13.5k // “what happened to dennis between s13 and s14?” // canon compliant but probably way ooc // lots of discussions of dennis’s mental health including bpd and references to ed // macdennis but also they don’t kiss or get together or anything so
Mac is clingy and codependent and overbearing and always in his space, but Dennis likes those things, too. He liked the check-ins and the peeled apples. He liked Mac there to catch him when he fell. The world was a safer place when he was around, because the world was their world and in their world Mac didn't judge Dennis, he adored him, warts and all, no makeup, literal or not, nothing but the raw, ugly little knot of Dennis's soul, bared on their couch as they did whatever they did, together. Mac's smiles are crooked and he throws his weight around like the world is his, so lacking of self-conscious Dennis can't decide if he's jealous or finds it objectively attractive. Mac's ride or die, Mac's always down for the scheme, Mac's there beside him, because it's more fun when he's there, because it's safer. They broke up once, they came back together. They broke up again, and this time, they remain broken.
Laying there on his bed, his hands crossed over his chest, staring at the ceiling, Dennis feels how much it hurts to be left.
3k // mac and dennis construct intricate rituals to touch each other’s skin // porn but not very detailed and with feelings // no warnings for once!
In the car, after Guigino's. Mac bounces his leg up and down. Guigino's is normally it. It's the night, the night where they both pretend. The dinner, well. That's them. But after the dinner—on a normal night, they go home, like they always do, but they're full on good food and good wine and in that pleasant place of drunkenness where everything is just a little shinier. They've split a dessert, sugar still in their mouths. In the car they let their hands touch on the console between them. When they come back they walk shoulder-to-shoulder into the apartment, and there is where the pretending begin: Dennis always says something like, "I think I'm gonna take a shower, baby," and Mac says, "okay," and it's like Mac's room doesn't even exist, because he goes straight to Dennis's. He undresses, socks and boxer shorts, and relaxes on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He cracks the windows open just a little bit and listens to the sounds of the street below. Mac likes those sounds. It's not like Charlie's apartment, with the awful alley cat chorus, but the soundscape of Mac and Dennis's nicer place, the roll of tires on the street and the intermittent breeze. Then Dennis will come in the room—or if he didn't shower, though he usually did, they'd be together, talking to each other on their sides about the dinner they'd just had and whatever else they had experienced that day—and it would begin.
Tonight, though, Mac knows better than to suggest that. Dennis deflects the gang's invitation to head back to the bar after Guigino's, says he's tired, the food didn't settle well on his stomach Mac nods along with him, believes him. Mac wonders if the rest have figured it out, and there's really only two possibilities: they don't care or they're completely oblivious. Mac feels like it's as obvious as the two colognes he's put on, what this is, how this usually goes down. They've stopped asking why Mac always goes with Dennis, why Mac always rides shotgun, why Mac and Dennis have lived together since Dennis graduated. Oblivious or apathetic. Mac flips the tip of tie up and down. He doesn't know which one would be better.
750 words. dennis and mac watch breaking bad and talk about it. warning for mentions of ed, mentions of abuse, dennis using an ableist slur and light physical violence.
===
Mac picks up the remote and pauses the screen on an unflattering shot of Jesse’s crying face, wet with snot and tears, half-swollen. “I just don’t get it,” he says, turning towards Dennis.
\“What’s there not to get?” Dennis says through a mouthful of cheesy fries. “He got the shit beat out of him and now he’s mad.”
“Why doesn’t he just pop a cap in Walt’s ass?” Mac says, surprised by the anger that’s rising in his chest on Jesse’s behalf. “All this shit is because of him, right? So just, bang—” he mocks shooting a gun with the TV remote—”and problem solved, right? And Jesse can go back to normal. Like, he let his girlfriend die, dude.”
“You’re missing the point.” Dennis shimmies his back up a little to sit up straight, his tone slipping into that authoritative mode, like what Mac imagines a professor about to give a lecture to a class sounds like in the fancy auditorium with the wooden seats.
Mac waits, ear turned towards Dennis, and rolls his eyes when Dennis leaves the dramatic pause. “So enlighten me.”
“It’s simple, really.” Dennis looks down at the beer bottle in his hand, runs his finger around the rim. Always the drama, with Dennis. “He loves him.”
Mac guffaws. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No.” Dennis raises his face back to Mac. “Now, I don’t know how he loves him, but I think I understand the why. Jesse’s fucked up, right? Totally aimless. A junkie. Meth, no less. His family doesn’t love him. His friends are total fuckin’ jackasses. Then here comes Walt, who’s stable, who’s smart, who tells Jesse what to do. Gives him a purpose. You get it?”
“Yeah, no, bro. This—” Mac gestures at the screen with the remote— “is pathetic. It’s weak. He cries like a little bitch.”
“As usual, your deliberations on masculinity are unnerving.” Dennis sighs. Mac knows what all those words mean, even knows what they mean when strung together, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying to hear Dennis talk like that.
“It messes you up,” Dennis continues. “I don’t know about meth, but the other shit? It messes you up. Jesse seems like he was a bright kid. Sad to see all that go to waste. It probably tears him up inside. Are you following me?”
Mac shrugs. “No.”
Dennis continues, ignoring him. “Walt, you know, he hates his life. He hates his wife. Hell, he probably even hates that cripple of a son of his. Why wouldn’t he? It’s horrible, mundane. For a genius like him, that’s the worst thing. He feels stifled.”
“Okay, calm down, Freud,” Mac says. “Jesus Christ, I just want to watch them kick ass and get rich.”
Dennis shakes his head. His fingers fall limply down the beer bottle. “I don’t know why I bother,” he says. “Watching these kinds of things with you. You’re so fucking—stupid.”
Mac rolls his eyes and throws the remote at Dennis’s head. It catches Dennis off guard. The crack it makes satisfies Mac to his core, increases when the remote falls and no blood starts pouring from Dennis’s head. Dennis lifts his fingers to his head, rubs it and then he places the beer bottle on the floor and grabs at Mac’s shoulder. He pulls him close. Mac’s heart beats fast. Dennis’s fingers scramble along the neck of Mac’s shirt, then pulls the fabric aside. Dennis bites down hard on Mac’s shoulder, getting the thin skin there in between his teeth like a cat.
Mac lets it happen for a second, then shoves Dennis back. “Asshole,” he says. “I didn’t draw blood.”
“So? I probably have a concussion.”
“Whatever. Call the domestic abuse hotline.”
“Yeah, yeah, maybe I will.”
Mac touches the pads of his fingers to the bitemark. They come back bloody, slick with Dennis’s saliva. He wipes them on the pants, ignores the way his heart’s beating, ignores the way he feels, clenches the muscles in his thigh, thinks about the show. Dennis, connected as always, starts it up again.
-
Later that night, after four more episodes and an expensive selection of take-out, Mac sits on the bathroom floor beside Dennis rubbing his naked back as Dennis heaves into the toilet. Mac knows four beers spread out over five hours isn’t enough to get Dennis so drunk he pukes. Mac sees the red rings around Dennis’s knuckles.
2k // post the gang chokes // unedited bc i wanted to get this out // there’s like feelings but there’s also a blowjob so i guess this is porn with plot
bring it down
don't lose your senses
i’m circling around you now
pure thirst has got your face all lit up
play innocent, turn around
Very much without being prompted, Mac makes himself and Dennis some of the digestive aid tea he had brought from the health foods store last time he’d been there. Dennis seemed to like it the other night, even if he was annoyed by Mac asking him if he wanted some. Considering the havoc Mac has constructed on Dennis’s system, and the heavy meal he’d had tonight at the restaurant, though, Mac thinks this will be good for Dennis. While he dips the bags into their mugs and places them on the saucer, Dennis sits at the kitchen table in that way he does sometime, one arm at his side and the other with his hand balled into fist, setting him back so the chair just tips.
“Don’t do that,” Mac says as he places Dennis’s tea in front of him. Dennis relaxes, brings both his hands to cup the mug, and the chair falls. “You’ll fall. Hit your head.”
“Yeah,” Dennis murmurs. He takes a sip of tea. “Don’t want that.”
“Nope.” Mac takes his seat and for the strangest reason feels compelled to lean across and take Dennis’s hand in his. He does it, cupping his fingers over Dennis’s thin wrist, and Dennis looks at it but says and does nothing. Mac’s heart squeezes. He thinks about Dennis slapping his wrist away the other day, the red marks in the shape of Dennis’s fingers rising there, Mac running his thumb over and over the welts and feeling, loving, the sting.
Something nags at Mac. Not that—that’s normal Dennis behavior, the slapping, and Mac’s always loved a good flagellation. “Hey, Den,” he says. Dennis’s attention has floated to the bottom of his teacup, but this catches it. “Would you have been upset if Dee had really died?”
“What? No.” Dennis scoffs.
“Well, it’s just, you know. You’re always saying that you love her.”
“I am not always saying that I love her.” Dennis had seemed distant, weird, but now he’s coming back to himself, and Mac smiles, so happy to see it.
“Well, you have been on record saying you love her. Which is more than you’ve said for anybody else.”
Dennis waves his hand. “What, do you want me to say I love you?”
Mac’s heart squeezes again. Yes, yes, yes. A year or two or three or any other ago, he would have squeezed his heart back, crushed it himself, say no. The silence, the lack of that immediate response, is answer enough for now. Instead of acting repulsed, instead of swatting Mac’s hand off his wrist and jumping up to scratch him, instead of leaving the table and locking himself in his dungeon of a room, Dennis just sits there. His eyes jump back into his cup of tea.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says after a few minutes of sitting in silence and drinking their tea. “I knew somebody would save her. They don’t just let a woman die in a nice restaurant, for Christ’s sake.”
“Right,” Mac agrees. “That somebody, though, you know. That wasn’t going to be me.”
“You hate Dee.”
“I mean, I do.” Mac shrugs. “I don’t think, you know, in another incident, I would let her die, though.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” Dennis drags his eyes from the bottom of his now-empty tea and stares at Mac. He looks tired and thin and beautiful.
“’Cause you love her,” Mac says. He punctuates it with a shit-eating grin to soften the blue. “You’d be sad.”
“Well.” Dennis’s mouth compresses into a scant line. “Thanks, Mac. I guess.”
“No problem, man.” Mac relaxes and takes his hand from Dennis’s wrist. He take the last swig of digestive tea—it does work, his stomach feels great—and gathers his cup and saucer, then takes Dennis’s one. Dennis lets him, and when Mac turns around to bring the dishes to the sink, Dennis’s fingers ghost along his side.
Mac flashes back, suddenly and violently, to being on the cruise ship, the floor tilting underneath his feet, sliding down, and Dennis grabbing him and his fingers brushing Mac’s side in the same way. Don’t go, it said then, don’t die, and maybe it says that now, too. Mac doesn’t like to think about the time on the cruise ship, the room filling with water, Dennis’s eyes filling with a deep dark thing, whatever lies beneath the water. Mac doesn’t like that all. He stiffens a little, but he still goes to the sink, rinses out the cups.
“I like this, on you.”
When Dennis speaks in non-sequiturs like this, it means he’s trying, the best he can, to tell Mac something that he can’t use in plain words. Mac steels himself to the task. Reading between the lines, the skill necessary for both the Bible and Dennis Reynolds, equal in their demand of worship.
Mac looks down at his shirt. They’d changed to their sleep clothes when they got home—they’re forty—and it’s just one of his muscle tees over one of his thermals. “This?”
“No, you dumbass.” Dennis rolls his eyes with no particular malice. “Taking charge. Being bossy. Being Mac. That’s what I like. I hated that weak, ineffective shit. What even was that?”
Mac shrugs. “Do you want an honest answer?” he asks. He feels compelled to give one—something about the sot light and the warm tea resting warm in his belly, the way Dennis’s hair has deflated and his t-shirt sags a little bit around his shoulders, dipping to show a bit more skin. Worn and loved and comfortable.
“Yeah.”
“I just wanted you to love me, man,” Mac says. He walks back to his chair. “I wanted to be what you wanted me to be. You’ve been—weird, up and down, since all that…” He crinkles his nose, knows that Dennis gets what he’s referring to when Dennis crinkles his own nose back at him. “I just wanted to make sure that, you know, you were good.”
“I am good.” Dennis scoffs again, but softer this time. He reaches out and touches Mac’s wrist, now, the one that he had slapped, the welts long gone but the touch-memory just under the skin. “You were honest, so I’ll be honest. I am good when you do this shit for me without me asking. Why do you even ask? You always ask for shit you know I’m going to say yes to, anyway.”
“To make sure.”
"You have known me for, what, twenty-five years? You’re sure.”
Not too long ago Mac would have cursed his treacherous heart for squeezing at such words, would have hated himself so deeply for how happy Dennis’s touch and words and gaze makes him. Would have felt anger. Now, though, he feels an acute type of sadness. Dennis loves him, Mac thinks, maybe, but not in that way. Mac has worked at Dennis’s side, doing this sort of shit, for two and a half decades. He has made this his life’s goal. He is a monk in Dennis’s abbot. He is a priest to Dennis’s god. That will never change. Perhaps it is selfish to want more, but—
“I’ll tell you something, buddy, you know what.” Dennis taps his fingers against Mac’s wrist and leans in. “When you didn’t save Dee? I wasn’t thinking about her life. I was thinking about how sexy it was. I totally wanted to drop to my knees and suck you off then and there.”
Mac’s eyes blow wide. His heart and mind and dick dance in some arrhythmic, erratic fashion, volleying blood back and forth between the three of them. The tiny little rational bird that lives in the cage of Mac’s mind tells him that Dennis is trying to process complicated emotional shit through sex, as usual. A skeptical priest, an agnostic monk, Mac is not yet at the point where he can accept that maybe, for him, for Dennis for him, sex and emotions are the same, that they have united in their own holy trinity of partnership in the biblical sense of the words, as husband and husband, soul and soul, wedded on the celestial plane.
“Cool,” is Mac’s very eloquent response.
Dennis stares at him, his eyes sliding down in annoyance.
“Oh! Yeah, bro. That sounds nice. Yeah, suck me off.” A beat. “That’s an order.”
Dennis’s face does this weird thing, his eyes sliding back and his mouth going slack, but he reigns it back in. The chair squeaks against their floor—should oil them, probably, Mac thinks distantly—as he pushes it back, then half-steps towards Mac and eases himself to his knees.
Mac’s hands go to Dennis’s hair, pulling it this way and that way. He doesn’t like the dark dye. He will tell Dennis to stop doing that, he only has a few gray hairs, anyway, and they’re so close in color to his usual brown that nobody will notice. Mac stops thinking about the color of Dennis’s hair when Dennis runs his hands along Mac’s thighs, spreading them wide.
Mac takes one hand from Dennis’s head to push down his sweatpants, sitting up so he can get them down past his thighs. No underwear, so Dennis’s fingers grasp at Mac’s half hard cock, working him to full mast. When it comes to Dennis, like this, Mac doesn’t feel forty. He feels like a teenager, ready to blow his load at the slightest wind. He bites his lip and restrains himself, touches the side of Dennis’s face. He thinks about rubbing ash on somebody’s forehead. He thinks about blessings. He stops thinking once more as Dennis tilts his head and brings Mac down his throat, hollowed and wet and ready. To the hilt. Dennis is great at sucking cock, so pretty with his sucked-in cheeks and butterfly eyelashes and pink lips.
When Dennis hums Mac feels it throughout his body, down to his toes and up to his nose. He thrusts on instinct. Dennis sputters, just a bit, Mac feeling the influx of saliva around his cock, but he readjusts himself and slides his head a little bit more upright and takes it. Mac anchors his fingers in Dennis’s curls and thrusts again. A few thrusts and adjustments and they find a rhythm: slow but deep, long but deliberate. Mac thrusts, Dennis hums and sucks. Mac’s eyes slide closed, the small visual of Dennis beneath the table gone, and everything is raw and feelings and sensations: Dennis’s mouth, Mac’s cock, his balls tightening, that delicious throb spreading up into his lower stomach—warm and comfortable. Dennis presses his fingernails into Mac’s right thigh, up close to the juncture, and drags all the way back to where just Mac’s cockhead rests between his lips, then moves forward in time with Mac thrusting. Mac comes. Dennis swallows.
Mac’s eyes open. He’d been holding them shut so hard that everything shifts and flashes in colors unknown to man before they straighten again. Shoving the chair back, he taps Dennis’s cheek, feels his shoulder. Dennis stands up from under the table, falls into Mac’s lap. Mac palms around Dennis’s crotch, disappointed to find no hard cock there.
“I jacked myself off,” Dennis admits, his eyes lowering to the floor.
“Oh,” Mac says. “Alright, that’s cool. Next time, though, you know. Let me do you.”
“Yeah.” Dennis slumps in Mac’s hold, bringing his legs over one of Mac’s thigh and wrapping his arms around his neck. His chest rises and heaves. “See how easy this is?” he says.
“Sure,” Mac says, even though he’s not sure of what Dennis is talking about at all.
“Just do, don’t ask,” Dennis continues. “Yeah. Wanted to do that back at the restaurant. Yeah. That was good.”
“Yeah.”
Mac tightens his grip on Dennis, slides his arms under his thighs and his knees, then stands up. He carries Dennis to his bed. He does not drop him.
3k // post charlie rules the world // dennis has some thoughts about him being god, works it out by blowing mac in the alley behind paddy’s, as you do
Dennis loses interest as Charlie and Mac try to convince Frank to buy the Nintendo. He walks behind the bar and does the few things they do before they close for the night. His watch tells him that it's a little after midnight. It's a weekday, and nobody else has come in in the last half an hour, so Dennis thinks it's about time to close. He's watching Mac leaning on the bar, the ridge of his arm, the bulge in the bicep, and he's getting a little itchy under the collar. Mac keeps talking about first-person shooters and Mario, and Charlie's agreeing with him, and Dennis feels his grip on the situation loosening.
"Time to close," Dennis announces. "Charlie, go kick out Hank."
1.3k // macdennis but like, they don’t fuck // angst // what happened after mac day? this fic answers that question!
Mac Day is over, not that it makes a difference. After suffering through a Frank Day full of humiliation, Mac and Dennis arrive back at their apartment. Dennis takes the shower first, leaving Mac to sit on a towel on their floor as to contain the sewage dripping off his body. He methodically undresses, piling his clothes beside him, until he is naked and sitting on top of his own boxers. The apartment reeks. Dennis had gotten off easy, just the ingredients for a red velvet cake mixed in his hair, but Mac lets him claim the shower because Mac deserves to sit in literal rotting fetid human waste and refuse and think about nothing but the wrath of God.
part three of the series in which the gang texts each other, inspired by the gang texts. i started writing this before the episode and rcg have blessed me and confirmed all my texting headcanons to be true. so let’s have some fun with themes!
11:03 AM, Friday, Philadelphia, PA
Paddy’s Pub
Dennis: WHERE IS EVERYBODY????
Dennis: IT IS TIME TO OPEN THE BAR!!!!
Dennis: HELLO????
Dennis: WAS I NOT INFORMED OF TODAY’S SCHEME????
Dennis: TODAY’S CAPER???
Dennis: MAC WHERE ARE YOU???????? I NEED YOU!!!!!
Dennis: AW SHIT THAT WAS FOR MAC.
Dennis: I HATE TECHNOLOGY.
Dennis: …
[ HOW DO I CHANGE PEOPLE’S NAMES IN GROUP CHAT? ]
[ HOW DO I DEMOTE PEOPLE IN GROUP CHAT? ]
Dennis has removed Dee, Charlie, Mac and Frank as administrators
Dennis has changed the name of Dee to Bird
Dennis has changed the name of Charlie to Rat
Dennis has changed the name of Mac to Dog
Dennis has changed the name of Frank to Warthog
Dennis has changed the name of Dennis to Lion
Lion: I LOVE TECHNOLOGY.
11:13 AM, Friday, Philadelphia, PA
Bird: THIS IS SOME GRADE-A BULLSHIT DENNIS
Lion: WHO IS DENNIS????
Dog: How come you get to be cool and the rest of us are lame this is not cool bro
Warthog: WARTHOG IS COOL.
Lion: WHERE WERE YOU GUYS???
Bird: I am not going to tell you until you change our names back
Dog: Were not gonna come to the bar either
Dog: Your gonna have to find us
Lion: I DO NOT LIKE THIS SCHEME!!!
Dog: Too bad
Lion: FINE MAC I AM TURNING ON YOUR GPS.
Dog: I am saddened but not surprised that he has a gps on me
Bird: Yeah I operate under the assumption that he has them on all of us.
Lion: I DO.
Lion: YOU’RE ALL JUST AT FRANK AND CHARLIE’S APARTMENT!
Rat: There is an emergency!
Lion: CHARLIE YOU ARE NOT LITERATE IS FRANK HELPING YOU?
Rat: Speech to text, bro!
Bird: Oh god
Bird: I miss when this was just me and Dennis
Bird: Screaming into the void
Bird: Those were some good times
Bird: Right Dennis?
Lion: SHUT UP BIRD
Rat reacted to that, Warthog reacted to that, Dog reacted to that: [laughing emoji]
Mac created the group chat Operation: Apex predator
Mac added Charlie, Frank and Dee to Operation: Apex predator
Mac: We need to get our admin privileges back from dennis
Dee: Why do you need our help? You should be able to convince Dennis with sex.
Charlie: I agree, Dee! Sex is everything with Dennis!
Dee: This Charlie thing is FREAKY
Mac: Look dennis is more complicated than you think
Mac: He has emotions
Mac: I learned that the hard way
Mac: Lol hard
Mac: We need a plan
Dee: Why don’t we just create another group chat and invite him and use that one
Charlie: Because he will just leave it like he left the old one.
Dee: Why does the speech to text take away your contractions?
Charlie: I am not pregnant and in labor, Dee, nor am I a construction worker, so I could not be having contractions.
Dee: Forget it.
Frank: LISTEN UP ASSHOLES.
Frank: I HAVE A PLAN.
Frank: WE WILL JUST STEAL DENNIS PHONE.
Mac: Cant
Mac: He unlocks it with his face
Charlie: That is just like him!
Frank: THEN UNLOCK IT WHILE HE’S SLEEPING!!!
Mac: Cant
Mac: His eyes have to be open
Frank: STAPLE HIS EYES OPEN.
Mac: Cant
Mac: Will wake him up
Frank: USE A PICTURE.
Mac: Will try
Mac: Didnt work
Mac: Dennis figured it out
Mac: He is wearing his phone around his neck now
Mac: My irresistible charms arent working
Dee: Just get him blackout drunk. It always works
Mac: Ok yea lets try that
1:46 AM, Saturday, Philadelphia, PA
Operation: Apex predator
Mac: I think hes almost there
Mac: He keeps talking about music
Mac: And doing theme nights at Paddys
Frank: THEME NIGHTS ARE NOT A BAD IDEA. COULD MAKE A LOT OF MONEY. PEOPLE LIKE THEMES.
Dee: Can we PLEASE just finish ONE scheme before moving onto the next for ONCE
Charlie: Dee sounds like Dennis. I do not like that. What themes?
Paddy’s Pub
Lion: I LOV TECHNLGY
Lion: I DLD ALLLLL BRYAN ADAMS SONGS
Lion: I GOT AN IDEA GUYS!!!!!
Rat: Is it changing our names back to normal?
Warthog: YOU CAN KEEP MINE.
Lion: LETS DO 80S NITE @ PADDYS!!!!!
Lion: GET DRESSED UP!!!!!!
Lion: KARRYOKY
Lion: $$$$$$$$
Lion: CHICKS
Dog: Itd be easier to plan if you changed our names back
Bird: Yeah, this is too confusing
Dog: Ok im gonna take his phone and tell him im making the event
Dog: Oh shit
Dog: ohhhhh shit
Dog: Wrong chat
Dog: Oh wait hes not even looking at his phone
Dog: All good guys
10:17 AM, Sunday, Philadelphia, PA
Operation: Apex predator
Dee: Hello????????
Dee: Earth 2 mac?????????
Charlie: I already tried calling him.
Charlie: He did not answer.
Frank: OH FUCDK DENNIS FINALLY KILLED HIM
Dee: Oh no he didn’t
Dee: Dennis probably got all slutty like he does when hes blackout and they forgot all about the phone thing
Dee: I’m heading over now
11:06 AM, Sunday, Philadelphia, PA
Paddy’s Pub
Lion has changed the name of Lion to Dennis
Dennis has changed the name of Rat to Charlie
Dennis has changed the name of Dog to Mac
Dennis has changed the name of Warthog to Frank
Dennis has changed the name of Dee to Bird
Dennis has added Charlie, Dee, Frank and Mac as administrator
Frank: I WANTED TO KEEP WARTHOG
Dennis: TOO BAD. MY THEME NAMING IDEA HAS BEEN VETOED.
Charlie: Because they were lame.
Charlie: Ell oh ell.
Dennis: DID THE ZOO TEACH US NOTHING ABOUT THIS TEXTING NONSENSE???
Dee: You’re just mad because Mac tricked you
Dennis: HE DID NOT TRICK ME! I CONSENTED.
Frank: ENOUGH CHILDREN.
Frank: COME 2 BAR.
Frank: WE HAVE THEME NIGHTS TO DISCUSS.
Dennis: THEME NIGHTS?
Mac: Yeah bro dont u remember u were going on about a 80s theme night for paddys and bryan adams and shit
Dennis: I DO NOT REMEMBER, MAC. I WAS BLACKOUT DRUNK. THANKS TO YOU.
Dee: I’m gonna leave this chat if this shit keeps going on
Charlie: Go ahead.
Charlie: Nobody would miss you.
Charlie: Bird.
Mac, Dennis and Frank reacted to that: [laughing emoji]
2k // dennis being fucked up, tws for practically everything, especially graphic description of corpses // coda for charlie’s mom has cancer // macdennis, but dennis-centric
An uncovered corpse. Not even a skeleton. Dennis saw the necrotizing flesh, the decaying hair. Electricity replaces the blood in his veins and he's screaming, grabbing onto Dee, sobbing, begging somebody to do something. Charlie's in the grave and Frank's shouting about his shoes and where the fuck is Mac—
"Jesus, Charlie! Cover that shit up!" Mac's in the hole, in his mother's hollowed grave, shoving Charlie aside. The lid is back on the coffin. Dennis is still screaming.
