wayoutmason-blog

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you chug a fifth of alcohol by yourself & everyone around you is too busy cheering to wonder how empty you had to be in order to do it

This fucked me up  (via demorior)

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Libras and geminis reflect a lot of your personality so if you don’t like them like it’s probably because you dislike yourself

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trc character study [4/6]: richard gansey

“He couldn’t stand it, all of this inside him. In the end, he was nobody to Adam, he was nobody to Ronan. Adam spit his words back at him and Ronan squandered however many second chances he gave him. Gansey was just a guy with a lot of stuff and a hole inside him that chewed away more of his heart every year. They were always walking away from him. But he never seemed able to walk away from them.”

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Better to have mcfreakin loved and mcfreakin lost than never to have mcfreakin loved at all

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I don’t ask anyone to stay Not anymore The phone may tremble in my hand But never again Will I beg for someone to love me

Unknown

(via

virytherin

)

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-insp-

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“its dark im scared”

dont worry bae i got this

*stomps foot*

*sketchers light up*

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how is “””pretty boy””” supposed to be an insult i’m the prettiest goddamn boy in town

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TEXT ✉️ MESSE

Jesse: As a fellow member of the “unnecessarily punched in the face by an idiotic brute” club, I welcome you.

Jesse: How did that all turn out, by the way?

Jesse: Did Hudson’s hand taste like mediocrity?

Mason: Ugh, thanks. Do we have jackets? The name's a little wordy, tho.

Mason: It tasted like popcorn, mostly, because dumped a bunch on my head.

Mason: Thanks for checking in, tho.

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F2F | Finn&Mason

FINN: The indignant snarl of, "I'm /Santa/" was lost amidst the ensuing crash back down to earth, like a tree crashing through the forest they cut through party goers and into the corner of a table laden with snacks that rattled violently at the collision, popcorn and red solo cups tumbling as Mason let loose a barrage of fists. The cheap belt of his suit popped open with the impact and as the material billowed open it reminded him of the last time someone had tried to fight him and the utter lack of padding it gave between fist and skin.

He missed that bathrobe.

That thought drove his fist forward again, one hand driving low for the gut as the other scrabbled across the table for a bowl of popcorn that he promptly emptied over Mason's scrappy little head, kernels ricocheting in all directions. "No fucking regrets right?" was the furious response as that deep well of undealt with anger rose up his chest and into his throat and squeezed hard, the hard shove he landed squarely across Mason's shoulders giving just enough space for him to drive forward and tackle him back into the crowd milling uneasily behind them and straight into the hardwood floors in a tangle of limbs and stubbornly clinging Santa hat. "What's best for me is best for everyone — what about the people who get hurt along the way, huh?"

It was some form of glorious revelation that as his fist collided with the sharp angle of Mason's cheekbone and the rage that had been swelling through him hit a crescendo, "I deserve better than that." Not Marley, not Kitty, not Ryder, not Mason. This wasn't about any of them, really — not even the guy he was straddling on the floor. He deserved to be a father, to know his son, and that thought was so groundbreaking that his hands stilled as he surveyed the damage their rolling wrecking ball of rage had already unleashed.

MASON: Between the fist to his stomach and the snack poured over his head, there was no way for Mason to stop Finn as he crashed them both to the floor. It knocked the wind out of him and Finn was pure muscle - there was nothing to do but try and protect his face.

Everything hurt. His shoulders and head had smacked against the hard floor in a bad way and he didn't need to look at his face to know he'd need the world's biggest icepack. His ribs, his chest - everything /hurt/. Between the all-over breathtaking pain and the alcohol struggling mightily against the adrenaline, it took Mason a second to realize he actually wasn't getting hit anymore. He peeked out from around his arm, clocked Finn's hovering hand, and took a breath.

"Yeah, you do," Mason admitted, glancing nervously between Finn's eyes and his hand. "I'm sorry, man. I just - I love her. It's--it's not an excuse but it's--it's true." Tentatively, Mason lifted his hand to Finn's fist, gently trying to tug it off direct path to Mason's face. He was distantly aware that he hadn't said as much to Kitty, or Ryder, or anyone, but he knew it was true. Whether he would ever fall back /in/ love with Kitty remained to be seen, but he loved her still. It didn't go away. "I--I think we both deserve better than this, Finn, and--and honestly so does she." It almost made Mason sad - Finn was right, he deserved better. Maybe Ryder was right too - maybe he deserved better than Kitty, love or not. It didn't seem so crazy in his current position. Mason's breath was coming in shallow, desperate gulps, and Mason shifted a little, trying to get more air and less crushed. "Can--can we be done, or do I have to kick you in the 'nads and return fire, man?"

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FTF | MCMOTTA | 10.11

MASON: Mason was wandering around the party - the vibe was a little quieter than what he was used to, in terms of parties, but that didn't mean it was bad by any means. He was trying to take the opportunity for what it was, which was a non-work chance to talk to more people on tour.

And he'd been talking. He needed a little break, and also more booze, so he made his way over to the alcohol - which is when he noticed the pharoh.

"Dude," Mason said, a grin spreading on his face. "You look /awesome/. You're Rachel's manager, right? Figures you two would go all out."

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F2F | Finn&Mason

FINN: Maybe all he really needed was an excuse at the moment — a little nudge to set off the hare-trigger that was his life lately. All he needed was a /push/ and there it was, the anger that bubbled up out of nowhere like it had taken up residence in his chest and was just waiting for a chance to be released. A half-step backward was all it took to rebalance himself, blinking rapidly against the insistence that Mason had never meant to /hurt/ anyone as his pompom swayed dubiously in front of his eyes and the realization hit him that someone had already been hurt and that Marley was nowhere to be seen tonight.

The eyes that caught on their little altercation were lost to background noise as Finn led his argument with his fist, knuckles green with old bruises protesting this newest abuse as he took a swing for the angle of Mason's jaw. "Things don't just /happen/, you made a fucking choice. Just admit it."

MASON: Finn's fist made contact and hard - Mason stumbled a step or two and through the stars flashing behind his eyes, through the shock of actually being hit, Mason was almost bizarrely a little bit glad.

At least this was going to be over soon.

Then he charged Finn.

His Indiana Jones hat went flying off his head as they collided - he aimed for Finn's middle, knocking them both through the crowd of the party and into the nearest hard surface as he desperately tried to find purchase - kidneys, solar plexus, face, whatever; Mason was lithe comparatively, but he's always been scrappy, and Ryder had taught him a long time ago how to make it hurt.

"Yeah, I made a fucking choice," Mason said, a slightly delirious laugh escaping him as he swung again. "And I don't fucking regret it, you overgrown elf!"