#one thing is that leslie has the most STUNNING smile

[cactustreesmotel]

leslie uggams and sidney poitier in 1963

[misscherry-26]

The Billionaire and the Stripper. CHAPTER ONE.

Summary: Billionaire businessman, Ari Levinson, seems to have everything he could ever want: wealth, power, and success. But beneath the surface, he is haunted by his troubled past and the demons that have plagued him for years. Y/N Y/L/N is a stripper struggling with dreams of a better life. She may not have much, but she knows how to survive and make the most of what she has. But when one night Ari walks into the club Y/N works at, he is immediately captivated by her presence and drawn to her in a way that he cannot explain. As they embark on a passionate and intense relationship, they must confront the challenges and obstacles of their vastly different lifestyles. Can Ari and Y/N bridge the gap between their two worlds and find a way to make their relationship work? Or will their differences prove too great to overcome, tearing them apart forever?

Pairing: Billionaire! Ari Levinson x Stripper! Reader

Warnings: Mature content. Mention of the objectification of women (slight).

Author's note: I'm so excited about this series. My officially first series and also my first time writing Ari. This maybe don't show much about them yet but next chapter we are going to have more of Ari's pov. Let me know your thoughts about this first chapt after reading it if you want. Enjoy it!!

Series Masterlist.

Y/N

Again. You sigh.

Again you will need to explain to Rita that you won’t be able to pay this month’s rent. Neither will the previous month's. But hey, this is what it is.

“I can lend you money Y/N, you know that right? And then you give it back to me when you can, there's no rush.” Leslie, your faithful co-worker who is also your best friend outside of this place, hugs you from behind. You are sitting in front of the locker room mirror, there is a small wallet on the makeup table, some money inside it, and a couple more in your hand.

"Les, no. I appreciate it but really, no."

Your friend sighs. "Why don't you let me help you?"

You turn your back to the mirror for a moment to look at her. “I am not going to take away what little you have, it is yours. enjoy it."

“If by enjoying it you mean spending it on grocery shopping to survive the whole month, Wow Y/N! What a party I'll have!" Leslie intones sarcastically as you smile, but not out of happiness or grace, more of a hopeless smile.

“Someday my friend,” she turns you around, taking you by the shoulders so that they both face the mirror, “someday, money will rain down on us, we will get out of this joint and we will achieve our goals.”

"I hope so Les, I hope so."

“Good news!” Les jumps behind you, scaring the soul out of your body.

“Dammit!” you say, even though the word is distorted because your mouth is full of food. Your dinner.

Sometimes you wish to eat at some restaurant, order food, like pizza or a big hamburger. You sigh. Clearly, some leftover pasta is going to be for now.

"Stop eating. I have a job for you baby girl." Clapping her hands she smiles and sits in front of you. "Listen, Amanda got sick so she isn't coming tonight and I heard Susan being so fucking sick with not canceling this one. This one is a new client".

"And?" You say, your mouth still filled with a new bite of your food.

"What kind of shows does Amanda do? Duh Y/n! VIP ones!"

You close your eyes, stunned. "Don't shout at me!" You laugh and cover your ears.

"Sorry," Your friend giggles and takes a pause before continuing. ”But back to the important thing, guess who will replace her? You!”

“What?” You almost choke on your food while getting up. "I can't, Les! You know I don't work in those shifts anymore since he…"

"I know, I know. Don't even mention him, okay? Don't, that's in the past. He doesn't come here anymore, and you know." She reassures you, hugging you at hitting such a sensitive topic and experience of your life. But your friend is right, that's in the past.

"Yeah, sorry I–Thank you, Les, really".

Your best friend brokes the hug and smiles. "Does this mean you are going to do it?"

You nod, silently telling her that yes. Leslie jumps and claps her hands, leaving you standing there for a second as she takes her makeup bag and puts it on your desk.

"Sit down, let's get you ready for it baby."

ARI

Patience is not a quality of the big, tall, beefy man who is sitting on the sofa in the room, whiskey in hand.

He has been waiting twenty minutes for today's supposed company. When clearly, at the entrance, he asked everything to be ready in less than ten.

Ari sighs wearily, drinking what's left in his glass. He gets up to refill it once more, taking a moment to look at the rest of the room.

The walls were stained red, except for the ceiling and floor, which were black, as dark as being lost in a forest in the middle of nowhere. From this, it hung a chandelier that gave warmth to the environment. In front of him, a stage, not a very big one, enough for one person, accompanied by the sofa in which he was sitting until a moment ago. Ari walks over to it again after getting his drink and sits down.

At that moment, the door opens.

Y/N

You can do this, you can do this, you can do this. You repeat yourself mentally. Your hands shake too much, nerves? No. Fear.

After months of so much work to move on, to overcome it on your own, as you have always done, today you feel as if it were that same day.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Y/n!! If you don't open this door now I swear you will go home without a job!!" Susan screams from the other side of the bathroom door. "Y/n!!!"

Exhausted, you get up from the toilet and wash your hands (you know that Alicia, the cleaning lady keeps them sparkling clean, but bathrooms are bathrooms).

Looking in the mirror, your smile curves, your eyes narrow. A big smile adorns your face.

Remember why you are doing this.

Stepping inside the room, she had no time to say hello.

"You are late." It's the first thing she hears.

Y/n curses mentally, of course she knows that, but instead of discussing it with the man, she smiles. Remember he pays for you to survive the day to day.

"Well, I'm here now, right?" You try to sound innocent. Stupid. That's what they all like.

" 'Course you are." He laughs, "But truth is, I don't want the show now."

Your expression drops. "What?"

You couldn't see him, not daring to get close to him. After all, you don't know him, you don't really know anyone.

They just pay you, do your job, do what they say. It's what Susan always tells you. But sometimes… sometimes you wish you could tell them only two words… They think they rule the world because they have money. They probably haven't even had to move a pinky at all since they were born.

A throat clearing draws you back to reality.

The big man, whose face is still unknown to you, stretches his arm over his back, exhaling heavily.

" 'You still here? I don't want you anymore, get out of here".

Not knowing if it was the way he said it, so selfless, so dead, like you were a toy. An object. And you can handle anything else, but that? Oh no, not that. No more.

So without thinking, you blurt out those two words you've always wanted to yell from the rooftops to all these rich bastards. Fuck you.

After hearing you, the man makes no sound in his mouth but you notice how his body tenses. So he rises from his seat, resting the half-drunk glass of whiskey on the floor and turns around to face you.

And when he does it, your heart seems to stop.

Taglist (Open): @bunnyforhim @wintasssoldier @buckysteveloki-me @magnificentsaladllama @yoruse

[southlandghost]

For bestie's eyes only

“I must say, Miss Schedler, you are full of surprises.” Sebastian Leslie laughed as he set down his empty glass on the poolside table. The sun was now setting and cast an orange hue on the partygoers at the event he attended. “I didn’t expect you to be so quick-witted.”

Marcy smiled, pushing her pink sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head. “No one does. I usually bite my tongue in front of my father’s associates. And I told you to call me Marcy; any friend of Cooper is a friend of mine, so there’s no need for formalities, Sebastian.”

She had honestly been afraid to attend the party in the first place, at least until Cooper had convinced her that only his most trusted staff would be mixing the drinks this time. With her anxieties cast aside, she felt like she could truly have fun and let loose. She never expected the evening to end with her chatting up the older gentleman, and Sebastian was surprised at the situation as well.

“Alright then, Marcy. Now tell me… Why is such a lovely young lady such as yourself wasting her time talking to an old geezer like me.”

She bit her bottom lip, avoiding his eyes. “You’re not wasting my time. Besides, I’m known to be more of an old soul. And I’m definitely not known as a social butterfly.” She waved her hand towards the house, where most of the other guests had gathered. “I don’t want to deal with all of that.”

“I’ve heard you’ve been more social than you claim, though. I’ve heard rumors about a potential suitor.”

“Oh, the rumors…” She groaned. “My father has been talking up his friend’s son. He works with computers and is apparently extremely smart, but I haven’t met the damn man yet. I have a date with him planned for next week.”

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow, amused at her frustration. “Not the dating type of girl, are you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had the chance with my parents being so overprotective. It backfired on them, though, because in their eyes, I’m now a spinster at the age of twenty. I think dating could be fun, though. Harlow makes it seem fun, at least.”

“Harlow seems to go after an older demographic, though, doesn’t she? Have you ever considered it? Pursuing an older man instead?”

Marcy felt her cheeks flush pink; she felt flustered but intrigued at the same time, and could not help but turn over onto her side in the lounge chair. “Flirting with me, are you, Seabass?”

“Maybe I am.” He smiled, now making a point to look her up and down. Her curly hair was tied up into a high ponytail and a bright pink one-piece bathing suit had replaced the more conservative powder-blue dress she had worn earlier. She looks angelic, he thought as he took in the sight of her porcelain skin dotted with freckles. He met her eyes again. “Would that be a bad thing?”

“To my family, yes.” She laughed. “To me, no. I’ve never been with an older man, after all. I’ve never been with a man, period, actually.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, but was stunned speechless. His mind flashed with the image of her delicate body bared to him. He could almost smell the perfume on her skin, could almost taste the sherry on her tongue, could almost feel the softness of her breasts in his hands. He was shaken from his thoughts when he heard a familiar voice.

“Marcy, your chauffeur is here.” Harlow said, eyes squinting in the light of the setting sun. “I think your dress is in Barbara’s bathroom. That’s where you changed, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Marcy stood from the chair and turned to Sebastian. “I’ll be seeing you later, Sebastian. You should swing by the set this Wednesday. I’ll be taking a long lunch to write some more songs. I could use some company from a like minded individual.”

[aiden-have-seen-something]

ᴏᴘᴘᴇɴʜᴇɪᴍᴇʀ

Last week I had the opportunity to watch Oppenheimer on the big screen (thank you sis for sponsoring my movie ticket) and it was honestly amazing. I am not really into movies and the fact that it managed to capture my attention and engulf me into the story is really something.

First things first, the acting in the movie was incredible. Especially that of Robert Downey Jr. who played Lewis Strauss. His smiles can convey so many complex emotions, I was stunned. The second actor that I think I should mention is Matt Damon who played gen. Leslie Groves and with his acting he could single handedly immerse me back into the story (we will go back to the spacing part).

The scenery and music were amazing, and shots from the movie can function as art pieces independently. Especially the views from empty Los Alamos.

As for my problems with the film, it was a really intense experience for the viewer. Don’t get me wrong, I like intense experiences but this film is too long to just keep the tension at the same level. It can easily overwhelm the average viewer. The dialogues rarely had breaks between them, all the conversations were quite quick. The viewer is expected to quickly learn all the characters' names to be able to go along with the story. It didn’t help that the film doesn’t have a single chronological timeline. It jumps between events which can sometimes be confusing..

There is also another thing that it contributed to. Every movie, novel and story has to build tension in important moments and also give rest stops so that the viewer is still immersed in the story. This is one of the most important things while directing a movie - to keep the viewer engaged. Oppenheimer had some rest stops but because of the quick paced dialogue, jumping between events and the need to explain the science presented in the film (nobody said it was gonna be easy, what can I say), the rest stops are almost unnoticeable because the viewer is so focused on keeping on with the movie that this tension can’t be released so easily. I can compare it to working on an important project before the deadline and then getting up to get some more coffee. You can’t possibly feel rested from that short break. The pressure was too big so the break needed to be longer.

And with that all said and all things considered, they did an amazing job with this film. My brain was a little fried but I was satisfied.

The movie made me think again about the book I had read lately which is The God Equation by Michio Kaku. Maybe I will write about it in the future but I sincerely recommend reading it. The author makes it easy to read and understand, and includes very interesting topics and stories.

I think that thanks to this book I was enjoying the movie even more. Especially since I could understand a bit more than a standard viewer.

In one point in the movie someone says to Oppenheimer that people listen to him as if he is a prophet and when that's the case he just can’t afford to be wrong. This scene made me remember a certain quote which is:

"𝘐𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭." - 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳

And with that, I give the movie overall 8.5/10. I recommend it sincerely to everyone, and if you are not a fan of historical movies or something, just grab your friend and go to Oppenheimer and Barbie on the same day.

[canonconspiracy]

Khaleesi (Ben Wyatt x Fem!Reader)

AN: In efforts to post more on here specifically, this is one that I just cross-posted into my Michael Shur Oneshot Collection (Wattpad and Ao3 - rmorningstar21).

Fandom: Parks and Recreations

Pairing: Ben Wyatt x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

"Hey there, you stunning woman you!" You said into your phone, a smile across your features.  You sat upon your dresser, staring at your newest project confidently.  It had just been finished, and you couldn't be happier with how it turned out.  Everything was as perfect as you could make it, from each in seam all the way down to the wig styling.  Your best friend was the first person you thought to contact, primarily for a fun little favor.  She always seemed to love participating in your little projects anyhow, when she wasn't busy.  "Guess who just finished up a masterpiece." 

"No way, Joe Biden?" She guessed, with a clear smile against her own features.  

You rolled your eyes at your silly friend.  "I'm sure Markie Mark would be so jealous," you teased back.  "But seriously, Les, I'm super duper proud of this one.  You have any time coming up that we could head over to the park for some pics?" 

"What did you do this time?" She said curiously.  "Come on, you're on speaker.  Let us hear all about it!" 

"Who am I on speaker phone with?" You asked cautiously.  "Oh well, eff it.  I'm going to be the mother of dragons, Khaleesi outfit.  I even made a little dragon plush for Drogo." 

"I have no idea what any of that means," Leslie said with a chuckle, a smile clear in her voice.  "But the stupid surprise face on Ben's face means it has to be nerdy." 

"Hey!" You heard a male voice counter, likely the Ben that she meant.  

"I figured you wouldn't," you said with a chuckle.  "It's fantastic that at least someone does.  It's Game of Thrones.  I know your schedule is normally packed, but I'm flexible.  Whenever you're up for it." 

Leslie paused for a moment, an idea coming to mind as she glanced between the others at the Parks Department meeting.  "Do you mind if I bring some friends?" She said slyly.  "I've been dying to get you to meet them." 

You bit your lip, thinking about it.  Your eyes glanced over to the hopeful outfit that you had made, thinking maybe one day you would have you Khal.  "You think any of them would fit in a male's medium?" You said slyly, a little jest in your tone.  Knowing best not to get your hopes up, though you would love some killer Khal Drogo and Daenerys Targaryen photos.  

"I mean," Leslie said, laughter clear in her words, "if you want to drop off the outfit at City Hall, I could have someone try it."

*** 

You felt a little anxiety bubbling inside of you as the time drew closer.  A few days prior, you dropped off your Khal Drogo cosplay that you custom made at City Hall, with absolutely no inkling as to who Leslie was going to have wear it.  On top of that, she gave you that whole sneaky wink that she has that only showed she was up to no good.  Being her best friend, you knew she was far from sneaky.  

"Well, if they all hate me, at least they'll hate me as Dany," you mused as you spun around in front of your window, checking out the cosplay one more time.  You were in your mid twenties, likely younger than most of Leslie's friends.  As the Khaleesi, you wore practically snow white blonde hair down past your chest and slightly crimped.  Your outfit consisted of the ragged off white outfit that Daenerys wore after marrying Khal Drogo.  Everything you had created for it was mint, while the little dragon plush was simply for a little extra fun.  

A knock sounded at your door and you inhaled deeply to calm yourself.  Striding to the door with confidence, you slipped out your door to literally be surrounded by the entire Parks Department, and more.  Apparently when Leslie meant she wanted you to meet her friends, she meant all of them.  Immediately pulling Leslie into a hug, you whispered, "You're lucky I have a lot of acreage." 

"Well, I couldn't pick just a few, so," Leslie said with excitement in your tone, "I brought everyone." 

Beside her stood Markie Mark, as you liked to call ark Brezanowitz, her long term boyfriend.  Next to him stood Ann Perkins, whom you had met offhandedly a few times.  The rest of the crew, though, you had no idea.  After greeting Mark and Ann, Leslie introduced you to each and every one.  

As you noticed that little twinkle in her eyes, you knew there was something strange up.  For one, no one out of the group you were introduced to clearly wore your Khal Drogo outfit, and the fact that she was practically beaming at you had you curious.  When she said, "I already set up your backyard for the set!  Let's go!"  you could feel anxiety rising.  

When she said she set it up, it was clearly an understatement.   The camera was set up professionally, surely by someone else, since you always had to fix it for her.  What caught your eye was something that would truly have the Khaleesi blush, and your face was as red as a tomato.  

Looking off, clearly awaiting everyone's arrival, stood a handsome and lithe Khal Drogo.  Though he did not have the perfect body type for the cosplay, he was clearly handsome covered in the outfit you created.  He stood taller than you, and once he glanced your way, you could see his chocolate brown orbs that made you melt.  The excited smile that tugged upon his lips had your heart aflutter.  

"M'ach," you greeted in Dothraki as you moved closer to the male.  "I didn't expect Leslie to get me such a handsome Khal, but I greatly appreciate you doing this." 

"You speak Dothraki?" He said with an eyebrow raised, though the excitement did not leave his face.  "I was thrilled to be chosen, especially since I'm sure I'm the only Game of Thrones fan in the majority of City Hall.  I'm Ben Wyatt, and you must be Y/N?" 

You nodded with a large smile against your lips.  "It's a pleasure, and I speak a little," you said sheepishly.  "Just as Dany, I know bits and pieces of the dialect." 

"Okay, nerds," the man you were introduced to under the name of Tom Haverford said with a laugh.  "How about you two get into positions." 

You ended up positioning your Khal for multiple photographs, before he began getting into the character more.  The two of you had been blushing messes half the time, and you were sure that a great deal of the photographs would not be useable, but kept for memory purposes.  

As the two of you got further into shooting, Ben moved his hands to either side of your face as he said, "Yer zheannae sekke." 

You prayed your face did not hold too much blush as you replied, "Yer mezahe sekke."  A smirk pulled upon your lips as you replied, though you did wish to call him handsome instead of simply sexy, your knowledge of Dothraki was small.  

As the two of you simply stared into one another's eyes, you could hear the camera continuing to take photographs.  The one thing you had been too shy to accomplish, Ben was not, as he captured your lips for the photographs.  Surely, you thought he was simply putting on a show for your collection, but you could still feel your heart reverberating in your chest.  Mentally, you had been screaming.  

When the two of you had been done modeling your outfits, you both excused yourselves inside to change.  Ben had thankfully brought a spare outfit, knowing he wanted to leave your property with you.  Once he entered your home, though, his eyes were wide in shock.  

"So, you're a professional cosplayer?" He questioned as his eyes moved between different creations you had made.  

You hummed in approval, a smile against your lips as you moved to grab your street clothes.  "Are you sure you haven't modeled like that before?" You asked with an eyebrow raised, turning to meet chocolate brown eyes.  "You surprised me out there." 

He took off your wig to reveal partially mussed brown locks, appearing much more handsome than he had even in the Khal Drogo attire.  Sheepishly, he smiled, a clear bit of blush risen in his cheeks.  "That was genuine," he replied sheepishly.  "You're very beautiful, and I apologize if I crossed a line." 

You told him just a second before you went to change back into your normal clothes.  Brushed through y/h/c locks and your normal attire, you bit your lip gently, wondering if the handsome man would still be attracted to you as, well, you.  Emerging from the bathroom, you were shocked to see that he had already changed out of his own outfit as well, simply buttoning up his shirt as you came out.  

"I'm curious, handsome, do you still think that without the cosplay?" You teased, a smile tugging against your lips.  

His chocolate gaze was sincere as he smiled down at you, nodding and he said, "Khaleesi or not, you're beautiful, and I'd love to get to know you better." 

"I'm sure I'd love that," you said shyly.  

____________

Leaving this note at the end as to not ruin the one shot itself, but like - can you picture Ben as Khal Drogo?  I think I would die immediately. 

[towritecomicsonherarms]

And for my next trick i am gonna attempt to list my

TOP TEN FAVOURITE SONGS FROM HAMILTON

because i know you lot are DYING to know my opinion. 

In the 12 days since i experienced it for the first time i’ve listened to the soundrack like a lot.

And i mean

a lot! (this is an old pic. It’s now up to 2478 plays)

the bottom 5 are not really in any kind of order.

BOTTOM FIVE!!1!!!

10 - The Room Where it Happens

100% Pure banger, bop and jam. Click boom!

9 It’s Quiet Uptown

Tears, tears everywhere. Beautiful. Stunning. Haven’t cried this much since my Nanna’s funeral. GG. When he sings ‘He’d be standing here right now. And you would smile and that would be enough!’ You can hear the absolute heartbreak and devastation.

8 Right Hand Man

My one criticism of this song is that the intro of George Washington could have had more of a build up (kinda like Frank-N-Furter). it was great... but it could have been greater.

7 Non-Stop

The end of act one has it all.

6 - You’ll be back (plus the other two)

When Jonathon Groff strutted out after farmer Refuted i was absolutely in no way prepared for the glorious absurdity of this. What a twat. Catchy AF.

TOP FIVE!!11!!!!

5 - Alexander Hamilton

Great intro to the musical. Straight away I was all finger snapping and into it. It’s up there with ‘Science Fiction/Double Feature’ from ‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’ as the greatest opening number to a musical ever (not that i’ve seen millions of musicals but that is not the point). It lays the scene perfectly while introducing all of the major players.

4 - Helpless/Satisfied

Am i cheating by having 2 songs in one spot? Yes. Do i care. No, because It would be a travesty to split these two as they’re linked. Helpless is an absolute bop in the style of Destiny’s Child. Satisifed has some of the best vocals (and acting) in the show from Renée Elise Goldsberry. Heartbreaking stuff.

3 - Wait for It

Wasn’t really a fan of this for the first several listens and then i looked at the lyrics for it and something just clicked. WOW! Just WOW! The first time everyone comes in with ‘WAIT FOR IT!’ is pure magic and touches me in a special place. Leslie Odom Jr. won a Tony for best actor for this and i can see why. The real MVP of the show. This song is too short though. CRIMINAL!

2 - One Last Time

Not gonna lie. I have shed many unmanly tears to this song in the last 10 days. I had no idea who Christopher Jackson was before watching Hamilton. But holy shit that man can sing. Every time the song starts i’m like ‘awww this is nice’ and then the first time he actually sings ‘One last time’ I’m all ‘oh here we go’ and i can feel myself getting all emotional. And then when Lin-Manuel starts doing the address and Cristopher joins in i’m usually crying like a baby (BTW that whole address thing is absolute genius). And if i’m not sobbing by then i definitely am when the backing singers come in with the ‘George Washington’s going home’

1 - Yorktown (The world turned upside down)

Personally i think this is the perfect song to show someone who knows nothig about Hamilton to try and get them to watch it.It has most of the major players in it. It’s action packed and entertaining. And that immigrant line.. OOOF! Nice. If someone had shown me this ages ago i would have checked out hamilton sooner.. but nobody did.

Shout out to ‘What’d i miss’ which just misses out because it’s made better by Daveed Diggs’ Prince influenced performance in the live show. He makes the song better than it is. You dig?

[servinglemonade]

HAMILTON ON DISNEY+

BEWARE: SPOILERS AHEAD FOR HAMILTON ON DISNEY+

Hi everyone! I’m back with a very exciting post that I thought I would not be writing for a very long time. My review of the filmed Hamilton Production on Broadway with the OBC!! After the unexpected announcement that the Hamilton film would find it’s home on Disney+ instead of being released in theaters in 2021, I was ecstatic. I could not believe it! I have been listening to the album with the OBC for years now. I never get tired of it, it always puts a smile on my face and the occasional comfort whenever I need it. I have watched Hamilton four times now and I just love it so much. So let’s go...

Overall reaction

Even after watching four times now, my reaction is still the same. I truly believe that it is a brilliant masterpiece. That is high praise for sure, but Hamilton deserves it. I will never forget experiencing it for the first time on July 3rd. I was blown away and could not take my eyes off the screen. It was exhilarating to finally see this, after listening to it for years. It is the little details that you do not get to experience when listening to the album that I loved the most. So overall, I was blown away by it and exceeded all of my expectations.

Film 

I have never seen a filmed stage musical, so I do not have a reference. However, I thought this was beautifully filmed. It showed the whole stage when it was needed and zoomed in on the actors when necessary. It was an intimate experience. You get the best seat in the house, so to speak.

Cast

I already knew the cast was phenomenal due to listening to the cast album. Seeing them perform all the songs was even better than I expected! Here is an itemized list (hehe) of all the cast members, because they all deserve a chance to shine! Special shout-out to all the ensemble members, without them the show would just not be complete!

Lin-Manuel Miranda as Alexander Hamilton Favorite performance: Hurricane (so beautifully staged!!)

The man, the myth, the legend! I am a huge fan of Lin and his work (even beyond Hamilton)! I thought his Hamilton was great and very funny at times. The emotion in his performance was really good! Lin wrote this whole thing!! It all came from his mind, which is incredible in and of itself. 

Phillipa Soo as Eliza Hamilton Favorite performance: Burn (iconic)

Phillipa is so talented. She has an amazing voice and pair that with her amazing performance and it is practically perfect. Her acting and singing during the final song, Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story, was so emotional. It had me crying all the three times I have seen it. 

Leslie Odom Jr. as Aaron Burr Favorite performance: Wait For It (this is one of the songs that made me a Hamilton fan)

Leslie Odom Jr. is one of the most talented people ever. He is so amazing on that stage. Everybody always said that The Room Where It Happens is a true masterpiece and I always liked the song, but it was not my favorite. Seeing Leslie and the Ensemble cast perform it, WOW! Incredible. Leslie is the perfect Burr and had me crying and laughing many times.

Renée Elise Goldsberry as Angelica Schuyler Favorite performance: Satisfied (what else?!)

I always found Renée’s voice so damn powerful in Satisfied, which made me love the song more. Seeing Satisfied performed was magical and I will never get over how amazing that song is and how perfect Renée performs it. She is a true powerhouse whenever she shows up and confirmed that Angelica is one of my favorites in the show.

Daveed Diggs as Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson Favorite performance: What’d I Miss (this was hard)

Daveed Diggs. Daveed Diggs. Daveed Diggs. Oh my gosh, he was even more perfect than I thought. Daveed is one of the cast members everyone always raved about and now I know why! If I had to describe his performance, I would say it is electric. He just immediately captures your attention. For both Lafayette and Jefferson!  

Christopher Jackson as George Washington Favorite performance: One Last Time (this was so powerful)

The first time Chris emerges on the stage as Washington, you are just immediately drawn to him (at least I was haha). He just has a very powerful presence. Especially in Right Hand Man, his entrance is EVERYTHING! History Has Its Eyes On You has always been one of my favorites on the soundtrack and it was even better seeing it. However, his moment is One Last Time. It is truly a defining moment of the entire show.

Okieriete “Oak” Onaodowan as Hercules Mulligan/James Madison Favorite performance: Yorktown (his part is so good)

Oak has some fantastic moments in the show! His Hercules Mulligan is so great and full of energy. As I said, his part in Yorktown gets me so hyped! I loved James Madison’s parts with Jefferson, they had awesome energy together. Another fave Madison line is in The Election of 1800. The first line is Jefferson saying if they can get back to Politics since a lot of drama and sad stuff happened in the past few songs and Madison is like uhh, please with a soft voice because he has been crying. So funny and relatable!

Anthony Ramos as John Laurens/Philip Hamilton Favorite Performance: Blow Us All Away (funny in the beginning and ends so sadly)

I enjoyed Anthony Ramos’ performance quite a bit! He was great in conveying emotions as both Laurens and Phillip, with both roles having quite emotional endings. I was shocked to find out there was a part just before Non-Stop that showed Hamilton learning about Laurens’ death, that was so sad and Anthony Ramos did it so beautifully. I was very impressed by him and I cannot wait to see him in In The Heights!

Jasmine Cephas Jones as Peggy Schuyler/Maria Reynolds Favorite performance: Say No To This (her vocals are so great here)

Peggy and Maria might not be the biggest roles in the show but Jasmine slays in both of them! Especially as Maria, her vocals in Say No To This are even better than on the cast album. She was amazing!

Jonathan Groff as King George III Favorite performance: I Know Him (Jonathan’s performance makes this song work so well)

Jonathan was funny on the album but when you see the performance with it, it just completes it! He was phenomenal, and I loved that he showed up during some other songs as well, for example in The Reynolds Pamphlet, absolutely hilarious! I also enjoyed his little announcement at the beginning, where he said Enjoy MY show, that was a neat thing to include here!

Favorite Musical Numbers

Okay, so these are all my favorite performance, taking into consideration the song itself, staging, choreography, and production. I love how seeing the show made me love songs that were not my favorites before! So here they are in a non-particular order:

My Shot 

So powerful, I think I almost jumped off the couch at the end because I was so hyped!

The Schuyler Sister

Even better than I thought it would be! From the use of the rotating stage, the performances, and choreography.

Farmer Refuted

This was the one song I always skipped on the album, however, seeing it here makes me lol every time! It’s great.

You’ll Be Back, What Comes Next?, and I Know Him

Give me all the King George content, soooo funny, I just love these moments in the show!

Helpless and Satisfied

Satisfied is still my favorite of the two, however it was breathtaking seeing how well the two are connected. Especially Satisfied, first the toast, then rewinding to see Helpless from Angelica’s perspective, and lastly coming back to the toast. I just thought it was stunning to see! The staging here is phenomenal.

Wait For It

The song that made me love Hamilton. Seeing Leslie performing it, made me love it, even more. He is so talented and amazing here. I had goosebumps. Even though the staging and production for this number are simple, it just makes it even better because you can just focus on Burr!

Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down)

Every time I watch it and Yorktown ends, I always shake my head in awe. It such a powerful moment in the show and it just makes me very hyped (especially Mulligan’s part). SO good.

Non-Stop

I know I keep talking about how great the staging is, but I feel like the staging from Satisfied, Non-Stop, and another one is the best ones in the show. The ending of Non-Stop on the stage with all the characters standing above Hamilton, stairs being moved from one side to the other all so seamlessly... *chef’s kiss*

Cabinet Battle #1 and #2

The energy between Hamilton and Jefferson here is so good, and I love they look into the audience and make them a part of it. Lin and Daveed just nail these songs!

The Room Where It Happens

Two things: LESLIE and THE CHOREOGRAPHY. That is all.

Washington On Your Side

I just really started loving this song after seeing the show. I also loved the beginning of the song where Burr joins Jefferson on stage, starts singing and Jefferson is just standing there confused thinking: “Where did you come from all of a sudden?” This is Chris’ moment in the show, he just conveys so much emotion in every line. 

One Last Time

This is Chris’ moment in the show, he just conveys so much emotion in every line. 

Hurricane

I just love this song and the use of the rotating stage here is excellent, same goes for the lighting.

The World Was Wide Enough

Seeing this for the first time was so emotional, the part where only Lin is singing and you onlyhear his voice... Pfff, amazing! Also how Leslie ends the song, WOW! 

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

The way I sobbed during this... I just thought it was a beautiful ending for the show itself.

Okay, that was a long one! But I love talking about Hamilton and if you read the whole post, I guess you like reading about it! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! What were your favorite moments from the show?

Have a festive day and stay safe! 

XO 

Yenai

[totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes]

Beetlejuice 12/18/2019

This will be long but this is a compilation of everything that stuck out to me about the show! Spoilers Obviously 

Who was in the cast:

Sophia Anne Caruso- Lydia

Alex Brightman- Beetlejuice

Kerry Butler- Barbara

Leslie Kritzer- Delia

Adam Dannheisser - Charles

David Josefsberg - Adam 

Act I:

The theater was GORGEOUS, the stage was beautiful, the music before the show was so good. The crowd was so excited, the ushers were so nice. It was just a wonderful experience before the show even started

Invisible started and I almost cried. Sophia is such an amazing singer, and hearing her sing live? She has so much power in her voice it gave me chills

I also liked looking through the ensemble and recognizing the cast members

The costumes were so stunning

The minute Beetlejuice arrived on stage everyone started clapping for a solid minute and he just waited there with a big grin on his face

OH MY GOD HIS SINGING was amazing

The sandworm was HUGE like I knew it would be big but it was literally huge

I was surprised that a lot of Beetlejuice’s jokes fell flat, they were hilarious

He said something along the lines of “I feel so out of place...like a gay republican”

I died

The MAITLANDS seeing them for the first time was so good!!! David plays an amazing Adam. Adam needs ot be protected at all costs, he is such a good husband

Barbara would do this low and growly voice during “Not Yet” and it was so funny. 

Beetlejuice just hanging around them before they died was very funny. He would have one liners that were just hilarious

When the Maitlands fell through the fucking floor boards, I knew it was gonna happen but like it still shocked me

THE SAD PUPPET SHOW

Literally five minutes after he found out there was a kid in the audience Barbara says “You give me the creeps” and he goes “Well you give me a boner!”

The whole being dead thing reprise was SO GOOD. It was so amazing to watch live

Charles is so much more RAUNCHY than I expected, very sex oriented lol but so blunt about it

LYDIA 

Can I just say that Sophia Anne Caruso plays teenage angst SO WELL. Like I 100% felt the sadness Lydia was feeling, it was so palpable

Just once more what the fuck did Lydia think was happening??? How dare she be surprised that they were moving. Like I love her but come on...

There’s a point during the scene where Lydia straight up gets this evil look on her face, starts giggling and goes up to Delia all innocently, trying to make it seem like this is hard for her to do and she’s breaking through. She does the whole “knock know” and when Delia said you don’t open the doors Lydia straight up started crying and said “I guess you’ll never know”

Dead Mom made me sob, Sophia has so much power when she is singing. There were points where Lydia would be near tears and it was so sad but so incredible. 

Fright of their lives was very funny. BUT THEY CHANGED THE KATHRINE HEPBURN joke. 

Adam is such a supportive husband

I also loved: “What are things that make you scared” and Adam goes “THE ELECTROAL COLLEGE! WHY DOES OHIO HAVE SO MUCH POWER” and Barbara deadass goes “Can I change my answer”

“WEll that was a soliloquy so you’re the rude one”

LETS HAUNT THIS BITCH

“No Reason” was also very funny, Delia tries so hard. This woman dabbed, did Fortnight dances, and just is a ray of sunshine. It’s just not what Lydia needs. Lydia was so savage during that song she took zero shits

Delia looked so upset when Lydia said “and good people die” It was very obvious she knew Lydia was talking about her mom, she went over to hug her but Lydia went under her arm

LYDIA MEETING THE MAITLANDS so adorable

Lydia telling the story about her mom. She looked so happy to have someone to talk to about it. 

“Every year me and my mom would build these haunted houses but it was during the summer so nobody was expecting it. One time she dressed up as the ghost of edgar allen poe! I thought she was so scary, but nobody knew who she was...because people don’t read.”

Also Adam is adorable, his dad joke made the whole audience groan

Lydia just needs to affection. She was like “I don’t have many friends...it’s nice to know I have you guys in the attic.”

Delia: “That was the most impressive rogering you’ve ever given me” Charles: “I’m very good at sex”

ICONIC

Charles proposing and Delia being so happy, so cute. But then Lydia runs in and Delia has to hide

LYDIA IS SO DRAMATIC. I’m talking she's fake fainting about the scary ghosts, collapsing to the floor. A+ performace, it was so funny

WHEN LYDIA FIND DELIA heart breaking. She was crying I just wanted someone to hug her. The Maitlands looked so concerned, Charles didn’t make any attempts to comfort her which kinda made me pissed at him because he was being very selfish. Also when Lydia cried, “I wish I was dead.” he didn’t even bother to follower her. Do better Charles

Beetle juice's multiple limbs very funny gag

Also he started scatting

Poor Lydia :(

Lydia started like having a mental break down when BJ started singing “I’m gonna have a new best friend!” like someone please give this girl a break. She so smol

Beetlejuice stopping her from killing herself 

“Say my name” was SO INCREDIBLE

the line “and kill him” was said so quietly that he was like trying to have Lydia not hear him

FAKE CARTWHEEL

Any time Lydia said Beetlejuice a light would shine on BJ but then go out when she would go beeeeeee- “cuz/” “being” “be a doll”

Nice lighting touch

The lighting, in general, was amazing

Lydia was so intrested in the possesion of Adam and Barbara it was so cool to see the little glimmer of a plan forming in her head

SHE PUSHED BJ off the roof and when she goes “what he was already dead” the Maitlands just kinda shrug like “she right” 

Charles and Delia trying to High-five but missing? Cute ass couple, they are actually really cute together

Maxie Dean is a creep and has ZERO RIGHTS

Lydia’s yellow dress and how excited Delia was and how relieved Charles was

Day-O was fantastic Lydia looked so happy but then it started failing and instantly she got very angry but a sad kind of angry. She had such a look of hesitation on her face when she summoned BJ but she went through with it when she looked over at her dad and he was giving Delia a kiss.

You could see in her eyes that Lydia almost instantly regretted it when she saw just how chaotic he was being, but she just kept going because she thought she had no other alternative. 

Charles reaching out for Lydia before he got pushed out of the house and Lydia looking at him as if she just wanted him to come and get her? HEART BREAKING

“It’s our house now kid!”

Intermission:

I got a cool cup and bought some merch. Very cool

Act II:

When Skye came on stage someone behind me said “Who is she??” like bitch just WATCH

Dana was amazing as Skye, Skye deserves the world she is so pure

LYDIA so chaotic as Skye definitely has a bby crush on Lydia

“Boo. Hope I didn’t scare you!”- Skye

Then Lydia scares her, Skye starts hyperventilating and Lydia goes “you’re fun!” and Skye says “I like you too!”

Poor Skye :(

Poor everyone in “That Beautiful sound”

Lydia SMILING. Any time she smiled it felt like a blessing. She seemed so happy

The clones do acrobatics in the aisles I did not expect that, it was so intense

NPR where tote bags come from

“And a book you’re never going to read” “the hand book for the recently decease?” “yep but you’re not recently deceased so...do you wanna see a sad puppet show??”

Beetlejuice looking so betrayed when Lydia left....

Lydia upstairs with the Maitlands. Omg Lydia looked so cute when she was holding the book and just kinda swaying in her spot when she was talking about it

“and we? We are old book smell people”

Lydia loving the smell of old books? Cute, adorable, 10/10

Adam being a dad

ADAM BOOPING her nose with the chalk. I would DIE for them

Lydia yelling at the maitlands when they won’t help her find her mom. WOW she had so much anger behind her voice but it was so sad because you can tell she was trying not to cry

Barbara 2.0 was amazing

Lydia walking across the stage trying to open the book :(

Charles and Delia coming back for Lydia and both of them flirting with each other...like bruh you’ve come to rescue your daughter please help her....

Beetlejuice tricking Lydia :(

Delia falling off the couch and just seeing her crawl off stage to do her Ms. Argentina quick change. ICONIC

Lydia accidentally exorcising Barbara was SO MUCH SADDER THAN I HAD EXPECTED like Lydia was having a mental breakdown she was os upset and lost and confused

When Beetlejuice showed up her face went so pale and she looked so scared.

“Well you wanted your mommy so this is what you get!” I CRIED that was so uncalled for

When the whole family was trapped Lydia really looked like a scared little kid because she is...like you forget how young Lydia is but there are several moments in the show where you are reminded that she is a scared, and lonely little girl who misses her mom

Charles trying to reach out to her but being chained to a wall, heart breaking. This scene made me so sad in general

Lydia agreeing to Marry him but her voice cracking and sounding so scared :(

THE HUG SHE GIVES BARBARA before she runs off

Charles pushing Adam and Barbara down so he could follow her

The whole Netherworld scene was so good

Poor Lydia was being pushed around, and pulled, and dragged, she looked so scared. Like she would try to run away from people but they would just grab her and pull her back. She looked like she was hyperventilating and just needed a hug but any time Charles got close to her 

Lydia calling for her mom in the Netherworld and crying

HOME WAS CHILLING

Charles and Lydia making uP sobbing, I legit sobbed 

OTHO’s real name being Kevin...very funny 

Delia had NO MERCY when she found out his name was Kevin

Adam’s name plack being “Sexy”

BJ fliritng with Adam in general was pretty funny

When BJ didn’t buy the wedding thing and went to go kill Charles Lydia did no freaking hesitate and went to go grab the art peice to kill him with

ADAM FOR THE WIN

Creepy Old guy was very funny

When BJ came back to life and everything was shaking on stage Sophia straight up yeeted her hat off stage, I laughed so loud even though nothing else funny was happening on stage

Lydia looked so mortified when she killed BJ

Juno coming back for Lydia and Lydia actaully looking scared, but then the threat paused and Juno tricked BJ with love, and then went right back to Lydia. The whole family trying to protect her...veyr soft

BJ AND THE SAND WORM

Bj giving Lydia the cowboy hat

Jump in the line made me CRY 

Lydia flying :D

End of Show

Instant standing ovation 

I got to stage door and got autographs from Presley, Dana, Kerry, and David

[catzun]

Yakusoku no Neverland Episode 12 | thoughts dump

I read the manga. I already knew what was going to happen. Yet? Almost every single second I was holding my breath, I was excited what would happen next. They had some little extra scenes that weren’t originally in the manga, but they gave so much more depth to the escape and about Isabella’s past. Don practicing his throws, Thoma and Lani practicing their rocket shoots. It really shows more of how much they’re working hard for the past two months.

I also love how Emma and Isabella had a small interaction before she went with the others. It wasn’t much, but it shows how much Isabella is desperate to get them back (of course) and Emma showing her determination in leaving the House she loves so dearly. Yet, when she left, Isabella’s desperate expression changed into something more soft and gentle.

She takes off her bun, letting her hair flow free; she’s no longer “Mama”. She’s simply, “Isabella”, the one that sought for freedom just like Emma and the others when she was their age. But she couldn’t escape, and for survival, she would do anything. But now, she’s tired. She had enough of all of this. She wants a break. This is what broke me, when she said “But I guess I’ve had enough.”

Her past with Leslie was pure, innocent, and beautiful. I love how full of energy she was; it was reminiscent of Emma’s own lively personality. Leslie playing a guitar was an extra plus, and the animation with him strumming the strings was just beautiful. Even though Isabella’s “training to be a Mama” was similar to Krone’s, we can clearly tell that by the time she’s pregnant, she seems as if she lost all hope, singing the song Leslie once composed.

Even in the manga, I was honestly surprised I didn’t got that sense of “an antagonist trying to redeem themselves at the end”. She wasn’t redeeming herself and just spouting out nonsense like ‘I always cared about you’; she was showing her true self as someone who wanted to escape to, and that she’s tired of, literally everything. And because her children escaped, she wishes them a safe trip, and to be careful, like a genuine mother would with no regrets. This small act of love was most likely the most and the first motherly act she has ever done. In the manga, she said that “she wished she could had loved them normally.” Truth to be told, I bursted into tears, especially with how the stunning music in the background was flowing with each and every scene so perfectly well down.

Though, one thing I really wished they added was Isabella singing the song to the other kids. I really liked that part in the manga. And as much as I loved the “This is our first morning”, it could had been a bit more.. dynamic. Isabella had already overwhelmed me, so contrasting it with Emma and the others smiling with pride after they escaped would had been so much more a shot in the heart.

THEN AGAIN THESE ARE JUST MY THOUGHTS LOL not some fancy review or anything and I’m mostly just talking about the scenes that’s kinda anime-original?? yeah so I just wanna spill my thoughts out because I REALLY SHEDDED TEARS AND FELT SO EMOTIONAL AAAAA I NEVER KNEW I WOULD LOVE YAKUSOKU NO NEVERLAND THIS MUCH LIKE. THIS IS REAL GOOD SHIT. A DIAMOND. WATCH AND READ IT. THANKS FOR COMIN’ TO MY TED TALK YALLS

[ali-alice-alison]

The Hayloft

“Alright, it’s in here,” Daisy excitedly proclaimed as she dragged Leslie by the hand into her family’s old wooden barn.

The goats were standing around silently, just stabled for the night half an hour ago. Some were chewing softly on some straw. Tools lined the right wall of the rectangular barn, below the hayloft. Leslie spotted the rusty old hooked poles used to pull down bales of hay propped up next to a green rake. Daisy and her had gotten themselves into some serious trouble a few months back when they’d tried to use those poles to practice for the staff-fighting tournament at the Festival of Bells. They were too young to enter, but still, they were determined to train for when they were old enough in a couple of years.

Daisy let go of Leslie’s hand as she moved to put the creaky ladder into position.

“You’re gonna love this, Les, just wait till you see it!”

Leslie couldn’t help but smile at her friend. Between the two of them, she herself was usually the more hyperactive one. Not that Daisy lacked for energy, she simply tended to be a bit more composed. This thing she wanted to show her must really be something special.

“I haven’t seen you this excited since I gave you that book about that man who has to save the world while slowly going mad, Daise. I can’t wait to find out what’s got you so riled up.”

Daisy smiled at her in that playful way she did when Leslie said something amusing, or sometimes when she was flattered. “Thanks again for that, that was a really cool present. Just come up here and you’ll see,” she said as she began climbing the ladder to the hayloft.”

Leslie followed suit after Daisy reached the top. Two on the ladder at the same was dangerous; the thing wasn’t very stable, as they’d learned the hard way a few years back.

When she got to the top, Leslie found her friend crouching behind a stack of hay bales in the corner of the loft. Daisy looked at her with eager eyes shining with anticipation, glimmering in the soft, warm light of the lantern they’d brought. Now burning with curiosity, Leslie approached to find out what Daisy was so eager to show her.

Behind the hay bales lay a tiny little field mouse sleeping peacefully on a small folded up blanket. Leslie leaned in to inspect it closer. The poor thing looked like it had been hurt quite badly, but it didn’t seem to be in a lot of pain. She could spot small stitches where the animal had been wounded and apparently sewed up again.

“Muffin got a hold of him a couple of weeks ago, but she got distracted and left him alive,” Daisy explained. The Lewis’ family cat was an excellent mouser and she didn’t normally leave her prey alive. “It was so sad. He was just lying there on the floor of the barn, not even able to move. I just couldn’t leave him like that. So I took him up here to hide him from my Pa and I gave him some food and water. Stitched him up as fast as I could. Wasn’t easy on such a small animal and I was scared that disinfecting the wounds might kill him, but I went with my gut and I did it! I’ve been giving him small pieces of banana and sunflower seeds every day and he’s slowly been getting better. He’s not here sometimes now, so I think he’s healed enough to go, but he keeps coming back. I think he likes sleeping on the blanket.”

Leslie looked in awe as her friend explained passionately, her face cast in that warm orange glow of the lantern. When she was done explaining, Daisy smiled warmly at the mouse. She looked so beautiful in that light, with that kind, soft smile on her face. Leslie didn’t know what to say, so she did the only thing that felt right and hugged Daisy tightly.

“This is amazing,” she said after a short while, pulling out of the hug slightly and pressing her forehead against Daisy’s. “I can’t believe you managed to nurse it back to health! Actually, scratch that, I can totally believe it from you. You’re just that kind.”

Daisy’s smile turned into a broad one, Leslie could see her dark brown eyes glittering with joy. She was so pretty when she smiled, the way the corners of her eyes crinkled up in just that way, like no one else. You could see the warmth in Daisy’s eyes when she smiled and Leslie could see them very well from this distance. They were very close.

Suddenly, she released that their foreheads were still pressed together. She hadn’t even been thinking about it; it had just felt natural, but they’d sat like that for a pretty long time now. Daisy continued to just smile at her. Was she blushing? Surely that must be a trick of the light. Leslie suddenly became very aware of the heat in her own cheeks. Was she blushing? Their noses were almost touching as they sat staring into each other’s eyes. Leslie could feel the warmth coming off her friend’s face, could feel her breathing. Was she imagining things or was Daisy breathing slightly faster than normal? Her lips looked so soft...

Leslie moved on instinct. She wasn’t really sure what she was doing, but it felt right. She lifted her right hand, which had been resting on Daisy’s knee, and gently cupped her face, caressing her cheek with her thumb. She closed her eyes, leaned in... and kissed Daisy.

It was over very quickly, just a small peck on the lips really, but Leslie had never felt so alive. Adrenaline rushed inside of her as she took her hand away and backed up her face. Excitement suddenly turned into fear. What if that’s not what Daisy wanted! She could have just totally ruined their friendship!

“S-sorry,” Leslie stuttered. “I... I shouldn’t have! I’m so-”

“It’s okay,” Daisy said as she put a hand on Leslie’s leg. “I... I liked that. I liked that a lot.” The warm smile was back on her face. She quickly glanced to the side, as if hesitating to say something. She was definitely blushing now. “I think secretly... Maybe I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” She moved in closer and rested her head on Leslie’s shoulder.

“Me too,” Leslie said quietly, and she realized it was true. She’d never thought about it quite so directly, but it was the truth. She had wanted to do that. Her insides felt like they were on fire, but in a good way. Thoughts racing and all warm inside, she was a boiling cauldron of emotions. There was no more fear though. Daisy had managed to dispel that with just a few simple words. She leaned in her head to rest on top of Daisy’s. This was right. This was the most right she’d ever felt. Her stomach felt like it would turn inside out from pure excitement and yet she was completely at peace.

“There’s another blanket in the corner over there. I spent a couple of nights here when the mouse was still very weak, to keep him company. Wanna just sit here together for a while?”

Leslie lifted her head and all she could do was nod, smiling softly. She was still too stunned to say anything. Daisy moved to grab the blanket and the two of them sat down next to each other with their backs up against the wall, wrapped in warmth and comfort. After sitting wrapped in each other’s arms for a while, saying and doing nothing but sharing in this magical moment together, Leslie turned her head and looked into Daisy’s eyes once more. Feeling a lot more confident, the next kiss was more than just a small peck.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 17 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: So I did a very rough outline of everything else I want to happen in this fic and I’m gonna tentatively say we’re halfway through it; I don’t know how long any given part is until I write it, so that might be wrong, but we’ll see! I at least have an endpoint in mind, though there’s a lot of stuff in between that endpoint and now, so never fear, Duckenzies, Duckenzie aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. I listened to ODESZA’s album A Moment Apart a lot while I wrote this chapter; that’s an album about LOVE for sure, so it’s very Duckenzie (I love Boy especially, a song that is pure Cody in my eyes--as rapturously beautiful as he is). I LOVED writing about Duncan putting Kenzie’s clothes away; clothes are such a big part of my life and are so important to me and they tell such an intimate story about a person, and clothing continues to be an important theme in this fic. The framed picture of Kenzie and Madeline is based on a real photo of Billie and Carrie (@hi-ilovedamien used it in one of the Instagram edits she made for my fic). The one of Kenzie and Claire is based on the fact that Billie and Leslie are super close IRL and love to go to Disneyland together (follow their Instagrams for plenty of proof on that one), and the one of Kenzie with her father is based on on this photo of Billie and her dad Bryan Lourd. Everything Duncan picks out for Kenzie on Agent Provocateur’s website is really from them except for the rose choker: this is the white lingerie, this is the black lingerie, this is the kimono, this is the sleeping set. The rose choker is real, it just isn’t from AP, but I included it there anyway because they do have a choker section on their website. Here’s Duncan’s Givenchy sunglasses. Stoked to finally include mention of Duncan’s private plane, it’ll show up more in the future. I couldn’t find a mirror that looks quite like theirs: this is about the right size, so imagine it gilded in gold grape vines, and you get the idea. I found Duncan’s study desk, by the way. The peacock clockwork in Stapleton’s Antiques is something like this but bigger and just the peacock. Frederick isn’t an AU, he’s my character, but he definitely has some weird ancestry and a belief in the occult; he knew the mirror was magickal in nature, though he kept that mostly to himself. His story about the Vicountess isn’t quite accurate, but she was indeed a witch. Jack Rose is a real whiskey bar in DC and my friend/coworker Christina told me about it, so my including it is a nod to her because she hasn’t watched APOCALYPSE or HOUSE OF CARDS and doesn’t even know who Cody or Billie are and still listens to me talk about this fic CONSTANTLY at work and at least pretends to be interested, thanks babe, you are great. I had a lot of fun including Tyler, my Taylor Lautner AU, in this part, and based his look on this photo from when he and Billie were still dating. Here’s Claire’s dress at the bar. Here’s Nat King Cole’s THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU, a very Duckenzie song. Regarding the sex: Duncan enjoys doing what Kenzie tells him to do more than anything--any domination of her is always tinged with her needs. They’re both switchers in the bedroom (you’ve probably noticed), but Duncan does what Kenzie wants him to do, important to keep in mind--she really enjoys the ways he dominates her, so she asks for those things, but the decision is primarily hers and he follows her leads. Once you’ve been having sex for awhile, you start to notice that once in awhile, you have a really fucking great orgasm among a bunch of other pretty great orgasms, and the fucking great, lost-in-nothing-for-awhile, screaming-involuntarily-because-its-that-fucking-intense kind are the kind of orgasms Duncan and Kenzie have in this part. I hope all of y’all reading along have an orgasm like that at some point in your lives, cuz it’s always one for the books.

Duncan had watched Kenzie run away from him, down the hall to the elevators--which somehow slid open immediately, as if to mock him in his longing--and ached. My Persephone, leaving me; only to return to me later, her hair full of flowers, her skin smelling of nature, trees, the clear air, and sweet herbs. Kenzie’s eyes gazed across to him as the doors slid shut once more, and they were golden and green, her little mouth smiling, her tawny hair over her shoulder, the roundness of her thighs visible above the long black boots--he blinked, the vision of wings, the vision of her wings flashing across his eyes again, residue from the dream--it had been so vivid, so bright, and the emotion in him had been overwhelming, like a storm. And then she was gone, and he was staring at the doors, breathless with her memory. I know we can’t always be together, but god, the hole she leaves when she isn’t tucked under my arm. It’s like a raw wound. He turned from the entrance of the penthouse, letting the door swing shut behind him--not realizing his hand was at his jaw, trailing over his lips. The darkness he’d felt coiled in the pit of him in that dream rested there still, along the lining of him, with a sticky and sickeningly heavy residue--the divinity of her light in it still tingled along the edge of of his mind, the smell of her hair dancing through his fingers, and he lifted his fingers to his nose and breathed in--roses, vetiver, geranium, and the sweet muskiness that was the crook of her mouth and the space between her legs. Now she is everywhere here, he thought, satisfied, looking over at the little bowl he’d handed her an hour ago, now empty of granola and fruit and in the sink, silver spoon resting inside it, wet with the residue of milk and berries. Now there is a small gold lining in every corner of this place, painted with the finest brush, and it dazzles me.

He thought of the tears they’d shed against each other in the darkness of the room that was now their bedroom as their bodies had shuddered in release; the terror and wondrous beauty of the realization that no, I haven’t been dreaming words into her, the words and emotions and colors I’ve felt have really been coming from her, and somehow, beyond all understanding, sometimes, I can hear Kenzie’s thoughts and feel what she is feeling, and the gold I see is her soul, kissing into me with the most tender of touches, shivering down onto me like a paper-thin wave of sunlight. And god, it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever fucking felt; it’s more beautiful than anything I can see with my eyes, it’s like a boon from beyond time, and my body and soul are abject and amplified in her. The words and feelings I’ve felt towards her, from her--they feel as though I’ve pulled them from deep memories, as if I’ve begun to awaken from an ageless sleep I’ve slept for eons, and she was there at the beginning of that sleep, and now, having finally woken, she is here again, as it was always meant to be. Duncan found himself lost in these thoughts, hands trailing through his hair, as he leaned down to where he’d left his smooth black iPhone on the nightstand, idly opening the Instagram app and going to Kenzie’s profile--already I miss her face, already I want to look at it again, anyway I can. @kenzielouwho. Duncan noticed she’d now amassed over a million followers--his heart twinged with a vague worry, thinking of the man who’d gotten into the Post building yesterday, her little tear-stained face pressing into his shirt, the trembling in her body, her cheeks white, eyes haunted with shock. A million strangers and how many of them want to hurt her? His blood felt cold, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling. If only I could shield her from every hurt, always. If only I could be sure she would always be safe. The thought of Kenzie being hurt filled him with a terrible dread, a nameless emotion beyond terror, beyond despair--a sorrow that felt like a dagger plunging into his ribs and rending his body in two. But Duncan pushed the fear out of him with a stern hand, the voice of reason in his mind cutting it off. Your Kenzie is marvelously brave and as beautiful as the full moon rising on a clear night, as the stars turning in the heavens. Trust her. She can do this. She can be in this world. She has a heart made of melted gold, you’ve pressed your lips to it, and you know she is stronger than you are. With her, you will create wonders. You will move mountains.

He went to the photo she’d taken and posted the night before--the two of them in the shadowy backseat of the BMW, neon lights drifting across his cheek and her forehead, her wide eyes, framed by heavy lashes, staring out at him; his profile pressed to her, his expression serene. The longest day, the greatest love. Oh, beloved. Kenzie. Truly you are my greatest love. My only love. The One. He scrolled idly through the comments; scores of heart emojis and reaction faces and stunned, excited comments, some bitter towards her, and Duncan felt twinges of resentment around his heart at them--you don’t know her light, you can’t know, whoever you are, how dare you, as if you know her and you fucking don’t--even though he knew these emotions, sent out into the ether, were essentially useless. Most of the comments, however, seemed genuinely positive--some bordered on obsessively enamored, fervent, worshipful. #Duckenzie are forever love one said, followed by neon hearts that matched the colors falling across his and Kenzie’s faces in the photo.

I want them to adopt me followed by a long line of sobbing emojis

You are the most beautiful couple of all time, King and Queen of Earth

They’re like something from a fairy tale, I can’t even handle it asfajhdlghslgha

@DUNCANSHEPHERD PUT A RING ON IT

Shepherd Unlimited: now the most powerful company AND the most powerful couple in the world

#DUCKENZIE FOR PRESIDENT(S) SCRATCH THAT WE ARE NOW A MONARCHY

I wanna be right in the middle of that Duckenzie sandwich like fuck my bi ass up

Their energy is too powerful to even look at, I’ve gone blind

Duncan clicked through to his own profile; he’d amassed another 20k followers since the last time he looked at it, bringing him past 8 million, and he gazed down at the two photos of her that were his most recent posts, each with over 170k and 180k likes; one of Kenzie sleepily leaning against the backseat of the BMW in afternoon sunlight; the other of her gazing down happily at the succulent in the oversized tee shirt, damp hair on her shoulder. I could look at these all day, he thought. But Duncan remembered, looking up; he’d asked if he could organize her things, and she’d said yes. The thought of putting Kenzie’s little clothes in his closet thrilled him, made his head hazy, made him hard; Duncan stood, bare feet feeling the thick rug that extended far around the bed--he moved beyond it to the dark hardwood, reaching for her clothes on the hanging rack in the corner. He turned toward the doorway for a moment, eyes falling over the wall beside it; that’s where the mirror should go, he thought. The side of the bed facing it clearly; and the hook we’ll hang from the ceiling above it, the hook will be right in front of it, close, so we can fuck there, standing, her little arms extended by the soft rope and her body stretched out to me, and she can press her sweetness down onto my mouth and I can watch myself eat her, watch the pleasure in her eyes and the tremble of her body, prostrate to me there, I can watch my worship, I can see every delicate turn of her and be smitten again and again, besotted in her, angel baby…

Duncan shivered and turned back to her clothes, hands trailing along in them; the smell of her rose off them in a delicate wave, and he felt drunk on it. He carefully lifted the hangers up, taking only a few pieces at a time into the closet, gazing down at them; her beautiful little dresses, babydoll and bodycon and with flowing skirts, and long-sleeved button-downs and turtle and mock necks, low-cut blouses and high-necked form-fitting tops and v-necks and wrap tops, some with prints of flowers or celestial bodies or patterns, and some lovely dresses in white and cream and sand, but most of them in solid, earth-tone colors. He lined them beside the new things she’d bought and hung in the closet the other day; he felt greedy, wanted more there, wanted the whole closet to be full of her things so he could stare at them and smell them and drink them in; wanted her gold on everything. His eyes fell over the red dress he’d gotten her at Nancy’s shop--the one that had kindled feverish lust in him, made him press his fingers between her legs and coax her into an orgasm on his lap, and he thought of the fall of her hair and her little teeth when she smiled and laughed and the bob of her throat when she was sad, tears streaking down her cheeks, and he shivered again. She is so beautiful. It makes my heart fucking ache. He thought of her pressing kisses between his shoulders this morning; you aren’t dark, baby. You aren’t. Duncan thought of all the things he’d done at his mother’s bidding for the furtherment of Shepherd Unlimited; thought of the app that he knew was mining people’s personal information, the hidden overseas accounts, his Uncle’s attempts to unseat President Underwood; he wondered if, in this case, it was wrong to hope his Uncle’s death would come soon. If one man causes so much suffering to others, is his death truly something to mourn? Only when Bill was gone would they be able to reshape Shepherd Unlimited into something that could cease harming others and begin to aid them. We have so much, he marveled, staring at the delicate pieces of Kenzie’s wardrobe, having finished hanging everything from the rack across from his dark monochrome clothes on the other side. How can I not have seen it before, really seen it, and known that I needed to reshape the company to help the rest of the world? That’s what I’m meant to do. I see that now. Kenzie has brought not only her light across everything in my life; she’d kindled the desire in me to further that light to touch as many people as I can. The Fates have blessed us, and I think they expect us to share those blessings further. She was meant to open my heart and my eyes to everything. Kenzie’s clothing juxtaposed sharply with his; the earthy tones of her, the shadowy tones of him. Persephone comes to Hades in his dark realm and kisses sweet flowers into his mouth, bringing him back to life from his cold death-state. She kindles the latent embers of his soul; stokes them back to a burning fire in his heart.

For her. It’s all for her. All for you, Kenzie. My body and my soul.

Duncan continued to move Kenzie’s things carefully into the closet with studied reverence; he had always been neat by nature, having been raised by a meticulous mother and taught that discretion was of paramount importance, coordination and careful study the measure of one’s mettle, and he organized the clothing in the boxes according to style and function and then by color; starting with whites and moving down through the rainbow to gray and black at the end. He moved on to two other boxes that held her shoes; the strappy sandals she was wearing them they met (he cradled them affectionately), little kitten heels he knew she wore to work sometimes, suede boots in black and saddle, more heeled sandals and flat sandals and black heels with pointed toes; Duncan loved how small they were, marveled at the size of her little feet, and carefully lined them on the shelves he’d cleared for them on the opposite side of the one that had dozens of pairs of his black boots and dress shoes along it. He marveled, shyly, at her, seemingly, scores of pairs of panties (some silky, some cotton, in every color and style he could think of--brief ands bikini and lacy and thongs--and a particular box that seemed to have only comfortable boycuts, most of them with period stains, and he carefully placed those in a bottom drawer together) and the loveliness of her bras; soft and silky, their small cups sliding through his fingers. Looking at her underthings just made Duncan long to buy her more--he thought of her in lacy, flowing lingerie, a garter belt and suspenders and a lacy chiffon robe, her chestnut hair falling around her shoulders, the Tiffany moon at her throat, glittering in low light, and his mind grew hazy with the sweetness of the thought. He looked down at the little labels on one of the bras and on her panties, committing her size to memory. It’d been a long time since he’d bought lingerie for a woman (most of the romantic attachments with women in his life up until now hadn’t lasted long enough for him to do something so intimate for them)--it had been for Misha, ancient history--and Duncan vaguely hoped, thinking as he slipped on a pair of black cashmere socks, that Kenzie wouldn’t mind him picking out something so intimate for her; she was so fierce in her own stylistic preferences, after all. But now that he’d carefully looked at her wardrobe, he felt sure he knew what she would like, and what she wouldn’t. Her clothes are a little piece of her soul; the way my clothes are a little piece of mine. They tell a story about her; the story of her gold aura and her bravery and how hard she works, the way she guards herself, the trembling delicacy of her emotions, with what she wears, the lovely scent of her and the shape of her and the interest she has in nature and in colors, in space and stars and celestial images, in cuts that flatter her body and make her feel comfortable and make her feel attractive. It’s a lovely wardrobe. If I didn’t already love her, I would after I saw it this way, this closely; if I’d seen this wardrobe out of a hundred others, I feel I’d know it on sight as hers, even if I’d never met her. I don’t know I know that, but I know. Duncan looked inside some of the other boxes the movers had stacked along the wall; some had books in them, more of her little jewelry boxes (one was a little gold-embossed, mirrored tray full of tiny rings, another a Victorian-style box with bracelets inside, including the twisting one she’d worn the night he first saw her on the balcony); one had her constellation bedspread, others her beautiful little tchotchkes; her moon alarm clock, crystal towers and geodes and incense and other lovely things that felt like her and looked like her and smelled like her to him, delicate, gold-sheened: an array of tiny china birds, her moon and sun wind chimes, framed pictures of her with Madeline (Kenzie was sitting on her lap, clutching her mother’s face close, eyes turned down, and Duncan’s affection for her fell over him in a wave again), one of her with Claire at Disney World (both of them in Mickey ears holding Mickey ice cream bars, grinning with happy abandon), and another with her in a black dress, golden hair over her shoulder, and an older, balding man with a friendly smile; clearly her father. He looked over them lovingly, but didn’t presume to move them--she could put them anywhere she wanted, where she wanted them, because this space belonged to her now, too, and anything of hers was a boon to him, a bright little piece of her blessing a space that had been cold and empty of warmth to him for so long.

Duncan went out to the vast space of his open living room in the quiet daylight, stepping over to where the Bouguereau prints stretched between Dike and Nike, his arms crossed in contemplation; he’d always found them beautiful, but now they seemed unearthly in their beauty to him; each of the aspects of the cycle of the day reminded him of Kenzie now; each one was her, her turning her body under him in the shadow of the evening, her lifting her face to kiss him, her reaching across his body to put her little hands around him, the aspect of her sleeping face against the pillow. He hesitated, contemplating going into the study to look at The Youth of Bacchus, but stopped himself; something about it was tied irrevocably to her now, and he longed to look at her looking at it instead; the wondrous affectation of her eyes moving over it, entranced. I should look up the next auction at Sotheby’s, he thought. That blank wall in the bedroom...and our birthdays are soon. I want to dedicate more than the Gala to her. I want to dedicate art, all the beauty I see, and my life, to her. She deserves absolutely everything. She deserves a painting of her own, one that reminds me of her, given with all my love.

Duncan went to the low leather couch, opening his Macbook there and glancing at his emails, but not opening any of them, even though he noticed a very important message there that he’d been waiting for; from the President’s secretary, in reply to a correspondence he’d begun a few days before. He saw the first line in the preview; President Underwood has agreed to see you on Thursday. Midday is best, around 2 PM. She isn’t feeling up to talking for very long--and then it cut off. Perfect, he thought. Just need to get in the door. He went out of his email and opened a new tab, typing into the bar at the top of the screen: agentprovocateur.com. As he scrolled through the models in delicate lingerie, Duncan’s thoughts were full of Kenzie; her golden hair falling down her back, her eyes on him over her shoulder, the round rise of her ass and her gorgeous, curvy hips under his hands, the tiny hairs around the lips of her sex, the roundness of her little nipples growing hard under his fingers, her delicate collarbones, the space under her ear that fit so well into his hand, the softness of her there under his lips, her wide hazel eyes, flecks of gold and bronze whirling in their depth, framed by long eyelashes that battered into his heart when she looked at him--he felt continually swept away under her gaze, as though it took him again and again into another world, one where they were alone and undisturbed, free to look into each other for ages and contemplate the wonder of the other. My Kenzie. My heart. The half of me that was ripped away, the half of me I found again, somehow, miraculous, trembling like rain on roses, my heart whole again.

Duncan chose two full lingerie sets for her. One was in black, with intricate, criss-crossing geometric embellishments in transparent tulle along the bust and suspenders, with long, sheer black stockings. The second was sheer nude with white flowering lace embellishments and white banding, with bows on the suspenders and the front of the panties, the breasts exposed (I can’t wait to press my mouth against her there through the tulle, feel the beating of her heart under her breasts with my lips while she watches me in the mirror, tied up nice and tight), and sheer stockings. The thought of Kenzie wearing them set a bonfire in the center of him; made the back of his neck tingle, coiled heat between his thighs. Duncan went to the section titled cuffs, chokers and bodychains, his skin humming, his breath catching as his eyes fell on a thick, black buckled choker with a silver stemmed rose attached to the front of it. He imagined Kenzie wearing it, staring up at him as he tied her wrists into velvet ropes, and he felt another wave of dizzy desire wash over him. Oh, fuck, baby. My little rose; roses on the balcony, roses in the bathtub, roses here on this table that I got for you because they remind me of you, my rose. I’m going to fucking devour you. To him it seemed as though the choker had been made just for her--the better for me to adorn her in worship. He added it to the cart, imagining the look in her eyes when she opened the telltale pink box and saw it nestled between the tissue paper, and Duncan felt himself harden with a shiver. Be patient, she’d told him. He wondered when she would tie him up. Duncan looked down at the screen again, coming back from his thoughts.

He also picked out a short black silk kimono with a tying sash and flowing lace embellishments at the hem and sleeves, and a sleeping shorts-and-top set in pink satin with straps and black lace around the open neckline. As much as Duncan loved Kenzie sleeping in his graphic tees, he couldn’t help but feel she deserved something more beautiful to wear to sleep; as beautiful as she was, as delicate and fascinating. And I have my own selfish reasons, he thought, blushing unbeknownst to himself in the quiet morning light, going to the checkout and typing in his Black AmEx card number, choosing next-day shipping. She’s so fucking beautiful and I want to see her in finespun beautiful things that look like they came from heaven like she did before I carefully undress her, over and over and over, and kiss every inch of her body for as long as she’ll let me. Duncan thought of his dream of her that morning again; the wings from her back, the iridescence of the halo that hovered around her, the serene expression in her eyes, like galaxies turning in their obscure orbits; they’d been in some celestial ether, a clouded place of blushing colors, and he had knelt before her, stunned by her. The dream had felt...not like a dream, somehow, in that it was real, in that it was the past, or the future, or something that was happening somehow; something that had happened in another time, or was going to happen, or was going on in this moment in some other place. Duncan felt dizzy--the details of the dream were slipping away little by little, but he tried to grasp at the image of her in it; paint its outline onto his memory. If I can remember just that, the halo and her wings and her face looking at me with such love and concord, so much compassion for me, a dark and lowly creature. That’s enough.

Duncan leaned back from his Macbook, hitting the home button on his phone, clutched in his palm, going into his contacts absent-mindedly, thoughts still on the dream of Kenzie, and highlighting a certain name there. Frederick Stapleton. Frederick had been the most trusted antiques dealer for the Shepherd family for two decades. He’d found Duncan’s mahogany study desk (19th century--Kenzie sitting on it, naked, staring at me with velvet rope) and had been curating Annette’s personal collection for the better part of his career. He’ll know where I can find what I’m looking for. Duncan hit the call button and held the phone up to his ear. It rang four times, then a warm voice floated through.

“Stapleton Antiques.”

“Frederick, it’s Duncan Shepherd. How are you?”

“Ah, Duncan, what an unexpected surprise. I’m well--very well, actually, we recently got in several exquisite pieces from 17th century France, if you’re in the market, though I deign to part with them, honestly, they are so exceptional--”

“Frederick, thank you, no, I have a very important request.”

“I’m listening. You know I love a challenge.”

“I need a mirror. A very large standing mirror. Gilded would be ideal; something beautiful….something exceptionally beautiful. Maybe 8 or 9 feet.”

There was silence on the other side of the phone for a few moments, then a satisfied chuckle from Frederick; he was well over 80 now, but Duncan was pleased to hear the vibrancy of his voice through the phone; still full of life.

“I think I have just the thing. Can you come by today?”

“I can come right now. Thank you, Frederick, I knew I could count on you for this.”

“You, of course, were right, Mr. Shepherd.”

“Half an hour?”

“Very good, Mr. Shepherd. I think you’ll be very pleased.”

“See you then.”

Duncan hung up, standing and slipping his phone into his back pocket, fingers idly trailing through his hair, coming down to rest around his chin as he went to the closet, choosing one of the dozen pairs of Yves Wyatt black boots on the rack of his shoes towards the middle of the walk-in’s length; he turned for a moment, staring again at Kenzie’s little shoes he’d lined carefully on the opposite shelf, his gaze zeroing in on the sandals he remembered untying delicately from her feet, his lips on the red stripes they’d made on her ankles, that first press of their bodies together, whiskey making him bold in the face of her loveliness. His skin felt hot and flushed; nervous energy was sliding along it, his anticipation singing. He’d never known Frederick to be one to boast; if he said he had what Duncan described, he had it. God, I still wish my mother hadn’t insisted on fitting her today like this, though, Duncan thought with frustration, choosing a pair of Givenchy aviators from one of the adjacent shelves that held his dozen pairs of black designer sunglasses in varying styles. I wish she could come with me, if she doesn’t love it absolutely it isn’t good enough. It has to be perfect. The thought of them being able to spend the whole day together tomorrow was humming in the back of his mind, a secret thrill of joy and relief. Our first whole day together, just the two of us. Nobody to tell us where we have to be. God, I hope she likes those pieces I ordered. She’s going to look so fucking beautiful in them, I might just fucking die. Duncan thought vaguely of looking at his emails before he left, but a heightened kind of abandon was building behind his temples. It can wait. Everything can wait. Kenzie is more important than all of this, any of this. She told me she wants me to do this today while she’s gone, and her wish is my command, my duty. So emails, fuck off.

Duncan slid the aviators over his eyes, switching his phone out of his pocket to call an Uber Black, sliding his Ferragamo wallet into it instead, and left the penthouse, letting the long black door swing smoothly shut behind him, his thoughts full of her, her gold-flecked hazel eyes. Whatever you want, baby. Anything you want.

------

Duncan arrived at the antique shop about twenty minutes later--Stapleton Antiques was a stylish, squarish mid-century brick building partially hidden by two very old oaks on either side of its eaves, a well-kept secret with almost exclusively seven-figure clients. They didn’t even have a sign; you either knew what it was, or you didn’t. Duncan thanked his driver and stepped out of the Mercedes that had picked him up, the anxious energy humming along under his skin again. He glanced down at his Movado, eyes skirting over the edge of his sunglasses; it was just a little after 2 PM. He wondered idly what Kenzie was doing, how she was faring with his stern mother, how she was feeling. He pulled his phone out on the sidewalk and opened his text messages, sending one to Kenzie.

Hope everything is going okay, baby. I think I found the mirror. I’ll send you a picture in a minute when I get inside to look at it. Please tell me what you think, if it isn’t perfect, I’ll keep looking. He hit send, hesitated for a moment, then typed again.

I realized tomorrow is our first full day together without any interruptions. I was thinking we could go to the beach. What do you think? We have house in Yarmouth, around Cape Cod. We can just go for the day and fly back with the jet. It’ll be just us: just me and you. It’s supposed to be sunny and beautiful tomorrow. I just wanna hold you and kiss you in the sand.

He saw the telltale bubbles appear under his message almost immediately; Duncan marveled at the way his nerves thrilled at the prospect of her answer. All I want is to be near her, to talk to her, to listen to her speak, to read her words or look at her. Nothing else is so wonderful. Nothing.

Kenzie: WOW, baby, that sounds AMAZING! Yes!!! I didn’t realize you had a jet, though I guess I should have assumed that. That sounds so perfect, like a dream. I’m not with Annette anymore, I’m at Morgan’s studio, the designer Claire works for. Erik’s here. He’s going to help us decide what I should wear for the Gala and Morgan’s going to make it.

The bubbles appeared again, and then another text.

Your mom and I got into an argument. I mentioned you’d told me that you’re going to be co-chairman of the company when your Uncle passes away. She didn’t like that very much. I’m sorry I said something but she was trying to bait me again and I lost my temper and told her I deserve to know important things about your life. She left after that and Erik and I went on with the dress planning alone.

Of course they got into an argument, Duncan thought. You’re the one who fucking demanded Kenzie come do this fitting with you, Mom, and then you storm out. You treat her terribly and expect her to just put up with it. Not my Kenzie. He tried to quell the anger the immediately rose in him towards his mother and took a deep breath, shutting his eyes; changing Shepherd Unlimited is going to be an uphill battle the whole way. Thank whatever gods may be that I have Kenzie by my side now.

Baby, he replied, it’s okay. You DO deserve to know, you’re right. And eventually she’s going to see that too. My mother is a very stubborn person but I know she wants what’s best for me. She just needs to accept that what’s best for me is you. I’m so glad Erik is still with you. He’s trustworthy.

Duncan lowered the phone in his hand and stepped into the brick building, taking his sunglasses off and tucking them into the dip of his shirt; the musty smell of very old wood enveloped him, but the interior was meticulously clean; anything displayed in the front (chests and Tiffany lamps and crystal chandeliers) had been polished to its clearest, cleanest sheen, and Duncan’s eyes immediately fell on the gigantic golden clockwork peacock in the center of the room. This peacock had been here since he was a child; it had jeweled emerald eyes and it moved its head back and forth from its wing feathers on the hour, a chime erupting from somewhere deep inside it to mark the passage of time. The clock was very old; Russian, 18th century. Duncan had always loved it, and it had been at least two years since the last time he’d personally set foot in Stapleton’s. The sight of it immediately transported him back in time to when Frederick used to give him tiny caramel candies while he waited for his mother to look at whatever fine thing she’d asked Frederick to find. He’d stare at it for hours, the taste of the caramel in his mouth, the sight of the the golden peacock fascinating his eyes. Duncan thought of Kenzie’s gold aura; I have to bring her to see this peacock sometime, he thought. She would love it so much. And Frederick would love her. Of course he would love her. Everyone loves her. Kenzie is an angel and everything she touches turns to gold.

He stepped up to the peacock, gazing at it in his nostalgic drift (it was still right now, 2 having come and gone), and he was brought out of it by a warm voice to his right; “There you are, Duncan, come this way,” and he turned to see the back of Frederick’s head, white hair surrounding a shiny bald spot, already vanishing through the side-doorway to the back area, an area only ever seen by those who had gained the Stapleton’s trust and loyalty. Duncan glanced at the peacock one more time (Kenzie) and pushed the curtain in the doorway aside (it was heavy and red and velvet and smelled like the backstage of a theater). The back room was much dustier, and always in various states of disarray; this was where the new pieces came first and were sorted and appraised and cleaned. Frederick was in the far corner, an area comprised of mostly stacks of wooden boxes with precious cargo, still nailed shut, rolled Persian rugs, and a large antique dresser that seemed to be in the middle of being cleaned; against the wall was a very long black curtain, visibly dusty, draped over a huge squarish shape; taller than Duncan by several inches.   

“Duncan, it’s wonderful to see you again. It’s been far too long,” Frederick said. His half-moon glasses rested at the bridge of his nose; his eyes were very dark brown behind them, as if they held great depth, long secrets, tomes of ancient knowledge. Duncan had always thought so; had always felt as thought Frederick knew things that most people didn’t, spending all his time with the artifacts of lives long lived and gone on to the next plane, yet leaving the residue of those lives behind in the objects they had spent their time with. Frederick brought his wrinkled hands together, the curved silver handle of his cane resting in front of him on its four-pronged clawed feet, his white-bearded face breaking into a smile, tiny crows-feet crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“It has, Frederick. It’s nice to see the peacock again--and you. I was thinking about how you used to give me those little candies. Thank you for that.”

“You look very well, if I may say so, Mr. Shepherd.”

“I’m in love, Frederick.”

“I can tell. It’s shining out of you like a lighthouse. Quite a sight, I must say. Is this mirror--this great mirror of gilded loveliness--meant to be a gift for the one you love?”

“It is.”

“In that case, I think I really do have the right piece for you. It’s very...special.” Frederick spread his hands apart at this statement, stepping carefully, slowly, his gait stiff, using the cane with a silvery curved hook at the end, towards where the black curtain fell over the shape that leaned to the wall. “It’s quite singular, really. As the story goes, it belonged to a Viscountess in France, a few years before the start of the Revolution--1778 or ‘79, we’re not certain. Her parties, they say, were akin to how the Greeks imagined the hedonistic revelries of the Bacchanalia. Some say she worshipped Satan; others believe she was a practitioner of witchcraft, others still believe she was another kind of divine being; a Maenad, a handmaiden of Bacchus, a nymph of Dionysus, she of the wild ways. Whatever the truth--and likely she was nothing more than a woman unchained by society’s expectations of her--the mirror survived the rages of the Revolution, several sea voyages and World War II in a Belgian basement during its German occupation, among other things. The mirror, some say, will kindle the deepest desires of those who stare into it long enough--desires that transcend earthly passions, desires that touch the divine. In any case: the piece itself is truly one of a kind.”

With that, Frederick pulled carefully at the edge of the black curtain; Duncan saw a small cloud of dust lift from it as it fell away, and wondered how long the mirror had waited here along the wall for him; felt acutely, suddenly, that its wait had been for him, for them, for him and Kenzie, for the time when they found each other again, and he shivered as the curtain fell away. The mirror beneath was huge, a vast square of reflective energy; it stretched along the expanse of the wall, as long as it was tall--he stepped closer, almost involuntarily, to study its intricate details; the carvings that stretched along the framing, gold-embossed, were of the tendrils, vines, flowers and fruits of grapes; the nectar of the wine god. The mirror’s surface seemed untouched by time; it was still as clear as a pool of spring water, unblemished by the ages, and it stretched at least 8 feet long; the entirety of the room behind it illuminated in its reflection. Duncan reached out with a careful hand and ran it along the left side of the frame; the soft gold-and-bronze plating was cool and smooth under the tips of his fingers; they tingled, and he shivered. He stared at his reflection in the flawless surface; his sharp blue eyes, the stubble around his jaw, the rise of his lips, his hair falling behind his ears in soft waves. I’ve been waiting for you, the mirror whispered, in some secret, obtuse deja vu, into the center of his mind. I was preserved for the time you were together again--preserved by magick. By a strong spell that stood the test of hundreds of years. I belong to her. To the woman you love. I was always hers and I am always meant to be hers. Just like you.

“Frederick...wow,” Duncan murmured, glancing over his shoulder in the mirror’s reflection at the old man. “This is...more than I could have hoped for. It’s extraordinary. It’s...ethereal. Like it came from another world.”

“I knew it wouldn’t disappoint you. It’s been in the collecton for quite sometime--I never felt inclined to show it to anyone. I felt as though I couldn’t part with it. Until now, that is. For some reason, it feels as though it was meant to be yours all along. Isn’t that strange.”

“Can I please take a picture of it? I need to show it to her. I need to make sure it’s...it has to be perfect.”

“Certainly, Duncan. I’ll be at the front desk. Take your time.”

Frederick left, turned on his spindly silver-hooked cane as Duncan watched him through the mirror again; something in it seemed to shimmer in his gaze for a moment, as if a wave of gold passed over the surface, and Duncan was filled with a strange feeling, as if a rising tide had coursed down into his veins, swirled around his heart, pressed into the lining of his mind; as if something had fallen into place. He breathed deeply; the mirror was one of the most beautiful objects he had ever seen, and the thought of it in their bedroom, facing their bed, Kenzie’s golden hair falling around her shoulders in her reflection, her body turning in her beautiful little clothes, or naked, the softness of her skin in low light, her wrists tied tightly together and her arms extended to the ceiling, her form stretched towards it, her eyes shining out of its surface at him as he revered her body, its reflection of her a worship of her loveliness, filled him with fire. All for the worship of you, beloved. Oh, Kenzie, Mackenzie, my love.

Duncan pulled his phone out, stepping back several feet to include the entirety of the gigantic mirror in the photo; he smiled a little at his own reflection, his Givenchy sunglasses tucked over the front of his button-down, hair falling a little over his forehead, out at Kenzie, on the other side of the city, and added it to a text to her. Baby, it’s unbelievably beautiful. The picture can’t really do it justice. It seems like it was always meant to be ours. And it’s HUGE, 9 x 9 feet, he typed. He hit Send.

He looked up at it again as he waited for her reply; Duncan’s hand went to his chin involuntarily, his thoughts muddled by the beauty of this great object in front of him, his soul shaken by it. How had Frederick come upon such an extraordinary object, and how had it remained here until this very day, falling into his grasp this way? It seemed like Fate again to him; it seemed heavily destined. Duncan couldn’t imagine any other explanation. Like seeing Kenzie on that balcony among the roses, his heart struck with a longing he could not begin to fight, every sound fading and the starlight illuminating the fall of her hair, the shape of her shoulders, the jewels at her throat, and her eyes looking up at him from beneath the fall of her long lashes, stopping his heart. The mirror seemed to know him immediately, recognize the shape of him, as if it had beheld him before. As if I stood here before, in another room and another time and another place, but stood here in its gaze, and it remembers me now. He shivered again. His phone chimed, and he looked back down, tearing his eyes away from the colossal shape of it.

Kenzie: Duncan, oh my god. I can’t believe that’s even real. It’s AMAZING. It looks like it came from another world. Baby, I’m speechless.

Her echo of his own words sent a cold finger down Duncan’s spine. It really does, he typed back. I thought the same thing. It’s yours now. I can’t wait to see you, angel. I can’t wait to see your beautiful reflection in it.

Kenzie: Dunny, baby. I love you so much. Morgan made the most beautiful sketch for my dress...I can only imagine how gorgeous it’s going to be. I want it to be a surprise. Claire and I were thinking of getting a drink after we’re finished with Morgan and Erik--do you want to meet us somewhere? xxxxxxx

Duncan stared down at the X’s, his heart pounding. Dunny, baby. He thought of the day they’d planned tomorrow; the beach and sunlight and solitude, the promise of being wrapped in her arms all day, responsibilities forgotten and faraway. He thought of them finally alone in front of this mirror in their bedroom, Kenzie tied up under his hot, eager hands, thought of the lingerie he’d bought her that was soon to arrive in delicate pink boxes, and his body ached for her. Kenzie, I love you too. I can’t fucking wait to see that dress. Meet me at Jack Rose around 5?

Kenzie: That sounds good, baby. See you soon. She left the lipstick stain emoji at the end.

Duncan turned away from the mirror, his eyes lingering over its exquisite beauty for another moment, and went through the red curtain, to buy it from Frederick Stapleton.

-----

Duncan had made another purchase from Frederick before leaving the exclusive antique shop; a heavy, gilded ceiling hook made of bronze alongside a very long bronze-link chain that he now carried in a cloth bag clutched in his hand as he stepped outside. He vaguely mentioned something to Frederick about needing to hang a very heavy chandelier; if Frederick suspected it was for something else, he did not let on, just nodded and brought Duncan to an area that had dozens of antique hooks of varying sizes and styles. Duncan stepped into the car he’d called, asking the driver to take him back to the penthouse--he’d made arrangements with Frederick to have the mirror delivered within the hour, and there was still his email, unchecked today, that needed to be taken care of; not just coordinating his upcoming meeting with Claire Underwood, unbeknownst to Annette and his Uncle, but the confirmation of his Post interview with Kenzie and Ben Wilder next week. God, that mirror, his thoughts drifting away from emails, I want her to see it as soon as possible. It belongs in our bedroom. It has to be there when she gets home tonight. Frederick had given him a strange look before quoting the price to him; Duncan was still wondering what the look had meant, but he’d only asked for $100,000 for the mirror (the mirror to end all mirrors, Duncan thought); an extraordinarily low price for a piece so storied, unique, and rare. Duncan had balked at the amount--”Surely it’s worth more than that, Frederick.”

“It is.”

“Then why?”

“It’s meant to be yours.”

Duncan stared at the old man, studying him for a moment; Frederick stared back casually, decisively, as though his decision had come and gone and it was no longer something he could recant.

“This woman you love. It’s a gift for her, you said.”

“Yes. It is. She’s…” Duncan trailed off, looking away, feeling moisture gather in his eyes; words failed him, and he pressed his lips together, fighting off the wave of emotion that had crashed into him. She’s my one true love. She’s my soulmate. She’s the other half of me. The thoughts oscillated in his mind, filling him with blushing ardor. He pressed his hand to his chin, along his bottom lip, overcome.

“Mr. Shepherd. As I see it, the mirror is being returned to its owner. That’s all that can be said. All my happiness goes with it, to both of you.”

Duncan looked back up at the other man, and he nodded and smiled, because there were no more words to be said; Frederick was right. The mirror had, somehow, always been Kenzie’s; and now it would be a monument to her, an altar in her temple, a reflection of her staggering gold.

-------

“Anchaly, I need someone from maintenance to install this hook and chain in the bedroom ceiling tomorrow while Miss Stone and I are away,” Duncan said, coming up to the small man’s desk in the foyer of the high rise, setting the cloth bag carefully in front of him. “It’s for a chandelier. Oh, and I have a very large delivery arriving soon. Please allow them up into the penthouse. I’ll be at dinner with Mackenzie.”

Anchaly gave him a wry look, eyes dancing. “Of course, Mr. Shepherd. A chandelier. Lovely.” Duncan smiled at him in turn, not speaking; then, he turned and stepped to the elevators. Anchaly was very discreet, but the lobby had several other residents hanging around that afternoon--the last thing we need is someone to eavesdrop and blab to tabloids, I can just see the headline now: DUNCAN SHEPHERD AND MADELINE STONE INSTALL KINKY BONDAGE HOOK IN SEX DUNGEON. He snorted into his hand, unable to help himself, the elevator closing behind him; mercifully empty. He wondered, idly, what Kenzie’s dress looked like. With her by my side at the Gala, it’s going to be an incredibly memorable night, he thought. I hope they take a thousand pictures of her just to spite Mom. Everyone will see us together; no one will be able to deny anymore that Kenzie is meant to be in this world, that she shines brighter than anyone. That she’s a fucking goddess. Duncan came into the penthouse, tossing his sunglasses and wallet and phone onto the side-table by the front door, pressing a hand through his hair as he sat down at his Macbook on the low leather couch, fiddling with his Movado. The last of the work now; then just him and Kenzie for the rest of the night, and all of tomorrow.

-----

An hour or so later, Duncan stepped into to open space of Jack Rose’s Dining Saloon, a spacious whiskey bar with a truly impressive bar stretching the entire expanse of the space; wall to wall bottles of every shape and size, and the emphasis, of course, on whiskey. He thought of that first night again, a week ago (only a week?), when Kenzie’s little voice had said “Whiskey,” when he’d asked what she wanted from the bar and he’d gone hot and cold with the intensity of his desire for her, her fingers brushing against his when they clinked their Old Fashioneds together; when she’d agreed to go back to the penthouse with him, he thought he had to be dreaming. How has Fate smiled so on me. Duncan had often come here to have a drink alone; the bartenders knew him and most of the patrons left him alone (they were used to famous clientele), and they had the best whiskey selection in DC; his eyes scanned the long, open bar, searching for Kenzie’s telltale tawny hair or Claire’s short blonde shag. He spotted them towards the end, sitting in the high bar stools--Claire’s back was turned to him but he could see she was wearing a coral-colored summery wrap dress covered in blue, pink and gold catalina flower print, her legs crossed, a dry martini with two olives cradled in her hand, elbow resting on the back of the chair--and (my Kenzie) Kenzie was across from her, knees turned sideways in her seat towards Claire, the white stretch of her thighs visible between her mini skirt and long boots, and her hand was around a cocktail tumbler--a mint julep, from the sprigs of fresh mint he could pinpoint from this distance. Claire’s head was obscuring her face, but Duncan could see the angle of Kenzie’s chin was turned up to a man who stood a few inches from the backs of their chairs. The man was average, height-wise--shorter than me by a couple inches, I’d say, Duncan thought with a petty twinge of triumph--with shortly trimmed black hair and olive skin; he had a round, handsome, friendly face; he was physically fit and standing casually near Kenzie, a coiled, nervous energy in his stance, but with a measure of familiarity, as if they knew each other. He wore a white button-down with several of the buttons toward the top undone, exposing a measured stretch of skin along his neckline, and tailored slacks in navy blue with dark-colored plain-toe Oxford shoes. His hand was in one of his pockets, a pint glass half-full of dark beer in the other, and he was smiling at Kenzie as she spoke up at him, and something about the way he was smiling at her made a hot dagger of jealousy stab into Duncan’s temples.

Who is that.

Duncan pulled his sunglasses away from his eyes, shoving them into the dip of his short-sleeved Ferragamo shirt, pushing a hand along the side of his hair, stepping quickly to the corner where his girlfriend, her best friend, and this annoyingly charming person were huddled. Stop smiling at her, he thought at the man, a slight edge of embarrassment at the immediacy of his jealousy creeping into his mind. Something about the smile was full of warm affection; this man did know Kenzie, and this man cared about her, or else, he had cared about her--they hadn’t noticed Duncan yet and the man laughed a little at something Kenzie said...and the twinge of jealousy flared in Duncan again. He came up close enough to catch the man’s eye; they turned a little, eyes skirting between Kenzie and Duncan, expression softening with curiosity and wary recognition and vague enviousness, and Kenzie’s gaze fell on Duncan as the man stepped back a little, the small smile she’d been giving him widening as her bright hazel eyes fell into Duncan’s. Duncan’s heart twinged with immediate affection; Kenzie is so beautiful. Like a star with the rest of us orbiting around her.

“Hey baby,” Kenzie breathed, and she hopped down from the bar stool, pressing against him immediately. Duncan’s arms came around her and he couldn’t push away the possessive bloom of need that opened in him at the feeling of her hair against him and the smell of her skin and the soft incline of her lips and lashes from the bottom of his eyeline, and he leaned down to her and kissed her, open-mouthed; kiss me, Kenzie, kiss me, he thought, sheepishness at his inability to stay calm mixed in with his desirous abandon for her. She returned the deepness of his kiss for a moment and then pulled away, and he could see the blush on her cheeks at his neediness in front of the two pairs of eyes that watched them on either side; Claire with an expression of amusement (well, at least someone’s having fun, Duncan thought towards her) and the man with a skirting mixture of envious interest and awkwardness. “Hi baby,” he replied, breathless with the taste of her and the bitterness of his jealous rush. “Sorry I’m a little bit late, my car got stuck in the rush hour drift. Hey, Claire. You look lovely.”

Claire’s eyes drifted between the other man and Duncan, and she said “Hi, Duncan. Oh shucks, stop,” with a grin. She dipped the edge of her martini glass up to her mouth and took a long sip, as if to steel herself against the conversation she was about to witness. Kenzie looked between the two men for a moment and Duncan could see the blush in her cheeks deepen; she hopped back into her bar stool, facing him, clutching his arm for a moment, then held her hands out in short “ta-da” movement towards the dark-haired stranger. “Duncan, this is Tyler. Tyler Landau. Tyler--this is Duncan Shepherd.”

“Everyone knows who Duncan Shepherd is.” Tyler pulled the hand he’d had in his pocket out, holding it out to Duncan and giving him a small half-smile. Duncan grasped it, staring into the other man’s face for a moment; rather than feeling as though he disliked him, Duncan could immediately see a likability in Tyler, an affable evenness of temper. This is Kenzie’s ex, he knew in a rush, remembering the way they’d clutched each other in the shower as she told me about the man she used to love. This man. She loved him once. She lost her virginity to him. She used to kiss him, my Kenzie...she was tangled in his sheets for three years...

“Kenzie’s told me about you,” Duncan said. “A pediatrician, right?”

“Still in Residency, I’m afraid--3 years in. Not convinced it’s actually ever going to end.”

“Tyler’s here with some of his coworkers--it’s such a weird coincidence,” Kenzie murmured, her voice rushing with nervousness. She tucked a wave of hair behind her ear, pulling her mint julep up to her mouth, and Duncan felt a wave of affection for her. “He saw us come in from where they’re sitting over there and came over to say hi,” Kenzie gestured to a low table on the other end of the bar; Duncan glanced back and noticed a group of young professionals that all looked to be in their late 20’s, casual-dressy like Tyler, chatting amiably over cocktails and appetizers--a few of them met Duncan’s gaze with curious interest; he knew they recognized him. Duncan turned back. “DC feels oddly small that way sometimes,” he said. “Tyler, can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to--”

“I insist.”

He crooked a finger at the bartender, who was eyeing him knowingly--it was Murphy, the ginger-bearded head bartender, who Duncan knew of many a drunken evening. “Murphy, can I get two of the Four Roses single-barrel year-100? Two rocks for each.” “You got it, boss,” Murphy replied, briskly setting up two tulip-shaped whiskey glasses. “Nice to see ya, Duncan, it’s been a minute.” “Same to you, Murph.” Murphy passed Duncan the two glasses across the smooth marbled surface of the bar; Duncan handed him his Black AmEx, and turned with the glasses to hand one to Kenzie’s ex. You have to stay calm, he told himself. You can’t let your insecurities in. Kenzie’s with you now and she deserves your even temper. Imagine if it was Misha or Evan, and how strange you would feel.

“Thanks, man,” Tyler said, draining the rest of his beer and leaning on Kenzie’s opposite side (don’t touch her, the thought flashed through Duncan’s mind despite his attempts to quell it) to set the empty pint on the bar, reaching for the tulip glass Duncan held out. As he’d assumed from a distance, Duncan was a couple inches taller than Tyler; they had similar builds, though Tyler was vaguely stockier. “That wasn’t necessary, but I appreciate it. I don’t want to impose on your evening…”

Too late, Duncan thought. But now that you’re here, I’m fucking curious, I can’t help it.

“...it’s just been awhile since Kenzie and I saw each other, and I’dve felt weird about it if I didn’t come over to say hello.”

“Don’t apologize, I understand.” Duncan held out his glass. “Cheers.”

Tyler leaned out to clink his against the edge of Duncan’s; Kenzie and Claire made similar motions, and Duncan could see the tiny tremor in Kenzie’s hand. She’s freaking out. He swallowed a mouthful of the whiskey, savoring the warmth of it in his throat, and reached out a long hand to press it into Kenzie’s knee. She put her little fingers over the incline of his wrist, her eyes looking up into his, and he saw the trepidation hiding inside them. I don’t know if you can hear me right now baby, he thought, concentrating on the gold flecks swirling in her gaze, but if you can, be calm, okay? Everything’s okay. He seems nice. I can see why you were with him. I love you. Duncan saw Kenzie’s expression soften just a little, the stiff position of her shoulders smooth downwards. He was struck with the longing to press his fingers through her hair, touch the little star charms on her necklace; he moved closer to her, between her seat and Claire’s, his back to the bar, facing Tyler, and kept his hand there on her knee, taking another sip of the whiskey; it was flooding into his senses, and he felt his tongue loosen.

“So you and Kenzie dated for three years.”

Tyler’s eyes skirted between Duncan and Kenzie, hesitating. When Kenzie didn’t say anything, staring down into her mint julep, he replied. “Yeah, while we were at school. But it was just one of those things, huh, Kenz. There aren’t any hard feelings from me.”

“No, no--there aren’t from me either.” Kenzie’s gaze skirted between him and the her ex boyfriend (his eyes are as different from mine as one could conceive, Duncan thought, russet and warm), giving them both small smiles. Her fingers squeezed around Duncan’s hand, and he squeezed her in return, possessiveness clasping at his heart again, pushing guilt through his gut.

“I’ve seen some of the stuff about both of you in the news lately--I was pretty surprised to see Kenzie all over social media all of a sudden,” Tyler went on, shifting on his feet a little, “...how long have you two been seeing each other, anyway?”

Kenzie looked up into Duncan’s eyes as she replied. “A week.” But it feels like longer, doesn’t it, baby. It feels like we’ve always known each other. He felt her thought drift into him with a swirling, warm pressure. Yes, baby. It does.

“A week that’s felt like a month,” Claire interjected, “since twenty things have happened every day since. I can’t even believe how much I’m seeing Kenzie online now, it’s so surreal.”

“Yeah, actually, now that you mention it, Claire, I saw the two of you are a trending topic on Instagram and Twitter for, like, four days now,” Tyler said, grinning. “That must be weird for you, Kenz. Your mom always said you wanted attention until you got it, then you didn’t want it anymore.”

Duncan bristled at the familiarity of the words Madeline had spoken to him over their dinner at Busboys several days before. “Madeline’s a fucking delight,” he said, eager to be part of the conversation. I know her too, Doc. “We had dinner the other night and I was totally enamored with her.”

Kenzie looked up at him with a radiant smile bursting across her face; Duncan moved his hand from her knee to the small of her back under the slat at the back of the bar stool. Wildly, the thought of her hand clutched around his throat flashed through his mind; the way she’d straddled his lap in the BMW that night on the way back to the penthouse. You better do as I say. Duncan wondered with a flash of heat pulsing in the pit of his stomach if she’d ever commanded Tyler that way--if Tyler had melted in her hands. It wouldn’t matter who it was, he knew. Anyone would bow to her.

“Once, Madeline took Kenz and I to this weird Cirque du Soleil show in Vegas,” Tyler said, his expression the amused look of someone remembering a fond memory. “And she’d smoked some hash with us before--because it’s fucking Madeline--and then she started having a bad trip in the middle of it and started yelling about pink elephants everywhere, pink elephants staring at her with beady eyes, pink elephants with too many balloons and they made us leave--we were just standing on the sidewalk fucking howling by then, remember that, Kenz--”

Stop fucking calling her that, Duncan thought, an annoyed jab flashing through his mind again. Stop being so fucking familiar. Duncan looked down at Kenzie and noticed the amusement in her face, the giggle of remembrance around her mouth. The memory of her affection for him, he knew, and it made him ache. “Oh god,” she said, and he pressed his fingers into her a little, the ache spreading through his arm. “That day was insane. I forgot about that, I laughed so hard I fucking cried, we had to practically carry her back to the hotel.”

Duncan took another hard sip of the bourbon; it was heady and wildly heavy and it made his skull pound. He looked up at the man across from him again as she spoke--Tyler’s hand was back in his pocket, and Duncan noticed the way his dark eyes fell over Kenzie’s loveliness--the cascade of her gold hair, her little mouth grinning, her tongue slipping between her teeth, bringing her glass up to her mouth, her arm tucking under her little breasts in amusement, toying with the star necklace that dipped down there. He didn’t break up with you, Duncan realized, his heart twinging. You broke up with him. He still loves you, doesn’t he. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone loves you. I love you. I love you so much it fucking hurts.

“I need to order some fucking food,” Claire said, breaking up the amusement between Kenzie and Tyler, to Duncan’s relief. “Where did that bartender go?” Duncan turned, catching Murphy’s eye from down the bar, waving a little; Murphy came back, cocking his head towards them. “Oh, thank god,” Claire murmured. “The perks of having the famous person in your crew. Can we get the shared supper plate, please?”

“Oh, oh, I want the chicken skins too, please,” Kenzie said excitedly, and Duncan noticed she’d drained her mint julep out of nervousness; “And two more of these,” he said, pointing to Kenzie and Claire’s empty glasses. Murphy nodded, grinning; Duncan understood why, both Kenzie and Claire were lovely, their energy warm and infectious; but Kenzie’s glow was iridescent, intoxicating, throwing her brightness around this corner, pulling the eyes of the room in. Tyler watched her with eyes that couldn’t seem to hide their longing--and Duncan felt another twinge of intense jealousy towards the man who had first known her bed, who had gotten to spend so many days with her, who had a wealth of memories with her that Duncan, no matter how many memories he would build atop them, would never be privy to.

“Well, I think it’s time for me to go back to my table,” Tyler said, as if he sensed the roiling shadow of Duncan’s thoughts. “Kenzie...I wish you the best in everything, always. Duncan, thank you for the drink, I really appreciate it. Claire, it was nice to see you again.” Tyler leaned forward over Kenzie’s little face, and before she could react, he kissed her cheek quickly, eyes closing--then he lifted away from her and nodded a little at Duncan, staring at him evenly. Then he drained the last of the whiskey from the tulip glass and set it carefully on the bar, giving the three of them a little wave, and turned back to his table where his coworkers beckoned to him. Duncan watched his back retreat for a moment before turning his face down to Kenzie, who stared up at him with the same expression of concern; he leaned his mouth down to her, hand at the back of her hair, and pressed her into him, needy with relief that the other man had gone away, unable to stop the onslaught of emotion that washed over him now.

“Well, that was fun,” Claire said to them, staring innocently up at the hundreds of bottles lined along the bar, pointedly away from their passionate kiss that continued to extend. Duncan didn’t care. He’d waited all day to kiss her and then her fucking ex boyfriend had appeared and he was starving for her now.

“Baby,” Duncan whispered down into Kenzie’s ear as his mouth fell away from hers. “I missed you so fucking much today. Wait until you see it. Just wait. It’s the most beautiful--”

“Oh, Duncan,” she whispered back into him, her hands coming around his face. “Dunny, I missed you too, baby, I’m so sorry about that, I never expected him to be here--”

“Shhh, it’s fine,” Duncan kissed her again, with shuddering softness this time. “It doesn’t matter--”

“Excuse me, Prince Duncan and Princess Kenzie, but y’all are making me clutch my pearls right now,” Claire interrupted them as Murphy brought them fresh drinks, a waiter close behind with the tray of charcuterie Claire had ordered for them; Kenzie’s chicken skins in their other hand. “Can’t wait for some photos of this moment on BPF tomorrow, I’ll make sure to send them to you as your official press secretary, Kenzie.”

Kenzie gave her friend a shy gaze but clapped a little, delighted, at the food. “Oh my god, I’m so fucking hungry, I forgot to eat all day between fighting with Annette and trying to figure out the dress. Oh baby, wait till you see it--it’s going to be so wonderful--”

Duncan smiled down at her, sliding into the seat on her left, the tide of his relief riding over him with the richness of the aged whiskey he’d just drank, reaching out to the charcuterie and plucking an olive from one of the little bowls, slipping it into his mouth. He pushed his hand through the wave of her hair, skin tingling from the contact with her he’d longed for and had had to postpone. “And wait ‘till you see this mirror, baby--”

“Mirror?” Claire was eavesdropping, her eyes dancing, reaching for crackers and slivers of aged cheddar on the big plate, sipping at her second martini. “What mirror?”

“Duncan found this amazing mirror today for the penthouse--” Kenzie opened her phone and showed Claire the photo Duncan had sent her earlier. Claire goggled at it, her mouth falling open. “Holy shit, that’s incredible. All the gold, like, how big is that thing, wow, that’s fucking extravagant.” She gave Kenzie a coy look. “Wonder what you’ll do with that, hmmmm.” Duncan slipped a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his grin, but he knew Claire saw; she wiggled her eyebrows at them, mock-seductive. “Your own personal movie theater, huh?” Kenzie blushed, biting the nail of her index finger as Claire giggled at her, and Duncan was struck with the desire to pull her against him, cradle her in his arms with protective need. “Oh, by the way, Duncan, I rode in the BMW with Kenzie over here and Samuel is a fucking dream, I wanna marry him now.”

“He’s single,” Duncan said, only half-jokingly. “Somehow, impossibly.”

“He doesn’t have time to date when he’s carting your ass around all the time,” Claire retorted, and Duncan laughed a little. “Touche. He needs more vacation time.” Duncan’s eyes fell over Kenzie devouring one of the chicken skins clutched between two fingers in her little hand, then skirted behind her to where Tyler sat on the other side of the restaurant with his table of pediatric co-residents. Duncan could see the other man’s dark eyes falling back over to where they sat the end of the bar; especially over Kenzie’s gold hair, the incline of her back. Duncan brought his hand into her lap again, riding high up on her thigh; Kenzie giggled a little, swallowing; “Baby, that tickles.” She brought her lips up against his, wiping her hands carefully on her napkin before she pressed her fingers against his jaw on either side, pulling him against her. “I love you,” she whispered into his mouth, and he closed his eyes, smelling the sweetness of her perfume and the grease and the whiskey and mint on her lips, loving the scent of her and the texture. She loves me, Duncan thought with relief. How am I so lucky? She loves me, I love her, loves me, I love her, she loves me...

--------

They’d driven Claire back to her Dupont Circle apartment, about a fifteen minute walk from where Kenzie used to live. Claire was quite tipsy and Duncan had carefully helped her to her door, her arm threaded through his to keep from falling; she’d sat in the front seat with Samuel, the partition open so they could all talk together, and Duncan could tell his driver was quite taken with her; you say you wanna marry Samuel, but I think he wants to marry you, Duncan thought, watching his chauffeur and Kenzie’s best friend flirt, his hand in Kenzie’s lap. She was gazing at him with a contented, quiet look in her eyes; waiting for us to be alone, me too, baby, he thought towards her. Claire had hugged his neck (as was her way) as he deposited her at the door of her apartment; “I know you saw what I saw,” she said, leaning down to his face conspiratorially, her words slurring a little with all the gin from her martini having settled in, the sharp scent of it in his nose. “And I always suuuspected their break-up was one-sided. Tyler was giving her googly eyes, big ones. But here’s the thing, Duncan--she issin love with you. Like, I have never seen her SO happy in my whole LIFE, and I’ve known her since she was fucking up volleyball serves in high school. You’re gonna marry her. I know it.”

“Goodnight, Claire,” Duncan let go of her gently, smiling at her and nodding, and Claire stood there dazed for a moment, lost in the drift of the alcohol, then she gave him a little salute, like she was a private saluting a sergeant, and twisted the doorknob, falling inside. Duncan tried to shake the whiskey out of his head, too, the cool evening air helping a little as he walked back to the BMW; he slid back into the backseat, noticing Kenzie was already pushing the partition button, allowing them privacy from Samuel, the last obstruction to their solitude.

“Baby, I--you know I had no idea Tyler would be there--” she said in a rush, but he broke her off gently.

“Kenzie, of course. I know.”

“I could hear--I could hear you. The intensity of your thoughts. It was all around me. Like a ring of fire.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I tried to push it away, tried to bury it--”

“No...I sort of...I liked it.” Kenzie’s face came close, hovering under his chin; her mouth open, anticipating. Tonight Nat King Cole’s rich voice floated from the speakers, somewhere in the background of the golden sphere of her little body, finally so close to him: you’ll never know how slow the moments go...till I’m near to you...I see your face...in every flower...your eyes in stars above…Her eyes stared up into his (flecks of gold, bronze, dark sunset in a forest), her voice low and sweet, her breath shallow, and her other hand was falling down his chest to hover along his stomach and then at his hip, just above his crotch, the tips of her fingers brushing him with aching hesitation. “I...I liked that you were so jealous. I liked that you needed me so much, want me so much...like you were going to burst into a bonfire. Like you couldn’t bear it...like...when you wondered if I’d touched him that way--” It’s just the thought of you, the very thought of you...my love...

“Kenzie,” he breathed into her. “Touch me. Please, baby.”

She reached up so her hands fell on his jaw and in his hair, and he was pulling her against him, hands harshly clasped on her hips as the BMW drove the short distance back to the penthouse, falling into her in the dark.

“He still loves you,” he spoke between their kisses, gasping, his hands falling down the velvety feeling of her boots and back up to the bareness of her thigh, the curve of her hip and the tiny dip of her waist, his eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of her for fear she would shake his soul again with her loveliness, her otherworldliness, the taste of her enough to drive him into a state of mad emotion, threatening to make him unable to speak, the scent of her falling down into his senses, filling him up, sucking his breath away. “I could tell by the way he looked at you, baby. He wished he could go back to when you were his. I could see it.”

“Duncan, it doesn’t matter. I only love you.”

He sighed into her; Duncan felt tears prick at his eyes. Her mouth was so soft in the dark it was like the delicate petals of a flower under his lips, and his heart was swollen with the sounds she made, her tiny moans under his hands, the hum of her breathing in his ears in the shadows; he longed to breathe something into her, an admonition of passion and adoration so sincere, so entire, that it would dispel all doubt from her mind for as long as they lived--he wanted her to know the depth of his love would never fade, that he would worship her until the stars faded from the heavens and the sun burned away into darkness, but how could he? How could he find words? “I love you,” was all he could whisper, his mouth on her chin and the incline of her throat, “I love you, I love you, Kenzie--”.

The partition floated down and they broke apart, achingly, reluctantly, and he could see Kenzie’s little frame shivering with the intensity of her breathing in the dark; they hadn’t noticed the BMW had pulled up to the high-rise and had been idling, quietly, for several minutes.

“We’re home, Mr. Shepherd, Miss Stone,” Samuel said quietly, his eyes skirting over their dishelvement, their harsh breathing. Ushering us on to the quiet solitude of our bed, Duncan thought with a warm, vague knowledge. He nodded at the other man. “Thank you, Samuel. We’re taking the jet to Yarmouth tomorrow, can you pick us up around 9?”

“Very good, Mr. Shepherd. Miss Mackenzie, it was a pleasure to drive you today. Anytime you want to listen to Stevie, you let me know.”

Kenzie’s little smile broke over her cheeks in the shadows; “Thank you, Samuel. It was wonderful to spend time with you today.” Duncan opened the door and slid out, reaching down for her hand, anxious for her touch again. She slipped her small fingers between his, the sound of her boots on the sidewalk clicking in his ears, the soft lights of the street lamps falling over her small frame. He pulled her gently with him, wishing in that moment that he could snap his fingers and they’d suddenly appear in the bedroom, where he knew that vast, quiet, gold monument to her was waiting. Jerry pulled the door open, nodding to them without speaking; Anchaly was away from his desk at the moment, and Duncan silently thanked the Fates (Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos)--every interaction with anyone else was a distraction from his desire to show her what he’d found for her today, the thing he’d found that was already hers. In the elevator Kenzie let go of his hand and stepped to the opposite side, and they stood there across from each other, staring, the elevator’s mirror reflecting their profiles from the corner of Duncan’s eye--Kenzie leaned her ass against the smooth gold wall, parting her legs a little, bringing her hands into the dip of her crotch, not moving her eyes away from his face. Duncan’s hands gripped the rail behind him, the tension in his body rising, his need to feel her again making him dizzy.

“How was your day today, baby?” he said quietly.

“It was...long. Good. Sort of. Your mom--god, she hates me.”

Duncan bit his lip as the elevator climbed, his eyes on the flushed shimmer of her cheeks; 22, 23, 24. “We’re going to work on it, okay? We’re going to make her see.”

Kenzie nodded at him, a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth. “My dress, baby. Just wait. And Erik was lovely.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear; his heart shuddered.

“Mmhmm, he is. I can’t wait to see it, baby.” The elevator dinged, the doors sliding apart. Duncan reached for her but Kenzie--ugh, she’s so good at that, it makes me insane--slid away from him, looking at him back over her shoulder as she walked ahead of him to the penthouse door, her little teeth shining out of her mouth at him, a glint in her eyes. “Come here,” he said, needy.

“Come get me,” she replied, slipping her keycard into the slot by the door; it beeped and she swung it open, disappearing inside. Duncan groaned softly; fuck baby, I will. He fumbled with his wallet, snatching out his own key, hurriedly jamming it into the slot and yanking the door open; Kenzie had already kicked her boots off and was trotting around the corner in her little bare feet, towards the bedroom, hair shimmering. The penthouse was cool and quiet with evening; the diamond-drop chandelier reflecting the low lamps in the living room, his eyes skirting over her succulents along the sink, and he could see one of the little lamps in the bedroom had been switched on--as he followed Kenzie, kicking his own shoes off, he heard her gasp as she stopped dead, facing the wall that was obscured from this angle by the doorway. He stepped through, seeing her hands come up to her cheeks, her mouth snap shut, her eyes grow wide. He glanced to where she stared--there it was, this silent speculum of time, its carvings dipping softly in the shadows, vines, fruits and flowers, its clear reflection of them snatching his breath as he stepped up beside her. Duncan marveled for a moment at the difference in their heights--her little golden head only reaching to just below the bend of his shoulders, his hands obscuring her under his touch as he reached for her--and yet, he thought, your greatness astounds me, beloved. Your wonders are confounding to me, your secrets endless and each one more precious than any riches. She continued to stare at their reflection as his arms came around her from behind, pressing his stomach gently into her back, fingers falling around the dip of her elbows, tightening, desirous, his face falling into the crook of her neck, his eyes looking up into hers through the mondo glass that stretched before them. He shivered a little at his own gaze--a blue fire raging in the center of him, every ember of it for her, reflecting outwards.

“Duncan, this…” He felt her shudder violently under his hands, and he moved his fingers down to cup around her breasts, clutching her, longing to soothe the shaking in her limbs, pressing soft kisses against her ear.

“It’s yours, isn’t it. It belongs to you.”

Kenzie’s eyes grew clouded as he said it, puzzled, but acknowledging, lost in the confusion of her sudden knowledge that he was right.

“It’s...I know it from somewhere. Like it used to be mine. How can that be, baby? How can this be mine?”

“I don’t know, Kenzie. But I knew it too, when I saw it. I knew it was yours. I knew it was yours...I don’t fucking know, baby, in another life. I knew it.” He turned her into him, aching for her mouth--she pressed into him, impossibly small and soft and delicate, smelling of roses and the gathering desire on her skin--and Duncan’s hands pushed under the fabric of her shirt, his fingers trailing along the soft skin at her spine, the rise of her ribs.

“I feel like I’ve looked into it before.”

“I know. I do, too. I don’t know how that’s possible. When I looked into it--” Duncan moaned into her as she pushed her hand into the waistband of his clothes, her fingers sliding down to grasp at the shaft of his cock, growing hard and pressing into the fabric, straining. “--it felt like I’d looked into it before.”

“I need you, Dunny.”

“Kenzie, angel--”

“Stare at me in this mirror and fuck me. Do it, right now.”

Duncan couldn’t stop the burst of lust, like the unexpected, painful dusting of an electric current, that danced across his mind as her command fell into his ears. Yes, goddess. He gripped her arms harshly, pulling her neck roughly into his mouth, biting down on the sensitive skin there--Kenzie cried out, quickening the heat in his groin, and Duncan brought his thumb into her mouth, which had opened for him, pressing it into her little tongue forcefully. Her eyes fluttered and she sucked; “Yes, angel,” he murmured, “Suck.” He used his other hand to push at the mini skirt around her waist, yanking it down from her hips where it pooled around her ankles, exposing the silkiness of her dark underwear. Kenzie stepped out of the skirt, parting her legs against him; he slipped his hand into the waistband of her panties and pressed his fingers, demanding, into her sex, and she arched into him, moaning into his thumb still pressed to her tongue, the vibration of her throat sending lightning bolts of sensation through his body. He moved his hand out of her panties and his finger from her mouth and stepped back, willing himself with every ounce of resolve he had, and she whimpered, leaning into the emptiness where his hands had been and his heart ached terribly.

“Baby,” he breathed, reaching up to work at the buttons of his shirt, “Take off your clothes. I’ll watch you, you watch me.”

Kenzie nodded, lifting the hem of the collared shirt over her head, tossing her starry necklace on the floor, her hair falling over her bare shoulders as she let the shirt drop after it; Duncan finished the buttons of his own shirt and let it fall, fingers fumbling at his belt buckle as he watched her unhook the back of the little bra she wore, exposing her breasts, covered in the goosebumps of her arousal, and her little fingers slipped down to slide the waistband of her panties off, stepping out of them, and suddenly, she was naked in front of him, her eyes shining with anticipation of the return of his touch. Duncan watched her eyes watch him push his pants and briefs down, exposing his cock, now hard with his arousal, then her gaze slid up into his and he paused at the demand inside them. Fuck me. I command you.

He pushed into her roughly; pushed her back, her tiny body sliding against him with wild lightness; pushed her until her back and her ass fell against the cold, smooth surface of the mirror, pressed her against it, their mouths crushed together, tongues entwining, his fingers brushing up into her cunt, hard, insistent, her little fingers gripping his cock, pulling him against her, and then Duncan lifted his hand to her throat and gripped her there, turning her cheek so his mouth pressed into her ear roughly, and he said “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, so turn around and put your hands on the mirror.”

“Uh huh, baby, yes,” Kenzie whimpered, and he loosened the harsh grip of his fingers so she turned her body toward the mirror, pressing the palms of her hands into the smooth glass, leaning so her ass lifted towards his groin, her hair falling down over her shoulders and back, lifting her gaze to stare at him in the reflection. Duncan returned her gaze in the mirror as he gathered her hair in his fist, twisting it once around his hand, drunk with the reflection of their bodies hovering together, and her head jerked back a little, a moan falling from her little mouth, her eyes fluttering. “Unng, baby, yes,” she mewled, lifting her hips back towards his erection, and he was struck with another hot wave of need at the sound she had made, wanton and supplicant to him. Then, he pushed his cock, hard and sudden, down into her, and she let out a cry that shook hot drops of avid thirst down his spine. Duncan pulled harshly at her hair (your beautiful hair, your golden hair baby, in my fist, all mine) and plunged in and out of her warmth, and Kenzie cried out again and again, his moans falling into her--her eyes closed and Duncan jerked her head back a little, demanding. “Look at me, Kenzie.” Her eyes snapped open to him; the green hue was deeply present, shining out at him, ethereal and haunting. “That’s right. Look at me.”

“Uhh, baby,” she moaned, and he slipped his palm under her chin and brought her head back and kissed her, hard, his lips bruising into hers, his fist still around her hair, his cock buried in her; then he looked up at the reflection of her, tip-toed, mouth open, eyes turned up to him, breasts shivering, palms flat on the mirrored glass, her body bent into him. “Down, baby,” he said, letting go of her hair to carefully ease her onto her knees with him by her hips, her hands sliding slowly down the mirror’s surface until both of them were kneeling in front of it. He pulled back on her hips, moving slow, still buried inside her, and Kenzie’s hands fell to the floor, to the dark wood between the rug and the edge of the mirror. Duncan brought his hand up around her neck again, looking into her eyes in the mirror; “I love holding you here,” he murmured to her, fingers clenching on her throat, and rebounded his efforts at pounding his length into the warm dip of her cunt, pressing her legs outward, demandingly, with his thighs until she was trembling, prostrate, spread, her tiny body crushed into his and totally at his mercy, her mouth trembling up at him in the glass, her cheeks flushed with need. Duncan slipped his index and middle fingers deep into his mouth, slicking them with spit, then pressed them down into her ass, working them harshly back and forth as he fucked her, his concentration smooth and unbroken and utterly demanding of her; Kenzie spasmed and her mouth widened and her eyes rolled back into her head, and a long bead of drool ran from the corner of her mouth, glittering in the reflection, her senses abandoned in the forceful movement of his fingers inside her.

“Look at us,” Duncan commanded her, and Kenzie’s eyes widened from her desirous haze as he continued to work at her cunt with his cock (so hard, I’m so fucking hard baby, so hard for you, filling you up like this, god you feel good, like I’m meant to be inside you always) and her tight asshole with his long fingers, her shivering body totally at his beholden to him, supple under his insistence, “look at us fuck, baby, watch me fuck you like this--”

“Duncan, unnngh,” Kenzie murmured, “I want you to fuck my ass, baby,” and Duncan’s eyes rolled back at that, rolled back with the rocking burst of fervor her words kindled in him. He could see the glistening trail at her chin where she’d drooled and he wanted to reach out and wipe it away, but didn’t; a secret gift for him, her supplication, her abandon for him.

He pulled out of her and she whined, piteously. “Stay there. Do not move, angel,” he said, and Kenzie froze, eyes staring into him from her reflection. He pushed himself up, his achingly hard erection illuminated in the mirror’s watchful, long eye, and went into the bathroom where he knew Kenzie’s jar of coconut oil was sitting on the counter beside the squarish shape of her perfume. He eased a hand along his cock as he did, slick with the wet of the inside of her vulva, concentrating on it, bringing the jar back out with him to where he saw her still kneeling obediently in front of the mirror, her ass shivering almost imperceptibly from the memory of him pounding against her a moment before, the memory of his fingers, her legs still achingly spread. He stood there over her for a moment, gazing into her eyes in the mirror’s reflection again; this fucking mirror is something extraordinary, he thought, where did it even come from, and it’s going to be in our room always now, fuck, it’ll make me hard every time I look at it, seeing you in it makes me want to die in your eyes, baby, and Kenzie was nodding at him, her mouth open again; she’d heard him. “Yes, baby, yes,” Kenzie said, “Yes, it makes me so fucking wet for you, baby, fuck me again. Fuck me. Do as I say.”

He knelt again, obediently, unscrewing the lid on the oil, plunging his fingers into it and rubbing his hands together; the feeling of it was achingly cool and slippery, the bittersweet smell of it drifting into his nose, and he slathered it along his length so his cock shone in the low light; then he rewet his hands with more of it, rubbing it harshly into the lining of Kenzie’s vulva, up into her ass again as he pressed his fingers into her until she was soaking wet with it and glistening under his hand, and she bucked back into his touch, moaning again, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head, her fingernails scraping along the dark wood in front of her, the dark green and gold of her eyes staring into his of blue fire embers. Beloved.

‘Fuck my ass, baby,” she said, letting her little mouth hang open as the words fell from her lips, and in her eyes he saw both the command and the subservience of her desire; saw that she demanded it of him, but also saw her acquiescence; her complete adoration, the adjuration of her love, and the fire of her need to bring him pleasure. I would do anything she told me to do, I would die for her or kill for her, but she would do anything for me, too, she will prostrate herself to me, and be happy to do it, and command me to command her and will obey me when she wants to because it gives her pleasure to do it, and I will obey her in all things, command her to her liking and for her joy, and he knew this utterly.

Duncan let his cock hover over the tight pucker of her ass for a moment more, pulling his fingers out, and they shivered against each other, eyes locked, their thoughts cascading against each other: My Persephone, give yourself to me, your Hades, give me your flowers and your heart and your body and your soul, and I am lost to you forever, for all of time, I am yours now and always, yours alone, I am lost in you, I am yours, body and soul. Then he pushed into her, shockwaves coursing through him at her tightness around his length and they both moaned, overcome with it. Kenzie whimpered with the combined adulation of intense pleasure and low pain, moving her hips under his hands, pushing him further in, almost subconsciously; wanting more from him; wanting him to fuck her deeper, immediately. Duncan moved into her, carefully; he looked up to see both their mouths hung open, lost in the sensation of him inside her this way, their eyes glossy with yearning. “I’m gonna fuck you harder now, angel,” he heard his voice say, low with promise, and Kenzie nodded and let out a little sound that was some combination of a sigh and a moan, words beyond her in this moment. He moved his hips, building up a stronger rhythm-- and he saw Kenzie’s tongue loll out of her mouth as he did, her senses overcome, saw a line of moisture drip down from her vulva onto the carpet in the mirror’s reflection where her cunt pulsed, empty of him but still hungry and building on its desirous need with the wild sensation of his long, aching hardness burying itself in her tight asshole, spreading her to the breaking point.

“Unnng, baby, you’re so big,” she whimpered, and he eased his hands down her back, his fingers coming over her hip to rub into her soaking clit, his other hand coming up to clutch the back of her head, golden hairs tangled in his fingers. “You’re so fucking big, baby, you’re filling me up to the edge, I can’t--I can’t--” She bucked into him again, his cock sliding down into her ass almost to the shaft, and Duncan wondered how long he could hold on, not very fucking long, baby, I don’t think I can, and saw his tongue flick out and lick his lips as she watched him, his need for her overwhelming.

“Kenzie, baby, you’re so tight, angel, you feel so fucking amazing, your little ass around my cock like this, fuck--”

“Go on, baby, fuck me good,” Kenzie smiled a little at that, her head turned up to him, and Duncan was struck with her beauty again, the gold coil of his orgasm falling down through his body bit by bit, struck with the intensity of his love for her, struck by her nature, her spirit, so staggeringly exquisite. “Fuck me good and make me come for you, I’m so close and I wanna come while I stare into your eyes in this gorgeous fucking mirror, baby--” and his fingers pressed down with more insistence into her clit, adoring the sound of her voice, his hair falling over his forehead in his reflection, a moan escaping his lips, his throat bobbing in need, then Kenzie was crying out and shaking violently into him, overcome with his length buried in the wild sensitivity of her ass, her orgasm swooping down onto them like an unseen predator, its hungry jaws closing around her and he held her under a strong, careful grip and watched another long line of moisture drip down from her shivering cunt to the carpet from her reflection in the mirror, her release falling, her voice bleeding into a shriek tinged with a sob as she lost herself in the intensity of her climax, and Duncan felt his eyes roll back as his orgasm rushed forward--”I’m gonna come, Kenzie--is it okay--” and Kenzie was murmuring “Yes, baby, fucking yes, come in my ass, Duncan, baby--” and he did, the heat of it bursting out of him into the wetness of her in a stream he could feel with sharp, scalding clarity, all his need and desire pouring out of him into her, his shudders long and low and prickling along his mind with insane euphoria, and inside the intensity of the orgasm was a darkly powerful energy that was rare--it seemed to coax every droplet out of him, burying itself inside her, needy to belong to her, desperate to be a part of her. All this time they stared at each other; Kenzie’s eyes full of whirling drops of gold, his strangely bright, lit from behind with a blue brazier, and Duncan felt again that he could see the gold ring of her halo, see the delicate outline of her soul, her nature, her spirit, so brilliant and so beautiful and so erotic and heavy in his hands that he felt faint with its weight. Their orgasms drifted out into quietness--their bodies heaved into each other, then shivered into long, overwhelmed breaths, then shuddered down into small, even sighs, and all that time, he stared into his Kenzie, and she stared back into him, the mirror like a bridge between the deepest parts of both of them, like a window into who they were in another world, a divine world full of unspeakable beauty, a place where they were together, also, and exalted in delights far beyond those of earth.

Then the spell seemed to dissipate, and Duncan and Kenzie fell back to solid ground, back into themselves; Duncan crashed back into his own psyche, and he eased himself out of her, wincing a little at how sensitive his cock felt now, wincing at the redness he’d left on her skin; turned her carefully, with terrible gentleness, laying her down, easing himself onto the rug beside her, propping himself up with one long arm as his hand fell along her cheek and her head lay down against the carpet, eyes staring up at him, languid, hazy, her little arms tucked into her stomach, hands falling down between her legs to probe gently at the ache of his worship. Duncan brought his trembling mouth down to her nipple and sucked at it, just for a moment, hand on her hip; then he moved back to gaze at her again. “Kenzie, are you okay?”

She sighed, and her smile sent bursts of gold dust around his heart. “Oh, Duncan. Yes. I feel so good, baby. I could die right here, I feel so fucking good.”

His own smile fell against the shape of her. “Take a shower with me, okay, baby?” he pleaded. Kenzie nodded, sighing again, and Duncan paused for a moment, then pushed himself up, gripping her gently under her arms, lifting her as if she were just a doll; Kenzie weakly brought herself up into his grasp on the balls of her feet, and Duncan steadied her as she stood, wobbly, against him, her tiny body folded into his arms as he pressed kisses into her forehead against her hairline, into the sweet scent of her hair.

In the shower Duncan pressed his hands softly into her, sponging sweet-smelling jasmine soap down her back, soothing the ache of him from her body, his face pressed into the soaking fall of her hair, pushing it gently aside with worshipping hands, rubbing softly at her neck, between her shoulder blades. Kenzie was quiet, and Duncan knew she didn’t want to speak right now, innately; her mind was full of dazzling bursts of gold light, and it was all he could see of her in this moment, and he felt her joy, the effervescence of her happiness, the intensity of her affection, overwhelming her. “I can’t wait to hold you on the beach all day tomorrow, baby,” he whispered into her ear, bringing the soft sponge around to the front of her body, pressing it first with aching gentleness down between her legs and then around his cock, now limp with release, and Kenzie sighed into his neck and nodded, still not saying anything, but Duncan knew she felt the same way, felt her gold emotions pressing into his skin, blessing him.

As they folded against each other (naked tonight, damp hair against the black pillows, her arms tucked into his chest, their feet touching, in their bed) Duncan felt himself drift away almost immediately in sleep, the darkness falling all around them, and he knew Kenzie was drifting away too, could feel the soft settling of her body against him, the sweet smell of her skin filling his senses, only the moon’s waxing eye falling down on them--and he didn’t know it, but that night both he and Kenzie dreamed about being together in that other place, that place of exalted delights far beyond those of earth, though in the morning, neither of them remembered.

[borhapstyles]

Two Weeks

Prompt: “Could you do an imagine where the reader and harry broke up a week ago but he already has a new girlfriend and the reader gets upset but he tries to explain shes a fake girlfriend but the reader doesnt listen. Happy ending please !” -anon

Changed it to a couple of weeks instead of just one, hope you don’t mind! 

Warnings: None (At least I don’t think?) Word Count: 4.2k 

A restless sigh escapes your chest as your eyes scour the room. The familiar feeling blankets itself upon you once again, the feeling of impotence. Your mind is moving a million miles a minute, dictating to do with your day. 

Laundry, reply to emails, finish season two of Queer Eye, read up on recipes and finally cook for the first time in weeks.  

But your body cannot seem to get up from the edge of the bed. 

It still feels too much like him, the room. The crumpled bed sheets beneath you aren’t even really yours; they belong to him but became yours when you moved in together. 

Your fingers tap on the mattress as you shut your eyes, tears building up. 

It had been two weeks which in your eyes was a bit of time, yet no time at all. You could still hear the door shutting from that night and feel the stillness of the room after things had quieted down. 

Your eyes peek through to the bathroom, where three weeks ago that day he was standing with just a towel around his waist and a toothbrush in his hand. He moved fervently and you just chuckled to yourself at the abuse the pink toothbrush was receiving. His cheeks turned up at the sound and he turned to you with bright eyes. 

But those bright eyes are no more. 

-

Harry’s dull eyes examine his drained visage. The water from the faucet below him runs and it takes him a few moments to register that he’s left the sink on. Dark circles seem to pack on even more than usual- Lou is going to have some strong words with him today. 

He glances out the door of the bathroom into a room that is comfortable but not home to him. Three weeks ago he would’ve found you sitting on the edge with your cheeks dyed rose, gazing at him with admiration. Now all he sees is an empty, unmade bed, burning in the sunlight. 

A hollowness furnishes his chest as he thinks back to the time. God, he misses you like crazy. But the words exchanged between the two of you were so harsh, perhaps too harsh. There’s no turning back from that. Or is there?

“Harry!” Thundering knocks permeates his thoughts. “I’ve got to head out today but I‘ve left you some french toast on the table! Make sure you clean up afterwards!” 

A faint smile pokes at Harry’s face. He had gone to stay with Gemma for a bit after your break-up, just until he could find a new place to move into. The flat, as decided the night you two parted, would be yours since his home in LA, in your words, “has seen more of him in the last eight months than she or their flat have.” His sister, no matter how old they got, would always make sure to look after her baby brother. 

“Thanks Gem! I’ll see you later!” He shouts back before throwing his toothbrush back into its holder. 

Perhaps. He thinks to himself whilst staring at the bed. Perhaps. 

-

“How are you holding up?” Your best friend echoes through your phone. You stand with a cookbook open in your kitchen, flipping through pages to try and find a meal that looks appetizing but easy to make. 

“Well, you know.”

Your friend sighs through the phone and the honk of a car horn in the background.

“What am I supposed to do, Y/BF/N, it still hurts. And it doesn’t help that some of his shit’s still here.” 

“You need to go out, okay, or do something fun at least. And maybe sell his things, you can make a lot out of that.”

“I am doing fun things!” You defend yourself. “Cooking is very entertaining.”

��It’s been two weeks, Y/N. At least come out with me today-” Your sigh cuts into her plea. “Come on, just for a couple hours, and if you decide that your couch and Netflix needs you more, then you can go home.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll go, but give me an hour to get ready and everything.”

“I’m already on my way with breakfast for the both of us, I’ll just let myself in.”

- 

Nothing can describe what Harry is feeling right now. Absolutely nothing. 

“And you two are going to take a stroll down the Mayfair district...” The PR’s coordinator’s voice is saturated by the immense displeasure that is now occupying the whole of him. 

A fake girlfriend? Harry wasn’t 18 anymore. He thought getting out of One Direction also meant getting away from the bullshit of fake-dating for the press, but everything comes at a price apparently.

His head shakes feverishly as the press manager’s words register in his brain.

“Your breakup with Y/N is sad, yes, but imagine how much will stir up if you’re seen with someone else two weeks later! The amount of people that will Google your name, you won’t even believe...” 

Anger? Grief? Agitation? 

There are no words, as perhaps it is a mixture of all. 

His phone in front of him buzzes and he hopes for a second that it’s you. But why would you call? After what he said? It’s just Niall, checking up on him.

“Harry?” His head shoots up to meet the eyes of his own manager. “You alright?”

The manager of Clara, his fake girlfriend for who knows how long, looks at Harry with an expectant face. 

“No.” He firmly replies, tangling his hands together. The rest of the employees in the room whip their heads around, studying his next move.

“Is it really necessary for us to hold hands?”

Clara’s manager, Leslie, purses her lips, exhaling. “Yes, Harry. You do, how else are you meant to prove that there’s a relationship between you two?”

“I’ve seen people assume the worst from a lot less, the press can write what they will but I’m sure they can take a lot from us walking around.” Harry reasons. As much as he doesn’t want to sound like he’s pleading, he truly is desperate to do as little as possible in this situation. 

“It’s true.” H’s manager steps in, trying to defend his client. Though he wants the best for Harry’s career, he doesn’t want him to suffer either. 

“I-I don’t know.” Leslie sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Hold hands, don’t hold hands, as long as it gets the message across, do whatever it takes.”

From the other end of the room, a silent Clara makes a small noise of exhaustion as she stares at the ground. Harry peers at her for a moment, empathy creeping in. She just wanted to be an actress and be known for her own talents, not written in as Harry Styles’s girlfriend. He frowns, understanding her position.

“I think we’re all set here, yeah? We all ready to head out?” 

No, but I’m going to have to anyways. Harry thinks to himself. 

- 

“See! This is nice, right! You’re in the car, we’re driving around London...” Your best friend nudges. You roll your eyes but smile at their efforts, resting a hand on the window to hold your head up.

“I’m not seeing anything I haven’t seen before.” 

“Oh come on.” They groan. “We’re going out to buy you new shoes! It’s going to be eventful, at least more so than sitting at home and rewatching Thor: Ragnarok!”

“Hey!” You shout. “Watching Ragnarok is the best thing I can do for myself. Thor is-”

“Okay, okay. I know, Thor is everything.” 

The conversation continues on to other TV shows and before you know it, you’re in Chelsea for a bit of shopping. 

“What are we doing in on Oxford Street? Westfield not enough?” You ask sarcastically before shutting the car door.

“Not for a break-up like this.” Your friend replies and you laugh, realising for at least the entirety of the car ride, you did not think about Harry. 

As you are making your way to the first shop, you see several paparazzi lounging around, as if waiting for someone to arrive. You shrug, thinking it must be for the Beckham family or someone else as it isn’t unusual for celebrities to be shopping in London.

-

“Try not to look so grim.” Harry’s manager instructs through the phone as he exits the car. He hangs up before sighing, tugging his coat closer for the upcoming task. 

His eyes case the area, noting the several paps already getting their cameras ready. Bystanders shoot their heads up and Harry makes eye contact with some, waving with a short smile. Some wave back, most simply stare in shock.

“Ready then?” Clara’s voice breaks through to him. He looks at her and nods before they begin their walk. Much to Harry’s pleasure, they had agreed that holding hands was a bit too much and would seem unnatural, so they opted to stroll close by each other, pretending to be in deep conversation.

“What sort of films do you act in?” Harry asks. 

“Oh, nothing big just yet, I’ve mainly been doing TV appearances. I did a bit for BBC and a couple things in The States but I’m really trying to get into a dramatic role sometime soon.”

Harry nods. “I see, I see. I wish you luck with that.” 

He tries his best to be interested but her soft voice reminds him too much of your sweetness. If only it were you walking by him, then he would have no trouble looking in love. He wouldn’t have to pretend.

"So, I saw Dunkirk when it premiered...” Her voice drowns out once he hears something else.

No, oh no it couldn’t be.

But it is.

It’s your laugh, live and in person from a few meters away. He’s never shot his head up so fast. 

For a moment he’s stunned. He can see from your face that you haven’t exactly been having the easiest couple of weeks either, but by the sound of your laughter and the looks of you with your best friend, you were okay.

He watches intently as you enter the shop. Clara’s urgent voice prods at him.

“Harry? Harry?”

He snaps his head towards Clara, brows furrowed.

“Ye-Yeah, sorry. What?”

“I was asking about working with Fionn Whitehead.” He blinks for a few seconds, trying to get back into the right headspace, not that the one he was in before he saw you was any better.

“He’s great, he’s fantastic. I-uh...” The two walk past the shop you are now in and he catches a glimpse of you trying on some shoes through the window.

“He’s what? Haz?”

“Please don’t call me that.” Harry speaks sharply, sending Clara in a frantic, apologetic state.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, I’ve seen Y/N call you that-”

“No, no, I’m sorry as well. I’m not in a very happy mood at the moment and hearing that, especially since Y/N used to call me that... it isn’t very good for me I don’t think.” He solemnly replies. 

Photographers begin their session, keeping their distance but shout vulgar things. 

“Are you guys dating now? What happened to Y/N!”

“Is it true that you were cheating on Y/N with Clara Hughes?”

“Wow, two weeks and you’ve already moved on? That’s quicker than the Kardashians! Bravo Styles!”

Harry seethes and Clara makes note of his demeanour, placing an arm on his shoulder. The flashes increase with the gesture and Harry stiffens.

“Let’s go inside the cafe.” She nudges and he only follows her movements.

-

“Jeez, who the hell is that?” 

You glance over at your friend whose face is scrunched in displeasure.

“That swarm over there, is that the queen or something?” You follow your friend’s gaze to the large cluster of paparazzi. You remember being in that swarm, clutching on to Harry tightly as he wraps his arm around you, trying to shield you from all the words and flashes. 

You grip the shopping bag in your hand tighter.

“Dunno, maybe.” You reply. For a second you think you see Harry’s boots underneath the group but they disappear into the coffee shop before you can even tell.

“On to the next shop?” Your friend suggests and you nod slowly, moving past the cafe and past Harry.

-

Hours later you return home with your best friend. Your body aches from a day full of shopping but you’re thankful that your friend convinced you to go out. Walking the streets of London never fails to do wonders for your soul, even if this time it’s without Harry.

“Thank you for agreeing to stay over, by the way.” You say to your best friend whilst locking the apartment door behind you.

“Oh please, if I wasn’t around I don’t think you would’ve gotten up today.”

You shake your head laughing at the half-truth before opening the fridge. “I’m going to get the pasta started.” 

“Fantastic, I’ll just be in the bathroom for a bit.” Your best friend calls out and you reply an “Okay”. 

Whilst waiting for the water to boil, you grab your phone and out of habit, click on twitter. You are on private and didn’t have a wide range of followers but you did still have one person following you to your surprise: Harry. You quickly click to see your timeline and wait patiently as it refreshes but before you can look at the first meme, your best friend runs out to you in a panic. 

“Y/N! Y/N Y/N!” You almost drop your phone at the frantic tone of her voice. 

“What, what?! Is something wrong? What’s happened?!”

 “Don’t check twitter, please don’t.” She breathes out heavily, her hair a mess from rushing out of the bathroom so quickly.

“Okay, but why did you have to tell me n-“ “Just, don’t check it. Or Instagram, don’t. Or even snapchat. You know what, just don’t use your phone tonight, okay?” 

“Would you mind telling me why it’s so bad for me to?” She bites her lip and sighs, contemplating if she should even bother. It would kill you to see what she saw. Hell, it killed her as your best friend when she saw photos of Harry with another girl. She can’t even imagine how you would feel, considering it’s only been two weeks and she just got you in a better mood. 

“I-I can’t, not right now. After I shower, maybe. But please, don’t check your phone while I’m gone, okay?” You reluctantly agree. Your best friend wouldn’t go through all this trouble if it wasn’t important. 

Now if only she could shower faster so you could find out what was so troubling. 

-

“Harry!”

 Harry’s head whips up at Gemma’s shout. He climbs out of bed to greet Gemma for the first time since this morning.

 “What is this?” Gemma shoves her phone in his face which, much to his displeasure, is remnants of today’s events. “It’s literally only been two weeks, Harry, and you’ve already gone out with someone else? I thought Y/N was the love of your life?! I know mum-“ 

“It wasn’t by choice, Gem!” He shouts. “It wasn’t by choice.” 

Gemma’s mouth closes at her younger brother’s words. She steps further into Harry’s room, slumping down on his bed. 

“I guess, they’re trying to get some more news out there about me and apparently capitalising on my breakup by setting me up with someone else was the thing to do.” He utters, voice laced with disgust. He felt used. He felt confused. He felt like he didn’t know himself. It almost makes him chuckle- a couple weeks without you and he’s almost lost himself. 

“I tried to fight it but I just couldn’t, Gem.” Harry speaks. The bed dips as he takes a seat next to his sister. “I didn’t have it in me to. I felt so powerless. I haven’t felt like myself and I didn’t know what to do.”

 “Oh, Harry.” Gemma frowns, wrapping her hands around her brother. Tears fill the brims of Harry’s eyes and he leans over to his sister. “Now she’s going to see them and she isn’t going to speak to me again.” 

For the first time, Gemma is at a loss for words. She wants to help Harry but if she knows anything about you for the two years you’ve been with Harry, she knows you’re almost as stubborn as he is and won’t have any of this explanation.

But if she also knows you, she knows you and Harry are still very much in love will eventually go back to each other. 

“Why did you two break up in the first place?” Her brows furrow as she realises that Harry never gave her a firm explanation. He just showed up at her doorstep one day, eyes red and hair disheveled. “I never pushed for an explanation but it’d be nice to know so I can help.”

“We got too busy for each other.”

“Harry, that’s no reason to-”

“It is. Or rather, it was. I’m on the road like seven months out of the year and if I’m not touring I’m in the studio or doing something for the press. Obviously with her new job she can’t leave as much if at all like when she was in uni.”

Gemma stares into the hardwood floors of her guest bedroom. Her brother’s managed to make this room feel lonelier than ever in a span of just a few days.

“A few days after I got back, we got into an argument over something small, something petty. I can’t even remember what it was about. But she just went off on me about how we hardly see each other and I guess it was buildin’ up for her because she sat me down and eventually said she can’t do it anymore.” Tears tumble over Harry’s cheeks as he thinks back to the day. “I mean, can you blame her for not wanting to be with someone who’s never ‘round?”

“Harry-”

“I should’ve fought harder, Gem. But I didn’t...” He sniffles, wiping away tears with his wrists. “and now she’s going to see those photos and think I’m some womanizer, just like all the papers.”

“She will not think that, Harry.” Gemma states firmly. She lays a hand onto his shoulder before reaching over to give him a tissue. “If she paid any attention to you over these two years, if she knows you at all, then she knows you are far from a womanizer.” 

Harry’s lips purse together as his slouch grows deeper. He doesn’t know what to do with himself and he’s scared to do anything else.

“I don’t believe anyone would just throw away two years together unless there was some bigger reason. And for you two, there isn’t. She knew what she was getting herself into and obviously she loved you. Loves you, still.” Gemma pats Harry as he continues to stay quiet. She can see the gears turning inside his head and holds back a small chuckle. 

“You need to go see her.” She whispers into the silence of his room. 

-

“Rumours have it that Harry and Clara are moving in with each other as today they were looking at furniture in the Mayfair district?!” You screech, reading the article from People magazine. 

“Please don’t throw-” Your best friend is cut off as you slam your phone down into the couch before shoving your own head inside a pillow to scream.

“It’s been two fucking weeks! TWO! Who the fuck does he think he is?!” 

Your best friend shakes her head. “A bastard, that’s who. He’s a complete dickhead and honestly, I can’t believe you ever went out with him.” 

“I can’t believe that this is actually him now! Going out with ‘Clara Hughes’, whoever the fuck that is. Did our relationship mean nothing to him?! Did he just- oh my god.” You stop yourself mid-sentence. You huff and turn to your friend, who stares at you with confused eyes.

“Do you think he was cheating on me even before we broke up?” 

Your friend opens their mouth to reply several times before words actually come out. “You can’t assume that.”

“He was so distant before he came back home to London and when he did, he picked fights over the littlest things and... oh my god. It makes sense. Now that I think about it, it’s like he didn’t even fight for our relationship when we broke up.”

You sigh and stare out the window quietly. Part of you doesn’t believe in the theory but the other half doesn’t know what to think anymore.

A knock interrupts the silence of your living room and you look to your best friend for answers.

“Did you order anything?”

“No...” You stand up and grab a knife from the kitchen just in case. Whilst looking through the peephole, you almost roll your eyes.

“Who is it?”

“It’s... Harry.” You utter. You haven’t said his name in days.

“I’ll be in your room, let me know if you need anything, okay?” You nod at your best friend before setting the knife down and opening the door.

“I hope you have a good reason for coming here at a quarter past midnight.” You seethe. Harry looks at you with sad, puffy eyes and for a moment you feel bad for your tone of voice. 

His voice is raspy when he replies. “I-I want us to talk. If that’s okay.” 

You bite your lip, considering the situation in front of you. 

“Please.” Harry pleads and so you open the door further. He steps in, admiring the flat he once shared with you. Nothing’s really changed, but then again, he wasn’t there too much for him to put his stamp on things.

He sits down on the couch and watches you intently as you take a seat a few cushions away from him. 

“Those pictures today-” 

“Were you cheating on me while we were together?” You snap. 

“What? No, no! Of course not! What do you think of me?” Harry frantically responds.

“You tell me, Harry.”

“I was going to say that those pictures which I’m sure you saw today, they’re fake. Management has set me up with some fake girlfriend for some shit reason but they mean nothing to me, she means nothing to me.”

“Well that’s rude.”

“It’s the truth.” He says staunchy. He scoots just a bit closer, fearful that you’ll move away.

“I meant, your management. That’s rude of them to force you to go out there and date someone else just like that. It’s just going to make your “public image” look worse.” 

Harry sighs in agreement. He pushes hair back from his face before he looks to you. In an ideal world, he’d hold you closer to him and criticize the world of PR. But for today, opposite ends of the couch will have to do.

“I’m sorry.” 

“For?”

“For being a terrible boyfriend to you over these last few months. For not making enough of an effort to see you or even just facetime you. I’m sorry my schedule makes it difficult for us to even have a phone call because you sleep when I’ve just woken up sometimes and I’m moody even when we chat.” You chuckle at his last statement, not even noticing that he’s moved even closer to you. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight hard enough that night for you, and I’m sorry that there came a point in our relationship where you felt unhappy enough to breakup with me.” Harry continues, shaking his head at the last statement. Tears are now brimming in both your eyes as he grabs your hand. “It should never have gotten to that and I can’t believe I let it.”

You stare into Harry’s green eyes and almost smile. Almost. That’s the one thing you loved about eyes, no matter how old a person got, they are one of the things that never change.

“You are the best person I know and you deserve the best in this world. I’m sorry I was not that for you.”

“I’m sorry too.” You whisper. Harry’s brows cross at your reply. “I’m sorry I haven’t been as understanding. I think I demanded too much of you but I forget that it’s just you out there doing things now. The boys aren’t with you anymore so the pressure is higher for you to produce and make things for this world.”

This time, you find yourself scooting closer to him. 

“So much has changed in both our lives and I think we’ve forgotten that if we don’t grow together then we just grow apart.”

“I don’t want that for us.” He utters, squeezing your hand. He watches as tears roll down your cheeks.

“I don’t want that either. But I don’t know how we can make this work if you’re out here and I’m here and-”

Harry cups your face and you lean into his warm hands. “We will figure it out. I know we will. I will make sure that there is time at the end of my day to speak to you, to be with you.”

“And I will make sure to bribe my boss into letting me take more time off.” You joke and Harry laughs. You feel a smile creep up onto your face, not having heard that laugh in far too long.

“I love you, and I need you to remember that, darling.”

“I love you too, Haz.” 

Still cupping your cheeks, Harry leans in for a kiss that is long overdue.

Suddenly, you hear your bedroom door open with your best friend peeking their head out. 

“Have you two finished fucking yet?!” 

—

le fin!

I started this imagine back in January and it’s now July. I’m so sorry to the person who requested it all those months ago, but here it is now! I haven’t written creatively in such a long time so I’m sorry it’s a mess. I’m also sorry I haven’t been active as a writer on here lol but I do read a lot of things on here. I’m mostly an Avengers girl now, specifically Thor, Steve Rogers and Wanda Maximoff. I may write about them soon. In any case, I hope you all enjoy x

Love to you all, Iz xx

[ofmermaidsandmarauders]

tagged by @julxr4  

1. what’s your favorite fic trope? 

I LOVE fake dating which is so cliche but oh well. and enemies to lovers is always good

2. share a real story that could be part of a fic

dammit Jul. ummmm....

Once upon a time there was a girl who met a boy through the Yahtzee with Friends chat app. they started bantering back and forth about being competitive and then the competition continued. Over time they continued to talk and fast forward six months they still don’t know what they are but the girl really likes the boy. 

3. what are you proud of this month?

I really have been staying semi-ahead on homework and I’m almost done with my Master’s program which has just been fueling me.

4. what are you looking forward to next month?

Fourth of July, more beach days, hopefully a full time job offer

5. what’s something hopeful that you believe in? (because we’re all sad somehow you know?)

I just think people are inherently good. Like, bad people exist but working with kids in foster care has shown me how resilient people can be, no matter what traumas they’ve seen. People can still laugh and smile and have happy moments and want to be better and do better. It’s just a beautiful thing and I could go onfor hours about the kids I work with and how incredible they are.

tagged by @frustratedpoet1979 

1. How many songs are on your favourite playlist and what style of music?

I don’t really have a favorite playlist; any songs downloaded on my phone are favorites and it’s a random mix. broadway show tunes, pop, indie, classic rock, ballads, r&b.

2. Which fictional character would you love to meet in real life?

I would loove to meet Jake Peralta, Jim Halpert, Leslie Knope, or James/Lily Potter... 

3. Would you share a line of a favourite fic?

umm..... I can’t think of anything in particular but I’ll take one from what’ I’m currently reading.

“ You might think I'm only fairly attractive, but I think you're stunning. Dinner with me tonight? I can't wait longer than that before I see you again. x “ from chapter 1 of the Underground by @elanev91 because that’s the cutest text and the most beautiful fic I’m rereading tonight

4. If you can cook do you have a signature dish?

I love cooking chicken parmesan but I’m more of a baker. I make wicked good oreo truffles

5. Where in the world would you most love to visit?

I dream of going on an African safari. and also visiting Mayan ruins and the Egyptian pyramids and Hawaii and Italy and London and... yeah you get it

tagged by @youreyesinstarsabove 

1. One of your earliest memories?

I remember going to see Gulla Gulla Island live and being HIGHLY disappointed by the lack of characters they had (out of the whole family they had the two parents and like one kid I think)

2. Something (object i guess) that you lost somewhere along the way and wish you could find again

I can’t find my first pair of Ray Bans currently I’m hoping they’re somewhere in my house

3. favorite film adaptation of a written work (cuz there are SO MANY)

oh gosh... I don’t think any movie is ever done perfectly but I really love the wizard of oz it’s a classic

4. if you had the money/time to study any random thing or learn any skill, what would it be?

I would love to learn sign language and more languages in general

5. one fictional/magical creature gets to be real, which one?

I mean I think they might exist but mermaids. 

6. what do you order at a good ol amurican diner

Breakfast: pancakes or french toast with bacon. Lunch: turkey club with fries

7. longest stretch you’ve ever been awake, why and what happened?

like 48 hours? my friend and I thought it would be cook to see how long we could stay up

tagging @alrightginger @victoria8719 @raissassampaio @itssoweirdyoureher && whoever wants to do it here are your questions!

1. What would you eat as your last meal on Earth?

2. Name three artists/bands to listen to for the rest of your life?

3. Describe your first happy memory

4. Who is your favorite fictional character and what’s one of your favorite lines by them?

5. What is your favorite boy name and favorite girl name?

[sirfrogsworth]

Thor movies and other thoughts.

It’s maybe sorta possible I found a way to watch Thor: Ragnarok. Let’s just say I was getting very frustrated not being able to see it, so I decided to watch the potato quality version. I really enjoyed it. I know it probably won’t happen, but I’m all for more Thor/Hulk/Bruce buddy movies. 

I really like the Thor movies. Not everyone cares for the first two, but I never felt that way. The third is definitely the best, but I thought the first Thor was beautiful. Asgard is one of the most stunning fictional cities I think has ever been created. And the viking funeral in The Dark World was amazing. (spoilery) I missed Lady Sif. Though I am happy the actress has a steady gig. She deserves gainful employment even if she can’t return to her Thor role. The Avengers trailer did spoil one thing for me. I knew Thor was gonna lose an eye. That would have been much more shocking if I hadn’t seen that. I usually don’t watch trailers at all. My willpower failed me for Infinity Wars. I have yet to watch Last Jedi stuff though. 

I was disappointed Natalie Portman did not return. Though probably not for the reason you might think. One of my favorite Marvel characters is actually Darcy. Kat Dennings just makes me smile. And you can’t have Darcy without Jane Foster. 

I also like seeing successful couples in my media. I thought Jane and Thor were a good match. I get tired of the trope where every relationship is one argument away from crumbling to pieces. I suppose it is easier to create drama that way, but I think it’s actually more of a creative challenge to see a couple thrive in the face of hardship. Writers often can’t find a way to make relationships interesting after people get together. Many say Jim and Pam got boring once they married. 

I just feel like there is so much untapped potential showing truly successful couples. It’s possible seeing my own parents makes me feel this way. I really appreciate how dedicated they have been to each other over the past 4 decades. Knowing that no matter what struggles they may encounter, they’ll always face them together. It would be nice to see that represented more.

I’m trying to think of a successful couple in media that isn’t super boring and I am drawing a complete blank. I know there are a few. OH! I know! Jake and Amy in Brooklyn 99. Man, that show is a total trope buster. It’s probably one of my favorite comedies. OH! Leslie and Ben on Parks and Rec! They were awesome together. Okay, I feel better now that I thought of a few. 

And if they ever do start showing successful couples who aren’t boring in more movies and TV... after that I’d like to see more platonic male/female best friendships. I have one of those in real life and it’s pretty awesome. It always bugs me when people say it can never happen. One show I like that has a good one is Killjoys. And actually, Leslie and Ron from Parks and Rec. Wow, Parks and Rec was such a good show. 

[altheaselmaisadoradarsey]

My thoughts on Hamilton West End

Thoughts on Hamilton West End 21/12/17 (night after opening!)

(This is long as shit and very messy it's full of first impressions and random things I've remembered (mainly the funny bits ngl) all mixed up together I apologise but I needed to get it out somehow cos I'm not good at expressing emotions lol, also the words funny, excited and hyper are prolly overused i apologise)

Bearing in mind I have not seen the bway show and the creative team is largely the same so I'm sure I'll talk a Talk about thinks that are similar in both

Vic pal theatre is stunning it's just been renovated our seats were sick even though we were about half way up the upper circle we had a brilliant view of the stage and the stage still felt really close

On a vaguely related note I wore my 'AND PEGGY' baseball cap and 3 of the stewards said they liked it it was cute

Act 1

FIRST THINGS FIRST THE CHOREOGRAPHY WAS STUNNING. A mash up of hip hop, modern and ballet. How you even think if that I don't know. There was always SO MUCH going on and the energy was constant - wether they were synchronised doing the same thing or all doing something different from the Schuyler sisters on the high walkway or the ensemble doing lifts in pairs even or whatever it just made me wanna dance (lol bc I can't) I can't talk about it enough but I'll stop now because I'm not eloquent enough.

Burr - voice is really unique and it was kinda weird at first (may be due to being used to Leslie) but you got used to it and I think reall suited the character? His mannerisms and physicality were SO BURR. Also was really funny! All his little one liners were done really funny-ly and well thought out.

Before they had King George to do a little announcement about phones and I love it also meant I was ready for the dum dum dumdum bc I was super nervous (in a good way?)

A.ham (song) - ahh it's such a good intro. when burr first came on there was an orange yellow light behind him and it made a super long shadow onto the stage and it was p o w e r f u l.

When they all came to the front of the stage in a line I was so excited because I've been waiting for that moment for 2 years

I LOVED Jamel Westman as Ham he was sick. He's just come out of RADA how do you deal with taking on a part like that with such little experience whoa . I must say that I think I liked him a lot more in act 2 than act 1 he seemed a bit stiff in act 1 but that may have been be I'm used to Lin who I think played him more nerdy and hyper? Kinda. I love both but Westman was insane. Also had a really nice singing voice.

Angelica slated my entire being Rachel John is perfect for that part

George Washington had a husky singing voice and it suited him so well

KING GEORGE III is possibly my favourite character ever he's so funny and extra.

I don't think Michael Jibson had the best singing I've heard in that role (but like who can even sing that it's high to kudos to him for hitting those notes) his 'kill your friends and family' was hilarious he sang the up until 'and family' which he said really seriously and then he left a massive pause where he just stared at the audience. I giggled. On the last da da dadadaaa's he did a little shoulder wiggle which was funny too! There was a couple of points over the three songs where he held long notes for even longer than necessary which was good too

Now my friends went and saw it in previews a couple of weeks ago and said they didn't really like Rachel Ann Go as Eliza so I did go in expecting to not like her as much ( I trust my friends opinions) which obviously wasn't great and I tried to go in with an open mind but I kinda understand why you might not like her however overall I thought she was good and I liked her a lot more in act 2 than act 1. At first I felt she was almost too excitable and hyper which more of a Peggy thing (speaking of, Peggy was really grumpy and cute which was funny) although Eliza did become a lot more restrained throughout the show which I think was a good choice as it helped show age and I think was more Eliza anyway. I thought her Best of Wives and Best of Women was perfect though. He American ACCENT though was not great I hate to say it but it was very British a lot of the time and in the 'ohhh I do I do I do I dooo' bit in helpless she sounded cockney? I'm sorry how

AWE IN HELPLESS ANGELICA COULDN'T GET ELIZA'S VEIL ON IN TIME SHE TRIED LIKE TWICE AND IT JUST SLID RIGHT IFF I FELT SO BAD It wasn't super noticeable though and things are bound to go wrong

In story of tonight reprise when Lauren's goes I've seen wonders great and small they all looked at Laf bc he was really short it was funny

Most of Wait for it was really still which was nice as it gave a rest from the crazy continual movement and action from the last few scenes. Also Burr has a peng voice

Ten duel commandments was super intense ahh

YORKTOWN WAS SO EXCITING IVE SEEEN ALL GHE PROMOS FOR THAT SONG AND TO ACTUALLY SEE IT LIVE SO EXHILARATING Westman was a stern leader and it worked really well

You could just tell that the audience thought it was the end of act one but NOPE SIT DOWN WE STILL GOT MORE

Also cheer on "immigrants: we get the job done" was British and polite but still there and I was READY FOR IT

on 'I'm so blue' in What Comes Next? Kings George did a little frustrated stamp and the red light he was standing snapped to blue it was good

Dear theodosia was super cute Burr and Ham were in matching costumes but Burr's waistcoat was purple and Ham's was green

Laurens' death was SAD but Cleve September is PERFECT for that role

Felt the transition from Laurens' death to not stop was bit quick, like I needed to feel sad for longer, it just sort of went straight into not stop

NON-STOP DAMN after the treasury or state bit Ham's 'lEtS gO' was so exciteable loved it.

On angelicas as it about her husband they got to the don't forget to writteee part and Angelica got taken away on the revolve Eliza was put into her place it was SO CLEVER near the end the staircase came into the middle and Washington was on the top and it was I N T E N S E

Clapped a freaking lot at the end of act one

Act 2

Dad called jeferson 'purple rain prince guy'

Seriously though the purple velvet was A Look

SUCH AN CRAZY Jefferson! Did loads of dancing and jumping and twirls is was so funny how he would just suddenly go into it

Ham snaked Washington when going in for a handshake he fully cut him off

I'm Take A Break they changed "John Adams doesn't have a real job anyway" to "the Vice President is not a real job anyway" which I think was changed so it's clearer to the audience who they're talking about

The cabinet battles were fab like I said before Westman was a calmer Hamilton but was more realistic 'We will reconvene after a brief reset' was said really sweetly to the audience like nothing was going wrong it was funny

Before Say No To This my friend just whispered Owh Dear really quietly and honestly? Mood

Christine Allado did a super sultry voice which was strong but deffo works for Maria.

The room where it happens was sick!!!

At one point the whole stage was in red lighting except for a bright white box that Burr was in it was so cool. Also VOCALS in this were amazing The Riffs!!!!

Cleve September as Phillip was cute you could really see the age difference between 9 and 19

The vocals in One Last Time we great "George Washington's going homeeeee" had me shook

In I Know Him King George seemed really crazy and manically smiled on 'that poor man their going to eat him alive'

And the crazy laughs at the end was brilliantly MANIC

He didn't leave at the end of his song just sat lower stage right and danced to the beginning of The Adams Administration which was funny but what was even better was that half way through his little introduction Burr noticed the king watching a gave him a odd look and the king just did a hand wave to tell him to continue and kept shimmying

WESTMAN'S VOICE IN HURRICANE WAS BEAUTIFUL

REYNOLDS PAMPHLET WAS FUNNY RVEN THOUGH I FELT BAD JEFFERSON LOOKED SO HAPPY AMD THE SET LOOKED REALLY COOL WITH ALL THE PAPERD FLYINV AROUND HAM BUT I COULDN'T EVEN FOCUS ON ANGELICAS BiT BECAUSE I WAS BUSY LAUGHING AT KING GEORGE DANCING WITH THE CHORUS AND ADDING HIS ONE SHEET IF PAPER TO THE MESS

oh but I loved was when Angelica arrived and the ensemble too way her bags in one motion it was slick and I enjoyed it

Burn was nice but I think Rachelle Ann Go made it a bit too vibrato-y which became kind of annoying (also I kinda felt though the entire thing she was forcing a really classical voice which was nice but didn't really work) her voice is amazing though apart from that and I really felt the reserved sorta anger in the performance

Blow Is All Away was SAD I COULD HEAR EVERYONE ONE CRYING AROUND ME, good dying (lol) on September's part

I wasn't a fan of Eliza's scream/cry when Phillip died I'm not sure what it was I didn't like but her counting WITH him was PErFECT

It's Quiet Uptown is the saddest thing ever lemme tell you. I don't cry. I cannot remember the last time I cried, particularly not at normal sad things. I saw Les Mis two weeks ago and didn't even get tear-y, so you can imagine how freaking sad this song has to be to get me to almost cry. I had pretty watery eyes and one hell of a snotty nose. It was bad. The lines like 'the unimaginable' were the worst. If you thing the cast recording is sad just wait until you see it live

After Jefferson came in with "can we get back to politics" he said it like he was tired of all the sad personal stuff which was funny and the Madison came on saying please and his voice broke like he had been crying at It's Quiet Uptown as well which was funny and it provided some well needed comic relief

When ham said he was voting for Jefferson Jeff did his twirls and dances again which was great and burr looked SO MAD

Your Obedient Servant was passive aggressive af it was great. And the ensemble was doing like lighthearted ballet and around them which actually worked really well Line change from "weehawkin, dawn" to "New Jersey, dawn" I'm assuming cos they've mentioned New Jersey more so it was clearer? Idk

Like I already said Best if Wives And Best of Women was 10/10 perfect

Ok so the world was wide enough Giles Terra (Burr) didn't do The Line™ in a really emotional way he did IT angry bc let's be honest you don't wanna compete yourself to Leslie on that so I enjoyed the change. HAMS SPEACH WHEN HE GEST SHOT IS SO GOOD I COULD NOT DEAL WITH IT

Also the choreo when Burr says "they row job back across the Hudson" they did this cool rowing move next to Ham and with the revolve it looked like they were on a boat!

I thought Eliza was quite good in WLWDWTYS "the orphanage" is such a nice bit

The gasp at the end was not made clear however. I understand it as Eliza seeing the audience and realising that her work has come true and that the legacy continues right? I only know that bc I read it beforehand, I think it could have been made clearer by the house lights come if up slightly so the audience knows Eliza seeing us. Also the way the gasp/hand move was done it made it seam Eliza was about to go into some really stereotypical opera singing? I just think she could have referenced the audience more but it's a really cute idea that I like.

All the cast bowed at the same time it was so cute and important bc everyone put in so much effort and they all deserved to be together

Straight up standing ovation oc

The play out music at the end was a really jazzy mashup of the songs and if my brain had been fully functioning after the show I would remember what songs but it was sick and they did the classic bum bumbumbum bum bum bum! At the end and the red and white bulls eye lighting they had for the duels flashed it was sick

SPEAKING OF LIGHTING IT WAS INCREDIBLE

THERE WAS LIKE A LIGHTING CUE EVERY 3 SECONDS I DINT KNOW HOW THAY MANAGED IT BUT IT WAS ALL SO WELL THOUGHT OUT AND CLEVER LIKE THERE WAS LITTLE LIGHTS AROUND THE EDGES LIKE STREET GRATES THAT IF LIKE BURR WAS IN ONE SIDE IF THE STAGE AND HAM ON OTHER THE GRATES WOULD BE ORANGE ON ONE SIDE AND BLUE ON THE OTHER. EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL. Yes I'm gonna rant bc techies don't get enough respect

I've definitely missed so many things I wanted to put here but I was quite overwhelmed which I think is understandable when I've been waiting for over two years for it but it was so so worth it.

Ok I'm done I might add more if I remember goodnight folks

[fireandgloryrpg]

Congratulations Daniel and welcome! We’re so happy to accept your application to play Aldéric “Eric” Alexander Martin with the faceclaim of Dante Scott in Fire & Glory RPG! We can’t wait to begin roleplaying with you so please remember to look over our checklist!

Out of Character Information:

Name: Daniel

Pronouns: he/him

Age: 18, but my birthday is tomorrow (January 31) and I’ll be 19!!

Timezone: EST

Activity: I hope to be online a little every day! I’m a college student, so some days it’ll just be too much work, but I really want to stay active and will do my best to make time for an rp I care about. Hopefully a little bit every day!

Anything Else?: I’ve missed y’all so much and I still haven’t read the books.

Original Character Application:

Name: Aldéric “Eric” Alexander Martin

Age and Birthday: 18, January 2nd 2000

Faceclaim: Dante Scott first choice, Cameron Boyce second choice

Heritage: Son of Eris

ABILITIES:

Because of Eris’ connection to war, most children of Eris have violent powers. Eric, the son of a conman and the goddess of chaos, has powers more focused on non-violent confusion.

Like most demigods, Eric has ADHD and is dyslexic.

Eric has a passive ability of increased confusion, making those around him sooner believe something he says over other information. This ability is weak and is only truly effective if Eric is trying.

Like some other children of Eris, Eric is able to make a group chaotic, or to cause infighting. This is usually in the form of harsh words in his case than of actual fist-to-face fighting. This is a good defense and increases the ability to escape if need be. Only works on 2 or more people (no existential crises)

Eric only has one physical, fighting ability called a “storm of strife.” Everything within this usually small cloud will change, warp, or break. The size and the power depends on the energy put into it. The effect on humans/demigods has been a change of clothes, hair-color, and once a tattoo but nothing too devastating.

Affiliation: Eric is a Greek demigod and the son of a conman. It’s not in his best interest to be a part of any groups, and he was kicked out of the Fifth Cohort. Eric is now a former Fifth Cohort member and former citizen of Rome, an illegal Greek alien.

Headcanons:

Eric never liked the violent side of his mother’s lineage. He’s always been more a person of peace. In his life, though it has always been chaotic, he has always tried to center himself with sun salutations in the morning and moon salutations in the evening. His attempts to be centered have always failed, but something about doing them always make him feel a bit better.

Despite his attempts to surpass his lineage and not be chaotic, Eric has always been pretty chaotic. Always climbing out of his crib when he was little, tying his dad’s shoes together, breaking into the cookie jar for breakfast, small things like that when he was little. He’s a bit of a kleptomaniac, but he’s been careful to not let himself get into too much trouble.

Biography:

Aldéric Alexander Martin was left given to a very hungover Trevor Lorcan Wilson on January 2nd, 2000. Trevor was a conman, and Trevor was the sixth name he’d had in his life. He had little concept for responsibility, and when his son was given to him he was sleeping in the bed of a wealth man’s wife in their New York apartment. Trevor was busy stealing her husbands documents when the baby on the doorstep began to cry. Thus began Aldéric’s first impression of life: in the arms of a man running buck-ass-nude from the scene of a crime.

Life didn’t change much after that. Aldéric got new names, Ryan Kelly George Jim Geoffrey etc., and so did Trevor. Eric’s dad never did stop conning people, because now he had someone to provide for. Aldéric never had his own address to call home, but he always had somewhere to rest his head for the night. They went from New York to New Haven to Paris to LA to Vancouver to Singapore to London to Berlin, and then they did it all over again.

His dad was his best friend. Sometimes, most of the time, his only friend. They stuck together, Trevor teaching Aldéric everything he knew and Aldéric using his “charm” to get them out of sticky situations. It was perfect.

One day when he was 16, Aldéric woke up to the sound of his dad crying in the other room of their “rented” penthouse. Trevor, after a little prodding, confessed that he was tired and wanted to go home. Aldéric realized he didn’t know where home was for his father. After hours of talking about the life Trevor had given up, the two stole a car and sped off to Toronto.

Aldéric and Trevor were at his parents house in Toronto for 7 minutes and 43 seconds before his father, Aldéric’s grandfather, kicked them out because his son was a ‘dirty criminal’ he didn’t want to be associated with.

The two then went to (broke into) Trevor’s old high school. They got an entire day in Toronto before Trevor Wilson, whose real name was Leslie Harry Martin, was arrested. When the sirens started wailing, Aldéric’s father turned to him and told him where he could find a home - a camp far away from here. His mother would want him to go to her. Harry told his son to run and go find Eris.

Para Sample:

The front door banged behind them, punctuating the family reunion with a rather alarming note. Eric slowly reached in his pocket and pulled out two of the nearly twenty cookies he’d managed to sneak from his grandmother’s freshly made batch. He handed one to his dad and took a bit of his own.

“D’you know he was gonna boot us like that?” he said, mouth still full of cookie as he was shoving in another.

“Nope,” his dad replied, the popping ‘p’ spewing crumbs on the sidewalk.

They started walking away from his grandparents house in silence for a while, quietly passing cookies between them and thinking about the strange interaction they’d just had with the only family they had. They got maybe a block before Aldéric smirked and looked over at his dad. “So… Your name is Leslie?”

His dad laughed, the bellowing thing Aldéric had always loved hearing growing up, and turned to him with the same teasing smirk and shine in his eyes. “Well your name is Aldéric!”

“That’s your fault!”

The two broke into fits of giggles as they kept walking away from the people who rejected them, not needing anyone but each other as usual. His dad wrapped an arm around his son and tousled his hair lovingly. Eric always felt like it was the two of them against the word, and today was no different. He wasn’t stupid, he knew his grandfather was going to call the police on his father in order to save his own hyde. This was his last few hours with his dad. He knew that, but together they still felt unstoppable.

The turned a corner and his dad laughed and stopped walking. “Hey, kid, how’d you like to see the inside of a real high school?” he said. Aldéric looked up and saw his dad’s eyes trained on a large brick building with hideous blue ascents. It looked a right mess, and his dad looked damn fond of it.

It didn’t take a lot of effort to break in since his dad knew that the back service entrance door was usually propped. The two wandered the halls and his dad relived the glory days while Aldéric held onto every word. His dad didn’t seem to be very different in high school. Same free spirit, same trickster ways. The difference was he had someplace to go home to. He had an affection for this place that Aldéric had only gotten glimpses of as they moved away from city to city.

The pair walked by a display case of prom courts and Aldéric stopped and stared. The people in the black and white photographs seemed kind of happy. They at least seemed like they were trying to be happy. He found the picture of his dad’s year and spotted a horrible mullet on the far left. “Pft - dad is that you?” His dad grinned and nodded. Aldéric pointed to the girl on his arm. “Is that mom?”

He knew it was a risky question. His dad never talked about her. Every time she came up, his dad got a far off look in his eye like he was trying to remember a dream. His dad smiled and shook his head. “No. Your mom, she was much prettier than Georgia Moody. I, uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck in a shy, reserved type of way that was uncharacteristic for the charmer, “she was -”

The pair spun around as they heard a heavy door slam hallways away and many boot-clad feet start to rush to where they were. Aldéric’s father turned to him and held both of his shoulders, looking him deep in the eye with a panic and certainty that didn’t mix well. “Listen to me. There’s a place in America you can go. It’s a camp or some shit, far west. Your mom, she has people there that can help you. Now you’ve gotta get out of here, okay? Run and don’t ever look back do you hear me? And don’t you dare stay in one place for more than a day until you get to that camp.” Aldéric stared at him in stunned silence and even when his father’s hands went off his shoulders, he didn’t move. He stood there stuttering, confused and feeling truly alone for the first time in his life. His dad spun around and opened a fire exit near them, sending the alarms blaring. “Go, Aldéric! Now!”