#and i was like ill have to tear my teeth into ur throat for doing this to me w/o asking for my input

[waluijoe]

every purchase i gotta make that passes the 50bucks bar is literally like a flamming knife directly to my guts im so tired

[bluejaysandblackbats]

blood on your altar

Fandom: DC Comics, Titans (fab five), Aquafam, Arrowfam

Summary: Roy Harper is haunted by a strange sight he witnessed while on holiday by the seaside.

Chapters: 4/?

Characters: Roy Harper, Garth, Oliver Queen, Hal Jordan, Dinah Lance

Relationships: Roy Harper/Garth

Additional Tags: Cannibal Mermaid AU, Sacrifice, Cannibalism as a Metaphor, Secrets, Angst, Romance, Horror, 1950’s AU

Chapter Four: Death at the Eclipse

Being followed at nighttime is a strange feeling. I remember Ollie told me something about the true nature of a man coming out when his life is on the line, and I thought it was war talk. Shuffling through the sand at a steady pace kept me from panicking as I listened to the sound of someone’s feet trudging behind me. I didn’t turn but I should have… Because the second I felt his breath on the back of my neck and smelled the stench of liquor and cigar smoke on him, it was too late. I felt something strike me in the back of my head, and I recalled Ollie’s words clearly. “When a man comes across a situation that is undoubtedly life or death, there’s nothing to separate him from an animal… And at that moment… He becomes a predator or he dies like prey,” Ollie’s words echoed in my head while my ears rang like a bell. I was out of it, knocked on my back with a man on top of me, punching me. I couldn’t hear him speak, but I had time to look when he stopped attacking me to see the glint of a blade. I blocked his attempt to stab me with my forearm. I went wide-eyed, staring into the eyes of my attacker. The man from the ice cream parlor. I struggled to get the upper hand, but he’d knocked me so hard in the back of my head. 

I felt his weight fly off of me, and I heard a crunch and squelching noise. Once my ears stopped ringing, and I regained my senses, I tilted my head back in the sand, staring at the blood on the rock ahead of me. Then my eyes focused on my boy creature in full creature form. His entire body covered in dark abalone shells glistened in the moonlit showers. His teeth were sharp and white, and his sharp, scaly claws tore the limp mess of a man’s head from his body. I sat with my legs crossed in the wet sand, staring at him. “Ur ye awrite?” the boy creature asked. I couldn’t speak. He cleared his throat, looking at me with his bright amethyst eyes. “Are you okay?” His American accent was exaggerated and dragged out but I understood him much better. 

“Are you going to eat me next?” I asked. 

“Of course not, dafty… You didn’t hurt anyone,” he answered. He lugged the limp thing on his shoulders carrying what remained of the head with one hand, and walked through a rock mass toward a closed-off beach area. I clutched my head and grabbed my satchel, following him dizzily. “You didn’t tell anyone you saw me… I listened for a tale, and you didn’t speak. You didn’t utter a word about me. Why?” 

“I don’t know. I was curious about you,” I confessed. 

“You made pictures of me. Will you make more?” he asked. He was talkative for a creature. We reached a half-submerged cave and he threw the body down ripping the man’s limbs from his body. “Does this make ya ill? I could eat him later.” I shook my head. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have drawn you that way—.” 

“Why not? Do you not like your drawing?” he asked innocently. 

“I—. Well—.” I stammered before taking a deep breath. “I draw what I like to look at. I never draw anything that I don’t like.” He smiled. 

“I liked it too. You made me look special… I’ve never talked to a human before. I have so many questions,” he replied. He could’ve yammered on forever. He seemed lonesome. I wondered if there were others like him. But I figured it’d be better to let the person who could tear men limb from limb ask the questions. I nodded. “Do your parts change?” 

“Huh?” I asked. I watched as he set the arms aside and wiped his mouth. Holding eye contact, he took a fully human form and started touching himself. I felt my face go red hot as I turned away. “Is it not human enough?” I swallowed hard, trying not to let it arouse something in me. 

“It’s human, alright,” I answered. He rinsed his hand in the water and touched my head where I’d been struck. The pain subsided, but I felt so dizzy that I fell forward on him. He held me. 

“I didn’t know if it’d work on ya. Does it hurt still?” he questioned as he smelled me. I thought it was strange, but he didn’t seem like an immediate threat to me. 

With my forehead pressed against his shoulder, I glanced down at his lower body, and I found myself staring. “Are than any others like you?” I asked. 

“Not like me… But there are others,” he answered, “It’s my eyes… There’s a superstition. I don’t know much about it, but people who have my eye color are usually killed at birth… I’ve been alone for most of my life, but I’ve had contact with others. They’re like a family to me. I come here to hunt. I need things that they don’t. That’s why I eat humans. I won’t eat you, though. You make me look nice in pictures… Why do you cover yourself with so many things?” 

“It’s cultural. Most humans prefer we cover most of our bodies. Why did you hide when I saw you that night?” I asked. 

“I thought you’d want to hurt me… Humans don’t like it when people aren’t like them. I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he mumbled. He wrung his soft human hands and frowned. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I want to—. What I want to do doesn’t matter,” I paused to gather my thoughts and say something more appropriate. “What’s your name?”

“Garth,” he answered. 

“That’s a good name,” I smiled. He removed the man’s sleeve as he bit into a bicep. He went half-creature as he ate, humming and groaning with pleasure. He ate until he picked the man’s flesh clean from his bones. His body alternated between varying degrees of human and inhuman. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. 

“What do you want to do?” Garth questioned without looking at me. He kept eating, and I didn’t mind. I knew I should’ve, but I was so intrigued with him that I didn’t care. 

I silently stared at him until he looked at me. “Will I see you again after this?” I asked. 

He nodded, still focused on cannibalizing the ice cream parlor bigot. Garth paused as if he’d remembered something important and grabbed my face. I tensed, wondering if it’d be my end, but he rubbed the bridge of my nose with his thumbs and touched my lip with his bloody fingers. The pain in my face subsided, and he returned to his meal. “Wash your face… No one will know he hurt you. I fixed your face. It’s pretty again,” Garth reassured me. Pretty? Ha. I grabbed his wrist, stopping him for a moment. His eyes went from bright amethyst to their indigo color, and I wished I could’ve kissed him. I wanted to, but I didn’t dare. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” I whispered. He grinned at me, studying my features. 

“If you come back, I’ll take you to see the beautiful place. It’s going to rain again, so I can’t take you today. Your human skin is too fragile. The lightning could hurt you. After I finish eating, you should go home,” Garth suggested, “And you never told me your name… But I’ve heard it. Roy, isn’t it?” 

“Mhm. Roy Harper,” I replied as I washed the blood off my face. 

When I dried my face, Garth grinned at me. “You’re not afraid of me. Will you bring me a picture soon?” Garth asked. He pushed the body into the deeper, murkier part of the water and washed his hands and face. That’s when he leaned forward and kissed me. I pulled away. My thoughts raced as I tried to grasp at something sensible. “Sorry, I thought—.” I reciprocated before he could finish his sentence. I felt him creeping across every inch of my spirit, and I believe I did the same to him. Like an eclipse, for a moment we were perfectly aligned, sharing the same thoughts and feelings. My heart raced as I reached for his face, soft and fleshy like a human’s. Our lips captured each other, and I could taste blood. It made my ears ring and my whole body tingled, raising goosebumps from my neck and down my arms and back. How could I turn back? How could I stop myself from falling in love? I couldn’t be bothered with my conscience. I wanted him, body and soul. He had me. Everything I was… I was willing to give. If he wouldn’t eat me, I’d let him devour me. Heart and mind. Mind and all.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi!! This blog is a life saver, I love it so much, thank you for all the hard work you do!! I was wondering if you knew of any fics that tackled Derek’s issues with consent? like him and Stiles navigating a new relationship etc?? Any help would be amazing!!

Yeah!

Baby, Even On Our Worst Nights (I'm Into You) by Kareh

(1/1 I 1,326 I Teen)

‘Are you sure?’ Derek mumbles, ‘That this is – that you want this? Forever? Me?’ What? Stiles hadn’t been expecting that. In the six years they’d been together, every anniversary of the Hale fire had gone differently. There’d been tears, full blown rages, stony silence, acting like it’d never happened, breakdowns... But it'd never been like this.

In which Derek and Stiles have been together for six years and they're engaged but Derek is insecure and he doesn't understand why Stiles is with him and Stiles is like dude wtf have you seen ur ass i mean damn

That's Just How The Game Is Played by sottovoce81

(1/1 I 2,432 I Not Rated)

Then some lady at the store gives him that look. Like Kate. Her eyes are interested, and her grin is predatory, and Derek just knows she wants him. So he thinks to himself if he initiates it maybe it won’t leave him feeling so wrong. So he does. He lifts an eyebrow and pretends to want to look at her. She smiles and he thinks of predators in the wild, baring their teeth at prey.

He’s never understood why people can take one look at someone and want to have sex. But then, maybe it’s just something that’s broken in him. So he pretends to understand. Better to pretend than admit something’s wrong...right?

Derek’s Holiday Blues by sterekismyotp24

(1/1 I 5,271 I Explicit)

Derek is depressed at Christmas, blaming himself for the Hale fire and stuck in his own head, until Stiles finds him and gets him out of the peak of his depression on Christmas Day.

With Delayed Expression by Idday

(1/1 I 10,397 I Mature)

"I have… well… she said that she thinks that I maybe have… PTSD?”

The line goes so dead that Derek almost thinks Stiles hung up on him. He waits eight very quiet seconds, and says softly, “Stiles?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Stiles says, breath whooshing back over the phone line.

“I have PTSD,” Derek says more firmly. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, not as a question. It hasn’t really seemed real, until now. He’d spent the whole of his last session arguing that Tamara was wrong about him, and saying it out loud is like admitting it’s true. “Post-traumatic stress dis—”

“I know what it means,” Stiles interrupts, “I just didn’t think I’d heard right. Oh my God.”

walk me down your broken line by geordielover

(1/1 I 18,411 I Explicit)

The kissing. That’s important, very important. Not that the homicidal lycanthrope dragging him through dirt and fallen leaves isn’t important, but the kiss that follows? The path to this monumental push of lips on lips began even before this ill-fated venture to the Hale house.

The douchebag manhandling him through the forest, hand clamped tight around Stiles’s throat to keep him from screaming, is just a bonus.

The Unicorn In Me by Emela 

(1/1 I 18,570 I Explicit)

Derek touches a Unicorn and it doesn't try to kill him, despite the fact he is no longer a virgin. When Peter tells the pack about Kate, Stiles makes it his mission to give Derek the kind of relationship he deserves.

Soul Sparked by sapphireginger

(15/? I 40,449 I Mature)

Everyone is born with a mate. The only clue that each person gets is a soul mark that makes its first appearance on their tenth birthday. The mark interacts with each person because they are a piece of the person, they will one day bond with. Derek has always longed for his mate after seeing his mama and papa so happy together and hearing the story of how they met. When he gets his soul mark it's the happiest day of his life. Then comes a day when the mark no longer brings him happiness and hope as it once did. Instead, he's reminded of the so-called loves that didn't work and he no longer wants to be reminded. So, when he turns eighteen, he takes a friend up on the offer to rid him of the mark which is legal once a person reaches that age. Derek had no way of knowing what effects his mate would endure because it was supposed to be painless.

When Rome's in Ruins (We are the Lions) by Kedreeva

(14/14 I 209,089 I Explicit)

Humankind has turned arena battles between supernatural creatures into its largest form of entertainment. Stiles Stilinski is a well-known warden who comes to arena-fighter Derek Hale to make him an offer.

As Ordered by KattsEyeDemon, seekeronthepath

(117/? I 608.801 I Explicit)

During the year in which they turn eighteen, all American citizens are tested to find where they fall on the Dom-sub scale and are assigned to a Dom - either to mentor them as they learn how to be a Dom themselves, or to look after them and make sure their needs as a submissive are met. When Stiles tests as a sub, he’s assigned to Derek Hale, and the two of them gradually learn to rely on and love each other.

[wisebilly]

You won't be missed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Notes: Hi there!! I got a random boost of motivation to write this after stumbling across a good angst prompt, which you can find Here! If this has rlly odd pacing or formatting I sincerely apologize! I haven't written anything serious for quite a while and am still re adjusting. But I hope its alright! :D

Trigger/content warnings: Implications of death

What if Techno actually killed quackity? Right after the pickaxe scene?

@inniterhq hey its me grass anon, hope ur doing well, have some angst my beloved

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Smoke faded through the trees, ash settled on the ground like newly fallen snow. The sound of distant yells and cries were ear splitting. But in a concrete room not too far away, resided two people, both reasonably angry.

Technoblade, often referred to as The Blade, stood firmly, stature confident and strong. He wore simply iron armour and a pickaxe. While on the other side stood Quackity, who was quite the opposite. he wore full enchanted netherite, an axe to accompany it, and he looked wobbly and unfocused. he limply held the oversized axe, grimacing.

Both of their gazes cut though the smoke, sharper than a weapon hand crafted by any god. Quackity swallowed hard, his anger only rising while Techno spoke.

Techno ran his fingers through his hair briskly, letting out a dark chuckle. He glared at Quackity.

"Did you really think Quackity.. That you could kill me that easily?" Every word that left his mouth was laced with an ungodly taunt, asking, almost begging quackity to try again. Try harder. I know you can do better.

Quackity grit his teeth, baring his fangs before rushing up to Techno, rearing his axe. He was completely piloted by nothing but anger. Every movement, word and action was all Influenced by the same emotion.

He swung blindly, missing every aimed shot.

"You have done so much fucking damage to everything we've been building all a fucking long, Techno!"

Quackity veered his head to Techno, slightly falling back as the axe that he once clung to had been knocked out of his grasp and was now lodged in the wall. His eyes widened and his whole body stiffened, feeling small as Technos shadow drapped him.

All he could see was 2 wide, bright eyes, both of which were screaming for one thing, and one thing only.

Blood.

Techno reared his weapon, arm coiled back and pulsing with anticipation. He yelled as he swung down, giving a wicked grin.

"I HAVE A PICKAXE, AND ILL PUT IT THROUGH YOUR TEETH!"

All Quackity could do was watch, watch as the blade came closer and closer to his face until-

...

.....

White.

Nothing, but white, and searing pain.

He'd tumbled back, his back against the cold floor and a pressure against his chest.

He blinked back to life, clutching his mouth, vision cloudy from tears he didnt know he'd shed.

Techno held a foot against Quackitys chest. He stared for a moment, not a ounce of remorse coursed through him. He leaned down, smiling slightly, gripping his pickaxe tightly.

"I'm gonna let you in on a secret," he whispered, lips hovering just above Quackitys ear.

"It was never about you." He pressed the pickaxe to his throat, but before he made the finishing blow, uttered a few more words in an almost snarl like tone.

"Nobodys gonna miss you when this is over, not even for a moment."

[paipayaseeds]

(idk if there was a certain person supposed to be at the door i don’t remember the game oops so i just picked kaede bc they need the cameras or some shit idk)(also there’s alcohol in this so if that’s not okay pls tell me to rewrite it or just end it if you want to! i just want to make sure ur okay dandbrjsjnfndan)(also idk man i only have one experience drinking vodka and i hated it so if it’s weird that’s why LMAOFIDJDJ)

waking up with a gasp, she looked up at the monitor mounted to the wall of her room. she winced at the loud volume of the speakers, and at the unnecessary reminder that her life would be cut short tomorrow night. when the tv turned back off, the uneasy feeling in her chest lingered; there wasn’t anybody there to hold her and tell her ‘it’s okay, it’s just the announcement...’ her arm was asleep, and when she looked down, she was hit with yet another reminder of how alone she was, met with the sight of a detective’s jacket... but no detective.

for a good half hour, she tossed and turned on her mattress trying to fall asleep, but to no avail. once she spent the night with shuichi, there was no way she’d be able to spend another one alone again. so, she got up and took a warm shower: one last attempt at relaxing herself enough to fall asleep. (she wasn’t a stinky little bitch-baby like shuicheese across the building). she didn’t care about her face, she wouldn’t have to see it for much longer anyway. she brushed her teeth and combed her hair before changing into some clean clothes. she was going to slip under blanket until she noticed the uniform still sitting there. i should... give it back. it was really just an excuse to go to shuichi’s room. she folded it over her arms and walked over to his door, leaving her mask in her room since everyone would be in theirs anyway. once she got there, though, she couldn’t bring herself to knock. instead, she just stood there with her knuckles barely brushing against the door while she was frozen. eventually, she backed up and folder the clothes neatly and placed them on the floor right in front of his door for him to pick up in the morning.

-

she managed to get a little shut-eye during the night, but not much. she let out a loud groan at the morning announcement before dragging herself out of bed and cleaning herself up for the day. that included putting on her mask. despite it only being two days, out of habit she waited for shuichi to come and walk with her. but, when she stood outside her door and noticed kaede knocking at his door, holding the clothes she had left there last night, she realized that wouldn’t be happening today. she shook her head before heading out the door and towards the dining hall.

when she arrived, she walked into a very weird conversation. rantaro and ryoma seemed to be arguing.

“nobody will be dying, you hear me?”

“you heard the bear, someone’s gotta kick it if you wanna live another day. i’m sayin’ that someone should be me.”

fumiko was a little shocked. why was ryoma trying to sacrifice himself...? he offered a lot to the group, and he helped out with the chores a lot!

“n-no...! k-kill... kill me instead.” fumiko spoke up, making the rest of the room look over and realize she was there. korekiyo seemed to be very interested in the conversation, how brilliant was it to see not one, but two people willing to give up their lives for the sake of others. “i’m- i’m serious.” because you deserve it. rantaro shot her a look that sent a shiver down her spine.

“i said, nobody will be dying. if any of you try anything... so help me god... just- just trust me, alright? don’t do anything stupid.” the green-haired man said, placing a hand on fumiko’s shoulder as he talked before leaving the dining hall. her gaze followed him, and when she turned around she saw a detective and a pianist standing at the doorway, seemingly watching this whole thing go down.

“fuck this, i’m gettin’ somethin’ to drink! if anyone wants to join me, feel free, hmph...” miu said, following in rantaro’s footsteps out the door before opening the entrance to the warehouse. i’ve never gotten drunk before... fumiko thought. she stood there in thought before ultimately deciding to follow the inventor into the warehouse, brushing her shoulder on shuichi’s as she did.

“h-huh? someone actually came?” miu said when she heard the door open. “Y-YOU...? FOR REAL? HAH! i might’ve underestimated you!” the blonde seemed to have known exactly where to go to find alcohol, as if she’s done it before, and she pulled out a bottle of vodka. fumiko stole the bottle from her hands and started downing it like it was nothing.

“w-w-what are you doing....!? H-HOW?” it tasted awful, and she hated it. but being drunk was supposed to be fun, right? so she squeezed her eyes shut and dealt with the pain. the door to the warehouse opened, and fumiko continued drinking. miu was so fucking out of it, she had no idea what was going on. she saw kaede and shuichi at the door and knew what they were going to ask. before she acknowledged them, though, she ripped the bottle from fumiko’s hand.

“give me that,” she mumbled, “WHAT THE FUCK? YOU DRANK HALF-”

“miu!” the pianist shouted, walking towards her, “are the- are they finished...?”

“yeah, yeah, come with me. i’ll give ‘em to ya.” miu stomped out of the room, open bottle in hand, and led the two visitors to her lab. all fumiko did was sit on the ground and rub her head. her whole body felt shitty already from the idiotic way she drank the beverage, the gross taste lingering in her mouth for much longer than she’d liked. it didn’t help that she got maybe an hour of sleep the night prior, which already rendered her ill. what was she thinking? that she would be dead by tomorrow. that’s what she was thinking.

Opening the door to his room, he was met with Kaede, and... his clothes? How did she get his clothes? Voicing his troubled thoughts, he furrowed his brow at her, "W- why do you have my clothes...?" Kaede blinked, "Huh? Wha-?" She looked down at the article she had held in her arms, somehow forgetting she had picked it up. "Oh! I found this outside your door!"

Taking the folded clothing from her hands, he gazed down at it thoughtfully, racking his brain to try and think of why that had been— "C'mon, let's go! You already made me wait long, we have to get Miu's cameras and then you know," She spoke in a hushed tone, a cheeky smile on her face, "Set up the plan."

--

Shuichi found himself balancing on the line of giving her space, and running to her side to check on her—and you know what? It was stupid! He was stupid. What if she got alcohol poisoning? What if she does something rash? Most importantly, why? Throwing away the barrier that prevented him from interacting with the girl he loved, he concluded she had enough space. 

God knows if she forgave or not for his bullshit, but that was beside the point she had just downed half a bottle of Vodka. As he practically dashed to the girl sitting on the ground, he left the disgruntled pianist behind—sadly, this hadn’t been the first time he had done that. 

Slowing down to a stop, he crouched down across from her, subconsciously trying to see her eyes. It was strange, but he found himself wishing for a flashlight to see if the alcohol had kicked in yet.

Shuichi had to shove down the urge to scold her on drinking alcohol, knowing she didn't enjoy yelling nor was it even an okay thing to do. He had put himself on a permanent hiatus from yelling, he didn't want to see her upset like that, not today, and not ever.

"H- hey, uh..." He flinched at his own shaky and awkward voice, feeling the huge difference to how he talked to her before. Things shouldn't have felt so tense between them, today could've been the last day they— No. No, the plan would work.

"Why did...-" Shuichi pursed his lips; why did he bother asking? He knew why, didn't he? Well, maybe he just... didn't want to believe it. "W- were you drinking because of... what you said earlier? A- about the.." He trailed off, expression slightly saddened as he remembered her self-sacrificial remark.

Clearing his throat, he sat himself down fully on the floor across from her; a safe distance as he was afraid she still didn't want to be too close to him. Forcing words out of his throat, he spoke with feigned determination; despite his soul-crushing fear of 'what if the plan doesn't work?', he tried to remain strong. If not for himself, then for Fumiko, right?

"No one is going to have to die. E- especially not you, never... never you." He tried swallowing the rising lump in his throat, eyes focusing onto the ground as he tried to get rid of his emotions. He cleared his throat again, blinking violently as to rid the tears; he wasn't going to cry in front of her. And especially not Miu. "... S- sorry." Ah yes, the apology he had forgotten to give to her when he yelled near her. This fucking prick-

[kalypsichor]

and they were quARANTINED [a beatles fic] - ch 1

summary: George takes a shit. Ringo braves a trip to the tescos and loses a bit of his soul. John harrasses the general public and Paul’s just trying to get them home before they kill each other. All while a virus tears the world apart.

warnings: CRACK (not cocaine), geo’s bad potty habits, ringo’s copious use of emojis

so, this is different... but i’ve always been a crack fic writer at heart. this is the result of being quarantined myself due to COVID-19. i’ve been seeing so much fear and frustration and hatred that i just wanted to write about it kinda cathartically. enjoy!

Unfortunately, George doesn’t realize that they’re out of toilet paper until after he’s taken a shit.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Ringo?”

No answer.

“Ringooooooooo. RINGO!!!”

George’s legs are starting to lose feeling. He bounces them up and down a bit and the motion almost makes him drop his phone in the toilet.

“RICHARD FUCKING STARKEY!”

There’s the sound of footsteps and then a pause before Ringo answers.

“What’s up?”

“What took you so long?”

“Had my headphones in. Sorry I couldn’t be at your beck and call, O Lord of the Loo.”

“SHUT up. Look, do we have any more loo roll?”

A pause. “Why, are we out?”

George rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. “No, I’m askin’ for the banter.”

“I’ll go check. Don’t move!”

George can almost see the shit-eating (heh) grin on his mate’s face as he walks away. With a sigh and some choice curse words that would make Louise cry, George pulls out his phone again. Opens Twitter. Sees yet another tweet from that spraytanned clown across the pond. Closes Twitter and contemplates deleting it. After about three rounds of this, Ringo comes back and knocks on the door.

“We’re all out. Got you some tissues, though.”

Krishna help me. George tips his head back against the wall and thumps it a few times for good measure.

“Thanks,” he says flatly. “Could you- ?”

The door opens just a smidge before he can finish talking there’s a flying blur of Kleenex box, a blinding pain in the side of his head, and a sickening crACK—

***

“I’m really sorry,” Ringo says for the millionth time, hovering over George as he examines the spiderweb of cracks on his phone screen. George huffs. He wants to be mad, he really does, but Ringo’s face is doing that stupid thing where his eyes are very, very blue and droopy and his teeth are worrying his bottom lip and it’s obvious that he’s genuinely remorseful and—fuck, he’s got it bad.

“It’s fine,” George insists, even though he can hear his bank account having a fit. “Piece of shit phone, anyway. And look, it still works!” Very shittily, his brain adds, but that’s what you get with a five year old phone.

The older boy’s eyes still have an unconvinced, sad look about them and George wishes he could kiss it away. No homo, though.

“How can I make it up to you?” George’s brain does a slutdrop into the gutter. “I’ll… I’ll get the groceries! How ‘bout that?”

“NO!” Scrambling off the couch, George just barely misses smacking noses with Ringo. “What about the… the virus?”

“I’ll wear a mask and all. Wash hands for twenty seconds, stay six feet away from people… am I missing anything?”

“Yeah, the quarantine bit.”

Ringo snorts and puts a hand on George’s arm. “Quit your worrying, Geo. I’ll be fine. Haven’t John and Paul been out all day?”

***

John and Paul want to go the fuck home. They’d walked all the way to a new art gallery opening only to find out it was cancelled (“Why didn’t you check Google?” “Why didn’t you?”). And now, both being tired as hell from their long trek, they couldn’t even flag down a single cab to take them home.

“This is the worst thing ever,” John cries, flopping his entire body down on a park bench. Paul rolls his eyes and lifts up John’s stupidly long legs so he can sit down as well.

“People are dying, John.”

“I feel like I’m dying.”

“John.”

“Okay, fine, maybe I’m being dramatic. But this stupid… thing… is fucking up all our plans!”

“It’s not fucking Voldemort, you can say the name.”

“Alright, fine. Coronavirus. CORONAVIRUS. You happy, Paul?”

A woman hurrying by shoots them a wide-eyed, nervous look and crosses the street, tugging a little boy by the hand.

“... bitch.”

“Jesus, John.” Paul pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’d do that too if some rando was shouting in the streets.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t hafta shoot that nasty look at us… did you see that? Paul?”

“Hold on, hold on.” His phone is vibrating in his pocket and he fumbles to pull it out. “Your stupid legs are in the way.”

John huffs and makes a show of wiggling said legs, almost kicking Paul in the face. Still, he tucks them to his chest (flexible, Paul thinks and then instantly regrets) so that Paul can take out the buzzing rectangle.

--

bongo: do u or john want anything? 🤔🤔

bongo: like groceries

bongo: going to tescos

Shouldnt you be quarantining?

bongo: ur literally at an art museum 😂

It’s a gallery

And it got cancelled :/

bongo: oop sorry m8 thats tough

bongo: srsly tho whaddaya want

We need more vegetables. Carrots, etc

--

“Tell him to get cornflakes,” John says, peering over Paul’s shoulder. He’s sat up and practically draped over Paul’s lap. Paul sighs and shoves his legs off, ignoring the indignant squawk the other boy makes when he almost falls off the bench.

--

Also that cornflake cereal stuff

bongo: k

bongo: tell john i said hi

Heyyyyyy rich wots up

Paulie’s being a bitch he pushed me :((((

Why is his auto caps on lsdnfol

--

“Give it back!”

“Ow! Ow stop hitting me Jesus fuckin-”

--

Sorry that was john

bongo: yeah i could tell lmao

bongo: where are u guys??

Stuck at some park. Can’t get any cabs home

bongo: well duh coronavirus 😷😷😷

bongo: bad time to be a cabbie man 😔

Yeah yikes

Pick up some rice for george too

And hand sanitizer

bongo: ill try but twitter says handsan itizer is going fast

bongo: what the fuc why did it space like that

Lol

bongo: oh also

bongo: geos being a mother hen and making me wear a face mask

bongo: u know where they are?

Second drawer down in the bathroom, behind the rubber gloves

bongo: … how did u reply SO fast

Uh i know where things are in our flat? Like a normal person?

bongo: thats sus but ok

bongo: wow theyre actually here

bongo: okay imma head out before it gets dark

What’s after dark? Zombies?

bongo: u never no

bongo: *no

bongo: FUCKING *KNOW

Nice

Okay stay safe ritch

bongo: 😘🙃👍🏼✌🏼✌🏼🌈🌟🥦🥦🥦☮️

***

Ringo has never seen this many people at Tesco in his entire life. Two grown men are having a full on argument in the pastries. A harried-looking dad almost knocks Ringo into a rack of Twinkies, pulling along two screaming kids with one slung on his hip. And… is that person actually wearing a Hazmat suit??

“This is insane,” Ringo mutters to himself, slightly muffled due to the face mask. He just needs to find the loo roll and then he’s going to yeet outta here ASAP.

Okay, hygiene aisle… here we g—what the—

The entire aisle is empty.

It’s like a goddamn Old Western. Just add a cow skull… cue the tumbleweed… and it would be perfect.

Not for the first time that day, Ringo sends a prayer to whoever is listening above. There’s got to be something left. He walks down to the end of the aisle. Walks back. Jumps a couple times to check if there’s anything on the top shelf. Sincerely hopes no one just saw him do that. Finally, shoved at the very back behind a couple of Always boxes, Ringo digs out a dusty as shit six-pack of toilet paper.

Well. It’ll have to do.

As he’s walking to the check out lines, a woman drops her bottle of hand sanitizer. It rolls across the floor in a perfect arc and Ringo scoops it up before it can get too far.

“Oops, you dropped this!” He says cheerily, handing it to her. Well, trying to. The woman makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat, physically flinches away from his outstretched hand, and almost drops the rest of her groceries. Before Ringo can react, she’s disappeared behind the produce aisle.

Ringo’s arm falls to his side. He stares at the space where she was just a second ago and holds in a scream.

“More for us, I guess.”

***

By the time Ringo reaches the flat, he’s ready to never see another person again. He trudges right past George in the kitchen, dropping the groceries on the table with a thwack. John hums a greeting to him in the living room and offers him a biscuit.

“No thanks,” Ringo says. He faceplants into the couch.

Something clinks onto the coffee table. Well, coffee table is one way to put it; it’s more of a hunk of stone from back when Paul thought he was going to be the next Michelangelo and get really into classical sculpture. It now sits in the living room and primarily holds George’s textbooks, plus takeout for whenever they don’t feel like cooking (which is all the time), so you can see how that panned out for Paul.

“Tea for you,” George says. He plops onto the floor between the couch and the table and runs a friendly, comforting hand through Ringo’s hair. Ringo practically purrs, leaning into the touch, and George feels his heart melt and trickle through his ribs. “You okay?”

“I’ve lost all faith in humanity,” Ringo mumbles into the cushion. John reaches over and pats him on the back.

“Don’t worry, Ringo. There won’t be any humans to have faith in soon.”

George throws a packet of sugar at John who dodges it, snickering. Ringo groans and tries to sink even deeper into the couch.

And that’s when they hear Paul scream.

[kl4us4]

A LITTLE LESS ALONE (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

Request: Hii! so idk if ur doing requests rn but I hope you are because I love your writing and I was hoping you could do a Bellamy imagine based off of You Will Be Found from Dear Evan Hansen? Maybe bellamy's gf or whatever has depression and is thinking about suicide and he reminds them that they are loved? or something like that please?

“It’s 7pm.” He advises you. His tone isn’t judging, not like the majority of the people who have shouted at you outside your tent. As if you don’t know you’ve been spending all day in bed.

“I know.” You reply, but you want to say so much more. You want to tell him you wish time would stop just so you can stop existing even for just a split second.

Noticing your sombre mood, Bellamy lays down beside you. He faces you. You face the ceiling. “Talk to me, baby.” He hums gently, reaching to hold your cold hand. “What’s wrong?” Nothing can stop the onset of tears that explode just from that small touch. “Hey, hey, hey,” he mumbles, eyebrows furrowed as he holds you tightly, “I’m here.” He repeats. “You can talk to me.”

“I don’t want to bring you down.” You shake your head, wiping away your tears but it’s futile. 

Bellamy pauses, “What do you mean, my love?”

You turn away from him, lifting the warm covers to your chin. “I’ll just ruin your day, don’t worry about me.”

He lets out a small laugh, smiling as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Never,” Bellamy whispers, wrapping his arms around you. It makes you feel so much safer in this cruel and unpredictable world that expects so much of you. “Now,” Bell continues, “whatever it is, you can always talk to me.”

Silence lingers in the air, your small smile fades. You’ve been with Bellamy for so long that you both know you can talk to each other about anything. And you do.

You remember crying on each other’s shoulders when Finn passed. You remember his broken heart when Clark didn’t make it on the ship. Bellamy is reliable, trustworthy, kind. But something inside you is telling you not to trust the most amazing person you know.

“H-Have you ever felt like nobody was there?” You mutter. The silence is deafening. “Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere? Like you could disappear like you could fall and no one would hear.”

“Yes.” He admits, looking down, “I know exactly how you feel, Y/N.” He feels his eyes well up as he pulls back to look at you whilst you’re speaking. Gently running a hand below your eyes, he wipes your tears away. “You don’t need to feel that anymore. Let that lonely feeling wash away. Maybe there’s a reason to believe you’ll be okay.”

“Why?”

“Because when you don’t feel strong enough to stand you can reach out a hand. And I’ll come running.” He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He never wanted you to feel so alone, so unwanted. “I love you with all my heart. And that means I love you through the good times and the bad times. It means I’m always going to be here to help you, to listen to you. You’re not alone.”

“I love you too.” You close your eyes, smiling slightly as he presses his lips to your forehead.

Bellamy holds your hand tightly, “I know it’s easy to tell you not to feel this way but I also know it’s not that easy. But there’s a place where we don’t have to feel alone, Y/N, and every time that you call you’re a little less alone. Please,” he pauses, “so many people love you so much. Remember, just try to remember you’re not alone. Ever.” He shakes his head, “None of us are alone... say it.”

You look at him through tears and his smile makes you smile and cry at the same time. Part of you feels stupid for ever doubting you had him by your side. “None of us are alone.” You whisper.

“You are not alone.” Bellamy leans in, pressing his lips to yours as his words ring through your head in a loop. Taking your hand, Bellamy leads you to stand. Walking through the door of the tent, you’re scared of how people will react to you being finally up. 

Will they chastise you? Swallowing the lump in your throat, you pat down your hair with your free hand. Jasper and Monty are walking in your direction; Jasper speaking in a rushed manner and Monty looking at his watch. When Monty looks up and sees you hand in hand with Bellamy, a glimpse of recognition crosses his face.

“Y/N!” Monty shouts, alerting Jasper who’s face lights up at the sight of you. Bellamy looks at you, a knowing smile on his face. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head and taking a breath of fresh air.

“Just in time to watch the sunset!” Jasper smiles at you and Bellamy, his eyes filled with joy at seeing you. “Everyone‘s at the lake already!”

Everyone. Your teeth clench. But you take a breath, remembering what Bellamy told you. “Let’s go.” You smile, laughing at their cheers as they lead you to the rest of the gang.

Bellamy kisses your temple repeatedly, making you squeal and squirm. “I love you.” He smiles, pulling you closer as you approach everyone.

A round of cheers erupts when they see you, each standing to give you a hug. Raven places a hand on your shoulder, “You right?” She smiles kindly, giving you a hug when you return her smile with a nod.

Looking towards Bellamy, who’s sitting down next to Murphy and Jasper. Bell pats his knee and you sit on his lap. Everyone looks up at the sky as the sun sinks lower into the sky.

All is new.

[witchcastors]

An Icon™ Barney Ghost - would love to hear more about ur spooky stuff bc omg boNES??? The only bones I fuck with is chicken bones after i finish my drum sticks ((also dont worry about it ok this ask is just for whenever u feel like u wanna/feel ready to share some of the other spooky stories!! since tensed up telling that story dont feel pressured to tell us until ure ready! I know The Feel honestly i got into witchcraft so i could Deal With Spirits bc honestly?? Ghost™ troubles makes me a croon

I’ve finally got to this message! (I’m trying to keep them in order and I’m very bad at it, I apologize) How are you doing hunny? Ghost troubles are the bane of my existence–something’s always going on with me, lol. Perhaps I should reach out to Iya barney ghost and let him know that he’s reached Icon status? He’d love it, I’m sure. (Insert capt holt’s voice: BooOOnNeEE!!!!)

I’m definitely going to take this ask as an opportunity to go into more detail about him the others I had to deal with that following week. For all of you who are curious as to what she’s referring to, here is part one of the story about one of my paranormal encounters.

After the initial run in with the seemingly terrifying, lanky Creature from Hell at what I’ve named the Indie house, I wasn’t exactly happy with Lise, but I didn’t blame her for it. I just didn’t want anything to do with that house or any of the others in the area (there are 4 highly active haunted houses in those woods, and since then I’ve had a shit ton experiences with two of them in particular, because, you guessed it, I’m a curious dumbass who’s very susceptible to peer pressure)

In fact, after I tell you guys about this story, I can go into some of the crazy things that happened at the Pink house, if you’d like? But, I digress.

So yeah. We eventually get back to Lise’s house–which was about a half hour’s walk through the woods away. That wasn’t fun, our paranoia was at an all time high (mine esp because I was pretty sure the Barney Hell Beast was following us). 

After getting home, Tim was on a roll. He wasn’t really a believer in the whole supernatural area, and he was having quite a good time going over what had happened over and over again. I remember sitting on Lise’s bed with the two of them. We were eating those dreamsicles and the tv was on as background noise, but my focus was the woods. Lise’s bedroom was in the back of the house, and her back wall was basically just a huge window that faced the woods–the same direction that the Indie house was in. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that we were still being watched, (despite kinda knowing that the demon seemed to be landlocked to that house for some reason)

Tim had finally noticed that I was acting weird, and when he asked about it Lise kinda went into a rant about me–so much so that I ended up having to stop her. I didn’t have much control of it then and was very insecure, particularly about my sight (I’ve got what my nana calls a Ghost Eye). He then badgered me about it (ugh I hate younger me for caving in) Regardless! I managed to convince him of my weirdness by going in detail about his nightmares and grandma that I shouldn’t have known anything about. I don’t remember most of the rest of the night, but I know the next day, we had school. And I still. I still couldn’t shake it, the feeling that we were being watched.

It was right after third period. I always met up with Lise because we had fourth together. When I saw her, I knew something was wrong. She looked happy and all, but her aura was shrowded from me. And it was…oozing? Not sure how to explain it. What’s worse, is the ache in my teeth now had a sharp, definable taste: metal. Tinfoil. Just a hint of it. We were by the gym area, too, and I remember feeling like something was watching us from the trophy case area. I grabbed her arm to pull her closer to me to ask what was going on with her, so our other friends wouldn’t hear. She laughed and said I was being stupid. But. As soon as I tightened my grip, I had what I can only describe as a vision? A vision of the night before, of her bedroom. Of that tall, creepy thing in the dark, standing right outside her bedroom. Only, it wasn’t looking at us in the bed. It was facing her closet. I saw it’s elongated limb start to rise, it slinked it’s way up the back deck. Then the vision flashed back to Lise sleeping next to me.

Lise’s face was twisted–not really out of the ordinary, she was very expressive in her sleep. But she was having a nightmare. Back to the window. Apart from his arm, the creature still wasn’t moving. His face had changed though, his too small eyes had grown huge, now they took up over half of his face. He was very focused, so much so that his body was starting to vibrate–I saw more blackness forming, sharp spikes peeling and tearing out of the tops of his shoulders.

Lise snapped me back to reality then. We were standing in the doorway of english and she was whisper-yelling at me to move my ass inside or we were going to be considered tarty, also two other guys were trying to get in. But I was pissed. Lise had done something she shouldn’t have, I just didn’t know what yet.

When we had gotten to our seats, she had asked me what my problem was and I kinda blurted out what was in her closet. Then got yelled at by our english teacher. Waited for a few minutes in silence while Lise looked very upset and uncomfortable. I passed her my notebook, and when she sent it back, I knew we were officially in deep shit

“I may or may not have taken a few bones from the house!”

She was snickering while she watched me read it. I thought I was going to vomit. How stupid do you have to be to take BONES from a HAUNTED HOUSE. When did she even do it?! When we were running from the house? I was so confused. Thankfully, we were then allowed to break off into our jeopardy study groups so I was able to yell at Lise

My other two friends were then given a light rundown, my sag friend hit her immediately and then this bish PULLS OUT ONE OF THE BONES. It was old and small and dingy looking, also the top part of it, that looked like it might have been connected to a hand maybe, had been stained with something. It looked like goopy ink. And the energy around it was a murky green. It made my shoulders tighten and my throat hurt. Not a very good sign.

I AM NOT KIDDING. SHE’S LIKE “I got the rest at home” Sag friend literally turned around in her seat saying “you white girls are crazy” I’ll skip the rest of the day bc, aside from a few snippet visions and little weird things, it was rather uneventful. Until school was over.

The entire ride back with her dad to her house was very stressful. In reality, that thing hadn’t been following us around all day, one of its…familiars(? i can describe it if yall want) was. Which meant the Hell Demon was at her house. Trying to get to the bones she had taken. What if it was waiting for us in her room? What did these bones mean to it? Could it leave if Lise was carrying on of them on her person?

I’m going to end this here now that I’ve given yall a good workup and some background info. If you’d like to hear about my first verbal encounter with this creature, please send me another ask! I’ve already written most of the memory down. Also, if any of you guys want to be notified about this or any of my other encounters, just let me know (I’m going to tag the babes who had left comments on part one just in case theyre still interested, but ill remove their names if they ask) 

[anderslarsson-blog1]

Mason & Anders | Chatzy 1

Mason: Mason returned from the kitchen with two beers in hand, grinning at Anders as she handed him one of them and settled beside him on the couch. Ever since he'd had her over when shit was going down with her dad, Mase found herself falling for Anders harder and harder. She couldn't help herself - he was everything that she wanted and more, but she wasn't dumb. She was aware that he was still messing around with other girls, but she liked to pretend that they didn't exist and that she was the only one that he truly cared about in that manner. His phone was in between them, and Mase couldn't help glancing down at it before returning her gaze to the tv, an incredulous laugh leaving her lips as she shook her head. Instead of commenting, Mason took a long swig from her beer bottle, trying to shake the feeling that the gist of the text gave her.

Anders: Anders grinned as Mason took a seat next to him on the couch and handed him a beer. "Thanks babe," he cooed, pulling her close and giving her a small kiss. As soon as she was settled, his iPhone vibrated angrily, signaling that several texts were coming in in quick succession a few inches away from them. Shifting his weight, Anders grabbed the phone and brought it closer to his face, already recognizing a few key phrases that meant there may also be some naked photos coming.

Hot girl with big tits: baby, I miss u :((((( Hot girl with big tits: i want to suck your cock ;)))) Hot girl with big tits: send me ur nudes, ill send u mine!!! Hot girl with big tits: [nude photos]

Smirking, Ders responded with his own string of messages, not even bothering to hold the phone out of view from Mason. What the hell did she care? She knew he was fucking other girls, and he knew she was fucking other people too.

Anders: Awww, you miss me, huh? 😉 Anders: Prove it. Send me more nudes.

Mase: Mason could've smashed her beer bottle against the wall if she wasn't better at controlling her anger. His responses only pissed her off more, taking another few gulps of her beer to distract herself. Sure, she was still fucking other people, but she didn't openly sext those other people in front of Anders. "Hm, you should cut that shit out. That sad girl might actually think she's the only girl you're putting your dick in." Mase murmured, bringing the bottle to her lips once more, not bothering to look at Anders. If she did, she knew she would've started going off. "Probably makes her feel special because she's fucking a star athlete." Mason retorted with a bitter laugh. "Poor thing."

Anders: Anders snorted, still not taking his eyes off his phone. “Please. She’s gotten around with athletes in Boston plenty. I’m pretty sure I became eskimo bros with half the team after I screwed her the first time. Sure, she’d quit fucking around for a rock on her left hand, but she’s not deluded, if she hasn’t gotten it by now....” Ders trailed off, rolling his eyes and snorting again as if to suggest the girl in question was an old maid at 28. After a moment or two of silence, he removed his eyes from the topless mirror selfie plastered across his phone screen and glanced at Mason for a moment. As best as she was trying to hide it, he could tell she was annoyed. “What?” he asked, throwing up a hand a shrugging his shoulders innocently. “Why do you even care, by the way? You jealous I’m fucking a girl with double Ds?” he smirked, giving her a wink. “There’s plenty to go around, Mase. I’m sure she’d fuck you too.”

Mase: Mason rolled her eyes as he described the girl, not even knowing who she was and already starting to hate her for having Anders so captivated. She clearly saw the nude photo plastered on his screen, and she was beginning to feel extremely self conscious. Mase looked nothing like that girl, and she probably never would. 'That's obviously his type.' She thought to herself. 'Why would he ever see me as hotter than her?' Mason slammed her bottle down on the coffee table and got up from the couch, knowing if she sat next to him any longer, she'd explode. "Fuck you, Anders." She said through clenched teeth, stomping into the kitchen and rummaging around until she found the bottle she was looking for, unscrewing the cap and taking a shot of vodka straight from the bottle. "Fuckin' asshole." She muttered to herself, fighting the stinging sensation in her eyes, knowing she couldn't cry over this with him over. "Why don't you go over to her place, huh? Let her suck you and the rest of your team off so you don't have to sit on my couch and watch The Office all goddamn night. Seriously. Go."

Anders: Anders jumped as Mason slammed her bottle on the table, completely taken aback as she began swearing at him for seemingly no reason at all. It was just a joke. Clearly she knew that, right? He’d teased her about liking girls before, why was this time any different? “Jesus Christ, Mase!” he yelled back, standing and following her to the kitchen. “It was a joke! What the hell is your problem?!” he added angrily, ripping the bottle of vodka out of her hand and holding it out of her reach. “Because I vastly prefer a human being that has a personality and a brain?” Anders replied, contorting his face in a way that implied her question was extremely stupid. Pausing for a moment, Anders shook his head and exhaled to let off a little steam. Yelling wasn’t helping anything and he wasn’t even completely sure why he was getting mad. “Why do you care so much?” he said quietly after a few moments. “You don’t want to see naked photos? Fine. You’ve never complained when I’ve sent you nudes, but whatever, I guess. No more nudes.”

Mase: "My problem is you're sitting here staring at this girl's tits like she's just a piece of fucking meat, dude! That shit's irritating!" Mason yelled, thankful that she was able to think of a reason fast enough to cover the real reason why it upset her. When he snatched the bottle out of her hands, she groaned. He had a clear height advantage over her, so she was done drinking straight out of the bottle for a while. "Or because I've been consistently giving you pussy for months without fawning over what's in your fucking bank account." Mase retorted, crossing her arms across her chest. She bit her tongue to hold back the scream of frustration in her throat, knowing that even now her neighbors were probably even more upset with her and the frequent noise these two made. "How fucking dense could you be, Anders? I'm not pissed about the nudes, I'm pissed at how many girls you have at your beck and call literally all the goddamn time. And you can't even throw the fact that I fuck other people in my face because I don't openly stare at their tits with you sitting right next to me. I have a little bit of fucking decency."

Anders: “Well fine, I’m fucking sorry!” Anders yelled back, letting out an irritated groan and throwing the bottle down in the sink in front of him, thankfully not breaking it. He still couldn’t really understand why Mason was so mad at him. They weren’t exclusive, and as far as he knew, neither of them wanted to be, so why did Mase care whether he was looking at other girls’ nudes? She could have pulled out dick pics and he wouldn't have remotely given a shit. “Oh, yeah, that’s the entire fucking reason I’ve kept you around! It’s the reason why I pretty much hang out with you at least once a day, take you out on dates and sit here with take out and watch the fucking Office with you. All because you don’t say anything about how much money I make!” Anders screamed sarcastically, his blood boiling particularly hot at that comment. How could she not understand how much she meant to him? She was nothing short of his best friend. He loved her deeply, in so many ways, for so many reasons and this was what she reduced their relationship to? “I can have as many girls talking to me as I want to,” he seethed, moving closer to Mason. “And you have absolutely no grounds for an opinion on them either way because it’s none of your concern,” Ders added, gritting his teeth as he stood over her. Feeling his emotions building up more and more each second since the beginning of their conversation, Anders wasn’t surprised when he took his own empty beer bottle off the counter when it had been situated and threw it across the room, shattering it into a million pieces as he pounded his own fist into the counter. “Fine, I’ll give you my phone every time I walk in your door just for safe keeping since I apparently can’t control myself,” he spat. “Fuck. You. Mase.”

Mase: "You always said I had a pretty pussy." Mason commented sarcastically, crossing her arms across her chest stubbornly. To him, she must've seemed upset for literally no reason, but she just couldn't tell him how she actually felt. This was Anders - her best friend and the person who happened to be holding onto her heart with a vice-like grip without even knowing it. She stood her ground as he approached her, not even bothering to crane her neck up to look at him, keeping her gaze on the bottle in the sink. "Yeah, I can't police every single girl that wants to throw it back for you. You're not an idiot, it's not like you're gonna turn 'em away." The brunette grumbled, finally looking up at him to raise a brow as a challenge. She jumped when he threw the bottle across the room, watching as it shattered against the wall and scattered across the floor. "You know what? Fuck you, Anders! You're such a goddamn asshole, I don't even know how I put up with you!" Mason yelled, giving him a shove. "You're the biggest fucking child I know, you need to grow the fuck up sometime."

Anders: Tears filled the corners of Anders’ eyes as Mason screamed back at him, his anger, hurt, sadness and loneliness all mixing together as one to form a toxic cocktail of emotions all fighting to spill out at once. All Anders wanted to do was hit something, break something else, go on a rampage. If he was at home he might have done it too, but the small remaining ounces of sense left in him reminded him that that it would not only be shitty to do so, but also might be something that scared Mason enough to completely end whatever fraying remains of a relationship they now had left. The shove came quickly, and though it did little to sway Anders’ large frame, it felt like a complete betrayal, the tears that were formerly fighting to stay away now spilling out of his eyes. Sadness, hurt and loneliness all pushed themselves out in the open at once, anger thankfully taking a backseat to them for a moment. “Mason,” Anders managed to squeak out between sobs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. You just mean so much to me...” he trailed off, unable to catch up his breathing with his tears causing him to gasp over and over like a child. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Mase: There was nothing that Mason wanted more than to just wrap Anders up in her arms as soon as he started crying, but she was holding her ground, letting him see how angry she actually was. She couldn't falter - he had to see that his actions always had definite reactions. Plus, she was already too caught up with the idea that Anders didn't see her the way that she saw him, and she had to keep her face stoic to mask her true emotions. She should've saw it coming, after all, she's her mother's daughter. Her mother is still the best person in the world in Mason's eyes, but even her loving and warm nature couldn't keep a marriage together. Why did Mason expect to be any different? "I accept your apology." She whispered, plucking a couple napkins from the holder and handing them to him with a sigh. "I shouldn't have said those things to you, that was fucked up. I'm sorry." Mase murmured, pushing her hands through her hair and pacing about the kitchen, tugging on the strands to keep her own emotions in check. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me."

Anders: “No, n-no. Don’t apologize. Y-you’re r-right,” Anders whimpered, accepting the napkins and wiping his eyes with them. His breath still ragged and his head still running a million miles a minutes, Ders steadied himself against the counter top, closed his eyes and tried his best to remember how to breathe normally. It took him a minute or so to return to a somewhat normal state again, but when he did, he tried his best to go on as if they hadn’t just blown up at each other in their first real fight. “W-where’s your dust p-pan?” he asked, avoiding making eye contact with Mason as he quickly searched the kitchen area, just trying to keep his hands busy so she wouldn’t see them shaking. “In here?” he asked, opening a closet door and easily finding what he was looking for. “Stay over t-there,” he said firmly, taking note of her bare feet. Anders worked quickly, manically, as he swept up the broken glass, completely ashamed and still unwilling to look his friend in the eye. When he had finished, he deposited the bottle remnants in the garbage and made his way back to Mason. “I’m a fucking idiot, Mase. I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking down at his feet. “I can understand if you don’t wanna hang out anymore after this.”

Mase: Mason sighed as Anders started gathering the stuff to sweep up the broken glass, listening to him and staying in her kitchen. Instead of standing, she hopped up on her counter and resting her face in her hands, digging the palms into her eyes to wipe away her tears as quickly as possible. She could tell he was purposely avoiding eye contact with her, and it was breaking her fucking heart to know that he couldn't bring himself to look at her. It was her fault, anyways. If she wasn't jealous over someone she wasn't dating, none of this would've ever happened, but nope. She always had to start shit. "No, don't even say that." Mason muttered, shaking her head and opening her arms for him and pulling him into her chest when he was finally in arms reach. "I was the biggest dick in the world, okay? This was my fault. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She tilted his chin up so they could finally look at each other. "Kiss me."

Anders: The tears came rushing out again as Mason pulled him into her chest. He couldn’t believe what he had just done. The yelling and name calling was one thing, breaking things was another. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault,” he murmured into her shoulder, now wailing. “You’re perfect. You’re absolutely perfect and I was so fucking stupid,” he weeped. As Mase lifted his chin to hers, Anders finally made eye contact for the first time in minutes, his eyes red, puffy and ashamed. He issued a small, quarter second peck to her lips, truly believing she was the absolute last thing in the universe he deserved right then. Sighing, he leaned his forehead on Mase’s an closed his eyes, taking in what he still assumed might be one of their last moments together, just enjoying being close to her for a few more seconds. It was then that his phone started to go off again. Multiple times. He pulled away and angrily charged over to it, hitting the answer but forcefully. “Don’t call or text me ever again,” he seethed into the receiver before hanging up, shutting it off and tossing it in an aimless direction. That was the first moment in the last 20 that he realized his fist was bleeding and swollen from slamming it into Mason’s counter top. “Um, do you have any ice?” he whimpered.

Mase: Mason wiped his tears away when they came, just shaking her head in response. "Not your fault." She whispered against his lips, resting her forehead against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her fingers carded through the hair on the nape of his neck as they enjoyed their small moment together, the anger she was feeling slowly melting away until his phone started vibrating once more. Her arms dropped to her sides when he stormed over to his phone, a little laugh escaping her lips as he told the blonde never to contact him again. "Of course." Mason replied, sliding off the counter to open her freezer, pulling out a small ice pack and getting a clean dish towel to wrap it in so it wouldn't be too cold on his hand. "Here, come ice for a bit. I'll clean it up in, like, twenty minutes." Mason opened one of the cabinets in her kitchen to retrieve her small first aid kit, pulling out an antibacterial wipe and some ointment.

Anders: Anders felt so unbelievably grateful for having a person like Mason with him in that moment. After all of the drama he had just caused, after acting like a dumbass, after smashing things and punching things, she still wanted broken, stupid, lonely him. He winced a little as Mason worked on his hand, the pain finally breaking through to the surface after 20 minutes of straight adrenaline had prevented it from doing so. “You’re so wonderful,” he whispered, watching her work. “I love you, Mason,” he added taking her free hand with his and giving it a kiss. “You’re the most beautiful, sweet, talented, smart, extraordinary woman I’ve ever met in my life. Don’t ever doubt that for a second.” When Mason finished tending to his hand, Anders lead her back to the couch and motioned for her to lay beside him so they could cuddle. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck, inhaling her scent as they lay there. “More Office or should we switch to Parks and Rec?” he smiled, massaging her back. This was perfect. This was what he wanted more than anything. 

Mason: Mason knew that despite everything they'd just gone through, there was no way she could stay mad at Anders for long. That was her person - she'd never be able to leave him behind. After he iced, she started cleaning and tending to his hand, being as gentle as possible through all of his wincing and clenching to get him all cleaned up. His words made her smile, but she didn't look up from her task until he took her free hand and kissed it. "I love you." Mason whispered, setting the ointment down once it was applied. "Through it all, I swear I do." She gladly followed him to the couch, tucking herself into his side and sighing softly at the feeling of his lips on her neck. "Let's switch it up." Mason murmured, picking up the remote to change shows, tossing it aside once the new one started. Mase had already forgotten about their stupid fight - she was too content to be laying in Anders' arms and pretending like he was all hers. 'Soon.' She thought to herself. 'He'll know soon.'

@ofmases