#i forget if i talked about it but i actually met cameron last summer

[bixels]

NEW GINGER ROOT SINGLE HOW WE FEELING

Praise be, it's good.

[deadpoetsmuses]

"inspiration". | neil perry, dps.

in which a summer is spent with the poets, with a significant feature of neil perry.

✧ title: "inspiration".

✧ pairing: neil perry x fem!reader.

✧ genre: fluff, with slight mentions of angst.

✧ word count: 2,733.

✧ warnings: written in headcanon format, home life mentions, the reader lives in meeks' grandma's house, knox being a simp for chris.

✦ author’s note: requested by @mybabysweetascanbe! it's kinda funky how i wrote this as a headcanon but it still ended up being my longest fic lmao. also i wrote the poem that neil made for the reader myself so i'm sorry if it's kinda cheesy 🗿 but i hope you all enjoy this one !! don't forget to take care of yourselves guys <3

✎ The summer holidays had always been a time for the poets’ relief.

✎ Their academic year was constantly filled with difficulties for the poets, but it was harder for some when they were home for the summer.

✎ Neil felt as though he couldn’t be himself-- he loved reading and writing even more so than he did with accomplishing any of his parents’ wishes, like heading into medical school. He especially loved to act, and it was rough to keep that concealed around his dictatorial father.

✎ Todd’s older brother would be at home as well, and it was worse enough being in his shadow; but it had gotten worse with every one of his parents’ daily proclamations.

“We were quite disappointed with your grades from last semester, son,” His father reprimanded, looking down on him with stern eyes. “I just don’t understand what’s gotten into you. Your mother and I raised you quite well and you have your brother to guide you along. You know that he’s remarkably intelligent and well accomplished. Why can’t you be more like your brother?”

✎ Charlie and Knox had been just like Neil. The constant pressure that their parents put on them about becoming a banker and a lawyer was daunting; and all they wanted was to simply live as regular teenagers without concern for their future.

✎ Fortunately, Meeks’ grandmother was a woman who had a colossal and motherly love for the poets with a sizable residence in which her grandson’s friends could inhabit during their vacation.

✎ Thus, the poets resided in the Meeks household in the summer before their senior year so as to escape the stress and troubles brought to them in their own homes.

✎ Even though the summer was fleeting and their time was short, the poets found their time to be everlasting when they met the student boarder of the house.

✎ She went by the name of Y/N, which was a name that sounded just as sweet as the lady to whom it was attached.

“Hello, everybody! I’m Y/N!” The girl said, reaching out her hand to shake one of the poets’. Truth be told, it had been quite some time since any one of the boys had been in close contact with a woman; so they found themselves to be quite the martians in the situation. It took a few moments before one of the poets-- Neil Perry-- could offer his hand and shake hers. “I’m Neil! We’re friends of Meeks and his classmates from Welton.” The boy swore that he felt a spark as their fingertips touched, but he tossed the feeling aside; along with the apparition that he saw of a faint glimmer in Y/N’s eyes.

✎ The boys instantly took her in to their little group, and they all fell in love with her personality-- which was a platonic statement of course; but Neil Perry found this to be otherwise as he actually began falling into love with the new girl.

✎ He loved the way she cared for her new friends, the way she projected her personality through the clothes she wore, and all of the little smiles she gave him.

✎ With every beam and twinkle that she delivered, Y/N found herself to be falling for Neil as well.

✎ He provided a feeling for her that made the blacks of her eyes expand and butterflies to quiver inside-- which was the very same one Neil had felt when he first laid his eyes on her.

✎ She had been a fantastic addition to the band of poets, and the boys could not have had it any other way.

Despite the summer coming into fruition, the poets did not fail to meet up in their little cave every once in a while to read poetry, discuss girls, and laugh. The first meeting of that summer was simply like any other. “Guys, what do we think of Y/N?” Meeks questioned. A clamor of answers that ranged between “I think she’s great,” and “Do you think Mrs. Meeks has any more people in her house like Y/N?” echoed in the dark cave. Clearly, the boys had favored Y/N; but certainly not to the point where they’d be infatuated with her. “Yeah, I think she’s nice. She’s really pretty too,” Knox added. “Woah there Knoxious,” Charlie replied, expelling out a chortle. “I don’t think Chris would like to hear that. And besides, she looks more like she’s Neil’s type than yours.” Charlie’s words weren’t incorrect, but it was needless to say that Neil had strongly agreed with that statement.

✎ Over the summer, they would all begin to get to know each other better.

✎ The poets eventually introduced Y/N to the intricate realm of poetry, and she wholeheartedly fell in love with every line that was recited.

✎ They enjoyed every moment of their fleeting time together. Of course, there would be times where the boys would get into small fights and bickers.

✎ Pitts would always be yelling at Charlie for taking an ungodly amount of time in the shower, while Charlie would be yelling back about how Pitts always seemed to inhale the food that Mrs. Meeks provided for them before he himself could even take one bite.

✎ Cameron did his best to do some summer reading at night, but he found it quite hard as his room was beside Knox’s room, and Knox would spend hours on end talking to Chris over the phone.

“Oh, Chris. How do I love thee?” Knox sighed, lacing the telephone cords in between his fingers. “That’s the title of a poem we learned in Mr. Keating’s class. It reminds me of how lovely you are. Of course, she’s not as pretty as you are,” Knox’s giggles not only erupted through the phone; but it travelled through the walls as well, disrupting Cameron from the climax of his novel. “We get it, Knox! You’re a romantic poet! Now why don’t you go tell Chris about how you finished with a D minus in English!”

✎ While all of the little squabbles took place, they hadn’t even noticed the slight change in Neil and Y/N’s behavior.

✎ Y/N seemed to be keeping to herself more often, while Neil appeared to have possessed an undying smile on his face around the poets; particularly in the mornings when everyone gets up early except for him and Y/N.

✎ Little did they know, Y/N’s room had been vacant for the past few days since the arguments began-- which was approximately three weeks after the boys had arrived to the Meeks’ residence; and Neil seemed to be giggling in his room every night when the rest were asleep.

✎ In the duration of those three weeks, Neil had become more familiar with Y/N than any of the other poets had been.

✎ They’d walk along the nearby river every morning, discuss poetry in the late afternoons, and eventually fall asleep in each other’s arms at night.

“How long have you been living here?” Neil inquired, peering into Y/N’s eyes. His vision didn’t have to stretch too far as his face had only been a breath away from Y/N’s. The pair laid together under the warm covers of Neil’s bed with their legs entangled in one another’s and their hands interlocked, talking about anything and everything that came to their minds. “It’s been two years since Mrs. Meeks took me in,” She replied, gazing over Neil’s chiseled face. “In the whole time I’ve been here, I think you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me,” Y/N added, beaming up at Neil. Hearing her words, Neil slowly leaned his lips onto Y/N’s forehead, giving her an endearing kiss. She too had been the most interesting thing to happen to Neil in a long time.

✎ For each and every day that they were together, Neil wrote love poems.

✎ His poems revolved around his time with Y/N and included detail of all sorts; such as how colors appeared to be more bright and more vivid when he was with her and how lovelier the birds had sounded in the morning during their walks.

"My love,

The luminosity of the golden sun

does not compare to the radiance

of your glowing skin.

In this air full of morning dew,

the most beautiful scent in the air

is still you.

The sounds we hear of the melodious

birds are all because of your presence,

and they sing only for your beauty.

I look into your eyes and I see nature

reflected back at me; but it is much more

pleasant to perceive than if I were to do so

through my own set of eyes.

Though the morning lasts for a mere set of hours,

My fascination for you can go for as long as

this smooth river flows.

✎ Neil felt embarrassed about being so infatuated with Y/N, so he kept his poems hidden for the time being.

✎ Somehow, the boys had failed to notice Neil and Y/N’s constant disappearance.

✎ Although, they’d make little remarks from time to time that ran along the lines of “Ooh, Neil found a muse!” and “Y/N definitely likes somebody here. It’s probably me.”

✎ The last comment came from Charlie, which later earned him a smack on the head from Neil.

✎ So, Neil and Y/N did their best to keep their relationship hidden throughout the summer.

✎ The two were rather domestic in their relationship; they did all of the typical-couple activities that everyone else had done.

✎ To anyone else it would have been rather common to witness, but to them it was simply extraordinary being with one another.

It had been a scenic day at the river that morning. The beauty of the nature surrounding it had been ordinarily pleasing to Y/N; but all of its best qualities were magnified for Neil as his hand was in hers and the only thing he could smell was her fragrance. He had been quite nervous for the entire morning as he promised himself the night before that he would finally gather the courage to say those three magic words he’d been imagining to say for quite some time. Unbeknownst to him, Y/N had been thinking the same and had been visualizing how she would say it at that moment for the past few hours since. Just when the cascading waters began to relax and the chirping of the birds started to quiet down, the pair stopped on their trail and those three words were finally professed by Neil in a sudden manner while Y/N had spoken the same in a clear and gentle tone. They looked into each other’s eyes, recognizing the same look of love and eventually realizing what was said. As it was acknowledged, the two lovers simply smiled at each other and kept walking along; their hearts now beating on the same rhythm and their minds thinking of nothing but one another.

✎ Time to time, they would go up to the attic and listen to the music from Mrs. Meeks’ old gramophone, caressing one another as they slowly dance along to the lyrics of Ella Fitzgerald’s songs.

✎ Neil would always sneak a flower out of Mrs. Meeks’ rose garden and leave it on Y/N’s bedside table for her to wake up to.

✎ One of Y/N’s ways of communicating her love would be recommending books to Neil that she thinks is encompassed with his personality. Since then, Neil’s library had enlarged to a great extent.

✎ There would also be some occasions where one of them-- mostly Neil-- would get a little cheeky and try to express their love for the other out in the open.

“Eat up, boys! You know there’s plenty more of where that came from, so don’t be afraid to dig in!” Mrs. Meeks endorsed, setting down a bowl of mashed potatoes. With a jubilant ‘thank you’, everyone at the table promptly began to tuck into the mouthwatering cuisine. The boys soon found themselves distracted with the heavenly taste of Mrs. Meeks’ cooking; and Neil took this opportunity to covertly sneak his right hand onto Y/N’s thigh under the table. A scarlet blush crept its way up to Y/N’s cheek as she sent Neil a glare. Though her eyes expressed the message of “Not here!”, every other signal in her body sent the message of ‘Yes, Please’ to a very triumphant Neil.

✎ The summer inevitably came to an end and the boys were forced to return to Welton, much to their dismay.

✎ They couldn’t stand ending their summer; and they especially couldn’t stand leaving their new friend behind while the rest of them stayed together.

“Oh God, How are we supposed to leave this beautiful girl all alone in this big house?!” Charlie pleaded, theatrically dropping down to his knees and shouting out loud to the heavens. “It’s all just too emotional for us,” Pitts added as he went along with his friend’s act, his head bowing down to the ground in grief as he placed a comforting hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Just take me with her, God! Let me be with Y/N at her all-girls school!”

✎ Despite all of the inconveniences they put upon Y/N, the poets really did leave a mark on her. These boys showed her a new way of life-- she knows what ‘Carpe Diem’ means, and she knows how to seize her days because of them.

✎ Of course, Neil had a harder time coming into terms with their departure more than anyone else.

✎ Leaving the Meeks’ residence meant that he was leaving Y/N, which was something that he hadn’t prepared himself for.

“I’m not ready to leave you,” Neil confessed. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. After the individual hugs and goodbyes Y/N had given to the rest of the poets, the ill-fated time had come when she had to bid her own farewell to her lover. Neil believed that though their time was short and fleeting, it truly had been something special and something that he’ll never forget. Y/N was his first love, his first muse, his first everything; and no amount of riches could ever sum up to the prominence of that. Y/N placed her hand on Neil’s face, stroking away his tears with her thumb as she felt her eyes begin to swell up as well. “I’ll write to you every day, Neil.” Naturally, Y/N was on the brink of tears as well. She couldn’t bear to leave Neil after everything he’s shown her. It feels like she’s known him forever, yet everything felt so new and exciting with him. She loved him too much, and she knows she’ll continue to love him long after.

✎ Neil was afraid that she would forget about what they had soon after she had left, so he decided to give her all of the poems he had written about her.

✎ As her hands clasped the thick set of parchment, the tears she had been trying so hard to conceal had all poured out, staining the paper and her hands.

“Neil… these are beautiful,” She croaked. Her eyes skimmed over every title and date, realizing that there had been a poem for each and every splendid day that they had been together. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. That’s why I wrote these,” Neil corrected. “Everything I love about you is in these poems, and all of the love I have for you is written in each letter. I just don’t want you to forget about me while we’re apart.” The absurdity of Neil’s words made Y/N chuckle softly before she stepped forward and linked her hands around Neil’s neck, reducing the space between their lips. “I love you, Neil. You’re always going to be in my mind and you’ll always have my heart in the little pocket of your Welton blazer.”

✎ Y/N felt truly fortunate to have met Neil. This summer had come as quite a surprise for her-- she did not expect to fall in love so soon and with such an extraordinary person like Neil Perry. He was everything she’d ever looked for and he gave everything she deserved.

✎ Even though the bright days of the summer had ended and the early falling leaves of the autumn was yet to arrive, the change was of no concern as the only thing that mattered was what had been consistent-- and for Y/N and Neil, the thing that stood still for the two of them despite all odds was each other.

dedicated to these lovely people!! @mybabysweetascanbe @disagreeingpoets @catflowerbean @galaxyrhytm @nananostalgic @ughgclden @towriteabetterlife @neilsemeraldsweater @yourpal @willowestelle

[cherryobx]

He got what he deserved//John B x reader

request: “Can you do a John B fic where he is jealous of the reader talking to another guy?? But she’s only doing it bc she thinks JB looks at her like a sister but everyone knows they like each other but they are both oblivious?? Love ur writing sooo much!”

summary: John B sees you talking to another guy at a kegger and he’s not very happy about it

warnings: mentions of alcohol, violence, swearing

WC: 1089

(not my gif! creds to the owner!)

Another day, another kegger at the boneyard. That’s how you and your friends spent most of the summer. Partying and having fun until the sun rose.

“You here alone?” a voice asked from behind you, startling you a bit because you were so deep in your own thoughts, staring at John B from across the beach.

Everyone knew you were utterly in love with the messy-haired boy who drove around OBX in his beat-up van. Everyone except him. Typical.

“I’m actually here with my friends but they’re off somewhere doing their own thing,” you responded, giving the boy a light smile.

“Mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all. Come sit down.” You patted the spot next to you, gesturing for him to sit down beside you.

“I’m William by the way. But you can call me Will.”

“Yeah, I know who you are. I’ve seen you around a couple of times.” That sounded creepier than you thought.

“Not that I’m stalking you or anything,” you quickly added, making him chuckle.

“Didn’t think so. Mind sharing your name with me?”

“My resources say that you’ve lived here your whole life, so how come you don’t know me? Ouch! That one hurt me right here.” You pointed at your heart and pouting your lips

He laughed again. “Sorry. I guess you’re not as popular as you think.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He winked.

Shit. He was flirting with you. What were you going to do now? He was handsome, of course, but your heart already belonged to someone else. John B to be specific.

But John B treated you like his sister. Because even if he liked you even a little bit, he was very good at hiding it. But that theory was unlikely. Because he was currently on the other side of the beach, flirting with the Sarah Cameron herself. It was obvious that there was something going on between them. You were certain.

Maybe this is my sign that I need to move on and not drool over my best friend, you thought.

“What can I say. I’m beautiful in every way.”

“Can’t argue with that. I’m going to go get myself a drink. You want anything?” he asked, standing up.

“Just a beer, please.”

“Sure thing, doll.” He raised his hand, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. Then he gave you one last smile and went to get the drinks.

John B, on the other side of the beach, was getting more jealous by the second. He wanted to beat up the guy when he saw him touching you. Even though he barely touched you, John B was still not happy about it.

“Just go talk to her. She feels the same. Just saying,” Sarah said, but John B didn’t believe her even a bit. But he still had to do something about it.

He left Sarah standing there and walked over to where the drinks were served and tapped Will on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey, man!”

“Hey, John B, right?” he asked politely, but clearly not interested in a conversation with him. He wanted to get back to you already.

“Yeah. Give me Y/N’s drink. I’ll take it to her so you can leave.”

“I’m not leaving yet and I’m completely capable of giving the drink to her myself. You got a problem?”

“Yeah, I do. And you are the problem.” John B’s fists were clenched. He was getting angry.

“Me? Are you okay, dude? Drank a little bit of too much?” William bitterly laughed.

“I’m asking for the last time. Give me her drink and leave.”

You were getting tired of waiting for Will, thinking that he had ditched you. So you started making your way to the drink table through the crowd.

You got there just in time to see John B punch William straight in the face, making him stumble back. William’s nose was now bleeding and his eyes were getting glossy from the punch.

You audibly gasped. You had never seen him act like this.

“John B!” You tried to get in the middle of the fight to stop it, but a pair of hands grabbed you and held you in place.

“You know better than to get in the middle of this,” JJ warned, giving you a knowing look.

“But-”

“No buts. He’s a big boy. He can handle himself.”

“Say that one more time and see what fucking happens!” John B growled.

So it was about something that Will had said to him. You wondered what.

“Maybe I will. Y/N-” Will was cut off by John B punching him again, but this time even harder. Will fell to the ground, holding his cheek in pain.

“Wanna try saying that again?” John B squatted in front of him and then pulled Will up by the collar of his button-up shirt. 

“If I ever see you even near her again, I’ll kill you myself. Understood?”

Will only nodded, struggling to get free from John B’s grip. 

John B then let go of him. Will fell to the ground, where he quickly got up from and left, pushing people out of his way while doing so.

“The party’s over! Get out!” he yelled. People were looking at each other, questioning if he was for real or not.

“Now!” That’s when people started leaving quickly, understanding that he was not playing around right now.

Then John B’s eyes met yours.

“What the fuck was that about?” you asked, crossing your arms on your chest.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me right now.”

“I’m not.”

“Then tell me what happened.”

“It’s whatever.”

“No, it’s not, JB. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to believe that you beat him up without a reason.”

“Just forget about it.” To avoid talking to you, he started picking up the trash.

“Fine.” You turned your back to him and started to walk away when he grabbed your hand and pulled you back against him, lips crashing into yours.

You were shocked and surprised at first but then started kissing him back, your hands sliding behind his neck, fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head.

“Ooohhh yeahhh, get intoooo it!” JJ yelled from the distance making you smile into the kiss.

When John B pulled away, his eyes met yours again.

“I‘m not going to tell you what he said. But as far as you’re concerned, he got what he deserved.”

taglist: @www-imbored-com​ @delightfullynlove​ @tomhardybby​ @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless​ @ilovejjmaybank​​ @allycat449-blog​​ @teenwaywardasgardian @copper-boom​​ @canibeoneofthepogues​​ @ifilwtmfc​​ @bedazzledbanks​​ @jeyramarie​​ @themaddies-obx​​ @pink-meringues @freddymaybank​​​​ @moniamaybank​​ @outerbankspreferences​​

[maddiwrites]

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Pogues x OC, Eventually JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: I’ll be honest, this isn’t my best chapter, so please don’t judge too harshly I swear it gets better!!! (: Again, forever grateful for all the kind feedback. I truly appreciate it. If you asked to be on the tag list and I accidentally forgot, please let me know! 

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Slight insinuation to sexual assault.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 & Chapter 4

Like I said before, I'm good at advertising. Although the cell phone towers are still down, making it harder for me to get the word out about a party in the boneyard, I still know how to get around to the other teenagers on this island.

I sneak in an hour of surfing on the beach, afterwards finding Tourons and even some Kooks. These are the best people to go to when you want word to get around. They're rich and live for gossip. They have the internet and cell phone service, which means they can text their friends and send out tweets. And that is exactly what they do when I'm finished talking to them.

Later, I go with JJ and John B to get the kegs. As they work their magic, somehow securing two, I walk around the lot where most kids who live on the Cut hang out, hoping to score cheap booze from a stranger walking into the beer and beverage store. I use to spend a lot of my weekends here when my dad first disappeared. A small part of me still wants to. It was so easy to forget about my life falling apart when I was too wasted to form a complete sentence.

I tell them about the party and tell them to tell their friends and so on.

As I expect, the empty boneyard fills up quickly. To Kie's dismay, almost every kid has a red solo cup in their hand instead of a reusable one by the time the sun sets. Music and the chants of people playing drinking games fill my ears like a bird chirping on a Sunday morning.

Beer dribbles down my chin and onto my pink v neck crop top. JJ has his arm linked around mine, also chugging his drink, trying to down his before me. However, I beat him by one gulp and slam my cup on the sand as triumph.

"Seriously, Mar?" Kie scolds. She picks up my cup and throws it away.

JJ just smiles at me, maybe even looks at me with some kind of pride. It's hard to beat JJ in any drinking match, but I'm his biggest competition. I usually lose against him, but sometimes I have my nights where I'm undefeated.

He points his finger at me, pretending to be mad without losing the smile on his face. He takes a menacing step forward and bends down to lift me over his shoulder. I squeal in surprise and laugh against his back as he swings me around in circles.

When he sets me down, I shove his shoulders playfully. "Looks like you've finally met your match." JJ just shakes his head. "Get me another beer, loser?"

"You're lucky you're cute." He winks.

You can't understand the Outer Banks without understanding the boneyard. It's kinda like a three-layer burrito. There's us and our friends, working-class derelicts. Then, there are the Kooks, the rich second-homers. They're mostly from pouncy-ass boarding schools, just rich trustfarian posers. Our natural enemies. And then, there are the Tourons. Totally clueless. Here for a week on vacation with their families. Chum for the sharks. They're usually my first pick. A night with no attachments and a more than likely chance I'll never see them again.

I walk past Kie, who's sitting on drift wood talking to someone about zodiac signs and horoscopes. And when I pass Pope, I hear him talking about dead bodies and how TV doesn't portray the biological condition of them accurately. I giggle to myself when I see who he's talking to. A really pretty girl who wasn't expecting to get an anatomy lesson from the boy next to her. I make a mental note to work on Pope's flirting tactics.

As I make my way to the back of the beach, I see Sarah Cameron leaning off a fallen lifeguard stand. Her boyfriend, Topper Thornton, is right there with her, trying to get her to come down. Sarah Cameron's known as the Kook princess. Kiara's best friend in the ninth grade, worst enemy in the tenth grade. None of us know why she started hating her all of a sudden. She doesn't like to talk about it so we don't bring it up. However, John B works on Sarah's dad's boat thanks to me.

My teeth clench together at the sight of both of them. The two of them and their friends are the worst Kooks of all. Bad memories prickle my brain like a million tiny needles and the palms of my hands sweat against my solo cup.

I walk to the back of the beach and lean against a tree that's as close to a palm tree as this island is going to see. I like being back here when the sun goes down.  It gives me the perfect view of the party. Watching people laugh and have fun because of a night my friends and I put together makes me feel satisfied. Like I did something to make their day a little more enjoyable.

"Now what's the life of the party doing back here all by herself?" A voice that makes every muscle in my body turn to ice says.

I force myself not to look in his direction. My hands clench tighter around my cup until it bends and beer sloshes on my hand.

"Trying to avoid grimy wandering hands from pompous pricks," I say through clenched teeth. I'm surprised my voice isn't as shaky as I feel. "Go away, Rafe."

Rafe Cameron ignores me and moves to stand in front of me. His blonde hair is slicked back with a gel that's probably more expensive than my entire outfit. He's wearing a salmon pink button up shirt and white shorts. The sight of him makes me sick and I don't know if I want to drink more heavily or throw up and call it a night.

"Oh come on, Marleigh. Let's not pretend like you don't want to finish what we started."

I stand up straighter, feeling bile rise in my throat. "I'd rather rip both of my eyes out with a spoon." My insult wipes his stupid cocky grin off his smug face. At first I take it as a compliment, but the look in his eyes chills me to the bone. "Get out of here, Rafe. I'm not going to tell you again."

Rafe jerks forward and pushes me back into the trunk of the tree. His forearm presses against my chest, right below my collarbone. I try fighting him off but he's surprisingly strong. His eyes swing back and forth with craze, his pupils large and dilated. He's gotta be on something. Cocaine maybe. I've heard rumors.

"You think you can talk to me like that? After what my dad did for your friends?"

"Your dad only helped them in hopes to cover up the mistake that you made," I seethe, trying to push him away again. I try to keep my breathing even and my eyes unblinking. I don't want him to think I'm afraid of him. Even though I'm scared enough to vomit on his two hundred dollar shoes. "I owe you nothing." There's a pause as Rafe considers his next words carefully. So I push even harder. "You know, if you keep bringing it up, people might overhear and start to talk. I don't know if even your dad could buy the entire island's silence."

"You seriously think you can threaten me? You're nothing but a dirty walking piece of trash Pogue. No one will believe the Cut's biggest whore." Rafe shakes his head. "Remember that next time you think about talking to me like that."

His words cut through me like a stab in the chest, but I try not to let him see that. I push against him, keeping my face pinched and my eyes unwavering. "I'm not the same girl I was eight months ago," I say, finally pushing him away from me.

Back then I was a messed up girl who's dad had just left after a big argument that resulted in him thinking she hated him. All I wanted to do was drown myself with drugs and alcohol in hopes to forget about him, even if that meant following Kie to a Kook party when she was trying to roll around in the Kook life. I was easy to manipulate and take advantage of...easy to hurt. But not anymore.

"You think I'm above hitting a girl?" Rafe breathes heavily, his hands clenched to his side. I struck a nerve. One more and he might actually attack me.

"No," I say honestly. "I don't think you're above anything...or anyone. Including me - a dirty walking piece of trash Pogue." I use his words against him.

Rafe jerks forward and raises his hand to hit me and I'm ready for the blow and a fight back, but someone's voice forces us to halt, stopping us like she just pressed paused on a movie screen.

Kie watches us with wide eyes and glances back and forth between us. She looks both scared and angry. Rafe doesn't even bother looking in her direction. He's more disappointed that she got in his way.

I stand up straight again and walk past him, making sure to shove him backwards with my shoulder. Kie wraps her arm around mine and pulls me in close as she guides me away from him. She looks behind us one last time to make sure Rafe isn't following us. When the coast is clear, she stops and turns to look at me with a stone cold expression.

"What the hell was that?" She says, trying to read my face. "Are you okay?"

I can barely hear her behind the screaming in my head. Dirty walking piece of trash Pogue. The Cut's biggest whore. Who would believe you?

"Fine," I shrug, feigning nonchalance. I look back to where I was just standing. Rafe's gone, but the nausea he left me with isn't.

"Marleigh."

"Seriously, Kie. I'm fine. Just some unresolved built up resentment coming out full-fledged. I can't say I'm surprised. Now that summer's started, we're probably going to see a lot more of them."

Kie sighs and looks at me sympathetically. I hate that look.  "You should tell the boys."

"What? No way!" I snap.

"What if he -"

"He's not going to." I glare at her.

"Why won't you just -"

"So they can think of me as some pathetic little girl who needs protection from some self-centered Kook? Besides, John B and probably JJ will go after him and the last thing either of them need is charges pressed against them."

The noise of people yelling at one another and some cheering stops Kie from fighting back with me. We turn to look towards the water, seeing a crowd form around two people fighting. Dread creeps up my chest. If I had one hundred dollars, I'd bet it all that one of my friends is the center of attention in that crowd.

Kie and I run to them, pushing ourselves to the front. My breath hitches in my throat when I see who's involved. John B and Topper are fighting ankle deep in the ocean, each one getting a few good punches in.

"John B, stop!" I yell. I don't care who started the fight or why Topper deserves to get beaten to shit. If John B gets caught, the two of us are more than screwed with DCS.

"We're suppose to be incognito, remember?" Pope yells at my brother next to me.

"Babe!" Sarah yells at her boyfriend, jerking back and forth, trying to grab him by the shirt to pull him back. But his movements are scrappy. Sarah would just get hurt.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" The crowd around us cheer like it's a high school wrestling match and not my brother, the one that threw them this party by the way. I can't believe people find this as a source of entertainment. Half of them wouldn't even last a second if they were the one's getting beaten to a pulp.

Topper gets the upper hand and throws John B into the water. I flinch from the pain that must of caused to John B's back.

"Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, all right?" Topper says.

In that moment my vision turns red and a switch flips in my body. I picture my hands around Topper's neck and him begging for me to let him go - him taking back those words.

When I step into the water to reach him, arms wrap around my waist, stopping me from going forward. I glare at the blonde Pogue and try shoving him away from me but that only makes his grip on me tighten.

"JJ, let me go," I grunt.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Can't do that." His lips are so close that I can feel his breath.

John B tackles Topper to the ground and punches him in the face again.

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"John B, let it go!" Kie screams. "Stop, you guys!"

Topper kicks John B's feet from under him and just like that, JB is back in the water. The Kook kneels next to him and punches my brother across the face before shoving his head into the water.

"Topper stop!" I yell.

"Come on John B!" Pope yells.

Topper lets John B come up for air before dunking him back in. I feel my chest tighten when I realize what Topper is going to do, whether he means to or not.

"JJ, please! He's going to kill him! JJ!" I cry against his hold.

"Come on, Man!" Topper taunts John B, keeping his head under water.

I'm going to kill him, I think. The second JJ lets go, I'm going to rip Topper apart.

"Topper, stop! No!" Sarah cries.

"Pope!" JJ says, swinging me around before pushing me into our other friend's arms. "Hold her."

"What? No!" I fight back but even Pope is stronger than I give him credit for.

JJ disappears to God knows where and I'm left watching like a stranded duck. I feel useless, like I should be doing more to help my brother. Everything I said to Rafe only minutes ago goes straight out the window. Maybe I am weak and still a girl who needs protecting.

Then the world freezes. JJ holds the gun we found in the motel to Topper's head, not only making Topper pause, but the rest of the crowd too. Pope releases his hold on me and I stumble away from him. I only watch the scene unfold in front of me with wide eyes.

"Yeah, you know what that is," JJ says, clicking the safety off the gun. "Your move, broski."

"Come on!" Pope yells. "Chill dude!"

"Stop! JJ!" Sarah cries. "Put the gun down!"

"Did you say something princess?" JJ turns towards Sarah and points his gun at the sky.

"We're good. We're good." Topper stumbles away from my brother to stand in front of his girlfriend.

The second he backs away, I'm in the water helping John B. I pull his upper back into my lap and push his hair out of his face. He coughs up a couple gulps of water before relaxing against me.

"Kie! Can you check your psycho friend, please!" Sarah yells.

"Okay, everyone, listen up!" JJ addresses everyone else who still watch in fear. "Get the hell off our side of the island!" He fires two bullets into the sky, causing people to shriek and cry around me.

"Are you crazy?" Kie yells at him. "Why do that?"

"I'm saving his life, okay?" JJ yells back at her.

When people begin dispersing, Pope runs into the water to help me lift John B back to shore. He's in a daze and barely able to stand on his own.

The four of them help me drag him back to the Chateau, the party long forgotten. Kie covers John B with blankets and places a glass of water on the nightstand for when he wakes up. I don't say anything as the night wraps up. I'm not mad at JJ like Pope and Kie. He did what he had to do to save John B. Topper could have killed him and the police would probably chop it up as an accident and I would be left with no family.

"You guys should go," I say.

I just want to be alone. Between Rafe and Topper, all I can think about is sleep so I can wake up to a new day. Start over and try again.

"Are you sure?" JJ asks, looking between my eyes to find any sign for him to stay.

As much as I want JJ to stay the night and let me cuddle into him like the night before, it's best if I'm alone. So I reluctantly nod.

"You can stay at mine tonight, JJ," Pope offers.

I offer a weak smile before turning around to lock myself in my room. When I hear the door to the Chateau close one last time for the night, I sigh deeply and stare up at my ceiling. I'm restless, anxious, sweaty. As much as I want sleep, sleep doesn't want me. I toss and turn hoping for a wave of darkness to hit me but it never does.

I glance at my clock. 3:04 AM. I roll my eyes and groan to myself, pushing myself up against my bed's headboard. I tip toe out of the Chateau and make my way down to the dock. I dip my toes in the water and lay back against the wooden slacks. The moon's half crescent illuminates the water, dark with a mystery glint. It's cold against the night, feeling refreshing against my skin.

Even my mind isn't tired. My head wanders with different thoughts. Rafe, Topper, Scooter, the gun...my dad. His words echo through my ears like a skipping record. The night before he disappeared he told John B and I that he might have to vanish for a bit. This only caused a major fight to brew between my father and I whereas John B only nodded and said okay. I think this is why John B still holds on to hope that he's alive somewhere.

John B was always the loyal one to my father. Although they fought almost as much as my dad and I, they were quick to move on and pretend like it wouldn't happen again. Even though it always did. He tried to help my dad keep me on track with school, friends, and other activities. Most of the time, he just joined in on my antics. Sometimes I regret not giving my dad enough credit. He was a single father to Pogue twins with the distraction of his own obsession. My last words to him haunt me every day I pass his office.

"I hate you!" I screamed. I didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears. I wanted him to know I was strong and that I didn't need him. I think my main intention was to hurt him like he hurt me, but I would do anything to take it back.

                                                  ~ ~ ~

I wake up to the low rumble of an engine and the crunch of gravel underneath some tires. I blink away the sleep in my eyes, looking out into the marsh. The sun is above me, warming the entire island with it's summer heat so early in the morning.

My back aches as I sit myself up. I twist to find the noise that woke me up.

"Shit," I curse when I see the cop car parked in front of the Chateau.

Sheriff Peterkin sees me walking up my yard and waits for me to approach her before barging into my house. I squint against the morning light. Even though I'm not in the mood for a pop in, I actually like Peterkin. She's the only one I trust to do her job right.

"I hope you brought some coffee," I say before opening the door for her.

"This will be quick," She says. I watch her eyes scan my kitchen and living room judgmentally. "Where's your brother?"

I point to his room. Peterkin gives me a look to go first. I sigh, knocking twice on the door before letting myself in. John B is still passed out. Half of his body hangs off the bed. His left eye is officially black and blue, a mark I know Peterkin won't subtly ignore. It's the first thing she sees and gives me a sideways glance. I cross my arms and look away.

John B blinks up at us when he hears our footsteps. His brows furrow in confusion, sleep still fogging his head.

"Get decent, sweetie," Peterkin says. "We need to talk."

As we wait for JB to get dressed, I sit on the pull out couch in my living room, fumbling with my thumbs until he appears, dressed in an open button up and swim trunks. He glances between Peterkin and I for some answers but neither of us give him any.

"Sorry to break in like this," She says, pacing the floor. John B stands next to me with his arms crossed. "But DCS called. They wanted me to check on you. See how you two are doing." Neither of us answer. "So, how are you, besides -" She points to JB's shiner and I hold myself back from rolling my eyes. So far so good!

"Oh, no, I'm - I'm great," John B says, shrugging like our life is just full of rainbows and butterflies. "Yeah, fantastic. Uh... thanks for coming by."

Peterkin just smirks. "I'm so glad to hear you say that, John B, but I heard a few things that worried me. Let me see if I can remember. Oh yeah. One of the things I heard was that your Uncle Teddy, your guardian, hasn't been in the state for three months."

"Yes he has -"

Peterkin cuts me off. "You don't have to say anything. I know it's true. I called the school. They said you used to be a good student," She says, looking at John B. Then she looks at me. "You not so much. But John they say now you're failing all your classes."

"No. No, I'm only failing one and it's history. He's a dick. He's out for me - "

"I heard," Peterkin continues, not giving a damn about John B's bullshit excuses, "there was a fight on the beach yesterday, and a gun was involved."

My eyes snap up to look directly at Peterkin. I feel my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. What else was she going to ask? Would JJ get in trouble? Are we going to jail?

"Okay, gun?" John B plays dumb. "No. Did I get in a  dustup? Yeah, but was there a gun? No. No way," He scoffs.

"That's okay I know who it was. I'll get to him. All I'm worried about right now is making sure you're in a safe home."

"Yeah," I say. "Super safe."

John B knocks the table next to him. "Super sound, sturdy. You know?"

"Uncle T's coming so..." I say to get John B to stop talking. He's a lot of things but a good liar isn't one of them.

"That's what he told you?" Peterkin looks at me with a raised brow.

"Yeah."

"If he is coming," Peterkin picks up a cigarette and sniffs it. "I think you should be allowed to stay."

"Thank you."

"But if I stick my neck out for you, you have to help me. Tit for tat."

John B tilts his head in confusion. "What - what does tat mean?"

I squeeze my eyes shut and let my head fall back. I swear I'm going to buy duct tape to keep this boy's mouth shut.

Peterkin ignores him. "Let me see, how can you help me? Oh, I know. So, a body was found in the marsh yesterday. Were you in the marsh yesterday?"

"Yeah," I decide to answer. "We were fishing for some drum."

"You catch anything?"

"Nah, we were skunked."

"Strange," She says, not believing me. "Fishing's usually good after a storm. All sorts of things get stirred up. You come across a wreck yesterday?"

"No." My heart falls deeper,  but I try to keep a straight face.

This makes Peterkin sigh and she glances between the two of us. "You two are skimmin' just above the surface. Now, down here is foster care, juvie," She says, dropping her hand to about knee length. "Pretty big drop for smart kids like the both of you." She moves her hand to eye level. "Up here is you and your little friends doing whatever you want. Outer Banks...or foster care on the mainland." I let her threat swim in my brain. "You one inch above the surface, Routledge. If I was you, I'd start flapping my wings." She looks at us one last time, no longer wanting to play games. "Now, you sure you didn't come across a wreck yesterday?" She looks at John B who's more likely to blab than me.

I look up at my brother, warning him that he needs to lie.

He shrugs his shoulder, the lie sliding across his tongue like silk. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm sure."

Peterkin looks between John B and I and nods slowly. "It's better if you didn't, you understand? I'm gonna look the other way as long as you stay out of the marsh." She runs her finger along the wooden kitchen table and rubs the dust between her fingers. "I got dogs living better than this. You might wanna think about cleaning' up."

Peterkin lets herself out without saying goodbye. John B and I don't say anything until her car pulls out of the driveway and only then do we just share a look that says how screwed we both are.

Tag List: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @jeeperky @realistic-breadstick @moniamaybank @urbinoutfiters​ @brebear121​

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

History (JJ Maybank x reader) pt. 1

Summary: You and JJ have history together; you two were high school sweet hearts until your father decided to take a new job across the country. It is not until 8 years later you find yourself back at the island, what will happen between the two of you? 

A/N: This is another short little mini series i’ve decided to start. I’ve actually had this first part in my drafts for maybe a month?? It will probably only be 3 parts but we shall see.

 The Best of Me by Nicholas Sparks was the inspiration behind this new fic. I know a lot write about the younger pogues, but I decided to skip some years where they are all adults. 

 I hope you guys like it!! xx Please leave feedback/thoughts on this! :) 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: OPEN {CLOSED}

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

You were high school sweethearts, but best friends since elementary school first. Inseparable even with the different lifestyle. JJ Maybank was from the poor side of the island, the cut, and you were on the rich side of the island, Figure 8. However, due to the location of your home, the two of you attended the same elementary school and that’s where you two met and became best friends. Then years later, the two of you found love with each other.

 You father had signed a 10 year contract that brought his work to the Outer Banks. You were terrified of the new place, only 7 and small. You didn’t know anyone as your parents led you through the colorful hallway of the school and into your new classroom. Your hair was braided into two pig tails, a pink backpack on your back and a matching lunch box in your hand. Your new teacher introduced herself, then your parents left you in the room. As the class began to fill, a small boy took a seat next to you. The one who would soon become your best friend, your protector and later your lover. 

~

Ten years later, the two of you would experience the most difficult decision. Your father had been offered another job and would be moving off the island and across the country. He holds you in his arms as you cry, trying not to cry himself. You’d come straight to his house after hearing the news from your father. “Don’t cry baby… it’s okay..” His arms tightened around you. 

“it’s not okay! We’re moving across the country.” You pulled away to look at him, “What are we going to do? What’s going to happen to us?” Your eyes are red and puffy, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

He pushes a piece of hair off your cheek and behind your ear, “I don’t know baby.”

“We can.. we can do the long distance, right?” You look up at him hopeful, “I mean we’ll talk all the time. We can skype and then I can come visit or you can come visit on the weekends.”

 Both of you would be starting college soon, living separate lives. Would the two of you find time for each other? He wants you to succeed, to have fun in college. He wants you happy. He was probably never going to make anything of himself, but he knew you would. You deserved a man who could provide and give you anything you needed. Something he couldn’t give you.

 “Maybe.. maybe we should just part ways.” He sadly whispers. He can see your eyes change from hopeful to sad in seconds. That was not what you expected him to say. You were hoping for a yeah of course baby. We’ll talk all the time. I’ll come visit or you can come to visit. You suddenly feel angry that he could even suggest that instead of fighting for the two of you. You pull away from him, standing up straight, “Fine.”

“I just.. y/n I want you to be happy. I want you to enjoy life and if it means I’m not a part of that then okay. It was only a suggestion.” He sighs. 

You shake your head, “No I understand. This is goodbye then.”

 “I don’t want to end on bad terms.” He reaches for you, but you pull away, “y/n. Come on.”

 “Goodbye.” You whisper before turning around and walking out the door. That was the last time you ever spoke or even saw him again.

 ~ 8 years later ~ 

You never expected you would be standing on this ferry heading back to the place you wanted to forget. However, your parents had made their move back to the island after your father had retired a few months ago. 

Your hands gripped the railing of the ferry as the dock came into view. 

“You okay?”

 You look up at your fiancé, Chris as he places a hand on your back. 

You force a smile, nodding, “Yeah, just ready to get off the ferry is all.”

He kisses your head, “Me too. I’m in need of a nap.” He chuckles. There was a reason you were heading back to the island. In a week, you would be marrying your fiancé; the “love of your life.”

~ 

JJ Maybank points at the blueprints, showing his workers what’s going where. He’d made something of himself. He hadn’t attended college as planned. He ended up getting a job in construction and was now the owner of his own company. He had become one of the kooks. He’d come from the cut to figure 8, living a life he’d always wanted. However, he felt empty even with everything good in his life. He felt like something was missing. More like someone was missing. 

“Did you hear who is back in town?” John B asked.

 “We saw her in town this morning.” Pope adds, looking at JJ.

 JJ takes a bite of his food. They’d arrived at the Wreck for dinner a little bit ago. It was still afloat even after all these years. Kie ended up taking over the business and opened a few more restaurants around the island. Her business was booming. She’d married a lovely woman a few years ago that helped her keep business afloat. 

John B was working his own fishing boat and was making good money. He was dating the long time girlfriend, Sarah Cameron. He’d be proposing soon, just needed to find the right time. 

Pope was the local coroner and married to a lovely woman he’d met in college. They were trying for a baby. Somehow everyone found their ways back to the island and instead of living life as pogues on the cut, they were living the kook life. Something neither of them ever imagined. 

“Who?” JJ asks, wiping his mouth. He really had no clue, nor did he really care. It was probably one of John B’s girls from high school or some touron girl JJ had a fling with summers ago.

 “Y/n.” Pope says, and it feels like JJ’s seat had been kicked out from under him. It had been 10 years since he’d seen you, since he’d let you go. He never once tried to get in touch with you. It was for your own good. He wanted the best for you and if it meant without him, he was willing to do it. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t heartbroken. He was devastated. He’d kept himself locked in John B’s spare bedroom for weeks before he finally made an appearance. Since then he’d worked himself almost to death to keep his mind occupied. 

“I heard her parents moved back to the island a couple weeks ago. Her father retired.” John B adds.

 JJ brushes it off like it was nothing, “Really? That’s great.”

 John B and Pope exchange glances, “That’s all you have to say?” Pope asks. 

JJ looks up at his friends, “What do you want me to say? I mean I broke her heart. I’ve moved on and I’m sure she has too.” 

John B and Pope exchange another glance. They’d seen you had moved on, a nice-looking man on your arm.

“She’s moved on...” Pope says. 

JJ acts like he’s not surprised, “Good for her. She deserves to be happy.” 

“They’re getting married this week.” John B adds. “Sarah... is the one planning the wedding. Apparently, her parents are arranging everything and called Sarah’s company to plan it.” 

JJ’s quiet as he takes another bite of his food. He wasn’t surprised about the fact you’d be getting married. It hurt in all honesty. The fact it wouldn’t be him standing next to you, saying I do, but he’d lost that chance years ago and it was all his fault. 

“Congrats to her.” He mutters, sipping on his beer. He decides he doesn’t want to talk about you anymore and changes the subject, “Pope, how’s the lady doing at home?” 

~ 

Your fiancé, Chris, holds your hand as he drives down the main road. You gaze out the window. Nothing much had changed. There were a few new stores, some of the old ones gone. You see the Wreck up ahead and smile to yourself. It was still there, even after all these years. It was your favorite place on the whole island. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you see that familiar blonde walk out of the front door. John B and Pope following behind. He throws his head back in laughter and you feel your heart is about to drop out of your chest. He still looked the same he did 8 years ago. You can’t help but let your head turn back to see him once more as Chris drives passed the restaurant.

 ~

 When you arrive to your parent’s home, the place is a mess. There are people all around, carrying table and chairs, décor, and a white tent being put up in the back yard, facing the water. 

You stepped out of your car and you notice a long blonde-haired woman standing in the midst of it all. That looked a lot like.. “Sarah Cameron?” 

She faces you and she looks the same she did when you’d left. Of course, she did. Her eyes light up, “Y/n!” She hurries to you, clipboard in hand and pulls you into a hug.

 “What are you doing here?” You ask, surprised to see her of all people. She pulls away to look at you, “Didn’t your mother tell you? She hired my company to plan your wedding.”

 “Oh wow, no she didn’t mention a thing.. Well, how are you doing? Married with kids? Dating someone?” You laugh a little.

 She smiles, “Me and John B are still going strong.” 

“oh that’s wonderful.” You smile, “I knew you two would..” 

She turns around to see someone carrying something off to the wrong place, “I’m sorry, excuse me.” She quickly rushes to them, giving them orders. 

Who would have thought John B and Sarah would be the couple to make it? You’d always expected it to be you and JJ… 

Obx taglist: @poguestyleskye​ , @alexa-playafricabytoto​ , @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ , @prejudic3​ , @turtlee-says-rawr​ , @outrbank​ , @k-k0129​ , @annedub , @rockyyc77​ , @ilovejjmaybank​ , @treestarrrrrrrr​​ , @thedarkqueenofavalon​ , @write-from-the-heart​ , @eclecticpuppyhollywoodhumanoid , @lasnaro​ , @kiarasgold​ , @normatural​ , @kaylinfayezink​ , @lordsagittarius​ , @moose-squirrel-asstiel​ , @thelovelydreamer17​ , @chasefreakinstokes​ , @fanficscuziranout​ , @diverrdown​ , @tregua-oca​ , @junkiemuppettxx​ , @afterglowsb-tch13​ , @hardyxlove​ , @cinnamon-roll-seth​

JJ Maybank // Rudy Pankow taglist: @thatweirdblonde​ ,  @saltwatercowb0y​ , @popcrone818​ , @thee-sex​ , @coni-martina​ , @pm-my-hubbies​ , @timotaychalabae​ , @katiaw2​ , @maybebanks​ , @sataninsatin​ , @obx-beach​ , @fangirlvoice​ , @lolitstiana​ , @teamnick​ , @danicarosaline​ , @losers-club6​ , @bananasfromtarget​ , @jasminesuperstar123456789​ , @fratboystark​ , @notmcchkn​ , @obx-beach​

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles​  , @simonsbluee​

[bb-tings]

One Night With The Devil

reader x rafe x a hint of barry 

request: your masterlist tags said to send some barry requests, so, if you feel comfortable, what if you were rafe's girlfriend and he couldn't pay him the money he owed for drugs so instead they made a deal together where barry could have his way with you for a night as a way of rafe paying off his debt? 

(fyi, just in case you didn’t see it the first time: I COMPLETELY CHANGED THE POT FROM THE TEASER {but the barry part comes in part 2})

summary:  In which Barry would do anything to get the girl back. Screwing Rafe over in the process, well that’s just the icing.

(part one is basically just barry & y/n hurting rafe’s feelings) 

warnings: LOTS of cussing, lots of yelling, lots of anger, lots of talk about sex but no sex (yet)

TAGLIST:  @ampanonyg @ims0golden @jjsmentalpolaroids @stargazingstarkey @letsgofullkook @jjmbanks @maybanksbaby @1-800-jjslut @simpforstarkey @jellyfishbeansontoast @ilovejjmaybank​​ @royalpogue​ @bitchell-marner @rafecameronswh0re @baby-pogue @sunwardsss @k-k0129 @afterglowsb-tch13 @in-stability @ilovejjmaybank​ @abbiesthings​

taglist requests are open 😊

⁓

        She watched the sweat roll down his face, knowing that the sun’s rays weren’t the only reason for the salty perspiration. Rafe wrung his hands together, his shoulders rigid as he spoke with Barry. She didn’t need to hear the conversation to know that neither boy was happy about the situation, however, they showed very different emotions. Barry looked fed up with the rich boy, not wanting to hear another lame excuse as to why he, once again, didn’t have the money he owed. Even though the Cameron boy was much taller than the dealer, he couldn’t help but be afraid of the dealer. He had been threatened with his life and the very few things that he cherished, but he still somehow found the bravery every week to show up at Barry’s place with empty hands. 

        Y/n was well aware of Rafe's unhealthy habits, but after many, many attempts at trying to get him to stop or get help, it only resulted in yelling matches and tears. She was also well aware of the fact that she could do a lot better. Y/n had somehow always found herself involved with the wrong types of boys. From rich, stuck-up, coke-addicted, college dropouts to surfing, adventure chasing, daddy issues having, stoners to criminal, shotgun carrying, ex (most likely dishonorable) military, drug dealers. But that was just a few vague types. Guess Maybank and her current beau weren’t the only ones with daddy issues. At least she was happy in ⅔ of those relationships.

        Barry’s eyes moved to the young girl hiding behind the open door, biting his lip when she crossed her arms over her exposed chest in the low cut crop top, not realizing that it only made the skin more visible and teasing to his eye. 

“Damn, how the hell did you score that? Cause I’m picturing a few ways you could repay me.”

        Rafe looked up to Barry, confusion written on his face. He stood up straight and followed Barry’s eyes, watching his girlfriend stepping out from behind the door and closing it. Rafe took notice of how she seemed to be captivated by Barry's stare, neither being able to look away.

“Nah, man, she’s off-limits.” Hearing this made Barry laugh, knowing at one point in his life, he two could have muttered those same words about the same girl.

        He wished he could tell him the truth, the truth that Rafe has no idea about. The truth that lived before Barry himself even met Rafe, before he lost the girl. That girl was his, and he’ll be damned if he isn’t gonna get her again before the drugs get to him.

“Boy, when you gon’ get it. Ain’t none-a’ yo’ shit off-limits to me. As long as you owe me, yo’ shit, is my shit. But, ya’ know what, I've decided that I don't want yo' money anymore,” the boy looked over to where the young girl was still standing with a smirk on his lips. “I want something a little more personal to you."

“You’re joking, right? Like you can’t be serious-”

“Why cain’t I be?” This time Barry got right in Rafe’s face, invading his personal space, at least what was left of it.

“B-Because she’s- she’s a-”

“Because she’s what? A virgin? You one dumb mother fucker, Cameron. You know that? Look,  we both know that ain’t true. I know she’s a freak, and I know that she didn’t make you wait that long. She wanted it just as bad as you, didn’t she?” When Barry’s statements were met with silence, he continued.

“I told you. I run this shit, Cameron. Nothing happens on this island that I don’t know about. Not one girl that you get, hasn’t been through me yet, Country club. So you either tuck tail and go beg daddy for some big cash, or you tell yo’ sweetie over there to open up. Either way, you best get rid of that pride until I’m satisfied.”

        At that moment, Rafe weighed his options. He thought about how he could come clean to his dad, tell him about all the shit he had gotten himself into over the last two summers. How he started to sell things around the house to support his addiction, how he was the reason 2 out of 6 of his dad’s priceless watches somehow came up missing. He thought about how he could tell his girlfriend that she had to give it up to his drug dealer for him to drop his dues. He could only imagine how that would go over. But he was angry now. What the fuck was Barry talking about? What had Y/n not told him?

“You want me to WHAT?!”

        It had been a couple of hours since they were parked outside of the infamous trailer. Rafe had tried to wait it out as long as possible before telling her about the deal, but it was getting late and he knew that it was now or never.

“Trust me this is the last thing I want you to do. But-”

“Then why the fuck are you asking me to do it.” Y/n stood in his room with her fingertips on her temples. She couldn’t comprehend what was going on. Y/n watched Rafe smoke his joint while he sat against his headboard. Standing at the end of the bed, watching Rafe tilt his head back and drop it against the wall. She let the thoughts run through her head, all the questions she had. Running, chasing. Why did she let herself get here? Did she sleepwalk her entire relationship? What had she done to make the boy think he had some type of control or say so over her? “What the fuck is wrong with you, Rafe?”

“What’s wrong with me? How about how you? What’s going on with you and my drug dealer? Huh? You’re a liar!” Y/n couldn’t believe her ears. The things coming out of his mouth had her stumped.

“What the actual fuck are you talking about? First of all, I have been nothing but faithful to you, Cameron! And we both know you can’t say the same about yourself. Second of all, my relationship- my past relationship with Barry, is none of your damn business. We’ve had our troubles, but don’t you dare call me a liar, because I have ever only been honest with you. “

“If you’re so fucking honest then why didn’t you tell me that there was even a relationship. Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to have your drug dealer threaten your life and then in the same sentence tell you that he’s fucked your girlfriend before you even met? Because you didn’t tell me-”

“BECAUSE YOU NEVER ASKED! I’m so sorry that it’s hard for you to hear about all the guys on this island that fucked me before you did, but I’m not sorry for doing it. I’m sorry your pride doesn’t allow you to pull your head out of your ass and see that we’ve both been in other relationships before us. I don’t know what you want me to do, Rafe. What? You want me to list them? Is that what you want? Just in case you ever come in contact with one of them and they tell you about our past. Yeah, Barry was my boyfriend at one point. We’ve fucked multiple times. Wanna know who else? The Maybank kid you hate so damn much, fucked him too, more than once. I sucked Kelce off during my freshman year in the boy’s bathroom. Made out with Topper lord knows how many times. I’ve even hooked up with Kie. In your house, in your sister’s bed. So many people other than you have touched my body. That’s something you’re just gonna have to live with. Because I like sex, Rafe. A lot.” 

        Y/n wanted to make him angry. She wanted to see the blood rushing to his head, the veins in his arms getting tight. Wanted him to feel the anger, the same anger rushing through her. The same anger that had her ready to walk away. “Let’s not forget the time your father was willing to risk it all for me.”

“Shut up.” Rafe had traded his spot on the bed for the corner of his room. He was facing the wall with his head in his hands. Palm pressed into his ears. Y/n loved that the 6‘2, almost grown, boy looked like a kid throwing a tantrum. But she wasn’t done.

“What is that hard to hear? Does it hurt that the man you hate the most, the man who looks at you, his own son, with such hatred, almost fucked an underage girl?”

   Rafe was fuming at this point. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth barring down. He was in a hunched position as if the lower he got would allow the words to feel further away.

“I bet it sucks to know that the first time you introduced me to your family. Your friends. That we all had you fooled. Looking at each other, shaking hands as if none of us had never met before. I bet it makes you feel like less of a man, right? Silent whispers with our eyes, sharing secrets we each shared. Making a pact with our glances and our body language. You’re not the man anymore, are you rafe? I wish I had let Mr. Cameron touch me. Ward Cameron’s hands running all over my-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Rafe had snapped. Listening to her words. Hearing the details, it messed with his head. Fucked up his version of the last year. Before he could stop himself, he crossed the room and his hand was wrapped around her throat. He loved her and his body knew it. His grip wasn’t too tight. Nothing he hadn’t done to her before, but now it was different.

“Get your fucking hands off me.” Y/n lifted her hands and shoved Rafe’s shoulders away from her. When she looked back up at the boy she saw them. The tears. He had the nerve to cry, after everything he had put her through. The drugs, the abuse, the yelling, fighting, sex, lying, cheating. If she could deal with all of his bullshit without breaking down and losing her mind, then he had no fucking right to.

“I’m so done. I’m so over letting you run over me, controlling me. Thinking that you own me. Thinking you have the right to whore me out to save yourself. As if I’m some fucking toy. I’m a fucking human being, Rafe. And I’m done. We’re done. It’s over.”

        Rafe stood there, hopelessly watching, as the girl he didn’t know how to love but wanted to so bad, came to her senses and left. Feet planted, tears rolling. They had met his lips now and he could taste the salt. He watched as she packed all her shit up. She was good at remembering where all her leftover shit had been stored and it took her all of 5 minutes to pack it all up.

        When she opened his bedroom door and stepped out, she saw Sarah waiting on the steps with a couple of bathing suits in her hands. Y/n knew by the smirk on the girl’s face that she had heard everything, or at least the worst parts. Sarah stood up and leaned on the stair railing, handing the pastel-colored clothing down to the frustrated girl.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah laughed at the girl’s cringing, scrunched up face. She waved her hand and smiled down at her.

“It’s fine. Unlike some people, I know Topper had a life before me. But that Kie situation, something about my bed. Yeah, I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that one.” Y/n let out a small genuine laugh. She sympathetically smiled at the younger Cameron.

“That’s not what I was apologizing for.” Y/n looked shamefully towards the ground, feeling bad for what the girl had to hear about her family. She looked back up towards the staircase when she heard a sigh leave her lips.

“I’ve known that my dad has issues since I was pretty young. Honestly, I’m just glad that Wheezie and I weren’t the ones who got the fucked up genes. Especially me, I feel like Wheezie could hold her own, ya’ know?” At this Y/n chuckled and then reached for Sarah’s hand.

“Yeah, but if anyone’s holding their own, it’s definitely you, babe.”

“Love you, be safe,” Sarah watched as one of her closest friends started walking backwards towards her front door.

“Will do. Love you too.”

        With that Y/n let herself step outside of the house and into the outside world. Before she walked to her car, she let herself look around the yard. She wanted to take it in, all the memories. Good, bad. As much as she hated that she had let him put her through shit, she didn’t want to regret anything. She wanted to believe that it was something that she would one day look back on and smile. Smile at the thought of whatever she had learned, smile at whatever life experience she could apply the knowledge to. The young girl was done with letting Rafe damage her view on things. She wasn’t gonna let him hurt her anymore. Mentally, emotionally or physically. She was done.

        So as Y/n slid into the driver’s seat of her car and drove her way out of the Tannyhill yard, she allowed herself to hum along to the song playing on her radio. But when she reached the main road and her fingers unconsciously pushed the bar protruding from her steering wheel up, her eyes caught the green arrow on her dash pointing to the right. 

        Y/n turned her head towards the same direction and looked at the many houses that she knew people didn’t deserve. She knew that half the people in Figure 8 didn’t deserve half the things that they owned. They were stuck up, rich white people (most of them anyway) that didn’t give a shit about anybody but themselves. So instead of turning right, towards her own medium-sized home, with her warm bed, where her family was waiting. She turned left.

Towards the cut.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[obxfics]

Can’t Help Falling in Love

summary: in a perfect world, you could be with the pogues without putting anyone you loved at risk, but you didn’t live in a perfect world. you lived in the outer banks, and sometimes sacrifices need to be made to protect those you care about.

pairing: pope x reader

word count: 2,717

a/n: once again 60s AU! When i said it would be a series, i should have clarified that it would be a collection of fics. They don’t all necessarily take place in the same universe, hence the different pairings. i’m really enjoying these, so i hope you enjoy reading them! fair warning tho: this does not have a happy ending. i may write a part two using another song if y’all are interested, but as for this fic right now... this will not be a feel good fic.

The Summer Garden Party. The biggest event of the summer on Kildare island, and one that only those from Figure Eight were invited to. Neither one of your brothers, or you for that matter, really enjoyed going, mostly because your family didn’t really fit in with the rest of the second homers, but your grandparents had long been invited, and your father’s diner was a favorite for even the Kooks, so you were forced to attend every year. Your grandmother always picked out a lovely dress she had probably seen on the First Lady or Grace Kelly, and your brothers were shoved into slacks and sports coats, your mother forcing them to sit still as she slicked their hair back as if they were some big Hollywood actors. You wished your friends—well they weren’t really your friends anymore were they.

Earlier in the summer, you were forced to part from the Pogues after your diner had been trashed and Pope… the boy you loved was jumped because of your association with the lower class group. You knew on some level they understood, or at least John B did when you told him tearfully when he had come to check up on you, but you were still afraid that they hated you. Did they think you betrayed them by choosing the Kooks over them? It wasn’t much of a choice for you. Your family’s safety had been put at risk, and while you adored your friends, you loved them too much to see them hurt again. You couldn’t be the reason Pope was attacked or worse. So you played the perfect Kook. You dressed in tasteful dresses and pants inspired by Audrey Hepburn, attended summer tea parties, and went to the movies in the Camerons’ pretty blue Thunderbird. And then at night you went upstairs, wiped away all the make-up you had caked on, let your hair down, and cried yourself to sleep.

“Lovelies, are you ready?” your grandmother asked, poking her head into the bathroom where you were just finishing up with your makeup and your mother had finished twisting the last strands of hair into the updo you had decided on.

“Yes, Mother, we just need to put the finishing touch,” your mother answered.

You closed your eyes and tried to breathe when your mother uncapped the hairspray can and started spraying the elaborate hairstyle she had spent an hour doing. Even so, you coughed as you waved the sticky mist from your face and edged to the bathroom door to escape the fumes.

“Not so fast, young lady,” your mother called, smiling when your grandmother stopped you from leaving. “You’re forgetting the most important part!”

You managed to suppress the urge to roll your eyes when you saw the pearl necklace in your mother’s hands. It was a precious family heirloom, passed down from your grandmother to your mother and now to you, but as much as you loved your family, you still hated the feeling of going full Kook. You had betrayed your friends, and for what? To wear fancy clothes to fancy parties and laugh at rude boys who wanted nothing more than to taint you? Still, you allowed your mother to place the necklace on you and clasp it at the back of your neck. The pearls were cool on your collarbone, and you had to admit that you looked quite nice, but you didn’t look like you, not really. How you longed to lounge about in your bikini, Keds, and one of Pope’s Hawaiian shirts. You were your father’s daughter, a wild child who belonged to the waves, whether that be the Florida coast or the Outer Banks.

“Oh, honey, you look beautiful,” your grandmother sniffled, careful not to smudge her makeup. “So much like your mother at your age.”

“Ladies!” you heard your father call up the stairs. “Are we going to this shindig or not?”

“Is it that time already? Oh, dear, we can’t be late!”

You followed your mother and grandmother down the stairs, taking careful steps to seem graceful in the pumps you were forced to wear. At the bottom of the stairs, you saw your father and grandfather tucking a few cigars into their coat pockets while Christian and Diego fussed with their suspenders and gelled up hair. You all looked the part of a perfect Kook family. You took Diego’s outstretched hand and smiled gratefully at Christian when he draped your shawl over your shoulders. Well at least you still had your brothers even if you couldn’t have your Pogues.

“I say we stay for an hour, steal some booze, and make a break for the beach,” Diego whispered as you all climbed into the station wagon.

“Aw, you don’t want to dance with any pretty girls?” Christian teased his younger brother.

“Diego’s already been through all the pretty girls on the island,” you laughed, checking to make sure your parents and grandparents hadn’t heard. “He’s so used to drinking and partying at college. I bet you even smoke some things Mother and Pops wouldn’t approve of,” you whispered with a giggle.

“Nothing you can prove,” Diego said, before grinning and showing you what he had stowed in his inside coat pocket. “But we could have a very pleasant night if y’all wanted to.”

The three of you stifled giggles as your car pulled up to the Country Club where you could already hear the sound of the band playing under the stars. You took the hand that the valet offered you with a smile, and you took a moment to smooth out any creases that had formed while you had been squished between your brothers before you looked up to thank the valet.

“Pope,” you breathed out when your eyes met those of your ex-lover’s. Your heart clenched painfully, and your grip on his hand tightened without your permission. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He offered you a small, sad smile and squeezed your hand once before letting go. “You look beautiful tonight, Miss y/l/n. Please enjoy your evening.”

Your brothers each took ahold of one of your arms and led you forward before you could have a breakdown before even stepping foot into the party.

“Keep looking forward,” Christian whispered in your ear when he saw you begin to look behind you. “Rafe and Topper are already keeping an eye on us.”

Although it physically pained you to do so, you restrained yourself from looking back at the boy you loved with all your heart, and instead smiled and allowed Topper to kiss your cheek. You hated that you had to go on dates with him, pretending to be infatuated with him. All to protect those you actually loved. He took your hand from your brothers’ and began leading you away from them towards the area by the state set up for dancing. The band was playing “A Teenager in Love,” and your stomach turned at the thought of being in Topper’s arms swaying to it together. But you would bear it.

“You look beautiful,” he told you as he placed his hands at your waist. “Like Grace Kelly, almost.”

You were sure your grandmother would love to hear that, but you knew she wasn’t fond of most the families in Figure Eight. While your grandparents raised your mother here, they had worked hard to get to where they are, and they adored your father despite his poorer upbringing. They had never bought into the class division of the island, and they despised how kids your age were being raised to hate on those less fortunate than them. She, like you, knew Topper and Rafe were among the worst, but you assured her that you knew what you were doing getting involved with them. You didn’t. You just knew that if you were with one of them, no one would dare mess with you, and you were in a position to take their attention from the Pogues. So you swallowed your nausea each day and allowed Topper to kiss you and touch you.

“I can’t believe those lowlives are allowed here,” he growled, bringing you from your thoughts.

You turned your head to see he was glaring at the Pogues. All three boys were dressed as waiters, Pope having left his post as valet once everyone had arrived. Your heart pounded in your chest when you felt his grip on your waist tighten. You placed your hand on his cheek, smiling at him in an attempt to get him to focus solely on you.

“The Garden Party wouldn’t be successful without people serving the drinks, right?” you cooed. “Just focus on dancing with me.”

It seemed to work for a few moments until you noticed Diego approach the Pogues. What was he doing?

“What the hell is your brother doing?” Topper echoed your thoughts.

“I-I don’t know. Wait, Topper!”

You weren’t quick enough to grab his wrist as he made his way over to where your brother was.

“What’s happening?” Kie was at your side in a flash.

“I don’t know! Diego just went over to talk to the boys, and now Topper is going to blow a gasket!”

The two of you rushed after your “boyfriend” as he got in Diego’s face. Your brother raised his arms in a placating manner, his eyes flashing over to meet yours in a panic.

“Whoa, calm down, buddy,” Diego said in a gentle tone, “I was just asking for them to make me an old fashioned. That’s it, Topper.”

“Topper,” you called, placing a hand on his arm once you reached him, “just leave it. Diego just wanted a drink, okay?”

A yelp escaped you when Topper shoved you away from you into Kie’s arms.

“Don’t patronize me! You two think you’re so clever, don’t you? Think I don’t realize you’re still messing around with these low-lives?” Topper snarled at you.

“Hey, you don’t get to talk to her like that!” Pope snapped.

John B held Pope back while Diego stepped aside, letting JJ approach Topper. There would be a lot worse consequences if Pope was the one to lose it. So you all were left to watch as JJ smirked and socked Topper right in the eye. Chaos descended as the boy you were with toppled to the ground, and JJ dropped on top of him to continue whaling on him. You were aware of many women around you screaming for security, and you realized you were one of them. You had to do something.

“JJ, stop!” you begged your friend. “Please, don’t hurt him!”

If he hurt Topper too bad, there was no way you could protect your friends from the Kooks. You had to stop him. You locked eyes with Christian who had come running once the first punch had been thrown. He got the message and wrapped his arms around JJ, managing to drag the blonde off your “boyfriend.” This allowed you to drop to your knees beside Topper, probably ruining your pretty dress, and touch his face tenderly. Please don’t be hurt, you begged the cosmos. For the Pogues’ sake, please don’t be hurt. Rafe helped you hoist Topper to his feet.

“Here, let’s get you taken care of,” you whispered and took his hand. “Will you let me take care of you?”

Thankfully, he let you lead him through the crowd that had formed and into the building. You found the locker room and sat him down on one of the benches so you could properly assess the damage. You saw he had a split lip and some swelling appearing around his right eye. Not too bad, but still not good. You blew out a sigh as you briefly touched the cut on his bottom lip.

“I’m going to go get some ice and a first aid kit, okay? Stay here for me.”

“You chose me,” he said.

“Are you surprised?”

“I thought you had been messing around with all of them. But you chose me tonight.”

The day I choose you is the day I die, you promised in your head. “You’re my boyfriend, and, like you say, they’re just lowlives. Every girl likes to have a bit of rebellion before settling down, right. Mine is over.” You turned to the door, “I’ll be back with that ice.”

As you entered the kitchen, you heard the band start playing again. Elvis Presley this time. You had always loved this song. Had danced with Pope to it many times in your room as it played from your record player.

“Are you okay?” you heard from behind you as you wrapped some ice up in a towel. Pope. “Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine, Pope.”

“You need to be more careful with him.”

You whirled around to glare at the boy. “I need to be more careful? No, you need to! You all do! There is only so much I can do so he doesn’t try to kill the three of you stupid boys,” you snapped.

“Oh, so is that what you’re doing with him?” he scoffed.

“As a matter of fact, it is. You think I like being with him? He’s rude. And he hates the Beach Boys. And his hands like to wander too much at the drive-in. But I bear it all to protect you.”

Pope stepped forward so your chests were practically touching. The tension between you was palpable, and oh had you missed it.

“And why would you want to protect me?”

“Because I love you, you dolt!”

His hand was on the small of your back now, the distance between you two dwindling rapidly. You could barely focus on anything but the feel of his hand on you.

“Do you really?”

“For someone so smart, you can be so slow,” you whispered. “You are so annoying, and you never understand when I try to hint to you that I want you to kiss me like crazy in the Volkswagen, and I can never understand anything you talk about, but I still listen because it’s important to you and because… because I can’t help falling in love with you!”

You gasped when he suddenly pulled you to him and slanted his full lips over yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pressed yourself to him eagerly, the heat in the room seeming to rise a hundred degrees. You missed this. Missed how he could drive you crazy yet he was the only thing you ever seemed to need. His lips left yours and traveled to your neck, and you swore you were in heaven. And then you remembered where you were, who you were.

“Whoa!” he panted when you pushed him away from you. “What’s wrong?”

“We… we can’t do this, Pope.”

“But you just said you were falling in love with me. And I… I’m in love with you too.”

Tears formed in your eyes as your heart ripped into a million pieces in your chest. This couldn’t be happening.

“I do love you. And that’s why I have to stay away from you. The people here… they don’t like that I hang around you and the other boys. If we got together, it would only be a matter of time before they hurt you again.”

“You’re hurting me.”

“Don’t… don’t say that, Pope. I’m trying to save you!”

“I don’t want to be saved! I just want you!”

You shook your head and took a few more steps back to put more distance between you. To clear your head. You were making the right decision. You grabbed the towel full of ice and saw the first aid kit by the door.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as you passed Pope. You pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek and allowed a single tear to fall. “I wish things could be different.”

Then you moved past him and grabbed the little white box by the door. You took a deep breath to collect yourself, wiped any tears from your face, and squared your shoulders. When you stepped out those kitchen doors, you were no longer Pope’s y/n. You would be full Kook. And that’s how you were gonna stay until you could escape this island.

[monochromemedic]

“Get the hell away from me you freak-” the man’s exclamation was cut short as a wet force shot into his legs, his body slamming against the pavement with a loud thud. A direct slime bullet shot, and the last of the gang was contained within their gooey prisons. I sighed in relief, lowering my arm. ‘I should quip, that’s what all the good heroes do right?’ “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” I said softly before realizing that no one, not even the gathering crowd could hear that. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?!” I repeated before realizing how weak that was. Baby steps... just needed to not show my face around here for a week so they’d all forget how much I fucked up. I rubbed my neck, fingers gliding along the cryo collar as it released a blast of cold air, waves of relief flooding my body. The crowd erupted in clapping, something that startled me back to the situation at hand. A small rising gang had been causing havoc over the city, something larger heroes would only keep their eyes on before attempting to resolve. They were there to help with big tasks, real villains or aliens, something that would cause real devastation. It made sense but that didn’t mean that some real low lives could sneak under the radar and cause some damage as long as they spaced what they were doing enough or kept it the damage to a minimum.  The Graveyard Gang was playing with that line and it was obvious that if it wasn’t stopped some hero would have to come down and take them out themselves. If not for me. I raised a hand sheepishly, waddling to the side of the street to meet the crowd that formed around me. “Hey... hello. Did someone call the police already? Is everyone ok?” My words were met by the sound of sirens drawing near, a large news van trailing not too far behind. A frantic woman nearly rolled out of the van, mic at the ready as she bolted through the crowd, ushering a small man lugging a camera to follow her. “Hi, hello, out of the way, Channel 9 news. Hi, I’m Sandra Stevens of Channel 9 news would you mind giving an interview about the heroic deed you just committed?”  Her words were fast and rehearsed, like she had either done this a million times or dreamt about doing it so much, the words burned into her brain. Her mic was pushed into my face, knocking against my chin and drawing a thin strand of goo onto the mic. The woman didn’t seem to notice however, her eyes laser focused on me. “I... I su-sure. I’m just not very good on camera-” “Don’t worry honey, editors make everyone look good. Cameron! Start rolling, everyone please clear the place we need a nice shot of...what do you call yourself, Miss?” “G...Grey Matter.” “Grey.” she repeated, a eyebrow raised in silent judgement. “Well Grey Matter, hope you’re ready for your 5 minutes of fame because we’re rolling.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My fingers ran across the laptop keys, restarting the video again for the 11th time in a row. I couldn’t stop, my first interview, my first well known appearance as a hero. And the interview was... terrible. The comments didn’t say that but I couldn’t help but notice how nervous I looked, how much I stared into the camera at times, the way I showed my powers and how one guy said it was like a bad hentai. I knew that but god when others said that made everything feel ten times worse. However other commenters were nice, saying how cool I looked, how good it was to see another hero on the streets, taking care of baddies that the others didn’t get. I felt like my ego was a metronome switching from feeling like a god to feeling like a dumbass. I readied my finger to press the replay button as the video neared the end when a knock came to my door. Strange, I didn’t expect anyone, and not many people knew where I lived. Maybe it was a neighbor coming to congratulate me? Not like I could easily disguise myself and not many other people had the consistency of tar. I slid my pants on and walked to the door, opening it to a face almost 3 inches away from  mine. “Hello-” I jumped back, arms raising and balling like huge slings, ready to attack only for them to deflate and fall to my waist as I realized who it was. “You really do stretch! It’s like you’re one big sticky hand toy. Neat, Neat...” Plastic Man commented, his neck extended to look at me further. “Mind if I come in? I’d like to talk.” “I... Y-yes of course Mr... Mr. Plastic Man I... Um.” I could feel myself beginning to melt as I went to close the door behind him, gesturing to my messy house before him. He towered over everything easily, walking past my fridge and ducking to get into my living room to observe more of the house, making eye contact with the laptop. He smiled widely to himself before shifting his eyes back at me. “Please, Mr. Plastic Man was my father, just call me Plas. And I assume you know about me from the way your fangirling?” “I... yes of course you’re an inspiration to me ever since I became like this. The way you quickly maneuver and creatively problem solve with an air of ease is inspiring. Not to mention the way your so cheerful with the public, it puts alot of people at ease, I...starting researching you because we have such similar powers.. not in a weird way just, how you do things.” I rambled trying to literally hold myself together as I felt my body begin to dribble to the floor. “I’m sorry can you excuse me-” “Go ahead, you need... help there?” He asked as I sped past him to my room, grabbing the collar and placing it around my neck. In an instant it came to life, a release of cold air wafting over my body. I returned to the living room, head craning to look at the tall hero. “No thank you, I’m alright. Sometimes when I get nervous or overheated I start to lose my form. The cold from the collar helps me keep me together.” He lowered his head, neck stretching once again to look closer at the device. “I get that, hell sometimes on summer days I gotta put myself in a freezer and become a Plas Pop or else I nearly melt down the storm drain. That’s just another thing we have in common I guess. And that’s what I came here to talk to you about.” I swallowed hard, his hand gesturing to the opened interview on the laptop. “Everyone’s been talking about the girl who took down the Graveyard Gang and word gets around fast.  So fast that even I got word of it almost as soon as it aired. Boy was I surprised when I saw you on camera, showing of a little of what you could do. Another stretcher like me! And one who’s new to the game, a fresh face. It got me thinking.” He paused, crossing his arms as he glanced towards the ground. “Things have been quite in the League, least for ol’ Plas. Much as I love my job and helping the universe, seems like I’m always backup number 54 on the list of who to call when the world’s gonna end. Which isn’t bad but it leaves a guy with alot of time on his rubber hands. So I was thinking maybe I should give the whole mentor thing a shot, take someone under my wing. Just haven’t got the chance to meet someone I could actually teach anything to, till I saw your little stunt. So what do you say? Willing to make what the Batman described as ‘A horrible decision that no one would agree to’?” This was crazy. A proposal like this? And so soon? Learning under one of the League, one of the bests? “Yes, I’d be honored to be mentored by you Plastic Man- er... P-plas. I hope I don’t disappoint you, um... you know I can’t shapeshift like you right. I can’t turn into lions or trucks... I... I can’t do alot of those things actually, just basic stretching and modifications.” “Hm? Oh well that’s ok, besides I didn’t expect you to be exactly like me, that’d just be crazy thoughts. Also that’d make you my son, and that’s just weird. You got something else that I don’t have, you got that goo shot. I can’t shoot bullets of myself at people and you said you can set up traps and knock people out in a hail of slime. That’s kick ass, we just gotta embrace that side of you and you’ll be up there with Superman at the table, talking about what multiverse crisis was your favorite.” He grinned, lowering himself to my level and wrapping an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close against his body. I felt my face grow warm as I looked away from him, my chest pounding despite the lack of heart in my breast. Now he was touching me? Telling me how cool I was? I felt myself begin to drip again, knees beginning to buckle. “Y-you really think so?” “I know so. You got spunk kid, we just gotta polish you up and you’ll be golden, Pony Boy.” The force of his palm hitting my back sent me jolting forward, his shadow looming over me. “How about you meet me outside of your place, tomorrow. 1pm. We’ll assess your abilities and work from there. Sound good? Too bad, crime never waits. I’ll see you there.” And with surprising grace he dipped out of my apartment, leaving me like it was just a frantic dream. If it wasn’t for the sting from his palm I’d assume I was merely daydreaming, but it was real. Plastic Man and me, working together. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Come on, haven’t you ever seen Spider-Man. Leap of faith!”  “I don’t know if you’re legally allowed to reference that...” I muttered, eyeing the large gap between buildings before staring back at Plas. “I haven’t really done much uh... traversal practice. What if I fall and hit the ground I... I mean I don’t think I can die like that but-” “I won’t let you fall, I promise you. I’d be a real bad trainer if the first person I mentored became a permanent stain on 4th street. You got this!”  Plastic Man grinned widely, flashing a thumbs up and stepping back. His words echoed in my head, as I stepped back a few feet, already making my plan as I dragged a line of slick slime in front of me.  ‘I’ll run forward, using the slime to propel me even further to close the gap. Then when I get as far as I can, I’ll stretch my arms out, attach to the building and slingshot my way up to the roof.’ I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, waiting until every last bit of air left my lungs.  And then I ran. My feet slid against the slime trail like a skater on the ice as I raced towards the edge. Before I could even attempt to jump, I hit the edge, my body fling more downward then I expected. I felt the air leave my lungs, my head snapping up towards the roof top I was aiming for and snapped my arm forward, splatting against the brick a few feet down. Damn it, Damn it, I got this. I got this. I felt the tension build in my arms, threatening to snap under the pressure. Just when I thought it was going to be too much, it released. And I found myself ascending just as fast I was falling. Up against the building. A wave of pain shot through my body as I was bashed against the wall, slowly feeling the way my body spread and slowly began to peel away from the window. Just as I felt the last few strand of myself start to detach, I felt a warmth wrap around my body, lifting me up to the roof of the building. “Hey you good? I never saw anyone but me rubber band that hard into a building before.” I tried to nod my head, wheezing and groaning as I laid on my back, staring up at the titan of a man before me. “I’m ok... just the wind got knocked out.” “Mm, yeah I’m not surprised. I mean if anything I guess we found out that a fall from here would be a-ok. Painful but... if you can survive going mach one into a building a fall should be no sweat.” He stretched his arms and sat down beside me, hands forming something just out of my range of vision to mess with. “Take your time, and we can try again. Maybe something with less of a gap to fall down.” I closed my eyes, a sickening knot forming in my stomach. I fucked up the jump, and fucked it up bad. Was he disappointed? Rethinking his decision to choose me? He had been teaching me for 2 weeks now, and I couldn’t help but think that I wasn’t enough by the way he’d sometimes look away, seem upset, maybe wanting to be anywhere else but here. My body slumped forward, lingering pain in my core. “Plastic Man?” His head cocked to the side, eyes unidentifiable behind his goggles. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask him what he thought of me. The words caught in my throat, my fear too great to hear the truth. I didn’t want to seem too pitiful, too... “I’ll try better next time.” “That’s what I like to hear.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “GM what were you thinking?! You know you can’t handle that kinda heat, why did you head into a burning building?! No one was in there! Everyone was safe!” I ducked my head away from Plas’ rage, watching the soot swirl around the remains of my arm. I was hurt bad, nearly melted and burned in a raging fire me and Plas tried to contain. But I was careless, eager to please a man I thought was losing interest in me. Despite the fact the building was clear I thought if I could help put out the fire before the firefighters came he would praise my boldness. But I only ended up making a fool of myself, having to had Plas rush into the building and collect me himself. He didn’t fair well himself, parts of him still goopy from harsh heat damage. “Look at me when I’m talking to you! Why did you do that.” His eyes were angry, his usual smile twisted into a disappointed frown. “I wanted to impress you-” “Impress me?! Yeah your new power to turn into a corpse was real freaking impressive Jenna. Why the hell are you trying to impress me like that-” “Because I don’t think I’m good enough to be taught by you!” I exclaimed, shocked by how I raised my voice at him. “I... I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to... I just... I feel like ever since you started to mentor me I haven’t been good enough. I’ve always been messing up and-and I feel like if I don’t do anything to impress you, you’ll just abandon me and I’ll fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I-I look up to you so much, and I feel like it’s such a privilege that you chose me I... I feel like it’s a mistake. And so I’m just waiting for you to realize that and I feel like you’re catching on so I had to do something to make sure that you didn’t fuck up with your choice.” Plas’ face immediately dropped, a look of concern replacing his scold. “Christ... I gave you Imposter Syndrome. Is this what the other people with sidekicks have to deal with... Woozy was never like this. Er...well, no he was he just didn’t have powers.” He bit his bottom lip, and sighed, inching to take a seat beside me. “I’m not good at this teaching stuff, I don’t know if you noticed. So if I made you feel like you weren’t impressing me, I swear it isn’t true. I remember when I was first getting the hang of being a hero. I was dog shit. The amount of times I did somethings stupid or tried to impress others without knowing what I was doing myself, god... and when I was part of the league? The first month was a hell, I didn’t get anything done. I still mess up, I just make it seem like I don’t cause I play it off. We all screw up, even Superman. I would know, I was there for a couple of those times, etched em right into my head.” He glanced away, tapping the side of his head where the words ‘Pantsing Incident of 05’ appeared.  “Point is we all started somewhere and we were all ass at it. You think Flash got the hang of dodging every car while he ran down the road? No, it was just that no one remembers those times cause he’s  too busy kicking ass now adays that no one cares that one time he ate asphalt. No one accept me who uses it to blackmail him occasionally because I’m petty and like to knock him down a peg every once in a while. You’re doing great.” I could feel the tears dripping down my face as he spoke, using my palm to desperately hide my emotions from him. His arm wrapped around my shoulder in a cautious, yet caring touch. “Can we just not... run into burning buildings next time we’re trying to prove something? I might not be able to get you out next time.” “Yeah, of course sir. Thank you, for believing in me, after I did that, and that you believed me in the first place.”

[madamebaggio]

Tags Masterlist

Hello, my dear friends.

I hope you’re all well and safe wherever you are.

I’ve spent the last few days updating all my tags here, so now we get this masterlist.

I’ll put it on my bio as well and probably it’ll get updated if new stories appear.

You can always find posts by character or ship. The new tags are mostly to help in case you want to check a specific string of posts (for example: you can still search #Sansa x Arthur, but maybe you’re looking for something specific like #every piece of my heart and all the posts related to that story).

I’m also adding the links for AO3 (for those stories that are there -not all of them are) and separating by ship. If a ship you like doesn’t have a tag, it’s because there’s just one story with them (like Sansa and Geralt, all their posts are related, so they don’t have a special tag; you can find them as #Sansa Stark x Geralt of Rivia).

Let’s get this show on the road. (let me know if you have any doubts)

Sansa/Arthur

#camelot ranch (Sansa meets Arthur when visiting the Tyrells’ Ranch)

#hen party at camelot (Dany has her hen party at Arthur’s pub)

#jumanji au (You can find it here as well)

#i wont believe in songs ( My work “I won’t believe in songs (Unless they’re sung by you)”)

#good girls go to heaven (My work “Good Girls go to Heaven (Bad Boys bring Heaven to you)”)

#theres no way  (My work “There’s no way (that’s not going there)”)

#till sunday (Sansa tries to seduce Arthur, he tells her to wait until she actually wants to sleep with him)

#artie rescues sansa (two adventures of Sansa (one in modern AU) being rescued by Arthur)

#changeling sansa (Inspired by the works of Nalini Singh, in which Sansa is a shape shifter)

#10 things i hate about you au #please come find me (Both tags are related to my work “Please, come find me”)

#accidental family (A one night stand gives Arthur quite a surprise a few years later)

#hero sansa (Sansa is a hero and Arthur is more of an anti-hero)

#im not marrying you (Sansa and Arthur really don’t want to marry each other)

#love potion (Arthur accidentaly drinks a love potion)

#action hero arthur (Arthur is an action actor that loses a bet and has to act on a rom com)

#who fell in love first (Sansa and Arthur tell their children about how they fell in love)

#the mummy au (Snippets of Sansa and Arthur in the Mummy verse)

#romancing the stone au (Snippets in this verse)

#john wick au (AU where Sansa is the manager of the Continental)

#fair game au (Arthur is a police officer and Sansa is a lawyer)

#great pickup lines (My work “Do you have a band-aid and other great pick-up lines”)

#every piece of my heart (My work “Every Piece of my Heart (Belongs to you)”)

#summer loving (My work “Summer loving (happened so fast)”)

#a text misshap (Sansa texted Arthur by accident, but got a date out of it)

#fooled around and fell in love (My work “Fooled around and fell in love”)

#a steely haven (My work “A Steely Haven”)

Sansa x Tommy Shelby

#a happy occasion  (Thomas is planning on marrying Ada to Robb Stark)

#pretty horses (My work “Of all your pretty horses before (You should know that I can love you much more)”)

#loving her was red (My work “Loving her was red”) 

Jonsa

#kiss with a fist (Kiss with a fist)

#the same way i like my coffee (The Same Way I Like My Coffee)

#youre finally home (You’re Finally Home)

#those stark boys (Those Stark Boys - obs: this is a Sansa/Jon/Robb)

#a whisper in the dark (A Whisper in the Dark)

Sansa/Eomer

#a million years ago (A Million Years Ago)

#the horse lord and the stark wolf (The Horse Lord and the Stark Wolf)

Sansa and others

#prince charming galahad (Modern AU where Sansa meets and adorable Galahad)

#godless underneath your cover (Sansa x Maul)

#tormented willas (One version of Willas Tyrell)

#polite willas (Another possible Willas)

#awkward willas (Final Willas lol)

#agent sansa stark (Sansa x Bucky)

#dont stand so close to me (Modern AU Sansa x Vortigern)

#my fair boss lady (Sansa x Raymond Smith)

#stark blue (Sansa x Bucky x Steve)

#vampire hunters (Starks are vampire hunters)

#maybe theyre seeing something we dont (Theonsa modern AU)

#hidden scars and wolf tattoos (Sansa x Jax)

#the night is young (The Night Is Young (and so are we) King Arthur 2004 crossover with Margaery and Brienne as well)

#my delirium ((Even if you’re the reason of) My delirium - Sansa x Oberyn x Willas modern AU 

The Crackship Fleet

#the first fleet

#cuddly september

#first meetings in october

#sharing beds in november

#december kisses

#late prompts

#angst march

#alternate april

#kissy june

Crossovers Series

#sansa stark crossovers

#susan pevensie crossovers

#margaery tyrell crossovers

#king arthur 2004 crossovers

Darcy Lewis

#commander testosterone (Darcy and Rumlow flirting)

#darcy bakes for the defenders (Darcy is bribing the Defenders with cookies)

#shockstrike (DarcyxJackxBrock)

#the adventures of cameron klein (Cameron Klein tries to survive Darcy and friends)

#is a cult cult (Darcy and Rumlow are pretending to be married)

#what if fanfic (Darcy x Jarvis)

Lotty/Éomer

#if i close my eyes (Work can be found here)

#lothiriel the dreamer (series of possible ways in which Lothiriel and Éomer could have met)

#lothiriel the innocent

#lothiriel the judicious

#lothiriel the ambitious

#lothiriel the mischievous

#lothiriel the valiant

#lothiriel the bold

#not tha kind of princess (“Not that kind of princess”)

#pretty awesome in pink (“Pretty (Awesome) in Pink” modern AU)

Matt/Jess

#something to talk about (can also be found here)

#flirty matt series

#not a date but kind of

Gretel/Nuada

#why dont we kill each other slowly (Can be found here)

#about elves and witch hunters (snippets related to their ship in the Fleet)

Others

#the spring that thaws winter (here)

#rose and king (Marge x Roan, also related to their ship on the Fleet)

#dark in my imagination (here)

#when words are not enough (here)

#the iron lady series (here)

#the gentle lady series (here)

#all i see is red (“All I see is red” Agent 47 x Scarlett)

OMG! I thought I’d never end this... lol

I hope I didn’t forget anything... But let me know if you noticed any tag missing.

Enjoy it ;)

[crissy622]

FIC: Happy Birthday [1/1]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KIM! We love you death and, as such, Alaina and I wrote you a fanfic based on our trio. You’ve gone looking for fics of them many times, just to remember that fics for them do not exist, so now, one does. We love you and have an amazing birthday.

Everyone, go tell @lengiesofrps how awesome she is and how much you love her.

Written By: @crissy622​ & @isadorahart​ Characters/Pairings: Charlotte Lightwood, Luna Darkmore, Cameron Walsh [Unholy Trio] Rating: PG Summary: "We're going to bake bread for Cam's birthday," Luna declared as they got ready for bed one night and Charlie sighed.

-Fourth Year-

"We're going to bake bread for Cam's birthday," Luna declared as they got ready for bed one night and Charlie sighed.

"Must we?" she asked, but she could already see that familiar gleam in Luna's eyes. That gleam never led to anything good. Detention. Charlie being force fed snacks. She mentally added baking to the list and wondered if she would have done better over at Beauxbatons. She may have had to deal with more Veela -- though, she still had her own suspicions about Malfoy's bloodline -- but she wouldn't have had to bake. "We do have house elves, Luna. If we can't use the castle ones, I can get one of them from home."

"It's supposed to be from us," Luna reminded her, "not from the house elves."

"Did you write the book you got me last Christmas?" she asked, sure she'd just broken through Luna's logic.

"No, because then it would've just been a book of curse words that was enchanted to say the worst possible one each time you opened it." Luna tilted her head, considering. "Actually, look forward to your birthday now."

There went that hope, traded out for growing dread.

"No," she told her firmly. "Don't you dare."

The hum Luna gave was the farthest thing from comforting. 

"I don't want to know how you got them to agree to this," she said, resigned, a week later as she and Luna stood in the middle of the kitchens. House elves were watching them cautiously from around a corner, distrustful, and she honestly wasn't sure if it was because of their house colors or because she and Luna had intruded in their territory. Probably both.

"Nope," she agreed with an unrepentant grin. A Slytherin through and through, Charlie thought dryly as she took the apron Luna offered her with a disdainful look.

Still, it was for Cam. They had to celebrate early, same as every year, since his birthday always fell after they'd gone home for the summer. Once that happened, she wouldn't be able to see them until they went back to school.

"Can't I just get him new dress robes and promise I won't talk about the wedding for a month?" she tried, but even before Luna rolled her eyes, she knew it was futile. She was going to end up with flour under her nails for days and they were probably going to give Cam food poisoning. "Do you even have any idea how to bake bread?"

"Not a clue," Luna answered cheerfully.

"Then, why are we doing this?"

Luna looked at her, cheery smile dropped off to something more tender and more serious. "Because it's Cam."

Charlie bit her lip and thought of Cam with his quiet ways and the months of separation he had ahead of him. Of him buying Luna gloves to cover up the scars Umbridge had caused. Thought of the year she got sick and fevered memories of how he and Luna had stayed with her, holding her hand and running fingers through her hair to keep her calm. Thought of them always butting heads about her wedding, because it wasn't the world he'd grown up in and he wanted to protect her. 

For Cam, she could withstand flour-caked nails and inevitable food poisoning. She put on her apron. "Where do we start?"

---

“That depends,” Luna said as Charlie tied the apron around her waist. “Are we going for flaky like Malfoy when he hears anything to do with muggle studies or hard like that broomstick handle that’s constantly lodged up Cam’s dad’s-” Luna rocked back and forth on her heels while picking at her gloves. She was getting sidetracked. “We’ll go with flaky. Bread is so much better when it’s all buttered and flaky.”

Luna started rifling through the pans, trying not to laugh while internally debating who looked more uncomfortable: the house elves whose kitchen they were hijacking or Charlie who was making at least eight different sacrifices just to be here. Luna was proud of her, not that she’d tell her. She’d leave that up to Cam, because he was the more vocal of the three and she was content to just nitpick instead. 

“You do realize we’re going to be doing plenty of taste-testing before we hand over a finished product, right?” Luna announced gleefully. “Nothing but the best can go to Cam.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, but Luna could see the fondness there. The girl got so pureblood on them, sometimes, but they knew she cared. "It might help if we had a recipe."

Okay, that was true, but still- "Rude," she said and stuck her tongue out at the other girl. "Cam will appreciate us being creative."

"We're going to ruin bread for him," Charlie said flatly as she poked a bag of flour.

"How much faith do you have in us?"

"About as much as Slytherin winning the House Cup."

"That's not fair. That thing is just blatant favoritism." Even if they hadn't been forced to listen to Malfoy whine about it for years, it was obvious. At this point, Luna was pretty sure Dumbledore would give Potter points for tying his shoe correctly if it meant Gryffindor won.

Or anyone other than Slytherin, really.

She clapped her hands before Charlie could spread her pessimism any further. "I think we need eggs!"

"You think?"

"Do you have a recipe?" she asked innocently. 

"Do I look like someone who bakes bread?"

Actually, she looked like someone who had never seen bread in her life and that was something Luna and Cam were both still trying to rectify. 

"Do you think the first person to bake bread had a recipe?" Luna returned. "No, yet, look how well it turned out!"

Yep, there was the sigh that Charlie did every time she regretted everything that had brought her to this point.

Luna grinned.

The first attempt burned a bit.

The second caught on fire.

"Luna!"

"It's fine! I know what I'm doing!"

The third attempt didn't rise at all.

The fourth looked normal, but it tasted oddly of pickles.

"The castle doesn't even have pickles, Luna."

That was the point where Charlie refused to taste-test anymore. Honestly, Luna was surprised she'd made it that far.

"I'm going to write home and have Blinks bake the bread," Charlie told her around the ninth attempt. The house elves were still watching them, even hours later, but a few had started crying a while back about all the wasted ingredients.

An odd one covered in clothes had loved the pickle bread, though, so ha, Charlie.

There was also the drunk one that stumbled through at one point. Luna wasn't going to ask.

"You are not," she said with a roll of her eyes, because Charlie had been threatening to do that since the third round. Her threats were about as empty as Potter's head. "Besides, if you do that, I will wait until you’re sleeping and cut just a single lock of your hair off and not tell you until the most opportune moment.” 

"You wouldn't dare."

“Slytherin,” Luna reminded her and grinned like it was a challenge. Charlie glared back at her, looking increasingly fed up and entirely too clean for how many breads they'd made so far. It was a far cry from the liberal amounts of flour on her and the dried bit of old dough that was stuck to the end of one of her braids.

"We're both Slytherins," Charlie shot back. "Don't forget what I did to Romilda Vane."

"I don't think anyone could forget about that." The only people who even knew about it were her and Cam, and Charlie had never so much admitted it as look smug. It had been nice, though, to see Charlie go to bat for him like that. She'd never doubted that the girl would, but they were all used to prim-and-proper Charlie and I’m-getting-married-and-am-going-to-pretend-it's-a-great-idea Charlie, not secretly-terrifying Charlie.

Charlie shook her head and peeked under the towel that was hiding attempt number twelve. Luna was pretty sure it wasn't rising.  "If we don't figure something out tonight, I'm finding a recipe."

"Do you even know where the cooking section of the library is?"

Judging from the look Charlie shot her, the answer was no.

---

Charlie nearly asked Blaise to give her his great-grandmother's bread recipe -- not that she'd ever eaten it, but it looked good and people raved about it.

She didn't ask. 

It didn't feel right to involve Blaise in it. Luna had her heart set on them doing this for Cam and, as it stood, Cam was decidedly not a fan of Blaise.

Instead, when she and Luna had to admit defeat for the night -- mostly because the house elves had kicked them out -- she told the other girl she'd be finding a recipe for the next day. She may have skipped lunch to look through the library, but by the time she met up with Luna that night, she'd meticulously copied down a recipe she'd found.

"I think it's the one they served at the Halloween ball last year," she said uncertainly as Luna looked it over. "He'd liked it."

"You remembered the bread?" Luna asked, surprised. "I didn't think you even looked at the food at those things."

"You two talked about it for a week afterwards," she pointed out. "That was the only one I could find that had lemon in it."

Luna grinned at her and clutched the recipe to her chest. "Aw, you do care," she gushed as Charlie's cheeks went pink.

"Don't make me regret this," she muttered as she grabbed one of Luna's hands and dragged her into the kitchens.

The first attempt that night didn't have enough yeast.

The second made Luna smile that stupid smile that made Charlie's chest go funny.

"That's it!" she cheered. "I think we need to do that fold thing a few more times for the real one, so it’s more flaky, but this is definitely it." She drew Charlie into a fast hug that the girl didn't think she'd ever get used to and popped another piece of it into her mouth. "He's going to love it!"

Charlie looked down at the ugly little loaf they'd made and smiled.

A week later and two days before they took the train home, they made Cam promise to meet them down by the lake and, then, spent the whole morning with the bread. The final loaf they loaded into a basket with some extra treats was about as ugly as the one before it had been, but it didn't smell poisonous. Charlie was cautiously hopeful as they made their way through the halls and outside. 

It was warmer out, even as the sun began to sink behind the trees, but Charlie still wrapped her jumper around herself a little more and adjusted the basket in her grip. She'd insisted on carrying it, because days of attempts and trying to pick dough out from under her nails was not going to be wasted by Luna dropping the basket.

"I wouldn't!" Luna had insisted, but the second she saw Cam, she launched herself at him with a shouted happy birthday, so Charlie didn't believe her.

She followed after at a calmer pace and set it down before she hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Happy early birthday," she murmured into his ear as his arms came around her waist.

He murmured a thanks as they pulled back and settled down in the grass. "Food?" he guessed as his eyes went to the basket.

"And your presents," Luna said happily.

"If it ends in disaster, it's Luna's fault," Charlie said and pointedly ignored Luna's indignant squawk.

Cam looked between them, amused, as Luna dug into the basket and paused. She looked up at Charlie, accusing. "You got him a book."

"Did I?" she asked innocently as Luna passed the wrapped gift over to Cam. It wasn't a book so much as it was a box of self-replenishing parchment. She might not approve of his little homework business, but the amount of parchment he went through added up after a while.

"You're encouraging me now?" he asked when he opened the gift, both eyebrows lifted up.

"Of course not," she sniffed. "If they don't want to do their homework, they should fail. You're going to do it anyway, though, so you may as well have something practical."

"She's encouraging you," Luna told him.

"I'm getting that feeling."

"I am not-"

"Next present!" Luna declared and reached into the basket again so she could pull out the wrapped box she’d shoved in next to the food. She set it down in front of Cam and pulled her wand out, cancelling out the shrinking charm she’d apparently put on it. It grew to nearly four-times its usual size.

Cam and Charlie stared at it, wide-eyed.

“You two didn’t need to do all this,” Cam told them as he started unwrapping the box.

“It’s your birthday,” Luna insisted. “Of course we were going to get you presents!”

It wasn’t a present. It was a horror-filled box of whatever that tie-dye muggle trend was. The ugly blending and bleeding of colors that made someone look like a rainbow had encountered Seamus Finnegan on one of his explosive days. Cam pulled out a shirt and, somehow, didn’t look utterly horrified.

“You two can’t be serious,” she said as Cam shrugged out of his jacket and slipped on one that was white until some psychopath had gotten their hands on it. Luna smiled like the sun.

“It’s fashionable,” he told her, voice a complete deadpan, and she knew he had to be messing with her. He had to be.

“That is not fashion,” she said. “That looks like someone let the Gryffindors at a paint set.”

Luna patted her knee consolingly. “She just doesn’t get it,” she sighed.

“We’ll need to get her some for her birthday.”

“I’ll burn it.”

“Pink,” Luna agreed as if Charlie hadn’t spoken at all. “She looks cute in pink.”

“I’m going to look pretty in red when I kill you both,” she warned. “Put those monstrosities away.”

Cam rolled his eyes, but he thanked Luna and gave her a hug before he set the box aside. The jacket, however, stayed on. “How much did you guys do?”

“Just one more thing,” Luna said and pulled the bread and its platter out of the basket to present to him. “Birthday bread! We made it!”

“We used a recipe,” Charlie added. “That’s the only reason you might survive eating it.”

“She’s being dramatic,” Luna pushed on. “It’s the bread from the Halloween ball last year. Charlie remembered it and found the recipe in the library.”

Cam’s eyes turned towards her, curious. “You found the cooking section for me?”

“It’s a library,” she muttered as her face heated and she looked away. “I found a shelf. I didn’t find the cure for lycanthropy.”

“Thank you,” he said softly and she glanced back up to see Luna lean in to hug him again and the smile he gave her. She returned it as Luna cut a few slices of the bread and handed one over to Cam while she kept one for herself. The dough under her nails was worth the way his smile widened at the first bite. He made it through half before he broke off the corner of his slice and held it out to her. “For my birthday?”

If he’d asked any other way, she would have said no. Luna hadn’t even offered her a slice, because she knew better, but it was Cam’s birthday and he asked her to. He knew she couldn’t tell him no.

“You should have been a Slytherin,” she told him seriously as she took the bit he’d offered her and took a bite. It was good, better than she’d expected when she considered their initial attempts. She wasn’t sure it was rave-about-it-for-a-week worthy, but she popped the second bite into her mouth and met Cam’s and Luna’s smiles with her own. “Happy birthday, Cam.”

Luna grinned. “We love you.”

[oneficonly]

It’s Just a Name

Summary: When Max’s home life finally comes to Camp Campbell, with the excuse that they showed up for Parents Day. But that was many weeks ago. So why are they really here?

WC: 2,086 Rating: T (Swearing, Very Mild Referenced Child Abuse/Neglect) Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Chapter Nine: A Promise

By the time they got back to the campgrounds the rain had stopped, but the sky was still a light gray. Everyone in the small, four-person group and were soaked by the rain. They stopped at the tents to gather the rest of the campers. Layla-Rae saw her discarded clipboard on the ground, and her phone then picked both items up. Most of the papers on the clipboard were wet but they were all still readable. “Alrighty, Campers! We are back and we have Max!” said David loudly. Everyone came out of their respective tents. Nikki saw Max first and tackled him to the ground. “You’re safe!” she exclaimed. Neil came over and pulled Nikki off of him, “God Nikki, get off of him!” he said. Once Neil got Nikki off of Max, he put his hand out helping his friend off the ground. All the other campers came up to Max and they all started to ask questions. For most of the questions, Max just stuck his hands in his hoodie pocket and shrugged. Layla-Rae stood back and watched as Max was bombarded by his fellow camp members. David and Layla-Rae looked at each other and smiled before they looked back to the group. Gwen got everyone’s attention, “Everyone to the mess hall. We need to end this really fucking long day.” All the campers headed to the mess hall. Neil, Nikki, and Max were behind the larger group of campers, then Gwen, David, and Layla-Rae behind them.

As they got closer to the mess hall, they could see Mr. Walter loading up the horses back into the bus. Devi was tapping on her phone while Cameron Campbell was attempting to talk to her. Devi looked up from her phone to respond to something Campbell said when she saw the group of kids, councilors, and her assistant. The woman stomped over to the group. “Guys, maybe you all should head into the mess hall,” said Gwen. All the kids started to protest. “Now!” yelled Gwen. Everyone except for Max rushed into the mess hall. Nikki stopped and reached out to grab him to bring him with but Neil stopped her and said, “He’ll be in soon.” Nikki pouted but followed Neil. Before she walked into the mess hall she stopped and spun around, “I promise to save you a pudding Max! Maybe! Only if it’s not chocolate, or vanilla, or both!” She spun around and went into the building, the doors shut behind her.

Max looked over and saw Devi getting closer with Campbell right behind. He stepped to the side, hiding behind David. “Mr. Campbell,” said David, “Can you go in and make sure the campers are giving Quartermaster any trouble.” Campbell shook his head, “I’m sorry Davey. I work for Ms. Devi now.” Devi looked at him with confusion on her face, “Who are you?” she asked. Campbell’s shoulders slumped over. He sighed dejectedly and walked to the mess hall and grumbled all the way there. Once he was inside, Devi turned to the four people left. “You,” she said pointing to Layla-Rae. Layla-Rae handed the clipboard to Max, who took it and held it close to his chest. She took a few steps forward. “Your job is to help me! That is what I give you housing for and it's what I pay you for! So, if I ask you to help me load up the horses so we can leave, you help Mr. Walter load up the god damn horses! And you,” Devi hissed as she pointed to Max, “I think you've been around my assistant too much. If you’re going to continue living with me there need to be some massive changes! If either of you thinks, you are going to continue to live with me after how you treated me you can forget it! But I'm willing to forgive and forget. But I will be separating you two for a few months. That will be a good punishment. If I catch you two interacting at all in the new few months. You," she once again pointed to Layla-Rae, "will be gone. That boy has had too much freedom. And it's clear that you are the cause for his awful behavior! You did a shit job raising him. You're lucky I'm here!” Layla-Rae stepped forward again sizing her up, “First, Max has not had enough freedom! You've been restricting him for the last five years he's been living with you. Second, what did he do to you today? He was placed on one of those stupid horses, which he didn't even want to ride, then when the horse was spooked it ran off. You did nothing to help him! He has done nothing to you! At all! And third, I did not do a shit job raising him. I did an amazing job raising him. I managed to raise an amazing and smart young man, who acts way too much like an adult. I did it without your help. He is my son. And we don't need your help anymore, Mother." Devi scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Please. You still need your mother's help. You're a single mom who had a kid when you were barely out of high school. You're just as irresponsible now than you were when you were a teenager. What a disappointment you turned out to be. I should've dumped you off somewhere before you could figure out how to get back home." Layla-Rae was caught a little off guard by this and took a step backward. David stepped in front of Layla-Rae; Max went from hiding behind David to Layla-Rae. Gwen put a hand on the assistant’s should as if to comfort her. David cleared his throat, “I think you have stayed long enough. You need to leave.” Devi rolled her eyes, “You can’t tell me when to leave!” David took a deep breath, “Max and Layla are some of the most amazing people I have ever met. They both work so hard and they clearly care about each other and, for some reason, they care about you,” he looked back at Gwen, Layla-Rae and Max the smiled, “and the fact that you treat them the way you do,” David looked back at the older woman, “Well, that just makes you a fucking bitch.” Gwen's eyes grew big and a little smile went across her face. Max had a huge smile on his face. Layla-Rae's eyes also grew big. Devi huffed in anger, "All of you are banned from my properties! If I see you or you," she pointed to Max and Layla-Rae, "Well, you just better wish I don’t see you again!” She then stomped onto the bus followed by her white horse. The door to the bus slams and the bodyguards and Mr. Walter got into their respective vehicles. The bus and the SUV sped out of the camp parking lot.

There were cheers from the mess hall. When the small group of four looked over they saw all of the campers watching from the windows. “Well,” started Gwen, “That could’ve gone better.” David spun around and looked at Layla-Rae, “I’m sorry if I made you lose your job, Layla. I normally am pretty level headed,” he started to scratch the back of his head. Max coughed and handed the clipboard back to Layla-Rae. “Yeah. You pretty much fucked that up, David,” said the child nodding. Layla-Rae laughed and took the item from him, “Max, language. Oh! Before I forget,” she started to dig through the papers on her clipboard and pulled out one sheet. “Here is Max’s camp registration paper. Fully filled out. I believe Gwen gave the paper to Devi earlier this morning. But she just handed me the piece of paper. And I felt like Max needed some type of purpose here.” She handed the piece of paper to David. Max rolled his eyes, “I don’t need a purpose. I’m satisfied with floating here until I go home. I mean that’s what we do through life before we die. Mind as well get used to it now.” Gwen and David sighed. Layla-Rae rolled her eyes. Mr. Walter whistled and hit the top of the beaten-up car, “You might not have a job to do,” he said, “But I still do.”

Layla-Rae let out a little laugh, “I guess that’s my cue.” Layla-Rae looked to Max and kneeled down and opened her arms. Max ran up to her and gave her a hug. He teared up a bit, “Thank you for coming, Mom,” said Max. Gwen and David gave each other a surprised look, “Mom?!” they said together. Layla-Rae nodded as she and Max separated from their hug, “It's a little bit of a long story but yes. This little guy is my son! I'm surprised you guys didn't ask anything right after Devi and I fought. I think I said something about Max being my son there. I kind of blacked-out during me yelling at her.” said Layla-Rae. Gwen shrugged and nodded. David also nodded, "I think I blacked out a little too," he said. Layla-Rae and Gwen laughed. “I'll tell you guys some more 'home life' stories one day. Homelife stories about Max and me.” Gwen’s eyes got really big, “Hearing stories about growing up with Devi? I can't imagine how awful that was!” said Gwen with a little laugh in her voice. Layla-Rae laughed, “I promise. I'll fill you guys in one of these days. But it will be nice to not live with Devi anymore. I will fully be a single parent!” Layla-Rae rolled back onto her heels, “Oh fuck I’m going to be a single parent.”

“To Max of all kids,” commented Gwen. David smiled, "Don't worry Layla. You've got this!" He rubbed the back of his head, “So, what are you going to do now?” Layla-Rae snapped out of her panicked thinking, “Well,” she started as she stood up, “I guess try to find a new job. Find a new place to live.” She looked at Max, “And hopefully, I can get everything set up so that you can just get settled right away. I don’t think we have had an actual home since you were little. Let’s see, we lived  with your father and his family until you were five, then I tried to move in with Devi but when I went to work she had changed all the locks, then a year and a half later she finally let me back in- ” Max smiled as his mother continued to ramble. This has been the second time all summer that David and Gwen saw Max smile in a way that wasn’t mischievous. It was a genuine, happy smile. Mr. Walter held down the horn in the car and drove the car very, very slowly out of camp. “Alright. I really need to go or I will be here for the rest of the summer. Maxen,” Max and Layla-Rae gave each other one more hug, “I will send you a letter with my new address and some updates. I’ll see you after camp is over. I promise,” Layla-Rae let go of Max and step forward giving David a quick hug, “Thank you. Thank you to both of you.” she said before turning around and running to the slowly moving car. “Mr. Walter! Wait! I’m coming! Stop the fucking car!” yelled Layla-Rae as she pried open the car door and jumped into the car. Layla-Rae looked out the window and waved goodbye to her son. The car sped off leaving David, Gwen, and Max in front of the mess hall.

“What was that all about?” asked Max wondering why his mom gave his camp consoler a hug. Gwen covered her mouth trying not to laugh. David looked down at Max’s paperwork, “Well, you see- Um- Wait,” he said reading over the paper one more time. “Max. Is your first name Maxen?” Max jumped around and looked at David with wide eyes. Gwen busted out in a laughing fit. “Don’t you dare ever repeat my name!” he yelled pointing at David, “You hear me, David! My name is Max! I will end you if this gets back to the gang!” David smiled down at Max, “Alright, Max.” Max nodded and crossed his arms. He then looked at Gwen who was still laughing uncontrollably. “And why are you still laughing?” asked Max. Gwen pointed at David and said, “David fucked your mom.” Max slowly turned to David who was staring at Gwen with wide eyes. “You. Did. WHAT?!”

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[chicagolove88]

“September saw a month of tears. And thankin' God that you weren't here”

Characters: Dean x reader, OMC, OFC, OFC, Sam, Ketch

Word Count: 3069 sorry its hella long. I gotta going and couldn't stop

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of cheating, pregnancy, miscarriage, angst I guess

Written for @anotherwaywardsister summer challenge! I apologize if it is terrible. I am not a great writer and just wanted to give it a shot!

September.

It was always your favorite month in previous years. It contained everything that you loved- your birthday, fall, bonfires,the start of football and hockey season.  It was the month that you fell in love not for the first time but for the best time, now it all reminds you of the month that you lost everything that mattered. Now all it brings every year is heartbreak and bad memories.

As the leaves began to change and the nights got cooler, you tried to forget what month it was as you and your best friend Haylee continued through campus back to the sorority house that you both lived in. There was a crisp fall wind that was blowing through on this friday afternoon. “Shit dude it is getting chilly out but you know what that means” Haylee says to you as you look at her and smirk. Of course you knew what that meant. It meant tailgating tomorrow for the football game was going to be how the good Lord intended football tailgating to be like and not in the sweltering heat like these past years in Texas. “Oh come on Hayls we all know that our alcohol blankets will be keeping us plenty warm tomorrow no matter what” you say as you bump her shoulder. She chuckles and flips her blonde hair over her shoulder as you two continue on your way as Haylee continues chattering about the game tomorrow and how Cameron her boyfriend, our starting defenseman, was not paying enough attention to her during the week because he has been so focused on the game. You look up from your phone just as you two were about to pass the hockey house on the edge of campus when you saw something that knocked the wind right out of you. That damn black 1967 Chevy Impala which only meant one thing. Dean was in town and you don't know if your heart can take this right now.

All of the feelings that you’ve been pushing down over the past year started rising backup and you could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes. You didn’t realize that you had stopped heard Haylee scream your name and start walking back towards you. “Dude, what’s wrong with….” she starts to say and abruptly ends as she sees what you are staring at. “What the hell is he doing back here? Cam never said Sammy said anything about Dean coming back for the weekend”. Two years. You successfully dodged Dean for a year every time he was in town but now it doesn't matter. You knew deep down this weekend you were eventually going to come face to face with the man that broke your heart. You were a tough girl so you told yourself to put your game face on and tore your gaze away from the house and the car that Dean so fondly called Baby. “Come on Hayls lets go” as you begin walking pulling her arm as you walked past her. When you finally got back to the sorority house, you sprinted upstairs to the room that Haylee and you shared in the house and collapsed on your bed. You weren’t sure if you fully made it onto your bed before you started sobbing.

You had met Dean the beginning of your sophomore year in the middle of August. You both were in General Psych together. By some stroke of luck or laziness, you were running late to Psych and ended up sitting by him on the first day and that same day your professor made you partners on an assignment due mid-September. You couldn’t believe you were partnered with the captain and star center of your schools hockey team. Every time Dean would see you on campus he’d wink at you or say “Hi Princess” to you. It made you blush and a lot of other girls jealous. You never thought anything of it until one night at a party at the hockey house. Some dude was trying to hit on you and wouldn’t take no for an answer. The jerk tried to grab you when you walked away and Dean almost knocked his lights out right then and there. It was the first week of September and you found yourself pinned up against a wall making out with the star center. It was the first week of September when Dean learned how to make you scream the way he liked. That night of the party after you two had finished, you went to go leave. Dean softly touched your arm and said for you to stay. You couldn’t explain why it felt so right so you grabbed one of his old Zeppelin T-shirt to sleep in and curled up besides him. Dean never told you but sleeping next to you was the best sleep he ever got. Like he finally found what was missing all his life. By the second week of September you were a frequent at the hockey house and we’re officially dating Dean Winchester. By the last week of September you knew you loved him and though Dean never told you,he knew he loved you then too. Even though you waited three more weeks to tell him. You two just seemed to click even though you both were strong willed and tough. He was sweet and gentle with you. You knew that no love you had before this had felt like this.

You and Dean had been together a year. A year of long distance. He had been drafted by the Dallas Stars the June of his sophomore year but got the invite to training camp that June. You had never been so proud to be there with him when he got the call, to help him pick out the apartment that would eventually be both of yours in Dallas. Or so you thought. Long distance was beginning to take its toll. Even though Houston was only three hours from Dallas , it still felt like a million miles away between your internships over the summer and Dean in training camp and workouts all the time, but the short times that you two spent together were passionate and enough to make up for the distance. Even if they were short lived, but recently those times have become shorter and shorter. Dean stopped texting back and was always busy it seemed like. August came and another school year started and you noticed something wasn’t right. You felt sick all the time and were continuously throwing up in the morning until two weeks later Haylee convinced you to take a pregnancy test. Two pink lines stared back at you after the two minutes. This wasn’t how this was suppose to happen. When did anything go the way it was suppose to happen with you though. How were you going to tell Dean? He already had too much on his plate. Dean was coming in that weekend for the hockey game so he could see Sammy play and to celebrate your anniversary that was later in September but he would be gone for a game. It was not the ideal time to tell him, but you had to. As the week dragged on, you kept thinking of ways to tell Dean about this. Soon Friday rolled around and Dean was back on campus. You heard the low rumble of Baby outside your window and headed downstairs. Once outside, you ran to Dean who was leaning against the passenger side door and he swooped you off your feet into one big hug. “I missed your princess” you heard him say as he kissed the top of your head. “I missed you too D” you said as you place a kiss on his lips. “Come on let’s go get food” he said as he opened the car door for you to get inside. You decided now or never was the time to tell him. “Actually, D we need to talk it's really important. Can we go to our spot?” you ask him nervously. “Yeah honey that's fine. Is everything ok?” he asked as he goes to shut the door and you just nod because it really isn't but you don't know what to say in place of that.Deans hand is on your leg the entire ride to the lake that you guys always went to.

Once there you got out of Baby and walked around sitting on the hood as Dean stood in front of you. “Baby girl whats wrong? You kinda have me  freaked out a little” Dean said. You took a breathe knowing that this was the time “Dean, I’m pregnant. I took multiple tests and they all came back positive. I know this is like really crappy timing but I don’t know things don't happen the way that they are suppose to” you say as you look back at Dean. There was a moment of silence between the two of you as you look at Dean. “What the hell. This is the last thing that I need right now Y/N! How can this be happening” he says as he turns around putting his hands behind his head. All it did was elicit a shrug from you because you didn’t know what to say. “Are you like really sure about this y/n?” he asked drawing my attention from my hands that all of the sudden became very interesting. “Pretty damn positive Dean.Three pregnancy tests and a missed period pretty much solidifies that this happening.” you said back. What he said next still shocks you to this day. “Are you sure that it’s even mine. I mean come on it had been over a month and half since we have slept together. How do I know that you didn’t get drunk and hook up on accident with one of those frat boys you worked with at the internship. You seemed pretty friendly with them in your snapchats and instagrams” he said. “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW DEAN?” you screamed. “ You are seriously going to sit here and accuse me of cheating on you? Seriously?! You are the ones that has been hanging out with models and cheerleaders. Maybe I should be the one questioning you about that. You've stopped returning texts and have been hanging up on me when people walk in the room.” you shouted at him. “Oh get over yourself. I’m not cheating on you. I just cant talk all the time like I use too. I have important things I have to do.” he shouted back. “Important things? LIKE WHAT? I mean seriously I think after a year I warrant a reply on a text!” you said back to him as you start crying. You were pissed and were almost to the point of seeing red. “Jesus Christ Y/N I have things with coaches and practice. THOSE TYPE OF IMPORTANT THINGS” he said as he starts pacing in front of the Impala. Tears were streaming down your face as he was yelling things at you  “Shut up Dean. Just shut up!” you kept saying as he was yelling still. “Y/N” he says as he took a deep breathe and looked at you. “This isn’t working anymore. I can’t do this. I’ll do whatever you need for the baby and I’ll be as active as I can but I can’t do this with you anymore. All we do is fight anymore. We’re both two strong of personalities”. Your world in that moment came crashing down around you as you began to sob harder as you sat on the hood of the car. In one swift motion, you jumped off the hood of the impala and began walking the opposite direction as Dean grabs your arm. You just shrug him off and turn around “Fuck you Dean Winchester. Leave me alone and leave this kid alone. I dont want your help. I will find my own ride back, wouldn't want to burden you.” you said and turn around and continue walking. Pulling out your phone you call Haylee and when she picks up you just begin to sob eventually getting out the question of asking her to come pick you up and where you were. Her and your other best friend Kenzie hugged you all night as your cried into your pillow as in the first week of September your world came crashing down around you. You thought that it couldn't get any worse until the third week of September on a Tuesday might and it did. Something again wasn’t right and you kept feeling sharp pains in your sides and all throughout your stomach. You just thought that it was stress on the baby and kept going upon your day, until it wasn’t. Until you passed out and woke up in a hospital room. Until you learned that you had a miscarriage and they were going to release you. Haylee and Kenzie hugged you again all night as you cried on your bathroom floor. The next day you picked up your phone and called a name that you had been trying not to think about in weeks and left a voicemail. D, its me. I just wanted to let you know that I miscarried last night. I know I shouldn’t  be telling you on a voicemail but i think if i heard your voice right now because it’ll just hurt me even more. I’m sorry for the way that we ended, but I guess this is a burden off of you now. Good luck with hockey and life. I’ll be cheering for you. Love you. Always have and always will. Bye.  You cried even harder after you got off the phone. The best and worst mistake you ever made was Dean Winchester and you knew that your best love didn’t get to be your last one.

Over the course of the school year, you successfully had dodged Dean every time he had come in to see his brother thanks to a few heads up from some friends. He tried to call you a couple times but you always declined it. He never left a voicemail and eventually he stopped trying. Dean’s team made it to the Stanley Cup Finals and lost. It broke your heart to see him cry on tv. You even dated another guy named Ketch but it didn’t work out. Nothing he did ever seemed to live up to Dean Winchester and it hurt you every time. Junior year came and went and no matter what people say, time does not heal all wounds.

Haylee and Kenzie came in sometime while you were crying and eventually one of them cleared their throat. “Girl, you know I’ll punch him for you but please please don’t let him ruin this weekend for you. It’s your senior year.” Kenzie said. You just shook your head and said “I know. I agree”. “I’m going for a drive I’ll be back later” as you grab your keys to your Jeep Wrangler and hop in. You ended up by the lake. You didn’t intend to come here but somehow you auto piloted here. You got out and climb up onto the hood of your Jeep and laid in the sun. Popping headphones in you began listening to some Eric Church. Dean hated country and always made fun of you for loving it but you didn’t care. Slowly you began humming Springsteen as it came on. You thought you heard tires crunching on the dirt road behind you but you ignored it. Still humming you after a couple minutes you swear you heard a door slam so you open your eyes. Shading your eyes from the sun you see the last car you want to see right now, a black Chevy Impala. You knew you were going to have to face this some time this weekend, so you quickly pop your headphones out as you see Dean approaching your Jeep. “Knew I could find you here. You always did love it out here” he said looking at the lake. “Yeah it’s calm here. I like it.” you answered back to him. “Why are you here Dean? You didn’t need to come back. Not this year. Please don’t ruin my senior year. I spent all of junior year trying to get over you” You said as you slid off the hood of your Jeep and jump down. “Did it work? Did you get over me? Because if you did can you tell me how you did because I’m not over you” Dean said quietly behind you. Hearing those words made you start crying so you just shook your head no. “Princess, I don’t know what that head shake means. No you’re not over me or no you won’t tell me?” He said as he takes a step towards you. “No I’m not over you Dean. Never will be” you whispered as you felt him hug you from behind making you cry harder. He spun you around so you were facing him as he leaned up against the hood of the Impala “I’m sorry y/n. I’m sorry I freaked out last year on you. I panicked. I didn’t want it to be real. There was too much going on. I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t call and talk to me. I’m sorry I didn’t come when you were in the hospital that night or any night after that. I drove here ya know? Sammy called me when Cam told him after Hayls was in hysterics that you were in the hospital. I sat outside and stared at the building until I watched you walk out when you were released. I'm sorry I didn’t fight harder when you walked away. I didn’t think you’d actually walk away.  ” Dean says as you continue crying. Your damn near hysterical at this point. A year. A year is all it took for him to finally say what needed to be said. “I’m sorry too. For the way everything played out and for not fighting back. I just couldn’t at that moment.” You said in between sobs into his shoulder as he pulls you into a hug. “I missed you princess. Every single night. Dallas isn’t the same without you. When we lost in the finals last year all I wanted to do was call you but I couldn’t” Dean said to you as you wiped your eyes dry. “Yeah I watched. I cried when they showed you tearing up on tv. But you know if you would have just went top shelf on that last shot you probably would have tied the game” you said back to him as you stand shoulder to shoulder with him leaning against the Impala. You feel him shove your shoulder and you smile a little. It reminds you of old times. After a couple minutes of silence you hop up on Baby’s hood and turn to look at Dean. “D, can I ask you a question?” You ask as he stand in The Sun with his eyes closed. Hmm is all you hear him murmur in response. “Do you think we’d ever work out? Like actually make it all the way without a dumb fight?” You ask while staring at the lake. It seemed like forever until you heard him answer. “I think” dean says as he moves to where he’s facing you in between your legs, “that we would be unstoppable. I think we’d be able to tackle whatever came towards us” he said as he leaned in to you. Forehead to forehead staring in each other’s eyes when a next question came in to your head but before you could ask it, you felt Deans lips crash onto yours. As your tongues worked together, you let out a small moan. Over a year since you had been kissed this way and you missed every second of it with every fiber of your being. Dean broke away from the kiss and you gave him a little bit of a pouty face. “Oh don’t pout come on serious question time” he says as he grabs your hands. “Fine but I liked our previous activity better than this. What’s the question?” “Wanna give us. This whole crazy thing another shot. I promise no more crazy yelling this time”. You nod and say “Hell yeah” before you lean in for another kiss.

Five years later:

September.

It was the month you fell in love, lost that love, and gained that love back. Dean and you had been together over four years now since your senior year. You’ve had your ups and downs but you got through them. The past summer had been a whirlwind. Haylee and Cameron had their first kid and you were trying to help out as much as you can. Sammy ended up getting traded last off-season to the Stars so him and Dean got to play on the same team. You had never seen Dean so happy as he was when he stepped onto the ice the first time with Sam. Sam's girlfriend Jess made fun of you as you cried a little. On a late September weekend , Dean insisted that you guys back to Houston to your old alma mater. The last night you were there, he insisted that you two go for a drive. So you jumped in Baby to please him and watched as The Sun began to go lower in the sky. Dean seemed jumpy. “Babe what’s wrong you’re all nervous.” You say to him as you pat his face. “No I’m not. I’m fine” he says. “MHMM sure but if you’re taking me somewhere to kill me I’m sure they’ll eventually find me. Hopefully” you say back to him as you stare out the window. Soon you see the lake and Dean pulls up and parks the car. He gets out leaving the headlights on. You follow him out of the car and watch The Sun start setting over the lake. Dean pulls you in front of the car holding your hands standing face to face. “Y/N I love you. I love you so much. I know that we’ve had our ups and downs way more than anyone else in this crazy thing called life. But I don’t want to do this without you. Ever. I want to come home to you every night and call you when I’ve had a bad game. I want to put our children in the Stanley Cup hopefully one day. I want to grow old and by a bunch of dogs with you. Will you marry me?” Dean asks as he get down on one knee. “YOU BET YOUR ASS I WILL” You say in response as he slips the ring on your finger. This September you cried tears of happiness.

[gwaiieagle]

That’s Terry Forkner in the back of Vern Autry’s Bike. This may bore the shit out of some of you, but this an account of Hollister by key players. Memories: Founders of Boozefighters recall weekend they descended on a small town and ascended into legend. Before there was Sonny Barger and the Hells Angels, before there was Marlon Brando and "The Wild One," there was Wino Willie and J.D. and a South-Central Los Angeles motorcycle club called the Boozefighters. On the Fourth of July, 1947, the Boozefighters invaded the Central California hamlet of Hollister and, as Life magazine memorialized it, took over the town. The incident set off a growing fascination with outlaw bikers, culminating in Brando's legendary "The Wild One" in 1954, with one exchange that still reverberates: "What are you rebelling against, Johnny?" Brando's character was asked. "Whatdaya got?" he snapped. Today, 75-year-old Wino Willie Forkner and 80-year-old J.D. Cameron--the last surviving founders of the Boozefighters--look back on their legacy with amusement. To visit with them in Cameron's La Mirada home is to recall a distant time when postwar America was bursting with unfocused energy. "It was a time when you could have a fistfight with someone and when it was over, you'd have a beer together," says Cameron, who made his living in the freight-unloading and trucking businesses, where he employed Willie. "This was way before all this guns and dope crap." "Yeah, we just had a little fun," says Forkner, a barrel-chested World War II vet with pinkies as thick as thumbs who lives in Fort Bragg, Calif., and still rides his motorcycle. "We didn't do anything wrong." What happened in Hollister, they remember, started with city-approved street racing on the main drag, San Benito Street. Well, maybe a little more. J.D. allows that he may have had a few fistfights. And then Wino Willie begins talking about a town drunk who came into one of the bars. "Me, Kokomo and Gas House Wilson started buying him wine," Willie says. "After his third glass, he fell over. So we tied him to this wheelchair, tied the chair to some car and dragged him around town. I looked back and he had fallen out of the chair. "So we put him on the hood and started driving again. Slowly. But he looked like he wasn't breathing, so we thought he was dead. We dropped him in an alley, covered him up with papers and took off. * "Man, later that day, when I was in jail, I looked over, and there he was, making a ruckus. It's damn hard to kill a drunk." Wino Willie, who got his nickname as a 7-year-old boy in Fresno when he would visit local wineries and indulge in the latest vintage, had landed in Hollister's jail on the charges of inciting a riot. Of course, he tells a different story. "They had arrested Red [another of the Boozefighters] for drunk and disorderly, and a bunch of the guys had gone over to the jail to break him out. Man, I went over there and told the fellas, 'Let's forget this Wild West stuff. Red needs a rest.' But, of course, the cops figured I was the leader, and they grabbed me. Later that day, the judge says he'll let me out if I listen to my wife. I told him, 'Hell no. I haven't listened to her yet and I'm not gonna start,' " he said, laughing. What caused a national stir was not the incident itself, or a San Francisco Chronicle article that described the events as "the worst 40 hours in the history of Hollister," but a single photograph in Life magazine. It showed a large man guzzling beer on a Harley with a pile of broken beer bottles lying near his front tire. J.D. and Wino to this day are infuriated by the photograph, saying it was staged. Life's one-page layout led to a Harper's Weekly article by Frank Rooney, "The Cyclist's Raid," which led to the Brando movie, which sent the image of bikers downhill faster then a wheelie on a steep hill climb. "I hated that movie," says Cameron. The most glaring discrepancy between the actual event and the movie was that, unlike the film, in which a sleepy town is stunned by an unexpected invasion of a motorcycle gang, Hollister was waiting with open arms for thousands of bikers to converge there. For more than a decade the American Motorcycle Assn. had sanctioned an event in Hollister. So on the Fourth of July weekend in 1947, an estimated 4,000 motorcyclists descended on the city of 5,000. What set that year's event apart from the others was that this time 15 members of the Boozefighters rode north from Los Angeles. Although the Boozefighters were never mentioned in the Life spread or the Brando movie, word of mouth spread. Their name was a perfect fit, and soon all the biking world knew. The Boozefighters had been formed in 1946 at the All American Cafe, a small beer joint on Firestone Boulevard near Hooper Avenue, just north of Watts. Many of the members, including Cameron and Forkner, were married. They were, by and large, a bunch of guys who loved to race motorcycles and drink beer. John Cameron was born in 1915 in Oregon and began racing motorcycles when he was 15. He was rejected for the war because of injuries from a series of crashes. He came down to Los Angeles and bought a small freight train unloading business, where he met William Forkner in 1942. Forkner, five years younger, had grown up in Fresno, where he expanded his early appreciation of fermented grape juice. Survival in the Pacific during World War II developed his zest for kicks. One day, the Army Air Corps took him off his B-24 bomber because it needed him on another. While on a mission over Iwo Jima, he watched in horror as his regular B-24 exploded and crashed. "When I came back, we were hanging out at the club and we figured, 'Let's have fun. This is what we fought to protect,' " Forkner said. The days after the vets came back were "a special time," added Cameron. "People were happy the war was over and we just wanted to enjoy life." Goldie Miller, a Fremont High graduate, met Cameron and Forkner at the All American Club. "They were some real characters," says Miller, 74, herself "a free spirit back then. They just loved to party. They wanted to be big-time professional racers, but that never happened. Sometimes they'd go out to the parking lot and duke it out, then come back in for another beer." Miller was at the Hollister event, but her recollection is fuzzy at best. "I don't remember a whole lot. I was into having fun too. If I was making book, I wouldn't have given any of them a chance to make it to 40. But, really, they were very nice people. And you knew nobody was gonna mess with you if you were with them." * The next year in Riverside, another ruckus promoted the Boozefighters' reputation for wildness. The club continued to be active through the 1950s, then simmered down. By 1970 the aging members had scattered throughout the country. Cameron bought a trucking business and kept in touch with Forkner, who was working as a trucker. Forkner--and Cameron, if heart problems don't hold him back--may be heading back to Hollister. Now a city of 24,000 that bills itself as the earthquake capital of the world, Hollister is already vibrating about the 50th anniversary of the "invasion" next year. Police and merchants believe that as many as 100,000 motorcycle enthusiasts from around the world may converge there on the Fourth of July weekend in 1997. Several groups are vying to put on a trial run celebration this summer. At Johnny's, one of the bars the Boozefighters patronized in 1947, owner Charise Tyson is looking forward to the day when the bikers return to Hollister. "I can't wait. We're gonna do big business," Tyson said. "I'm not really concerned about violence. Heck, even the Garlic Festival (in nearby Gilroy) has its problems." Across the street at Bob's Video, owner Bob Valenzuela is also in favor of the event. "People will be coming here from all over the world because they know about Hollister from the movie," he said. "This is truly holy ground for motorcyclists. It is Mecca." Today, the Boozefighters motorcycle club still exists, but it is centered in Fort Worth. Comparisons to the original club are like comparing the cushy, soft-tailed, muffled rides of today's bikes with the rigid framed, roaring Harleys of old. The club, with chapters in Virginia, New York and California, has strict rules of conduct and members include doctors, lawyers and law enforcement officers. Wino Willie and J.D. sneer at the new leadership. "When I met them they came dressed like business people," Wino Willie says. "Today, it's all about greed. We never made a dime off of this whole thing, and we don't care either." Wino Willie visited J.D. again last week. "He told me, 'Well, Wino, I'm dying,' " Willie said. "And unless he gets this pig valve operation, he will. But he's not a complainer." Cameron, a tall, well-built man, says merely that he's going in for an operation Tuesday. Then he says, "We just wanted to have some fun. And we sure did." One more question lingers. What were the real Wild Ones rebelling against? J.D. pauses for a few seconds. "Well, I guess I'm rebelling against discrimination. Ya know, all kinds, but for me, just because someone's a biker, they got rules against you." And Wino Willie? "I guess it's the establishment that I spent three years fighting for," he says. "You take off the khakis and the blue and put on some jeans and a leather jacket and immediately you become an asshole." My post script to this post is Willie didn't make it back for the 50th before he died. What kind of bike did he plan to ride back? Ducati

[road2nf]

Jensen McRae | The Road to Nerdfighteria

DFTBA. If you are not subscribed to the vlogbrothers YouTube channel, and if you never have been, you might not know what that stands for. It’s an initialism (because acronyms are pronounceable, fact c/o of a vlogbrothers video) that stands for Don’t Forget To Be Awesome. It is the official (or perhaps unofficial) motto of the nerdfighter community. (Nerdfighters are people who are fans of vlogbrothers, the content creators therein, or the community therein. I think that’s enough definitions for now). When I was 14 years old, this book called The Fault in Our Stars came out. A good friend of mine was kind of obsessed with the author, this slightly sub-middle-aged white guy named John Green, and she insisted that I read both The Fault in Our Stars and Looking for Alaska, this John Green guy’s first book. I was a reader in childhood, having developed nearsightedness due to my predilection for reading in the dark after my bedtime by flashlight (at least that’s the explanation my mother gave me). However, recently I’d found myself frustrated by books. I would tear through middle-grade chick lit (that’s the best way I can describe these terribly formulaic books with dull characters and contrived plots that always involved two straight/white/able-bodied/middle-class best friends falling in love) when I found it, but other than that, I wasn’t reading as much as I used to. I can’t really remember what I did with my free time. I guess I was writing songs? I think I was mostly playing The Sims 3. I digress. In any case, I was in ninth grade and on the precipice of Maybe Being Cool, and this friend was one of the cooler girls in class, so I bought TFiOS (hip shorthand) about two months after its publication and read it over spring break in ninth grade. I read it in one three or four hour sitting, and I cried. Like a lot. It was the first time since early childhood that I could remember a book moving me in such a poignant way. I was attached to the characters, I was absorbed by the plot, and the language! The LANGUAGE in that story was so compelling. I was picking up on subtext and metaphors in a way that I’d only ever done when I was forced to in English class. The book had reinvigorated my love for words in stories that no other book could have. Then I took a brief reading hiatus. The second half of my ninth grade year was me continuing to ascend the social ladder, however slowly. I still joked that I was a dork, but the truth of the matter was, I had friends from every rung. I was sociable with tech geeks, theater nerds, football players, and cheerleaders alike. I felt like people had stopped looking through me like I was invisible. It was largely due to my presence on the school newspaper, which drew both the ambitious popular kids and the ambitious nerdy kids to its ranks. Also, I had a boyfriend. We never kissed or held hands or even went on dates, but we hung out every day at school and told people we were dating. This was enough to get me at least a bit of social buying power. (I promise this is all relevant to the story). Then, at the end of freshman year, I realized that I was sick of having a boyfriend who did not kiss me or hold my hand or go on dates with me, and also didn’t answer my texts or calls once school let out. So I called his house and dumped him over the phone. I spent the summer feeling sorry for myself, turning to the Internet and its thriving subculture of fame and infamy. Whenever I get heartbroken in real life, I fall deeply and inconsolably in love with fictional characters and/or celebrities who are too old for me. That summer, it was Jack and Finn Harries, Dan Howell, and any other British 20-year-old who made funny sketches and made me feel like I was loved, even though they were thousands of miles away, several years older, and had no idea who I was. It was during this summer that I discovered a channel featuring two much older men named Hank Green and John Green (yes relation, they’re brothers). Their videos were all at least somewhat informational, whether they be about politics, science, literature, or just about the personal lives of the men who made the videos. About five videos in, I realized that John Green of the vlogbrothers was John Green of TFiOS fame. I was elated! There were hundreds of videos on the channel going back to 2007. In between reading self-insert fanfic about the Harries twins, I would watch vlogbrothers videos, reminding myself to read John’s other books when I got the chance. When I returned to school, all the work that I’d done to become popular seemed to dissolve before my very eyes. Sophomore year was when we switched campuses, to the Upper School, and all the actual popular kids were going to parties with upperclassmen and trying alcohol and getting into real relationships. I was stuck in the past, pining over boys who only hung out with me so I would help them write their essays and obsessing over Tumblr and YouTube. I was also experiencing turbulence in my personal life unlike any I’d ever had before. It’s so clear to me now that I was afraid of the social rejection and emotional darkness in the real world, so I holed myself up online, laughing while handsome young Brits wore wigs on camera and rewatching John Green speed-talk his way through a fake television show he titled “Hitler and Sex.” In the midst of this Internet-ing, I read that other John Green book my old friend had mentioned, even though she’d already begun the slow and painful process of outgrowing me (the death knell of our friendship was when she told me about having sex with her boyfriend in her car and my response was some combination of a prudish, judgmental face and an exclamation of “Ew!”). Looking for Alaska leveled me just as profoundly as TFiOS had, and with no social life to worry about, I was hungry for more. I read the other books that John Green had talked about on his channel–Fahrenheit 451 and The Great Gatsby, plus other works that his recommendations had led me to, like Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, The Taming of the Shrew, and one of my all-time favorites to this day, Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. I was reading a book almost every week, downloading them to my iPad and going back to my old habits, reading by dim light long after I should have already gone to sleep. My schoolwork wasn’t where it needed to be, but I was thriving. Awakened, even. Though my junior year marked another ascent into minor popularity, I crash-landed my senior year, coming off a painful rejection from a summer romance and a position in student government that should have won me acceptance but largely isolated me from everyone but my fellow council mates and steady friends. College applications were stressing me out, I felt alienated from even my immediate circle, and I was worried about my social future. Though I was accepted to the only two universities I applied to, I felt inert and emotionally itchy. I descended back into what I knew best: books. I read more Vonnegut, bizarre stories by delightful authors like Graeme Cameron and Douglas Coupland, and of course, my current #1 all-time, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz. After my brain literally exploded from reading Oscar Wao in all its sprawling, multilingual, multigenerational, magical realistic/science fictional glory, I devoured Díaz’s two books of short stories, Drown and This Is How You Lose Her. I vividly remember those days in the spring of 2015, using my seemingly endless multitude of free periods to sit in the sweaty, iron-hot bleachers, nose burrowed in a book, ignoring the festivities of senior year around me. I was happier alone, laughing at Kurt’s crude drawings and Díaz’s matter-of-factness about love and sex, experiences I’d still yet to have at 17. I graduated, and I went to USC, where within a month of starting school I met Junot Díaz and got him to sign my copy of Oscar Wao. I dealt with the Usual College Stuff, like homesickness (from half an hour away…I’m weak) and social anxiety and academic adjustments and figuring out what the hell it actually means to major in popular music. I stopped judging people for drinking alcohol and having sex, I stopped being afraid of parties (though I’m still terrified of boys…and rightly so), I stopped being disappointed in my real life because it doesn’t follow a neat narrative (or at least I do it less now). However, I never stopped reading, and I never stopped watching vlogbrothers videos. I am a faithful nerdfighter, because that online community and John’s books have seen me through some dark times. Somewhere in the last five years, I read An Abundance of Katherines (not my favorite), Paper Towns (used to be my favorite but TFiOS ranks supreme at the moment), and Will Grayson Will Grayson (absolutely ACES but technically cowritten with David Levithan so to me it is in a separate category). I’ve watched thousands of videos from vlogbrothers and Crash Course. I went to Vidcon in 2014 and met John in person for about five seconds, handing him my business card and a #JustinCarrWantsWorldPeace luggage tag before he was escorted to his next event by security. My love of language has blossomed into three young adult manuscripts, two feature films, a handful of short films, and hundreds of poems, songs, and essays. Though my inner and outer lives have changed substantially since I first wept onto the pages of TFiOS, I’m still anxious, and often. I’m still terrified of romantic rejection and I still put myself out there frequently and embarrassingly. I’m still a bookworm and I’m still a writer and I’m still a nerdfighter. And I think I always will be. John Green and his books have a special place in my heart. So when he announced that his first new book in almost six years is coming out this fall, I was overcome with emotion. Turtles All The Way Down isn’t just a book. It’s a historical artifact from the future, a piece of my past hurtling towards me from the opposite direction. When I think of John Green’s work, I think of my cringey adolescence, my weirdly small glasses and then my weirdly big glasses, my difficulty with my weight and my stunted social development. I think of the hours I spent reblogging fan art and GIF sets of real people that I’d mythologized into characters by watching their YouTube videos for so long. I think of my transition from Cute Little Girl to Awkward Bookish Teen to Real Human Woman. I was 14 when I read my first John Green book. I will be 20 when I read Turtles All The Way Down. The chasm between who I was and who I will be then is huge. Un-crossable by anyone but me. Right now, we’re a little less than four months out from the release of Turtles All The Way Down. Not much is known about the book, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m feeling those tingly “no spoilers!” feelings I felt when I was in high school and enamored with the purity of an untouched literary experience. But as much as this book’s impending release is inspiring a unique kind of nostalgia in me, it’s also reminding me that I cannot go back. I cannot return to the innocent girl of 14 I was when I first heard John Green’s name, and I can’t get back the years I spent/lost/lived in between then and now. I can only move forward. I can only grow up. This book, in all likelihood, will not live up to my expectations. It will not change my life. It can’t, because though it will be my first time reading this particular book, it won’t be my first time becoming infatuated with literature. I’ve done that already. I may love this book, but there is a difference between falling in love with someone new and falling in love for the very first time. Before I met books with sweaty palms, dress askew, tongue heavy in my mouth. So…come here often? Now, each story is met with a knowing smile, legs crossed at the ankles like they’re supposed to be, no lipstick on the wine glass. Your place or mine? Before this book comes out, and I form any opinions about the content or the style, I would like to extend a heartfelt thank you to John Green. If not for his careful handiwork, if not for the immense trust that he puts in his young readers, if not for his heart-wrenching stories, I might never have been drawn to great books the way I am now. Thank you for caring. Thank you for writing even when your illness handcuffed you, tried to make you stop. Thank you for making videos about hard topics and silly ones. I may grow up, but I will never outgrow you and your words, John. Keep publishing books, and I’ll keep reading them, no matter how old we both get.

via @withfeelingoncemore

[flyingwolfnola]

“Two men took a boat to the lighthouse in 2008 and climbed to the top of the lighthouse. As they started to descend, the ladder broke, stranding them in the tower. Fortunately, one of the men had a cell phone and called for help. Firefighters soon arrived, and, after having to swim across the inlet near the lighthouse, they succeeded in rescuing the men with a rope harness. The two grateful men were cited by the local sheriff’s department for trespassing and property damage.”

This is but one of the accounts in the storied history of the Sabine Pass Lighthouse. If, like me, you’re into history, the Lighthouse at the Louisiana / Texas border is filled with it.

My journey to the lighthouse began when I saw a photo of it on Facebook. Upon further investigation, I learned that I could get up close and personal with this slice of history.

Let me begin at the beginning, the most logical place to start a story.

After seeing the lighthouse photograph, I started to research its location. Being from just southeast of New Orleans, it was going to be about a four and a half to five hour drive!  Still, I wanted to see it for myself – and photograph it of course!

I called the Cameron Parish Library (Johnson Bayou Branch) and a gentleman named Jack answered the phone. I nervously asked if this was the place I’m supposed to call to gain access to the Sabine Pass Lighthouse. He said it was and only needed some quick information to get me set up. This was a shock to me as most thing like this are filled with disappointment. Jack couldn’t have been more helpful, however, and said all he needed was my name, what kind of vehicle I was driving and when I wanted to come out – that’s really about it. I wasn’t sure exactly when I would get there as I wanted to make sure I could even get to the location before getting too far in the planning process. He then told me all he really needed was a ‘ball park’ idea of the time, so I told him I would call back the next day with that information.

Now, It’s important to mention that I was speaking to him on the Thursday before the Memorial day weekend. He said the Library would be open from 8:00 – 12:00 the next day. When I got my timing all planned out, I called him back and he was very nice and said he would send an email to Cheniere to let them know to expect me.

I have to be honest, I didn’t know what a ‘Cheniere’ was, but he gave me the address and said they’d be there, so I was all set.

I spent Saturday getting my gear ready and making final plans.

I got up about 4:30 AM Sunday morning and started out. I had never driven this far west, so it was an interesting drive – not bad at all. When I arrived at the address that Jack had given me, I was surprised to see that “Cheniere” was a high security refinery!  I was thinking; “Oh, great, I’m never getting in here!”

However, I had come this far so I decided I may as well give it a shot. I entered the visitor center and told the woman behind the glass that I was there to go to the lighthouse and that she should have an email about it. I’m thinking; “No way this is going to work out.”

To my surprise, she just asked to see my driver’s license and told me to go to the guard shack at the gate right next to the visitor’s center. Jack had done exactly as he said he would! The next guard at the shack, just jotted down my license plate number and told me to proceed to gate 3 where my escort would be.

It worked! I was in!

I made my way down the short road to gate 3 where I was met by armed security and told that my escort would be along shortly. While we waited, he told me about some other historical sites that I might be interest in on the Texas side. He was very nice as well!

Sure enough, another guard in a pick-up truck pulled up and guided me to the gate. He opened it and motioned me to go on in! I have to admit I was concerned about driving my Mustang back there, but the road wasn’t bad at all. I didn’t go all the way to the very end, but stopped at the last little turn. That last short bit seemed a bit muddier and ‘softer’ than the rest. I was plenty close enough and just walked to the end. I couldn’t believe I was this close to this lighthouse.

I spent the next hour or so (probably longer, but time flies when you’re having fun!). I took photos with my main camera and shot video and still images from my drones. I’ll be working on that video very soon.

After I was finished by the lighthouse – I wasn’t actually ready to go, but I could see the rain was coming and I didn’t want to have any issues getting back out.

I’m not sure if I needed to, but I stopped back at gate 3 to let security know that I was leaving and a different guard asked if I enjoyed myself back by the lighthouse and warned me to drive carefully in the coming storm – such nice people!

I realize this has been a very detailed story and there’s a reason for that. Upon my return home I wanted to call back and thank Jack for all of his help.

Well, It turns out that Jack was just filling in for a nice lady named Sherry. I explained that I wanted to thank Jack and we started talking about the lighthouse. It turns out she had just been out there for a visit herself around the same time as me!

Here’s the thing, I felt like I was being an inconvenience, not because anyone treated me that way, just because I was involving other people (and a whole refinery) in my desire to see an old lighthouse. However, when I spoke to Sherry, it turns out that they want people to visit! So, I want to lay out exactly how you go about visiting this iconic location.

Call the Johnson Bayou Library 1-337-569-2892. Let them know that you’d like to visit the Sabine Pass Lighthouse. They’ll tell you exactly what to do.

Go to the visitor’s center at Cheniere and verify who you are – AFTER the library has sent your request to them – I wouldn’t recommend just showing up unannounced! Follow their instructions carefully.

Bring water if you go in the summer – it’s hot. Some bug spray would be a good idea too. I didn’t see any alligators, but they are certainly back there. If you’re lucky, you’ll see one – just be aware of it.

Have fun and be respectful of this historical landmark that’s been around since BEFORE the Civil war!

Whatever you do – don’t forget your camera!

I stayed the night in Port Arthur – more on that later. The main reason I did that was so I could get some photos of the Sabine Pass Lighthouse at sunrise. I had a great time visiting history and the people that I interacted with made the trip that much better!

If you’d like more information, here’s some links to more information;

Lighthouse Friends

Sabine Pass Lighthouse

The opening quote for this article came from the “lighthouse Friends” webpage.

Here’s a few of the photos that I took of the Sabine Pass Light during my visit;

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You CAN do it too! "Two men took a boat to the lighthouse in 2008 and climbed to the top of the lighthouse.

[thenerdytacosuitworld-blog]

Dream to nightmare

               Let me preface this by saying I love bowling and I love to bowl. I will bowl for as long as my life allows it and will continue to compete at the highest level. My life and everything in it has been built around the passion to toss the ball. I’ve met some amazing people and life-long best friends because of this sport. And I will continue to do so for many years, as long as my body allows it.

               The point of this is reflect on a year. My first year as a “full time” player in the PBA. As represented by the title, it didn’t exactly go by as planned or hoped. I think if any of you have talked to me candidly about my season, you’ve probably heard some of the negative comments I have about myself and performance. But nonetheless, it is important to write down thoughts and observations, to better understand the process and understand from an outside perspective the internal struggles and remedies to that.

               I will start all the way back in January. The winter of 2015 was incredible. I was coming off an emotional high, winning my first regional, then winning my first title at the 2015 Qatar Open, and had a really good WSOB. After winning the title and seeing success at the WSOB, I was thinking that maybe this is possible, maybe I could be a professional. So come January, the train kept rolling. I was officially signed as part of Brunswick Pro Staff. Then, I went on to win the Seattle Masters and an entry into the USBC Masters. Awesome, right?

               Then came the three PBA majors swing. The ToC, the Masters, and then the TPC. All in a row. Traveling to OKC was something not high on my list. But I felt obligated to bowl. It’s the Tournament of Champions. Unfortunately, I was traveling alone. This meant no car, no roommate. The hotel offered no airport shuttle and I had to scramble to get a ride to and from the bowling center. Just dumb. Long story short, I ended up bowling decently, but missed the cut which was also the cash line. Frustrated, and a little annoyed, I ended up changing my flight to go to Chicago early for the Masters.

               Masters was fun. I’ve had success there the previous two years, making cut both years. This year, couldn’t get anything rolling. I ended up cashing, but missing cut was again, another disappointment. The trip was better, as I had friends and roommates to have some fun with. It’s amazing how something like that could change the attitude of a trip.

               Off to the TPC. My mom came with me on this trip. I’m always happy when my parents want to come watch me bowl. Something I forget more times than I should is how my bowling is bigger than just me. It was very nice to have her there with me, same as when we were together at the 2015 US Open where I also had some success. However, things just never seemed to pick up. This tournament was definitely one of the low points of my season. Out of all the players competing, only a handful didn’t average above 200 for qualifying. I think less than 10. And I was one of those players who did not. So for me, those three tournaments really put the brakes on the train that was rolling so smooth before.

               After a short turn around, it was time to head back the Middle East for the Emir Cup and the Bahrain Open, along with the Euro Challenge in Munich. Coming off such a rough couple of weeks, it was nice to head back to a place where I had success just a couple months before. And even better I would get to travel with friends and make a great trip out of it off the lanes as well. I ended up bowling pretty well in Qatar again, but didn’t reach the finals. I was ok with that. Bahrain was a different story. I had to re-enter, which in those tournaments was expensive. Bowled bad both squads and more disappointment.

               Euro Challenge was more of the same. Bowling pretty well, but not well enough. Coming up short, I eventually had a great block towards the last day to help get me into the cut. I even made it past the first step, which was awesome as I’d never made it that far before. Once again, bowled mediocre in the semi’s and couldn’t keep up with the scoring pace. I was fighting thumb pain but still. all in all, had another disappointing trip, but it was an improvement.

               You start to notice a trend and may ask “well Cameron, what would you need to happen for a trip that’s not full of disappointment?” My answer to that is I’m there to win. That’s the end game. But realistically I can’t win every single event. To not be disappointed, I want to walk away from an event and feel good with what I did. If I made confident moves and they didn’t work, so be it. But to not make a cut or even be close to one, especially with the level that I feel I can compete at, is almost an automatic disappointment.

               Lets keep moving forward. A little time off after the Euro Challenge and that whole trip, with an OBA Doubles and some local stuff. The next trip was Hawaii. I was looking forward to this trip, as it’s freaking Hawaii. Staying with some friends in the downtown Honolulu area, it was going to be a good trip. And it was. One of the few bright spots this season was that trip. Ended up cashing in the first tournament, finishing 3rd in the second event, and capped it off with a win at the JBPH weekend regional. All in all, got to spend 9 days in Hawaii, made a fair bit of money, and got to be around some friends. Also took home a neat trophy!

               It seemed like those Hawaii regionals really energized me, as going forward after that I had high finishes in following regionals and the OBA Grand Finals. Also successfully defended the Mt. Vernon Open. Went down to Houston for the Doubles and even bowled well down there along with my partner. Overall the summer was actually a decent stretch of tournaments.

               So far, there seems to be somewhat of a pattern. There’ll be stretches of rough bowling, and then there’ll be stretches where momentum is in your favor. Is there any basis to it? Could be. It’s like seeing your ball strike. Once you see it, you will relax and know it’s possible to bowl well. Similarly, seeing a strong finish position in a tournament opens up the confidence to do well in coming events.

                The start of fall had me in Thailand. I was so excited for this trip. It wasn’t quite a sure thing I was going, as flights were expensive and roommates were on the fence. Whatever, I said screw it im going. The format sucked. Yes it was re-entry, but you bowled 3 game sets and had to bowl at least three to count for a 9 game total. Oh, and all three games were on the same pair. And you got to choose the pair you wanted to bowl on. OOOOOKKKKKKKKKK… I was not sharp, but was able to sneak in to the cut, then continue to sneak into the final step before the TV finals. I didn’t miss by much actually. Wonder what would’ve happened if I felt I was throwing it good?

               Thailand was awesome. Would love to go back, but that format sucks. Did I mention you had to pay to bowl the finals too? I ended up getting upgraded to business class on the way back to Seattle which was a pleasant surprise. I love traveling and bowling these events, but some of these formats are ridiculous, especially for a PBA/WBT title. But I digress, I will continue to bowl what I can. Why? Cause I love bowling and competing. (see paragraph one.)

               Fall Swing was next on the list. I wasn’t too happy about having to compete in this one. The formats weren’t in my favor and they were on patterns I’ve bowled on only a handful of times. Long story short, I didn’t make any cashes, even though I was plus on every pattern. More mediocre bowling where I was just a bit short. Probably an extra couple strikes each block and I’m in. A positive part of that trip included a trip to Muskegon where I got to see the Brunswick facilities and even bowl on the famous video pairs. So that was great, and I can’t wait to go back.

               After Fall Swing I was a little bummed to say the least. Where is my career going? Am I really cut out for full time professional bowling? Never thought I’d have to be one of those people who has to consider they are in over their head. I’ve always been at a top level, so accepting mediocrity wasn’t possible. But when reality swings by, how can I deny it?

               Anyway, there was more bowling to do. I bowled the Xtra Frame event put together by Sean Rash in the Chicago area. Awesome event. He worked hard and it certainly showed. This is a tournament I will bowl every year. But bowling wise, more of the same. Squeezed into the cut and absolutely (figuratively) tripped over myself in semifinals. But it was a strong field and I can’t be too dissatisfied to make it as far as I did.

               As the year winds down, the prestigious U.S. Open rolls around in early November. Preceded by an Xtra Frame event and the Team Event, I was there to bowl all three. During the Xtra Frame event, I already had the mindset there is no way I can keep up. It was on Cheetah and after having mediocre after mediocre tournament where I couldn’t string strikes, I was already in panic mode. Oh well, I put on my striking shoes and, strangely enough, managed to grab one of the last cashing spots.

               I was reluctant to bowl the team event from the beginning. It was $500 entry fee and all the people I had in mind for teammates were already taken. But was asked to bowl by a ragtag group and used that “screw it, why not” attitude. 5 bowlers from four different countries, we ended up missing cut by 17 pins. It was heartbreaking. We made a killer run during bakers and to come up short like that was a punch to the gut. Oh well.

               Finally, the real deal. The US Open. The previous year saw me lead the first day, qualify third, and hold on to make match play. This year, I had confidence. Love the longer format and with the 8 ball limit, felt like that helped me in relation to the field. Bowled fairly well through qualifying, even with a disappointing double burn block. Fast forward to the last couple games of semis, I was right in position to grab one of the last spots for match play. Unfortunately, a game with a combination of bad shots and wrong moves ultimately cost me a chance.

               That trip was a success in my opinion. I cashed in 2/3 events and made money overall. Which is always the goal to an extent. Naturally, I can look back and say “well I should’ve done this and I’m in no problem.” But in the moment, bowlers have to do what they think will work. Sometimes it doesn’t, though. Still, finishing that high in that tournament with an extremely talented field is something I’ll take every time.

               Coming down the home stretch. At this point of the year, with only the WSOB and Qatar Open left, my consensus was that I’ve had a very poor year. Just not happy with my finishes, the way I approached certain situations, and my general attitude. But nonetheless, I pushed along. I knew that these tournaments I did very well in last year. And my game is usually sharpest in winter time. With these positive things in mind, I was fairly confident.

               Unfortunately, what could go wrong did go wrong. I don’t want to say I was fighting ball reaction, as I had decent looks to the pocket on all the patterns. But, I couldn’t strike. I felt like I had so many missed opportunities. For example, during the Cheetah Championship, I had at least 5 games where I could’ve had at least a 7 bagger. But every time a ten pin broke up the string. Granted, I shot 160 game 4, but only missing by 20 meant that if just one more ten pin fell, I was in the cut. I don’t want to sound like a scrub, but I couldn’t carry. And it cost me.

               To put in another perspective, I only had 5 opens during the Scorpion block. However, I was only 81 over. I’m not trying to sound like I’m complaining, but at a certain point I need to throw strikes. Especially at this level. My high game during the WSOB was 243. Statistically, over the 32 games I would’ve got lucky enough to carry and shoot a 250+ game. But I didn’t. Looking back, it was the most painful grind I’ve ever had. Why? Because I felt like I was throwing it pretty well and got nothing to show for it. No cashes, no cuts.

               So, at this point in the year, which as of right now just a few weeks ago, I’m sitting there thinking to myself “What the FUCK?” How could I feel like I’m throwing it well, and not even be close to doing anything relevant on tour? Am I that bad of a bowler where my mediocre feels great and is leaps behind my fellow competitors? Certainly, depressing to think about.

               So now, closing the year is the Qatar Open. The one, hopefully, saving grace of the season. A center I’ve had most of my professional success in. Naturally I felt a bit better about going there to bowl. Until I saw the scoring pace. Lawdy, the scores were high. So already now, I’m pressing for some score. Before I even throw a shot, I’m panicking. Pretty crazy, huh? Regardless, I’m there to win. I put my money down, throw on the shirt, and get ready to defend my one and only title.

               I bowled twice the day after I arrived. Was a little groggy, but knew I should push through it and get some rhythm. I didn’t expect to throw a huge block but sometimes it happens. I actually bowled a decent block, but again, not enough score. Bowled again, very subpar, that night. Next morning, another very subpar block. Now I’m in straight press mode. So going into my fourth block, I had a new gameplan. Knowing I needed at least 1400 for cut alone, I started with 190 and just lost it.

               So the next game I had a sort of epiphany. I stopped trying to be a bowler I’m not and just went out to be myself. Then it happened. A trip 4 in the middle of a string. I shouted “about fucking time” (in my head) and then said to myself “this is it. This is the block where it’s my time.” I just knew. I went on to lead the block and actually hang on for a bye out of all of that.

               I’ve told that story to a couple people. That one shot, where I rolled that 4 pin, changed the entire tournament direction for me. Unfortunately, I struggled a bit in step 3, and finished 18th. But for that one block, I bowled incredible and had “it.” Now I have to figure out what that was and how can I bring it out every tournament, in every block. I don’t know. That’s something I need to keep working towards.

               That’s it. That was my year. It is technically my second year on tour, so call it a sophomore slump. Unlike other professional sports like hockey, or basketball, where they still get paid on an off year, we don’t. I really thought I could do this for a living. I’m single, still live with my parents, and have very few responsibilities. I knew I wouldn’t make a killing, but enough to pay bills and continue traveling the world was the goal. Was I delusional? Some people (aka haters) would say absolutely. Others will, and have been all year, applaud me for stepping up and committing to it. Chasing a dream, some would call it.

               Like the title claims, my dream turned into a nightmare. Yes, I will go the extreme and call it that. However, all I can do is keep working and move forward from it. I have tremendous support, from friends, family, and fans. I was told I would never let them down, unless I quit. And I believe that. So, I will say that I will never quit. That’s not part of the dream.

               With all that being said, how can I improve for next season? I think setting expectations lower, in an attempt to quell panic or pressure, is the wrong way to approach it. Instead, I’ll look at preparation and thinking in an attempt to alter goals positively and improve outcomes. I’ve already got a few in mind, but will save that for another post down the line.

               As always, thanks for taking the time to read this. A lot of my supporters want to know some of my internal thinking while bowling, so hopefully this gives some insight. And hey, maybe you learned something that can help you in the future. As I stated before, I’ll never quit. It isn’t the right thing to do. But there will be some changes soon, and look forward to competing at a high level next year.