#I’ll probably post more about them since I’ve been in a Ben 10 mood since I’ve started rewatching the series

[maxiezone]

Really wanted to draw something in this friend group meme after I saw @skipppppy do it with the Scooby gang, and I got inspired randomly to do it with my Ben 10 oc’s

#the lore for these guys is that they were all raised by different races #and as such have a hard time making friends and come together through that #hijinks insue #I’ll probably post more about them since I’ve been in a Ben 10 mood since I’ve started rewatching the series #ben 10 #oc #oc art #original character #ok in order: #oc: aven #oc: ki-ki #oc: bysus #oc: terrance #petrosapien #kineceleran #tetramand #galvanic mechamorph #zone’s art

[septembersghost]

a few weeks ago, I was talking to @elliotschafer about S6 and the Braedens (and I would absolutely not have pulled this from the vault were it not for Polina wanting to read it), and the terrible sadness that underpins their story, and it unearthed the memory that basically one of the only pieces I ever wrote and willingly posted - that was actual story and wasn't reflection or fractured glimpses of narrative or poetry or meta specifically about Dean (as there are so many of those posts scattered all around the internet like petals) - was about them, ten years ago. (I was deeply upset by the memory erasing, which...remains.) anyway, I decided to dig it up out of its grave. the date on this was May 23, 2011, which is...wild. I didn't change a word, for better or worse, it’s exactly as it was in the document from a decade ago.

I was also apparently listening to "Trust Me" by The Fray (I entitled the journal entry "looking for something I've never seen"), if you really want a throwback mood, and MORE things the universe mocks and weaves together for me, because I pulled up the lyrics on Genius and it says: Release Date - September 13, 2005

of course it does. of course, what else could it possibly be? I hear you, fate, I know. (waving to my little self of 10 years ago, not sure if this song is about Dean anymore or if it's about me. it's probably both, it usually is.)

If I say who I know, it just goes to show You need me less than I need you Take it from me, we don't give sympathy You can trust me, trust nobody But I said you and me, we don't have honesty The things we don't wanna speak I'll try to get out, but I never will Traffic is perfectly still

We're only taking turns Holding this world It's how it's always been When you're older, you will understand And then again, maybe you don't And then again, maybe you won't

the thing is, the way I concluded this at the time, as I was fumbling around for some semblance of hope - because that's my brand, it's what I do - I forgot I ended it the way I did. it's likely not been read since I initially posted it, so I forgot...the way I left it. that I would have no idea the added poignancy it would have, all this time later. Dean just has a way of doing that, gleaming by accident, an ember that sparks into a flame and burns on, long after he’s walked over and out of the threshold.

(additionally tagging @someoneoffthestreet​, @laurelwinchester​, and @deandaydreams​, bc you are all with me in my deanlisa emotions hive, and I may as well embarrass myself thoroughly! no pressure to read it though, and of course anyone who wants to is welcome to. 🤍)

look at my icon from back then! I can’t believe this is still active:

(the note is from the original entry too)

Note: This is probably the only fic that will ever get posted here, so I'm not quite sure how to introduce it. Memories are an interesting concept - they make us who we are, they help us grow. They move us forward and hold us back. They fill us with fear and with hope. The idea of losing them is unsteady ground. Would we really want to erase events, even painful ones, just for peace of mind? Would we ever want to forget someone we loved? And what if the choice was entirely out of our hands? All of these things were haunting me following the S6 finale of SPN ("Let It Bleed" in particular), and Friday night, this grew out of that idea.

Fragments. Lisa wasn’t in the hospital for long. Her injuries hadn’t been serious. Lucky, the doctors said. A nurse picked up her chart, flipped through the pages, frowned. Mention of a stab wound casually jotted amongst the notation on minor soft tissue impacted by the accident. Obviously, someone had made a mistake. It wasn’t even enough to cause concern. The nurse handed her the forms, she signed them, and her son wheeled her out, through sterile white corridors, the smell of antiseptic and latex gloves burning her nose. Ben was uncharacteristically quiet. Something about the car accident had him shaken. She tried to reassure him. After all, they were fine. But a nearly imperceptible whisper in the back of her mind left her uneasy. It wasn’t anything she could define. It was that feeling you get when you’ve left a light on in an empty house – nagging, persistent. Unsettling. Certain details of the situation didn’t add up. For one, their car hadn’t been damaged. Hell, their car was still at home. In the garage. And they were miles away. Not far enough to cause real alarm, not past state lines, but far enough for it not to make sense. A friend from work had to pick them up in front of the hospital, and when they were asked how it happened, neither of them could answer. The man who had hit them disappeared into the night. No report was filed. If it wasn’t for the aching all over her body and the tenderness in her side, there would be no indication of an accident at all. Her friend told her gravely that Matt had died. It was unexpected, he had also suffered a freak accident. “How horrible,” Lisa said, but she wasn't acquainted with anyone named Matt. Her friend muttered something about shock or temporary amnesia, looked at her kindly, and the subject was dropped. When they got home, they found a living room window broken, along with a chair in Ben's room and other odds and ends. Nothing was missing, though. It didn’t even look like a break-in. It was strange, like everything else had been strange. She called a repair man, the window was fixed, and the house became as ordinary as it had ever been. When Ben nearly cut his foot on a shard of glass embedded in the rug, she practically destroyed that patch of floor, vacuuming it incessantly and digging at it with her fingernails, as if something else was buried there. When she realized this erratic behavior was scaring her son, she pulled herself together. What the hell was going on? She felt like her entire brain was bruised. Work had given her a couple of days off to recover, and she let Ben stay home from school with her. It felt like they both needed a little time, even though there was no clear medical necessity. She took hot baths. Ben played video games. She made spaghetti for dinner and he silently helped her clear the plates. He smiled at her and said an “I love you, Mom,” before she sent him off to bed. And when the time to recoup was over, their schedules settled back in, like clockwork. It was fine. It was normal. It was the life they’d always had, wasn’t it? A week later, she sat in front of the mirror in her room, brushing out her hair. It took twenty minutes before she realized she hadn’t stopped. There was absolutely nothing wrong. That was the problem. When she crawled into bed, she felt incredibly alone. She went to the closet and pulled out an extra pillow. She had no idea why it was even there, but she suddenly wanted it. It smelled like a mixture of Old Spice, whiskey, and strong soap. A hint of cinnamon, tang of ashes. It was a stranger’s smell. Yet she clung to it, the way she’d clung to her stuffed rabbit when she was a child. Something in her desperately wanted to cry, but she held it in. There was no explanation for tears. It was another two days before she found the shotgun. This detail filled her with an immediate sense of fear. Under no circumstances should there have been a shotgun in the damn closet. She’d never even been this close to a shotgun before. Had she? The sight of it was dreadful, but she didn’t quite know how to get rid of it. The solution was to hide the firearm in the back of the hall closet and forget it was there. And she did. She found Ben in his room, listening to his iPod. He pulled out the earbuds when she entered, and something led her to pick it up. He was listening to Zeppelin. What kid his age listened to classic rock? When she asked who had recommended it, he honestly responded that he didn’t know. Like the pillow, and the shotgun, she let it go. They were simply loose threads. That’s when the dreams started. They were nothing at first. A face in her crowded subconscious. When she started seeing it more clearly, the face began to stay with her. In her waking hours, she realized it was the man from the hospital. The guy who’d hit them. The one who’d disappeared. He was nothing to her. She’d barely had a fleeting glance from the hospital bed. But the face…the face wouldn’t leave her. It became a minor obsession. She called the hospital and requested the records, but there was no mention of him anywhere. The nurses had no recollection of a man even being there. She asked Ben if he could remember the man’s name, but he couldn’t. He only had one vivid memory of the man – "You take care of your mom." He hadn’t even come past the threshold of the door, but she remembered. She remembered the cadence of his voice. She remembered the way he smiled at her, intimately, with so much inexplicable sadness buried underneath. She remembered he looked like he hadn’t slept in a year. She remembered the exact shade of green in his eyes, and how they crinkled at the edges. She remembered the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. She remembered he was beautiful. Frankly, she started to wonder if she was losing her mind. She found a shirt buried in a drawer that smelled like the stranger pillow. She laid next to it and finally cried. She cried for hours. She cried until her eyes were raw and her breath was coming in short, stabbing gasps. She cried every single dream, every single flash of an image, every bit of that scent, every syllable of the voice, right out of her body. That was when she forgot altogether. It took another four months for her to find the shoebox. She was rummaging in the top of that same hall closet, the one harboring the fugitive shotgun, in search of an umbrella, in case she needed it the next morning. Rain was slamming against the window panes, the wind was causing tree branches to scrape the glass like phantom fingernails in the dark. A slam made her jump and her flying hand hit the lightbulb, smashing it against the wall. The remains tinkled to the floor softly. Frustrated, she got the dustpan, a stool, and a new bulb. Slivers of glass were swept carefully up and discarded. Standing on the stool, she replaced the broken bulb, and the light from the new one seemed too bright, almost harsh, like sunlight flooding a room that hasn’t been occupied for a long time. She blinked twice before stepping off her perch, and saw the box, tucked away on the top shelf. Something tugged at her memory, and she brought the box down with her. She carried it gingerly to the sofa, as if she was afraid it would explode. She stared at it, lightly tracing the design on the lid with her fingertips. It took her a couple of minutes to decide she was being ridiculous and lift the lid. The scent hit her immediately. The same scent. The pillow, the shirt. Her heart immediately began beating much too quickly. On top was a necklace, a simple charm on a silver chain, something that looked like it would be given in affection. There was a spare car key. The bottom rattled, and she found a few extra bullets. She removed one and held it in her palm, where it felt unnaturally cold. She shivered and dropped it back in its place. Nestled between these metal items, which seemed like symbols of both protection and danger, was an envelope. One of those cheap grocery store envelopes they used when they developed photographs. Gingerly, she pulled it out. She lingered at the flap. Mystery photographs didn’t seem like a good idea. But it was too late not to look. First, there were she and Ben, pulling faces at the camera. Then, one of her alone, sitting on the porch steps. Her own expression was foreign to her, something out of a life she'd never experienced. It made her afraid, and it hurt in a way that she didn’t understand. Then she got to the next picture, and there he was. The boyish grin, the green eyes, the freckles, all of it. The face that had abruptly stopped haunting her dreams was suddenly staring directly at her. The next picture was of the two of them. His arm was around her shoulders. There were pictures of he and Ben. There were pictures of Ben in his truck. This man that had never existed was suddenly all too real. The final photograph in the bunch was of the three of them, smiling, sitting close together, looking like…like a family. Looking complete. The kind of family she and Ben had never quite had. It didn’t make sense. There wasn’t a part of her that could logically comprehend any of this. But every fiber of her being told her it was right, every throb of her heart in her own ears told her what it meant. She took the photo and put it in a frame, and she put the frame on a table, in amongst class pictures of Ben and shots of she and her sister. If she knew anything, she knew it belonged there. She never remembered who he was, nor did Ben. There was no context, no name. Only fragments scattered around the house, cast adrift like little ghosts. They never discussed him. Not really. There wasn’t enough of anything tangible to discuss. There was no reason for the sense of comfort his face gave them. There was no reason, but he became an unspoken talisman, something to believe in. In the corners of their memories and the deepest parts of their souls, he was there. Somehow, he had existed. And he reminded them to live.

#literally took myself out with the last two sentences and they are the sole reason i am posting this #dean winchester #lisa braeden #ben braeden #dean x lisa #deanlisa #when i picture myself happy #supernatural #* #(there are other people i could tag in this but i don't like annoying everyone with my bad writing so know you're here in spirit ♥) #also bc of the absolutely horrific post that was going around about her the other day bc my god she deserves better than this fandom #as does dean the majority of the time given...some of what people write. that post was. ghoulish? i don't even know. idk anymore #friendly reminder that she was a safe harbor and a source of kindness/reason and in no way shape or form deserved what happened #their relationship was flawed and it was fragile and it was doomed because the narrative required it by necessity #but a universe exists where we could have left him there and it would've been more than a tenuous year #they would've continued building that life and he would always have grieved but it would have been very different. we saw how he was w them #when lisa said: 'it wasn't greeting card perfect but we were in it together' and the way he calls their house a 'home' #can anyone ever truly ask for more than that? #can anyone ever ask for more than someone who sees you in despair and still opens their door and arms anyway? #she doesn't demand anything (even though he practically begs her to) and she's an autonomous person. what they experience is real #and when she told him: 'you two have the most unhealthy tangled up crazy thing that i've ever seen.' it feels harsh but she's also right. #the way he calls her 'honey' when she's hurt and you realize he's probably called her that hundreds of times. we just didn't get to hear it #when becky (who i always want to call laurel <3) said in the post about them: #'they were in his bones. they were his family. the only way to get them out was to literally remove him from them like an amputation.' #'she was tangible evidence that dean was his own person with his own thoughts feelings and desires' #dean loves easily and he loves hard. we know that. he craved a home and we know that too. #he was fully capable emotionally and in every other way of living that life and he had decided to try #they were his only road out and for the very briefest time he had that and it mattered. losing them changed him in traceable ways #he chose to live. it was a moment in time but it was his. it was their moment in time. #i realize we're not supposed to think that but also i don't care and i do what i want :)

[unhingeddumbass]

Ben, Kevin and Gwen answer random questions:

DISCLAIMERS: THE QUESTIONS AREN’T MINE, I FOUND THEM IN ANOTHER POST, CREDITS TO OP. I FOUND THEIR BIRTHDAYS IN BEN 10 WIKI, THE CANDLES WERE MADE WITH A BUZZFEED QUIZ AND I’LL PRETEND KEVIN’S DAD WASN’T A FAKE MEMORY, HE WAS REAL, BECAUSE IT WORKS FOR ANSWERING SOME QUESTIONS. I TRIED TO DO THIS BASED ON THE TRIO’S PERSONALITY LIKE THE SHOW AND BEN’S SINGLE BECAUSE I DON’T WANT ANY BEEF AND BECAUSE EVERYONE SHIPS DIFFERENT PEOPLE WITH BEN.

😷Where or with who are you spending quarantine? 

Gwen: I’m staying with Kevin at his mom’s house.

Kevin: What she said lol

Ben: At home with my folks, since Grandpa Max is a risk patient, he’s staying at Galvan Prime with Azmuth. 

✊🏾What’s your position with the current racism tragedy? Are you getting involved in any way? 

Gwen: I’m horrified. I can’t believe we’ve come to such high levels of intolerance and hate and that the government just adds more violence instead of trying to change the situation peacefully. I’ve been getting informed and learning, doing videos teaching people about racism, posted them on my social media so I can try and teach people more. I’m claustrophobic so I don’t go to protests, but I’m supporting from home. 

Kevin: I’m fucking angry. I’ve been at the protests with Ben and we’re trying our best to keep people safe. I’m also working on a piece of tech to cover tear gas before it blows and some bulletproof stuff.

Ben: Like Kevin said, we’ve been on the front with protesters providing help and keeping everyone as safe as possible. Our parents are donating and we’re trying to get the Plumber’s help too, but they said it’s not their jurisdiction. Either way we’re doing our best and we’ll always stand with justice, peace and equality for everyone. 

🐰- do you believe in soul mates?

Gwen: Yaaaas, it’s so romantic! 

Kevin: Uh.. *Looks at Gwen* Only if it’s her. 

Ben: Dafuk’s a soulmate?

💌- diary or journal?

Gwen: A mix between both, I love scrapbooking.

Kevin: Das some soft shit bro *He secretly hides a journal but he’ll never admit*

Ben: Why wasting paper? It’s better to keep everything on the Cloud

💕- are you crushing on someone?

Gwen: Hmm… Patch Cipriano *Kevin glares at her* JUST KIDDING, only you. 

Kevin: This babe right here *Grabs Gwen’s waist and kisses her forehead*

Ben: *Simping* Jennifer Lawrence, Selena Gomez… there’s too many 

💋- kissing in the dark or kissing in the rain?

Gwen: A rainy autumn day *Daydreams*

Kevin: Three words: Dark. Backseat. Lake *Smirks and winks at Gwen*

Ben: *Cringes for the Gwevin moment* Anywhere I guess. 

🍼- what is your favorite memory?

Gwen: Fishing with Grandpa Max and my first karate tournament

Kevin: Buying my car xD

Ben: THAT ICONIC summer vacation, hell yeah

🌸- what is your favorite flower?

Gwen: Yellow roses, ofc.

Kevin: Weed *Gwen elbows him in the chest*

Ben: None, tho I kinda like sunflowers

💖- have you ever been in love?

Gwen: *Looks at Kevin and smiles*, yes. 

Kevin: *Starts singing I’m in Love With My Car by Queen, Gwen glaring at him* Ofc I love you babe, I’m kidding.

Ben: My love belongs to Mr Smoothies

🍰- strawberry or vanilla?

Gwen: Both! Also love coconut.

Kevin: Those are some lame ass flavours, I rather chocolate or blueberries.

Ben: As long as it can be made into a smoothie, I’ll love it.

🍯- describe your favorite smell

Gwen: A new book and a autumn scented candle

Kevin: Gasoline and... *blushes*... Gwen’s shampoo.

Ben: Pickles and chili fries, duuuh. 

🎂- if you had 3 wishes, what would they be?

Gwen: An infinite supply of books, making high education to be accessible to everybody and to reverse the damages the human race has made to the environment.

Kevin: My car to be completely indestructible, free food forever not only for me but to everybody and…*whispering* getting to see my dad at least one last time.

Ben: Infinite chilli fries and smoothies, to stop racism, misogyny and homophobia, and Grandpa Max to be around for a lot of more years. 

🍪- cookie dough or cookies?

Gwen: Freshly baked cookies!

Kevin and Ben: *Screaming* Cookie dough! Salmonella won’t ever stop us!

☕- coffee or tea?

Gwen: Coffee in the winter or at college, tea for relaxing.

Kevin: Bring me the strongest coffee! *Slams fists on table*

Ben: F U C K I N’  S M O O T H I E S 

🍃- would you rather live in a sea with mermaids or a forest with fairies?

Gwen: I can’t choose, I’d love both.

Kevin and Ben: *Smirking with pervert thoughts* MERMAIDS!

🍂- what’s your middle name?

Gwen: Catherine, but I rather being called Gwendolyn instead.

Kevin: Ethan, but dare to call me that and I’ll yeet you into oblivion. 

Ben: Kirby, COULDN’T BE ANY MORE CRINGEEEEEE?

💫- what is your zodiac sign?

Gwen: Cancer (14th July)

Kevin: Scorpio (4th November)

Ben: Capricorn (27th December)

🌧️- favorite thing to do on rainy days?

Gwen: Read, drink tea and listen to calm music.

Kevin: Either I sleep all day or I’ll go to Gwen’s house. 

Ben: Eat, sleep, TV, and rave repeat. 

🍭- how tall are you?

Gwen: 5’6

Kevin: 6’3

Ben: 5’10

💒- which show would you want to live in?

Gwen: The Vampire Diaries or Friends.

Kevin: Law & Order *Screams DUN DUN*

Ben: Summo Slammers!

🎄- what is your favorite holiday?

Gwen: Thanksgiving, because of the family reunion.

Kevin: Saint Patrick’s Day, cuz I have an excuse to get fucking drunk and party

Ben: Christmas! Good food and gifts heck yeah

🍦- what scented candle is your favorite?

Gwen: Warm Vanilla Cookie or Pumpkin Spice.

Kevin: Enchanted Pine

Ben: Citrus Mint

🎶- favorite song right now?

Gwen: Sit Still, Look Pretty by Daya

Kevin: I’m In Love With My Car by Roger Taylor (Queen)

Ben: Human by Cher Lloyd or Game Over by Falling In Reverse

💘- 3 ways to win your heart?

Gwen: Don’t be a dickhead, be supportive, be funny.

Kevin: Respect my space, be brave and plz don’t hate my car

Ben: Be playful, funny and patient of my lifestyle which is very hard

🍩- current mood?

Gwen: Normal, concerned about the pandemic and missing my bff

Kevin: Meh, I don’t go out as often anyway

Ben: I WANNA GO OUT, I HATE QUARANTINE

❄️- what is your favorite season?

Gwen: I like summer but I love autumn

Kevin: I don’t actually mind

Ben: SUMMEEEEEEER 

💍- your current relationship status?

Gwen and Kevin: Taken! *Kiss*

Ben: *Gags and glares at the happy couple* single and enjoying my peaceful life.

🕊️- 3 habits you have?

Gwen: Organizing my books by height, having always my room clean and never leave my house without my earphones

Kevin: The volume on the tv has to be in an even number, my car has to be always well maintained and my phone is mostly on silent or vibration mode.

Ben: Never spend a day without a smoothie, text Grandpa at least once a day or two, and collecting stuff I like.

🦄- how do you perceive yourself?

Gwen: Hardworking, introverted and intellectual

Kevin: I’ve got some roguish charm *smirks* and a little soft sometimes

Ben: Quirky, loud and funny.

🦋- how do you think others perceive you?

Gwen: Some call me golden child or goody two shoes. Probably teacher’s pet too.

Kevin: *Points at Ben* well, he thinks I’m strange and dangerous, so I guess other people think that too, maybe also an asshole.

Ben: A couple people think I’m an egocentric pain in the ass.

🌈- things I find attractive in girls/guys

Gwen: Physical appearance isn’t important, but I love smiles. I like a person who I can be myself with and is honest always. 

Kevin: If a girl is fearless, strong and independent I become a simp for her tbh *Looks at Gwen* That’s how you got me at your feet babe. 

Ben: I really like someone supportive and understanding, also bonus points if they’re not that serious, I want to joke around.  

🍓- one secret about yourself

Gwen: I tend to be a people pleaser and I struggle with standing up for myself around my parents. 

Kevin: I’m a sucker for my mom’s food and I’m actually sensible around the people I care the most about. 

Ben: I’m not as careless and cocky as I pretend to be. Also I secretly love Lady Gaga’s music. 

🎥- what show are you currently binging on?

Gwen: Gossip Girl, bakery shows and Stranger Things

Kevin: CSI and Law & Order, also Pimp My Ride cuz hell yeah old MTV shows

Ben: I mostly watch Summo Slammers but I also like Rick and Morty, Big Mouth and Stranger Things.

💗- who do you miss?

Gwen: My family and my best friend, Emily. 

Kevin: ...my dad. 

Ben: Grandpa Max, no cap. 

🥀- last time you cried?

Gwen: The other day, while we watched A Dog’s Purpose 1 and 2. 

Kevin: I don’t wanna talk about that soft shit

Ben: I had a very lucid nightmare the other day and woke up crying

🔪- scariest/creepiest experience?

All of them: Coming back from death in Legerdomain

#ben 10 #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 omniverse #gwen tennyson #ben tennyson #kevin levin

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 10 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: This part sort of stretched itself a lot further than I originally anticipated, there was so much I wanted to elaborate on that consequently, it’s Part 11 that will feature Mackenzie’s dinner for Duncan, and the fulfillment of his morning promise (hot sex y’all) & the revelation of the special gift (I also decided I wanted everyone to witness that part through Duncan’s perspective, so we’d be privy to his thoughts and feelings regarding what Kenzie did for him and how worried he is about her safety/his desire to soothe her, among other things, and I’m trying to stick to the dual perspective pattern, so). I know this part doesn’t have smut and Duncan isn’t in it very much, but it’s very important to the development of Duckenzie’s emotional trajectory, and it took a long time for me to write it and it was emotional for me. I really loved spending this time with Mackenzie; I did my best to give her room for doubt while also being clear that she is fiercely individualistic and does indeed have a core of strength, even if she can’t necessarily always see that about herself. A lot of new AU versions of AHS APOC characters crept into this: Ben Wilder is obviously Billy Porter/Behold, Precious is Queenie/Gabourey, Zadie is Zoe/Taissa, Anchaly is Ariel/Jon Jon, Candice (my Cordelia AU)’s lost love Mia is Misty/Lily. I’ve toyed with the idea of making Samuel canonically an AU several times, but even though I think of Lance Reddick’s Papa Legba for him sometimes, he’s not really Papa; he’s someone else, my own character. If anyone wants to make fake Instagram edits for Duncan and Kenzie, I’d fucking love that. Please humor me with all the clothes in this one; I modeled the stuff Kenzie picks after things you can actually get on Madewell’s website, for what it’s worth, and I tried to plot out her Georgetown shopping as accurately as I could; there’s both a Sephora and a Dean and DeLuca within short walking distance of the Georgetown Madewell. The prints in Duncan’s living room are Bouguereau’s Dawn, Day, Twilight (Evening Mood) and Night. I made an edit representing the statues of Dike, Nike and Athena Duncan has in his living room here. Here is Ella Fitzgerald’s BEWITCHED, BOTHERED AND BEWILDERED. Nirvana Rose is a scent I wear in the spring; I always planned for it to be Kenzie’s scent of choice (vetiver, geranium and rose are the notes). I have to admit I put a lot of my own thoughts and feelings about money and the fantasy of money in this part; I struggle a lot with feeling guilty about wanting luxurious things in my life, so I sort of channeled that for Kenzie’s shyness about spending money that Duncan wants her to have. Had to finally bring in the fact that Cody and Billie are both Cancers. Kenzie’s lifelong imagining that Persephone loved Hades is my lifelong imagining.

Kenzie ran into the Post, her heart fluttering around in her chest like a butterfly trapped in a net. At home. At home. Her parting words to Duncan danced around in her brain, spinning and swaying. See you tonight--at home. She vaguely registered that she and Duncan had had their breathless conversation, between passionate kisses, on the open sidewalk in view of at least fifteen people milling around outside Franklin Square. At least, she thought. Probably a lot more than that, if I’m being realistic. She remembered the blonde woman snapping pictures of them; remembered the eyes of everyone in Emissary staring at her and Duncan as the woman made a scene. Fuck. She rushed into the elevator, her boots clicking in her ears, her bag smacking against her hip. Fuck, she was late. Fuck. At home. See you at home. I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard. Baby. Angel. His breath on her ear as she woke to his touch, the overwhelmingly hungry look in his eyes--storms, thunder--as she sucked his hard cock, the way he’d grabbed her hand holding the water glass and pulled her close to him, his hands on her thigh and against her ass, looking up into her face with that worshipping glint in his sapphire eyes--

FUCK, Kenzie, focus! You’re late for work!

Kenzie just made the elevator, smacking the button for the 10th floor, squeezing in between four other people as the doors slid shut behind her; she glanced down at her phone, dazed, as she heard it trumpet: Clairebear.

MACKENZIE LOUISE, oh my FUCKING GOD! Duncan is fucking beautiful! I see what you mean about his eyes, they’re like jewels?!?! He’s so tall and his hair like WHAT, how does it do that?? Those women in line ahead of you, what the fuck was that all about? I was absolutely STARSTRUCK with how beautiful you looked together, no wonder they noticed you right away, you were like two movie stars or something. He was so lovely and polite, who the fuck knew??? I’m just speechless!!!! You looked so happy, you were LUMINOUS, like you were glowing, bitch, love looks so fucking good on you!!! And the way he looked at you, like you were made out of moonlight or gold or something, fuck! He’s got it fucking BAD for you, I felt like he was singeing the ends my hair with that energy, I had to drink a glass of water when you guys left, WHOO

Kenzie felt the smile spreading across her cheeks as she read her best friend’s ecstatic text. Oh Claire, she thought, you’re so wonderful. She looked up to check the floor (5) and quickly typed:

Clairebear, I was SO HAPPY you were there, oh my god, I’m just so happy, I never knew I could feel so happy, I’m so glad you liked him, I can’t wait for us all to have dinner!!! He said he liked you immediately! Those women took a picture (I think more than one) of us without asking? It was really weird. They recognized Duncan and got shitty when he asked them to delete whatever they took and that’s when they left. I feel weird about it but we couldn’t really do anything?? Oh Clairebear. I’m in love. I really am. I love you, I’m sorry we had to leave so quickly, I’m so late for work. She added a distraught-faced open-mouthed emoji at the end.

She sighed, as if to let out the weight of the emotion that was enveloping her, threatening to crush her, bouncing on her feet a little as she looked up again; 9th floor. Almost there. She checked the clock on her phone. 9:26. Oh fuck. So late. The doors finally slid open and she jumped out, eyeing her little desk in the corner; glancing from side to side. No Candice in sight. That was good. She started to make a beeline to her desk, head down to avoid eye contact with anyone she might see, when someone stepped in front of her, blocking her path--someone wearing wildly colorful, meticulously tailored pants; she looked up into the severe, unimpressed face of Ben Wilder, the Executive Features editor. He was wearing oversized black-framed cat eye glasses and a blazer made of some kind of iridescently shiny, cobalt-red material, a vintage Hermes scarf tucked meticulously into the black pointed hem vest he wore under it, and he was glaring at her with narrowed eyes behind his spectacles. His dark skin was flawless; Kenzie wondered absently for the hundredth time what kind of moisturizer he used. She doubted he told people secrets as important as that one.

“Miss Stone, I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Hi Ben, lovely morning,” she answered nervously, hand coming up to fiddle with her rose quartz. Ben’s lips were pursed and he looked at her with that appraising, Anubis-weighing-the-scales severity that so unnerved every journalist in at the Post. As Executive Features editor, Ben was in charge of surveying that the quality of the Post was always at a high standard; some at the office said an impossibly high standard with Wilder as the critic. His real passion was for the Entertainment and Arts features, however, and he was infamously thorough and up-to-speed with everything happening in the DC art scene. He also knew every hot bit of gossip about every politician in the District; his knowledge was encyclopedic, and exhaustive. And he was giving her a very knowing look indeed.

“I’ve heard a rumor, dear,” he went on, ignoring her hello, “that you had a very busy weekend.”

Kenzie swallowed, her eyes darting from side to side, plotting an exit, her heart slamming into the bottom of her throat, like a dumbbell was suddenly clattering up and down her esophagus.

“On top of some very interesting photos found on certain online rags since yesterday--photos that have begun to trend on Instagram, I might add--a few more photos have materialized on Instagram in the past hour.”

He was silent for a moment, pursing his lips again, staring at her, his eyes unreadable. Kenzie looked up at him; she knew innately that the time for lies was long past, but she thought, wildly: maybe if I don’t say anything he’ll just disappear in a puff of smoke--

“Care to guess what these photos feature, Miss Stone?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

He pursed his lips further at that, lifting his arm and cradling the elbow against the hand pressed across his torso, holding the fingers out in an open gesture toward her that reminded her of Anubis holding some poor mortal’s heart, about to crush it into dust in his claw. Hers. He leaned down, bringing his face close to hers, his voice lowering conspiratorially, though as he had said himself: there wasn’t much of a secret left to keep, was there.

“Who knew a little thing like you would catch Duncan Shepherd’s eye.”

Kenzie pressed her lips together, trying to keep her expression neutral.

“I want an interview.”

“Ben, I--we’ve only been seeing each other for a few days--”

“Get me an interview and I will make sure your editorial gets to the top of the pile. I’ll ensure that when reviews come up, you’re considered very carefully for opportunities.”

“My editorial--my editorial is--” Kenzie suddenly realized wildly: my editorial is the kind of thing that’s going to make Annette Shepherd’s head turn on her shoulders. For real this time.

“You’re in the hot seat now, Miss Stone. You can’t smooch the heir of Shepherd Unlimited--a 3.5 billion dollar global enterprise trying to unseat the President of the United States--on the open sidewalk in front of a posh bistro and expect everyone to turn a blind eye. I suggest you take a look at the narrative unfolding online and get back to me. Promptly.” He stepped away from her, waving his hand a little behind him with infuriating sass, as if to say: see you soon, honey.

Kenzie watched his cobalt-crimson back retreat, her heart still pounding, her head fuzzy. An interview? Her temples throbbed against her skull harshly. How the fuck am I ever going to convince Duncan to do that? And my fucking editorial, FUCK, I didn’t even think about that. As if I need to add more reasons to the pile that is Annette Shepherd’s fuel to hate my guts.

“Mackenzie.”

Kenzie turned at the sound of her name; Candice stood outside her office in the short north hallway, hand resting on the door frame from whence she had just emerged, appraising Kenzie’s flushed face; today her boss wore a long, rose-colored pleated satin skirt, and a high-collared white blouse with a black ribbon tied in a neat knot falling down the front. Her dark eyes met Kenzie’s, framed by her wavy blonde hair that fell around her shoulders, shimmering in the overhead light; their concern sent an icy dagger coursing down Kenzie’s spine. Oh, here we go.

“Come into my office for a minute, please.”

Kenzie swallowed again as Candice vanished through the doorway, stepping up in resignation. I guess this was inevitable, Kenz, she told herself. Ben isn’t wrong. Clearly you’ve underestimated the difficulties that come with dating a man who is wildly rich, handsome, and reputable. And from a family known for stirring up controversy. Suck it up, buttercup.

She timidly stepped through the doorway of Candice’s office; a long window stretched along the back wall of the room, small ferns and falling ivy on the ledge of it, framing Candice’s golden head in a white glow where she sat behind her desk, which was meticulously neat. Kenzie’s eyes fell down to the gold plaque at the front of it, two gold paperweights shaped like open hands on either side of it: Candice Owens, Editor in Chief, The Washington Post.

“Shut the door and sit down, Mackenzie. Please.”

Kenzie carefully set her satchel down beside one of two lemon-colored upholstered chairs facing Candice’s desk, sitting slowly, her hands coming together in her lap. She felt resigned to whatever Candice was about to say; her brain felt fuzzy and faraway, as if she was observing all of this from someone else’s body, uncaring. At home, a voice whispered behind her ear. See you at home.

Candice looked at her for another long moment, her eyes unreadable. Then she spoke.

“I’m sure you’re aware of this already, but your relationship with Duncan Shepherd is about to become public knowledge.”

Kenzie couldn’t find it in herself to tell Candice anything but the truth.

“It’s only been a few days, but...yes. We’re dating.”

“Then I assume, or I want to assume, that you’ve considered the consequences.”

“I won’t let it get in the way of my work, Candice.”

“As you were late this morning, I’m not sure you’re doing a very good job at convincing me of that so far,” Candice replied, her tone even. She turned her head a little, questioning. “You do realize that Duncan Shepherd is a very controversial figure from a very controversial company led by a very controversial, very manipulative, very wealthy family?”

“Yes.”

“Whether you intend it or not, your relationship with him will bring scrutiny on the Post, and it’s going to change your personal life in serious ways as well. It’s only a matter of time before your name and occupation are spread around online. I anticipate that we’ll need to increase security in the building, which is already tight. Your mother being who she is--a staunch and very public opponent of Annette Shepherd’s political agenda--that’s going to cause a real controversy.”

“I’m sorry, Candice. This was all really unexpected...I didn’t expect us to...”

“Fall in love?”

Kenzie swallowed, blinking at her lovely, poised boss, feeling like she was unraveling under her dark-eyed gaze, feeling as though she were a sparrow under the eye of a falcon. Exposed.

“Anyone looking at those pictures could see it, easily. It’s clear that you are in love.”

Kenzie felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes, to her deep dismay. The idea of crying in front of Candice made her feel mortified; her respect for her boss was all-encompassing, akin to the deep admiration she felt for her mother; she was surrounded by so many incredibly strong women. And here I am, she thought, frustration seeping under her skin. A fucking mess.

“We are,” she whispered, her eyes looking down at her hands, afraid to look into Candice’s face again; unsure she could maintain her composure if she did.

“Mackenzie. Does Madeline know?”

Kenzie nodded; she tried to stifle the sniff that came out of her, but failed. She saw Candice lean to a box of tissues behind the desk, pulling a few out quietly. Her boss leaned over her desk, holding them out to her.

“She’s meeting him tomorrow. I haven’t met Annette yet. I’m terrified.”

Silence hung in the room for a moment; a little bonsai fountain in the corner of Candice’s office mingled with the sounds from the street outside; cars beeping and buses rushing by, pigeons outside the window, vague music, drums coming from the park across the street.

“I loved a woman once,” Candice said, surprising Kenzie, “who was the daughter of a prominent Republican Congressman. Her name was Mia. When I asked her if we could be together, she told me she could never disobey her father’s wishes; like we were living in feudal England. That she loved me; that she wanted to be with me; but that she couldn’t, because it would be a betrayal to her family. And she chose them.”

Kenzie wiped at her cheek, her wet eyes lifting up to her boss’ gentle face. She could see the vague shine that had cast itself over them; Candice too was on the edge of tears, but they didn’t fall; they hovered there, trapped in Candice’s resolve. I’m such a crybaby, Kenzie thought. Candice is so beautiful and so strong.

Her boss paused, then went on.

“Professionally, I have serious doubts about the advisability of your attachment to someone so infamous. Men in this town; they want power, and most of them are willing to crush anyone who becomes an obstacle to that power, Republican and Democrat alike. I don’t know Duncan Shepherd; but I know Annette and Bill Shepherd want one thing and one thing only; complete control of Washington D.C. and by association, the trajectory of this country.”

She paused. Kenzie lowered the tissues to her lap, now damp with the whisper of tears that had threatened her. She looks so beautiful this way, Kenzie thought. She thought of Duncan’s statues; Justice, victory, wisdom; all women. To Kenzie, Candice was a higher being, surveying all of humankind with an omniscient eye; like Cassandra, oracle of Troy, all-knowing, perceiving truth and future alike, cursed with her own sorrow and knowledge.

“But personally, I know what it’s like to be torn away from someone you want more than anything. And I would never presume to dictate the love that extends from one heart to another. Love is boundless and obscure, and it does not follow the petty rules set down by human philosophy.”

Kenzie felt her lip tremble again.

“If you need help, Mackenzie: come to me. Don’t hesitate. Promise you’ll do this.”

Kenzie felt another tear fall down her cheek.

“I will. I promise. Candice...thank you. I...I feel overwhelmed by all of this. I never expected this to happen to me. It feels like I’ve been living inside a dream for days.”

She hesitated, sniffing again. “I can’t help but feel...afraid. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and it frightens me.”

Candice stood; moved around her desk, sat in the chair across from Kenzie, and reached out, her hand grasping around Kenzie’s in her lap, clutching the tissues. Mackenzie immediately felt a small wave of warm comfort wash over her, as thought Candice had lit a match and held it close to her skin; close enough for her to feel it, but not to burn her. The tears immediately dried from her eyes, as though someone had held a blowdryer against her cheeks for a moment.

“Fear? What has a man to do with fear? Chance rules our lives, and the future is all unknown. Best live as we may, from day to day.” Candice smiled at her, squeezed her hands a little, her eyes still shining with that hidden sheen. “Sophocles. Oedipus Rex. I was Jocasta in a production in college. I was awful. But I always loved that line.”

Kenzie smiled back at her, finding herself speechless. I still feel as though you know the future, she thought. I wish you could tell me.

“Back to work, Miss Stone. That’ll be all for now. Keep your wits about you,” and Kenzie thought of her mother, their words clashing together, echoing against each other.

Kenzie nodded, clutching Candice’s hand for a moment. Candice held it, and Kenzie felt that warmth spread through her fingers again; felt flashes of light behind her eyes. And then Kenzie stood, grasping the handle of her satchel, and walked to the door, looking at her boss over her shoulder.

“Leave the door open,” Candice said, and turned away.

Kenzie went to her desk, falling into her swivel chair with a heavy relief. She pulled her Macbook out of her satchel, setting it on her desk and opening it, her article coming up as the screen illuminated. She went to type towards the end of it, and balked. I guess I need to look at Instagram, she thought with another twinge of apprehension making its jagged way through her mind and stomach. She pulled her phone from her satchel, tucking the bag under her desk; as she lifted the phone to her face, the lock screen illuminated and she saw a text from Duncan.

I meant to mention it a few times, but keep getting distracted in you (Kenzie smiled at that). The Shepherd Freedom Foundation Gala is next week. It’s a huge event for the company every year and it has a strict dress code and a theme...my mother wants you to go to her personal stylist to find a dress for it. If you hate whatever he picks out, you don’t have to wear it. But my mother’s being really insistent about you doing a fitting with her. Is that okay?

Kenzie couldn’t stop smiling, despite her twinge of annoyance at the idea of someone else telling her what to wear; Are you asking me to be your date to the Gala, Mr. Shepherd? She typed.

She saw the telltale text bubbles appear under her reply almost immediately.

Yes, please? The theme is Gold in the Darkness: the juxtaposition of light and shadow in the works of the Pre-Raphaelite movement. I chose it, because it reminded me of you.

Kenzie breathed in sharply. Duncan had created the theme around her. The thought stunned her, made her skin feel hot, made her legs and the back of her head tingle. More to get used to, I guess. Whew, Kenzie Lou. Whose life are you living now?

That’s beautiful, baby, she replied. I can’t believe you did that.

Since you’re the only thing I can think about, it seemed natural. His reply popped up immediately. Kenzie imagined him sitting in the back of the BMW or in a meeting or in some gilded interview chair, staring down expectantly at his phone. She loved to think of him so distracted by her, though she felt a twinge of guilt. The drug that was his attention, his gaze, his touch; she wanted more, she couldn’t help it. She wanted him, all of him, his beauty within her sphere always.

I think those women from the coffee shop posted something on Instagram already, she typed, biting her lip. My coworker said something to me as soon as I got into the office. She left her talk with Candice out of it. She felt worried Duncan would be upset about her boss’ concern; there was a part of her that wanted to keep her conversation with the other woman between the two of them for as long as she could. I have to talk to him about it in person, she thought. When I feel less...unhinged.

Fuck, I had a feeling they wouldn’t waste any time, Duncan replied. My mother doesn’t want me to talk about you in interviews yet. She’s worried about the “optics”, her personal obsession in all things. But I don’t care. I love you. Let me know if anything else weird like this morning happens again. I have a feeling it will and I want you to feel safe. I can hire you a private escort as soon as you feel like you need one. And I’m going to send you Samuel’s contact right now; I sent him yours already. Please text him when you’re done with work, he can take you anywhere you need to go. I can take an Uber later. I don’t think you should take the train as often, at least, not for a little while, until the media stuff dies down. And I don’t think it’s going to for a little while.

The distinct iPhone contact bubble appeared under Duncan’s text; Samuel Adebayo.

A wave of dizziness washed over Kenzie again. I don’t think you should take the train as often. She thought of the way the woman had snapped pictures of them, the photos of them on the gossip website. A private escort? It was as if she’d been sucked out of the normal world and sucked into another one, a different timeline where nothing made sense. 

Okay, baby. I feel overwhelmed.

Duncan: I’m here. Anything you need or want from me, tell me right away. This will get easier in time, baby. I promise. I’m already dreaming about how hard I’m gonna make you come tonight. At home.

Her nerves thrilled again. At home. The thought of living at Duncan’s penthouse even sometimes was too dreamlike to even really consider. The fact that she was going to go there tonight with her own key made her feel like her stomach was trying to turn over inside her. She felt goosebumps on her arms again.

I’m dreaming about you too, baby, she typed. She left the lipstick stain emoji at the end.

Kenzie opened the Instagram app on her phone, squinting in apprehension. An alert flashed at the bottom: 2,457 new followers, 1,345 new comments, 567 new likes. Her eyes goggled. What. She hit the outlined heart at the bottom of the screen; she scrolled down; mention after mention of her handle (@kenzielouwho) on several posts made by other accounts. Oh god, they found my Instagram, she thought, closing her eyes for a moment in horror. We found it she’s @kenzielouwho her mom is Madeline Stone omg omg one said. Holy shit remember this this is @kenzielouwho’s mom ripping @duncanshepherd’s mom a new asshole another one said, accompanied by a link. Kenzie clicked it; it led to the infamous YouTube video of Annette storming off the air at C-SPAN after Madeline’s comments. Kenzie went back to Instagram. I don’t know why @duncanshepherd would even be interested in her she’s not even that pretty another one said. Kenzie made a face. Because I guess he should date you instead, she thought, and then immediately felt guilty. Ugh, this is weird. Kenzie went to one of the photos that many of the comments seemed to originate from. It was clearly the account of the woman who had taken the photo of them at Emissary earlier that morning; her handle (@greatpatriotjane, Kenzie winced) was a dead giveaway, accompanied by a photo of her in an American flag bikini and a spray tan. The latest photo was Kenzie and Duncan, of course; they were looking to the side of where she’d pointed the lens, probably towards the other woman in pinstripes, Kenzie tucked under Duncan’s arm, her hair pressed into his leather jacket and falling against her cheek, a tiny frown crossing her features; one of her hands was at her breast, fingers around her rose quartz, the other hand disappeared behind Duncan’s back. Duncan’s hand was around the crook of her elbow, holding her close to him, his expression concerned, his brow furrowed; his black phone rested, forgotten, in his other hand, which was raised slightly, at his torso. We do look nice together. He looks so tall. His hair falls so perfectly. He’s holding me so gently. He’s so handsome. I look scared. That’s accurate. I felt scared. I hated it. God, he’s so beautiful. And he’s holding me.

He’s your boyfriend, Kenzie, of course he is.

Saw @duncanshepherd with his newest girlyfriend at the coffee shop this morning!!! The woman had written below. He’s so sexy in person it’s RIDICULOUS, probably has a new girl on his arm every day!!! Kenzie snorted, biting into her lip. I guess this could be worse, she thought. We look annoyed but we look really good, at least, Duncan does, and I don’t look hideous, and she didn’t know my handle...I guess someone else found that. She went back to her mentions; there was another prominent post that lots of people seemed to have commented on that was more recent; Kenzie went to it (the handle was @geminibabiered; the account photo was a selfie of a girl with long, dark, very straight hair and heavy eye makeup taken in a bathroom mirror). There were several shots of--oh my god, already--she and Duncan standing on the sidewalk outside One Franklin Square a mere hour or so before now, wrapped in a passionate kiss, clearly taken in succession; this one a true kiss, of course, unlike the photo that had been captured of them outside Le Diplomate; Duncan’s hands were around her, in her hair, at her cheek, their mouths open against each other, eyes closed. He’s so much taller than me, Kenzie marvelled. At Franklin Square and @duncanshepherd runs after this girl who just got out of his BMW ahead of him and MACKS ON HER LIKE CRAZY in front of like 20 people, they said something to each other and then she like RAN away from him into the Post building, omg I bet she works there, DUNCAN SHEPHERD fucking a girl who works for the Washington Post like I am REELING the caption read. Fuuuuuck, Kenzie thought. This one is a lot worse. She noticed the comment proclaiming excitement at having found her handle was under this post; couldn’t have been that hard, my photo’s up on the Post website.

She noticed that Duncan had followed her, though, a small silver lining, she thought, smiling at his profile picture. It was professionally shot and black-and-white (he looks like a classic movie star, she thought dreamily), his hair tossed back from his forehead in a perfect cascade, his eyes illuminated but looking off-center, his expression calm and serious, that constant five o’clock shadow prominent (I love that, she thought, I love that stubble, pressing my mouth along its prickly curve, clutching his face there as we’re fucking), wearing one of the high black Oxford collars he was so fond of. Kenzie hit the follow button on his account, scrolling down; some of his posts had to do with the company and the TV show, but most of his posts were a plethora of professionally-shot images, including some from a recent profile he’d done for Esquire (one of him in a long black coat, lounging lazily in a throne-like chair, his hair even more artfully tossed than it normally was, his blue eyes staring off toward unseen subjects, one of him in a thick, dark gray Irish Fisherman sweater, eyes squinted, hand at his lips in that tick he did when he was thinking or nervous, one of him in a well-tailored blazer and band-collared shirt, adjusting his cuffs facetiously, a silver band, like a very simple crown, across his forehead; Duncan Shepherd: Heir Apparent, Prince Presumptive the editorial read). She double-tapped them, the heart floating in front of her, dizzily admiring how ridiculously beautiful he was yet again; I still can’t believe any of this. 7.8M followers, 124 following. She inhaled sharply. 7.8 million followers, holy shit. Millions of people to critique her. Millions of people about to leave a comment that said she “wasn’t even that pretty”. Fun shit, Kenzie, a real hoot. You’ve really put your foot in it now.

She noticed he’d gone through the past few months of her photos and liked most of them; especially the ones of her laughing or smiling, or of her outfits or her plants, anything that was really her. On one photo of her (one Claire had taken of her at Emissary at the end of the previous summer, on a balmy September afternoon, under the canopy of their outdoor seating; Kenzie wore a white sundress and a light gray sweater that was falling off one shoulder in it, looking off to the side, a frosty Aperol spritzer in front of her, her hair down and wind-tossed, a little rose-gold moon pendant at her throat, a faraway smile on her face; Clairebear always takes the best pictures of me, she’d written for the caption, followed by the celestial sun face emoji), Kenzie noticed he’d left several heart-pierced-by-an-arrow emojis. She realized this was the first time she’d seen him use emojis; they were never in his text messages. His comment already had hundred of likes; she didn’t dare look at the comments under it. But it was as if she could feel the tenderness with which he’d looked through her posts, and it made her chest feel warm and hazy. She felt her cheeks glowing; she brought a thumb to her mouth, teeth biting her nail in her shyness. Deep into the funnel of love, she thought, unprompted. She shivered a little. The last time she had looked at her profile, she’d had 400-some followers; now, she had over 3,000, and counting. Fuuuuuck. Don’t even look at the comments, Kenz. Don’t do this to yourself.

Kenzie set her phone down on her desk, pressing her fingers into the corners of her eyes where she’d started to feel the low pressure of a migraine. Suddenly, she turned her phone over and shoved it away from her, shaking her hair back. Fuck this, she thought. I have work to do. To hell with Instagram. And to hell with Annette Shepherd for that matter. I refuse to be afraid of her. And fuck any-fucking-body who wants to try to tell me I’m not good enough, pretty enough, or ENOUGH for Duncan Shepherd. I am. I’m fucking great. Sun shines out of my ass. She turned to her Macbook, reading the last few lines she’d written: the prevalence of PAC donors manipulating political narratives and candidates is a serious problem in American politics, and new policies must be enacted to ensure upcoming elections are just and fair to all candidates, regardless of their ability to receive funding from wealthy donors. Good, Kenzie thought. Now, keep going. She got to work, leaving her phone face-down, determined not to look at it again until her article was finished. Or maybe never again, she thought, feeling a wave of nausea climb up the wall of her stomach.  Maybe social media isn’t going to be fun anymore. So to hell with that too.

------

Kenzie rubbed her eyes. She’d just hit send in the email containing her finished article to Ben and Candice. She looked over at her phone, which was still face-down, hesitating. She’d eaten lunch without looking at it; gone back to writing without looking at it; left it on her desk every time she took a bathroom break. It’d taken all her resolve (what if Duncan texts me), but going on Instagram had shaken her badly; it had made a realization sink into the pit of her that she hadn’t really come to terms with yet. Your life is going to be different now, Kenzie Lou. And she wasn’t sure how to deal with that. She had always loved and appreciated privacy; had decided on a tiny apartment so she could avoid living with roommates; felt shy when she was the center of attention, and cried easily. How am I going to be this other person, she thought. This person dating the heir to billions of dollars; this person with thousands of Instagram followers, this person who has her picture taken by strangers in public places. I should call Momby. But as soon as she had the thought, she pushed it away. If she called her mother already, Madeline would say I told you so. I told you this man wasn’t right for you. And Kenzie couldn’t listen to that. Duncan was right for her; she felt that in her bones, in the pit of her gut, in the center of her heart. It was all this other stuff that was frightening and upsetting to her; not him. Not Duncan. He was her calm oasis in the scorching desert; her little island on a stormy sea, her blanket to hide under in the thunderstorm. When he was near her, her soul nestled into peace and joy and desire. It’s the best feeling I’ve ever had, she thought. Like going home after a long day and falling into bed, listening to rain fall outside your window. Only, it’s a person. My person.

She turned her phone over. Two texts. One from Duncan, one from Clairebear.

Duncan: I love the photos on your Instagram, they’re so beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you are. I saw the video and the photo that woman took. It doesn’t matter; don’t read the comments if you can help it, it’s all nonsense. This will all mellow out soon, don’t worry too much about it, it’s just something new for people to latch onto, and people get distracted easily. Let me know if you need anything from me. I can’t wait to see you in a few hours. I love you.

Kenzie felt a wave of warmth spread over her as she read it. Beloved, she thought, the word seeping into her as if it had drifted out of a dream. He is my beloved. I can see his hidden soul and it’s beautiful beyond all description. Her hands shook as little as she replied. I’m okay, it’s just disorienting. I love those Esquire photos of you so much (here she inserted the heart-eyes emoji). I finished my article, I’m going to send Samuel a message in a minute and go to Georgetown to get some stuff to make for dinner and some clothes and toiletries to keep at your house. It will be such a relief to see you...at home. I love you too.

She read the other text from Claire.

Clairebear: You’ve probably seen Instagram already, but holy shit, what a hot mess. Just don’t look at it if you can help it, some people are insane. I love you and I’m here if you need anything from me.

She felt another warm hand clutch around her heart. I’m so lucky, she thought. To be loved so genuinely by the people in my life. I’m so lucky to have these people to love. I’m grateful.

Thanks, Clairebear, she replied. You are a darling to me and I appreciate you every day. I’m gonna stay off Instagram for a few days, I think. I looked at it this morning and it freaked me out, haha. Duncan seems to think it’ll calm down eventually, so I’m following his lead here. He’s way more used to stuff like this than I am. He gave me a key to his apartment and an expense account, I’m just...he wants me to keep stuff at his penthouse. I still feel like I’m trapped in a dream. This is all so surreal.

Kenzie texted her mother next.

Momby, Duncan and I would like to have dinner with you tomorrow night at Busboys and Poets. Is 7 PM okay? We can pick you up or we can meet you there, whatever you want to do. He’s really looking forward to meeting you. I love you to the moon and back, she added; a phrase they’d used with each other since she was a little girl.

She took a deep breath, setting the phone down. She closed her Macbook, slipping it into her Margaux satchel; she noticed as she did that she must have put Duncan’s cardigan absently into her bag at some point between last night and today, because it was stuffed in the bottom. She pulled it out carefully, shaking it a little, pulling it around her shoulders. You can do this, Kenz, she thought. Just pretend it’s a game, like when you were little. You’re Princess Diana; you’re calling your magical car to take you to the movie theater, the imaginary one with endless pizza.

She was about to text Samuel under the number Duncan had given her when she noticed some of her coworkers milling around by the windows against the east wall of the office; staring down onto the street with curiosity on their faces, whispering to each other, some of them glancing over at her. She stood up and walked over to them; Ben gave her another coy, perturbed look with his lips pressed, as if he knew something she didn’t; he walked away from her as she approached him, waving a hand behind him again, before she could ask him what everyone was staring at. She looked after him, frustrated, an exasperated noise falling out of her. She noticed Precious and Zadie, two of her coworkers, talking in low voices to each other a few feet away, both of them staring out the window in concentration.

“Hey, Precious, hey Zadie--what’s going on? What are you looking at?” She felt suddenly afraid to peer out the window from the way Ben had reacted to her.

Zadie didn’t say anything, giving Kenzie an odd look, one that was sort of a mixture of pity and nervous excitement, her long, straight hair falling down her shoulders, her arms crossed under her little breasts, her lips closed. Precious gave Kenzie a look of vague annoyance and disbelief, one of her hands coming around to play with the big golden lion pendant around her neck. She nodded at the glass. “Kenzie, see for yourself. This is obviously for you.”

Kenzie bit her lip, set her nerves, and looked out.

Near the entrance of One Franklin Square, she could see the clustered heads of a group of probably twenty reporters with recorders and microphones, huddled on the sidewalk as if they were a pride of lions gazing carefully on unsuspecting antelopes at a waterhole, laying in wait. Oh shit. The press had found her.

“Fuck,” she breathed.

“Unfortunately, it would seem, kissing Duncan Shepherd in full view of a Tuesday morning crowd at one of DC’s busiest parks has some consequences,” Precious said, not unkindly. She looked at Kenzie knowingly, then turned, walking back to her desk, the graphic tee she wore flashing its cheeky mantra at Kenzie as she went; If you can’t handle the heat, the front said, and Kenzie watched her back retreat; get your face out of my oven. Zadie gave her another quiet, sympathetic look. “Maybe Candice will know what to do?” she said. Her brown eyes flickered over Kenzie with that same mixture of pity and odd thrill. It was clear Zadie couldn’t help but find this sort of exciting, and Kenzie envied her coworker’s ability to see it as an outsider; they aren’t here to follow you out the door, Kenzie thought. You get to observe and go home as usual. She wasn’t upset with Zadie for this; on the contrary, she felt a wave of envy wash over her. That sense of anonymity seems to have slipped away from me overnight, she thought. And now I’m not sure who this new girl is; the girl these reporters are waiting for.

She walked away from Zadie, feeling oddly disembodied, towards Candice’s office; Zadie’s eyes followed her as she went, curious. Kenzie rapped carefully two times. “Come in,” she heard Candice’s kind voice call out.

“Candice, I’m sorry,” Kenzie said, stepping into her boss’ office for the second time that day, meeting Candice’s warm eyes with alarm seeping out of her own. “But...I need your help already.”

------

With Candice’s help, Kenzie had managed to slip out through the back entrance; this one was usually reserved for delivery trucks, with a long ramp that slanted down, trash and recycling bins lined up against one side of the concrete. She’d texted Samuel less than ten minutes before; and here he was, to her vast, wild relief; the BMW idled on the corner quietly, its tinted window betraying nothing of the tranquil interior to the occasional pedestrian on the side-street. Kenzie stepped quickly down the ramp from the backdoor from whence she’d just emerged, looking carefully from side to side, hoping against hope; she’d almost made it to the car when she heard a loud voice to her left, a bark of sound that made her jump, her eyes darting in the direction it had come from.

“Miss Stone, Miss Stone! Mackenzie Stone!” A man in casual clothing, a smattering of beard around his face and the shiny pate of his balding head reflecting the late afternoon sunlight, was walking briskly in her direction, holding a camera carefully on his shoulder; he was flanked by a woman in a tight champagne-pink pencil skirt and blazer, and it was her sharp voice that Kenzie had heard; she was holding out a microphone, the kind Kenzie had used herself for press conferences and soundbites outside courtrooms, but the image of one being pushed towards her was odd and alien, and she balked, her eyes freezing on them. Her blood froze, and she suddenly felt as though she couldn't move; the microphone came under her and she shied away from them, her body singing with adrenaline almost immediately; she felt nauseous and panicked for an instant, and then she saw Samuel stepped out of the car, oh thank god, and his strong, warm arm was coming around her, and he was opening the backdoor of the BMW and pushing her gently inside, the man with the camera still trying to angle it onto her (“Miss Stone, are you and Mr. Shepherd romantically involved? Are you privy to the Shepherd Unlimited corporation and its assets? Are you engaged? What are your feelings about President Underwood?”, the woman’s sharp voice was ringing in her ears), and Samuel barked at him to step back (he did with an alarmed look; Samuel was at least a foot taller than him); the door shut with a sharp click and she could see them pressing against the dark window, trying to see inside, the woman still pressing the microphone into the window, the man still angling the camera on it; she could still see them but they could no longer see her through the tinted glass, and Samuel was suddenly, with supernatural swiftness, back in the driver’s seat, his foot on the gas, accelerating away in a blink.

----

“Miss Stone, are you alright?” Samuel’s eyes peered over the rearview at her, his brown eyes concerned and full of empathy. He was driving carefully, smoothly now; the last few minutes had been a blur as Samuel weaved through the narrow streets with an alarming agility; he was losing anyone who might try to follow us, Kenzie thought in a daze, but they were now heading south towards Georgetown, according to the GPS, at a much more measured, casual pace.

Kenzie was breathing slowly in the backseat, her fingers clutching the strap of her satchel with white hands; staring off into space. Her attention floated back from the nether into which it had drifted; adrenaline crashed down through her, and she noticed she’d started to shake. She noted, vaguely, that soft music drifted from the speakers; bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I / couldn’t sleep and wouldn’t sleep….when love came and told me, I shouldn’t sleep…

“I...I think so…” she murmured softly. She put her satchel at her feet, feeling for her phone; her hand closed around its smooth rectangle, and she felt relief flood through her. She held it in her lap, gazing down at it in a stupor; Duncan had texted her again.

Did you text Samuel? I’ll be in a meeting for another hour or so, and then I have to pick something up. I should be home by 7:30. I’m so excited to have dinner. At home. With you.

Kenzie looked dazedly at the time; it was just after 4:30.

There were a bunch of reporters waiting outside the building when I tried to leave work, she replied. My boss helped me through the back door, but two of them still found me. Thankfully Samuel was there, but I think they got me on camera. I don’t know who they were with. I’m okay. Samuel was wonderful. I’ll be so relieved to see you, baby.

“Samuel?”

“Yes, Miss Stone?”

“Please call me Mackenzie.”

“Of course, Miss Mackenzie. I would love to. Where should we go, Miss Mackenzie? This car is yours now, like it is Mr. Shepherd’s. I’m at your service, as I am at his.”

Kenzie hesitated, feeling disoriented. Her head was pounding.

“Miss Mackenzie,” Samuel went on, softly. “This will get easier. Duncan cares very deeply for you. I have seen it; I know it is true. You can trust him. He is cradling your heart in his hands. You have kindled the desire for life in him. Through love, all things are possible.”

Kenzie closed her eyes for a moment; Ella’s voice washed over her. I’m in love and don’t I show it / like a babe in arms…

“Thank you, Samuel. Thank you for your help back there. I was absolutely terrified.”

“I am here for you now, Miss Mackenzie. There is nothing to fear. Now, where do you want to go? I will take you anywhere.”

“Georgetown is okay, Samuel. I just need to go to Dean and DeLuca to get some things for dinner, and some of the clothing shops. It shouldn’t take too long. Thank you so much.”

“Miss Mackenzie, whatever you want, it is a pleasure. Mr. Shepherd is lucky to have you; I will do whatever I can to help him make you happy.” Kenzie smiled at him sweetly through the mirror; she felt full to the brim with emotion, far beyond words.

“I wish I could talk to him now,” she whispered softly.

“He’s with you. You will bring each other strength. This time of turmoil will be brief; your life will be long.”

Kenzie nodded a little, feeling the telltale stinging of tears in her eyes again. Someday, she mused,  I’ll have cried enough. Someday, I’ll be done crying. But not yet.

-------

Samuel was an excellent chauffeur (of course he is, Kenzie thought); he pulled up smoothly to the side of Wisconsin Avenue, hopping out of the driver’s seat and opening the door for her, holding out his hand. “Miss Mackenzie, do you want an escort?”

Kenzie shook her head, as much to decline as to clear the residue of tears from her head and her cheeks, and stepped from the backseat of the BMW, clutching her satchel and his hand as she got out. “No thank you, Samuel. I really want to do this alone, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is, Miss Mackenzie. Please let me know when you need me; I’ll be nearby.”

She smiled up at him, nodding. He smiled back at her, giving her hand a little squeeze before he let go, stepping back around the car into the driver’s seat, and accelerating away from her slowly. She slipped her phone into one of the pockets of her long skirt, bringing the strap of her bag around the crook of her elbow. The sun was still out, steady and strong in the late May sky; dreamy cumulus clouds scudded over it every now and then, and the sapphire of the heavens behind them reminded her of Duncan’s eyes; everything reminds me of him now, she thought. Colors, smells, the touch of his cardigan against her arms. I want to feel his faith that everything will be fine. So I’ll pretend I feel it. I’ll pretend I’m confident, despite all of this. I will pretend I’m strong.

She breathed deeply; then she stepped toward the open entryway of the nearest shop; it was a Madewell, the May breeze coasting behind her through the blue doors which were thrown wide to the perfect weather. Kenzie knew her own style and taste well; it didn’t take her long to find outfits she loved that she knew would suit her; of course, the idea of an unlimited budget was one she wasn’t familiar with, and she couldn’t deny it was thrilling. A girl could get used to this, too. She perused the brick-lined walls with a careful precision. She’d loved clothes all her life; she could see how much Duncan loved and appreciated them as well, and her skin tingled thinking of the way he’d gazed over every outfit she’d worn around him thus far; the thought of him admiring her in anything she chose today was electrifying; the memory of his eyes on her like that made her feel drunk. She thought of the clothes she was choosing hanging in his walk-in closet, beside his perfectly pressed, perfectly tailored black clothing, and shivered a little. Together. She found a strappy, hemmed denim dress that fell to her ankles; a slip dress in a color that reminded her of grapes in sunlight; a long black chiffon dress with short sleeves and a slit up the side, covered in tiny flowers; a sweater dress with buttons down the sleeves; her thoughts drifted towards oncoming summer, choosing short denim skirts and velvet cami tops, a denim bell-sleeve top with a wrap around the middle that reminded her of a shirt her mother wore in a photo (taken in the 70’s) that was tucked into Kenzie’s bathroom mirror; a black top with a front-tie, and several mock neck crop tops with long sleeves in several colors; gray, mulberry red, dark brown. She picked up a pair of black suede boots and a pair of darkly tan leather Reagan boots; boots go with everything. She found a long necklace with tiny stars; two tiny chain bracelets with moons; little rose-gold earrings that reminded her of her succulents, and a slim black convertible bag with a gold-button clasp that she thought would be perfect for going out on evenings. Everything she picked was personal; a reflection of her.

She piled the things on the counter; the girl behind it had long dark hair tied back in a casual braid, and a warm stare. She was looking at Kenzie with a funny expression, though her smile was friendly.

“Did you find everything okay?” She asked.

“Yes, thanks,” Kenzie smiled back at her. She pulled her long black wallet from her satchel; suddenly, she felt nervous about using the card Duncan had given her. Ever since she’d gotten her job at the Post as a staff writer, she’d gained a sense of pride in using her own money; money she’d earned herself, with her writing. Using someone else’s felt strange. Then, Duncan’s voice floated into her head. Everything is okay. It makes me happy to give you these things. Please, accept them? She pulled the card out of her wallet, gripping it firmly.

The girl quoted the price to her; it was over $900 for everything she’d picked out. Kenzie handed her the card, her lips pressed firmly together. The girl swiped the card, but not before Kenzie noticed her eyes go wide from glancing at the name, a long receipt printed out.

“I thought you looked familiar.”

Kenzie felt her blood chill in her veins.

“I--I saw that video on Instagram,” the girl said, putting Kenzie’s clothes carefully into two white shopping bags with Madewell in black lettering along the side. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so nosy, shit. You’re so lucky. He’s, like, the hottest guy ever. Good luck with everything, really.”

Kenzie blushed deeply, unsure of what to say. Today is the weirdest day of my life in a long string of weird days, she thought. “Um, thank you.” The girl passed the bags to her, shyly looking back at the register, clearly embarrassed. Kenzie turned, feeling disoriented again, and walked out of the shop. Back on the street she let the sun fall on her, warming her skin; just breathe, Kenzie Lou, her mother’s voice drifting into her mind again. She draped the Madewell bags over her arm, her satchel slung over her shoulder. She felt dizzy with the money she’d just theoretically spent. Don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this, she thought. And every piece of clothing in Duncan’s closet costs as much as I just racked up.

Kenzie turned the corner, walking up to where she knew she’d find a Sephora; make-up is so fucking expensive, she thought. I’ve lived on ramen for days to buy hair products and foundation. She perused the perfect lines of lipstain and eyeliner, picking out her standards; it would be a relief to have makeup and face wash and a hairbrush at Duncan’s penthouse, at least, if she was going to be there constantly (in various states of undress and dishevelment, she thought, unable to suppress the giggle that bubbled up). She picked up a full-size bottle of Nirvana Rose, her favorite scent, relishing the feeling of it in her hands; she only ever bought the roller-balls, it was so expensive. She imagined it sitting beside Duncan’s bottles of cologne in his giant bathroom with a thrill. Together. She imagined her hairbrush on his sink, her toothbrush next to his, her shampoo and conditioner in his (fuck) shower beside his. Together. It made her feel absolutely high. Knowing he wanted her things there. Knowing he wanted her there.

Kenzie had one more stop to make; she carefully perused the shelves of Dean and DeLuca, the fanciest grocer’s she had ever been to and normally could not begin to afford. She had been planning the dinner she’d make in her head since she came up with the idea to cook for Duncan; cooking was something that gave her a lot of peace of mind and comfort, and she felt, somehow, that she wanted to give this to him; she wondered how long it had been since someone who loved him had made him food. It was something her mother did for her all the time; something that made her feel close to her mother, something that gave her comfort, soothed her. She could see the ways that making food for someone was like telling them she loved them; this is for you. I made it for you, because I love you. It will nourish your body and bring you joy and I made it. Despite the difficult trajectory of her day, Kenzie felt innately that having a meal together would be healing for both of them tonight; unlike the prying eyes of the patrons of Le Diplomate, this would be just the two of them, with no one to spy. The thought filled her with relief, flowing through her body like the first hit of a bowl of good weed. Alone, together.

Once she was finished, she texted Samuel, trying to juggle a half a dozen bags in her arms now; as was his way, he pulled around within minutes to where she stood on the sidewalk outside the posh grocer’s. He immediately jumped out to help her with all her bags; she smiled at him, thanking him warmly. This man is so wonderful, she thought, sending out all the warm energy she could muster towards Samuel’s back bent over the BMW’s trunk, where he carefully placed her assorted bags. I already trust him with my life.

It only took a few scant minutes to make it back to Duncan’s high-rise from where she’d been shopping; its glittering facade was very still in the afternoon sun, and the street was surprisingly quiet. Samuel pulled up quietly to the curb, hopping out again to pull her door open; “Miss Mackenzie, please go inside, I will be up with the bags shortly. Don’t you worry.” Kenzie hesitated, feeling self-conscious, tucking stray hairs behind her ear; she glanced at her phone. It was almost 6.

“Okay. Do I need to tell the doorman anything?”

“Miss Mackenzie, they will know who you are. Duncan has told them everything.”

She balked at that. Told them everything. I hope not. She blushed.

----

Kenzie stepped into the building; a tall, portly, middle-aged doorman opened it for her, nodding to her politely. She felt odd, being there alone. The foyer was spotlessly clean, everything in gilded gold and polished marble. Another man sat at the front desk; he was short with closely-shaved hair and a tiny moustache, his slender eyes indicating his Asian lineage. He was deeply absorbed in a copy of Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. Kenzie approached him quietly, one hand clutching the strap of her satchel against her shoulder, the other buried in one of the pockets of her long skirt.

“I’m...going up to Mr. Shepherd’s penthouse.”

He glanced up at her, a gentle smile falling across his face. “I’m Anchaly. You must be Mackenzie Stone. Very good, Miss Stone. If you ever need anything, please let me know.”

“I’m a Cancer, you know,” she replied.

“I’m sorry?”

“That book you’re reading. My zodiac sign is Cancer.”

“Ahhhh. Children of the moon.”

She laughed at that, surprised. “I suppose so, yes.”

“Mr. Shepherd is also a Cancer. How fortuitous. Two moon children in love.”

She blushed. Two moon children in love. “Today has been a very strange day.”

“I find that strange days are often the best days, in retrospect.”

“It was nice to meet you, Anchaly.”

“Likewise, Miss Stone.”

Anchaly leaned back down towards his book; she stepped away from the counter. I’m not one to disturb a reader twice, she thought, walking over to the gold-embossed elevators and pressing the up arrow. She thought of the night she’d first come here with Duncan; both of them locked in a passionate embrace, locked in the passionate feeling of each other’s energy, locked in the moment. Who would have thought it’d become something so real? She thought. Who would have thought something so impulsive would become...what it’s becoming. Her heart shivered. Who would have thought I’d fall in love with him this way. She stepped inside, letting the doors slide shut behind her; staring at herself for a moment in the full-length mirror against the wall; her eyes looked tired, small dark circles vaguely visible under them, her eyeliner beginning to smudge. She brought a hand to the rose quartz at her neck for the hundredth time that day; for love, she thought. Duncan’s penthouse was at the top of a 30-story high-rise. She pressed the 30 button (it was silver with black numbers), knowing full well his penthouse was the only residence on that floor. It made her shiver a little again. She pulled her wallet out again, fingers falling over the credit card he’d given her for a moment before moving on to the keycard; she pulled it out, studying it. It had a another silver 30 on it, and the name SHEPHERD, DUNCAN in silver Garamond lettering beside the numbers. The card was jet-black with a strip on the opposite side; other than these features, the card was blank. It was heavy in her hand, made of some kind of metal (titanium, maybe...like that Black AmEx Duncan has). It felt expensive, like the card alone had cost a lot of money. It probably did. She was gazing at it still in the elevator’s warm golden light when the doors slid open on the 30th floor.

Kenzie stepped out towards Duncan’s long black door, thinking again of a few nights ago when he had fumbled the key there; her arm reaching out to steady him, her lips pressing against him. Where did all that bravery go? She wondered. I could use a bourbon now, honestly. She held the card out to the slot beside Duncan’s door, annoyed with herself when she saw her hand shaking; as if you’ve never been here, she said to herself. She pulled at the small gold knob and stepped inside as a low beep rang out; closing the door behind her, breathing out slowly, carefully, her eyes falling on the pristine quiet of Duncan’s apartment.

Being here alone was odd; she felt like an intruder, as though she was here without anyone’s permission, though she knew deep down that wasn’t true. She was struck yet again by how beautiful everything he owned was; how elegant and pristine and quiet and exquisite. She moved past the vast kitchen, the diamond-drop chandelier winking at her; into his huge front room with its low leather couch and the silent, watchful eyes of the three statues (Dike, the goddess of Justice, lifting her scales, Nike, goddess of Victory, headless and winged, Athena, goddess of Wisdom, in her battle armor) on three separate corbels, two against the wall of the study, one against the wall leading to the bedroom; the wall that she faced there was made entirely of one long sheet of weather-proof, bullet-proof glass, the view she’d neglected to admire the last few times she’d been in this room, too lost in the weight of Duncan to care about anything else. She walked up to it now, gazing out on the nation’s capital city. In the daylight, it was mostly smatterings of white and cream with patches of trees, gray against the blue and white of the sky. She supposed that if she ever remembered to look, it must be magnificent at night, with the city spread out in glittering electric lights. She turned to look at Nike, who was closest to her; she trailed one hand over the back of the statue’s left wing, loving the coolness of the marble stone under her hand. Three women, powerful and wise. She loved these statues; that Duncan had them displayed so prominently in his home was of some comfort to her. She had no doubt that he admired strong women; his fierce love for his mother most evident. Having been raised by a mostly-single mother herself, she wondered if it wasn’t so much of the reason he had turned out the way he had; with a hidden depth of feeling, a hidden shine of the soul, one that extended beyond his (admittedly overwhelming) physical beauty. She hoped again, in her own silent way, that she and Annette could find a way to be friends; find some meeting of the minds, at least when it came to Duncan. We both love him, she thought. At least we have that in common.

On the wall that faced opposite Duncan’s study was a series of four paintings of identical size in gold frames, and unlike The Youth of Bacchus, these seemed to be high-quality prints rather than the originals (I guess most of these paintings actually hang in museums, she thought); she had noticed them before, that first morning, (Pre-Raphaelites, she had thought then, and they were), but studied them more carefully now; each was a woman who appeared to represent a different time of day, the first with long red hair, bathed in soft lights with plants growing behind her (the morning, Kenzie thought), the next floating in sunlight, holding a branch out to a bird, leaves in her hair (the day), and then next, she with her pose of ecstasy, the waters of the sea at her feet, a moon rising behind her (twilight) and then she bathed in shadow, her mantle black, storm clouds behind her (the night). Kenzie loved them immediately and fiercely; goddesses of nature and time, she thought, a hand reaching out towards she of the Twilight; towards the moon that hung over her head. For women create all things.

Kenzie moved through the door to Duncan’s study, holding her breath; then she turned and gazed, eyes widening, at the beauty that was The Youth of Bacchus, in all its real splendor. Looking at it sober, she still somehow felt drunk on it. She could see the ridges and bumps of Bouguereau’s paint; see the brushstrokes around the eyes of the revelers, the skin of the maiden in the center, white and bare. Oh for the hundredth time today, she thought, feeling her tears. But she couldn’t help it. It was perhaps the most beautiful object she had ever seen. The thought of seeing it every day; of being near it, living beside it, moved her utterly. She turned away from it, toward his bookcases stretching along the walls behind the desk; they encompassed all genres, but she noticed that many of them were mythology books. Of course, she thought. I can see how much it means to him. I can see it in his house and behind his eyes and I can feel it. Justice, victory, wisdom. Three women; trios are always a pantheon of power. Like the Fates. Like Hecate in her shades. Like the Moon; waxing, full, waning. She thought back on her own studies of Greek mythology; she’d poured over the book by the D’Aulaires’ in the library for months the year she was 13; she’d read Bullfinch’s Mythology in high school and The Odyssey in college. She thought (drifting) of Hades stealing Persephone from the earth, bringing her down to the dark Underworld; in many versions of the tale, they called it The Rape of Persephone, an act against her will. But Kenzie had often imagined that secretly, hidden in the annals of time, lost somewhere, Persephone loved Hades; loved his dark sadness and his eyes like blue fire, loved his crown of curls, his dark cloak, his hands, his gentleness. As a girl she often imagined Persephone didn’t return to the Underworld because she had eaten Pomegranates; but that she returned because she loved him, loved him and could not choose between her mother and the bright flowers of the living, and her husband and the dark flowers of the dead. She thought of Duncan; his serious gaze, his eyes piercing through her like thunder; his lips pressed to her like the fervent whisper of a prayer; my own Hades, lost in his Underworld, only this one hovers above the masses in its own special limbo. And in that moment she did feel torn; torn between him and the world she felt she was leaving behind, whether she meant to or not. She went over to the little polished mahogany bar cart beside the wine case that stretched along the corner, admiring the Tiffany lamp on the shelf beside it, Duncan’s spotless turntable; she took one of the crystal tumblers and her eyes traveled over the bottles there, eventually choosing the spherical shape of Angel’s Envy bourbon, pouring a finger into the tumbler, bringing it to her lips, and sipping, slow, savoring the taste, moving it under her tongue. It coursed through her, down her throat; it filled her tired mind with heat, soothing her, and suddenly, she ached for the night to come and her lover to return to her. Today was a long day, she thought. And I long for him. She went to the turntable; a Beethoven record was sitting on it, the needle hovering just above. She pressed a button on the side of it, and the needle dropped; Moonlight Sonata, she thought. I love this one. I love that he was listening to this.

She gazed for a moment longer at Bacchus, bathing in the silence, relishing the sound of the music; the curtains in this room were light-tight, the better to preserve the priceless painting, she assumed; then she heard the front door of the penthouse open, and she went out of the study, the tumbler still cradled in her hand, to see Samuel stepping into the kitchen with her many parcels; he set the Dean and DeLuca bags on the kitchen counter, then moved through the living room to set her other bags on Duncan’s low leather couch; he nodded to her, smiling, then turned to leave.

“Samuel.”

He turned back, his brown eyes dancing.

“Yes, Miss Mackenzie.”

“Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. For everything.”

“Miss Mackenzie...it is my honor. Be well and be happy. I will see you again soon.”

He smiled a little; his eyes seemed to fall into him, deeper, stranger, like a universe unfolding and widening; Moonlight Sonata resounded in her ears, extending the moment. Than he nodded a little to her, turned, and walked to the door, closing it softly behind him.

Kenzie sipped from the tumbler again; lost in thought, in the fading light. Then, she went into the kitchen, flipping the switch on the wall so the diamond-drop chandelier burst into luminescence; she set the tumbler on the counter, and got to work on the grocery bags beside her; she reached up into Duncan’s cupboards, struck with excitement at his beautiful kitchenwares; only a man who cooks for himself has all of this, she thought. She hummed as she worked; and slowly, the light of day faded, and the light of the city came up, in the evening mood.

#millory #millory au #duncan shepherd #cody fern #billie lourd #duncan shepherd au #collie au #collie #cody x billie #house of cards au #body and soul #my fic #michael x mallory #duncan x mallory #duckenzie #duncan x mackenzie #duncan shepherd x mackenzie stone #ahs apocalypse #house of cards

[wickednerdery]

Writer Interview

I was tagged by @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash​, who is awesome for tagging me!

And, because it’s a long one...

1. What inspires your work most? (The show it is based on, the actor who portrays a certain character, maybe the character itself…? It could even be an experience.)

Everything from an actor to a song to whatever pops in my head.   Sometimes actors have an interesting enough look I can create a character off them and run with it.  Other times it’s a character I find interesting and wish the writers delved into more so do it myself.  Plots and original character backstories can come from songs I’m listening to or a show/film/book, other times it’s just totally random.

2. What is your favorite fandom to write for?

At the moment I’m fond of the Marvel Universe (X-Men especially) and The Walking Dead...in the past I enjoyed writing for Criminal Minds and Pirates of the Caribbean though.  I think the only consistent one has been X-Men though, I’ve always written for them since I was young.

3. Which perspective do you prefer writing in? (First-person, third-person)

Third person (usually omniscient) is by far my most common writing form, but my largest/longest TWD fic, Beyond the Classroom, is first person (limited).  Second person is still something that throws me to even read so, usually, I don’t write it either, but I’ll experiment now and again, haha!

4. Do you prefer writing reader fics or OCs?

I prefer OCs...I like to create a character from the ground up and that’s significantly more difficult with a reader fic as you sort of have to keep the character more universal.  There’s also certain difficulties with appearance descriptions as, again, getting too specific can pull a number of readers out of the story in a way “I don’t look like that/this isn’t me” way.

5. Do you prefer writing longer works or one shots?

Depends widely on what the “topic” is and my mood at the time.  Some things are fine as just a glimpse or scene and don’t need to be continued, but others need to be followed through on otherwise it simply doesn’t sit right (with myself or the reader).  Smutty one-shots or single scenes are a lot of fun to just pop-off now and again, but other times I wanna delve more into the characters and circumstances.

6. Do you take requests?

Not usually...but not never either.  I’m all for hearing someone out on an idea they have, but if it doesn’t tickle my writer’s fancy I won’t bother writing it.  The only thing I really don’t tolerate though is pressure - if I say “yeah, maybe I’ll write that” it doesn’t mean right now and could mean months from now, haha!

7. Do you enjoy getting random Asks?

Sure!  No one really sends them - outside the “you’re lovely/hugs/etc now send this to 5/8/10/etc others”, which are lovely - but I’d be delighted to get some.  ...Unless it’s hate, I’ll just delete those, lol!

8. What inspires the names for OCs (or extra character names) in your works? Do you pick them from real life or just select them at random? A mix?

Most often names are based off a certain meaning.  “Lorien” from Beyond the Classroom named herself after Lothlorien from Lord of the Rings and it means, generally, dream flower or dream land...like the character who (initially) is sort of creating her own safe world within the Sanctuary, forgetting/ignoring the reality of the world, Lothlorien sort of not in time with the rest of the world and it’s growing darkness.  In my marvel piece Ash is for Ashir, meaning “wealthy”, because he has both a wealth of abilities and power as well as being “wealthy” in a more generally metaphorical way with friends and family; his brother is Dusty, for Dustin, meaning “brave/valiant fighter”, which he was (for better or worse).

...There are, however, other times I just look at the face and go “s/he looks like a...” though, haha!

9. If your story(ies) have OCs, are their appearances based on real people or celebrities? If so, who?

I tend to take a celebrity as a base, then add and adjust to make them more “original”.  An example of this is Fox from Beyond the Classroom whose base appearance is absolutely Aidan Gillen, but who also has a large series of tattoos across his body and is possibly more muscular than the actual actor.  Another example is Orson from my Marvel Universe fic who I’ve used Ben Mendelsohn as a base for, though I see Orson as having a slightly more smooth, pale grey slate-like, skin due to his mutation.

10. How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Writing it?  Probably since I was about 12 or so.  Posting it?  Since I was about 16-17 when I posted an X-Men movie fanfic, lol!

This was fun...I learned things, hopefully you learned things...now onto writing!!

I tag... @wadeyourebarelyalive @zoesmama2024 @kellyn1604 @crazytxgradstudent  ...And whoever else wants to do it since others I’d tagged I know have been tagged lol!!

#writing #asks #interview #this was fun #good times #is this a meme? #fanfic meme #hope you learned something #i know i did #Beyond the Classroom #marvel universe #my writing #characters in my head #fandom

[greed-the-dorkalicious]

So as some of you know, I’ve been working on chapter 8 of BLaD, but now that I’m working on the rewrite it probably won’t be finished for quite some time. Plus I have no idea how many scenes I’m going to have to change, and I can already see some problems with this one... A lot of it, if not almost all of it, will probably be scrapped. But I don’t want what I’ve already written to go to waste, so I’m going to post it here.

Chapter 8, about half finished, still labeled as chapter 7 in the doc:

“I want a TV for my room.”

Dio raised an eyebrow as he glanced up from his chair at Jonathan, who was looming over Dio with his arms crossed and lips drawn tight into a frown.

“Making demands now, are we?” Dio questioned amusedly. “And here I thought you were polite.”

“After everything you’ve put me through, I see no reason to be polite. You told me I could have whatever I want- except for, you know, my freedom- so I want my own TV,” Jonathan repeated.

Dio snorted. “Really, where have your manners gone? What would that little wife of yours say?”

Jonathan actually laughed out loud at that. “You’re joking, right? Some of the most vulgar things I’ve ever heard anyone say were things Erina said about you,” he pointed out bitterly.

Dio frowned briefly, looking grave for a moment, before quickly returning to his usual smug demeanor.

“Fine. I’ll see to it that you get a TV,” he promised.

Jonathan smiled slightly, nodding in satisfaction. “Th- Good,” he said, quickly correcting himself after almost saying “thank you”; politeness was a habit for him, but it was a courtesy Dio did not deserve.

Dio snickered at Jonathan’s slip-up, but Jonathan paid it no mind as he abruptly turned around to leave. He walked with conviction, not in the mood to be in Dio’s company any longer than necessary.

“By the way, a friend of mine will be joining us for dinner tomorrow,” Dio called after him.

Jonathan ignored the offhand comment, leaving the room without looking back.

---

Dio had stayed true to his word, and within a few hours a TV was brought to Jonathan’s room, along with a lovely wooden cabinet to house it.

“Alright, that should do it,” d’Arby declared as he arranged some cords so they were out of the way. “Let me know if you have any problems.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan told him. From what he’d heard from Jotaro, d’Arby wasn’t exactly a shining beacon of morality, but Jonathan still just couldn’t help but be polite to anyone other than Dio.

D’Arby nodded, and placed the remote on the nightstand before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

Several moments after d’Arby had left, as Jonathan studied the TV’s remote, Jotaro materialized in the air next to him. Though he did catch the telltale shimmer of light out of the corner of his eye, it felt more like Jonathan sensed Jotaro’s appearance than anything.

“Why do you need a TV in your room?” Jotaro asked, sounding slightly puzzled, although (as usual) his face showed little trace of emotion.

Jonathan smiled at Jotaro. “It’s for you, silly,” he answered with a slight laugh.

Jotaro frowned in confusion. “For… me?” he repeated hesitantly, confused by the answer. A TV? For him? Why?

“I thought it would be nice, give you something fun to do when I’m reading or whatever,” Jonathan replied. “And the only other TV is in the living room, and I know you don’t come out when there might be other people around, so now you can watch whatever you want without having to hide,” he explained with a gentle smile.

This... was surprising to Jotaro. Which was to be expected; He'd spent the past month living a solitary, hellish existence, with his friends and family gone. His only companion was Jonathan, who was nice enough, but usually busy with his own misery. Jotaro had almost forgotten what it was like to actually receive attention and care from someone else.

"...Thanks," he said honestly, feeling somewhat speechless.

Perhaps Jotaro's face showed more gratitude than his voice did, because Jonathan smiled widely, seemingly quite pleased with his accomplishment. "You're welcome! I hope you like it," he said excitedly.

Hesitantly, Jotaro reached for the remote, staring at it for a moment with a feeling he couldn’t place. Suspicion? Hostility? Some sort of vague feeling like it wasn’t real? It had been so long since any sort of positive anything had happened to him, it almost seemed like his brain (...his figurative brain, anyway) had deemed it a trap of some sort, that it was too good to be true, there had to be some sort of catch. The very concept of something good happening had become so foreign to Jotaro that it made him anxious. It felt like if he dared to indulge in a moment of pleasure, he would suffer even more in punishment.

“...Jotaro? Are you alright?” Jonathan interrupted, pulling Jotaro back to reality.

“Yeah, why?” Jotaro answered.

“Well, it’s just… You’ve been staring at the remote for a while now,” Jonathan pointed out worriedly.

“Oh. Uh, sorry,” Jotaro replied with a frown. What was he doing?

Jotaro shook his head in disbelief, and tried to remind himself that there was nothing wrong. As bizarre as it felt, the TV truly was a good thing- his and Jonathan’s only, not one of Dio’s shallow luxuries, but a thoughtful gift from Jonathan to make Jotaro more comfortable. The TV was safe.

With Jonathan watching him excitedly, Jotaro turned the TV on and began flipping through channels.

It took a little while before Jotaro found something he liked. He caught snippets of soap operas, talk shows, news, reality shows, cartoons, and documentaries, but none of them really caught his eye. Not to mention the language barrier; Jotaro was fluent in Japanese and English, and knew a fair bit of Italian, but naturally, everything on TV in Cairo was in Arabic.

Finally, Jotaro found something he instantly recognized: a familiar movie that was surprisingly not in Arabic, but English with Arabic captions.

“Ooh, this looks interesting. I wonder what it is?” Jonathan commented, watching the people on TV run around.

“It’s called ‘Star Wars’,” Jotaro answered. “It’s a movie about… Well, war. In space. Pretty self-explanatory. It’s one of the old man’s favorite movies.”

Jonathan watched the TV with interest for a few minutes. It certainly seemed fun and dramatic, but it was also clearly in the middle of the movie, so Jonathan didn’t really understand what was going on.

“Is that the protagonist?” he asked Jotaro, indicating the character currently speaking: a man with brown hair, a vest, and a gun.

Jotaro shook his head. “That’s Han Solo. He’s a smuggler. He’s gramps’ favorite character, he always used to say Han reminded him of himself when he was younger,” Jotaro said.

“Well, he’s certainly rude enough,” Jonathan agreed with a laugh. Jotaro, however, said nothing in response; he had gone quiet, frowning after accidentally bringing up a sore subject.

Jotaro stayed silent for several more minutes before finally speaking.

“He took me to see the sequel twice, you know,” he began quietly. “We were visiting in New York when I was 10. The first time, we all went- me, mom, dad, gramps, and grandma… He liked it so much he wanted to see it again, but nobody else wanted to, so I said I’d go with him.” Jotaro paused for a moment before continuing, looking thoughtful.

“...I didn’t really want to see it twice,” he admitted, voice shaking slightly. “I just…” Jotaro trailed off, unable to continue. With eyes downcast, Jotaro ran his hands through his hair, repeating a nervous habit Jonathan had seen him do so many times.

Jonathan put a hand on Jotaro’s shoulder in a silent gesture of sympathy.

“You really loved your grandfather, didn’t you?” Jonathan asked gently.

Jotaro nodded, face buried in his hands. “I should’ve… I should’ve said so. I should’ve been nicer to him. And mom…”

“I know. It’s alright. I felt the same way when I lost my father,” Jonathan admitted. “There’s no point in worrying about it now. I’m sure your family knows how much you care about them,” he promised.

Jotaro said nothing, continuing to hide his face as he tried to compose himself. Jonathan respectfully left him alone, though he himself almost felt like he might cry.

After a few minutes, Jotaro managed to calm down, and let out a tired sigh as he returned his attention to the TV.

“So, do you think you can tell me a bit about the plot?” Jonathan asked, seeing that Jotaro had settled down.

Jotaro nodded, and began pointing out characters on screen. “The blond guy is Luke Skywalker, he’s the protagonist. The girl is Princess Leia. The creepy looking guy in black is the main villain, Darth Vader, and the old dude is Ben Kenobi, he’s sort of the mentor character,” he explained.

Jonathan watched with interest, nodding thoughtfully as he took in this information. “So, is the princess the protagonist’s girlfriend?” he asked curiously.

“Nah, she’s his twin sister, although they don’t know it yet. Also, Vader’s their dad,” Jotaro answered.

“Hey! Why’d you have to ruin the plot twist?” Jonathan gasped, looking slightly hurt and offended.

Jotaro blinked in surprise. “Oh, sorry,” he said casually.

Jonathan shook his head in dismay, but nonetheless returned his attention to the movie.

“Woah, those swords look fun,” he commented in awe.

“They’re called lightsabers,” Jotaro explained. “Pay attention, this scene’s important.”

As Jotaro said, Jonathan paid close attention to the battle on screen, as two characters- the villain and the mentor, he recalled- dueled with glowing swords. Jonathan could hardly bring himself to blink as the lightsabers clashed again and again, producing brightly colored flashes and strange noises, and then-

“...Did… did he just die?” Jonathan questioned hesitantly, staring at the pile of brown cloth where the mentor character had stood. (From what little he’d seen, he couldn’t help but think that that character reminded him of his own old teacher, Will Zeppeli.)

“Yeah. It’s cool though, he shows up as a ghost every so often,” Jotaro answered, showing little emotional reaction to the scene he’d clearly seen many times before.

“Aw, stop telling me everything-”

Before Jonathan could finish his sentence, a loud knock came at the door. Next to him, Jotaro disappeared just as quickly as Ben Kenobi, while Jonathan sighed at the interruption.

“Come in,” he called out unenthusiastically. Of course their moment of leisure couldn’t have gone uninterrupted, he should have known.

The door opened with a creak, revealing, of course, d’Arby.

“Lord Dio would like me to inform you that dinner will be served in 20 minutes,” d’Arby announced.

Jonathan frowned irritatedly. Of course. Of course.

“Fine,” he replied simply. “Is that all?”

“Yes,” d’Arby replied tersely. He nodded his head in a polite gesture of acknowledgement before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

Jonathan sighed once again and flopped down on the bed, one hand behind his head. “So much for finishing the movie, I suppose,” he mumbled to the empty air, as Jotaro was still hiding. Knowing him, Jonathan guessed he wouldn’t be back for a good five minutes or so.

The clock on the wall ticked ominously, Jonathan’s stomach growled, Luke Skywalker screamed, and Jonathan groaned in frustration at everything.

---

Reluctantly, Jonathan entered the dining room at the specified time. Although Dio had said one of his “friends” would be joining them for dinner, there didn’t seem to be anyone there but Dio.

“Hello, Jojo. How are you enjoying your new TV?” Dio asked, leaning casually against a wall with his arms crossed.

“It’s- Hold on, you’re wearing that to dinner?” Jonathan questioned in disbelief, raising an eyebrow and wincing slightly at Dio’s… “outfit”, which seemed to be more hole than clothes.

“Yes, why?” Dio replied with a shrug.

Jonathan took a deep, sharp breath in as he continued to grimace at Dio’s outfit with a mixture of disgust and pity.

“You know, considering that is my body, I’d really prefer it if you wore something… More modest and less ugly,” he said slowly.

Dio rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen you wear three shirts and a vest at the same time. You are not in any position to judge my fashion sense,” he pointed out.

“At least my three shirts covered my nipples,” Jonathan retorted with a scowl.

“My nipples are perfectly covered!” Dio insisted.

“Sure, until you move at all. God knows how you even managed to get that thing on without getting tangled up,” Jonathan said dryly.

“Oh, stop being dramatic. You sound like an old lady.”

Before Jonathan could respond, the argument was interrupted by a knock on the doorframe, and an attention-grabbing cough.

“Ah, Pucci! Good to see you!” Dio exclaimed with an unsettling amount of genuine feeling, as Jonathan turned to look at the newcomer.

Whatever sort of vile monster Jonathan had expected Dio’s “friend” to be, the person standing in the doorway was not it. Rather, Dio’s “friend” appeared to be a teenager, with short, silvery-blond hair contrasting against his dark skin, wearing what looked to be some sort of priest’s robes. He leaned against the doorframe with a slight hint of a smile.

While Dio and the newcomer engaged in some sort of conversation, Jonathan couldn’t focus on what they were saying. He was too shocked and uncomfortable with how… innocent the young man in the doorway seemed to be. This was Dio’s “friend”? A priest? And a young one at that! How old was he, Jonathan wondered? 18? 19? Perhaps he wasn’t really a young priest, but some sort of shapeshifter, secretly a 40-year-old criminal mastermind… or… something. Jonathan hoped that was the case. The thought of this boy being under Dio’s thumb was enough to make him feel sick.

“Jojo, I’d like you to meet my friend, Enrico Pucci. Pucci, this is my adoptive brother, Jonathan Joestar,” Dio introduced the two.

“I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Pucci said as he offered Jonathan his hand. He gave a smile that was unsettlingly warm- that was to say, it was genuinely friendly, which was the unsettling part. A friend of Dio’s shouldn’t seem so… normal.

“Um… Hello,” Jonathan replied confusedly, shaking Pucci’s hand with slight hesitation. What was the catch? There had to be a catch, right?

“How was the trip?” Dio asked Pucci casually as the three of them sat down.

“Oh, I can’t complain. I slept through most of it, after all,” Pucci replied. “I am pretty hungry, though. What are we having for dinner?”

“Steak and caviar, unless you’d like something else,” Dio answered.

“No, that sounds great, actually.”

As Dio and Pucci continued talking, Jonathan stared at them, completely slack-jawed. Their conversation was just so bizarrely normal. Civil. Friendly. It sounded like a conversation between an actual, real, ordinary pair of friends, and not a teenage priest and a hundred-year-old mass murderer vampire with a god complex. Jonathan had seen so many strange, twisted, horrifying things over his weeks at Dio’s mansion, and indeed in his life, that they’d become the norm. Seeing Dio, the devil himself, act so sweet and casual was far more unsettling than anything he’d seen yet.

Evidently, Jonathan’s horror and confusion showed on his face, as Pucci glanced at him with a concerned look. “Is something wrong?”

Jonathan stammered awkwardly, struggling to express his feelings in words. “I… you… I don’t-”

“You’ll have to forgive my brother, he’s been dead for a century,” Dio interrupted. “He’s still getting used to things and he’s a bit confused right now.”

Jonathan shot Dio an incredulous glare. “I am not!” he insisted. Pucci, on the other hand, had a more sympathetic look on his face.

“I understand. This must be quite disorienting for you. I’m sorry,” he told Jonathan, putting a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort that felt, frankly, quite condescending.

“Really, I’m fine,” Jonathan repeated, but didn’t press the issue further. Instead, he decided to change the subject.

“So… Pucci, was it? Are you a priest?” Jonathan asked. He kept his tone polite, though he was suspicious of Pucci; Whether Pucci was another unwitting, naive victim of Dio’s charisma, or if he truly was of Dio’s character, Jonathan didn’t know. It was bad either way.

Pucci laughed slightly. “No, no, I still have a long way to go before then. I’m in training at a seminary in Florida. I only started less than two years ago,” he explained.

“And… how old are you?” Jonathan continued, somewhat dreading the answer.

“Sixteen. I met Dio last year,” Pucci replied with a smile. Jonathan felt his stomach drop.

As Jonathan looked at Dio with a wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression of pure horror, Dio deliberately ignored him. Instead, he turned towards the doorway.

“D’Arby! What’s taking so long?!” Dio shouted. Though he was only mildly irritated, his commanding aura made his shout as terrifying as a normal person’s rage. (Pucci seemed unfazed.)

Within seconds, the sound of startled footsteps could be heard coming from down the hall, and d’Arby appeared in the doorway, looking slightly nervous.

“My sincerest apologies, Lord Dio. The new chef isn’t quite used to the kitchen yet, but I will ensure he works faster,” d’Arby promised.

Dio raised an eyebrow. “What new chef?”

“If you may recall, Lord Dio, you ate the previous chef,” d’Arby explained.

“Did I,” Dio replied in an uninterested monotone.

“Yes. You did.”

Dio sighed. “Very well, but if the food’s going to take this long, at least bring out the wine,” he told d’Arby with an air of boredom.

D’Arby nodded and bowed deeply. “Yes, Lord Dio. I will get right on that.” D’Arby immediately backed out of the room, presumably to go fulfill Dio’s orders.

By the time Dio finished his conversation with d'Arby, Jonathan had- for the most part- regained his composure enough to continue speaking.

“Pucci, this may be something of a difficult question, but… Are you aware of what sort of person Dio is?” Jonathan asked cautiously.

“Yes,” Pucci replied. A simple one-word response, but unwavering, with a terse, brisk conviction that said he knew exactly what Jonathan meant.

[thisislizheather]

July Jiffs 2019

So technically the end of August is the appropriate time to start any and all Halloween/autumn talk (I think I made up that rule, but it feels right), so I’ll respect that and wait. Just know that I’m inwardly filling up with joy in anticipation of the best time of the year. Here’s what went down this month!

I made a list of some of my favourite summer vacation-y movies that I like to watch to pass the ungodly slow summer hours.

I read and reviewed the book Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed (the woman who wrote Wild).

We had a small party for July 4th and it was the best. Here’s what I made and loved: Panzanella Salad with Fresh Mozzarella (I used the How Sweet Eats recipe, but added mozzarella and omitted the corn and avocado - I also made the croutons the Ree Drummond way, because that’s the tastiest way), Spinach Bacon & Artichoke Stuffed Mushrooms (because they’re so delicious I want to scream), I used bell peppers as the bowls for holding the ranch for the vegetables, Slow Cooker Ribs, Eggplant Lasagna (I can’t remember the recipe I used, but it was pretty basic), Peanut Butter & Nutella Cheesecake Bars (this was the second time I’ve made these and it’s a perfect dessert to make a night or two before so that it can really set up), Blueberry Lemon Bread, and a charcuterie board (which is like assembling food art & I love it).

My favourite fruit/vegetable season is the end of summer mainly because of the fresh tomatoes and corn, so I can’t wait to try some of these corn dishes available in NYC right now. Although I don’t know how any of them are going to compete with the corn gnocchi at Park Avenue Summer. (I just looked and there’s also a sweet corn agnolotti with black summer truffles on the menu now too, so things just got interesting.)

Jenn sent me a link to this lovely poem Perhaps the World Ends Here by Joy Harjo that I just love.

I watched the AOC documentary Knock Down The House on Netflix and it’s so, so good. Cried at the ending.

I went on Nathan’s podcast to talk about dogs, cheating and movies.

I went for lunch at the cafe at Lilia in Brooklyn and it was ONLY AVERAGE. So that was disappointing. Maybe I ordered badly? I got the prosciutto, parmigiano butter, balsamic mustard sandwich - and even though it looks great (love whole grain mustard), it was really just too bready and not very flavourful.

Above Photo: Prosciutto, parmigiano butter, balsamic mustard sandwich at Lilia Cafe, Brooklyn

I saw Midsommar (by the same guy who did Hereditary last year) and I really liked it. Some parts are just unnecessarily graphic (and the slow motion shots of this stuff are insane to watch), but the plot was great. Love an original movie.

Watched the entirety of Champions on Netflix and it really bums me out that it got cancelled, it was a really fun show.

Made this chocolate chunk coconut banana bread and it was goooooood.

I visited the new TWA Hotel at JFK and wrote about it over here.

So excited to hear that there will be three more seasons of Big Mouth!

I also rewatched Dante’s Peak (still a great movie) and Twister (again, it holds up). I think I was in a natural disaster kinda mood that week.

Do you remember experiencing or hearing about the ride Kongfrontation at Universal Studios in Florida? I’ve only ever heard of it, but it seems like it was probably the best ride that ever existed at that park. I hate how most ride these days are just 3D screens with no real interaction or animatronics, it’s bullshit.

Fucking obsessed with this strawberry lemonade kombucha that’s apparently only available at Trader Joe’s. I thought their gingerade was the best flavour, but now I have to reassess everything. (Also tried the “watermelon wonder” but it’s pure trash.)

Some songs that I can’t stop listening to: You Need To Calm Down by Taylor Swift, Blow Your Mind by Dua Lipa, Everybody by Elliphant feat. Azealia Banks, Boys by Lizzo, Let Me Go by Hailee Steinfeld & Alesso feat. Florida Georgia Line & watt, Doin’ Time by Lana Del Ray, We Were Young by Petit Biscuit feat. JP Cooper, Calma (Remix) by Pedro Capo & Farruko

Apparently I can’t get enough of Bill Hader.

I refuse to shut up about how great the (square bottle) nail polishes are at Urban Outfitters. They’ve been consistently great for years. I’ve been wearing their neon pink Hot Tub off and on for at least five years, and they keep putting out wicked new colours. There’s almost always a 3 for $10 deal and recently I got Coffee Creamer, Sun Bunny & Optic White and they’re BEAUTIFUL.

It’s currently Restaurant Week again (it’s on until August 16th), so of course I went back to The Dutch for their beautiful wagyu steak tartare. I also had the corn cappelletti with chanterelle mushrooms and marjoram that was heavenly.

Above Photo: Wagyu steak tartare, The Dutch, NYC

Above Photo: Corn cappelletti, The Dutch, NYC

I saw The Farewell and it’s everything I wanted it to be and more! Definitely go see it. It also reminded me of this beautiful song that I had to sing for a competition once years ago, Caro Mio Ben.

There’s a deal with ClassPass where you can use the service for free for two weeks, so I tried it and it’s not that great. It’s just too expensive to justify having it when I already have a monthly gym membership somewhere else. I did try an aqua cycling class through Aqua Studio during the free trial and it was… only okay. I mean, it’s fun and great to be in the salt water, but it wasn’t all that challenging as a workout.

I wasn’t planning on buying it, but I tried it, loved it, so had to buy it: Glossier’s Brow Flick. I’m still learning how to use it properly, but so far I’m really into it. It inspired this eyebrow products video that I posted last week.

I saw Toy Story 4 and I really hope this is the final one they make because the ending was so good. That’s all I’ll say. Quality series of movies, right here.

Some friends of mine recently opened up a small, late night food place called Foodstruck in Astoria and the food is really good. They’ve just opened, so they’re still figuring out their hours but I think they’re catering to the late night crowd, especially servers/bartenders who get off work late. Check out some of the food specials from this past week.

Above Photo: Burger with gruyere, onion marmalade, sun dried tomatoes & a rosemary garlic butter on a potato bun

Above Photo: Fried boneless chicken thighs with a garlic soy tamarind glaze

Above Photo: Fried chicken sandwich with a spicy mayo, cheese sauce & pickles on a potato bun

My too-kind friend Irene got us a housewarming gift of a Diptyque candle (in eucalyptus) and somehow it’s still going after three months of daily use, which is incredible. Do not look up how expensive this candle is.

I watched To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before on Netflix and really liked it! Especially the hot tub scene. But let’s not get into it. I double-checked to make sure they’re both over 21 and they are, so all’s good.

Made this pappardelle pasta with mushroom ragu when Nathan was out of town (I like to get my mushroom recipes in when he’s gone) and it’s definitely going on my favourite-dinner-recipes list.

I ate at Misi in Brooklyn because I’ve wanted to go for ages and the pasta was solid as hell, I’d definitely go back. We had the charred peppers, marjoram, and whipped ricotta crostini, the corzetti with marinated sungold (peeled) tomatoes, garlic, pecorino & summer herbs (have you ever eaten a PEELED tomato? It almost feels wrong. The good kind of wrong), the strangozzi with pork sugo, nutmeg and parmigiana and for dessert we had the strawberries and cream gelato (it was a special that night) and the espresso gelato. Everything was so crazy good. The service was fantastic and the space is huge. Is it better than Lilia or L'Artusi (pasta-wise)? Ugh, that's such a hard question. It's really good. I'll have to revisit to get more intel to make a final decision on that.

I went to Coney Island with Irene and it was great, as it always should be.

I visited the Profundo Day Club (mainly to get my ass in a pool) earlier this month, and I highly doubt that I’ll return. Mostly because even though the pool was nice (small, but nice) and refreshing, the blaring house music in the middle of the day was a little excessive. There’s also a disco ball above the pool itself. And a unicorn floatie that drifts around the water. And waitresses who shoot sparklers off when someone buys a bottle of liquor. It’s… not for me, let’s say. And the cheapest pass was $70 (tax included), which is waaaay too expensive for Queens. Let’s be real.

There’s a new season of Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee and the Martin Short episode is just lovely. It almost killed me when he was talking about when he bought his house and said, “We bought it in 1986” even though his wife passed away years ago. Am I being ridiculous in thinking that him using the word “we” is so sad and sweet and nice? Or maybe that’s a normal thing to say and I’d melt at anything to come out of his mouth. And while it was a good episode, I got so fucking sick of all the filler shots of coffee being brewed, coffee being poured into a cup, beans being tossed in a can, flowers sitting in vases - for fuck sake JUST TALK TO MARTIN SHORT AND SHOW ME THAT. Annoying as hell.

Nathan and I started watching season three of Stranger Things and… it’s not good? We saw all of the first season, which was pretty good. Attempted season two and never finished it because it became boring. And last week, we watched the first couple episodes of season three and I think we’ve silently agreed on just stopping it altogether. And look, I’m happy other people like it, but it’s just not for me. Demogorgons are too close to being dragons, maybe that’s why I can’t care about them?

I like to go to at least one baseball game each season, so I went to a Mets game last weekend and got this beauty that was the giveaway (below) since it was the 50th anniversary of the moon landing.

Honestly, this bobblehead makes me so happy for some reason. I love going to Citi Field especially ‘cause the food is always so good. We got the filet mignon steak sandwich from the aptly named Pat LaFrieda’s Original Filet Mignon Steak Sandwich, incredible fries from Box Frites, souvenir cups & drinks from Effen Vodka Bar, mozzarella sticks from Big Mozz, and chips & queso with ginger lime margaritas from Cantina.

Above Photo: Pat LaFrieda’s filet mignon steak sandwich, Citi Field

Above Photo: Fries with parmesan ranch and cheese sauce from Box Frites, Citi Field

Two new things that I’m going to start doing:

1. Buying less things off of Amazon. If there’s an alternative, independently run company that I can find the item at (and if the price isn’t wildly more expensive) then I’ll shop there instead. Every new thing I hear about Amazon makes me shudder, and I hate that it’s become my default place for me to buy anything.

2. If a store/restaurant is cashless (ie. credit cards only), then I’ll refuse to shop there. It’s insane that this isn’t illegal everywhere yet. I’m so sick of it and cash should be accepted everywhere, it’s nuts that I even need to say that. (I was excited to have lunch at Ole & Steen in Union Square for lunch the other day, but they’re “cashfree” so fuck them!)

Some things that I’m looking forward to doing this month: I’ve already sent in my email requesting tickets for Saturday Night Live (you can only request tickets during the entire month of August), I can’t wait to see Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark with Layla, there’s a tomato gelato that I want to try that sounds either awful or life-affirming, going on our anniversary trip at the end of the month, excited for a Canyon Creek caesar salad with Harmeet, planning on going to the CNE with my mom (haven’t done this in years), going to two weddings (!!) and I love weddings, being in a pool with Marla and a bunch of our kids, and taking advantage of a few more Restaurant Week specials. Excited for the last month of trash weather!

#Liz Heather #Nathan Macintosh #July Jiffs 2019 #monthly roundup #summer #NYC #best of NYC #best summer #Positive Anger

[weekendwarriorblog]

WHAT TO WATCH THIS WEEKEND June 14, 2019  - MEN IN BLACK INTERNATIONAL, SHAFT, LATE NIGHT, THE DEAD DON’T DIE

I apologize for taking last week off, but I really needed a break, especially considering how late I was running on writing anything for the column. I also worry that the fact I write so much about the wide releases over at The Beat -- hitting the ‘net in about an hour -- means I don’t have so much to write here, and I don’t want to disappoint those who click on the link.

Hopefully, some of you are using this column to check up on limited releases and repertory screenings. Feel free to drop me a line or hit me up on Twitter if that’s the case, as I hate working in a vacuum.

Sadly, I don’t think there’s been much buzz for MEN IN BLACK INTERNATIONAL (Sony), the attempt to revive and reboot a franchise without the original movie’s two stars. This has rarely worked in the past, and Will Smith is so well-liked, as seen by the success of the recent Aladdin. Directed by F. Gary Gray (The Fate of the Furious), the new MiB are played by Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson, both popular thanks to Thor: Ragnarok and the recent Aven gers: Endgame but not quite up to Smith when it comes to being a box office draw. I’m happy to see Emma Thompson back, although I’m sure she’ll be better used in this week’s expanding release Late Night, while Liam Neeson can be fun when given the right part.

Mini-Review: It’s officially the summer, so studios are starting to hope that film critics will go easier on their movies meant to be entertaining summer “popcorn fare.” That was certainly true of the original Men in Black, which combined a simple premise of an alien-fighting government agency with the charm of Will Smith.

Men in Black International has the same premise, but this time, instead of Smith, it has Tessa Thompson as Molly, a young girl who discovered the presence of the Men in Black. Twenty years later, she wants to become one herself. If you’ve seen the trailers and commercials, you already know that she’s accepted into the group and paired with Chris Hemsworth’s British Agent H.

There’s no point getting further into the plot, because it really doesn’t matter. It’s the exact same rookie MiB agent trying to keep up with the more experience agent who is having none of their youthful shit, as they encounter weird and often deadly CG aliens.

There’s a good reason Tessa Thompson has been cast in this movie, and that’s because she has a likeable personality in everything she does, and presumably, that’s enough to carry an MIB movie.  Similarly, I like Chris Hemsworth as an actor, but right now, he’s in danger of turning into Johnny Depp, basically famous and popular for one character then trying to imbue every character after that with what he thinks works with his audience. In Hemsworth’s case, Agent H is another arrogant and dumb dope always getting things wrong and being corrected by someone else, in this case Thompson’s Agent M. Those looking forward to seeing this movie for Emma Thompson or Liam Neeson may be disappointed by how little they actually appear in the film.

I certainly don’t entirely fault director F. Gary Gray for the movie’s problems, as he clearly was working with what he was given and doing the best he can. The CG and action are well done and so well-blended there’s no problems there, although the only alien that doesn’t seem like a rehash to previous MiB movies is the one voiced by Kumail Nanjiani, who gets in a few fun jabs at Hemsworth.

The best part of the movie probably comes in the third act when Rebecca Ferguson turns up as an alien arms dealer (with extra arms, of course) and somehow, the combination of her with the other three actors delivers some of the movie’s strongest moments… and then it goes back to the tired plot that didn’t really seem to be going anywhere

I’m sure plenty of people will enjoy Men in Black International just fine, but one really has to go into the movie with lowered expectations to think it’s any sort of improvement even over the worst of the previous movies (MiB 3).

For the most part, Tessa Thompson shines in an otherwise uninspired and mostly unfunny reboot that really doesn’t give much hope for the future of this franchise.

Rating: 6/10

I have to admit that I also wasn’t a very big fan of Tim Story’s SHAFT (New Line), which reunites Samuel L. Jackson and Richard Roundtree 19 years after the previous Shaft movie, which I also never really liked. Joining them this time is Independence Day: Resurgence star Jessie T. Usher, who also will be appearing on the upcoming The Boys series on Amazon. You probably won’t know it from the amount of coverage you’ll be seeing from me this week, but hey, work is work, and who am I to pass up a chance to interview Jackson and Roundtree, not once but twice? No idea when that coverage is running but I’ll post links here when it does.

Adding a bunch of my features on the movie:

AM NEW YORK FEATURE

COLLIDER INTERVIEW WITH JACKSON, ROUNDTREE AND USHER

COLLIDER INTERVIEW WITH DIRECTOR TIM STORY

I’m always excited for a new Jim Jarmusch movie, even though I’ve been mixed on some of his more recent films, including Only Lovers Left Alive, his vampire movie starring Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston that I seemed to be one of the few people who wasn’t that into it. With THE DEAD DON’T DIE (Focus Features), Jarmusch explores the world of zombies, and I think the tone and mood of this one are more in line with Jarmusch’s earlier work but also with Romero’s zombie movies, although there isn’t as much zombie gore as some might hope.

My Review of The Dead Don’t Die from The Beat

Also expanding nationwide this weekend (presumably) is Amazon Studios’ LATE NIGHT, the Mindy Kaling-penned comedy co-starring Emma Thompson. I was mostly bummed about not doing this column last week because it meant delaying my review, but I do hope that people will go out see this very funny movie based on Kaling’s own experiences in late night. I think it’s one of Thompson’s best performances in a long time, although I did think she was great in last year’s The Children Act, a movie that was sadly overlooked by most film critics/writers.

Mini-Review: Anyone who has ever underestimated Mindy Kaling from her TV work on The Office and The Mindy Show will never do so again after seeing Late Night. I’m saddened to say that I’m one of those who has learned that lesson the hard way.

The premise is simple with Kaling playing Molly Patel, a young woman with dreams of being a comedy writer, something that becomes more possible when she’s hired as a writer on the prestigious talk show “Late Night with Katherine Newbury.” What Molly doesn’t know is that she’s a bit of a “diversity hire” once Katherine (Emma Thompson) realizes her writing room is all white males. Molly has troubles fitting in at first but her bright personality proves to be what Katherine needs to start examining her own life, as the network tries to take her show away from her.

Directed by Nisha Ganatra, an indie filmmaker whose work I have sadly overlooked until now, Late Night is a great example of the quality of work that can be created when an actor is allowed to make her passion project.  It’s immediately obvious what Kaling has brought to her television shows as a writer, performer and producer as Late Night.

Kaling and Ganatra’s impeccable storytelling includes many characters around Molly and Katherine that add to their story without taking the attention away from them.Thompson has always been a fine actor but in Katherine Newbury, she’s been given a present that will bring her back to the forefront come awards time. Thompson creates a character that can be funny in the same was as Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada but also quite sympathetic, and that’s a hard balance to create.

Overall, Late Night is just a joyous breakout film for Kaling.  If you can imagine a cross between Tina Fey’s “30 Rock” and Kumail Nanjiani’s The Big Sick, then you may have a better idea whether Late Night will be your thing. Rating: 8.5/10

Interview with Director Nisha Ganatra

You can see how I think the above movies will fare over at The Beat.

LIMITED RELEASES

Although the big news this weekend is Late Night (presumed) expanding nationwide, as well as the wider-than-usual release for Jim Jarmusch’s latest, there are still a number of movies opening in select cities I want to draw attention to.

One of my favorite films from this year’s Tribeca Film Festival was Jeff Chan and Andrew Rhymer’s PLUS ONE (RLJE Films), which stars Jack Quaid (from The Hunger Games and the upcoming The Boys series) and Maya Erskine from Pen15as long-time best friends Ben and Alice who decide to accompany each other to an upcoming round of weddings, acting as wingmen to help the other one pick up men and women. As you can imagine, it only works out to a point.

I’m not embarrassed to say that romantic-comedies are a bit of a guilty pleasure with me, and Plus One is a really good one, since it’s both funny and romantic, which isn’t something we often get from studio fare in this vein. I absolutely love Maya Erskine, though I haven’t had a chance to check out her Hulu series just yet; there are few actors who are so talented at being hilariously funny but also delivering on the drama when necessary. I feel like Quaid is trying to keep up with her. If you’re the type of person who gets dragged to weddings every other weekend, this movie is definitely for you.  Plus One will be in theaters and On Demand this Friday, and I definitely recommend seeking it out, especially for a fun date night movie.

Another really good drama coming out this weekend is Sienna Miller’s AMERICAN WOMAN (Roadside Attractions/Vertical), which stars Ms. Miller as Debra, a 30-something woman whose teen daughter goes missing, leaving her to care for her grandson. She’s able to deal with the loss with the help of her sister (Christina Hendricks) and mother (Amy Madigan), but also ends up with a series of bad men until she meets Aaron Paul. Directed by Jake Scott, Ridley Scott’s son, who made the drama Welcome to the Rileys back in 2010, this movie lives or dies on the performance by Miller, and she is pretty fantastic in a role that covers 11 years in this woman’s life. This is definitely a smaller slice-of-life movie that covers the things her character goes through in order to find her best self, but I generally liked the entire cast, which is quite diverse, including Will Sasso (from Mad TV) and the underrated Pat Healy as one of the most abusive men with whom Debra ends up.

Opening at the Metrograph Friday and in L.A. on June 28 is Sophie Huber’s documentary Blue Note Records: Beyond the Notes, a terrific look at the classic jazz label that’s still going strong thanks to current President Don Was (yes, he of “Walk the Dinosaur” fame) but is also branching out into other jazz-influenced genres. I really dug how Huber told this story, featuring new interviews that’s framed by a recording being done by the current incarnation of the Blue Note All-Stars. If you like jazz or  even have a passing interest, it’s good to know the history of the genre and Blue Note’s part in it.

A movie I’ve been wanting to see but just haven’t had the chance to is FRAMING JOHN DELOREAN  (Sundance Selects), directed by Don Argott (The Art of the Steal) and Sheena M. Joyce and starring Alec Baldwin as the visionary who made his way up through the auto industry only to be disgraced when charged with drug trafficking. Also starring Morena Baccarin, Josh Charles and more, it opens in select cities on Friday.

Miranda Bailey’s BEING FRANK  (The Film Arcade) features comedian Jim Gaffigan as the title character. Set in 1992, it stars Logan Miller as teenager Phillip, who wants to leave his small town to go to music school in New York, something his father (Gaffigan’s Frank) forbids. Philip decides to go on a wild spring break but he then discovers that his father has another whole family in another town.

Jay Stern’s SAY MY NAME  (Electric Entertainment) opens in select cities and on VOD Friday. It stars Lisa Brenner and Nick Blood as two strangers who have a one-night stand that’s interrupted by a robbery, sending them across Wales to try to retrieve their stolen property.

Thomas Stuber’s German drama IN THE AISLES  (Music Box Films) stars Franz Rogowski (Transit) as a guy who just started working at a big box store where he becomes obsessed with a co-worker (Sandra Hüller from Toni Erdmann) but when he starts delving into the secrets she’s keeping, he begins returning to his own dark habits. It opens at the Village Eastin New York on Friday.

Less than a month after her last film Poms bombed, Diane Keaton is back in Joel Hopkins’ HAMPSTEAD  (IFC Films) starring opposite Brendan Gleeson as Emily, a widow in an expensive apartment in the title London neighborhood that she can’t afford. Gleeson plays Donald, a gruff loner living in a cabin who just wants to be left in peace, but when his home is threatened, Emily has found her new cause. Based on a true story, it also stars Lesley Manville, and it will play at the IC Center this Friday.

Kat Rohrer and Gil Levanon’s award-winning doc Back to the Fatherland  (First Run Features) will open in New York (Cinema Village) and L.A. (Laemmle Music Hall). It deals with the friendship between the two filmmakers despite their different backgrounds – Kat is the granddaughter of a Nazi officer while Gil is that of a Holocaust survivor – and they seek out other grandchildren of Holocaust survivors who have moved back to Germany and Austria.

Opening on Wednesday at the Film Forum is Muayad Alayan’s psychological thriller The Reports of Sarah and Saleem (Dada Films) about the clandestine affair between an Israeli café owner from West Berlin and her Palestinian bread vendor from the East, made more complicated when their spouses find out. So it’s sort of a retelling of Romeo and Juliet set in Israel? It actually sounds intriguing.

I’m bummed that I didn’t get a chance to see divisive Mexican filmmaker Carlos Reygadas’ latest, Our Time  (Monument Releasing), but at three hours, it was just hard to find time to watch it. This one is about a Mexican family living in the countryside raising fighting bulls who is torn apart by the woman of the house falling in love with another man. No, I have no idea why this story had to be three hours long, but it will open at the Quad Cinema in New York Friday.

Lastly, there’s David Hackl’s Daughter of the Wolf  (Vertigo), starring MMA star Gina Carano as a military specialist who comes back from the Middle East to claim her inheritance only to find her son has been kidnapped.  Also starring living legend Richard Dreyfuss, it opens in a bunch of theaters, but this is more of a VOD special.

STREAMING AND CABLE

Premiering on Netflix (and in select theaters) Wednesday is Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story by Martin Scorsese, an amazing film resuscitated from 1975 as Scorsese goes on the road with Dylan during his 1975 fall tour. (Besides streaming on the network, it can also be seen in select theaters like New York’s IFC Center and Film at Lincoln Center.)

Also, Adam Sandler is back with his latest comedy MURDER MYSTERY, reuniting him with Jennifer Aniston as a couple who go on a trip to Europe where they’re invited for a party on a yacht by a billionaire (Terence Stamp) who ends up being murdered with them being the prime suspects. So Sandler, a New York detective, needs to work with a local crimefighter, played by Luke Evans.

Also, the doc Life Overtakes Me which looks at the Resignation Syndrome being suffered by refugee children in Sweden as they end up in a coma-like state for months and years with their parents having few options to help them.

LOCAL FESTIVALS

A few decent festivals are starting this weekend, a couple in New York and on in Chcago, but the one that definitely shouldn’t be missed is the annual BamCinemaFest, which kicks off tonight with Lulu Wang’s amazing Sundance favorite The Farewell, starring Awkwafina. Unfortunately I didn’t get to nearly as many of the screenings as I hoped, but I’m sure you can find one or two gems in the line-up this year.

The annual Human Rights Watch Film Festival will kick off at Film at Lincoln Center this week with a wide variety of documentaries, dramas and foreign films. I haven’t seen any of the movies but really, with this festival, you can rarely go wrong in terms of learning what’s going in the rest of the world.

Kicking off in Chicago this week is the Cinepocalypse Genre Film Festival, which features a wide variety of genre films both old and new. It kicks off on Thursday with the World Premiere of Glenn Danzig’s Verotika and in a similar vein, there will be events like Gwar vs. Rock ‘n’ Roll Nightmare and Gwar vs. Cinepocalypse plus there’s lots of vintage genre including Tammy and the T-Rex from 1994 and Joel Schumacher’s Flatliners (1990) in 70mm! Some of the big horror films from other festivals like Villains, The Lodge and Satanic Panic will also get their Midwest Premieres. It’s a fairly robust schedule that runs from June 13 through the 20.

REPERTORY

METROGRAPH (NYC):

The Jim Jarmusch retrospective continues through the weekend with Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (1999) with Jarmusch in person Thursday night, and 1991’s Night on Earth as well as a couple reshows. Late Nites at Metrograph will be screening the action-comedy The God of Cookery (1996) starring the amazing Stephen Chow, while Playtime: Family Matinees will screen Jimmy Stewart’s 1962 film Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation.  Sine Sunday is Father’s Day, the Metrograph is screening a couple father-friendly baseball comedies like the 1962 movie Safe at Home!, starring Mickey Mantle, as well as John Badham’s 1976 comedy Bingo Long Travelling All Stars and Moto Kings, starring Billy Dee Williams, James Earl Jones and Richard Pryor.

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

The Wednesday matinee is Alfred Hitchcock’s Marnie (1964), starring Tippi Hedren and Sean Connery, then the Weds-Thursday double feature is Dean Martin’s The Wrecking Crew co-starring Bruce Lee with Hammerhead, both from 1968. Friday and Saturday will be screenings of Stanley Kubrick’s classic 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), then Sunday and Monday is Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time In the West (1968). (Not sure if you noticed a trend there but all four movies are from the same year!) The weekend’s KIDEE MATINE is the Japanese sci-fi film The Green Slime … from 1968! Friday’s midnight movie is Tarantino’s own Inglourious Bastereds while Saturday is Journey to the Far Side of the Sun (1969 – changing things up a little).  Monday’s matinee is The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford  (2007) from Andrew Dominik, and then Tuesday’s Grindhouse double feature is Model Shopand They Came to Rob Las Vegas.

FILM FORUM (NYC):

Opening Friday is a new restoration of Jennie Livingston’s Paris is Burning  (1991) which looks at New York in the ‘80s from the perspective of the African-American and Latinx drag scene. The movie ran for six months back in 1991 when it first played at the Film Forum. This weekend’s Film Forum Jr. is Spike Lee’s Crooklyn from 1994. The Jewish Soul series continues this weekend with Maurice Schwartz’s 1939 film Tevya, while Alain Resnais’ Last Year at Marienbad will continue playing for another week, as well. Also, if you haven’t had a chance to see Gillo Pontecorvo’s The Battle of Algiers, it will play as part of The Hour of Liberation series which also ends on Thursday.

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

Cassavetes & Scorsese: Love is Strange, the series that just won’t end, continues on Friday with Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymoreand A Woman Under the Influence, both from 1974 and a pretty good double feature actually.  On Saturday from noon until midnight, there’s a Camp Void 6-Film Marathon, co-presented by Cinematic Void, which includes a number of classic genre films, as well as a couple comedies from the ‘70s and ‘80s.Kubrick’s long-time assistant Leon Vitali will be back to present a screening of The Shining (1980) for Father’s Day. Although it’s already sold out, the Egyptian will have a special John Woo double feature of Hard Boiled  (1992) and Face/Off (1997) with John Woo in person!

AERO  (LA):

As with New York’s Quad, the AERO is sharing the Pauline Kael centennial love with The Pearls of Pauline: Kael at 100 with Children of Paradise (1945) on Thursday, a double feature of Bonnie and Clyde (1967) and Thieves Like Us (1974) on Friday, and then Diner (1982) and Melvin and Howard (1980) on Saturday. For Father’s Day Sunday, there’s a special Indiana Jones TRIPLE feature of the first three movies, all in 35mm with the third film Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade celebrating its 30thAnniversary.

QUAD CINEMA (NYC):

Because I had to skip last week’s column, I wan’t able to write about the Quad’s amazing new series Losing It at the Movies: Pauline Kael at 100, which pays respect to the film critic who would have turned 100 next week. The movies being shown this weekend include Brian De Palma’s The Fury (one of my personal faves from 1978), Clint Eastwood’s The Gauntlet  (1977), the horror classic Re-Animator (1985), Woody Allen’s Hannah and Her Sisters (1986) and more.

IFC CENTER (NYC)

Waverly Midnights: Parental Guidance  goes with David Lynch’s Eraserhead  (1977), Weekend Classics: LoveMom and Dad will screen Vittoio De Sica’s Bicycle Thieves  (1948), while Late Night Favorites: Springgoes with Ridley Scott’s Alien(again), Suspiria (again), The Holy Mountain (again).. and Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction.  Seems like Bicycle Thieves is the best bet in terms of stuff that isn’t shown a lot.

FILM OF LINCOLN CENTER (NYC):

Besides the Human Rights Watch Film Festival, the Upper West Side theaters are beginning an extensive Ermanno Olmi Retrospectivethat includes films from the Italian director ranging from 1958’s Time Stood Still and 1961’s Il Posto through 2014’s Greenery Will Bloom Again. I honestly don’t know if I’ve seen any of his movies but it’s an amazing series with two screenings of each movie.

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

On Saturday, MOMI will screen Burt Reynolds’ Hooper  (1978), directed by Hal Needham, in 35mm, as well as Sidney Lumet’s musical movie The Wiz (1978) starring Diana Ross and Michael Jackson as part of a StarringDiana Ross series. That series also includes Lady Sings the Blues (1973) and Mahogany (1975), both screening Saturday.

MOMA (NYC):

The extensive Jean-Claude Carrière will finally conclude on Sunday, and as before, I have nothing to add about it.

ROXY CINEMA (NYC)

Richard Donner’s The Goonies (1985) will be shown on 35mm on Friday and Saturday

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART  (LA):

This Friday’s midnight screening is the 1987 film Hard Ticket to Hawaii.

Next week, Disney is back to dominate with Toy Story 4 as Woody and Buzz Lightyear shouldn’t have too many worries facing the return of Chucky in Orion Pictures’ Child’s Play.

#WhatToWatchthisWeekend MenInBlackInternational LateNight PlusOne MoviesReviews Shaft TheDeadDontDie

[seriestrash]

London’s Calling

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 

Chapter Five: The Honeymoon Period 

Word Count: 2262

☏ ☏ ☏ ☏

(Picks right up where the last chapter finished, on the phone to Lucas) 

☼ 3:34pm ☼  NYC          ||          LND ☽ 8:34pm ☾

“Now tell me about London...” Lucas insists through the phone.

“Well, it’s not New York..” Riley laughs nervously.

“It isn’t?” Lucas teases with a gasp, “I had no idea.”

Riley giggles in response, “It’s so weird.”

“Weird how?” Lucas continues to press.

“Weird-good I guess,” Riley relaxes into their conversation. “It’s strange having learnt about places like this and knowing of all the things like red telephone boxes and Big Ben it’s just so..”

“Weird seeing it all in real life?” Lucas finishes her sentence.

“Exactly!” Riley exclaims.

“I totally understand,” Lucas nods, “I felt the same way when I came to New York. I’d only ever seen things in pictures but suddenly I’m standing right in front of The Empire State Building. It’s surreal.”

“Exactly,” Riley says excited again, “You understand.”

“Yeah,” Lucas smiles to himself, “So tell me about them, surreal or not,” he chuckles, “Did you take lots of pictures?”

“Yeah I did, I’ll send them through to you,” Riley gets him to wait a moment while she sends him all the photos she’s taken. She would eventually start documenting her escapades via her instagram but for now she just wanted to tell Lucas about it.

“Got em,” Lucas says and he begins to scroll through the various pictures. Chuckling at a few of her goofy tourist shots. 

Riley begins to tell him about everything she saw in great detail. Including her ride on the London Eye - which she forgot the name of and described as the big wheel thing by the river- to which Lucas chuckles and reminds her of it’s correct name. She describes her early dinner in Trafalgar Square and they laugh over her failed attempt to climb the lion.

“It wouldn’t be a trip for you unless you actually tripped, would it?” He chuckles and Riley laughs along with him.

“Where’s your mom? Lucas asks. 

“I think she’s in the kitchen,” Riley answers. 

“Not now,” Lucas laughs, “In the photos, she’s not in any of them.” 

“Oh,” Riley laughs nervously but deflates quickly, “She had to go to her new office for paperwork or something..” 

“You bummed she missed sightseeing?” Lucas asks delicately after assessing her mood change. 

“Kinda,” Riley shrugs knowing Lucas can’t see it, “But we live here now so what’s the rush?” 

“Right,” Lucas tries to sound positive but the reminder that this wasn’t a ‘trip’ like he put it earlier dampened his mood as well. 

☏ ☏ ☏ ☏

The following day Riley begins to share her travels with the world. Lucas watches Riley’s trip unfold through her social media accounts but he always got sent the special photos. No nothing dirty, just the extra photos like purposely ‘ugly’ selfies taken in places. The kind you try to look as silly as possible in. The kind that has Lucas in fits of laughter every time she sends one. 

☏ ☏ ☏ ☏

A week passes and Riley continues to document her escapades... 

Both Lucas and Maya were right in saying things would get easier for Riley. In the weeks that passed since the American landed on foreign soil, things certainly have gotten easier for her in regards to communication with her friends.

Riley would text constantly with her friends, that, she managed to juggle quite easily with her constant exploring and actual phone calls she managed to swing at least three times a week. 

Luckily for Riley, since it’s summer vacation back home her friends have an abundance of time and are more frequently than not, together. So those group calls that Lucas mentioned were easier to come by.

Lucas continues to follow Riley through her social medias and continues to receive the odd extra photos that didn’t make the cut. Through watching the ones that did make the cut though, Lucas notices when Riley removes his name from her bio. He knew such a thing was so juvenile but he couldn’t help but feel sad when he realised. Just another reminder of what distance took away from them. 

Although distance did him dirty Lucas still feels close to Riley in an emotional connection sense. Riley feels the same way. Over the days that have passed they find themselves texting one another, even when they know the other is asleep or occupied elsewhere, just a little text to send a thought they had and wanted to share. 

☼ 5:23am ☼  NYC          ||          LND ☽ 10:23am ☾

☏ ☏ ☏ ☏

☼ 12:11pm ☼  NYC          ||          LND ☽ 5:11pm ☾

Riley had been gone for a little over three weeks now and the entire time she’d been in and out of her hotel exploring the new city. Riley was comfortable with her surroundings now, in a way that she didn’t feel so lost trying to get from one place to the next. Having grown up in a big city she found adapting to a new one quite easy. 

Riley is sitting on the floral sofa watching her little brother play on his handheld video game. Riley had just ended a lengthy call with Maya and thought now would be a good time to try and FaceTime with Lucas. 

Back in New York, Lucas and Zay have been at the batting cages all morning. They’re sitting for a breather when Riley's goofy selfie appears on the screen requesting to FaceTime.

“Hey, Riley,” Lucas answers, holding his phone out to show himself. 

“Tell her I’m here,” Zay tugs at Lucas’ arm. “Hi Riley!” He says loudly putting his face close to Lucas’ cheek so he could be seen too. 

“Hi Zay!” Riley replies back excitedly. “Two for the price of one. Lucky me!” Riley giggles.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” Zay makes a joking bashful sway in his seat which earns him a shove in the arm from Lucas. The pair chuckle amongst themselves.

“Did I catch you guys at a bad time?” Riley asks laughing along.

“No, we are just taking a break at the batting cages.” Lucas assures her.

“Got to practice if you want to keep up with Zay this year,” Riley teases.

“Man, I like her!” Zay chuckles and pokes Lucas arm repeatedly to agitate him.

Lucas rolls his eyes and shrugs Zay off. “So how was your day, it’s still pretty early in the evening there isn’t it?”

“Almost dinner,” Riley nods, “had a spare few minutes so I thought I’d call.”

“What did you get up to?” Zay asks.

“Auggie and I spent all afternoon at Hyde park whilst mom and dad went to look at apartments.” Riley says facing the camera to Auggie for a moment, he manages a slight wave before returning his focus back to the game. “It was so lovely, even if he looks less than excited!”

“Oh yeah, I saw the photo you posted,” Lucas nods, “Looks very picturesque.”

The door unlocking causes Riley to turn her head back for a moment, “Gotta go, my parents are back with take out I hope!”

“Bye, Riley!!!” Zay says in a goofy tone, “Lurve you.” 

Riley giggles at his goofiness, “Lurve you too, Zay.” 

“Have a good night, Riley, talk soon,” Lucas says sweetly. 

“Tell her you lurve her,” Zay gives Lucas a knowing look and Lucas glares at him, eying him with a ‘shut up look’ and Zay mocks back silently with funny faces.

“You know FaceTime means I can see you right?” Riley laughs nervously. 

Both Texans return their gazes back to the screen with looks of embarrassment and end the call. 

“Why didn’t you say it?” Zay continues to tease his best friend. 

“It would be weird if I said it,” Lucas avoids his gaze. 

“Because you mean it?” Zay smirks. 

“Shut up,” Lucas huffs and folds his arms. 

“You loveeee Riley,” Zay chuckles. 

“Riley lives 3459 miles away,” Lucas says bluntly and Zay’s laughter tapers off. All feelings aside there was still that small detail of distance.  

☏ ☏ ☏ ☏

A few days later... 

☼ 6:41pm ☼  NYC          ||          LND ☽ 11:41pm ☾

☏ ☏ ☏ ☏

A week later...

☼ 1:02pm ☼  NYC          ||          LND ☽ 6:02pm ☾

☏ ☏ ☏ ☏

Three Weeks Later... 

☼ 2:33pm ☼  NYC          ||          LND ☽ 7:33pm ☾

Riley sits at the desk in her new apartment and video chats with Lucas from her laptop. They haven't found time to do anything but text in the past week so both teens were really looking forward to this. 

“Riley!” Lucas beams when her laggy self comes into view. 

“Hi,” Riley smiles sweetly, “How are you?” 

“Bored actually,” Lucas lets out a quiet laugh, “Well not anymore now that I’m talking to you.” 

“What have you been up to today?” Riley asks. 

“I spent the morning with my mom, we went shopping for school supplies,” Lucas lets out a little groan. 

“Already?” Riley shrieks. 

“School starts in less than two weeks,” Lucas frowns. 

“Wow, really?” Riley creases her brows, “I guess I’ve lost track of time..” 

“Doesn’t surprise me, your life is so jam packed with adventure!” Lucas remains upbeat, “You’ve been going on day trips, daily!” 

Riley giggles at his use of words, “With dad being off work we’ve really been making the most of it.” 

“I’ve seen! Brighton, and where’s that place you just got back from?” Lucas asks, “The one from your last Instagram pictures.” 

“It’s this place called Castle Comb,” Riley explains, “Some call it ‘The prettiest village in England’ and I’m going to have to agree.” 

“The couple of pictures you sent do look pretty,” Lucas nods. 

“Oh Lucas, you have no idea,” Riley gushes, “I mean you grew up in an extremely beautiful countryside so I’m sure you probably do have an idea..” 

“Texas and English villages would be quite different I imagine,” Lucas chuckles. 

“You’re probably right,” Riley laughs too, “But it’s so beautiful and everywhere, not just in the country town, anywhere where there’s grass really there are just patches of daisies and it’s so.. magical.” 

“Magical, huh?” Lucas coaxes his head, in awe of how cute she looks gushing about everything. 

“Yeah,” Riley softens, looking up from her hands to the screen. 

“Tell me more,” Lucas smiles back at her. 

☏ ☏ ☏ ☏

Two Weeks Later... 

☼ 3:45pm ☼  NYC          ||          LND ☽ 8:45pm ☾

Riley calls Lucas that evening to find out how his first day as a sophomore was. Riley wasn’t set to start school the following week but still wanted to check in on her friends. Lucas tries to give her a watered down version of his day, he didn’t want to make her upset that she wasn’t apart of it to which she’s thankful for because her heart was aching hearing each of her friends talk about getting back to the life she left behind. 

Lucas throws the attention off himself and presses Riley for details on her day. 

“So what magnificent day trip did you partake in today?” Lucas asks, “You said your dad was planning a surprise.” 

“Right!” Riley bounces in her seat like she almost forgot. “We went to Windsor Castle. I know we’ve seen Buckingham Palace already but Windsor Castle is like a proper castle that you’d imagine princess and dragons and...” Riley was getting lost in her excitement. 

“The whole fairytale experience,” Lucas bites down on his lip trying not to laugh. 

“Yes,” Riley nods quickly to herself and begins to go into detail about her day. Lucas asks for photos and she takes a moment to send him some through. 

Lucas admires them for a moment. 

“Maybe I should call you Princess Dancing Sunshine,” Lucas jokes. 

“Hey can I steal that?” Riley giggles, “I’ve been trying to think of a caption to post with it on Instagram.” 

“I stole it from you, so go ahead,” Lucas says. 

Riley is obviously distracted for a moment as she posts her new photo. 

Quickly, the pair get back to talking. 

“You know Paris is just an hours flight away?” Riley asks. 

“Hmm?” Lucas is confused. 

“Today we met a family from France and they were saying how it takes just a little over an hour to fly from Paris, they come to England for weekend trips,” Riley explains, “How strange is it that a whole different country is so close but we have states that take hours to get to- days if you’re driving.”

“You're not thinking of going to Paris without me are you?” Lucas shrieks.

“I would never!” Riley giggles, “Even if my family does go I’ll refuse to go until you come and visit so we can go to Paris together.”

“When I come and visit?” Lucas pricks up a brow.

“You will come visit wont you?” Riley asks almost worried that he seemed so surprised, “If I have to live here and come home to visit surely you’ll make the-“

“Of course I’ll come visit,” Lucas gently cuts her off but states firmly.

“Good, because I’ve been holding on to that Paris thing since the seventh grade.”

“Moi aussi,” Lucas says without a single struggle and Riley blanks on the other end of the line. (google translate says that means me too sorry if it doesn’t)

“Bonjour, Lucas,” Riley nervously chuckles like she had all those years ago and Lucas laughs along too at the memory.

The pair return to regular conversation until Riley gasps when she notices the time and how they got carried away. 

“Lucas, I’m so sorry I promised I’d call Maya,” Riley realises she’s more then forty minutes late to call her. 

“It’s fine, I understand,” Lucas says calmly. 

“Talk soon, okay?” Riley says still not hanging up. 

“Absolutely,” Lucas nods. 

“Okay, enjoy the rest of your night.. Maddog,” With a giggle she hangs up. 

End Note: I hope this was easy to follow along with. I think this goes without saying because I tried to make it clear but Lucas and Riley are obviously still text flirty with each other. Those feelings don’t just go away because of distance. This is important to the story. 

The title of this chapter is referring to how exciting everything is while it’s all new and Riley’s on vacation. She’s also managed to keep up with regular contact with her friends. Next chapter: The Honeymoon is over. School starts. Things change. 

PLEASE MAKE SURE TO REVIEW THE STORY!! Tell me how you’re liking it so far and if you want me!  Again, I’m sorry I took so long to post this! Trying to structure the chapter as time passing with visual aids was a lot harder than I thought. 

!!!!!!!!!!!! Much love xxx

#rucas #rucas fic #rucas fanfic #rucas au #rucas imagine #londonscalling

[vitaevictoria]

Every Book I Read in 2018: Part 1 https://ift.tt/2QsaJ9y

I haven't posted in 3 months but who cares! (I wrote this intro back when I hadn't posted in 3 months, but I've posted twice since working on this post! Horray for improvement!) Maybe I should post about my 4.5 month backpacking trip around Europe where I went to some cool ass countries and met some really bombass people and had a great time. But why talk about any of that on my travel blog when I just tell you about every book I read and give you my unwarranted opinions about them? I'll tell you where I was when I was reading them to keeping things ~spicy~ and ~travel related~. And no there are no affiliate links because I'm too lazy for that and I don't care anymore anyways. Back when my original reading goal was 50 books, I was just going to make this one long post. But since I've been home I've been reading a shitton (to give you a general idea of how much a "shitton" is: I read 20 books in a little over a month of being home) and right now I'm at 61 books and that's just TOO MUCH for anyone to read. So here are the first 35 books I read in 2018, and Part 2 will follow in the coming weeks. Also, be my friend on Goodreads! 1. Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed Read on my mom's couch after my wisdom teeth removal surgery. High on opioids and pissed off at the world because my FACE HURT. This book made me cry so hard and I highlighted so many quotes. I'd like to attribute the crying to the drugs and the mouth pain but honestly, it's probably because I'm a little bitch baby that cries easily at everything. 2. How Did You Get This Number by Sloane Crosley Also read on my mom's couch. Not impressive. Move along. 3. Leia: Princess of Alderaan by Claudia Gray Since I was doing all this reading on my mom's couch I felt like a 9-year-old again and decided to regress into my Star Wars phase. Except now I'm older and more Star Wars exists so there are more stories to read! How fun! They have Star Wars YA now! This was my second Claudia Gray book and it was enjoyable. 4. What Happened by Hillary Rodham Clinton [AUDIOBOOK] Listened to in my car over winter break. I listened to most of this at the end of 2017 but it is VERY LONG and I only listened to it while in the car (because I'm an old lady that borrows audiobook CDs from the library) so I finished it in 2018. All you need to know is that I cried at many parts while listening to this book, dreaming of what we could have had. 5. Call Me By Your Name by Andre Aciman Read in my college dorm, winter. I read this because I saw the movie and it rocked my world. I read the book so slowly because every sentence is beautiful and I didn't want it to end because I knew I'd never be able to read this book for the first time ever again. 6. Everything Everything by Nicole Yoon Borrow from my friend Shannon, god bless her. I don't remember much about this book so that tells you all you need to know. 7. Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert Mainly read on my couch in my dorm. SOOOOOOOOOOOO good! The institution of marriage is fascinating and scary. 8. A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams Read for my Southern American Literature course. Very gay and southern. Loved it. 9. All the Single Ladies by Rebecca Traister Read in my bed. Committed put me in a very feministy-nonfiction mood. It dragged at points but had so many good facts you should definitely read it. 10. Where'd You Go Bernadette by Maria Semple Read on the beach in Grenada (the island in the Carribean, not Spain) because I'm fancy sometimes. Very good and very smart, I'd like to read more like this. 11. Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion Started to read in Grenada, finished in Virginia. I liked it but Didion is too smart for me. 12. Brokeback Mountain by Annie Proulx Read in bed at home after graduation. I cried! Shocker! 13. William Shakespeare: The World as Stage by Bill Bryson [AUDIOBOOK] Mainly listened to while cleaning my room. I learned lots of things but can't remember any of it. 14. Dress Codes for Small Towns by Courtney C. Stevens Read in my room (don't worry soon I will be traveling and my reading locations with be a lot more fun). It's about teens in youth group in a small southern town and there's stuff about sexuality and growing up and Christianity and I LOVED it. 15. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie Read in one day on the porch of my grandparent's river house. It was good and important but should be read in middle school or early high school. 16. Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Also read in one day on the porch of my grandparent's river house. Would be a good gift to a teenager or a new mom (if you know she's into that kind of stuff, of course). 17. The Idiot by Elif Batuman Started reading in Grenada, read more in my dorm room, finished in my room after I moved back home. It took me so long to read because I didn't want it to end! It's one of those books that doesn't have an OBVIOUS point but I loved it. I want more books about smart girls traveling and making mistakes and not really learning from them. 18. Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton [AUDIOBOOK] Listened to in my room as I cleaned everything out in preparation for my Europe trip. Didn't enjoy much about this audiobook, but I like how honest she is. And man, she is honest. 19. A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson [AUDIOBOOK] Listened to driving up and down I-95 to go to my in-class portion of my TEFL course. I've decided that I'm never going to walk the whole of the AT (Appalachian Trail) so I might as well listen to the accounts of people that tried. Bill Bryson is easy to listen to and knows how to weave a story, except there was this whole portion where he talked smack about a solo female hiker for no reason. She has more balls than you do, Bill. 20. Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng [AUDIOBOOK] Finally, my books and I are in Europe! Listened to while cleaning the kitchen of the hostel I worked at in Slovakia. For some reason, I thought this would be a fun YA book with a dash of murder, but it's way more serious than that. A good look at race and family dynamics. 21. Carol (Price of Salt) by Patricia Highsmith [AUDIOBOOK] Listened to while cleaning the kitchen and just sitting in my room, taking a break from socializing. It's read by the same narrator as Everything I Never Told You and I liked her voice. A bit slow for an audiobook but the writing is beautiful. 22. Hunger: A Memoir of My Body by Roxane Gay [AUDIOBOOK] Listening while trying to hold my bladder on really bumpy minivan rides in Moldova. Gay narrates this herself and it is very good and important and everyone should read it. 23. The Garden Party and Other Stories by Katherine Mansfield Read in Romania. As far as "classics" go Mansfield is a bit easier to read, although I have to be in a particular mood for her. Which is why it took me so long to read such a slim book! Passed it on to an English guy from Bradford. 24. An Appeal to the World: The Way to Peace in a Time of Division by Dalai Lama XIV Read on a park bench in Varna, Bulgaria. I've never read the Dalai Lama before but man is he quotable. 25.  Living History by Hillary Rodham Clinton [AUDIOBOOK] Listened to while walking around Bulgarian towns. This was the perfect book to read since Clinton was the First Lady while the Clinton Administration was involved with eastern Europe and the former Yugoslavia region, which happened to be where I was traveling. 26. Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason by Helen Fielding Bought from a secondhand bookshop in Varna, run by a kind and scatterbrained American lady. I love the Bridget Jones series so much and if I ever get a PhD in Literature I can easily write a whole paper on how genius Bridget Jones is. You may think it's a fun bit of Pride & Prejudice fluff, but think a lil bit harder. 27. Origin by Dan Brown Read in Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria. A quick read. Dan Brown is alright. 28. Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi Started in Plovdiv, finished by the time I reached Sofia. The fun thing about hostel bookshelves is that all of the books that were big last year trickle their way into circulation. I loved this one so much. I love a well-done generational story. This one really helps you realize how trauma can be passed down from generation to generation. 29. Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows by Balli Kaur Jaswal [AUDIOBOOK]

Listened to while walking around Plovdiv, Bulgaria. I 100% recommend that you only listen to this as an audiobook. The voice actor does such a great job and this is the first fiction audiobook that I was actually excited to listen to every day.

30. The Roanoke Girls by Amy Engel Found on a bus in Scotland, read in London. It was very twisted and not well written but it was a quick read. Could've been great if written by someone else. 31. The Vegetarian by Han Kang Read in Marusici, Croatia. Very literary and probably too smart for me. It was interesting but I couldn't figure out the purpose of it all. 32. Exit West by Mohsin Hamid Picked up in Trebinje, Bosnia, I think. Honestly can't remember where I was when I read this. I can see why lots of people like this book but I really do not like Hamid's writing style. 33. The Wrong Knickers: A Decade of Chaos by Byrony Gordon Read on the bus in Albania. A fun book title for people to see you reading in public! I enjoy women writing about their lives, no matter how privileged and whiny their life can be, but ugh. This one could've been good but ends with a dude saving her at the end. Gag me with a spoon. 34. Rivers of London by Ben Aaronovitch Read in Tirana, Albania. Really loved this one! Aaronovitch has an interesting voice and there's a lot of actual history in this book. My only problem is that his female characters are really flat and only seen as a pair of tits to the main character. I'll see if this improves in his later books. 35. Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli Read in Himare, Albania. I didn't read the book Simon vs. the Homospaien Agenda but I saw the movie Love, Simon and loved it and this was the only book on the hostel shelf in English so I gave it a whirl. It was GREAT! The characters aren't perfect and they make mistakes and it's just a fun YA read! And there you have it! Stay tuned for Part 2 to find out what books I ended by 4.5 month backpacking trip with and see what I've read since I've been home. Have a good day, and go read a book!

#Travel #solo travel #solo female travel #backpacking #travel blogger #budget travel

[i-amusemyself]

All Lets Get Personal.

Thanks anon!! My depressed ass needed something to do

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

It really depends on my mood tbh. But judging by my YouTube playlists:

Church- Fall out boy; Hopeless Wanderer- Mumford and Sons (its a jam okay?); Summertime- my chemical romance; so cold- ben cocks; this is me- keala settle and killing in the same- rage against the machine

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

Lmao idk I dont have much of an interest in anyone atm. I still think itd be cool to meet kaitlyn alexander ig

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

You recognise each other the moment your eyes meet. It’s a question and answer book and the question is about soulmates or something

4: What do you think about most?

What it is I need to do to stop feeling anxious or stressed since it’s a daily battle

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

“it was hillarious but I couldn’t say “lmao I’ve seen women take bigger” so I just let the conversation die but I was urging to show him a savage video and ruin him just to be right but then I stopped myself”

Yes, it is as bad in context as out of it.

Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

Depends how warm it is tbh

What’s your strangest talent?

Talent? What’s that?? Idk I’m quite good at picking up languages super fast for some unknown reason (but i can forget them just as quick soo

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

Girls are hot hot hot they make me gay

Boys are hot hot hot they make me gay

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

Nah, but I’m not major sad about it since that’d be so awkward

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

Oh gosh um probably in the car the other day, canny remember which song it was tho

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

I seriously hate water like to the point I chose my uni based on where the lakes were. I also hate stuffed toys with voice boxes. 

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

Probably but I don’t remember

13: What’s your religion?

I’m an athiest

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

Walking between indoor places

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind it! I’m not photogenic

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

Ummmmmmm idk. I genuinly don’t know. I probably listen to five finger death punch most atm?

17: What was the last lie you told?

I said I was feeling good lmao

18: Do you believe in karma?

I don’t know, but I like to hope it does to make myself feel better 

19: What does your URL mean?

I think it’s pretty self explanatory

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

My greatest weakness? Probably my low opinion of myself or my associated jealousy.

My greatest strength? A few years ago I mightve said my resilience but I’m not sure I ever have that anymore. Idk, maybe my need to always keep improving as a person

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

See number 2 tbh

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

Yah every time I have a bath

23: How do you vent your anger?

I send massive long rant paragraphs to my closest friends and try not to do anything stupid or unhealthy

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

I have a pretty big collection of reaction images and memes

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

I hate both but video chatting is slightly better

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

I suppose. I’m closer to being happy with them than I ever have been and that’s what matters.

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

At this point I hate the sound of my alarm more than most things and I love... idk music. Does that count?

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

What if I’d stood up for myself more?

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

I don’t know as I believe in ghosts but I’m fascinated by the people who do. As for aliens ofc they exist.

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

I touch sofa. Both times. I’m sat on a sofa.

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

I smell rabbit since he’s currently sat with me in a box. I got lonely.

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

Gosh I don’t know. I can’t really think of anywhere I’ve hated being, besides home sometimes. I don’t know, no where has been that bad since I always try to make the best of it.

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

East coast

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

Opposite eh? Lmaoooo

Okay I actually have quite a thing for the lead singer of motionless in white. Make of that what you will.

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

To be happy, to go good and to die with as few regrets as possible

36: Define Art.

Fuck. Something visual this is made to be aesthetically pleasing or convey a message. I guess.

37: Do you believe in luck?

I’m not entirely sure what luck is. Maybe?

38: What’s the weather like right now?

Fekkin horrible, you wouldn’t know it’s spring. It’s grey and wet and windy and cold.

39: What time is it?

17:51

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

I have a full license but haven’t actually driven since my test, so I haven’t had a chance to crash.

41: What was the last book you read?

When breath becomes air. It’s about being a doctor.

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

I adore it yaas

43: Do you have any nicknames?

Char, (wholemeal) chorlo and Thot lmao

44: What was the last film you saw?

Love, Simon

Go see it, it’s gay and beautiful!

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

Idk, I broke my humorous after dislocating my elbow once. But that was ages ago

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

Hundreds lmao thats my childhood right there

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

I’m too depressed to have much of an interest in anything tbh. Even when I’m not I don’t tend to get That Invested.

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

Bisexual, ig. Though saying it never feels right for some reason.

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

A few, a few. One being that I was a lesbian years before even I knew I wasn’t straight. 

50: Do you believe in magic?

Not really but who knows

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

The threshold for grudges is pretty high but if I have one I’ll be bitter til the day I die

52: What is your astrological sign?

Libra

53: Do you save money or spend it?

I swing wildly between saving loads and spending loads. Healthy.

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

Um I mean I paid the deposit on a house, does that count?

55: Love or lust?

Love, for sure

56: In a relationship?

Yeah XD

57: How many relationships have you had?

This is like my third proper one

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

Nope

59: Where were you yesterday?

At home on my tod again, revising

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

Nah

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

Yuup

62: What’s your favourite animal?

I love all the animals I can’t pick a favourite. I love alpacas, chimps, gorrillas, orangutans, lizards, elephants, octopuses etc etc

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

Excessive praying and reblogging lucky posts

64: Where is your best friend?

Tbh I have multiple, one in the next village, one 6 hours south and one 4000 miles away

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

Christ um, people I spam with likes most are probably @oneshappyplace @apricot-el @only-slightly-dangerous @succeeding and @setheverman

66: What is your heritage?

I’m white as a toilet so my family probably murdered a lot of innocent people

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

Umm I was skyping my boyf and playing a game online with him

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

Trump

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

Yeah, haven’t most people?

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

I like to think so yeah. Though I do have a lot of breakdowns so maybe without that part. @ my friends I apologise

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

Help the dog. Though realistically I probably couldn’t do it alone, so would call someone over to help and leave asap to not be so late.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

I think I’d tell the people closest to me, yeah. I don’t know what I’d do though. Probably book as many flights as possible and visit all the countries I’ve always wanted to go to. I guess I’d probably write my will and organise a funeral too. I don’t think I’d be too afraid, just, idk, sad? I don’t want to disappear to nothingness yet, even if I won’t know when it happens.

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

Argh that’s horrid. I mean trust is essential for all relationships imo. But if I had no love at all in my life I doubt I’d live very long at all. So... love? No wait,,, trust. Yeah trust.

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men. It reminds me of a school trip years ago to Belgium that was such a good time

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

8008

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Well, trust ig, being able to talk about anything, a good balance of affection and roasting. Idk

77: How can I win your heart?

Be kind, be funny and have layers.

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

I suppose so 

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

The decision to reply to the message that appeared in my inbox right before I was going to end it. There were plenty, but I only opened that one. The person who sent it changed my life.

80: What size shoes do you wear?

7

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

Either a pun or something ominous. Maybe both.

82: What is your favourite word?

Probably sorry since I say it a lot

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

Love, followed quickly by the mental image of a dissected heart

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

I amuse myself. Gotta keep up that brand sponning.

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

Don’t feel like dancing by the scissor sisters lmao

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

Black, red and purple

87: What is your current desktop picture?

Just a galaxy

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

Donald. Trump. When in close proximity to Mike Pence too.

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

Besides “what are your credit card details”? Idk, perhaps a question about the flaws of the people closest to me, since they’re something I wouldn’t want them to read.

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

Lie there still for a good 5 minutes just to make sure. Maybe chuck a pillow across the room to see if they attack it. Then go fetch my phone and call whoever will pick up to ask wtf to do.

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

The ability to fly probably. It’d help stop me being late and transport is so expensive these days.

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

A half hour period of the time me and my friend spent outside laughing our heads off and covered in glitter when I visited her in the states last summer

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

Damn, only one? Lmao catch me ranking my traumas to try to answer this question. I’ll erase getting flooded and being made homeless I think lmao

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

Probably P!nk since she was low key my gay awakening

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

I quite fancy going to amsterdam rn, or failing that, copenhagen

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

Not that I know of

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

Only as a little kid

98: Ever been on a plane?

Plenty of times yeah, I love it

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

I wish there was some way I could convince all the dictators, extremists and right wingers to just fekkin stop tbh. Centrists can stay but theyre on thin ice.

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Couples who dress alike: 'It looks like we’re from the same cult' | Fashion

Jimi Phgura, 38, performing artist, and Simran Dhiman-Phgura, 38, freelance stylist, Hertfordshire

Jimi I’ve always worn classic clothes – I love the fabrics and weight that old clothes have. Growing up, I was introduced to them by my older brother, whom I perform with as the Twilight Players – we dance to music from ska to Prince to Stevie Wonder, and we always wear original clothes: the two-tone brogues, the baggies. I’ve had my quiff since I was 13; Jimi the Quiff is what they call me.

When I was growing up, I used to get a lot of hassle for being into vintage stuff. As I’ve got older I’ve thought, no, it’s good to be different. And being with Simran has given me more confidence to dress that way. It makes it more exciting to have both of us wearing it, as opposed to her wearing tracksuit bottoms or something.

I’ve been aware of us dressing similarly since we got together in 2005. When we went out, people would say, “Oh, you guys look amazing.” But it wasn’t until last year, when we decided to start selling a lot of our stuff to fund a trip to Thailand and did Portobello market, only then did I think, oh, people really dig our style. People would see us together and take photos.

I don’t really see it as couples dressing; it’s not as if we sit together and think about what we’re going to wear. Nine times out of 10, we just end up wearing something that matches or complements each other. And now that we’ve got a baby on the way, we’ve started noticing baby vintage stuff; I didn’t know that existed before.

Simran I’m a secondhand queen, I like to shop on eBay and all the apps, from Depop to Vinted. The 50s and 60s are my favourite eras, but at the moment, because I’m pregnant, I’m doing flowy 70s style to accommodate my growing bump.

We influence each other. Jimi has a great eye and I’ve got a great eye, so we do ask each other for advice. If I’m going to a wedding or something, I’ll plan my outfit. We’re of Indian descent and if I’m wearing a vintage sari, he’ll try to complement it with a vintage suit in similar colours. But we never intentionally match. It’s cute sometimes. It just depends on the mood I’m in – sometimes you don’t want to look like your husband.

The baby won’t necessarily look matching; but if I’m dressed in a classic outfit, I might dress the baby in one, too.

Malcolm Mackenzie (in blue top), 43, editor of We Love Pop magazine, and Matthew Wilkinson, 35, architect, London

‘It looks like we’re from the same cult or boy band.’ Photograph: Harriet Turney for the Guardian

Malcolm Matt and I have been going out for 13 years, but we probably only started to dress more similarly when we moved in together eight years ago. I was more subtle before.

We’ve grown to like the same things. I like 80s-inspired stuff, from Duran Duran to Miami Vice, Buffalo. Harrison Ford as Deckard in Blade Runner is a key look, as is Kurt Russell in Overboard and Richard Gere in anything. I like clothes that evoke memories, of a holiday, for instance. We’ve got racks of amazing shirts that conjure up the Mediterranean or the Riviera, but through the prism of the 80s. It’s a fun wardrobe.

We’re not matchy-matchy – if I’m wearing a sweater with a cat and he’s wearing one with a dog, it’s a bit much

We’re not matchy-matchy – if I’m wearing a sweater with a cat on, and he’s wearing a sweater with a dog, then it’s a bit much. I don’t want us to go out looking like overgrown twins or a Little Britain sketch. Sometimes I say, “We can’t both go out wearing a denim shirt”, like Britney and Justin. And I don’t want people to think, because I’m a few years older than Matt, that it’s a Henry Higgins/Eliza Doolittle thing, or Liberace and his chauffeur. I think it looks like we’re from the same cult or boy band: we’re not dressed identically but we do make sure that we look OK together.

We can share clothes only from the waist up – I have legs like spaghetti, he comes from a family of rugby players. We don’t share underwear for the same reason.

Matthew In the 80s, Peter York wrote a book about different tribes: one of them was Babytime, or people who like childish things. We might like a sweatshirt with Bambi on it, or primary colours. To say that we both like cute things is a bit simplistic, but we are quite silly. We’re both happy to be slightly ridiculous.

Colour-blocking is the core thing that describes how I dress. In terms of what I wear, it’s actually pretty classic. I’m not stirring up fashion madness with culottes or anything like that – it’s more about the colours and the textures.

Malcolm is probably a bit wilder than I am, more daring. He has quite a lot of zeitgeisty culture statement T-shirts. He’s got a Golden Girls one that I would never wear – not that he would ever let me. When I was a kid, I would always get my mum to buy me things – orange trousers or stupid rainbow jumpers – and then I would be too scared to wear them. Malcolm has given me the confidence to wear what I want.

Ben Langlands, 62, and Nikki Bell, 58, both Turner-nominated artists, London and Kent

‘I wouldn’t go back and change if we were too matching.’ Photograph: Harriet Turney for the Guardian

Ben We have been collaborating for 40 years, so I do talk about what we wear as a “we”. We’re artists, so we’re free to choose whatever we want to wear; we don’t have to meet other people’s expectations.

Work is our main priority, so we dress to be practical and comfortable. We generally wear jeans and white shirts, occasionally suits, or a jacket with jeans. We’ll wear a single-coloured shirt, like pink or blue, with jeans. Neither of us ever wears dresses – it’s always shirts and trousers.

I don’t think there’s really anything I would wear that she wouldn’t, or vice versa

I remember once, when I first got to know Nikki, we visited the parents of a childhood friend of hers and they showed us a Super 8 film of their daughter’s 12th birthday party. There were about 30 little girls in frocks and one little girl in pink flared trousers. That was Nikki.

We never attempt to match, it just happens naturally. But we’re not terribly self-conscious about it. I don’t think there’s really anything I would wear that she wouldn’t, or vice versa. It’s all quite androgynous.

Nikki My clothes are very simple to wear, wash, pack, maintain. I’ve always been a trousers person.

We met at art school in 1977 and started collaborating in 1978. When we first got together, I don’t think I was conscious of the similarities in the way we dressed. We came together through our work – a piece called The Kitchen, in two halves. I made the old kitchen and Ben the new; they were mirror images of each other.

I wouldn’t try not to match – it’s an individual decision and I wouldn’t go back and change if we were too matching. If that’s what we both wanted to wear, then that’s what we’re wearing.

Langlands & Bell’s Internet Giants: Masters of the Universe opens at the Ikon Gallery in Birmingham in March 2018.

Brittany Bathgate, 27, blogger, and Dean Khalil, 32, builder/artist, Norwich

‘She’s a bit too small for us to share, but I have worn women’s clothes in the past.’ Photograph: Harriet Turney for the Guardian

Brittany We were really different when we first met. Dean was into DIY clothes – he’d dye his own T-shirts, cut them up, write on them. I was massively into Alexa Chung, so my style used to be quite indie It girl – lots of blazers, brogues, peacoats with miniskirts. It was a little bit 60s – sometimes I would wear my hair in a tiny beehive.

In 2013, we went travelling and spent a year in Australia. Before we went away, we didn’t dress similarly, but something switched: after a few months of living near the beach, you give up on wearing anything nice and just live in shorts and a vest out of necessity. So by the time we came home, we had a blank slate, clothes-wise, and got to start building our wardrobes back from scratch.

Dean’s a bit more rough around the edges. His skateboard style is too dirty for me. I iron everything

We’re quite aware of our couples dressing – we do often have to ask what the other is wearing so we’re not too similar. Sometimes if we’re going out, I’ll have got dressed and Dean will be like, “Oh, I was going to wear my blue jacket.”

My style is quite clean and classic. I find it fun to play around with pairings of classic pieces with, say, some crazy, wide-legged trousers. Dean’s a bit more rough around the edges. His skateboard style is too dirty for me. I iron everything and am quite particular.

We both have a lot of stripy tops, navy jackets, the same Levi’s. I’ve always been inspired by men’s clothes, but look for a women’s version – because I’m so small I can’t really wear them.

Dean I like a lot of classic British style – labels like Fred Perry and that sort of 60s look that’s fitted but not fitted. This Is England is a good style reference.

Nine years ago, when we first met, we were both at art school and I was a bit more flamboyant. In the early days of our relationship, I used to wear these black jeggings with bleach on them. I had some big builder’s boots. Our tastes have changed, but in the same direction – we’ve grown together. Sometimes we will literally have the same outfit on.

Brittany’s a bit too small for us to share clothes, but I have worn women’s clothes in the past. I used to wear girls’ jeans – when I was younger I couldn’t get jeans tight enough.

But I also have a lot of clothes that Brittany wouldn’t wear. I have Converse that are about eight years old; once white and now brown. I love them, but Brittany won’t wear shoes once they’ve got a mark on them. Every day when the shoes come off, they are stuffed and go back in the box on the shelf. Everything gets ironed.

Joel Bird, 42, carpenter/author of The Book Of Shed, and Sara Chew, 37, graphic designer/illustrator, London

‘We drifted together, but not consciously – I can’t remember ever thinking, I’d like to dress like Sara.’ Photograph: Harriet Turney for the Guardian

Joel I class my style as 30s/40s. My family thinks that I dress a bit like Indiana Jones. I didn’t set out to dress like this, but I wanted functional clothes for carpentry, and the high-waisted trousers with braces are comfortable. Plus I am interested in that era – I like jazz, and dance swing and balboa.

Even at school I dressed quite unusually – I’ve always been interested in craft. As a lad in Liverpool, I always had a sewing machine, and now I do make some of my clothes. I buy dungarees from eBay or secondhand sites like Rokit and cut the tops off to make them into high-waisted jeans. I often buy old army braces because they’re stronger than fashion braces.

Sara and I have been together for 11 years and living together for nine. I think until about five years ago, Sara dressed more vintage than I did, then we kind of drifted together, but not consciously. I almost don’t like the idea of dressing the same as my partner – it’s my paranoia at the lack of independence. But it’s inevitable – you take influences from each other.

We do sometimes share clothes. Sara steals my stuff, and if I’m desperate I can wear her trousers; but it’d have to be a bad wash day.

Sara I think Joel and I have come to dress the same because we both like things that are practical and well made.

I’m different from Joel in that I’m totally happy for us to dress the same; I’m a graphic designer and illustrator, and I like things to look right. If we go out and we look similar, to me that’s good, because we’re not clashing. I wouldn’t make us go out in matching shellsuits, though.

I’ve been wearing vintage stuff my whole life. For me it’s about the way they fit – because of the type of body I’ve got, I don’t suit a lot of modern clothes. It’s about the cut, the fabric – and the fact that they last better.

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