#BLAME IT ON CAMERON!

[sulieykte]

[pencileraser1]

top 10 richard cameron moments i guess

man door hand hook car door

him being second to join the new dead poets society right after charlie when neil asks whos in

i love the clarinet

his and charlies relationship is really something like cameron really was following charlie everywhere the whole time acting like he didn't want to (he did) (i'm totally not reading too much into everything he does for a tumblr post (i am))

he really was just trying to keep all the poets safe like i know he did the wrong thing in the end but like. he joined the poets knowing how dangerous it was and the whole time he was pointing out the things that could go wrong and warning them about specific things and they all told him he could just not join and he did anyway and maybe i'm just reading too much into it but like. he could've stayed home. and he didn't.

when keating was whispering "carpe diem" to them and he looked at keating like wtf are you doing cause honestly he was right for that

him graphing dr. j. evans pritchard's graph with a ruler

when knox was talking about chris and he was like. damn that sucks. let me help you with trig.

"where did you get that???" about the magazine charlie brings "what are you guys doing????" about neil and todd running around their dorm

the walking exercise what keating had to say about how he was overthinking how to walk cause that was relatable

[mooondial]

✧˖° House M.D.! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ⋆｡°✩

[beautifuldisaster88]

Don't Blame Me

A/N: I just randomly came up with this whole listening to Taylor Swift's song Don't Blame Me. I feel like that would so be Unhinged!Rafe and InnocentTurnedUnhinged!Girlfriend. Like they would do whatever it takes to protect each other. Sorry in advance if it sucks. I didn't proofread or anything. Simply wrote it and posted right after.

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She ran as fast as her legs would take her the moment that she found out Barry planned on betraying Rafe, and turning him in. After trying over and over again to call Rafe, having no luck, she panicked, throwing her phone as she kept running. Her chest tightened and breathing became more difficult, but a panic attack wasn't going to stop her from getting to Rafe.

Drenched in sweat and out of breath, she spotted the Kildare County Sheriff's department boats, making her worst nightmare come true. It was too late. They'd found him. No, fuck that! Nobody was taking her love away, not even the fucking law. That's when she spotted him, face smashed into the mud and a large deputy on top of his. From what she could see, they already had her man in handcuffs. Wrong move, assholes.

Removing her gun, well Ward's gun, from the waistband of her shorts, she quickly turned off the safety, and stepped out from behind a tree and pointing it straight at Shoupe's head. All eyes were on her, including Rafe's. An eerie silence washed over those who were meant to serve and protect.

"You've got two options here, Shoupe. One, you let Rafe go and forget any of this happened. You destroy every file, every piece of evidence, anything that pertains to Rafe. Option number two." She cocked the gun, the click echoing from the dead silence. "I don't think you're going to like option two. Two, I pull the trigger and put a bullet in your fucking skull. Then you can reunite with Peterkin. Sure, I might not be fast enough to shoot all of you, but you can bet your asses, I'm taking most of you down with me. Your choice, Shoupe."

She took a step closer, more than ready to shoot. The look in her eyes was unlike any they'd ever seen. The once sweet and innocent girl was gone, replaced with a stone cold killer. After all, she was just a girl in love, and that meant protecting the man she loved at all costs. Consequences be damned.

"You don't wanna do that. You're not like him. You're not a killer." Shoupe tried to plead with her, but his words were useless. He might as well have been a baby babbling.

"That's where you're wrong. Now, I'm going to count to three and if your buddy still doesn't back the fuck away from Rafe, he'll be the first to reunite with Peterkin. One."

"Think this through. Is he really worth losing your life over? I know you, you're a good girl. You've got a clean record. Can't you see what he's doing to you? He's poisoned you."

"Yes. Yes, he is worth losing my life over, and he's not fucking poisoning me! He just helped me realize who I truly am. Also, you don't know shit about me. None of you fucking do! Whatever blood is on his hands, I've got the same on mine. Two. Don't make me get to three, Shoupe. I'm warning you."

The deputy that had Rafe on the ground, dug his knee deeper into the Cameron boys back. "Get the fuck off me! Don't you dare fucking hurt her, Shoupe! I'll fucking kill you myself if anything happens to her!" Rafe yelled, trying his damnedest to fight off the deputy. Having his hands cuffed behind his back wasn't helping. He panicked, picturing the worst. He had to get free, had to save his angel.

"Three. Don't say I didn't warn you."

In the blink of an eye, she had the gun pointed at the deputy's head, finger on the trigger and ready to shoot.

"Don't blame me, love made me crazy. If it doesn't you ain't doing it right."

"WAIT! WAIT! DON'T SHOOT!" Shoupe screamed, looking between her and the deputy, his hands up in surrender. The look in her eyes said everything, she was going to kill the deputy. Love really had made her crazy. The other deputy's shot hesitant looks at one another, but slowly began to lower their weapons.

"Let the boy go." Shoupe instructed him, earning a look as though he'd lost his mind.

"He killed Peterkin! This bastard is going to rot behind bars." The deputy spat, digging his knee deeper into Rafe's back.

"I SAID LET HIM GO DAMNIT! OR THE GIRL WILL SHOOT! WE DON'T NEED ANYMORE BLOOD SPILLED!"

Doing as he was told, the deputy uncuffed Rafe, releasing his weight off the Cameron boys back, making Rafe smirk... That was until he saw the deputy reaching for his gun in his holster, eyes glued on the only girl that Rafe has ever loved. Oh no he didn't, nobody was shooting his girl.

In one swift motion, Rafe wrestled the deputy to the ground, grabbing his gun and hitting him in the head with it, hard enough to knock the big guy on his ass. With both of them still pointing their guns at the officer's, Rafe quickly made his way to her side.

Taking her hand, they laced their fingers together, both glancing over at each other.

"Together until the end, yeah?" Rafe whispered to her.

She nodded, squeezing his hand. "Together until the end, baby. I love you, Rafe."

"I love you too, angel. If we make it outta here, 'm taking you far away and we're gonna start that life we always talked about, yeah? Yeah. I promise."

Shots rang as the couple began shooting at the deputy's, trying their hardest to dodge the bullets as they shot back.

"Shit. Motherfucker shot me!" She hissed, grabbing her side as she put a bullet into the deputy's skull. Her side hurt like a motherfucker, the pain worse than anything she'd ever experienced. Still, she wasn't about to just lay down and die. No, they'd come this far, and this was not how her and Rafe's story ended.

"angel, you okay!? Talk to me, baby!" Rafe yelled out from behind a tree, trying to avoid the flying bullets that hit the bark above his head. The panic evident in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, m'fine. Don't worry 'bout me."

Rafe could tell by the sound of her voice that she was lying. He knew her inside and out, and knew when she was lying. She wasn't fucking okay. He couldn't lose her. No, not her. Without thinking twice, he ran out from behind the tree, staying crouched down as he ran towards her, dodging bullets as he shot at the remaining officer's along the way. Shoupe was nowhere to be seen, meaning the pussy ran and left his deputy's to die. Not surprising.

As soon as Rafe reached her, he wrapped an arm around her, using his strength to keep her on her feet. The color in her face was fading, white tank top now soaked in crimson.

"We gotta go, baby. Gotta get you outta here and patched up. You're fucking crazy, you know that?"

He chuckled, shaking his head as he quickly planted a kiss on the side of her head, before scooping her up in his arms.

"Like I said, don't blame me love made me crazy."

[memehayes]

writing my 10th essay to my friends on how frustrating it is to watch fans and hgs alike downplay and undermine the distress women face from being stuck around men who make them uncomfortable while simultaneously needing to retain those very men’s approval / favor for any number of valid personal and professional (ie game) reasons but not clicking send bc it’s 4am and their sweet unsuspecting selves don’t deserve to wake up to that

[stxrslut]

me n Rafe core 🎀

[rafesthroatbaby]

I JUST WANNA 👅 DREW WITH THE GUNS OUT two words: CHOKE ME 💦

[heidismagblog]

[cringefail-clown]

my toxic trait is thinking id survive the titanic

[sophfandoms53]

Hilarious to me Cory has managed to have major one sided beefs from at least 5 of the hgs and for 4 out of these 5 people he didn’t even do anything to them😭

[chiquititaas]

Cory and America are such interesting players because they're simultaneously in a horrible spot due to conditions outside their control like the blantent misogyny from Cameron and Jared, and also they completely make things worse for themselves at every opportunity.

[the-moonwillsing]

star wars jedi: fallen order (2019) // little lion man (mumford & sons)

[lloyd-007]

Damm bro so they’re acc gonna die at 7:30 tomorrow morning

[marc--chilton]

me when house punches chase: ohhooohohohoho >:D

me when wilson punches house:

[flowersarefreetherapy]

My Love Is Mine All Mine

CW: hospital setting, character death, mourning, unhealthy relationships, pet whump, brief violence, implied past violence, implied past noncon, brief mention of disordered eating, begging, sexually degrading language, self harm (not graphic or a lot, but it in here), self-blame

The heart monitor beeps out a steady rhythm, one Cameron finds himself counting in a desperate attempt to hold on to hope. His tailbone goes numb and he shifts on the cold plastic chair, trying to move as little as possible. 

Angelina and Andrew don’t pay attention to him. She sits at her father’s bedside, Andrew’s hand on her thigh, scrolling through Instagram. Emmaleigh slumps on the chair next to Cameron, eyes glued to her iPad screen. Lucas, Angelina’s brother, just left, saying something about talking to a lawyer and coming back at a later time. Cameron doesn’t want to pay attention. He wants to be at Patrick’s side, curled up close like he is supposed to be. Not trapped in a corner of the room with a literal child. 

“Mom!” Emmaleigh whines. “I’m hungry!”

Angelina’s gaze remains locked on her phone. “Andrew, would you take her to get some food? I don’t want to leave Father.”

Andrew nods. “Come on, Emma. Let’s go get something from the cafe.”

“No! I want McDonald’s!”

Cameron rolls his eyes. Of course she wants McDonald’s. Maybe they could bring some back and he could try the fries? They look so good on the television and he’s wanted to try them for years. Patrick never let him. That much grease and fast food ruins his figure. Cameron knows this. 

But you won’t have to worry about what you eat much longer, will you? 

No. Patrick is going to be okay. This is just a small cold. It’s nothing awful. He’s strong and has good lungs and whatever the doctors say, they’re wrong. They don’t know his master like he does. 

Andrew gives in, as he always does. Soon it is just Cameron and Angelina in the room with Patrick. She still isn’t paying him any attention. Nor is she looking at Patrick. Cameron swallows back a scream. This is her father in the hospital and she doesn’t care! He cares! He could take better care of Patrick than anyone here! 

The chair creaks as Cameron stands and walks over to the hospital bed. He moves softly, relying on all his training to stay as quiet as possible. Angelina doesn’t look up. Cameron perches on the edge of the bed and takes Patrick’s hand. It feels so much weaker than he remembers. Thin, papery skin and fragile bones when he remembers a strong, unwavering grip pushing the knife through his skin. 

Cameron swallows back a sob and curls up next to his master. There’s barely any room on the bed, but he folds his knees close to his chest, resting his head on Patrick’s chest. He can hear every breath rattle in his lungs. It’s alright, there’s medicine and monitors and this will be okay. His master is strong. He can survive this. 

Angelina scoffs, but doesn’t move him from the bed. Cameron is grateful for the small blessing. The sterile air of a hospital burns his nose, bringing back other memories. He squeezes his eyes shut against the white light, grabbing his master’s hand. 

You aren’t there. You aren’t there. You have a master. Someone chose you, remember? You weren’t abandoned. 

The beeping and shallow breathing pulls him into a half-wake trance. Cameron’s eyelids grow heavy. For a moment, he’s back in their bed, the thick comforter keeping him down as his master shifts next to him. He’ll be awake soon. Will it be the knife? Or the ropes? Or maybe just round after round that will leave him bleeding in the shower? A shudder of pleasure slips down Cameron’s spine at the thought. 

Fingers dig into his shoulder. Yanking him from the bed. Cameron cries out as his head hits the wall, a blow hard enough to blur his vision. He blinks hard. White coats and shouting, so much shouting. Drawn out beeps. Light glints off a needle and Cameron flinches. He folds himself in a corner, hugging his knees tightly to his chest. 

“Please, please, please, I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’ll be good, I’ll be better, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, so sorry.”

Where is his master? Where is he? Why hasn’t he come for him? Cameron blinks back tears. It’ll be okay. Patrick will get him. He’ll pick him up and kiss him, tasting like whiskey and cigars, and he’ll be safe. Cameron knows he’s safe. He hasn’t been sent back there. He’s been too good for his master to have that happen.

Silence. Emmaleigh crying. Angelina stands stiffly, expressionless. Cameron uncurls, ignoring the annoyed looks from the doctors. They’ve hated him from the moment he was brought here. It doesn’t matter to him anyway. 

“. . . what happened?” he whispers. 

Emmaleigh cries harder. The iPad lays forgotten on that stupid chair. Cameron crawls to the edge of the hospital bed. It’s too quiet. 

Don’t look. Don’t ask. You know. Just sit in the corner and hope they forget about you. Don’t make this worse than it already is. 

His master’s face is lax and pale, a shade Cameron has only seen once before. A Guard trainee who was supposed to show him his place, only to die overnight from what the handlers called internal bleeding. He’s seen death before. He knows what it looks like. But it doesn’t happen to those he loves. It isn’t supposed to happen to his master. 

“Sir?” Cameron whispers, grabbing his master’s hand. It’s cold. Bile burns the back of his throat. “Sir, please, say something. I-please don’t leave me!”

“Get away from my father, whore!” Angelina’s nails scrap across his scalp as she pulls him away. Cameron yelps, scrambling to ease the sudden pain. “Don’t you dare pretend you cared about him! All you cared about was who would fuck you!” 

“Please!” Cameron sobs. Tears burn down his cheeks. Patrick said he was a pretty crier, that he looked best when he cried. “Please, please, I love him! Please, let me say goodbye!”

Angelina shakes his head. His head hits the stupid plastic chair. White explodes across his vision and Cameron swallows back a sob. Angelina’s voice rises, but he can’t hear a single word she says. His knees hurt, his vision blurs from tears and pain, and he can’t draw in a full breath. Cameron stares at the hospital bed, blinking hard. Maybe he can see his master again. One more time. 

Then Angelin’s fingers are no longer in his hair. Andrew holds her and Emmaleigh tightly, all three of them crying. Cameron huddles against the wall. He can’t breathe. His chest throbs with pain and no amount of crying lessens it. He curls up again and screams into his knees. Quiet. Patrick prefers–no, preferred. He’s gone now, remember, idiot?--to hear him scream. Loud and painful and Cameron rakes his nails across his skin in an effort to feel the shattering of his heart be mirrored across his skin.

The family slowly collects personal belongings. There’s not a lot. Patrick was sick suddenly. Cameron flinches. This is his fault. If he hadn’t insisted on going ice skating, then Patrick wouldn’t have gotten sick, and this wouldn’t have happened. His fault. His master died because he was a selfish, horrible Pet.

My master’s desires are my own. My master’s desires are my own. My master’s desires are my own. I am not my own. I belong to my master, I belong to my master, I belong to my master. 

. . . who do I belong to?

“Get up, slut.”

Andrew grips his arm and hauls him to his feet. Cameron stumbles beside him, suddenly feeling far too cold in his crop top and tights. The nurses and other patients stare at him. For the first time in years, heat creeps up his cheeks and down his neck. He ducks his head and focuses only on the too-white tile under his feet. 

It’s odd. Walking outside, hearing traffic, feeling the winter wind against his face, sunlight sparkling off the light dusting of snow that fell overnight–and knowing his master is dead. 

Dead.

Cameron chokes on a sob. His master is dead. Gone. Truly gone.

“Shut up,” Andrew snaps. “I don’t know why you’re so weepy. You are nothing but a sidepiece and a bedwarmer. You never cared about him.”

I did! I loved him and he loved me and we were going to have forever! He was never, ever going to leave me!

The words stick in his throat and all Cameron can do is cry. He doesn’t stop, not even when he’s shoved into the backseat of Angelina’s car and told to stay quiet. Emmaleigh’s sobs cover the sound of his own.

We were supposed to have forever. 

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Me and @spicymiilk are having a nocorro angst day, let me gather my thoughts and I'll share them with the troops.