reality in motion

“Uh, excuse me, ma’am,” Mac snuck up behind his sister placing a hand on her shoulder once he was close enough. He’d been trying to find Kaden for the last hour (or so it felt) and couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when he finally did. “You didn’t tell me you had a date with an actual man.” He raised his eyebrows, grinning stupidly. “An actual man who, by the way, is the literal definition of perfect. How have you not gotten lost in those eyes? It’s impossible”

He tried to adjust the jacket over his shoulders that grazed against his forearms uncomfortably. He was always so sensitive to fabric, and the fact that this was a little bigger on him than on his father did not help. “No, I-” He reached behind him to scratch at the back of his neck. “I don’t want another suit. I don’t wanna wear a suit ever again in my life, ever. Ah-” The edge of the tag on the collar of his shirt scratched against his neck, making him jolt in discomfort, and his incessant fidgeting didn’t help. He grabbed a chair on one of the abandoned tables behind them and sat down, unclipping his bowtie and undoing the first few buttons on his shirt. He looked up at Mac, and his smile was almost enough to instantly soothe his irritation. “Thanks,” he said, dropping his hands to his lap when he finally got some relief from his shirt crisis and bunched up his trousers by the knees to reveal them. “I thought suits were boring.”

"That’s gonna be pretty unavoidable, though, babe,” he mumbled, watching as the other fidgeted with his outfit. “Look at it this way — this fabric is hella old. It was your dad’s, right? No wonder it feels shitty. Don’t you trust me?” He teased, removing his grip on the other’s shoulder and allowing himself to do what he needed to do to become comfortable. A chuckle escaped his lips when Jamie finally calmed down. “Better?” Mac arched his eyebrows. “I happen to think you look anything but boring,” he complimented, sitting down in the chair beside him and setting his drink down on the table. “You having fun? I won fifty bucks over at the Blackjack table, which was was a very pleasant surprise considering how much I suck at card games.”

"Oh shit, sorry about that,” Mac apologized, extending a hand to lightly pat Noah on the arm. Only two drinks in and he was already running into people left and right “I wasn’t looking where I was going — guess the lighting in here isn’t helping much.” He said, referencing the dim atmosphere of the casino. After a brief moment, he narrowed his brows as he scanned the other’s face. “Hey, you’re Noah, right? Kaden’s friend.”

"Listen, all I’m saying is that the next time there’s a fancy event like this, just let me buy you a new suit,” he told his boyfriend as affectionately as he could, hand placed delicately on Jamie’s shoulder. “You don’t even like wearing it, and they’re really not that expensive. Okay?” Mac quirked an eyebrow, grinning. “That being said, the socks are a nice touch.”

"Well, don’t you look beautiful,” Mac gently snuck up behind his best friend, giving her an affectionate peck on the cheek (like only he could) before moving to stand before her. Getting all dressed up like they were was a pretty rare occasion, so the male wanted to make the most of it. “Get anything good to drink? They got all the expensive stuff here, so I’m already living it up.” He grinned. “Might hit the blackjack table, too. It’s the only card game here that I actually know how to play. “

“Something like that,” Amy mused as she opened up one of the jars she’d set aside, swiping a brush through the concealer. With her left hand, she cradled his head and smiled her baseline smile as she blended a bit of the makeup under his eyes and onto his cheeks.“I work with them a lot, yeah. Technically, I’m still freelance, but that really just means that I work for ten different companies a month, sometimes, instead of one steady place. It can get tiring, but I like working with real people. That’s why I volunteered for this. So, what do you do when you’re not posing for your artist friends? Let me guess, let me guess. You’re a… journalist?”

He resisted the urge make any sudden movements as she worked the concealer onto his face, feeling a bit out of his element at this point. Not that he had a problem with the makeup itself — no, it was more the concept of having to be on camera, but he figured he might as well brave through it. What did he have to lose, anyway? “Ah, freelance. The lack of job security is so lovely, don’t you think?” Mac teased, having worked similarly before deciding he needed some stability in his life. “Is this more of a side gig for you, then, or is makeup artistry the focus?” he arched an eyebrow, letting out a chuckle. “If only — nah, I’m actually an art teacher. Kindergarten through fifth grade, and during the summer I pretty much just paint full time.”

“I’m pretty sure my luck’s already run out and the night only just started,” Faye mumbled, more to herself than anyone else, popping her tenth quarter into one of the slot machines. Noticing someone coming up behind her, though, she glanced in their direction, and then with a gentle laugh questioned, “You have the knack with these things? ‘Cause I really, really don’t.”

Mac pursed his lips slightly as he watched the woman try her luck at one of the slot machines, shaking his head in response to her question. “You’re askin’ the wrong guy. I can’t even manage to win at a single round of blackjack,” he smirked, taking another step so that he was standing beside her. “I think these things are more luck than anything. Have you actually met someone who’s won big off of these? ‘Cause I’d like to know the secret.”

He frowned when Mac tried to make light of the situation, having already understood what his relationship with his parents were like even before they broke up. Maybe understood was even the wrong term, given that he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that any parent would deliberately do their children any harm, but he knew that it was the truth. More importantly, it was Mac’s truth, unfortunate as it is. “It’s not stupid. You’re not stupid.” he said, pulling his eyebrows together when the other man dropped himself back on the bed. “Mac.” He lowered his elbows so he could push himself forward on all fours, nearly colliding foreheads with each other. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He spoke slowly, quietly, his face inches away from Mac’s now, trying to get him to look at him, right at him. “I wouldn’t have talked about grape juice with her.”

He sighed when Jamie attempted to convince him otherwise. knowing he should just shut up and listen to the male despite every bone in his body feeling nothing but shame. Even years of therapy couldn’t get rid of that feeling, even if the logical part of him knew it was all bullshit. “Jamie,” he retorted childishly, jaw clenched. Mac tried his best to avoid his boyfriend’s gaze, but he was far to close to him at this point for that to be possible and — god, why couldn’t he just suck it up and talk to the one man he trusted more than most? “I don’t know, I —” Mac placed his hand on his forehead frustratedly. “You were already speaking to her by the time I noticed,” he clarified, shaking his head. “I just panicked, okay? What was I supposed to do? Drag you out of there?” the male arched his brows, finally meeting Jamie’s gaze. “By the time you got to the car, I just wanted to forget about it. I didn’t wanna think about it...and, of course, that fucking backfired and I was a miserable fucking prick for the rest of the day.”

It was a line if she’d ever heard one. Marley had heard plenty of have we met before’s? in her time. It was usually followed with something equally as cheesy, like a good look at her face (or body) and a nodded head, a no, no, I definitely would’ve remembered meeting someone like you. She’d roll her eyes, shake her head in amusement, knock them on their originality but praise their confidence for being willing to try and strike out so hard. Before she could tease the man, who admittedly actually looked familiar as well, his follow up question had her eyebrows furrowing, having taken a strange turn. “Oh, I sure hope not.” She teased, shaking her head as she pocketed her pen and notepad in her apron. “I’m not sure. Let me get a good look at you.” Leaning in closer (in case it was a line–he was handsome), Marley took a good look at his face, ultimately shaking her head, before it came to her. Her eyes lit up. “I don’t suppose you’d be my sweet lil’ Jamie’s boy, now would ya?”

Mac let out a hearty laugh at her response, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll let you know if I see any motherless curly-haired blondes runnin’ around,” he retorted, knowing how ridiculous he probably sounded. At least she didn’t completely shut him down, however, fully aware that his question could have come off very differently considering that while he was more effeminate than the average man, it wasn’t always very noticeable. Grinning slightly as she leaned in, he all but held his breath as she examined him, smile growing wider when she mentioned his boyfriend by name. “Your sweet lil’ Jamie?” he repeated amusedly, nodding his head. “’Spose that would be me. I knew you looked familiar — I think we met at, uh, that Fourth of July party, right?” Mac quirked an eyebrow. “I was real tipsy that night, so you’ll have to forgive me for forgetting your name.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She somewhat mocked with a small nudge as she curled herself against his side. Phobe was glad that Mac found himself an outlet the provided him meaning. Something that kept his mind off of the shitty life everyone lived. “I would suck someone’s dick for you. If it meant that you got to be in some show. As long as it was clean.” It wasn’t much of an offer but she hoped that it showed what loyalty she had towards him. “Nope. Daycare. She seems to like it more than staying home with me right now.” 

Mac snorted at her comment, knowing that she wasn’t entirely joking when she mentioned that. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’d rather make it on my own merit,” he smirked, patting her knee affectionately. “I’ll let you know the next time one is super hot, though. If I can’t have ‘em, you might as well throw your name in.” He shrugged. “Yeah? Well, it’s good that she’s making friends.” Mac’s eyes flickered up to meet hers. “How’s being by yourself feel?”

full name: Mackenzie Daniel Westwood

nickname(s): Mac

age: 33

date of birth: June 5th, 1985

nationality: American

occupation: Art teacher/Painter

religion: Christian, non practicing

sexuality: Homosexual

hometown: Morgantown, WV

current residence: Santa Monica, CA

financial status: Middle Class

educational level: Graduated with a BFA in Art and Design with majors in Art Education and Painting

→ relationships

father: Gerard Westwood

mother: Linda Westwood

siblings: Kaden Westwood, Eve Westwood (deceased)

relationship status: In a relationship with @jamiexcarter​

when/who was your first kiss: Marissa Lennox, fourth grade. (His first kiss with a boy was with Billy Lincoln, eighth grade.)

are you a virgin: No

have you ever had a same sex experience: Quite a few by now.

do you ever want to get married/have children: Eventually.

what do you look for in a potential significant other: Loyalty and affection.

→ personality

positive traits: ambitious, quick-witted, convival

negative traits: overemotional, uptight, finicky

biggest fear: Not being good enough.

what’s more important- sex or intimacy: Intimacy

do you believe in true love: He wants to. He hopes it’s true.

have you ever been in love: Yes.

are you a leader or follower: Depends. 

do you care what others think of you: Incredibly so.

how do you deal with stress: Drinking, mostly.

are you spontaneous or do you always need a plan: He prefers a plan, but understands that life doesn’t always work that way.

→ misc

If your character could change one physical detail about herself, what would it be? He haaaates his chin. Thinks it’s way too small for his face.

What is your character’s favorite physical activity? He loves going on long walks.

What is your character’s least favorite physical activity? Anything having to do with weightlifting. No thank you.

Your character comes face-to-face with her worst enemy. What is her first reaction? Get out of there ASAP.

What is your character’s favorite weather? Sunny and breezy.

What is your character’s favorite season? Fall

What is your character’s least favorite season? Winter

Your character keeps a photo album of memories from her lifetime. If she could only keep one photo, what would it depict? Him, @kadenwestwood​ and Eve when they were young.

Does your character keep any pets? No.

What is your character’s fondest childhood memory? There are very few that he is fond of, but perhaps when he’d have cozy nights in with his sisters when their parents were off on week-long benders.

Someone asks your character to describe her family. How do they answer? It’s just him and his sister. He tells people his parents are dead when they ask. It’s easier than the truth.

Is your character a morning person, a night owl, or something else entirely? Definitely a morning person.

What is your character’s least favorite color? Orange.

A stranger makes a crude comment to your character. How do they react? Walk away. Probably cry later. 

He let his hands drop towards the mattress when Mac sat up a bit so that they were almost facing each other. The longer it took Mac to get to his point, the more he got worried, especially when he said he shouldn’t take it as his fault. What could’ve possibly have happened back there that he failed to see? Judging by the terrified look on Mac’s face, Jamie was starting to realize that maybe it had nothing to do with the juice or how they’ve had a long day. The mention of his mother explained the expression on his face, which was almost devoid of color. “Huh?” Jamie was confused, unable to recall any woman that day, let alone in the supermarket. Of course, that had been days past and he’d spoken to dozens of different people. “What woman? Who?” He squinted at Mac as if the answer was written on his face. “I don’t remember-” But then he did. “The lady who liked grape juice?” His eyes widened in realization. “That was your mom?” 

Mac pursed his lips slightly, unable to meet his boyfriend’s gaze for more than a few seconds out of — what? Fear? Judgement? Logically, the male knew better than to think Jamie would ostracize him. After all, he knew enough about his past for the mention of his mother to set off warning bells, and although Mac had mostly stopped blaming himself for his parents’ mistreatment, that didn’t mean the feelings didn’t longer there somewhere. “Yeah,” he affirmed softly, fingers pulling absentmindedly at the soft comforter beneath them. “Her hair was shorter. Which, uh, is kinda funny considerin’ she’d always bitch about never wanting to cut it. Said she’d look like a damn lesbian if she went that length.” Mac forced out a chuckle, teeth catching his lower lip. “It scared me. Seein’ her.” He shook his head, laying back once again. “Stupid.”

He hummed in sleepy contentment, closing his eyes and clearing his throat as he nestled against Mac’s side as his boyfriend turned facing upwards. With his leg folded and pinned over Mac’s and an arm thrown across his chest, he listened as Mac spoke about their trip, vaguely referring to a day he didn’t realize was one to be remembered. “A little, yeah,” he said, opening one eye first followed by the other. “I just thought maybe you were tired.” He held his gaze from his side for a few seconds before abruptly sitting up, hands on Mac’s chest for leverage. “Why were you acting weird, then?”

He sighed softly as the other nestled into his side, the warmth that Jamie brought him much better than any kind of blanket in his otherwise chilly apartment. Mac’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, thumb lazily rubbing against his soft skin. “I mean, I was tired,” he mumbled, eyebrows narrowing as Jamie abruptly sat up and immediately missing the short-lived entanglement. Moistening his lower lip, he followed suit and sat up slightly, using his elbows to prop himself up. “I don’t want you feeling like you did something wrong or nothin’ okay? ‘Cause you didn’t.” He met his boyfriend’s gaze for a quick moment before moving them to his lap, familiar thoughts of shame and insecurity beginning to settle in on him. “That woman — the one you were talking to in the, uh, in the juice aisle,” Mac began, pausing only to clear his throat. “That was Linda. My, uh, mother.” He felt his throat tighten up slightly, though he tried his hardest not to let his voice reflect that. “It’s — it’s not a big deal. It just...threw me.” Seeing the person who made your life hell after ten years tended to do that, apparently.

Hanson: a strong mans breakfast?

Hanson: I mean...I'm not sure I wanna know what a strong mans breakfast is.

Hanson: BUT I WANT BACON

Hanson: So Ya.

Mac: yes breakfast for big burly men like us

Mac: feel free to laugh at that statement

Mac: YEAAAAAH BUDDY