— * 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈. 𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐈. 𝑽𝑰𝑪𝑰.

— * 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝑮𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻 𝑫𝑰𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.

[ofcalloways]

— * 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑨𝒀

❝ an   ARIDITY   defiles   us.   our   innards   thirst   for   the   juice   of   𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑. ❞   —   wallace   thurman . . .     symbolizes   PERFECT   loveliness,   beauty,   and   protection;   juniper   thrives   in   a   variety   of   environments,   the   INVASION   of   it   can   cause   distinct   changes   in   an   ecosystem.  

BIO PINTEREST PLAYLIST BLOG

a   DISARMINGLY   perfect   smile,   the   confident   click   of   high   heels   on   a   marble   floor,   a   chilled   martini   glass   with   a   single   olive,   soft   CASHMERE   against   airy   madras,   manicured   fingers   wrapped   around   a   BOTTLE   of   moët,   blinding   smiles   and   binding   handshakes,   well   worn   GOLD   pressed   against   the   skin,   eyes   scanning   through   a   copy   of   the   new   york   times   over   BREAKFAST,   the   sharp   smell   of   rain,   EMOTIONS   held   close   to   the   chest.

(   alva   bratt   /   ciswoman   /   she/her   /   juniper      )   did   you   just   see   GENEVIEVE   CALLOWAY   walking   through   the   halls?   they’re   a   TWENTY   TWO   year-old   FOURTH   YEAR   POLITICS   student   from   PROVIDENCE   RHODE   ISLAND,   USA.   i’ve   heard   they   have   a   tendency   to   be   CUNNING   AND   COLD,   but   also   RESOURCEFUL   AND   CHARMING,   too.   rumour   has   it   they’ve   been   a   member   of   praeditus   since   their   SECOND   YEAR.   well,   anyway,   you’ll   know   if   you   spot   GEN   again   because   they   always   seem   to   remind   me   of   A   DISARMINGLY   PERFECT   SMILE,   THE   CONFIDENT   CLICK   OF   HIGH   HEELS   ON   A   MARBLE   FLOOR,   A   CHILLED   MARTINI   GLASS   WITH   A   SINGLE   OLIVE.   just   like   the   rest   of   us,   they   have   something   to   hide.

bullet points coming soon... maybe idk don't hold me to that.

[andthorns]

mari shrugged nonchalantly at the criticism of her evening. she was french, and she was a writer. getting wine-drunk and writing poetry was how she spent a lot of her time, and she didn't expect gen to comprehend that. she forced herself to bite back the sarcastic remark she wanted to make about gen's own poor alibi, and merely nodded, understanding. "i believe you," she repeated back to her. and for the purposes of this strange alliance, she was choosing to mean what she said. despite the many, many differences between the two of them, in some respects they also seemed to make the perfect team. they both apparently shared and valued the same traits — logic, intelligence, focus — and their combined skills of creating fiction and pr spin complimented each other nicely for the task at hand.

"i think you're right. believably vague, not so watertight it looks planned." abandoning her casual posture, she shifts so she's sitting cross-legged, back straight and alert. "what worries me is if they try to verify it. if they talk to one of tallie's neighbours and they didn't overhear anything? it looks bad. i doubt the police would believe that twelve students were playing music at a respectful volume and speaking in hushed tones all night." mari took another thoughtful sip of coffee. if this were something she were writing, how would she plot this? how could twelve seemingly disconnected people come together at just the right time, in a way that didn't seem suspicious? "i think we need to make it seem as random as possible," she says finally. "tallie wanted a small get together to celebrate the start of term. she invites the people she's closest to, so that's... you, fitz, aileen, maybe stella? only her invitees also invite their own guests, because tallie is basically friends with everyone at meraviglia, and she won't really care about the party growing. so aileen invites dom, obviously, but she also invites me. dom brings emilia. you invite gemma and richard. fitz brings his sibling and chan. it was all word of mouth, nothing via text, and we can use the fact a lot of us aren't close to sell how unplanned it was."

[ofcalloways]

“  i’ve  thought  about  that  too,  i’m  hoping  that  tallie  is  just  a  loud  enough  neighbour  that  no  one  could  possibly  recall  which  nights  the  noise  was  unbearable  during.  ”  if  any  of  them  would  be  able  to  successfully  fill  that  role  it  would  be  tallie.  “  maybe  we  should  say  it  was  a  little  dinner  or  something  though,  that’s  practically  the  truth  anyways,  just  the  location  that’s  different.  ”  and  of  course,  the  presence  of  the  recently  deceased.  gen  watches  from  across  the  room  as  mari  works  through  her  thoughts.  though  she  may  not  always  approach  mari  with  the  best  of  intentions  she  cannot  deny  her  intelligence,  eyes  taking  in  the  her  pensive  expression  with  a  degree  of  admiration.  

“  random  works,  ”  genevieve  confirms.  her  expression  shifts  into  a  frown  as  they  move  on  to  the  next  part  of  their  scheme.  “  but  how  exactly  are  we  going  to  get  everyone  to  go  along  with  it.  and  more  importantly  how  are  we  going  to  make  sure  they  don’t  completely  screw  it  up  ?  ”

[spillcdinks]

the intimate beginnings of intoxication are becoming tangible - kisses of blush teasing their way across full cheeks, warmth sliding down the length of her spine, her chest blossoming into the dusty pink of rose quartz. the sensuality of ‘ wine drunk ’ - thick & palpable like passion, gentle & dreamy like romance. each sip is like dropping another piece of clothing to the floor until you are left standing with nothing but your vulnerability. it doesn’t take much for gemma to find herself here - especially on an empty stomach. 

“i think you’re confusing YOU with ME.” looks at the other pointedly, “you can have your pick of anyone on campus..” this realisation doesn’t sadden her, her priorities far from the warm touch of another. in another life, perhaps she would have craved affection, chased after height and muscles and played the doting girlfriend, but in this life, she’s lost too much already. the thought of getting close to someone to watch them leave is too much to bear, and the thought of trusting someone just to let them hurt her was enough to fill her with shame. “all the choice in the world, and yet.. when was the last time you picked a nice guy, gen?” 

and the blush at the mention of the TA is more than the product of alcohol this time, the hot flames of embarrassment licking at the plain of her face. “ssh ! i told you that in confidence !” turns her head in an almost 360 degree motion, wide eyes scanning each corner of the bar for eavesdropping ears or familiar faces. “he’s probably got a girlfriend anyway. he’s too cute and smart to be single. he’s read all of Nabokov’s texts in the original russian. what girl would pass that up?”

[ofcalloways]

genevieve  embraces  the  blissful  edge  of  the  alcohol  that  is  beginning  to  wash  over  her.  it  was  a  desire,  a  weakness,  that  she  carried,  a  longing  for  how  substances  could  flood  the  sharp  edges  of  her  mind,  let  her  slip  away  for  a  moment  and  without  consequence.  

pursed  lips  at  gemma’s  accusation,  her  hand  flits  through  the  air  gracefully,  waving  away  the  other’s  sentiment.  “  you  know  me  better  than  to  think  i’d  be  confused.  ”  playful  confidence  dripping  from  her  tone,  “  we  both  can  have  our  pick  of  anyone  we  want,  and  why  shouldn’t  we  take  it  ?  ”  genevieve  certainly  did,  her  philosophy  that  as  long  as  she  never  became  invested  nothing  could  ever  burn  or  break  or  turn  wretched.  she  pauses  for  a  moment  as  gemma  questions  her,  considering  her  response  “  the  nice  ones  aren’t  half  as  fun,  they  get  all  sad  and  attached  and  wont  stop  sending  flowers  —  which  never  match  my  decor  at  all  by  the  way.  ”  but  even  brushing  it  off  gen  can’t  pretend  that  gemma  hasn’t  touched  on  something  true.  

“  i’ve  already  checked,  no  one  can  hear  us,  ”  she  smiles  as  gemma  scans  the  room.  “  who  cares  if  he  has  a  girlfriend,  she  couldn’t  possibly  be  as  beautiful  or  as  smart  as  you.  steal  him  away,  it  can  be  like  something  from  some  great  romance.  the  two  of  you  can  hide  away  in  your  apartment  and  he  can  read  you  nabakov  in  russian  while  you  feed  him  clementines  or  something.  you  deserve  to  have  a  little  fun.  ”

[ofcalloways]

the  two  girls  had  spent  the  morning  together,  sipping  coffee  and  carefully  selecting  outfits  for  the  occasion.  it  was  girlish,  a  soft  sort  of  moment  that  emerges  only  in  the  face  of  something  discomfiting.  a  break  in  the  rhythm,  a  vignette  from  a  dream.  now  they  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  cathedral,  two  figures  among  many  lit  by  the  dismal  light,  umbrellas  protecting  them  from  the  drizzle  of  rain.  eyes  hidden  behind  dark  sunglasses  genevieve  glances  over  at  gemma  beside  her.  palm  reaching  out,  she  gives  gemma’s  hand  a  tight  squeeze.  it  had  been  evident  to  her  that  the  other  girl  did  not  share  genevieve’s  stoic  approach  to  the  day.  “  how  are  you  ?  are  you  ready  ?  ”

@spillcdinks

[ofcalloways]

genevieve  moves  through  the  crowd  of  mourners  like  a  dream  girl  dressed  all  in  black,  a  vision  of  grief  drenched  in  decorum  and  lined  with  faux  innocence.  black  tights  and  kitten  heels,  silk  and  cashmere  and  a  respectable  length  skirt.  the  draw  of  marcel  dupont  was  undeniable.  though  many  on  campus  found  his  presence  unpalatable,  the  desire  to  pay  respect  to  a  man  so  embedded  within  a  niche  of  greatness  extended  far  beyond  the  salt  weathered  edges  of  the  island.  gen’s  performance  is  carefully  choreographed.  handshakes  masked  by  sorrow,  a  networking  event  made  acceptable  by  a  flawless  display  of  despair.  finished  with  one  conversation  she’s  alone,  noticing  richard  she  decides  perhaps  she  could  afford  herself  a  short  break.  she  tactfully  whisks  him  away  to  a  hallway  off  of  the  gathering  space,  a  little  alcove  still  in  sight  of  the  reception.  

“  i  heard  a  rumour  the  prime  minister  of  sweden  is  here  somewhere,  i  haven’t  found  him  yet  ”  yet  her  eyes  linger  beyond  the  hallway,  continuing  to  scan  the  room  as  though  they  might  land  on  someone  useful  she  hadn’t  had  a  chance  to  meet  yet,  “  an  old  oxford  friend  of  marcel’s  apparently.  ”  her  attention  returns  to  richard  fully,  eyes  dark  and  dangerous,  hidden  away  for  a  second  she  could  allow  the  performance  of  stoic  tragedy  that  carried  her  through  the  event  slip  away.  “  so  what,  ”  her  question  begins,  “  will  you  be  doing  after  this  ?  ”  perhaps  a  hint  of  flirtation  “  to  honour  marcel’s  memory  of  course.  ”  it  leaves  her  lips  like  pleasant  conversation  yet  there's  a  bitter  irony  behind  it,  as  though  pure  and  honest  grief  could  be  what  brought  either  of  them  here  today.

@ofpoisontongues

[ofcalloways]

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄'𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

genevieve  lives  in  a  two  bedroom  flat  near  campus.  paid  for  by  her  parents,  her  apartment  takes  up  the  top  floor  of  a  small  but  stunning  building.  the  building  is  old,  built  as  the  university  was  growing,  and  while  the  historic  beauty  of  it  has  been  preserved  the  space  has  been  infused  with  modern  luxury.  the  entryway  features  italian  marble  floors  and  a  stunning  staircase,  and  two  floors  up  (  by  stairs  or  by  small  elevator  )  sits  genevieve’s  apartment . . .

full pinterest

though  the  stunning  historical  architecture  of  the  apartment  has  been  kept  painstakingly  intact,  the  space  has  been  treated  to  many  renewals  and  lots  of  upkeep  over  the  years.  it  was    already  a  high  end  space  geared  towards  the  wealthy  students  of  meraviglia  before  genevieve  ever  stepped  foot  in  it,  but  the  most  recent  work  on  it  was  done  by  her  team.  the  design  of  the  apartment  highlights  its  historic  charm  while  keeping  a  clean,  modern  feel.  think  large  windows  and  wood  floors  with  high  end  fixtures,  white  linen,  and  crisp  lines.  while  genevieve  didn’t  pick  out  a  single  piece  of  furniture  or  design  anything  herself,  everything  has  been  perfectly  tailored  to  her  style,  simple,  elegant,  and  expensive.  

the  upkeep  of  her  apartment  is  also  something  gen  doesn’t  play  a  big  role  in.  while  she  does  generally  keep  her  space  meticulously  tidy,  she  isn’t  someone  that’s  ever  done  her  own  laundry  or  taken  out  the  trash.  the  apartment  is  always  serenely  beautiful  and  impeccably  neat,  exactly  what  you  would  expect  her  space  to  be.  it  generally  smells  of  wood  sage  and  sea  salt  from  her  favourite  jo  malone  candle  mixed  with  a  floral  scent  from  the  flowers  that  are  regularly  refreshed  (again,  taken  care  of  by  someone  else,  genevieve  not  at  all  nurturing  enough  to  change  the  water  in  a  vase).  

her  kitchen  doesn’t  get  used  very  much,  but  it’s  stunning  nonetheless.  her  fridge  is  primarily  stocked  with  meals  from  a  chef  on  the  island  and  bottles  of  expensive  wine.  her  gorgeous,  gas,  unbelievably  expensive  stove  goes  almost  untouched,  as  she  prefers  to  simply  order  in  meals  rather  than  to  cook  —  because  really,  how  could  she  spare  the  time  for  that.  what  she  will  take  the  time  to  make  is  a  cocktail  (  she’s  never  been  the  kind  of  girl  to  go  for  a  vodka  cranberry  ),  everything  needed  to  make  the  perfect  martini  is  available  at  a  moment’s  notice.  she  will  often  use  her  kitchen  to  study,  the  marble  countertop  of  the  island  perfect  for  spreading  out  her  papers  and  books  when  her  desk  feels  too  small.  it’s  perfect,  given  that  she  really  prefers  studying  at  home  to  studying  in  public  where  anybody  can  see  how  hard  she  works  (  and  interrupt  her  ).  she  tends  to  alternate  between  her  bed,  her  desk,  her  counter,  and  on  occasion  a  bubble  bath  for  studying,  schoolwork,  and  planning.

the  apartment  has  one  and  a  half  baths.  the  powder  room  off  of  the  main  entry  way  is  stunning  enough,  beautiful  floral  wallpaper  and  expensive  fixtures  (  and  perfect  lighting  for  moody  mirror  selfies  when  gen  is  ever  hosting  ),  but  the  en  suite  is  truly  gorgeous.  featuring  an  enormous  tub,  bubble  baths  a  favourite  of  gen’s,  and  a  large  shower,  of  course  with  a  rainfall  showerhead  and  a  steam  setting.  essentially,  it’s  an  on  demand  spa  in  her  humble  abode.

the  living  room  rarely  looks  lived  in,  but  it’s  furnishings  are  plush  and  inviting.  incredibly  expensive  couches  upholstered  in  white  fabric  that  brings  a  brightness  to  the  space  and  contrast  the  dark  wood  of  the  coffee  table.  there  always  seems  to  be  a  new  selection  of  coffee  table  books  waiting  to  be  picked  through  by  any  guest,  always  featuring  some  form  of  incredibly  interesting  and  cool  subject  matter,  fashion  and  architecture  and  art  infused  into  her  space  in  the  most  unobtrusive  way.  the  space  also  features  a  gorgeous,  original  fireplace  with  a  large  mirror  resting  above  it.  gen,  not  one  to  watch  tv  often,  instead  has  a  projector  hidden  away  somewhere.  the  living  room  also  opens  up  to  a  small  terrace  which  adjoins  to  her  bedroom,  featuring  a  cafe  set  for  breakfasts  in  the  warm  italian  sun.

the  second  bedroom  in  the  apartment  has  been  converted  into  a  space  that  is  so  specific  to  genevieve  it’s  almost  sickening:  a  combination  walk  in  closet  and  office.  perhaps  it  seems  odd,  but  the  pairing  never  gave  her  pause.  to  genevieve  the  way  she  presents  herself  to  the  world  is  another  piece  of  her  work.  half  of  the  room  is  lined  with  bookshelves,  the  other  half  with  clothing,  shoes,  and  handbags.  if  you’re  lucky  enough  perhaps  you’ll  even  see  the  jewelry  collection  that’s  tucked  away,  filled  with  vintage  diamonds  and  pearls  that  have  been  passed  down  to  her.  

her  bedroom  is,  in  a  word,  luxurious.  in  the  center  of  the  room  sits  a  plush  king  sized  bed,  topped  with  silk  sheets  and  a  down  duvet.  on  her  bed  side  table  you  may  find  the  latest  issue  of  vogue  (  which  she  happily  reads  for  the  fashion  AND  the  articles,  a  girl  shouldn’t  have  to  choose  )  or  a  dense,  unflinchingly  complex  text  on  international  law  or  political  theory.  one  wall  features  large  windows  and  of  course  the  entry  to  the  balcony,  diaphanous  curtains  separating  her  from  the  world  while  greedily  allowing  the  light  into  the  space.  her  vanity  also  resides  in  her  bedroom,  gen  preferring  to  do  her  makeup  and  hair  there  rather  than  anywhere  else.  the  closet  in  the  bedroom  is  heartbreakingly  small,  owing  to  the  old  architecture  of  the  building,  in  it  mostly  nightwear  resides,  silky  nightgowns  and  pajamas  as  well  as  warm  cashmere  for  when  she  feels  cold.  while  her  bedroom  is  gorgeous,  it  perhaps  has  more  in  common  with  a  luxury  hotel  than  someone’s  home.  gen  keeps  little  of  anything  sentimental  in  the  space,  a  firm  believer  that  attachments  only  slow  one  down.  of  course,  there’s  also  the  fact  that  the  only  person  she’s  ever  truly  been  sentimental  about  is  her  brother,  and  reminders  of  him  burn  more  than  they  soothe.

[spillcdinks]

“ you’re right ! she is a bitch. ” venom does not often fall from her tongue but for a weak second it does, wine loosening chapstick stained lips. and it feels good - she’ll admit only to herself - to say it aloud, to free herself of the kind soul and golden heart she had been burdened with, if only for a moment. and the moment is fleeting at best, as she begins to ruminate on how susan is paying her tuition here, and put a roof over her head for eighteen years … maybe she’s not all bad. she’ll hold back a sigh aimed at her own mind - forgiveness comes too easily for someone like her. 

“ thanks gen. i don’t know what i would do without you. probably lose my mind. ” her words so genuinely saccharine it’s like toothache, doe eyes gazing at the other like she scattered the stars across the sky and golden flecks of sand over the beaches.  as though having a confidante so dear to her is so unbelievable she cannot comprehend, gemma will never understand why, out of everyone, gen picked her to befriend. 

“ really ? like who ?”  she’ll speak with narrowed, untrusting eyes, a look normally reserved for other members of the group. the smirk gracing gen’s lips is enough for gemma to know exactly what’s coming.

[ofcalloways]

a  look  akin  to  pride  lingers  on  genevieve’s  face  as  the  venomous  word  drips  from  gemma’s  tongue.  like  seeing  something  you’ve  invested  your  work  into  finally  come  to  fruition,  or,  if  gen  was  ever  able  to  center  the  sentimental,  seeing  someone  you  care  deeply  about  grow  into  a  stronger  version  of  themselves.  perhaps  it  was  a  meaner  word  than  gemma  typically  dealt  in,  perhaps  the  other  still  could  hold  it  with  any  true  malice  for  long,  yet  as  it  took  form  it  evoked  a  cruel  feeling  of  freedom  gen  could  not  help  but  to  delight  in.  

the  sweetly  laced  words  that  followed  were  imbued  with  a  sense  of  care  that  genevieve  would  scarcely  accept  from  anyone  else  in  her  life.  the  genuine  nature  of  gemma  does  not  appear  to  genevieve  like  a  weakness  as  it  does  in  others.  gemma,  gifted  with  intellect,  and  yet  still  she  moves  through  the  world  in  kindness.  a  girl  like  a  blinding  light.  perhaps  genevieve  wanted  to  corrupt  her  softness,  but  that  didn’t  mean  she  allow  for  her  grace  as  well.  

“  like  anyone  you  want.  you  can  have  your  pick,  ”  she  says  it  with  confidence,  as  though  the  academic  minds  on  the  campus  waited  merely  for  her  selection,  like  ripe  red  apples  ready  to  be  picked  at  her  whim.  “  why  not  find  someone  a  little  fun.  you  know  marcel  may  have  been  respected  but  his  style  was  so…  ”  it  was  hard  to  describe  marcels  style,  it  wasn’t  dated  in  the  sense  of  traditional  academia,  far  too  distinctly  his  to  be  left  with  all  the  rest.  no,  his  style  was  biting  and  precise  in  a  way  that  was  almost  classical.  “  how  about  that  cute  ta  from  dr.  lau’s  lecture  you  were  telling  me  about.  i  bet  they  could  do  more  for  you  than  just  reading  your  essays. "

[andthorns]

gen had smiled at mari before, but those smiles had been cold or mocking, and almost always accompanied by some cruel jibe designed to irritate or offend. this one was different. it wasn't warm, exactly, nor friendly either, but there was a genuine quality to it that she wasn't used to from her. it was unnerving, but mari returned it, unable to deny her own vague amusement. whatever this was — an agreement, a truce, a partnership — it would only work if they were honest with each other. whether gen would hold up her end of this, she wasn't sure, but she certainly wasn't going to be the one that caused it to fail.

"i don't have a good one, to be frank." she stretched out her legs, propping them on her coffee table with ankles crossed. "after leaving the meeting, i bought a bottle of wine on my walk home and spent the rest of the night here writing. the cashier could say he saw me, maybe my neighbours heard music playing, but nothing solid. i guess it's up to you to decide whether or not you believe me." taking a sip of her coffee, she kept her eyes locked on gen's, trying to simultaneously convey calm, rational honesty while searching the other for any flicker of deceit. "what about you? do you have an alibi?"

[ofcalloways]

“  a  bottle  of  wine  to  yourself  and  all  you  did  was  write  ?  ”  the  question  was  presented  with  very  little  intent  behind  it.  digging  into  the  𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬  of  mari’s  lifestyle  choices  wasn’t  of  particular  interest,  especially  when  they  had  more  important  things  to  discuss.  “  but  i  believe  you.  i  doubt  you’d  have  the  stomach  for  𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫  anyways,  in  real  life  at  least.  ”  their  eyes  remained  intensely  locked,  as  if  even  in  their  shaky  truce  they  were  each  waiting  to  see  the  other  flinch.  “  of  course  i  have  an  alibi,  i  was  with  —  ”  the  true  details  of  her  evening  involved  mari’s  cousin,  and  gen  wasn’t  interested  in  sharing,  “  —  someone.  my  personal  life  really  isn’t  any  of  your  business  but  they’d  certainly  be  able  to  confirm  if  it  was  𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲  necessary.  ”  as  she  says  it  she  knows  it’s  a  weak  alibi,  the  two  of  them  both  equally  likely  to  be  suspects  in  a  way  that  dilutes  the  value  of  their  shared  word.  but,  that’s  what  mari  was  for,  a  partner  in  constructing  a  far  more  solid  story.  

“  we  need  a  𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.  one  that  works  for  everyone,  that  no  one  is  going  to  mess  up.  the  last  thing  we  need  is  for  anyone  to  find  out  that  we  were  the  last  ones  to  see  dupont  alive  and  catch  us  in  a  𝐥𝐢𝐞.  ”  she  bites  her  lip  while  she  thinks,  a  sign  that  she  was  less  steeled  than  usual  or  that  she  was  taking  pains  to  appear  natural.  “  i  think  the  gathering  at  tallie’s  could  work,  but  it  needs  the  right  amount  of  details.  what  kind  of  music  was  playing,  what  were  people  drinking,  but  nothing  too  concrete.  it  should  be  𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐲,  incomplete,  an  inconsequential  night  we  could  hardly  be  asked  to  remember  weeks  later.  ”  a  pause,  “  and  of  course  we  need  a  reason  why  all  of  us  would  be  spending  our  night  together  that  doesn’t  find  it’s  roots  in  marcel  dupont.

[talliebernal]

"already called, four towers, four different flavors will be present." tallie confirms with a nod, making a note in her binder with a bright purple gel pen. she snorts then, "slightly murderous? really leaning into the vibe dupont has provided, hm? though, you would make a hot bond girl. i would totally attempt to kidnap you in an effort to keep you away from 007. ooooh, there, maybe i should go bond villain vibes then... much to think about. but, yes, i'll forward you my shopper's information and they can sneaky link in a not sexy way." she takes a drink of her glass, listening to the other. she can't help but agree with most of what gen says, even if she would say it in a way that is slightly gentler. she supposes that's what makes their friendship work. at the mention of aileen, though, she tilts her head to the side and hums, "ok, she's not that bad, g, c'mon. and you know dom won't come if she isn't invited." tallie's still determined to find out the deal between gen and dom, but she lets that goal go for now — there will be time later, "i promise to keep aileen out of your line of sight. well, as much as possible. i can't be too tied down," she winks, "as i am a hostess extraordinaire." a sly smirk slides onto her lips, "and, besides, fitz and i need time to try and seduce you into bed with us." she's joking (half-joking), eyebrows wiggling playfully.

[ofcalloways]

“  maybe,  ”  the  word  leaves  genevieve’s  lips  noncommittally  at  the  mention  of  their  professor’s  𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡,  “  i  just  think  people  should  remember  i’m  not  just  a  pretty  face,  i  could  kill  them  at  any  moment  if  i  wanted  to.  ”  it’s  a  joke  and  it’s  not  a  joke.  years  of  her  life  had  been  spent  trying  to  escape  the  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲  𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞  role  she  had  been  born  into.  prove  that  she  could  be  cunning  and  brutal.  “  but  for  the  record  i  would  not  be  one  of  the  pathetic  bond  girls  that  gets  courted  and  killed  in  the  first  act,  i’d  be  one  of  the  ones  that  could  actually  𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.  ”  

she  allows  for  an  unhidden  look  of  𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞  at  the  defense  of  aileen,  “  not  that  bad  ?  what  tallie,  don’t  tell  me  you’re  trying  to  get  in  her  pants  or  something.  seriously  there’s  no  way  you  think  that,  what  happened  to  our  commitment  to  the  𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞  pursuit  of  gossip  ?  ”  but  she  knows  tallie  is  right  about  dom,  so  she  allows  for  the  subject  of  aileen’s  invitation  to  slide  without  too  much  fight.  she  laughs  lightly  at  tallie’s  reference  to  a  menage  a  trois  “  oh  ?  and  i’m  sure  the  two  of  you  must  have  really  put  a  lot  of  thought  into  how  you’re  going  to  pull  that  one  off.  don’t  let  your  hopes  get  too  crushed  if  my  𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬  end  up  set  on  someone  else.  ”

[ofasphodel]

gen is waxing philosophy and fitz fucking hates it, wobbly as he is both mentally on these many shots of liquor and physically on these unevenly paved side streets (he curses the italians and their commitment to ancient architecture). "you're talking about you and me like there is a you and me. how similar are we, really? when was the last time you felt a real thing, genevieve?" he asks, the sound of her full name foreign on his tongue. maybe it's a little too harsh, a little too mean, but he's annoyed and drunk and so not in the mood for this conversation, this conversation that gen is still dragging on, bringing up all sorts of memories of the dead that fitz never asked for in the first place. aren't there enough ghosts haunting this island already?

"sure thing, genjamin," he says with a sigh. he's as tired as gen says she is, and he doesn't like the person this conversation has turned him into, so different from the happy-go-lucky, funniest-guy-in-the-room version of fitz that their dinner club usually gets to experience. "let's go home. only question is," he leans in, lowers his voice, ever the leading man to her hollywood starlet, "whose home are we going back to?"

[ofcalloways]

“  wow  fitz,  ”  mercurial  smile  on  her  lips,  like  she  could  laugh  sweetly  or  lash  out  at  any  second,  “  i  knew  you  were  an  ass  but  i  didn’t  realize  you  knew  how  to  cut.  ”  her  tone  borders  on  approval,  eyes  glinting  dangerously  in  the  street’s  amber  light.  leaning  in  so  that  her  lips  brush  his  ear  softly,  tightening  her  grip  so  that  her  fingernails  curl  against  him  sharply.  “it’s  kind  of  hot.”  she  pulls  back,  no  interest  in  lingering.  

eyes  rolling  at  the  nickname,  a  quirk  gen  could  never  understand.  still,  the  moment  remains,  the  air  still  heavy  between  them.  she  lets  her  eyes  linger  on  his,  let’s  him  do  his  best  to  sweep  her  off  her  feet  on  the  cobblestone  street,  let’s  him  lean  in  and  speak  with  a  gravelly  voice.  she  can  play  the  part  as  well  as  she’d  like,  charming  and  deadly  like  a  siren.  she  presses  a  cool  hand  against  the  hollow  of  his  cheek,  eye  contact  unbroken,  face  still  close.  “oh  fitz,  you  know  i’m  not  that  easy,  don’t  you  ?  ”

[saxifraged]

generally speaking, best practices for giant fucking liars included not adding too many details to your story. over-explaining was a telltale sign of deception, and giving someone extraneous pieces of information would only create more trouble down the line. you are, after all, responsible for remembering those pieces of information. but when gen turns around to face her, much closer than emilia had ever experienced, emilia feels like she needs to word-vomit like she's never word-vomitted before. but she's been lying for years now, and knows how to handle herself when she feels cornered. was gen cornering her, or was she just paranoid, per usual?

"an attorney, yeah. corporate law. he is a hardass, though i don't think he sees it that way." she chuckles, but it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. her father was one of the most selfless, compassionate people she'd ever known. to speak of him like this, to lie about who he is, put a hole through em's chest like a cannonball. she takes a step back from gen, desperate to escape the other girl's magnetic gaze. it felt like gen was staring through her, down to her bones. "oh yeah," she nods, "for sure."

my treat. was she taunting her? did it matter? "i'd never say no to a martini."

emilia bites the inside of her cheek, reminding herself that if gen forgot to pay her back, she could always ask dove to cover it - though she hated asking dove to cover things. "if you want, i can go ahead and pay for the dress while you finish getting changed." the last thing em needed was for gen to see her using the debit card from her local indiana-based credit union.

[ofcalloways]

“  corporate  law  ?  ”  gen’s  eyes  flash  with  a  curiosity  that’s  equal  parts  clinical  and  vibrant.  “  i’ll  be  attending  law  school  next  fall,  ”  technically  she’s  still  in  the  process  of  applying,  but  her  confidence  is  ever  unshakeable,  “  i’ll  probably  focus  on  constitutional  law  though.  ”  

lips  curving  into  a  small  smile  with  sharp  edges,  “  perfect,  ”  she  breaks  away  ever  so  slightly,  beginning  to  move  towards  the  changing  room.  “  you  know,  so  many  people  have  no  respect  at  all  for  a  good  martini,  i’m  glad  that  you  do  emilia  ”

“  yeah,  that  would  be  perfect,  thanks  again.  you  can  just  let  her  know  which  dress  and  she’ll  ring  it  up.”  then,  with  a  smile  that  came  close  to  genuine,  “  you  know,  this  was  fun,  we  should  go  shopping  again  sometime.  it’s  so  nice  to  get  to  take  a  break  from  everything,  you  know  ?  ”

[voteoakes]

dom looks from gen's flat glare to his watch, briefly considering. "probably not. i've got, what, three out of five minutes left? —"

genevieve is, as always, an apt judge of character. she grabs his hand and his worried frown deepens, his touch curving around her arm, his thumb running, ever so gently, beneath where the skin is raised and irritated from the seawater. it does, as she hoped, tear into his heart; and dom, evergreen truth-teller, could not hope to hide that from his expression.

"you're right." if gen knows how to tug his heartstrings, then she knows better than to expect a fight. you're not the friend i thought you were, she says, and how could he do anything but agree? wince, but agree. "i mean, i'm not proud of it, but you're right, i know. chan barely spoke to me all summer, and now i'm so wrapped up in my own shit with aileen that you... i mean, indomitable, willful you, are never going to look at me the same away again."

gen is famously lethal, but maybe that's something dom's always liked about her. that his touch, still lingering on her arm, feels at home with her unforgiveness. he will try to earn it anyway. "but it does matter. if you take anything away from my ambushing you, fuck, i hope it's that. and maybe in the meantime, i can try to prove you right, right? be the friend you thought i was?"

[ofcalloways]

gen  has  always  been  sharp  and  precise  like  a  scalpel,  more  sharp-eyed  than  it’s  really  good  for  anyone  to  be,  but  even  the  least  keen  of  observers  could  see  the  tilt  of  his  expression  and  know  that  her  attack  has  hit  its  mark.  she  has  no  interest  in  the  uncomfortable  twist  in  her  own  chest  at  the  curve  of  his  fingers  against  her  delicate  skin,  so  instead  she  drowns  it  out.  focussing  on  his  words  until  the  sensation  blurs  into  nothingness,  until  she’s  hardly  aware  of  her  own  arm.  

her  eyebrows  raise  as  he  says  she’s  right,  a  silent  assent,  a  yes  of  course.  but  then,  as  he  begins  to  unravel  she  shifts  ever  so  slightly,  not  into  softness,  she  could  never  be  capable  of  it,  but  the  focus  of  her  outrage  moves  away  from  him  ever  so  slightly,  “  chan  is  an  idiot,  ”  cruelty  is  her  specialty,  and  this  isn’t  anything  he  wants  to  hear,  but  as  far  as  she’s  concerned  she’s  protecting  him  right  now,  “  you  can’t  change  who  he  is  and  that  isn’t  your  fault,  you  don’t  need  to  be  so  maudlin  ”  because  isn’t  that  what  she  hates  more  than  anything,  the  stickiness  of  emotions.  

“  i  don’t  appreciate  being  ambushed,  ”  she  says,  indignation  lacing  her  voice.  “  i  really  care  less  about  all  of  this  than  you  seem  to  think,  believe  me  i  have  enough  things  going  on  that  actually  matter  i’ll  forget  about  it  in  a  week,  ”  but  was  that  true  ?  the  first  time  she  was  ever  vulnerable  in  public.  “  but  i  will  never  forgive  aileen.  and  maybe  next  time  you’re  insane  girlfriend  tries  to  attack  me  you  could  actually  try  and  do  something  about  it. 

[spillcdinks]

for @ofcalloways

it’s dark in the back corner of vino vidi vici; the two girls tucked behind a table that could pose question to the status of their relationship - dripping wax in the centre, chairs pulled closely together, heads turned toward each other in passionate conversation. gemma teases the rim of her glass with a perfectly manicured finger - the first stop on their so-called GIRLS DAY! she’s still baffled by it all, having grown up in a constant state of loneliness, gen was a welcome addition to her life, persistently introducing her to new things - who knew a spa day followed by a shared bottle of wine could bring so much contentment?

“these nails are gorgeous but i’m worried they’ll chip easily. i’ve got three essays due that need typing up and i’ve picked up the guitar again - perhaps i should have just gone for a clear varnish. do they even suit me? susan (her adoptive mother - who she would NEVER call her real mom) would always force me to get french tips before events when i was growing up. french tips and straightened hair... she'd die if she saw me now.” she’ll hold her hand up in the dim lighting, a deep forest green coating each fingertip. “speaking of essays - who is going to check my three essays now that marcel’s gone? he checked everything for me - even for classes that weren’t his own. my grades are going to plummet. i might as well drop out now. ”

[ofcalloways]

gen  felt  at  home  tucked  into  the  corner  of  vino  vidi  vici  sipping  on  a  three  hundred  dollar  bottle  of  wine  (  it’s  a  vintage  !  ).  the  setting  was  darkly  glamorous,  dimly  lit  and  expensive  in  a  way  that  felt  familiar  to  her.  it  was  always  nice  getting  to  pull  gemma  into  her  world  a  little  bit,  plus  some  frivolous  fun  very  much  needed  with  the  state  of  things.  

“  they’re  perfect,  trust  me  i  go  to  this  place  every  time  and  they  always  stay  perfect  for  ages,  plus  the  green  suits  you,  ”  she  catches  one  of  gemma’s  hands  and  holds  it  up  in  the  dim  lighting,  admiring  the  shade  with  a  smile,  “  they’re  beautiful,  ”  she  concludes,  her  voice  warm  and  authoritative.  “  oh  and  susan’s  a  bitch,  if  you  don’t  mind  my  french.  ”  she  doesn’t  really  realize  she’s  misquoting,  the  sentiment  much  more  important.  

she  drags  her  (  also  freshly  manicured  )  finger  along  the  edge  of  her  wine  glass  as  gemma  continues,  “  i  wouldn’t  worry  about  that  gem,  you  know  you’re  brilliant,  right  ?  and  i  don’t  say  that  to  just  anyone  plus  i’m  an  excellent  judge.  ”  she  smirks,  taking  an  elegant  sip  before  continuing.  “  if  you’re  really  stressed  though  i’m  sure  we  can  find  someone  much  better  to  proofread  for  you.  ”

[seungchanpark]

location: someone's off-campus apartment for: @ofcalloways

the weekend after marcel is officially declared dead with a capital d, the seniors in his thesis class throw a party. officially, it's referred to as a vigil/group mourning/celebration of the life and legacy of marcel dupont. unofficially, chan wanders through a crowd of half-empty plastic cups and retching sophomores, wondering why the fuck he's here in the first place.

of course, he knows the reason he's here, which is that lili told him to be, and chan doesn't exactly get picky when it comes to the time and location of his drug deals. thirty minutes in, however, he realizes that he has no idea where lili wants to meet him and his phone resides dead in his pocket, making it a little hard to ask her. instead, chan scans the room, and just past some girls locking lips, he spots gen at the drink and food table. he pushes past his classmates until he's standing next to her, right in front of a condolence cake that reads marcel murdered :(. "i need to talk to you. somewhere more private than this, preferably," he says to gen, speaking louder than usual to be heard over the party music. he swipes a finger on the side of the cake and licks the icing off, cringing at the aftertaste of mascarpone. what a waste of a perfectly good icing. "it's about the other night."

[ofcalloways]

gen  really  didn’t  feel  like  going  out  that  night,  her  arm  still  healing  from  aileen’s  breakdown  and  her  mind  still  broken  up  into  far  more  bits  than  usual.  but  an  appearance  somewhere  seemed  in  order  to  show  that  she  was  still  perfectly  composed  and  up  to  her  usual  tricks,  thank  you  very  much.  marcel  dupont  ?  yes  she  had  had  a  class  with  him,  she  recalled  his  lecture  style  was  rather  intense.  she  made  a  mental  note  to  vet  her  invitations  more  thoroughly  once  her  head  was  back  on  straight,  the  current  setting  far  too  dismal  and  frat-esque  for  her  tastes.  

she  turns  from  the  group  she  had  been  talking  to  to  see  who’s  interrupted,  scoffing  lightly  when  she  sees  that  it’s  chan.  “  what,  need  someone  to  hold  your  hair  while  you  puke  again  ?  because  i’m  not  interested.  ”    she  tries  to  turn  away  from  him,  but  he’s  persistent,  invoking  the  other  night  far  more  publicly  than  she’d  like.  glaring  at  him  and  not  bothering  to  say  a  word  she  begins  moving  through  the  crowd  to  somewhere  quieter,  expecting  him  to  follow  along.  out  on  the  balcony,  she  turns  around  and  crosses  her  arms,  “  alright,  what  is  it  you  want  ?  ”

[andthorns]

mari's first thought when she opened her door to genevieve calloway was that the communion wine she'd drunk the night before must have caused her to hallucinate (though given that the wine had been blessed, logic would suggest that she should be seeing angels rather than demons). her second thought was that whatever this was about, she supposed she should be grateful that she hadn't arrived ten minutes earlier, when aileen had still been there. before she had time to register the thickly veiled compliment and the idea of the two of them working together, her guest had marched inside, leaving mari blinking by the open door, which she shut with a sarcastic come right in under her breath.

it was such a stark contrast to see pristine, composed genevieve in her cluttered apartment, trying to find a home among the potted plants and various curios. she moved a pile of books from an armchair so that gen could sit down, before arranging herself carefully on her couch, coffee in hand, and finally allowing herself to speak. "i have to admit, you were making some sense last night too. and we seemed to be in agreement for the most part, which is more than can be said for anyone else." her gaze raked over gen, trying to work out if there was a trick she was missing, but she seemed to be perfectly serious. "i don't think it's a bad idea. where do you want to start?"

[ofcalloways]

she  eyes  the  seat  as  mari  tidies  it  up  for  her,  briefly  considering  the  power  move  of  simply  standing  before  she  sits  in  it.  perched  on  the  plush  chair,  legs  carefully  crossed  and  posture  rigid,  she  looks  almost  unsettlingly  out  of  place.  an  out  of  place  genevieve,  though,  tends  to  evoke  more  of  a  sense  of  fear  than  of  pity,  like  a  lion  in  the  lamb  pen.  luckily,  mari  didn’t  exactly  seem  like  a  lamb.  she  takes  a  careful  sip  of  her  own  coffee,  a  double  shot  americano,  extra  hot,  while  the  other  speaks.

“  nothing  is  scarier  than  us  being  in  agreement,  it’s  twisted,  ”  it  sounds  bitter  on  her  lips  but  her  sly  smile  shows  that  it's  meant  as  more  of  a  shared  joke  than  anything,  their  camaraderie  unusual  (  even  unsettling  ).  even  before  their  group  dynamics  started  to  unravel,  mari  and  gen  always  seemed  to  end  up  on  the  opposite  side  of  things,  dinner  discussions  and  friendships.  “  you  made  a  good  point  about  alibis  last  night,  i  think  we  should  start  there.  before  we  do  you  do  have  your  own  right  ?  i’m  not  helping  you  cover  up  the  fact  that  you’re  a  psycho  killer  or  anything  ?  ”

[ofconflations]

"real housewives? you're so crass. as if i'd ever be on a reality show. that just goes to show that you know nothing about me. you're too far up your own ass to make valid deductions about me. you're off your game, babygirl." it didn't bother her one bit that genevieve had attempted to reduce her to something as classless as a reality star. aileen knew better than to fall into genevieve's weak excuse of a trap, especially if she was trying to get dominic back. "watch my tone? why? are you going to bring me over your knee and spank me in front of everyone?" she taunted the other woman with a bright laugh. admittedly, after she'd lost it in front of the praeditus members the other night, she hadn't exactly been able to get a grip just yet. though, if you had asked her, she would've insisted she was perfectly fine. she felt her breath hitch, catching itself in her throat as the other woman grabbed her arm and pulled her closer, all to talk about dominic. at their close proximity, she brushed a stray blonde lock away from genevive's face before whispering back, tone as quiet yet velvety as possible, a complete opposite of genevieve's own timbre. "careful, genny. if we keep talking like this, people might start to think you and i are the ones in love, not me and dom."

[ofcalloways]

“  oh  i’m  off  my  game  ?  i  guess  it  was  just  the  obsession  with  being  someone’s  girlfriend  and  all  of  the  catty  drama  that  fooled  me.  ”  of  course,  gen  couldn’t  know  exactly  how  aileen  really  felt  about  being  the  future  mrs.  oakes,  but  she  didn’t  really  care  either.  she  rolls  her  eyes  at  the  other’s  comment  “  and  you’d  say  i’m  the  crass  one,  why  don’t  you  grow  up  aileen.  ”  she  shoos  the  other  woman’s  hand  away  from  her  hair,  daggers  in  her  eyes  and  a  look  of  displeasure  on  her  face  from  the  mere  suggestion  of  anything  aside  from  icey  hate  between  them.  “  in  your  dreams  aileen,  everyone  knows  that  i’m  out  of  your  league.  as  for  you  and  dom,  maybe  we’ll  just  have  to  find  out  how  deep  his  devotion  to  you  really  runs,  i  think  i  have  a  way  to  figure  that  one  out.  ”  she’s  taunting  her,  but  she  feels  entitled  to  be  a  bit  of  a  bitch  after  everything  that’s  gone  down,  though  she’d  probably  fall  into  a  million  pieces  if  dom  had  ever  heard  what  she  said  about  him.  she’s  ready  to  storm  off,  but  first  she  has  one  more  thing  to  deal  with,  “  i’ll  email  you  about  the  project  and  we’ll  divide  roles,  and  you  better  get  your  work  done,  ”  and  with  that  she  leaves,  the  sharp  click  of  her  heels  resonate  as  she  moves  through  the  hall. 

[talliebernal]

tallie, topping off her own glass as gen speaks and then producing a binder of her own from her oversized telfar, listens to the other with a slow nod. gen is, of course, the brains of the operation, but tallie knows parties. this is her specialty. if it was at all becoming of a cosmetics company heiress to go into event planning, she probably would. "i've been talking to a mixologist i know in florence who has given me plenty of cocktail ideas to work from, so i should have a list to send you by the end of the week, and my favorite patisserie in paris has agreed to supply us with hors d'oeuvres." she may not organize a damn thing when it comes to classes, but she knows her way around organizing this. especially since this is their fourth year of this. their halloween parties are a force to be reckoned with, just as the two young women are. tallie snorts, "oh c'mon, you're going to be hot regardless, so that's not a concern. we can compare moodboards. i was aiming for 90s r&b princess, but will settle anywhere close enough to compliment you, my dear gen." she winks at her, "i think we should once again institute the no costume, no entrance rule. like, don't be a fucking wanker. though, i guess parsing out a good guest list will help. we can toss any potential costume-less losers."

[ofcalloways]

“  perfect,  ”  gen  hums  as  she  checks  items  off  in  her  planner,  “  make  sure  none  of  the  cocktails  are  too  sweet  yeah  ?  i  don’t  want  to  feel  like  some  girl  from  ohio  that  just  turned  eighteen.  ”  another  sip  of  wine,  “  oh,  and  we’re  getting  the  macaron  towers  from  ladurée  again  right  ?  my  favourite.  ”  their  halloween  parties  were  perhaps  a  heinous  show  of  material  wealth  at  times,  brightly  coloured  pastries  flown  in  from  france  and  bottles  of  champagne  with  price  marks  in  the  hundreds  flowing  freely,  but  they’re  so  fun  and  private  who  could  possibly  object.  “hm,  i’m  thinking  something  sexy  and  vaguely  murderous  for  me,  maybe  a  bond  girl  or  something  like  that.  i  think  as  long  as  our  colour  pallets  and  fabrics  match  it’ll  look  cohesive,  maybe  we  can  just  put  our  shoppers  in  touch  ?  ”  another  sip  of  wine  because  of  course  half  of  the  fun  of  party  planning  with  tallie  was  getting  a  little  tipsy.  “  god  yeah,  imagine  trying  to  show  up  without  a  costume,  it's  so  ridiculous.  no  one  has  any  respect  for  a  dress  code  these  days.  ”  rolling  her  eyes,  “  the  guest  list  definitely  needs  work  though  and  i  only  trust  you  and  me  with  those  judgments.  hmmm,  ”  her  eyes  scan  down  last  years  list,  “  fitz  and  gemma  of  course,  do  you  think  we  can  invite  dominic  without  his awful girlfriend  ?  ”