#also. man. it took me Too Long to realize that James is trans.

[cacklefrendly]

old art part 3: that time i tried SO hard to turn an excerpt of A Plague on Necromancy into a comic. but 1) my art style changed/improved like a third of the way through so i hated NEARLY EVERYTHING I'D DONE UP UNTIL THEN and also 2) So Much Shit Happened. like Ao3 author levels of Shit. yike!!

these panels tho???? these are good. i still like these ones.

*all from roughly 2019 -> 2021

[my-castles-crumbling]

smart - October 6th - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - word count: 665 - trans!Regulus Inspired by a reddit post that I heard about on a podcast so I don't have the original source to link it lol

"It's going well, I think," Effie whispered to Monty, who nodded at his wife, grinning.

"I like him. I have to admit, he's not what I thought he would be, though," Monty murmured, looking across the room.

It was true. James was so larger-than life and attention-grabbing; so loud and, Effie had to admit, dramatic. But Regulus, James's boyfriend who he'd finally agreed to introduce them to, was quieter. It had struck them as strange that it had taken so long, since Regulus was Sirius's little brother, and Sirius had practically been their adoptive son for years. But they didn't know a lot about Regulus. Just that he had taken longer to cut ties with Sirius's problematic family, and that their son was absolutely crazy about him.

He also seemed nervous and a bit skittish, though when he did speak, he came off as extremely smart. Though both men looked at each other with stars in their eyes, it was certainly a different match than what James's parents had been expecting.

When they interacted together, it made all the sense in the world, though. At least in Effie's opinion. They were natural opposites in the best way, and Regulus seemed to bring out the best in James. He'd never seemed happier.

"I'm going to do the dishes," she announced, standing and exiting the room, waving all of the boys off as they got up to try to help.

But as she began to get to work, the short, curly-haired man who had been glued close to James's side all night entered the kitchen, balancing a stack of plates.

"Oh, let me get those, dear!" Effie jumped over to grab the stack from Regulus's hand, eager to help.

"Thanks, Mrs. Potter," Regulus smiled softly. "The meal was wonderful. Was that thyme I tasted?"

"Oh, thank you, dear. It was! Do you cook?" she asked as they began to fall into a rhythm of washing and drying together.

"A bit. I learned a lot of family recipes as a child, and it was one of the few things my parents insisted on teaching me that I actually enjoyed," Regulus shrugged, meticulously drying a plate.

"Interesting," Effie frowned, speaking over the running water. "Did they make Sirius learn, too?" Sirius had become a permanent fixture in their household long ago, but had never mentioned learning how to cook.

Regulus just snorted softly. "No, they only made the girls learn."

It took a moment for Regulus's admission to sink in, and the dish Effie was now washing in the sink slipped from her hands as she realized. "Oh!" she said softly, her brain catching up with the conversation.

Regulus's eyes grew wide as he, too, figured out what had happened. "James and Sirius never told...?" His face, which had previously had a small smile playing on his guarded features, grew nervous and almost cold.

But Effie wasn't having that. "Regulus," she said firmly, grabbing his arm with her wet hand and refusing to allow him to turn and walk away. "It doesn't matter to us," she stated, looking the terrified man in the eye, making sure he understood she'd never been more sincere.

The gray eyes that stared back at him grew wide and watery, and he blinked a few times before nodding and letting out a shaky breath. "I- okay," he mumbled. "Sorry, I- It's just, my parents were-"

"I understand," Effie murmured, movign her hand up to squeeze his shoulder.

Nodding again, Regulus visibly relaxed, turning back to the dish he had been drying.

"It won't matter to Monty, either," Effie clarified, squeezing his shoulder again and returning to the sink. "As long as you and James love each other and you support his Quidditch team, he'll approve."

Chuckling, Regulus smiled. But after a moment, he turned to Effie, frowning. "What Quidditch team? Because James likes the Chudley Cannons and I can't even pretend to like-"

"No, he likes Puddlemere," Effie laughed, pulling him into a hug.

[thecr0wthatjamz]

Don’t you love being genderfluid sometimes?

Like, my experiences have been pretty off the wall.

Like, for example, sometimes my gender will have extreme shifts in very short periods of time. Like I remember where I had shifted between six genders in the span of ten hours, all with such dramatic shifts it even scared me, and then suddenly I’m having to run to the bathroom (if I can) to change up my appearance to be more affirming. But then sometimes I’ll have a dramatic shift and then it’ll be such a slow transition and it will take so long that I’ll start to have a crisis and wonder if I was ever genderfluid to begin with. Like I just spent the last like two months believing I was a trans man because I stopped shifting for a while and then had such a slow transition that once I finally started noticing the shift, I had already updated my name and pronouns to be more masculine than it was before and started questioning again.

And let’s not forget those times where you realize like “Hey, I haven’t been this gender in a while” and then it makes you question if that gender is even a part of the equation. Like I haven’t had an agender day since like July and it’s made me question like “Hey, were you ever agender to begin with” but then it’s like “Oh yeah, you had like a five month period where you were exclusively agender”.

And I shit you not, I’ve known I was under the trans umbrella for a while. And it took me ALMOST SIX FUCKING YEARS to be able to finally figure out what haircut gives me the most gender euphoria.

Also allow me too add how much of a BITCH it is to maintain a voice that makes you euphoric. Like, I’m going from James Hetfield type voices to the girliest things just to keep my gender euphoria there. And if I have one, just one slip up, I will be dysphoric for the next hour and be overly self conscious about my voice.

And then there are the days where I’m so hyper-masculine or so hyper-feminine that my wardrobe doesn’t even work unless I’m going out in like fancy restaurant/evening clothes. And I hate that.

And lastly. The biggest struggle that I have with being an afab genderfluid person: titties or no titties?

[t4twolfstar]

Pearl Jam songs as the marauders' story

listen here

explanations under read more

Red Mosquito - Remus is bit by Greyback

two steps ahead of him, punctures in your neck…/ Hoverin' just above your bed... (2x)/ I was bitten...must have been the devil…/ He was just paying me…/ A little visit, reminding me of his presence…

Jeremy - most of the song, Sirius

Okay so we’re going to look at the verses not the refrain for this one bc (TW su*) this song is based on an actual boy who diy died in front of his class so like no we’re not relating to that part but the “Clearly I remember/ Pickin’ on the boy/ Seemed a harmless little fuck/ But we unleashed the lion….Daddy didn't give affection, no/And the boy was something that mommy wouldn't wear”

Daughter - Sirius at home

Trans sirius in an abusive household………. “Mother reads aloud, child tries to understand it/Tries to make her proud/ The shades go down, it's in her head/ Painted room, can't deny that something's wrong/ Don’t call me daughter, not fit to”

Leash - Sirius and Remus’ toxic codependent love and then yelling at the establishment/people who say they’re too young going too deep too hard too fast

“Troubled souls unite/ We got ourselves tonight, oh/ I am fuel you are friends we got the means to make amends/ I am lost I'm no guide but I'm by your side/ I am right by your side….We will find a way we will find our place/ Drop the leash drop the leash/Get outta' my fuckin' face”

Why Go? - Sirius becoming disenchanted w his family

Trans Sirius too of course. She seems to be stronger/ But what they want/ Her to be is weak/ She could play pretend/ She could join the game, boy/ She could be another clone….don’t come visit/mother/ why go home?

Blood - Sirius’ family trying to make him into something he’s not

Spin me round/ Roll me over/ Fucking circus/ Stab it down/ One way needle/ Pulled so slowly/ Drains and spills/ Soaks the pages/ Fills their sponges/ It’s my blood/ It’s my blood

WMA - basically about all the big pureblood families that can get away w anything

“He won the lottery when he was born/ Took his mothers white breast to his tongue/ Do no wrong so clean cut/ Dirty his hands, it comes right off” (tw for song: police, implied police violence)

Do the Evolution - Sirius ranting abt/mocking his family

Admire me, admire my home/ Admire my son, he's my clone…./ I'll do what I want but irresponsibly/ It’s evolution, baby/ I’m a thief, I'm a liar/ There’s my church, I sing in the choir:/ (Hallelujah, hallelujah)

Bushleaguer - abt the aristocracy etc

This song is literally about George bush lmao but I love it abt the upper class

“Born on third, thinks he got a triple…./The aristocrat choir sings, "what's the ruckus?”/ The haves have not a clue/ The immenseness of suffering”

Mind your manners - You guessed it - Sirius rejecting his family

I've got an unfortunate feelin’/ I've been beaten down/I feel I don't believe/ And now the truth is coming out/ What they've taken is more than a vow/ They’ve taken your innocence/ And then they throw them on a burning fire/ All along they're sayin’/ Mind your manners

My father’s son - SIRIUS

I am my father's son,/ Yeah, too bad he was a psychopath and now I'm the next in line, , dear mother, yes, surely she's a work of art,…/Can I get a reprieve?/ This gene pool dark and deep…./Now father you're dead and gone and I'm finally free to be me,/ Thanks for all your dark gifts for which I've got no sympathy,/ I’m living in a walled-up place in the bounds of 5th symphony

Yellow Ledbetter - Sirius

Okay so 97% of the the lyrics are indecipherable when Eddie sings them but you can hear I don’t wanna stay

Go - Regulus to Sirius as he’s trying to leave

(Abuse tw) So sorry about this one yall …… .but yes I think this is regulus finally realizing that he shouldn’t have let things get so bad at home (Sirius blames him for not stepping in even tho he’s a child there’s nuance here etc) and he’s begging Sirius not to leave him here “Oh please don't go out on me don't go out on me now/ Never acted up before don't go on me now/ I swear I never took it for granted just thought of it now/ Suppose I abused you just passing it on….I pulled the covers over him shoulda' pulled the alarm/ Turned to my nemesis…Please don't go on me/ Don’t go on me/ Don’t go on me/ Don’t go on me/ please”

Rearviewmirror - Sirius running away

(Tw abuse) Time to emancipate/ I guess it was the beatings made me wise….Forced to endure/ What I could not forgive/ I seem to look away/ Wounds in the mirror waved/ It wasn't my surface most defiled

Can’t Keep - Sirius running away from home

I want to shake/ I want to wind out/ I want to leave/ This mind and shout/ I’ve lived/ All this life/ Like an ocean/ In disguise/ I don't live for ever/ You can't keep/ Me here

Hail, Hail - Remus and Sirius’ codependent strong love

A how I love you till the day I die...ah and beyond…/ are we going to the same place? If so, can I come?/ It’s egg rollin' thick and heavy...all the past we carry…

Release - Remus thinking about his dad

Remus’ dad is so full of guilt for his hand in remus’ transformations that he extracted himself from remus’ life. Remus laments here, “Oh, dear dad/ Can you see me now?/ I am myself/ Like you somehow” “I'll hold the pain/Release me” he’d would rather have a dad, guilt and all, here, than the self appointed absence but since you left me with the absence and grief and loss of it, at least release me from it, loosen your grip so I can move on.

Present Tense - Sirius and Remus talking probably laying in the forbidden forest assuaging one another’s beliefs of the gnarled beasts they think they are

BUGS - prob remus when he turns before the boys know

Bugs on my ceiling/ Crowded the floor/ Standing sitting kneeling…/ A few block the door/ And now the question’s:/ Do I kill them?/ Become their friend?/ Do I eat them?/ Do I join them?/ I’ll just stop now/ I’ll become naked/ And with the...I'll become one

Who you are - probably James at remus when he thinks he’s a big monster

Who are we?/ Who we are./ What’s your part? Who you are / You are who you are.

Save you - GOD THIS SONGG okay this is probably James @ Sirius when home life is bad and also Sirius @ Remus and also Remus @ Sirius it’s all of them @ all of them

Gonna save you fucker, not gonna lose you/ Feeling cocky and strong, can't let you go,/ Too important to me/ Too important to us, we'd be lost without you/ Baby, let yourself fall, I'm right below you now/ And fuck me if I say something you don't want to hear/ And fuck if you only hear what you want to hear/ Fuck me if I care, but I'm not leaving here/ You helped me when I was down, I'll help when you're down/ Why are you hitting yourself, c'mon hit me instead

Life Wasted - Sirius @ Reg re: leaving

I escaped it, a life wasted./ I’m never going back again…./ You're always saying you're too weak to be Strong./ You’re harder on yourself than just about Anyone/ Why swim the channel just to get this far?/ Halfway there, why would you turn around?

Severed Hand - Reg joins the death eaters

Big man stands behind an open door/ Said, leave your lady on the cement floor./ Got some kicks, want to take a ride?/ I said, yeah!/ Oh please understand I just need, my friend,/ A way a way a way home

Brain of J. - Reg and Sirius arguing after he joins the death eaters

The whole world will be different soon/ The whole world will be relieving/ You, you've been taught/ We’d been the same, now they got you in line/ Stand behind the stripes/ There will be order, so give it a good mind…./And by name/ The name they gave me/ The name I'm letting go

Deep - Regulus knows he’s in too deep

This is Regulus knowing he’s in too deep, Voldemort and the death eaters are such bad fucking people and he’s in too deep now (massive tw for this song for drugs and se*ual violence)

“Ponders his Maker, ponders his will/ in too deep/ can’t touch the bottom”

Pilate - Remus abt Sirius ;0)

Like Pilate I have a dog/ (Obeys listens kisses loves)/ Walks me out of town/ Still one's a crowd/ Making angels in the dirt/ Looking up looking all around

You Are - in love 🥰

Love is a tower/ Of strength to me/ I am the shoreline/ But you're the sea

Red Bar - the war begins

War, I’m crazy/ War I’m crazy I’m war the song is also a lil goofy so it’s maybe just like going crazy being so in it that it’s funny now

Porch - WARTIME EVERYONE @ THEIR LOVERS

It’s the war and everyone knows today could be their last day and tensions are running high in relationships and they love each other so much and need each other but snap at one another nonetheless

What the fuck is this world running to?/ You didn't leave a message/ At least I could have learned your voice one last time/ Daily minefield, this could be my time by you/ Would you hit me? Would you hit me?/ Hear my name, take a good look/ This could be the day/ Hold my hand, walk beside me

Thin Air - babes in love

There's a light, when my baby's in my arms,/ There’s a light, when the window shades are drawn…/ And I know she's reached my heart, in thin air.

All or None - More war time songs soz

Here's the selfless confession/ Leading me back to war/ Can we help that our destinations/ Are the ones we've been before?/ I still try to run on/ But it's all or none

Parting Ways - Lily @ James during the war

She knows their future's burning/ But she can smile just the same, same/ And though her mood is fine today/ There’s a fear they'll soon be parting ways

Love Boat Caption - Sirius/Remus, Lily/James, etc etc. during the war

Love boat captain/ Take the reigns and steer us towards the clear, here/ It’s already been sung, but it can't be said enough/ All you need is loveIt's an art to live with pain/ Mix the light into grey/ Lost nine friends we'll never know/ Two years ago today/ And if our lives became too long/ Would it add to our regret?…./Hold me and make it the truthThat when all is lost, there will be you

Evacuation - going into hiding

Lukin- Lily and James have to go into hiding

(Tw st*lking mention in explanation, gun mention in song) The song was written by Eddie when he was being stalked and he had to bring himself and his wife to a friend’s house for safety.

In Hiding - Lily and James are in hiding and enter Peter

No way in or out/ I turned and walked the hallways/ And pulled the curtains down…./I swallow the truth to keep from lying/ i'm no longer overwhelmed and it seems so simple now/ Yeah, it's funny how things change so much/ It’s all state of mind

Once - Peter Pettigrew betraying the marauders

Literally about someone committing a mass murder. “Once upon a time I could control myself.” “Mimic whats insane.”

Around the Bend - I'm so sorry ummm but Lily to Harry on Halloween 💀

I am wishing you a well…./ I hold your head deep in my arms/ My fingertips, they close your eyes/ Off you dream, my little child/ There’s a sun around the bend/ Please forgive me, won't you, dear?/ Please forgive and let me share with you, around the bend/ You’re an angel when you sleep/ How I want your soul to keep, on and on around the bend

Garden - Sirius being taken to Azkaban

He’s just taking his fate as it comes to him.

The direction of the eye/ So misleading/ The defection of the soul/ Nauseously quick/I will walk, with my hands bound/ I will walk, with my face blood/ I will walk, with my shadow flag/ Into your garden/ Garden of stone

Even flow - IS SO VERY MUCH SIRIUS IN AZKABAN

sung from the pov of an incarcerated person waiting for life to begin again

BUGS - Sirius in Azkaban (yes I already said this abt remus but idc)

Bugs on my ceiling/ Crowded the floor/ Standing sitting kneeling…/ A few block the door/ And now the question’s:/ Do I kill them?/ Become their friend?/ Do I eat them?/ Do I join them?/ I’ll just stop now/ I’ll become naked/ And with the...I'll become one

Black - Remus lamenting about Sirius’ perceived deception

Remembering their love and how now so many of his memories are tainted (by) black and that all of this has changed him fundamentally (star imagery, “black”, “tattooed everything”)

Indifference - Sirius in grimmauld place, sirius in Azkaban

Sirius taking his home life in stride until he can leave, taking Azkaban in stride bc it doesn’t matter any way bc he believes he deserve it anyway

“Pretend I'm free to roam/ I will make my way/ Through one more day in hell/ How much difference does it make?/ How much difference does it make?/ I will hold the candle/ Till it burns up my arm/ Oh, I'll keep takin' punches/ Until their will grows tired/ Oh, I will stare the sun down/ Until my eyes go blind/ Hey, I won't change direction/ And I won't change my mind/ How much difference does it make?/ How much difference does it make?/ I’ll swallow poison, until I grow immune/ I will scream my lungs out till it fills this room”

Alive - Remus post ’81

Eddie originally wrote the song as a lament - why did I live when he didn’t? Why am I still alive?

“Is something wrong she said, of course there is, you’re still alive she said, but do I deserve to be?”

Animal - Remus after ’81 when he needs to transform alone

Feat. A throwback to being turned (so tw: abd*ction) “Torture from you to me, yeah/Abducted from the street/I'd rather be with an animal”

Nothingman - Sirius and Remus after ’81

Once divided nothing left to subtract/ Some words when spoken can't be taken back/ Walks on his own with thoughts he can't help thinking/ Future’s above but in the past he's slow and sinking…./ She once believed in every story he had to tell/ One day she stiffened took the other side/ Empty stares from each corner of a shared prison cell/ One just escapes one's left inside the well

Smile - Remus @ the marauders (except it’s after ’81 and he just thinks of them fondly)

Don't it make you smile?/ I miss you already/ I miss you always/ I miss you already/ I miss you all day/ This is how I feel/ Three crooked hearts swirls all around/ Don’t it make you smile?

In my tree - remus abt sirius after ’81

I remember him, yeah…/ I swore I knew everything, oh yeah…/ They say knowledge is a dream, yeah…/ He's growing up just like me, yeah…

Light Years - Remus abt Sirius

But now you're gone, I haven't figured out why/ I’ve come up with riddles and jokes about war/ I’ve figured out numbers and what they're for/ I’ve understood feelings and I've understood words/ But how could you be taken away?/ Back pages and days alone that could have been spent/ Together, but we were miles apart Every inch between us becomes light years now

I’m open - Remus!!!! Post ’81

After spending half his life searching he still felt as blank/ As the ceiling at which he stared/ He is alive but feels absolutely nothing/ So is he?/ When he was six he believed that the moon overhead followed him/…..So this is what it's like to be an adult/ If he only knew now what he knew then

Thumbing my Way - Remus post ’81 again blah blah ikik

I can't be free with what's locked inside of me/ If there was a key you took it in your hand/ There’s no wrong or right but I'm sure there's good and bad/ The questions linger overhead

Rats - we know how remus like to soliloquize …. This is him waxing poetic about how fucking horrible Peter is

The song itself is kind of listing the many ills of humankind saying how rats don’t compare to people bc they don’t do all this. But Peter isnt really a rat. He’s a man and oppresses like a man and betrays like a man and takes like a man.

“Drink the blood of their so-called best friend….They don't scurry when something bigger comes their way….Don't take what's not theirs“

Oceans - Sirius escaping Azkaban

Hold on to the thread/ The currents will shift, glide me towards/ You know something's left/ And we're all allowed to dream of the next…..The sea will rise/ Please stand by the shore/ I will be there once more

Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town - Sirius after Azkaban

200004309248% sirius returning from 12 years isolated. He doesn’t really recognize most things. Remus wouldn’t recognize him. He’s different. Changed by being unchanged. He couldn’t grow and learn and morph and become. He stagnated yet decayed. But he’s back and he recognizes your skin and your breath. He’s back.

Off He Goes - Sirius is a Sagittarius in the first half, second half is post PoA

Know a man his face seemed pulled and tense/ Like he's riding on a motorbike in the strongest winds/ So I approach with tact/ Suggest that he should relax/ But he's always movin' much too fast/ Said he'll see me on the flip side/ On this trip he's taken for a ride…./ And now I rub my eyes for he has returned/ Seems my preconceptions are what should have been burned/ For he still smiles and he's still strong/ Nothing’s changed, but the surrounding bullshit, that has grown/ And now he's home, and we're laughing, like we always did/ My same old, same old friend/ Until a quarter-to-ten

All Those Yesterdays - and cue the bath scene, remus washes his lost love

Don't you think you oughta rest?/ Don’t you think you oughta lay you head down?/ You don't think there's time to stop/ There’s time enough for you to lay your head down tonight tonight/ Let it wash away/ All those yesterdays

[mrsrcbinscn]

Mother Mayhem || bdrptask

Word count: 6241

Description: Different moments between Franny and her mother, Sophea, featuring a common thread.

CW: Nothing triggering is discussed in detail but I wanna put some content warnings for the following; violence, implied slurs, slut-shaming, violence, mentions of what you’d expect from broaching the topic of Khm*r R*uge

Sophea Sor was never one to hide things from her daughter. Many survivors of war and the like shielded their children from their stories but Sophea was always straightforward about why she had to leave Cambodia. 

 Age appropriate, of course. 

 She didn’t whip out words like killing fields and genocide when her daughter was small, but she did explain that some very bad people caused some bad things to happen. She explained that people were very sick, very sad, and very hungry but couldn’t find food, so that was why she had to come to America.

 As her daughter grew older, she filled in the gaps.

Five years old…

 Mak had to leave Cambodia because people were fighting and hurting each other, and people they weren’t even fighting with got hurt too.

“Mak, I’m sleepy,” five year old Darareaksmey complained, crawling into her mother’s lap the second her mother sat down for probably the first time that day. 

 Without taking a sip of water from the plastic cup she’d just filled, a woman ran her hands, the color of the spiky balls that fall from sweetgum trees through the little girl’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She pulled the hair tie out of her own hair and began to work her daughter’s hair into a braid.

 “You’ll be even sleepier after we finish cleaning the restaurant, baby. Then you can go straight to bed instead of tossing and turning until you do fall asleep.”

 “I want to go to bed nooooow.” The little girl pouted, crossing her arms across her chest and letting out an indignant huff. “Why do I have to clean, I’m five. Jobs are for adults.”

 “It’s not a job if I’m not paying you, silly.” Sophea Sor said, tying the ponytail holder around the braid. “It’s just chores. Kids don’t get paid for chores. Be lucky yours are inside and we don’t have a farm.”

 “Ew, farm cows are smelly.”

 “That’s right, now do you think you can mop the floor while I finish the dishes in the back?”

 “Mhm. Can I sit down a minute first?”

 “We can start after we finish this water.”

Six years old…

 A lot of people died, that’s why Mak doesn’t have a daddy, and she got separated from her own mak. None of her family could come to her wedding because she wasn’t sure if any of them were still alive and where in the world they might be. That was why little Darareaksmey being supportive of her mother marrying Adrien was so important.

 “Let go of my hair, Art! Or I’ll beat you up!” Darareaksmey shouted at her soon-to-be brother as he pulled on her braid, making her flail her arms wildly in her attempts to wallop him. “I’m gonna break your face!”

 Gaston groaned as he flicked a fuzz off of his wedding clothes, realizing he was going to have to step in if they kept this up. He did not want to step in! Dara might be younger than him and Art both but she could punch! But if he teamed up with her and hit Art, then Art would get mad and say he betrayed his brother for their step-sister, and Dara would cry because she can stay ‘step-brother’ all she wants but the second the boys say ‘step-sister’ she throws a fit, and then she and Art would just start a new fight.

 Being the big brother was exhausting sometimes.

 Luckily, Gaston didn’t have to choose whose side to fight on, because Sophie glided into the room to pry the youngest two apart.

 “Dara, be nice to your brother,” Sophie muttered, gently tugging her hair out of the braid to re-do it.

 “He started it! And he’s not my brother, he’s just Adrien’s son!”

 Sophie sighed and with one hand continued to unbraid her daughter’s hair, and with the other, beckoned Art to come closer. “That’s not what you were saying a few days ago, when we tried on your dress for the wedding. You said you were excited to have two big brothers.”

 “That was before I realized Art was mean!” Dara stuck her tongue out at him.

 “Brothers and sisters are mean to each other. Sometimes. Other times, they play together. But all of the time they don’t let anybody else be mean to each other.” Sophie explained as she started to fix Dara’s hair. “But. Art should apologize for pulling your hair.”

 Sophie stared at Art with disapproving mom eyes until he shuffled his feet and looked down at them sheepishly. “I’m sorry I pulled your hair, Dara. And called you ugly. And said I didn’t want an ugly sister. And said your flowers smelled like butt. They don’t smell like butt.”

 “Am I ugly?”

 “You’re not ugly, I was just being mean. You’re a perfectly not ugly sister I’m excited to have after my daddy marries your mommy!”

Twelve years old…

 About a quarter of the population of her mother’s home country died during the Khmer Rouge regime. Franny was lucky to have been born at all, and she should be very proud her mother taught her their language and culture.

 Franny couldn’t remember the last time someone other than her mother used her given name except to make fun of it. Even her brothers called her Franny by then.

 It was the start of a new school year and Franny dreaded the first day; not because of having to wake up early, not because of having to do homework again soon, but because new school years meant new teachers and new teachers. And new teachers for Franny and the handful of other children of Southeast Asian refugees in town meant a horrid butchering of their names at roll call.

 It was the same song and dance every year.

 Inevitably, one teacher would get to Phuc Kieu’s name and say something that sounded like “fuck you” and the class would laugh while Phuc meekly raised his hand and said, “You can just call me James.”

 Serey Mam was lucky, it wasn’t hard to correct ‘Siri’ or ‘Sare-ee’ or ‘Sar-ee’ to ‘Sa-rey.’

 It was the Lao kids that Franny felt most sorry for. Franny could only pronounce and spell Chanthanouvong, Douangphachanh, Nanthavongdouangsy, and Sibounheuang because she was also Southeast Asian so she bothered to learn. But at least with Serey’s name, teachers tried. With the Lao names they took one look at them and said ‘time to butcher it in the most egregious way possible.’ 

 She had mad respect for Chitpasong Nanthavongdouangsy, who refused to go by an “American name” and forced teachers to learn to say Chitpasong. “I was born here,” Chitpasong said one time. “Chitpasong is an American name because I’m an American person.” Franny wished that six year old Darareaksmey had had that resolve, and wished twelve year old Franny could summon it, but she didn’t. She’d rather only hear Darareaksmey from her mother because at least she said it right.

 “You look a bit glum.”

 Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

 “Hi, Mak.” Franny said, waving as she grabbed the last of the dishes from the soapy water to rinse it.

 “What’s wrong? Don’t want summer to end?”

 Franny shook her head. “No, I kind of miss all my friends. You know, the ones not in bicycling distance. I just don’t like the first day.”

 Sophie let her daughter rinse and dry the final dish before she pulled one of the dining chairs out and snapped her fingers, manicured nail pointing down at it. Franny sat down as her mother grabbed the brush from her purse resting open on the table.

 “Were girls mean to you last year?” Sophie asked as she got to brushing the knots out of Franny’s hair.

 “Not really, I just punch them if they are.”

 “Darareaksmey, we don’t resort to violence.”

 “It’s my last resort, I promise, but it’s on the table.”

 “So what’s wrong?” Sophie grabbed the hair tie from around her wrist and held it between her teeth as she started to braid from the top of Franny’s head. “You let me get this far, so you’re trapped now.”

 “It’s the teachers. I hate roll calls on the first day.” She admitted. “I feel embarrassed.”

 “About?”

 “My name.”

 That gave Sophie pause but her hands quickly got back to work on Franny’s hair. “Why?”

 “They...say it wrong. Nobody can say Darareaksmey.”

 “It’s not a name from their language, I’m sure it is difficult.”

 “They don’t even try, it’s why everyone calls me Franny, nobody has ever tried. And it makes me feel embarrassed and sorry that I have such a weird name.”

 Sophie was quiet for a long moment, her deft hands working at her daughter’s hair, until she spoke up again. “Are you embarrassed? To be Cambodian. About your name.”

 “No...it just feels bad when they get it wrong. So I let them call me Franny. Is that bad?”

 “No. I let them call me Sophie, don’t I? As long as you know how powerful your name is and why it's so special.”

 Franny turned her head toward her mother but Sophie clicked her tongue and angled her head back forward, muttering something about her hair looking lopsided if she did that again. “Heeeeey, I was paying attention to you.”

 “You’re trapped in this seat, you have to pay attention even with your back turned.”

 “Fair.  Why’s my name special?”

 “Because you are. I thought very hard about your name. Darareaksmey means ‘bright, shiny star’. I know you remember I was raising you alone before I married your father. You remember, right?”

 Franny, truthfully, sometimes forgot that Adrien Framagucci wasn’t always in her life. It was easy to forget that he wasn’t her biological father because she had never known any other man to be her father. She didn’t know her biological father’s name. Did she want to? Maybe. She hadn’t ever thought about it enough to decide anything; or to consider there was anything to decide.

 Adrien raised Franny. Not only raised her, but he’d wooed her by proving what a great dad he’d be at the same time he was courting her mother. When he came to Mr. Tran’s home to pick Sophie up for dates, he’d bring Franny some amaryllis flowers he’d grown himself. A thanks for letting me borrow your mother today, he’d say. When Franny won Kindergarten student of the month at her elementary school, Adrien asked Sophie if he could treat Franny to a celebration dinner. When Franny mentioned the memory offhand a few years later Sophie said he did that to audition to be Franny’s dad.

 Your father always knew that if he wanted me to believe he loved me, he’d have to love you, too. You were always part of the deal. He wanted to be your dad so he got to proving it to you.

 If her original dad didn’t even stick around long enough for her to remember him but the dad she had put as much effort into wooing her as he did with her mother...then was it worth knowing about him? At twelve, Franny didn’t think it was.

 “Yeah, I remember living in Mr. Tran’s shed with you.” Franny said.

 “It used to be a shed. Mr. Tran fixed it up to be a tiny little house, we had a tiny little kitchen and air conditioning! Right, so you remember it was just me and you...we aren’t the only Cambodians in Clayton County, are we?”

 Franny shook her head. “There’s some at my school. And some that live in Lovejoy, Riverdale, and Jonesboro that work at the restaurant.”

 “Mhm. Are any of them your Aunties and Uncles? I know we call everyone Auntie and Uncle, but are they my brothers and sisters?”

 “...y...yes? Yes, right?”

 Sophie shook her head. “Not one. You’ve heard me talk about my brothers and sisters in Cambodia, right? The ones I climbed trees with or who helped me sneak back into the house at night, I talk about them sometimes. I had eleven of them.”

 “...had?”

 “I’m not sure how many are still living. Or where they might be.”

 “Don’t you have their phone numbers, Mak?”

 Sophie chuckled, the warmth in it seeming out of place to Franny even at that age. It seemed like her mother was broaching a very sad and difficult topic. Cambodia was always a toss-up. It was either sad or so happy it sounded like heaven or nirvana. This did not seem like the setup to one of her mother’s rose-colored talks about Cambodia.

 “Or can you write letters?”

 “I don’t know anything, my love.” Sophie admitted. This was the first time Franny had heard her mother say ‘I don’t know anything’ since she’d been alive! “I know some of the ones who died early on during the Khmer Rouge. Because I was there when they did. But eventually we became separated, and by the time I escaped to Thailand I didn’t know where they were. My brothers, sisters, my cousins. My own mak.”

 “What about your dad?”

 “Dead. That one, I know for sure.”

 “...what happened?”

 “That part, I’ll tell you when you’re older. You’re still a child, dear. I’m only telling you some of the basics today.” She cleared her throat and continued. “I escaped across the border into Thailand and accepted I’d never see my family again. I decided it would be an insult to them to not keep living though, so I waited to be resettled to a safer country as a refugee. First I was in Thailand. Then at a re-education center in The Philippines. And then I found out I was going to America. I wasn’t here very long when I got pregnant with you.”

 “You weren’t married or anything?”

 “I was not. And I had to stop working where I was working, and then I didn’t have any more money. That’s when I walked into Mr. Tran’s restaurant and tried to trick him into thinking I was Vietnamese. He picked up my Cambodian accent right away and told me that we are united by the wars waged by the West in our countries and by our struggles in America. Mr. Tran gave me a job, right away, and even let me move in with his family. Until he converted the shed into a little house, we lived in the main house with his family. We shared a room with his youngest daughter.”

 “Leah?”

 “That’s right. So. I was alone. I was unmarried. I barely spoke English at the time; I knew French and Vietnamese from Cambodia, of course Khmer is my native tongue, but my English was embarrassing. Still is.”

 “No way, Mak! You speak English better than anybody who says that about you!” Franny argued, whirling her head around to face her mother now that she felt her hands move from her hair. “Who says that about you? I’ll cook them into soup!”

“Not. The. Point.” Sophie chastised bonking Franny on the nose with the pad of her index finger to emphasize each word. “The point is. It was a scary time for me when I first came to this country. And then when I found out I was pregnant with you it was even scarier. I wondered if I should give you up so a family with more money could raise you. Mr. Tran isn’t wealthy himself, you know, it was a situation where the poor were helping the beggar. Sometimes I still think you would have been better off...but I couldn’t do it. Maybe it was selfish to keep you, but I was so alone. I knew I’d probably still be lonely after I had you. Babies don’t learn to talk for years and even then, you’re my child, not my friend. But I could raise you to love Cambodian culture. I could teach you my language. I could make sure you knew the beautiful parts about where you came from. After everyone I ever knew was either dead or scattered who knew where around the world, I decided that raising you to be a proud Cambodian would be worth all of that loneliness.”

 Franny, had she been a couple years older, would have cried. At fourteen she might have had the emotional depth to fully comprehend what she meant to her mother. At twelve, she understood a great deal, but it did not quite move her to tears. Though, she instinctively reached for her mother’s hand, and gave it a squeeze.

 For a moment, she thought she saw the ghost of fear in her mother’s eyes, or the closest thing to it she could place at that age when her biggest fear was wasps.

 “Do you miss Cambodia, Mak?” Franny asked quietly.

 “Every day. It is a beautiful country. But it is one I will never see again so there is no use dwelling on it.”

 “Don’t say that, we can go someday.” Franny said, pouting.

 Sophie clicked her tongue at her daughter, shaking her head. “It’s too expensive. No go to your room and finish your homework. I don’t want to hear a single guitar chord until you finish.”

Twenty years old...

 The purging of intellectuals included doctors, students, artists, and musicians. The grandfather Franny never got to meet was a doctor and he died because of it. Her mother had been a university student, studying to be a doctor herself, and lied that she was a seamstress to survive. One of brothers she knew did not survive had been a musician. Sophea had more reasons than financial stability to worry about her daughter insisting on doing music.

 Franny supposed she was lucky.

 Unlike some of her first-generation friends, her mother didn’t put that much pressure on her to marry a Cambodian man. There was never any matchmaking, any suggestions of an arranged marriage meeting, nothing like that. However, the first question Sophie asked when Franny told her mother that she had joined NYU’s Southeast Asian Student Association was “are there any nice Cambodian boys, Darareaksmey?”

 It was then that Franny understood that her mother hoped for a Cambodian son-in-law even if she would not pressure her to select one.  It was also clear to her that while her mother accepted her bisexuality, she did tend to assume she’d end up married to a man, perhaps even wished she would. In the 90s and early 2000s though, Franny took that as a blessing.

 Franny did intentionally go on dates with a few Cambodian guys. She’d even had a third date planned with one.

 Enter Cornelius Robinson. Mega-genius. Absolute nerd. Hair you just wanna run your hands through. Mild-mannered. Kind. Actually interested in what she had to say. And very Not Cambodian.

 It was frankly embarrassing how quickly she was all in for that man. She didn’t have to spend all that much time with him for her to understand how her mother must have felt when she began seeing her father.

 Christmas break rolled around and she figured she should introduce her boyfriend to her family. Franny’s jaw fell right between her feet on the ground at how suspiciously well it went. 

 Hours later, she was positively mortified when, instead of telling Cornelius he could sleep in one of her brothers’ rooms, her mother followed up ‘just follow Darareaksmey to her room’ with ‘and keep it down if you get naked.’ Franny covered her face with her pillow, muttering, ‘Neil, just press down. Smother me now.’

 “Do you like him?” Franny asked her mother while they folded the laundry one afternoon.

 “Your boyfriend?”

 “No, Mak. Daddy. Of course I mean my boyfriend. So, do you like Cornelius or n-- ow!”

 Sophie withdrew the dish towel she’d just whipped Franny’s arm with and her warm laugh filled the room. “Don’t sass me, girl. I do. He’s a very rich man you’ve got wrapped around your finger, and he isn’t even old enough to be your father.”

 “Mak!” Franny’s turn to wack an arm with a dish towel. “I’m not with him for his money...okay, it’s nice that he takes me grocery shopping sometimes so I can eat decent food. But other than that I don’t care about his money.”

 Well...maybe she did a little. It wasn’t the or even a reason she began seeing him, but it was a perk she was now enjoying just like her cooking was a perk he got to enjoy. But money could only entertain her for so long. If Cornelius didn’t make her soul feel at home the way he did not even his bank account could have kept her.

 “Cornelius makes me very happy. I actually - I actually miss him when I don’t get to see him for more than like a day. I never thought I was clingy with guys or girls I dated. Guess I am.’

 “Oh, Dara. You’re just in love.”

 “Yeah, I guess I am. Are you angry?”

 Sophie stopped folding the pair of jeans in her hands and let them crumple into her lap. “Why would I be angry?”

 “He’s not Cambodian? I don’t know. You wanted me to date the Cambodian boys in the Southeast Asian Student Association.”

 “Honey,” Sophie cooed, reaching for Franny’s hand. “Only if you wanted to. I’ll admit a part of me hoped you would find a nice proud Cambodian boy. It would be wonderful if you had a husband who would help teach your children Khmer-”

 Franny bit her tongue, holding back a reminder that they’d hadn’t been dating long enough to consider marriage and kids, and that she was only twenty. Nevermind that Franny had been thinking about those things privately. Oh, not in detail. She didn’t have their future children named or anything, though, she had come to the realization that if she tried to picture herself married one day then it was to Cornelius Robinson. The idea of being a mother kind of freaked her out...but if she added ‘mother to Cornelius Robinson’s children someday’ to it, she got all giggly thinking about it.

 It was still a little early to say the M-word or the K-word to Cornelius but it wasn’t like it hadn’t crossed her mind. Franny was in love, after all.

 “- because a part of me does worry about our culture going away with your childrens’ generation if you don’t. But this is America, where there’s all types of people, not just Khmer, Chinese, Cham, or Vietnamese people. You can marry anybody you want. I speak English now anyway.”

 “Mak, I’d teach my kids Khmer.” Franny said.

 “You will?”

 “How else will we gossip about all the snobby rich families at the country club right in front of them?”

 Sophie bursted into laughter, shoving Franny over onto her side on the floor. “Oh, don’t be a gossip! Now sit up, we'll finish the laundry later. Let me do your hair so I can tell you all about the Inthavongs’ divorce.”

Twenty-three years old…

 Her mother’s life even after coming to America had been harder than Franny fully understood for most of her life up until around the time she was married. She thought she knew all about her mother’s struggle because it happened right in front of her, but there were so many parts Franny was missing.

 “Look at my handsome son-in-law! Oh, come, come, let me take some pictures to email to my brothers and sisters.”

 “Mak, they were at the wedding, they know what Cornelius looks like,” Franny whined, clinging onto his arm. “He flew them in, remember?”

 “You’re supposed to be wiping down the tables, Darareaksmey.” Sophie reminded her, gesturing around the restaurant. “Here, I’ll get that server apron off you. Thank you for helping out with dinner Cornelius. So generous with your time when you’re visiting, such a good man.”

 “He’s married, Mak.” Franny deadpanned. Sophie grabbed a mint from the bowl by the door and before she even threw it at Franny her daughter ducked for cover. “You’re getting her in the divorce!”

 It might have been the couple’s first visit to Georgia since they married a few months ago, but Cornelius knew this routine by now. In about four minutes the play-fighting would be long since over and his wife would be hanging onto her mother telling her how much she loooooved her, or how much she wanted them to treat her to a nice meal out tomorrow, or mention how priceless the look on the blonde sales lady’s face would be if two women who looked like them bought a much too expensive dress with her husband’s black card. 

 After knowing Sophie, it was clear where Franny got her...well, a lot of things from. Of course a woman like that raised Franny. Of course.

 The jangling of the bell attached to the front door interrupted Cornelius’ admiration of his wife and mother-in-law.

 Franny lifted her head up from cleaning a table. “I’m sorry, we’re closed for the nigh--”

 “YOU WHORE!” Screeched the woman who had walked in the door.

 “Hey!” Cornelius exclaimed, the scary, unfamiliar feeling of anger bubbling in his chest. “That is my w-”

 When Sophie was the one struck by the woman’s backhand, it was clear it was not Franny who was the target of that slur.

 “Did you expect me to be in the dark forever? How dare you hang around this town! How dare you show your face here!” The woman, blonde hair greying and pale skin beginning to show age, berated Sophie as she continued her assault. “You and my husband’s bastard child, right under my nose!”

 Cornelius blinked in surprise; he would have thought that his wife’s sperm donor of a biological father would have confessed to his wife about his infidelity much sooner than now, almost twenty-four years later. She must have just found out. Why else would she come to the restaurant that late at night breathing fire out her nose -- good god, he was starting to think in Franny’s folksy sayings.

 He was frozen in shock and a tinge of fear (he never was one for physical fights, see) just long enough for Franny to be the first to act. Sophie seemed fully aware of what was happening and also fully able to defend herself, yet for some reason unwilling to.

 Franny lunged forward and grabbed the oldest of the three women by the hair and tugged her away from Sophie. “Paws off my mother! She did nothing wrong!”

 The woman (if Cornelius remembered correctly, Franny’s biological father was named Peter Boyd), Mrs. Boyd, shrieked and flailed her arms until one connected with Franny hard enough to stun her into losing her grip. Mrs. Boyd turned on Franny immediately.

 “Ha! Nothing wrong? Nothing wrong? Your mother opened her legs to a married man, that’s why you’re even here! Lying like a Persian rug. I should lay you out like one.”

 “Fucking try! I’ll lay your ass out and step all over it, you wanna talk about Persian rugs.” Franny challenged, stepping around Mrs. Boyd to block her from her mother. 

 Mrs. Boyd lunged at Franny, but Franny had been in more fights that the genteel politician’s wife could have ever been in. It took her an embarrassing number of tries to land a punch on Franny and when she did, she didn’t miss her shot. While Franny was stunned, Mrs. Boyd grabbed Franny by her hair and threw her against the wall.

 It felt like hours to him that he was frozen in place, but it couldn’t have actually been more than a full minute between Sophie first being slapped and when Mrs. Boyd landed her punch on Franny. That one action finally connected Cornelius’ eyes to the rest of his body. Mrs. Boyd drew back her fist and in a display of speed and athleticism that he could never repeat again, Cornelius crossed the room and wedged himself between Mrs. Boyd and his wife.

 Lucky for him, she wasn’t a very strong puncher.

 Unlucky for him, she was wearing her ring and his cheek sliced right open.

 “You just punched my husband.” Franny snarled, reaching for a chair. “You. Just punched. My husband.”

 If Cornelius thought Franny looked scarily pissed off when a man put his hands on her at a bar, he ain’t seen nothin’ back then. If they were in a cartoon, smoke would have billowed from her nose and ears as she shoved him behind her.

 “He got in the way, that’s his fault!”

 “He has nothing to do with your cheating husband preying on and manipulating a refugee who barely spoke English into thinking he cared about her and would take care of her. Your shitty husband is the one you should be beating up right now!” Franny hissed, her grip on the chair tightening.

 “Shut up, [slur I won’t type]!”

 It was dead silent. Not one of the four of them moved. Cornelius could have sworn he heard a heartbeat that’s how quiet it was.

 Franny was the first to break the silence.

 “I’ll count to three. If you aren’t out of my mother’s restaurant when I get to three, what happens next is your fault.” 

 Mrs. Boyd scoffed. “Like I’m afraid of some gold-digging musical theatre major.”

 “One.”

 “You aren’t really going to hit me with a chair, are--”

 “Two.”

 “I’ll have you arrest--”

 “Three. GAH!” Franny only had to fake her out for her to run out the door shrieking. The chair was already back on the ground before the door had even shut. “I’ll lock the door. Mak, can we put a dish towel on his face?”

 ---

“Franny ow,” Cornelius protested as, back at her parents’ house, Franny landed a light-but-strategically-painful punch on Cornelius' arm. “Why are you mad?”

 “Because you got hurt!” She snapped, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes watering. “Why would you do that?”

 “I didn’t want her to hurt you or Sophie…”

 Franny whined. “Baby, you name your robots. You can’t take or throw punches. I’m the badass in this marriage, you’re the sweet, gentle one. I hate that you got hurt because my sperm donor’s wife would rather blame a poor lady and her daughter instead of her shitty husband.” “Honey, she slammed your head into the wall.”

 “And?” Franny knocked on her skull. “Sounds hollow to me. I don’t think there’s any brain cells left there to kill.”

 Cornelius gave a huff of a laugh through his nose, reaching for Franny’s hand to play with her fingers. He didn’t say anything, just held her hand and waited for her.

 “I’m sorry you had to see my family’s dirty laundry. Not like you didn’t already know, but.” Franny said, staring down at their hands. “I thought his wife knew. The worst part is, I can understand her. I’d hate my mom and I too if you-- not that you would -- I don’t think you’d-- I just mean--”

 “I know.” Cornelius said, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

 Sophie glided into the living room, her hair kit in hand, and gestured for Franny to sit up straight. Franny opened her mouth to protest that she didn’t feel like getting her hair messed with right now, but snapped her jaw shut as quick as she’d opened it. Just let Mak do her little ritual, it wouldn’t hurt no one.

 “I’m sorry this happened, Mak. I should’ve been quicker to fight for you.” Franny said, looking down at her hand in Cornelius’.

 Sophie tsk tsked and tugged the hairbrush a little hard, Franny swore it was on purpose. “It was overdue karma, my love. I slept with a married man whether I knew it or not at the time. Not knowing doesn’t make it any less wrong.”

 “It does too! He was the one married and lying to you! And the one tried to force you into an abortion when that wasn’t the right choice for you. How are you near as responsible as him?” Franny argued.

 “Humans see grey areas. Not everything in the universe does, dear.  Besides, I won anyway. Even after today.”

 “How? All three of us look like the school bully took our lunch money. I mean, look at him! He and Lucille have a press thing after we get back to New York, he’s gonna look like I shanked him during a domestic!” Franny looked over at Cornelius and pouted at his bandage.

 “I’ll tell the press I fought valiantly, honey. You were a worthy opponent.” Cornelius teased. Franny hissed, exactly like her cat, then immediately kissed his temple.

 “I win in the end because I get to have you as my daughter.” Sophie explained, starting on the actual braid. “I don’t regret any part about my path crossing with Peter Boyd’s because I had to go through it to get you.”

 Franny was silent a long moment, her eyes watered in lieu of her finding her words. She only squeezed Cornelius’ hand tighter, and when she had words again only managed so squeak out, “Maaaaaak, you can’t say things that nice while you’re doing my hair. It’ll be all lopsided if I move to hug you.”

 “That’s why I said it when I did.”

Thirty-five years old…

 Franny was coming to understand that she would never truly be able to understand everything about her mother’s life in Cambodia. The more she knew, the more she didn’t know.

 Franny sat behind her mother, brushing out her hair, as the recording device captured their conversation. At the moment, all it was capturing was Franny’s stunned silence as she sat there, mouth agape, hairbrush frozen mid-brush in her mother’s salt and pepper hair.

 What do you say to your mother recounting in gruesome detail her father’s death?

 She spoke like all she was recalling was the serial killer’s M.O. in the last Criminal Minds, her tone calm, detached, there was even a nervous laugh in there.

 “Mak…” Franny whispered. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

 “The book was my idea, Darareaksmey. I want you to help me talk about what happened to my country and our family before I’m an old woman and can’t remember things. The world deserves to know what it let happen.”

 “It can’t be easy for you. How do you just...live after that?”

 “It isn’t easy. Keep brushing.” Sophie waited until Franny’s hands were once again busy with her hair to continue. “A lot of people don’t, I imagine. Surviving must eat some people alive. It got to me, at first.”

 Franny set the brush down and started on the braiding. “Did it?”

 “Why was my escape successful but the woman who suggested the method I used get caught when she tried it, why was I able to survive the student purge but my friends weren’t, why did the cut on my foot eventually heal but my sister’s infection kill her, and do I even deserve to be alive...things like that, I thought about those things every day in the refugee camp. Once I was able to actually think about anything but being hungry, anyway.” Sophie explained. 

 While Franny braided her mother’s hair it occurred to her that this was the most honest that her mother had been with her about her feelings (re: living through the Khmer Rouge) in all of her thirty-five years on the planet. Regarding the straight facts, Sophea Sor Framagucci was a straightforward woman. She would tell you in detail how any and every traumatic event went down but never once had she talked about how she felt or what it all did to her.

 Though, she couldn’t imagine detailing every single trauma in her life and how it affected her for Wilbur either.

 Perhaps it felt strange to Franny because her mother’s trauma was a major historical event that numerous books, movies, documentaries, and articles talked about. She knew so much about the event itself but the raw, human, emotional aspect of it was all new.

 “It’s funny because deciding not to live was never an option for me. Even before I had you. I just kept thinking about how I didn’t want to let the people who did this to me win, and I can only do that by living. So I existed. For a long time, it was just existing. I learned to be alive again. Especially once you started talking and having a personality that wasn’t just ‘Being A Baby. That’s when being a mother goes from being just a responsibility to a responsibility that makes you smile and laugh.”

 “Mm, it’s a good thing you told me that part at thirty-five and not fourteen. As a mother, I understand what you mean. As a teenager that would have killed my self-esteem.”

 “Impossible, your ego was much too big at that age. It almost could’ve used a beating.”

 “Don’t you know that was the classic pretend you’re better than God because you actually feel like trash act?” Franny said, tying the hair tie around the braid.

 “Can’t say I’m familiar. It’s never been an act for me.”

 “Mak!” Franny laughed, playfully nudging her mother. “No wonder I have a god complex on Tuesdays.” A beat. “We can stop. If you need to.”

 “I’ll tell you when I need a break, my love. I’m okay.”

[spiralesbian]

ALRIGHT

here’s my full Stranger Avatar Sasha Archivist timeline:

(also, thanks to @artbyblastweave for being so interested in my lil au!)

SEASON ONE

sasha james is hired as the head archivist of the magnus institute!

her assistants are jon, tim, and martin

tim takes the thematic role of martin (aka getting tormented by my worm wife jane, and stays in the archives)

sasha reads thru statements and is a skeptic! she really does not believe it’s real until jane comes along.

“tim……………………..did you die here?”

“no, but every time i come to work i die a little more inside.”

cute timsha moment in the supply closet tho.

until martin kool-aid-mans through the door and gets them out of there

jon used to work in artefact storage so he hides in there. he’ll be fine

i actually can’t remember how they all get out but they do it KKJSDGFJHD

sasha takes everyone’s statements. tim is fucked up, martin is also fucked up, jon is actually fine though he seems pretty normal about this whole situation most definitely.

sasha realizes this is a bit more than a regular archivist job.

SEASON TWO

sasha gets paranoid of course. she learns more about gertrude because she never got the chance to meet her

she takes a statement from a guy named michael shelley. weird dude. then helen shows up :)

jon is most definitely himself he is just a normal regular grumpy jon i swear :)

sasha starts to manifest her powers a little bit. she doesn’t know it, but she is an avatar of the stranger, and a prisoner of the eye.

she starts to notice more things about jon? similar to this comic but with jon

eventually she + tim + martin help get jon out of the grip of the NotJon. this is my au and i get to choose who dies (it’s no one because i miss the s1 archival assistants too much).

jon is pretty fucked up from this though and at like a season-3-tim mindset already.

fucking goddamn leitner avatar of the fucking whore shows up to trap the NotJon in one of his shitty fucking novels. fuck this guy tho

he’s like Sasha We Must Talk and shes like okay but stay 8 ft away from me at all times you bitch

she leaves the room for 10 minutes and pipe murder occurs. good riddance

wait are the cops in the season i genuinely can’t remember. if they are, their roles don’t change very much. melanie and sasha feud, battle of the bi queens

SEASON THREE:

uh oh! girlie’s be framed for murder! she crashes at her ex gf georgie’s flat. also the admiral is there don’t think i would EVER cut him out of this story

(also jon is georgie’s ex too because i think that would be fun JDHBFHS)

sasha learns abt an upcoming web ritual (mirroring the unknowing), all that shit. gets kidnapped a ton of times, as usual.

helen is like “i am going to kill you because i hate gertrude <3 i was that dumb bitch’s assistant for too long” but michael busts out of the door like Hi Guys and traps her in the hallway.

sasha also gives her statement about a leitner she found as a child that marked her. its a stranger book and we learn her edgy orphan origin story how her parents were both murked by the stranger. fucked up if true!

back at the archives jon is like so fucking tired of this shit honestly and now martin is also pretty paranoid. also jm romance subplot is still very present!

tim is just trying to protect sasha at all times and he’s pissed she keeps leaving the country and getting fucking kidnapped

(remember when jon persuades the traffic cop?) sasha starts to fill her archivist role in a different way. she can shapeshift into the subject of a statement and uses her affiliation with the eye to coerce statements or info out of people. (example: if she needed a live statement from the guy in #90 Body Builder, she could temporarily make herself look like jared hopworth to the guy and ask “what happened to me?” or “what did i do?” and the guy would be like well he built some fucken bodies i guess let me tell you all about it) while reading the statements in america that refuel her, she fully shapeshifts into the statement giver while reading out loud.

once again i truly can’t remember daisy + basira’s roles until the end of the season. also melanie get shot by the ghost at some point

anyways sasha gets kidnapped by trevor and julia and they gerry lays out all the shit for her and she’s like ah! i’m fucked

tim offhand mentions the web ritual to martin and he loses his shit cause he’s marked by the web blah blah this isn’t a web!martin thing i swear i just need someone to fill tim’s role in the ritual and a lonely ritual would be fucking boring as hell as we learned from ass man peter lukas. i hate that man

so they make the plan to stop the web ritual (which is fucking hard when the offense knows your every move) so sasha, basira, daisy, jon, and martin go.

tim stays back at the institute to burn shit and distract elias. elias does some fucked up shit as usual and it makes me sad

the ritual starts! they have a plan to blow it up and run but like. u know how it goes

instead of the unknowing-stranger-dream-sequence, we get everyone kinda mixed up in a huge spider’s web on the big stage and its still quite confusing because this ritual not only manipulates the prey, but also the prey’s perceived reality. the web is also in current control of the buried coffin cause they think that shit is kinda fun. they yeet daisy into it.

hard to describe what happens, but basira keeps her cool, jon is a bit lost in his own mind, sasha tries to use her powers to escape but fails. she manages to get through to martin through the strings and mounds of spiders and she tosses him the detonator.

[squishing spider noises]

SEASON FOUR:

martin doesn't die, i told you i can't kill the og archival assistants! he does lose most of one leg though, he took the blunt of the explosion.

sasha in da hospital in da coma. tim is mad he can’t wake her up and then my man ollie says “ur fucked up mate” and she wakes up

(and because coma jon has such wild hair controversy, i’m establishing that her head was shaved when she was in the coma. it grows back thru s4. it she keeps one side shaved cause she’s cool)

meanwhile tim is recruited by that dumbass man you know who i don’t even wanna say his stupid fucking name

sasha gets daisy out of the buried. they become avatar pals!

(there is the biggest blank in my memory where all of season four should be. at this point i should just relisten to the entire fucking show but i would literally just forget it all again)

melanie says hm. fuck this! and blinds herself. she goes to live with georgie (and that’s the moment jon and sasha realize they are both georgie’s exes FHFHDJD)

tim continues to fight the lonely pull. he thinks that since p*ter l*kas is tied to the institute, he can blind himself out cause melanie was successful. he is wrong. he is also interrupted by elias midway, and only blinds one eye, and loses most of his sight in the other. elias’s hold on him is weak, but this just drives him way farther into the lonely.

gotta be honest i remember the end of season four but like i couldn’t visualize what was happening at the end so i like don’t understand what happened JGDKFJGD but sasha intervenes (???) and peter yeets tim into the lonely (???) and sasha jumps in (??????) after him. elias is just there i guess?

instead of “look at me martin,” sasha finds tim and at this point her form is warped and hard to recognize because of stranger powers, and tim is almost 100% blind, so she says “don’t look at me, see me. see me tim, it’s me.” and finally creates a clear image of herself. “it’s...it’s you. you’re my sasha.”

they break free and go to scotland i guess KHSDDKDSF

idk what happens with jon and martin im losing continuity at this point. fuck it, they smooch <3

“ah these are the statements.”

“yes. basira said last week she’d send some up as soon as the archives weren’t a crime scene. and she wasn’t sure which ones you’ve read already, so she, she just said she’d send a bunch.”

“.........Hello Sasha.”

(alternate ending: personally i think sasha would read through each statement before speaking them aloud cause that’s what i would fucking do, so she would get this statement and be like “lmao tim come look at this elias trying to prank me dumb bitch think i’ll start the apocalypse for him. fucking little puny bitch boy. anyways what do you want for dinner?”)

SEASON FIVE:

“just. listen.”

“...i’m dead. and you have been chosen to be my replacement as head archivist. hopefully, this means you, jon, but if someone else is hearing this, and elias has made a different choice for some reason, then these words are still very much intended for you.”

sasha in full stranger avatar mode and is like 8ft tall and her faces shift a lot as they go through the realms. except the stranger is the second to last one (the panopticon is last obviously).

helen and michael actually talk shit out in the spiral hallway and now they are mlm wlw solidarity and both like tim and sasha are such bi and trans icons <3 this is so fun don’t you love the fearpocalypse <3

oh daisy n basira trapped in the hunt, and jon and martin are trapped in the stranger. wtgfs + the admiral are like in space or some shit idk but they are ok :)

not much to report other than she is my monster wife <3

i really don’t have many theories to how everything in s5 is gonna pan out, and i would like to closely mirror the actual show, so maybe as we get closer to the end i’ll build more on to this! thanks a lot for all the notes on my first sarchivist post!! also if u wanna make art this specific au DEF tag me in it i’d love to see!!

[longgae]

11 celebrities who've been called out for homophobic comments

This is gonna be interesting...

1. In 2020, Twitter users accused J.K. Rowling of transphobia after comments she made on Twitter. Rowling tweeted, "'People who menstruate.' I'm sure there used to be a word for those people. Someone help me out. Wumben? Wimpund? Woomud?" Fans on social media quickly told the writer she was not being inclusive to the transgender community. Rowling backed up her statement by tweeting, "I respect every trans person's right to live any way that feels authentic and comfortable to them. I'd march with you if you were discriminated against on the basis of being trans. At the same time, my life has been shaped by being female. I do not believe it's hateful to say so." She also said, "I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he's a woman – and, as I've said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth."

2. Kevin Hart stepped down from hosting the Academy Awards after his old homophobic comments surfaced, saying, "I am evolving and want to continue to do so."

Between 2009 and 2010, Kevin Hart made insensitive jokes on Twitter and in his standup specials. For example, in one tweet, the comedian said he would break a dollhouse over his son's head if it turned out he was gay. In his 2010 special, "Seriously Funny," he reiterated the point that he would act abusively if his son was gay. "I wouldn't tell that joke today, because when I said it, the times weren't as sensitive as they are now," Hart later told Rolling Stone. "I think we love to make big deals out of things that aren't necessarily big deals, because we can. These things become public spectacles. So why set yourself up for failure?" When it was announced that Hart was going to be the host of the Oscars in 2018, his past jokes resurfaced. After backlash from the public, Hart stepped down as host. "I have made the choice to step down from hosting this year's Oscar's....this is because I do not want to be a distraction on a night that should be celebrated by so many amazing talented artists," he wrote in a tweet. "I sincerely apologize to the LGBTQ community for my insensitive words from my past … I am evolving and want to continue to do so. My goal is to bring people together not tear us apart."

3. After Paris Hilton was caught criticizing the gay community in an audio recording, she apologized, saying, "Gay people are the strongest and most inspiring people I know." In 2012, an audio recording of Paris Hilton in a taxi cab was leaked. According to reports, she was in the car with a gay man who was showing her the gay dating app, Grindr. In the audio, you can hear Hilton say, "Gay guys are the horniest people in the world. They're disgusting. Dude, most of them probably have AIDS. ... I would be so scared if I were a gay guy. You'll like, die of AIDS." Her publicist confirmed that the recording was in fact Hilton but emphasized the socialite was not homophobic. (Are they sure about this? God...) In an apology statement, Hilton said, "I am so sorry and so upset that I caused pain to my gay friends, fans, and their families. Gay people are the strongest and most inspiring people I know."

4. After a member of the audience called out Tracy Morgan for his homophobic remarks during a standup set, the comedian apologized. In 2011, a man chronicled Tracy Morgan's standup set in Nashville on Facebook. In the post, the man said Morgan said being gay is a choice because "God makes no mistakes." The comedian also allegedly said he would stab his son if he came out as gay. (Kevin Hart, you here?) After backlash and a half-hearted apology on "Late Show with David Letterman," Morgan issued an official apology. "I want to apologize to my fans and the gay & lesbian community for my choice of words at my recent stand-up act in Nashville," he said. "I'm not a hateful person and don't condone any kind of violence against others. While I am an equal opportunity jokester, and my friends know what is in my heart, even in a comedy club this clearly went too far and was not funny in any context." (Good sir. There is more to LGBTQ+ then just gays and lesbians)

5. Sarah Silverman used a gay slur in a 2010 tweet. When asked about it in 2018, she said, "I'm certainly creative enough to think of other words besides that that don't hurt people." In 2010, Sarah Silverman tweeted, "I don't mean this in a hateful way but the new bachelorette's a f-----." Although the tweet went relatively unnoticed at the time, it picked up momentum again in 2018 when people pointed out that it was unfair for Kevin Hart to step down from hosting the Oscars for doing something similar. "Yea, I'm done with that," Silverman told TMZ when she was asked about it in 2018. "I think I can find other ways to be funny. I used to say 'gay' all the time like, 'That's so gay!' Because we're from Boston. We'd go, 'That's what you say in Boston. I have gay friends. I just say gay.' Then I heard myself, and I realized I was like the guy who'd say, 'What? I say colored. I have colored friends.' I realized it's stupid, and I'm certainly creative enough to think of other words besides that that don't hurt people. But I fuck up all the time."

6. Eminem has been criticized for using gay slurs in his songs, but he insists he isn't homophobic. In 2018, Eminem released his album, "Kamikaze." In one song titled "The Fall," he focuses on fellow rapper Tyler, The Creator. In the song, Eminem raps," "Tyler create nothin', I see why you called yourself a f----t, bitch." This wasn't the first time rapper had been criticized for using a gay slut. Throughout his career, he has used similar words in his songs and received a lot of criticism for it. Eminem, however, insists he is not homophobic. "The honest-to-God truth is that none of that matters to me: I have no issue with someone's sexuality, religion, race, none of that," the rapper told Vulture. "Anyone who's followed my music knows I'm against bullies — that's why I hate that f---ing bully Trump — and I hate the idea that a kid who's gay might get s--- for it."

7. Mel Gibson mocked how gay men act in the early '90s. While doing an interview in 2001 for Spanish newspaper El Pais, Gibson said, "With this look, who's going to think I'm gay? I don't lend myself to that type of confusion. Do I look like a homosexual? Do I talk like them? Do I move like them?" Throughout the '90s, GLAAD protested Gibson's films, but the actor refused to apologize. "I'll apologize when hell freeze over," he said. "They can f--- off."

8. Alec Baldwin went on a homophobic Twitter rant against a reporter he did not agree with. He later said his remarks were "in no way was the result of homophobia." In 2013, Daily Mail reporter George Stark wrote a story accusing Alec Baldwin's wife, Hilaria, of tweeting at James Gandolfini's funeral. Baldwin took to Twitter to express his anger at Stark, calling the reporter a "toxic little queen," among other comments. In an interview with the Gothamist after the incident, Baldwin stood by his decision to call the reporter a "queen." "The idea of me calling this guy a 'queen' and that being something that people thought is homophobic … a queen to me has a different meaning. It's somebody who's just above," he told the publication. "It doesn't have any necessarily sexual connotations," Baldwin said. "To me a queen ... I know women that act queeny, I know men that are straight that act queeny, and I know gay men that act queeny. It doesn't have to be a definite sexual connotation or a homophobic connotation." He later issued an official apology, according to The Hollywood Reporter. "My anger was directed at Mr. Stark for blatantly lying and disseminating libelous information about my wife and her conduct at our friend's funeral service. As someone who fights against homophobia, I apologize," Baldwin said. "I would not advocate violence against someone for being gay, and I hope that my friends at GLAAD and the gay community understand that my attack on Mr. Stark in no way was the result of homophobia."

9. Chris Brown also used homophobic language (no shockers there) when talking about another rapper, but he later said, "I love all my gay fans." In 2010, rapper Raz provoked Chris Brown when he tweeted about Brown's past assault on Rihanna. Brown responded by attacking Raz on Twitter, referencing the fact that Raz was molested by another man as a child and calling him a "#homothug." "I'm not homophobic! He's just disrespectful," Brown tweeted later. "BTW…I love all my gay fans and this immature act is not targeted at you!!!! Love."

10. Azealia Banks has a long history of problematic comments, but she has since said she will no longer use gay slurs. In 2015, singer Azealia Banks was caught on camera yelling at a flight attendant after getting into a fight with a fellow passenger. In the video, you can hear Banks call the flight attendant a gay slur, according to HuffPost.She later tweeted about the incident, writing, "I don't care. I've said it before and I'll say it again."Banks' history with the word doesn't stop there. In 2016, she used the word to attack fellow singer Zayn Malik on Twitter, leading to the deactivation of her account. She has also called the LGBTQ community "the gay white KKK. Get some pink hoods and unicorns and rally down rodeo drive."In 2016, however, she announced she is never using the gay slur again. "The amount of people that get hurt when I use the word vs. the amount of people I've said it to are just not worth it," she wrote on Facebook. "Honestly... This isn't a cop-out, it's just me realizing that words hurt. and while I may be immune to every word and be thicker skinned than most, it doesn't mean that I get to go around treating people with the same toughness that made my skin so thick."

11. Drake Bell received backlash after posting a transphobic tweet. He later called the remarks "thoughtless." When Caitlin Jenner came out as transgender in 2015, Nickelodeon actor and singer Drake Bell tweeted, "Sorry...still calling you Bruce." After receiving backlash, he deleted the tweet and then posted another, misgendering Jenner. "I'm not dissing him! I just don't want to forget his legacy! He is the greatest athlete of all time," Bell tweeted. "Chill out!" After that, he tweeted out an apology. "I sincerely apologize for my thoughtless insensitive remarks," Bell wrote. "I in no way meant to hurt or demean those going through a similar journey. Although my comments were made in innocence, I deeply regret the negative effect they've had on so many."

Here are some tweets that were mentioned earlier (I couldn't find all of them)

So... yeah

[ronweasleyisourking]

This is How We Dance Chapter Four | Read on AO3 here

Gin was extremely uncomfortable. After Mary had cut off what her friend Sirius was saying, no one had said anything. He didn’t want to impose on what seemed like touchy subject matter, but he was also super curious. Plus, he really liked Mary and wanted to know everything about her. He decided to talk to her later, so that they would not be in a car when the discussion was happening. He had learned not to bring up touchy subject matter while in cars. He focused on not having a panic attack as he followed his phone’s directions to Mary’s house.

-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×

Meanwhile in the other car, Hestia and Alice were discussing who was at fault for Gwenog never having watched Lemonade Mouth and also, not knowing who Hayley Kiyoko was. It began when Wanna Be Missed started playing on Alice’s phone, who had her Spotify playlist on shuffle.

“Wanna be loved every night, wanna know she's only mine, breathe her in, give me life, got all these hearts in line, they all wasting their time, ‘cause only you do me right…”

“Man, didn’t you love Hayley Kiyoko in Lemonade Mouth,” Alice asked the whole car when she recognized the song playing, not realizing what she was starting.

“What’s Lemonade Mouth,” Gwenog asked, sleepily. She loved hanging out with her cousin, but she never got her references, because they were all before her time.

Alice’s jaw dropped. “Tia, have you been depriving your little sister of one of the greatest Disney movies of all time? How can she not know what Lemonade Mouth is?”

“You watch her every day after school Lissy, you could show it to her anytime you want,” Hestia replied from the drivers seat, purposely using the nickname her cousin hated.

Alice glared at her and looked for backup in her significant others sitting next to her, but they were both asleep, Emmeline using Frank’s shoulder as a pillow. “What is the point in dating two people when they are both asleep when you need them?”

Hestia rolled her eyes, and glanced back at her cousin, “You love them.”

Alice looked at them sleeping again, and smiled, “Yeah, I do,” but then her tone changed quickly, “but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be backing me up right now.”

“I wanna be missed like every night, I wanna be kissed like it's the last time, say you can't eat, can't sleep, can't breathe without me, I wanna be held, fragile like glass, ‘cause I've never felt nothing like that, say you can't walk, can't talk, go on without me…”

-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×

Mary stepped out of the car, breathing in the fresh air, which was thankfully not as tense as the air in the car, where her best friend almost revealed her not so great past with relationships. She stretched out her arms and cracked the joints of her back - the air wasn’t the only thing that was tense.

Sirius got out of the car and immediately tried to apologize to Mary. “I’m really sorry, Mary, it just slipped out, I shouldn’t have said –”. Mary cut them off again with a cold glare, and headed towards the house. Gin followed behind her, walking with the cane again.

Sirius just stood there, blinking back tears.

-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×

After Mary got into the house, she set up Gwenog in her room, knowing that it was the cleanest of all the bedrooms due to obvious reasons. She gave Frank, Emmeline, Alice, and Hestia (the former two looked like they had just woken up) a tour of the house, and finally she collapsed on the couch next to Gin with a huge bag of crisps (that she really didn’t want to share).

She didn’t see Sirius, which meant they were probably in their room.

“I’m sorry that I left you sitting here alone,” Mary said, with an almost convincing forced smile. Gin smiled at her in return, and she could see he looked worried… or anxious. “I’m also sorry for what happened in your car too. Sometimes Si doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“You can tell me about it, you know,” Gin replied, looking at her, “I’m not easily scared off. I have some not so great exes as well.” He wasn’t planning on sharing this with her tonight, but he felt like she needed a push to open up about whatever Sirius had been talking about. “When I told my ex about me being trans, he wasn’t too happy. He was driving, and while he was scolding me for not telling him before, for tricking or whatever… he drove off the side of the road. We hit a tree. He walked away with some bruised ribs, but I ended up with old Janie here because of the injuries to my spine and legs,” Gin said, lifting his cane when he said Janie.

“You named your cane Janie,” Mary asked, chuckling a little bit before continuing, “Sorry, that’s not the point at all, I know. That’s horrible though. I can’t believe he reacted so badly.” Gin smiled softly at her when she put her hand over his, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“Well, I’ve told you my bad ex story, would you be willing to tell me yours,” Gin asked, full of hope.

Mary took a long breath before starting, “Peter was Sirius’s friend before mine. They had been friends since they were eleven. I met Sirius around sixteen, back when they were dating Marlene, and they introduced me to Peter. And Peter was nice – he didn’t mind me being trans or queer. But when we started dating, he got a little aggressive. It was nothing bad, not really, just him grabbing my arm a lot, sometimes leaving bruises. But when I confronted him about him outing Sirius and Marlene, he gave me a black eye. When Sirius found out, they threatened Peter, said if he ever came near any of us again, they would call up their uncle and make sure Peter was charged with harassment.” Mary was rubbing her wrists throughout the story, still feeling his hands on her years later.

Gin pulled Mary into a hug and whispered, “I’ll never do anything like that to you. Or anyone.”

Mary smiled at him, setting the bag of crisps down and began leaning into the hug.

Gin continued when they pulled apart, “You need to talk to Sirius though, I can tell they’re sorry.”

Mary nodded, thanked him, and went off to find Sirius.

-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×

Sirius was lying in their bed, waiting for Remus to get home. They were sick to their stomach, and felt like they had ruined Mary’s chance with the fanboy – who from the little interaction they had, seemed like a great guy for her. Better than Peter.

Sirius still felt guilty about that.

They heard a knock at the door, and then it opening. They turned in their bed to see Mary, anxiously smiling at him and looking at them as if she wanted to know if she could come in. They sat up, and gestured for her to come in. Mary joined them on the bed.

Sirius turned to her and said, “I really am sorry. About everything. From introducing you to Peter at all to bringing it up tonight.” Mary smiled and shook her head at them.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Si,” she said, “I however should apologize for getting so mad at you.” She pulled them closer to her, falling back on the bed. She then sighed and asked, “How badly do I want to take a shower now that I’m on your bed?”

Sirius thought for a moment and said, “Very badly, you want to take a shower very badly.”

They both laughed as Mary sat up and brushed off her clothes.

-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×

Once everyone else got home, the afterparty began and of course, Marlene was the first to go up for karaoke. “I read the signs, I got all my stars aligned, my amulets, my charms, I set all my false alarms, so I’ll be someone who be forgotten, I’ve got a question and you’ve got an answer…”

Dorcas was sitting on the couch next to Alice, and both were drinking a fruity alcohol that neither could remember the name of at this point, and Alice said, “She sounds exactly like St. Vincent, she even gives off the same vibes.”

“I do a dance to make the rain come, smile to keep the sky from falling down down down down, collect the love that I've been given, build a nest for us to sleep in here, you know it's real…” Dorcas’s mind raced, thinking about what Alice was saying and what album this song was from, and whispered, “Annie Clark…”

“What,” Alice asked, turning towards Dorcas.

“Annie Clark. That’s St. Vincent’s real name,” Dorcas said, her mind still racing. She opened the notes app in her phone and began writing as many of her thoughts down as she could.

“I know, isn’t that the softest name for a rock star ever,” Alice said, her eyes wide as she saw some of the words on Dorcas’s phone. She couldn’t put it all together but she was excited nevertheless.

“I check my palms, the cracks in the sidewalk, my visions and my dreams, I cross all my fingers, that you'll be someone that won't be forgotten, what was your question, I've got the answer…”

Dorcas looked up, only having eyes for Marlene, and finally replied, “Yeah, yeah it is.”

-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×

Regulus went up to bed with Lily around 2 AM and shortly after, James and Gin were both on the couch drinking a mixture of the alcohols that were in the kitchen and trying to convince Mary to sing. Sirius took a break from making out with Remus in a chair to encourage them and that was when Mary finally realized she had lost the battle.

Mary went to the front of the room and said, “I don’t know a whole lot of songs but here’s one that I’ve listened to hundreds of times and memorized.” She took a breath. “She's got me going crazy, talking to the, talking to the moon. adrenaline starts to overtake me when she. walks into the, walks into the room, at first I wasn't sure of it, then I was just ok with it, I cannot get enough of it. now I love it.” Sirius, James, and Gin cheered.

Mary looked at Gin when she sung the lyrics, “He shows me things I can't see, I like this feeling, like this feeling free, I feel no shame, not guilty, no I just feel more, I just feel more me…”

She felt so free while singing, though that could be the weed she and Sirius had broke out once Lily went upstairs, the smell of which they would have to clear up with Febreeze before they went to bed.

When she was done, she flopped down on the couch and said, “I’m sleeping here, I guess.”

“Same,” said James, “but I can sleep on the floor,” he continued, looking at Gin.

“Yeah, we’re going to bed,” Remus said, dragging Sirius upstairs.

“Be quiet,” Mary said to them, “there is a twelve-year-old sleeping in my room and I do not want her traumatized because of how loud you guys are.”

“We’ll just use the gags,” Remus said, clearly drunk.

Mary shivered, acting disgusted, before curling up against the couch, ready to fall asleep, “I did not need to know that.” James and Gin laughed.

-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×

Lily and Regulus woke up around nine the next morning and began making cheese toasties for all the inhabitants of the house, knowing that it was at least James’s favorite hangover food. Regulus pulled out the jumbo pack of Ribena juice boxes out of the fridge, setting it on the counter.

“It’s time to wake them up,” he said, his eyes wide. Hungover twenty-year-olds were scary.

“Should we use the tuba or just the cymbals,” Lily asked evilly.

Fic Playlist

Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by Panic! At the Disco

Wild Things by Alessia Cara

Too Good at Goodbyes by Sam Smith

Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko

All My Stars Aligned by St. Vincent

Not a Phase by Jessie Paege ft. Lucy & La Mer

[the-truest-sentence-i-know]

Shared Life Experiences

Chapter One: Coming Out

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Steve Rogers x James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes (Stucky)

Summary:  So much has changed in the seventy years that Steve was under, and now, in the 21st century, he realizes that he no longer has to hide those parts of himself that he used to.

But it isn't that easy, because when Bucky comes back into his life, he remembers all those feelings they’d had to hide back then that they wouldn’t have to now. But he isn't sure if that’s what Bucky wants - because it's been a while and feelings may have changed.

ao3 || ff.net || wattpad

The future was different.

Steve knew that that wasn’t exactly a profound statement, but the difference hit him every day. Many were positive, some negative – thought more in a nostalgic than objective way.

One night, not too long after the Battle of New York, they’d all been lounging in the tv room of Avengers tower, half-watching some drama or other. He hadn’t really been paying attention, and when he glanced over at the screen, he saw what looked like to be two men on a date.

His first thought was that this must be a parody of some kind. But as the scene went on, the romantic tone never wavered.

He was so enthralled by this couple, these two men in love, on the screen, that he didn’t notice the others watching him carefully.

Tony, Natasha, and Bruce watched him cautiously, uncertain of how he’d react. Of course, they hoped for the best, after all, Steve was a very decent guy, and he hadn’t been weird about women or people of colour at all so far. But, on the other hand, he had grown up in the thirties.

On the screen, the blond one knelt down and reached into his coat for a ring box. Steve inhaled sharply, eyes stinging, as the other man nodded tearfully. The two embraced, laughing as they lost their balance and tumbled to the floor.

Steve became aware of the others watching him and rose quickly. “Uh, bathroom,” he muttered before rushing out of the room. He knew how it looked, what the others must be thinking, but he didn’t want to be seen having such a strong emotional reaction to a damned soap opera of all things.

He made his way down to an empty hallway and leaned against the wall, eyes closed. He took a few shaky breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Flashes of memory plagued his mind. Sneers. Hurtful words thrown like punches. Hiding in dark places from actual punches. Better memories accompanied them. Laughing blue eyes. Knowing smiles. Kisses in dark hiding places. Small cots and tangled limbs.

But always in secret.

“Steve?” a quiet voice asked.

Steve nearly jumped and quietly turned away to wipe any trace of tears from his eyes. When he turned back, Natasha stood there, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, looking concerned.

“Hey, Nat,” he said, grimacing at the hoarseness of his voice.

“You good?” she asked, and, as Steve was starting to realize with her, she really wanted to know. And he didn’t know what to say.

To say something out loud that has always been a secret between two people, never vocalized in a voice above a whisper, something that’s never been seen in full sunlight, is a feat nigh herculean.

So he just shook his head.

Nat simply pursed her lips, nodded and pulled him into a hug.

 LGBT history was added to his list of research topics an important category on its own. He made his way tearfully through documentaries about Stonewall with Nat at his side. He watched his first pride parade from a distance, not quite ready yet to participate.

Finally, when Steve had once again pulled Nat out of the room to tell her this new thing he’d learned about (Elton John!), she’d said, “Look, man, I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but have you thought of coming out to the others? I promise that they’d be super chill about it.”

Steve looked at her uncertainly. “Are you sure, I mean, I like them and all, but…”

“100% sure,” she said. “They know I’m pan and, hell, I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between Tony and Bruce, with all that tension.”

 The benefit of the internet was that research was so much easier – not just academic research, but research into how people did things, their stories and experiences. Steve read nearly every article about how to come out to one’s friends. But, no matter how much research he did, he didn’t feel quite ready.

That was, until one day, as he was about to head out for a run, he heard his name on the news that played almost perpetually on the tv. He leaned into the room to see what it was about.

A politician who looked vaguely familiar was on the screen – white hair, clean-cut – “… he’s the kind of hero we need as a role model, you see. A traditional man, from a simpler time. I would much prefer my sons to look up to Captain America than Iron Man – who drinks excessively and has a new woman on his arm every time you see him.”

“I’ll have you know that Pepper and I are going steady!” Tony called from the kitchen. “Although we do have an agreement.” He winked at Bruce, who rolled his eyes.

The news host came back on the screen. “That was Senator Johnson at a press earlier today is leading a small faction of senators against L-17, the proposed nation-wide ban of conversion therapy for minors.”

“Obviously, I support the LGBT+ community,” Johnson said a bit awkwardly. “But I also support parents’ rights to raise their children as they see fit. This law is an infringement of people’s freedom of religion.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. He had definitely heard of this guy before – notoriously homophobic, but tried to keep up the nice, reasonable guy routine.

“Hey, Tony,” he said. “How long does it take to set up a charitable organization?”

 Not very long at all, apparently. After a week of meetings and long hours, Steve found himself with a door between him and a crowd of reporters.

Tony came in a grinned. “Don’t know how you did it, but here are more reporters in there than there were when I announced I was Iron Man.”

“Well, Captain America doesn’t hold a lot of press conferences,” Nat said. “So, they know it’s big.”

Steve smiled, trying to look confident. He’d never liked talking to the press, even back in the day. Then he’d just had to talk about beating the Nazis and try to keep up morale. Now he was about to say something to the whole country that he’d never really said out loud before. He hadn’t really had to come out to the rest of the gang per se. They had kind of figured it out through his determination to get this done as quickly as possible. A kind of silent understanding.

But this had to be him. and maybe he was doing it out of spite – he did wish he could see X’s face – but the more he thought about it, he knew it was bigger than that.

He wanted to make sure that no one in this country had to grow up like he did – hiding.

So, with one last deep breath, a reassuring nod from Bruce, a smile from Nat, and a slap on the back from Tony, he stepped through the door and out in front of the crowd.

Questions exploded at him and he quickly walked over to the mic. “Hey, everyone. Glad you could make it. Uh, I’ll take questions in just a sec.”

The crowd quieted down, and Steve took a moment to clear his head and slow his racing heart. “I am here today to announce the launch of my charitable organization, In the Light. And it will be for the support of LGBT+ teens across the country.

The reporters clamoured with questions again. Steve was sure he heard Johnson’s name thrown around. He gestured for them to quiet and continued. “This is something I’ve been wanting to do for a while, but certain recent events have made me realize that I am sometimes associated with, well, ideas and values I disagree with a lot.” He paused. “Those who yearn for a simpler time, when things were more traditional, must remember that people have always been gay, bi, pan, nonbinary, asexual, all the things people are now. And I’d know, because, well, I’m living proof.” Mutters grew. “I was born in 1914, and,” he paused for a fraction of a second. “I am gay.” 

He stopped again as the crowd burst out with questions and waited patiently for them to quiet down. “And while I don’t want to dwell up the negatives, I do want to be honest. It wasn’t always easy. Sometimes, it really sucked. Everything had to be secret and hidden – and sure, we found ways around it, but that didn’t improve the circumstances. I want to help make sure that no one has to hide like I did.” His voice shook a little and he took a moment to clear his head. “Cause no kid should be ashamed of who they are.”

Satisfied that he had said enough, Steve took questions from the reporters.

“Are you referring to Senator Johnson’s statements last week?”

“I…” Steve’s diplomatic nature almost took over but remembered all the harm Johnson could do. He was really just another bully. “Hearing him connect me with his homophobic views did encourage me to go public with this earlier than I had intended, and one of the organization’s first focuses will be on the law banning conversion therapy and getting it passed. But this is bigger than one bigoted senator – this is about helping the kids who suffer because of people like him.”

After a couple of questions from other reporters, a much younger reporter from a news source he didn’t recognize, asked. “Just wanna say, love this a lot. We stand with you. Could you say trans rights?”

Steve smiled. “Absolutely. Trans rights.”

The kid – because really, it was a kid – grinned.

“Well, I’d say that’s a perfect conclusion for this,” Steve said. “Thank you all so much. Call your reps and tell them to vote for Bill L-17 and donate if you can. Thank you.”

When he got through the door, he saw Nat, Bruce, and Tony all watching the screen. They looked a little teary-eyed.

“Great job, Cap,” Tony said. “Way to stick it to that son of a bitch Johnson… And help the kids too, of course.”

Bruce merely nodded and smiled.

Nat grinned. “Told you they’d be chill with it.” When Steve shot her a look, she added. “The country, I mean.” She paused. “Well, obviously, you’ll get hate. Like a lot. I would recommend staying off the internet for like two weeks at least.”

Steve noticed that his heart rate had gone back to normal and he looked at them. This was good.

 Time passed and he got used to people knowing. The old panicky feeling in his chest when the topic came up subsided. The organization grew. The bill passed – for which Tony threw a party.

Steve got to travel all around the country, opening up shelters and homes for kids who were kicked out or felt unsafe at home. He helped reps in various states push for LGBT+ inclusive sex-ed curriculum.

And he talked to the kids. That was simultaneously the best and worst part. The best because they were all wonderful, and smart, and funny, and brave, and strong. So strong. The worst because of their stories. The stories his so close to home sometimes that hall he could do was give them a hug and tell hem things would get better as he tried not to cry.

He didn’t realize how emotionally draining it was until one day Bruce came to visit him in his hotel in Miami and found him staring at a wall.

“Y’alright there, Cap?” he asked.

“Mmm?” Steve said, not looking away. “Yeah, I’m fine. Long day.”

It took Bruce a little bit to get the truth out of him, but when he did, he just sighed and said, “If you go on like this, sooner or later, you’re gonna burn out and it’ll take months to get back to normal.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“How long had you been staring at that wall before I came in?”

Steve shrugged. “Not long.” When Bruce raised his eyebrows, he continued. “Like twenty minutes. You’re right. But I can’t stop.”

“You don’t have to stop, just don’t push yourself so hard, okay? It’s not just you, there are other people who work for this organization. Like actual therapists who are trained to deal with this. You don’t have to go full hands-off, just, you know, take a break every so often.”

 As it turned out, the break from In the Light would come in the form of Avengers work. Steve left the organization in the hands of some trustee employees as his whole world turned upside down for a while.

And then Bucky was back. Bucky who had been by his side as long as he could remember before everything happened. Bucky who had shared a bed with him since they were teenagers and he had started living with Bucky’s family.

Bucky, who had kissed him in a dark alleyway at age fourteen. His first kiss. For almost as long as they had known each other, they had been a little more than friends.

Bucky, who would arrange dates with all the gay and bi girls he knew so that they could go out together without suspicion. When they went to the movies with Ruth and Sarah, he and Bucky would sit on either side so the girls could sit together in the middle. Then they would stand guard outside a janitor’s closet afterwards talking loudly about the movie. And if worst came to worst and there was any trouble, they could keep the girls safe.

Bucky, who was now living with them once everything had quieted down. And while they got back into a reasonably familiar rhythm, there was a degree of separation.

Neither of them dared to step across that thin line between the platonic and the romantic. After all, it had been so long. Feelings may have changed.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 15 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: You guessed it, this part took forever and I had to push the second half of Kenzie meeting Annette into the next part because it just turned out really long etc etc!!! There’s an easter egg implication that the weird weed Claire got in Colorado (from a witch but she didn’t know that) can help you remember bits of your past/parallel lives. I’m going to keep making allusions to Kenzie’s ultimate consciousness as a divine being; in the AHS universe she’s a Supreme, in this universe she’s got a low-key version of that energy, a very strong aura, let’s say, one that can encourage the people around her to be better and inspire devotion in them towards her; if Duncan is her Prince, Claire, Samuel and Harris are her Knights of the Round Table. I really wanted to include a scene at some point where Kenzie gets drunk and Duncan takes care of her because relationships in reality are a lot of forgiving each other for gross stuff and taking care of each other in various states of grossness, so I’m glad I could put it in here and I love how it turned out. Duncan getting her a tee shirt from MARIE LAVEAU’S HOUSE OF VOODOO is an obvious nod to Marie/Angela, but also a hint that Duncan and Kenzie might end up in NoLa one of these days. Here’s his Givenchy face cleanser. This is the dress Kenzie wears during the day in this part. Marissa Montague is, you guessed it, a Madison Montgomery/Emma AU, and she will show up again for sure. Erik, Annette’s stylist, is a Dennis O’Hare AU; he’s sort of based loosely on Liz Taylor from HOTEL, but he’s not trans in my universe, he’s a queer gay man. Kenzie will get to tell you all the story of what happened to her at work more clearly in the next part. This is the dress Annette wears for the press conference, and this is the one she wears at Plume. Here’s THE KISS by Klimt, a painting I’ve thought of again and again for Duckenzie. I listened to Etta James’ Stormy Weather a lot for the latter half of this part; the weather around Duncan and Mackenzie is stormy, but they are the eye of the storm, calm and constant. Plume is real and so is the private wine room and the Jefferson looks FANCY AF and not like a place I could afford to stay at (I used this article to write about it since I’ve never actually eaten there and probably never will...apparently a “cheap” dinner there runs you like $300). So far Annette has repeatedly proven to be the most difficult character to write in this AU; this article is a good example as to why Beau Willimon created a particularly complex character with her, and my hat off to him and Diane for creating a very special kind of villain who I also don’t really think is truly evil, specifically because she is capable of love; she loves her son unconditionally, and that is her most redemptive quality, and I am definitely using that to my advantage in this fic. There’ll be sex in the next part, don’t worry! I found out the other day that The Youth of Bacchus is going up for auction at Sotheby’s in May; wish I had the $35 million to buy it, because I’ve become terribly attached to it since I gave it to Duncan in this story. I guess I’ll have to settle for a print, but I really hope it goes to someone who isn’t terrible. If y’all weren’t aware, Billie really does have a beautiful singing voice. Annette softening to Duncan and Kenzie at the end is definitely due partially to Duncan and Kenzie’s combined magicks; being together will strengthen the echoes of their magickal abilities from that other universe. If you’re reading this fic, your comments, asks and reblogs mean everything to me.

“You know what I think?” Claire voice was low, her words drawn out by the weed and good champagne, and she was collapsed onto the vintage fainting couch in the corner, pulling strands of her blonde shag through lazy fingers. She was looking over at where Duncan and Mackenzie lay on his low leather couch, the remnants of takeout scattered over the coffee table, stray chopsticks and fortune cookies and half-empty cartons; Kenzie was folded against him, sleeping silently, her breathing very small and even, her face pressed into the crook of Duncan’s neck, her forehead against his chin, her pleated skirt riding up, her bare leg visible above the knee, thrown over his thigh; her stomach and the sweetness between her legs pressed, achingly, against his hip. Duncan was staring off into space (listening to her breathing, her tiny heartbeat against my side, her softness and her, her, her) in the quiet, the record long since having stopped, the calm night floating around them in the low light. His head was swimming with the weed and alcohol; it really has been a long day. My poor Kenzie.

“What’s that?” Duncan realized Claire had said something, looking over at her in a daze.

“I think you two are sssoulmates. I really do, buddy.” Claire was drunk and stoned; her voice slurred out the word soulmate like she had a lozenge in her mouth. “I think it’s destiny.”

“I didn’t believe in that sort of thing before I met her, honestly.” Duncan felt drunk enough to say what he was thinking; to hell with it, this woman loves Kenzie utterly, she won’t mind. He spoke quietly, not wanting to wake Kenzie, his hand coming up to trail down the wave of golden hair that fell over her shoulder. “But I do now. And I think you’re right.”

“Something about you two,” Claire pointed over at them, sitting up a little, the better to throw her head into the couch pillow. “It’s real intense. Like a bright light a moth flies into. Everyone else is gonna want a piece of it. Be careful there.”

“I will, Claire.”

“I’m just so happy to see her happy like this.” Claire’s face bunched together suddenly; Duncan felt sure she was going to cry, but she seemed to hold it together, sniffing a little and breathing in harshly, bringing a finger up to dab under her eyes. “Kenzie’s my best friend.”

“I promise I will take good care of her, Claire. I give you my word.”

Claire nodded at him; he could see her lip trembling for awhile, then she sat up, pulling her purse, discarded at her feet earlier, onto her lap, taking out a tissue and wiping her nose with it, tucking her hair behind her ears. She stepped over to where Duncan lay trapped under Kenzie’s sleeping form; she shook her head as he went to move up, “Shhhhh, no, don’t wake her,” she said, and leaned down, softly, to hug Duncan around the neck, letting go of him after a moment to stroke Kenzie’s hair. Kenzie murmured indistinctly into Duncan as Claire did this, her lips brushing into his skin, and he shivered. My angel.

“I’m gonna go home. I’ll see you both soon. Kenzie deserves this so much. She’s the most beautiful person, Duncan. The loveliest, the kindest, the bravest. You truly have everything now. Don’t take it for granted, not for a moment.”

“I won’t. I swear, I won’t.”

Claire stared at Kenzie for a moment, and Duncan could see the affection in her gaze; it stopped his heart, made his head swim. Claire would die for her. He knew it, utterly. He felt a fierce affection for Claire in that moment; felt as though they were sworn siblings or fellow crusaders in some just, divine cause. The comradery he felt defied an accurate description, but he knew that he and Claire were bosom companions now in some way; we protect her. We are her devoted ones. Us, and Madeline, and Harris, and Samuel. His head felt foggy, indistinct, faraway, part of some other time or day; “That really was some weed, Claire,” he murmured as she walked away from him, towards the front door.

“Right? The best shit. Sometimes I feel like I’m in another world when I smoke it, especially when I’m alone. Like I’m someone else for a little while. Crazy, but fucking neat. Goodnight, Duncan. Tell Kenzie I said good night, I love her, and I hope everything goes well tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Claire. Really. Thank you.”

Claire nodded a little, her eyes bright again. Then, she left, the big black door swinging shut with a barely audible snap behind her. Duncan could hear her boots retreating down the hall, then nothing.

He tried to move so Kenzie didn’t wake; tried to pick her up a little, straighten her so he could get a grip to carry her to bed, but she stirred more heavily this time, and her eyes fluttered open, still half-asleep. “Baby, what time issit…” “After 11, Kenzie. We should probably go to bed, we have another long day tomorrow.”

“Babyyy…” Kenzie lifted her face up to his, her flushed skin pressing into him, and her mouth came against his; she tasted like bittersweet champagne and weed and she smelled like roses and low sweat, and he ached at the softness of her, but he could sense how drunk and stoned she was; her hand slid down to his crotch, loosely, and her head seemed to loll on her shoulders, and he gently pulled back from her hand at his groin, placing his firm grip below her shoulder blades, holding her up.

“Baby, not tonight, okay? You’re drunk. Kenzie, come on. Kenzie, let’s go to the bathroom.”

Kenzie made a whining noise in the back of her throat, but her eyes fluttered with the residue of the sleep she’d just left and her body wanted her to return to. “I wanna fuck you, baby,” she murmured, and she pouted, and she tried to reach for his belt but her hand slipped down and he caught her before she fell, his large fingers coming up to the side of her jaw, her eyes fluttering at him again, breath shallow.

“I wanna fuck you too, baby, but not when you’re so drunk and sleepy, okay? I love you.” Duncan slid his arm down around her shoulder and the other under her knees; he lifted her up (oh my sweet Kenzie), carrying her slight weight easily, and she turned into his dark gray high-collared shirt, bending her arms into his torso, like she was a child turning into the heat of its mother, as he carried her through the door of the bedroom, towards the bathroom. Duncan set her carefully upright on the cool marble floor; the coldness of it seemed to make her more alert, her head lifting, and Kenzie’s cheeks looked very pale in this light, and her eyes opened with a snap, disoriented, as he held her under her arms.

“I think I might be sick,” she said in a tiny voice, and then Kenzie pushed his arms away with one sharp movement and ran to the toilet, jerking her little head over the bowl, knees buckling, and vomited a stream of vintage Moet and Chinese food into it. Duncan immediately rushed up behind her and gently pulled her long hair out of her eyes, grasping her in a makeshift ponytail with his fist; Kenzie moaned, then another stream of vomit came from her mouth and nose, filling the bathroom with the sharp smells of stomach acid and fizzy champagne and grease.

“Awww, baby,” Duncan murmured, rubbing her back with his other hand, carefully, steady. “Shhhh, baby…” Kenzie let out another little moan that made his heart clench; ugh, my sweet Kenzie, today was too long and too much, I shouldn’t have let her drink so much, but then he wondered if it would have been possible to stop her anyway; this was Kenzie, after all, wildly determined in whatever she did, including drinking most of the second bottle they’d opened herself. Kenzie reached up and flushed the toilet, and he noticed her little arm shaking as she did, her flesh covered in goosebumps. Duncan crouched down behind her, hand still steadily rubbing her back, hand holding her hair carefully to the side, his lips coming up between her shoulder blades, kissing the cotton fabric of her dress.

“Can you get me a tissue, baby,” Kenzie said, her face in the toilet still, and Duncan’s heart ached to hear its shakiness, the shivering edge of tears in her throat. He gently tucked her hair into the collar of her dress to keep it from falling into her eyes again and reached up to where there was always a box of tissues on a shelf built into the wall beside the mirror; his eyes fell over her Golden Pothos, now on top of the toilet tank, where it would live, and he thought of her holding it so tenderly as they went through the backyard earlier that day. Duncan leaned down tenderly and wiped at the corners of Kenzie’s mouth and around her nose with it as he thought of the plant gathered in her arms; she looked at him with an embarrassed expression, gold flecks floating around her corneas, her eyes over-bright. She looked so tiny, crouched over the toilet this way; he longed to gather her up in his arms again and cradle her against him, longed to soothe the pain and discomfort away from her.

“Duncan, I’m sorry,” and a tear fell down her cheek.

“Sorry for what, baby? It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. You think I’ve never had too much to drink?”

“This is gross, though.” Kenzie made a face, wrinkling her nose, and she leaned over the toilet again, spitting the residue of her vomit into the bowl.

Duncan laughed a little, bringing his hand down to the spot between Kenzie’s ear and jaw, using the tissue, folded over, to wipe her mouth again. I love to hold her here, he thought for the thousandth time, my hand fits here like this part of her was made for me to hold her. “Baby. I love you. That means I love the gross things, too. Are you okay? Are you gonna throw up again?”

Kenzie shook her head a little, a shiver running down her back through the tips of Duncan’s fingers. “I think I’m done. Can you get me a tee shirt to wear?” Her eyes were clearer now; less dazed with most of the alcohol out of her body, and there were lines of tiredness under her eyes. “Mmhmm,” Duncan murmured to her, his hand falling down the back of her hair. He went to the walk-in closet to the bottom drawers and pulled out another one of the old graphic tees there; this one said MARIE LAVEAU’S HOUSE OF VOODOO in melting tie-dye letters, with three skulls and a cross, sticks of incense floating on either side of them, a souvenir he’d gotten in New Orleans when he was traveling alone in his early 20’s, after he’d graduated. The road trip had been before his mother had insisted he become a more public face in the company; after his affair with Misha, before he met Evan. Kenzie and I should go somewhere together, he thought, unbuttoning his own clothing and kicking it off so he was wearing only his underwear, unbuckling his black Movado and setting it on the shelf, and soon. We can’t go on a road trip; that option is closed to us now. But we can get away from everything for a week. It would be so wonderful to sleep in with her all day. No dinners with our mothers to worry about, no paps milling around, no press conferences. We have that cabin around Oakland, next to Deep Creek. I should take her there. Maybe after the Gala. She’d love that. We’d be really alone...and I could worship her for days. Mackenzie. Kenzie. Baby. Angel.

As Duncan reentered the bathroom he saw Kenzie had pulled her dress and bra off, leaving them in a pile on the cold marble floor, and was carefully scrubbing her teeth at the sink in just her underwear (pink and made of some kind of silky fabric, and Duncan couldn’t help but look down at her round little ass for a moment with affection, think of his fingers there between her legs in the red dress), her face visibly damp from having washed it a moment before, a little color returning to her cheeks. She glanced up at him through the mirror, clearly still embarrassed. Good fucking job, Kenz, really making the place your own, puking as soon as you move in, her eyes seemed to think at him. Seemed to, or really did? Duncan pushed it away and came up behind her, his hands falling carefully on her bare shoulders, the shirt gripped in his fingers, pressed against her arm. Kenzie rinsed her toothbrush carefully, swishing water in her mouth, and spit into the sink. Then she turned to him, shivering again, and lifted her head up, expectant, in an achingly sweet gesture of trust that made his heart beat faster. Duncan bunched the shirt and pulled it over her little head, her hair sticking to her damp cheek, and Kenzie pulled her arms through the holes, once again too large for her, the long dip of her collarbone visible through the neck.

“Nice shirt, baby,” she whispered. Duncan grinned. “New Orleans is a great place, ever been there?” He reached for his own toothbrush.

“Nope.”

“We’ll go sometime. I think you’d really like it. And the food is amazing.”

Kenzie stared up at him, eyes dark green and chocolate-caramel and too bright, her cheeks still pink with embarrassment as Duncan brushed his own teeth, then reached for the bottle of Givenchy face cleanser he kept on one of the glass shelves to the side of the silver-framed mirror.

“Sorry I puked, baby.” Kenzie’s hand was at her cheek, as if to shield her face. He looked down at her, his heart full of so much terrible tenderness that it made him feel dizzy.

“Kenzie. Kenzie. I love you so much.”

“I’m scared to meet your mother tomorrow.” Kenzie bit her lip, tears threatening the corners of her eyes now. Duncan wanted to dip his face down to her and kiss them away. The thought of Annette being unkind to her filled him with hot, roiling anger. He had no idea himself of how the dinner at Plume would go tomorrow, and his thoughts flashed back to the texts his mother had sent him that day with the bluntness of a bad memory: I see what’s going on with your social media.You continue to deliberately disobey my wishes by flaunting your relationship publicly and it’s a heinous disappointment to me, Duncan. Your lack of respect for me in this matter is staggering. We’re going to have a long chat tomorrow about what is expected of you in your personal affairs going forward. The press conference is at 3 PM and you’re expected to be there. Do not bring her to it. Do not be late for dinner.

But Duncan knew one thing for absolute certain: I love this girl more than anyone I have ever loved, more than anything. And I’m going to make sure Mom understands that for real this time. I’m going to make sure she understands that Kenzie is a permanent part of my life now for as long as she’ll have me. He reached for the towel that hung on a hook beside the glass shelf, patting his face dry with it, then reached for the hand at her cheek, grasping it, pressing his large, long fingers through the empty spaces of her small slender ones.

“Kenzie. I swear. Everything is going to be fine. Let’s go to bed, okay, baby? Let me hold you.”

Kenzie nodded, sniffling (baby, don’t cry, your eyes are like stars drifting out in the universe, I love them so), and Duncan switched the bathroom light off, gently leading her to the bed, pulling her softly down to him and gathering her into his arms the way he’d longed to, her little face pressed between his ribs, her little hands under her chin.

Kenzie fell asleep almost immediately, her breath slowing to a small whisper in the darkness, but Duncan lay there awake for a long time, his hand falling down through her hair, around the curve of her ear, lost in her, thinking back on the past week, thinking back on everything that had happened, every moment that had led to now: seeing her on the balcony among the roses, his heart dumbstruck with immediate wonder and fierce, nearly painful longing (the resounding weight of the Fates settling down on me, I think; Madeline Stone’s daughter falling down from heaven into my arms, how could I be so blessed, how), kissing the stripes at her ankles, the fall of her hair that first night as they fucked, the quartz glittering at her throat, the look in her eyes in his shower the next morning, her revelation over breakfast, Samuel’s adamant words (let your heart be your guide), gazing at her over their dinner at Le Diplomate, the photos taken of them there that had ended up on the website later, his face pressed ardently into her cheek, the way she hovered over him in the bathtub, steam rising, roses all around her, bathed in golden shadows, Annette’s coldness and dismissal, the aching way Kenzie had folded into him, her face tear-stained, her cunt pressed into his mouth, filling him with her need, her body pressed against him, soft as flower petals, her dresses now hanging in his monotone closet, filling it with her essence and her color and her life, her plants on the sill in the kitchen, in their bathroom, beside the bed. He thought of the women in the line at the coffee shop, snapping pictures of them, Kenzie’s quivering but brave voice rising at them defiantly, her hand slipping a $5 bill into the barista’s tip jar, the dinner she’d cooked for him (the best food I’ve ever had because she made it for me, she made it) and the little wine-colored slip dress falling off her shoulder, the look in her eyes as he’d tied her to the bed (this bed, our bed) with his belt, needy and approving and excited and tinged with vulnerability, kindling his desire with a blunt force, the look in her eyes as she’d held the velvet ribbon sitting naked on his desk, the look in her eyes as she’d handed him the plug and told him to fuck her with it, the overwhelming sound of her voice keening into him and rushing him to orgasm as she rode him on the floor, the fall of her hair always drifting in his mind now, the shape and feel of her much smaller body pressed against him, into him, always in his mind, the lost look she’d had after all the paps were at her little apartment today, and the determined look she’d had when she came back out of the bathroom, and in that moment he knew she was going to be brave, he knew she was brave, and loved her so much in that moment he thought his heart would burst, thought of her in the red dress in his lap and his fingers at her clit, thought of her dancing tonight, her beautiful voice (she does have a beautiful voice, her voice singing out here in our home filling it with her gold and I love it so much, I love her voice so much) falling down 30 stories to drift into the night, the shadows on her skin and finally Duncan started to drift away into sleep, thinking of her voice, like a lullaby, his arms holding her close against him...so it’s hard to find someone with that kind of intensity, you touched my hand, I played it cool...and you reached out your hand for me...

------

In the morning it was raining again; June 1st, and summer storms to come with it. Kenzie still had a pale pallor and Duncan had made her a green smoothie with kale with his Vitamix, one she sipped with a measured disgust in the bed, clearly trying to will herself out of her hangover. “I’ll have to figure out how to make the one with chocolate and avocado that you love,” he said, remembering her rambling about Emissary on the sidewalk that day, and Kenzie smiled at him weakly, appreciatively. “Yes, please, baby. But this is okay.” Her face clearly said otherwise, and he leaned down to kiss her softly before pulling a black mock neck shirt over his head, loving the way her expressions always gave away her mood so immediately. I don’t think she could hide any feeling she has about anything from me no matter how hard she tried, he thought, his hand coming down through the tangle of her chestnut hair. And I love her for it. Her earnestness.

Kenzie had moved slow that morning; Duncan gently pushed some vitamins (a B vitamin complex and curcumin) carefully into her hand, which she’d used the last of the smoothie to wash down, and she’d shakily showered (Duncan having finished long before) and dressed (a tulip-sleeved maxi dress with tiny red flowers and a slit up the side, a dress he loved achingly, immediately; today she put on a tiny rose-gold moon necklace, the one he remembered from the summery photo of her he’d left arrow-pierced hearts on on her Instagram), brushing her hair out with a trembling hand in the bathroom mirror as he watched her from the bedroom, glancing up from his phone, trying to be subtle, worrying over her pale face. Duncan looked down at his phone again; Samuel had texted him that he and Harris were waiting in the BMW outside, and that there were a few paps milling around outside as well; that Duncan should tell them when they were heading downstairs so Harris could escort Kenzie to the car. Paps rarely bothered Duncan at the high-rise; the Shepherds simply had too much money, Bill and Annette inclined to leverage cash for privacy, but it seemed Kenzie’s appearance in his life had emboldened some of them beyond past arrangements. Going to have to make some calls about that, he thought, pulling a hand through the side of his hair. There can’t be paps around here, Kenzie needs to feel safe here.

“Are you sure you’re okay, baby?” He asked as she emerged from the bathroom, her expression serious, a little blush on her cheeks today to hide her hangover, reaching down for her black satchel which was leaning against the nightstand on her side of the bed. He came up to her, his hand falling down her hair to her shoulder, along the side of her waist. “Should you stay home from work today? Annette wants to see us at 6, and I have this press conference I have to go to a few hours before that, but maybe you should stay here and sleep.”

“Duncan, I can’t, my article’s going live on the website today and it’s already out with the print edition. Candice is expecting me to come in today.” He watched with tenderness as she pulled his big black Brooks Brothers cardigan on over her dress; all her clothes are here now but she still chose that cardigan, he thought, and wanted to kiss her, but held back. “And I know Ben is gonna bother me about your interview again--I need your email for him, by the way, or I’ll just give you his contact, I guess. I just need to go in for a few hours. I’ll be fine. But, speaking of my article…I meant to say something before…”

Duncan looked at her quietly. Oh no...what’s the article?

Kenzie pushed a shaky hand through her hair, fingers coming down to fiddle with her necklace. “I was at that party to spy.”

Duncan pressed a hand immediately to his chin. I should have realized that. Why would Kenzie be at that party if she works for the Post unless she was covert. If I hadn’t fallen immediately for her, I would have seen that right away. But I did. I did fall for her. I’ve fallen for her completely and now she lives with me and I love her. Fuck.

“I recorded bits of conversations and used them for my article. It’s about underhanded PAC donors for Republican Congressmen. Senator Howell specifically, but a few others.”

“Fuck,” Duncan closed his eyes. “Kenzie. Fuck.” He pressed two fingers into his eyelids, down the bridge of his nose, breathing out heavily. “My mother--my Uncle is trying to get President Underwood to pass a deregulation bill--this is going to interfere--”

Duncan stopped suddenly. This is going to interfere with our objectives, was what he had been about to say. But the layers of Annette Shepherd in that statement had sent a cold chill immediately down his spine. No. I’m not going to do this. I’m not going to scold Kenzie for this. This article was her job, and she’s a journalist, and this is her work, and it must have taken her a fuckload of guts to crash that party, and she didn’t know me yet--and things have changed. The objective for me has changed.

“Baby, when I got the assignment, I didn’t know you yet--” Kenzie had started, her eyes shining, her mouth turned down sadly, but Duncan shook his head harshly and brought his thumb to Kenzie’s lips to stop her words and leaned his head down with fervid immediacy and kissed her, open-mouthed, and he felt her trembling against him soothe and soften as he tasted her, words washing out of him like a tide drifting away from shore. “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter,” he breathed into her between their mouths, pulling away and then coming back with his hands in her hair, pulling her into him by the wool of his cardigan she wore, breathless, “we’re going to get through this and everything will be okay because you’re here with me now and I’m yours and that’s all that matters and the objective changed, fuck, it changed, to hell with all of them.”

Kenzie nodded into him; she didn’t speak, just nodded into him, her face turned up to him, her feet tip-toed to reach him, and she nodded and fell against him, her hands holding his face, her lips whispering a secret language into him that only the two of them could understand.

--------

Kenzie had quickly walked out of the high-rise’s entrance to the BMW, ahead of Duncan before he could stop her. Harris was closely at her side, holding a black umbrella over her head though the rain was light, scanning the perimeter of the sidewalk in front of the high-rise, his large hand pressed carefully into Kenzie’s back. Several of the paps rushed toward her, snapping their cameras, Harris getting in the way to spoil their shots; they noticed Duncan come out behind her and rushed at him next. “Duncan, Duncan, are you two living together?” The man closest to him asked, shoving a round microphone near his cheek, a cameraman with a steadicam behind him with its lens pointed at Duncan. “Are you engaged? Have you spoken with Madeline Stone? What does Annette think of all of this?”

“She thinks you should mind you own fucking business,” Duncan said, curtly, following Kenzie and Harris quickly as the two men chased behind him, still holding out the microphone and camera. “You know you’re not supposed to show up around here, Gary, and if I fucking see you again we’re yanking all of the BPF press credentials from the Gala next week. You can pass that on to Gretchen and whoever else is in league with you from the outlets.” Gary, who had patchy gray hair and beard and a pudgy face and was wearing a leather jacket on top of a polo shirt, stopped when Duncan said this, his face shocked. “Fuck off and don’t come around here again, I’m warning you, this building is off-limits, as if don’t you fucking know that already.” Duncan turned away from him and slid into the backseat of the BMW, slamming the door. Kenzie had a stony expression on her face, but grasped Duncan’s hand tightly when he reached for her, staring down at her phone as if to distract herself. Samuel pulled the BMW away from the curb, soft strains of Ella drifting to the backseat (such conflicting questions ride around in my brain / should I order cyanide or order champagne), and Duncan closed his eyes, trying to let her voice in to calm him down, gripping Kenzie’s hand perhaps too hard; she shook her wrist a little and he softened his hold on her. His blood was boiling, his mind red-hot suddenly, and he felt as though he wanted to tell Samuel to reverse the car and let him out so he could punch the BPF reporter in the jaw. Gary Spencer was known for crossing boundaries regularly; another BPF reporter named Sissy Conners was also known for her propensity to cross police lines and find back entrances, and Duncan wondered absently if it had been her who had found Kenzie trying to leave One Franklin Square through the loading dock entrance a few days ago. As if she had read his mind, Kenzie lifted her phone up to his eyes; Claire had sent her another link, this one with two videos: the first of Kenzie looking startled in the camera and Samuel barking at the cameraman to step back; Sissy’s telltale brightly colored two-piece in the corner of the shot. The second was from yesterday at Kenzie’s apartment; mostly unintelligible shouting, with Kenzie’s head pointed down and Duncan looking angry and annoyed into a camera off to the side of the video.

“Fuck, I fucking hate them,” he breathed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “They’re fucking relentless. I’m sorry, Kenzie.”

“It’s not your fault. I know I need to get used to this.”

“I just wish it wasn’t like this. I hate seeing them rush at you like that. It pisses me off and I can’t fucking think straight.”

Kenzie was staring down at her phone again, though, her thumb sliding back and forth against his palm, and smiling. “What are you smiling about,” he said, tell me, fingers hooking around the edge of the cardigan, pulling her mouth against him again. The anger was dissolving out of him now, her proximity able to calm him with a supernatural ease; her gold, seeping into me, like soothing medicine, like wildflower honey.

“Just Instagram. The comments on these photos you took of me. People are flipping out, but it’s kind of...funny. Some are nice, too.” Duncan looked down at her phone; she had brought up the picture he took of her yesterday on the way home, her eyes closed, her expression sleepy, with the sunlight falling over her cheek. Sleepy angel. It had over 275,000 likes now. Duncan pulled her phone gently out of her hand; Kenzie let him, the smile still playing around the corners of her mouth (light pink lipstain, like a little candy). He scrolled down.

She really is an angel isn’t she followed by six heart-eye emojis. Yes, she fucking is, he thought.

She doesn’t deserve you dump her  

They’re getting married I’m calling it!!!

Seriously this couple is the ultimate OTP, amennnnnn

LEGENDARY MADELINE STONE HAS A LEGENDARY DAUGHTER TURNING THAT RICH BOY ASS TO JELLY I LOVE QUEENS

I give this two weeks y’all

STILL WANT YOU TO BE WITH @marissamontague I WON’T GIVE UP

A long line of crying-face emojis

She’s a gold digger

SHE’S WEARING THE NECKLACE AGAIN ASKADFLASKGHSGKHSA

She is like a little peach, I am so in love with their love

Omg I bet she’s going to the Gala with him and I will not survive those photos

A long line of yellow heart and celestial sun emojis

Kenzie looked at the comments over his shoulder as he scrolled down. “Marissa Montague, like the actress? The one who does romcoms and Lifetime movies?” Kenzie looked at him with a puzzled expression. “There are people who want you to be with her?”

Duncan blushed involuntarily, glancing at her. “Yeah. Her fans are pretty strange. They come to red carpets and try to make me sign photos of her. She and I were running in similar circles for awhile…”

Kenzie squinted at him, and her lips fell in a closed line. “Oh, really.”

“We went on a few dates. She’s...deeply superficial. She usually talked about her endorsement deals.”

Kenzie narrowed her eyes even further, half-facetiously pulling her hand out of his. “Oh. A few.”

“Baby, don’t,” Duncan reached for her and pressed his lips into her neck. Kenzie sat stiffly for a moment, then leaned into his mouth, giggling. “That tickles, I’m gonna unleash these puppies on you.” She wiggled her fingers into his throat and he jumped back, laughing. He slipped her phone back into her lap, his hand resting on her thigh. “It didn’t fucking mean anything. It was years ago. I had a lot of meaningless relationships for a long time. Now it seems like it was in another life.”

“Oh, you’re so important, so many sordid love affairs--”

“Kenzie…” Duncan pressed into her again, hand falling up her hip, biting gently down on her right ear lobe, breathing into her neck. “I love you.” She pulled his face up into hers and Duncan’s nerves simmered into low fire; “I love you too, baby,” she whispered into him. “And you’re mine, aren’t you, baby--” “Yes, yes, Kenzie, fuck yes, I’m all yours--”

The memory of Duncan’s anger became a distant pinprick of light in his mind as Kenzie’s hands fell through his hair, his lifting up to cup her breasts through the fabric of the dress, pushing the cardigan from her shoulders so he could feel the bare skin of her arms; the rain fell against the windows and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the blood rushing through his limbs, into his groin, as her tongue fell against his and the sweet smell of roses and vetiver filled his nose and his senses and it felt like the sun was out and warm on his skin, rain be damned.

------

The paps were out in full force again; Duncan turned to look over his shoulder as Samuel pulled up to One Franklin Square, out of Kenzie’s languid embrace (his lips had been on her neck again and she was threading her fingers through his hair), and saw them milling around towards the entrance. None of them seemed to have noticed the BMW yet, though.

“Samuel and I will be back to pick you up around 4:30 so we can go home and change for dinner, okay?” He turned back to Kenzie, whose eyes were bright, staring at him with pent desire from his kisses. Her hangover seemed to have dissipated in the car ride; maybe it was the green smoothie and the vitamins, maybe it was something else, he thought, pressing his lips against hers again, his hand falling down her golden-chestnut hair one more time. The partition floated down and Duncan willed it to go back up; not yet, he begged internally. Just a little bit longer, her hair and her body under my hands, I just want to look at her in this dress with its tiny red flowers, look at the gold moon around her throat, the curve of her collarbones, her smiling at me this way, her cheeks with that glow, her mouth swollen with my kisses. “I’ll email Ben Wilder today about the interview. And everything is gonna be fine, baby. I promise.”

“Okay.” Harris was already coming around the passenger side of Kenzie’s door, his sharp eyes scanning the doorway, counting the number of paps; he pulled the door open and said “Miss Mackenzie, time to go,” and Kenzie kissed Duncan with a small desperation again, and then she slipped away from him and he felt that ache, the one that always accompanied her leaving now, the feeling that a piece of him was ripped away and there was a hole, gaping, an open wound smarting in the air. He watched, eyes taking on that stormy shade (though he couldn’t see it himself), as Harris carefully pressed a hand into her back to shield her, and several paps noticed her coming toward the entrance now, rushing up to her. He couldn’t make out their words from the half-distance, now, but there were camera flashes and he watched a microphone come under her and she turned away from it, her golden hair bouncing behind her in the gray light (the rain had stopped a few minutes before and the ground was shiny with water, the sky still overcast), clutching the strap of her satchel closer against her, Harris coming between them, covering her with an expert precision, and he could vaguely hear more questions being shouted at her though he couldn’t make them out, and then she was inside and the paps were standing against the windows, cameras still clicking, peering after her, some of them turning around to snap photos of the BMW as Samuel hit the gas pedal and the car drifted away. Duncan continued to look back, his hand coming up to his chin, against his mouth. She’s so brave. My Kenzie. She’s so brave and so strong and she’s doing so well and I love her so much, I love how brave she is, how fearless, the proud look that comes into her eyes, the way she lifts her chin and pushes forward. Mom is going to pitch a fit to me about that article, but that was so brave of her, she could have gotten into so much hot water there if she got caught, my girlfriend is a stone cold badass and I’m not sure I’m good enough for her.

As if on cue, Duncan’s phone chimed out a text. Mom.

That article is in DIRECT opposition to our objectives. Did you know she was writing that?

No, Duncan replied, curtly. I did not know until this morning when she told me it was being published today. She got the assignment before we met.

Mom: We will talk about this when you get here. Nothing else.

“How are you these days, Mr. Shepherd?” Samuel’s voice floated back to him, soothing, soft, the music turned low.

“Wildly in love, thanks, Samuel,” Duncan smiled at him with a burst of genuine feeling. “But Kenzie’s meeting Annette tonight and I’m....concerned. About how she’ll be treated. And my temper. Which I’ve already lost once today.”

“Your love for each other will overcome any obstacle. If you will it, it will become reality. It will soften the heart of even Annette Shepherd when she sees it, who also loves you very much, of that I am certain.”

“Thank you, Samuel. Can we stop at English Rose Garden before we get to Shepherd Hall, please? I want to get something for Kenzie.”

“Certainly, Mr. Shepherd.”

--------

There was a bouquet of a dozen dark red roses wrapped carefully in black tissue paper beside Duncan in the backseat of the BMW when they pulled up to Shepherd Hall; the inner lining of the tissue had a layer of very thin plastic wrap and several wet cloths around the bottom of the stems to keep them from wilting. Duncan grasped them carefully where the stems gathered, stepping out of the car and passing them carefully to Samuel in the front seat, the better to keep an eye on them; Duncan imagined coming into Shepherd Hall with a bouquet of roses that wasn’t for his mother and the cold look of disbelief in her eyes. Shouldn’t press my luck today, things are going to be bad enough already. He nodded to Samuel gratefully and straightened, looking towards the entrance; there was plenty of press milling around it, but most of them were clearly associated press with clearly labeled passes around their necks, going in and out of Shepherd Hall, waiting for the press conference to start. Duncan wondered absently why his mother had demanded he be there at all, it was, after all, just a dedication for the new Dance Center; just to exert her will over me, I think, show her she can still make me do what she wants and to get back at me for posting photos of Kenzie. Get used to it, Mom. There’s lots more to come.

...So much for not pressing my luck, he scolded himself.

He adjusted the collar and cuffs of his mock neck shirt, discarding the light jacket he wore, opening the door to the backseat of the BMW again and tossing it onto the leather upholstery; the day was still overcast, but the rain was forecast to be over for now and the air was muggy, misty with hanging moisture and an early-summer breeze. Duncan appreciated the coolness of the breeze through his hair; his skin had started to prickle with an odd sense of foreboding, no doubt kindled by his apprehension at seeing his mother. I wish Kenzie were here now, he thought. I want everyone at this press conference to know who I’m with now, and I want them to know that nothing my mother or my uncle say or do will take her away from me. Duncan was aware Bill had a round of chemo scheduled for today; he didn’t leave the house much anymore regardless, and Duncan only tended to see him when he went there to report about an episode or the app or some other kind of feedback on the enterprises of Shepherd Unlimited. Good thing, too, because if my mother disapproves of Kenzie, Bill probably wants to hire a hitman to take her out by now. Duncan shivered at the thought; not a unlikely as one might hope. Bill almost never communicated with him directly; his uncle used Annette as a mediator between the two of them, having never particularly warmed to Duncan, it seemed, for one reason or another. It was also the reason, Duncan suspected, that Annette was going to push to have Bill sign his Will over to Duncan only when he was too sick, too far gone, to protest. The truth of that gave Duncan an nauseous feeling whenever he contemplated it, but Bill Shepherd was not a particularly nice man, and Duncan didn’t feel as bad about all of it as he might have with someone who hadn’t treated him like he was a nuisance for most of his life. His mother loved him; Bill Shepherd barely tolerated him.

Duncan stepped towards the glass doors of Shepherd Hall; several members of the press milling around that area turned towards him with recognition. Duncan pretended to stare down at his phone; he saw Gretchen Friedrichs approaching him out of the corner of his eye in a tulip-yellow sheath dress, a black-and-white striped blazer and very pointy black Louboutins, their red undersides stark in the gray daylight, her long platinum hair bouncing against her back, her smile too big and too white, a press pass swinging around her neck. Stay calm, Duncan demanded to himself. You already snapped on Gary Spencer, don’t let Gretchen get to you too.

“Duncannnnn,” she purred, and Duncan winced, his eyes narrowing just slightly, his eyes sliding over to her. “My, my, haven’t we been the busy boy.”

“Gretchen,” he said through clenched teeth, walking fast. “I think I recall telling you I wouldn’t be doing anymore interviews for Patriot Watch. Funny, I ran into Gary Spencer morning, as they say, outside of my residence, an area that’s off-limits to all of you, which I’m quite sure he was already aware of...you, of course, wouldn’t know anything about that, I’m sure.”

“What would Gary being doing at your building?” Gretchen said in an obnoxiously high octave, faux-appalled. “He really should know better, shouldn’t he?”

Duncan went up to the door, waving a little at the press members he recognized but ignoring their requests for comments; he went to move inside but Gretchen slipped in ahead of him, “Oh, thanks, Duncan, what a gentleman!” she murmured, flashing her teeth at him again; like a giant cat about to rip a warm animal apart, he thought. He tried to move past her in the carpeted, quiet interior of the foyer; he knew the press conference was in the 120-capacity room downstairs across from the newly minted Shepherd Memorial Theater, which would feature much of the Dance School’s performances, but Gretchen continued to trot beside him in her Louboutins, somehow able to keep pace with him despite his long stride.

“So that article from little Miss Stone in the Post this morning is really something, Duncan,” she said as she trotted along beside him, and he glared at her. Duncan, keep your fucking temper, don’t do it, don’t let her get to you. “Care to comment? Anything to say? Did you know she was going to write such an incendiary indictment of the financial spheres of political process?”

He was silent; she’d tried to bait him with that last bit, and he’d almost replied, but Duncan bit into the side of his cheek to stop himself. Duncan kept his long stride up and Gretchen was falling behind. She barked at him again.

“Isn’t it going to interfere with the Shepherd-funded Future Act?”

“Gretchen, I’m going to say this as kindly and as clearly as I possibly can: Fuck. Off. Right. Now.”

“Or what, Mr. Shepherd?” Gretchen stared at him, her eyes flashing. She stopped her trotting, and Duncan continued away from her, not turning.

“Or I’m going to get her to write something about you.”

“Is that a threat?”

Duncan said nothing and continued to walk away from her, his mind seething.

“See you at the Gala, Duncan.” Duncan glanced back to see Gretchen standing there with her arms crossed, a smirk plastered to her face. “You and that sweet little piece of ass.” Duncan clenched his teeth at that, balling his hand into a fist, grasping the handle of the side-door to the conference room, yanking it open, not looking back at her again. I’ve thrown Kenzie into a pit of vipers, haven’t I. These people will try to get at her any way they can. I have to do everything in my power to be the buffer between them. God, I need to calm the fuck down. Threatening Gretchen Friedrichs is just going to make it worse.

He looked up; he saw Erik sitting nonchalantly in a styling chair in the corner, languidly scrolling through his phone, but Annette was nowhere to be seen, at least, not yet.

“Hey, Erik,” he said, trying to keep his tone even. He pushed what had just transpired with Friedrichs to the back of his mind; time to put on a face for his mother.

“Well, well, well,” Erik glanced up at him without moving his shiny, bald head. He wore a long chiffon lavender-colored scarf around his neck today and had false eyelashes on. His nails were carefully manicured. “The man whose name is on everyone’s lips. Prince Duncan. You should see how pissed off you’ve managed to make your poor mother. Come, sit over here, let’s have a look at you. Photos, you know. Not that you ever need much work, Your skin is looking absolutely radiant. All that good sex, I’m sure.”

Duncan came over to the styling chair, blushing, Erik standing and pushing Duncan down into it, hands immediately coming up to Duncan’s hair; the older man sighed, smiling down at him. “This hair. Forgive me, dear, but having none of my own, I always get a special thrill when I get to touch it.”

“Touch away, Erik. On a scale of 1 to 10, how angry is Annette right now?”

“I’d say 12 is the low estimate.” Erik pushed the pump on a bottle of product that sat on the styling table nearby, a mirror built into the wall behind it, smoothing it between his very clean fingers and pressing it languidly through Duncan’s hair. “She could be at 15, you know how she is. It’s usually hiding until someone says the wrong thing. Which is usually Bill Shepherd’s department. You’re always her golden boy, but gracious me, baby, lately, you are stirring the pot, aren’t you? Instagram, gossip sites, snapping at paparazzi, endless photos. Young love. I’ll tell you right now, I’m in your corner. She’s undoubtedly a little flower. I can’t wait to come up with some confection for her tomorrow.”

“I love her, Erik.”

“Sure you do, pumpkin. Of course.”

Duncan looked down at his phone; a text from Kenzie.

I forgot to give you Ben’s contact before, so here it is. He won’t leave me alone, please email him, thank you for doing this, I love you. Some of those paps tried to get into the building a little while ago but security escorted them back out. Harris is hanging out upstairs with me and everyone loves him! I think Ben is going to steal him. Hope everything is going okay bb. Wanted to text you before the press conference. Can’t wait for today to be over. She’d added an exasperated-face emoji and a red heart at the end. The second text as was a contact bubble: Ben Wilder.

Haven’t seen Mom yet, Duncan replied, --but have been told she’s pretty upset. I will do anything I can to calm her down before tonight. I love you so much, baby. If she says anything unkind to you, please try to let it roll off you. She won’t mean it, because she doesn’t know you yet. I’ll email Ben right now.

Duncan opened his email and addressed it to: benwilder@washingtonpost.com, from: duncanshepherd@shepherdunlimited.com. Attn: Ben Wilder, Features Editor, Washington Post. Hey Ben. Mackenzie mentioned that you were interested in an interview. I’m happy to sit down with you sometime next week, provided she is there as well; she can decide whether or not she wants to participate, but I want her to sit in. Tuesday works best for me, but I could make some time on Wednesday afternoon as well. Let me know. Regards, Duncan Shepherd. He hit send and lowered his phone; the door swung to, and Annette Shepherd walked into the room, trailed closely by Seth Grayson.

She turned; her eyes fell on him with a measured, gradual acrimony, her slender, beautiful face falling downwards to a regal discomfort, her perfectly waved hair around her shoulders, framing her striking beauty; he had often thought his mother grew even more beautiful as she aged. As ever, Annette was immaculately dressed; for the press conference she was wearing a Diane von Furstenberg dark cobalt silk wrap dress, with a diamond pattern print across it falling to a earthward slant, and low Stuart Weitzman sand-colored suede pumps. As usual, she had no necklace; only the round diamond studs she wore so often, and a thin band of gold around one wrist.

“Duncan,” she breathed, and Seth retreated to a corner, staring at his phone as though whatever he saw there was wildly engrossing.

“Mom.”

“Do you realize how damaging that article could be?” Annette advanced on him, her fingers coming together in front of her in a fist; Duncan stayed in the styling chair, trying not to react. “The bill likely wouldn’t go through at this juncture, regardless, but now? Claire Underwood frankly refuses to sign it, and she’s going to push Gallagher through--Bill could not persuade her to see things as Frank did, confirming our worst fears.”

“Mom.”

“How can this be happening, I keep asking myself. How can my only son, my pride, my joy, be disobeying me and disregarding me so utterly? How can he be saddling himself to the daughter of a woman who would love nothing more than to see my enterprises and my work crumble into dust? How can he?”

“Mom.”

“Let me guess. You love her.”

Duncan said nothing. He stared at his mother; her eyes were cold, shining like twin candle flames in a dark room. He remembered times when she’d been angry with him as a child again; in that gaze he felt minute and impermanent, loveless and discarded. Or he had. Now, he knew that no matter his mother’s anger, she did love him; sometimes she hoarded that love, kept it from him, but he knew it was there. And Kenzie loves me. Even if Mom didn’t love me anymore; even if she cut me off without a penny, even if she pretended she didn’t anymore. Kenzie loves me. She does. And I love her. Loving her is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me; everything we’ve done, Mom, pales dreadfully in comparison.

Erik stood to the side, observing them with his hand pressed to his face, lips pursed. Now, he interjected.

“Annette, surely you must remember what it’s like to be young.”

“Erik, with all due respect, shut the hell up.” Annette glared at him, crossing her arms.

“Whatever I say clearly won’t make you happy,” Duncan said. “But I’m humbly asking that you treat her with respect over dinner tonight, Mom. It would mean a lot to me if you could be kind to her.”

Annette scoffed. “As kind as her article was to our interests, surely. As kind as her mother has been to me on public stages, of course.”

“Since you’ve always been so kind to Madeline, fucking Medusa.”

Annette’s mouth clamped shut at that; she seethed at him, suddenly reminding him of himself a moment ago with Gretchen in the hallway. I am my mother’s son, he thought. We’re both horribly stubborn and we both have bad tempers, and we both refuse to retreat.

“I spoke to her, you know,” she spat, pacing back and forth in front of Duncan, but still staring at him. “As arrogant as ever, as presumptive; as overconfident as I remember her, insisting I can’t “interject in your affairs”--” here, Annette lifted her hands and flexed her index and middle fingers, mimicking a quotation, pausing in her pacing.

“You can’t. Not when it comes to this.”

Annette stared at him; Duncan thought her face would melt, the anger in her eyes as so immediate and intense. She said nothing; her mouth hung open a little, clearly too flabbergasted to reply.

“It’s five after 3,” Seth said, quietly but firmly. “The press conference was supposed to start five minutes ago.”

Annette looked away from Duncan; to Erik for a moment, then into space, her thoughts unreadable. “Get up, Seth.” Grayson lept up. “Duncan. You must contain her. Come.” With this statement, Annette walked across the room and yanked the opposite door open; the door that led to the conference room. Duncan followed her out, his stride pointed, determined to keep his expression neutral and his resolve stony. First, we’ll get through this. Then, we’ll get through tonight.

------

Duncan glanced impatiently at his Movado as the press conference began to wind down; it was almost 4 and he had felt his phone vibrate in his pocket about fifteen minutes ago, in the middle of a long answer from his mother about the scholarships for the Dance School the Foundation was setting up. He began to feel convinced through some unseen sixth sense that the text was from Kenzie, and that it was something important. Annette had managed to hide her annoyance from the press for the duration; it was being taped, and my mother is nothing if not professional, Duncan thought, hand coming up to his jaw to rub there, but when she looked at him over the past hour it was with a dark gaze that made the back of his neck tingle with apprehension. What are you planning, Mom.

“I have a question for Duncan,” Duncan heard someone say; it was Gretchen Friedrichs. Oh no. “Do you plan to have your girlfriend, Mackenzie Stone, on the show soon? It’s ranked second as of now in cable news, and as a journalist for The Washington Post, I think she’d bring a...unique perspective.” Gretchen smiled with all her teeth. “The two of you have been a trending topic on Twitter and Instagram for three days--”

Annette balked visibly and she feigned looking at the clock hanging in the corner of the room, “It looks like we’re out of time for more questions, what a shame,” she said to Gretchen, cutting her off, her smile overwarm. She stood and walked to where Duncan sat, pushing on the long sleeve of his shirt. Get up, Duncan, her hand said. Duncan went to obey her, then for a moment, he couldn’t fathom what to do, his legs seemingly turned to lead; Gretchen was staring at him with that grin, and his mind went hazy with anger.

“Mackenzie is busy with her own projects right now,” he said, and felt the cold pinch of Annette’s fingers digging into the skin of his upper arm. “But eventually I hope for us to work together in a professional capacity, yes.”

The room erupted in voices, other press members shouting their questions out at him across the room (“What does her editorial from this morning indicate for the goals of Shepherd Unlimited?” Will we see a partnership between the Post and Shepherd Unlimited?” “Will she be attending the Gala with you?” “What do you think of her mother’s political statements in the past?”, ‘Annette, does this mean you and Madeline Stone have reconciled?”, “Will you have Madeline Stone on the show?” “Is the implication of leftist politics an indication of the future of Shepherd Unlimited?”); Duncan could feel Annette’s fingers dig in even further, painfully, and he stood, shaking his arm out of the pincer-like grip of his mother’s hand. She stalked after him through the side-door; Seth coming through after them (“no more questions, no more questions,” Duncan heard him say, breathlessly, to the room), half-running, leaning against it with a hard snap as if there were a pack of wolves after him.

“Have you lost your mind?” Annette’s hands came up and grasped at the collar of Duncan’s shirt; Duncan gently pulled her hands away and stepped back from her; she had sputtered out the words as if they were making her sick.

“Mom. I told you. You can’t stop this.”

“Oh, I can’t? What if I pull the plug on the show?”

“You heard Gretchen; it’s got one of the highest viewer ratings on cable news. We both know you won’t do that.”

“What has gotten into you? It’s like you’re possessed,” Annette stared at him, a wild light behind her eyes again; instead of anger, though, he now saw something else there; a kind of panic, a disorientated alarm, and one more thing...a dawning recognition. “What is wrong with you?”

“I have to go pick up Kenzie now. I’ll see you in a few hours for dinner, Mom.”

With that, Duncan turned and walked away from her, not waiting for a reply, through the opposite door, down the carpeted hallway and foyer of Shepherd Hall, skirting around the press members who had begun to file out of the conference room, ignoring their shouts to him; he quickened his pace to a jog, feeling as though he were suddenly suffocating, and pressed through the entrance, running out to the BMW, yanking the back door open, sliding in and slamming it behind him. Samuel glanced back at him in concern as Duncan pulled his phone out of his pocket, breathlessly, staring down at it; a missed call and a text from Kenzie. Her text was odd, like she’d typed it all out without really reading it or pausing.

a man managed to get upstairs past security somehow and harris was in the bathroom and he grabbed me by the arm and tried to drag me into the hallway je was rambling abot Shepherd unlimited taking everything away from him so he was going to take something away from the Shepherds and i’m ok but haris did this thing to him where he hit him in the throat like it was ju jitsu or something i don’t know and the man fell on the ground unconscious the cops are her ad i had to give a statemtn but i’m okay but baby oh my god oh my god

“FUCK.” Duncan felt his anger and panic reach a crashing crescendo that fell over him in a suffocating wave; he suddenly, with a removed anguish that felt almost involuntary, punched the bulletproof, tinted glass of the window, the pain immediate and scattering along his knuckles like it had been smashed in a door, and Duncan winced, biting his lip hard, clutching his palm over the fist his hand was still stuck in. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Mr. Shepherd, tell me where to go,” Samuel looked back at him with an alarmed expression; it was nearly impossible to break the glass of the BMW’s windows, and Duncan knew his chauffeur wasn’t worried about the car, rather the likelihood that Duncan had broken a bone in his hand. Duncan wasn’t prone to displays of physical anger; what he had just done wasn’t something Samuel had witnessed from the younger man since he was a willful teenager.

“One Franklin Square, Samuel, hurry, someone tried to hurt Kenzie,” Duncan said, and the desperation in his voice was enough to send sharp spears of icy cold fear down into his stomach. Samuel said nothing, only laid his foot flat on the gas, the BMW peeling away from the curb and accelerating rapidly, speeding towards downtown. Duncan felt wildly sick, suddenly, and he willed his stomach to settle, willed his nerves to even, feeling dizzying nausea behind his throat. Oh god, someone tried to hurt Kenzie, his hand clutched to his jaw, his eyes dazed. Oh god, someone--

“Mr. Shepherd, she is brave. I’m sure she is alright. Steel yourself to be brave for her too.”

Duncan sucked his breath in, harshly, heart slamming. “Yes. Okay. Hurry, Samuel, please, just hurry.”

He typed quickly, pressing send. Baby, I’m coming now, I’m so sorry, I was stuck in that stupid fucking press conference, I’m coming, we’ll be there in two minutes...

------

Two minutes and fifty seconds later the BMW screeched up to the curb and Duncan threw the door open, noticing there were still several paps milling around the entrance; he saw red again, felt the seething-hot urge to hit one of them. No, stop thinking about what you want, whatever you think you need. Kenzie needs you, stop being so fucking self-absorbed, he thought. Find her. That’s all that matters.

He ran past them; their shouts to him sounded like they were underwater, his ears blocked by the sound of his heart pounding, and he rushed through the doors, throwing himself at the receptionist’s desk; “Which floor is Mackenzie Stone on,” he asked breathlessly; the receptionist was a young girl with a dark, short bob haircut and navy eyeshadow; her eyes widened in recognition at him, her mouth popping open. “Duncan Shepherd,” she whispered. “Mackenzie. Stone. Which. Floor.” Duncan breathed out each word pointedly, his hand coming around the flat screen of her desktop computer and pressing his index finger at the directory searchbar. She blinked at him again, then said “10, all the resident journalists are on that floor--” and he launched himself away from the desk to where the elevators stretched a yard or so down the foyer. One of the doors slid open as he ran up; oh merciful Fates, thank you; he skirted past the surprised woman who exited, fingers slamming against the 10 button, and she peered around the corner of the elevator doors at him as they slid shut, clearly recognizing him. “Come on, come on, come on,” Duncan muttered as the elevator seemed to climb with excruciating slowness; no one else got in the elevator, though, thank you merciful and benevolent Fates thank you, and finally the doors slid open to the 10th floor.

Duncan’s eyes swung wildly back and forth and laid almost instantly against the back corner where Harris’ distinctly large form sat in an office chair, pulled up against a small desk, behind which the shivering figure of his Kenzie sat, her chestnut hair shaking in the gray day’s light; her hands were clutched around her arms and her face was tear-stained, her eyes closed, eliciting a terrible ache from the center of his body that threatened to burst his heart. He ran out of the elevator and past two women (one white, tall and thin with very long, straight hair, one black and very curvy, with a curly weave) who stared at him with shocked expressions in their eyes, down the short walkway of desks to Kenzie’s; her eyes lifted up to him and her lip trembled, tears falling immediately down her cheeks, sending daggers into his heart again; Kenzie (oh my Kenzie) stood, pushing her desk chair back and launching herself into his arms, an aching sob escaping from her lips as she pressed her face into his black shirt, and he could feel the wetness of her tears soak through to his bare skin. He pushed his face into her head, into her hair, and heard his voice whisper “Shhh, shhh baby, I’m here, I’m so sorry, I’m here now, are you okay, are you alright--” and his hand fell down, feeling her body, trying to find anything wrong, any sign of physical harm; no, she wasn’t hurt, her little body pressing into him, but she was sobbing with a terrible relief that threatened him with tears too, and Duncan bit his lip to stave his own away.

“Mr. Shepherd, I can’t say how sorry I am, I’ve failed you in my duties--” Harris looked up at them, his sepia eyes clouded.

“Harris, no, failed? No. You’re the reason Kenzie is safe. Please. Don’t. Thank you. I can’t thank you enough. Whatever we’re paying you, I’m doubling it. I’m tripling it.”

“Thank you, Harris,” Kenzie whispered, her voice still tinged with a sob and muffled against Duncan’s shirt, her arms twined around him tightly, her body shaking. “Thank you.” Harris stared at her for a moment, his expression one of anguish, of distress; then it softened, and affection seeped into his gaze, and he nodded, blinking, quiet.

“Baby, I’m so sorry, I was in that stupid conference and I couldn’t look at my phone, but I felt my phone vibrate and I had this terrible feeling, this feeling like it was you and something terrible happened, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t here--” Duncan’s mouth was pressed into the side of her hair, and he clutched her with desperate relief, speaking quietly down to her ear. Kenzie shook her head against him, the golden waves making him ache; Duncan buried his fingers in her hair, lifting her little face up to him, thumbs pressing the tears gently away, kissing her softly. “It’s not your fault, baby, I’m just so glad you’re here now, I’m so glad you’re here.” Kenzie pressed her face against him again. “They took the man away--I--I don’t know where they took him…” Duncan cradled her against him, the warm feeling of her little body filling him with terrible, overwhelming emotion; none of them said anything, and eventually Kenzie began to quiet, her sobs fading into hiccups, hiccups fading into deep breaths, and then even ones. The two women Duncan had passed looked back at them, whispering quietly to each other; Duncan tried to ignore them. Kenzie leaned back from him, wiping at her eyes with a little hand, sniffling again. “We need to go to dinner now,” she said, and Duncan tried to protest--”baby, are you okay, are you gonna be okay to do that--” and she cut him off. “I need to meet Annette. I’m not waiting anymore.”

Duncan looked at Harris for a moment; the larger man nodded slightly, his expression difficult to read, and yet Duncan felt he understood what the man was trying to say, anyway. Do what Kenzie says. She’s in charge. “Okay, Kenzie.” She pushed out of his arms and pressed the sleeves of the black cardigan against her eyes for a moment, dabbing away the residue of her tears, and shut her Macbook, which had been pushed at an odd angle to the side of her desk, sliding it into her satchel carefully. She straightened, reached for a tissue from a box beside a little rustic sun and moon statue on the desk; then, she turned to him, slung her bag over her shoulder, and said “Let’s go.” Harris stood, coming around her to her back, protectively; she threaded her fingers through Duncan’s, and pulled him toward the elevator; Duncan followed obediently, in awe of her. She is the most amazing person I have ever known.

--------

Kenzie had folded herself into Duncan in the backseat on the way back to the penthouse; her little body sighing against him in the crook under his arm, her spot, that place she was torn away from me once, back at the beginning of time, her face, red from crying, her cheeks hot against him, his hand trailing at the soft tulip sleeves over her shoulders, the warm skin of her arm and down to her elbow and back, through the strands of her hair, gentle, rhythmic. Neither of them spoke; Duncan couldn’t bring himself to ask her for more details of what had happened, loathe to bring her to tears again; somehow he knew she would tell him later, tell him everything, when they were alone and holding each other in the darkness of their bedroom, their bed, their secret place that belonged only to them. Duncan considered trying to persuade Kenzie that they should cancel dinner with his mother; but no, he knew, that can’t happen and it won’t, because we have to do this, we have to make my mother understand, Annette needs to understand that no one and nothing can tear us away from each other. Nothing and no one but death itself. It’s long past time she knows; really knows.

Duncan helped Kenzie out of the car and she was quiet now; her breathing slow and even, her eyes gazing at him with a clearer expression, some of her shock having faded; the day was still overcast and it seemed as though it might rain again, darker clouds coming in from the west. He followed her inside to the elevator; Jerry nodded to them, seeming to notice their solemn mood, and Anchaly looked up from his desk, his eyes crinkling at Kenzie’s tear-reddened cheeks. Duncan noticed he still had his copy of Tropic of Cancer, his finger pressed between the pages, near the end; “Human beings make a strange fauna and flora,” he murmured to the older man as they passed. Anchaly raised his eyebrows, and looked back to the book, clearly content in the mystery of the moment. Kenzie slipped inside the elevator and Duncan followed her carefully; she pressed into him as the doors shut, raising her lips up into his, and he held her, tenderly, his mind and heart aching at the thought that she could have been hurt today, something could have happened to her; “I’m so glad you’re okay, baby, Kenzie, I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to you,” he whispered as the elevator climbed, and he glanced to the long mirror inside, where she was now staring at the shape of them pressed together, his lips against the side of her face, and he thought of The Kiss by Klimt again, thought of its gold paint and her gold, her endless gold, bright even in her sadness and her shock, bright in spite of anything that would try to dim her. Kenzie didn’t say anything, but again he felt he could somehow feel the drift of her thoughts: I love you, Duncan, and I will be brave because I love you so much, I love you and I will be brave in the face of my fear because love is stronger and it is more and it is the only thing, I know that now, I will make Annette understand, we’ll make her understand--

Once back in the penthouse, they went quietly to the bedroom, discarding their clothing from the day carelessly; for a moment, Kenzie pressed against him again as they stood in the walk-in closet, in only her bra and underwear, Duncan in only his briefs; she sighed, and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed with the feeling of their bare skin against each other; he longed to draw her mouth into his again, longed to press his fingers down into the sweetness of her clit and soothe her with ecstasy, but he knew that when they fucked again it would need to come from her, it would have to be at her bidding, and he resolved himself to be patient; “I hate that this has been so much to bear for you--” he spoke quietly down into her ear, and she shook it against his mouth, shook her head so her lips brushed against his ribs, making him shiver; “I’d do it a thousand times more to be with you,” she murmured, and he held back the tears he felt warming his senses; his mind ached, and he felt that any words were not enough for how he felt towards her in that moment; “I love you,” he said, quiet, into her ear, and he felt her lips smile into his skin. She pulled away from him, bringing the dress they’d picked out yesterday down from the hanger where they stood in the walk-in closet; he turned, pulling on one of his dozens of pairs of tailored slacks, one of line of a two-dozen black dress shirts that hung on his side (and her side over there, her side with its softness and color and her there); “Baby, zip me up,” he heard her little voice say, and he turned to her hair pulled over her shoulder, the bare nape of her neck facing him, and he pressed his mouth into her there and felt her shiver, his hands coming down around her waist to press at her hips, and he ached for the darkness of their bed, ached for the sweet embrace of night to come. He zipped her up carefully and she turned to him, smiling despite the residue of her tears still lingering, then she went into the bathroom and Duncan buttoned his shirt, watching her back, the little sequined black dress hugging her small frame, her little face in the mirror as she pressed a small compact against her cheeks to hide the redness as he pulled on one of his velvet cocktail blazers, the smell of her drifting around him like a song. Kenzie emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, dark eyeshadow on her eyelids, dark burgundy lipstick at her mouth, the Tiffany moon around her neck again; she lifted her hands to it as she stared at him, and she said “your love, to give me strength.” She had the little black clutch in her hand, the one she had the night they met on that rosy balcony a week ago (only a week, no, it’s been a year, it’s been years, ages, and it’s been no time at all) and pointed black pumps on her small feet; they lifted her about level to his shoulder, and he was struck again by how small she was, even in heels.

Duncan nodded, too overwhelmed again to speak, reaching out for her, gathering her up in his arms. She fingered his Movado, staring down at it. “Time to go, baby,” she said, lifting her face up to him, kissing him softly. Duncan leaned into her; he thought of how he’d run away from his mother this afternoon, defiant and angry, and toward Kenzie, who could have so easily been hurt today, and he turned his face the better to kiss her, relief flooding through him again. He felt her smile into him again; heard her laugh into him, her tears now faded and her skin cool and soft, and the relief rebounded and echoed into the lining of him. Fortune is still smiling. It has protected us all this way, maybe it can even convince my mother. Maybe even that.

-----

Back in the car Duncan handed her the roses he’d bought for her earlier that day; it seemed like it had been years ago when he’d cheerfully picked them out at the florist, dark, deep red and as fresh as if he’d picked them himself. They still looked as lovely as they had when he chose them, thanks to the cool, wet cloths the florists had wrapped around the stems and the top-of-the-line air conditioning in the BMW; thank the Fates, because I forgot about them entirely after Kenzie’s text message, he thought. A radiant smile fell over her face as she took them from him; “Oh, baby, they’re so beautiful,” she murmured, leaning her face up to kiss him again, and he felt relief flood through his body again like dopamine; to see her smile after the sound and feeling of her sobbing into him was like a drug kicking in after excruciating pain. Kenzie held them close in her lap during the ride to the Jefferson, her head leaning softly on his shoulder, her fingers trailing against the silky-soft petals of the flowers, her eyes falling over them again and again; Kenzie seemed to drift away from him for awhile during that car ride (Etta James floating through the speakers tonight; stormy weather, stormy weather...and I just can’t get my poor self together...oh, I’m weary all of the time), and he worried again over the impact her day had had on her; wished they could be alone, fast-forward to later, so she could tell him everything, so he would really know what had happened. As they pulled up to the latticed doorway of the Jefferson, though, Kenzie lifted her head and a studied cautiousness flooded into her eyes. Duncan gazed down at her, struck by it.

“Samuel, please look after my roses, won’t you?” (Harris had gone home for the day; he was officially off the clock until tomorrow morning).

“Miss Mackenzie, of course I will.”

“Thank you. You are so good to me.”

“Miss Mackenzie, please. Of course. You are beloved.”

Kenzie gazed through the partition at Samuel for a moment, and Duncan’s heart felt swollen with the weight of his adoration for her; swollen with the words Samuel had spoken to her. You are beloved. Yes. You are most beloved by me, and those who would keep you and protect you and devote ourselves to you, sweet Kenzie. And I long to be your most devoted.

Duncan helped her out of the car and she passed the roses back to Samuel through the window; a bolt of lightning flashed over them, closely followed by a peal of thunder; rain soon to come. They ran inside as the first drops began to fall, hands tightly clasped, and Duncan was struck by a wild desire to keep running with her; my Kenzie, my dearest one, until the rain drenched them and they could disappear into the night and become new, they could be anonymous again and retreat into a secret hidden place where no one could find them, no one could try to hurt her, no one could be cruel to her, where only beautiful and wonderful things surrounded her, only things devoted to her. The warmth of his thoughts rushed into him and just as quickly rushed away as they entered the foyer of the Jefferson Hotel and moved into the hushed cocoon of Plume, his mother’s favorite; in the past few years Duncan had been here with her over two-dozen times. Once Annette found something she liked, she rarely deviated from it. We are very alike in that way, he thought, squeezing Kenzie’s hand a little. She looked up at him, a nervous smile on her mouth, golden hair falling over her shoulder. The makeup she wore washed away the signs of strain and tiredness he’d seen there earlier, but he knew she still felt those emotions underneath. The dress fit her perfectly, but it almost made her look like someone else; like the version of her Annette would ideally prefer, and that made his heart twinge with discomfort. I know you, Kenzie, I see your gold, and your warmth is so much more than whatever my mother wants. He thought of her flowing black dress with the red flowers today, and wanted to kiss her neck; imagined flowers in her hair again, for the hundredth time, it seemed.

Annette always insisted on dining in the private wine room. It was partitioned from the rest of the dining area by a frosted glass door that hid anything within from prying eyes; usually Duncan felt it was excessive, but tonight, he wanted to keep Kenzie from any further molestation by strangers first and foremost, and was relieved to know they’d be shielded from anyone who might be dining that night. A server (middle-aged with thinning hair and a severe stare) led them carefully to the door, pulling it open for them; his eyes skirted over them with clear recognition, but he said nothing. Duncan turned towards the large wooden table in the center of the room as the server shut the door behind them; and met the cold eyes of Annette Shepherd, cradling her wine glass carefully (Pinot Noir, her preferred beast); they slid off him and zeroed in on Kenzie, like the barrel of a gun at a bullseye. She had changed out of the wrap dress she’d worn for the press conference, and was now in a black sheath dress, tattoo lace cutting away from the black bodice along the neck and arms, extending down to trumpet sleeves at her wrists.

“Mackenzie.”

Duncan’s eyes fell down on her, standing beside him; Kenzie held her clutch in both hands in front of her, against her abdomen; her eyes, gold and tawny green in the low light, staring back at Annette with simmering caution. One of her hands came up to press her fingers along the crescent moon at her throat; Annette’s eyes followed her hand there, and Duncan knew; knew that his mother knew that the necklace was from him. It seemed to kindle some sort of low fire in Annette; she smirked; the smirk he knew so well, far closer to the true incarnation of her mirth than any of her dazzlingly fake smiles on public stages and television. Annette’s real mirth came from a knowledge of her power; how tight her grip on control was. The tighter her grip, the more genuine her mirth.

“Come sit by me, dear.”

Kenzie stepped forward, and Duncan noticed the jut of her chin, the flutter of her eyelids; my brave Kenzie. Kenzie went to the seat on Annette’s left side, pulling the chair out and sitting neatly, keeping her back straight, setting her clutch beside the plate in front of her; she stared down nervously for a moment at the array of forks and spoons around it, then back at Annette, smiling a little; Duncan could see the way she was trying to be sweet, trying to maintain her composure, and it made his chest feel tight. Annette beckoned to Duncan with one perfectly manicured hand; “Duncan, sit over here.” She patted the table on her right side; the seat across from Kenzie, so they’d be facing each other. Duncan bit his lip and considered disobeying for a moment; considered sitting in the seat next to Kenzie. But then he decided against it; it would be better to look at Kenzie’s face, so I know how she’s feeling, he thought. So I know if a moment comes where we need to escape. He came around and sat, looking into Kenzie’s eyes as he did. It’s okay, baby. Everything is going to be okay. I will make sure it is.

“I’ve been so anxious to meet you,” Kenzie said, softly, her eyes leaving Duncan’s and moving into his mother’s; her expression falling a little, one of her little hands coming up to the ends of her hair, seeing the coldness in Annette’s gaze, despite her smile. “I...I’ve wanted to tell you...what a wonderful son you’ve raised. He’s been…”

Kenzie trailed off then, and looked down at her hands. Duncan knew that in that moment she was fighting off tears. Oh my sweet Kenzie, he thought, imagining that he could push his warmth and his energy to her across the table; imagining it was gold and drifting, dust full of calmness and strength and all his love, falling into her, against her, under her skin. Be brave. I love you so.

“I love him.” Duncan could hear the tremor in her voice, but as she said it, it was as if the emotion he wanted to give her; the comfort, the wave of gold; had not only settled into her, but around the table; that it had enveloped the three of them in some sort of invisible cocoon, one that she had pushed out of her being, strengthened by his love and his energy, and made into something greater; something that did not diminish as it was shared, but expounded, resounding like an echo that grew rather than receded. It snatched the breath from his lungs; for a moment, it was as if the air was sucked out of the room. He looked at Kenzie for a moment with wonder--then his gaze fell on his mother, whose expression became unreadable, obtuse, conflicted; Annette said nothing for another long moment, then drank long at her wine glass; she set it down on the table, and brought the napkin on her lap up to her mouth, dabbing carefully. She set the napkin back on her lap and continued to stare at Kenzie; Duncan could see something in her gaze that seemed almost envious, a twinge of jealousy; a kind of longing for something long past and never to be reclaimed. Then it retreated; Annette broke the spell of her judgement, and looked down at her lap, a sigh escaping her lips.

“Mackenzie. My god. You look so much like your mother. When I knew her at school.”

The comment sent a current of shock floating through Duncan’s veins; he knew his mother too well to assume she meant it facetiously or with faux-sweetness. Both Annette and Madeline had been known for their powerful personalities and yes, their beauty, when they had been young. It was one thing to say Kenzie looked like Madeline; it was another to say she looked like the Madeline Annette had once known more intimately. It was true they had never been friends in the strictest sense of the word, but there was a time Annette and Madeline had shared study groups and classes; when they had appraised each other across parties, maybe even shared drunken conversations on late nights. There was a time Madeline and Annette could have been friends, as Madeline had implied herself; Annette had chosen not to accept that friendship, but it wasn’t as if there had never been an inkling of it. No, the truth was, the comment had been a genuine one from Annette; suddenly, the air in the room, coming off Annette like pheromones, had shifted from hostility to a kind of heavy resignation.

Annette turned to Duncan, and he noticed the change in her expression now, too. Her eyes, which had a moment ago been full of coiled inference, were soft with surrender. What had prompted it was unclear to him; but the coldness she had shown him today seemed to dissolve in this moment, and Duncan felt that there would likely never be another chance as fortuitous as this one, somehow, to convince her of the sincerity of his desires.

“Mom. This is my Kenzie. I love her...so very much. Please, give us your blessing. If you would, it would mean the world to me.”

Annette was silent again, for what felt like an eon, her hand coming up to fiddle with one of her diamond earrings, looking away from both of them, as though she had forgotten something important. The waiter opened the frosted glass door; Annette shook her head at him and he retreated, the door shutting with a snap. Kenzie’s eyes (so bright, so beautiful, so full of her essence, her loveliness, her kindness, her goodness) reached across to him as Annette remained this way, and her smile to him was like the flowers bursting into bloom at the true dawn of spring; he felt utterly overcome by her again (and again and again), and wished he could reach her to touch her, anxious to be closer to her.

“If this is really what you...want...Duncan.” Annette’s voice seemed puzzled; her stony composure, usually so resolute, had fractured somehow, abruptly; she seemed lost in the sincerity that drifted between them, seemed to shrink from it, then, with disbelief, Duncan noticed the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

“It is, Mom. It really is.”

She sniffed, drained her wine glass, and looked at Kenzie for another long moment. She did not smile, but she said, quietly, “Very well. I...understand. I see. And because you are my greatest joy, Duncan, I will permit you yours. You...have my blessing. Now. Pour me another glass of wine.”

[praphit]

D.C.² - I ain’t got no time for Bond!

I was going to see the newest James Bond joint. 

I'm not a die hard fan, but I have a friend who is, and I was going to see it with him. You know that feeling when you're moved by someone else's passion for something?? It's like people who LOVE Chick-Fil-A; nah, those who LOVVVVVE that stuff. Popping open the sauces, slowly dipping the chicken; appreciating every dunk. You can hear and somehow feel each bite, lick of the fingers, and slurp of their drink. It's like experiencing some naughty ASMR. This is the type of fandom my friend has for his beloved Bond.

But, my friend canceled (that bastard). It's here when I realized... I don't care about Bond. I don't hate him, I just don't care. I think the only Bond movies I've seen are the Daniel Craig ones. I guess that means I'm more of a D.C. fan than a Bond fan. And even out of the movies with him in it that I saw, I couldn't tell you where they are now in the story:

My Recap:

There's was some heavy parkour, early on. It was one of the best action scenes ever. Def top 10 of parkour fight scenes.

There was an Adele song, right? Like many, I love her. But, it was this song "Skyfall" that took my love to higher levels. She's been on kind of a tour of dating black men. I'm hoping and believing that I'm next on the list.

There was a card game, a Quantum of Solace... there was a man who kidnapped James, stripped him, and started smacking his balls around. Odd. I don't remember that kind of thing ever happening to Superman or Batman.

Someone shot him, right?? I mean... I remember him falling into the river, and then popping up out of the water like "BLEEP! WHO THE BLEEP SHOT ME?!" then they rolled the credits, and played the Bond music.

That's all I remember. Now, I hear that he's married? And that this movie is close to 3 hours long. NOW, I go from "I don't care" to "Bleep you, Bond." Three hours?! Plus, in the trailer he looks sad... I don't want to watch 3 hours of sad, married Bond.

Soooooo, I watched Dave Chappelle's new special instead - "The Closer"

Not quite Bond, but he still looks good.

I don't know what that suit is made out of, but it looks hot. And yet, he barely sweats in this special. I'd be sweating bullets in that thing. It would be soaked. And he’s wearing a cool chain too! You can’t tell from the pic, but it’s got a classic “C” for Chappelle Show- it takes a lot of confidence to wear a chain repping your own last name/show. He's done this before. Imagine yourself wearing clothes with your name written on them; kinda douchey, but not when Dave does it.  And that's one of the many reasons he's the GOAT.

In his first set of jokes, he pokes at Johnson & Johnson, "Space Jews", and ejaculating on a preacher's face :)

(The GOAT)

It wasn't until the LGBTQ+ jokes came that the sweating began. I'm not talking about Dave sweating; I mean the audience.

If you’re unaware of the controversy, google Dave Chappelle (I'll wait... )

Yeah, it's not pretty. BUT, this is not new for D.C. The trans community in particular have had people leading the charge against him.

I'm not a transgender person, so I won't speak on how they should feel, or when they should and shouldn't be offended.

I'm not an asshole (at least not in this scenario), so I also won't share D.C.'s jokes. If you want to join in the laughter, sweating, and fuel for dragging Chappelle, click on Netflix yourself.

However, I need a lil more content, so here's a vague view of the gist of some jokes with zero context:

J&J

"Space Jews"

preacher

The Muppet Haunted Mansion pics just make me smile (unrelated:)

Spoiler Alert, I'm also not God, so I won't judge him. I am an artist though. I am an artist who appreciates quality art.

I will say that the art of this special (and that's what it is - ART), is brilliant. I laughed. I was uncomfortable. I learned. I laughed some more. There are even some sensitive moments in here of genuine human experience.

I choose to view this as art. Dave Chappelle is a comedian, and if you are going to judge him, it should be on those grounds. Somewhere along our journey we started viewing comedians as preachers of the gospel of life. Them relaying a message that we don't like, so we seek to stone them. Let's look at this Dali painting.

You've got the artistic elements, the message he's trying to send, the feeling he's trying to give-off, the weird stuff (arguably, all of it is weird), and possibly the offensive:

The naked woman, everything potentially coming after her - gun, tigers (why can’t a woman just be free?)... what the hell is going on with that fish and the freaky elephant.... the fact that I covered up the naked woman, etc.

  If you saw this painting at a gallery you could choose to try and understand it or choose not to. You could choose to love it or call it shit. But, regardless, you then move on. If you hate it or are offended by it, you don't have to seek out the people attached to this painting or drag Dali's name, or threaten the people of the gallery or attempt to burn the gallery down... you could, but... Idk... it's your choice. I choose to see it as art. In my opinion, Chappelle’s art is brilliant. Like all brilliant works and people, others might not get it, but that doesn't stop a true artist; you keep it moving.

This isn't his best work. It's not nearly the funniest work of his, but it's been a rough few years... in context of the material, it's been a rough life for a lot of us (obviously some more than others). There are some articles out there about this special that aren't telling the truth about the special or what Dave Chappelle said. As Dave says in this special, "people don't listen". Love or hate what he says, you lose the validity to argue if you haven't watched it and actually listened to what his points and jokes are hitting on.

Grade: Brilliant B- for me

I knocked it down from an A only due to the pain and uncomfortableness involved throughout. But, that's what I dig about it.

If I've been sick and need some soup and vitamin C, I should def grab some. It probably wouldn't be the best meal, but it's what I need, and better for me at that time than maybe pizza, wings, and beer.

I added a minus, cuz this special is more of a response to people calling him transphobic. While I like “The Closer”, it doesn't really stand on its own. It is indeed his closer. Many have someone in their family that always has to pray before you eat. There are general prayers of “Thank you, Black Jesus! Now, let’s eat!” Then, there are times when that person gets in an argument or is displeased at that moment before they pray. Then, you kinda get some “Thank you for the food.”, but it awkwardly becomes more about what just upset them; this is similar. Luckily, D.C. is a master at making awkward funny. All of the specials as a whole = Grade A tho.

Perhaps I'll get to Bond at some point. I don't know that I'll see it in the theatres though. I'm a busy man. Besides, 3 hours of MARRIED BOND?!? - doesn't that notion go against his brand?? I don't want to see that. It's like someone trying to get me to try a salad at McDonalds... that's just not what they've ever been about.

Perhaps Michael Myers can sweet talk me into the theatres next weekend. He doesn't need 3 hours of build up. He knows why I'm there. Fast and Hard and Gone! - we've both got stuff to do.

[mickeyanders-blog]

DANCIN IN THE STREET | MIMES

WHO: Mickey Anderson & James St. James WHAT: Mickey and James go to Scandals. WHERE: Scandals & Anderson Home. WHEN: Sunday May 14th.  (Completed) WARNINGS: None!

Mickey-Last Sunday at 10:22 PM

Mickey had to admit they were more than a little surprised to see that James was going to come to Scandals. Usually people tried to avoid the place like the plague but Michael enjoyed staying with the other misfits.   It seemed as though James was having a shitty night as well, and they were hoping somehow they would cheer each other up. They only had about two sips of their margarita when they spotted the boy with the bright blue hair. "Hey!" Mickey sang with a big grin, quickly pulling him in before the security at the door could really question him about his age. "Wow, you must really be feeling shit if you came all the way here." they joked with a big smile as they pushed their long curls back from their face. "C'mon let's get you something to drink we've got thirty minutes to get trashed before karaoke."

James-Last Sunday at 10:46 PM

James  walked in, not wearing his usual smile but a melancholy frown instead. "I do feel shitty, but that's neither here or there. I'm here to forget about that." He didn't have a fake ID or anything, but somehow got in. Maybe the shadows of his curls made him look older. Or perhaps it was his expression. Did they even try to card him? "Yeah, what's good?"

Mickey-Last Sunday at 10:52 PM

Mickey, always being the overly touchy type took his hand in theirs and lead him to the bar, squeezing at his hand. "Mm, I have a strawberry frozen margarita. Which is nice because I am...smol and I can't drink a lot." they said honestly, finally letting go of him as they climbed onto the seat with a hum. "I didn't realize how tall you were. Everyone makes me feel like a shrimp though. My only solace is that I'm taller than Daniel Radcliffe." they shrugged, taking another sip of their drink, mostly so they would shut up for once.

James-Last Sunday at 10:57 PM

"I don't mind small guys. As far as I know, my family has always been full of tall people. My mom's six feet tall, so." He shrugged and ordered a strawberry margarita, figuring that it may be better for him. "Daniel Radcliffe is cute, so there's that." He grabbed his drink as soon as it was slid to him. They really didn't card here, did they? Taking a sip, he was taken aback by the taste of alcohol before the sweetness of the strawberry mixture took over. He downed it quickly.

Mickey-Last Sunday at 11:01 PM

"Well I'm glad you don't mind me." Mickey teased with a waggle of their eyebrows.  "That's really cool though. Everyone in my family is pretty short. My oldest brother is the tallest but even he's not that big.  I'm the tiniest though, I think it's because I drink a lot of caffeine and I've smoked the occassional cigarette." they explained with a shrug as they drank their own, almost snorting at how he chugged it. "Liked it, huh?" they asked with a cheesy smile  before ordering another for each of them. "I got this by the way." they smiled. "So do you wanna talk about anything or just purposefully ignore it all because I am up for either."

James-Last Sunday at 11:14 PM

"Maybe. Genetics are a bit weird. Yeah, I don't mind you. It's hard to find a guy much taller unless we're going for someone really tall." He chuckled, watching as they ordered another drink. He was going to need it to forget the week and now the weekend. "I generally take good care of myself, usually.  Today is an exception. Yeah, I like it."  His eyes meet Mickey's for a moment before he shook his head. "Too much drama. I'd rather have a night to forget."

Mickey-Last Sunday at 11:21 PM

Mickey hummed as James said he didn't want to talk about it. They watched James' blue eyes for a long moment, reaching out to gently push back some of his hair. "Agreed. A night to forget sounds amazing, right?" they asked before pulling away. "God sorry? I'm so touchy. Big Italian family  that's sort of all we do."  they smiled as they swirled their drink some. "Anyway, I think....we should sing dancing in the streets. We've got Jagger, we've got Bowie.  I could find trench coats if you want." they teased.

James-Last Sunday at 11:26 PM

"It does. I just want to let go just one time." He chuckled before downing the other drink just as quickly, noticing how the other sipped. "Don't worry about being touchy. I'm usually pretty affectionate once I get to know someone." James rested his elbow against the bar as he watched carefully. He perked up at the mention of Dancing In The Streets. "Let's do it. Let's break out those 80s dad moves."(edited)

Mickey-Last Sunday at 11:38 PM

Mickey nodded at him. "Just once." they agreed with a soft smile, as they moved to sit criss cross on the stool though it was actually quite uncomfortable.  "Well hopefully we'll get to know one another, then. I mean I'm really looking forward to becoming your dog's best friend." Michael chuckled, offering a big smile. They swore they could see his whole face light up. "Fuck yeah. I'm glad you said yes because I already signed us up." they  giggled excitedly.  "I think we have ten minutes left though." they chuckled taking a minute to finish their drink.

James-Last Sunday at 11:43 PM

James watched yet again and opted for water once the bartender came back around. He didn't want to ruin his vocal chords for karaoke. Of course, he wasn't sure how everything worked with alcohol. This was his first time drinking, let alone being at the club. "Luna is everyone's best friend. She'll love you, I promise."  He smiled at just seeing their smile. It was a cute smile, and now his mind was wandering.  "Oh, good. I'm glad I wasn't drafted or anything." He teased, sipping at the water.

Mickey-Last Sunday at 11:55 PM

Mickey chuckled at him, nodding quickly. "Aw, I love it. I hope Nico likes you too. She's really nice but you know. She's a lady, and sometimes she's iffy about guys." they laughed and shrugged.  "Your smile is cute." they complimented next, the alcohol causing them to feel a little more than flustered.  With most people they'd be more blunt, or be focusing on trying to get into his pants, but this was different. They both needed comfort and companionship, and that's what they were focusing on.  "Oh my God, shut up." they joked with a laugh before finally they got up, their curls bouncing all over as they did so. "Alright giant, you have to help me push through the bears to get to the stage." they winked.

James-Last Sunday at 11:59 PM

"If it helps, I wasn't born a guy." James blurted out a bit earlier than he normally would have, and hoped Mickey was too distracted by the surroundings to even catch it.  "Thanks, so is yours." He bit the inside of his bottom lip. He knew this was a side effect of the alcohol. James was a lot more guarded than this usually. His face was read from the compliment and watching as they got up and winked. "That, I can do." He got up with a smile and  put his arm around his new friend's shoulders.May 14, 2018

Mickey-Yesterday at 12:03 AM

"Oh shit really?" Mickey asked  with a big smile. They reached out to poke at his cheek. "You pass amazingly. Really you do.  Jesus, I wish I knew there was someone else trans at the school before." they chuckled before grinning again.  "Don't be flirting now." they hummed, teasing him as they got up from the seats.  They happily followed besides him as they made their way up to the stage. Mickey happily greeted the  DJ with a kiss on the cheeks. "I come and sing all the time even though I'm tone deaf." they chirped to James with a big smile, hanging over one of the shitty microphones to him. "Sorry in advance for your ears." they  teased with their tongue out.

James-Yesterday at 12:07 AM

"I went to Carmel up until this year, so it's probably  that.. and the fact that you never come to school. I kind of helps that I kind of looked like Jesse a little beforehand, probably. Also, I've been on T since the ripe old age of thirteen." He explained  as they made their way to the stage and took the microphone. "I don't exactly care that you're tone deaf.  Honestly, that's refreshing. I spend my days around people who can sing." He teased back.

Mickey-Yesterday at 12:11 AM

"Ah yeah that does actually make sense." Mickey laughed again. They couldn't help they were a giddy drunk.  "Thirteen? Wow, your mom must be really supportive, that's awesome. I've...I've definitely thought about estrogen but man I dunno. I'm not a girl, but I'm not a boy it's just tough." they chuckled. "You do look like Jesse though. Cuter though. For sure." they reminded him, patting gently at his forearm.  "Well, I'm gonna make you feel really good tonight then, St. James." they said with a waggle of their brows before they nodded for the music to start, smiling hugely back to James as it began.

James-Yesterday at 12:21 AM

"Mom was really supportive. She still is. So is Jesse. He's been my biggest supporter with the transition, I must say.  Twins know best. There's nothing wrong with estrogen if you want it, but it's a bitch. I know from experience." he laughed and  shrugged. "Why do you think I'm cuter? Is it the blue hair? The fact that I'm gay?  Go ahead, make me feel good. It'll be nice to know I won't be pitchy." Another laugh as he waited through the into and the song began.

Mickey-Yesterday at 12:27 AM

"Aw that's super awesome. B has always been pretty supportive parents not so much, but I'm strong." They shrugged with a big smile. "Yeah? Yeah. I'm sure it really is." they laughed in returned. "Mm, I dunno. You volunteer at the SPCA, your hair is very nice, and you just seem....softer in your mannerisms and personality." they explained. "Plus we talked about Rammstein." they added, bumping their hip against his. Now, Mickey may not have been a performer besides cheerleading, but they took karaoke very seriously. And though they weren't the best at staying on pitch, Mickey was happy enough to be on beat as they began.

James-Yesterday at 12:46 AM

He listened  closely, nodding every now and again to let Mickey knew he was listening.  It felt nice to be complimented and be called cute, even if he doubted that he would ever be cute in his own mind.  James had never done karaoke before, but he knew from watching that he would need to watch the screen and stay on beat, which was something he easily did throughout the song  while trying to do his best Bowie moves from the video.

Mickey-Yesterday at 12:49 AM

Mickey only faltered to sing their part as they noticed James' dancing. They happily joined in, dancing as stupidly as possible.  Until finally the song ended. Two out of the three patrons clapped and for Mickey that was enough. They smirked and handed over the microphone. "You're really good." they sang, leaning onto their toes just so that he could hear them over the club's music that started again. "Wanna show me some more of those moves?" they asked, meeting his blue eyes again as they stayed leaning up close. They even debated trying to kiss him for a moment but thankfully talked themself out of it.

James-Yesterday at 1:00 AM

The applause wasn't what James was usually used to, but he then reminded himself that he wasn't performing with Vocal Adrenaline, or even New Directions for that matter. He was in a nightclub on a Sunday night. He admired Mickey's enthusiasm as he followed suite and handed over his own microphone. "Am I?" James laughed. "Why not? I'm sure you're dying to see more of my sick 80s dad dance moves."(edited)

Mickey-Yesterday at 1:06 AM

"You are really good! Stop questioning my compliments you buttface." Mickey snorted, sticking their tongue out at him again as they climbed back off of the stage, already debating singing again.  "Fuck yeah I am! You still have to see mine." they  giggled again. Feeling playful they began dancing. While they could actually dance, they instead decided to break out some of their painfully bad moves, enjoying just playing around and having fun with James for the moment.

James-Yesterday at 1:10 AM

"I'll question all compliments until they are proven." James teased as he started to dance with the Anderson twin. "Not bad. We really are Bowie and Jagger with out sick 80s dad moves." He joked, giggling loudly. James could dance as well. After all, he had to have some sort of talent given his background; but he chose to pull out some equally bad dance moves on his own. All he wanted to do  was have fun tonight. He seemed to be accomplishing his goal.(edited)

Mickey-Yesterday at 1:20 AM

Mickey swore they could feel everything slow down as the pair took their turns showing off the worst moves they could, but as the music slowed a little they laughed and instead moved in closer, not even leaving a second for the awkwardness to come over them. "sorry this is just happening now." they shrugged, smirking as they drunkenly tossed their arms around his neck. "i'll never understand why gay bars decide to play soft songs." they smiled as they danced against him. "Guess this is better than me trying to grind on you though, right?" they asked, hoping he'd wrap his arms around them too.  "So....what's your favorite movie?"

James-Yesterday at 1:31 AM

"No worries. It's just a slow song. It always happens. Probably to give the party boys a bit of a break, or allow the couples an intimate moment or something. I'll never understand social cues. Well, I've.. never been grinded on, so I don't know what would be better or worse. But I like this." He chuckled and  gently wrapped his arms around their waist. This was the way to do a slow dance, right?  At the question, there was no hesitation. James gave Mickey a big smile. "The Man Who Fell To Earth  and Labyrinth. I can't decide which one I like more."

Mickey-Yesterday at 1:34 AM

"Well since we are King and Queen I guess it's alright." Mickey joked with a big smile, as they easily moved with him. They had a few slow dances but they had to admit this was the least awkward of them all. Sure that wasn't saying a lot but they were more than comfortable spinning some with him. "I like this too. We'll see if you like grinding after." they chuckled. They found themself instinctually snuggling up some when the arms wrapped around their waist.  "Oh, I loved Bowie's hair in Man Who Fell. Never seen it but I remember the orange." they chuckled, tilting their head up to watch him. "I've never seen Labyrinth either. Sad, I know.  I was always freaked out by puppets when I was younger though."(edited)

James-Yesterday at 1:43 AM

"We're also Heroes. Just for one day." James returned the smile and continued to sway.  He couldn't help to laugh at the second mention of grinding and  slid one of his hands up to their back while feeling himself being snuggled up to. One arm stayed around their waist. He wanted Mickey to feel safe. That was his instinct.  "I had my hair that color once. I've been debating going back to it for a while, but I like the  blue." He shrugged. "We can get out of here and watch one of them if you want. Though, admittedly, Labyrinth is easier to find online. I'm not really wanting to go home and get my copy of it."

Mickey-Yesterday at 1:48 AM

Mickey found themself humming  as James' hand moved up their back. It was a far cry from being felt up on the dancefloor, but Michael definitely liked it a lot more. "I like the blue too. But I think you could pull off just about anything." they  shrugged. "I had blonde hair for a while, which was pretty cool, but I guess I didn't like looking so different from Blaine." they laughed. At the offer of getting out of their they raised a brow before quickly nodding. "Uh, yeah. Yes. Yeah I'd totally love that." they agreed with a nod, thanking god the lights of the bar were covering how  much the question made them blush. "But don't make fun of me if anything freaks me out." they chuckled, gently letting their arms fall from his neck, being sure to rub down his arms on the way. "We can go to mine." they hummed. Though they never ever really went home themself, they figured it'd be easy enough to sneak into the basement for the movie room.

James-Yesterday at 10:53 AM

"I've pulled off at least four colors this year. Blue is my favorite so far because how it fades.  Some of the blue dyes fade and look pretty cool."  He chuckled and nodded. "I was like that for a while. I just had to look identical to Jesse, no matter what. Then, I reinvented myself, and dyed my hair. I can always go back to brown at any time, and I'll always have a similar face." James explained as he gently took their hands after feeling them run down his arms. "Okay, good. I know my brother told me he had plans and not to come home."

Mickey-Yesterday at 12:39 PM

"I really like the blue on you too. You're seriously giving me some inspo. I bet I could pull off hot pink. That'd be cool." they laughed, the big smile still present on their face. Feeling drunk they happily they leaned into him, squeezing at his hands once he took them. "Yeah, that's true. I dunno. B and I are weird.  I mean last year was probably the first time I spent time away from him." they started before shaking their head. "Sorry. Weird twin stuff, you get it." they smiled, changing the subject as they finally pulled away to lead him towards the door, keeping right by his side. "Yeah you can even sleep over if you want. Not to be weird or anything, just because it's already one AM." they shrugged. "And I mean, I can't judge you for anything as long you don't judge me for my moomoo because I for sure wear a moomoo to bed." they waggled their brows again.

James-Yesterday at 1:01 PM

"I think you could pull off hot pink. You should honestly try it some time, even if it's just a few streaks here and there. I hear you loud and clear on that weird twin stuff.  Jesse and I are in each other's heads more than we like to admit." He followed closely so he didn't get lost in the club. "Okay. That's awesome. I don't think anyone would appreciate me showing up at one in the morning banging on the door because I forgot my key." He motioned toward his vespa with a grin.  "Just let me know where you live, okay? I am horrible with directions."

Mickey-Yesterday at 1:14 PM

"I probably could. I'll show you pictures of the blonde later. Maybe I'll do it. You could convince me." They laughed and nodded quickly. "Right? It's fucking weird. We fought today so it was great. I guess I needed the good time too." they shrugged, smiling up at him. " But we're gonna go watch Labryinth and not think about how weird today was and it's gonna be great." they winked before stopping short as they saw the vespa. "Oh God you were serious." they giggled, bumping their forehead against his arm. "Should you be drinking and driving your scooter, St. James?" they asked, smiling cheekily up at him. "Alright let's go, we're on Pine St."

James-Yesterday at 2:29 PM

"I have to see photos of the blonde or it didn't happen. Yeah, let's not think about the blgeneral weirdness of today. Or even this entire week." He looked over at Mickey. "Oh come on, Anderson. You didn't think I was going to bring Jesse's car to this place, did you? Yeah, I'm fine to drive it. Promise." James winked and got on the scooter, handing the helmet to them.

Mickey-Yesterday at 2:33 PM

Mickey had to giggle as they watched him get on the vespa.  "If I die....this is gonna be hilarious." they smirked as they carefully climbed onto the back, glad their shorts didn't ride up too much as they climbed on behind him, and pulled on the helmet, letting out a laugh again.  "Alright, let's get going." they smirked, as they wrapped their arms tightly around his middle, holding on tight as he started it up. \

James-Yesterday at 3:31 PM

"If we're about to die, I'm going to shout about this being Jackass, and you can't stop me."  James grinned as he felt Mickey's arms tightly around him. He took off as soon as he was told to get going. The drive wasn't too long, and soon they we at the Anderson house, where he parked and shut off the scooter. He took his helmet off and  looked over his shoulder at Mickey.  "Is this the right place?"

Mickey-Yesterday at 4:28 PM

"I will accept that. But I'm Johnny Knoxville."  Mickey chuckled as they held on. Honestly they were pretty surprised at how fast it went.  Considering Mickey usually walked to Scandals, it went by pretty quick before they were peeling off their helmet  as well. "Yeah, this is it." they smiled to him.  "I think riding home from Scandals with you on this vespa was possibly the gayest thing I've done in my life. I'm glad you were part of it." they teased him as they carefully climbed off, stumbling only a little bit. "Oh thank God no parents are home." they cheered as they climbed up the stairs to the front porch, getting out their keys. "Uh we have wine coolers, or capri suns, and I could grab cookies." they rambled, trying to whisper as they finally pushed their way into the house.

James-Yesterday at 5:32 PM

"Of course it's the gayest thing you've ever done. We're the king and queen." He laughed and  carefully climbed off of the scooter.  "That's good, at least I think." Another chuckle as he grabbed his bag and followed them to the front porch. "Okay, I don't even know what wine coolers are, but cookies sound great." James kept his voice to a whisper as he followed. "Just point me in the direction of the basement, and I will get set up."

Mickey-Yesterday at 5:39 PM

Mickey chuckled and moved to the door of the basement, opening it for James, and turning on the lights for him. “I’m actually gonna get changed too, do you need me to bring you pajamas? Uh... I’m sure I have something that’ll fit you, I promise.” they asked as they gently leaned against the door. “And then I’ll grab the rest of the stuff and... yeah i’ll be right down.” they offered, unable to stop how flustered and flushed they felt as they watched him.

James-Yesterday at 5:43 PM

"I'm probably going to need pajamas, thanks." James smiled at him and headed down into the  basement, thanking his sober self for bringing his external hard drive so that he didn't have to try and fumble with finding the movie on the internet.  "Okay. I'll be right here getting the movie ready." He  had already plugged the hard drive in and was working with the television.  "I'll warn you, though. I have a tendency to sing through this movie."

Mickey-Yesterday at 5:48 PM

Mickey laughed and shook their head at him as they headed upstairs. They spent a little too long deciding what pajamas to wear, before deciding on an oversized shirt,  and some booty shorts, before they next moved to raid coopers room for pajamas. Finally they grabbed the six pack of wine coolers and as much food as they could fit in their hands before making their way down the stairs, the v-neck already hanging off their shoulder. “I am very excited to see you sing through this.” they slurred some as they carefully set everything down, and held out the PJs. “Oh so, there’s a bathroom over there, but you know, I’d be happy to watch you strip as well, your choice.” they shrugged with a grin as they flopped back on the comfy couch already opening another drink.

James-Yesterday at 6:03 PM

"Are you now? I think the alcohol messed with my voice, but I'll try my best." James smiled as he picked up his pajamas. "Not yet. I'm a little self conscious. No one has ever seen me change." He laughed as he made his way to the bathroom. It wasn't long until he came back out and put the clothes he wore to the club back into his bag.  He made his way over to the couch and sat, giving Mickey a smile and pushing play.

Mickey-Yesterday at 6:11 PM

"Pft, you're fine. Maybe a lil scratchy, but who isn't?" Mickey teased with a big smile, as they sipped the drink, nodding as he responded. "I was just teasing you.  Take your time get comfy I will be right here waiting." they chirped with a big smile. They understood, really they did. As confident a person as Mickey was, they really could only change in front of someone they'd slept with or girls.  To them there was something more intimate in changing than most of the sex they'd had.  They smiled back as he came out, distracting them from their thoughts. "I'm glad they fit, I think you're even taller than my older brother." they chuckled, moving to rest their cheek on his shoulder as the movie started.

James-Yesterday at 6:48 PM

"I love your short family, though. You and Blaine are the cutest." He teased and reached for one of the drinks and a cookie. Were these cookies vegan? Honestly, James was so hungry and drunk that he didn't really care. He opened up the  wine cooler and shifted in his seat, trying to make sure he was comfortable in his binder.  A grin appeared on his face while they lay his head on his shoulder and softly started to sing along with the opening song.

Mickey-Yesterday at 7:17 PM

"Excuse me, I am the cutest." Mickey teased as they watched him for a moment, while they curled up. They had to admit the puppets were still pretty terrifying. "Wow Bowie looks good. His dick must be huge." They giggled drunkenly. Soon the one wine cooler turned into three and they were all cuddled up to him. They did their best not to talk through the whole thing.  Which turned out to be pretty easy since they ended up focusing a lot more on James than the movie.  "This is really good." they whispered as the ball scene began, their fingers reaching up again to stroke at his cheek gently.

James-Yesterday at 9:14 PM

James laughed and nodded. "According to a biography I read, he actually was pretty sizable."  His wine coolers turned from one to three as well, and he found himself with his arms completely around them.  He looked down with a soft grin when he was told the movie was good. "I'm glad you like it. I was  worried for a moment."

Mickey-Yesterday at 9:17 PM

"No, no need to be worried." They giggled, glancing back to the screen quickly. "Who couldn't like Bowie?" they asked, looking back to him. A softer smile came over their lips as the music started, their eyes locking with his for a moment. Feeling a sudden burst of confidence, or perhaps the whisper of Bowies past to just do it, they let their eyes fall shut and leaned in to kiss his lips. Their hand stayed splayed over James' cheek, mostly to hold him close  as they dragged out the initial peck.

James-Yesterday at 10:05 PM

"I don't think I could be with anyone who didn't at least respect Bowie." James smiled and watched him. His eyes closed when he was kissed. Part of him wanted to pull away and go home, but mostly, he wanted to stay.  He put his hand over theirs and gently kissed them in return.(edited)

Mickey-Yesterday at 10:15 PM

Mickey hummed softly when they felt James returning the kiss. They playfully sucked at his lower lip before puling back and bumping their nose against his. “I’m sorry, was that weird? I just.... I dunno I felt like I had to.” they chuckled nervously

James-Yesterday at 11:03 PM

James breathed out a moment and shook his head. "No, that wasn't weird. That was actually pretty nice. Was it Bowie?" He asked with a playful grin.

Mickey-Yesterday at 11:08 PM

Mickey grinned when he agreed it wasn't weird. "Pretty nice?  Do me a favor and add that to my yelp?" they laughed before nodding. "Yeah sorry I just...needed to make out with Bowie and you're the closest thing." they hummed again, giving him a few more quick kisses. "Sorry your lips are really nice." they murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek next before they sat back completely, their tan cheeks a bright red. "You... you can kiss me whenever, just so you know." they chirped.

James-Yesterday at 11:52 PM

"I will once I'm sober enough to open the app." He teased. "No, it's okay. I'm honored to be the closest thing to Bowie. When I met Rachel, I was actually singing Life On Mars? in a full Bowie getup." James spoke softly, running a thumb over Mickey's cheek before leaning in and kissing them again.May 15, 2018

Mickey-Today at 12:28 AM

Mickey laughed at the thought of James all dressed up. "That's cute. Then I'd be trying to sit on your face though, so it's probably for the best you look like this." they giggled, before smiling as he took his turn leaning in.  Feeling playful they parted their lips, instead giving him open mouthed kisses as they scooted a little closer to his side of the couch while the song continued in the background.  If it were up to them, they'd want to spend the rest of the morning just like this.

James-Today at 12:45 AM

"Maybe it is, I guess. That would have been one hell of a first impression, though." James laughed and shook his head. He was a bit surprised when they parted their lips, but went along with it. After a bit, James decided to pull back as he was feeling himself get sleepy.  With a small yawn, he wrapped both arms around them once more.

Mickey-Today at 12:56 AM

Mickey hummed when James finally pulled away but instead wrapped them up. Their head easily lulled back to his shoulder, while their hands blindly pulled a throw blanket from the back of the couch, tossing it over the pair. "Are you comfy here? If not we could find a bed." they murmured, already sounding half asleep as they grew increasingly comfortable against the other's side. "Mm, or I could leave you alone, you must wanna take off your binder." they murmured.  They weren't going to bring it up, but  they felt bad after accidentally touching it a few times curing the movie.

James-Today at 1:35 AM

"I'm perfectly fine here."  James ran his hand along Mickey's back gently and slowly.  "You don't have to leave me here unless you want to go to your bed. I'm not going to get mad if you do. I understand."  He smiled, eyes starting to close just a little. "I've been in this thing longer. It's not ideal, but I can manage. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Mickey-Today at 1:51 AM

Mickey hummed happily  as they felt the hand rubbing at their back. "No, no. I'm more comfy here. You're comfy and you smell good." they mumbled already sounding half asleep. Without thinking twice about it they rested their head on his flattened chest, smiling at the sound of his heart beat. "Okay just take care of yourself." they added tiredly as they wrapped their arms around him as well. "I'm tiny so just move me however you need to to be comfy." the laughed with their eyes closed.

James-Today at 2:00 AM

"Okay. As long as you're sure." James shifted just a little so that his legs were comfortable. "I will. I promise." His voice was strained with fatigue while he brought a hand up to run his fingers through their curls.

Mickey-Today at 2:02 AM

Mickey pressed a sweet kiss to James' wrist before they finally allowed themself to fall asleep, half laying on top of James, but they were more than comfortable there with him. They happily fell asleep as Labyrinth finished quietly in the background.

[angeliclp]

Season 7 was... not as bad as the last one but... there’s still room for improvement, like loads of it. Most of all it was missing my fave angel most of the time and when he came back he was... I still can’t decide whether it was adorable or just downright creepy... and don’t get me started on the Meg thing... but at least I got to finally meet Charlie, oh and Kevin...

And just for the record: I am still mad about Amy!

more unfiltered thoughts:

geez Cas has really lost it, and Jimmy’s body obvs won't be able to hold all these souls for long...

dealing with Death again? they'll never learn will they?

Lucifer... that smug bastard is already getting on my nerves

if I hear Sam saying he's fine one more time I'll scream... ok I guess I’ll be screaming a lot this season...

Dean just killed her... he killed Amy just because and... god I need a break, I am so goddamn angry right now!

took me the better part of a day to calm down... and now watching it in the recap in 7x04 I realize I am still furious

JAMES MARSTERS... and yes I am squealing... I just adore this man

Sam and Dean as marriage counselors to some hundreds of years old witches must be one of the weirdest things ever

what are the Leviathan so afraid of? I mean the boys must have something to them for all the trouble the monsters go through to get rid of them

of course Crowley tries to get in the good books of whoever seems to have the upper hand right now... so predictable

I still hate when they separate... but god can I relate... I'm still pissed because of Amy too

uhm... where's Baby? don't tell me poor girl is still in lockdown

could those idiots for once just stop and actually fucking listen before burning up the bones? christ

Sam is getting what? To BECKY?!

so that's Garth? I kinda imagined him... differentl

having to watch Bobby die for 40 fucking minutes straight is one of the worst things this show has put me through till now... this was fucking excruciatingly painful

I adore Krissy... I sure hope that girl really gets out and goes to college and live an as normal as possible life, she deserves it

why is it always Dean that goes all Back to the Future?

first Cas, then Bobby and now his own freaking daughter, even though she wasn't exactly human but still... Dean's falling apart and god it hurts...

so uhm... Lucifer... is he like real? or has Sam gone schizophrenic? *20 mins later* oh, crap...

the mental image of Dean in a tutu dancing ballet had me quite literally squealing through this whole 7x16

does this whole Leviathan thing start to make some sense at some point or do they just keep sprouting bullshit?

Cas!... or... not? what the heck is going on?

I am still debating whether to like Garth or be weirded out by him

so Bobby decided to stay... why am I not surprised?

well hello there Charlie, it's nice to finally meet you

Kevin Tran... wait I've heard that name before... I just don't know where and why

Cas is kinda freaking me out right now... and the whole Meg thing? christ please make it stop

also I certainly don’t like this Meg, the way she speaks is just *yikes*

Dick really is... a dick

Dean being forced to eat healthy is fucking hilarious 🤣

Crowley won’t screw them over will he? I mean he’s an ass but he’s not dumb... I hope

oh god that smile on Cas’ face when he senses Dean’s forgiveness? my heart just melted into a puddle... You can’t tell me that he’s not so gone for Dean already, it’s practically written all over his face!

there is my girl! damn I've missed you, Baby! ... OH NO MEG DON’T HURT HER!

now on to Purgatory, huh? can’t wait!

[chaoscodexdraws]

Bubbles And Her Friend, Charlie!

I finally came up with a bio for my OC, Bubbles! And, better yet, I thought of a good name for their friend: Charlie! Just a heads up now, there are some traumatizing things involved, so please be aware. If you have a trigger involving death, abuse or loss of family, please know that these things are involved with my OC, and are all very similar to my own experiences in life.

If you do decide to continue reading, and/or don't have any of these triggers, feel free to let me know what you think.

BaiSho "Bubbles" Kenlee is a 25 year old non-binary bisexual with an aptitude for robotics and a major interest in medical biology. Bubbles prefers people use the pronouns they/them, but secretly likes when their friend (for whom they have a massive, obvious crush) uses she/her.

Bubble's father passed away before they were born due to a drunk driver. Their mother, Min Kenlee, always told them that they would have loved him, since he was a warm, passionate man with much love in his heart. Unfortunately, Min also died suddenly while Bubbles was in third grade. She had been secretly battling cancer for three years, and didn't want her "little bubbles" to know until she got older.

BaiSho was shocked and traumatized when they got home after school by that fateful day. Min was lying on her couch, which was normal, a normal thing BaiSho was used to, but instead of her normal, stressed look (caused by the pain of her secret), her eyes were closed, her face peaceful. She had been waiting for Bubbles to return home from school, and suddenly felt incredibly tired, so she laid down to rest. She never woke up.

After that day, BaiSho went by Bubbles, in honor of their mom, and never used their real name again. They moved into their friend's house, since their mom was close friends with them, and never left their friend's side. This also caused Bubbles to begin their journey into medical biology, and to take over their mother's legacy in robotics.

Charlie (deadname James) Monroe

Charlie Monroe is a 24 (and a half!) year old mtf trans lesbian. She was born as James Charles Monroe, but has hated her first name since she found out it's history in second grade. Her mother, Diana Monroe, only agreed to the name because her husband (Charlie's step-father) refused to sign the birth certificate unless his own name was used. After learning this, she asked her mom to call her Charlie instead, since it, in her words, "sounded better, and it's the name you wanted me to have."

Like Bubbles, Charlie's dad died, but not by accident. Her step-father, James Dunmore Monroe, had him killed after he found out that Diana was pregnant. (Dunmore was aquitted of all charges after he bought out the judge and jury.) Diana divorced Dunmore not long after Charlie was born, and raised her by herself. After Min's untimely death, she took over as Bubbles' "mom" and worked multiple jobs to keep the kids happy and well-fed.

Charlie came out as trans in the 8th grade. She never quite felt right in her male body. Something always felt... Off. While talking and surfing the internet with Bubbles one day after school, they stumbled upon a website where users talked about their own feelings of body dysphoria. They all shared the same feelings that Charlie had been feeling for years, and now she finally had a name to it. (Of course, the first person she told was Bubbles. Not too long after, Bubbles told her that she had similar feelings, but more about their gender, and came out as non-binary.) She told her mom, who, after asking Charlie if she was sure, supported her new daughter. Her mother warned her, though, to never tell her step-father. Dunmore was (and still is) very much against LGBT rights, as well as minorities. (He hates anyone who doesn't have his views and isn't like him.)

Charlie began her transition from male to female about a month after she graduated. Bubbles basically forced her to go to a doctor after they found her curled up in the bathtub in their apartment, crying over her body. I'm not going to go into the specifics, but Charlie did get both top and bottom surgeries, and is now comfortable with her body.

They've known each other since they were both two years old (at least, that's what their friend's mom tells them), and ever since third grade, the two were almost never seen without each other. They were always in the same classes throughout school, and everyone always thought they were siblings. After Bubbles and Charlie graduated high school as valedictorian and salutatorian (respectively), they moved out of Charlie's house and moved into a small apartment near their college together. At that point, Bubbles realized their true feelings about Charlie, but is way too shy to actually ask her out. Charlie can tell there's something up with her best friend, but can't quite put her finger on it. All she knows is that she loves her best friend in the world, and will always be with her, no matter what.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Monthly Reads | August 2017

OMG! August was such a good month - I’ve read lots of amazing fics! Please make sure to also check out the fics under the cut! ❤ THANK YOU TO ALL WRITERS FOR YOUR HARD WORK AND FOR SHARING YOUR STORIES! ❤ Top 5 6 + 11 more under the cut:

Pray for some sweet simplicity

by delsicle | a/b/o | enemies to lovers | 237k Louis is the only omega to ever make it in the cut-throat world of competitive motorcycle racing—that is, he would be if anyone actually knew about his identity. Now, his sights are set towards competing in—and winning—the European Grand Prix, the biggest and most difficult race of the entire year, so he can disappear underground for good. He’s close enough, too, until an alpha sports journalist is assigned to follow Louis’s every move as he prepares for the event of his career. Or, an AU where motorcycle racing is the biggest sport in a heavily divided world, Louis is trying to take control of his own destiny, and Harry is in for more than he bargained for.

[*edited*]

Chasing Empty Spaces

by domesticharry | historical AU | 1930s | 79k The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

We’ll Be Seamless

by dinosaursmate for HL Fic Fest (2017) | Tumblr AU | pining | exhibitionism | voyeurism | 52k Green reblogged an old photo of himself. It was from back in October, a Halloween special. A pulse shot all the way through Louis because this photo was his absolute favourite, and it had taken the rest of the year for him to wean himself off of it. Green was on his knees, arms stretched out in front of him with his fingertips digging into the surface of his bed. He was wearing a pair of cat ears on his head, his curls falling forward. His back was arched, and in the foreground of the picture, Green’s bum was high in the air, a long, black cat tail sitting neatly between his cheeks. — Louis spends all his spare time scrolling arty nude blogs on Tumblr but amongst them all, Green is his favourite.

Given a Chance

by Fabby | Future Fic | canon compliant | slow burn | coming back together | anxiety attacks| 173k Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles. The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right? Wrong. What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival? (or, the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.)

No sooner loved (series)

by benzos 1| As the winter to foul weather Trans character | mpreg | abortion | hurt/comfort | 45k AU. An unplanned pregnancy throws a spanner into Harry and Louis’ relationship. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. 2| You and you are sure together Trans character | eating disorder | hurt/comfort | 48k AU. The first day of fall term, Louis hits one of his residents in the face with a door. Later that day, said resident seeks refuge after a fight with his roommate. It becomes a thing. And then it becomes something else. 3| Baby, i’m speeding, and red lights are run pwp | 7k Louis really would’ve liked to just order the damn thing off the internet, but Harry insists that anything going inside your body ought to be thoroughly researched, which, apparently, mandates going to a sex shop. Knowing how ludicrously uncomfortable Louis is with the whole thing, Harry devises the ingenious solution of bringing Eleanor along and having her pose as Harry’s girlfriend who’s interested in trying out pegging, with Louis tagging along as a supportive best mate. It’s not Harry’s worst plan to date, but it’s somewhere in that range.

Under me, you

by hazzafrazza | friends to lovers | superheroes | 12 k You Won’t Believe Who Was Spotted Leaving Harry Styles’ Primrose Hill Pad! If Harry was being completely honest, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be a world-renowned popstar and an infamous vigilante. (Especially when all the comic books said never reveal your secret identity to keep your loved ones safe – which was all well and good, until Louis.) Or: Harry wants a lot of things – fame, glory, Louis – but that last one is particularly hard to get when everyone thinks you’re dating your secret superhero alter-ego and suddenly you’ve become your own worst cockblock.

Such Good Luck

by casuallyhl for HL Mpreg Fic Exchange | Historical AU | 1910s | mpreg | secret relationship | class difference | 66k Louis smiles at Harry’s words, leaning into his touch. “Tell me again.” Smiling, Harry takes Louis into his arms. Pressing gentle kisses to his face, Harry murmurs, “In six months’ time, I will have my twenty-fifth birthday. On that day, my portion of the inheritance will become legally mine. And I plan that very day to announce to my family that I have found love.” Harry chuckles as he runs his lips lightly along Louis’ cheekbone. “That, in fact, I found love when I was twenty-one years old, and that I have loved and been loved every day since.” Or, an Edwardian AU where Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

What A Life I’d Have Missed

by harioandlouigi for HL Mpreg Fic Exchange | mpreg | established relationship | 27k It all started with a prank, tears, and guilt. Louis has been pranking Harry since the day they met. Now, seven years later, Harry has finally come up with the perfect plan to prank his husband back. He has a borrowed positive pregnancy test in front of him, he’s perfected his facial expression, and he’s dead sure Louis will fall for it. He doesn’t exactly get the panicked reaction he expected, though. As a matter of fact, nothing ever seems to turn out the way he expects it to, but that’s for the best, really. Or, the one where an insensitive joke soon becomes a very real, happy pregnancy.

Small Doses (Loving You It’s Explosive)

by Anonymous for HL Summer Exchange 2017 | personal trainer Harry | boxing | dom/sub undertones | 38k Louis Tomlinson finds himself at Vitality Fitness to try and turn his life around after having left his cheating boyfriend of four years. The gym’s owner, Liam, quickly becomes a good friend, but his right hand man is rude and dismissive from the get-go. Louis and Harry continue to clash all while Harry is trying to move his way up the ranks in Manchester’s amateur boxing circuit, but they can’t seem to stay away from each other.

Sound Like a Song

by allwaswell16 for HL Fic Fest (2017) | 14k In high school, Louis Tomlinson lit up Harry’s world like nobody else, even if Harry did most of his pining from the safety of his tightly knit circle of friends. Ten years later, Harry is ready to make some changes. He’s tired of having so many regrets and not taking charge of his life, and he still hasn’t forgotten how brightly Louis shines. He’s about to get a long awaited second chance. Or the one where Harry helps out at a farmer’s market and gives Louis free vegetables.

Take Me Back to Where We Started

by amory | exes to lovers | famous/non-famous | 27k Harry and Louis haven’t spoken since they broke up four years ago. As boarding school sweethearts they once spent every waking moment together, but now they can hardly stand to be in the same room. When their five year class reunion comes around, both boys decide against their better judgement to return and (hopefully) have a good time. The only problem is, they’re both still hopelessly in love. Starring Harry as the petty ex, Louis as the new James Bond, Niall as a boy genius and fake boyfriend extraordinaire, and Liam and Zayn as two friends just trying to make it out of this weekend alive.

Tightrope

by Anonymous for HL Mpreg Fic Exchange | mpreg | exes | friends to lovers | 33k Louis knows he and Harry are going to be together for the rest of their lives and one day they were going to get married and have three point five children, a dog, and two cats. But life hasn’t matched up perfectly yet and that time is not now. So they are both happy to be best friends and casually date other people until life decides they really should get their shit together. aka Louis gets pregnant from “one last time” sex and he and Harry somehow think they’ll be able co-parent without it being weird for anyone (most especially their new boyfriends).

Souls; Plural, Parallel

by Anonymous for HL Mpreg Fic Exchange | mpreg | soulmates | 19k Soulmates are rare, the sort of rare that means everyone has a story about a friend’s sister’s coworker or a brother’s roommate’s cousin. But the fact of the matter is that most people never meet theirs. It’s unfortunate then, that Louis finds out the hard way that he met his soulmate in a club, and the guy never texted him back.

Friend Request

by Anonymous for HL Summer Exchange 2017 | 11k This was written for Kassio as a pinch hit for the HL Summer Exchange, from the prompt: “ Louis is bored on Facebook and in the “People you may know” suggestions, he sees the name Harry Styles. The profile picture doesn’t show the person. He thinks it’s an old family friend who he misses – maybe a middle-aged or elderly former neighbor or babysitter who he was fond of as a child - and sends a friend request. Turns out it’s not old man Harry from their old neighborhood, it’s hot young Harry (who he’s never met before) who accepts his friend request…”

If the Surface Begs You Home

by Anonymous for HL Mpreg Fic Exchange | mpreg | mermaid!Harry | 17k Harry is a mermaid from the underwater kingdom of Mercadia who is a little too fascinated by life above the surface. He’s kicked out of his home after he winds up pregnant, and has to figure out how to make his way in the world. Louis is the darling of the small neighbouring seaside village who came home after university to take over their local library, and can’t seem to stay away from the mysterious pregnant mermaid his friends introduce him to.

Out of the blue corner

by fallingaway | boxing | slow burn 85k Louis is a boxer banned because of doping. Harry is a journalist following the story. * * * “It seemed like a normal morning, but he had a feeling it was the quiet before the storm. And by storm, he meant getting involved in Louis Tomlinson’s life.”

[thecupcakeconsumer]

The Numbers Don’t Count

JILY CHALLENGE | @thecupcakeconsumer vs. @prongsfoots

Social Media AU Theme: “shoot, i was stalking you on Instagram and accidentally liked a photo from 235 weeks ago”

Notes: Why is this up early? Well, that totally has nothing to do with my procrastinating on math and english and history homework... featuring it’s an AU so I’ll change whatever I like.

The time, her clock read, was 1:37AM – exactly four hours and twenty-three minutes before the same phone that she held in her hand would blast the same alarm as the default tone and she'd moan loudly, trying to turn it off without opening her eyes to the bright, unwelcome light.

Of course, Lily Evans was a little too busy stalking James Potter on Instagram for it to really register.

His account went years back and it seemed as though he'd never deleted anything – not even, she was finding, the photos of him before he'd started to transition.

She couldn't help it – his account was public and he was cute.

He'd been tagged in the most recent picture of their mutual friend Remus Lupin, and here she was, her curiosity having led her to a picture of the pre-transition boy and Sirius Black with the caption “More than friends? Never – we're both too gay.”

She lingered a little too long, and froze when the familiar heart was filled in with red.

“Oh, no,” whispered Lily. “No, no, no no no.”

It was bad enough that she'd been stalking him.

Now, she'd liked a picture from – what was that date? - March 24, 2013.

Four and a half years ago.

As if that wasn't bad enough, it was of him pre-transition: she'd look like a jerk.

Mary and Marlene would either be asleep or out drinking if she texted them at this hour: thus, asking her friends for advice was out of the question.

Should she like every picture so she didn't look like a bitch? Or would that seem too stalkerish?

Would he even notice?

She scrolled up to the top of the screen: @deerestjamie had 254 followers, and was following 409.

Cool, cool, cool cool cool cool. He wouldn't notice one like out of more than three hundred photos, would he?

Obviously, the best solution was just to leave it be and stop stressing, she resolved, putting her phone on the charger and flipping around to turn away from it.

(And yet all twenty minutes it took her to get to sleep, she couldn't stop thinking about it.)

Light streamed in through the narrow opening between the curtains, a bird chirped outside, the fall day just barely cool enough that one could wear a sweater or a t-shirt – of course, none of this mattered to the iPhone whose alarm was about as welcome to its owner as a sheep in heat would have been that morning.

“Oh my God,” murmured Lily, blindly fumbling for her phone and begrudgingly opening her eyes, her relief at managing to turn it off eclipsed by the Instagram notification – a DM from @siriuslyy.

She opened it, and was met with nothing more than “(ง'̀-'́)ง".

“Yeah, real eloquent, Black,” murmured Lily, before realizing there was also a screenshot that seemed to be taken from James's account of her having liked his picture, the only notification for the entire day.

Well, shit.

“Wait, why does Black have access to Potter's account?” murmured Lily, before shaking her head and rolling begrudgingly out of bed, deciding to address it after she got ready for work.

Sirius glared at his phone screen as he sat back on his chair during lunch, feet up on the break table even if he technically wasn't supposed to be lounging as such.

'I know you've seen this message Evans' he tapped out, sending the message, his lip curling when it registered as read almost immediately.

'Is it usual to have access to your best friend's Instagram?' came the sarcastic reply.

'There's nothing usual about us' Sirius answered, then adding, 'Is it usual to like a picture from over four years ago?'

A pause.

'Okay, listen.'

'Listening.'

Grabbing his water bottle off the table, Sirius easily opened it and started to drink, watching with slight amusement as she hesitated.

'I'll explain, but you can't tell James about this.'

'I can't control what the man does and doesn't notice.'

Not that James really would notice, considering almost a third of the pictures were posted by Sirius and he had turned notifications off so as to focus more on his work.

However, it wasn't as if anything would stop Sirius from standing up for James.

'Okay listen I stg I don't have a problem with his being trans – that's not why I was on his profile. Liking that photo was an accident.'

'Was being 3 years back on his profile an accident?'

Another pause, longer than the first.

'No?'

'Look, I have to go.'

And with that, he knew he'd lost her.

Damn.

He’d been having such fun.

“Hey, Lily,” greeted Remus, looking up from the book he was absorbed in when the bell at the door rung.

“Remus, your boyfriend is kind of an asshole.”

“Sirius? We know that by now, but since when do you know him?”

“You know he helps run James's Instagram?”

He blinked. “Since when do you know James? I mean, we all know by now that they're co-conspirators on about everything, but-”

“He was in your most recent picture. James, that is.”

Remus tilted his head to the side, as if trying to gauge what exactly Lily was on about, before realizing.

“You thought he was cute, didn't you?”

She flushed red.

“N-no, that's not what I – not that he isn't, but-” Remus smirked, which did nothing for her comprehensibility.

“I can't blame you, he's always been fairly attractive. Not my type, of course, but you wouldn't be the first who's fallen for him.”

“I did not fall for James Potter!” exclaimed Lily, flailing her arms and flinching when her hand hit one of the bookshelves in the small store. “Ow. Ow. What was I saying? Oh, right, I'm not falling for James Potter! Please. I don't even know the man.”

“Sure, sure, that's what they all say. You know, he's single?”

“He is?” asked Lily, before smacking herself internally when she realized by the way in which he only smiled wider that she'd managed to play herself. “Not that I care. That's great. Lots of people are single these days. Being single is the new being taken.”

“Played yourself, Evans. Now, what were you saying about Sirius? Wait, don't tell me.”

He put down his book on the counter, before walking around to the other side to examine her more closely. “You mentioned Instagram, and the fact that he's cute-”

“I did not-”

“Oh, please. What would Sirius have noticed, then? You know they both run his account, maybe you left a comment on a photo? No, you're that desperate… but stalking him?” Her involuntary twinge was all he needed. “You were stalking him and accidentally liked an old photo. Classic.”

“That's not fair,” murmured Lily, crossing her arms. “You're not allowed to come in here and smart-ass me-”

“Actually, you're the one who came in here, might I remind you. Not that you're unwelcome – it's been a while, hasn't it? And besides, you wear shame so well.”

“Remus!”

“Fine, fine. What do you want me to do about it?”

Her bottom lip jutted out. “I don't know. What am I supposed to do? Is he going to be upset?”

“Who?”

She raised her eyebrows as if it was obvious. “James?”

“Over… your liking one of his old pictures?” Lily nodded furiously. “James?”

“I don't know him!”

“Okay. Think of it this way. James is like the old man who sits in his chair reading the newspaper, and Sirius is like the overactive dog who barks at every disturbance.”

“So…?”

Remus shook his head with a laugh. “He's unlikely to even notice, and if he does he won't care, Lily. It's not a big deal. But – whatever you do – don't let him find out.”

“Because…?”

“Pretty girl like you stalking his Instagram? The man's ego is already big enough that it's a wonder he can fit through a door.”

She sighed in relief. “Oh, thank God. Thanks, Remus.”

“For?”

“For being the smart-ass you are.”

“Me? A smart-ass?” he asked in a bad impression of offense, subtly pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of her in the doorway, looking askance with a smile. “Why, I never.”

“Hey, Moon!” called out James as he entered the shared apartment, throwing his keys on the table and wincing when they fell short.

“James. Good day?”

He nodded, bending down to pick them up. “Great. Actually, work was pretty boring. Paperwork. Buuuut, I saw a cute girl today.”

“She work with you?” asked Remus conversationally.

“Nope!” answered James. “Actually, I didn't see her. Wait, no, that's not even true. I saw her, but like, not in person? I saw a picture of her, that is, taken in… what's your bookstore called again?”

“Lily?”

“No, no, that's not what it's – wait, is that her name?”

His friend smirked. “You know, I have her number.”

“You do?” asked James eagerly, wincing as his voice cracked on the last word. “Wait, seriously? You're not joking?”

“Do you want me to call her?”

“No!” He froze. “Wait, no. I mean, yes. I mean, maybe – you don't just call someone up. Aren't calls outdated? She probably has a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Then again, being single's on the up-and-up again. It's like being single is the new being taken. What was I saying? Oh, right, Lily. Pretty name. Pretty girl. Okay, I'll call her.”

James pulled out his phone confidently, before stopping. “I don't have her number.”

“I know, James.”

“I'm sorry, I'm just nervous.”

“I know, James.” Remus held out the phone with a grin. “Here. It's ringing.”

“What?!” squeaked James, hurriedly taking it from him. “Remus, you don't just-”

“Hey Remus, called to torment me?”

Even her voice had him in love.

“This isn't Remus.”

“Is this Sirius? I swear to God going through your boyfriend to get to me is just low.”

“What? No! You know Sirius?”

“Wait, if it's not Sirius, then who is this?”

He grinned. “It's James.”

A dramatic pause, then, “I hate you, Remus.”

“Oi! I'm not Remus! That's offensive, he has no taste in men.”

“I'm right here,” piped up the man in question, but was quickly shushed.

“Aren't you friends with Sirius?”

“Doesn't mean I want to date the man. Anyway, Lily, Lily Lily Lily, what're you doing this Friday night?”

If Remus had been drinking tea, he might have spit it out.

“This Friday night? No plans.”

“Great. Want to go out with me?”

A high pitched squeak resounded on the other end of the line, making it hard for James to discern whether or not it was from the technology itself or from his contact.

“Er, Lily?”

“That depends. Does Sirius have access to your phone too?”

“Not too often.”

“Give me your number and I'll be ready at eight.”

Waggling his eyebrows at Remus, he quickly gave her the number, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from spreading.

“I have no clue when I became your wingman.”

“Oh, shut up, Remus, you know you love me.”

“And?”

“And I love you too, Remy-poo.”

James sloppily kissed Remus on the cheek with a wet smack, nothing able to dull his mood.

Not even when he walked into his own door and found it closed, hitting it head-on.

“Adoorable.”

“Quiet, Moony.”