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dzpenumbra · 2 years ago

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7/17/23

Today has been an interesting day, to say the least. I don't really have words for it, honestly.

I woke up after about 4-5 hours of sleep. It was raining. It's been raining all day, occasional thunderclaps to add a little spice to the monotony. I'm not sure what exactly woke me up, but what kept me awake was very gentle creaks coming from the ceiling floorboards, and my vivid imagination translating that into water leaking and dripping from the ceiling onto my bedroom floor. It was very convincing, very visceral. Maybe it was me still being in a dream-like state, so close to sleep. Maybe the elevated CBD/THC tincture dose added to the immersion of the illusion. Maybe it was because I didn't have my glasses on and my imagination was filling in the gaps. Maybe it was all three. But it once again had me on edge.

It's as though... I'm a constantly coiled spring ready at all times to respond to the next imminent crisis. It really does feel that way. Because... who else is going to? That's a big part of being alone that I find hard to communicate to people who pride themselves in their work and their efforts - let me rephrase that, those who define themselves by their work and their efforts. And thus... define themselves by their pride. Whether you call upon support, reinforcements, backup, a social net, whatever... or if you just have them present and pridefully turn them away at any possible turn as though perpetually trying to vainly prove some kind of point... either way, you have them. They are present. If you have a toolbox in your house, whether you choose to use a screwdriver or your fingernails to take a screw out... at least you have the option of a screwdriver, you know? Or even the claw end of a hammer, and you can improvise with that. You know? But if all you have is your bare hands? It's simply a different life.

Again, it's hard to convey this concept. But it is really the core of a lot of my struggles. And thus... it makes perfect clear sense that my reaction to this... which I have been yelling at the heavens like some dramatic Greek tragedy for several years now... is pleading for help from others. With literally anything. Especially with things that I'm not capable of doing, like... multitasking... or skills that I am yet to develop, in times when I am deeply overloaded and really don't feel I can afford to learn a completely new skill from scratch just to take care of a task that someone else near me already has an expertise in.

Because... in the end... what is the point of a community if each individual is obligated to learn how to do everything for themselves. I mean that, and this has been boggling my mind for a very long time now. "Hey, I'm not that great at marketing or advertising, do you think you could introduce me to a long-time friend of yours who is involved in that? See if they could lend me their skills which they spent much of their lives honing?" "Why don't you learn how to do it yourself. You need to learn how to be more independent."

Who. The fuck. Is independent? Truly. I'll tell you. I'll tell you who is truly independent. Someone who lives in a shack in Bumfuck, Alaska, who needs to take a bushplane to get to their house and doesn't interact with society for years at a time. They are independent. If they have a problem - a clogged pipe, a full septic tank, torn clothes, broken shingles, a fractured Tibia, a horrific nightmare - they must address the problem alone. For there is no one else. Because the toolbox simply doesn't exist, it's not an option. It's not that the toolbox is being stubbornly ignored as a way of trying to pressure someone else to "fix their problems for them"... it's that the toolbox does not exist.

For me? Taking the ceiling creaks, for example. I could've called my landlord about it. The maintenance guy would most likely have said there's nothing he can do about it, it's just old floorboards, they creak, it's what they do. And I would still be here, and I would feel a bit shameful for exposing that weakness to people. I really wish I didn't have that level of insecurity and pride. I mean that. I wish I could wear that on my sleeve comfortably, and I aspire to return to that.

I lost my train of thought. XD I just happened to use the only example where I do have options for support. And what really stops me from reaching out for more support? With more people? I have to rely on the charity of strangers. It's all insecurity and anxiety all the way down with that. And my rational mind makes sense of it by saying "well... statistically... your chances of success in getting quality assistance with these things from someone you have never met before... when you're cold-calling... it's typically near zero. So why try?"

Ugh, this is exhausting just thinking about. How did I even get here... sorta... explaining that this frantic screaming of "someone help me" is simply a shadow cast by the actual problem of "I don't have a supportive social network and everything in my life falls on my shoulders... no pressure". So... when I wake up... and I hear what I think is water dripping? Who is taking care of that? Who will get the container to contain my upstairs neighbors' clumsy spill. Who will make sure the spill didn't reach any electronics and address that problem if it exists? Who will soak the spill out of the carpet? Who will have the expenses taken out of their security deposit if damage is done? It all falls on my shoulders. So... how could I possibly sleep? In that moment, I am on-call. And my body responds to the on-call notification by pumping adrenaline into my system, so I am alert and have energy and have enough sensory focus to perform tasks. So when do I sleep?!?!

I'm always on-call. 1:30AM - on-call. 3PM - on-call. 6AM - on-call. You name it. 24/7. Morning, noon and night. Even holidays. And I guess that's where the franticness of my pleas for support has sourced - how desperately I've just needed someone to watch the fort while I rest.

This is the paradox that I noticed when I was put on pharmaceutical medications to aid in sleep, specifically the hypnotic Seroquel. I didn't know at the time, but most of my difficulty sleeping is a byproduct of not feeling safe or protected - a very common PTSD thing, and anxiety thing, honestly. So... at a very primal level, the brain stays primed to wake up at anything. The analogy I like to use that I hope is relatable to some is... if you were tasked to spend the night in a spooky old house... alone. Every single noise you hear in that house that night, it will pull you from sleep with a fucking jolt. That is... most nights for me. In my own home. Unless I'm in a particularly good place mentally, feeling very supported, feeling a lot of physical security, feeling like people have my back and shit. Otherwise... I'm like a hair-trigger mousetrap of crisis-response.

The paradox that Seroquel introduced was... I would still wake up. I would just be incredibly groggy and incoherent when I woke up. Which instilled way more anxiety. Because now... my problem has not been solved. At all. Instead, I still have to address perceived crises, and I have been given a massive debuff. I don't have my senses about me, I'm sloppy, I'm disoriented. And that makes me more scared. And then I'd start the day the next day, and still feel incredibly groggy and hungover from sleep deprivation and these meds... so much that I genuinely felt drunk and did not feel safe driving my car. So... it started limiting my ability to be present in the world. I stopped driving to pick up iced coffee in the morning, a tradition from a more economically stable past. I stopped going for morning hikes. It greatly immobilized me. I just... I lacked the language and articulation to be able to communicate the handicap that had been thrown on my life, and I really got sucked into this delusion that somehow I was to blame. I wasn't taking the medication properly, I wasn't going to bed on time, I wasn't exercising enough, etc. etc. Somehow, I was to blame.

So... in reflecting on this whole problem now? I still don't fully know how to manage it. Because it puts two survival needs in direct opposition - physical safety and sleep. And one of them has to go. In order to convince myself that I'm physically safe, I must sacrifice sleep. In order to sleep, I must disregard physical safety. And there is really no way to verify if those physical safety threats are valid or false-alarms until after sleep has been sacrificed. So yeah...

An interesting thought popped into my head while I was typing this. My Xbox died today. I don't know how, though I suspect it's because of the moisture from having it right by an open window when I live right next to a river. I don't know. The Xbox was a gift from a former friend who I met through a Minecraft server. We spent a lot of time together, played a lot of games together. I chilled with him online when he met his girlfriend, when she got pregnant, when they had their first kid, when they got engaged, when they had their second kid... I met and played Minecraft with his eccentric ex-biker Dad. He invited me to be the best man at his wedding, having never met in person before, and I gladly accepted and flew halfway across the country on my own dime to be there. He gifted me this Xbox one year, the year the original Fortnite came out so... 2017? Damn, I guess it's had a good run. He worked in the electronics department at Walmart and decided to give me a discount on it, I'm really not sure why... we were both PC gamers... but I accepted the gift.

I've been using the Xbox simply... to play my yoga videos in the morning. That's been the extent of its usage recently. I used to watch Twitch streams on it sometimes, but... not so much lately. And today, I started it up as usual, and it did that "boodaloop" startup sound, then clicked... and then went silent. And it kept doing that every time. So... I'm guessing it's a hardware problem. I'm guessing that's done.

Now... I woke up this morning freaking out about moisture making its way into my apartment and causing problems with electronics. And my day officially starts with yoga... so my day started... with a failed piece of electronics, most likely due to excessive moisture.

Why am I telling this? Beyond the synchronicity? Because when the Xbox died (I assume)... I didn't really care that much. I was frustrated at first, and a bit sad. I blamed myself a bit, but let that go pretty quickly. I looked up some answers on my phone, and moved on from that pretty quickly. I just sorta... resigned to it. And thanked it for its service. And tried to figure out how to do AirPlay from my phone to my TV having never done that before, praying I wasn't syncing to one of my neighbors' TVs on accident. And I succeeded. And that was that. No freak-out, no panic, no "oh shit my life is ruined". Just... aw man... and adaptation. And that was that.

So... why is my brain stem treating little creaks from the ceiling... transformed into the illusion of water dripping from the ceiling... transformed into the illusion of water dripping onto electronics... why is my primal brain treating that as a critical "you must be awake for this now" emergency? Because I can prevent it. I can be the hero who averts this tragedy. With a little willpower, and a little sacrifice, I can avert disaster. All I need is a nice big dose of adrenaline to get my wits about me and I'm up to the task. "Whoops, false-alarm! Good luck getting back to sleep now!"

Still, weird shit that I woke up with that specific fear on the same day that 5-6 hours later I found my Xbox had shit the bed. And I know it died yesterday because I've been using the Xbox every day, it was part of my daily routine. I'm sure it was a hybrid combination of memories of the day when my upstairs neighbors spilled water and it just dumped right through the floorboards like through slats on a boardwalk or something... that combined with the fear of water getting in the open downstairs window from the storms - which somehow it just... doesn't.

I tried to be more disciplined with my sleep hygiene today though. Once I had identified that I was responding to fear with the whole water dripping illusion thing... I immediately got my headphones and put on a binaural beats sleep thing. I laid there for 58 minutes trying and failing to fall back asleep... so I didn't do great with the whole "if you're not asleep within 15-20 minutes, get up and do something for a while and come back" thing. But I did get up. I did a run in Hades, which wasn't the most relaxing thing in the world... XD But got my mind off fear and stress. I ate some trail mix, in case my body was running on fumes. Then I went back to bed and... instead of the music stuff... put on a livestream VoD from a streamer I've been watching for nearly 8 years now, whose streams I've been consistently putting on during sleep for several years now. His immersion in the story, his calm demeanor and his ability to elaborately express his in-game experience always bring me to a very serene place of calm. And he's been a huge inspiration for me. I haven't been listening to sleep music or his VoDs when I go to sleep since I started using my box fan. I fell asleep pretty quickly and caught up on sleep pretty well.

Yoga was silly, and humbling. The yoga teacher was being very goofy and fun in the video, and I appreciated the levity. I needed more of that. And we did this thing where you go from Cobbler's pose and then lift your legs up with your feet still touching and knees still out, but you bring your chest up forward so you're like... perched on your ass-bones. And I just kept flopping around like a toddler trying to walk. It was so humbling. I started laughing. I clearly don't move this way very often! I noticed myself getting a little upset, getting frustrated with myself. "Why can't I do this? What am I doing wrong? I've been doing yoga every day for like 7+ months, what am I missing?!" And I was able to let it go. And just relax. And try again. And try to feel what the pose feels like.

That is such an important thing. In all things. But I always translate it to skateboarding because it translates so well. In fact, I think it was a Rodney Mullen story that I sorta quote here. He talked about his process of learning new tricks where he goes and tries it... and obviously it doesn't work... and then he takes little mental notes... "ah, my foot went here, and my hips were like this... hmm... what if I shifted my weight this way..." And then went back to the run-up and... cleared his mind entirely. Forget all of it. Empty the cache and just go and do it. And repeat the process. Until you feel it. Until it connects. And I say this more from my experience with snowskating than skateboarding (though there are some skateboarding tricks I have this with)... when you have a trick locked down, you don't think about it. You just go... "shove it" and you mimic what a shove it feels like... and you do it.

So that's been my struggle in practicing yoga alone. Not knowing exactly where I'm supposed to be feeling the pose, what it's supposed to feel like... what muscles and joints are activating in which ways, where I will feel it, where to carry my weight. And it's less about doing it "right", and more about... doing what the pose is intended to do. Like... if you've ever seen anyone using a piece of exercise equipment incorrectly. Round of applause for creativity, of course... but you end up missing the point. And that's sorta the whole point of having a yoga teacher... to help you connect the shape to the feeling, so you know what to feel. Like... forward folds for me really stand out. I realized that for months, I was forward folding from my lower back, not my hips. I could barely reach my ankles. I was so frustrated because it was not relaxing it just wasn't working. And then one video had me go from a squat into a forward fold, sorta... going into a forward fold in reverse rather than coming from Mountain pose like I always did... and I raised my hips and still couldn't get my legs straight (of course, I still can't but whatever)... but I realized it felt... very different. I could feel my stomach on my thighs. My hips felt different, like different tendons were activating or something. My weight was being carried in a different location, a bit farther forward. And my hands were on the floor. And I just went... "oh! Oh, okay, so this is what bending farther forward in my hips feels like." All I needed was to feel it... then I was able to replicate it. And I use that hip sensation as a guidepost a lot now.

So... it was nice today to feel childlike. So many adults get so fucking averse to feeling childlike, as though it makes us appear incompetent and weak or something. A weird analogy I had come to me earlier today - as though their inner child were merely a cicada husk shed and clung somewhere deep in their psyche. I miss it so dearly. Every time I feel it, I wonder why I ever left. I want to go running out in the rain with my shirt off, barefoot, and jump in puddles with zero cares what the neighbors think. I want to roll around in the grass. I want to lay in the dirt and study bugs and see what they're up to. I want to point in awe and wonder at a gorgeous sunset, beaming from ear-to-ear simply because of how lucky I am to be able to experience something so beautiful.

Note how all of those things are... outside... in nature... XD Soon...

I'm gonna go a bit mas rapido here because I've been meandering. As I do... I'm a wanderer... I left the beads alone today, except for three. The painted ones... and one of the blue ones. I wanted to test my walnut oil/beeswax finish in combination with the tung oil. The tung oil added a deep richness and a protective layer saturated into the wood fibers. The wax should provide a nice coating which, once hardened, I hopefully should be able to buff to a nice shine. A compromise between the satin tung oil finish and a glass-like acrylic finish... and still continuing the trend of using only organic materials. The painted beads... I'm going to call a failure. I think the oil and the paint did not get along, and that's okay. They were intended to be test runs, much was learned from this. Even after all the coats of oil, the paint just stripped off. Even with the wax on top, the paint stripped off. So... I'm guessing the problem was that the opaque layer of paint prevented the oil from penetrating the wood, and maybe even broke down the paint a bit... and the wax would just... pile on top of this... and when I went to buff, it just pulled off the paint from the very bottom layer, which was only very delicately adhered to the wood surface. Maybe tung oil first... then paint, then wax? Or maybe the painted beads will require a more versatile sealer, like shellac or something. I'll have to explore this more. But my third bead was one of the blue ones, they've been sitting and letting the tung oil harden for a few days now. I gave it some wax and let it sit for a bit, then buffed it. It made... a bit of a difference, but nothing huge. Nothing dramatic when compared to the others. We'll see what time has in store for that.

The rest of my day was listening to (and finishing) The Way of the Peaceful Warrior, which was lovely. A very powerful story, very resonant. I don't even really know what to say about it. It lines up with a lot of my life and it has been very thought provoking, and it's been helping me align with what I need right now.

The insight I got was... fear. Fear is my problem. And always has been. I'll get into that and close with my art, so we can end on a lighter note. Fear has such a strangle-hold on me. Fear of upsetting people who have power over me. Fear of scaring "normal" people with my odd and clearly out-of-place behaviors, which have consistently through history been considered an illness or acts of defiance that need to be corrected or punished. Fear of not being able to truly be my authentic self without... imposed consequences. That's one of the first major insights I got, my freshman year of college... "when they find out who/what I am... they're going to <do some bad thing to me>" Satanic Panic feelings. Witch Trial feelings. Holocaust feelings. Persecution. For simply being different. That fear has disrupted and laid ruin to my life since I was 17. And I have been a slave to it.

Now, that fear can infect so deep that it can make convincing arguments that holding eye contact with someone in the hallway too long might lead to something bad happening. That fear is so fucking lazy now that it doesn't even come up with elaborate fantasy punishments like Jesus being brought to Golgotha. It just goes "don't do anything that others might consider odd or else blah blah you know the drill." Ugh, it's so tiring to keep living like this.

And I remember lamenting the days when I would deliberately make an ass out of myself! I grew up with Jackass and CKY! My friends and I in high school were in the video program and we would make stupid home movies of us goofing off and setting RC cars on fire and racing them and pulling stupid pranks on each other and shit. Now? Walking to the pharmacy feels risky. Like I might come across someone who's already on edge, and my body language will be "wrong" or I'll accidentally make eye contact or something... and they'll just fucking snap on me.

So... after learning very clearly that there is no controlling others... and not even wanting to... I adapted into this belief that... if I act perfectly, innocently, friendly, eloquently, all of that... then they will have no reason to hurt me. And I will be safe. That's not controlling them, right? Right? Well... actually...

And that's something I need to talk to my therapist about. I need to be able to just... be myself... knowing that those situations are just part of life and they aren't something I can influence or control. Because that's the free will of another person. And that's just life. I don't think I can influence the decisions of a tiger, I just... show it respect, and act authentically non-threatening, and rely on its mercy. But people... people just... don't play by the same rules as animals. We often make up our own. And you can do everything right... and still suffer someone's wrath and violence.

So... what can you do? Just... resign to it? If someone mugs you, do you just give them your wallet? Do you try to run? Do you try to disarm and incapacitate them? I genuinely don't know. I don't have a plan. I just very often feel at the mercy of others, in a situation I simply want no part of. And yet, the entire situation is a hypothetical that has been concocted in my panicked imagination.

Fear. And my way of trying to confront this demon? Since 4 years ago? Go to the source. Weed. Weed unlocked my deepest fears and let me live them, viscerally, in dream-like highs. And it was able to do this pretty reliably. And I avoided the fucking plant for over 10 years because of it. It scared the living Christ out of me. It was not enjoyable, it wasn't worth the "risk". The freakouts, the panic attacks, the visceral experiences of living emotional nightmares. Every one carried a message, every one had a clear lesson contained for me to learn from. That's what these substances were fucking used for. And I've wanted for so long to just... have someone with me to help me work through them. To be emotionally and psychologically vulnerable with someone trusted, in that state. Because... my loss of my trust for others was born in moments of vulnerability while in that state. It's coming full circle. And someday I will, someday I will be able to get high and freak out with someone, and have it go well. Have it not result in someone else having their own panic attack that I have gone "schizophrenic", or someone taking personal offense at the imposition of "having to" support me in that moment, or even someone fueling my fears and validating them.

It may not be the only answer, but as far as the poetry of life goes... it makes the most sense to me. My fear was ignited in that cave. Every time I try to be brave enough to go back in, I get burned and cast out and grow even more scared of it. And others look at me like I'm foolish for wanting time and time again to go back in. To get stronger, wiser, more resilient, have more tools, etc. And go back. To continue to face off against the dragon, and be defeated, and get back up and do it again.

And more and more... I think the answer here for most of my problems... is meditation. My ability to just... let go. And be okay letting go. Especially when it feels important. Like this morning, when I was laying there trying to fall back asleep, and had a lot of these realizations... and went "I should write this down, this is very important and I really need to talk to my therapist about this in a few days, I want to make sure I remember." That importance compulsion is fucking tremendous. It feels like artistic inspiration, so much that I often feel compelled to combine the two. This journal has been the best compromise I've found so far. The majority of my adult life has been dedicated to me training myself to capture moments of profound importance, moments of intense feeling, like "oh, this is big." Because that's where art, poetry, and music are often born for me. And I often feel like it's my "job" to constantly be ready to capture that lightning in a bottle.

And yet... meditation teaches the exact opposite of that. It teaches that whatever is coming up - thoughts, emotions, anything - acknowledge it... and let it go. Make eye contact, nod your head, and let it blow away in the wind, and return to your focus. Your breath, your focal point, your drishti. And come back to stillness.

You see? For years, I have been practicing the skill of timelining a dream memory within a split second of waking up... and chronicling the dream as hastily and in as much detail as possible before the memory fades. Practicing stream of consciousness writing, in which I let the stream of thoughts flow as unimpeded as humanly possible, and training my fingers to type as quickly as I can in order to keep up with the speed of my thoughts. It's been laborious, and I've gotten quite skilled at it. They are so staunchly the opposite of meditation! They are not accepting thoughts and letting go, they are accepting thoughts and saying "go on, tell me everything you have to say". This has been tremendously valuable in my ability to unravel connections in my subconscious, roots of many behaviors, my own self-narrative. But they do not help in... letting go. And finding stillness.

I end up compelled to work - either on art, or mental heath, or finding my place in the universe - perpetually. Reflexively. Because of how regular and vigorous my training has been. I do this literally every night. So... the simple idea of "I can just let this thought go" often feels... wasteful... because I know very well how valuable and meaningful every thought and feeling is. And I truly believe that. That they all have meaning, you just don't understand it yet.

I remember saying this last year to my therapist. That I don't like letting go of the thoughts, because it feels wasteful. It feels like right now is a golden opportunity to learn something new about yourself, about life. And your mind presents that opportunity to you, insight on a golden platter. Who am I to refuse? Well... here's why it's okay to refuse... because it's 8AM... and you only got 4 hours of sleep... XD

And this little mini-mantra has been helping me a bit, because... I feel like this has become a bit of an obsessive compulsion... The new mantra is "if it's really important, I'll remember." "If it's really important, it'll come back." And that has helped reveal that the big underlying fear there that's driving it is... this fear of having found The Answer, the big one that's gonna change everything... and just... letting it go. Attachment. And that's a big part of my battle, and my suffering. And it's a big part of the work I have to do.

So... meditation needs to be integrated into my regular practices, and I'm planning to do so. I have the books pulled and everything.

And, on a less intense note... I started on the skateboard grip tape. I've been taking progress pictures every time I add a new layer radiating out. Probably too many to make an album of at this point, but whatever. I didn't want to film the progress because I really wanted to work on the floor. I miss just sitting on the floor and painting, there's something very special about it. This has become a blooming mandala that is alternating rounded pedals, then pointed leaves radiating out from the gaps between the pedals... then repeating. I've just painted a base coat of white on them for now, but I plan on adding some color. I'm not entirely sure what, but I found a gold paint that is calling me. And I might do a rich burgundy kinda color with that, or like a deep purpley-reddish-brown like a wine kinda color. I don't know. I'll feel it out. It's been a long time since I've done a mandala with color.

I have to pee. --- So... yeah, big progress made on the board. I put a few hours into that, at least 3-4. And again, all I had to do was just... fucking let go. Just let go and start painting and let the piece make itself. And it's making itself. And I regret absolutely nothing. I regret not a single damn thing with this piece. It is exactly what it's supposed to be. And if it wants a gold center, it'll get a gold center. And if it wants red leaves, it'll get red leaves.

I want to carry this feeling, this approach, this momentum... into the next few pieces. The clothing pieces. The hybrid board grip. The idea of just... slapping on some paint and letting it form itself. It's really scary to do that with a permanent medium that isn't layer-able... like ink... And I will continue to work with that in the near future. For now, this is working quite well. I feel very at home - a place that at the same time feels nostalgic and... right where I should be.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness

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americanroyaltyxo · 3 years ago

Photo

He did this on purpose. Elina arrived ten minutes before so that walking in with him could deliberately be avoided. Now, she could already imagine the headlines tomorrow: Spotted: Elina Rockefeller on a lunch date with ex-boyfriend Jacob Cox. The twisting sensation that knotted in her core made her immediately regret meeting Jake in the first place. Why did she think she could trust him? The number of times he lied in their relationship alone could surpass what Elon Musk and whatever his net-worth was these days. The young Rockefeller could develop countless theories but never concluded why Jacob persisted that they should get back together. He had to be unhappy, after all, why else would he have cheated or lied in the countless times he had? And Elina, she was by far, happier without him. She was ready for this chapter of her life to come to a close, but somehow Jacob kept finding ways to pull her back to him. Perhaps this lunch was a bad idea.

No, she thought to herself. This needs to happen. In fact, she dared Jacob to try to make another despairing effort to get her back. All so that she could smile in his face and tell him never again. That thought alone made any uneasy feeling disappear while Elina sat across from him. Instead, a sense of power and confidence rushed through her and untied that sickening knot in her stomach. To find this strength felt extraordinary to a woman who once felt she had no choice or place other than at his side. Yes, even the most powerful people can feel helpless and trapped in a cage of their own design.

Today, Elina would break those chains.

“I still can’t believe I’m sitting here with you. You look more radiant every time I see you.” The compliments, that is how Jacob always started. A sweet line he threw out there in hopes of making her swoon as she did in the past. Once upon a time, Elina did hang on to his every word. As he complimented her this time, her smile began to curve, and her eyes had a hint of marvel in them. Not because she was in awe of anything he said, but rather, to gloat in the victory of knowing it wouldn’t have the same effect on her ever again. More so, when he followed with his cockiness, “I knew you would come around eventually. It was only a matter of time.” And it was at this point, Elina couldn’t help the blunt and short laugh that forced itself out of her.

“You’re joking, right? You believe I’m here to get back together with you?”Elina questioned, meanwhile all the elegance in her facial beauty distorted into an appearance that reflected her criticism and mockery of his assumption.“Did you really fantasize this to be a reconciliation of some kind between us? What makes you think that I would ever want to get back with you?” Her nose tugged upward in disgust at the idea. That reaction triggered a frustratedly drawn-out breath from Jacob while his handsome features slipped into irritation. Elina couldn’t tell what words upset him most. Was it that she called his presumption a fantasy? Or was it the rejection of the possibility of the two of them getting back together? Either way, she wounded his pride, and for the first time, Elina didn’t care if she continued to hurt him. In fact, she liked it. She wanted him to feel as inferior as he once made her. Let him take in the humiliation for a change instead of her.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m getting back with you ever again, Jake.” Elina continued to add, this time her lips curved in ridicule and showed her struggle in holding back the amusement at his, now, wounded ego. “We’re meeting here because I am sick of what you’re trying to do. I want you to stop with the tabloids, stop with the bad publications. I don’t need your commentary and ‘source’ input in everything I do. It is my life, and who I date, kiss, fuck. . .” She uttered that word in a whisper, not because she was attempting to avoid a scene or felt any sense of shame. Rather, there was a sensual emphasis in how she mouthed the word because Elina knew it would torture him. It was becoming obvious in every word that Elina said and in her reactive responses, from her posture to her facial gestures, that she was making it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. “. . .is none of your business anymore. I’m not yours.” Her eyes narrowed in at Jacob, reflecting a harsh truth to him. Yet Elina lacked so much heartlessness in the way she said it, that the words felt colder than the coolest winter day in New York City.

At this point, there was a pause from Elina as she gathered more of her thoughts in what she wanted to say. That is when Jacob seized an opportunity to silence her from doing so. Anything he could do to exude his dominance again after Elina continuously tore at his prideful being.

“You were nothing before me, or did you forget that?” He shot back through gritted teeth. The Cox Media heir leaned over the table as if it would help further his dominance again in the conversation. His dark hues looked for ways to tear at Elina in the same way she was doing to him. The toxicity in their relationship reeked the air like a scent that overpowered the room. “You wouldn’t be where you are without me, or my family. You wouldn’t even have your mother’s formula information without me.”

Elina visibly stiffened in the last part. Unfortunately, that was true. Elina was part Rockefeller, the other half a Lauder. Her Lauder side of the family barely acknowledged her existence, including her mother. There was a price for that, and Elina would make them pay for it. Jacob had played a part in that vindictive plan, and now he was using it as a tool to get her back. He made the blackmail attempt to reason with Elina, but he also tried to use more emotional reasoning and hack into Elina and her biggest fears to make her see what he saw.

“You see, you and I are the same. You tell yourself you’re a better person than me, but you’re not. We’re both just as ugly. I can see right through you, and you can see right through me. Don’t you realize how more perfect that is? There is no hiding between us.” Jacob attempted a softer demeanor in hopes of getting Elina to see his rationality. He did his best to appeal to Elina and her greatest flaw, distrust. Jacob broke it for her by having his string of affairs, but he always argued it was what all rich people would do. Loyalty in love was a fairytale, but loyalty in power was something else entirely. A Cox and Rockefeller union was an empire in the making. Their families knew the same, hence why they pushed the two of them together in the first place.

“I know you, Elina. . .” Jake started to reach for her hand, but when Elina started to pull her back closer to the frame of the seat, he stopped and tightened his fingers to make a sudden fist. His jaw clenched as if he could break a jawbreaker, and perhaps that was the sudden flash of frustration that Jake knew he couldn't. You could see the thought in his eyes as if he wondered 'when had Elina become so unbreakable?', but then the more he thought about it, the more he realized he had been the one to make her this way. And it fueled his point further. “I made you better, stronger.” His eyes cockily moved back to look at Elina like he had just given her enough reason to reconsider. Then he added, “Tell me I’m crazy, but you know I’m right.” Narcissism practically poured from his lips as he said those last words.

And truthfully, he wasn’t wrong. Elina had become better, just not in the way he imagined.

“You are right about one thing, Jacob. . .” Elina began to say, the corners of her lips dipping into her cheeks as she drew a grin that made her look so much more entitled than she already was. There had only been a few times where Elina felt in control, and this happened to be one of those moments. “Everything you did to me over these past years together made me stronger than I was before. It also made me realize how much better I am without you.” Her smile twisted in profound amusement that Jacob was going to not only see what he lost but to see the woman he claimed to have created after being in a relationship with him. There was reckoning in Elina and her eyes as she peered at him, “So I dare you to keep publishing about me because if you continue, I will use whatever means necessary to take you down. I will make sure that you get so buried into the earth that you will never be able to pull yourself out of the dirt that covers you.”

Most of the time, Elina prided her Rockefeller heritage over her Lauder genes. Today, however, her inner Lauder came through more strongly than her usual Rockefeller grace. More so, at her last remarks.

“And as my final farewell to you,. . .” Elina added as she started to stand up from the table. Her elegance on display as she stood upright came mostly from the support of her confidence that felt like an inner victory. “. . . I will say that I am seeing someone. And while it is none of your business, if you try to make it more so, or continue to post shamefully about either me or him, then I will come after you either legally, or as I said, by any means necessary. Do we have an understanding?” Elina questioned with a bat of her eyes, knowing how ironic it was to come off so unpleasantly and yet demand a beautiful appreciation for her approach. Her tone was condescending to squash any last hopes in Jacob of the two of them getting back together. Given the look of frustration on his features, it appeared Elina had precisely accomplished what she wanted, but in no way was Jacob giving up on the war with her. Even if today felt like just another lost battle. While his subtle nod showed he understood, still, he tried to get the last word in.

“You should be more careful about the company you keep, Elina. Or have you forgotten how I look out for you?” He tilted his head, passing a gaze that hinted towards something for Elina to instantly understand the reference. Using one last move in his game, he tried an angle that he thought would be effective: reminding her of her inability to trust. The young Rockefeller had formed a wall around her to protect herself from most. After many years of being witness to people who used Elina for her money, her fame, her name, or to have the taste of being around American royalty, unfortunately, now made the heiress suspicious of almost everyone or made her feel as if they had an agenda. For the first time, however, Elina embraced the risks of whether or not she was doing the right or wrong thing. And that weight fell from her chin so that she could lift it higher than ever before. Her eyes looked down upon Jacob again.

“I will take my chances.” Elina said proudly. And then, with a gracefully soft smile, she left Jacob at the table. Each step felt better than the last as a rush of feeling alive overcame her. She made her goodbyes. There was no more going back to Jacob, no more second-guessing or doubting herself, and no one had control over her choices except for herself. Elina had taken possession of the steering wheel this time, and she would lead herself down a new path instead of the one she had gone done too many times before. While this would not be the complete end of Jacob Cox, it had become, in truth and beauty, a new beginning for this Manhattan heiress.

#my writing #drabble

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i4technolab · 2 years ago

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The demand for hiring Word Add-in developers to create bespoke plugins went on increasing among businesses. Let's unveil what it takes for clients to hire a Word add-in developer.

#hire Word plugin developer #hire Word Addins developer #Word Addin development #Office 365 Add-ins development #Plugin development #Custom Add-in development company #hire Office 365 Addin developer #hire .NET Core developer #hire .NET developer

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mobappdevelopmentcompany · 4 years ago

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Smart Strategies for Monetizing your Telemedicine App!

Telemedicine application development has gained momentum over the last decade owing to several reasons. Young entrepreneurs and even giant companies are looking at this as an opportunity and are developing high-end telemedicine applications for healthcare organizations.

One of the trickiest jobs for these entrepreneurs or a telemedicine app development company, after the development of these apps, is selecting the right monetizing model or strategy that would boost their ROI. In this article, we are going to give you insights on trending app monetization models and strategies that will prove beneficial to telemedicine app owners.

Trending Monetizing Strategies for Telemedicine Apps

Freemium Applications

This category comprises a combination of free and premium apps - offering two versions of the same app. The free version usually provides access to the basic features, while the premium or paid version comes with additional offerings like advanced features.

The key objective behind this model is encouraging users to download the app free initially and learn about its usability. Once the app succeeds in engaging the users and fulfilling their needs; the free users will most likely get converted into paid users for accessing enhanced features. This enables the users to get information on what kind of services they are paying for. Moreover, positive feedback by users adds value to your app.

Premium Applications

This model involves charging users for downloading apps and is an ideal option for niche apps with a narrow target audience. Just create a merchant account in the Google Play Store or the App Store and then set the price for downloads. However, this kind of model may limit the monetization potential of your app.

Promotion of Certified Content

This monetization strategy is applicable for apps that provide peer-to-peer services, and that sell certified content that is vital for the practice of care providers instead of selling features. Take a look at this example. In healthcare apps, a fixed amount of free content is displayed for doctors. But, for gaining access to comprehensive content that is periodically updated, practitioners need to sign up and pay a recurring amount as a subscription.

Gamification

Introducing gaming into a telemedicine app enhances the app’s user-friendliness. This is so because the games are designed playfully as per the app’s basic idea and the users participating in these games have to achieve some levels based on the story created by the telemedicine app developers. The offerings through gaming include reminders about daily exercises, medicines, doctor visits, and even provide fitness status after weeks of medication intake or exercising. Besides these, several innovative strategies like discounts, free prizes, or advice by practitioners can be also included. Thus, integrating gamification in a telemedicine app development solution, enable users to set goals concerning fitness or healthcare as well as track their progress, thereby enhancing user engagement.

In-app Purchase Options

This is one of the commonest monetizing strategies for free applications. In telemedicine apps, in-app purchases include refilling prescriptions, buying supplements, arranging for pre-pay doctor visits, etc. As such, this approach not only proves profitable for app owners but also benefits users. But remember that your app should function even if the users do not opt for additional purchases.

Fees for Subscription and Registration

Free healthcare applications that serve as effective platforms connecting patients to physicians can charge a registration fee from practitioners who use the app for filling in their free time slots. Moreover, you can establish a subscription monetization model which enables users to select the subscription plan based on their requirement and pay a fixed monthly/yearly/quarterly charge for app usage.

Sponsorship

This strategy refers to integrating sponsorship in your application. It includes embedding the sponsors’ logo within the application in the form of a pop-up or an icon on the splash screen or the footer. It may even include providing special offers or promoting the sponsors’ posts. Telemedicine app owners can rope in influential sponsors from the healthcare domain itself and establish a kind of barter system where they offer products, services, discounts, etc. based on the business domain. This approach proves highly profitable in the medical sector as it not only arouses users’ interest in the healthcare app but also enables app owners to accumulate crucial and valuable data.

Data Accumulation

Big data and AI are trending these days. Big data in the healthcare domain refers to all data concerning the patients’ health and is a valuable asset for several pharmaceutical firms, medical enterprises, fitness training centers, insurance agencies, etc. for effectively running their businesses. And, the app owners profit by selling this data to the interested parties. For instance, an app tracking the lifestyle of patients who were obese earlier and had gastric bypass surgery can sell the accumulated data to pharmaceutical/insurance companies, or fitness experts. Furthermore, this data serves as important statistics for usage in medical journals, reports, magazines, and for assessing the advancement of the medical industry.

Localized Advertisements

The advertisements in telemedicine apps must be relevant to user interests, or else the UX may get hampered badly. Certain mobile advertising partners employ beacons, GPS, and Wi-Fi to localize advertising to allow mobile ads targeting in real-time. These ads allow the apps to connect to the users on the spot. For example, users within close vicinity of a pharmacy store with a beacon may get a notification in their smartphone device informing them about the availability of a medication coupon or any other such healthcare-related stuff. However, users should be provided the flexibility to choose the brands from which they wish to receive notifications. This will not only increase the users’ interaction with ads but also enhance the value of the ad spaces, thereby attracting more brand partners.

Free Gifts

The words ��Free services/products” are never missed by any user whereas complex or costly stuff is likely to be overlooked by most. So, free services are a smart way to attract new customers and motivate existing customers to use the app more often. They include:

Providing free weight/calorie calculators to daily users

Free consultation, advice, and tips for minimizing the risk of getting infected by various diseases

Offering a free medicine kit comprising of personalized medicines for a week to daily users who strictly adhere to their fitness/healthcare regime.

Conclusion:

It is advisable for the telemedicine application development services to choose a combination of monetization models for optimizing profitability. For any assistance in developing a bestselling telemedicine app with effective monetization strategies, Contact Biz4Solutions, a leading App Development Company in Healthcare! We will develop customized solutions that aptly fit your business goals!

To know more about our core technologies, refer to links below:

Swift App Development

.Net App Development

Java App Development

#telemedicine app development

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i4technolab · 2 years ago

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In today’s digital age, completing business operations promptly is of paramount importance. You need to focus on other critical tasks to yield positive results for your business. Isn’t it? Thus, a solution that could accelerate your business operations is essential.

Office 365 Add-ins development is something that helps you extend the functionalities of your basic Microsoft platforms and supercharge your business productivity. It helps you streamline corporate tasks and effectively control the workflow.

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ailelie · 2 years ago

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Okay. This has me thinking a bit more about the proverb.

I work in research. Sometimes that means analyzing something already done and sometimes it means creating something for the future.

In either case, something very important is sustainability. In other words, if the program works, how do sites/states/districts/etc keep doing it?

Basically, grants and such will give a state/district/etc some money to Do a Thing. Sometimes the money-givers dictate what that thing is (e.g., everyone who receives money must start using a specific social-emotional learning curriculum). Sometimes they dictate what that thing is supposed to fix and let each site figure out how to do so (e.g., this money is to fix teacher recruitment and retention; district A does a mentorship program while district B starts a grow-your-own program).

Eventually, though, the money will go away. When it does, too many programs, even successful programs, fail. The sites no longer have the resources to do the thing, even if they want to keep doing it. Sometimes sites can get different grants/etc to keep a program running, but they can't rely on that.

And that's where sustainability comes in. How do you set up a new program so that it can continue without the initial support?

Or, in other words, how do you teach a man to fish while giving him a fish and maybe some equipment to start?

If you give him the fishing pole or net, what happens when you leave? Now you can't just teach him to fish, you also need to teach him to make his own equipment. And, in the meantime, you have to ensure he is fed.

And every program approaches this in different ways. Some require sites to think of alternative funding from day 1 and develop sustainability plans alongside other planning and implementation. Some help sites understand the core elements of what they're doing so that they know what they can keep and drop as funds fade out. Some rely on generating major successes in the hope doing so will compel the sites' usual funding streams to add the program into their consideration (e.g., as when states or districts redo budgets).

Still others set up communities. Sustainability is rarely the focus of such communities, but I think it could be interesting if it were. Some learn to fish. Some learn to weave nets. Some craft boats. Some prepare and cook the fish. Everyone is fed.

(You see this in rural areas, sometimes. One district will have the nurse. Another district will have the AP math teacher. Etc. Then those people travel among the districts and connect electronically so that every district benefits from them. It isn't as good as having all that expertise within your own school or district, but it allows kids to have opportunities they wouldn't otherwise).

#sustainability

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buzrushfinancemarketing-blog · 5 years ago

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WordPress Plugins

20 Most desirable WordPress Plugins

There are across 55,000 Wordpress blogs plug-ins listed in the official WordPress Plugins Database.

With the lots of plug-ins, how can you tell that happen to be respectable? And most importantly, how can you tell which plugins you are missing out on in 2020?

At present we are providing you with essentially the most all-inclusive menu of the Are required to-HAVE Wordpress blogs plug-ins, crowdsourced from the most an online success entrepreneurs and web owners we realize.

No gimmick. No fluff. No unwanted plug-ins you do not demand.

These would be WordPress plug-ins to aid you torun and start, and expand your online business, blog website or online business web page - labeled into:

WordPress Plugins for Reliability and Copy

•Akismet Contra--Spammy

•WordFence

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•LoginPress

WordPress Plugins for Design and Performance

•Elementor Professional

•WP Awesome Cache

•Insert Footers and Headers

•ShortPixel Photograph Optimizer

WordPress Plugins for Promoting and Search engine optimizing

•MonsterInsights

•Position Math Website seo

•Sumo

•Gravity Types

WordPress Plugins for E-commerce and on the internet Program

•WooCommerce

•Uncomplicated Online digital Downloads

•Reduce Content Seasoned professional

•WP Full

WordPress Plugins for Material Management

•Vintage Editor

•WP Reserved Posts

•Specialized Posting Type UI

•Great Podcast Participant

But first, let's explain just what a wordpress plugin is (and in what way they work with a Wp web site).

Just What Wordpress platforms PLUGIN, Nevertheless?

A Word press plugin is an application or a piece of software system you can add for a Word press page. It stretches the capabilities or offers an innovative aspect on your already present web page.

WordPress will function on its own, but you can make it do exactly what you want it to do with plugins:

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•Need to move your shell of an Wordpress platforms topic in to a growing online store keep? There's a plug-in for that.

Free WordPress plugins are good enough for most beginners… But what if you’re not a beginner? Which means you want much more than the normal qualities and capabilities coming from a free of charge wordpress plugin?

Cost Wordpress platforms plugins accompany extra features, much better encouragement, and common posts. Truly the only take: they are NOT free.

They increase your costs of managing a Wordpress platforms webpage more quickly than you believe.

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AppSumo spouses with Wordpress blogs wordpress plugin programmers to make the finest high quality plugins at a fraction of the purchase price.

Expand your web-site today while using the most desirable Wp plugins without breaking the bank.

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Akismet is most likely the should-have Word press plug-in to cover you against junk opinions. In truth, it arrives with WordPress CMS as you install WordPress towards your internet hosting host.

The company behind WordPress.com, you know you’re on a safe hand with Akismet because it’s built by Automattic. And it’s employed by an incredible number of websites filtering and blocking usually 75 million spam commentary per hour.

How does Akismet work?

Whenever a visitor to your site articles a remark, Akismet investigations it against its storage system (amassed from all of partaking online websites considering 2005). If it’s spam, it’s deleted automatically. If spam gets through and the user marks it as spam, it gets added to the database so Akismet can filter similar spam in the future.

It’s a bit of WordPress plug-in that only is smarter and much better ultimately.

The BEST part? Akismet is provided for free.

2. WORDFENCE

Wordfence safe guards your Wordpress blogs web-site from over the internet hackers and attackers. It will this which has an endpoint firewall that examines and disables malicious targeted visitors.

In addition, the Wordfence basic safety scanning device works as a dynamic sidekick for the firewall. It seems for malicious software and comparestheme and core, and plug-in information as to what is with the WordPress.org database, viewing their honesty and reporting any modifications for you personally.

With Wordfence firewall and secureness scanning device, your Wordpress blogs web site remains safe and secure and you also get warnings for secureness dangers (like software system vulnerabilities) in order to street address them just before your internet-site receives assaulted.

Furthermore, it provides you with sign on security measures where you can facilitate two-variable authentication and reCAPTCHA with your webpage.

3. UPDRAFTPLUS

Backing up a WordPress web site is the very last thing which comes to many people’s minds… Right up until they desire a file backup to revive their damaged web sites.

If you’re not prepared, and trust me, it’s a P.I.T.A process.

UpdraftPlus simplifies backup and restoration. With UpdraftPlus, you possibly can backup your files and data source towards the cloud directory of your choosing (Dropbox, Search engines Drive, Amazon S3, and better), and repair these people with an individual visit.

It’s free to use nevertheless you can enhance into a prime policy for a lot more includes like:

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•Advanced revealing, and a lot more.

Solution: BackUpWordPress is a great option for data backup and it is totally free much too.

4. LOGINPRESS

If the website uses WordPress CMS, add /wp-admin/ to any domain name and you can see. #Lifehack

If you’re using WordPress, unfortunately, the standard login URL makes your website vulnerable. Anybody - and bot - will get to your own logon post and work to entry your web blog.

LoginPress rebrands and secures the sign in pages and posts with your Word press webpages. With LoginPress, you may customize the logon website page Website so only people considering the correct Web link can gain access to your account article.

Want additional? On this website you decide to go:

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•Make it possible for tourists signup and log in making use of their internet marketing accounts.

•Restriction logon tries to steer clear of brute power strikes.

•Make unique sign in Web addresses for visitors to bypass the logon practice.

•Make it easy for Google and bing reCAPTCHA to defend your internet site from spammy.

Anyone can get LoginPress by using an personal entire life price from AppSumo.com.

Different: Rename WP Login may be a no cost, brightness-excess fat answer to update the sign in URL with out other safety measures and develop functionality.

5. ELEMENTOR Master

With 3 zillion effective installs and 4.9 from 5 celebrities ranking, Elementor Site Builder is probably the hottest pull-and-tumble Wordpress blogs web page building contractors around.

Elementor features:

•Most beneficial-in-type website editor

•300 maker-constructed templates and 90 widgets

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Basically: you may develop a whole Word press webpage (that is certainlyprofessional and beautiful, and-switching) visually and without the need of publishing a specific selection of program code.

Its Seasoned professional package is all the more dynamic - comes equipped with significantly more seasoned professional layouts and widgets, Idea Contractor (set up international models for header, footer, blog form, for example.), WooCommerce Building contractor, and others.

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6. WP Excellent CACHE

Caching retail stores short-term net forms for instance HTML articles, CSS documents, and images of your site via the internet internet browser of the more recent prospects.

It contributes greatly increase consumer expertise in the delivered readers by raising hosting server download rate. As site user and speed experience improved, so do your website SEO and conversions.

WP Great Cache is definitely a Wordpress platforms wordpress plugin that does that. It creates static Web coding data files for the Wordpress blogs web page and offers those to 99% of your own website visitors.

They have 2 thousand proactive sets up using its basic-to-use adjustmentsit’s and cost-free).

7. Put HEADERS AND FOOTERS

As a marketer, online entrepreneur, and blogger, it’s not uncommon to add a piece of code or scripts to the header or footer of your website.

Whether it be Search engines like google blog verification, Fb Pixel, or personalized scripts within your e-mail professional...

The truth is, there is practically never a fun way to achieve that on Wordpress platforms CMS.

Place Footers and Headers is a straightforward plugin that helps you quickly make this happen. Put policy like Search engines like google Statistics, personalized CSS, Twitter Pixel, or higher within the header or footer - without the need of messing because of the Wordpress blogs theme.

A fairly simple, straightforward option for a massive trouble...

8. SHORTPIXEL Photograph OPTIMIZER

Slow web-sites can be a giant NO-NO in today’s realm of world wide web. And just one of the key element contributors to the poor web page is unoptimized images.

ShortPixel is actually a light and portable, collection-it-and-tend to forget-it photo optimizing wordpress tool for your Wordpress blogs homepage. It betters a web site capabilities and SEO) by reduction of picture shapes - about 85Per cent - without having reducing the picture top quality.

With a few relatively easy settings, ShortPixel can compress your whole history pics and PDF written documents by having a particular simply click. Then, it optimizes your graphics quickly because you upload them, within the prior experience.

You can employ ShortPixel to boost 100 photos per thirty days absolutely free. ShortPixel has paid monthly and one-time plans with additional bonuses if you need to compress more images.

9. MONSTERINSIGHTS

Imagine signing for your Search engines like google Statistics bank account and searching at a lot of numbers and charts. What do they imply?

Want somebody that organizes the information for you? And presents it around the Wp dash panel? Instead of you recording into a variety of sites and equipment.

MonsterInsights may be the plugin you may need.

Now envision recording towards your Wordpress blogs dashboard… considering the info you should consider how your web page performs (and merely all those you require):

•Website visitors identified influenced by interests, gender, countries, age and devices even more.

•Main recommendation online sites, search terms, and obtaining pages and posts (with metrics like visits and leap fee).

•Online business statistics which include very best goods, conversions, normal get appreciate, and much more.

MonsterInsights also provides you with a variety of accessories that permit you to do stuff like methods integration, cutting-edge online business tracking, and EU conformity change for the better.

10. List MATH SEO

Optimize your website for search engine OR die… If you have a website and create content, repeat this every day before you do anything else.

Sorry to say, WordPress does not incorporate any Website seo functions. This is when Get ranked Mathematics Seo optimisation is important.

Get ranking Math helps you change the lookup locations (attention key phrases, post subject, meta explanations) of each and every blog post and helps you report each individual article by having an Search engine optimizing check list. You can then preview the way your posts and pages may be like during the SERPs, in splendid snippets, in addition to when mutual on internet marketing.

Rank well Mathematics also features modular frameworks which includes 404 redirections, monitor, sitemap and AMP Internet search gaming system integration that you might toggle on / off.

It’s absolutely the top Seo optimization Word press plugin one can find in 2020. And it’s Complimentary.

Optional: You can use Yoast Search engine optimization as an alternative but most premium includes in Yoast Search engine ranking optimization have the freedom with Get ranking Mathematics.

11. SUMO

Managing a Wp blog page for being an driven author (p.s. Read this podcast episode the spot where the Chief Sumo job interviews Ryan Family vacation)? Escalating a SaaS start up? Launching an exciting new online store retailer?

You require a message record. And Sumo may be the electronic mail seize software to be.

Considering the Sumo WordPress plugin, you may blend the email catch device together with your site flawlessly.

Sumo lets you create superior-converting email message prefer-in forms and display them as a popup, inline type, simply click on provoke, greet pad, browse pack, and good bar. The exposure concept also enables you to preferred specialized website visitors according to the recommending Web link, website landing page, specific location, even more.

You will get begun with Sumo 100 % free, and find the Guru program later on when you want additional features say for example a/B evaluation, cutting-edge message integrations, and highly developed statistics.

Substitute: KingSumo is NOT a Wordpress platforms wordpress plugin but it’s an effortless-to-use popular giveaway instrument will improve your email list.

12. Gravitational forces Shape

Gravitational pressure Types can be a end user-favorable Wp wordpress plugin that permits you to compose everything from common communicate with documents to involved multiple-page sorts with conditional common sense, data file uploads, and charge integrations.

You could make a contact page form by means of its drop and drag online form author with many different normal to highly developed market alternate options.

Gravitational forces Sorts also contains accessories that prolong its capability by adding with email marketing equipment, CRM software programs, and online transaction websites.

Approach: Contact Form 7 is usually a totally free option to create and manage multiple phone versions on Wp.

13. WOOCOMMERCE

Shopify is fantastic for e-commerce. If you want more customization, but what? Choose to operate your retailer on Wordpress blogs? And never need to pay a fee every month for this?

WooCommerce is actually an start-resource, wholly tailor-made e-commerce choice in your case. It turns your Wordpress platforms web site into an e-commerce retailer with everything you need:

•Body and digital product or service itemizing.

•Client account and guest browse.

•Supply and sequence relief.

When you’re ready to go other than fundamental, WooCommerce gives cost online business ideas and extensions that help you deeper individualize and grade-the store.

14. Quick Electronic digital DOWNLOADS

Like WooCommerce, Basic Virtual Downloading can help you supply internet that has a Wordpress platforms site.

Nevertheless it is targeted on digital items like an ebook, an item of computer software, a Pdf file data, and something a digital that - like its name - a consumer can download to apply or drink.

Convenient A digital Downloading converts your Word press homepage into a complete electronic stash with shopping cart application, individual bill, and promo code. Moreover it incorporates a built in reporting highlight for conveniently taking a look at your statistics and keeping track of your store’s down load activity.

15. Constrain Article content Professional

Prohibit Posts Expert is actually a finish formula that helps you produce a association web page or via the internet school on Wordpress platforms CMS.

It will this by supplying you the chance to demonstrate to examples of the content and gate the remainder. They have to sign up if a visitor wants to join your membership site OR see the entirety of your course.

But there is a great deal of, a lot more to love regarding this plug-in.

They are it simple to construct coupon codes, take reviews, get unique data in your affiliates and accept installment payments with primary integrations.

16. WPCOMPLETE

Try to ask any on the internet class creator the best struggle of coaching online… And you’ll buy this: low path completion and engagement.

WPComplete is often a light, effortless-to-use wordpress plugin, created to take care of this trouble for Word press owners.

With WPComplete, you can make your online path properly enjoyable in certain mouse clicks.

It adds a total control key in your current training course training lessons so that your university students can signature courses as finish as they read through them. After that you can put in a development nightclub/graph or chart about the college student dashboard to assist them course their progression.

You may modify WPComplete to complement while using the design of your web site, and blend it while using subscription or school wordpress plugin you select (by way of example, Prohibit Posts Pro).

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manjuhitorie · 6 years ago

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HOWLS Digest - Hitorie Skream! Interview

Interview by Hata Riee! Translated by Manju!

With evolution upon them, Hitorie show their fangs with confidence.

Summary: HOWLS

[First section: ygarshy fanboys over HOWLS. Discussions about the impressions and mindsets which went into the album. “Many of the songs on HOWLS are the result of my battles with painful, excruciating, frustrated feelings.” “Though in reality it was the most fun I've ever had, in regards to the music. We tried out things, we challenged new things... These bandmates right here, their ideas and curiosity were like saviors to me.”] [Second section: ygarshy fanboys over Ao and how liberating for his heart it is. Ao’s “We got shit-faced” backstory. Disclosure that Sappukei, Garandou Mae Zero Machi, Coyote and Ghost all were the result of unrestrained integrated jam sessions. Diligence in musically thrashing, all hail guitar cuddling! Members are glad that leader is getting nice and lax.] [Third section: The reasons those jams were able to cause such a bang. What values they had to throw away and which they had to adopt, such as simple melodies or not. Synopsis on the journeys they took to hone their new conjurations, to solve their frustrations and stagnations they felt with the band. wowaka being stupid and selfish by not sharing his problems per usual. STUPID. Band confesses to being socially awkward but still trying to understand each other subliminally.... Plus Idol Junkfeed lore/jokes, also SLEEPWALK]. [Fourth section: Overall the writer equates HOWLS lyrics to a discussion, with simple human language that is easy to convey. The power of words is more than just as a tool for expression, but music can help unlock those shackles of perception so don’t worry leader.... Balance, desires, future pavement laid - The “I think we’re so revved up that we could even explode right in this moment!” quote. It, it matches up with their new year’s resolution which was about living in the moment!]

Your new album blew my mind. Each song alone even has the power to strike into the minds of old and new listeners alike.

wowaka: Happy to hear it. Shinoda: It feels like we’ve created something really amazing. wowaka: Even after many years of finishing countless pieces and thinking “This is good I did good.”... This time I’m especially smiley and giddy about this piece. Yumao: We covered a way more broad scope of genre. ygarshy: It feels like the people’s album. wowaka: The people’s (laughing)?! ygarshy: Up until now, as an honest listener I couldn't consider our pieces an object of interest, but this time I could listen forever and ever I like it so much.

In our 2016 interview for the release of IKI, ygarshy you had also exclaimed “I’ve been listening to it forever”.

Everyone: Ahahaha! wowaka: Effort makes confidence. ygarshy: Though the undertones are different. With IKI I had the perspective of a musician looking back upon their work with pride, but this time I’m uninterested in that sense. I’m akin to an uninvolved consumer, honestly enjoying my favorite album. Shinoda: We ourselves barely understand this phenomenon.

Then let’s use this interview as a chance to divulge the mystery.

Shinoda: Let’s do it.

In between your most recent full album IKI, there was the release of the mini album ai/SOlate (2017) and the single Polaris (2018), but when did you first start considering the possibilities of an album?

wowaka: We had been on tour for ai/SOlate, The UNKNOWN-TOUR 2018 “Loveless", spanning over about four months... so it was directly after that. Our single Polaris was used as an ending theme for the anime Boruto (NARUTO NEXT GENERATIONS), which helped ease us into our next full album.

So you had been working on this album during the later months of last year.

wowaka: Yes. Between about July and October. Yumao: Though SLEEPWALK was an older song. wowaka: Ah, that’s true. Yumao: Windmill or Sappuukei even also, we had about one chorus in tow of each even before we began the hard-core production of HOWLS.

With IKI, wowaka said he went into a “I can’t stop writing songs” beast mode, but how did the pace pan out this time?

wowaka: I struggled a lot. Writing the songs of IKI had been prompting revelations within me, for the first time I was finding the meaning behind being human and the fact that I’m alive. It was like the first time I properly stood on two legs. Positive vibes were popping songs out of me. But in contrast, many of the songs on HOWLS are the result of my battles with painful, excruciating, frustrated feelings.

I do see the subject of solitude shows up frequently.

wowaka: Yes. Though in reality it was the most fun I've ever had, in regards to the music. We tried out things, we challenged new things... These bandmates right here, their ideas and curiosity were like saviors to me.

Were you able to pinpoint the album’s direction during the prototype stages?

　wowaka: “What am I to do with these feelings?” was my only sense of direction (laughing). Yumao: Though as we proceeded further and further, we did realize “We can add a bunch of different types of songs into this next one”.

ygarshy: The demo for Ao was made fairly early in the scheme of HOWLS production, and it was so good I wanted to cry. You can interpret it as a so-called breakup song, but it’s the first time we’ve ever done such. So no matter the circumstances, I want to show this song to the world, I want to show our band’s becomings to the world. That was my impression. It was then when I let go of any ego I had as a musician. And I'm now able to see the full picture, to figure out what elements may match up with what song… Which not only brought the album into broader territories, but also freed me from so many restrictions.

So Ao has had those lyrics ever since the demo version.

wowaka: Well it’s my first heartbreak song ever. ygarshy: It’s such a good song that, I had contemplated long and hard as to how best turn these emotions into something universally understandable. wowaka: My extremely personal experiences and universal concepts alike, they're both contacting by a hair’s breadth. As a result of me always spilling out my personal experiences in goops, I somehow truly am hoping that the band, our audience, and others alike will be able to take a plunge into the core of the person and the world within.

Was Ao a pivotal piece for any one else in the band also?

wowaka: I’m pretty positive that when I was recording my guitar, Ao was the most emotional. I felt "Ahh, this is what I’ve always wanted to do”. This is probably the extremity I’ve always been aiming for. The singing and the melody are in the dead center. Yet, at the antipode is…. something else also. Effort went into incorporating an almost elaborate aesthetic. If I could only say one thing about this song, I want to tell you about how the recording all began with us saying something like “What if we turned the volume up really crazy loud?”. I have an amp which normally never sees any action it’s so gargantuan, but I turned the knobs up all the way from the get-go. Shinoda: We got shit-faced.

It’s a ballad and yet you chose to start with the instruments loud, that idea is interesting.

wowaka: Because it's a ballad, that's exactly the reason why I wanted to have the intensity to equate it. Then through the process of trial and error, were we able to create a sound unlike ever before. I feel like we stumbled into a strange trance almost.

Shinoda: Up until now, I’ve always been the one who yearned to do the extreme. He (wowaka) has always been the one who acted as my safety net, but this time, his screws came loose too. wowaka: No matter as to how elaborately we made it, no matter as to how we may have thrashed open our gates, the message still managed to hold “We are who we are.” ygarshy: For me, I felt that as long as we have this song, everything we turn out okay. I was no longer questioning myself over trying to be this or that. During recording I pondered the question “What is my own ultimate talent, that only I have as a bassist?” and, the answer is that my bandmates and their skill. It makes no difference what I do: the bandmates around me are skilled so everything will turn out fine. That's why I'm no longer putting much time and worry into my bass playing. The song Sappuukei uses my first take, simply as was. And with Windmill I decided not to practice at all. wowaka: Is that so (laughing). ygarshy: I realized it works out well if I don’t think much and just return fire back directly at the moment. I think that’s all thanks to the existence of the song Ao.

I see. The mood which develops over the span of this album, it may be just as ygarshy says, it may be because you as Hitorie you discovered new methods and means.

Shinoda: Well basically, we had pitted ideas against each other and cherry-picked from there. Like the guitar in the background of Coyote and Ghost’s chorus is something which would’ve definitely never ever been OK-ed before. I was permitted to have a go at throwing myself into spontaneousness. Yumao: Hence, we’ve gained a lot more freedom bit by bit.

So I’m guessing you set your guitars loud for Coyote and Ghost also (laughing).

Shinoda: Yeah yeah (laughing). Yumao: It didn’t even have a prototype either, we just huddled together to say “Ready… Go!” and played from there. I’m positive that Sappuukei and Garandou Mae Zero Machi both took the same route also. I remember discussing “We need some fast songs huh”.. So that was when Shinoda went and cuddled up with his guitar at home. Shinoda: Though working from home comes with too many problems. After I come up with one phrase, the temperature of it won't match with the one before it, then I’ll jump into my own advancement, and before I know it it'll turn into an unsalvageable mess. The phrase I play behind the choruses all the time are already unique melodies in themselves after all. I’m amazed Leader is able to make vocals to fit on top of them. wowaka: Cause it’s not vocals behind the guitar, it’s the guitar that goes behind the vocals. Everyone: Ahahahaha! Shinoda: With this song especially, I didn’t know what the vocals were until the designated vocal day. So when I saw the lyrics, the mass of words on the page was astounding. “Is this guy serious!?” I thought.

Yumao claiming an 8-beat time on this sort of aggressive song was yet another surprise for me.

Yumao: If it were 3 or 4 years ago, I’m sure I would’ve played in the typical rock song 4/4 time. That idea also occurred to me but, my core values seemed to have changed.

Though you said you were ailed by how playing simple beats for the sake of the vocals unsettles your reputation as a drummer? During our interview for Polaris.

Yumao: That was true. But with this album I think I was able to find an answer or something. ygarshy: As we were writing, we often had moments where we’d agree that a simple phrase is best. Even if we have to tear away ourselves and our ideas, if it’s to conjure the melody conspicuous, in the end it still becomes one of Hitorie’s songs.

I’m starting to perceive how this album was able to evolve into such a masterpiece. It’s evident that each of your priorities and wants for the band have changed over the last 2-3 years.

wowaka: I just remembered now but, after our designated ai/SOlate tour, after trekking over oceans and roads, we had found a concrete resolution in regards to our progress as a band. Which ironically made us feel frustration over ourselves as music creators. The songs we make made us think “Ah, we’re kinda always trying to do the same thing huh...” We felt we had to change that, or else we’re headed down a slippy slope.

Ahh, I see how it is.

wowaka: Then something struck me like lightning, so I took a sudden solo trip all the way to India. “What will happen to my mind if I throw myself into a place completely unknown to me, where even my language is rendered ineffective?” I thought... So specifically what did happen to that mind, you ask? Well, nothing really actually. They say that your perspective on the world will change right. Nothing that powerful came to me. Yet that's very reason I realized “Ahh, I’m simply the human called me.” That sentiment is seeping into the album this time I think. The album is somewhat nomadic, it feels a bit pessimistic, it’s dry and arid… and overall just so fuzzy.

Back then, did you discuss that stale stagnated feeling with any of the other members?

wowaka: I didn’t. It was my own selfish inner implosion, like gaaah. So after the tour it was almost as if I went into shock therapy: going to India, going out drinking with people I don’t usually hang with, etc. Thinking back, I may have been in a bit of a daring phase.

Could that solve Shinoda’s initial puzzle of "We ourselves barely understand this phenomenon”? You each subconsciously clicked with a need to revitalize the band, and your hunt for more funk became your spunk.

wowaka: It’s true that after spending 5 whole years taking various shots together, our collective conscience was “What are we gonna do next?” Shinoda: It’s not as if we sat down and discussed it though, we each felt it in our soul. wowaka: We all suck at sitting down and talking to each other though. So even choosing a theme and sticking to it itself is impossible for us, instead we’ve taken to each doing whatever we like, and that’s the kind of band we are. Yumao: The bits and pieces we notice about each other, and the bits we don't, are half-and-half both in this album… That's why song-wise, there’s opening up and shutting up, both merging together as one. When we were writing we ourselves even saw where it was headed. And so the hope that “Maybe listeners will change their view on Hitorie after they hear this.” was hammered in.

—Onward. Shinoda participated in the production for Idol Junkfeed right?

Shinoda: When production was in a slump, I chimed in “I’ll make a song”. I was told “Just make it a high-spirited one” and so I went. Yumao: It has a Shinoda taste to it, but it also sounds as if it's parodying Hitorie. wowaka: It’s like a song written by a Hitorie fan (laughing). Everyone: Ahahahaha! wowaka: I don’t know if I said that right but…. Shinoda: Naw, you’re right. 'Cause I did lean towards that. I definitely did want to make it a Hitorie-sounding song. Yumao: These two handling the director job together was a refreshing sight to behold. The leadership was half-and-half but, the brains were slightly more on Shinoda’s side with it. Him going “This is good, but this is good too, I can’t choose what to do!” was hilarious. Shinoda: I did something I’m not used to after all (laughing). Yet, in the end it still became Hitorie. wowaka: If we put our strengths together, then it becomes our's. That fact was proven yet again by this song. Even if I’m not in the middle pulling the strings, this song gave me the confidence that “Ahh this band is capable of so so much”.

SLEEPWALK has a similar vibe to current trendy foreign pop music, that sound is by virtue of ai/SOlate isn’t it.

wowaka: It’s a direct descendant of ai/SOlate. It’s a song that exposes how much of a music fiend and too avid of a listener I am. Before we started album productions I had trained by making about a singular chorus. At that time I would never believe I would be showing that chorus to the band, rather off completing it as a one-off. In the sea of all the various styles in this album, I came to realize “If I write a whole song solo then it will truly seal the deal, that this has become Hitorie”. In the end I really did write it all by myself. Yumao: I had nothing to do with it. Shinoda: I didn’t do anything officer.

As his bandmates, did you want to do it as a band?

ygarshy: It was more along the lines of “We want to hear how it would sound, so please do it”. We typically play our instruments strictly based on wowaka’s demos, but no matter how much effort we put into being loyal to his original, there's parts which will alter. That's why we wanted him to make it exactly as he saw fit. wowaka: Even if I produce it alone, there's also the saving grace in playing it together during concerts.

So you're planning on performing this song together in upcoming concerts?

wowaka: I sense that we must.

Was there anything you kept in mind as you wrote the lyrics for the album?

wowaka: I feel it’s all a discussion. I've mentioned this in many interviews before but, confining words only to mean only their meaning - there's a me who holds utter abhorrence for the basic functionality of words. I feel like this world is wrong, handling words as nothing but tools and merely getting controlled by them. They don't really believe in the power of words. I'm still staunch on that idea but... Even so I know I have to face the reality of being understood by people. By the audience, staff, friends, lovers, parents, family alike. I had also talked about this in our past Polaris interview didn’t I, about how at the concert in Fukuoka I received a revelation from the heavens almost.

Ah, you said there was a moment when you figured out “This is exactly what I want to tell people!”

wowaka: Retrospectively that was huge for me. That’s why I aimed to tell people things this time, I poured special consideration into how to share word through song.

The lyrics of the final track Windmill, “I’m here where I belong/We are here where we belong”: it seems cohesive that you want to tell people this, now that it’s the 5 year anniversary of Hitorie’s debut.

wowaka: Yep. After all these years I have new stories to tell, and now that I’ve figured out how to write lyrics like those, I want a lot of people to see them, I want people who have never heard us to hear them. That’s how I’ve come to see it.

I see. After finishing this album, has it laid down the pavement for Hitorie’s future in any way?

wowaka: This year will mark seven years since we originally banded up, and after spending this much time together.. at this point our moments are human, our perceptions are human, our emotions are human. Hence we have no clue what lies ahead. That's why each member will surely figure out how best to push the band, and they'll show me the way forward. I think we’re so revved up that we could even explode right in this moment. ygarshy: Leader (wowaka) has learned how to say “It’s actually the best when you’re each going all-out on your own accords”. There were still times when he wanted us to play parallel to his image, but ultimately the times when we're playing freely, do turn out to be the best, he says. That’s ridiculously rivetingly huge. So we took that exact method with Coyote and Ghost and it turned out so good. If we continue just like this, I think the balance of our band will change exponentially. SLEEPWALK, the songs we are bursting out in, and Shinoda’s song alike, they all became one of Hitorie’s songs. So It gives me so much confidence to hear you say “It might just reach new listeners”.

~~END~~

youtube

Bonus video at the bottom!

To all viewers of Skream, we’re Hitorie! I’m the vocal/guitarist wowaka. - I’m the guitarist Shinoda. - The bassist ygarshy. - The drummer Yumao. wowaka: Us, Hitorie, in this 2019th… century…? Shinoda: Yes. wowaka: Are, this February, Shinoda: That’s it. wowaka: on the 27th, Shinoda: That’s right. wowaka: We're releasing our new album HOWLS! Shinoda: So give it a listen. (All members clap) wowaka: With 10 songs, that are all itchy…. Irritated.. Hairy? Fuzzy? Shinoda: Fuzzy. wowaka: Hmm, that’s still not right.. It’s more… animalish? Outlawish? ...Anyway, it’s fast-paced with sadness looming over, yet despite that, there’s still a bit of love and-. Shinoda: (Snickers). wowaka: My explanation is starting to make less and less sense (laughing). It’s thick, it’s good, we have confidence in how this album turned out. So we’d be happy if you could acquire it and give it a listen, please. All members: Please (bow). wowaka: Furthermore, starting on March 1st at Osaka’s Big Cat, and heading on and on to the final destination on June 1st at Shinkiba’s Studio COAST, we’ll be touring the country on Hitorie’s "Coyote Howling” tour. It’s our first tour in a damn while. So dear the people who will follow us anywhere- Or the people who may hate us- Shinoda: People who hate us? wowaka: There’s the chance they’ll come too right? Yumao: I think so. wowaka: For example when someone drags a friend along, who may not have much interest, Yumao: They think “It might be fun” and just tag along, wowaka: Yeah yeah, you might be able to have an experience like that! So by all means, come and play with us. Bye-bye~

#The tiny video at the bottom says volumes about their dynamics so I recommend #This isn’t emo I’m not getting emo. I’m not reading this right now I am on autodrive #automata mode i am numb yeah #DONT WAKE ME UP RIE'S RIVERTING GUITAR RIFFS #NOOOOO #Anyway... Thank you very very much for reading...#long post

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witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago

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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

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