#or else the World will end (dennis will have gay thoughts)

[realbeefman]

boy best friends (:

[gensuta]

GAMES WITH TRANS/NONBINARY REP!!

Happy pride month!! I love playing video games so I thought it'd be neat to share the many many games I've played with nonbinary and trans characters >:3

Sorry in advanced I’m copying and pasting stuff from twitter ;v; Also know that many of these games ARE on consoles, but if you buy them on pc/mac use itch.io if it exists. It gives devs more money!!

VALIDATE!!  There's a demo on Steam and Itch.io that you can play RIGHT NOW and also a patreon you can support and I highly suggest it ^o^ It's a lovely VN with several playable characters and rlly good writing

Extreme Meatpunks forever is so SO good omg. It's a VN/mech brawler where u be gay and fight fascists!!! Trans and nonbiney ppl are out here being badass af. The game has cws/tws built into the game ( which i love sm ) Also there's a ttrpg on Kickstarter RIGHT NOW!! 

Another game with nonbinary characters is an rpg called Ikenfell! It was one of my favorite games to play last year and the music and just everything? Honestly so good I'm def replaying it this year. It also has tons of good accessibility features!

ok but i wanna geek abt ikenfell just a smidge more  U DON'T UNDERSTAND 3 OF THE PLAYABLE CHARACTERS ARE NONBINARY <333 The strongest playable character also uses ze/zir pronouns and I think that's pretty epic

Ok so like literally every game I've played by @analgesicprod I've loved 100% And Anodyne 2? Everyone should go play it and I will keep saying it until everyone does. And yes there's a trans character in it <3 Drem my beloved <3  Go check it out!!

Another game studio I love is @pillowfightio !!! They worked on Later Alligator, We Know the Devil, and Heaven Will Be Mine. I highly recc all of them but esp. Later Alligator cuz like just look at Joanie. They're so cool.  

In the game Everhood gender doesn't exist <3 Literally multiple characters are referred to with they/them pronouns and the gameplay is very enjoyable 

 CW LOTS of flashing lights and I feel like there should maybe be more cws but I'm not sure what else to add :l I guess a warning is that Everhood gets into more serious stuff and I'll be honest when the game first came out I had to put it down for several days b/c I just wasn't ready for a lot of that stuff, but I honestly liked the game a lot!

I was debating on adding this bc while I love this game there's some issues. So Gnosia is like werewolf ( or among us if you will ) but more narrative focused with time loops etc. There's two wonderful nonbinary characters and you can be nonbinary HOWEVER ( minor gnosia spoilers. skip past if you want to avoid it) . . . For some reason finding out the AGAB of one of the characters is mandatory and I fucking hate that. It's so unnecessary esp for the world building that's been done. Also tws for the game: sexual abuse / assault, gore ( in only one scene ) (spoilers end) but yeah I still added it because the characters are so neat and strong for the type of game it is and without that bit I wouldn’t feel so :/ abt recommending it. It’s pretty fun ngl

Wandersong!!! The main character is nonbiney and I love them <33 It's such a lovely little musical adventure with such a nice narrative and!! Some of the devs just released Chicory ( which I haven't gotten to play yet ;v; ) but check that out too!!

Bravery Network Online is super fun!! It's a turn based rpg that feels really good and has two characters that use they/them pronouns ( Fel and Reed ) the character designs are sooo good and the game is currently in early access!

I never thought I'd see a claymation point and click musical featuring a nonbinary detective but Dominique Pamplemousse is just that Need I say more?

A personal fav I think about every now and then is Dad fighter 30XX!! Like who doesn't wanna beat up their friend's shitty dad in the parking lot of a dennys?? Also the win music is my FAV

SPIRIT SWAP!!! By @SoftNotWeak !!!! Super chill and pretty game by lovely people with a demo you can play right NOW!! This game makes me want to become a strong magical thembo

More games I’ve played, but am too lazy to ramble about

ROM:2064 ( game is amazing but i got mixed feelings tho bc the og devs aren't getting paid for it I think :/ )

A Year of Springs

Secret Little Haven 

A normal lost phone

Calico 

Celeste

Hollow Knight

Undertale

Deltarune

Monster Prom / Monster Camp

Hades ( all of supergiants games slap btw )

If Found

Here’s games I haven’t played but have heard about

Bugsnax

Diaries of a spaceport janitor

Hustle Cat

Tell Me Why

Our Life

Last Minute Love

Black Tarot

Apex Legends

World of Warcraft has trans npcs :0

Dragon Age Inquisition

Sky, Children of the Light

TemTem

Battletech

Death and Taxes :0

Flicker :0 ( roblox games do count! It’s always cool to see what ppl make in it )

Assassins Creed Syndicate has a trans npc

Verdant Skies

Wandering Wolf Trick ( I love nomnomnami’s games sm but haven’t played this one. Highly reccommend her stuff )

If you have any games you wanna add to this PLEASE please do and I'll add them!! And while you're here please support the Queer Games Bundle going on itch rn to support tons LGBTQ+ game devs financially (including me ) <3 Last little edit for now: I’d def suggest trying to find cws/tws for these games just in case I haven’t covered everything for the ones I did talk about <3

[poisoned-peppermint]

I made dsmp incorrect quotes you wanna see em of course you do here

Bad: *seductively takes off glasses*

Bad: Wow...

Skeppy: *blushes* Haha... what?

Bad: You're really flipping blurry.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is something burning?

Bad, leaning seductively on the counter: Just my desire for you.

Skeppy: Bad, the toaster is literally on fire.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Hey, I’m getting in the shower. Wanna help me out?

Bad: ...Have you never taken a shower before?

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: So don't panic but one of us is possessed by an owl....

George: ....

Dream: .....

Sapnap: ......

Bad: ..Who?

Skeppy: That's the thing we don't-

*Everyone stares at Bad

~~~~~~~

*Everyone is giving advice to Sapnap*

Skeppy: It's okay to ask for help.

Dream: You're not a burden.

Bad: Murder is okay.

George: Your feelings matter. 

~~~~~~~

Dream: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses.

Sapnap: This knife is actually a magic wand.

George: Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel.

Bad: *cocks gun* Magic missile.

Skeppy: What the fuck is wrong with you people.

~~~~~~~

Dream: Did you bring Sapnap?

George, gesturing to Skeppy: No, but I brought the next best thing.

Dream: Skeppy? The next best thing would be Bad.

Skeppy: I would be offended, but Bad is freakishly strong.

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: You're a lying piece of shit!

George: Oh yeah? You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD!

Skeppy: I'm leaving and I'm taking Bad with me!

Dream, gathering cards: Aaaaand that's enough Monopoly for today.

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: So anyways have y'all seen Bad?

Dream: I think they went in Skeppy's room 'studying'.

George: Doubt that. I heard groans there.

*Meanwhile in Skeppy's room*

Bad & Skeppy, fighting:

~~~~~~~

Bad: Isn’t it weird that we can’t ride any other animal except horses. Like if horses weren’t a thing, humans would be fucked cause we couldn’t ride any other animals. Like riding animals wouldn’t really be a thing. We should probably be more grateful to horses.

George: Elephants.

Bad: Blocked.

Dream: Camels.

Bad: Extra blocked.

Sapnap: Donkeys.

Bad: Ultra blocked.

Skeppy: That dick.

Bad: ...Followed.

~~~~~~~

Bad, opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away

 ~~~~~~~

Quackity: I’m this close to falling in love with Sapnap.

Karl: Your fingertips are touching.

Quackity: Exactly.

~~~~~~~

Karl: So how’s the food Quackity made?

Sapnap: It's great! Compliments to them.

Karl: *goes to the kitchen*

Karl: You're adorable.

Quackity: *blushes*

~~~~~~~

Bad: Hey guys I just found a new song I really like-

Quackity: Is it about death?

Bad: No.

Sapnap: Is it about drugs?

Karl: Is it about sex?

Bad: NO- it's about happiness and peace and-

Quackity, Sapnap, and Karl:

~~~~~~~

Karl: Made you all playlists!

Karl: Sapnap, yours has only heavy metal, and is dark like your soul.

Karl: Quackity, yours has sad songs and blues to pair with your crippling depression.

Karl: And Bad has the ABBA Gold album. 

~~~~~~~

Karl: I give up. I am so tired.

Bad: Get the emergency supply!

Quackity: *carries Sapnap and places them in front of Karl*

Sapnap: *smiles*

Karl: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

~~~~~~~

Karl: What’s the announcement, Quackity?

Quackity: It’s a lecture. Bad’s gonna tell us everything they know about sex.

Sapnap: It should be an enjoyable 60 seconds. 

 ~~~~~~~

Bad: Sapnap, you'll be working with Quackity and Karl.

Sapnap: Alright! My fantasy threesome!

Everyone else: *blank stares*

Sapnap: ...Of people on a team.

~~~~~~~

Quackity: We might have gotten into a bar room brawl back in the city.

Karl: Well, that was entirely predictable.

Quackity: One of them punched a gang member.

Karl: Sapnap?

Quackity: Bad, actually.

Karl: Oh, that was going to be my second guess. 

 ~~~~~~~

Bad: Alright, which one of us is gonna check outside?

Karl: Not it!

Sapnap: Not it!

Bad: ...Neither one of you are as dumb as you lead on to be.

~~~~~~~

Karl and Sapnap: *making loud, shouty gorilla sounds at each other*

Quackity:

Bad, exasperatedly: We have a guest. 

 ~~~~~~~

Sapnap: I am darkness. I am a power. I am your worst nightmare. I could kill a man in more ways than you can imagine. I am the night. I am fury, I am a weapon, I am-

Karl: A doll.

Quackity: A cinnamon roll.

Bad: A sweetheart.

Sapnap:

Sapnap: ...stop it. 

 ~~~~~~~

Quackity, pointing to the wall: What color is this?

Sapnap: Gray.

Bad: Grey.

Quackity, turning to Karl: Now tell them what color you think it is.

Karl: Dark white.

~~~~~~~

Karl: We need to distract these guys.

Bad: Leave it to me.

Bad: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Sapnap & Quackity: *immediately begin arguing* 

 ~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad is too tall for me to kiss them on the lips. What should I do?

Ant: Punch them in the stomach. Then, when they double over in pain, kiss them.

Quackity: Tackle them!

Puffy: Dump them.

Velvet: Kick them in the shin!

Bad: No to all of those! Just ask me to lean down!!

~~~~~~~

Velvet: Christmas lights?

Bad: Check.

Ant: THermos of hot cocoa?

Bad: Check.

Quackity: Santa suits?

Bad: Check.

Puffy: Shovel?

Bad: Check.

Skeppy: Alibi and bail money?

Bad: Check- wait, WHAT?!

~~~~~~~

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Bad: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Skeppy: ...I did. I broke it.

Bad: No. No you didn't. Velvet?

Velvet: Don't look at me. Look at Ant.

Ant: What?! I didn't break it.

Velvet: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Ant: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Velvet: Suspicious.

Ant: No, it's not!

Quackity: If it matters, probably not, but Puffy was the last one to use it.

Puffy: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Quackity: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

Puffy: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Quackity!

Skeppy: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Bad.

Bad: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Quackity: Bad... Gumi's been awfully quiet.

Gumi: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Bad, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Bad: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Bad:

Bad: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here

~~~~~~~

Velvet: How much you wanna bet Bad got a Lap dance from Skeppy?

Ant: If that happend, Quackity can drink free tonight.

Quackity: As much as I love the thought of having free drinks I don't like the idea of Bad receiving a Lap dance from someone other than me.

Velvet: Hey Skeppy, did you give Bad a lap dance?

Skeppy: So what if I did?

Velvet, to Ant: I guess Quackity is drinking free tonight.

Skeppy: Be right back, I'm gonna go cry-

Bad, entering the room: What the muffin??

~~~~~~~

Bad: Skeppy kissed me!

Ant: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Bad: It was unbelievable!

Ant: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Velvet: Okay, we wanna hear everything. Ant, get the wine and unplug the phone. Bad, does this end well or do we need tissues?

Bad: Oh, it ended very well.

Ant: Do not start without me! Do not start without me!

Velvet: Okay, alright, let’s hear about the kiss. Was it a soft brush against your lips or was it like a, you know, “I gotta have you now” kind of thing?

Bad: Well, at first it was really intense, you know? And then, oh God, and then we just sort of sunk into it.

Velvet: Ohh... So, okay, were they holding you? Or were their hands on your back?

Bad: First they started out on my waist and then they slid up and then they were in my hair.

Ant and Velvet: Ohhh.

*meanwhile*

Skeppy eating pizza in their house: And, uh, and then I kissed them.

Quackity: Tongue?

Skeppy: Yeah.

Puffy: Cool.

~~~~~~~

Bad: If you can’t beat them, dress better than them

 ~~~~~~~

Bad: Okay okay stop asking me if I'm straight, gay, bi, whatever. I identify as a FREAKING THREAT.

 ~~~~~~

I will be making a part 2 shortly this is just getting to long

[pigtownchronicles]

Chapter 2.1 - Back to Reality

Dennis and Barry didn’t speak much for the rest of the weekend, after their night out at Depot. It was clear that something between them was withering in a way that was rather unexpected, but neither of them could articulate. Barry, however, was closer to understanding it. It was the same sensation that he always felt after a circuit party, or an orgy, when he was back in the quiet house again. He was back in reality. The party, the club, the sex, all of that was just fantasy, it couldn’t penetrate him. He couldn’t allow it to penetrate him. But when he saw someone like Samuel, or Parker, who not only allowed that energy to flow through them, but lived and breathed it, all he felt was restless. Like he’d done scuba diving, with all of this protection, only to discover other guys he knew had gills. That Dennis had intruded on that rather sacred experience, injected his own kind of order and justice and control into it only made him feel more sour, more disconnected, more jealous of what he could be, if he hadn’t chosen all of this.

Dennis, on the other hand, was feeling usurped. Annoyed that Barry had dragged him to that party, annoyed that he had challenged him when it came to Kyle and threatening to tell his father, annoyed that he felt bad about it, most of all. He’d done the right thing, he was sure of that. Kyle shouldn’t have been there, he was too young. It was illegal. Pretty much everything that was happening in that club was illegal, in fact. But Barry had put him on the defensive, a position Dennis hated, since he was very careful to always maintain a moral high ground. He felt like he needed to defend something that ought to be obvious. The fact that Barry apparently disagreed only made his own values feel more slippery. 

Barry dealt with the frustration by going to the gym, and stopping off at a gay sauna on the way back for a little action. Dennis dealt with it by making calls to the health department, the liquor control board, and the police department, reporting the myriad of violations he had witnessed at Depot on Friday. Neither of them felt satisfied, by the end of it. The energy that Barry was craving just wasn’t there, like it had been at Depot. The guys were all too nervous, too embarrassed, mostly older closeted men with wives in the suburbs. It only made Barry feel more hemmed in than before. Dennis kept getting the runaround from every agency he called. They would seem interested, and then as soon as he mentioned where he had been and they confirmed the address, the person on the other line would go quiet, say that wasn’t their jurisdiction, thank him for his vigilance and hang up on him. Only once, with a police officer, did he manage to get a little bit of info out of him. “Look, the folks you ought to talk to are down at Precinct 27. They handle everything in that neighborhood.” Frustrated, and again feeling like he was running into some bureaucratic red tape he hadn’t expected, he decided he’d pay a visit to the precinct sometime in the next week, and get some answers there. Surely they would have a more difficult time dismissing his complaints in person.

Monday came for them both. Dennis headed for the hospital--Monday was usually a day for appointments, and getting his surgeries for the rest of the week planned out and organized. Barry headed into the office, dreading it more than he had in some time. He’d hoped that seeing Samuel and having a chance to blow off some steam would have helped soften the blow of being passed over for a promotion, again. Instead, he just felt caught between two worlds, one unsatisfactory foot in each. He couldn’t invest himself entirely in his job--it bored him to death, and he didn’t understand how Dennis could stand being so normal all the time--but if he didn’t, he’d never get the respect there he longed for. Each time he saw Samuel though, it was like looking at some amazing being. He was so free. Sure, his life likely wasn’t easy, but it seemed effortless and fun and exhilarating in a way Barry’s had never been. It also terrified him, all the same, and he hadn’t even been able to hack an hour on the dance floor on Friday. He got settled in his office, and got caught up on his email for the first couple of hours, before the usual Monday morning meeting was due to start.

This is what he was dreading the most, of the entire day. He showed up a bit late, took a seat towards the far end of the table. Evan Ternbull, his current boss, was sitting at the front, and off to his left was Richard Carlisle, the man that Barry privately considered his rival, but they had never spoken more than a few words to each other, since Richard was a relatively new hire, and they’d been working on different projects.

“As you know,” Evan said once getting everyone in order, “I’m going to be transferring over to a new project team in a month or so, which I know all of you are so disappointed to hear about. I’m happy to announce today that Richard here will be stepping up into my role and overseeing your team for the remainder of your project. As you know, Richard is relatively new here, but he comes with some great outside experience, and I am very confident that he will be a great project lead.”

The folks around the table clapped for Richard, who stood up, looking a bit sheepish. How old could he be, really? Twenty-five, twenty-six? Slender, twinkish but clearly straight, Richard got up and introduced himself, talking about his wife, and about the baby they had on the way. The table clapped again, and Barry tried to mask his scowl as he clapped along. Part of him felt a bit bad now for feeling so entitled to the position. Dennis and he were doing just fine with their incomes, and he knew that kids were expensive--one of many reasons he’d never wanted one. But as soon as that sympathy popped up, he pushed it back down. Just because he was straight, just because he was “starting a family” didn’t mean he was entitled to more money than him. It didn’t mean he was entitled more respect.

That was it, wasn’t it? The respect. He didn’t feel respected here. He didn’t feel respected at home, even. Dennis loved him, sure, but did he respect him, really? Did it feel like a relationship between equals all the time? It didn’t. Barry would goad him, and half the time Dennis would just dismiss him out of hand, refuse to even engage, like fighting with Barry was simply beneath him. Like he knew that no matter how dissatisfied he might be, he’d never leave him, because he liked the money, and the lifestyle, and Barry’s own job here couldn’t afford it. 

He could barely focus for the rest of the meeting. After an hour, he faked a phone call, and retreated to his cubicle to think. Mostly, he stared at the little business card that Hugh had given him, and thought about what on earth “Broker” might mean. Someone in the drug trade, apparently, if Hugh worked for him. So much of that conversation had been...weirdly cryptic, but Hugh had been right about the central proposition. Barry was unsatisfied with his life, and more hemmed in he felt--by Evan, by Dennis, by Richard now--

“Hey, Billy, right?”

He was startled up from his thought, looked up and saw Richard looming in the doorway of his cubicle. The meeting was over apparently--was this the first thing he’d thought to do? Hunt Barry down?

“Barry, actually.”

“Oh shoot, sorry man. Everything alright? You zipped out of there in a hurry.”

“Yeah, just the husband, you know. Everything sounds like an emergency to him.”

Richard laughed, “Yeah man, I get it. Hey, Evan told me that you were on the shortlist for the position, and I just wanted to let you know that he thought you would have been a great choice too, and he wants you to keep throwing your hat in the ring, alright? He just didn’t think that this position would be a better stepping stone for me, since we’re at the tail end of a project, about to ship. He knows that wouldn’t have been a challenge for you.”

Barry’s face was growing a bit heated. Evan thought so, huh? Then why wasn’t Evan here telling him this? Why send this cherub faced little shit to come apologize on his behalf? “Sure thing, I understand. Besides, you got the growing family to feed, right?” Barry said, stretching his mouth into something he hoped was a smile and not a sneer, and from the way Richard’s face lit up back, he must have managed well enough. They chatted a bit about Barry’s current duties, and then Richard moved on to the next member of the team.

That settled it, then. If nothing else, he would have his curiosity satisfied. If it was a service that could make his life better, than great. Why care that the info came from a drug dealer? He pulled out the card Hugh had given him on Friday--it was rather simple. All it had was a name, Ian Miller, the word “Broker” below it, and on the bottom of the card, a phone number. He picked up his phone, and gave the mysterious number a call.

***

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[godstiel-coded]

Semi-coherent Dean-centric rambles

Okay so a lot of this is non sensical, tangential, and a lot is copy n pasted from my rants in hell so please join me in partaking in shrimp emotions in this dennys

Okay so first off I got thinking abt post purgatory 1.0 bc of a post you can see if you scroll a bit and I mean like its so entirely possible that Cas sat beside Dean while he slept on the ground and kept a hand on him while he slept fitfully (dean couldnt be On him that'd impede cas' defense if monsters arrived) and he probably couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in his dingy motel woth Cas' hand resting on his shoulder as he sots on the other side of the bed, deep in thought because Sammys a smart kid he'd know that Dean wouldn't let anyone else do that he'd know that Dean hadn't slept that well in years like??? He would feel vulnerable and therefore take it out on Cas but Cas would be confused y'know in Heaven he was a soldier so you watch over those who cant fight (none of them sleep but surely theyve been injured) so to him its no big deal of course if it was someone else he'd sit across the room but he hears Deans yearning as prayer and knows the tether to something familiar helps him sleep so of course he would sit beside him while he slept as he always did in purgatory!!

And like yknow from there I cant help thing about how so much of Destiel is "of course" Like its Such a destiel phrase and I can't stop thinking about it because like it almost seems like "I need you to take me for granted so at least I know I belong by your side" vibes. As long as its "of course" that means its recognised as intrinsic as necessary as expected not something they can discard Aaaaa!! *of course* I would do anything for you is permission to expect anything to be done its its this acknowledgement that they don't need to talk about it because the answer is always yes!!

Yknow *of course* cas woukd watch dean sleep after purgatory because thats what they do thats what they had been doing but Dean he'd feel so damn Exposed like anyone could see it on his face that he doesn't have an Excuse now he's topside but Cas he doesn't need an excuse because *of course* he would wait patiently for dean to wake because dean needs his sleep and cas needs dean on the top of his game and dean hates to sleep alone anyways what reason does he have to Not like obviously there is something he can do that is painless thst is easy that comforts and lulls Dean and ensures he is resting deeply (relative) and safely like Cas would watch the world burn for Dean *of course* he would sit on his shitty motel bed, calm and still, hand resting on Dean's shoulder so that the warmth can soothe his subconscious. A few hours is nothing to Cas nothing at all why would he not why would he expect such a strong rejection after everything they've been through this seems like an "of course" to him and he knows Dean he knows ot would help him sleep and Dean knows it too but be knows that if it was anyone else it'd hardly make a difference so he feels vulnerable aaah okay okay I'm talking myself on circles

And yknow what *of course* Dean would grieve like a widow for Cas because Cas deserves to not be forgotten not when no one else even knows him not when theyre the only ones who Can remember him except Sam is pretty much okay but Dean is drowning in the sorrow and Cas will never know that!! Cas will think Dean pushed through it like everything else and why would Dean tell him because *of course* he must know, Cas seems to know everything about him how could he ever think Dean would be okay without him

So naturally, *of course* Dean prays every night and *of course* Cas listens to every word because they have intricate gay rituals and all hell seems to break loose (sometimes literally) the more they deviate from them!!

It just breaks me inside because Mr. Repression and misery himself loves Cas like its the only viable option and even when he panics and rejects him or shuts down *of course* its not really how he feels and Cas loves Dean like he's the only thing worth loving (minus his son) because *of course* he is and Dean cant fathom that because hes one of trillions of humans and aaaahhhh what better success story could there have been than for Dean to learn not o lt that Cas loves him but to see in himself what Cas does and yeah we get a little bit of that in 15x19 but he deserved to Live that Truth with Cas right there beside him

And yknow through all of this its Sam who he's known for being most codependent with and that makes sense because Dean picks Sam first priority because he doesn't know who he is without being Sams Mommy big brother and he mourns Cas like That because without Cas he doesn't know who he wants to be and the MOC lecture about how when Dean destroys all the world Cas will be the one left to watch yknow the past and present have always been Sam but in the future he dares to hope for Sam is safe and sound marrying someone or something, living the life he wants but not unreachable and Cas is the one by his side so yeah he has to choose Sam bc Sam is the basis of who he thinks he is and he just simply can't give up on that part of himself or lose Sam and live knowing he failed him but losing Cas hits like a bag of bricks because he loses his best friend and feels he fails him but he also loses his hope for who he could be the people they could be together the life he craves when he dares to hope for the light at the end of the long series of progressively larger guns the tunnel

He deserved a success story damn it and what bigger success could there be than Dean learning that someone could choose to love him flaws and all I mean from 15x18 to 15x19 we saw Cas words hit home and he finally said he Is more than daddys blunt instrument and he said it to the one who created his fate and thats bc Cas like imagine what could come of a few years to decompress and to *live* the life they earned the life they could build together

They deserved it. We deserved it.

[Image description : colored banner reading "WINCEST/BIBROS FANS DNI"]

[ayankun]

things that make me ABSOLUTELY INSANE about episode 5

REMEMBER WHAT I SAID ABOUT THE LAUGH TRACK PROBABLY BEING OF NARRATIVE IMPORT, and then it COMPLETELY WAS A PLOT POINT this week, in the first scene with Agnes flubbing her part, AND THEN the CCs actually did notate the audience reactions --

-- but only at the end of the fucking episode when “Pietro” shows up???????

whyyyyyy

The fact that Elizabeth Olsen plays a character who not only is a twin but also has twins on a show that sends up the show on which her IRL twin sisters played one single character. 

The part where Wanda tried to use her powers on her babies physically turned my stomach and I was SO GLAD it didn’t work.

UGHH that dancing-with-the-babies-date like FUCK domesticity is my KINK.

There was an OVERLOAD of primary colors on the set this week, and I desire to know what it means.  Is it because babies/kids are associated with primary colors?  Was the Full House house littered with red-yellow-blue?  TELL ME WHAT IS THE REASON.

WHAAAAAAAAAAAT is the connection between Agnes and Dennis.  They had that whole interlude in ep 2, and now they both demonstrate an actionable fear of displeasing Wanda, when everyone else is/has been more or less outwardly oblivious to the situation.  (Dennis has a copy of his IRL person’s driver’s license on the mystery board, but Agnes DOES NOT)

I legit called the aging-up of the kids.  I said it out loud two weeks ago.  You know who you are, you can back me up on this.  They can play within the cut-corners of the sitcom-fiction format.  In fact, Jimmy said what we were ALL thinking, “they’ll be empty-nesters by the end of the episode” and I’m IMPRESSED AND DISGUSTED that they know what we’re thinking because they wanted us to think it.

when the Wanda-magic red brush went in and lovingly, unnervingly brought Vision to life in the new 80s opening credits, I screamed “FUCK YOOOOU” at my computer screen I do not lie

Birds.  Birds and flowers.  Birds and flowers are very everywhere.  On the walls, on the clothes.  This whole times.  oh what can it mean.  I need to know what it means.

I LEGIT thought the joke was going to be that Vision doesn’t have any baby photos and just existed as a full grown adult, but then the joke was that he does have baby photos

THIS

He has a chip in his hand and then he throws it over his shoulder because he doesn’t eat food.

I’m honestly conflicted as to whether I’m reading Jimmy as gay or in a very cute and nerdy OT3 with Darcy and Monica.

STOP

HAMMER TIME

Is Wanda being mind-controlled to resurrect Vision so that SWORD can co-opt him as their new weapon and the investigation/rescue/assassination scenario is itself a staged production cast with unwitting players??????

I PROMISE this is not what it looks like:

IT’S THE LOBSTER JELLO MOLD OR WHATEVER FROM THE TOASTER AD IN EP 1

ok I won’t joke around, I rewatched this on my folks’ monster tv and when I paused to see what ad was on the paper this time, my brain CRUMPLED:

THAT IS A PICTURE OF AN ASTRONAUT INSIDE A TV.  MOONMEN CONFIRMED

Also, the frontpage headline is “Local Homemakers Innovating Recipes,” emphasis on home-making.  Making a home.  From scratch.  With your mind.  Wanda.

Also-also, the tiny scroll over the top is like “MORE DRAMATIC DETAILS ABOUT THE LIGHTS IN THE SKY ABOVE WESTVIEW”

Are these SWORD-infiltrating-the-magic-barrier lights, or are these UFOSSSSSS

The realization that when Agnes appeared like a fairy godmother to help Wanda out of the dinner jam in ep 1, it was Wanda manifesting a solution to her problem using her God-will :|||||||||

HWAT is the emblem on Agnes’ brooch:

“Wanda, we are usually so much of the same mind.”  OOF

Jimmy just GLEEFULLY marching in with coffee for his girlfriends and ONLY for his girlfriends

fukkin  HEXAGON >> HEX >> MAGIC >> SCARLET WITCH INCOMING YOOOOOOOOOOOO

NORM SNAPPING BACK INTO CHARACTER MID-EXISTENTIAL-CRISIS GOOD LOOORRRRDDDDD GIVE THIS MAN AN EMMY RIGHT MEOW

NOT WANDA INSTRUCTING HER CHILDREN ON THE IMPORTANCE OF RESPONSIBLE OWNERSHIP OF LIVING THINGS, AND THEN WATCHING HER SON MAKE THE DOG DO TRICKS AT HIS BIDDING -- LIKE MOTHER LIKE SON AMIRITE

So I don’t have a Unified Theory of Color for the WandaVision canon yet, but even a chump like me can pick out RBG:

somebodypleasejustellmewhatthegoddamnbirdsmean

I KNOW I’m insane, I’m totally not debating that, but “no joy” sounds a lot like it could have something to do with NJ, WestView, NJ.  W V, N J i mean I’m crazy, but it’s not not there

like okay, so IRL Wanda is still fully Sokovian, accent and all ... she had a tough life from a young age and I firmly cannot believe she spent any of that time watching mid-century American sitcoms so I STILL BELIEVE, AT THIS POINT, that we are being told that there is some other entity at least partially responsible for what’s going on here. 

like Monica said, I don’t think any of this was by Wanda’s design.  I think there’s a Wanda what done the grave robbery, and a Wanda what got whammied same as Monica did when she got stuck inside, the difference between Wanda-Wanda allowed to be in control somewhat and Monica getting overwritten as Geraldine being that Wanda has Mind Stone powers and that’s the root cause of all this reality-bending stuff (and the CMBR)

CASE IN POINT OF WANDA STARTING OUT AN INNOCENT AND INADVERTENTLY, OVER TIME, SLOWLY, WILLFULLY TAKING CONTROL ---

1) Vision suspects as much, and he’s perfect, so he’s probably right.

2) The nature of the female-empowerment agenda depicted in the mid-roll ads, where early on the Woman Character was subservient to the Man Character, and as of this week’s ad, the Man is comically infantilized while the Woman more or less has her shit together

3) FOR WHEN YOU MAKE A MESS YOU DIDN’T MEAN TO

Jezus you guys, the whole concept of the show using the gradual sophistication of the American television audience, as represented by the amalgam of the content it consumed in particular eras, to underscore Wanda’s own gradual journey from the vapid fiction of the post-war Dream Life to the slightly more heavy, but no less contrived fiction of the Perfect Family,,,,,,,,

AND THEN you have the ads, which also mirror the real-world marketing attitudes of the time

which also mirror Wanda and Vision’s personal histories to date

which also mirror the evolution of Wanda’s personal rise to power as depicted in this specific show

“Bring who back?” GOD there is an ELEPHANT in the ROOM and his name is VISION

Vision just BLUNTLY BRINGING UP THE FACT THAT WANDA IS RUINING EVERYONE’S LIVES LIEK WHAT ARE YOU DOING BRO

and then she ROLLS CREDITS ON HIM LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL GIRLBOSSSSSS

holy crap, 4th wall much???

WHY DID THEY AHVE TO BE IN THE AIR FOR THAT ARUGMENET I MEAN I’M NOT COMPLAINING BUT IT IS HILARIOUS AS ALL HELL

JEEEEEEZ so the reveal that all this is real people real stuff real place, and that this is Vision’s stone-cold corpse with a fresh new mind shoved inside of it -- he legit has no memory of the Before, because that wasn’t even him.  He’s just as trapped as anybody else, and Wanda is his domestic abuser !!!!!!

I HATE IT HERE

[rosmarinys]

i should not care but i don’t know how

read on ao3, dedicated to @josephgraham for creating this crackship that i’ve accidentally been sucked into, thank u king ahdsahfksjfka

It starts like this: Peter heads to café to ask Gran if she thinks that Dad is acting shifty – because he is, Peter might have been gone for a while and Dad could be different now, but guilty is guilty and Peter can read it all over his face, he just doesn’t know why – and as he walks in, he bumps into someone walking out.

“Sorry,” Peter says on reflex, ready to step back and let the stranger pass by.

The guy looks up at him and Peter is struck for a second at how attractive he is – which is, what? Peter has never been one to take stock of how attractive men are, he’s into women, women like Lauren and Lola, all curves not heavy muscle like this man is – but isn’t allowed a second to recover because the stranger winks at him.

“I’m not,” he says before brushing past Peter and disappearing down the street.

His front had pressed against Peter’s for a moment and there had been a second in which Peter wanted to press back but he hadn’t and why does it feel like a missed opportunity?

He shakes himself and heads into the café. No time for a sexuality crisis, Ian is hiding something.

//

 Time passes and Peter keeps seeing the stranger around. Lola tells him that his name is Tubbs and, seriously? Peter does suppose that he is big, but it seems like pure muscle, very little fat. Not that Peter spends a lot of time thinking about his body. He’s been busy, Dotty and Bex are helping him find out exactly what happened on the boat and Peter likes to think that Ian isn’t capable of murder but he thought the same of Bobby, once.

It’s a couple of weeks before Peter actually talks to Tubbs again. This time, Tubbs snatches the newspaper out of Peter’s hand while he was reading it, walking back towards Dad’s house. Peter opens his mouth to snap at him, but Tubbs beats him to it, opening the newspaper theatrically in front of his face and asks, “Been asking after me, pretty boy?” His eyes glint mischievously at Peter, the only thing he can see over the paper, dark and bright.

Peter feels himself scowl while there’s a flush spreading on his neck. “We have a mutual friend, don’t make it something it’s not.”

Tubbs drops the newspaper and grins. “Just said that you were asking after me, who said anything about something else?” His smile is filthy, and Peter wants to kiss him. Which is- a lot to deal with at 10am on a Thursday. So he scowls further and holds his hand out for his paper before marching off.

And if Tubbs brushes his fingers against Peter’s for a second, then Peter doesn’t think about it afterwards. Not at all.

 //

 The third time he meets Tubbs is when things come to a head. Peter is getting drunk at E20, a gay club, yes, but Peter is testing the waters, and Tubbs walks in.

Peter actually doesn’t notice Tubbs coming in despite the fact that the chair he’s sitting in gives him full view of the entrance; his alcohol tolerance has shot so far down since he had Louis, he can feel his 18-year-old self’s disgust at his inability to last past five tequila shots.

Tubbs slides into the seat in front of him. “You following me or something?” Peter slurs, resting his head on his fist, having to look up Tubbs this way. It feels right like this, like the world has always just been slightly off and he’s finally corrected it. Tubbs isn’t someone who should be looked down at, Peter realises.

“You wish,” Tubbs snorts and Peter grins at him, dopily and he hopes its not a trick of the light that makes the way Tubbs grins back him seem fond. “You are fucked,” Tubbs laughs, and gets up and half-picks Peter up underneath his arms and Peter feels himself blink at the strength Tubbs must have. “Let’s get you home, I don’t want Ian Beale on my case, from what Ben’s told me, I imagine I would die of annoyance.”

Tubbs turns to smirk at Peter, his arm around his torso, Peter’s own arm draped over his shoulder, and he smirks as if they are in on an inside joke together and at one point they came outside, Peter can feel the dew of the air soak into his jumper, and Tubbs is taking him back to that house and it’s too much, all of it is and Peter would rather be taken anywhere else so he opens his mouth and speaks and immediately wants to punch himself in the face.

“My dad killed Dennis.”

Tubbs freezes, Peter feels his shoulders tense beneath his arm, his hand tightening on Peter’s waist. He turns to look at Peter and his face is so close, Peter can see that he actually has tiny freckles on his nose and has to restrain the urge to trace them.

“What?” he asks, and his voice is low, his face blank and it feels wrong, Peter is looking down at him again and he isn’t grinning or being a shit and the world is knocked off kilter again and it feels off in a way that its always felt since Lucy died.

“I don’t know why I told you that, you’re just so-so-” Peter stutters and if he was more sound of mind, he would see Tubbs’ eyes flickering around the street to make sure they’re alone.

“What?” Tubbs repeats and Peter wants things to feel the way they did in E20, just for a second, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching down and kissing Tubbs.

There’s a second in which Tubbs makes a noise of surprise that he feels in his bones before kissing Peter back and he can feel his knees go weak but then Tubbs pulls back and frowns. “You’re drunk, Peter,” he says, holding Peter’s chin back when he tries to kiss him again. “Easy, cowboy. How about you try again when you’re sober, eh?”

Peter blinks, drowsily, and nods, mind slowing to a halt, too many thoughts in his head crashing into each other, he likes to think that his brain wasn’t a car crash once, probably before Lucy died but what use is there thinking about that Peter, he’s in the grave with his twin sister.

He barely notices the rest of the journey home or how Tubbs gets him onto the couch, only feels it when Tubbs’ hands leave him.

 //

 (The next night, Peter drags Tubbs into the nearest alleyway and barely manages to ask, ‘Can I?’ before Tubbs is yanking him down and kissing away any other words that rested on his tongue.)

 //

 It becomes a thing that isn’t quite a thing. Peter means to bring it up sometimes – there’s only so many times he can tolerate Ben’s shit-eating looks before he snaps – but Tubbs puts his mouth on his pulse point and his veins feel like electricity and its forgotten.

He manages to ask once, Tubbs stretched out on the hotel bed in a distracting manner as Peter tugs on a shirt. “So, what exactly are we?”

“Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you’re about to propose,” Tubbs says, turning his head to look at Peter, eyes hooded.

Peter throws a sock at him. “Shut up, I was just asking, I’ve never – y’know. Whatever,” he sighs and reaches for his shoes.

Tubbs sighs as well behind him and Peter likes to think that he’s watching him, that he likes what he sees. “It’s just sex, calm down, pretty boy.”

Peter glances back at him and thinks that he’s never seen anyone as gorgeous as Tubbs is, nice to look at in the way that fills Peter between the gaps in his rib cage. “Right,” he says at last. He stands up and grabs his jacket. “Well, later,” and it all feels very anticlimactic, like it always does when he runs off as soon as they’re done, brain running at a hundred miles an hour and he needs to run to the nearest bench and sit with his head in his hands and try to figure out why having sex with Lauren leaves him tired afterwards whereas sex with Tubbs leaves him desperately alive afterwards, like he’s touched an open wire.

Tubbs catches his hand as he passes by towards the door. His thumb presses into Peter’s wrist, feeling the pulse thrumming underneath and when Peter looks at him, he’s focused on their hands and he sees Tubbs’ chest stutter when he wraps his fingers around Tubbs’ wrist in response.

“Stay?” Tubbs asks, and then his expression shutters, closing off that emotion that Peter couldn’t quite read. “We can watch the history channel, or whatever.” Peter tells himself that he doesn’t care that Tubbs knows what he likes to watch on the TV.

He drops his jacket and watches Tubbs grin, hard muscle softening for a second.

 //

 It continues that way, Peter staying for longer and longer after until he doesn't even think of leaving, just lies half on Charlie while their sweat cools – “You can call me Charlie y’know,” Tubbs says once, before immediately sucking a hickey in Peter’s neck so that he almost forgot but remembered just as he was leaving, just in time to whisper, “Bye, Charlie,” and smack a kiss onto Tubbs’ cheek and feel the heat that blossomed beneath his lips. Peter’s face rests on Charlie’s collarbone, fingers mindlessly tracing shapes on his bicep as he murmurs into his skin, “He lied to my face, Charlie, and I actually believed him.”

Charlie hums and Peter feels it run through him. “Some people are just bad to the bone, baby, nothing you can do about that. My dad was the same way.” He reaches a hand up and runs it through Peter’s hair. He’s doing it to distract him, but Peter lets him, rolls his head up to meet his eyes. “Hello there, pretty boy.”

“Hello,” Peter replies, and kisses him.

 //

 (This is how it ends: it doesn't.)

[lauraexplorer]

Macdennis + Mania (Fallout Boy)

I simply can not listen to the Fallout Boy album Mania anymore without thinking about Macdennis. Some of those lyrics sound just like the whole album written from Mac’s perspective to or about Dennis? I get so excited when I listen to those songs now! I know it’s a very niche thing so I’m going to break down some of the lyrics from some of the songs, hopefully some other Macdennis shippers can see what I mean. (All lyrics are in italics)

Hold Me Tight Or Don’t

And when your stitch comes loose I wanna sleep on every piece of fuzz And stuffing that comes out of you

‘stitch comes loose’ that’s Mac talking about when Dennis is having one of his bad days. Breaking down, feeling emotionless, feeling too many emotions. That’s Mac just wanting to be there for him. Fuck…

So hold me tight Hold me tight, or don't Oh n-n-no, no this isn't how our story ends So hold me tight

Mac just really wants Dennis to hold him! That is all. Also ‘isn’t how our story ends’. Mac never gives up on Dennis. He’ll reject him, move states and more but Mac isn’t giving up. That’s love right there!

I can't not be with you Or be just your friend I love you to death But I just can't, I just can't pretend We were lovers first Confidants but never friends Were we ever friends?

That. That right there. That is Macdennis from BOTH their perspectives. Sure they were best friends, now slowly to the fear of them both they are becoming more than friends. But wait were they ever just friends, was there always something else deep down, WERE THEY EVER JUST FRIENDS?

I'm pretty sure that this isn't how our story ends

Hell yeah it isn’t, boys! I am so ready for series 14.

Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)

There's nothing more cruel than to be loved by everybody but you Than to be loved by everybody but you, but you

Mac and his desperate yearning for Dennis and Dennis alone.

I know it's just a number but you're the 8th wonder

Really desperate yearning™

I miss the days when I pretended with you I miss the days when I pretended with you, with you

Although Mac is happy that he is out and proud, he misses the days when he pretended to be just friends with Dennis. Now Dennis knows Mac’s feelings he seems more distant and tense around him. It was easier.

And I became such a strange shape, such a strange shape from trying to fit in Yeah, I became such a strange shape, such a strange shape

Mac has been many shapes. Fat, skinny, bear, hunk, twink, beefcake, you name it! Many of these body types purposefully, to try and fit in.

Church

Oh damn, hearing this song now makes me legitimately feel crazy. Like the whole song sounds like it was written from the perspective of someone who is deeply religious so feels really desperate and guilty about falling in love with someone that their religion says they shouldn’t. That’s just Macdennis! I’m

If you were church, I’d get on my knees Confess my love, I’d know where to be My sanctuary, you’re holy to me If you were church, I’d get on my knees

The whole song sounds so desperate. It’s Mac and his canon head over heels love for Dennis, babey!

I love the world but I just don't love the way it makes me feel

Like bro, that lyric right there is just Mac when he hated himself for being gay because he thought that it was sinful and god would hate him for it. 

My sanctuary, you're holy to me

That’s Mac talking about Dennis, bro…

I could go off about many other songs on that album too, but then my post would be annoyingly long. I am so in deep with shipping Macdennis right now. That’s a good ship right there. it’s making me crazy sounding.

[managician]

ARC V Anniversary Day 4

Discussion prompt:  Who’s your favorite character(s)?

Hoo boy, I ended up making a top 10 because there’s so many lovable characters in this cast and I want to talk about them all... Warning for incredibly long descriptions as the top goes on (I’m sorry for mobile users)

10. Reira Akaba

Look at this precious bab. Right off the bat I knew I would like them — I have a kind of weakness for child characters (Rua is one of my faves from 5DS too for a reason), but I never actually expected to love them as much as I do right now. Seeing this little afraid kid with no sense of self grow into a person of their own and playing a literal key role in the resolution of the final conflict was so satisfying. 

09. Ray Akaba

Aand naturally, with me loving Reira it probably comes off as no surprise that I love Ray too. Even with the extremely limited screentime, she shot through the roof as one of my favorites. She was no goddess or super powerful entity that had the equal means to fight Zarc, but she did so anyway. And she won. She’s the porter of an incredibly inspiring message and pretty much symbolizes the core of ARC V’s narrative; she saw trouble and she knew cowering in fear would solve nothing, so she took a step forward with courage and believed in her own worth. POINT IS, Ray is awesome.

08. Rin 

Ahh, Rin... It’s one of the few cases where it’s hard for me to articulate what I like about her the most. I actually wasn’t super invested in her when I first finished watching the show, but one of my friends really likes Yugo and Rin and that got me to think more about her beyond her lack of screentime, and I found myself suddenly appreciating her a lot. She has all her pragmatic yet caring personality and goals scattered throughout the show if you pay attention to her interactions with Yugo, and you can actually get a extremely solid grasp on the kind of the person she is — even her deck plays into it (a logical and ruthless Burn Damage deck, which showcases she’s not here for anyone’s bullshit). 

07. Shun Kurosaki

Shun is a fairly biased case for me, I’ll totally admit. I didn’t actually like him that much during my watch of the show though, and it wasn’t until the XYZ/Fusion Arc that I looked at the events of ARC V in retrospective and realised how much Shun had been involved in. I’m a sucker for stoic and ruthless characters learning to trust people again, and Shun fit into the mold perfectly. And he definitely did strike me as cool from the first go, with Rise Falcon’s insane OTK against the LDS Trio back in Standard, so even if I wasn’t actively rooting for his character I wanted to see what direction he’d take. Seeing him grow and finally make peace with the Yuto/Ruri situation at the end of the show made me incredibly happy; I think that he could finally start leaving all the bitterness and pain behind and begin a new journey of hope with his comrades. 

06. Serena

Another case of me being somewhat (okay, really) gay and biased for girls. I loved Serena right from the first go; her pushy and pretty aggressive personality caught my interest, and we got a glimpse of her backstory with Reiji pretty soon after her introduction, which made me feel connected with her very easily. Yet another misguided Academia student — though her arc is completely different compared to say, Sora’s or Dennis’s. She had even less information about the outside world than the rest of the Fusion gang did, and so of course the key for her was learning the truth. Thanks to Yuzu and Shun she was able to check by herself how horrorific her Academia comrades’s actions had been, and she immediately decides to fight against the injustice. There’s something admirable about her relentless courage and will to do what’s right, and she never stops being herself and fighting like she wants to the very bitter end. Pretty inspiring for me, honestly.

05. Reiji Akaba

And we enter Top 5, starting off with Reiji, who is frankly the trickiest character for me on this list. Unlike many people I know I didn’t ever think of him as an evil or dettached rival, because of... His scarf. Yes, his stupid gravity defying-scarf. Red symbolizes heroism in many Japanese shows, so I had the hunch that Reiji would end up acting nicer than he did at the beginning of show. And boy, did he. He’s an incredibly compelling and well-rounded character who is a clear contrast to Yuya’s bright entertainment, and he expresses his emotions in a very subtle way. He’s an unexpected rival who subverts tropes left and right, just like the protagonist; and while it’s clearly a case of the “I Had To Grow Up Too Early” trope, it’s executed so brilliantly well that you can’t help feel sorry for him, even if you don’t particularly like him. ...Which was actually what happened to me, I barely cared for him in my first watch of the show... And then I loved him and suddenly he was in my top favorites. He’s so great.

04. Sawatari Shingo

I’ll say it right from the go, I didn’t ever think a character of Shingo’s type could get me so interested. From the beginning of the show I saw him as Yuya’s ‘rival’ in a purer sense of the word than Reiji; they’re both Entertainment Duelists and have a more direct confrontation in the championship’s Action Duel. But that’s all he really was to me, another showcasing of Entertainment and a fun character to see when he was on screen, nothing else. And yet I found myself taking a deep liking to him when he finally tried to steer his own path; despite being a loud, kind-of comedy relief character if the situation requires for it (somewhat akin to Jounouchi in DM, perhaps), at the same time he’s a quite talented Duelist who enjoys pulling a crowd’s attention towards him. He wants to impress people and that’s something I could relate to in a very intimate way, as much as I preferred Yuya’s ideology. And he grew so much during the BB Arc with Crow too, it was so cute.

Tied for 3rd spot - Yuto and Yuzu Hiragi

Aka... I tried really, really hard to pick one... But I had to give up. Sometimes I say Yuto’s 3rd and Yuzu 2nd and some other days it’s the other way around, and then sometimes I straight up can’t decide. Like today. 

I wasn’t big on Yuto at first at all. He did intrigue me, especially because thanks to him we were introduced to the same-face plot that set off the whole Standard arc in the first place, though that was it. I thought he was cool, a character you can appreciate if he comes up with screen, but don’t actively think of outside of that. Broodingly dark characters tend to piss me off unless they quickly grow on me, which probably added to me not feeling very interested in either him or Shun at the beginning of the show; even with that, I appreciated his rather calm and pacifist nature in comparison to his partner... 

And then Episode 37 happened and I was completely thrown off the charts. His desire to bring smiles to people and to not hurt anyone anymore to the point of refusing to attack Yugo pulled at my heartstrings, and I’m a complete sucker for self-sacrificing characters, so when he protected Yuya at the expense of his own soul and entrusted that desire onto him... I was sold. His influence is rather subtle but shows passionately many times, and I found myself falling in love with his character despite the lack of screentime and dubious characterisation that every XYZ character suffers from; I think he’s the best one out of the trio in that matter, though. And his interactions with Yuzu, Ruri and Yuya are so sweet; overall he’s just a character I can find myself easily toying with and I love his role in the show.

What can I say about Yuzu? She’s my favorite female lead from all YGO series. I found her rather annoying but cute during the first... Ten or so episodes. And then I fell in love with her because holy damn, she’s such an amazing character. She actually Duels, has a beautiful and kickass deck and is deeply involved in the plot from start to end (which is already more than can be said for the other shows), not to mention she’s such an inspiring role model. Yuzu always actively worked to improve herself and it’s refreshing to see her be so open with her feelings and caring for people. She’s so strong and I really enjoyed all the bonds she had with the rest of the cast — when you had half of them going through hell and back to help her, it felt legitimately heartwarming and believable, because she always does her best to forge a connection with people and isn’t afraid to say what she thinks.

She felt like one of the most human characters in the show for me, as her best strength was the power of encouraging and inspiring other people (Yuya, Serena, Yugo just to name a few) rather than being unbeatable or not being allowed to fail. She’s everything and more I could hope from a female lead and she inspires me everyday.

01. Yuya Sakaki

*falls to the ground and sobs*

I can’t even begin to describe how much I love this precious ball of sunshine. Anime protagonists are always without fail a 50/50 chance for me, I either love them with all my soul or I hate them and I’m 200% more invested in other characters. Yuya (un)surprisingly fell into the first category from the very first episode, he’s so adorable and seeing him go on a journey to leave behind his years of bullying and depression and turn into someone he can be proud of is hands down the most inspiring thing in this series. 

He genuinely makes me so happy and his character development is the very thing that made me invested in ARC V in the first place, I will never get enough of what an amazing and compelling protagonist he is. His attitude of trying to stay happy and make the people around him happy as well, but ultimately falling victim to his own emotions and crashing hard against reality is so brutally and openly real that my heart aches just from thinking of it. I’ve learned with him as I watched the show; as an audience we experienced the same happiness, sadness and pain that he went through, and I’m so proud of him for getting so far and never giving up despite all the odds always being against him.

He’ll always hold a special place in my heart, he’s so important to me and I’m just really glad he exists! 

[faunusrights]

‘AFTER THE FALL’ - LIVEREAD III

The more I hear about the latter half of this book, the more depresso espresso I’m drinking. Let’s see how it goes, huh?

(Since there’s more chapters in the latter half than the first half, short chapters will probably get combined together for the sake of. I’m lazy.)

CHAPTERS EIGHT AND NINE

I love that Velvet’s the one who enlisted Weiss and Yang, expecting shit to go sideways. She saw these two gays on main and went ‘they look like they can party’. Was she wrong? No. Did she invite Cinder for the express purpose of drama? Yes. Can you make me stop shipping Sinnamon Bun? Also no.

Okay, this book has read my mine though!!! Ruby pitches a Beacon Battle Club where they play music as they fight, and no word of a fucking lie, that happens in Great Weiss Shark AU! I am not kidding! I had this whole story planned out! This is theft of the HIGHEST order.

“Doilies are absurd and elitist,” Yang said.

This is simultaneously the least Yang-like line and also the most Yang-like line I’ve ever heard. The duality of idiot, I suppose.

I like Fox! I really do, actually! He’s my son now. Although, the bad news is I dunno if I can replicate him in The Frapp Logs, so he’ll just have to keep dragging Coco to the ends of the earth. Same thing, right? R-right?

“Leaders can’t be the comic relief.” Fox raised his eyebrows. “Jaune.”

Is this the second time Jaune’s been dragged? I’m living for it. Also, sleepy Blake! And CFVY knowing she’s (they’re) a Faunus! And the second book behind a book! I love you, Blake.

Velvet correcting Yatsu’s ‘catnap’ joke! I wrote a ficlet about this exact thing once, so I TOLD you my Velvet’s NEARLY CANON. SHE JUST NEEDS TO EAT MORE PROTEIN IS ALL.

Onto chapter nine. God, these chapters get thinner by the second, huh?

BACK TO THE DESERT WE GO, and there’s... fog? Which is now gone! Wow! Is this a plot device? Foreshadowing? I sure hope so, because why on earth it would warrant a mention we’re just not too sure!

A sandstorm is incoming and hidden tracks are gonna get blasted away. I’m trying to figure out if this is all pathetic fallacy or if I’m reading too much into handy-dandy plot devices. Why not both?

Heart-to-heart with Coco and Yatsu... and we’re back to Yatsu giving Velvet all the hugs. Now that I’m sensing the Velv/Yats vibes, I’m extra suspicious. You stop that. Let Velvet have a fashionable GF at least if you won’t let her kiss Weiss!!!

‘[...] even the women were down to halter tops. Focus, Coco, she thought.’

Ah, lesbian as always. I’m soothed. Carmine enters the tent and Coco gets even gayer. I’m very soothed.

‘What was Jaune doing after losing a member of his team, a friend... someone he clearly cared about.’

I don’t care about what Jaune feels. Why the heck would Coco even care? There’s literally so many more people that impacts than just Jaune, lawd.

CHAPTER TEN AND ELEVEN

Back to Fox, who is honestly the shining star of this book by now. I love you, my blind and sassy son.

I love Ada and the battle mechanic she has! I’m really enjoying how Fox interacts with the world around him and using his Scroll and AI as an accessibility device. It’s neat! I didn’t expect them to go as ham on him as they did, but they did.

“Update,” Ada said. “Weapon has projectile capabilities.” “You mean it’s also a gun.”

Obligatory gun meme.

Combat stuff happens, Fox wins a fight against a confused Edward, and it turns out Gus is the one summoning Grimm and Fox just got jumped, so we slide into another flashback for chapter eleven. Lemme tell ya, this book ain’t afraid of moving fast.

“I guess you slightly oversold your ability to track the survivors,” Coco said.

Again, this is one of those lines that reads as very... callous? Kinda mean? I’ve always had Coco in my head as someone who very broadly puts her team (and their feelings) first, even if it’s rough, so lines like this make me go 🤔

Velvet falls, Yatsu panics, Coco gets up in everyone’s grill. There’s a lot to this dynamic I am not enjoying right now, and even then this seems inconsistent with the CFVY we’ve seen in the book itself. I know the author’s trying to communicate that Coco is tired and frustrated, that I get, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t how... it would really happen given her character? I dunno. ‘S weird.

Was that a fat joke I spotted there? From Coco? I need a nap. Also COCO LET VELVET DO THINGS JESUS CHRIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK ME SIDEWAYS!!!!!!!!!!

Coco has claustrophobia! I wrote her as having agoraphobia, so this is a hilarious turn of events. Also Coco has two brothers, not one: Mate and Toma.

Coco is fighting Grimm in a cave with CFVY, but still finds time to criticise Velvet in combat. Hey, maybe if you let her do things, she’d prove you wrong, dingus. And then she does! See!

Aaaaaaaand the six survivors are all dead. This was a pretty traumatic event, all told, which makes it weird that they look... less affected in the show? Still, this chapter was VERY weird for the characterisations because Coco seems especially inconsistent, alas. Anyway, onto:

CHAPTERS TWELVE AND THIRTEEN

The sandstorm is approaching and catching the wagons, which I have just realised are actually vehicles that use fuel. Mostly because that’s the First I Heard Of It.

‘Velvet noticed a pistol tucked in the back before she closed the door.’

Hi, can Chekhov please pick up his gun from aisle twelve? Thanks.

GIANT SAND TURTLE. AVATAR AANG C’MERE Y’ALL GOTTA LEARN HOW TO DEFEAT THE FIRELORD.

“You said it’s big enough to ride on?” Velvet asked.

Maybe this is why Coco dismisses Velvet so often. She only pitches the craziest ideas, which is why I love her. That said, Coco finally lets Velvet do something! It’s a miracle of man! Climb that turtle, bihh!

Yatsu calls Velvet V. I’m so used to Velv that V sounds entirely too cool for this idiot.

Everyone’s pissed again, but-- IS THAT THE SAND WORM THING FROM ARRAKIS?! What A Tweest!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nobody coulda seen THAT coming!!!!!

So let’s go to chapter thirteen, where Fox has had the shit beaten out of him behind a Denny’s. Sound about right.

So what’s-his-name-- Bertilak, whomst from now on shall be called Bert because what sorta water tribe name even is that (wow the ATLA references are on fire today). Anyway, Bert is being paid by someone else to deliver people with Stronk Semblances like summoning Grimm! Gee I Wonder Who That Might Be (I don’t actually know but I’m honestly not going to be surprised either way).

“Yeah, [Bert]’s a real bastard.” “Even I can see that,” Fox sent.

I love it. Fox really has been the highlight of this book for me.

Fox is on the ground and the referee is counting him to ten, so it’s mid-chapter-flashback time! We learn how Fox’s parents died (sinkhole) and how that became his motivation for... going to Beacon? Okay, tenuous link at best, but I’m going with it.

Carmine is full of trouble and Fox is determined to take Bert with ‘em. Let him DIE.

I’m gonna keep going since we’re not four chapters from the end, so:

CHAPTERS FOURTEEN AND FIFTEEN

Flashback time! Again! Only it’s CFVY’s POV of their return to Beacon. I wouldn’t mind this if like. We hadn’t already seen this from RWBY’s perspective in the show? People know this from my tastes in fanfic, but I’m not a huge fan of retellings of canon events, it’s soooooo boooooring. So I’m just gonna grind through this asap.

(I do like that RWBY and CFVY have all these parallels being called to. As they should.)

Okay we’re past the recap and OH LAWD I HEARD OF THIS BIT. Goodwitch is here (I love u Glynda no matter what) but yeah, I’ve heard this part is Big Oof so uh, let’s see this happen go down. Velvet is being requested to see Ozpin so /buckles down.

Velvet’s being questioned alone for the Whole Thing, and team CFVY have burst into the office demanding to know why, and Velvet’s a crying wreck! I’m still very >:I for everyone being overprotective of Velvet, c’mon, but also: Oz, can you please have tact? Just once in your life? Tact? Do you has it?

Anyway, CFVY have reconciled and we turn to chapter fifteen, in which: Yatsu.

Carmine has Gus, everyone’s on the Turtmobile, and shit’s hitting the fan. Yatsu’s going after Gus and Carmine alone, and I’m still waiting on Chekov’s Gun to Chekov its way right into someone’s butt. Unless it’s Chekov’s Red Herring.

Here comes a fight scene! I never have much to say during fight scenes, so, uh, yeah. There’s some real last-minute exposition in places, though, where it really shouldn’t be.

Eey, Carmine is telekinetic! Very powerful and also OP, gotta nerf that shit right down, Edward.

Yatsu’s very nearly defeated, Bert is back, baby, and shit’s getting real. Time for chaaaaaaaaaper sixteeeeeeeeeen.

CHAPTERS SIXTEEN AND SEVENTEEN

Today’s livereading soundtrack is Simple Things by Zero 7. The whole album, I mean. This is a fun little fact to make sure you’re still awake and aware, ‘cause I sure ain’t!

Roy Stallion of BRNZ is presumed dead, along with the whole team, so big RIP to May, who was cute and deserved better. Swear to God if ABRN are dead too I will kill a man. Two men, to be specific.

Velvet admits she never wanted to come to Vacuo, Coco promises they’ll return to reclaim Beacon in future. This reads like a protagonist’s last speech on hope and strength in friendship... and it should, as Coco gets swallowed by a worm! Straight up just down the hatch! This should be a tragic beat, but this is honestly so funny. Coco, pick better ways to die.

Anyway, we’re onto chapter seventeen. I was very kindly given this message:

And I-- OH HELL YES! HELL YES IT’S A SCHOOL DAY TIMETABLE!!!!!!!!!! THE LORE! THE CLASSES! THE NAMES! THE FACTS! THIS IS THE BEST THING IN THE ENTIRE BOOK SO FAR WHICH REALLY GOES TO SHOW I HAVE NO HOBBIES!

Is this a... flashback? Flash... forward? I’m not sure, actually. Either way, CFVY are in Beacon clearing the place of Grimm. Actually, this must be a flashback to before they went to Vacuo, I suppose, which would make sense to follow Velvet’s little admittance last chapter before Coco got swallowed like a paracetamol tablet.

Velvet waited for someone to ask her what she thought, what she wanted, by no one did.

Now I’m SAD why won’t people be NICE to VELVET just ONCE!!! God, this book really just gives her the short end of the stick every time.

Off go CFVY to Vacuo. Bye.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN AND EPILOGUE

Heremst we go.

Coco’s alive! I mean, no surprise. And full of the Joques as ever:

Coco figured sacrificing your life for a teammate was one way to be remembered as a good leader, but maybe that was just cheating.

RIP Coco and her claustrophobia! Hey, now that was good foreshadowing! That gets a whole Murphy Cookie of Approval. 🍪

Coco loses her Scroll and her hat, but Velvet swoops in to save the day! Meanwhile, Bert has been convinced that Carmine double-crossed him, so they’re battling it out! Basically, Gus cast frenzy. Finally, it works in everyone’s favour.

“I can’t believe I thought you were cute,” Coco spat.

Some lines in this book haven’t been very good. This one, on the other hand, very much is.

So Carmine goes underground and starts creating sinkholes everywhere like a weird desert gremlin, and Edward manages to block her Semblance and like. Carmine flat-out nearly suffocates herself to death. Another death I would have found both gruesome and hilarious for its irony. But Velvet uses Flynt’s trumpet to quite literally doot the sand away, and-- I’m so sorry, this line has me literally laughing to myself. She fuckin’-- doots the sand. Oh my god.

Anyway they win, catch up with Slate and the Nomad Fam, and meet team SSSN! The boys are back in town!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Things are looking good.

Epilogue time. I’m still laughing about the sand-dooting.

So, we don’t know who paid Bert and Carmine, I guess? I do believe there’s maybe a sequel or something in the works, apparently, so maybe this is part of an overarching plot type thingie. Still.

Ah, yep, Coco confirms that they’re not through with this line of investigation yet, But, Velvet wraps it up with a heart-felt, if not a little bit cheesy, segment about home being wherever CFVY is, and so the book comes to a close.

WRAP-UP

So, I’m definitely gonna have a second read-through of this without having to constantly stop and do a liveblog, but the book was... okay, I guess? I feel like this plotline wasn’t the greatest one for CFVY, and that the author doesn’t have a crazy good handle on the characters -- he’s likely more suited to original content, which is valid. It’s a good romp and we do get new lore, but as expected, I feel like CFVY would be best used in the show that conceived them in the first place. A book is nice, but I’d love to see their return in RWBY itself, especially since this book wasn’t really... long enough, I don’t think? Seriously, y’all’ve met me. I do write hundreds of thousands of words in this world and I still haven’t written everything I wanna yet! I’d also like to see more Velvet as seen in RWBY Chibi, in which was she Cool and Good, and maybe less Yatsu alongside her directly. But! It’s a book! It’s decent! It’s CFVY! For most people, it’s Good Enough. And they’re valid too.

[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.”

[macdentrash]

what do you think will happen with macdennis this season?👀

WARNING: I went off on this I’m sorry, I’m just a passionate macdennis stan trying to make a living in this cold cold world

I honestly don’t know and it’s got me all stressed lmao but I can give u my absolute best hot take👀*warning I’m about to go off* so let’s start at the beginning of s13 to look at the dynamic™… so we’ve obviously got Mac sad with Dennis gone, Dennis left a number for a mental health clinic and Mac’s gotten as he says “super ripped” which probably has something to do with his body issues (esp in relation to Dennis and his masculinity). Anyways we obviously have MAC getting a fucking sex doll of Dennis and when Dee asks him if it’s Dennis he’s just like “Yeah? Of course” like who else would it be? But even MORE interesting is the fact that Cindy tells Mac she wanted him to start dating to fill the void losing Dennis left in his life… like at this point it’s just obvious that Mac is DEEPLY in love with Dennis and that just keeps us wondering if Dennis reciprocates. In the strip club scene during ep 1, Mac just seems mad at Dennis (”Dennis is a bastard man!”) and encourages the gang to try to move on (this is important to my theory so hold onto that my dudes) which means that Mac has the potential to get over Dennis eventually if he gets to that point of frustration... but either way when Dennis comes back Mac is still all like :’) all smiley and happy, and Dennis is looking at Mac like That™ and immediately makes a comment on Mac’s appearance. So after the first episode it’s still like... what’s the fuckin VIBE RCG hmm? Because I didn’t know what was gonna happen after that first episode but hopeful because even those few seconds they were interacting were so...gay... like wtf and then they come for MY SCALP in MY HOUSE by BLASTING the BOYS ARE  BACK IN TOWN? 

Lmao...anyways after the fucking chaotic nut bust that was s13 ep1 I was really keeping an eye on episode 2 for the Macdennis vibe of the season because ya girl did NOT know what to expect. And what do they do? HMM? They let Megan Ganz clear my skin and feed my crops by giving us the fuckin Sherlock based Macdennis au we never really asked for but desperately needed (mostly because of the fuckin pipes they have later cuz that shit is so funny to me)... anyways episode two was gay, we know this. Like? They kept looking at each other like That, the fuckin HEART LOCK (there was absolutely no reason that it needed to be heart shaped, RCG explain), fuckin “let’s keep this between us”, “the game is afoot”. Woo hoo anyways, they were just acting like they used to and it was nice okay? Also the Denny’s t-shirt and Dennis looking at Mac all love sick at the end when they go see Dee... 

So after episode 2 I’m like okay GAY, it’s gay folks! That’s the vibe! And I was so ready for Time’s Up because at that point all we’d really seen was Dennis with the UGLY up on the projector and them sitting next to each other like That. So originally I thot that it was just gonna be like a low-key Macdennis ep and I so ready for that and just seeing the gang all together... and then Megan Ganz came for us all and TIMES UPPED the gang and we were all so shook. Megan Ganz giveth and Megan Ganz taketh away as they say. I know this episode is NOT about shipping but this post is and so I’m gonna analyze, don’t come for me. So Dennis obviously told Mac to “stop kissing him” (which is different from saying “stop TRYING to kiss me” but anyway) and that it “was never gonna happen”. Mac looked hurt but seemed to be ok, he still called Dennis out on that fucking picture (”what year was that taken?!”) and was still joking around at the end. So i was obviously fuckin SHOOK by this whole thing and was really excited to see what happened in New Wheels because I felt like their dynamic could go in any direction @ that point.

Wow this is long but I’m already this far so :) let’s keep it rollin (get it? like WHEELS? I’m here all week folks). So at the beginning of New Wheels Dennis is obviously trying to get the gang to talk to him about going to ND and nobody really seems interested. What I thought was interesting was the camera angle, for the majority of the time Dennis is talking the camera only shows Mac and Dennis in the frame, it almost looks like they could be alone? Which is not a mistake, there has to be some reason they edited it that way. But more importantly Dennis is saying like “I appreciate you respecting my privacy by dancing around the subject” etc and he keeps looking at Mac. Also when Dennis says “you guys want to ask about my family” Mac’s just like “I don’t” which is what Dennis deserves tbh. Anyways Mac kind of seems to be keeping his distance from Dennis in this episode which is interesting after the events of Times Up, maybe Mac’s just listening to what Dennis wants, he’s backing off maybe? I don’t know but when they’re in the car dealership Mac and Charlie leave in the middle of a conversation with Dennis to go look for bikes and Dennis looks a little confused (again it’s what he deserves). Later, when Charlie asks Mac why he doesn’t do better, as in find someone to date, Mac just says “it’s hard out there”. I want to focus on this because um? Mac’s fuckin built and looks like a fuckin walking ray of sunshine so I don’t think it’d be that difficult for him to find someone, just saying. Is it hard out there for him because he’s in love with Dennis? Yeah, probably. Mmmm moving on, Mac and Dennis aren’t together again until the end of the episode and Dennis is all happy and singing Rick Astley, he still gave make a Look through the mirror and all seemed to end well.

WOW so based on all this evidence I’ve brought to you in this Paddy’s Pub tonight, this folks is my theory:

Mac and Dennis will be ok and probably acting like good friends™ in The Gang solves the bathroom problem. Probably no major developments but most likely some pure macdennis content. I think things will get more intense in the Superbowl episode. And I know what you’re going to say: “But Kaitlin... it’s a flash back episode so Dennis probably won’t be in it” and to that I reply that with Charlie gone they will be down to 3 members of the gang so I feel like Dennis is going to pop up at some point. He probably won’t be there in the beginning but maybe half way through? Idk. I love the idea that Mac and Dennis get caught on the kiss cam and they just do it cuz fuck it but Dennis is way too into it for it to just be like a “haha i kissed my gay friend on tv lol” kind of moment so he freaks out (which could go back to Times up and Dennis saying “stop kissing me” etc). 

Now! For Mac Finds His Pride I have some BIG IDEAS folks. So Frank is going to try to get Mac a man and Mac might be hesitant at first but warm up to the idea. How I picture it going down in my mind’s eye (yes, my 3rd eye is open) is: Mac is at the bar flirting with a good looking guy and they’re talking/laughing, standing really close and leaning in to each other (sound familiar?). Dennis is having fun at the party they’re having in the bar for pride (boys are out tonight huh?) until he turns around and freezes when he sees Mac and this dude. His face just goes stone cold and he is the embodiment of a jealous gay (think of the gang misses the boat and all of his mascara Dennis glory). The guy leans closer in to Mac and looks like he might kiss him, now Dennis can’t let that happen can he? So he goes over to the bar and just goes “hey Mac!”, Mac spins around and Dennis does some gay shit right then and there either kissing him (I think I would have a heart attack if that actually happened though) or giving him some “I HAVE BIG FEELINGS” type speech. Either way BOOM Macdennis is canon. This is how they leave it for the season and we’re all forever shook to the core.

Now, I know that it becoming canon wouldn’t fix their toxicity and problems but that’s for season 14 me to analyze (we’ll hope anyways!).

*DISCLAIMER: if you got this far, I love you and we can all get through this trying time together*

[whoaimhellatrash]

I don't really know where to put this except here but I need to get everything out. I'm putting it under a cut, no one needs to read it, but I just need to yell into the void for a while and on the off chance someone else is in this deserted Denny's parking lot at 4 am then cool beans you do you.

I have spent the last 4-5 years of my life doing nothing but self exploration. Honestly I’m sure a lot of people can relate, mid-late middle school to late high school is when people actually stop for a minute and think “who am i?” 

So many of these thoughts are influenced by the world around you, which in our society is so goddamn dangerous honestly. With so many influences like toxic masculinity, the disrespect of women, the racism the phobia the models and photoshop, it’s all so toxic for people just trying to discover who we really are. I think my identity was so fucking out of left field and so new and so wrong for others that it put me so harshly through the wringer that I earned self awareness. Through the immense pain and pressure, I was forced to stop and think, to consider, how much of this is me and how much of this is my parents, my society, how much of myself has been put here by others instead of molded by myself. Like a piece of coal turning to a diamond by sheer pressure, my perspective of myself and the world drastically changed.

It’s honestly still changing, and i doubt it’ll stop, I don’t want it to stop. I want to keep changing my views with the times, I want to keep discovering new things about myself and others, but this desire came with a price, as did my self awareness.

Back in mid to late middle school, my memory is muddled I wont lie, I had discovered sexuality and the fluidity of it, or at least a small piece of it. It was so mind boggling to me that at 7 in the morning, on the bus ride to school, I told a senior from my neighborhood about it with just this sparkling delight of curiosity and excitement in my eyes. I remember reading, on that dark, quiet bus, the definitions of bisexual, homosexual, demi, and pan which i ended up identifying with the latter for a long time. 

This moment, these precious few moments on a bus, was the first push of a snowball down a long hill of self discovery. I remember coming out as pan in my school and watching, one by one, several more of my friends come out as Bi and gay. It was something i reveled in, knowing that I helped that cascade. I was lucky, not being faced with bullying for my sexuality in particular, but I hadn’t come out to anyone truly important and I wouldn’t for a while.

When I met my best friend (going on 6-7 years now) they introduced me to the idea of trans. I had never put thought into it before but I decided that maybe I wanted to try it out. Deep down in the pit of my gut, i knew i hated who i was. I wasn’t comfortable, i wasn’t..right. I always pulled my hair up in a pony tail, i couldn’t stand it being down, i never wore dresses or skirts unless i was forced to do so for a dance, i just couldnt stand the femininity of it. I liked the power and confidence of looking good but it just..wasnt the right kind. It never felt like it was right. I constantly wore baggy hoodies to hide my body. I thought maybe it was my weight, I starved myself, as in only eating a few cheerios and an apple maybe for an entire 30 hours. I fainted in class from low glucose levels. Nothing I tried helped and in fact made everything so much worse. 

I was finally ready to try something else. I was genderfluid at first, i tried they/them and i found I liked it, but when i tried he/him I thrived on it. It felt comfortable and right and I never wanted to give it up. I never came out to my middle school friends. 

My freshman year of high school I had decided that I was going to live out all four years as Dave. As myself, as someone who i was comfortable with, then once those four years were up, I would go back into the closet and live my life as the perfect little girl, the sweet, precious golden child like I had been forced to be for all of my life. It was at this time that my depression was at it’s worst point. 

8-9 grade became a dead blur. It was around this time that my sister was diagnosed with depression. My mom knew nothing, she genuinely believed some fast food would make my sister not sad anymore. My sister began going to therapy. After a long battle with myself and my deeply ingrained desire to be the perfect kid who never is a bother or a pest, I asked my mom for therapy too. My therapist was not good for me, i didn’t realize what my problems actually were, she was treating surface issues, not the source. I realize that now and I’ve expressed this fact to my current therapist, but at the time I wasn’t aware and I had no way to ask for a different therapist because apparently it was “So hard finding a therapist to treat me oh and so much harder to find a psychiatrist.” I understand that my mom doesn’t want to feel as though she’s failed, that her child is suffering, though I don’t believe she understood or understands that although I’m suffering, the best remedy is to let me have help. But, on the other hand, being so put down, so ostracized, so passive aggressively hated for wanting help stood to do nothing but encourage me to isolate myself and develop destructively dependent relationships on my friends.

I got medication at some point, according to others it turned me into a flat zombie, I remember nothing around this time. It stabilized my mood but it stabilized it at the lowest possible point. It was somewhere in this time that I attempted suicide, I self harmed, I was destructive and even more so than I had been in middle school with my starving. I fought day in and day out about my gender. I fought with teachers who used it against me, students who didn’t believe me, and for a long time I was all alone except for the few friends I had who were all over the country. 

I felt like I was living a double life, i still feel like it. I’m Dave with everyone else, and a perfect daughter to my family. In sophomore and junior year I picked myself up. I found more friends, more of them began to question their gender identity too. Whether I started this self discovery early or if I was the one that sparked theirs, the world was gaining color and clarity. Part of it may be caused by the fact that I had quit my meds cold turkey (in hindsight not a good idea, dont ever do that kids, it’s dangerous), I came out to my mom then my dad as Pan (didn’t go over well but I was out) and I had begun to surround myself with people I really enjoyed and who were a much more positive influence on me.

I have so many positive memories of my friends, going to concerts, being idiots and smoking weed, hanging out every morning and just talking. As hard as everything was, I can say that I had times where I was genuinely happy. But every day, every single day, I had internal battles going on. Fighting tooth and nail not to relapse and start self harming or starving myself, fighting to get out of bed in the morning and go through my routine. Every morning I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at my binder, the thing that was helping me survive yet destroying me too. I sat and stared and wondered “how long am I going to have to put this on? Will I ever be comfortable enough to stop?”

A lot of things changed. My mood increased bit by bit, I found my own coping mechanisms, I learned how to be marginally healthier, my grades picked up, I became an unstoppable force, fueled by determination and pride and spite, I was going to succeed because I wanted to. Because I wanted to speak my mind, to not be a doormat, I wanted to be strong and powerful and to have a grip on my own life. 

Yet, even with my newfound confidence, I was still struggling so deeply. Mid sophomore year my sister started to transition. It hurt. It hurt so deeply and profoundly. This woman, who had been nothing less than a destructive hurricane in my life, who had done nothing but destroy because that’s the only side of me she ever showed, was somehow being given the gift of transitioning. 

I had fought with myself, tried to convince myself that if my sister was being given support, i would too. Besides, my mom had already found out because I was being called Dave by all my teachers and friends.

I didn’t get the reception I was hoping for.

“You know if you pick this lifestyle your entire life is going to be harder. Everything is going to be worse, you’re going to have to struggle so much more through life. You might never reach the success that you want to reach.” I was devastated. I basically crawled back into the closet, my gender coming up sparingly. 

Everything leading up to this time in my life, everything i’ve shared, everything I haven’t, all of it has led up to this and now I’m at a crossroads. It’s the later end of my senior year. College is right around the corner, so are jobs and careers and life, and now I have a choice. Maybe I don’t. 

When I started high school, when I decided I would come out to my teachers and my friends, when I decided to live this life, I also decided I would box myself up by the end of it all, to move forwards in life as a good little girl after this, to get it all out of my system now. Now I see, now I’ve decided that that’s not an option, it never was an option.  I’ve been growing so much, and I don’t intend to stop, I’ve learned ways to help myself, how not to be so self destructive, how to be kinder and gentler to myself and others. I want to be someone who is compassionate and caring but still strong and not a pushover. I think i’ve begun to achieve that, I still have lots more to do and a long way to go but I’m getting myself help, I’m actively trying in therapy, I’m being more self aware in my relationships, I’m building bonds and trust between the people I care about and I’m trying to make my life better, but I can’t go through building this new life while denying myself such a massive aspect of who I am? 

Who am I going to be?

How long can I live this lie of who I am on one hand while trying to define myself on the other?

The world says I have time but my heart says it’s ticking away.

[allthephils]

Repose

Chapter 11

Rating M  word count: 2036/ 32497 so far

Read on Ao3

As the day wound down, no one came. The next day, Phil wondered if Dennis would show. He wondered if he’d ever be allowed back there. Dennis did come though and the day proceeded as usual, with no interruptions. Still, as Phil wandered the room, watering the plants, a knot of nervous energy grew in his stomach. He’d grown fond of his strange new normal, but any minute, it could all be taken from him. He could lose this little home away from home. He’d put energy in to this, he’d put love into it, and it hurt to think of walking away. He still assumed Dan would wake up but now he wasn’t sure he’d be here to see it. Then there was a small dark corner of his mind that questioned his own assumptions. The curse could be real. It absolutely could be and Phil may be the only answer for Dan. His feelings were complicated enough without this responsibility. Add fear to that and he ached for Dan, in a way that he hadn’t in years.

He didn’t know what to make of it. He paced the room, quieter than he had ever been, trying to remember the last 5 years. They’d been full of accomplishments and memories but it all seemed to fade to the background.

He inventoried his romantic history, trying to make sense of the magnitude of emotion he was experiencing now. Online dating never yielded more than one or two dates. There had been hook-ups, nothing to write home about, mostly with people he met at industry parties. There had been the time he ran into Jimmy at the garden center. It was just a few weeks after the break up and Jimmy was familiar and pretty and kind. He’d invited Phil to see his new place and one thing led to another. Phil had cried in Jimmy’s arms afterward. Of course, Jimmy was lovely and understanding but Phil had been so mortified, he never called him after that.

Then there were the relationships. Michael was a friend of Phil’s manager. He was beautiful, funny, confident, and he adored Phil from the start. He loved him with an intensity Phil just couldn’t match, however hard he tried. Phil ended it after a year, telling Michael he deserved better. Michael didn’t agree. Breaking his heart put Phil off dating for a while. The next time was only last year. Phil had loved Sebastian, he really had. All his friends loved him too. He felt the relationship grow around him, watching Sebastian get comfortable and make plans. He just couldn’t see a future with him though. Phil’s family didn’t get it, it all seemed to be going so well. Even Louise didn’t understand but she was supportive anyway. The thing was Phil couldn’t really see himself with anyone. He broke it off after 8 months. It didn’t seem that unusual at the time. Now, here with Dan, he had to wonder if his inability to fall deeply in love was because his future was already written. Maybe he had never truly let go of Dan.

There was Dan and Phil at the start and there was Dan and Phil now. What came between felt out of focus. If you had asked him a couple weeks ago, he would have said that 5 years is a long time. Now it was a flash. Back then, he’d known that the depth of feeling between he and Dan was irrational for a relationship that lasted only months. He had believed in love though, with his whole being, and he trusted that these things are bigger that two people. He had believed they were meant to be. Now that everyone else agreed, he was frightened. This situation was manipulative. It had shaped and molded Phil’s heart and mind into something he recognized from all those years ago. He couldn’t be sure which pieces were genuine and which were nostalgia. He couldn’t be sure if what he felt was love or fear or if there was even a difference.

 That night he lay in bed, contemplating what he’d do if they told him he couldn’t come back. There had to be a way around this. He texted Louise. Hey Lou, sorry it’s so late. I’m scared Lou. Prince Walter definitely doesn’t want me there. I don’t know how much longer he’s going to let me come.

Louise answered immediately, of course. You know you can text me anytime Phil. That man is an absolute bell end. I’m with you. Let’s just take it day by day. Try to get some sleep love.

    “Hello?” What a strange thing, answering the phone.

A sigh came from the other end. “Hey.”

“Hey Dan. Everything ok?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to hear your voice.” He sounded exhausted.

Phil warmed at the sweet thought of Dan making an actual phone call to hear Phil talk.

“I’m really sorry I’ve been so busy. I may have bitten off more than I can chew. All these projects add up to a full-time job. I miss summer.” Dan said, glumly.

“That’s ok. I understand. Besides I saw you three days ago.” Phil really did miss him but this slower pace was probably a good thing. His heart had been rolling downhill, picking up speed, ever since that first wink. He was grateful for the time alone, to work and consider what exactly all this was.

“Was that only three days ago? Huh. Feels like longer. Anyway these lunch dates, they just aren’t enough.”

“I don’t know, it’s kinda romantic, our stolen hours together. I’ll take anything you can give me.” And he would. Phil would run away with Dan today if he asked or take only the thin scraps left of him after everyone else in his life got first pick.

“I know you will. You’re amazing, but you deserve better.” Dan sounded frustrated, almost defeated.

“Are you kidding me? Better? Dan, the hour I spent eating lunch with you the other day was the highlight of my whole week. What’s going on? What’s happened?”

“Nothing new. I’m just tired of having my life designed for me.”

Phil wished he had any idea what that was like. He didn’t know how to help. “You’ll get some freedom at university, won’t you.”

Dan mumbled, “fuck university. It’s just the beginning of the end.” There was silence on the line. Phil didn’t dare respond to that. Finally, Dan spoke, ���I miss you Phil. I want to introduce you to my brother. I want to take you places.”

“You have taken me places.”

“I want to be alone with you, really alone.” Dan said, lower, obviously trying not to be heard.

“I know. I want that too.” Phil closed his eyes.

“I have to attend some meetings with my father, which means I’m trapped at bloody Windsor for the week, then this stupid benefit party on Halloween.”

“Oh. Ok.”

“Promise me I can see you after that?” Dan asked.

“I promise.”

“I have to go. I’ll text you when I can get away from Prince Vlad.”

 Days went by without a text. Dan had told Phil about his father . He was a taskmaster, idle hands are the devil's workshop and all that. Phil didn’t want to get Dan in trouble but he missed him and he was a little scared from his Halloween week movie watching habits. Mostly, he just really wanted Dan to know that he was thinking about him. When it was late enough that he assumed Dan would be alone, he sent a message.

Phil: Just thinking about you, wanted you to know. I hope you are having an ok time.

Dan: Phil. Thank god. How is the real world?

Phil: I watched some freaky horror anime and I wasn’t scared watching it but now I’m sat in my room with the light on and I think I’m just gonna have to sleep like this.

Dan: Lol. I wouldn’t be any help at all if I were there. I’m a complete coward.

Phil: I still wish you were here.

Dan: Me too.

Phil: Are you feeling any better?

Dan: Better than what?

Phil: Than the last time we talked?

Dan: I don’t know. I’ve just been focused on work.

Phil had a a question nagging him, running through his head all day. He typed it fast and hit send before he could change his mind.

Phil: What did you mean when you said that uni was the beginning of the end?

Dan: Just that, after uni, there are expectations. No one cares what I do right now, as long as they still believe I’ll end up where I’m supposed to.

Phil: Where you’re supposed to?

Dan: Married

Phil stomach turned.

Phil: To Iris?

Dan: That’s their pick yes.

Phil: So I’m just your gap year then?

Dan: What? No.

…

…

Phil watched the dots, waiting for a reply. Instead the phone vibrated in his hand.

"Hey." Phil huffed.

"Phil, listen..."

Phil cut in, unleashing all the thoughts he'd been carrying, “This is why I wanted to talk. But we just kept kissing instead and then I guess I decided I didn’t care. But I do, Dan. You’re not interested in Iris but that doesn’t mean you aren’t promised to her. Uni will come and you’ll leave and then after you’ll have to get married or whatever. England’s not ready for a gay king. And I just wanted to know all of this before I let myself admit all these things I’m feeling. And now fucking Iris is your future and I can’t even dream of a future with you, but I never should have to begin with because it’s all so new.” He took a deep shaky breath, “But it feels so real.”

“Phil.” Dan was practically whispering, hiding in his bathroom with the fan on, desperate for privacy. “It is real. It is. And it doesn’t matter who I’m promised to. They won’t force me to marry.”

“They won’t?” Phil squeaked out.

“No. It’s complicated, but let’s just say, I have an out.” Dan spoke slow and soft, doing his best to reassure Phil. “They wanted me to bring her as my date to the benefit and I said no. I said I wouldn’t string her along anymore. She knows how I feel, please don’t blame her for any of this. She’s actually really smart, incredibly strong, and she’s been a decent friend to me. Her life has been mapped out since before she was born, just like mine has. She is doing the best she can with the options she’s been given. My parents don’t even really know her, she’s just from the right family is all.”  

Phil’s breath had steadied, the initial flood of emotion subsiding. “And what would your parents think of me?”

Dan sighed heavily. “They don’t need to know about you. You’re none of their business.”  

This did nothing to assuage Phil’s fears. He was quiet.

“Phil, when the time comes, I will tell them about you. I’ll tell everyone. I swear.” He sounded frightened, whispering and rushed. Phil wished he could take back every word and just wrap his arms around Dan. “It’s just going be hard, mostly on you. I just want to keep you to myself for a bit longer, ok? I haven’t even decided what I want to do for the next few years, for uni. You are the only thing I’m sure about right now. Please don’t doubt this. I know it’s new, but I...we’ve come this far. Please trust me.”

Embarrassment took hold now that Phil was calm. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid, too much too soon. “I trust you. Of course I do, I’m sorry. You must think I’m crazy, saying all that. You probably want to get off the phone.”

“Phil, do you not hear me? I feel exactly the way you do. It’s fast but it’s real. I’m not scared, Phil. I’m not going anywhere.”  

They kept talking, in hushed tones, easing into normal conversation They talked about what Phil had planned this week, about the food at Windsor castle, and about Dan’s brother and how his voice was cracking. They talked until Phil was nodding off. Their goodbyes lingered, dancing all around the words they both wanted to say.

[imagitory]

Hi guys – still working on the next chapter for Harry Potter and the Lack of Lamb Sauce, so to tide you guys over until it’s done, I thought I’d put down a list of personal headcanons for the cast (both canon and OCs). Some of these are backstory-related, some are sexuality/race/whatever else-related, and some are just catch-all. Some will crop up over the course of the story – some won’t. In the case of the canon characters, again, just be advised these are my headcanons, and if you see a character differently, that’s totally okay! Hope they entertain you!

My version of Harry is biracial. I see the Potters as being a British family with Indian roots, while the Evans family is white (in Petunia and her family’s case, painfully so).

My version of Hermione is black. I confess that for many years I’d imagined her as white partly due to the films’ casting of Emma Watson and partly due to the fact that I was once a little white curly girl starved for representation, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve really fallen in love with Black!Hermione because in a lot of ways, she reminds me of my stepmother, who was born in the Caribbean, specifically Tobago. Like Hermione, my stepmom grew up as a self-conscious, academic, rule-abiding perfectionist with few friends and a love of cats, and she worked her butt off to prove herself, graduating from Johns Hopkins with a PhD in microbiology. I lost her very suddenly just last year, and it’s been very comforting imagining Hermione as at least partially resembling her while writing her.

Astoria is the first non-Slytherin in the Greengrass family in about three hundred years – the last one, a great-great-great-uncle named Lev Greengrass, was a Gryffindor and ended up cutting himself off from his family and moving to the United States.

Kevin’s mother Hattie had been a Gryffindor at school. His Hufflepuff personality is much more like his father’s.

Owen’s mother Cynthia and his grandmother Gertrude (“Trudy”) were also Hufflepuffs; his grandfather Martin and the rest of his maternal family, however, was in Slytherin (hence their ancestral home in Salazar’s Grove).

Hannah’s mother Ophelia (also an alumnus of Hufflepuff and a Head Girl in her day) was a well-respected Apparition instructor employed by the Ministry of Magic. Her husband Gene (a Ravenclaw who took Ophelia’s last name due to it being better known and respected in the Wizarding World) works a desk job at a magical talent agency.

Lowry, the Bulstrode family house elf, used to take Millicent on outings to Diagon Alley when her parents were at work. Although they never bought anything, Florian Fortescue – feeling a pang of pity for the little girl walking alone with the family house elf – would often invite them into his ice cream parlor to sample his newest flavors.

Eddie Carmichael’s family is full of Dark-Wizard catchers – both of his fathers, aunt, and cousin are all Aurors, and his grandmother worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for over sixty years.

Dennis and Colin agree about just about everything, but one thing they can’t agree on is how they would react if their mother (who left their father after Dennis was born) tried to reach out to them. Colin has expressed nothing but hatred and resentment for her, but Dennis feels the urge to take the high ground and at least give her the chance to prove that she’s changed.

Just as I imagine the Potters as a British family with Indian roots, the Greengrasses have Israeli roots. The Greengrass sisters’ middle names are a hint to that, as both are Yiddish – Daphne Shayna (meaning “beautiful”) and Astoria Charna (meaning “black”).

Ironically Astoria’s middle name has an inverse meaning to that of her future husband’s – Draco Lucius Malfoy (named for his father, of course) has a middle name that means “light.”

The Goodfellow family has Greek roots. They still own a family summer home on the Greek island of Chios.

Kevin, Seamus, and Terence Goodfellow are gay.

Bridget and Arjuna are lesbians.

Hannah, Dean, Evander Goodfellow, Healer Jengu, and Remus Lupin are bisexual.

Ginny is pansexual.

Professor Vector is a homosexual trans woman.

Luna, Astoria, and Millicent are on the asexual spectrum; Luna is demiromantic, Astoria is heteroromantic, and Millicent is biromantic.

Terence’s husband Evander is the youngest of three sons who were all sorted into Hufflepuff and  is generally considered the most handsome of the batch. (Terence certainly agrees.)

The Belaji family are (naturally) of Indian descent, though they are newer additions than the Potters. Arjuna’s mother and father were both children of Indian immigrants.

Uric Cuffe, the owner and chief editor of the Stormer, was the only son born to the Cuffe family in his generation, but despite his respectable pedigree, he was never a very good student, partially thanks to arrogance and partially thanks to what his magical family did not realize was untreated ADHD. When he failed to get the OWL results needed to join the Auror Department like his family wanted, Uric tail-spinned in a downward spiral of resentment and self-pity, flunking most of his NEWT classes by the time he graduated. His uncle Barnabas (chief editor of the Daily Prophet) suggested Uric try writing, something he was always quite good at, and at first things appeared to be looking up, as Uric could make good money writing for Witch Weekly and other publications. But yet again Uric’s arrogance got in the way, for he was sick of having to write what other people wanted just to make ends meet, and so he founded his own paper (The Stormer) so he could write whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Unfortunately most of what he wants to write largely entails the mad, rambling conspiracies that he’s conjured up about Muggles.

Colin was diagnosed with ADHD when he was eight years old. His father has always resisted medication, and fortunately Colin has developed his own coping mechanisms for his symptoms.

Arjuna’s mother Chaaya, although not formally diagnosed, has autism. She works part-time at a small wandshop in Godric’s Hollow, though due to personal preference she prefers to deal with the inventory rather than directly with customers. Her special interests are Charms and collecting and reading cookbooks.

Arjuna’s father Rohan works in the Department of Mysteries. His main area of work, though he’s not at liberty to divulge too much, lies in what Harry and crew call the “Time Room.” 

Even though they’ve been very close ever since first year, Arjuna has never been romantically interested in her BFF Astoria.

Even though Bridget has only been explicit about her sexuality with Hermione and Ginny so far (at least, amongst the Gryffindors), Harry and Ron both subconsciously sensed it just through their interactions with Bridget, to the extent that they’d probably laugh if anyone suggested she had a crush on a guy. Luna of course picked it up at once.

That’s all I’ve got right now...hope you got something out of this randomness. XD

[milksteaksandghouls]

“this has to stay between you and me” for the prompt list

PROMPT LIST #1 | this is the closest to fluff i will ever get tbh | accepting

TW: kissing? , feelings? , mentions of banging thx @switchadelphia  for prompting me to finish this

“Dude, seriously. Get that hand off me.” Mac shrugs Dennis’ hand off his shoulder in a fidgety sharp movement. It is not that he is not excited that after almost two decades he is finally dating who he has always been in love with (Mac came to this conclusion only recently). He is extremely excited and he smiles to himself at least every ten minutes whenever the idea that he actually can call somebody a boyfriend comes to his brain. That is all valid and those are thoughts that are occupying a good chunk of Mac’s brain. Gay rich Mac not only rules but he also has a boyfriend now so good for him and the whole world should know. Except it doesn’t.

Specifically, the gang doesn’t know yet. It was Mac’s idea not to tell them. He really didn’t want the rest of the gang to think that only because he is out and Dennis is back it means that they need to do the cliche romcom thing (lame movies that usually have no beefcakes in them) and hook up right away. Yes, maybe there was an airport scene involved or even airport kiss or even airport blowjob but that is beside the point. They need to wait to see how is their dynamic going to change and how will they work together before they can tell the gang. Mac doesn’t doubt that this is the best thing that has ever happened to him (of course except the realization that he is out and proud and won’t die in hell because those guys on the ship have told him that and it honestly felt like such relief) but he feels like telling Charlie and Dee would shake things up too much. They have only recently got used to living without Dennis and then living with Dennis again and now relationship? Nope. The gang dynamic is fragile as it is and Mac is going to protect his family at all costs.

Dennis only opens his insanely blue eyes wider and steps back acting like he doesn’t give a damn. Mac feels relieved he got the hint and rings the bell on his mum’s house. It is Mrs Kelly who answers the door and she invites them in eager and bubbly as always. It is a celebration - anniversary - of his mum and Charlie’s mum moving together and apparently, it is a big deal now. Mac vaguely remembers Charlie’s mum talking about an important announcement but he truly only came to pick up his laundry and maybe get some cooked food. Dennis dresses to the occasion in nice light blue shirt and he looks so well put together and smart, like some businessman or maybe even doctor. Mac feels his heart busting whenever he thinks of it.  

Rest of the gang is already there in the kitchen chatting about something so Mac sits down on the couch and waits. Dennis plops right next to him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Too close.

“Too bad this is not your old house,” Dennis says suddenly looking around probably judging the choice of Mrs Kelly’s decor.

“Why is it too bad? You never visited me anyway, dude. You hated our place.” Mac mutters but his grumpiness is only a poor decoy which should hide how nervous and excited Dennis’ closeness makes him.

“Your entire house smelled like cigarettes and glue if you had Charlie over. That’s why. But I always wanted to fuck you in your stupid room. Like in old high school days.”

Mac freezes but his face is starting to feel uncomfortably hot. As far as he remembers they were never even close to that ever in their high school days. He would remember. And Dennis surely never thought of this either, why is he torturing him like this.

“You were thinking of fucking me when we were in high school? Bullshit.”

Dennis raises his eyebrows, there is a smirk playing on his lips as he leans closer now half-way to actually straddle Mac’s lap.

“You weren’t thinking of it?” he purrs knowing the answer to that question already but enjoying the fact that now Mac can actually tell him the truth.

Mrs Kelly walks in with a smile on her face and Mac pushes Dennis off with such force that his back hits the edge of the couch. He frowns for a second but almost like he is rethinking his plan he sits up straight again and gifts Mrs Kelly a fake smile.

“What are you boys chatting about?” she asks placing a tray of cookies on the coffee table in front of them.

“NOTHING,” Mac yells out and keeps sitting tensed like a student that is about to get scolded. Dennis’ eyes dangerously glisten.

                                                      ***********

The dinner goes more or less fine. There is a little bit of turmoil happening when Charlie finds out that his mum gifted Mrs Mac half of the house because she got worried that if something happened to her Mrs Mac would have nowhere to go. That would make Mac feel good because it’s always good to know that your mum is doing well but he can’t focus on the argument at all. Dennis keeps being awfully close and touchy, his fingers are either tracing Mac’s thigh when they are supposed to be holding the cutlery. Then he makes an excuse that Mac has something in his hair and takes extremely long time to fish out the crumble out of it, making sure all the hair gel loses its purpose because now Mac’s hair does what it always does when it is touched and it floofs to every direction.

Mac keeps trying to shake Dennis off and snap back at him but it is truly an impossible task. At least the gang is occupied with argument and food so they are not paying attention to how Dennis makes sure to take his time and reach to Mac’s pocket to take his phone out to check time. When he is close his eyes are playful and focused on Mac’s face. He moves his eyebrows and bites his bottom lip which Mac finds awfully inappropriate considering his own mother is sitting right next to him and hot at the same time.

Finally, when the dinner is almost over and everybody is fine (Charlie is still breathing heavily over the fact that he has been indeed disowned) Mrs Kelly tells Mac to go pick up his laundry to Charlie’s old room.

Dennis follows him like a shadow up the stairs and when they are finally out of the sight of the gang Mac grabs his arm and pushes him into Charlie’s room slamming the door behind him.

“Can you stop doing that.”“Doing what?”“You know what.”“You don’t like it?”“No! I mean, yes! I mean… it’s not about if I like it or not. This has to stay between you and me.” ” - now it is only you and me.“

Mac stands there for a couple of seconds, not moving but the victory in Dennis’ eyes is so obvious by now that he simply has to give in. He wants to give in. Very badly. And so their bodies crash into each other and it is only a blur of a moment when they end up falling on Charlie’s old bed.

“It was fun for a while but now I am bored,” Dennis says and he sounds serious.“Bored of me?” Mac stutters the question out trying to conceal the worry that passes through his lips.“No, you dumbass. Of the hiding. You can either fuck me here or tell the gang.”

Mac is not sure if he is in a mood to do any of those things but he feels relieved that these are the options Dennis gave him. It is important to him that his mum would be there when he announces that he is in a committed relationship now and his mum is currently downstairs so that would work. Dennis sighs knowing that the Mac chose the more boring choice of the two and makes sure he looks fine once they finally grab the bag of laundry and meet up with the crew again. Dee is snarky commenting how long they have been waiting but her words get lost in the room. Charlie is fussy and really wants to leave because this day is not his best one and he is over the entire house argument. Mac doesn’t really pay attention to Frank so he turns to his mum who is absent-mindedly smoking a cigarette.

He doesn’t even know why he is nervous because his mum never had a strong reaction to anything he told her but this feels important. Should he also mention he is out now? Or does she know? It feels like a lot to handle but Dennis raises his hand placing it on Mac’s back right in the middle and as it moves in small soothing motion it gives Mac enough courage to speak up.

“Okay. SHUT UP, EVERYBODY! Good. So when I was getting this laundry I decided that it is time to tell you something important.”

“IF YOU ARE DISOWNING ME FROM PADDY’S I’M GONNA…” Charlie squeaks but Dennis’ look shuts him up immediately.

“No.” Mac turns to his mum who doesn’t bother to look back at him. “Mum, I’m gay..” he starts but his words get stuck in his throat.“So what? So am I..”Half of the room looks at Mrs Mac and blushing Mrs.Kelly but Mac is already decided to go on with his speech so he doesn’t react.“Me and Dennis are dating.”

There is it. The words are out. Mac feels proud of himself and Dennis gently paps his back as a sign of approval. He finally did it. Everything has come together for this moment. Mac pushes the bag of laundry closer to himself and smiles looking at everybody’s faces but the gang just turns and leaves while muttering ’we knew’ ’shocking’ ’let’s just go’. Dennis shakes his head gently as to say that there’s no point in saying anything further and moves to go back to Paddy’s. Mac looks back at his mum for a second and when their eyes meet he almost feels like she said that she is proud of him and wishes him well. He will believe that it is what the look meant.

Once they are finally out on the street and the fresh air cleanses Mac’s mind he leans closer to Dennis, grabbing him by his hip bone to make sure what he says can’t be heard by anybody else.

“..we are still going to bang later though, right?”