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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago

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BODY AND SOUL Part 24 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I suspected the Gala would be at least two parts, and I was right--this is ostensibly the first half of it, 25 will be the second half. I don’t think it’ll go longer than that, but who knows, I never know until I sit down and write the chapter. Here are some higher quality pics of Kenzie’s dress. Her hair looks like this, but with tiny dark red rose buds rather than those little white flowers in it. Her makeup is similar to this look for Billie’s Bello magazine shoot, but her lipstick is like mine here. Here are her shoes. Kenzie is beginning to be able to see herself the way other people do--as something truly divine, her “Supremeness”, as it were--but she has no ego in those moments. The perception is an accurate one. The album Duncan puts on is Prince’s self-titled, the first track is I WANNA BE YOUR LOVER. Duncan’s hair in this part is similar to Cody’s hair here, which is more or less always how Duncan’s hair looks, just particularly well-coiffed on this night, I guess. His makeup is like Cody’s here. With Hannah and Georgio, I wanted to juxtapose the different reactions Duckenzie invoke in people--for some they are divinely inspiring, and for others with darker auras, they invoke carnal lust. Hannah’s jumpsuit looks like this, her hair like this. I based her vaguely on my friend Aly, who has a very dusty sunset aura to me and a beautiful soul. Here’s Annette’s Gala dress. Her hair looks like this. The necklace she gives Kenzie is vintage Cartier, and it looks like this. A special shout out to Luna (@misslunarayne/@officialcodysfallenangels) who inspired Anchaly reading Hawthorne’s THE NEW ADAM AND EVE; she’s the one who told me about the Millory parallels in that book. Momby’s dress, her rose pin, her scarf. Here’s Jimi Hendrix’s PURPLE HAZE (he and I have the same birthday, November 27th). STOP AND BE FRIENDLY is a reference to CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND, one of my favorite films (so I made it one of Kenzie’s favorites, too). I couldn’t find a logo for Shepherd Unlimited, and have no idea if the HOUSE OF CARDS showrunners ever created one, so I made one up. Here’s Gretchen Friedrichs’ absolute monstrosity of a dress. Sissy Conners’ dress looks like this. The “very famous actor” can be whoever you want it to be--I dunno, Colin Firth or Ryan Gosling or somebody. Here are the Pre-Raphaelite works I reference in this part: VENUS VERTICORDIA, VANITY, THE FIELD OF THE SLAIN, THE GOLDEN STAIRS, OPHELIA. Here are the angels from Waterhouse’s ST. CECELIA who remind Kenzie of Lindy and Gabby. To me, Lindy and Gabby represent the Millory fans; the lovely people I’ve met online who ship Michael x Mallory, without whom I would not have been inspired to write this story. The Millory fans are by and large extremely beautiful souls who have touched my heart immensely--in most cases, young women (many of you bi/pan, like me) who want to believe in love and redemption and beauty, and my fic, in many ways, is for young (and young at heart) women and nonbinary people who want these things in their lives. I still believe in the healing, transcendent power of love, despite all the terrible things in this world, and I ALWAYS will, and this is and will continue to be an unabashed love story. Here’s Marissa Montague’s dress. Her hair is like Emma’s here. She was fun to write. My Marissa is a very superficial, sad person, and Kenzie sees through her right away. The Ducatis are a wealthy family I made up who Duncan used to hang out with when he was younger, partying all the time with superficial socialites like Marissa. I wanted to note that Duncan did go through a phase where he was doing coke all the time and sleeping around, because he is indeed a spoiled rich boy in some ways, and he wasn’t always a great person. Kenzie has given him purpose and an active desire to be better, because love always inspires one to be better. Kenzie is waking to powers she didn’t know she had as she and Duncan get closer to learning about their true natures. If anyone would like to make a Gala moodboard/edit for this part of the story, I’d be OVERJOYED. And as ever, if you’re reading along, your comments, likes, reblogs, asks and edits mean everything to me. Please take a second to like the fic if you’re reading, thank you!

Kenzie broke their kiss reluctantly, her head cloudy with the scent of him (the woods of you, your ache for me, I feel the wildness of your high desire for me, baby, impatient for later), aware of Claire and Morgan’s eyes on them in the bright studio. Duncan made a soft sound as she pulled away from him, one of regret at her absence--his lips came up to her temple, his hands pulling her into him; those hands on the silky gold of her dress made her heart drop down to float in her stomach, spread warm tendrils to her sex. She could feel his thoughts still, aching against her.

Kenzie. My beloved. Everyone will bow to you tonight. But I swear I am your most devoted. And I swear I will worship you best.

“Wow, it got really hot in here,” Claire murmured, fluttering her hand against her cheek, breathing out in a long stream. “Fuck, you two look amazing. Wait until they do her hair and makeup, Duncan. They’ll want to hang pictures of her in the MOMA.”

“Clairebear, stoppit.”

“I am not fucking joking around, Kenzie Lou. You two look like a drawing in a mythology book. Like a fairy tale.” Kenzie could see the tears glittering around the edges of Claire’s eyes; her friend looked away, clearly overwhelmed in her emotions.

“My darlings,” Morgan said, coming up to them, reaching for their hands. Kenzie took one, Duncan the other, his arm still dipped around her waist, trailing up and down the softness of the gold there, against the waves of her hair. “Likes Hades and his bright queen Persephone.”

“They really are like that,” Kenzie heard Claire say as Morgan moved toward her assistant, agreeing delightedly, grasping Claire’s hand now. She felt her cheeks flush.

“That’s how I always think of her,” Kenzie heard Duncan say to Morgan. “Surrounded by flowers, bringing spring. Healing me.” Kenzie’s heart twinged. Everyone can see it. How he’s been healed. And I supposed it has been because of me in some ways. But I know he had it in him, in his dear heart, all along. And despite what he knows about Annette now, he’ll defy that too. He’ll transcend whatever was holding him back. Duncan had turned his head back down to her, and his hands tightened on her, the gold bracelet brushing along her bare shoulder blade.

I will, baby. With you here, I can do anything. As long as you’re here I know nothing can really hurt me. My constant moon. My flower of the universe. She was nodding, overwhelmed in the weight of his touch, his hand drifting to cradle her head at the nape of her neck.

“Erik’s going to be bringing the stylists to the penthouse soon,” he said down to her, his eyes intensely bright on her (so blue so blue blue like the blessed daylight, blue like sapphire), his thoughts bursts of brilliant desire, like tiny electric shocks cascading over her. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you--”

“I’m losing my mind over you--” Kenzie gripped at the velvet lapels of his gold-kissed jacket, lifting her hand up to the soft waves of his hair, the diamond and gold at her wrist reminding her again of her daydreams of the circlet of a crown around his head. Duncan. You worship me but my love, I worship you also. I am moved, body and soul, by you. Prince of stars.

The gold is your hands on me, he whispered into the corners of her mind. How it feels to be touched by you. How it feels to be looked at by you. How it feels to be loved by you. The gold is you and tonight everything is for you, and everyone will see you and know.

“Duncan, look at her shoes,” Claire was coming over to them, having found some semblance of composure, carefully holding Kenzie’s elbow as she leaned to the hem of the cascading gold dress, lifting it so Kenzie’s feet were exposed--her shoes were shimmering gold platform sandals with ribbons that wrapped around her ankles, tying at the back.

“They remind me of the shoes she was wearing the night we met,” Duncan was saying to Claire, his hand trailing down Kenzie’s arm, sending a shiver down her back. “I remember I looked at her feet and I thought oh, she ties her shoes in double knots, like I do. And in that moment, I was a goner.”

“Everything you ever wanted,” Kenzie grinned at him. “A girl who ties her shoes like you.”

“She looked like a fucking angel, Claire. You look like a fucking goddess right now, Kenzie. Like a queen. I love you.” Duncan was pressing against her again, his mouth on her cheek, his hands falling down the dress, and Kenzie’s heart was in her mouth, the shape and scent of him the only thing, the greatest of all things, the center of her soul intoxicated in him.

“He ain’t kidding, Kenz. I can’t wait to see BPF tomorrow, honestly. That website is becoming one of my favorite pastimes nowadays, they’re as obsessed with my best friend as I am.” Claire’s eyes had tears in them again, and Kenzie felt her own eyes go misty.

“I fucking love you, Clairebear. Thank you for everything. I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am about you and Harris.”

When Claire had been helping Kenzie dress in the side-room, her friend had told her how shyly and sweetly Harris had called her after Kenzie had passed along her phone number; how he’d asked her if she’d be open to “stepping out” with him, and had told her that he’d been immediately moved by how lovely she was. “I know he’s like ten years older than me, but I feel like--” Claire had blushed deeply, and Kenzie had clutched her hands (oh Claire, I love you and your sweet spirit so much)--”I just--Kenzie Lou, I just feel like he has a lovely soul. I feel like he’s been mostly happy--like me--for a long time, but also lonely, like me, for a long time--” Tears had welled up in Claire’s eyes, and half-dressed, Kenzie had clutched her, burying her face in Claire’s flowery shoulder (she always smells like sunlight on grass and fresh lavender to me), knowing what Claire had meant, knowing Claire didn’t need to say anything else. To have someone to understand you, someone who can truly hold you in the hollow of their heart. I know, Clairebear. More than a friend. A lover. She had pushed a wave of gold into Claire--Claire had quieted and gone back to helping with her dress, wrapping the train carefully over Kenzie’s shoulder, straightening its cascade over her shoulder blade, pulling her hair free from where it’d tucked under the bodice and pulling her fingers through the waves. “Princess Kenzie,” she had whispered, and it had struck a long chord through Kenzie’s heart, reminded her of Duncan--Princess, moon princess, my little moonbeam--and the worship of his words and his lips and his hands in the darkness in their bed, and Kenzie had shivered to behold the way she seemed to transform in the gown, the way the woman who had stared at her in the slender mirror of the dressing room truly began to seem like a princess--like some golden queen, some other Kenzie who fears nothing. And so I will resolve to be her tonight. I will be fearless, regal, that Kenzie who is a queen, Persephone on her throne in the Underworld. I will pretend I’m her tonight, and hold my head high. Duncan told me I belong in this world--and I think I do, because I belong where he is. So I’ll pretend I’m not afraid. I’ll be the one who protects him tonight, because his heart has been wounded and his spirit needs me.

Even looking at him in the splendor of the gold-dipped blazer and the regal gold collar, she could still see the pain behind his gaze, the melancholy ache of yesterday still lingering around his mouth. My Hades, trapped in the Underworld. You felt lost; you still do. Even in the certainty of our love, you are questioning who you are. But together we’re going to find out. We’re going to find the secrets of ourselves together. Duncan was thanking Morgan, kissing her gloved hand, making Morgan laugh with delight--Kenzie’s heart pounded fiercely as she watched him, the fall of his hair, his height, the brightness of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, his angelic beauty, compounded by the elegant clothes. Beloved. Tonight we’ll show everyone how bright we shine together--tomorrow, we’ll retreat into the woods, to whisper our love into each other without needing to speak, to hide and heal in each other’s embrace, and gaze at the stars, and find each other’s secret places. To find the secrets that are so close to us, that we cannot see but have begun to feel, to sense in each other. They are so near. They are the shadow that stands beside us, and soon we’ll be able to see them, Duncan, baby.

He was looking over at her, and she saw in his eyes the recognition of her thoughts. I feel them too. Like they are waiting just around the corner for us. Like we’re seeing them in the mirror today, not ourselves. The echo of them.

They left Morgan’s studio with their hands grasped tightly together, Kenzie’s train carefully draped over Duncan’s arm as he led her down the stairs, easily supporting her petite frame as she blushed down at her feet, trying not to fall in the golden heels, trying not to fall into him the way she was longing to, dying to, remembering the way she’d pushed him into the wall in the stairwell that first night, impossibly hungry for him, the most beautiful boy I have ever fucking seen, and now, somehow, ever more beautiful, almost impossibly so. She could feel the tiny tremors under her skin, the dancing bursts of nervousness, the nerves borne of how lovely he was right now, how staggeringly beautiful to look at. We’ve fucked like crazy, we live together, and god, I still feel so fucking shy of you right now.

“Baby, are you kidding,” he whispered against her as she hovered on the stair above him, leaning his mouth up into her chin, hands falling back and forth over the golden cascade that covered her body. “You’re shy of me? I’m so fucking nervous right now--you’re so fucking beautiful and I can’t even think straight. You can’t possibly be mine. I can’t possibly deserve you. You’re a fucking angel.”

And he was pressing her against the wall of the stairwell now, ever so gently, the chilly cement of it against the bareness of her shoulders above the lame of the dress, her train still tucked into the crook of his elbow, and his mouth down at her collarbone, keeping her tethered to him, his lips drifting to her neck and below her ear, his breath whispering there, his eyelashes brushing the tiny space at the corner of her eye, tasting at her, murmuring further and further into her mind with taut insistence as his hands trembled and shivered down her arms, I can’t wait to get home so you can push that ring onto my cock, can’t wait to push that plug inside you while we stare into each other in the eyes of the Mirror that’s drifting into our dreams now, can’t wait to keep you close to me all night, anticipating the moment where we’re truly alone, can’t wait for everyone to behold you and the thrill of the secret knowledge that despite their longing you are mine alone, and that you chose me among all, that you blessed me, beloved, most fair among all, as your lover, I can’t wait to be so close to you again that we don’t know where part from each other, so close the sweat on our skin mingles on our skin flushed against each other, so close I can feel the clutch of your cunt gripping onto me, claiming me, fucking me, devouring me, can’t wait for you to fuck me, angel--and the insistence of his mouth under her hair was pushing her eyes to the metal underside of the staircase above, her mouth falling open in a gasp of absolute need that drive sharp knives of longing through her whole body.

Fuck, Duncan, I want you so much, I want you all to myself, Prince Duncan, I want your need to be the only thing you can think of, your need for me, I’m the golden gift just for you, the Pandora’s box full not of darkness, but exquisite loveliness, all for you, but you have to be patient today, Erik and the stylists are waiting for us, everyone is waiting for us tonight, waiting to see you, beautiful exalted Prince--

No, they’re waiting for YOU, my golden Persephone, it’s your golden beauty they are waiting for--his mouth was hovering over hers, not touching it, not quite, but begging to, sweetly open, aching to take hers, tilting his head, impossibly blue eyes rising and falling down the curve of her face, the gold waterfall of her dress--

“Let’s go, baby,” she gasped, gently pushing his arms away from her, gently turning from his mouth despite the soft, imploring sounds he made, his curls and the bridge of his nose brushing against her cheek. I can’t hold out when you’re touching me that way, I can’t stand it, Dunny, you have to stop, I can’t, I want you so much--

She grasped his hand as he stepped back on shaking feet, the gold of their bracelets clinking together softly, and he carefully gripped the train as she stepped ahead of him, down the last flight of stairs to the palm-lined foyer of Morgan’s studio building, and they were out in the oppressive, flushed heat of the day, but it felt good on Kenzie’s skin, it was a relief to be enveloped in the heat that was coursing through her body already. The world has been set on fire with our love, she thought, looking up at Duncan as he came through the door beside her, towards where Samuel was parked on the corner. He dipped his head to her, his mouth set to stave off his longing, and he was pushing his Yves sunglasses over his (ethereal blue like the heavens) eyes, but before he did she could see the patterned geometry of his soul there, which saw hers utterly, and wanted her, utterly, loved her, entirely. The world has turned, changed for us, become ours, and now it sees us, and it bows and encircles us in its desire, its heat is its kisses of worship on our skin, and it knows who we are. Soulmates.

---------

Samuel was looking at them with moon-bright eyes as Duncan helped Kenzie into the deeply cool interior of the car, and Kenzie smiled back at him shyly as he turned the stereo dial up--with a thrill she realized it was Jimi Hendrix, and his wild guitar crashed against her. Summer music.

Purple haze all in my brain, lately things don’t seem the same, actin’ funny but I don’t know why, ‘scuse me while I kiss the sky...

“My dear Duncan and Mackenzie,” he said, foot on the gas, “you look like you stepped down from heaven a moment ago, off a falling star.”

“I feel like I’m in heaven, Samuel,” Kenzie replied, as Duncan’s hand slipped into hers. “I can’t come down, and I don’t want to.”

“You know it’s the full moon tonight,” Duncan’s chauffeur said, slipping dark sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the sunlight that streamed through the window. “The juju that comes on nights such as these is quite special. It’s fortuitous that the Gala is on such a night--tonight will be the night the world will see the true brightness of your love.”

Kenzie puzzled for a moment over Samuel’s words--what does that mean? She looked up at Duncan, who seemed to be openly staring at her behind his dark sunglasses, his lips parted, his hand dry and warm, his thumb drifting over her palm. She lifted a finger to pull them down at the rim, exposing his eyes to her--yep, staring. Blue like the clear shore of a bright ocean.

“What does that mean?” She mouthed to him, smiling at him, her cheeks flushed. Oddly, Samuel lifted the partition after that, somehow content not to explain himself further.

Duncan shrugged, and his fingers tightened in hers. He shook his head. Baby, I don’t know. But I have a strange feeling about tonight. I had a strange feeling about yesterday, too--I know you felt that. But today doesn’t have that mean feeling like yesterday, does it? It has some other kind of feeling. It’s heavy, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s like--a giant wheel turning. Like a huge clock tower chiming the hour. Like lifting your face to the sun after you’ve been indoors for a long time.

Yeah. Like that, she thought, nodding, her other hand drifting against his thigh, and then she spoke, in the cocoon of their privacy. “Duncan...I feel like I swallowed the sun and every bit of light is shooting from my eyes and my mouth and the tips of my hair and everyone it touches, they feel it too, they feel bright and healed. I feel like it’s my destiny to do that--touch people with the sunlight I can feel inside me.”

“You always make me feel that way. Like nothing bad can happen to me when you’re here. Like you’re the sun in the day and the moon at night, and you bring light where there would be darkness without you. Kenzie,” and he pressed his hand into her waist, his eyes fluttering at the softness of the gown, his breath gasping. “God, I want to just run away with you.”

“Away from everyone and everything to a secret place where no one can find us,” she whispered against him. Kenzie’s body felt flushed with overwhelming heat despite the coolness of the car. “Soon, baby, soon, we’ll eat fruit under the trees and swim in the lake and fuck so fucking much--” and she drifted her hand against his throat, thumb on the fullness of his lips, pulling him down against her, Duncan pulling his glasses off and dropping them unceremoniously on the car’s floor, gathering her in his arms, his mouth flushing into hers with her fingers still pressed under his jaw, tightening to hold him steady against her, and he whispered into her mouth, “baby, fuck, Kenzie--” and she could feel the rapid, frenzied drifting of his mind, the Bacchanalian chaotic need that was building in the center of him. To love you is holy madness, Mackenzie Stone. I fucking worship you. His mouth was in her hair, his fingers pulling it to his nose to breathe in the scent of her, and his expression was one of angelic beauty, an aching supplication to her, his finely chiseled features, his long straight nose, his full lips, his sharp jaw utterly divine in the purity of his love. It took her breath away to see him this way--it took her senses and rattled them apart, leaving her feeling spread like the particles of stardust in the night sky.

“Tonight,” she whispered against him, and she made herself look into his eyes, despite the shaking in her own soul, despite her fear of his beauty, because despite our closeness, my love, I still fear how lovely you are, I still fear your devotion because it shakes my fucking soul, and I fear you because your beauty seems impossible, and I see the inhuman in you, I fear the loss of you, for I’d die without you now-- “you’re gonna be aching for me all night, aren’t you, baby, you’re not gonna touch yourself at all, either, are you, baby, even though you’re gonna want to, I know,” and his tongue was pressing out onto her bottom lip, his tiny moans like sweet music in her ears, “you’re gonna want to but you aren’t going to, because only I get to touch you, only I get to take that ring off your poor aching cock, my poor baby--”

Duncan’s hands tightened at the back of her hair, twisting and forcefully pressing so her mouth crashed against his, and the need in it crushing against her heart with a possessive hand. I won’t baby, I won’t, but fuck, I want you now, how can I wait so long. His mouth was like the musky juice of some unearthly fruit. He must be what ambrosia tastes like. Like fucking sex. Like the pinnacle of all my desires. Like the highest part of my hope and the wildest release of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. There’s nothing like it I’ve ever felt anywhere. Him.

Kenzie’s hands were clutched to the gold-kissed lapels of his velvety jacket as they arrived at the penthouse all too soon, her fingers drifting against the intricate cages of the collar tips.

“I feel like you should be wearing a crown,” she whispered to him. Duncan’s hands were coming around to clutch hers at his throat, his mouth kissing at her fingertips.

“I keep imagining flowers in your hair,” he replied. “Flowers would be your crown, my beautiful Kenzie. So many flowers.”

Samuel was lowering the partition and Kenzie moaned against him, her heart crushed that they had so much longer to go before they’d be alone together again. It’s never enough, she thought to him. Whatever time we have alone, it’s never enough, it’s not even close to being enough.

I know baby, I know angel, I know, it’s never enough, kiss me, kiss me-- and they crushed their mouths together again, not caring that Samuel could see them now, his bright-moon gaze skirting over them then politely away, though Kenzie knew that it was difficult for him, knew he thought they were bright as stars, beautiful beyond words, though she couldn’t have said how she knew, only that Samuel’s emotion towards them in this moment was starkly bright, as if he were speaking it out loud, and then Duncan was pulling her out of the car and she felt dazed, dazed as Jerry opened the door for them, his expression one of utter amazement, until Anchaly let out a barking laugh of complete joy towards them that startled her so she clutched at Duncan’s hand, suddenly shy and apprehensive of the small man.

“And the spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters,” Anchaly said, and Kenzie saw Duncan’s puzzled look as they walked past. His eyes were glittering.

“I feel like you speak in riddles sometimes, Anchaly,” Duncan was saying as he pressed the button of the elevator. He had gathered her train up in his hand again, holding it gently over his arm, and Kenzie blushed, suddenly feeling deeply self-conscious, as if she were being led up to an opulent throne where she’d be crowned a queen of some unknown kingdom. She kept looking down to examine the dress, unconvinced it was real, its golden sheen seeping into the corners of her vision.

“Some glories require the words of someone more skilled than I,” Anchaly replied. “You two seem to render me speechless to express my astonishment without some help.”

“Is that from Proverbs, Anchaly? From the Bible?” Kenzie remembered a Moby song that had a similar name to the words Anchaly had spoken.

“Indeed. God creating the waters when he made the world.”

The elevator dinged open.

“You two seem to be creating something, too. The beauty of your love seems to be growing.”

Duncan didn’t reply--he seemed unsure of what to say. Kenzie could see the blush around his eyes.

“Anchaly, Annette’s going to be dropping something off for me soon,” Kenzie called out to him as Duncan pulled her inside. “Please call up to the penthouse when she’s here, will you?”

She saw Anchaly’s nod, the glittering quality of his eyes flashing at her again, and then Duncan was clutching her against him again in the gold interior of the elevator, his fingers achingly delicate on the gold of her dress, and she was lost inside his attentions, lost, and it was everything she could do not to grind against his thigh pressing her into the elevator’s mirror, not to stare in wonder at the loveliness of the picture they cast there, she blushed to be so struck with wonder at her own beauty, blushed to be overcome so often by the rightness of how they looked together. We really do look like royalty, like Pilar said. The moment was gone too soon as the elevator seemed to climb 30 stories in no time at all, and Duncan gently pulled away from her, grasping the train and urging her out as she giggled at him, dragging her softly to the penthouse door, through with they could already hear the voices of Erik and the stylists inside. Rather than using his keycard Duncan knocked twice, lazily, on the door, then in a moment of abandon, grabbed hold of her waist and lifted her up into his mouth again, the taste of him dizzying her wildly, the half-hardness of his crotch pressing into her stomach. Then he was hurriedly bringing her back to earth, grinning at her as the door swung open and they broke apart to Erik’s judging gaze, his mouth pursed at them in their breathless state, his expression one of hidden delight masked by facetious scandal.

“Heeeeeeaven, I’m in heaven,” he sang, fluttering his eyelashes--they were very long with pink rhinestones today. “Just look at you two. As soon as you mentioned Morgan I knew she’d do both of you justice, Mackenzie. I can already see the headlines tomorrow: ‘DUCKENZIE STUNS IN GOLD, WE ALL HAVE TO WIPE OURSELVES OFF THE FLOOR’. Duncan, I brought Hannah and Georgio today. You remember them--they did you for the App release party. They’re going to lose their shit over her.” He extended his hand, beckoning to them languidly, moving back inside the penthouse, the long black cashmere poncho he wore drifting behind him. Duncan’s warm, large hand was on the skin just above the back of the dress, and Kenzie stepped away from his touch, feeling too overwhelmed by it to let it continue for now--I want you terribly, my love. I want you alone.

In the kitchen there was an array of picturesque snacks from the always well-stocked silver fridge and cupboards spread out; round rice crackers and two bricks of artisan swiss and gouda, salami rolled around tiny toothpicks, cubed mango, sliced green apple, bunches of grapes, organic hummus and pesto, bite-sized chopped purple cauliflower and celery sticks, and multiple open bottles of wine.

“We had to get the party started the right way, of course,” Erik simpered to Duncan, and Duncan smiled at him (that smile, kiss me, baby), unbothered, then at the two people seated at the obsidian island with recognition. Kenzie suddenly felt wildly shy again, fighting the urge to hide behind him, but he was pushing bright, warm blue feelings against her, circling her heart. “Hey, Hannah.” Hannah had very long, vaguely wavy hair that was a sort of lavender-grey, the kind of color that could only be achieved by a master hairstylist, one that usually only existed in superhero comics, and chopped bangs. She was ambiguously aged, perhaps in her early 30’s, with bright pink eyeshadow and an expertly contoured, round face. She wore a very long boho bronze-red jumpsuit with curling indigo detailing, and an array of long necklaces with varying crystals. Her skin was the color of milky coffee. The man beside her had long chocolatey hair streaked with natural gray, tied back into a bun at the back of his head, sharp, dark eyes, and an beard that was so well-cropped it seemed almost fake. He had silver rings on his fingers in the shapes of animal skulls, and wore a black denim jacket and black skinny jeans on his very thin frame. He had been talking to the woman in a very quiet, even voice, but she had begun to laugh loudly at something he said. “Hi Georgio, lovely to see you both again. This is Mackenzie Stone.”

“Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe Duckenzie are finally here!” The woman called Hannah immediately stopped laughing, dropping the morsel of gouda she’d been clutching in long coral-colored fingernails. Kenzie gawked at her. God, the Duckenzie thing is a trip. The woman got up from Duncan’s island and came around to her, her hands flitting down to Kenzie’s shoulders--she was at least six inches taller, and in bare feet. She smells really nice, like patchouli incense.

“God, you’re a little jewel,” and Hannah was pulling her into a hug, much to Kenzie’s surprise. “You smell like a rose bush. It’s obscene.”

“Hannah, I fucking told you,” Erik said. “Imagine the possibilities. An absolute babydoll.”

“Georgio,” the other man came up to her, grasping her fingers, leaning over them. “A pleasure to finally meet you in person, dear.” His voice remained very quiet and very even, removed from Hannah’s immediate enthusiasm.

“I do hair, Georgio does makeup,” Hannah was saying down to her. “This dress, Jesus fucking Christ, you’re like a Klimt painting, and Duncan, god, you always look incredible but this is next-level, nobody will be able to talk about anything else tomorrow, fuck, Georgio, we have to really outdo ourselves with this one.”

“I fucking agree.” Georgio was looking between Duncan and Kenzie with a hungry glint in his eye, as though he were a vulture about to swoop down onto a carcass. Kenzie shivered a little--I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way some people look at us when we’re together, she thought. It’s as though some people want to leave us candles and fruit and gold coins on an altar, and other people want to somehow consume us--rip out our hearts and gnaw on them with their teeth. Hannah is one of the former. This man Georgio is one of the latter. She watched his hungry, dark eyes float up and down on Duncan, and she was made conscious again, removed from her lover’s touch for the moment, of how incredibly beautiful Duncan was, how singularly, objectively handsome.

Back off honey, he’s mine. Kenzie couldn’t help it, she snorted into her hand suddenly at the force of her thought, the certainty of it, and Hannah looked down at her, puzzled.

“I was just thinking about how crazy all of this has been,” Kenzie murmured.

“I bet, honey. Your Instagrams are like the only thing anyone talks about anymore. You must have gotten like, a hundred endorsement offers by now.”

Duncan shrugged at her. “I don’t think we’ll be doing stuff like that, Hannah. Kenzie’s a writer.”

“I forgot, you’re a fucking billionaire,” Hannah rolled her eyes at him. “No pressing need to make more money.” I like this woman, Kenzie thought. We can be friends. “Little golden peach, come sit with me, I’m wild to start on you.” Hannah led Kenzie to the living room, where they’d set up two styling chairs with portable standing mirrors.

“Dunny, bring me some of those grapes, please? I’m fucking starving.” Kenzie called across to him. Duncan was watching her with a dazed expression, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Georgio continued watching him with the same hungry eyes. Duncan went to the island as Erik said something to him that Kenzie couldn’t hear--she was turning back to Hannah, who already had two flat pastel-colored styling clips in her fingers. Kenzie sat, looking up at the woman, angling her chin up.

“What do you think your hair should look like tonight, baby doll?”

Kenzie smiled at her. I really like her.

“Sometimes he calls me Persephone,” she said to Hannah in a low voice, as if she were telling the gray-haired woman a secret. Hannah was leaning down to her, listening eagerly. The woman seemed to have an almost rosy aura around her, like the pink blush of a desert sunrise.

“Goddess of spring,” Hannah nodded. “Which would make him Hades, God of the Underworld. That seems right to me. And you brought your flowers down to him in the darkness, didn’t you, sweetness.” Hannah’s hand brushed through the wave of hair that fell over Kenzie’s shoulder. “I think we should put flowers in your hair. And then everyone will see who you really are. Not just your gold, but the way love is blooming all around you.”

Duncan was coming over to them with a bunch of grapes and some of the cheese and round crackers on a little plate and one of his Waterford glasses full of a dry rose, leaning the plate down to Kenzie’s lap, dipping his face to kiss her (thanks baby, she whispered into his mind) as he handed her the wine, then he straightened and said “I’m putting on some music for us, any requests?”

“Something sexy,” Erik said, holding up his wine glass, full of dark red. “I need some mood music to look at you two.”

Duncan smirked at him and turned away, into his study.

“Hannah, have you seen The Youth of Bacchus?” Kenzie spoke to the woman from a mouth of grapes. “It’s in Duncan’s study there, it’s so amazing, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I just wanted to die the first time I saw it.”

“I saw it the last time I was here, we styled Duncan for an event a few months ago,” Hannah had already busily begun to slide clips into Kenzie’s long tawny hair, clearly used to working around people eating. “It’s really extraordinary. I can’t imagine how crazy everything has been for you lately, honey.”

“It’s--” Hannah was dividing her hair into segments now with a thin comb, turning to a set of portable drawers near the standing mirror. “It’s been so surreal, honestly. It feels like I’ve been walking around in a dream for the past few weeks. But most people have been so lovely.”

“I bet Annette’s a fucking handful.” Kenzie heard a funky electronic beat come over the hidden speakers as Hannah’s quick hands worked at her hair, spraying primer through it, brushing it out. I ain’t got no money, I’m not like those other guys you hang around, it’s kinda funny, but they always seem to let you down…

“Yes.” Kenzie didn’t even try to hide her frustration. “Yes, she fucking is.”

Hannah snorted, grinning at her as Duncan reemerged from the study.

“Yes, honey, yes indeed,” Erik was saying to him as Duncan sat in the other styling chair beside Kenzie, Georgio immediately attacking his stubbled cheeks with moisturizer, then primer. “Prince’s self-titled is his most underrated creation, I do believe. Pure sex from beginning to end.”

“Erik, I hope this isn’t too great for a favor for someone as important as you, but could you bring me the wine glass I left over there?” Duncan glanced up at Erik with a long, languid gaze, and Kenzie giggled. Laying it on thick, baby. I like to watch you do that, she realized. Because I know you’re always mine now, and all they can do is pine after you.

Erik gave him a pleased look and brought the wine to him. “Anything for Prince Duncan,” he cooed. I feel the same way, and Kenzie’s thought flashed to his eyes staring at her in the MIrror as he fucked her, her arms tied in velvet ribbon, flashed to his mouth between her legs with her arms tied to the headboard with his belt, to her back against the cherrywood table as he kneeled to her, her body arching into his elegant, strong fingers in the dark, the white-blue glow of his eyes. Anything for you, beloved. Anything.

“I’m gonna need fresh rosebuds for Kenzie’s hair, Duncan,” Hannah said, glancing at him.

Duncan made a little sound of longing in the back of his throat that made Kenzie’s stomach flip. Oh my fucking god, baby, I’ll get you roses to wear in your hair every day. And your peonies are starting to wilt, too. Kenzie glanced at the coffee table, noticing with a twinge of sadness that he was right. Prince wailed over their heads as Duncan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sent a few quick text messages to Anchaly for the concierge. “Hannah, what do you need?” I wanna be your lover, I wanna be the only one that makes you come, running...Georgio’s hand was on his cheek as though it were made of delicate glass, holding Duncan’s head steady as he worked around his blue eyes with a tiny eyeshadow brush.

Hannah reached for his phone with an insistent hand and typed out a text, handing it back to him. “As young as they have would be best. And the darkest red. Fit for a queen.”

“Roses for Kenzie’s hair, roses for Kenzie, check.” Duncan glanced over at her, his eyes (the sky of you, the storm of you building for me) falling from hers down her gown, then back up. His tongue slowly came out to lick against his top lip, and the gesture seemed to be involuntary, so open to her, so desirous of her, as he sometimes was in the sanctity of their bed. Our bed, our room, my favorite place on earth now when you’re there, she could hear him, knew his thoughts drifted into the same place hers did, needy with the weight of their nights.

“Georgio, did you hear what Mackenzie told me a minute ago? Duncan calls her Persephone sometimes. Hence the roses.”

“Way ahead of you, Hannah,” Georgio said, then, “Close your eyes, please, Duncan,” and Kenzie watched him swirl the brush in a palette behind him, then begin to darken Duncan’s eyelids to deep black. My Hades. Gold in the darkness. It’s not just me, baby. It’s us together. My gold kisses your darkness, your darkness holds my gold. One without the other is not enough. One without the other is not whole.

“God, I love it,” Hannah was murmuring as she began to whirl Kenzie’s hair around a ceramic curling iron, from its soft natural waves into more carefully constructed ones. She began to switch between curling strands of Kenzie’s chestnut-blonde hair and weaving a very loose french braid down Kenzie’s back, until her hair seemed to be a very intricate web of falling braids and artfully arranged loose waves, though Kenzie couldn’t see it from the back yet. Duncan’s already luminously handsome face was now darkly striking in the shadow around his eyes, the gold of the jacket juxtaposing with the black and the blue of his corneas to an effect that took Kenzie’s breath away. God of riches, shadows, and my heart.

“God, baby, you look so good. So fucking good.”

“I agree,” Hannah was grinning between them, still fussing over Kenzie’s hair. At the back she’d created a slight bump and long waves fell around Kenzie’s face. The doorbell chimed through the penthouse and Erik went to the door from where he’d been lazily eating apple slices and downing glass after glass of wine. A delivery man stood there with a long white box--Erik took it from him and brought it over to the low leather couch, lifting the lid. Within were a dozen sprigs of burgundy-dark rose buds, and a bouquet of a two-dozen full-stem roses in the same color.

“Oh sugar, I wish a billionaire who looks like an angel would buy me flowers every day,” Erik said longingly.

“Gimme, please,” Kenzie begged, reaching her arms out. Erik brought them to her from where Hannah was holding her captive, and Kenzie lifted the bouquet to her face in their softness, feeling tears welling up. “Dunny, I love them so much.” Duncan was smiling at her with a dreamy expression around his darkly shadowed eyes. We’ll take them with us to the cabin. We’ll put them beside our bed. I love you, Kenzie.

I love you, too, Duncan. I’ll save so many wildflowers while we’re there to hang over our bed here. We’ll bring the roses with us, and bring the forest back with us, Kenzie’s eyes rested in his, her hand stretching out to him, almost involuntarily. Duncan stood and came to her, Georgio having finished his work, leaning against the standing mirror, observing with a sharp, dark gaze. Duncn crouched down beside her chair, bringing his face up to press his nose into the roses she held, then up to her cheek and against her lips, and Kenzie’s body tingled with the softness and sweetness of him, the darkly beautiful dramatic cast of his face in the eyeshadow. He drew back from her, eyes lifting up to the others behind her--neither of them had realized for the beat of the moments that Erik, Hannah and Georgio were all staring at the two of them with observant, rapt expressions, Hannah’s almost pious, Erik’s joyous, Georgio’s openly desirous. The first side of Prince had ended, and the quiet had settled around them.

“God, you two are lovely,” Hannah breathed, breaking the spell. “I could watch you all day. I’ve never seen a couple so beautiful. It’s like you’re communicating without words.”

At that moment the downstairs buzzer beside the penthouse door trilled, making Kenzie jump. We are, Hannah. But no one knows that but us. And we want to keep it that way. It belongs to us. Duncan stepped away from Kenzie, clutching her hand for a moment. I bet that’s Annette, Kenzie thought, biting into her lip. Annette’s text had been strange, a frantic tone underneath her overly-polite request to see Kenzie. Please accept this gift as a token of my blessing, she’d said, and Kenzie had known Annette distress was coming solely from Duncan’s silence to her, but nevertheless, the prospect of actually gaining Annette’s approval by any means was tempting, especially since she’d softened to Kenzie at the Rose Garden. Duncan went to the door, hitting a button below the panel and speaking into it.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Shepherd, Annette is here.”

Duncan looked over at Kenzie, a pained expression immediately falling over his face. Baby, it’s okay, Kenzie thought to him. I’ll go downstairs. I won’t take long. I’m not afraid of her.

“Anchaly, Kenzie’s coming down,” he said, turning back to the speaker. “Do not send up her up.”

“Very well, Mr. Shepherd.” Anchaly’s voice sounded strained.

Kenzie rose, carefully tucking the cascade of the gold train over her arm, setting the roses in her seat gently. “Hannah, Georgio, I won’t be long, this should only take a few minutes.” Be brave, for him, even if you don’t feel it, because Duncan needs you to be. She walked carefully past Erik, who was giving her a dark look, a don’t let her fuck with you look, to Duncan, whose eyes were clouded behind the dark eyeshadow, suddenly lost inside the turmoil of his emotions.

“Baby, look at me,” she whispered to him, reaching for his hands. As she grasped them Kenzie could feel that he was shaking; feel the immediate change in his mood, the dark shadow that had settled on him, the one that had made him cry in her arms yesterday, the one that had sent his sadness out to her over miles. “We’re going to get through tonight, then we’re going to go away together, just me and you. Okay? And you won’t have to see her, okay? Not until you’re ready. Forget about everyone else.” And Kenzie, in that moment, resolved to do the same herself. Forget about them. About the paps, about Annette’s judgement, about the eyes watching us now, and anyone else who will try to hurt us tonight. When I have you, I’m fearless, invincible, you are my armor of blue flames, I am your armor of weightless gold. And they can’t hurt us.

Duncan brought his mouth down to her, and his lips trembled too, though with the tumult of his emotions or his desire she couldn’t decipher, so jumbled were the two strains of feeling in him. Kenzie gently brought her hand up to his hair and his arms came around her back, lifting her into him, and Kenzie couldn’t help but hear the sighs that came from Erik and Hannah behind her, the sighs that sounded to her like the wings of angels rustling in some holy silent hall, and she soothed him with paper-thin gold, feeling his heart settling down to a steadier rhythm, feeling the trembling in him drift out, into the ether.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, and let go of him, staring at him for another moment, seeing the way her energy had calmed him, his eyes bright again amid the gold-and-dark sheen of his shape, and Kenzie snapped the door open and walked, determined, to the elevator.

-------

Annette was standing in the foyer when Kenzie arrived downstairs, her expression strained and softly troubled, the usual anger in her eyes towards Kenzie missing. She was nervously fidgeting with something in her hands--a squarish, flat velvet box.

As Kenzie’s eyes drifted over Duncan’s mother, she was struck by the other woman yet again: Annette’s coppery-dark hair was pulled back in an elegantly distressed bun, a few strands arranged artfully around her slender cheekbones, her naturally beautiful face made more exquisite with soft makeup tones, a roseate sheen on her cheeks and mouth, a pale olive around her eyes, reminding Kenzie of the blossoms and vines of some pink flower in bloom, of a cheek pressed against a garden wall. Annette’s dress was flowing saffron-colored satin, falling to the ground and shrouding her feet, long sleeves to her wrists (she was wearing one ring, a gold band on her left index finger with a round, yellow-colored topaz stone), a deep V exposing the dip between her small breasts, a string of tiny, perfectly-shaped (and likely priceless) iridescent pearls around her slender throat. As Kenzie stepped closer she could see there were small golden flowers falling throughout the dress, like bursts of pollen reflected in a sunrise. Annette turned her head down for a moment, her eyes closing, and Kenzie noticed there were pearls stranded through her hair as well. She is so beautiful. This woman who adopted Duncan so many years ago. Where did she find him? Who did she claim him from? Who is this woman really, this woman who has kept the truth of him from him for his entire life? I can see her loveliness that has been hidden beneath her shadow, like I could see his right away. It took longer to see hers. But I’ve begun to see it. But her shadow is strong. It’s consumed her for many years.

Anchaly had, somehow, blessedly, vacated the front desk, and Jerry was standing outside the glass doors in the balmy summer night, smoking a cigarette, staring down at his phone. There was no one else in the foyer, and no sound except soft classical music pumping from the speakers, the gold-embossed chairs and couch, lush persian rugs and expensive potted plants their only company.

“Annette,” Kenzie said, reaching her, remaining a few steps away. Annette was looking at her with a pained expression now--an expression Kenzie had never seen. Now that she was closer, she could see there were lines under Annette’s eyes, of tiredness and distress. I don’t think she slept at all last night, Kenzie realized. Because of Duncan. Because she knows how devastated he is.

“Oh, Mackenzie.” Kenzie’s nerves shattered as she saw the tears in Annette’s eyes, saw the girl within Duncan’s mother again, and was moved by her. “You...you are so lovely. I--I’m--”

Annette trailed off, raising the box in her hands out to Kenzie. She seemed to steel something within herself for a moment, force her tears back, force them back into the secret place where Annette Shepherd had been storing pain for decades, and her eyes fluttered closed again, then opened to Kenzie’s--Kenzie felt for a moment that she could almost see her own eyes reflected there, see the green and russet and the gold of herself, see how Annette could see her in this moment. Like an effigy of the Holy Mother, Annette was thinking, and it shook Kenzie to the core of her body to know that. But before she was a mother--when she was young and wild, and free, and the most beloved of all in the eyes of God. There is no wonder that he loves her. My Duncan. My darling boy. I’m sorry.

“I found this a few days ago while I was going through some of the remainders of Adelaide’s--my mother’s--possessions,” and Annette now used the voice of her outward self again, even, carefully measured. “I knew when I saw it that it was meant to be yours. I’d be--I’d--if you would accept it, Mackenzie...I’d be grateful.” Annette closed her mouth, as if by the action she could close off the tide of her emotions rising again with it. Kenzie stepped closer, watching Annette’s eyes rove up and down the exquisite gold of her dress, into her eyes, skirting away. She reached her hands out and Duncan’s mother (for she is Duncan’s mother after all--she loves him with her life, and she didn’t tell him because she couldn’t bear the thought that he isn’t hers, because she loves him as strongly as if he is--her love is true and blinding for him) lowered the box carefully into them, and their hands touched, and Kenzie looked up at her again, then opened it.

Within was a circlet band of braided gold, its strands leading down to a matte red ruby surrounded by an oval of almost two dozen tiny, perfect diamonds. On either side of the oval were three gold leaves, each set with two diamonds each. I can’t imagine how much this is worth, Kenzie thought, her breath trapped in her lungs. This must be priceless.

“I--I can’t--” Kenzie struggled to speak. How can I accept this?

“Please, Mackenzie. I’ve been--I know I’ve been--” Annette seemed to be losing the strands of her composure, her hands fidgeting in front of her, clutching at the pearls around her neck. “I know I’ve been terrible to you. I have no right to ask you for anything. But please, Duncan--Duncan won’t speak to me, and I--”

Be the golden goddess Duncan sees in you, Kenzie. Be fearless and kind.

“He needs time.”

Kenzie evened her gaze on Annette; lowered the necklace in its velvet box in her hands, but brought it closer to her body, accepting. She lifted her chin.

“He’s very hurt. Keeping the truth from him for so long--it’s wounded him deeply. And I don’t know how long he’s going to need. But I know he needs time.” Kenzie watched Annette’s face, the subtle shift of the pain there. “After tonight, we’re going away for awhile--maybe a few days, maybe a week. And when we get back, I think he’ll be ready to talk to you. But until then, I don’t think he wants to. I don’t think he can. Annette, I will accept this from you...if you can accept that.”

Annette’s lip trembled, almost imperceptibly, and she seemed on the edge of tears again. She dipped her head, eyes closing again, the lengthening afternoon light spilling across her face--despite everything, Kenzie thought, I love her still.

“Please tell him I’m--how sorry I am. And that I love him. More than anything. More than my own life. And I--I love you also, Mackenzie. I do. I’m sorry to you, too.”

Annette reached out one shaking hand, pressing it gently to the side of Kenzie’s arm, her other hand coming up to hover near Kenzie’s cheek--but that hand continue to hover rather than touch, as if afraid. Then Annette turned without another word, and left the foyer. Jerry held the door out for her, and Kenzie could see a Mercedes parked on the curb, the tall, imposing form of Becket coming out to open the door of the car for her, and Annette slipped inside, and the car drove away.

I guess it’s a good thing Georgio didn’t do my makeup yet, Kenzie thought. Tears, hot and aching and bitter, coursed down her cheeks as she stepped toward the elevator, and they continued to fall all the way back up to the penthouse, the velvet box clutched in her trembling fingers.

------

She immediately saw the pall that fell over Duncan’s face as she came back into the penthouse--strains of Beethoven played quietly now, Duncan’s cheerful mood clearly affected by Annette’s arrival. He knew she’d been crying. He was sitting in the styling chair again, Hannah pressing product through his waves of dark-copper hair, and he launched himself from her fingers as Kenzie closed the door with one hand, the box clutched in the other, running up to her, clutching her against him. Kenzie closed her eyes, immediately soothed in the enveloping weight of his embrace--there’s nothing else on earth as wonderful as this, baby, as wonderful as being held by you. This is the only thing.

“Baby, what happened? What did she do?” Duncan pulled her away, turning her chin up to him, his hand drifting back to cradle around her ear, his eyes full of clouded anger at Annette’s perceived ills.

“She just--she’s sorry. She loves you. She wants to talk to you. I told her we’re going away for a few days. I told her you’re not ready to talk to her yet but--but maybe you will be when we get back. And she gave me this.” Kenzie felt more tears fall down her cheeks as she lifted the box up to him. Duncan took it with fingers that were shaking again--his eyes roved over the necklace with recognition as he opened the box.

“This was Adelaide’s, wasn’t it,” he whispered. “I remember it. I would touch it when she pulled me into her lap when I was little. I wanted to eat the ruby, you know--how you want to eat everything when you’re little--” and Kenzie knew the steady stream of words was to keep himself from crying, from becoming overwhelmed.

“Shhhh, baby,” she soothed. “Will you help me put it on?”

Duncan quieted and nodded to her, his eyes glittering (like sapphire). He lifted the necklace from the velvet box, setting the latter aside on the island, and Kenzie turned, lifting her chin so he could clasp it around her neck--his fingers were warm, almost hot, and her eyes fluttered open and closed at the feeling of them brushing against her (your touch is heaven to me, heaven) and then he gripped at her shoulders, his mouth coming down to kiss her ear, turning her easily, her weight nothing in his arms, and his gaze fell over her neck and his lips drifted open, his eyes opening and closing (nebulas), and Kenzie could see a kind of peace fall over him, as if she and Adelaide were somehow able to meet now, after all.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, and she nodded, her chin turned up to him. “Adelaide would have loved for you to have it.”

Kenzie felt desperate to be close to him, desperate for him to hold her, suddenly, in a dark place where no eyes could reach them, where they could be naked and taste each other with abandon, with only the moon to see. My One. I want to comfort you in the privacy of our room so very much. She pulled his face down to hers carefully, pressing her forehead to his, and pushed golden waves down into him, pushed with all her strength, all her love, all her longing, and she felt his body relax against hers, like a sigh, though he was silent. She closed her eyes, knowing his were closed too, knowing they could see each other without needing to look--she could see the blue waves of him melting behind the darkness of her lids, could see the iridescent gold she had given him. All good things come in time. We just have to get through tonight. Then we’ll be able to comfort each other, my love. Comfort each other for days. He nodded against her skin, and Kenzie knew he heard.

They broke apart, and she looked over to Hannah, Erik and Georgio, watching her and Duncan with mouths agape again, not speaking to each other. She made eye contact with Erik, who drank off the rest of the wine in his glass, giving her a good-natured eyeroll.

“You two make me wanna get drunk,” he said, waving a hand toward them. “I’m raging with jealousy and arousal.” Kenzie noticed someone had put her roses in another of Duncan’s gold vases in the center of the kitchen island, and she looked at them gratefully.

“Mackenzie, come sit, we have a lot to do still,” Hannah said, tapping the styling chair, and Kenzie glanced back at Duncan (baby, come sit with me, please?) and he nodded to her, going back to the kitchen island and pouring himself another glass of wine as Kenzie sat before Hannah and Georgio, who both attacked her with new gusto--Hannah began to rapidly pin the rosebuds through the back of her hair, while Georgio began to rub different substances into her face with cool hands, his eyes intent on her, making her immediately shy.

“Where did you two meet, anyway?” Hannah asked, using a slender, long pair of blunt tweezers to pull the buds into the braids and strands she’d created at the back of Kenzie’s head.

Kenzie was quiet for a moment, glancing at Duncan who was bringing another glass of wine around to her, nestling it gently into her hand.

“It was a Republican party for PAC donors.”

He gave Kenzie a mischievous smirk, then settled into the chair beside her, but not before dragging it closer to her, veering around Georgio and Hannah with abandon, dipping his long legs under her gold platform heels and propping her feet up under him, his hand coming around to her knee. Kenzie knew he was craving her touch desperately--she could feel the need coming off him toward her, the ache in him for the comfort only her touch brought him (only you, his thoughts were whirling in circles, just you, your hands, your skin, you, I need you and they’ll have to deal with it) and she wanted to press her hand against his throat and taste him with her eager mouth, straddle him and tease him until he was begging for her, and she pressed her hand down onto his, sending the tendrils of these thoughts to him as he spoke again to Hannah, glancing at her with burning eyes.

“She was undercover, recording tidbits of juicy conversation for her article--of course, I didn’t know that until later. Not that I think it would have mattered to me. I was wishing I was literally anywhere else, out on the balcony, hiding from everyone, and she appeared. I thought I’d been knocked into a dream. She was wearing this tiny black velvet dress and these golden sandals that tied up her ankle, and had this necklace, and her hair--”

“Ugh, Duncan, stop--”

“Duncan, do not stop,” Hannah grinned at her, soothing her hands against Kenzie’s temples to hold her head still as Kenzie jerked it towards Duncan, then resumed rapidly dipping the tweezers through the back of her hair. Kenzie could see her face through the mirror, how Georgio was applying dark russet liner to her brows, and a heavy black eyeliner to her upper lids, giving her gaze a high drama.

“Hannah, I would have done literally anything to get her to go home with me. I mean--fucking anything.”

“And all you had to do was buy me a drink. I’m a cheap date,” Kenzie smiled up at Hannah, who laughed a little.

“I can imagine it didn’t take much convincing for either of you,” she said, stepping back from Kenzie’s hair to examine her handiwork. “You’re both--well. At the risk of embarrassing myself by using an antiquated standard, separately, you’re both 10s. Together? Fuck. The scale is fucking broken. Most people would claw each other’s eyes out if it meant they got to stand in your orbit, and I’m not one for flattery. Miss Mackenzie Stone, I do believe you’re ready for the Gala.”

Georgio had stepped back at well, in his silent, appraising way, a round brush still in his hand from applying light, rosy matte blush to Kenzie’s cheeks. He’d made her lips dark red, not quite as burgundy as the roses in her hair, but a deep claret that made her mouth look like a ripe fruit. Kenzie couldn’t stop herself; her breath caught as she gazed at herself, the dramatic angle the light threw on her face, the ruby and diamonds glittering right in the dip of her throat, the gold shimmer of her dress wrapped around her like a second skin.

“Turn around, baby, look,” Duncan urged her, his hand softly drifting against hers, Hannah bringing a little handheld mirror down into her hands to see the back of her hair, which was now a breathtaking array of dancing burgundy red buds, falling in a drifting, wild cascade from the artful arrangement Hannah had created.

“God, you really do look like a painting,” Hannah breathed and Erik was standing back in a pose of admiration, another glass of wine dangling at the end of one arm. He laughed in delight.

“Forget everyone else, darlings, I’ll be following you two around all night.”

Duncan groaned. “Please, no. I want her all to myself.” His hand was drifting up from her thigh to where she had turned towards the study to see her back in the mirror, his fingers falling against the buds, and his thoughts were dark red too, dark red with need for her, and Kenzie could feel the fall of them, almost see herself in his gaze for a moment, feel the pulse of his arousal, the memory in him of the feeling of her clit on his tongue, the ache in him to taste her again, his body shivering to remember the sensitive cavity between her legs, the tightness of her ass--Kenzie tried to swallow, tried to breathe, felt her heart pounding insanely at his touch and the intensity of his need against her in this moment, turning from the mirror to look into his burning gaze, and Hannah and Georgio seemed to somehow sense that their time together was ending; Georgio was gathering his makeup with clipped order, Hannah wrapping the curling iron up, tossing pins into the drawers. Erik was languidly pressing a finger to his phone, calling a private Uber.

“I want you so much,” Duncan had dipped his head to her, his mouth shivering against her ear, kissing down under it as he quieted, as if he deigned to think it rather than speak it aloud, as if he wanted to speak it, needed to, had to or he’d scream instead, and his hands were at her waist, feeling with insistent strength, damning the others, ignoring them. Kenzie’s skin tingled with flushed, radiant heat, her thoughts hazy, suddenly, the cool gold of the necklace pressing into her throat and making her cunt twinge, Duncan’s drifting hands making it twinge again, making her breath catch and burst out in a gasp. Make them go away, baby, she thought, and said aloud to Hannah and Georgio, turning away from him, “Thank you so much--both of you--I can’t say how wonderful--”

“Miss Mackenzie Stone, it was my honor,” Hannah said, her smile lit with warmth that shattered into Kenzie’s heart like an arrow. This woman has a beautiful soul. It gave her as much joy to do this for us as I have now to see the masterpiece she’s created for me. “Hoo boy. I think I’m a Duckenzie now too. Better sign up on that website. Did you two see that? Duckenzie Fans, or whatever it’s called?”

Duncan was laughing, nodding a little, dipping his chin down against the palm of his hand, crooked on his knee, his other hand still on Kenzie’s thigh. “Yeah. It’s something. We met the girls who run it, they can’t be out of high school yet. Kenzie was so lovely to them, it was all over the tabloids. She’s so lovely to people. Makes it easy for me to just stand there and say nothing.”

He was smiling at Kenzie again, his hand drifting, his fingers tightening on her, his thoughts clashing through her like the warm rain that had soaked them a few days ago--I wanna be alone with you now baby love, goddess from heaven, I wanna press that plug into you and whisper into your skin all the things I’m going to do to you later, I want you to force that ring onto me and fuck I’m already getting hard for you, my cock is already aching for you, angel--

Georgio was giving them a glittering look again, that wanton desire still blatant.

“If you two ever wanna think outside the box, I have this group I meet with sometimes in Prince William Forest,” he said evenly.

What the fuck does that mean, Kenzie balked. Like an orgy?

Yes, Kenz, that’s what he means. Duncan had half-rolled his eyes at Georgio’s statement, his thumb drifting soothingly over Kenzie’s knuckles.

“I don’t think so, Georgio, thank you.”

“Suit yourselves. You’d certainly be the center of attention.”

“No, thanks, Georgio.”

Erik was pressing a hand into Georgio’s black-clad back, smiling down at him serenely, batting his eyelashes, ushering the thin man towards the door. Hannah dipped down to Kenzie and hugged her around the neck, gently, careful not to muss the flowers in her hair.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” she whispered into Kenzie’s ear. “I hope to see you again sometime, Miss Stone.”

“Call me Kenzie, please?”

“Kenzie. It was an absolute delight. I can’t wait to see your photos literally everywhere tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Hannah,” Kenzie grasped the gray-haired woman’s hand and steadied her mind, whisking her psyche away from Duncan--and pressed gold tendrils down into Hannah, morsels of light, drifts of her good will. She watched a serene, doleful expression come into Hannah’s brown eyes, then she let go, and Hannah drifted away from her, still staring at her for a long moment. Erik was pushing Georgio out the door, and called out behind him, “I’ll see you in an hour or so, darlings, I can’t wait to meet the infamous Madeline Stone!” Hannah hesitated for the span of a few seconds, she and Kenzie still staring at each other across the room, pulling her portable drawers behind her on the little wheels attached to the bottom.

Hannah, bright blessings to you. Today, and for the days to come, for you.

Kenzie watched the other woman’s face, watched what seemed to be the glitter of a tear on her cheek--then Hannah waved a little to both of them, and pulled the big black door to the penthouse shut as she left.

Suddenly, the penthouse was quiet, and it was only the two of them. The light had begun to fade--it was almost 7 now, and night was beginning to fall. Kenzie glanced over at the Bouguereau prints on the wall, feeling Duncan’s eyes on her, feeling the blue of his thoughts kissing against her mind. The evening mood, she thought, and turned to him again.

Yes, my Kenzie. The evening mood is here. Come to the bedroom with me. He was standing, gently twining his fingers into hers, grasping onto her train and bringing it over his arm with supine grace, the melted gold of his jacket glowing in the twilight that had suddenly surrounded them. The energy inside her was humming now, building to a kind of frenzied rhythm, and Kenzie could see the full moon beginning to rise as they passed the picture window, see its corn-yellow face from last night had not faded, rather sharpened into a bewitching visage, like a sleeping maiden in a field of night-lit grasses.

“I feel like a princess,” she whispered to him as they entered the bedroom, and Duncan was closing the door behind them, closing it to the world--and then he was pressing against her, pressing her into their Mirror with an aching softness that made her mind leap into a static of feeling, thoughts bleeding out into nothing but his mouth on hers, nothing but his hands on the gold braid at her neck, then his fingers along her collarbones, then clutching at her shoulders, the smooth gold cups at her breasts.

“You are a princess,” he was whispering between their kisses, and Kenzie fought to breathe, “you’re my fucking Princess, you’re my fucking Goddess, you’re mine, aren’t you, my angel on earth, you’ll give yourself to me, baby, won’t you--”

“Fuck, yes, you know I will, baby,” she moaned into him, the tips of his hot fingers refusing to press more harshly into her, his blue gaze heavy-lidded, looking down on her from the dark shadow around them now, waiting teasingly for her answer. “Fuck, get my plug for me, please, baby--”

“Shhh, Kenzie, go get your coconut oil, okay?”

“Uh huh,” she murmured, and turned away from him, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up, flush with goosebumps. Kenzie pressed a hand between her breasts as she stepped carefully to the bathroom, serenely quiet and spotlessly clean, feeling her heart racing--she could see her jar of coconut oil on the edge of the sink, and took it with trembling hands. She tried to imagine telling Kenzie from a year ago about this night--you’ll be going to a Gala attended by the richest people in DC, and you’ll look like an angel, and your boyfriend is Duncan Shepherd, and he’s going to push your plug into your ass beforehand and you’re going to make him wear a cock ring and you’re going to edge each other to death all night and then, hopefully, you’re going to fuck each other into tomorrow morning, Kenzie, and you can hear each other’s thoughts, see the depth of his love for you like the swirling center of a fire--

Kenzie swallowed, stared at herself in the darkened mirror of the bathroom for a moment, almost not recognizing herself for a moment--I really do look like a goddess, she thought. I really fucking do. Be that fearless goddess tonight, Kenzie Lou. Just pretend she is you. For tonight, you are her. You’re a goddess.

Kenzie brought the oil out in hands she willed not to shake, and Duncan was standing by the Mirror, looking at himself curiously, appraisingly, the ring clutched in one hand, her plug in the other. He turned to her, and his smile melted her heart into sweet butter.

“Me first,” she whispered. “I want you to do me first, baby.”

Duncan’s eyes darkened (your storm, my sweet god of shadows) and beckoned to her with one elegantly crooked finger.

“Come here, angel.” Whatever Hannah had done to his hair, she’d made it so his beautiful curls were now even more striking than usual, the fall of them seeming impossible to her eyes in this light, their loveliness ethereal, and she saw him as inhuman again for a moment as she fell into his arms--saw him as as a god made of stars and ink-dark sky. You are the god to my goddess tonight, aren’t you, and their mouths came together in another aching kiss, his tongue brushing down into her, and then he was turning her to face the Mirror, turning her so his stomach pressed insistently into her back. He pressed the cock ring into her fingers, taking the oil away, and she gripped its smooth silicone surface, her heart bursting. Give me all your need, baby, make me feel it, remind me that I belong to you. He opened the oil, dipping his fingers into it, eyes focused on her--Kenzie could see her mouth hung open, her breath coming out in ragged bursts, her face glowing with the lovely makeup--I am going to be so gentle with you, baby, but you won’t get to come yet and no one will know your ache for me, no one will know your secret tonight but me, his eyes said, and then he was dipping the plug into it too, and Kenzie’s cunt and ass twinged sharply, and she sucked her breath in, unable to stop the whimper of the moan that fell out of her. But you’ll be thinking of it all night, as I’ll be thinking of my ache for you.

“Please,” she said, and pressed her hands against the Mirror, leaning just a little, ever so little, to give herself to him. Duncan leaned to set the oil on the dark wood--then, he carefully pressed the hem of Kenzie’s golden dress up with a twisting motion, so it fell up and over her hips, exposing the black lace of the panties she wore underneath the opulent gown. Kenzie could feel the damp, cool pressure of his finger tips at the line of her panties now, and with another quick motion Duncan pulled them down so they hovered around her thighs above her knees--he leaned down over her so his face came up beside her ear, and Kenzie cried out to him as she felt his fingers dip into her ass, first his index, then his middle finger beside it, stretching her.

“Kenzie, babydoll,” he whispered into her ear, and Kenzie leaned back, her mind needy, into his fingers, longing for him to press against her clit, knowing with anguished disappointment that he wouldn’t, not yet, not now. “My sweet baby, my angel of roses. Mine. You can’t take this out until I say you can. Promise me you won’t.”

Kenzie felt his fingers leave her and she was desperate for the loss--”Unng, baby, please, I won’t, I promise I won’t--” she whined, biting into her lip, unafraid in this moment with him, unafraid to show him the desperation of her want for him. “Please put it inside me.”

She sighed with relief as his hand came around her throat, gripping so his fingers pressed possessive divots into her skin, then a long, keening cry melted out of her and his fingers tightened at her neck as she felt the plug’s bulbous head, slick with oil, rest for a long, terrible second against the pucker of her ass, then slide with aching pressure and his strong insistence inside her, guided by his pliant fingers. His hand lingered, fingers pressing around the dip of her ass below where the plug was now snugly tethered, as if to ensure that it was tightly in place, and Kenzie was gasping, gasping at the terrible twinging need of her cunt, the throbbing of her clit, aching to be touched by him there, aching for him alone to give her release, her hands still pressed into the Mirror, his dark-shadowed eyes piercing her with their expectant lust. O Hades, my Hades, kiss me, then let me cage you, and in your cage, think only of me, your Queen of Roses, caged for you by your hand.

“My turn, baby,” he whispered, and crouched down to pull her panties back up snugly to her waist, his fingers drifting over her hips, cupping her ass cheeks, then carefully pulling her golden gown back over her legs, using the hand that hadn’t probed into her--he’s so careful, Kenzie thought, I know how much you want me in this moment, and yet still you’re so careful, so neat, afraid to ruin my gown, my Prince. As Kenzie shifted she could feel the twinge of the plug’s weight against the sensitive cavity of her ass, and she felt her knees buckle for a moment, her thighs tingling, her neck longing for the press of his hand again. Want it there always, my Prince, my sweet Hades, your scent like the wild wood of night. She pulled him down to her mouth, laving her tongue out into him, and Duncan moaned with piteous need, and Kenzie felt the long tendriled gold of her need reach out for him in turn, demanding.

“Put your hands at your sides, baby. You’re not allowed to move them.”

Duncan immediately did as she said, his eyes smoldering in the darkening bedroom, his mouth open to her, his thoughts afire with her. God, baby, I am fucking dying for you, you’re so fucking beautiful, not touching you is like torture, I’m yours, I beg you, please, touch me, baby.

You are truly the most beautiful boy I have ever seen, Kenzie thought. And you are fucking mine. You’re mine, baby. Your beautiful cock belongs to me.

“I know this is going to make you ache terribly tonight,” Kenzie said, evening her tone just above a whisper. “But you have to be good. You can’t touch yourself, you can’t take it off.” She knelt very slowly in the opulent gown, her back to the Mirror now, dipping her head so he could see the way she was prostrate for him, her head looking up at him, the cascade of her rosebud-brindled hair arrayed for him in its loveliness. Duncan closed his eyes, and she felt how overcome he was, how lost in the sight of her, and it thrilled her--that’s fucking right, Prince Duncan, your Persephone kneels before you now, and you will promise her you will allay your pleasure until she has need of it, and Kenzie could see the dip of his crotch had grown in the low light--she lifted her hands up and undid the button at his groin carefully, unzipping his pants, pulling down the waistband of his body-tight briefs to bring one of her slender hands against the bottom of the shaft of his growing cock, pulling it out decisively, and Duncan’s breath hitched, his head falling back, his adam’s apple bobbing in the light, making Kenzie want to pull him down to her so she could press her mouth against him there. She focused, instead, on his thick length, the veins of his sex suddenly beautiful to her, the head of his cock a roundness that she longed to dip into her mouth, a sliding droplet of precum glittering there. Instead, Kenzie lifted her hand away--Duncan moaned, dejected with the loss of her, and she could see his hands shaking at his sides--then she picked up the ring from where she��d carefully laid it by her knee, dipping her fingertips into the oil, slathering them along the circular interior of the toy.

Then, Kenzie dipped one of her hands into the oil again, and quickly brought it up, before Duncan could prepare himself, to the low hardness of his cock--she slathered the oil along him from head to base and Kenzie watched with satisfaction, feeling the plug pressing into her from her spread thighs where she knelt to him, as his mouth dipped open again and his shoulders shuddered minutely at her touch. Kenzie didn’t wait again--she gripped the ring and carefully, but with deep, concentrated insistence, pushed it onto his cock to the base, watching with a burst of intense heat into the bottom of her belly how it twinged with redness, immediately constricted.

“Ung, Kenzie, fuck me, holy fuck,” Duncan murmured, his hands drifting dangerously close to the ring, to his length, his eyes furiously bright, and Kenzie shook her head.

“No, baby. You can’t. Only I can take it off.”

“Fuck, baby, angel, I can’t--”

Kenzie stood, grasping his cock again, making him shudder and cry out, his throat convulsing, and she pushed him back down into the tight briefs he wore, zipping the closely tailored slacks and buttoning them, her fingers hooking over the waistline, my tall Prince, her face hovering at his heart, her dark red lips falling against the melting gold and velvet of his jacket to kiss it. The heat that fell away from him over her was blinding--he seemed to be burning, the blue flame of him almost visible to her naked eyes.

“You can, Dunny. It’s for me. My plug is so tight, baby, when I sit down it’s going to make me fucking writhe for you--” and Duncan went to grasp her but Kenzie said “wash your hands first, baby,” and he stepped back, nodding, turning as Kenzie followed him to the bathroom--she dipped her hands into the sink with his, the soap mingling between them, the Cartier bracelets falling down their wrists and clinking together, Duncan’s face leaning close to her hair, and Kenzie knew he was breathing her scent in. She reached for the hand towel and dipped her hands into it, then Duncan’s hands were pulling it insistently away, gripping her hips and pushing her into the wall, knowing it was okay, knowing he had her permission to hold her, now that both of them were carefully, insistently claimed by the other, both driven to the edge of their desire and now, with terrible need, held there for an undetermined amount of time, and knowing that to touch each other for a moment, a few moments, would be the only relief for hours. His lips fell against hers, her arms dipping up to reach for him, but he grasped her wrists and forced them against the wall, holding her there.

“I’m in fucking agony, baby,” he murmured, and Kenzie shivered, delighted by the strength coiled in his fingers, the strain in his voice. She struggled a little, facetiously, against his grip, and he tightened it as she giggled.

“Good,” she whispered, and she felt the burst of heat fall onto her from him at that. Duncan bit his lip, his eyes falling down her face to the tailored shape of the dress against her breasts, the dip of her throat with the gold braid, diamonds, and the ruby, the diamonds on her wrist she couldn’t take off unless he unlocked it.

“I wanna fucking fuck you, Kenzie.”

“You will, baby. Later. We have a Gala to go to.”

“I don’t fucking care about the Gala.”

“I know. But we have to.”

Duncan whined into her neck, and Kenzie turned her head, the better to feel his lips on her there, turning her head up, lifting her thigh up so it pressed into his crotch, and Duncan groaned, the sound bleeding into a strangled, tiny sob in the back of his throat. His grip loosened on her wrists, enough for her to release one of them, and Kenzie slipped out of his grasp, bringing her hand around to press into his darkly stubbled cheek, smooth with the dusting of concealer Georgio had put there. Not that he needs it. His skin is already so smooth and beautiful.

Kenzie tapped his cheek with an insistent little snap. “Bad boy is gonna fuck me so good later, aren’t you. My Prince is gonna fucking fuck my brains out.”

“Uh huh. I fucking am. I wanna do it right fucking now--”

She brought her hand up and let it come down again, this time with a more insistent little tap into his cheekbone. Duncan’s breath hitched.

“Kenzie, do it again. Harder. Tell me to calm the fuck down. I’m too hard and I can’t think straight. Fuck, baby, please. Slap me.”

Kenzie nodded and brought her hand up, Duncan still clutching her other wrist to the wall--she made sure her palm was very flat this time, and brought it down with a swift snap. This time Duncan’s face pitched to the side and his eyes fluttered closed with the low pain of it, and he stepped back from her, releasing her other wrist. Kenzie brought her hands around him, steadying him at the waist, and he blew out a low breath, eyes earthwards.

“Let’s go to this fucking party, baby,” Kenzie whispered. “I wanna show them how fucking beautiful we are.”

Duncan lifted his eyes, and the wildfire in them stopped her heart again.

“I’m ready, my Queen of Roses.” And Kenzie grinned, bouncing up against him in her platform heels, shaking out her rose-laden hair, leading her dark prince out of their rooms, his hand gripping her train possessively. Kenzie snatched up the little golden clutch Morgan had made for her, and pulled him, between insistent, coaxing kisses, out of the penthouse and into the elevator. Kenzie was absolutely struck by their reflection now, highlighted by brighter lights of the elevator’s interior--Duncan was pulling his phone out of his pocket. We have to, he thought, and Kenzie nodded. Time to show everyone.

Kenzie pressed against him, clutching her hand to his lapels under her chin, turning her head so the roses in her hair were visible in the mirror, her dress pressed to the side, partially enveloped and hidden by Duncan’s dark arm around her waist, but the back of the golden train shimmering in the light. Duncan’s darkly-shadowed eyes glanced into the reflection, his expression defiant and knowing, the dripping gold of his jacket striking, the golden, intricate tips at his collar scintillating under his sharp jawline, the fall of his hair just-so. He lifted his phone, capturing the reflection, bringing it down for her appraisal. Kenzie nodded, looking up at him. Yes, baby. Good. So fucking good.

She watched as he typed a caption. Hades and Persephone ascend to Earth for a party. #weheardyoulikeus #andifyoudontohwell #duckenziesayshiworld

Kenzie giggled and nodded. “Fuck yes, baby.” He continued to hold her against him as he posted the photo, his hand drifting against her shoulder as he bit his lip, squinting at his phone in concentration in the bright light. I love him. I love how earnest he is in our quiet moments together like this.

“Baby, send it to me okay? I want it.”

Duncan nodded into her cheek as the elevator door dinged open to the foyer, and Kenzie could feel the vague pressure of the silicone ring pressing into her hip from where he leaned his crotch against her. His hand drifted down, quickly brushing over her ass, down to the curve above her thighs, where he knew the plug was--Kenzie let out a little cry and slid away from him, hot lines of want coursing down through her belly at his touch, trying to straighten her expression when she saw Anchaly had returned to his desk. Duncan followed behind her, eyes burning on her, his hand still possessively grasping her train in his fist.

“I see you’ve come down to bless the mortals, Mr. Shepherd, Miss Stone,” Anchaly grinned. He had a new book, The New Adam and Eve, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Whatever strain he’d felt over Annette’s visit was now gone from his face, and his eyes were glittering at them again, his posture immediately leaning towards them, as if drawn by a lure. “I’m stunned, Miss Mackenzie, your hair, like the garden of Eden.”

Kenzie twirled for him, smiling at him coyly. Anchaly laughed, delighted, gazing raptly. The way people look at us now, she thought to Duncan. It’s a little bit spooky.

I agree, but who wouldn’t look at you that way, angel.

“Have a wonderful evening. I have no doubt you will, how could you not? As blessed as you are.”

Kenzie watched Duncan’s eyes turn on Anchaly, his dawning expression of recognition.

“Anchaly, we truly are blessed. I’m blessed. I’m grateful. To whatever’s out there. The Fates or...destiny. God. The gods. I’m grateful.” Duncan’s hand went to his hair, slid down his chin, rubbing there, thumb drifting to his lip. Kenzie stepped to him and grasped his hand, felt the immediate cooling contentment of his mind at her touch. Anchaly said nothing, merely continued to look at them admiringly.

“I’m sure your gratitude has not gone unnoticed, Mr. Shepherd. It’s apparent in you now. The change in you is breathtaking. You will do great work together. I can see it like a clear path stretching out ahead. Enjoy yourselves and be happy.”

Kenzie smiled. The smile seemed to extend through all of her body, down to her toes, through the tips of her fingers, into the skin of her cheeks and coursing through the back of her mind and her neck to her spine, shaking through the ends of her hair. She pushed the gold tendrils through herself; I’m so happy I could fucking die, she thought, and she felt the tendrils extend out of her in that moment, stronger than they’d ever been before except in the dream where she’d made the fire grow, and she felt them touch Duncan with deep, abiding strength, and brush against Anchaly with affection, and they both looked at her with expressions that reminded her of effigies in a church, faces turned with fervent eyes--and Duncan’s filled her with conciliation, with the knowledge that with his eyes on her this way, she was truly seen, that he saw beyond the flowers in her hair, the blush on her cheeks, the darkness at her lips, to the secret soul she had long hidden, the one that belonged to him because he had promised to love it with abandon.

Duncan seemed to surface from the vision she had pressed around them; he turned to Anchaly and thanked him, and then he pulled Kenzie out the door (Jerry said nothing, merely beamed at them and stared, his eyes wide) to where Samuel waited, and a sweet summer wind was blowing, cool and soft, and it smelled like long grass and the sun-kissed residue of day, it smelled like the full moon that hovered above them, a scent like small flowers in shadows and the heady musk of damp earth and, wildly, the aching crash of the sea, Kenzie’s eyes glancing to its perfect roundness--it seemed impossibly huge tonight, the sun kissing Her, pressed into an ardent embrace; it’s for us, she thought wildly, stopping Duncan breathlessly, bringing him against her under it, his arms lifting her into his mouth achingly, his tall body so right as it enveloped hers utterly, Kenzie, I’ll love you until the end of time, he was thinking, I’ll love you until time means nothing, and it was as if she could feel the moonlight holding them, feel it pressing soft, cool hands into their hair, smiling on them with serene affection, hoping for their love to find its secret holding place later tonight, urging them to the time when they’d be alone again, tangled in the sheets of the black bed, irrevocably entwined, like Her, held by the Sun, now a part of Her, the source of her light, and Her his most beloved. Duncan, I love you so much the words in my heart have not yet been written in any language. The gold of me is all for you. And the moon saw them, and knew it to be true.

---------

It was five before 8 when Madeline slid carefully into the front seat beside Samuel, who was playing Billie Holiday (I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you) quietly. Momby was wearing one of her gold scarves draped over her shoulders with a brocade Calvin Klein dress, as promised, and she had a lovely rose-gold pin clasping the scarf against her--it was in the shape of a rose, and Kenzie puzzled at it.

“Oh Kenzie Lou, you look beautiful,” her Momby breathed, and Kenzie was reaching her hand through the partition, her emotions bubbling up, threatening to overflow. Her mother’s hand was warm and comforting, deeply familiar. “You too, Duncan. I mean, really. Fucking beautiful.”

Duncan was smiling at her through the window. “Thank you, Madeline. So do you.”

“Momby, where did you get that pin? I’ve never seen it before.”

“I had other admirers besides your father when I was young, baby,” was all Madeline said, turning to glance at Samuel. “Why hello, most delightful specimen on God’s green earth.”

Samuel laughed at her, his very white teeth shining out of his mouth in the shadows and dim neon lights of the car’s interior. “Miss Madeline, to see you again is truly a blessing to me. And may I say, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Go on, go on,” Madeline took her hand out of Kenzie’s and pressed it to Samuel’s arm. Kenzie balked. Momby. Kenzie pulled her phone out, sending Clairebear a quick text, remembering.

Good luck on your date with Harris tonight!!!! I love you so much. We couldn’t help it, we jumped the gun and posted a picture on Instagram, but here it is again. She attached the photo Duncan had taken of them in the elevator to the text, hit Send, then typed again.

Clairebear, thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know who I would be without you. I’m so emotional tonight, it’s like my body is on fire. Duncan and I are going away for a few days after this, his family has a cabin by Deep Creek Lake, it’s a few hours away. He found out he’s adopted and no one ever told him until now, so it’s been really difficult for him. I don’t know how the phone service is out there, and I’ll still have my phone, but I think we’re going to try to go off the grid a little bit.

She hit Send, then typed again, Duncan’s hand drifting to her leg. “I’m texting Claire,” she murmured to him, and he nodded, his eyes closed, his mouth in her hair, blue waves tenderly brushing against her body.

Duncan and I have been having some really strange experiences with each other lately. It’s hard to describe. Strange dreams and other things that should just be impossible. I’ll tell you more about it when we get back. I think we need to figure out what it means and I feel really strongly that if we go off to the woods we’ll find the thing we’re looking for. Not sure why, but that’s what it feels like. When we get back, I think we’ll know more about all of it.

Claire, I love you forever.

They were already pulling up to the Shepherd mansion’s gate, and the moment, the reality of the Gala, which had seemed so far away, had finally arrived. Kenzie slipped her phone back into her clutch, turning to gaze out the window--around the gate were at least two hundred people, some non-credentialed press, some clearly fans. Kenzie noticed with a jolt of recognition that Lindy and Gabby were among them--Gabby was holding a sign that said DUCKENZIE WE LOVE YOU STOP AND BE FRIENDLY, her curly red hair shimmering in the street lamps that lined the tall, impenetrable white fence that stretched around the property. Kenzie grinned--referencing one of my favorite movies is a good way to get my attention, she thought, and leaned to Samuel.

“Samuel, stop here for a minute,” and Duncan balked, trying to grab her hand.

“No, Kenzie, Harris isn’t here--”

“It’s okay, baby, I promise. It’s okay.” She looked steadily into his eyes. I can do this. Watch me.

Kenzie pressed the door open and stepped out onto the curb, and immediately a swarm of press gathered around her--Duncan was getting out of the car behind her, his expression deeply creased with concern. Kenzie took a deep breath and pushed outward--for a moment her body tingled wildly, her mind compressing and her head feeling impossibly heavy, pushing her chin down--and then the air around her seemed to calm, the summer wind that had been blowing seemed to stop, and the frantic shouting of the press around her lowered as if someone had turned a dial on stereo, their pressing dispersing, like leaves scattering, caught in a tiny tornado that spread them back. There, that’s better, she thought, and reached for Duncan’s hand. His expression was stunned now, gazing at her in bewildered wonder, and Kenzie smiled at him earnestly. I told you, Dunny, it’s okay. Come on.

She stepped up to Gabby and Lindy, who hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual, somehow; they were hopping excitedly, squealing and reaching out to her.

“Kenzie, Kenzie, we made you something!” Lindy held out a large squarish object that turned out to be a handmade scrapbook full of fan messages--Kenzie held it gently and nodded. “You look like a goddess tonight,” Lindy said, then unceremoniously the small girl burst into tears.

“Oh, Lindy, it’s okay--don’t cry,” Kenzie was pulling the girl against her gently, and Gabby was biting her lip, clearly hovering near tears as well. “Thank you so much, Duncan and I looked at the website, it’s absolutely beautiful. You two definitely have a career in web design. Maybe we can hire you for Shepherd Unlimited someday.” Gabby rocked back on her heels (both girls were wearing long flowery dresses, and their earnest loveliness pressed on Kenzie’s heart), her eyes fluttering in disbelief. “Oh, Kenzie, really? Thank you so much for looking at it, we’ve been working so hard, so, so hard.” Kenzie let go of Lindy, opening her clutch and handing the girl a tissue from it.

“Girls, we have to go, but it was so nice to see you again,” Duncan murmured to them, taking the scrapbook from Kenzie’s hands, grasping her with tight fingers. Kenzie quickly leaned and kissed Lindy’s tear-stained cheek, then Gabby’s, blushing and hot, pushing gold tendrils into them, watching Lindy’s face calm and soften. There. No more tears, sweet. I see you. She gave them both a little wave as she stepped back, then turned to the other people gathered around them, gazing at Kenzie and her interactions with the two girls with awed expressions. Suddenly the night was strangely quiet; the moon looked down on the scene, and everyone stared at Kenzie, a hush falling over the hubbub of the crowd.

“Next time,” she said, nodding, turning to the press, and then Duncan pulled her insistently back into the car, Samuel whipping the BMW around to the open gate, where several security guards were keeping the fans and other press back, ushering cars through to the mansion entrance. Kenzie heard the sounds of the crowd resume as the car drove on; that was really strange.

“Kenzie, why in the world would you do that?” Madeline was scolding her, looking back at her with an exasperated expression. “Your bodyguard is off duty and Duncan went as white as a sheet. He still is, look.”

“It’s important to be to be kind to people, Momby,” was all Kenzie said. Duncan didn’t say anything, putting the scrapbook from the girls down at his feet, still holding her hand tightly. Kenzie could see that he was a little pale under the dark eyeshadow, but his thoughts were even now. I know why you did it, baby. I love how brave you are, even if I’m not. Even when you do--whatever it is you do. I’m still afraid for your safety, my sweet Kenzie.

I know, baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry if I scared you. I just feel like I--I really feel like I need to be kind to those girls. Like I WANT to be kind to them. They can see our love and they’re moved by it. I want them to know we see them, too, and how earnest they are. How lovely.

Samuel had made it to the entrance, which Kenzie could see was heralded tonight with huge banners running from the edge of the sidewalk to the entrance, the doors thrown wide tonight to expose the opulent foyer of Annette Shepherd’s mansion. Some of the banners had the Shepherd Unlimited logo (an SU in white Verdana script with cobalt blue fleur de lis on either side) and opulent, swirling gold text on a black background that read 4TH ANNUAL SHEPHERD FREEDOM FOUNDATION GALA: GOLD IN THE DARKNESS and in smaller script The Juxtaposition of Light and Shadow in the Pre-Raphaelite Movement. Between the script banners were picture banners printed stunningly with major Pre-Raphaelite works: Kenzie could make out Rossetti’s Venus Verticordia, Cowper’s Vanity, and Evelyn de Morgan’s The Field of the Slain, alongside others obscured from her seat. The glowing feeling she’d felt with Gabby and Lindy faded out into nervous excitement now, and she felt her throat clench, her hands going cold as blood rushed to her head. She shifted, feeling the press of the plug inside her, sending sharp pricks of intensity up her spine and through her thighs. Duncan clutched her hand more tightly, and she knew he was thinking about the clenching weight of the ring at his cock, could feel the intensity of his desire for her, like lightning bolts of needling sensation, infiltrating the corners of her mind. Hang in there, baby, and she turned to him, smiling nervously, his eyes intent on her as he bit his lip. We have a long way to go.

“Earth to Kenzie and Duncan,” Madeline called into the backseat, her voice impatient. “Your mother is fucking starving!”

Kenzie glanced out the window again--between the rows of banners on either side of the entranceway was a lush black carpet, stretching into the mansion and beyond her eyesight. There were at least a hundred people milling around on it now--the press was confined to the sidelines by gold ropes, photographers to a stretch around the middle of the walkway, a black backdrop visible with the Shepherd logo and various sponsor logos printed along it. Kenzie recognized several Senators and Congresspeople, as well as the Mayor and Vice President Usher, and also recognized several well-known celebrities with a little burst of shyness--get it together Kenz, you’re a celebrity now too, in your own right.

You’re the most important person here, she heard Duncan’s thought to her. I mean it, Kenz.You are. Don’t fucking worry about any of them. Tonight, this is for you. It’s about you. They’re going to see. Kenzie felt a rush of nerves, an aching affection for him, full of gratitude and desire and love, and she quickly dipped her mouth up to his and brought her hand to his hair, then she pulled away before he could deepen it--and pushed the door open, stepping out onto the carpet.

Kenzie’s eyes widened as the collective eyes of the press and photo pools drifted over to the BMW--as one, they seemed to shift all their energy and attention onto her and her alone, giving her the acute feeling of a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. Duncan was exiting behind her, and then a short-haired valet hurrying up to them, a flushed look on his face, pulling the front passenger’s open for Madeline, who gave him an appraising stare over her glasses as Kenzie felt the eyes of the guests now turning onto them as well--she locked eyes with Mark Usher for a moment, her blood going cold, and his expression was indecipherable to her, but Kenzie knew he knew who she was, which made her feel as though someone had usurped her body and put a mask on it. The Vice President can’t possibly know me, little ol’ Mackenzie Stone. How the fuck? Life makes no fucking sense anymore.

“Darlings, please, distract them from me,” Madeline turned her head to Duncan, who was holding his hand reassuringly at the small of Kenzie’s back as she stood stock-still, frozen and trapped in her thoughts. “I need to get to the refreshment table post-haste. Kiss or something.”

“You know I’m going to kiss her, Madeline,” Duncan smiled. “As often as possible and as long as she’ll let me.”

“That’s my boy.”

Madeline set out ahead of them before Kenzie could stop her, pausing to made a snide comment to a woman with platinum blonde hair and a monstrous dress that seemed to be made of the tinselly tassels of cheerleader pompoms in gold and white towards the front of the press area. The woman’s face pinched into a mask of dislike at Kenzie’s mother, and Kenzie fought the urge to laugh.

“Who’s that?” She whispered to Duncan, unable to look away from the horrible dress the woman wore. Kenzie felt acutely that she recognized her from somewhere, but couldn’t decipher where.

“It’s Gretchen Friedrichs,” Duncan answered in a dark tone. “She has a popular conservative web series called Patriot Watch. And she’s absolutely awful. I hope Madeline just told her to fuck off into a black hole. She’s going to try to talk to you. Ignore her.”

Duncan twined his fingers through Kenzie’s, his other hand coming down to her train to drape it over his arm, and he stepped forward, pulling her gently. Time to go, sweet Kenzie. You look as beautiful as a falling star. I know how brave you are. This is nothing for you. A piece of cake. They were nearing the press pool, the whole of which had turned their attention utterly on Kenzie and Duncan, making the hairs on Kenzie’s arms rise with the intensity of their stares. The energy was suddenly dense, suffocating, almost savage, and it made Kenzie want to turn and run back to the BMW--but the BMW wasn’t there anymore, Samuel had driven away. Too late, Kenz, you’re in it now. Kenzie glanced at Duncan, feeling her heart clench, feeling as though there was water in her ears, blocking her hearing, and she felt horribly dizzy for a moment. He’s so beautiful, all in gold and black, as beautiful as the evening, as divine as an angel with dark wings, Prince Duncan from high in his opulent tower, and who am I, but little Mackenzie Stone, tripping over her own feet, crying over every little thing, with her shitty little apartment and her shitty little tchotkes, her shitty little plants and her little goofy button face--

Kenzie. Remember when you had the nightmare? Breathe like that. Just breathe, baby. I love you more than anything on this earth. You know how extraordinary you are--but I’ll tell you again. You’ve felt it when our minds come together this way--you’ve felt it in our bed, how you’ve made me needy for you beyond all desire I’ve ever experienced, and you’ve felt it in the way you can bring comfort to others just by willing it into them. Mackenzie Stone. You are not a little of anything. You are a gold ocean of impossible depth. Now breathe. I love you. Show them. Duncan’s eyes were twin pools of sapphiric water--they knew her, and saw her, and accepted her utterly, worshipped her, and she knew it.

Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, and breathed out through her mouth. Then she went up to Gary Spencer and Sissy Conners, past Gretchen Friedrichs who shouted “Mackenzie, Mackenzie, does this mean you’re a Republican now?” and smiled at them--and when she smiled, rather than pressing the gold outward, Kenzie swirled it, stirred it, in the pit of her body, stirred it high into herself, and moved it through her mind. Mackenzie. You truly are that brave person Duncan believes you to be. Think of everything that’s happened. This is really nothing. You’re together. You are the sceptre, he is the sword. Eternal and unshaking.

The last of the thought came unbidden, a jarring, nonsensical certainty that she didn’t understand, and Kenzie blinked, moving it away from herself, refocusing on the high, heady boldness she could feel building in herself now. She shifted, resurfacing to reality, feeling the plug pressing into her again, pressing hot fingers into the sensitivity of her muscles and senses. Our secret, baby, here among all these people.

“Mackenzie, how are you feeling tonight?” Sissy was holding a microphone out to her, her smile too wide and too white, her dress a blinding, extremely tight bodycon in dark gold snakeskin. “You look absolutely exquisite, an absolute vision, I know you mentioned yesterday that Morgan Winthrop designed your look for tonight, but what’s the concept here, beyond the theme?”

“I’m the concept,” Kenzie was tilting her head down, batting her eyelashes slowly, giving her best Kenzie-wants-something-from-Momby look--one she’d perfected over a lifetime--aware the camera on Ricky’s shoulder behind them was zeroed on her. She glanced to the side--Duncan was saying something to Gretchen in a low voice, still clutching the end of Kenzie’s train, his expression dark. Gretchen looked like she’d swallowed something sour, and Kenzie looked back at the BPF reporters, a satisfied twinge floating through her mind. “Duncan was inspired by me. By our relationship. We both love mythology and we’re drawn to the myth of Hades and Persephone, so we kind of went with something along those lines, but--I feel wonderful, I can’t wait to see the set-up inside, I just love the banners already. I know everyone’s been working so hard. I love the romanticism of all of it, and I’m so happy Duncan and I are finally getting a chance to step out publically together, so, yeah--I’m just really happy to be here. And to show off Morgan’s extraordinary talents.” She grinned at Sissy, who was gaping at her with surprise. Duncan finally appeared at her elbow; he’d set her train down behind them, and Kenzie turned her head over her shoulder to glance down at it, fanning like a gold river over a black landscape, then turned her face up to him, her smile still wide. I fucking love you, baby. She grasped his hand and Sissy switched the microphone to Duncan now, her expression one of wonder, speaking rapidly.

“Duncan, wow--the look. The eyeshadow, the gold jacket, the collar--you two are just so incredibly beautiful together, there’s now an internet shorthand for your relationship, “Duckenzie”, which I’m sure you’re both aware of, I’ve heard you have a fan club now and your Instagrams are the most popular on the internet lately--I saw you already posted a shot of your looks for tonight and it’s racked up a quarter of a million likes already--is there anything you would say to your fans around the world? They seem to be growing by the hour, and tonight is sure to bring you more.”

“We think everyone is wonderful,” Kenzie said, and turned to Duncan, drifting gold against him. Everyone can see, baby. I feel it. He nodded, smiling down at her, his dark look shivering against her heart again, his thumb pressing into her palm, suggestive, hidden. “And good things are coming,” he said.

“Duncan, can you elaborate on that?” Gary said, his eyes switching back and forth between them, puzzled, rapt.

“It’ll be clearer in time,” Kenzie said to him, staring at him steadily for a long moment. Gary seemed utterly shaken by them; Kenzie could see sweat had broken out on his brow, and he looked away from her after a moment, nervously. “Thanks, Sissy, Gary. Thanks.”

“Have...a wonderful time.”

Sissy’s voice suddenly seemed tiny, far different from the boisterous tone she usually used. Kenzie could see the confusion in the other woman’s eyes--as if she’d seen something she couldn’t explain, something that had shaken her to the core. It’s us, Kenzie knew. Sissy saw us for a moment. Not me and Duncan, not really--she saw those other selves. The ones we see in our dreams sometimes. The ones that cannot be described in words. She saw us, just the tiniest bit, reflected from us like a mirror held up to another time and place. She felt us. Kenzie pulled Duncan away from the press pool, and to the black backdrop, turning towards where fifty photographers crouched on specially designed pews--their flashes immediately blinded her, made her suck her breath in, their voices rising in a cacophony so she could barely decipher one from the next.

“You got this, baby,” Duncan was whispering down into her ear, his hand snaking around her waist again. “Duncan! Mackenzie! Over here! Mackenzie, you look gorgeous! Mackenzie! You look beautiful Mackenzie! Duncan, this way, thank you! We love you, over here! You’re so lovely together! Duckenzie, look this way! Thank you! Duckenzie forever!” And Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh, dipping her head to showcase the dark rosebuds in her hair, Duncan turning his face down to her temple, his smile making her laugh again as he clutched her against him, their Cartier bracelets visibly crossed at their wrists for the onlookers, the shattering rhythm of the cameras rising higher, frenzied to capture the moment between them, the voices of the photographers clashing again and again against each other, and Kenzie felt absolutely drunk to be in his arms this way, suddenly forgetting the dozens of cameras facing them, feeling the pressure of the hidden ring at his groin pressing against the dip of her abdomen, making her shudder in his arms with tiny, almost imperceptible tension, and she could hear a kind of rising sigh from the photographers, a murmuring admiration that seemed to be making Duncan flushed, seemed to be kindling his boldness--he turned his face down to her, opening his mouth just so, kissing her in a rapturous, fluid movement that caused an audible gasp from the rows of cameras, a collective exclamation of gratification that elated her.

His lips bruised against her for a tender, tiny eon--Kenzie lost herself against him for the span of it, her eyes closing to the intensity of the camera flashes, the sound of the shouting mob floating away from her ears, her mind drifting to them alone in their bed in the blessed darkness, his strong, elegant hands tying her to the chain with velvet ribbon, that first kiss, that night on the balcony covered in roses, god, my life changing forever in your arms in an instant, beloved, the unbearable softness with which he’d first touched her, his hands falling to the sides of her face, the urgency of his mouth then, the venerate devotion in his mouth now--and then Duncan was breaking away from her, as if remembering himself, remembering that they were caught in the gaze of at least two hundred people in this moment, and they resurfaced to reality, both of them trembling against each other, longing for the moment where Kenzie knew, and could feel that Duncan knew, they could finally be alone. Alone together, the only thing I ever want now, ever.

There was another audible, collective sigh from the photographers as Duncan gently pulled Kenzie beyond the backdrop--this one of disappointment at the moment ending, Kenzie knew, frustration that they were leaving. They adore us, Kenzie thought. And she knew it was absolutely true; knew it, without ego or pretense, as she knew the full moon was hanging over them, watching the night unfold. They see it too.

Duncan was pulling her away from the frenzied press of the carpet--Kenzie could now see that almost everyone around them was watching them, but everyone seemed to be afraid to speak to them, eyes flitting over Duncan’s dripping-gold jacket, the striking shadow around his eyes, over the fall of her hair and the Cartier diamonds at her throat and on her wrist, falling down the shimmering gold of her bodice and the gentle dip of the sleeves, the train drifting behind her. No one dared to tread on her--Kenzie recognized a very famous actor, watched him carefully avoid the train, his eyes roving up over her form hungrily, and she met his gaze with a tiny smile. He looked away, sheepishly, blushing. I suppose one doesn’t dare mess with the Shepherds, generally speaking. Not for the first time, and she suspected, not the last, Kenzie remembered that Duncan was part of a very, very wealthy family, and that likely, he would soon be the inheritor of that immense wealth.

And then we’ll change the world, baby.

Kenzie gazed raptly at the foyer as Duncan helped her up the steps and through the double-doors, looping her hand into the crook of his arm, pressing her fingers into the muscles there, feeling him clench them at her touch. More baby, touch me more. There were dozens more of the banners here, Hughes’ Ophelia, Burne-Jones’ The Golden Stairs, but the angels of Waterhouse’s St. Cecilia caught her eye immediately--their sweet faces calm and reticent, watching the saint in her slumber, their innocence and sincerity clamoring into her heart. They look like Gabby and Lindy, Kenzie thought, remembering Lindy’s tears. My two little angels. Duncan looked back at her, noticing the emotion in her. She shook her head a little.

“It’s all just so beautiful, Dunny,” she whispered, and he was nodding to her, the dark beauty of him in the chandeliers moving her further still, moving her beyond words again. He brought his arm around her to drift down her back, pulling her beside the staircase, out of the way of the people around them, sliding his fingers down to the beginning of the incline of her ass, and she drifted back from him, shaking her head. No, baby, don’t. It’s too much. There are too many people. You need to be patient. She saw the terrible longing floating behind his eyes, saw the blue flames licking around her from him, and she smiled. Poor, poor baby. Is that ring making you ache and ache for me?

Yes, Kenzie, fuck. So fucking much. It’s almost unbearable. I feel like I’m about to pass out.

My poor, sweet baby. Kenzie went back to him, letting him grip her under her bare arms with his hot fingers, letting him press his mouth against her cheek, onlookers be damned. Let them look. Annette was nowhere to be seen here--Kenzie’s eyes skirted across the room as Duncan continued to kiss down to her ear, pressing into her. She must be in the room beyond. I don’t know how we’re going to avoid her, but we’re going to.

“We should probably find Momby, make sure she hasn’t fallen into a fondue fountain somewhere.”

“God, I just want you alone,” Duncan’s mouth was shivering into the dip of her ear, bringing the delicate hairs at the back of her neck up, his hands drifting at the smooth gold under her breasts. “I just want you all to myself, angel.” Kenzie could see people staring at them, eyes hungry; god, I don’t know who a lot of these people are, but they look fucking important.

“Shhh, really baby, we should find Momby, okay? Please?”

At that moment Kenzie’s eyes zeroed on a figure making a determined beeline for them from the other side of the foyer--Duncan was still pressing his mouth into her ear, sucking and biting there with urgency, his whispers having quieted to now drift secretly in her mind, and he hadn’t noticed the figure yet. It was a woman, and she was petite, like Kenzie, and beautiful, with wide, long-lashed eyes, full lips and a button nose, but rail-thin, her chin jutting towards them as though she were being pulled by an invisible force. She had long, artfully styled platinum hair, falling over her shoulder in expertly arranged waves, and her dress was a sculptured black bodice decorated with intricate gold embroidery, accentuating her minute waist, which fell into a voluptuous cascade of black tulle that seemed to buoy her across the room. At her throat was a huge yellow diamond, so large Kenzie wondered for a moment how she was holding her head up. Her fists were clenched at her sides as if she were bitterly angry, but a wide smile was plastered across her face, exposing all her teeth (like a crocodile, Kenzie thought). Her dark eyes were staring, eerily unblinking, at the back of Duncan’s head, and at Kenzie.

Marissa Montague.

“Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, trying to pull back from him, but he continued to kiss at her, lost for a moment, “Duncan, it’s--”

“Duncan Shepherd! Duncan, oh my god, I’ve been so busy lately, it’s been so hard to call you!” Marissa had reached them, and her voice pitched high, dipping towards uneven, though her smile remained plastered on her face, stretching her cheeks to what looked like an almost painful degree to Kenzie. Duncan stopped kissing Kenzie’s neck, but his mouth still hovered close to her, his arms still clutched tightly around her. Kenzie looked over his shoulder into Marissa’s eyes; she could see the coiled snake that rested behind them, the wanton need, now that Marissa was this close. But not for Duncan, not really, Kenzie knew. What she wants is attention--fame, attention everlasting from the multitude, and to be showered in riches, but her thirst for them is insatiable. There’s a hole inside her that gnaws with hungry teeth, and it has never had its fill, not once. So she searches for more food for it.

Duncan turned his head slowly to look at Marissa, and Kenzie saw the cast of a dark storm inside his eyes, felt the blue flame of him, shimmering, flare up with discomfort. Oh, no FUCKING way, she heard his thought, and slid her fingers down his arm, soothing him with her touch. It doesn’t matter, baby, I’m here. We’re together. Let them try to get between us. Let her try. Let anyone.

“Why would you be calling me anyway, Marissa?” Duncan was gazing at her evenly, still holding Kenzie close, his hand drifting in her hair, over the rosebuds. Kenzie could feel the wave of anger in him, feel the drifting measure of dislike. She’s lovely on the outside, Kenzie thought, but inside there is something gone, like it was ripped out of her and only the ragged void remains, a void she longs to fill but cannot. Poor Marissa. She instantly felt empathy for the other woman, seeing her so closely, felt embarrassed for her, as if Marissa were suddenly naked. As lovely as the actress was, Kenzie could immediately see how deeply discontent she was, how full of voracious need.

“Well, we never really finished what we started, now did we?” Marissa stepped forward, the smile that had been plastered faltering a little, her eyes skirting to Kenzie with annoyance, her hand snatching out, attempting to grasp his velvety arm. Duncan stepped out of her reach, pulling Kenzie to the side with him, his mouth curling up ever-so-slightly.

“And we never will. Marissa, this is my girlfriend--my partner--Mackenzie Stone. I’m sure you’ve read about her. Kenzie, this is Marissa Montague.”

“Of course,” and Kenzie forced herself to smile politely, bringing out a hand, Duncan’s cheek pressing against her hair, refusing to let go of her or let Marissa near him. “It’s lovely to meet you.” Marissa ignored the hand, crossing her arms now, barking out a little laugh.

“Partner,” she mimicked. “Since when have you ever had a partner, Duncan? We all know your reputation. You used to bring a different fuck buddy home every night, I was there back then, when we were all hanging around with the Ducatis and doing a mountain of cocaine every day.” Marissa plastered the grin back on her face. “I can see why you’re stringing this one along, though, what a scrumptious little pussy cat.” Marissa brought her hands up to her face and pressed them in a V against her mouth, flicking her tongue out.

This woman has no interest in sex, Kenzie knew, despite Marissa’s lewd gesture. Marissa’s eyes flicked over to her again with a measure of loathing, and Kenzie caught her gaze this time, trapping Marissa’s dark, intense eyes. In fact, it disgusts and bores her. But she is practiced at the art of pretending. She’ll fake interest in anything if she thinks it can move her to where she thinks she wants to be. Sometimes, though, she’s disillusioned by the reality versus her expectation. And she always wants more. Like a wind that howls endlessly.

“Marissa. What do you want?” Duncan’s tone dipped, and Kenzie could feel his anger beginning to stir, his frustration and lust for her pressing against the anger, kindling it further, his sorrow and disillusionment with his mother pressing there too, and his energy became ragged and chaotic, the turmoil in him suddenly like water boiling over. She concentrated, conjuring wave after wave of translucent gold in her mind, staring at Marissa evenly as she pressed them down over him in his arms. I have no animosity in my heart for you, she thought to the other woman. In fact, I feel acute sympathy for you. I’m sorry you’re trapped in a world where you cannot possibly be yourself.

“I want you to ditch this penniless, raggedy bitch, Duncan. What are you doing? I mean, who even is she? Do you realize what you’re doing to your reputation? Really, it’s embarrassing.” Marissa was rolling her eyes, fingers toying with the huge diamond at her neck, another mirthless laugh barking out of her. “I’m gonna go do a line in the bathroom, and you should join me. I mean, it’s silly that we stopped seeing each other. I’m willing to forgive you if you’ll just get rid of her.”

“Marissa. You’re embarrassing yourself right now. Please, go away. Immediately.” Duncan’s tone was quiet and very low. “Go away or I’ll have you escorted off the premises.”

Marissa scoffed. “Duncan Shepherd, you can’t fucking do that.”

“Marissa.”

Kenzie had been watching from the cocoon of Duncan’s arms, but a hot, blinding energy had been building behind her temples for the last few minutes, one that seemed to want to burst from her mouth and her eyes and the corners of her fingertips; seemed alive and impatient, shot through with sunlight, and the power of the energy, the feeling in the center of her belly, was immense, like the dream where she’d made the fire grow. The energy, Kenzie knew, could do whatever she willed it to do--could move objects, could stop them, could distort the air, could freeze it, could move unseeable things, reverse them, rewind them. The knowledge of the immensity of the energy overwhelmed her for a moment--and Kenzie felt sure that though this woman had some strange power of her own (it was like indigo, the color of her, like indigo that ached, and the thing Marissa ached for was a thing she couldn’t find, like a lost portion of her heart that had tumbled down a dark well, never to be retrieved from the depths again), Kenzie was calm in the certainty that hers was greater, because it was lighter, it was the gold that could move all things, the gold that could heal, and the gold that could shield from all darkness.

“Marissa,” Kenzie said again, focusing her eyes inside the other woman’s. “It’s over. You will not be able to move him again. You must stop now. It’s futile.” The world has shifted, she thought now, into Marissa’s wide brown eyes, the words clear in her mind, as if she’d read them in an ancient book. The path is set. Yours goes somewhere else. To attempt to alter our destiny--the High Destiny--will result in your personal destruction. Stop now, little one.

The air seemed to cool, to thin. The three of them were inside the energy now; the energy that had come from the center of Kenzie, that she had somehow pressed out, controlled, to only the cocoon of their circle. The other guests seemed to drift past them as if in a dream, not glancing at them, as if they didn’t see the cocoon at all, as if she, Duncan and Marissa were suddenly invisible--it’s working, Kenzie thought. Let’s see if I can move her away from us now.

Marissa’s expression had fallen from the obscene, mocking smile to one of confusion and apprehension--her eyes widened, her head whipping back and forth inside the cocoon Kenzie had created around them, and she seemed utterly bewildered.

“What the fuck,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Marissa, I’m sorry. I can see how cold you’ve felt, and for so long. Good luck on your path. Look for something that won’t harm others. Look for something to protect. I promise, if you can find that, you will be happy someday. Go now. Forget about Duncan. That’s all over. He is not yours, not at this time, and not in any time.”

And with those words spoken, Kenzie pushed Marissa out of the cocoon she had built, and Marissa turned, as if in a dream, and walked away from them, not looking back, her blonde hair and tulle skirt retreating until she had turned the corner of the vast parlor beyond, and they could no longer see her. Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, counted. As she did, she could hear her heart beating frantically, feel the tiny shaking in Duncan’s arms as he held her, His face had pressed against her temple again, his eyes closed, and he looked almost meditative, but Kenzie could feel the confusion inside him; he doesn’t understand what I did, either. But he trusts me. He trusts me now. He knows I’d never hurt him, never, never in this world. He knows I will always protect him. And I will, baby. I always will.

Then she breathed out, and the spell broke; the cocoon dissipated, and they were back in the foyer of the Shepherd mansion, the sounds of clinking glasses, lilting piano music, and blue-blooded voices speaking in polite cadences bleeding back into the background. Duncan opened his eyes to stare into hers, and the storms there had dissipated--their blue was calm now, like the sky bleeding into a summer evening, like the moon’s reflection on a pool of water.

“Kenzie, baby, what was that?”

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theteablogger · 7 years ago

Text

Michael Corner and Terry Boot

While working on the timeline, I’ve found myself digressing quite a bit to talk about Mike and Terry’s “evolving” relationship throughout DAYDverse and Andy’s meta. Rather than clutter up the timeline, I decided to post something here and simply link to it later. So I put together an outline, with fic links and excerpts and as much chronological detail as possible, of what Andy wrote about Mike and Terry over the years. It stops in 2013 because their labeling has been consistent since September 2012, and he hasn’t written any significant fic featuring these characters since the following year.

(Cut for length and NSFW content.)

April 2008 - In DAYD, Andy establishes that Mike and Terry are best friends, extremely close, and can “read each other’s minds”. Eventually, we learn that this is literally true; they use Legillimency to maintain a constant mental connection that they rarely choose to break. He also mentions that they have matching tattoos, and that Terry’s says, “L’amitie de la conaissance.”

Sometime between April 2008 and July 2009 - In his FAQ, Andy “bans” people from slashing Mike and Terry. He says:

This is the first thing on the FAQ that is preemptive, not a response to comments or emails, but I feel I need to, particularly after #50. I have given other authors permission to play in my world, but I am putting a few caveats on that. I have no problem with slash or homosexuality. Rowan Glynnis and Malcolm Braddock both “stir their cauldrons in their own direction.” IMHO, both Colin and Luna are bisexual. HOWEVER, I am refusing permission for anyone to slash my Neville and/or Ernie, as well as any Michael/Terry slash. Obviously, these are all four originally JKR’s creations and I cannot ban the pairings in general , but I can ask people not to use my story as material in them. In the case of Neville and Ernie, this is because their relationships with women are just too vital to the plot and who they are as young men in my world, but in the case of Michael and Terry, I have another reason too. As a male writer, I have tried very hard to accurately portray the way the men in my story think and feel, even as I try my best to do justice to the ladies as well. The kind of love Michael and Terry have for one another is an extraordinary sort of brother-bond that men can form for one another under very rare circumstances, and it is one of the most powerful forms of love in the world, sometimes almost as strong as a mother for her child. That is something that I would find debased by making it into romantic or physical attraction, and that is why I am requesting that it not be done. Please respect this, and if I find out that someone has written a story from my canon that violates it, I will be reporting it to ff.net as uncondoned plagiarism.

Prior to June 17, 2008 - Andy publishes “By Consensus”, in which each of the two boys telepathically shares with the other the memory of a sexual encounter that he has recently had with a girl. These are memories such as one might see in a pensieve, except that their telepathic connection allows each to experience it as if he were in the other’s body. This is incredibly skeevy because neither girl is asked for her consent before they share. The experience of sharing these memories is so intense that Mike and Terry “wake up” afterward entangled in each other’s limbs, sweaty, chests heaving, evidently having kissed each other--oh, and they’ve both come. (Link goes to a much later re-posting on the DAYDverse community.) Excerpt:

He was still trembling, there was a hot stickiness at his groin, a deep throbbing that told him he'd come again, but Terry scarcely noticed as he released the connection, the memory fading back to what it had been before he raised it and shared it with his friend. Instead, what had his attention so completely was he and Michael were no longer laying side by side, but tangled together, and he could feel the other boy's erection flagging as freshly as his own. Their arms were wrapped around each other, their hair damp and clinging to their faces, their chests still heaving, and he could taste a faint lingering hint of chocolate in his mouth. He hadn't eaten chocolate that day.

June 19, 2008 - Andy publishes “Empirical Evidence” on hprarepairs. In this fic, Mike and Terry have sex and it's the most profound, amazing, meaningful thing ever precisely because they are male, not gay, and feel no sexual desire for each other despite their extremely strong friendship-type-love. It’s so intense, in fact, that they’re afraid ever to do it again. Excerpt:

Michael chuckled, and the sound was oddly rough in his raw throat. “Kind of defeats the whole purpose of avoiding emotional involvement when I love you more than any witch in this school?” “No fucking kidding.” Terry rolled unsteadily onto one elbow, tucking himself back into his pants. “That was…yeah…but I think if we ever do anything like it again….” He reached out, pushing a piece of the long blonde hair out of Terry’s eyes. “Speaking of your ancient Greeks, the Spartans encouraged their soldiers to have sex with one another because it took the brotherhood bonds to a level that would drive them to acts of insanity on the battlefield to protect one another. Never made sense before, and I don’t think it’s anything like what Stephen and Derek have…that seems to be more like what we have with witches. This was something else, something more raw, and I mean here –“ he tapped his chest, “—not just down there. It wasn’t…it wasn’t about sex at all, but it was certainly sexual, but….” “It was terrifying.” “Completely.” Michael bit his lip, looking down for a moment before reaching out to lace his hand through his friend’s, squeezing it tightly. “Mindless shagging definitely goes somewhere else, then?” Terry nodded. “Definitely.” His fingers tightened on Michael’s. “There’s nothing mindless about what you mean to me, Mike.”

September 30, 2008 - In “20 Random Facts about Tiresius W Boot”, Andy says that Mike and Terry each has half of a quotation by Comte DeBussy-Rabutin tattooed on his upper arm. Mike has “L’amour vient de l’aveuglement” (”Love comes from blindness...”) and Terry has “l’amitie de la connaissance” (”...friendship, from knowledge.”).

November 4, 2008 - In “20 Random Facts About Michael J Corner”, Andy reveals that following Mike and Terry’s deaths in the Battle of Hogwarts, their ashes were mixed and split in half, then buried under identical gravestones with both their names on them. Their parents had intended to engrave the text of their tattoos on the stones, but the Greek characters for "philia" appeared instead, "inexplicably and indelibly of [their] own accord". In this hilarious summary of DAYD, this is described as, “No Homo, in Ancient Greek.”

December 9, 2008 - Andy throws a fit on fanficrants when someone writes what he describes as “a craptastic slash threesome” between Mike, Terry, and Tony. He reports this person for plagiarism because he says that they “stole” his version of Terry.

December 12, 2008 - In “Standing Witness”, Mike is horribly tortured by Belsen while the other students are made to watch. Because of their telepathic connection, Terry shares the experience, and finally casts Avada Kedavra to put Mike out of his misery--but it doesn't work because he doesn’t really mean it. Later, Terry sits at Mike’s bedside and internally monologues at great length about how Mike is indescribably beautiful and intelligent and wonderful and he loves him more than life itself, and now he’s thrown all that away. When he realizes that Mike is still alive, he monologues some more about how much he loves Mike, who no doubt will never forgive him. When these events are described in DAYD itself, the other characters talk about how much Mike and Terry love each other, to the point that they’re closer than brothers. When Mike wakes up, Terry cries over him and Mike kisses his hand. Excerpt from “Standing Witness”:

I've wondered for years what kind of person could burn the Library of Alexandria; all that knowledge, all that art, so much priceless genius, who could look at that and bear to think of a torch or a hammer…but those monsters are still with us, aren't they, Mike? That he could look at you and do…do what he did, knowing you're not just beautiful, but brilliant and brave and good…and how could I help him? What does that make me? Qu'est-ce que creature, quel monstre suis-je? ... We'll fight and we'll survive and all of this, every minute of it and every day of my life I've lived and every day I have left will be worth it if I can just have one more day with you well and whole and seeing you smile, seeing your eyes light up with a new idea, some new bit of knowledge, some new discovery that we can share. ... Maybe, in the end, that's why I'm here…so that at least once, someone would truly know how precious you are, even if you're in the end a treasure only measurable by its cost to lose.

Sometime prior to February 28, 2009 - Andy publishes “Perils of Studying Outdoors”. Caught sneaking around outside by Amycus Carrow, Mike and Terry misdirect him by passionately making out and...well, here’s an excerpt. The non-italicized bits represent the two of them communicating telepathically.

There was no acting necessary to love him, just love him with every bit of his soul, but he rarely let himself just feel it this completely, because it was so overwhelming as to be a little bit frightening, and he heard a tiny gasp escape his lips, a shiver running through him at the raw, almost feral depth of it. You're beautiful too, Terry. I wish you could see that. Not just your eyes, either. Terry flinched back, closing his eyes at the compliment and trying to turn away, but Michael's hands were clasped behind his neck now. You don't have to...he can't hear us. I'm not saying it to him. I'm saying it to you. You're the pretty one. I'm the pin-up. But you're no half-cast spell either. Sometimes I almost wish I could fancy wizards, because you already mean so much to me, and I know if I did, even a little, I'd lose myself in you so easily. You're already so much everything to me, adelphos. Philia et agape... ... The kiss was uncertain at first, edged on barriers neither quite understood and both knew completely, barely a whisper of lip to lip, then the tight set of Terry's shoulders seemed to melt beneath his hands, and arms that had become recently stronger than he had realized were around his waist, pulling them in together until their bodies breathed under one rhythm. It was real in every way that they were, no act at all and so much more than what it was meant to appear to be, expressing every layer of the love that Michael wondered if any other couple in this school - in this world - who could claim simple eros even began to understand. What a pity if they didn't, because even as some faint part of him heard the Death Eater's roar of outrage, knew what was about to come, his mouth was still reluctant to edge away from Terry's, teeth and tongue lingering across the moisture of his lower lip, and the rest of himself was reflected in cobalt that lazed open just in time to lace their hands together and brace themselves before le vilain petit monde cracked over them again.

April 1, 2009 - On the LJ community, Andy posts “Revelations” as a prank for April Fool’s Day. In this fic, Mike and Terry inform their friends that they are involved in a romantic relationship with each other, and then kiss passionately in front of them, as a joke. In the header Andy says, as part of his prank, that he's had writer's block and is curing it by changing the story/characters to fit what the readers want to see. Excerpt:

“There’s no need for rash action,” Michael cut in hastily. “We’re not offended. But if we’re going to be trusting each other with our lives, we can at least trust you with this. It’s been such a year…a lot has changed. We’ve all discovered things about ourselves that maybe we didn’t realize before.” ... Another moment of wordless conversation, and then Neville’s jaw nearly hit the polished surface of the conference table as the two wizards moved as one. Chairs scraped the stone floor deafeningly, and now Michael was almost in Terry’s lap, their arms locked around one another, and they were kissing. Not just kissing, snogging. Bloody near trying to suck one another’s tonsils out. Mouths crushed together, eyes closed, hands sliding up under robes and gripping shoulders, moving over backs in the most passionate, almost desperate embrace that Neville had ever seen. The tendons corded tight on Terry’s neck. The flutter and fan of dark lashes against Michael’s still-pale cheek. Breath sucked quick and fervent between teeth and around tongues, as if any moment it wouldn’t, couldn’t be enough and they would either have to go further or burst from the pure intensity. It was the kind of kiss that was uncomfortable and voyeuristic to watch, even if it hadn’t been two wizards, and he had to look away, staring at the ceiling and wondering what…wondering how…?

April 6, 2009 - Andy posts his completed “Quadrophilia” sketch, which portrays Mike and Terry having sex with the Patil twins.

July 12, 2009 - What is a slash and what do you mean Mike and Terry have subtext; I can't see these things at all in any canon ever.

May 26, 2011 - Mike and Terry are bicurious.

June 2011, just over a week later - Terry is asexual. (Andy copy/pasted a group chat about LGBTQIA characters to the community. Neither Mike nor Terry was mentioned during the chat, but in the comments, another user asked if there were any asexual characters in the DAYDverse. Andy replied, “Terry, as a matter of fact.” I won’t link to it because it includes DAYDians’ full names.)

July 12, 2012 - Mike and Terry = BROTP.

September 2012 - Terry is homoromantic/asexual and Mike is homoromantic/heterosexual.

February 23, 2013 - Andy defends himself when asked whether his portrayal of Mike and Terry constitutes queerbaiting.

December 10, 2013 - Andy publishes “Unison”, the story of Mike and Terry’s establishing their mental link, with an author’s note that tries to preempt further talk of queerbaiting. Excerpt from the fic:

“I’m afraid.” "So am I. Of so many things." The vial stopped. The crease between his brows deepened. He pushed his hair back. “What could you ever fear?” "Falling." From grace. From my pedestal. In love. Too late and he knew it for all of them and I couldn’t breathe. The vial lifted, uncapped, tilted to dampen his finger, all still untouched. His wand was still on the floor somewhere behind us both, glowing and casting its ghosts’ light. Oh, but he was so astoundingly gifted in ways I could barely comprehend. I could never. How could he not see it? Maybe if this worked. He touched my temples with the potion; first one, then the other. “I’d catch you.” ... “...I think I’ve only ever done two perfect things in my life." "Only two?" His left hand on his face now as well, his right on mine. Our pulses had come to match. I felt light headed and didn’t even know if it was beginning. I closed my eyes. We were too young, they said. It was too dangerous. We didn’t have the maturity, the control, the capacity for the necessary level of responsible intimacy, much less to handle the complexities and abstracts of it all. Blocking, maybe, under the direst need, but never probing, penetrating, accepting, inviting, receiving. It could change who you were if it happened too young. Never before seventeen, surely. Not for children. Not for us. Rules were made to be broken by the exceptions. Or the exceptional. "Finding you, and now letting you in."

#daydverse #queerbaiting #andythanfiction #thanfiction #andrew blake #andy blake

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glenngaylord · 7 years ago

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MY MOMENTS OUT OF TIME IN FILM 2017

Instead of a Top 10 List, every year I like to honor a long-discontinued but influential annual column from Film Comment magazine. I couldn’t wait for my father to come home from work with the “Moments Out Of Time” issue. The writers would cite their favorite scenes, images, or lines of dialogue, even from films they may not have liked, because let’s face it, even bad films may have a great moment or two, unless you were a film called RINGS, CATFIGHT, THE SNOWMAN, or THE DINNER. In that case, you suck in the most forgettable of ways. Despite some obvious stinkers, this was a great year for film. Some resonated with me, such as I, TONYA and THE FLORIA PROJECT as they tackled the issue of class in America. Despite being period pieces, films such as DARKEST HOUR and THE POST pinged on topics such as war-mongering and the need for a free press, both of which we seem to talk about daily right now. I have a few I need to catch up on, such as MUDBOUND and THE SQUARE, and one I recently saw, A GHOST STORY, wowed me, but I haven’t written a review of it yet.

Even I can’t see them all, so here, in no particular order, are my Moments Out Of Time in film for 2017:

“America. They want someone to love, but they want someone to hate, and the haters always say, 'Tonya, tell the truth!' There’s no such thing as truth. I mean it’s bullshit! Everyone has their own truth.” - I, TONYA

A little girl (the great Brooklyn Prince) stands in front of a motel room door, telling her little friends they’re not allowed to enter. She pauses, and then mischievously says, “But let’s go anyways!” in a moment of pure rebellious, but dangerous joy. - THE FLORIDA PROJECT

A young man (Lucas Hedges) begs his girlfriend (Saoirse Ronan) not to out him in one of the most touching moments of the year. - LADY BIRD

A woman (Cynthia Nixon’s blazing portrayal of Emily Dickinson) desperate to connect with someone, anyone, lights up whenever she’s around her soon-to-depart friend. It’s a joy you wish she could have at all times. It’s that ache to spar with another human that cuts to the core of this lonely tragedy. - A QUIET PASSION.

Try watching the “I did not hit her” rooftop filmmaking sequence without bursting with glee. One of the best-sustained comedy sequences of the year. - THE DISASTER ARTIST

A beautiful, long final shot of a young man (Timothée Chalamet) swimming in his tearful thoughts as the end credits role will break your heart. - CALL ME BY YOUR NAME

So will his father’s (Michael Stulbarg) 11th hour speech to him. - CALL ME BY YOUR NAME

A ghost in a white sheet with two eye holes, who has traveled across time for centuries, finally finds something important, which jogs his memory, making him feel less alone in the world, and then in a startling swish, is gone. - A GHOST STORY

Meryl Streep, in the most delicious long pause of 2017, struggles with the tough decision whether to publish the Pentagon Papers or not. She conveys every pro and con with a series of reactions, leaving the audience breathless until she finally, and thrillingly, becomes a feminist heroine for the ages. - THE POST

Sure, it’s ostensibly Daniel Day-Lewis’ last film, but it’s the women, one with a deadening stare (Leslie Manville) and the other with the best eye flutter I’ve ever seen (Vicky Krieps), who take charge of this fascinatingly perverse story of control. - PHANTOM THREAD

A cleaning woman (Octavia Spencer) dusts a giant steampunk contraption as her mute co-worker looks on, sending the increasingly magical fable into a visually stunning dreamscape. - THE SHAPE OF WATER

“You know I can’t give you the keys, right babe?” A chilling line in a scene in which a sympathetic, engaging character transforms into a monster, making Allison Williams, so often hated and too easily dismissed on GIRLS, as someone to REALLY watch as her career rises and rises. - GET OUT

A beloved, iconic character from the original film makes a stunning, surprise appearance. Despite it being CGI, this was the movie-movie moment of 2017. - BLADE RUNNER 2049

A bellicose, raging Prime Minister, known for his speeches, sits quietly with the square-ish frame filled with dark, negative space and seemingly lit by a single, too-bright light bulb. He’s alone and yet belongs to us all, the push-pull of this theme resonating throughout the entire film. - DARKEST HOUR

“This didn't put an end to shit, you fucking retard; this is just the fucking start. Why don't you put that on your Good Morning Missouri fucking wake up broadcast, bitch?” - THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI

Bill Skarsgård’s reading of the line, “Take it!” will haunt me for years. His Pennywise proved to be surprisingly haunting and indelible. - IT

The film’s not great, but Christopher Plummer and Ridley Scott deserve all the “We’re Not Worthy’s” for pulling off the Great Kevin Spacey Replacement of 2017 in 9 days, and actually delivering a full-bodied, memorable character in the process. - ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD

A desperate thief uses his smarts to wheel his badly-injured brother out of the hospital in an impressive feat. It shows a whip-smart mind in the body of person with lost potential, and in a moment which proves this well-meaning guy just can’t get a break, it turns out he took the wrong person. - GOOD TIME

Michael Cera, even more villainous and sociopathic than he was in THIS IS THE END, and apparently channeling Tobey Maguire, freaked me out as a hateful, poker-playing celeb. - MOLLY’S GAME

Ok, people will be talking about the biplane scene forever, but nothing made me laugh more than Tiffany Haddish’s reading of this line: “Girl, you can't get no infection in your booty hole! It's a booty hole!” - GIRLS TRIP

Bridget Everett, in a blazingly intense performance, sings the shit out of Lita Ford’s KISS ME DEADLY in a dive bar and transforms herself from comedienne to serious dramatic actor. - PATTI CAKE$

A crazed woman (Aubrey Plaza) barges in on the wedding of a social media friend and maces her for not getting on the invite list, giving the Facebook effect its full and insane due. - INGRID GOES WEST

A young woman, unable to take one more second of her overbearing, judgmental mother (Laurie Metcalf), surprisingly jumps out of a moving car. - LADY BIRD

Charlize Theron kicks one ass after another in a seemingly single shot (but not really), making this one of the greatest fight sequences ever filmed. - ATOMIC BLONDE

Algee Smith finds the heart of the story as a musician who struggles with his ambitions after a harrowing all-night encounter with racists cops. - DETROIT

Say what you will about the insanity that unspools, but Michelle Pfeiffer as the houseguest from hell was fun to watch and sorely missed when not onscreen. - MOTHER!

As Elton John’s ROCKET MAN plays on the radio, Bille Jean King (Emma Stone) and her new girlfriend Marilyn (Andrea Riseborough) drive in sun-dappled glory, their hair blowing around with each surprising gust of wind. It’s a perfect evocation of the 70s. - BATTLE OF THE SEXES

After following around an imaginative, enterprising man (Michael Keaton as Ray Kroc) as he develops the most successful fast food chain in the world, and seeing his as a hero, he transforms into a terrible villain about halfway through, making us question the value of the American Dream. - THE FOUNDER

A suicidal Spud, his head covered in suffocating plastic, leans back in his chair and falls backwards off the top of a building, but a flash cut send him to the floor of his apartment where Renton (Ewan McGregor) slides under him to catch him. One of the most imaginative, emotional cuts in a film I’ve seen this year. - T2 TRAINSPOTTING

Don’t heckle Kumail Nanjiani! Holly Hunter WILL read you to filth by interjecting, “That is like saying that all frat boys wearing country club hats and Hawaiian shirts have shriveled up tiny little dicks!” - THE BIG SICK

A young man throws himself down in the sand as bombs explode closer and closer to him. A spectacular feat of cinematography and muffled sound, and one of the greatest shots in cinema history. - DUNKIRK

A mother kicks the chair her little daughter sits in, sending her flying. A sudden, impactful depiction of abuse. - I, TONYA

Tom Cruise emerges from a crashed plane, his face hilariously covered in cocaine. - AMERICAN MADE

A seemingly sweet young man (Barry Keoghan, my favorite new actor of the year) changes his entire demeanor and quickly, chillingly tells a doctor (Colin Farrell), in no uncertain terms, what is going to happen to him and his family. - THE KILLING OF A SACRED DEER

The best opening sequence award of the year easily goes to a film which mixed musical filmmaking with kinetic car chases and an endearing sense of rhythm. - BABY DRIVER

Eels creepily slither around a woman in a tub in an otherwise completely forgettable, indulgent film - A CURE FOR WELLNESS

Adam Sandler winningly loses his shit as he searches for a parking space. - THE MEYEROWITZ STORIES - NEW AND SELECTED

“See! I took you on a safari!” exclaims Brooklyn Prince to her friend as they stand in front of a herd of cattle. - THE FLORIDA PROJECT

An ape, bigger than ever portrayed before, emerges out of nowhere and swats down helicopters like flies as the camera gloriously swirls around him. It’s APOCALYPSE NOW’s famous attack scene, but this time the invaded kick the invaders’ asses. - KONG: SKULL ISLAND

A messy trainwreck of a person (Anne Hathaway) lugs a mattress around town and literally confronts her inner demons. - COLOSSAL

A major character unexpectedly spits up blood on another, in a shocking moment (and there are a few in this film) I’ll remember for a long time. - THREE BILLBOARDS OUTSIDE EBBING, MISSOURI

French ACT-UP AIDS activists throw blood all over the offices of a pharmaceutical company, and heroically help change the speed at which drugs were approved for a population in desperate need of good news. - BPM

Despite being a thrilling adventure film, the quiet moments, such as the wonderful final shot of a woman walking out of a room and into the jungle, made this stirring yarn into something more internal and thoughtful. - THE LOST CITY OF Z

By this time, we’ve seen too many cars racing around, so instead we focus on the pleasure of seeing a dreadlocked Charlize Theron deliciously chewing the scenery from the evil lair of her jet, sending her into Faye Dunaway territory. - THE FATE OF THE FURIOUS

The unexpected death of a major star, as a gelatinous, alien creature slides down his throat, destroying him from the inside out in zero gravity, may feel straight out of the ALIEN textbook, but it’s memorable nonetheless. - LIFE

I’m usually not a sucker for Disney movie songs, but I have not been able to get EVERMORE out of my head ever since I saw the film, and I mean that in a really good way. - BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

Same goes for Elvis Costello’s fantastic contribution with YOU SHOULDN’T LOOK AT ME THAT WAY, from a beautiful but not-great movie. - FILM STARS DON’T DIE IN LIVERPOOL

Instead of the chestburster, we get the backbreaker, and instead of John Hurt, we get a character we don’t care about…but it STILL manages to be freaky and cool in an otherwise execrable film. - ALIEN: COVENANT

Can we please distribute LICK MY ASS, DIANE t-shirts to every person on earth, or at least make it THE trending hashtag of the year?!! - I, TONYA

Gal Godot donning the titular, classic costume for the first time in the film, charges through the emotional No Man’s Land sequence and into our hearts. - WONDER WOMAN

A seemingly liberal father over-explains his love for Obama to his daughter’s new black boyfriend (Daniel Kaluuya), who makes the Dad feel ok about his issues with race. It keenly pinpoints the struggle people of color have trying to make white people more comfortable about their discomfort. - GET OUT

Willem Dafoe’s Manager expertly takes charge of a potential child molester, demonstrating his heartwarming, soulful protection of the lovable but annoying little brats who live in his motel. - THE FLORIDA PROJECT

The camera whooshes from ground level to an overhead shot as a determined skater prepares for an important routine. - I, TONYA

Yes, the movie is an unholy mess, but Hong Chau’s “I go to Norway” speech is just a little masterpiece. - DOWNSIZING

Feet moving on red splotches of sand as they battle with their light sabers. - STAR WARS: THE LAST JEDI

A return to the iPhone footage he used in TANGERINE pays off perfectly in the final sequence, a rush of imagination, and a surprising and unforgettable place to take your little survivor of a main character, even if it’s potentially just a fantasy. It doesn’t change the fact that a neglected but loved little girl wants a little escape. - THE FLORIDA PROJECT

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andrewuttaro · 5 years ago

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New Look Sabres: GM 42 - EDM - Thirsty Thursday

3-2 OT Win

When I was an undergraduate in college there was this special night of the week called Thirsty Thursday. A lot of my classmates created their schedules, so they had no classes on Fridays creating a prolonged weekend for all the activities Animal House taught you college students do. Thirsty Thursday was the beginning of that debauchery. Specifically the mid to late evening as the party people dressed to the nines emerged from their dorms, already tipsy, and climbed into Ubers, Lyfts and Cabs to go to the skankiest clubs and try to cross the border into Canada. Niagara Falls is pretty lit on the other side in case you weren’t aware. The Buffalo Sabres had themselves a bit of a Thirsty Thursday yesterday. This time however I’m excited for the consequences. I drew attention to GM Jason Botterill’s planned 5:30 radio appearance before the game against Edmonton so that when it was called off it seemed cowardly. Not that my lone tweet riled up an angry mob like the gif I used implied, but the timing seemed… well very bad. Dalton Smith was put on waivers the day before after an embarrassing affair on New Year’s Eve against Tampa and it all seemed for nothing: as if our GM had no clue what he was doing and now he was hiding from facing the fans. In reality perfect setups like that never happen. When WGR550 was told Botterill couldn’t make his regular radio hit the negativity around the team right now would naturally make you think of that dodging the press theory. Us wild and crazy optimists hoped against hope he was busy working on… dare I say… a trade!? The whispers came in as game time approached and Thirsty Thursday kicked off with a three-way (Normally something reserved for the end of the night if you know I mean). At about 6:40 pm the team announced a 2020 fourth round pick had been acquired from the Montreal Canadiens for Marco Scandella. The next part unfolded when the team announced at about 6:50 pm that the same 2020 fourth that was yielded from the Scandella trade was going to the Calgary Flames for RW Michael Frolik. No salary retained or conditions, it was essentially Marco Scandella for Michael Frolik.

Set aside all your newfound appreciations for Scandella, even his revitalization was to inflate his trade value. Not to be harsh but he won’t be missed; especially when Jeremy White’s Super-Secret Sabres Source (SSSS) then tells him they’re not done, and they want to bring Lawrence Pilut up from Rochester. This humble blogger says good and good. Scandella for Frolik constitutes a wash in terms of salary if not a little bit more taken on by Buffalo. However, if it gets Pilut back up to Buffalo and or Colin Miller out of buying tickets out of town then it’s a win in my book. In spite of how few trades we saw in the last five months of 2019 it does make a lot of sense that this is the prelude to bigger trades. One can only hope. I hope this analysis of it is outdated by the time I post it. Although we all thought the Jokiharju trade was the prelude to a bigger trade that never came so it could go both ways I suppose. All this figuring out distracted me from the actual game unfolding. I looked up and suddenly the Sabres were down 2-0 to the Oilers at home and certainly a blood bath was to ensue if another egg was laid in downtown Buffalo. Then as soon as I had that thought Thirsty Thursday ticked up again, but this time with some good clean action: Marcus Johansson disposed an Oiler along the wall in the offensive zone and went around behind the net. Johansson got it to Curtis Lazar who tapped it in past Mike Smith in net. It was now 2-1 and Jason Botterill had that much more cover to come out and face the press in the first intermission like we hadn’t gotten three hours earlier while trades were unfolding.

Jason Botterill spoke for about seven minutes saying a lot of things you might expect: Michael Frolik will bring even strength scoring, he’s won a Stanley Cup, has playoff experience and what not. Perhaps the most important things Botterill said is the special teams have to be better. He said that Frolik could help on the penalty kill and could be a bit of a rover on the wing. Botterill spoke to greater roster competition as something of a rationale for seeing as many players publicly want out. Assuming this isn’t the only move to be made its just refreshing to hear that the GM does understand what’s going on. The Dalton Smith Fiasco will probably be pushed under the rug 1984 style and that’s probably the only way to handle it at this point but pushing forward the point that there is in fact a plan here will allow some optimism, however scant, back into the fanbase. Once again, assuming there are more moves coming this move helps. The move itself is more or less whatever. If you get what Frolik was in years past then maybe he’s not just another piece to be traded at the deadline. Getting Frolik was one of those rumors from months ago and evidently the conditions on this Thirty Thursday were just right to make it happen. Conditions were not just right in the second period and apart from a slash on Jack Eichel and the Sabres taking over the lead in shots on goal, nothing really happened. Then it creeps into your head, like I hear it does for the party people at some point in the early morning hours on Thirsty Thursday, that all this momentary excitement could just melt away with nothing truly rewarding coming from it unless… unless you kiss that hot little number down the bar. It was unlikely another trade would happen as the clock ticked past 9pm last night but the clap-back Sabres awoke again. As an early offensive push unfolded in the third period for the home team they began cycling the puck around in the Oilers’ zone. Zach Bogosian took a shot that Sam Reinhart redirected in for the 2-2 equalizer and… well what do you know: Reinhart’s 100th NHL goal. For a moment try not to think about the impending second coming of the Reinhart contract drama and just savor what Samson does and who Samson is. But just like most things with this team, darkness follows close behind and Victor Olofsson was escorted out of the game after a weird fall all on his own just after he got the secondary assist on the equalizer. No new word on that today either mind you, just Scott Wilson getting called up because you can’t let us get too high, right?

The third period went on and the Sabres threw everything and the kitchen sink Zemgus Girgensons at Mike Smith. Nothing went through and we found ourselves in overtime. To Ralph Krueger’s credit most of the Sabres overtime periods have been tight possession affairs like they should be, even when they’re losing efforts. The same happened last night until an absolutely bonkers ten seconds about a minute into the extra frame. Jack Eichel went end to end, like from behind the Linus Ullmark net all the way to Mike Smith’s mouthguard on the other end. Along the way he drew a penalty when Oscar Klefbom hooked him on his final approach. That was good for a penalty shot but before the play was even over Jack almost scored on the rebound. This Thirsty Thursday was about to see it’s last act. That hot little number down the bar I mentioned earlier, that was Jack mother fucking Eichel, and we kissed his greatness to cap off the night. He took the puck, skated in and snapped it far side past Mike Smith, 3-2 Sabres in Overtime! And so the inebriated masses stumbled out of their rides in the wee hours of the morning; still concerned about their future but sated for just a time until the next party comes. Hopefully more parties to come then sadness they hope.

Like, Comment and Share this blog now because some of you will not like what I say next. The game on Saturday was moved to 1pm in the afternoon because the Buffalo Sabres organization shares an owner with the Buffalo Bills and is therefore allowed to be self-aware. You probably already knew that. To those of you whom pointed to that move as a sign of the Pegulas caring more about the Bills I’d just ask you to take a deep breath, maybe play your favorite video game and relax. There is good evidence that theory is true, but the Buffalo Bills also happen to be in the playoffs for only the second time in twenty years. Forgive the whole City around you if they want to focus on that team when they come on at 4:35 tomorrow! I know its 90s night… or afternoon now tomorrow, but please, let good things be good. Enjoy yourself a little bit. The Florida Panthers will be a challenge and then they’ll be off for four days, hopefully while Botterill is making more trades and Michael Frolik is getting his Visa figured out so he can actually come and play. Then its six games leading into the bye week of varying difficulty but mostly difficult. I would guess even if the Sabres miraculously won eight straight going into that break they still might only crack the top three in the Atlantic Division given the spaces between games. Nonetheless the tide of this dissent into another lost season we’ve been experiencing since before Christmas can be reversed this month. It will likely take more work on the part of the GM even though the deadline is still several weeks away. Yesterday’s Thirsty Thursday events were not enough for me to fully get back in the conductor’s chair of the hype train but whether it be for hoped for trades or just the first Buffalo Bills Playoff win since I was in diapers I can enthusiastically say right now: Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for Reading.

P.S. According to NHL PR that OT Penalty shot goal by Jack Eichel made him the first player in Buffalo Sabres history to do such a thing. That is some kind of surprising stat.

#buffalo sabres #hockey #nhl #blog

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leigh-kelly · 8 years ago

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Always a Heartbeat From Me

#brittana #fire island!brittana #starlight!verse #1940's fire island

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networkingdefinition · 5 years ago

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Movie Quotes

Official Website: Movie Quotes

• A Great Movie Evolves when Everybody Has the Same Vision in Their Heads. – Alan Parker • A lot of movies are about life, mine are like a slice of cake. – Alfred Hitchcock • A lot of the struggle I had with movies is I really loved moments and tones and feelings in a scene, and I loved creating those, but I never really had great stories to string them together. – Louis C. K. • A movie camera is like having someone you have a crush on watching you from afar – you pretend it’s not there. – Tom Stoppard • A movie star is not an artist, he is an art object. – Richard Schickel • All industries are brought under the control of such people [film producers] by Capitalism. If the capitalists let themselves be seduced from their pursuit of profits to the enchantments of art, they would be bankrupt before they knew where they were. You cannot combine the pursuit of money with the pursuit of art. – George Bernard Shaw • All of my problems are rather complicated – I need an entire novel to deal with them, not a short story or a movie. It’s like a personal therapy. – Manuel Puig • All television ever did was shrink the demand for ordinary movies. The demand for extraordinary movies increased. If any one thing is wrong with the movie industry today, it is the unrelenting effort to astonish. – Clive James • And at the end of the day, if the movie’s no good, I’ll live to fight another day. – Scott Caan • And I love a scary movie. It makes your toes curl and it’s not you going through it. – Anthony Hopkins • And what I like about it is it makes me happy and I think it makes a lot of people happy to go to the movies and to not think about the problems of the day or the problems of tomorrow or the yesterday and just go on for the ride and have the fun of losing oneself in a fantasy. – Nicolas Cage • And what movies we saw! All the actors and actresses whose photographs I collected, with their look of eternity! Their radiance, their eyes, their faces, their voices, the suavity of their movements! Their clothes! Even in prison movies, the stars shone in their prison clothes as if tailors had accompanied them in their downfall. – Paula Fox • Be your own hero, it’s cheaper than a movie ticket. – Douglas Horton • Coming Home had been made before and Apocalypse Now and Deer Hunter, different kinds of movies. – Oliver Stone • Delay and indecision are first weapons in the armory of moviemakers. – Shirley Temple • Directing a movie is serious, it’s not a joke. – Fred Durst • Directing ain’t about drawing a neat little picture and showing it to the cameraman. I didn’t want to go to film school. I didn’t know what the point was. The fact is, you don’t know what directing is until the sun is setting and you’ve got to get five shots and you’re only going to get two. – David Fincher • Do you know what makes a movie work? Moments. Give the audience half a dozen moments they can remember, and they’ll leave the theatre happy. – Rosalind Russell • Don’t be an extra in your own movie. Move out of your comfort zone. Don’t be afraid of feeling uncomfortable or awkward. Step-out and make it happen. – Bob Proctor • Dude, I didn’t say Jude Law can’t act. I didn’t say Jude Law was in bad movies. I just said he’s in every movie. – Chris Rock • Ego problems are endemic in every walk of life, but in the movie business egomaniacs are megalomaniacs. – Lynda Obst • ‘Election’ is a movie I’d give a leg to cross the director’s name out and put mine in. – Jason Reitman • Every actor you learn from, take something from everyone – big actor or not. Whether they’re big movie stars or not doesn’t really matter. – Diane Kruger • Every time I’m shooting a movie I want to kill myself. Because I don’t see the light in the end of the tunnel. – Emir Kusturica • Every time you make a movie it’s an adventure. – Shia LaBeouf • Everyone related to me in my circle was from church: church friends, church school, church activities. All my friends weren’t allowed to watch MTV or go to PG-13 movies or listen to the radio, so I didn’t really know anything different. That’s how I was raised. – Katy Perry • Everyone told me to pass on Speed because it was a ‘bus movie.’ – Sandra Bullock • Everything I learned I learned from the movies. – Audrey Hepburn • Filmmaking is a completely imperfect art form that takes years and, over those years, the movie tells you what it is. Mistakes happen, accidents happen and true great films are the results of those mistakes and the decisions that those directors make during those moments. – Jason Reitman • For my wrap present, Colin Farrell gave me a first edition book. I got so involved with this character and I was so sad when the movie was over that when I got home and I tried to read the book I got really emotional and I started crying. – Salma Hayek • For the most part, studio movies have huge budgets. They don’t do anything under 30 to 40 million. When you have that much money at stake, you have so many people breathing down your neck. – Penelope Spheeris • Francis Ford Coppola did this early on. You tape a movie, like a radio show, and you have the narrator read all the stage directions. And then you go back like a few days later and then you listen to the movie. And it sort of plays in your mind like a film, like a first rough cut of a movie. – Al Pacino • Give me B movies or give me death! – Clive Barker • Good movies make you care, make you believe in possibilities again. – Pauline Kael • great villains make great movies. – Staton Rabin • Hollywood’s old trick: repeat a successful formula until it dies. – Gloria Swanson • ‘Home Alone’ was a movie, not an alibi. – Jerry Orbach • I always feel like I can’t do it, that I can’t go through with a movie. But then I do go through with it after all. – Meryl Streep • I am in so many movies that are on TV at 2:00 a.m. that people think I am dead. – Michael Caine • I can direct breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I take pride in my kitchen, but I’m not going to direct a movie. – Julia Roberts • I don’t have people following me around, like bodyguards. I don’t know how people live like that. Maybe the young movie stars have to live like that, I don’t know. But it seems a little crazy to me. I don’t think you need all that stuff. – Anthony Hopkins • I don’t know what your childhood was like, but we didn’t have much money. We’d go to a movie on a Saturday night, then on Wednesday night my parents would walk us over to the library. It was such a big deal, to go in and get my own book. – Robert Redford • I don’t think London has been given enough credit in a lot of the movies that we make here. – Mel Smith • I don’t think you should feel about a film. You should feel about a woman, not a movie. You can’t kiss a movie. – Jean-Luc Godard • I don’t want to make movies for kids, and I don’t want to make movies for adults either. – Kristen Stewart • I encourage film students who are interested in cinematography to study sculpture, paintings, music, writing and other arts. Filmmaking consists of all the arts combined. Students are always asking me for advice, and I tell them that they have to be enthusiastic, because it’s hard work. The only way to enjoy it is to be totally immersed. If you don’t get involved on that level, it could be a very miserable job. I only have one regret about my career: I’m sorry that we are not making silent movies any more. That is the purest art form I can imagine. – Vilmos Zsigmond • I first wanted to be an actress after seeing a play – not a movie. – Kim Cattrall • I get that same queasy, nervous, thrilling feeling every time I go to work. That’s never worn off since I was 12 years-old with my dad’s 8-millimeter movie camera. – Steven Spielberg • I have never acted he has never been cast in a romantic lead or has been cast opposite a female love interest in any movie he starred in. – Morgan Freeman • I haven’t sold to the movies. In other words, I haven’t gotten any enormous checks yet. – Jack Vance • I like celluloid, I like film, I like the way that when a movie is projected it sort of breathes a little in the gate. That’s the magic of it to me. – Gary Oldman • I love Elmore Leonard. To me, True Romance is basically like an Elmore Leonard movie. – Quentin Tarantino • I love the grandiosity of Hollywood movies, and even in independents, I love the canvas you can tell your story on. I love fiction filmmaking, you really feel like you’re creating something. – George Hickenlooper • I loved old black and white movies, especially the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers musicals. I loved everything about them – the songs, the music, the romance and the spectacle. They were real class and I knew that I wanted to be in that world. – Sharon Stone • I loved the movies and I wanted to be like Marilyn Monroe. I thought she was so glamorous and everyone seemed to love her. I wanted to be like that and I told everyone I would be the next Marilyn Monroe. – Sharon Stone • I make movies I want to see. – Neil LaBute • I never thought about becoming a professional singer, but I am in touch with Bono about releasing a musical movie. It will be about an Irish band during the ’70s who are looking for fortune in Las Vegas. I should play the singer of the band but I don’t want to sing in front of anybody. – Liam Neeson • I never want to be away from you again, except at work, in the restroom or when one of us is at a movie the other does not want to see. – Daniel Handler • I think less is more when it comes to kissing in the movies. – Julia Roberts • I want to make a good, solid kung fu movie. – Keanu Reeves • I was never a fanatical movie person. – John Malkovich • I wasn’t trying to top Pulp Fiction with Jackie Brown. I wanted to go underneath it and make a more modest character study movie. – Quentin Tarantino • I would be more frightened as a writer if people thought my movies were like science fiction. – Neil LaBute • I would say the film world has stopped operating as one. We have divided it into Hindi movies, Bengali movies, Tamil movies and so on. Earlier, there was only one channel and we all knew what was going on. Today, it is hard to keep track of programmes due to the advent of regional channels. – Mithun Chakraborty • If movies are causing moral decay, then crime ought to be going up, but crime is going down. – Jack Valenti • If somebody for some reason, for music or for movie, becomes famous, it’s because they have something, something special. – Roberto Cavalli • If you don’t like my movies, don’t watch them. – Dario Argento • If you have a friend who suffers, you have to help him.«My dear friend, you are on safe ground. Everything is okay now. Why do you continue to suffer? Don’t go back to the past. It’s only a ghost; it’s unreal». And whenever we recognize that these are only movies and pictures, not reality, we are free. That is the practice of mindfulness. – Nhat Hanh • If you’re a movie actor, you’re on your own – you cannot control the stage. The director controls it. – Michael Caine • I’m doing ‘Les Miserables,’ the movie. I’ve done a lot of musicals and a lot of movies, and I know there are not a lot of people in Hollywood who have been down those two paths so I’ve been like, ‘Come on, let’s do a movie/musical.’ – Hugh Jackman • I’m interested in doing movies I wouldn’t normally be interested in doing. – Eric Stoltz • I’m mad, true. But only about one thing. Horror movies. I love spooks. They are a friendly fearsome lot. Very nice people, actually, if you get to know them. Not like these industry chaps out here – Kishore Kumar • I’m not a real movie star. I’ve still got the same wife I started out with twenty-eight years ago. – Will Rogers • I’m not saying I’m a writer, but I’ve been in movies for a long time, and I think I could write a script for a movie. – Benicio Del Toro • I’m not surprised that Spielberg was able to capture the heroism of Schindler; so many of his movies are about the better part of mankind. – Gene Siskel • I’m terrible at horror movies, by the way. I get scared so easily. – Oliver Stone • In every movie I do have a dialogue. – Jackie Chan • In the movies Paris is designed as a backdrop for only three things–love, fashion shows, and revolution. – Jeanine Basinger • It (his contract) has options through the year 2020 or until the last Rocky movie is made. – Dan Quisenberry • It is not as mirrors reflect us but, rather, as our dreams do, that movies most truly reveal the times. If the dreams we have been dreaming provide a sad picture of us, it should be remembered that – like that first book of Dante’s Comedy – they show forth only one region of the psyche. Through them we can read with a peculiar accuracy the fears and confusions that assail us – we can read, in caricature, the Hell in which we are bound. But we cannot read the best hopes of the time. – Barbara Deming • It’s just lovely to be involved in a movie that does go back to the basics – characters and great writing. – Clive Owen • It’s something that was very interesting to me to be a part of and all of them again because of the relationship. Some of the superhero movies are better than others. – Blair Underwood • I’ve always found that when you’re trying to create illusions with sound, especially in a science fiction or fantasy movie, that pulling sounds from the world around us is a great way to cement that illusion because you can go out and record an elevator in George Lucas’s house or something, and it will have that motor sound. – Ben Burtt • I’ve always wanted to do a family movie. – Adam Sandler • I’ve always wanted two lives – one for the movies, one for myself. – Greta Garbo • I’ve got to see my movie to see how I’m acting, see what little things I can learn about my craft. – LL Cool J • I’ve had to make the transition from sweeping in for 15 minutes, doing my stuff and clearing out, to carrying a movie for the duration – in a dress. – Philip Seymour Hoffman • I’ve seen too many ups and downs in the movie industry. – Jackie Chan • Keep your eye on your inner world and keep away from ads, idiots and movie stars. – Dorothea Tanning • License to Kill’ is not one of the great Bond movies. – Benicio Del Toro • Look at a football field. It looks like a big movie screen. This is theatre. Football combines the strategy of chess. It’s part ballet. It’s part battleground, part playground. We clarify, amplify and glorify the game with our footage, the narration and that music, and in the end create an inspirational piece of footage. – Steve Sabol • Many times when you make a movie, it feels like your biggest mistake. But even if a film isn’t a hit, you shouldn’t view it as a mistake. – Ang Lee • Movie acting is about covering the machinery. Stage acting is about exposing the machinery. In cinema, you should think the actor is playing himself, if he’s that good. It looks very easy. It should. But it’s not, I assure you. – Michael Caine • Movie directors, or should I say people who create things, are very greedy and they can never be satisfied… That’s why they can keep on working. I’ve been able to work for so long because I think next time, I’ll make something good. – Akira Kurosawa • Movie failures are like the common cold. You can stay in bed and take aspirin for six days and recover. Or you can walk around and ignore it for six days and recover. – Gene Tierney • Movie SF is, by definition, dumbed down – there have only been three or four SF movies in the history of film that aspire to the complexity of literary SF. – Dan Simmons • Movies are a complicated collision of literature, theatre, music and all the visual arts. – Yahoo Serious • Movies are the art form most like man’s imagination. – Francis Ford Coppola • Movies are very subjective. – Jeff Bridges • Movies both reflect and create social conditions, but their special charm is to offer fantasy clothes as virtual reality, a world where people consume without the tedium of labor. Characters float in a world where the bill never comes due … and we wonder why we’re a debtor nation! – Molly Haskell • Movies can and do have tremendous influence in shaping young lives in the realm of entertainment towards the ideals and objectives of normal adulthood. – Walt Disney • movies have mirrored our moods and myths since the century began. They have taken on some of the work of religion. – Jennifer Stone • Movies have now reached the same stage as sex – it’s all technique and no feeling. – Penelope Gilliatt • Movies make you immortal and ageless. – Kristin Scott Thomas • Music is the soundtrack to the crappy movie that is my life. – Chris Rock • My dream role would probably be a psycho killer, because the whole thing I love about movies is that you get to do things you could never do in real life, and that would be my way of vicariously experiencing being a psycho killer. Also, it’s incredibly romantic. – Christina Ricci • My goal has been to learn how to get movies made without losing sight of the reasons I began. I have had to learn to recognize the insidious nature of the beast without becoming one. – Lynda Obst • My movies were the kind they show in prisons and airplanes, because nobody can leave. – Burt Reynolds • Mystery makes movie stars! If you see someone on the cover of the weeklies all the time, why would you want to pay to see them in a movie? – Sophia Bush • No saint, no pope, no general, no sultan, has ever had the power that a filmmaker has; the power to talk to hundreds of millions of people for two hours in the dark. – Frank Capra • oh mothers you will have made the little tykes so happy because if nobody does pick them up in the movies they won’t know the difference and if somebody does it’ll be sheer gravy – Frank O’Hara • On planes I always cry. Something about altitude, the lack of oxygen and the bad movies. I cried over a St. Bernard movie once on a plane. That was really embarrassing. – Michael Stipe • One cannot overstate the potential for hysteria on a movie set. Everyone always acts as if making the movie is as important as eradicating malaria. – Delia Ephron • One of the things we learn in movies directed by men is what the ‘fantasy woman’ is. What we learn in movies directed by women is what real women are about. I don’t think that men see things wrong and women right, just that we do see things differently. – Jane Campion • People go to movies or listen to music because they want to be inspired. – Daphne Zuniga • People have a preconceived notion about who I am and it’s interesting. It’s like picking who you want to win for the Oscars and not seeing the movie. – Amanda Bynes • People have perhaps gotten to the point where for the most part movies are a just bit of escape. – Neil LaBute • Quite often – a lot of the work I had done had been extensively with women. Most especially in the theater, but also quite often in the movies. That has its own delights, and maybe pitfalls too. – John Malkovich • Really, it’s the director’s job to disappear and allow the movie to just feel. – Jason Reitman • Revealing yourself, physically or emotionally, to cast and crew is frequently uncomfortable. But it is essential if you want to to tell the truth. I felt more at ease being bold with some than I did with others. I was incredibly fortunate to have worked with Randy Harrison as Justin Taylor. We share enough taste in music and art to have had a real camaraderie, and luckily that evolved into a deep friendship. – Gale Harold • So yes, I hope to act in other people’s movies, big and small, because that’s how I make my living, really. – Stanley Tucci • So, I installed a CCTV system to tape what’s going on inside my mind.

Thousands of hours of drama, confusion, discussion, huge special effects and futuristic scenarios. Also a lot of chatter, drama and suspense.

Is like to go to the movies for free, every day.

The CCTV technology used is the SSM-X45. Whose initials stand for: Sit down, Shut up and Meditate (X45 is just to sound more hi-tech) – Marcelo Goianira • Some men have a silly theory about beautiful women – that somewhere along the line they’ll turn into a monster. That movie gave them a chance to watch it happen. – Salma Hayek • Sometimes I’d like to play the bad guy and sometimes I’d like to die in a movie. – Jackie Chan • Sometimes in movies, I still have to be the hero, but it’s not all that important to me anymore. – Dennis Quaid • South Sea natives who have been exposed to American movies classify them into two types, ‘kiss-kiss’ and ‘bang-bang. – Hortense Powdermaker • Stars don’t make movies. Movies make stars. – Darryl F. Zanuck • The art of these Fifties movies was in sustaining forever the moment before sex. – Twyla Tharp • The Bollywood distribution system is so corrupt that they have trouble making money off movies. So they sell shoes that an actress stepped in. If they turned up the amps some, maybe they could sell the actresses. – Bruce Sterling • The difference between a movie star and a movie actor is this – a movie star will say, ‘How can I change the script to suit me?’ and a movie actor will say. ‘How can I change me to suit the script?’ – Michael Caine • The fact is, when I wrote ‘Juno’ – and I think this is part of its charm and appeal – I didn’t know how to write a movie. And I also had no idea it was going to get made! – Diablo Cody • The great thing about the movies … is-you’re giving people little … tiny pieces of time … that they never forget. – James Stewart • The interesting thing about a movie is the movie. – Christian Bale • The movie business is a big gamble. – Jackie Chan • The movie medium will eventually take its place as art because there is no other medium of interest to so many people. – Irving Thalberg • The movie says, You can lose your job and your way and still rescue yourself. ‘Larry Crowne’ creates a self-excavated utopia, and I love that idea, that message. – Julia Roberts • The movie, by sheer speeding up of the mechanical, carried us from the world of sequence and connections into the world of creative configurations and structure. – Marshall McLuhan • The movies are the only business where you can go out front and applaud yourself. – Will Rogers • The only thing worse than watching a bad movie is being in one. – Elvis Presley • The reason I took Early Edition – besides the fact that I liked it – was that it enabled me to start a production company in New York City. It’s a low-budget film company to produce and direct movies. – Fisher Stevens • The shooting of the movie is the truth part and the editing of the movie is the lying part, the deceit part – Paul Hirsch • The sorrow of not being movie stars overwhelms millions. – Mason Cooley • The Super Bowl is like a movie, and the quarterback is the leading man. – Leigh Steinberg • The thing about movies these days is that the commerce end of it is so inflated and financiers are just expecting this enormous return on their investment. – Alex Winter • The truth is that everyone pays attention to who’s number one at the box office. And none of it matters, because the only thing that really exists is the connection the audience has with a movie. – Tom Hanks • There are a lot of roles in Shakespeare, basically. If I feel that the script is a movie, I would be interested in doing any role of Shakespeare’s. – Al Pacino • There’s an electrical thing about movies. – Oliver Stone • These movies are like my kids. I just love them to death. Some of them go to Harvard and some of them can barely graduate high school. – Barry Sonnenfeld • To me the recognition of the audience is part of the filmmaking process. When you make a movie, it’s for them. – Michel Hazanavicius • To me, movies and music go hand in hand. When I’m writing a script, one of the first things I do is find the music I’m going to play for the opening sequence. – Quentin Tarantino • Warner Bros. has talked about going out with low-cost DVDs simultaneously in China because piracy is so huge there. It will be a while before bigger movies go out in all formats; in five years, everything will. – Steven Soderbergh • We don’t make movies to make money, we make money to make more movies. – Walt Disney • We lay out our lives in a narrative we understand, like a movie, but are you enjoying making it or are you wondering who’s watching my movie. – Donald Glover • What I’ve learned is that life is too short and movies are too long. – Denis Leary • When I do a political movie, I do a political movie. – Antonio Banderas • When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. – S. E. Hinton • When the movie comes out, what anybody thinks of it doesn’t really matter to me. I don’t go to the wrap party. I don’t go to the premiere. – Henry Rollins • Whether in success or in failure, I’m proud of every single movie I’ve ever directed. – Steven Spielberg • White people scare the crap out of me. I have never been attacked by a black person, never been evicted by a black person, never had my security deposit ripped off by a black landlord, never had a black landlord, never been pulled over by a black cop, never been sold a lemon by a black car salesman, never seen a black car salesman, never had a black person deny me a bank loan, never had a black person bury my movie, and I’ve never heard a black person say, ‘We’re going to eliminate ten thousand jobs here – have a nice day!’ – Michael Moore • with all these tentpoles, franchises, reboots and sequels, is there still room for movies in the movie business? – Lynda Obst • Writing a book is like masturbation, and making a movie is like an orgy. – Clive Barker • You are not just here to fill space or be a background character in someone else’s movie. Consider this: nothing would be the same if you did not exist. Every place you have ever been and everyone you have ever spoken to would be different without you. We are all connected, and we are all affected by the decisions and even the existence of those around us. – David Niven • You just have to realize that Jet Li is a movie star. He’s great at what he does, but if he stepped into our world he wouldn’t last long. – Chuck Liddell • You know those movies where the people in the audience are screaming, ‘Don’t go in that door!’ because you know the killer is there? Well, it is the same thing with this debt. We know how this ends. – Marco Rubio • You must be really bad, because it is a puzzle. Creating anything is hard. It’s a cliché thing to say, but every time you start a job, you just don’t know anything. I mean, I can break something down, but ultimately I don’t know anything when I start work on a new movie. You start stabbing out, and you make a mistake, and it’s not right, and then you try again and again. The key is you have to commit. And that’s hard because you have to find what it is you are committing to. – Philip Seymour Hoffman

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equitiesstocks · 5 years ago

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Movie Quotes

Official Website: Movie Quotes

Thousands of hours of drama, confusion, discussion, huge special effects and futuristic scenarios. Also a lot of chatter, drama and suspense.

Is like to go to the movies for free, every day.

The CCTV technology used is the SSM-X45. Whose initials stand for: Sit down, Shut up and Meditate (X45 is just to sound more hi-tech) – Marcelo Goianira • Some men have a silly theory about beautiful women – that somewhere along the line they’ll turn into a monster. That movie gave them a chance to watch it happen. – Salma Hayek • Sometimes I’d like to play the bad guy and sometimes I’d like to die in a movie. – Jackie Chan • Sometimes in movies, I still have to be the hero, but it’s not all that important to me anymore. – Dennis Quaid • South Sea natives who have been exposed to American movies classify them into two types, ‘kiss-kiss’ and ‘bang-bang. – Hortense Powdermaker • Stars don’t make movies. Movies make stars. – Darryl F. Zanuck • The art of these Fifties movies was in sustaining forever the moment before sex. – Twyla Tharp �� The Bollywood distribution system is so corrupt that they have trouble making money off movies. So they sell shoes that an actress stepped in. If they turned up the amps some, maybe they could sell the actresses. – Bruce Sterling • The difference between a movie star and a movie actor is this – a movie star will say, ‘How can I change the script to suit me?’ and a movie actor will say. ‘How can I change me to suit the script?’ – Michael Caine • The fact is, when I wrote ‘Juno’ – and I think this is part of its charm and appeal – I didn’t know how to write a movie. And I also had no idea it was going to get made! – Diablo Cody • The great thing about the movies … is-you’re giving people little … tiny pieces of time … that they never forget. – James Stewart • The interesting thing about a movie is the movie. – Christian Bale • The movie business is a big gamble. – Jackie Chan • The movie medium will eventually take its place as art because there is no other medium of interest to so many people. – Irving Thalberg • The movie says, You can lose your job and your way and still rescue yourself. ‘Larry Crowne’ creates a self-excavated utopia, and I love that idea, that message. – Julia Roberts • The movie, by sheer speeding up of the mechanical, carried us from the world of sequence and connections into the world of creative configurations and structure. – Marshall McLuhan • The movies are the only business where you can go out front and applaud yourself. – Will Rogers • The only thing worse than watching a bad movie is being in one. – Elvis Presley • The reason I took Early Edition – besides the fact that I liked it – was that it enabled me to start a production company in New York City. It’s a low-budget film company to produce and direct movies. – Fisher Stevens • The shooting of the movie is the truth part and the editing of the movie is the lying part, the deceit part – Paul Hirsch • The sorrow of not being movie stars overwhelms millions. – Mason Cooley • The Super Bowl is like a movie, and the quarterback is the leading man. – Leigh Steinberg • The thing about movies these days is that the commerce end of it is so inflated and financiers are just expecting this enormous return on their investment. – Alex Winter • The truth is that everyone pays attention to who’s number one at the box office. And none of it matters, because the only thing that really exists is the connection the audience has with a movie. – Tom Hanks • There are a lot of roles in Shakespeare, basically. If I feel that the script is a movie, I would be interested in doing any role of Shakespeare’s. – Al Pacino • There’s an electrical thing about movies. – Oliver Stone • These movies are like my kids. I just love them to death. Some of them go to Harvard and some of them can barely graduate high school. – Barry Sonnenfeld • To me the recognition of the audience is part of the filmmaking process. When you make a movie, it’s for them. – Michel Hazanavicius • To me, movies and music go hand in hand. When I’m writing a script, one of the first things I do is find the music I’m going to play for the opening sequence. – Quentin Tarantino • Warner Bros. has talked about going out with low-cost DVDs simultaneously in China because piracy is so huge there. It will be a while before bigger movies go out in all formats; in five years, everything will. – Steven Soderbergh • We don’t make movies to make money, we make money to make more movies. – Walt Disney • We lay out our lives in a narrative we understand, like a movie, but are you enjoying making it or are you wondering who’s watching my movie. – Donald Glover • What I’ve learned is that life is too short and movies are too long. – Denis Leary • When I do a political movie, I do a political movie. – Antonio Banderas • When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. – S. E. Hinton • When the movie comes out, what anybody thinks of it doesn’t really matter to me. I don’t go to the wrap party. I don’t go to the premiere. – Henry Rollins • Whether in success or in failure, I’m proud of every single movie I’ve ever directed. – Steven Spielberg • White people scare the crap out of me. I have never been attacked by a black person, never been evicted by a black person, never had my security deposit ripped off by a black landlord, never had a black landlord, never been pulled over by a black cop, never been sold a lemon by a black car salesman, never seen a black car salesman, never had a black person deny me a bank loan, never had a black person bury my movie, and I’ve never heard a black person say, ‘We’re going to eliminate ten thousand jobs here – have a nice day!’ – Michael Moore • with all these tentpoles, franchises, reboots and sequels, is there still room for movies in the movie business? – Lynda Obst • Writing a book is like masturbation, and making a movie is like an orgy. – Clive Barker • You are not just here to fill space or be a background character in someone else’s movie. Consider this: nothing would be the same if you did not exist. Every place you have ever been and everyone you have ever spoken to would be different without you. We are all connected, and we are all affected by the decisions and even the existence of those around us. – David Niven • You just have to realize that Jet Li is a movie star. He’s great at what he does, but if he stepped into our world he wouldn’t last long. – Chuck Liddell • You know those movies where the people in the audience are screaming, ‘Don’t go in that door!’ because you know the killer is there? Well, it is the same thing with this debt. We know how this ends. – Marco Rubio • You must be really bad, because it is a puzzle. Creating anything is hard. It’s a cliché thing to say, but every time you start a job, you just don’t know anything. I mean, I can break something down, but ultimately I don’t know anything when I start work on a new movie. You start stabbing out, and you make a mistake, and it’s not right, and then you try again and again. The key is you have to commit. And that’s hard because you have to find what it is you are committing to. – Philip Seymour Hoffman

0 notes