#this might be my longest post to date but a lot of interesting stuff kept happening

[lenteur]

random thoughts about run on, episode nine

(please do note that this post contains spoilers so read at your own risk.)

the point i’m about to make is valid for all dramas, not only this one. product placements throw me off :( i mean i know they’re necessary but sometimes, it’s so obvious that it kind of takes me out of the scene i’m watching :/

on a more positive note, king of rizz ki seon gyeom is back! he’s never left but he’s still back. what makes my heart go a little crazy is how he’s so sure of what he’s saying. like, for example, when mi joo tells him she’s prettier than the day before because she put on makeup, without missing a beat he lets her know she was still beautiful even when sick... the confidence in what he says is what makes it even more special 💓 if i had a ki seon gyeom in front of me, i would be left speechless oh so many times. it wouldn’t be funny

while we’re still talking about him, i found it super cute how seon gyeom was struggling to write in his diary. like mi joo said it’s not an assignment, but it felt like it was to him. and it’s also cute how he writes short sentences that go straight to the point, kind of like how he speaks. he’s direct with it

when yeong hwa gave the synopsis, it was so adorable :( especially how excited he was. i also liked how they reenacted the scene with dan ah in it hehe

kwon yeong il telling seon gyeom that his presence “motivated him to run” and here we have yet another proof that seon gyeom does have the natural gift to motivate people, even though it was never his intention

the fact that the whole woo sik story is still developed makes me happy because i didn’t want it to end with the disciplinary committee sending park gyu beok and kim gi beom off to the military and voilà! 

seon gyeom is worried about woo sik’s future and i can see why a lot of people think he’d be a great coach. he has all the qualities for it: he has experience in sports, he motivates people and cares for them. “i want to tell him (woo sik) i’d handle all obstacles so that he can be free to just run” i don’t know how the drama ends but i hope seon gyeom will become a coach or something like that 🤞

when ki jeong do (seon gyeom’s father) lets mi joo know that she might be “a passing moment in seon gyeom’s life” i can see why it impacted her so much. up until now, everything she’s been a part of has been temporary. as much time and effort as she puts in all of her projects, the end result only lasts a second or two. she waits for her name to be shown on screen for merely a few seconds and for barely no one else to see because not a lot of people wait until the ending credits. to talk about more recent stuff, she was fired from her job a day before the end of it. a lot of scenes that involve her are temporary. they don’t last as long. and i think that’s why it hurt her a lot. more because it seems to be a good summary of her life than being jealous of being replaced by another woman (even though that hurts as well, let’s be clear)

following my previous point, it also reminds me of seon gyeom saying that if mi joo’s bored, she can go and never come back. it all goes back to being temporary.

seon gyeom was so cute when he discovered that they’ll both appear in the ending credits of the movie. he wants to share as much stuff as he can with her 💞

another quote that i definitely agree with “i’m always careful about the messages i relay” it’s crucial as translators to be able to understand things completely or else, there will be a huge mess, like the whole f*** you incident. it’s also very telling how the director forgets that mi joo is a human and, as a human, she might make mistakes and not know everything. so it’s natural that she might have taken the f word the wrong way. she is a korean/english translator, but she doesn’t have universal knowledge in both languages. whenever there’s a translator scene, you can count on me sharing as much as i want about it

it felt refreshing to see seon gyeom tell mi joo to “not do anything she doesn’t want to do” a nice reminder of how things were the other way around in the beginning episodes

and, once again, you can see the power of seon gyeom the motivator “why do i suddenly feel like I could do anything? that’s usually not the case but she feels like she can do it this time”

seon gyeom does have a positive influence on people

whenever there’s a scene involving the status of mi joo and seon gyeom’s relationship, i always end up confused but i think i might understand things a bit better with this statement made by mi joo “whenever i feel closer to you, it feels as though you push me right back. i feel left out during the most important moments and that feeling doesn’t happen on its own” i’m no relationship expert but i can begin to understand why she was upset in previous episodes. i think?

when seon gyeom says he’s been doing what she’s asked of him (aka like her), my jaw dropped to the floor. he’s so smooth and not ashamed to say things like that. my heart!

it felt nice when woo sik said that he’s finally carefree and spoke his mind. “i didn’t know what i was so afraid of back then” nice character development

it was funny how seon gyeom’s the one to tell woo sik to “put himself first”

but at least he’s self aware “when it comes to my own issues, i have trouble being objective too.” so he offers a solution “let’s talk about about it together. two is better than one, don’t you think?”

the ending scene with dan ah and yeong hwa was fantastic. yeong hwa’s dream was shattered when dan ah compared him to a vending machine. she only chose him as a means to outstand her brother. he thought he had a chance with dan ah but that’s unfortunately not the first scenario of your dreams yeong hwa 💔

[arialerendeair]

And this is why exchanges and Ship Weeks are so bloody important.

Keeping those going - keeping those a habit, finding a way to use them to revitalize things - they make a massive difference in maintaining the fandom.

People also need to realize that there is a difference between (to borrow a phrase from sports) the fair weather crowd for a fandom, and the long term crowd for the fandom.

The fair weather crowd is the height of the frenzy - when you have all the casual folks mildly interested. They might peek at a fic, or join a discord, but they are not active fandom members. There are a LOT of them at the height of a new fandom gaining frenzy - but they die off quick.

The remaining crowd, the long term crowd, there are quite a few less of them, but they are WILDLY passionate. And just because there are LESS doesn’t mean the fandom is dying. And here, l’ll prove it.

See that spike?

That's Dreamling Week compared to my usual blog activity. And I was ONE BLOG, who made a concentrated effort to recirculate a ton of Dreamling content (and I haven't even GOTTEN to the stuff that was created for Dreamling Week - this was just all older stuff!!) post the initial Dreamling frenzy that accompanied the release of Sandman Season 1.

Fandoms only die when there is a lack of content - but it truly only takes a few people making an effort - and the more people that make that effort - the easier it is for a fandom to stay "alive".

Back in 2015/2016 or so, when I started writing Sabriel - it was Season 8 of Supernatural. Gabriel had been dead for 3 seasons. Gone and dusted, no hope of coming back. I didn't particularly want to commit to watching hundreds of episodes of SPN - so I watched the five or so that applied to Sabriel and... started writing.

And didn't stop. For YEARS I pumped a tremendous amount of Sabriel content into the fandom - and it inspired other people to write more. Helped run the Sabriel Big Bang at one point, and other bangs, and hosted Sabriel Fluff Friday for YEARS on livestreams.

(Part of me wonders, regularly, if the surge in Sabriel popularity that accompanied those years is part of the reason that Gabriel was brought back in later seasons. I like to think it was at least partially responsible!)

Hell, even when I stopped writing for the fandom (and took a fandom break, straight up, before I fell into Malec), I still came back to it with the longest story I've ever written, with co-author @to-the-stars-writing that is over 1 million words altogether that is Sabriel and Malec!

Fandoms don't die unless people stop creating and interacting with content. The concentrated effort of about 20 or so people kept me in the Sabriel fandom and creating SCADS of stories for YEARS. That's really all it takes.

The Dreamling fandom (in comparison to Malec) is rather tiny, but holy SHIT is it dedicated. Fandoms don't die as long as there are passionate people - the only thing that happens is the fair weather people, who really weren't IN the fandom, or were only stopping by to wave it as they walked through - aren't there until there's another content drop. (Coincidentally - this is why you should NEVER judge fics by # of hits or kudos - because you will miss dozens of gems that were created after the fair-weather fan surge. I tend to sort by completion, and date released, then read my way back to present day! The "popular" fics will always be there - but don't miss the hidden gems!)

So don't say a fandom is 'dying' when all the fair weather fans move on - because that's simply not true. This is when a fandom is at its best. People are still creating content, still writing, and that, ultimately, is always what matters.

I hate that planned obsolescence is starting to reach fandoms. I hate that fandoms are starting to die after two, three years, I hate that whenever you stop getting content that means the fandom will die and be gone.

I need people to stop trying to brush off old interests as being 'cringe' as soon as you lose interest, or worse: make it seem like it's imoral to like something that they themselves held so dear before.

Fandoms are meant to last for years and years, the moment content stops being created is the moment we truly thrive because we keep creating the content ourselves the way we love it and expand on the things that are already there for us.

I don't care if you lost interest on something, it's fine and normal even, but stop trying to blame and make fun of people who still do love the fandom and the content and the things we can create.

I need people to enjoy fandom again

[thetaekookcloset]

Idk if you go on Twitter at all, but this has been going around today https://twitter.com/stopkookminpls/status/1546811945977782272?s=21&t=KerDTM25udIa9u7wul6Uxw

I personally don’t put much stock in matching rings, even with Taekook tbh. I have matching earrings and rings with my best friend and I can tell you it definitely doesn’t mean we’re dating or married, even though I wear it on my ring finger lol. But what do you think about the whole sharing clothes/matching jewelry thing if you haven’t addressed it already? I know there’s plenty of instances of Taekook doing that, but I guess Jikook does too and I know a lot of shippers use it as confirmation that their respective ship is real.

I hadn’t seen this yet, so thank you!

And from a second anon a little while later:

So people give a lot of credibility to tae's rings and how jungkook might have worn two of them. I have seen jimin and jungkook wearing it too. So what's the difference.

The short answer is: there is no real difference that any of us can see or know about, to put it simply.

I’ll put it less simply under the cut.

I don't put a ton of stock in the matching clothes/matching jewelry stuff, partly just because it's really difficult to keep track of it to be honest.  There's cultural stuff at play, BTS-specific group dynamic stuff at play, not to mention things like stylists and that sort of thing.  I did do a post on TK wearing the same clothes recently (as in my post was recent, not the clothes-sharing necessarily), but even then I mostly just provided examples without really talking much about it, because when it comes down to it, it's too hard to know if it means anything, or when it might mean something.

There's a lot of photo evidence out there of Taekook wearing matching rings, Jikook wearing matching rings/earrings, and I feel like any time a shipper from either camp mentions it, a mystical Vmin shipper will come out of nowhere like a cute little wholesome cryptid to remind everyone that Vmin have had and worn matching jewelry for years (genuinely no clue if that's accurate, but I've seen them say it so much that I figure it must be at least kind of true?).

Even the clothes-sharing thing is tricky.  Presumably wearing matching or coordinating outfits is a couple thing in South Korea, but based on context clues, it seems like literally sharing clothes is pretty normal for friends, or at least younger friends.  This is based on the fact that in BTS's early days, it was notable that Jungkook didn't like sharing his clothes; all of the members were aware of it being an issue for him.

In that way, it is interesting that he's had the practice with Taehyung for a long time, that they started doing it pretty early on and kept it up at least as recently as ITS1, but it's something he's also done at least a little bit with Jimin, and that Jimin has done with Yoongi, etc.

As with lots of things when it comes to guessing at the members' relationships with each other, it's the patterns that I feel can tell us the most, and it is interesting to me that Jungkook and Taehyung seem to have shared clothes the most often and for the longest amount of time, and the same is at least partially true when it comes to jewelry.  Still, especially where jewelry is concerned, it's hard to know truly how often they actually are wearing matching jewelry, and in a lot of contexts, it's hard to know if they chose it themselves or if it was chosen by stylists.

In this case specifically with the gold rings on Jikook, it looks like these photos came from D-FESTA, and even though the photos are zoomed in on their hands, from what I can see of their outfits, they appear to be in their photoshoot clothes.  If that's the case, I would assume these rings were chosen by stylists, not the guys themselves.  That's a guess, but it would make sense.  If they started wearing them all the time, I would be more likely to think they chose them for themselves and that they might mean something, but in this case, without seeing the same rings more often, my best guess is that they were just part of their outfits.

Like you said, people wear matching jewelry all the time and it doesn't necessarily have to be romantic, so personally, I wouldn't rely on the jewelry stuff to prove or disprove anything, even just for myself.  There seems to have been a period of time where Taehyung and Jungkook wore parts of the same set of rings pretty often, but even then, it's so hard to know how long that lasted, how often they wore them at the same time, etc.  It's just a really difficult thing to measure when we see them so infrequently and they're dressed and made up by stylists so much of the time that we do see them.

Where this particular instance for Jikook is concerned, one of the Jikookers I keep up with on here has actually already addressed this and even they said that they wouldn't see it as particularly meaningful unless it became more of a pattern, so if even they're not making a big thing of it, I certainly wouldn't.

P.S. The rings Taehyung is wearing in this gif are the ones a lot of people believe to be part of a five-ring set.  For a while, Taehyung would be seen wearing three and Jungkook wearing the other two.  They would wear them sometimes when they seemed to be in their own clothes, but here Taehyung is apparently wearing them during a photoshoot -- so this is a good example of how hard it is to keep track of what they’re wearing, when, and why.

[anotherbeingsworld]

Bounded by the words.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Casey Valentine)

Summary: A momento from a patient lead to a new hobby for Casey, as it records the moment of their relationship. 

A/N: It was an impulsive reaction, but.. I wanted to post something and this has been in my drafts for months. I actually have submitted this before, and I am posting this again since it is edited much better than before. Today is the 25th and, honestly... it is a hard date for me in a way. So, I am coping it with fics unfortunately, but... I wanted to post it for a while now and I had shown it to @bratzlahela​ before she went on hiatus; and nikka, this is for you and i miss you soo much ! This is a love letter AU which had been in my drafts for months now. I am also dedicating this fic to @mrs-raleighcarrera​ as a thanks for everything,  <3 I have something planned later, I hope I manage to start it but... enjoy. 💜     (I noticed... my love for letters can be shown.. I am so sorry ;;) 

Tags:  @bitchloveskcbaseball​ , @storyofmychoices​ @jaxsmutsuo​ , @mvalentine​ , @princess-geek​ , @lahellacute​ ,  @this-person-is-busy​ , @annekebbphotography​ , @mrsbhandari​ , @dcbbw​ , @choicessa​ , @choices-confessions​ ,@fantasyoverreality98​ , @baltersome​ , @ofpixelsandscribbles​ , @thundergom​  @starrystarrytrouble​,  @kelseaaa​  ,@bratzlahela​ , @choicesficwriterscreations​  , @lalizah​ , @drethanramslay​ , @arcticlumineer​ , @choicesstan1​ , @aveeiro​ , @eleanorbloom​ , @openheartfanfics , @brycesgirl​  , @rookitcarrera​ (if you want to be removed or added, let me know 💜)

MY MASTERLIST

Casey is assigned to take care of 19-year old, Brianna who is diagnosed with a Gastroenteritis. As she walks in the room, Brianna was burying herself into a book. She smiled at the sight, as she tries to remember the last time she gets a chance to read a book herself. The title on the book caught her attention, with the minimalistic cover that certainly calms her eyes. ‘Bounded by The Words.’ The title says.

“Bounded by the words?” Casey said to capture her attention.

Brianna startled, as she drops the book down to her lap. Her eyes widen as she saw Casey there grinning at her.

“You scared me!” Brianna stated as she places her hands over her beating heart whilst Casey walks towards her.

“I’m sorry Bri, you looked like you were drowning in the book. I had to save you somehow.” She winks at her, as a smile appear on Brianna’s face.

“Ha ha ha, very funny doc.”

“So, what is the story about making you drowned in the pages?” Casey asked as she checks on her vitals.

“It’s a story of two lovers..”

“Typical.”

“Hey, I am talking here!”

“Alright, alright my lady.” Casey bows as she lets herself have fun with her.

“As I was saying, it is a story of two lovers who was bounded by a series of letters. They never really got a chance to see each other face-to-face as the man is apart of the world war before. Their communication only relies on letters, handwritten letters that caused their love to grow each day. Unfortunately, neither of them got their happy ending as the man sacrificed himself into the war leaving her a thousand letters behind as a reminder that he will always be there for her…” Brianna wipes a tear as she describe the book.

“Oh wow… that is really sad.” Casey felt her heart break a little from hearing Brianna talk about it.

“Yes, it is. I ended up crying every time I read it and this time is any different.”

“Can I take a look at it?” Casey asks her as she immediately pass the book to her.

“Maybe you should hold onto it, as a momento for taking care of me and keeping me company.” Brianna said with a small smile plastered on her face.

Casey’s eyes widen,

“It’s your favourite book Bri…”

“Don’t worry, I have a few more copies of it at home! You should keep it and maybe try read it at your free time. I know doctors don’t have much time to rest, so consider it as a self-care gift from your favourite patient, which is yours truly to you.” Brianna insists before Casey could return the book in her hands.

“My favourite patient? How did you guess?” Casey asked with amount of sarcasm in her voice causing both of them to break into laughter.

Both of them ended up talking for a little while, exchanging stories, a few hugs and a signature from Brianna aswell. Patients like Brianna, really reminds herself why she wanted to be a doctor in the first place. She loved helping people, saving lives, but she is also interested in knowing the stories of her patients. During her time at Edenbrook, she had met a lot of people with various backgrounds; a surfer, a lawyer who is living this world as she is. She always felt pleasure in knowing her patients, and Brianna is one of those patients that gives her the sign that she loves her job.

After finishing up her shift, Casey makes her way back to Bryce’s apartment as they often have sleepovers with one another. She makes her way to the apartment, where she was met with Keiki who was furiously typing on her (Bryce’s) computer as her brows furrowed in frustration. Casey immediately took off her coat and make her way to the couch, as Keiki perks her head up at her presence.

“What do you got there?” Keiki eyes the book she was holding as she sat down.

“It’s a gift from a patient, I think I am gonna absorb myself in some literary entertainment after those long shifts.” Casey said as she gets herself comfortable on the couch, she starts to read the book. After felt like an hour, she already had surpassed the 100th page.

The door opening pulled her out from the zone, as Bryce finally arrived from the hospital. Casey turn her head to the sound, and smiled as she saw him. Casey stands and give him a kiss on the cheek, guiding him to the couch where Keiki is still on the computer looking more ease than before.

“So, what did you guys do today?” Bryce asked as he placed an arm around Casey pulling her close to him.

“I am trying to finish up this darn assignment, and its just so hard! Why did I take computer science?” Keiki whined as Bryce lets out a small laugh.

“What did you do today Cas?” Bryce turns his gaze to her, as both of their eyes meet.

Casey smiled as she shows the book to Bryce.

“Bounded by the words? It sounds like a cliché rom-com if you ask me.” Bryce said as his eyes are on the book.

“Hey, I am a hopeless romantic and this book managed to play with my heartstrings!” Casey protested as she held the book like her life depends on it.

“Okay, okay…Enlighten me, tell me what is the interesting scenario you have come across in the book?” Bryce challenge her with a wink.

“Their entire love story consists of letters, and they never met yet they still love one another…” Casey felt herself gaze as she placed a dreamy look on her face as Bryce just shook his head.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night Cas.” He says as he placed a kiss to bring her back towards reality.

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Casey suddenly felt herself to be inspired from the book, as she felt her heart hold on to the concept of writing love letters. It is midnight, as Casey felt herself feeling awake. She slowly makes her way out of Bryce’s hold as he was sleeping peacefully. She puts on one of Bryce’s shirts and heads out to the living room. She sat down on the floor, with a box full of stuff contains, coloured paper and a huge amount of pens. She smiles, as she proceeds.

My dearest Anastasia,

The darkened days had now befallen us, the roared of the enemy unmistakable. Where it’d be my last sacrifice in the name of thy country. The time has come for me to filled in my word, as I would let myself be pained from the death that followed me every day. Regrets washed over me, as this letter would be the final reminder, where life with you made it very much better. The warmth of your touch can still be felt, as our farewell was playing in my mind for the longest time, a needed farewell that kept me awake on one of these days, longing to be in your touch again. But, even in the depths of the darkest roads, you will always be in thy heart. Forever, and always.

Love,

Roland.

The one that started it all, the final letter of Roland Rosio to his long last love, Anastasia Luvielle as their love continues to grow even after the death of Rosio during the final battle. The inspiration that started it all.

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Dear Bryce,

It is our first date together despite the hundreds of times we went and spend our nights at Donahue. It is when we are, something. Something beautiful, as one would say it. The 21st night of September, was a date to remember; our first night out as something more. As a kid, I always imagined myself going to the ball with my very own Prince, as we dance the night away.

But, in this case… they were no prince, a dress, a castle, a glass slipper, heck there aren’t any pumpkins involved in the beginning of our story. It was a story of clumsiness, fairy lights and a whole platter of fries. An interesting combination one might say, as it started with grace and ended with a bag of loaded fries from a small vendor.

It was unique, as you told me your jokes as I would find myself getting red, as the sight of your sweet and smiley face. The way we danced around the circle, as the fairy lights were hanging above us, has been a permanent attachment in my mind.

Lights, Fries and Bryce? A perfect combination.

Love,

Casey.

The first of many has been recorded, as she slips it into a box. A small box which is going to be playing a huge role in her life moving forward. Bryce stops himself in his tracks, admiring the smile on her face before moving towards the living room. The memory of their days together, playing in his mind.

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

Dear Bryce,

I don’t know where to start, I miss you. I miss everything about you and, I don’t know how long I can do this anymore . I always wondered why couples would fight over the littlest things and, I hoped that the fate won’t fall down to us, but…I was wrong. It felt like a downfall, and I regret yelling those words at you. You were never a burden, you were the light and I don’t know how I haven’t met you before. My life had changed with you, and it has change again, and… I miss you. I miss everything about you, your hugs, your silly jokes, the way you’d talk at the movies despite being shush away by the audience, especially you. I miss being able to hug you when I was happy, and…I am going to make this right.

Love, Casey.

The first fight, as there were words left unspoken. One of many that made were stained with her tears, as the sadness took over. Her life was different with Bryce, and she didn’t give up. She tried and tried, and tried and try again until one day, she did it right. Neither did he.

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

Dear Bryce,

I can’t believe our time has come, we are finally getting married tomorrow! It is a common feeling of excitement to be a bride, and I am very excited for our adventure next. I always felt like you were the one with the huge benefit in doubt in myself, the day we meet in that locker room at Edenbrook. The first time I laid my eyes on you, it felt like I was going to meet a stereotypical male from a rom-com, but… you are different. A good type of different, you have been there for me since the very beginning.

You have seen through it all, and I am very lucky to be apart of your life. You have always been my number one support through the highs and the lows, and I am always going to be grateful for everything we have been through that lead us to this very moment. I am excited for our new beginning, I will see you soon.

Love,

Casey.

The day they become as one, where Casey Valentine and Bryce Lahela finally tied the knot after all these years. A new adventure awaits them, as a whole new life is looking them with a wide-smile. The ceremony was intimate, as all of their close friends and family members were invited. They got married at one of his favourite places, the beach. As they finally got their happily ever after.

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

Dear Bryce,

I did it. WE DID IT! After all these years, we did it. I am finally pregnant, after all the negatives. We did it, and you are going to be a dad! I remember those days, you were telling me about teaching our  kid surfing, and silently hoping they will follow your footsteps. Our dreams have been granted, and I am truly ecstatic! The feeling of being a parent had lingered on my mind since early on, and… I am beyond grateful to be on this journey with you.

Baby Lahela is 3 months strong, mommy and daddy can’t wait to see you soon. I can’t wait for all of the new memories we are going to make together. We love you daddy!

Love,

Casey.

After a few years of marriage, and trying… they finally did it. Both of them starting a new adventure with their little bundle of joy, the first adventure with the little Lahela. And, they were very excited for it.

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‘Dad, what is these letters?’ Louis asked in fascination, as he finished reading one of Casey’s letters after all these years.

A smile appeared on his face, remembering the memories from years ago. The day Casey starts to become obsessed over a piece of literature that changed their lives one way or another.

‘Mom loves to write letters, and these is all of hers. She writes it every time we are happy, sad, angry and everything in between. I never understood the purpose of it all, and your mother tends to get emotional over the littlest things and, she still managed to blow me away every time…’ He lets out a sigh, rereading the final letter in the pile. It was written a few days ago.

Dear Bryce,

We have been through it all, am I right? It has been 25 or maybe more years, since our first meeting and I can’t believe it has been that long. We have done an amazing job together, and I am very very proud of what we had achieved all these years. You have been an amazing dad to our little ones, who is not so little anymore. Our little Louis, is our astronomer now, I still remember the first time we were giving him a bath, he was a quiet baby but with a lot of determination and a gold heart, just like his father. Our little girls Kailani and Alexandra, has managed to follow in our footsteps, even though we warned them about the stress and pressure of med school along with warnings from our dear friends, and I can’t believe they did it. They were always so smart, and I can’t say how proud of I am of our little angels. Bryce, you have been my rock, my best friend, my lover, my partner and… I will always cherish you in my heart. You are the first person who never gave up on me, and… life with you, has been the best chapter in my life. You have made me a better person, you have seen me in my lowest and you didn’t left. You were there through thick and thin, and I love you for it. I will never forget the day where we said, the three words. The day where our life started to change every day. You have given me unconditional love and care, you have made my life the way it is today. My mom, always wondered how I came across someone like you before, and I would laugh; fate brought us together and Edenbrook was the start of it all.

Unfortunately, some stories would come to an end. And, the end of mine is coming very soon; take care of the kids, and tell them that mom is very proud of them. My love, you had made me the happiest and… even in the depths of the darkest roads, you will always be in thy heart. Forever, and always.  

Yours,

Casey Lahela.

The end of the letter, the one line that started it all, as a small smiled appear on his face despite the tears falling down on his cheeks. Alexandra and Keilani made their way as they pulled Bryce into a deep hug, letting their sorrows take over breaking every façade that they had. Louis joins in too, as they stood there together, as a family. Her memories were playing in his mind, a recording of every sense from their little time together made it into the highlight as, the letters felt like a metaphor, a feeling somehow she is there with them, looking down with a huge smile. A smile of satisfaction, as a chance to finally let herself go.

‘I will always love you Casey. Forever and always.’ He whispered slowly, as their life story was flashed through his eyes which is the best moments of his life.

THE END.

[ehbunnehsblog]

So someone made this post I thought was really cool and I wanted to answer it the person who made the post goes by @buh-beep so please go give that post a like and follow them with all that said here are the questions

1. What is the oldest doll you own?

Probably my Beautiful Crissy doll from 1968 although that may not be the date for that exact doll she is pretty old. She was made by the company ideal.

2. What is the doll you got most recently?

My Bratz Collecters Yasmin from 2018 by MGA. When I lived with my mom she bought her for me I think she gave me a card and we got it. I don't have her or any of these dolls anymore since I don't live with my mother for personal reasons.

3. Favorite Type of Doll?

Hands down Bratz. They have been my absolute fave since I was a little girl and i still love them their fashion, makeup just everything really is iconic and I really believe that they might have the same impact as Barbie once I get older. Now if we talk about favorite lines? That will have to be for another time.

4. Least Favorite Type of Doll?

Pinkie Cooper. It's cute I had one but I was just not interested in the dolls sadly I definitely think it was an interesting idea though and its probably perfect for some people I just never knew where she would fit in with my other dolls. Also when I saw my cousin and his ex they had stuff for me and for some reason I could only take two things home and my mom sorta had me take her home when I could have had a Hannah Montana doll so rip :p

5. How many dolls do you own?

Zero now rip but honestly idk. I had mostly Bratz and sorta collected but now I might genuinely try to collect them.

6. What is a doll you had and wish you still did?

Tan Bratz Passion 4 Fashion Cloe. I still really wish I kept her but I was going through this dumb phase where I just stopped caring about my dolls and we had this science project in school and I did mine on hair dye and dyed her hair using some fruit or something and gave her away. If anyone knows where I can get her (hopefully for cheap) please tell me I really loved her she was also one of my friends absolute favorites.

7. What does your wish list look like?

A lotta Bratz mostly but that would be a very long list so to save you the details two of the series I want are the Tokyo a Gogo dolls, Formal Funk and Flashback Fever.

8. Prettiest Doll you Own?

Honestly have no clue all of them are gorgeous but I think one of my prettiest is definitely Rock Angelz Sasha I would love to own more Sasha dolls shes so gorgeous.

9. Ugliest Doll you own but love anyways?

I don't think I own any ugly ones really just ones that had messed up hair so I don't really have anything to add here. Actually hmm maybe my first edition Cameron and Dylan Bratz dolls they are still cool though.

10. Cutest Doll you own?

Either my Barbie Peek a Boos or my Mindy Mint Chocolate Chip Yummyland doll. I love Bratz but I really wish I saw more cutesy but fashionable dolls I believe they should bring back Yummyland dolls they smell so dang good and because kids love slim maybe they could add a small bottle (in a shape of a drink) that smells nice too? Idk lol.

11. Biggest Doll you own?

A Barbie doll that is I believe 28" in size after that I would say my Beautiful Crissy Doll and than my Yummyland doll.

12. Smallest doll you own?

All of my Barbie Peekaboos and Polly Pockets. Since Polly came back I think Mattel has the perfect chance to bring back Barbie Peek a Boos. They are pretty small so I kept them in a basket I am used to the size of Bratz I find them easier to hold over Barbie Peek a Boos or Polly's.

13. What doll in your collection is worth most?

Hmm probably Beautiful Crissy tbh I wanted her because when i was in grade 8 i watched these old vintage commercials on YouTube and i saw her and i just thought she was one of the most gorgeous dolls. I don't have her now because again shes at my moms but I don't think I could sell her shes just really cute and I think dolls from that time and older are special and tell a story and show a different time.

14. Doll you will never buy and why?

Lamilly and American Girls. I know these dolls especially American Girls are very popular for a lot of people but I am not really into dolls that are supposed to be like me I like fashion dolls mostly or really cutesy dolls. I think American Dolls are pretty iconic in their own way but I just can't see me owning one and for Lamilly same deal I feel like its trying to put down other dolls and make Lamilly seem superior and I just don't dig it. I don't like Barbie's a whole lot but I dislike like Lamilly I think it's a good message but it just feels meh? Idk other dolls I will never own are Blythe's I have this thing with dolls with eyes like that and I think it would probably spook me a bit.

15. Strangest doll you own?

Pinkie Cooper hands down. Again she just doesn't fit anywhere and shes so odd and really stands out from the others not that that's always a bad thing but as someone who is mostly into Bratz, Monster High and Ever After High she just doesn't go anywhere although she would probably fit in maybe with the EAH dolls. Another is probably the big Barbie like I didn't want her I just got her as a Christmas present one year and yeah that's that.

16. Biggest Doll Related Regret?

Giving away that Cloe doll I will always regret that also almost wanting to sell my Bratz and not bringing my dolls with me when I left my moms and went to my dads. Also I just wanna say my dad is the coolest and one day we had a nice convo about toys and stuff it was pretty rad.

17. What's the most important aspect of a doll in your opinion?

I just want to say I absolutely love this question this is the main reason why I wanted to make this post. I believe the most important aspect is if the owner finds joy in that doll because if you don't we wouldn't have so many people collecting dolls and dolls wouldn't be sold. I think dolls are very important and can build up good skills. Another important aspect is if you can pose the doll and depending on if it's a fashion dolls is if it has good clothes and good fabric all of these are so important but as long as people find joy that's the most important.

18. What's your doll related pet peeve

People are gonna hate this and I apologize but I find it difficult to watch or look at people changing the dolls like not in clothes changing but repaints it's cool and some of them are absolutely gorgeous but sometimes I have a bit of a pet peeve of them mostly because I am so worried that I will never find those dolls because people use them and repaint them. Their aren't many Bratz repaints though so I don't get bothered too much and when they do repaints they make the faces so pretty and I would love for MGA to use some of the screenings some of these people use because they look so good.

19. When did you start collecting dolls?

This might be an odd opinion but I think that anyone can be a doll collector even if they don't mean to be like for me I don't call myself a doll collector but I sorta am? Even though I never meant to be but now I do want to collect but it started with Bratz when I was young but now I want to take it a bit more seriously.

20. Have any doll related stories?

Well I never first fought anyone I was way too young lol but I do have two good stories number 1 is on Christmas a few years back my grandparents before they both passed bought me a Holiday Yasmin doll from 2007 don't know how they found it but they did and I loved that doll but again at my moms rip another one is one Christmas I got two of the same Bratz Cade dolls and for the longest time I thought it was Dylan because the doll looked exactly like Dylan does in the movies and shows lol! I might go into more stories on my dolls because there are a few that I really like.

With all of these questions answered I will once again ask people who see this to go like and follow @buh-beep who made the original post. This was intended for doll collectors I believe personally I don't call myself a collector but as someone who loves dolls I thought this would be fun and it really was if anyone wants to this I suggest it. Its really fun and I like sharing this stuff with you guys.

☆With all that said I hope you liked this post. Please give me a follow i post a lot of stuff like this☆

[sml8180]

CiN Behind the Scenes ~ Ch 3: Infiltration

Original Upload Date: 9 September, 2020

Length on Google Docs: ~11 pages

Docs Word Count: 3,651

Reference Tally: 3

NOTICE: This chapter contained content featuring Janus’ father, who is Homophobic and Transphobic. As such, he misgenders and dead-names Janus throughout their conversation, and things do get physical between them at the end of their argument. I’ll be putting bold notices by any sections talking about this content, so that you can skip those sections if you so choose.

1) This was, obviously, a pretty long chapter. I think the average chapter length for this story was around 8 or so pages, with a few breaking 10 pages, and at least one hitting 12+.

        A) Fun Fact: This entire universe was originally going to be a 10-chapter idea and end at that. Obviously, I got really into it, considering Chaos is Normal on its own ended up 22 chapters.

2) You do not wanna know how much I looked into different types of hidden/wear-able cameras for this chapter. You really don’t. I did learn some really interesting stuff, though.

        A) The cameras Remy and Remus wear in this chapter are based on some stuff I found. Technically speaking, neither camera (nor any of the others I feature later in the story) are really out of the realm of possibility in the real world. Maybe a bit advanced, but they could be possible.

3) The team trying to get cameras going and clear, along with audio stuff is honestly fun to write. Similar segments pop up in other chapters, and it’s always amusing to me, for some reason.

4) “I was born first and you know it, Remus” is a line I forgot I wrote, but adore, honestly.

        A) My older brother and I have a 10-year gap in age, so I was literally winging every single sibling moment that goes down between the twins. Hopefully they mostly came out okay.

5) Apparently there’s still a typo in the original Doc that I managed to correct immediately before posing. Uh....

Dunno how I didn’t catch that going through before I got it into the Ao3 editor, but I did catch it before actually hitting Post on the chapter. So... At least there’s that?

6) I love writing Janus and Virgil being good friends/caring about one another. It’s just something I love.

7) Having Virgil and Janus get spotted by Remy and Remus (as well as by Logan, and Roman, via the camera feeds) is honestly something I originally didn’t really intend to put in. But, I felt like having these passing glimpses of the teens made things feel a little more connected when I went through and added it as an experiment, so I kept it in.

8) Giving Remy and Remus their various nicknames and codenames in this chapter was too fun.

        A) Calling Remy “Sandman” was something I really wanted to do at some point in the story, and the opportunity seamlessly presented itself here, so I couldn’t resist.

        B) Later in the chapter, Remus claims that members of the Venom Order (who all use a sort of codename, to protect their identities; hence why Virgil goes by Spider and Janus goes by Deceit) call him “Beetlejuice” literally came from the fact that while writing this chapter, I was listening to the “Beetlejuice” musical soundtrack a lot, and uh... Yeah, it kinda just happened from there. Opened up the perfect opportunity for a joke in a later chapter, too.

9) Logan having to divide their attention between the cameras, Remy and Remus’ audio, and having to listen to make sure Patton and Emile are alright is something I planned from the start of the story. I wanted this to happen at least once. Logan has been protective and even at times a bit paranoid over Patton’s safety for most of the boy’s life, and this is an example of them doing their best to make sure he’s safe, despite the fact they’re doing something extremely dangerous just upstairs.

10) I can’t help but headcanon that Janus almost always wears layers not just to help with dysphoria, but also because he fidgets with the top layer of his clothes when he gets nervous. As such, he has a lot of hoodies, jackets, and vests in his wardrobe.

        A) He also wears layers because he just likes how it looks. Yes, this is me projecting. I like layered looks, okay?

NOTICE: This is where I’m covering the conversation between Janus and his father. This section does describe Transphobia, abuse, and emotionally-distant “parenting” (if you can call anything Janus’ father does parenting at all). There will be a second notice once we are beyond that particular section, so simply scroll to that point if you don’t wish to read these next few points.

11) I wrote Janus’ father as being a very cold sort of parent. If he weren’t a Homophobic, Transphobic, all-around piece of shit, he’d still be a bad parent. He hardly gives a damn when his son does well, and only ever really responds if he feels Janus has done something wrong (like, y’know, existing, since Janus is trans, and Joseph refuses to see him as his son).

12) Joseph repeatedly misgenders and dead-names Janus throughout the conversation, and it was really hard to write. I had to check my work several times to make sure things were “correct”, and I didn’t have any slips that Joseph wouldn’t make.

        A) If any of you hated Joseph immediately once he opened his mouth, then I did my job. I wanted everyone to hate this asshole. I hated this asshole, and I created him. So, yeah, fuck Joseph “Viper” Prescott.

        B) Luckily, I didn’t need to write a ton of Joseph in this story (and likely won’t need to in future stories), because I really hated him from the start, in the “I created you to be awful, and god damn, you are awful” way.

13) Janus telling Joseph off by saying “I am your son! If you can’t see that, then you’re fucking blind, old man!” was a line I wanted to include some form of from the start of the chapter, and it went through a few different iterations before I finally decided I liked this one best.

        A) Also, Janus immediately realizing he went too far with that statement is intended to be a relatable moment (as we’ve probably all had that moment of, “I shouldn’t have said that”), but also intended to show that Janus knows how his father reacts to that kind of thing, and the resulting “Anxiety vs Might as well go all in” sort of conflict Janus has is there to hint that things really aren’t good at home, and it really has changed the way Janus tends to think and approach some situations.

14) Depicting the very quick emotional shifts with Joseph was another thing I had trouble with, but for a very different reason. I have ADHD (I don’t keep this secret, I’ve posted about it and make an effort to be open about the various ups and downs I deal with as a result), and it has a big impact on my writing style. It’s why I try to be descriptive (especially when it comes to places and character body language, expression, emotion, and clothing), since the details help me keep track of tone, location, and the like.

With Joseph, though, I had to throw some of that out the window. I try to keep emotional shifts for characters consistent, and at least hint to them coming up, to make it easier for myself (and other readers who might also have a hard time with sudden shifts and cues like that) to keep track of things. I couldn’t do that with Joseph. Because of how I wanted to portray him in this story (especially this chapter), I had to make things sudden. Hence the sudden and quick way he lashed out (though the inciting force is “clear”; he was angry concerning Janus’ comments), and the rapid shift to him once again being cold and stoic once he’d struck Janus and the teen was on the ground. It was hard to keep it draft-level quick, rather than going through and “refining” it.

NOTICE: We’re done talking about all the really bad stuff. There’s some talk of the aftermath, but all the really explicit things are out of the way, so it should be safe to continue.

15) Virgil is basically me at any gathering. Just, stick to the edges, people-watch, and silently panic if anyone approaches.

16) I think this is the closest Virgil gets to really flying off the handle in this story. I don’t think I ever have him get this close to going and physically fighting someone at any other point, and damn do I wish I had, honestly. Virgil is really protective of Janus, and seeing his friend (read: crush) in his current state sets him off. He’s still fuming when Janus gets his attention again and is clearly desperate to just get out of there, but he pulls himself together and helps Janus out, because he knows that going after Joseph won’t be the helpful thing in this situation.

17) Logan flexing their fingers before starting to really get to work once Remy patches them into the Order system is honestly something I have a habit of doing when I start writing, especially if it’s cold, since the joints in my hands tend to get stiff and lock up a little. Also, I really couldn’t resist the really obvious spy/hacker bit. The opportunity was right in front of me, and you all know by now I take the opportunities when they come.

18) I originally didn’t want to leave the chapter where it ended, since it was a pretty decent cliff-hanger and felt like an awkward stopping point at the time. That being said, I’m glad I did it. This and most of Chapter 4 were going to be one entity, but that would’ve ended up way longer (Chapter 4 ended up roughly 8 pages on its own), and it would’ve been a lot of fairly heavy content all in one go, so it was better broken up. It made me very glad for the little POV shifts throughout, because it gave me a clean place to cut the chapter apart and made it a little less awkward.

And, I think that’s about it for this one! This was a really long chapter (probably the longest I’d ever written as of when I wrote it), and it was full of stuff to help kick off future interactions in the story.

[gyllenhaalstories]

I read your tags under the last post and you did that as a teen? Thats messed up

hi anon! i don't know what's the tone of your question, whether you think it's messed up i was doing it and now i'm protecting minors from repeating the same bad experiences and mistakes or whether me being talked/convinced into writing and consuming written erotica was messed up. i'll clarify some things and put them under the read more to avoid triggering anybody.

tw: underage sexual activities, grooming, manipulation.

i've mentioned it a few times, but long before i wrote fanfictions, i was roleplaying. by roleplaying, i mean creating characters or writing as characters, basically writing fanfiction but with someone or multiple writing partners at a time. i was 11 or 12 when i started on a french platform and interacted with god knows who. i was around 13-14 when i started roleplaying on facebook and on tumblr. it was not super uncommon for minors and teenagers to do this, especially on facebook. we were a bunch of lonely antisocial teenagers living high school drama both in real life and online. there was massive amounts of lies, manipulation, bullying and so on. but to many, including me, it was the only way to make "friends", some were genuine friendships others were absolutely terrible. i first wrote smut in a roleplay on facebook with someone who was finishing college (my education system is different from america, college means high school and university and even pre-university programs and i could only assume it was the same for her). we wrote our stuff, she was very rude about my typos and my limited vocabulary but i did not question too much out of it, i just thought she was smarter (again because i assumed she was the same age as me). eventually, we got into writing smut. i was aware of the "fading to black" technique, which is what you do when you skip from a scene that gets heated to what happens after the action and in my reply, i faded to black. she asked me to rewrite it, she wanted to do the sex scene because it was "important for character development", it wasn't, she just needed something to satisfy whatever the fuck she needed to satisfy. now i can look back and understand that, but back then i had no idea. so we wrote that scene. the entire time i felt extremely uncomfortable and i kept apologizing and delaying my reply until she completely disappeared on me and blocked my account, seemingly because i wasn't fun to write with anymore.

another facebook experience occured a year or two later. i was 15, i've had some rough encounters with other rpers who held a big place in my personal life too so i was very vulnerable. i came across this girl who never told me anything regarding her age and her personal life, while constantly asking me questions about mine. we wrote this couple, she constantly forced me into writing smut. i'd suggest new date ideas, new plot twists, new settings, anything just to avoid writing sex scenes for the 5th time in the same day. she told me "you'll like it, you'll get better at it when you practice, i'll tell you how it works, it's gonna make you feel good too". so i kept writing with her, i had no other friend at that time so i thought that if i did what she demanded me to do to, she'd stick around and like me. we wrote sex scene after sex scene, we added pregnancy plots, a forced pregnancy even, i was incredibly uncomfortable. i made a different account, i tried to escape her but i couldn't. she had around 5 or 6 accounts where she would go around and find young partners to write with. she had a friend who did the same. there was nowhere to go. i eventually ghosted the previous account we wrote on together and focused on my new character. she was gaining a bit of traction, i met someone there too. we became friends instantly. i was 16 when this new person and i decided to talk more "out of character". we got to know each other, we became best friends and we still are today. we were writing so many different plots and relationships, but they were always respectful of the boundaries we both set. when i turned 18, she finally brought up this previous person who manipulated me into writing smut. she said she had met her, years before me. she was, too, talked into writing sex when she was around my age. we both found out this other person was a 35 years-old woman, a creep, who hunted down our roleplay community to write smut with us, teens and kids. she made us believe it was okay, that she'd "teach us the way". she'd gaslight you and manipulate you into getting what she wanted. there were stories going around that were even crazier than mine. i was manipulated into writing sex with someone twice my age when i was still a teenager. for the longest time, i avoided writing smut, even in roleplays. it took me years to work the courage to write smut again, to develop sex headcanons for my characters in roleplays. i wrote smut with my best friend, whom i trust with my whole life, once or twice and she always insisted we stopped if i were uncomfortable until we just stopped altogether and focused on headcanons and other fluffy ideas rather than fully fleshed out written erotica.

i was reading smut, i was consuming porn, i was on tumblr this whole time and that was before the grand purge of adult material. it was different, in a way, because i was choosing to consume such things. but still. i was like 14 and seeing dicks and pussies out in the wild on tumblr. i had no interest in relationships, in dating, in sex even and i was seeing all of this. i was learning that if you wanted others to desire you, you had to be like the girls on porn videos, you had to do all kinds of crazy things and let (mostly) men take advantage of you because that's hot.

all of that just to say...

IT FUCKS YOU UP. it just fucks you up. it makes you think you're not normal, it makes you think you're weak, you're immature, you're just not cool enough. it makes you think you owe sexual favours to other people. it makes you think your sexual desires are just something people can play with so they can get what they want. i've come a long way. i've learned about my own sexuality a lot. i'm still very insecure in real life, but this blog has allowed me to explore my own desires and fantasies in a safe way, following my own boundaries. it might not seem like much to you. but it was a lot to me. i was hiding this from everybody, my only escape from real life was becoming as toxic as real life itself. the lines were blurred between online and reality. i became scared of people. i thought they were all like the other girls who were full on adults taking advantage of KIDS to write sex. they didn't care if it sucked, they got off from it.

being a blog that is 18+ is not just for aesthetic. it's not just to be cool and act like we're more mature. IT'S A SAFETY FOR BOTH US, AND YOU. we want to avoid that minors fall into traps and rabbit holes. we want to avoid minors from constructing their sexualities around what is clearly fake. FAN FICTION IS FICTION but it can impact your real life, especially when you're young and unexperienced.

i am a firm believer that 18/21 and other ages of consent are NOT magic numbers. you don't suddenly become "mature" at the second you turn 18. they are just minimum age requirements that can allow both you and us some sort of safety. you can be 15 and sexually experienced. you can be a 35 years-old virgin and more sexually experienced than your average person. but that doesn't mean you can't respect other people's boundaries and lurk on their blog while being a minor. you are exposing yourself to things you shouldn't be exposed to at your age.

PROTECT YOURSELF. PROTECT OTHERS. RESPECT EVERYBODY'S BOUNDARIES.

[arecomicsevengood]

Seeds

Before I read it, I had this idea I could write a review of Ann Nocenti and David Aja’s The Seeds for the Comics Journal, but the book just sucked too much. It had basically nothing going for it, or even decipherable as an advancing plot. One thing wrong with it is there’s this sort of conspiracy element, or this “no one believes the news” anymore element of it, but Nocenti didn’t want it to be about “fake news.” Donald Trump has rewired the narrative, so now entire types of subject matter feed into this propaganda machine simply by being addressed. Nocenti’s best work does not shy from topicality, addressing the currents in the cultural air, but this time the modern world feels too hot to handle.

I ordered the Daredevil: Typhoid’s Kiss trade paperback, reprinting a bunch of Nocenti’s work with the Typhoid Mary character from the nineties. The longest story in there is a miniseries with art by John Van Fleet. It’s partly about post-Tarantino video-store employees turned filmmakers kidnapping Typhoid Mary to use her as the subject of a documentary about serial killers and violent media. It’s also about Typhoid Mary working as a private detective trying to track down a killer of prostitutes, who the police don’t care about, and are maybe the actual killers of themselves. Storywise, it’s a pretty cool attempt to address real-world issues of the day within a pulp context.

Van Fleet’s art is pretty boring and bad in a way that’s distinctly ahead of its time. While the miniseries itself probably wouldn’t exist without the precedent of Elektra: Assassin a decade before, (a spinoff about a female Daredevil villain created by the writer during their run on Daredevil where that character defined their run) all the photoreference that’s probably actually just photo backgrounds run through filters sets a precedent for the Alex Maleev/Matt Hollingsworth Daredevil stuff to come a decade later. And it’s frequently annoying on a page design/panel background level. Like in terms of how the panel borders sort of default to grid shapes so there ends up being things that “read” as panels but that don’t actually do anything for pacing. It’s just fitting the narrative into regimented design choices.

This maybe only happens the once. But the art is also just super-stiff throughout, with a very chunky line that eliminates any real nuance. There’s a bunch of characters, but a lot of them are indistinguishable from one another, and that’s because the linework is about as muddy as the color palette — It kinda seems like he’s working with models and photo reference but also doesn’t have that many models to work with so he’s having them play multiple roles, but also his work basically seems more like photoshop filters than actual drawing? There’s a bunch of stuff that I think sucks, basically. But you can also draw a direct line from what Van Fleet is doing in Typhoid to what Aja does in The Seeds. All these choices that are meant to be classy and dignifed, a move away from the excess of superhero comics. The covers of Typhoid are just portraits of the main character, interchangeable from one issue to the next, which was a move that again, was ahead of its time: This is what so many Marvel covers in the 2000s looked like, the Tim Bradstreet Punisher covers probably being the go-to example. It’s pretty dull but it’s nice they’re not super-sexualized.

While the choices arguably suit the subject matter in Typhoid, which is at least partly about movies, in The Seeds, the story doesn’t really make any sense because the visuals seem so steeped in unreality. The premise is that a tabloid has photographed an alien, proving aliens are real. There is really nothing within the context of the story that explains why the news outlet would have enough gravitas to be convincing and have this be an actual news story. And the book is drawn in Photoshop, which is itself a photo-editing software, so the “reality” of the book is defined by the very medium that people recognize as why images can’t be trusted. This contributes a level of irony that could maybe be worked with if the book itself wasn’t so ugly and dull. The whole thing looks like some Banksy bullshit. Outside of word balloons, text appears in the large all-caps typeface of image macros. I don’t have scans of The Seeds because I gave my copy away on account of there not being any reason to keep it around.

The book is beyond dated at the time of its release. Partly this is due to the speed the cultural conversation has been moving for the past five years.  It’s been a difficult time period to work on a work of fiction about the news, certainly, and not only has the comic been a long time in the making, the writer has also been away from making comics for decades now. If the authors had been able to make this as a serialized monthly comic, it might’ve stumbled into timeliness, or the predictive, but as it is, the reading experience feels like a bunch of different, disparate ideas that do not really cohere into a narrative. Leaving aside how the book seems to emerge from a general cultural gestalt of the the 1990s, when The X-Files and Weekly World News were objects of discussion, every major plot point or news story chosen for thematic resonance is approximately fifteen years old. I believe 2005 was when I started to hear about colony collapse disorder. This bee metaphor has been lapped by a Honey Nut Cheerios campaign at this point. (A few years back, boxes of cereal came with seeds of wildflowers you/children could plant.)

Darin Morgan’s episode of The X-Files revival “The Mengele Effect” ably addresses all the issues with how cynicism and conspiracy theories feel different now, all the issues that Nocenti seems terrified of and hopes the audience doesn’t think of when reading her humorless X-Files throwback comic. That episode’s great.  Much of The Seeds seems like it was better done in the decidedly not-great Transmetropolitian. There’s something so dated and sad about this comic’s idea of a cool journalist protagonist: People barely smoke cigarettes anymore! I know no one wants to draw people vaping, but the imagery this book wishes meant “cool, urban, woman” reads as nostalgic affectation in 2021. That so much of the commercial landscapes of our cities has been replaced by vape shops was one of the biggest clues we were already living in a dystopia three years ago.

Nocenti, when she was working regularly, got to be a pretty effective writer for having a monthly deadline wherein she could speak on the issues of the day as they were happening. In the absence of a regular gig, this rare chance to speak her mind gets hampered by how much there is to talk about, and how complicated it all is. If it’s too complicated to address in an ongoing superhero comic, a one-off graphic novel with vaguely commercial ambitions turns out to be a worse space for it. It’s so much sadder than anything in this dream-of-the-nineties comic that the authors were given the grace to make something only under the conditions that doom it to failure. Real people made this work of fiction, and I don’t know what the fuck they’re even talking about, and that’s a more complicated narrative than the journalists in this comic who… stumble upon a story and then need to take to back because it’s too important or something? I don’t understand what this comic is about. It’s clearly gesturing at being about a bunch of different things, but what they get from being in juxtaposition with one another, I don’t know.

In interviews in advance of the release of The Seeds, Nocenti talked about how this was the first time she got to make a comic that didn’t have to have fight scenes or conflict in it. But reading Typhoid it’s clear how conflict ties the story’s disparate threads together. But also while reading Typhoid I kept on thinking about how visually, the Steve Lightle shit that preceded it is so much cooler! Here he is, bifurcating a page so two narrative threads can be told with different approaches to stoytelling:

People sometimes talk about how crazy it is that Nocenti started her Daredevil run immediately following up the Miller/Mazzucchelli Born Again run with a fill-in drawn by Barry Windsor-Smith. But I don’t think anyone has pointed out that, since these Typhoid Mary team-up comics appeared in Marvel Comics Presents, she’s basically following up Barry Windsor-Smith’s Weapon X, and Steve Lightle is totally capable of doing that! Even if these comics are kinda whatever narratively, Nocenti comes up with dense enough narratives to give him shit to do. She’s a good writer within the context of the harsh strictures of early nineties mainstream comics. Which I know seems like a harsh diss! But being a writer that makes work that consistently gives a comics artist something interesting to do is a difficult job that many people are just not interested in doing for various reasons, so it should be recognized when it’s attempted and accomplished.

It’s also interesting that the whole visual approach where both Steve Lightle and Barry Windsor-Smith shine is dependent on flat color. The changes in storytelling made to accommodate the shifts in visual language in full-color mainstream comics didn’t really benefit anyone, and now needs to be outsmarted. In The Seeds, we’ve got this pretty dull reading experience that superficially in its two-color print job and nine-panel grid, looks like it might be influenced by Mazzucchelli’s work in Rubber Blanket and City Of Glass. And we’ve got a black and white Barry Windsor-Smith comic coming out from Fantagraphics in a few weeks that I really hope blows it out of the water.

[bearpillowmonster]

Persona 5 Review (Palaces)

Now I think it’s be interesting to split up each villain and review their arcs. First is Kamoshida, I like the layout of his palace. Sneaking along the walls and such and they really give you the drive to get rid of him. This is one of the only ones I actually got all the will seeds, I found that you only get the accessory if you collect the three, I don’t think there’s any bonus for collecting ALL of them from ALL the palaces though.

After that, they introduce something called Mementos which is basically everybody’s palace, a compilative place of where small distortions go that aren’t big enough for their own palace. This is kind of used for side missions, it’s not that bad though, the dark sections can be annoying but I see why they were put in there. You visit it throughout the game and after each boss, a new section gets added, going farther down. This is also one of the places to grind and a quick way to grind is to mow down enemies with your van using the dash button, rather than going through the trouble of battling, you even get their mask. That’s only if they’re not too far down though because the farther down you go, the tougher the enemies. It’s funny because once you get tough enough, going to the higher entrances, making enemies RUN from you while you’re mowing them down, it’s a blast. I will recommend though that you don’t piss off too many and get alarmed because they’ll come in waves, one battle after another and if you’re deep in Mementos, it can be scary.

Next is Madarame, I like the setting of a museum and the boss (better than Kamo) but I will also say that it was annoying to traverse, it built upon the urgency by adding legal action into the mix. This is probably in my top 3 palaces, I just don’t have a whole lot to say about it.

Kaneshiro (sounds like Kamoshida) I feel like his character is very one way, an easy prey, I’m fine with that but I’m just saying that the depth was better for the previous two. The boss isn’t exactly my favorite, it’s a little different between 5 and Royal so I looked it up and am accounting for both of them. I do however like the style of the bank and the vault is one giant lock, the enemies are probably some of the most annoying though with the introduction of the dogs.

Alibaba. Now this palace is actually pretty cool because it changes the context and way you do things, again with the real life interference as well. What I really like are the little hieroglyphics puzzles at the end of each section, those things are my jam but while I appreciate the variety and setup, this was one of the weaker palaces. The boss was weak as well, more of just a sponge unless I didn’t play it right (maybe I was underleveled? I mean I don’t think I even died tbh though) because it was really cool when you used the arrows but really dragging when she was in the air.

I will say that I took a break after this arc (about 35-40 hours in) not because I was tired of it, far from it actually, I was having tons of fun but traversing the palaces just seemed off to me at this point so I thought if I took a break and got a fresh perspective when I came back, it would be better. It was hard to detach myself from it because I really enjoyed what I had played thus far but it felt good to get back into the groove of it after a break. This was both a good place to take the break given the hours spent and what the next palace is, and kind of a weird place because after Alibaba you take the field trip but I would still recommend you take a decent break at some point because...

The next palace is Okumura. Now I’ve seen some flack about this one, saying it’s the least favorite of the bunch, so you don’t want to have the previous build up of hours hamper your experience since it’s considered the worse. Honestly I don’t think it’s that bad (the palace!) now the boss on the other hand is a different story, I understand that a CEO is only as good as their employees and the idea to use them is pretty reflective of the palace itself but it’s annoying because if you don’t have the right type of persona then you’re screwed because they just flee or blow themselves up, it’s just left to chance sometimes. I think it would be cool to have a race against him with the timer rather than a battle. It made me so stressed, not because of the timer but because of the stupid robots, it was easily the battle I spent the most tries on, I even had to go back and grind and fuse a new persona to finally beat him. (I was almost level 40 so you might have an easier time if you did more persona work than I did) but you don’t get any All Out Attacks either apparently. Also the story (though a bit nit picky) is easy to complain about but it’s not as bad as they say imo especially since the characters explain themselves afterwards.

Casino Master. This was probably the only spoiler I got for this game but I feel I would’ve figured it out anyway and it didn’t even turn out to be that big of a spoiler. Also the addition of the “Crow” should’ve been the “Raven” as an Edgar Allen Poe reference, it would’ve fit the character better in my opinion. I don’t like that they use the same card mechanic from the last palace, it makes more sense with this one but still. There’s an enemy in this palace that was bugged for my play through and it was only that specific enemy whenever I encountered them, it would say something like “it’s groaning” (which it sometimes does with enemies such as Regent) but for this one it just kept doing it and would get stuck, I just had to button mash a bit and then they would attack normally but just a small stain I’ll point out, easily patchable I’m sure. As for the story, I’m not quite sure what makes the palace in the first place, what is the distortion exactly? Other than that, another in the top 3.

The boss is actually kind of cool, in a way it’s the opposite of Okumura but an actual boss instead of enemies. It’s probably my favorite because of the design and style. I’m not done yet but honestly when I got about 1/3 of the way through this game, I thought it was a 5/5 but I re-evaluated and the one thing that I want is a bit of gameplay variety even if it’s just the bosses. I’ve talked about this before but it makes everything feel samey and while I know more or less all turn based RPGs are guilty of the same thing (so I can’t really hold that against this game) this one just seems so different. It doesn’t wear itself out, for turn based, it’s not so bad but it just leaves you desiring one extra step, an extra something everytime to say “This is the fourth-fifth-sixth boss!” rather than just chip damage with no weaknesses, some kind of reward for playing the way you do perhaps.

Armstrong from MGS Rising (yeah I didn’t have a codename for this one). I really like the setup, probably the best palace to be honest, in a way it’s sort of a compilation. I could see where people could complain about it even if I haven’t seen anything. This palace also has the best music, it’s very fitting and stylistic. There’s a little bit of a barrage of mini bosses throughout, I kind of like it but the last one before the big boss is tough because it’s 3 different sections, one after the other but it’s kind of a tease/warning to say “Are you really ready for the real boss? If you had trouble with this, then you’ll have trouble with him.” 

Let's talk about the final final boss (for what’s known as the ‘true’ ending route) because I apparently did the ‘true’ ending after looking into it, it doesn't matter who you picked for a romantic route, it matters what choices you made at certain points in the game, the ‘true’ ending is just the longest, there are different points in the game where it could end and be the other good/bad endings so yeah. Let me talk about it without spoiling anything, Notice I said ‘true’ with quotes. I'm going to summarize this reddit post I saw, justifying it, out of context. The boss is idolized, he's made by the people, he didn't make the people and because he's pretending, we were sent to destroy him. (In the grand scheme of things (story-wise)) because it bothers me that they make him out to be almighty. It is a persona and personas are figments of imagination, they're amalgamations of how the characters perceive their desire/distortion, not the real thing therefore it shouldn't be blasphemous right? That thin line is what's making me knock this game a little more because its material is so concerning. Also you’re stopping people from doing bad things, that’s ‘just’, correct? You’re defeating the seven sins, that’s ‘just’ (at least that’s what the will seeds are called). I guess they wanted to try and make it a true question “Are the Phantom Thieves ‘Just’?” They ask it over and over and in reality, I ask myself the same thing.

You can buy as seen on tv stuff, the big thing I’ll say helped me was the cleaning spray so snatch that up when it becomes available, I think it’s also available in Kichijoji but it lowers your enemy’s defense and I didn’t have that move for any of my characters. Make sure you have everything done that you want done by the time you reach the final date after sending the calling card and beat the boss such as confidants, a proper persona, side quests and a good amount of stat boosters and stuff. I can't say too many specifics on what to bring because you're going to play different than I did so just fill in the blanks, have cans of whatever you don't have as a move because it's going to be a stretch of fights and there really isn't room to turn back.

[flockofdoves]

list of webcomic recs for @gynandromorph based on what they said they might be interested in but also i’d rec these in general they’re all good

i honestly don’t read much furry stuff beyond your work?? not on purpose its just the circles i tend to find things in are more human character centric i guess so sorry theres not many furry comics on here even though i know you said you have a preference for them

also sorry for word salad, i have pretty bad brain fog today lol but i hope this is legible/helpful!!

finding home - one of my top favorite currently updating comics tbh and i’m even more confident in saying that now after just an hour ago reading beyond whats currently posted publicly by finishing the second volume i got in its recent kickstarter. i love the scenery and atmosphere of this comic and i love the care put into developing the main characters and their relationship and backstories and trauma and stuff. everything in this from the page layouts to the dialogue to the worldbuilding feels really well thought out imo

buuza - less than a year old still so i’m only just starting to get a real feel for it but i’m excited for seeing whats to come. i know you said with your vision certain art styles can be harder to read and i feel like that could be a problem with this though?

charity case - one of the comics i read that i most consistently appreciate for how effective its art and page layouts are

non sequitur - not a story or anything just a bunch of one shot comics but their concepts are always so fun and creative

fables and tales - same thing as last one, a bunch of one shot comics

backdoor - on hiatus right now but while i always enjoyed it, as its gone along i’ve become a lot more invested in it and the creator was always good but continues to improve in art and story telling really markedly imo

decale - story isn’t very far along but i love the character designs and the characters are all so expressive and the way the creator animates some panels is a lot of fun imo

sakana - one of the currently updating comics ive been keeping up with for the longest time, its a lot of fun and i like the character designs a lot

i know you prefer consistently updating ones but for a few finished ones theres

puu - one of my all time favorites, it went places i didn’t expect from reading it when it only had a couple updates. really beautiful

hotblood - i love the art and paneling in this one and its sequel zarco a lot, the one thing worth mentioning but not necessarily a bad thing is the main characters are like (intentionally) not very likeable people kdjfgfhkdf but its so pretty

shootaround - one of my all time favorite comics its storytelling really got to me

also theres definitely a lot of comics that i need to catch up with again that feel like they might be more something you might like than a lot of the ones i’m currently up to date with just because i lost a lot of my RSS feed bookmarks a while back and then the ones i didnt immediately remember to bookmark again i fell behind on and i’ve honestly not felt like i’ve had the energy to pay attention to comics that are more serious/really conscious in developing plot and such over the past year and have more just read a lot of lighthearted stuff to fill the time or comics i kept up with on tapas instead of through RSS bookmarks. i really want to get back into a lot of comics but for the time being i feel weird reccing things that i’m over a year behind on (or longer, some of these i last was into mid high school so idk how they hold up) so uhhhh Disclaimer most of these i’m behind on by 2+ years even though i really want to get back into them but really quickly theres

dead end (finished now i think)

espaced (on hiatus)

o human star

widdershins

goodbye to halos

this is probably way too long sorry about that!! i get really excited about comics

i hope this can be of some use and also i just want to say thank you for making your comics, you’re one of my favorite comic creators and i admire and am inspired by your work a lot

[carmen-berzattos]

Ok I just wanna say some things about Jane and Raf, and why Raf is my favorite character on the show. (Low key I never use Tumblr so I'm sorry if this post is weird/ formatted wrong- feel free to repost this on your account in a better format if you want haha). Let me know your thoughts! I think people really underestimate the amount of hardship that Rafael has experienced, specifically regarding his family. (Cont.)

To have a (non-biological) dad never truly be proud of you, to have a mom who chose money over you, to learn that your dad isn’t actually your dad and then learn that he was killed, to be constantly worried about your sister- and much, MUCH more is incredibly tough.

Because of all of these things- all Raf EVER wanted was a family. He works so hard to make sure that despite the fact that he didn’t have the family he deserved, he could provide a healthy family for his kids. So reason #1 why I love him is because he has such a great heart, great intentions, and he’s just trying to do the best he can, despite never having a healthy model for how to be a father and how to raise a family.

And side note, I think when we see Raf go into his dark place of drinking and stuff, I think it’s reasonable for people to be critical- but I also think that it makes a lot of sense. He’s got a LOT on his plate, constant pressure that he places on himself to be a good dad, past trauma that he likely hasn’t fully dealt with, and non-consistent support from Jane depending on the part of the show you’re at.

Secondly, one reason I don’t support Jane and Michael is that he perpetually sacrifices his own wants and passions in order to please Jane. I think a lot of people view this as sweet and romantic, but in a healthy relationship, both partners are able to thrive as individuals by going after what they love. The fact that Michael is repeatedly okay with giving up his job for Jane shows that he has to give up a part of himself to be with Jane, and that’s not fair to him.

And Michael just has this chivalrous yet entitled vibe to him that I don’t really like. Like when he was pissed that Jane went on a date after she met him, and that she wasn’t home when he brought her soup. So then he whole ass abused his authority as a police officer by pulling her date over.

Like that whole situation, which was one of the foundational parts of their relationship, was just obnoxious because he acted like he was being selfless by bringing her soup, and a lot of people viewed it as sweet. But in actuality, he wasn’t there out of simple kindness, because if he was he’d drop off the soup and leave. He’s doing all this to win Jane over. He thinks that she must pick him just because he likes her, despite the fact that she also gets to decide for herself what she wants.

But the whole thing of Michael sacrificing his own wants for Jane isn’t the case wth Raf because he, from the start, is Jane’s biggest supporter when it comes to writing. And Raf is pretty honest about his commitment to the hotel, which is what caused problems with their relationship in the beginning- but at least he was true to his own desires.

Then his wants and passions shifted to his kids/ family, and then he worked towards that. And what we see right now, which I’m proud of him for, is him saying that it isn’t fair for him to be dragged along and hurt in the process of Jane trying to figure things out for herself. I respect that she needed to do that, but I applaud Raf for looking out for himself.

I think with the recent episodes what we get to see, is Jane working hard to be the partner Raf deserves- which is great because throughout this ENTIRE show, Raf had tried so so hard to get Jane to choose him. Now Raf must choose Jane, which is an interesting and important shift. Although this is a tough situation, Raf doesn’t feel as powerless and out of control as he’s felt at other points.

Wow, nonnie, let me first and foremost thank you for this incredibly well-thought out thread. I love it so much. And I agree with all of what you said, with the exception of a couple of places, and will simply add on to your points for the most part. 

I resonate so much with everything that you said about Rafael. He’s been through so much since the start of the show and it’s like a nonstop shitstorm for him. From his wife cheating on him with his best friend and all the way to the recent development. Not to mention the issue of his cancer earlier on before the show started. It’s been a rough life for Raf. And the problem is that the writers never actually allowed him a break? He doesn’t get to process? Not on-screen anyways and not off-screen either. Rafael’s mental health issue has been reduced to the issue of him sinking into “his dark place” instead of an actual, legitimate issue of depression and potential substance abuse. And that’s what I’ve always begrudged the writers for. Even this season, when they decided to somewhat give him this SL, we still didn’t get to experience it. And I honestly have no idea whether we’re going to be seeing anymore of it or if we were supposed to take that one episode where he was taking anti-depressants as them “dealing” with the issue of his mental health. And honestly, if that’s all we’re getting, then …. *biggest and longest of sighs*. 

What you said about him wanting a family is really important, too. I see a lot of people ridiculing Rafael for being insecure about Michael. And I’m like, but that makes total sense that he would feel this way? He has serious, deep-rooted abandonment issues that stem from his earlier family life. His father (adoptive father) treated him as lesser and never quite trusted him or had faith in him. His mother abandoned him for money. And when she returned, she only did so to take advantage of him and take something for her criminal master plan. And then he found out that neither of them were his biological parents and the question becomes: who abandoned him in the first place so he would end up with them. So, yes, Raf has Jane and Petra and Mateo and the twins and the Villanuevas, to an extent, but that doesn’t magically make it so that his abandonment issue are dealt with and he’s all good and dandy. That’s not how it works with deep-seated childhood issues. It might not be ideal of him to react so strongly to Michael’s presence, but his fear of losing the love of his life to Michael, AGAIN, makes total sense to me. I hope he’d reacted differently, but I also get it. This is hard and painful for him and is in line with his character. 

And I agree with you that him choosing to remove himself from that situation is also good and healthy for him. I keep seeing people calling him selfish for choosing himself, for closing himself emotionally from a person who hurt him so much. It is besides the point that Jane never intended to hurt him, and that’s important to note, but it’s entirely besides the point. The results of our actions are not always what we intend. Doesn’t mean that they didn’t happen anyways. Such is life. So Rafael deciding that he will not sit around waiting for Jane to make a decision between him and Michael again when it became clear to him that he was not always unflinchingly her choice the way that she has been for him, Rafael deciding that he needs to protect his heart and closing off this part of himself emotionally, deciding that he and Jane are good as coparents but he doesn’t want the romance anymore, is actually a good thing for him, it’s good growth and character development. Because now he’s no longer looking for validation from his relationship with Jane to believe in his self worth. He’s saying, no, this is painful and I don’t want to be in this situation and I need to take care of myself. And him not jumping back into a relationship with Jane the moment she decided that this is what she wants now, him knowing his boundaries and being in tune with his needs and not caving is a good thing for him. This is not something that Rafael would have done a few seasons ago and I’m proud of him for that. 

I think for me the main problem with Michael has always been how one-note he feels. His only true defining characteristic is that he loves Jane and that’s that. Everything else about him takes second place to this love that he has for Jane. Which is all good and nice but if I can’t bring myself to care about one half of the ship because they don’t feel real to me, then I can’t bring myself to fully ship them. I still appreciate their scenes and all, but honestly I look at Michael and I’m like, who are you and what do you want out of life other than Jane? Like he went through all this trauma and losing his memories and all he wants now and all he feels is that he loves Jane?????? He doesn’t feel pain???? No resentment that she moved on and is happy????? My brother kept pointing out that there is no way in hell he wouldn’t feel at least a little bit of resentment that Jane is happy and moved on with Rafael of all people. And he’s right. But all Michael can say is I want you to be happy, so much so that it’s frustrating. Human emotions are complex until Michael is concerned and it frustrates me how he is just a cardboard cut of a Perfect Man. 

And of course Rafael would look bad in comparison, since he seems to display a wider range of emotions and generally act like a normal human person, but I digress. 

I do think the recent shift in dynamic is going to bring a refreshing take on Jane and Rafael’s relationship like it did last episode. I thought seeing Jane as an utter disaster was really interesting and entertaining since we’ve never seen her in this light before. It’s really fun for me to watch this dynamic and I really look forward to seeing where it’ll take us. 

Again, thanks so much for such a thoughtful thread, friend. you’re awesome!

[likeabulletyoucanhurtme]

Have you ever taken a break from Facebook or other social media? Why? Nah not really. Not felt the need to

Who knows about your Tumblr account? 4 people irl

How would you react if your best friend told you they had cheated on their current (or most recent) partner? Idk who my best friend is, but I’d probably disappointed

Has anyone ever thrown you a surprise party? Were you surprised? Yes, and kinda. I got told like ten minutes before I walked in the door

What is one thing you’ve always wanted to try? idk probably just different types of alcohol

What was the longest period it took you to get over someone? idk a couple of weeks maybe, or a month

Who is the most talented person you know? My Twinny's in a band :)

Are you currently platonic friends with anyone you’ve had sex with? Nope

Where did you and your current interest go on your first date? the swingpark

Who was your high school sweetheart? Are you still in contact? Amanda, and nope

Has anyone close to you (or you yourself) ever experienced addiction? How did they (or you) recover? Nope

Is anything currently worrying you? lots, but most of it I have no control over so meh

What are you naturally good at? Breathing, I've been doing that unaided for quite a while now

What is your least favourite song by your favourite artist? I don't really have a favourite artist atm, but the last one I seen was Waterparks and tbh I'm not really a fan of Take Her To The Moon... still a choon tho butcanyoureallygetlostinheaven

Were you popular or invisible in high school? I wasn't one of the kool kids, but we did have out own wee group :)

How does your work affect your personal life? It gets me out of the house and pays for concerts but also means I can't sleep in or listen to music all the time

Have you ever experienced two people fighting over you (physically or mentally)? What happened? Nahh no-one's cared about me enough to fight over me

Have you ever had an experience that was not in keeping with the sexual orientation you currently identify with? I got kissed by a guy sitting on the pavement outside a gay club in Glasgow once

Would you ever consider online dating? Nah I'm faaaar too shy to speak to people or message them online

Do you or anyone you know have a mental illness? What are the worst misconceptions you have heard about it? I know people who have been diagnosed with depression before. And idk all the posts I see is them posting about how peoples misconceptions are wrong, not anyone actually saying stuff

How honest are you to yourself and to others? I'm honest to othe people but idk I'm probably lying to myself about that

Have you ever become good friends with someone you never met in person? Indeed, Future Girl

What’s the longest you’ve had to go with very little or no sleep? No sleep about 40odd hours, and little sleep has been like the past 3 years. Maybe I need to go to Brooklyn?

Do you enjoy photography? If you do, what is usually your subject when you take pictures? Not really but if I see something thats random or amusing I might take a picture of it

What do you consider your default mood to be? meh

Have you ever lost touch with a close family member? Yeah I moved to England for 6 months

Do you separate your life into different “eras”? How do you define each era? idk there was school years, uni/houseparty years, slush years, SPyears

How often do you buy or receive flowers? I never have

What’s something you feel the urge to browse through every time you go to the grocery store? Nothing. I have a list and stick to it

Have you ever hated somebody after breaking up with them? Yeah there was The Bitch (who’s now ok), She Who Must Not Be Named (who’s apologised and we’re kool now), and The Bitch (II)

So far in your life, do you think you’ve figured out what love is? Nope whatislove?babydonthurtme

Has the weather been typical or unseasonal lately? It's February and it snowed earlier so idk this is the new seasons, global warming's fucked us all

How much time do you spend outside? As much time as I need to walk to where I need to go

What kind of nervous habits do you have, if any? idk I sometimes forget words and end up stuttering or having to stop for a bit to remember

Have you ever felt paranoid about someone you know in real life stumbling across your site? Nah, the 4 people that do know is because I told them. I think I've kept it anonymous enough that no-one else would know, and most of the people I've talked about don't have this

Are you the type of person to constantly discover new music, or do you tend to stick to what you’ve got? I stick with the same 8k songs

Where do you hope to see yourself in six years? at a gig :)

What kind of home do you plan to have when you’re older? I'll always be renting I guess, there's extremely little chance I'll ever own a house

What type of people do you consider your friends to be? idk we're all pretty chilled out kool kids allmyfriendsareinhellbrokendowninjailinthegutterorapaddedcellwereabunchofmotherfuckersandweredoingswellihopetheyservejackdanielsinhell

Have you ever been a part of the hipster trend? Nevar!

Do you enjoy city life or do you prefer being out in the country? idk I live in a town rather than a city, but fuck the country there's no wifi spentmywholelifeinthecitywherejunkiskingandtheairisshitty

How much do you ever doubt your beliefs? I don't doubt my atheism, and won't until there is evidence to prove otherwise

How many people have ever doubted your potential? Everyone, consistently

[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.

[dimples-of-discontent]

Do you believe Jensen/Misha's relationship (should it exist as we believe it does) is separate from their wives? Or is it one big mess of polyamory? Do you think Vikki and Danneel know?

Hi there Nonnie,

I’ve been sitting on your ask, and a few others like it, for a while because I want to make sure to answer in a way that is thoughtful and respectful (as you have been in phrasing your question). I’ll cheat a little by saying that I’ve written about it before and have both a “polyamory” tag and a “jmdv” tag as well as a couple like “everybody loves everybody” and “besties and whatever else” that I use less frequently. My tag cluster actually reflects my uncertainty about which particular brand of non-monogamy these four might be practicing.

Most of my thoughts are in my longest post. Here’s how I end it:

I agree with other commenters that there are many ways to do non-monogamy that are not a committed multi-person relationship. That’s kind of what I meant by saying these things change over time, with needs, desires, and life situations. And of course none of us can or should (unless they volunteer it) know what is going on with these dear men.

My personal impression is that–with the kids and the brewery and Misha’s activism and charity work–their being together together is maybe just something for cons now, maybe even just for Rome (DEFINITELY for Rome). But they are obviously still close friends at all other times and share a lot of love, of whatever kind. I have heard people say they are sad that Misha and Jensen don’t seem as close, or worry that they are in a “fight.” It doesn’t seem that way to me. True, Jensen isn’t going crazy with Twitter flirtation like in 2015, there’s no sunset boat ride for us, and they aren’t doing a campaign together like YANA. But let us not forget the Honcon panel in which he transformed into a living hearteyes emoji, got hot and bothered about Misha’s accent (which he demanded to hear), and told a first date story that was all gooey-sweet. There’s nothing but love to see here.

I wholeheartedly and completely agree that no one should ever mention it to them. They are in a somewhat fortunate position where they are famous but not quite famous enough to be chased by mainstream celebrity media who could uncover something like this. And of course they don’t want it to be public–it’s not something that is widely understood or accepted and not just them but their families, their wives and kids, would suffer for it. I wish it were otherwise. So we will doubtless never know and that’s ok. We can just know that, whatever it is, it’s pretty special and we’re pretty fortunate to get to share it just a little.

So that’s my official stance. But you’ve invited me to conjecture a bit so I will. I do genuinely believe that Misha and Jensen have some kind of more-than-friends relationship and that they have for almost ten years (with the exception of the break up period, which I also believe in). I certainly believe their wives know or are actively involved it because they obviously love and respect them and I would say are happily married. But you can be happily and non-monogamously married (as Misha and Vicki have been). There is no way they would be engaging in anything without their wives’ full knowledge and consent.

I’d go further and say that their wives may have actively facilitated their relationship. I’ll admit that I may have been compromised by the fact that I’m such a huge fan of The Cockles Fic “When Harry Met Sally” by @mnwood​ (who is a treasure and has many other great fics too). However, I have always felt that especially Danneel would have played a role in getting them together. Misha would have kept his distance from a straight-seeming dude in a serious relationship. Jensen would have been hesitant and potentially stressed or upset by his feelings depending on how familiar he was with same-sex relationships and with the whole concept of non-monogamy which, well, Jensen is a dark horse so I can’t really say. But his intense worry early on about public perception and his desire to please everyone (and, dude, hard same) makes me think he’d have a fair few hangups about the idea of starting something sexual with a married male costar while in a serious relationship with a woman.

It explains some things too, like why he found Misha so disconcerting (”no one has ever put me back on my heels like Misha did that first day”) and weird. I mean, Misha is unusual, but there’s also a lot of projection there where he’d attribute his own “weird” feelings about Misha to Misha’s own “weirdness.” You can see in very early interviews and outtakes that Jensen is fascinated by Misha. I’m sure he’d really never met anyone like him (who has?) and, although I don’t believe the entire Destiel arc is down to their chemistry, I do think that fascination and attraction reads on camera. In response, I think Misha was a little shy and shocked as well as flattered by so much attention from such an attractive man. I doubt he would have even believed Jensen could be interested in him. With that in mind, I think the idea that Jensen had this obvious and huge crush and that it drove Danneel crazy is pretty plausible. I know that if my partner had a crush like that I’d be like “OH MY GOD JUST GO FOR IT!”.

We also know that Misha and Danneel were almost instant friends. Jensen has said that they share a sense of humor, that they are both “twisted” in the same way. (He’s actually come a hair’s breadth saying that he has a type…) I actually would not be at all surprised, at all, if Misha and Danneel have their own thing sometimes. There’s some real sexual tension there too as well as a great deal of respect and affection (naturally). Is Jensen there too? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe only sometimes. Maybe he’s tied up whimpering and watching the two doms in his life go at it. I don’t know–go use your fanfic imaginations.

The major question mark for me is Vicki since she’s a private person who doesn’t have to be in the public eye for her job and so isn’t. (I admire her so much, for so many reasons.) Her book obviously tells us that she’s open to multi-partner sex and enjoys sleeping with both men and women. So it’s not impossible that she’s involved too. Given the constraints of time, distance, children, and all the rest of life, however, I doubt that they’re chilling in a 4-tet or anything and probably never were. My best guess is that it’s now an occasional thing between Misha and Jensen even if it used to be more. I feel like post-breakup the character of whatever they have did change…perhaps to become more serious (although the rings suggest maybe it was serious before) or maybe less intense (I can see them being super intense right at first after lots of tension and build-up). And children change the whole dynamic no matter what!

So, to answer your original question after great length, I’m sure their wives know and I doubt they’re all in a poly relationship. It’s probably something in the middle–mostly separate for those two but also infrequent or occasional but no less special for that. And let’s remind ourselves again, we don’t know any of this stuff on any authority. I’m speculating about it with the understanding that I don’t have the right to know any of this and never will (unless they go public). This stuff is private because they want it to be that way and, speculate as we may, we must always respect that and keep it to ourselves. I just feel lucky to get to see a small part of it. It never fails to make me happy.

Obligatory link to favorite polyamory resource: https://www.morethantwo.com/ 

[madzwanted]

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  ;

 this is basically all the connections that i listed at the bottom of my intro but i gave them proper descriptions so you can see where my head’s at ! i’ll also be marking taken connections here for my own reference :-) putting it under a read more just because it got really long oops

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

  *    𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫  ( 1 / 1 ) : DELANEY DARLING  .  her better half , her best friend , & the biggest pain in her ass all wrapped up in one . they’ve gone through everything together . maddie loves her sister with her whole heart & couldn’t imagine doing life without her . delaney is also temporarily living with maddie while she gets her life together , so they’re roommates !

  *   𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 ( 0 / 1 ) : alright i’ll admit it ... i want this for angsty reasons . but pls , maddie pulled a dick move by having his baby & never even telling him , never even gave him a choice in the matter of whether they’d raise their daughter together or not - she just left for a year , agreed to give the baby up for adoption , & then showed up again acting like nothing happened . she never would’ve confessed to getting pregnant in the first place if it wasn’t for the fact that rumors are flying because of the 786 website . so that’s just a cherry on top of this shit show ˆ

  *   𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐞  ( 1 / 1 ) : GABI ROMAINE  .  best friend . they’ve been through a lot together & have come out stronger on the other side . they trust each other with everything . well , almost everything . maddie has yet to share with gabi the truth about what she went through during her year away . it just never seemed like the right time . gabi was dealing with cancelling her tour & losing her own baby - it just feels wrong to maddie to bring up her own woes while her friend is going through a hard time of her own . but the longer she keeps the secret , the worst things might get .

  *   𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞  ( 0 / 1 ) : maddie just needs that little devil on her shoulder that pushes her to take a trip on the wild side . they encourage her to indulge in all her worst behaviors and make her live a little , because what’s the worst that could happen ?

  *   𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 ( 0 / 1 ) : classic situation where they’re nice to each other’s faces but talk shit behind each other’s backs . people probably get whiplash from the two of them because one might they’re getting along fine & the next they’re throwing shade like it’s nothing

  *   𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 ( 0 / ?? ) : their parents are friends & as a result they’ve grown to know each other well enough . maybe they’re so close that they go on family vacations together & have a blast . or maybe they’re just casually friendly enough that it’s not *that* awkward when they’re forced to sit through shared family dinners . 

  *   𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ( 0 / 1 ) : maddie is already painted out to be a sweetheart but it’s always nice to have someone that encourages her angel behavior . sometimes her other rowdy friends steer her off course , so it’s nice to have this person around who keeps her on track

  *   𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 ( 1 / 1 ) : CAMILA NUÑEZ  .  there’s never a dull moment with cami around that’s for sure . cami is the wild child out of the duo which maddie doesn’t mind at all . maddie cranks up the mom friend tendencies whenever they go out . it’s her way of showing that she cares 

  *   𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭 ( 1 / 1 ) : LENNON DAVIES  .  the most supportive & loving friendship . lennon is maddie’s favorite person & the one that she feels most comfortable around . so she feels safe enough to tell lennon everything - even confiding in her with her deepest secret

  *   𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 ( 0 / 1 ) : could be a rival in the dance field or just a personal rival . they’re just dead set on trying to one up each other . maddie is hella competitive so she’d probably get really into a rivalry even if it was started over a dumb petty reason

  *  𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐝 ( 0 / 2 ) : i’d love a little trio girl squad ! think like the bold type ! just gal pals supporting each other & getting into nonsense , we love to see it 

  *   𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐛 ( 0 / 3 ) : classic og gossip girl reference ( i’ve never actually watched the show . . . but that’s irrelevant ) give me that friend group of stupid rich kids that go through pretty much everything together . sometimes they love each other , sometimes they hate each other . but they’ve always got each other’s backs 

  *   𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 ( 1 / 1 ) : SAMMY NAVARRO  .  not only are they both from tennessee but their dads are good friends , so the darling sisters grew up close with the navarro’s . sam is likely maddie’s longest time friend & is like the brother she never had . they have a playful , trusting relationship but it’s turned a bit sour considering the state of his on / off relationship with her sister . maddie’s quite used to sammy & delaney fighting . but calling off a whole engagement ? this is new territory . she’s hoping that their friendship will be bounce back soon

  *  𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 ( 0 / 1 ) : according to all laws of aviation , there is no way that these two should be friends . they’re just so different from each other that you’d think that they’d clash . however , sometimes opposites attract & in this case they actually complement each other pretty well , forming a pretty good friendship

  *  𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬 ( 0 / 1 ) : despite their romantic relationship ending these two have managed to stay pretty good friends , all things considered . they still check up on each other from time to time & go grab lunch if they’re both free . just a duo that’s better off as friends than romantic partners

  *   𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬 ( 0 / 1 ) : their relationship ended on a bad note & has left a sour taste in maddie’s mouth . they can’t be around each other for extended periods of time without rehashing old arguments by bringing up old shit . maybe one day they can be civil but for now , maddie regrets ever dating them in the first place

  *   𝐞𝐱 - 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 ( 1 / 1 ) : AZARIA NKOLO  . i’ve said it once & i’ll say it again , maddie pulled a dick move by ghosting everyone she knows & loves & then coming back like everything is super casual . zari was one of maddie’s best friends & she just kept blowing her off when zari kept offering to visit her while she was gone . now that they’re back in the same city , maddie’s avoiding her like the plague . but she won’t be able to get away with it for long 

  *   𝐩𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲 ( 0 / 1 ) : i just think it would be funny if these two started beefing on the internet for shits & giggles . like maybe people started speculating on the internet that they had a problem with each other . this conspiracy has been getting them both a lot of attention in the media . & the reality of the situation is that they don’t , but all publicity is good publicity right ? so they’re keeping up the charade that they hate each other just to keep themselves relevant basically . i imagine them roasting each other on twitter while sitting next to each other giggling about how silly the whole thing is . it’s just fun

  *   𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 ( 0 / ?? ) : they haven’t had the chance to get to know each other super well irl but they’ve been following each other on social media for awhile . whenever maddie is actually active , she’s always commenting on their posts hyping them up & stuff

  *   𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 ( 0 / ?? ) : if you catch maddie out having a good time , it’s not unlikely that you’ll find her out with them . they always find each other at parties & just spend the night drinking , dancing , & getting into some stuff that might result in them being featured on the cover of tmz in the morning

  *   𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤 - 𝐮𝐩 ( 0 / 1 ) : for whatever reason , it can’t be public knowledge that these two are getting it on behind closed doors . so around other people they act like they don’t even know each other . but in private , they’re all over each other . maybe there’s feelings there on one side or both , but they still can’t go public & that’s putting some strain on the relationship . or maybe one of them is embarrassed to be hooking up with the other so absolutely no one can know for their sake

  *   𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 ( 1 / 1 ) : ELEANOR SINCLAIR  .  maddie’s developed a certain fondness for elle that she just hasn’t been able to shake . she knows things aren’t going anywhere , elle has been sure to turn her down ( gently ) more than once . but the other girl’s got a hold on her that she just can’t escape . no matter what , maddie will always care for elle . but if she knows what’s good for her , she’ll learn to set some boundaries in order to get them out of the vicious cycle of give & take that they’re in

  *  𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 ( 0 / 1 ) : any friendship can be made better or more complicated by adding sex to it . could be strictly no strings attached & no feelings beyond physical attraction going on . or it could get messy with one catching feelings without telling the other . i’m up for either !

  *   𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲 ( 0 / 1 ) : let them have spontaneous adventures to the florida keys for the weekend or taking a private jet to new york . or maybe they just go skinny dipping at the beach at midnight or take 3am trips to mcdonalds . they’re just always down to clown together

  *   𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 ( 0 / 1 ) : they both claim to hate each other’s guts & yet maddie lets them rearrange hers on a semi - regular basis . they fight a whole bunch but the sexual tension is there & they can’t ignore it every time

  *  𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 ( 0 / ?? ) : fellow professional dances or just anyone that is interested in dancing ! gimme people that maddie has performed with or people that maddie partners up with at dance class for funsies

  *   𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐫 ( 0 / 1 ) : someone that maddie looks up to either professionally or personally . she’s been taken under their wing & wants to be just like them when she grows up ( nevermind that she’s already an adult )

  *   𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 ( 0 / 1 ) : 

  *   𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 ( 1 / 1 ) : GIO VELASCO .  king & queen of good vibes , reigning together over an absolutely drama free zone . gio is a treasure to maddie simply because he keeps things light & chill . it’s the sort of positive energy they both need in their lives . neither one ever bothers to ask the other to open up about their problems , they simply go to each other to decompress & have a good time . it’s just what maddie needs right now

  *   𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 ( 0 / 1 ) : a sorta slow burn relationship were it’s like the feelings are mutual they’re just both idiots your honor . they’re friends that are on the edge of being something more . even though everyone else can see it , they don’t see that the feelings are mutual & they’d definitely be together if they tried . whether or not they ever actually get together is up in the air honestly

  *   𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 & 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 “𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲” ( 0 / ?? ) : admittedly , there’s something sus about maddie . like she’s clearly hiding something & her story behind why she was gone for a whole entire year doesn’t totally add up . pls gimme someone that doesn’t buy her sorry excuses & is willing to be nosy enough to see what she’s really hiding 

[sableaire]

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I really look up to you for considering everyone's opinion and being calm and level-headed. I feel like I don't see a lot of toxic, passive-aggressive Tumblr stuff here. It's a breath of fresh air imo. I was just wondering how you do it? Like, what do you tell yourself, when you feel angry about someone else's opinion, but want to remind yourself that they're entitled to it? It would really help me! Thank you.

Hello - thank you for your kind words, Anon. I try hard to try and make my blog a comfortable place for the most amount of people, and though I sometimes feel like I slip up, I’m glad that you find my blog something refreshing.

I can’t really say how it is that I avoid the toxic, Tumblr passive-aggression. Part of it may just be that I avoid it myself, so it never ends up on my dash. However, thinking on it now, I guess a lot of that is a deliberate choice as well.

Something that gives me a lot of perspective on things like this is that I’ve changed a lot as a person in just the last six years. The transition from high school to college to now near-graduation was a significant one, and I underwent a lot of personal growth.

As such, I know what it’s like to make mistakes as a teenager (or younger). I know who I was, how I thought, and I know what would have worked on me and what would not have. 

This post has gotten super-long, possibly my longest yet(?) so I’ll put it under the cut as usual. If you want to just skim the example given and go straight to tips, skip down to the bolded portion, ahaha. More under the cut:

Just a warning, but this example contains mentions of homophobia and, additionally, some highly negative or dangerously neutral opinions that I personally held in the past. I no longer retain such beliefs. I ask that you look upon this example as a story of growth, as I do. 

For example, as a young teen, I had a very firm belief (not taught, just a personal belief that came out of nowhere;;) that anything sexual was bad, and I was more morally pure for having no interest in it. Additionally, I was raised in a highly homophobic environment, and because I had no concept of romantic/sexual attraction in the first place, I had no reason to really think about the idea of why loving the same gender would be bad. I just accepted it as a fact of life, just as I accepted it as a fact of life that eventually I would fall in love and marry a man, etc.

It was to the point where I kind of just… didn’t realize gay people existed. Hell, I didn’t even know there was gay media. I was just straight-up oblivious. But that fun fact aside, my complete disconnect from the existence of gay people meant that, if the topic came up, I probably would have made some highly ignorant comments.

((Side note, I barely realized heterosexual people existed - I didn’t realize that people were having sex in my high school until I was a senior!))

At the same time, I was a highly prideful individual. I know for a fact that if someone, especially some stranger I don’t know, confronted me in anger, calling me homophobic and a terrible person for some of the things I blithely said, young-teen-me would have drawn myself up to save face. I would have gotten offended, angry, and discredited whoever it was. After all, why would I believe some internet stranger over my environment - over myself and my experiences?

If someone had attacked me for my ignorance and these beliefs born of complete ignorance, I know for a fact that I would have ended up more firmly aligning myself with those beliefs. I would have felt the need to stand my ground, partially to protect my self-esteem, partially because as someone who looked down on emotion (I could write a book on my past self;;), I would not have wanted to be associated with a group of people that were so angry. 

So, now that I am older and have moved beyond that, now that I know better, I approach these kind of issues in a way that I know my past self would have been more receptive to. I don’t get angry, and I don’t try to enforce my own ideas on other people. Instead, I offer more information. I trust the other party to be a strong thinker in their own right, and then I offer them a choice that might not have been available to them before.

As a young teen, I had no option to accept gay people, when I had no concept of their existence and the vague ‘fact’ that it was a ‘dirty’ or ‘sinful’ thing to be gay. I had no option to accept the idea that people should be able to love who they love when my belief on romantic love was that you just choose the best option available to you once you’re ready to marry (aroace, woo, fun times).

But I was a headstrong teenager, overconfident and smart enough to sound impressive, so if anyone attacked my character or intelligence over my homophobia, I would have felt the need to assert my autonomy over myself. Telling me what to think? Telling me how to behave? That would have been unconscionable. My indignation and anger would have kept me from ever trying to learn more about the topic.

If, instead, someone gave me an option - just made the topic of being gay something more normalized in my life, gave me more historic sources (either of cultures where same-sex relationships were accepted or records of the horrors the LGBTQ community suffered), and just gave me more information to reform my beliefs on my own, I would have been more likely to change my views.

Looking back now, that’s exactly what happened. The way it happened, however, is also something a lot of people might not have agreed with. What brought the concept of ‘gay people’ into my sphere of awareness was in fact a friend’s interest in BL content. My desire to support and share in her interests, along with a natural curiosity and interest in storytelling, led me to read a number of BL manga. I never got into the BL community because I didn’t experience it the same way they did - as a sex-repulsed asexual, I wasn’t reading it for sexual gratification, so I couldn’t relate to their titillation. Even so, because I never do things by halves, as a teenager, I continue reading BL as a hobby.

Some, of course, was blatant fetishization, and I am now embarrassed that I have ever read those. Actually, I’m embarrassed about this period in my life in general, for various reasons, but I’m sharing the story! Just for you, Anon! 

In any case, some was blatant fetishization, but I did also encounter some actually well-written stories with emotional stake. Now, I’m not saying this is in any way ideal, but it was these stories that exposed me to the idea of social rejection, fear of being disowned, etc. due to homophobia. 

These particular themes struck a chord with me, because even though I had just accepted the idea that I was going to marry someone and have children, etc. I also had a vague awareness that I didn’t want to. In Korean society, and with my grandmother, I did have an ingrained fear that I may be somehow rejected by my family should I ever not want to go to any of my grandmother’s blind dates for me and such. 

Sometimes in high school, when I answered that I didn’t have an interest in dating, family members would accuse me of being a lesbian in a tone of near disgust. Prior to reading the BL stories, I likely would have been offended by the accusation. After reading the BL stories and reading about situations where people got cut off for being gay, I was more hurt by the idea that if I was actually gay myself, I likely would have been rejected. It better helped me to better understand and empathize with some struggles that LGBTQ persons may go through in their lives.

This empathy led me to be more open to reading about the LGBTQ community, and it helped me to better control my surprise when I found out some of my friends were bisexual or had kissed girls, and it was a gateway to more information, with which I have shaped my current beliefs and moral code.

This is another reason that I don’t really engage in Tumblr’s moral crusades. I’m of the firm belief that people grow given the chance, and that growth is shaped by three things: information, support, and choice. In this example, my ‘information’ came from places that the more morally aggressive side of Tumblr would consider irredeemable: BL media. 

I’ve written a post or two on the topic in the past, so my followers already know that I disapprove of the fetishization often inherent in this kind of media. However, I simultaneously cannot bring myself to bring myself to just tell people, “Hey, you shouldn’t read BL,” because it would not have worked on me, personally, and also because my experience reading BL actually contributed to the who I am in present day.

Let’s create an Alternate Universe - remove this source of ‘information’ from my formative years. I had no opportunity to empathize with an example of emotional rejection. Due to living in South Korea with a limited social circle, attending a Christian school, I have limited opportunity to meet actual gay people. Instead, as I grow up, my increasingly evident disinterest in guys leads to more disgusted/concerned accusations from family members that I’m a lesbian, which I react to poorly because I am both repulsed by the idea of a romantic relationship and also because I have been told all my life that being gay is something undesirable.

I eventually make a homophobic comment, because I start to associate the concept ‘lesbian’ with my personal revulsion. In response, someone calls me a terrible person, irredeemable, etc. and challenges my moral character, something AU me has a high opinion of. Insulted, I feel the need to defend my position because, psychologically, it is easier to decide that other people are wrong than admit that I am wrong.

The new ‘information’ available to me is that people who support gay people are ‘overly-emotional’ and will attack a person’s character without knowing who they are. Perhaps I receive a death threat or they tell me that people like me are better off dead. Then the new ‘information’ available to me is that people who support gay people are potentially dangerous.

As an upset teenager, in this AU, I speak to my family about this. Due to some ingrained homophobic beliefs themselves, they validate my experience. Some of them might tell me that people who support gay people are “just as bad as gays themselves.” My mother, especially, is furious about the death threat. She tells me that I’m smarter than they’ll ever be, how dare some stranger say that. Is it possible to report them to the police? I tell her, no, that’s not possible, mom, it’s the internet and also they’re probably in a different country.

This is AU me’s ‘support’. It reinforces the ‘information’ that I received, and it makes it more difficult for me to accept conflicting information in the future. Online, I may encounter other individuals who have received hate and or death threats for their homophobic beliefs, and I connect with them. We commiserate. This is more ‘support’ which makes it even harder for me to change my mind in the future.

And throughout this whole series of events, AU-me feels that she is in control of her own actions. She didn’t ‘give into’ the people trying to force her to change. She is proud of who she is, and she feels confident in her autonomy of herself. Due to basic psychology, she feels that her choice is the right one, and she instinctively seeks out biased evidence that confirms her beliefs.

Flash forward to AU age 22, I would be a completely different person to who I am today. I would not have the friends that I do. I would not be on Tumblr writing this post. My moral code and personal beliefs could be completely different.

So then, here’s a philosophical question: Does the very real possibility that I could have become an elitist, sexist homophobe make me a bad person?

There are some people who believe that people who are morally good will always end up where they are. I am not one of those people. I consider myself blessed that I met the people I did and had the experiences that I did. I am grateful that certain hardships in my life gave me time and reason to sit down and think about the kind of person that I want to be.

Due to the information that I was lucky enough to encounter and the support I was able to find, I was able to make the decision to commit to being an open-minded person. 

Of course, I recognize that my experience is unique to myself. It is very possible that someone else, in my aforementioned example, would have ended up homophobic in a different way - fetishizing gay people, applying BL fantasies to real life people, etc. - but in my case, that wasn’t so. And that’s the issue. You can’t accurately predict people’s trajectory of growth upon exposure to controversial topics and or media. However, it’s almost certainly guaranteed that anger and threats will be poorly received, and likely counter-productive. 

I believe that people are a product of their experiences. There have been a lot of kind people in my life, such as yourself Anon, who have told me that they respect my approach to situations or my philosophy on life or how I conduct myself, etc.

Ultimately, it is just that I am a product of my own unique set of experiences, and those experiences encompass both circumstances and mistakes. Upon coming to college and spending time away from my family, I really started committing to my self-betterment. I spent a lot of time thinking about my beliefs and the kind of person who I want to be. I took courses in Conflict Negotiation and Social Psychology because they were important to me. 

Right now, I am still learning, and I’m still trying. I’m really, really happy that I can be someone others find helpful for their own personal growth.

With that being said:

So, Anon, your question was, “I was just wondering how you do it? Like, what do you tell yourself, when you feel angry about someone else’s opinion, but want to remind yourself that they’re entitled to it?“

It’s not necessarily that I believe someone is entitled to their beliefs. There are some beliefs that I find dangerous, and I do not believe any person should have them. However, before I get angry, I think about my own experience as a person with less-than-stellar beliefs, and I think about what kind of approach would have best worked with me.

In my experience, the elements that contribute to a person’s opinions on something are the following: information, support, and choice.

So, things to keep in mind:

Every person uses the information available to them and the support system attached to that information to make, what they believe to be, an informed choice. People always believe in things and behave in a manner that makes logical sense to them, and that is important to remember.

Choice is the most important element of the three. The psychology of autonomy, especially in highly individualistic societies such as the United States, is incredibly powerful. Even if someone changes their behavior because someone else tells them to, they may later on start to resent both the behavior and the person that forced them. Ultimately, if you want someone to really change, you have to let them come to a different conclusion on their own. 

So, how do you change someone’s mind? Give them information and let them know that should they desire to change, they have your support. If someone is ignorant about something, rather than condemning them for it, it is most effective to present information in a neutral manner. Give them the option to learn, and let them choose the option for themselves. And, should they want to learn more about a certain perspective, offer your availability and aid. Allow them to make their own mistakes and learn from their own mistakes. Act as a guide they can choose to follow rather than trying to push them down a certain path. This is the approach Daryl Davis took towards the KKK, to great success.

That being said, I realize that this is a best case scenario. It is incredibly time-consuming, and it is for many people emotionally taxing. This method is not for everyone, and part of the reason I stick to it is because I recognize that I am one of few people who have the patience and the temperament to carry it out, and I believe that it is a necessary method in this world. However, I recognize that it is unfair to expect people with great emotional investment in a topic to just swallow their feelings and bear with it. Sometimes, certain topics are deeply upsetting to individual people. Especially in these cases, I recognize that it is highly difficult for people to take on such a goal-oriented approach. 

I am additionally committed to my approach because I know that there are some people who will be receptive to it, but not everyone can make use of it. As such, many people I know in my life ask for me to mediate conflicts or help them figure out how to change someone’s mind. I am an ally to many causes by being this more neutral, more open-minded person. I have received criticism for this before, that there’s no point trying to change bigots’ minds or that there’s no arguing with certain people. However, as someone who acknowledges that she could have become someone completely different (someone who thought poverty was the fault of the poor, that sexual assault is fault of the victim, that being gay was an abnormality, etc.) I know for a fact that people, especially younger people, can change their minds, given the opportunity.

However, like I said, this method is time-consuming and emotionally taxing. And as much as I want to help people, I also have an obligation to myself. So, part of the reason I avoid toxicity and passive-aggression or fan/anti debates is because I’m… I’m on Tumblr for fun. For a good time. Why would I willingly throw myself into more trouble when I can avoid it? The thing is, I already know that I can’t change everyone’s mind, so it doesn’t matter if I don’t go in and engage every single person on Tumblr whose opinions I disagree with. Instead, sometimes I’ll get Anons who ask my opinion on certain topics, and I can make a long post like this one. People interested in the topic will then read and reblog it, and it will eventually reach a wider audience. The thing about my approach is, I can’t please anyone on any one side. I have people who disagree with me on both sides… but, unlike other approaches, I also have people who agree with me on both sides. In any case, I’m on Tumblr for fun, and I don’t have a responsibility to anyone but my own followers.

That is also why I try to keep my Tumblr free of discourse, for the most part. Not everyone can handle emotionally charged controversy, and not everyone can easily ignore it if it just shows up on their dash. Although I try to tag everything so people can opt in and out of content, I also want my blog to be mostly a fun and friendly place for people where they can occasionally learn things. There are enough sources of stress in the world. I hope I’m never one of them. ((On occasion I will reblog a post which involves my political beliefs, but that is because I feel that, in this case, given the current US political climate, I would feel personally uncomfortable if I didn’t make my personal alignment known.))

Also, it’s important to note: If you’re engaging in dialogue and trying to change someone’s mind on a topic without thinking about how to succeed at it, at heart, changing their mind may not be your ultimate goal. Often times, a lot of Tumblr controversy comes, not from a place of wanting positive change, but wanting emotional gratification. Sending angry messages on the internet may feel good in the moment, but it often drags you into a frustrating argument that leads nowhere. It also will not have a long-term positive effect. Having the moral high ground in a situation can feel fantastic, and I’ve been there - but again, it doesn’t actually enact positive change. It just creates a survival-of-the-fittest environment for negativity. You’ll chase away the people who have room to grow, and only the loudest, most stubborn, most arrogant people will remain. 

Further, getting angry at people’s opinions on the internet creates an environment where it’s terrifying to make mistakes. On the internet, it’s impossible to tell someone’s age and or circumstances. A lot of people on Tumblr are kids, and they may or may not be lying about their ages to seem older. Think about parenting, and how criticizing small mistakes in behavior can lead to a long-term fear of making mistakes. Life is all about making mistakes and learning from them. Creating a system where one mistake can haunt you for the rest of your life is counter-productive to personal growth, and that’s what a lot of Tumblr controversy seems to be.

Actually, now that I’ve written all that, I just realized something I should have mentioned in the very beginning: I am not someone interested in changing the world. I’m not even interested in enacting social change. That’s far, far, far to broad a scope for me. There are some people built for such positions, and they seek to enter politics or start grassroot fundraisers, etc. I am not such a person.

Instead, I hope to become someone who can be a positive source of change for individuals. I don’t want to change the world or society, but I hope to be someone who can change one person’s worldview. An act of kindness for to a person who has lost hope. Someone who can translate languages and bridge cultures for individual people. Someone who can inspire someone to commit to their own self-development. 

To this day, I consider learning that I inspired someone to learn a new subject or pursue a new career path my greatest achievements. Few things delight me more.

I want to be a writer, and if the book that I publish can make a positive impact on just one reader, I will consider that book successful. That story would have been one worth telling.

There are some people who can make a goal to change the world and make it happen. I find that far too grand a dream for me. I lack the motivation for it, the strength of will for it, the vision for it. However, engaging with people one at a time, I can manage. So, there really is no reason for me to engage in Tumblr discourse. If someone comes to me directly, I can work with that. I can talk with someone one-on-one, and who knows, maybe I will come out the person changed. But that’s a personable scale, and it’s a level that I can comprehend.

I cannot change the world itself, but I can change the world for one person.

I don’t know if this was the answer you wanted, Anon, and I’m sorry it’s so long, ahaha. Ultimately, my advice to you is, decide what kind of person you want to be, and work towards it. This isn’t about achievements or careers, etc. - those are external things that label you. Who do you want to be? What kind of impact do you want to have on others? What kind of impression do you want to leave? And all the while, what role in life are you comfortable with on a physical, emotional, and ethical level?

After you figure that out, think about how you can become that person. The thing is, you never will, not completely, but you can improve yourself month by month and get a little closer, and every step closer to being that person is a victory. 

Most people in the world never take the time to think about it, so by taking the time to do so, Anon, you’ll already be a step ahead. 

..... I feel like after all that, I didn’t actually... answer the question very clearly. I’m sorry;; I hope you got something out of this ridiculous response, Anon;;;;