#if this doesn’t make sense I’m sorry

[marylily-my-beloved]

HEADCANON OF THE DAY #19: (Dorcas x Mary) (marymeadowes? Idk I’m just thinking up random shit)

Even before they got together the second they learnt how to box braid hair they went up to each other to try it out. They spent a whole day just doing each others hair. And then they kissed. Yeah!!! They kissed.

[aspenaspenaspenaspenaspen]

Put your detective skills to work, who is @abscourse (and is it Katie)

Detective Aspen is backkkk

and I’m suspicious of @alaydabug2

(sorry anon)

okay first piece of evidence: @abscourse ‘s first reblog was of one of Alayda’s posts

Alayda and abscourse also have similarities in how they type

In these screenshots I have circled a misspelling and capitalization in the tags.

Btw, this isn’t a call out for spelling errors, I’m not the spelling police I misspell things all the time😅, it’s just a connection between the two.

So anyways, here’s some similarities with Alayda misspelling things and capitalizing tags:

Also, when asked about their identity abscourse usually answers yes or no (if in different languages…)

but when asked if they are Alayda

Why would it be a good guess?? Unless @abscourse is Alayda

also it’s worth noting that since @abscourse was created 7 hours ago Alayda hasn’t been posting or reblogging to defend Keefe having abs, which is something she’d been doing before hand. Abscourse has been instead defending Keefe’s abs.

anyways because I’m a thorough detective here is the anti-evidence, aka proof that it’s not Alayda:

for one, Alayda has posted a screenshot proving she doesn’t have any side blogs:

AND it’s different from the one she posted a while ago, meaning we can’t prove it’s reused or old.

Old screenshot:

However it could still be an old screenshot, especially if she was preparing for scrutiny before creating the blog.

another anti-proof is when abscourse didn’t know who Isa was when asked. I think @permanently-stressed and Alayda are mutual who interact pretty frequently so that didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

anyways, if this proves wrong I’ll search Katie, but for now my main suspect is @alaydabug2

[folkgender]

on: endogenic and traumagenic shared spaces

endogens and traumagens cannot and should not share spaces online.

these states of being are entirely different. i was speaking to another traumagen system about this, and we came to the consensus that traumagens and endogens are actually completely different.

“but planetary,” you say, “both -genics have alters!”

yes. we both do. however, endogenic collectives are alter based. being endogen is not a disorder (and i’ve got another ramble on that just you wait) and generally, being endogen is about headmates and having different people in your brain.

that is never, ever what didosdd will be fully completely and wholly about.

didosdd are trauma disorders. in every traumagen system, you will see the progression of trauma in early childhood to dissociation to the sense of self never fully integrating, creating alters. every. single. time.

traumagen systems are about dissociation, trauma, not having a sense of identity, and amnesia— endogen collectives can dissociate and have trauma but if your collective did NOT come from a traumatic origin, you probably shouldn’t be sharing a space with cptsd survivors.

[enid-rhees]

What is the lunaverse?

the lunaverse is a series of stories that i’m going to write based around the story i made where reader & Enid adopted a girl and named her Luna! i’m basically going to create stories like maybe her first word, or when she finally walks etc etc, and just reader & Enid raising their daughter and watching her grow and live a somewhat normal life like a kid should, but in the apocalypse.

and basically it’s just this TWD alternate universe that i have created in my head haha

[a-little-unsteddie]

cw: child abuse mentioned, child neglect

Steve, who was never allowed to play in the snow as a child because it was ‘too messy’. Steve, who stared longingly outside as he watched other kids play in the snow. Steve, wanting to build a snowman, or an igloo, or have a snowball fight, but was denied each and every time by his parents. “It’s uncouth, Steven.” “It’s dirty, Steven.” “You’ll just whine that you’re cold, Steven.” “No.” “No.” “No.” Until he stopped asking altogether, even as he stared out his bedroom window at the other kids playing. Steve who loves the snow but was never allowed to play. The one time he snuck out, he was brought inside being dragged by his ear and spanked until he cried.

And then some for crying at all.

Steve goes shopping with his mom and sees a snow globe and all but cries for her to get it for him. If he can’t have the snow outside, he wants to have a snow globe to have it inside. She lets him get it, but not without commenting ‘at least it’s not going outside’.

Thus starts a collection, of sorts. Whenever he sees a new snow globe, he makes his mom buy him it and because he never asks to go outside to play in the snow if she buys one, she keeps buying them for him.

He has around 10 or 15 snow globes by the time he’s a teenager and left alone more than he isn’t. He still doesn’t go out to play in the snow, even if he silently yearns to, because now he’s ‘too old’ to play out in the snow. Tommy doesn’t like being cold, so he never goes out, and Carol won’t do something if Tommy’s not there, so Steve doesn’t bother asking her to go outside.

Steve becomes friends with Dustin and the rest of the party, and he still doesn’t let himself play with them, even when Dustin begs him to. He passes on the same excuses to him as his mom told him, and the words feel like ash in his mouth, but he doesn’t just play in the snow like he’s aching to. It’s too cold, he’ll be wet and miserable later, he doesn’t want to get water all over the house.

Mostly, they’re excuses because he’s kind of worried he doesn’t know how to play in the snow. That somehow he’ll be bad at it.

Eventually, when he and Robin become friends and their first winter together happens, he tells her this secret fear. It’s right after the kids go out to play, and it’s just them, and he whispers to her.

“I don’t think I’ll be any good at it.”

Robin is confused, of course, because how can you be ‘bad’ at playing in the snow? He elaborates to her that he’s never played and she’s less confused but more angry at his parents, which he thinks is an over reaction and she insists he’s having an under reaction, whatever that means, and the moment passes. Steve is relieved to have revealed that much to her. He still doesn’t go outside, and Robin gets cold easily, so she doesn’t want to go outside, so they stay inside together.

He still collects snow globes, when he sees them. He buys one in front of the kids and brushes it off as a white elephant gift for a family thing, but displays it in the unused guest bedroom with the rest of the snow globes. It’s on the other side of the house from where every other guest bed is, so usually no one takes it, and so he knows his collection is safe.

Even if he keeps it secret, and plans to keep it secret forever, until the following winter, after the spring break from hell and after the grueling summer and cool fall brings the snow again and Eddie Munson is a menace in his life. He’s by far the most energetic person that he’s ever been friends with, all touches and open affection, it’s almost too easy to fall for him.

Eddie is nosy as hell and of course it’s him that finds the collection of snow globes.

“What’s this?” Eddie’s voice echoes from down the hall and it takes Steve a few seconds to process where his voice is coming from before he’s rushing down the hall and into the unused guest room.

Along the left wall, there’s a shelf that stretches from wall-to-wall filled with snow globes.

Embarrassment shoots through him, and he shrugs. “…snow globes.” he explains badly, wincing when Eddie turns towards him with an unimpressed look. It quickly morphs into concern because for some reason, Steve’s started tearing up and once the tears start they don’t stop.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” Eddie soothes, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, sweet thing.”

And the thing is, Steve does want to explain. Suddenly overcome with the urge to spill everything, in fact. So he does. He tells Eddie about his mom and dad refusing to let him play in the snow, the one time he got caught and got spanked for it, the snow globes, the fear of being bad at playing in the snow, still desperately wanting to despite it.

Through it all, Eddie holds him and listens. He hums occasionally to acknowledge what Steve is saying, but never interrupts him, for which Steve is glad because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to continue if he was stopped for any reason.

At the end of it, when Steve’s tears have dried, and they’re curled up in a pile of blankets on the couch, Eddie vows to teach him out to play in the snow. How to make a snow angel, a snowman, an igloo, a snowball — everything. He whispers these promises and plans into his ear, their hands intertwined where they lay on Steve’s lap.

And he follows through. With everything.

And the next time the kids beg him to play, he plays his part and says no, because he’s still anxious he’s going to do it wrong, Eddie throws a snowball at his back while he’s busy arguing with Dustin. And silence falls over everyone, waiting for Steve’s next move. Because he’s never given in, and no one’s ever pushed their luck like that.

Steve turns towards Eddie, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Oh, it’s on, Munson.”

The kids cheer and then it’s chaos of snowballs being lobbed at one another.

Later, when everyone is warming up with hot cocoa, and Steve is curled into Eddie’s side with a blanket tossed over their laps, Steve knows he’s never been happier to have met Eddie, who taught him how to play in the snow.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers to Eddie, who hums curiously, lazily looking at him from the corner of his eye. “For teaching me how to play in the snow.”

“Always, Stevie. I’ll always help you.”

And it sounds like a promise.

[exploringopensky]

was reading Sherlock holmes and this popped into my head

[amoebeau]

OFF x FAITH which caters to me and me only

[zorosdimples]

love with zoro is intentional.

it doesn’t come easily. he’s as unyielding as his swords—steadfast and true. hard lines and sharp edges, he’s deadly when wielded properly. but he’s his own master; he doesn’t allow the winds of change to guide him. only of his own volition does he act.

blades hold secrets. they’ve seen and done things that make grown men pale and queasy. they’re accustomed to harsh conditions, to injuries, to biting words, to carelessness. it’s a delicate balance, maintaining the deadliness and the beauty of a weapon.

but it’s not impossible.

getting to know zoro takes patience and tenderness. prying into the life of a man who has only ever known loneliness and death is difficult. he’s slow to trust and even slower to speak his mind. he has a sharp tongue (so do you), and you each end up with a nick here and a scratch there—nothing that will scar.

you both have to be forthright with your feelings and understand that vulnerability isn’t weakness. connection is human. every sword needs a scabbard, every scabbard a sword; perhaps, then, zoro needs you. and you need him.

as a man obsessed with discipline, the messiness of love terrifies zoro. but when he looks at you—the soft curl of your smile, the curious glint of your eyes—he knows that it must be worth it. and it will be—

as long as you’re willing to meet him halfway.

[self-aware-sawtrap]

thinking about how amanda, even when she was at the worst point in her relationship with john, even when she had lost all trust in him as a father figure and as a person, still bases her worldview off of his ideology. how she says at the end of saw iii that nobody changes, and she thinks that because john couldn’t “fix” her. how she stops believing that people can change at all before she stops believing that john was right to want to change her. that she knows she couldn’t be “fixed”, not because there was nothing wrong with her, but because john couldn’t do it. and that belief, that if he can’t fix her nobody can, still shows some kind of faith in him. how she didn’t trust him anymore—how she knew that everything he told her was a lie and yet she couldn’t stop believing in it because she had nothing else. the theme of trust on a personal level being different from faith in some circumstances. the idea that believing what somebody tells you and trusting them not to hurt you are two separate ideas. the idea that you can lose your love for someone and still have unshakable faith in them. how when she dies reaching out for him, it’s not because he’s a comfort to her—it’s because she has nothing else.

versus john, who loses all of his faith in amanda as the embodiment of his legacy but still loves her so much. and he wants her to succeed so desperately. she can’t carry on his work and at some point he realizes that. and she tries and fails over and over and over again but he always gives her another chance. over and over and over again. and when it’s all crashing down around them he realizes that he wasn’t giving her those chances because he thought she could do it. he was giving her those chances because he knew if he didn’t she would lose everything. and he “protects” her because if she dies, he loses everything too.

[tawaifeddiediaz]

the intimacy and soul deep love that comes with outright telling someone you’re worried about them…

buck and eddie have been individually and jointly dragged through the coals before this; but never have they explicitly said how they worry about each other or anything to that likeness

and while the whole point of tv is to read between the lines, to pick up expressions in lieu of time-restricted dialogues, there is something absolutely devastating about buck putting those words out there in the quiet of eddie’s kitchen, only to hear them echoed right back

and it’s also in the tone of his voice, something to the stubborn quiet way he sneaks past every single one of eddie’s denials to the heart of the matter that mirrors the way buck buried himself in eddie’s heart so long ago without his knowledge, and now it’s kind of like eddie’s version of confession, his safe space to repent, his safe space to find some direction in a way religion never did for him but buck does?

and there’s something about the expression on buck’s face too, the one we’ve seen so many times when he fears losing eddie, and i just think that for both of them (including eddie himself) to voice concern about eddie’s mental state essentially, something really bad is probably coming up

[turtleblogatlast]

One of the biggest things that makes me see Leo as trans is absolutely the size of his carapace in comparison to his brothers’.

And I’m not talking about height! I’m specifically looking at his shell here, because when you compare him to the others, particularly Donnie who is nearly the same height as Leo, it’s very clear that Leo’s carapace is much longer in proportion to the rest of his body.

Like - standing side by side, even though Donnie is shorter his carapace ends noticeably higher up than Leo’s does. And I like this not only because it really helps push the idea that Leo could very likely be trans (or intersex!), but it’s also just a fun design difference between them.

(It also lends way to future scenarios of Donnie eventually getting taller than Leo, but sitting down still has Leo being the taller one haha.)

[kenneduck]

Hi, I tried different tools.

Also, I referenced a jacket image and then realized Link doesn’t wear a damn jacket after already lining his wack fabric green thing… so here’s a weird torn up jacket???

Maybe that’s why Sidon is taking it off… he was like “oh dear… oh no… honey that doesn’t look good on you”

[kissitbttr]

kiss it, kiss it better, baby

☆ ghost is insecure with the way he looks, but you’re there to help him realize he’s pretty ☆

pairing is with fem!reader

-

first thing you had learned about simon is how much of a closed off person he is. to the point where he shuts almost everyone out except his colleagues.

so when he first met you, he had no expectations whatsoever. sure, he thought you were breathtaking. ethereal even. the first thought when he saw you walked into the room for the first time is ‘how could God let His prettiest angel roam around free on earth? why had he not have any desire to protect you?’

your aura and smile is enough to make his knees wobbly. the sound of your laugh makes his lips twitch into a genuine smile. almost.

and he’s trying to figure out why your presence is making him turn into a puddle.

but he’s been there before. manipulated by soft and delicate looking people only for them to be a complete different person once he gets a little too attached. that reason alone was enough for him to protect his heart even more. despite your affection and your warm nature, he was still cold. harsh even.

and you understand completely. fully taking your time in getting to know him, being patient and soft, because a person could only handle so much given to his story. you heard from soap about how much he had to endured and your heart was torn.

‘poor lad… went through a lot’

is what soap had said.

so you made it your mission to make him feel at ease. become his person. his home. moving slowly but surely. this made simon baffled by your actions. why do you still hang around? why do you keep giving him affections? why can’t you just go and find someone who’s not bottling too much of emotions and trauma?

answer is simple. you love him.

and boy, was he shocked. in a good way. because it has been far too long someone had said that word to him. and not just say it but you actually prove it.

in time, simon begins to learn how to properly love again. he learns how to be someone’s someone. he yearns for you now. opening up a bit more about his past and he can’t forget the way you clutch his hands tightly around yours as he spoke. a simple act to remind him that it’s just you and him and no one else.

there’s only one thing he has been afraid of.

unmasking.

the thin scars decorating his face is one of the things he has always been so insecure about. and he’s scared that you might think of him differently after seeing. in your own opinion, he’s stupid to think that — will all due respect— encourage him day after day that you wouldn’t think so, still he doesn’t budge.

despite you being impatient on wanting to see his handsome features, you never push him. you would never do anything to make him feel uncomfortable. you adore him too much to do that.

“so i said to her… ” you emerge from the bathroom while brushing through your hair, eyes focusing on your long locks. “ ‘bitch, please you are looking at the owner’ and i kid you not… she went pale as shit” you chuckle as you tell him a about what happened at work

he hums, pretending to listen. the only thing that matters to him is how beautiful you look tonight. the way your fingers running softly through your hair, your glowing skin, your cute giggle and fuck,

how your night gown leaves little to no imagination,

“and then i took my G19 and shot her in the head”

“that’s good, baby” ghost mutters lowly, his eyes falls down to your exposed thighs. his train of thoughts were interrupted by you throwing a pillow at his direction.

“ow! hey!”

“you aren’t even listening!” a grunt of protest falls from your lips, arms crossed over your chest. “i was telling you about my day!”

he puts his hands up in defense. playful smirk across his face. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry! you just look so good standing there in your night gown, love…”

putting down your brush on the bedside table, you roll your eyes. though you can’t help but smile.

“that good, huh?” pulling the covers next to him before slipping inside. “i look that good to you?”

his large hand moves to palm your thigh. “more than good. you look absolutely divine”

your smile grows, and you can feel him smile too underneath the mask. both of your eyes locked for a while before you sit up a little bit and pat your chest.

“wanna lay?”

ghost quickly nods with a grin, scooting closer towards you before carefully laying his head. his fingers tap your leg, signaling you to put it over his thigh, you oblige.

a sigh of contentment escape from his lips once your press a kiss on top of his masked forehead. gentle fingers tracing lightly against his traps.

a question bubbles into your mind. a question you have been dreading to ask. tongue clicking against your teeth as you contemplate.

“what’s on your mind, beautiful?”

it’s like he could read your mind. you can never escape him.

shrugging you reply, “just wondering”

“wondering what?”

you inhale a sharp breath. “about when i can see this handsome face of yours.”

a smile on ghost’s face falters a bit. he knows you have been waiting for him to unmask. it has been months since you begin your journey together, and he knows that you have waited too long to see him. it isn’t fair to you, he knows that.

but again, he doesn’t want you to think differently of him.

“hm?” you place another kiss on his head when he’s not answering. “am i getting closer to getting the privilege to see that handsome face?”

the question is playful, though ghost could feel his heart beating far too loud. he believes every word you say to him, because he knows you would never lie to his face. except this one particular thing

“ ‘m not, lovie” he squeezes your thigh, fingertips grazing your soft skin.

you gasp, moving your head back a bit to the side so you can see him. “and who told you that, huh? soap? gaz?”

he’s quick to shake his head. “no one has ever seen me. i just know that i am”

“baby, that’s bullshit and you know it” you argue, bringing your other hand to rub his cheek with your thumb.

a silence falls between you two. he doesn’t know what else to response to that. it has been too long since he lets anyone see how he really looks like.

he moves his head closer to your chest, pressing his cheek against it to listen to your heartbeat better. “i just don’t want you to regret being with me, tha’s all”

if a heart could break, yours would in that moment. for all the times you’ve spent together with him, ghost is not the person that would showcase his vulnerability nor emotions. he’s tough. cold. stoic. he’d rather die than to do that.

but something in the way he speaks in a tone you’ve never heard from him before just makes you want to protect him even more. the insecurity laced in his tone is enough to do so.

“do you trust me?” your voice is gentle as ever, seeing him nod slowly. “then you know i would never do anything to make you feel small, yeah?”

he snakes his arm around your waist, nodding again. “yes”

your eyes casting down to him. “can i see my pretty baby, then?”

he feels his cheeks warm at the compliment, swallowing a small gulp as he tightens his grip a little.

simon is quiet for a moment, making you almost feel guilty for pushing him a bit. but you can’t help it. you want to see him.

you want to see your man.

and as you’re about to apologize, he speaks up,

“okay.”

a wide grin slowly makes an appearance on your face, “yeah?” he nods slowly, looking up to you with a soft smile.

“yeah” his voice is low. husky. “i trust you.”

“you do” you confirm, fingers moving gently to the bottom of his mask. for a moment you stop to see any sign of him fighting back or fidgeting. but he gives you nod, telling you to continue

with a smile, you tuck both of your thumbs underneath his balaclava. slowly you remove the material up to his nose, familiar soft pink lips that has been brushing against yours for the past few months appears. you stop for a moment and let your finger thread lightly on it, goosebumps rises against his skin as he feels you getting closer to fully unfold him.

the beat of both of your hearts are thumping. one part, you’re excited and the other he’s anxious. anxious that you’re not going to like it.

he closes his eyes the moment you completely remove the balaclava from him. hearing a gasp falls from you is making his nerves go up even higher.

‘please don’t leave me, please… please don’t’ he thinks

“simon you—you are so. fucking beautiful’

the moment he hears those words, his eyes snap open. seeing your wide eyed gaze travel from his forehead and down to his chin. both of your hands move to cup his face with jaw slightly wide open. no words are uttered.

you are truly speechless. taking the time to observe every single detail of his features. from his dirty blonde hair, big brown eyes, sharp nose, thin scars around his eyebrow and down to his cheekbone. you believe those things compliment his entire face.

he is absolutely handsome.

“my god” your voice comes out in a whisper, his breath hitches. hand still gripping tightly around your waist. “you’ve been hiding all these from me?”

a hearty chuckle rumbles from his chest, avoiding your eyes because he fears that you might see him blush.

“you don’t have to lie to me love, i—“

“fuck i ain’t!” you exclaim with a laugh, head shaking at his response. “simon you don’t realize how handsome you are, do you? and these?” finger pointing at the faded scar,

“prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

he cocks both of his eyebrows, eyes glinting full of hope. “you think so?”

“i know so, my darling.” plants a kiss on the tip of his nose. “gorgeous.” one on his eyelid. “my pretty man.” one on his cheekbone. “my baby” last one on the scar.

he pulls your body closer to him, melting at the feeling of your lips all over his face. “‘m not” he mutters

“definitely are. my handsome man” you argue, ruffling his hair. wide smile spreads across your lips as you watch your handsome man hides his face in between your breasts. “are you my pretty baby? hm?” you coo in a soft tone, not stopping to pepper him with kisses and praises.

he becomes shy, because he’s not used to this. choosing to find comfort in your chest yet he can’t help to admit how much he enjoys the affection. you feel him smile against your chest, and he’s hiding it but you can definitely sense him blushing too.

god, you love this sight. your hardcore, stone cold, military boyfriend becoming putty in your embrace. one you truly never thought you would see, and you’re enjoying every bit of it.

he does too. perhaps even more than you enjoying yourself

“me, me me. I’m your baby.” he mutters softly, eyes fluttering shut

-

i love babying a man, arrest me

[daily-crowley]

Crowley Of The Day: me in public thinking about SymBrock

[yeahtimesten]

18+, mdni / maybe modern!au or 2019!patrick if you want tbh idk but smartphones r involved

you and your friends are out barhopping on the city strip, you’ve already hit three different places and you’re ordering at least two drinks per place. you and the three other girls you go out with are rowdy and obnoxious at this point, definitely wasted. and your shared ‘locker room talk’ with the besties is something so perverted, so nasty. but they say drunk words are sober thoughts. and the topic at hand is something probably every woman universally agrees on.

yeah, dick pics are gross and all, but: “nut vids with the sound on,” you’re cackling at your friends proclamation. “those get me freaky. like wet wet.”

“dude, yessss, that’s what i’m sayinggg,” another friend agrees.

and you’re laughing along. but really, you had never received one. you knew the meme, and you saw the appeal, but you had never seen one.

don’t get me wrong, you and patrick are still gettin’ it on over the phone and video chat, doing everything else possible to bridge the gap that distance brought you. being a tennis player on tour, working up to the big leagues, was something you wholeheartedly supported for your boyfriend. to keep morale up, you even sent him a gift box once complete with polaroids, a spicy letter spritzed with your signature perfume, and a pair of worn panties, baby pink and silk with a lacy little trim. you liked to treat him like that.

and he treated you too, with new panties and outfits he wanted to see you in and other miscellaneous gifts, and good dick too whenever he was able to come around and see you. but when you got to thinking, you realized a majority of the gifts he gave you, were really a gift for himself as well. yeah, he’d jerk off to you on video calls, but it wasn’t for you, it’d just be weird if his cam wasn’t on when yours was too.

another round of shots were had before the four of you were making your way to the next bar, the last stop of the night. and you were trailing behind your three friends, typing on your phone to him. partially because you are ovulating, definitely because you were drunk, and you were a tad bit in your head now too thinking about the things patrick could be doing for you, but you were going absolutely feral in his dms.

babyyy wen r u gna see me next :(

i miss uuuu hehehe

need ur hand around my neck while u finger me NEOWWW

and he’s receiving all your texts with fervor. you’re totally exciting him and arousing him. but hes crossfaded (on tour? smh, but he’s celebrating a win as well as the end of this leg of travel) out with other players that he’s met so his replies are just as desperate and sad and pathetic as yours.

soon gorjus

be there b4 u kno it

cant wait for u to take my dick

send pix ?

and when you get to the next bar, you immediately excuse yourself to the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall, posing with your shirt lifted. your perfect tits are exposed to the camera, and because you love and trust your boyfriend, at least half of your face is still in frame too. your lips are slightly pouting, and you know that detail will drive him mad. and you snap another, but this one is an underskirt shot; you standing up in the stall, with your panties pulled down over your mid thighs, also in frame, from behind at the perfect angle to showcase your ass, with a hint of your pretty pussy in frame. and you send both to him in a photo set.

earlier, you sent him more innocently posed but still quite sexy outfit photos and selfies before going out. you did this every time you left the house basically. it was both endearing and such a huge turn on for him, no matter how you were dressed. your outfit was especially scantily clad tonight, so he was already having dirty thoughts of you. he was supportive of what you wore, and was never really controlling, but he wished he were by your side protecting you from other creeps who’d love to sneak a peak. and he had already fantasized about taking you to a dingy bathroom in one of these dive bars you frequented that he saw in the background of your photos, and bending you over the sink and fucking you from behind, both of you watching in the mirror.

both of your data connections were shitty, but he was texting you that he was heading home. he couldn’t wait any longer and needed to get off to you now. and he asked if you were going home any time soon.

another shot, and nursing a midori sour, or whatever your drink of choice is, you and your friends are still chatting and having a wild time, but you’re having flashbacks to the last time you both were together. you remember him boring into your wet cunt, on top of you, in the back of your car at the airport, because you couldn’t bare to part without one last fuck. your thighs squeezed together, trying to dismiss the warm pit forming in your stomach.

you were relieved when one of your friends decided to call it quits, and since your apartment complexes were so close to each other, you decided to share an uber. as you two waited for the ride, you finally received his texts and confirmed you’d be home soon too and that you two could call and take care of each other. and on the ride back, while your friend is talking your ear off, you check your phone again to see a snapchat. patrick sent you a video.

without thinking, you clicked on the notification to see what he sent. and now who would have guessed, that in this moment, you’d see a video he recorded of his cock out, laying in the dark on his bed, his flash was on. his dick glistened with his spit, as he slowly started stroking his shaft and playing with his tip. in a panic, you lock your phone and stuff it back into your purse, face flush with embarrassment.

your friend looks at you with furrowed brows. “you okay?” and you nod, hoping she hadn’t taken a good peak at your screen.

“i’m fine,” you smile. you’re more than fine, you’re seeing stars. and you’re anxious to reach home. after what feels like an eternity, you’re finally there. you skip up the steps and and climbed the flights of stairs until you reach your floor. the anticipation is getting the better of you as you fumble with your keys. but finally, you’re inside and it’s oasis. your place to be horny and out of control.

you flop on your bed and reopen snapchat, 5 more segments of that video waiting for you to open. you turn up your volume to max. in next clip of the video, he’s still taking his time stroking slow and you can hear his breath hitching, yours matching in real time. his breathing is heavy and loud, as little moans and groans escape his lips.

i fucking love you baby, he says in the clip. i’m so fucking hard for you.

and you’re so wet for him, as you reach down and start rubbing circles into your clit above your underwear. the video keeps going, and he picks up the pace, his moans getting louder. you love how he isn’t silent in bed. he’s so vocal and sweet, showing you he’s enjoying it just as much as you are.

the next reel starts, and he is fully jerking off, his breathing getting faster. you know what’s about to come. him. and with one final guttural groan, he does. glistening white cum leaks out gently, and he continues to stroke, much slower, making sure to milk every last drop.

r u home yet baby ?

he texted you.

- ya

and immediately, you have an incoming facetime. you answer and the camera is pointed to just his face, still sitting in the dark.

“hey, princess, how was your night out,” he asked.

“it was good,” you said. “i accidentally opened your snap in front of my friend though.”

“i texted you to wait until you were home to see it,” he laughs at you.

you didn’t receive that text. but you were just stunned he practically read your mind, that you wanted exactly that video.

“i missed you.”

“how much baby?”

“so so much, i couldn’t wait to get home and talk to you,” you pouted.

“me neither,” he whispered. “i’m hard again, baby. wanna see?”

and before you answer, he’s pulled his phone back to angle on his cock, with his abdomen and face still in frame. he’s moving it around, teasing you with its length.

“i miss fucking you so bad. do you miss fucking me?” it’s your turn to tease, and you move your phone down to reveal your panties with a big wet splotch soaked into the fabric.

“you really were thinking of me all night, huh?” he’s starting to stroke himself again, and you do him the favor of bringing the camera back and pulling your shirt off. he’s obsessed with how hard your nipples are, and he moans for you.

“your tits are so perfect,” he breaths out. “touch yourself for me, baby. i wanna see you rub your clit.”

and like it’s a royal command, you pull your panties down, and show him your finger swirling around your wet cunt.

“that’s perfect, you’re perfect,” he says.

you’re watching each other get off and his mind is racing with things he wants to do to you, with you, for you. and he’s sharing about half of them with you.

“i can’t wait to fuck you again. i can take you out to dinner and a movie, and we can sit in the back row by ourselves and mess around.”

“and you can ride me in the passenger seat of your car.”

“i wanna play with your ass so bad and eat you out from the back.”

“finger your pussy for me, sexy. let me see you fuck yourself with your pretty manicured fingers that i paid for. you’re so fucking wet for me.”

and besides his new request, everything is in one ear and out the other. your sole focus is watching him get off so you can get off. and it’s working, the heat in your pelvis growing stronger, you are about to release any second. you can tell he is too, as his breathing is heavier and his words and incoherent and slurred, he sounds tortured. you move back to rubbing your clit.

“are you gonna cum, baby? i’m going to, i want you to cum with me,” he sighs.

“yeah baby, i’m gonna cum. i’m gonna cum patrick!”

your moans harmonize with each other as you both finish together and you both continue to touch yourself as the tension in your groins lessen. you’re still pulsating for moments after.

“i can’t wait to see you any longer, im booking a flight for tomorrow to see you,” he says, still huffing. and you can’t wait either.

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

AU where after Glamrock Bonnie’s decommission/after he goes missing, Glamrock Freddy and the rest of the remaining animatronics end up being reprogrammed—or, basically, having their memories messed with.

The only change to the rest of the animatronics is that they don’t remember anything about Glamrock Bonnie. They’d know about Bonnie Bowl and small things like that—but have no idea that they all had a Bonnie.

As for Glamrock Bonnie himself, they end up having something wrong with the memories, too. Although it’s not because he was reprogrammed or anything—it’s because of the damage/the state they are in.

And with them, whether it’s a “Cassie finds them during Ruin and helps, then leaves with him” type of situation, or something different (like Gregory staying and finding him), Glam. Bon would eventually see Glam. Fred again.

Though, there’s that problem: Reprogramming for Glam Fred to literally not know who the bunny is, and Glam Bon having all of that damage.

But, despite that, both of them feel like there’s something—even just the tiniest bit—familiar about the other.

Long story short: Glam. Bon goes, the others are reprogrammed and forget them—Glam Bon’s damage causes him to forget. The two reunite, but have no idea who the other is.