushed your teeth since the aftertaste of the curry wasn’t a very pleasant one in your mouth.

“Do you piss for that long?" Oscar asks curiously, locking his phone and sliding it on to the table.

You scoff and feign offence as you sit next to him just a few inches away. "I don't actually, even if I did, what's it to you?" You tease and he shrugs, his lower arm draping off the couch casually, his fingertips brushing close to your shoulder.

"I was bored," he admits, his explanation falling a bit flat.

You raise an eyebrow, a mockingly sympathetic expression on your face. "Poor Oscar, suffering from boredom in my humble abode. My heart aches for you." He smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he shakes his head at your antics.

His eyes sparkle with amusement, "Well, I must say your empathy is truly heartwarming."

"That's just me, a paragon of compassion," you quip, a mischievous glint in your eyes. His proximity has your heart racing, and you're acutely aware of the playful tension that's building between you.

He tilts his head, his gaze holding yours as he leans in slightly. "You know, I was half expecting you to beg for my forgiveness."

You roll your eyes, your gaze locked on to his, you didn't mean for them to glance down to his lips, but it didn't skip past his notice either.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and the silence that followed afterwards definitely gave Oscar enough time to be able to pick up on it.

"Please forgive me Oscar, please?" You reduce your words to a whisper and he smiles, refusing to waste another second and he instantly ducks his head to catch your lips in a fervent kiss.

His actions catch you off guard, the sensation electrifying and sending a jolt of surprise through your system.

Your thoughts scatter as the world seems to narrow down to the point of contact between your lips. The kiss is eager and filled with a mixture of longing and curiosity, as if both of you have been dancing around this moment for far too long.

Your heart continues racing, and time feels suspended as his touch sends shivers up and down your spine.

The sudden intimacy of it all is exhilarating, and you find yourself responding without hesitation, your fingers instinctively finding their way to his arm, your body moving a fraction closer to his.

A soft moan escapes you, and Oscar slides his hand beneath your top, pressing his palm against your waist. A squeeze of your skin hints at you to move back slightly, creating the room needed for him to push you down on to your back.

Your lips detach for a moment as he positions himself over you, lowering his head seconds later to press them together again.

His face was level with yours when he eventually pulled away to catch his breath, and let you catch yours, his arm propping him up besides your head.

"Isn't it your bedtime?" He chuckles softly, his fingers toying with a few strands of your hair.

"I'll just have to use the plane's naptime feature." You laugh, bringing your hand up to push his hair out of his eyes.

His gaze flickers across your face, capturing the traces of your faint smile lines and the tiny beauty mark adorning your skin.

He leans in, planting a tender kiss on the mole. Meanwhile, your fingertips journey to the nape of his neck, exploring the contours of his hair.

He grins boyishly when he picks his head up again. "I think I could stay here forever," he admits, his voice a soft confession.

You playfully raise an eyebrow. "Oh really? What if the plane's naptime feature gets jealous?"

He chuckles, a low, melodious sound. "Well, I guess it'll just have to deal with a bit of competition," he remarks before his lips find yours once again.

...

Masterlist

[sweet-milky-tea705]

Im a bit too nosy methinks. I hope the devs dont hate me :’) anyways while i was being nosy i was thinking about the funding for touchstarved and if theyve done any funding rounds yet besides the kickstarter. I havent found any articles about it,,, other related companies like nix hydra and dorian did some seed and series A funding to raise money for their studios and i could find info/articles about that, even how much they raised(dorian approx 16MIL total and NH with about 6MIL back in 2014) Nothing about red spring though besides “touchstarved coming soon from indie studio” i worry about their funding a little. Touchstarved is set to be a big project and with the stretch goals,,, its a lot of money being spent on things that arent.. necessary persay? Dont get me wrong i would love an animated intro and original soundtrack etc etc. idk much about running a gaming studio though. I have zero experience whatsoever with anything like it so take everything i say with a massive grain of salt. I have read up a lot on the nix hydra fiasco though(queue the glassdoor reviews and masterpost and such) and learned they spent a lot of their funding poorly, as expected with bad management and i trust red spring a bit more. I dont see any records of investors and sponsors for red spring and i think they even mentioned in the blerdy interview that they didnt really have any and money was a major obstacle for running the studio. I cant help but worry about the success of the studio with that in mind. But its far too early to tell and unlike nix hydra im pretty sure red spring is mostly remote and doesnt have to worry about funds for the office building. So far, things seem to be going really good minus the lack of investors. The team is full of talented, highly credited people and the kickstarter has gone above and beyond. I have faith that this project will work out and ill keep supporting from the sidelines,, and being nosy

[wolfcake101]

oh hey, I got a spark question: does she have any relationships to or opinions on any other characters that haven't been mentioned yet?

OOOH OKAY!! THIS IS A VERY LOVELY QUESTION!!

okay so, despite having fought duck shuffler SO many times (about...7-10 times now) she actually thinks he's pretty cool! they're both silly guys so why not ey?? i like to imagine they've visited a few times and just had game night or placed bets using buck's slot machine face!

deep diver....they're neutral, spark's (platonic) love for her is kinda one sided though...they don't really interact much, besides from spark's occasional break in to some unimportant meetings or whatever, but i imagine spark would love to see whatever pretty sea stuff deep diver would show her!

Gatekeeper.......honestly? At first Spark didn't like her at all but they've probably became good with eachother over their hatred for prester.

Firestarter.... well, Spark would really like to talk to him yknow, because like. arson man. nothing noteworthy besides that though!

treekiller. well...they haven't really interacted...but Spark doesn't like him. at all. the only thing keeping her from hating him is the fact that chip is besties with spruce, and spark likes chip, soo...

Rainmaker! Spark likes her a lot, but I imagine spark is probably a bit. too much for her sometimes. so they dont really hang out but are on good terms methinks! also spark fucking hates barnacle bessie for what she did to rainmaker.

Prethinker, Plutocrat, and especially Witch Hunter.. she hates them. so much. Prethinker is an annoyance with how ""smart"" he is, Plutocrat is just. ugh. stinky short man. witch hunter. holy fucking shit spark hates him. absolute despisement. she wants his ass fucking DEAD.

Pacesetter. oh my cog. Pacesetter gotta be one of spark's favorites. She's probably tried to become a member of the pace place several times! has she succeeded? ..i duno

and last but not least.....

Major Player and High Roller. DO NOT GET ME STARTED DUDE SPARK FUCKING LOVES THEM. (except when major playor pulls a mariah carey as soon as its november 1st) dude has def attended all of their shows (when possible). she vibrates in her seat when she hears high rollers back in town bro

[ratgingi]

thinkin abt lilliths route so have some general thoughts on it and also facts abt charlie and lillith

for the shit yourself and die end charlie Will rock the players shit regardless of how theyre treating lillith outside of his questions . you could be on a path that would otherwise lead you to the good end and be treating them perfectly fine but if you tell him hes not allowed to spy on the dates he Will come beat your ass anyway because he feels youre untrustworthy. because why else would you not want him coming along right /s

also while lillith spends a Grand Majority of their time at the morgue, they own a house Somewhere. charlie is the only person who knows where it is. speaking of charlie he actively lives At the morgue, theres a locked door in his office that leads to a kinda suite-like area that he stays in. when hes not in there the key to it is kept in one of his desk drawers but if youre not one of the two workers there at the morgue and he catches you trying to get in he Will eviscerate you

i wanted to maybe have a scene where you sit charlie down and be like hey. lillith is literally almost 30 chill out with the helicopter parenting but i realized hed weasel his way out of it . the route isnt about fixing him anyway so its fine hes good as he is methinks /j

also there is technically an (1) time where lillith would actually Speak . and its in their bad end in which they chase the player out of the morgue. they would have exactly one (1) line of telling the player that theyre nothing to them before they attack . but its important to note that if the route had any sort of voice acting this would be the time its used and it would be So Fucked. lillith doesnt speak because they have damaged vocal chords and doing so is Incredibly Painful for them. so if it were to be voice acted it would sound incredibly strained and raspy and horrible

despite being Like That neither are outwardly violent unless pushed past a certain limit. usually charlie doesnt want to bother putting the effort forward and lillith has a good amount of restraint on their physical outbursts when they try. they both prefer psychological violence over physical

it would be pretty clear through the route that charlie does care a lot about lillith and kinda just wants whats best for them he just unfortunately has a really borked way of going about it. hes not about to try and hide that either if you asked him about it hed just be like "of course i care for them :) thats my assistant theyre like an offspring to me". lillith views him as a dad too except they wouldnt ever let that on via words or anything as they pretty much exclusively call him their boss/mr steiner and only really act casual with him when its just he and them hanging out but yk thats how it is

[kafkaoftherubble]

Ok I read your latest response and I can't write a super long response now cause I'm in the car (expect one in maybe 5-6 hours) but I just wanna say, the Volker becomes a dragon joke caught me really off guard.

When I say he becomes a god, I mean he kills 2 gods (the god of the people and the god of intelligence and wisdom) and absorbs their powers :3 he adopts some physical features like glowing eyes, being physically larger, physical strength and so on but he certainly does not become a dragon, it'd be silly though lol

I also feel like intsys would not be able to do dear emperor justice cause their games are a little more anime-ish and silly, but square enix could absolutely do it :3

So not a dragon but some... JRPG Last Boss kinda thing?!

Eh, just make "dragon" a frame of mind, and voila! I mean, Fire Emblem has not been about a symbol of fire or something since I don't know when anyway. It's whatever the hell their imagination can push by this point!

Not all Fire Emblem was silly (anime, though? Yea. Kinda!), methinks. I mean, there is FE4. And while anime, I hardly think FE13 was silly either. The one with Ike was pretty serious too, I think? Fire Emblem is kinda just... two-headed this way. It's a conjoined twin dragon with one ridiculous head and one serious-storytelling head. We just never seem to know which head is taking control for the next game.

Though I agree that Square Enix will be a much safer guarantee, I actually want Int Sys to do it because,

I simply love Fire Emblem's mechanisms and gameplay. Triangle Strategy was fun, but the gameplay was fucking frustrating for a lot of parts (I have migraine every night when I spent hours on one single chapter. Yea it's because I suck at my hobby—nothing new there). Getting more range when you're at a height but at decreased accuracy as an archer is hella good though.

I love Fire Emblem and want it to become a storytelling powerhouse on the side. I don't want it to be stupid and/or ridiculous the likes of Fire Emblem Engage and Fire Emblem Heroes (there, I said it) and Fire Emblem Fates. At least, I don't want it to be ridiculous for the majority of its titles, haha!

The reason why I want Fire Emblem to adapt a story like Dear Emperor is because I don't think "anime" is the reason why it can't be serious. Anime is just its art style or art direction or even, if they wanna, its presentation. But it's not a story limiter by any means.

When it's being "ridiculous," Fire Emblem has a lazy story problem, methinks. It relies on tropes; it's this factory churning out pre-made 2D waifus and husbandos, and then customizing it a bit for the latest theme.

Since I think what FE lacks is a good story, and what you have right there is a gripping, intriguing story befitting a medieval setting... This, to me, is just giving the right socket adapter for a phone at 1% belonging to a traveler stranded in a foreign country. It's the thing that traveler needs the most to do all the other things they want to do.

[bunnygirlheart]

chrono trigger ...liveblog? i guess kinda? it was when i was doin the first part in alice’s message box at least cx

Major spoilers under here, play the game before you read this (and . please Do play it if you can, this game is great i do recommend it)

So I just kicked dalton’s ass, and he ran away, and then i saved at the thingy and it says ‘lavos beckons’ and i am Concerned.

ah, hm. mm. queenie’s makin a mistake, methinks.

This place is weird. Neat statues though?

Also Ayla can just pick dudes up and chuck em into the air to deal massive damage when they land?? hot girl shit

hm. this looks fine. nothing going wrong here folks

lmao the scouters keep trying to make my team sleep and it keeps missing but finally they targeted robo and somehow it worked. sleeby robot

dalton stop being extra and just look me in the face when you talk to me pls,, Ah. Well, you did turn around at least, but only to be More dramatic. Also, hiding behind your toys, cmon man,

lmao cheese strats. I equipped the mail and vest for lightning and im only using lightning moves. Copycat is very exploitable,, Poor frog though, got toasted :((

...well. Hello to you too, Lavos. And guest. Ah, magus, of course of course.

oh nooo it didnt work :((

h. holy shit. Crono just got dusted. alright.

oh man, the whole place is falling outta the sky..

...I gotta load a save so I can see everyone’s response to all this. Especially Lucca,, Holy wow.

ah,,

‘’please don’t hate mother, or our kingdom’‘ wow big ask much? Mm.. I can excuse invoking calamity but I draw the line at mistreating your children

oh ouch. luccaaaaa 💔

what an ass haha. oh hell yes lucca just deflected his fireball that was sick!!! ... ah. well it was still sick.

Ooh~ the blackbird. Fools didn’t secure the vents hehehe

This was a neat area. Uh. Golem Boss was kinda sad. Poor dude couldnt even focus up here on the wing. I sorta feel bad

Hm,, Aero-dalton.. this guy is Terrible at naming things huh?

Oh damn they literally just jumped onto. alright. cool cool cool. no fear of heights in this party. Welp, Dalton was once again not a challenge. Rip birdie lmao good job everyone, nice buttons

oh!! this is the . heck nah i wont fight you lets goooo

oh i like that its frog that gets to make this call though lucca was at the front of my party but it put him in front for this scene, ‘cause he has personal reasons to fight magus?

aaaa precious, reunited,,

...

yknow, this thing looming over everything in every time period is mighty unsettling

lmao i see i see thats why this part’s called The Time Egg. time egg time egg time egg

oooh death peak!! was wondering when that would come up again. Makes sense it’d be now,,,,

heck. Magus wrecks everything huh? I mean, appropriate. The dude certainly kicked My ass back when I fought him haha

... gdi. robo got confused or w/e and attacked the wrong thing randomly, which triggered lavos spawn needle and wiped everyone out. thats kinda unfair. Ah well. A minor setback I guess.

egg time

okay that was a sick rescue actually. cant believe that creepy clone doll from the fair actually came in handy lmao

this is a nice shot ^

...sorry im just laughing at magus standing there all awkwardly at this heartwarming reunion

Anywayyyy now that that’s done I went to check out the . desert cave?? and wow is it irritating. Not that the enemies are that tough -- magus’ ice destroys em well enough, but uh. the ground, really hate that.

Took a few tries ouch, but I managed to down retinite. Cool boss. first couple attempts i didnt realize taking out the core first was a Mistake oopsie

yessss robo tending to the forest!! thats so sweet. This is great!

lovely celebratory camp. Cozy. fascinating discussion. ah, hm. a time lucca would go back to, huh? ...

wow she changed huh? ... what’s with the sound effects,, loud gate.

holy Shit that was stressful i totally didnt reload a few times to manage it

worth the trouble 💜 good job lucca youre amazing! aww robo’s gift for her, that’s so sweet as well

im ... almost done i think?? like, isnt this just a ‘‘wrap up sidequests prepare and go fight the big bad’‘ moment? Seems like. guess i know what im doin tomorrow. referring back to that list of sidequests time grandpa gave me and then ... big fire. I really should get some rest now, though. So the rest of that will wait.

[kagender]

📌💎💕

[📌 how did you find your hyperfixation?

💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

💎 are there any fun facts or trivia that you would like to share?]

📌 - i originally found out about keroro gunso back in july of 2020! i havent heard anyone even mention it before that, but then my american friend started talking abt it 2 me because they watched it when they were younger! and im pretty sure that they tried to make me watch it?

keroro wasnt really even a thing in my country - no dub, no translations, nothing. in fact even fans of it were and still are quite a rare find here, i only found one person from my country who was quite active in the fandom almost a decade ago, they even uploaded some of the OST to youtube! and the rest were just some people who reviewed the show on filmweb ... one of them seemed to have watched and liked the shurara corps arc though, which is nice :]

i didnt actually attempt to watch it until like a month or two later, and i originally watched episode 2 instead of well, the first episode. i very much remember not knowing any of the human characters names so i would refer to them as "black haired boy and pink haired girl" for fuyuki and natsumi, and "straight girl" for momoka (which is very wrong) i also didnt watch the series for some time after that, until i picked it up again and the brainworms got me🐛

💎 - iiiiii dont think that i have any fun facts to share? nothings really coming to my mind right now haha

💕 - oh i do have..... a bunch. most of them are minor characters, as they usually arent as fleshed out as the main ones so i can make shit up about them with ease ^_^

first up is sato, who appeared in episode 134 of the anime, aka the one about akihabara! i feel in love with this furry man the moment i saw him, and i really like the relationship that he has with kururu..... they. r. friends!!!! they used to hoard (assumably computer) parts together at some point!!

he didnt appear in any episode besides 134 afaik, in fact he didnt even get a single damn cameo! (I THINK..... i hope im wrong) which sucks to me, the number one sato fan ...

i liked him so much that i even gave him a role in my au, although its nothing super major! hes just a guy who showed up at some point in kururus past

then we have cheuton, with whom i also instantly fell in love! his design is super cool, and he made me fall in love with the ronier species as a whole, to the point where i have some ronier ocs! (would they still count as orikeros?)

he first appeared in episode 132, which is weirdly close to satos ep, and he got a cameo or two in one of the other episodes AND an opening (i think that it was the viva viva one? which sucks because its one of my least favourites LOL)

he was sent to pekopon by a higher up (i assume) simply named bob along with his class/teammates to fight the keroro platoon, and he was assigned to have a duel with dororo, which scared him shitless because he heard so many great (and fearsome i guess) things about him, but he ended up doing better than his teammates (who got their ass kicked. i mean he kinda did too, but at least he did not break any of his damn bones, unlike some of them!)

OH SHIT OH SHIT WAIT I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT HE ALSO APPEARED IN THE MANGA!!!!! WHICH IS FUCKING AWESOME IF YOU ASK ME ..... it was pretty much the same as the anime episode, except his teammates didnt appear in the manga methinks..... and it was soooo cool seing him in the mangas style because i very much prefer it to the animes art!!!

i also did some development for roniers themselves, as a species, such as changing up some elements of their designs! aaand i owe it all to this little man ...

anyways that was long .... yeah i fuckin love cheuton he is my favourite guy

THEN OF COURSE.... WE HAVE THE DAMN CORPS!!!! i would put them first in this thing if it wasnt so damn obvious that they are my favourite-est, and i also wanted to shine some light on some fairly obscure, non-keronian characters first!

while i obviously like some of them better than the others (also see kagege and shurara) i very much love them all ..... i could make a whole essay on each individual member if i didnt want for this post to be too long!

they originally debuted in the B part of episode 159, with several episodes spanning the entirety of season 4 following! we didnt really get to see them in action until episode 161 though, which was entirely dedicated to putata n mekeke ..... and ya u know the rest!!!!!!

while i definitely love all the characters from this arc, i wasnt a big fan of the storyline .... i found the finale especially kinda dumb and underwhelming, which sucks because well, its the finale! its ought to be good! so like several fans before me i tried to change it up a little in my au ...... fix it even!!!!

and yeah i wont ramble on ..... i think that everyone who follows me on there is aware of how this account is certainly just a shurara corps fanblog. much love

i also love a lot of other characters ..... kururu .... tamama .... pururu ..... zoruru ..... rinono n shupepe .... lots of keroland frogs ..... but i do . not. want to ramble too much!!!!! so bye

[mikauzoran]

Marichat: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Thirteen

On AO3: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...discreetly.

Chat Noir landed on Marinette’s balcony at exactly one o’clock, just as Alya and Marinette finished setting up the recording equipment.

“Mademoiselle Césaire,” he greeted cordially, giving Alya a polite, if not somewhat over-the-top, bow.

Alya bowed back playfully. “Chat Noir! Thank you so much for coming. My followers are all really excited for this.”

“Not at all,” he assured, waving away her thanks. “It’s my pleasure. Really.”

Alya gestured toward Marinette. “You remember my friend, M—”

“—Marinette,” Chat trilled with delight (as if he hadn’t just seen her the previous evening…or the one before that and the one before that), sweeping into a low bow fit for nobility.

On his way back up, he snatched her hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s always such a treat to see you.”

“You too!” Marinette laughed nervously. “Not that we see each other often or anything!”

“Of course,” Chat corroborated without missing a beat, charming smile never faltering. “And that just makes each meeting more precious.”

“Not that there have been many meetings,” Marinette added for Alya’s benefit, turning to her friend to assure, “I mean, we hardly know each other. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.” She chuckled in an “isn’t the very idea of me being friends with a superhero ridiculous?” manner.

Alya’s brow furrowed, a suspicious eyebrow slowly starting to make its way up the journalist’s forehead. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

“What?!” Marinette choked, beginning to wave her arms wildly. “No! It’s not like that at all. I—”

Chat put out an arm and stepped between Marinette and Alya. “—If you’ll pardon me for interrupting, I can explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” Marinette squeaked, shooting her boyfriend a dirty look.

Alya grinned widely, ignoring her friend and focusing on the superhero. “You’re pardoned. Do go on.”

“Marinette is afraid that you’re going to discover that she and I are acquaintances and be mad that she didn’t tell you,” he fibbed fluently.

Alya looked at Marinette (who covered her face with her hands and groaned) and then back at Chat Noir, her eyebrow inching up to new heights. “Acquaintances?”

Chat shrugged nonchalantly, playing it off as no big deal. “I was out one night and spotted her on her balcony. I recognized her from some of the akuma attacks, so I went over to say hi, and she gave me some leftover pastries.”

Alya’s intrigued expression became a knowing smile. “And you kept coming back to see if you’d get free snacks again.”

“Guilty,” Chat sighed theatrically, tail and ears wilting before quickly bouncing back. “Marinette’s winning personality didn’t hurt matters either.”

“I’ll bet,” Alya snorted. “How about the fact that she’s not too hard on the eyes?”

Chat held up his hands in surrender. “No comment,” he replied, but his roguish smirk spoke volumes.

“The point is,” Marinette broke in, “I didn’t say anything, Alya, because we decided it was too dangerous for anyone to know I was sort of friends with a superhero, so you can’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah.” Chat nodded, backing her up. “I couldn’t live with myself if Papillon started targeting Marinette and her family to get at me, so I’d appreciate it if you kept our acquaintanceship under wraps, okay?”

Alya mimed zipping her lips. “No worries, guys. No one is going to hear about this from me,” she promised.

Chat gave her a grateful smile while Marinette heaved a gigantic sigh of relief.

“Okay.” Alya clapped her hands, getting them back on track. “Let me just run down to get my notes, and we’ll be all set to get started.”

They watched the aspiring reporter disappear through the skylight back down into Marinette’s room, and then Chat turned a concerned eye on his girlfriend.

“Hey, Princess,” he whispered, reaching out to run a knuckle down her arm. “You okay?”

Marinette shook her head, sinking back against the balcony railing with a sigh. “I’ve been dreading this interview all week. I wish you hadn’t agreed to it.”

“My Love, I’m a celebrity. This kind of thing comes with the territory,” he gently explained. “People’s safety sometimes depends on them knowing that they can trust me, so this kind of marketing thing is important. They’ve seen me destroy national monuments with a single touch, Marinette,” he stressed, running his knuckle back up and down her arm. “They need to be absolutely certain of who I am and what I would or would not do with that kind of power. Publicity events like this are opportunities for them to see who I am as a person and get to know me, see that I’m just a normal guy.”

“Oh,” Marinette breathed, all words feeling inadequate.

She had never stopped to think that her partner’s power of destruction could be something Parisians might worry about. Now that he mentioned it, it seemed rather obvious given that Papillon and Mayura used their Miraculouses for evil.

“I know you’re worried about Princess’s identity being exposed,” he acknowledged, “but that’s not going to happen, okay?” He ducked his head so that he was peering up at her, giving her his most reassuring smile. “I will always protect you.”

“My hero,” she chuckled softly, forcing herself to take a deep breath and calm down.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered with a wink. “I promise I’ll be discreet.”

Before she could protest, he surged forward for a quick kiss, pulling back just as Alya pushed the skylight open to rejoin them on the balcony.

“Okay. Let’s get this interview on the road,” Alya announced, not seeming to notice anything amiss as she pulled herself back up.

Marinette was certain her face was fuchsia, but that had been the shade of Marinette’s skin throughout the first year of Alya and Marinette’s friendship due to all the blushing about Adrien, so Marinette guessed that it wasn’t unusual that the florid state of her skin now hadn’t registered on Alya’s radar.

 The majority of the interview went fairly well. Alya asked normal, non-identity-revealing questions like Chat’s favourite colour, favourite school subject, favourite musician, and dream pet.

It turned out that Chat Noir was a dog person. He wanted three: a medium-size dog for normalcy’s sake, a gigantic dog so big that his future children could ride on its back, and a tiny dog so small that he had to worry about the giant dog eating it.

Alya got a kick out of that, but Marinette was too busy thinking about dog names and what her children with Chat Noir would look like. It turned out that they looked remarkably similar to the future children she had imagined having with Adrien.

Marinette’s favourite response was when Alya asked about Chat Noir’s favourite food.

“I actually have a friend whose mother is from Martinique,” he remarked, piquing Alya’s interest.

“My family originally came from Martinique!” she replied in delight.

“Oh, yeah?” he chuckled. “What a crazy coincidence! Well, my friend’s mom makes this amazing Colombo de Martinique, and I’m pretty sure it’s my favourite dish ever.”

Chat turned to the camera and explained for the viewers, “It’s a curry dish. Usually it’s made with lamb or chicken, but my friend’s mom makes a version with fish that I’m crazy about.”

Marinette made a mental note to brush up on her Colombo de Martinique cooking skills. Two years prior, after learning that Adrien loved Alya’s mom’s fish curry, Marinette had learned to make it, but ever since she’d given up on elaborate schemes to confess her love to Adrien, she hadn’t made the dish.

Perhaps she could trot out the recipe the next time Chat ate dinner with her family.

Marinette’s thoughts were quickly interrupted as Alya moved on to more personal questions.

“So, Chat Noir, all of Paris is dying to know about this mysterious ‘Princess’ you’ve been spotted with this past month. Can you shed any light on the situation for your fans?” Alya prompted, leaning in slightly, ready to pounce on the smallest clue.

Marinette tensed, a parade of nightmare scenarios zipping through her mind.

Chat didn’t seem phased at all as he agreed affably. “Sure.”

He turned to the camera and looked straight at the viewers. “First and foremost, I want to be clear with you guys: my girlfriend is a private citizen, and I expect you all to respect her privacy. Do not try to discover her identity. I’m not sure how far Papillon is willing to go, if he understands that love is sacred and some lines shouldn’t be crossed, but he may start targeting Princess and the people she cares about in order to get to me if her identity is discovered, so I’m asking you all to take this very seriously, okay? I love her, and I’m not going to be able to do my best to protect all of you if the woman I love is in danger. We need to work together on this, all right? For the safety of all of Paris.”

Chat looked back to Alya to find her subconsciously nodding. He smiled. “So. With the understanding that Princess’s identity and personal life are off the table, what specific questions do you have for me?”

Marinette relaxed a bit after that.

Chat Noir could be a bit of a rash goofball at times, but he had grown and matured over the past three years. She should have trusted that her boyfriend knew what he was doing. She should have trusted that he would never let anything happen to her.

Hadn’t he proven himself over and over again with every akuma he’d given his life to protect her from?

She should have known that her partner had her back.

Once secure in that knowledge, the anxiety faded, and Marinette was able to enjoy listening to Chat talk about how Princess had been the one to ask him out, even though they had kind of mutually affirmed their feelings for one another at that point. No, she did not know his identity. No, he was not afraid of her only dating him because he was a superhero because they had been friends for a while before they’d begun dating. Yes, Chat Noir did make friends with civilians he regularly ran into on his nights out.

Marinette was a little thrown when Chat Noir gave shoutouts to “Orpheus”, “Pretty Boy”, and “Kunoichi”. Apparently, he really did have more friends whom he visited regularly as Chat Noir besides Marinette. She was fairly certain that “Pretty Boy” was Adrien, but she couldn’t even begin to guess at the other two, and that bothered her somewhat.

There was so much she didn’t know—couldn’t know—about her own boyfriend.

Marinette zoned back in just as Chat Noir was finishing up his comments about how amazing Princess was, how kind and smart and fun and thoughtful, how in love with her he was.

She made a mental note to watch the footage again and maybe save a copy of that portion to listen to when she was feeling down about herself.

She wondered if he would still say those things if he knew about her affair with Adrien, but…at least it sounded like she was doing some things right. He felt loved and appreciated, and that was important. She just had to keep making up for her shortcomings by making him feel truly loved.

 “How was that?” Chat snickered as he helped to disassemble the lighting equipment, keeping an ear open for Alya’s return. “Not as bad as you’d feared, was it?”

Marinette shook her head as she wound up the extension cord. “No. You were right,” she admitted. “That…went really well. I’m sorry for not trusting in you, Minou. I should have known better.”

“No worries.” Chat easily shrugged it off. “Now you won’t be so nervous next time, so it’s all good. It turned out for the best.”

“How can you always be so optimistic?” she chuckled, shaking her head even as she smiled affectionately.

“I have good things in my life,” he informed with a broad smile. “It’s easy to be optimistic when you feel so blessed.”

“Oh, Minou,” she sighed, her own lips stretching even wider until he captured them in a kiss.

“Could one of you bring down the boom mic next?” Alya called up to them.

Chat Noir pulled away from Marinette just long enough to respond, “On it!” before diving in to steal yet another kiss.

[nat-roman0ff]

a lesson in shakesbeer

drunk!bestfriend shawn [fluff]

wc: 2,680

warnings: overzealous alcohol consumption, some bad words, & confessions.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shawn Mendes, Lord of Pickering, Prince of Toronto, King of Adelaide Street, whilst thou please remove thy very large body from ye olde table before thoust gets thy ass kicked out?” 

Shawn stands with his hands on his hips staring back down at you from the table he’s perched upon, “you didn’t say it rightttttt!” He slurs. 

 He is (very clearly) drunk and refusing to get down from the table at the local bar you and your friends are occupying. It’s a normal Saturday night, one that Shawn just happens to be home for. You miss him, like, every fucking waking moment of your life that you aren’t next to him. But we can save that for later. 

 Right now, you’re dealing with Drunk Shawn. He doesn’t come out to play very often, but when he does usually resembles a toddler during their terrible twos stage, except he’s six foot two and can usually outrun you. After about his fourth tequila shot, you noticed Normal Shawn starting to fade away, and Drunk Shawn starting to take over. 

 You see, Drunk Shawn isn’t just a giant man baby with no sense of direction, Bambi legs, and a knack for getting punched in the face. No, Drunk Shawn also has made a habit of quoting Shakespeare (completely out of context) while under the influence. 

 “I don’t care if I didn’t say it right. I care that you get off that table before you get your ass kicked or fall and crack your fucking head open,” you reply, hands on your hips and ready to leave.

 It’s almost closing time, Shawn’s already been cut off, and three quarters of your group had already left for the night. 

 Shawn gasps, putting a hand over his mouth, “Princess of Tim Hortons said a bad word!” He points.

 You roll your eyes, “Shawn I’m counting to three and if you’re not off this table I’m calling your mother-” 

 “Don’t call Karen! Ugh - FINE!” He groans and jumps off, barely managing to land on his two feet and still stumbles into you, knocking you into the barstool behind you, “hey pretty lady,” he giggles. 

 “You’re so fucking stupid,” you half laugh, half groan. 

 Shawn rests his head on your shoulder, because of the height difference most of his body is bent in half, his ass sticking straight out, “but you’re my best friend and you love meeeeeee!”

 “Not by choice.” 

 Shawn gives a peck to your neck. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. Shawn has always been a touchy person, even as your best friend. But some days, particularly the dark ones after a certain hour of the night has passed you hope one day his touches mean more. But right now you’re both twenty and he’s an international pop star and well, you’re just you.

 “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Shawn replies, his arm curling around you, “that ones from Hamlet,” he whisper giggly into your ear as if you didn’t pass tenth grade English.

 “Didn’t he fuck his mom?” 

 Shawn scoffs, “No, that was Oedipus and that’s Greek mythology you cultureless swine.” 

 You put up your hands defensively, “I’m sorry oh wise one. Put your goddamn coat on so we can leave.” 

 “Alrightttt,” Shawn pouts, “no more fine elixir for me tonight. Did you close my tab?” 

 You pull his credit card from you pocket, “yes I did, thank you for the Shirley Temples and nachos.” 

 He plucks the card from your fingertips, “you’re lucky I love you.” 

 You audibly sigh, “yeah, that’s it.” 

 “Love is a smoke, and is made with the fume of SIGHS,” he emphasises the last word.

 “Honestly I’m impressed. I didn’t think you knew how to read,” you joke. 

 Shawn pushes himself into you while wrestling with his jacket, “I scorn you, scurvy companion,” he says, grabbing your hand and pulling you outside. 

 You fumble with your umbrella, trying not to get hit by the downpouring rain. It’s coming down in buckets, so hard and so fast that the water droplets bounce off the pavement on the road. 

 “This isn’t necessary,” Shawn states, pulling the umbrella from your hands and tossing it into the street, narrowly missing a passing car. 

 They scream some obscenities out the window and the next car that passes crushes it, shaking their fist at the two of you. 

 “Are you fucking insane!?” You squawk, half wet and fully pissed off.

 “Madness in great ones must not unwatched go,” Shawn replies, bringing his face dangerously close to yours. 

 There’s a glint of something in his eye. He has that shit eating grin on his face and his eyes are all glassy and his hair is completely fucked. 

 “Fuck you William Shakespeare!” You shout into the street.

 Shawn pulls you out into the rain. Thankfully it’s warm, but you’re soaked within seconds, “he was a great man, you know.” 

 “He married his cousin, he can’t be that great.” 

 Shawn stops dead in his tracks and glares at you like you just insulted all of his greatest ancestors, “that was Edgar Allen Poe, not Shakespeare. How did you even pass English in high school?” 

 “I cheated off you.” 

 Shawn shrugs, “true.” He pauses for a moment before his smile widens, “Let’s go!” 

 He pulls on your hand, hard, “shit, Shawn slow down you’re going to rip my arm out of its socket.” 

 He can’t hear you over the sound of the rain (or he’s ignoring you, which is also another viable option) and continues to run. At this point, you’re so goddamn soaked that it doesn’t matter how many puddles he pulls you through. There aren’t many people left on the streets at this point in the night. It’s late, and the rain tends to keep most people in cars or condos. 

 You were lucky enough to have neither right now. 

 Shawn continues to hold your hand as you run, your dress now clinging to your body so tightly you aren’t quite sure how you’re going to get it off. Your legs are slick and wet and you thank all of your lucky stars and sensibility that you wore normal shoes tonight.

 He looks back periodically to check on you, his curly hair now sticking to the sides of his face. There’s a look of such fierce fearlessness that you’re taken back by it. Fearless not in the sense that he’d do something reckless and put himself in danger, but that he can finally just take a deep breath and let go.

 Being the best friend of Shawn Mendes hadn’t come without a few (hundred) hurdles. Everything happened so quickly for him in the beginning and you were proud and happy for him. But there was a sense of you that felt left behind. Looking back it seems like it happened overnight; the fame, the touring, the constant fucking ache of missing him. 

 You had determined at a very young age that you were in love with Shawn. Now, hear this out. This wasn’t a can’t eat, can’t sleep without you type of thing. It ebbed and flowed. You’d gotten so used to the idea of never ever being with him that it only crept up on major holidays, birthdays, and some leap years, with a day or long weekend sprinkled in here and there. Brian was the only one who knew, and shockingly he’d managed to keep his fat mouth shut for this many years. This missing Shawn, though, that never left. That shit was constant. 

 The lights of Shawn’s condo building glows in the distance and you’re relieved. You’re soaked, mildly annoyed, and ready for bed.

 “Welcome Home, m’lady,” Shawn says out of breath and opening the front door to the building. 

 The overnight doorman stares blankly at the both of you as you trail small puddles behind with each step to the elevator. Shawn lets you step in first and leans against the wall, his head lulling backwards as he shuts his eyes, “I’m so fucking drunk,” he mutters.

 “No shit.” 

 His head falls forward and his eyes lock with yours, “how come you never drink with me?” 

 “One of us has to be the responsible one,” you answer.

 Truthfully, you drank, sometimes. You suppose it wasn’t your thing and while you’re up for a good time, you feel like you can’t ever get that way with Shawn. God only knows what would fall out of your mouth when inhibitions were low. 

 The elevator opens to his floor and you follow him to the door. It takes him seven tries with his key before you pluck it from his fumbling fingertips and unlock the deadbolt. He trips and falls into the hallway as he pulls off his shoes and you roll your eyes at him. Shawn crawls behind you, grabbing at your legs and ankles, giggling every time he trips you up. 

 God, he really is annoying.

  You stop in the hallway, opening the door to the closet where the washer and dryer are. Your jacket peels off with difficulty. Shawn senses your struggle and clammers to his feet to help you out of it. The dress you’re wearing comes off a little easier, and you throw both items of clothing into the washing machine. Shawn’s eyes are glued to your body as you’re wearing only a bra and underwear. 

 “Eyes up here,” you wave your finger up, “now you strip.” 

 It’s a struggle, truly, to watch Shawn try to wiggle out of his sopping wet clothes. Finally, after elbowing a wall, falling twice, knocking over a framed photo of Drake (don’t ask) and stepping on your foot, you offer to help him undress.

 “Arms up,” you instruct and he grins sideways, his lazy eye more prominent than ever. 

 He follows your command and whips his arms up into the air. Your fingers graze his stomach and chest as you lift his wet shirt that clings to life on him. His skin is so impossibly warm and you resist the urge to run your palms across his broad chest and toned stomach. You look up only to catch him staring at you as you unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans. Slowly, you kneel down and peel the soaked denim away from his skin. Shawn steps backwards out of them and almost falls again. You throw the last of the clothes into the washer and start the machine.

 “Let’s get you a nice hot shower and then into bed, hmm?” You suggest, he still hasn’t taken his eyes off of you.

 Shawn swallows hard, “um, yeah,” he replies more soberly than you’ve heard him all night, his voice a touch deeper than usual. 

 He steps past you and into the bathroom. You’re left with the air of tension he left behind. What was going through his mind when he couldn’t take his eyes off of you? You’ve gotta stop thinking like that, you say to yourself, it’s never going to happen. You take a deep breath and shake off what you can. 

 When you’re in Shawn’s room you find one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants to change into. You peel off your wet undergarments and are welcomed with the feeling of clean, warm clothes. He’s put on some early John Mayer stuff and you can hear it echoing from the bathroom and floating into the bedroom along with his singing along. 

 You’re thinking too much about it again; these are the types of days and just around the time of night when you let your thoughts get loose and wander around the what ifs. What’s the worst that could happen if you tell him? Oh, just ruin a lifelong friendship because you can’t stand looking at his honey brown eyes and stupid curly hair without feeling like you’re going to burst.

 Maybe one day you’ll get over it, maybe one day you’ll be able to wake up and that dull ache of longing won’t be there anymore. Time definitely makes it easier, and him being gone for most of it. But all it takes is a late night and an overactive imagination and it all comes bubbling back up like it had never gone away in the first place. And you’ll spend days cramming it all back down again and things will be good and normal once again. 

 Shawn shouts your name from the shower and you rush to the door, expecting him to have fallen or something equally as clumsy in his drunken state. 

 “What?! What’s wrong?” You ask from the other side of the bathroom door. 

 “Nothing, just come in here I’m bored.” 

 You roll your eyes, of course.

 “Are you decent?” You ask. 

 “Never.” 

 “Am I going to see your ham and eggs if I come in there?” You groan. 

 Shawn laughs, “just come in pleaseeeee,” he whines. 

 The bathroom is full of steam and you can see the outline of Shawn’s body though the frosted glass shower. You sit on the edge of the sink, letting your legs dangle off the edge, “so what did you need me so badly for?” 

 Shawn’s head pops out when he cracks open the shower door, “just missed you. Come here!” He reaches out with a grabby hand.

 “God, what?” You jump off the counter and stride over to the open shower door. 

 Careful not to look too far south you stand in front of him with your hands on your hips. 

 “Are those my clothes?” He asks. 

 You nod, “yeah, wasn’t about to sleep in my wet ones.” 

 Shawn smiles wide, “I know a way that’ll make them look better.” 

 Before you can formulate a response, he’s pulling you into the shower, your back pressed against the tiled wall. You can feel its hard chill against your back. 

 “Shawn! What the FUCK!” You yell, slapping his chest. 

 For the second time tonight, your clothing is drenched. 

 He takes a step to close the gap between you, his chest pressed into you. You watch the water cascade down his shoulders and disappear behind his back as his wet hair drops fat beads of water onto you.

 “What are you doing?” You ask, your voice just barely a whisper. 

 Shawn curls his index finger and rests it under your chin, forcing your face up to look at him, “we gotta talk.” 

 “We’ve been talking all night -” 

 “I love you,” he blurts. 

 It’s not the first time he’s said it, not by any means. You’re best friends. It’s a normal thing to say to your best friend. 

 “Yes Shawn I love you too -” 

 He cuts you off again, but this time with a kiss. Your whole body freezes and your legs go numb. There’s a brief ringing in your ears and slowly it fades from static until you’re crash landed back onto planet Earth and the sounds of the shower are echoing around the two of you, his lips moving slowly and precisely against yours.

 You place both hands on his chest to push him away, “Shawn, you’re drunk, you aren’t thinking straight.” 

 Your mind is a mess. Part of you is screaming that it’s real, and it’s finally happening. All the while the other is convincing you every which way that he’s just out of his goddamn mind drunk.

 Shawn holds your face in both hands, “I’m not, I’m in love with you. Always have been and don’t act stupid because I know you are too. It just had to be one of us that finally did something about it.” 

 He gives you another kiss and it’s just as tender as the first one. Shawn leaves one hand on your face, and lets the other roam, staring at your hip, and sliding up the back of your wet shirt. 

 “Hold up,” you interrupt, his eyes still closed and lips still pressed together when you poke a finger into his chest, “you weren’t drunk at all this whole time?” 

 Shawn shakes his head. 

 “You absolute asshole!” You stomp, and he pulls you in flush against him for a hug. 

 “That’s my girl.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------

hello friends! this was a fun lil blurb to write tonight after a stressful day at work. i hope everyone else has as much fun with it as i did writing it. let me know what you think! :)

[thewreckkelly]

Insomnia - Paradox – Poetry – Pulp - Bowie – Synapse

Last night, or should I say in the early hours of this morning, I tossed and turned impatiently while waiting for the so called Sandman to get up off his ample arse and deliver me to the land of nod. The cauliflower looking thing housed in my skull found its way uninvited to a delinquent stream of consciousness that resigned potential rapid eye movement to the difficult if not un-achievable.

Yep, I couldn’t sleep - as the rain bucketed down on the fresh wash I’d hung out on my balcony earlier - mainly because I’d suddenly become ridiculously transfixed on a quote from an American journalist regarding the Democratic Party and the difference between a paradox and an oxymoron and if either of them actually applied to;

‘They boasted of having achieved the high moral ground’

I fired up my trusty Huawei and Googled .....

Somehow I ended up following links that took me to how the brain works which intrigued sufficiently with definitions and explanations of synapses and neurons to cause me to drill down.

(Who knew a synapse is a void across which electrical or chemical neurons travel and that there are about 1000 billion such regulated spaces in the average human brain – nothing average about that methinks!)

Too much ......

Dumping the mobile blower and taking to quoting out loud ill-remembered lines from Shakespeare and Tarantino movies I managed to get away from the enormity of language, the internet and brain construction - ‘ .....per chance to dream motherfucker.......’ – and, once that cache was exhausted, found further distraction through singing quietly - and surely tunelessly – the exotic madness of a well worn favourite, without rhyme nor reason.

Un-sequenced multiple images of a singular ‘Starman’ married to lyrics of the narrative found colour of influence to flash across my inward eye – as the Lake District poet would have it. The rigour and comfort of remembering such fandom had the desired effect as I dozed gently into the fantasy world of;

‘The Thin White Duke’, ‘Ziggy’, ‘Aladdin Sane’, ‘The Man who Sold the World’, ‘Major Tom, ‘Scary Monsters and Super Creeps’, ‘Heroes’ and ‘Lodgers’ – ‘Hunky Dory’, ‘Low’ Diamond Dogs ‘Pin-ups’, one and all defining the ‘Changes One’ from ‘Station to Station’ for the true chameleon of a theatrical rock genius ...

(Today I justified and put it all down to my reflecting in blogged prose yesterday on ‘The Fab Four’ – which probably has a syndrome named for it I suppose .... will Google it later .....)

Awaking past midday I recalled having met Mick Ronson once and how he had generously loaned me a Bowie anecdote.

-o-

The band and the MainMan were in the West End of London celebrating the success of the first and only ‘Spiders’ album. It was a long night filled with excess and good humour and only began to fall apart in the late early hours.

A friend of Bolder’s suggested leaving the dying club they had ended up in and continuing the night with an alcohol and synthetic substance fuelled session - that would hopefully include some non-partisan horizontal jogging - at a flat south of the river. Agreement was reached and they all spilled out to a deserted street in Soho with the intention of securing a cruising Hackney carriage or several.

Bowie succeeded in getting a black cab to stop before anyone else and as he leaned into the open passenger window, to elaborate on destination, the driver assumed a look of recognition;

‘You’re that David Bowie bloke ain’t yeh’, the cabbie intoned with expected cockney inflections.

‘I wish mate’, Bowie replied in his best ‘Laughing Gnome’ voice before delivering a veracity to his denial’, ‘wish I ad is fawking money’

[abelromanov]

its me bri again i dnt kno my limits dnt lk at me bye. anywhomst this muse is very very new bt i have ? most of his background n personality figured out methinks so give this a Cheeky Like if u want 2 plot!!!

『BRENTON THWAITES ❙ CISMALE 』 ⟿ looks like ABEL ROMANOV is here for HIS SENIOR year as a PRE-MEDICINE student. HE is 24 years old & known to be ARDENT, CONSIDERATE, RIGID & AGGRESSIVE. They’re living in MORIS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ bri. 22. est. she/they.

stats.

name: abel camille romanov.

age: twenty four.

gender identity: cis-male.

pronouns: he/him.

sexuality: bisexual.

birthday: december 3rd.

star sign: sagittarius.

myer-briggs: estj.

year of study: senior.

major: pre-medicine.

occupation: n/a.

place of birth: stratford, connecticut.

religion: catholic.

about.

second child 2 senator vaughn and philanthropist adelaide, younger brother of cain!! the romanov’s r quite well known fr their All American n Lavish lifestyle which can b read all abt HERE in cain’s intro yeehaw! (im lazy)

growing up abel worshiped cain he was the cool older brother who cld do it all n still maintain the lifestyle he wanted/their parents expected n abel wanted nothing more than to follow in his footsteps

he tried his best to keep up, did everything cain did, but his grades were always just a bit lower, or his form was always just a bit off, he always felt second fiddle, like it was his role in life as the second child

abel ignored it the best he could for most of his life but he started to notice a different side of cain that he didn’t show their family and a side that :/ abel didn’t like or know at all that was quite vile and this was when some resentment started to form bc their parents thought of cain as their Golden Child n didnt see what was going on behind the scenes whereas abel tried his best to be genuinely good if he could help it

by the time he got to radcliffe, things were starting to look up a bit, his already rly gd grades were managing to improve, he was on a bunch of teams, and the coach was saying it was looking good for him to become captain of the soccer team by his sophomore year

bt bc i hate my muses obviously this was not going to happen?

though things were looking up abel was still subconsciously trying to impress his family, his siblings, the people around him, wearing himself out until he was stretched far too thin, and he paid for it with one wrong move during a soccer game that had his knee popping out of place and shattering

it was really really really bad, he was in a cast for a few months bc it needed several surgeries, obviously sports were permanently out of his future, he still walks with a limp in his right leg to this day

this sent abel into a really bad depressive spiral sighs that he didn’t really talk to anyone about cause he’d trained himself at that point to just keep things to himself and never reveal his emotions so that no one could catch him vulnerable or have an upper hand on him

however this was the final nudge he needed to really become his Own Person after realizing it’d gone too far and he’d gotten too bad (on medication now to regulate when he gets out of control/starts to get bad again bc it does happen from time to time)

told his parents fk ur money! n moved out of perkins so that he could become an RA in moris, started joining different teams tht he thought wld b more fun (radio, chess, etc.), starting to distance himself from his siblings a lot too

this was when he rly started to loosen up a lot too he was . a very Boring Lame man before frankly bt got into the world of Parties n made way more friends than he ever did trying to uphold the family image

is still . quite stiff around the edges to this day tho, thinks everything through and has like daily planners he writes down his entire days in to the Second old habits die hard its jst how he functions at this point

had another rly rly bad depressive episode when cain went missing bt like everything he does? he internalized it baybee!

when cain came back tho their parents encouraged him to move into moris so abel cld keep an eye on him n it made abel :/ another reason fr resentment in his eyes (he still loves his brother hes jst . bad at vocalizing how he feels so it makes him bitter)

has been with several ppl bc hes kinda desperate fr approval/fr ppl to need him so hes been quite a good bf in the past bt his incapability to properly open up has put a real Damper on things

likes to think hes in perfect control of his emotions bt explodes a lot bc hes bottled things up fr years

thts all . i can think of now ok bye<3

connections.

exes???? he wld have a Few methinks

fwb’s/past hookups/ur regular old Spice

he’s never been with a guy before bt as u can see in his stats he Is bi as i cannot play Straights so mayhaps someone who Opens His Eyes

ppl he has a crush on............. bt wld never say anything abt it . in his current Frivolously Unemotionally Emotional state

students in moris tht drive him fkin insane or on the other hand students tht he has a sibling like relationship with n is rly protective over etc.

family friends/ppl he grew up with?? or ppl who knew him before he separated himself from his family a bit n knew him as a diff guy n is like ‘omg wtf lol’ now

obvs . some friends Bleathe

enemies?? ppl who he got annoyed with n jst lost it on bc it was a wrong place wrong time Situation.

thts all i can think of rn very basic bt teehee

[eirian-houpe]

Disparate Pathways - Chapter 5

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Maurice | Moe French, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Spinster(s) (Once Upon a Time: Think Lovely Thoughts), Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Blue Fairy | Mother Superior, Black Fairy (Once Upon a Time), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Colette (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Dove (Once Upon a Time), Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena

Additional Tags: Abusive Parents, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Violence, Gun Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, UST, First Time, Drama & Romance, Kidnapping, Extortion

Summary: Gold has a past, a past that he has rejected, but it seems one that will not let him go.  Belle, daughter of Governor Maurice French has been kidnapped, along with her mother, and just as the authorities raid the organization that is holding her hostage, decides to make her own bid for freedom, unknowingly derailing an undercover sting, and Agent Milnor has not choice but to take her into 'protective custody,' but is he all that he seems?  As the threads of the story grow more tangled and the threat to Belle, and to Gold, her appointed protector, grow ever more real, a growing, mutual attraction makes everything far more desperate and far too personal for Gold to ignore what he knows to be the truth.

Read on AO3

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2]  [Chapter 3]  [Chapter 4]

Chapter 5 - Takedown

It was entirely too quiet and it made Jefferson nervous. He’d tried to find out from some of the others what was going on upstairs, but no one had been willing to share.  All he knew was that they’d taken both the women up to the top floor of the house. He figured that didn’t bode well.

It certainly didn’t make his life any easier. If Rab was true to his word then some time today, the joint might of the police and the FBI’s HRT, and probably, just to add icing to the shit cake, a whole squadron of SWAT, was going to descend on the house like the wrath of God.

He checked his phone, just to make sure that it was on, with plenty of power remaining, and that he had a signal. The last thing he needed was to miss the heads up that his handler had promised to send him.

“Hey, Jared.” He started slightly when one of the other guys, Ace - a shortened version of his full name -  called out Jefferson’s undercover persona. “Expecting a call from your boyfriend?”

He gave the man a sour smile, recognizing that he was being mocked and shot back in return, “Least I have one,” and made a rapid up and down motion with his fisted right hand before pointing at the guy who’d called him out.

Predictably the ‘hard man’ took immediate offense, and started toward Jefferson, his eyes full of the intention to hurt. He stood his ground. He was taller than the other man by a few inches, even though the guy was heavier set, forcing the other man to look up as soon as they came toe to toe.

“Was there something?” Jefferson asked sarcastically, then lowering his voice to a dangerous growl added, “Because unless there is… Horace… then get the fuck out of my face.”

“Tough words, pretty boy,” Ace snarled, “but do you got the balls to back em up?”

Faster than the man evidently anticipated, Jefferson grabbed his hand and pulled the pudgy fingers against the front of his jeans, trusting in the shock tactics to keep himself from harm.

“What do you think, Ace?” he asked, leaning down until he was nose to nose with the other man.  “Care to take it for a spin?”

The man backpedaled, pulling away so fast that he almost fell over his own feet in his haste to put some space between himself and Jefferson, snatching his hand away and out of Jefferson’s grasp.

“You stay away from me, you fucking freak!” Ace squeaked.

“Methinks the man protesteth too much,” Jefferson teased. “After all, you were the one that came at me first.”

“Can it, you two!” Jefferson half turned at the sound of the other voice, a tall, leather-clad man with a scruffy beard and a missing hand came out into the hallway from one of the downstairs rooms. “Jared, you’re wanted upstairs. Ace, get in here… quit baiting the bloody man!”

Glad for a reprieve, even if it did come from Jones, an unwelcome bastard at the best of times, Jefferson headed for the stairs and started to climb, on the way up thinking to himself that ‘upstairs’ was a fairly vague description of who needed him, given that there were two floors to the house in addition to the first floor. Not to mention the basement, which technically meant the house was a four storey house and— what the ever loving fuck are you thinking, Jefferson.  Head in the game, man! He cut off his own racing mind; a sure sign of stress.

He made the first landing and began methodically making his way around, room by room, opening each one and checking inside, not just for the girl and her mother, but also for an alternative way out, should his chosen route become inaccessible. He couldn’t explain why, but there was a large part of him that had a really bad feeling around the way the day was going.

Crossing a room, he found a window that looked out onto a low balcony, and looking up he saw what looked like similar from above. It would do in a pinch, but it was risky.  One slip and he’d be looking at a shattered ankle; broken leg… he decided he just better make sure that he could get out by the method of his first choice.

“Oy! Jared,” Jones’ voice sounded from behind him, irritated. “I told you upstairs.”

“This is upstairs,” Jefferson snarked back. “And you weren’t actually that specific, you—” Movement in the corner of his eye made him forget what he had been saying. Someone’s sights? Careless, but then, no… he hadn’t had a message yet. Jones evidently picked up on it and came from the doorway to stand beside him.

“What do you see?” Jones asked.

Jefferson shook his head, about to say nothing - perhaps it had been his imagination after all - when a patch of shadow moved close by the rear wall of the yard, unnatural, not like the clouds passing across the moon. His heart began to pound in his chest. They were coming.

“Bloody hell!” Jones snarled urgently, evidently having come to a similar conclusion. “The law!” He grabbed Jefferson’s arm and practically swung him away from the window and gave him a push towards the door. “Go. Upstairs… warn the others.”

“What about you?” Jefferson asked as Jones turned back to peer into the darkness of the garden.

Jones shook his head. “I’ll go downstairs. We’ll be ready for them,” he said. “What are you waiting for? Go!”

Jefferson made it look as though he was rushing to follow the man’s instructions, once outside the door he slipped to his right, the opposite side from the stairs, and flattened himself against the wall to wait for Jones to come out. He looked around quickly to make sure there was no one else on the landing, relieved to still be alone on the second floor, and he wondered what the hell was keeping everyone either downstairs or up on the top floor, though not for long as he heard Jones’ heavy tread approaching the door.

Like comedy, timing was everything. If he moved too soon, he would alert Jones to his presence. Too late and the man would be out of reach. He hated moments like that; held his breath and pulled the gun he carried out of its holster and waited. One… Two…

Things rarely went according to plan. Jones must have sensed him, because just as he would have moved, stepped behind the man and coshed him over the head with the grip of his gun, Jones turned his head.

“Jared, what the—”

Jefferson tried anyway, lunging for the other man, only to meet Jones’ up-raised forearm and with an audible crunch, instead of the back of is head, and almost as if on instinct, Jones turned and swung the sharp hook he had in place of his missing hand toward Jefferson’s head.

Not fast enough thought, and Jefferson ducked under the weapon, at the same time turning to drive the point of Jones’ hook into the wooden door frame as he pushed the mans wrist against the wood. He tried to follow quickly, to bring his gun up again and wrap Jones into unconsciousness as he’d intended before while he was still stuck with his back to him, but Jones anticipated him again, and used the fact of his hook being trapped to twist his wrist, and pull his arm free of the latch that held the hook in place.

Jefferson ran at the man, wrapped his arms around Jones’ waist and drove his shoulder into the soft spot above his hip, attempting to hook the weight-bearing leg with one of his own, but Jones read him again, and let himself fall backward, heaving with both arms and legs, until Jefferson felt himself flying through the air, mercifully along the landing. He landed heavily, and his gun went skittering along the polished wooden floor.

He didn’t have time to worry about it; didn’t want Jones to get a chance to to reattach his hook, or worse, pull his own gun, which was precisely what Jones was attempting to do as he clambered to his feet, turning toward him gun in hand, so before Jones could aim the weapon, he kicked out blindly, by luck connecting with the man’s shoulder before he could fully straighten up. He knocked him off balance again to slip back down to the floor on hands and feet and the insecurely held weapon went flying. Jefferson didn’t wait to see any other effects of his timely intervention, he just pulled himself to his feet at the same time as Jones, Still winded from the heavy landing and fighting for a decent breath was scrabbling at the floor in an attempt to get to his feet.

Jones was really pissing him off, and was still getting up again, and Jefferson scrambled over, uttering a breathless, “Let me give you a hand there… mate,” mocking an expression of which Jones was overly fond, and speared his fingers into the man’s hair at the crown of his head, and twisting, tugging him upward, while at the same time grabbing a hold of his sleeve. Then before Jones could properly realize his intent, or fully regain his balance, Jefferson launched him toward the banister rail, without letting go, bringing Jones’ head down hard against the solid oak wood at the top, not once, but twice, before tossing him backwards, to land in a crumpled heap beside the wall.

It hadn’t been the quiet disposal he’d intended, and he was certain their scramble would have attracted some attention.  He didn’t wait to find out, simply moved as fast as he could, while still trying to catch his breath, toward the staircase leading to the upper floor.

He took the stairs two at a time, and half way up, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He snatched it out, and glanced at the screen, suddenly bursting into entirely humorless, and slightly hysterical laughter. The notification read: “We are Breaching NOW!”

[kaaramel]

every shakespeare reference in wilba’s speech file (that i could find) by play

this.... this is what i choose to spend my time on

the majority are, fittingly, Hamlet quotes, but she quotes something like 20 different plays, and also the one sonnet that everyone knows, you know the one

i probably didn’t get them all? there are SO many. 

also i assigned plays from memory on a lot of them because i can’t be sitting around googling every single quote so if some are misattributed that’s why but i feel pretty confident in my shakespeare trivia

i didn’t list repeats unless they were significantly different or funny so please please don’t swan into my inbox telling me i missed one of the 9,000 “wherefore art thou”s

if you don’t know what the original quote is then i’d be happy to give context. my original intention was to do that but that was 200+ lines of misquoted shakespeare ago

yeah..

yeah, i spent like two hours on this

this isn’t in any kind of order or nice formatting really, just fyi, because i’ve already spent two hours on it

Hamlet ANNOUNCE_NOSLEEPONFIRE = "WILBA DOTH FWOOSH TOO MUCH, METHINKS!" MANDRAKE = PICKED = "IT DOTH PROTEST TOO MUCH, METHINKS" PIGMAN_STOREOWNER = "HER HAIR DOTH TOO MUCH, METHINKS" ..doth what wilba

ANNOUNCE_MORETREASURE = "MORE THINGS IN CHESTS 'N EARTH!"

ANNOUNCE_CHARLIE_ATTACK = "WHAT ROGUE AND PEASANT SLAVE AM YOU!" PEAGAWK = GENERIC = "WHAT A ROGUE AND PEASANT SLAVE AM EYE-BIRD!"

SPOILED = "SOMETHING ROTTEN IN WILBA TUM TUMS" ROTTENEGG = "MMMM...SOMETHING ROTTEN" WARN = "SOMETHING ROTTEN IN STATE OF WILBA HEAD"

ANNOUNCE_BEES = "IS BEE OR NAUGHT IS BEE?" WORMHOLE_LIMITED = "T'WILL BE OR NAUGHT T'WILL BE?" BACONEGGS = "TO EAT OR NOT TO EAT?" BEE = HELD = "TWO BEES? NOPE, NOT TWO BEES" PUMPKINCOOKIE = "COOKIE OR NOT COOKIE" JUNGLETREESEED = GENERIC = "TO PLANT OR NOT TO PLANT" TUBER_CROP = "TUBER, OR NAUGHT TUBER"

ANNOUNCE_HOT = "WILBA AM TOO MUCH I' THE SUN" DRYINGINRAIN = "IT TOO MUCH I' THE RAINS"

WILDBORE = "LITTLE MORE THAN KIN, LESS THAN KINDA" LEATHER = "LITTLE MORE THAN SKIN AND LESS THAN HIDE"

RESURRECTIONSTONE = "IS'T TICKET BACK FROM UNDISCOVERE'D COUNTRY" TUMBLEWEED = "THE UNDISCOVER'D RUNT TREE"

DUNGBEETLE = DEAD = "HAS'T SHUFFLED OFF MORTAL PLOP BALL" CHICKEN = DEAD = "WADDL'D OFF THIS MORTAL COIL" JELLYFISH_DEAD = "HATH DEPARTED MORTAL COIL"

ROWBOAT = "THE ROWS OF OUTRAGEOUS FORTUNE" SLOTMACHINE = "HATH OUTRAGEOUS FORTUNE"

ARMORSEASHELL = "WILBA READY FOR SEA OF TROUBLES" BOATCANNON = "WILBA TAKE ARMS AGAINST SEA OF TROUBLES" ENCRUSTEDBOAT = "WILBA MAKE ARMOR AGAINST SEA OF TROUBLES"

BEEFALO = SLEEPING = "PERCHANCE IT DREAMS?" (also for sleeping frogs) CORKBOAT = "FRAILTY, THY NAME IS'T CORK BOWL CANOE!"

GLOMMER = "AY, THERE'S A BUG" ROC_NEST_BUSH = "AY, THERE'S THE SHRUB"

BLUBBERSUIT = "TOO SOLID FLESH NAUGHT MELT"

WALRUS_TUSK = "YOUR OWN SELF BE TOOTH" SOLD = "TO MINE OWN HOUSE BE TRUE"

WHIP = "BREVITY IS'T SOUL OF WHIP"

TRAWLNET = "WHEREIN I'LL CATCH THE FISHIES OF THE SEA" (a biiig reach but it has the same meter at least as 'wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king')

DORSALFIN = "OF IN-FIN-ITE JEST" PIKO = GENERIC = "FELLOWS OF INFINITE JEST"

JELLYBUG = "MOST FOUL, STRANGE, AND UNNATURAL"

TOPHAT = "WILBA MOST EXCELLENT FANCY" PIKO_ORANGE = "OF MOST EXCELLENT FANCY TAILS" TALLBIRDEGG = "MOST EGG-CELLENT FANCIES"

WEBBERSKULL = "ALAS, POOR SPIDER" ABIGAIL = "ALAS, POOR GHOST!" BIRDCAGE = SKELETON = "ALAS, POOR BIRDY" PIGMAN = DEAD = "ALAS, POOR PIGGY!" ANCIENT_ROBOT_HEAD = "ALAS, POOR ROBOT" SKELETON_PLAYER = "ALAS POOR WILBA!!"

SCORPION = DEAD = "DEATH WILL HAS IS'T DAY"

ANIMAL_TRACK = "SWEET PRINTS!"

BUSHHAT = "THERE METHOD TO WILBA MADNESS" INSANITYROCK = ACTIVE = "THERE IS A METHOD IN'T"

Winter's Tale BEARGER = "EXIT WILBA, PURSUED BY BEARGER" FABRIC = "'TIS THE FABRIC OF MINE FOLLY'"

All's Well WALL_STONE = "WALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL"

Merry Wives SNAKESKIN = "IT HEART WAS MIGHTY, IT SKIN ARE WHOLE" GRASS_TALL = PICKED = "THE LONG AND SHORT OF IT"

AYLI PIGEON = GENERIC = "HEY DING A DING DING!" PANGOLDEN = "NOSE HIMSELF TO BE A FOOL"

RIII PIGTENT = "'TIS WILBA'S DISCON-TENT" now that's a stretch. STEADY = "NOW IS WINTER OF WILBA DISCONTENT" FROG_POISON = "POISON'DOUS BUNCH-BACK'D TOAD" GENERIC = "THOU LUMP OF FOUL DEFORMITY!" RUG_CATCOON = "LUMP OF FOUL DEFORMITY"

Midsummer BEE = GENERIC = "WHAT FOOLS THESE MORTAL BEES!" DAWN = "WHAT VISIONS HAS'T WILBA SEEN'D?" DUNGPILE = GENERIC = "WILBA AM SICK WHEN LOOK ON THEE"

Macbeth CATCOON = "'TIS THRICE BRIND'ED CAT" GOATMILK = "MILK O' GOATY KINDNESS" SMASHINGPOT = "OUT DAMNED POT!"

MOOSE_NESTING_GROUND = "THE STICKING PLACE" MUSSEL_FARM = STICKPLANTED = "WILBA SCREW IT TO THE STICKING PLACE" ROC_NEST_BRANCH1 = "'TIS BIG STICKING PLACE"

all PUPPETs (non-Max throned characters) = "BUT A WALKING SHADOW!" TIGERSHARKSHADOW = "BUT A SWIMMING SHADOW" DIVININGROD = HOT = "SOUND AND FURY!" VOLCANO_ALTAR_TOWER = "FULL OF SOUND AND FURY" CANDLEHAT = "ON, ON, BRIEF CANDLE!"

ARMORCACTUS = "BY THE PRICKING OF MINE ARMOR" MAXWELL = "MR. WICKED THIS WAY COMES" FIRERAINSHADOW = "SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES!" WAXING = "SOMETHING WICKED'D THIS WAY COMES!" wicked'd... COCONADE = BURNING = "SOMETHING BOOMING THAT WAY GOES" POG = "SOMETHING CUTIES THIS WAY COMES" TALLBIRDEGG_CRACKED = "SOMETHING BEAKY THIS WAY COMES!"

GREENAMULET = "DOUBLE, DOUBLE TOIL" PIG_SHOP_ARCANE = GENERIC = "TOIL AND TROUBLES"

FROGLEGS_POISON = "TOE O' FROG" SNAKE = "'TIS FENNY SNAKE?"

Much Ado GENERIC = "AS LONG AS THE DAY IS MERRY" GNAT = "MUCH ADO ABOUT GNAT-ING"

R&J BOAT_TORCH = "WHAT LIGHT!" ANNOUNCE_ENTER_LIGHT = "LIGHT THOUGH YONDER DARK STUFFS BREAKS" YELLOWGEM = "WHAT LIGHT THROUGH YONDER GEM BREAKTH?" SLURPER = "WHAT LIGHT THROUGH YONDER FUR BREAKS?" FIREFLIES = GENERIC = "A LIGHT THROUGH YONDER BUG BUTT BREAKS" FLUP = "WHAT EYE THROUGH YONDER GROUND BREAKS?"

there's a handful of "WHEREFORE ART YOU?" "WHEREFORE ART THAT?" SLURPER_PELT = "WEAR FUR ART NOW?" PIG_RUINS_ARTICHOKE = "WHEREFORE ART-ICHOKE?"

WALL_MOONROCK = "IT BE NAUGHT LIKE INCONSISTENT MOON" insufferable pedantry: it's "inconstant moon," actually MULTITOOL_AXE_PICKAXE = "IS'T INCONSTANT TOOL" yeah, like that

several "BUT SOFT, 'TIS SOFT BUTT!" for rabbit tails, bearger fur etc

CUTLICHEN = "CAVE ROT BY ANY OTHER NAME WOULD TASTE AS SWEET" GUANO = "PLOP BY ANY T'OTHER NAME" FULLHONEY = "YUMS BY ANY OTHER NAMES" BEEFALOWOOL = "WOOL FROM ANY OTHER BEAST WOULD SMELL SWEETER" CORAL = "A ROCK BY ANY OTHER NAME" TOUCAN = "A NOSE BY OTHER NAME 'TIS CALL'D A BEAK"

RUBBLE = "THE COURSE OF BUILDING NEVER RUN SMOOTH"

SWORDFISH = "PUT UP THY SWORD"

BEEHIVE = "A PLAGUE ON BEES HOUSES!" WORMHOLE_LIMITED = "A PLAGUE UPON IT"

Tempest ACTIVE = "WHAT BRAVE NEW WORLD DOS'T THIS LEAD?", BEDROLL_STRAW = "'TIS STUFF DREAMS ARE MADE IN" PIGGYBACK = "'TIS SUCH THING AS WILBA MADE ON" KNIGHT_NIGHTMARE = "STUFF BAD DREAMS ARE MADE ON" PLAYER_HOUSE_GOTHIC_CRAFT = "SUCH STUFFS AS HOUSES ARE MADE OF"

ONEMANBAND = "WILBA PLAY'TH SWEET AIRS" (maaaybe?) BELL = "DING-DONG, BELL" (phrase is also in Merchant)

Merchant of Venice TRANSISTOR = "ALL THAT GLITTERS IS GOLD?" BLUEGEM = "ALL THAT GLITTERS 'TIS COLD" GNATMOUND = "ALL THAT BUZZES IS GNAT HOME"

HONEYHAM = "'TIS POUND O' FLESH" TELEPORTATO_BOX = "A POUND O' BOX" TELEPORTATO_CRANK = "A POUND O' CRANK" TELEPORTATO_POTATO = "A POUND O' POTATO" TELEPORTATO_RING = "A POUND O' RING" ELEPHANTCACTUS_ACTIVE = "YOU PRICK WILBA, SHE DOST BLEED!" SNAKE_POISON = "IF YOU POISON WILBA, WILL SHE NOT DIE?" ANCIENT_ROBOT_CLAW = "HATH NAUGHT A ROBOT HANDS?"

Lear POWCAKE = "BLOW, CAKE!" IRONWIND = "BLOW, WINDS" WIND_CONCH = "BLOW, WINDS, WILBA CRACK HER CHEEKS" ANNOUNCE_VOLCANO_ERUPT = "SPIT-ETH FIRES! SPOUT-ETH RAIN!" VOLCANOSTAFF = "WILBA SPIT FWOOSHING, SPOUT RAIN!" HAIL_ICE = "SPIT ICE! SPOUT, RAIN!" HOUNDSTOOTH = "SHARPER THAN A SERPENT'S TOOTH" NOHONEY = "NOTHINGS CAN COME OF NOTHINGS!" SOMEHONEY = "HAVE MORE THAN THOU SHOWEST?" PIGMAN_ERUDITE = GENERIC = "SPEAK LESS THAN SHE KNOWEST" RELIC_3 = "IT SPEAKS LESS THAN IT NOSE-EST" TREEGUARD = "COME NOT 'TWEEN A TREE AND HIS WRATH!" DRAGOONDEN = "COME NOT 'TWEEN THE DRAGOON AND ITS WEIGHTS" TRAWLNETDROPPED = "FORTUNE SMILE ONCE MORE" WOODLEGS_CAGE = "LET'S AWAY TO PRISON"

Henry IV PIRATEHAT = "UNEASY LIES HEAD THAT WEAR PIRATE HAT" PIGCROWNHAT = "UNEASY LIES HEAD THAT WEAR-ETH THE CROWN" KRAKEN = "UNEASY LIES THE HEAD 'NEATH THE WATER!" PEAGAWKFEATHERHAT = "EASY LIES THE HEAD THAT WEARS PRETTY HAT"

SNAKE_AMPHIBIOUS = "A BOLTING-HUTCH OF BEASTLINESS" SLEEPING = "O GENTLE SLEEP!" BILL = GENERIC = "'TIS A FUSTILARIAN" ADULT_FLYTRAP = GENERIC = "I'LL TICKLE YOUR CATASTROPHE!" HIPPOPOTAMOOSE = "THOU ART AS FAT AS BUTTER!" RUG_PORCUPUSS = "'TIS BOMBARD OF SACK" i havent seen what this is ingame but i'm not confident that klei knows what that means

Henry V SPIDER = "WILBA UNTO THE BREACH!" SPIDER_WARRIOR = "WILBA ONCE MORE UNTO THE BREACH!" ANCIENT_ROBOT_LEG = "THE ROBOT IS AFOOTS"

Julius Caesar GENERIC = "LET SLIP THE PIG OF WAR!", PREY = "WILBA CRY HAVOC!" WARG = "'TIS DOGS OF WARG" SOLOFISH = "LET SLIP THE DOGS O' SEA" FLOWERSALAD = "'TIS FOR SALAD DAYS" SPIDERHAT = "FOR SPIDERS TO LEND WILBA THEIR EARS" EARRING = "WILBA LEND IT MINE EAR"

Taming SCORPION = GENERIC = "THEREBY HANGS A TAIL" ANT_CAVE_LANTERN = "THEREBY HANGS A LIGHT"

Othello PUGALISK = "BEAST WITH ONE BACK"

12th Night several "FOOD BE THE FOOD OF LOVE!" "ALL FOOD BE FOOD OF LOVE" etc MAXWELLPHONOGRAPH = "FOOD OF LOVE?" OX_FLUTE = "WILBA PLAY THE FOOD O' LOVE" ZEB = GENERIC = "'TIS HORSEY O' A DIFFERENT COLOR"

Timon of Athens, now THERE's a deep cut MEAN_FLYTRAP = GENERIC = "WOULD IT WERT CLEAN ENOUGH TO SPIT 'PON" ANTMAN = GENERIC = "WILBA WOULD BEAT THEE, BUT T'WOULD INFECT MINE HANDS"

misc SPEAR = "WILBA SHAKETH THIS SPEAR" RAINFORESTTREE = GENERIC = "SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO ANOTHER TREE?" lOTUS = "SHALL WILBA COMPARE IT TO SUMMER DAY?"

i don't think "o'er-peer the oceans" is anything because the only use of "o'er-peer" is apparently in coriol-fuckin-anus, but: SUPERTELESCOPE = "WILBA CAN'ST O'ER-PEER THE OCEANS"

CROCODOG = "'TIS A WHITE-EYED MONSTER" miiiiight be othello?

[mdwatchestv]

Westworld 2x07: Robbin in the Cradle

I really don't like these silent previously ons as they only work to reinforce the idea that this show is really just a series of meaningless images. We really had a nice moment in the sun there with those two episodes that had tight central storylines, but now we have returned to the grim darkness of endlessly unspooling mythology and plot. To its credit though this episode did do quite a bit of explaining and even a bit of direct question answering, although of course those answers only led to new questions. What did we expect though honestly. I know I pledged to you at the beginning of this journey that I wouldn't look at anyone else's writing about this season, but I wound up having to use Insider's incredible Westworld Timeline (which you can see here) to orient myself before writing this.

The past few episodes have all taken place largely on the same "present" timeline, but it's not really the "present", as this episode reminded us there is an even more "present present". In case you forgot (as I sort of did), the REAL present timeline is the events happening eleven days after Ford's death, beginning with Bernard washing up on the beach. We still don't know how he got there, possibly it has something to do with the mass drowning of the other hosts. Everything else we have seen, Bernard and Shannon's super annoying hangouts, Maeve's epic journey to Shogun World, and Dolores' assault on the Mesa, has been a flashback. In our "present" timeline, the Eleven Days After Ford's Death, or 11 AF, we don't know the fates of Dolores or Maeve, we don't know where Abernathy's control unit is, and we don't know what happened to the other hosts. This episode opens in the most current present timeline, where Bernard and Luke Hemsworth have been brought back to the Mesa after finding Bernard on the beach. Luke has a bad feeling abut what's going on with Delos employees (Skarsgard, Fares Fares, Tessa Thompson), he thinks they care more about whatever tech they are trying to find than actually extracting anyone from the park. And how right he is, because no sooner does he make this declaration than the Delos crew cuff Bernard and Luke and drag them out to the secret cabin where Bernard killed Theresa in season one. Bernard is once again outed as a host in this location when a secret room is discovered FILLED with Bernard's own dead bodies. Oops. This was an interesting reveal because it shows Bernard has met a violent end many times before. Yes we saw him come back from a gunshot wound to the head, but the room of Bernard Bodies suggests that this is not the first time he has met an untimely fate. Now that Tessa Thompson knows Bernard's a host, she begins interrogating him regarding the location of Abernathy's control unit (containing the code that Delos desperately wants). Tessa wants Bernard to tell her what he remembers from Dolores' assault on the Mesa, when she took the control unit, and thusly the events of the rest of the episode are framed.

We now knowingly jump back to where we left off in the previous episode, with Dolores' group of rogue hosts storming the Mesa, Tessa trying to remove the control unit from Abernathy, and Bernard inside the cradle talking to Ford. Bernard and Ford proceed to have a very expositional conversation which actually provided some real answers! First of all we know now it was Ford's personality inside the red ball and this was all a part of his grand plan (obvi). He also tell's Bernard that while the human/host hybrid can't function in the physical world (ala Peter Mullan), that human programs can exist inside the cradle. Bernard also realizes the purpose of Westworld is to test human response and reaction in order to try and make coded copies of them. The hosts operate on loops as a 'control' so data about the visitors reactions can be taken. Delos is coding hosts and decoding guests! I bet someone was real proud of that turn of phrase, hey I would be. So what is the purpose of all this? Eternal life for those who can afford a copy of themselves? Could the cradle stand in as a sort of digital heaven, a San Junipero if you will? Ford tells Bernard that the oft talked about 'Valley Beyond' is the end of his story, and that Bernard knows there's no escape for him. In the cradle Ford also shows Bernard the finished version of the house he was building in an earlier flashback, the one in the mystery city that he brings Dolores to. Here we get another reveal that the letterbox scene at the beginning of last week's episode was Dolores testing  Bernard's fidelity, something she did within the cradle to help perfect Bernard's personality to Arnold's. I was surprised we got such a straightforward answer to this, and I assume we will be seeing more of Dolores' testing conversations with Bernard in episodes to come. Anyway the revelations end when Ford takes control of Bernard and hitches a ride in his control unit back into the real world to continue executing his plan.

Back on the ranch (literally), Maeve finds herself running once again from the Ghost Nation warriors with her daughter in tow. But as she hides with the little girl, who should come walking around the house than the Man in Black. It was the Man in Black's brutal assault on her and her daughter in a previous storyline that led to Maeve's malfunctioning and eventual reassignment to Sweetwater. The Man in Black and his crew have very conveniently arrived in the same village, also in pursuit of the Ghost Nation, at the same time that Maeve is reliving her most traumatic memory. Upon discovering Maeve, the MIB immediately suspects this is part of Ford's game, despite Maeve's believe she is acting independently. Even though Maeve is able to get some shots off against the MIB, and even turn his own men against him, I have to agree that the whole thing feels a little TOO coincidental to be chance. First the MIB reunites with his estranged daughter who blames him for the death of her mother, and then he just so happens to run into the daughter and mother he mercilessly destroyed in the park? The whole affair simply smacks of Ford's meddling. And yes, even though Maeve is in control of her own choices, she HAS been motivated purely by an overwhelming drive to find her daughter, a drive that stopped her from escaping and has set her on a very specific course through the park. ANYWAY Maeve almost succeeds in killing the MIB once in for all after she gets Clifton Collins Jr to recall all the abuse he has suffered at his hands in past storylines. The MIB is badly wounded when Simon's cavalry arrives, gunning down both CCJ and Maeve. In the fracas the Man in Black crawls away, and Maeve's daughter is once again inevitably captured by the Ghost Nation. Maeve however is rescued by Simon as he knows she is special, but also I think because he has gotten a bit attached to her.

Finally we arrive at Dolores' attack on the base, where she and her crew of hosts easily dispatch Coughlin's men. Their mission is both to secure Abernathy's control unit, and also destroy the Cradle thereby also destroying all the host backups and freeing them from ever being 'restored'. Bad!Teddy is on full display, and boy o boy is he bad and also hot! Capable, deadly, wearing all black, these are things I look for in a man. I don't know what Dolores is so butt hurt about, she made him SO much better! Dolores' takeover of the base culminates with her facing off against Luke Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson in the lab where Abernathy is being kept. Even though there is a nothing but animosity between the two characters, seeing Dolores and Tessa square off again made me think that maybe a Westworld/San Junipero IS a good idea. I AM JUST SAYING. Tessa is saved from a last minute lobotomy by Abernathy coming to and calling out to his daughter. Dolores and her father share a touching moment together before she tearfully kills him and takes his control unit. Elsewhere in the base the battle between host and solider rages on with Clementine getting fatally gunned down and Talulah Riley suffering a major wound. Talulah carries on her mission to destroy the core and is able to defeat one of Coughlin's soldiers (who has her cornered) through THE POWER OF SEDUCTION. Honestly this scene drove me crazy, like I know she is hot and all but this guy just watched her murder all of his comrades! She is a killer! Also she is standing in a pool of her own blood! There is a huge hole in her torso! Even though I appreciated her 'cool girl' monologue, I couldn't get behind that this tactic would actually work. I mean I know men are trash, but COME ON, how stupid can you be? Anyway she uses one of his grenades to blow up the cradle and the two of them in the process. Boy bai.

While this is happening Bernard, under the control of Ford, ditches Shannon Woodward and slaughters a ton of Delos dudes. He then proceeds to go to the map room and shuts down the entire park! Meanwhile on her way out Dolores runs into a wounded immobile Maeve lying on a stretcher. Dolores offers to kill Maeve and set her free from her pain, but Maeve insists she has made a promise (to her daughter). Methinks this is not the last time these two will cross paths. Simon is miraculously able to survive all of this via hiding, truly his abilities are cockroach-like. Now that we have seen the entire saga of Dolores' destruction of the base, we return to the present where Bernard tells Tessa the area location of Abernathy's control unit. Tessa is smug, thinking she finally has the upper hand, but of course we know that it is more than likely Ford is acting through Bernard to move the players around his game board. Bernard of course has no reason to know where Dolores is heading, after all as we saw ourselves the two had no interaction when she was in the base. The only way he knows where she is taking the control unit, is because Ford knows too.

Final thoughts, everything that is happening seems to be a part of Ford's master plan. Everyone, consciously or not, is playing his game. We know the conclusion to his narrative is at the Valley Beyond, but what that means or what his real designs are remain to be seen. Also it's notable that no one has successfully left the park, or really even tried to. Is this because, as I now suspect, the location of the parks makes easy exit near impossible? I wonder particularly why Luke Hemsworth, whose spidey senses are justifiably tingling, doesn't simply exit stage left. I miss Shogun World honestly.

XO MD

[kingofthewilderwest]

Is it too much that I'm hoping Johann is a double-double agent? It's just... I spent the last five years getting to know this guy, and I've grown to love him. And then... I have never felt so betrayed, and I've seen a lot of character betrayals in my life! We have only ourselves to blame because RttE was originally only going to be 4 seasons!

Unfortunately for your heart I do suspect that Johann being a double-double agent is something that will not happen in the story. The challenge with this is that Hiccup and company have no idea that Johann is an agent at all, and Johann has not been someone coming to the Hairy Hooligans of Berk to provide acute information about their enemies. That is - Johann has not been helping Berk in such a way that he would have motive and background for being a double-double agent. He’s sometimes given the dragon riders seemingly useful information (usually reluctantly), but the majority of the times his relations with the Hairy Hooligans have been that of casual trade or asking for assistance. There would be no group that he could be a double-double agent for. That would mean he’d be in a close enough circle for the enemies of the dragon hunters to subvert those dragon hunters unknowingly. But of those enemies, we don’t see Johann spend much time with his other trade stops; we don’t see Johann spend much time with Berk; we know that Johann spends time with the dragon riders but isn’t being an agent with them; and so we are left with him just being a double agent for the dragon hunters.

The majority of times Johann has freely provided the Hairy Hooligans with important information regarding their enemies, it hasn’t gone well, suggesting that he has set them up for danger. Even in the first season when Johann told Hiccup Dagur has escaped, he provided them the coordinates to a dangerous ship graveyard where Dagur so also happened to currently be. In S2′s “Edge of Disaster Part 1,” Johann sent a t-mail asking for assistance with dangerous dragons... and once three of the dragon riders left, the Dragon Hunters attacked Dragon’s Edge. And he does the same sort of baiting and luring in other episodes, especially S5. These are instances which would not occur if he were a double-double agent, because a double-double agent would be able to subvert the issue and help the problem in his true loyalty’s favor without undergoing suspicion. He wouldn’t have tipped the Dragon Eye lens out of Snotlout’s hand in “Sins of the Past” for Krogan; it would have been easy enough to just let the dragon riders keep it. That’s such a subtle gesture, knocking the lens out of Snotlout’s hand, and would only be done if he really were allied with the dragon hunters. So we see no internal conflict of Johann’s actions suggesting he is a double-double agent... but instead, Johann uses machinations to unknowingly subvert Hiccup and his companions.

I think it’s a sign of a good plot twist that many fans feel so betrayed to see Johann’s true colors! It shows that we have attached to the character and related to him... but feel the sting of truth when his loyalties are revealed. It hurts, it surprises, but it’s something that has been set up. The story has very subtly led up to Johann being a “traitor” - even in the first season of Race to the Edge. There’s nothing to blame about ourselves and RTTE’s increased length of seasons, either; the writers were in very early production of Race to the Edge when the extension from 4 to 6 seasons was announced. At this point, the writers would have been drafting episode scripts for this later point of the series WHILE they were still in production of the first few seasons. They would have been dealing with Trader Johann’s reveal... well before S4 was in its final stages of production. So it’s not like Seasons 5 and 6 just got “tacked on” once they learned about the extension; they’ve been building and planning and pacing RTTE for the long time to fill the full six seasons. They’ve always been planning for RTTE to lead into HTTYD 2 material... which they still have yet to finish in S6... yet again demonstrating that all of this wasn’t just tacked on at the end of S4 material.

So, as much as it may break your heart, I suspect that S6 will expand upon Johann’s role and motivations as a villain. Methinks it shall be rather interesting!