#patrick is innocent

[martha-dobie]

patrick just giving up in the middle of you're crashing pre-chorus reminded me of this interview and im on patrick's side cause i try and fail to sing some of the songs

[poppy-metal]

horny brain thinking of being college era patricks girlfriend and you end up spending the night at his and arts shared dorm - you're the loveliest girl, most of patricks girlfriends have been.... outspoken to say the least, handsy and well. he never stays around them for long, finding the way they completely ignore him to suck on patricks tongue annoying to say the least. but you're different - sweet and soft spoken and kind and you include art in the conversation, even bat patricks hands away when he gets too needy, art actually likes you, thinks patricks actually found himself a girl whose probably way too good for him - he decides its safe to spend the night. you're so innocent seeming, anyway.

only for him to be woken in the middle of the night to the bed across the room from his rocking steadily, thumping against the wall. looks in shock to find patrick moving atop you - hard and sleek back bunching and rolling as he moves over you - his hips moving in a way thats undeniable - he's inside you, moving in and out.

arts been lucky enough to never have had to witness patrick having sex with one of his girlfriends before - he's good at making himself scarce. he cant look away, though, now that hes witnessing it. wont admit to himself that the sight of patricks body makes his mouth dry - its enough distraction to watch the way you arch under him. he can't see your lower half, but he can see your legs - spread and wrapped around patricks waist, heels digging into his ass. the sweet, shy girl he met today gone as you whine and plead for it "harder, harder, oh god - its so big - you're so big patrick - god -"

and its patrick - fucking patrick, the cockiest motherfucker he knows, who has no problem shoving his conquests in arts face, who art thought would boast loudly about such a thing like fucking his girlfriend mere feet from art - who's shushing you, one big hand covering your panting mouth, though art notices he doesn't slow the roll of his hips , "you gotta quiet down, baby - fuck - he's right there -"

and its you - sweet, unassuming you, who just clings to him harder. babbles, "dont care, don't care - fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-"

art would be offended if he wasn't throbbing in his cotton boxers.

[niallsdaya]

“art is just as bad” “art is a manipulative snake” i too would do anything to marry zendaya, he’s not evil, HE’S REAL‼️

[evanpetersbf]

what the fuck do you mean by ‘scary serial killer’? that’s literally my wife. 🎀

[zweiginator]

innocent! reader and patrick make me sooo 💞💞💞

Thinking about how art and reader keep in contact just not as much because she feels a bit bad about lying to patrick. You mention to art how your friend patrick doesn’t want him talking to art, so you can’t talk enough — so sweet you couldn’t even just lie — it’s okay, Art is willing to wait whenever patrick isn’t around.

both boys planting ideas in your head to get you to come their way and you're like a boomerang going back and forth between them--always coming back around to whoever you neglected. patrick telling you that this art boy doesn't have your best interest in mind. he sounds sleazy and sex-craved. can you even trust him? he says you're beautiful of course, but who is picking up girls at the grocery store? he probably has a ton of girls he's talking to--and patrick wouldn't want you getting hurt.

and in the same vein, art manipulates you too. he asks if patrick is your boyfriend, confused about the whole situation, of why you can't talk to him as much. and when you say no, he's just a friend, a close friend--art tells you that he's a bad person. that he shouldn't control what you do and that he's frankly insane for thinking art is a bad guy. i mean, they've never even met each other and he's just assuming things, controlling you, planting ideas in your head.

you don't know what to believe; you don't know whose side to be on, who to choose. so choosing the more selfish route--you don't pick a side. you keep them both and try not to let them know about the other. in patrick's mind, you stopped speaking to art as soon as he mentioned doing so. in art's mind, patrick is out of the picture.

but one night you're messy and needy and thinking about them both. they both want to see you. so you invite patrick over. you kiss him messily and he eases your discomfort, the ever-present wetness between your legs. rubs your little clit until you're grasping onto his shirt and moaning naughty words that you've never said before.

you kiss patrick goodbye, but he stays, parking down the street. he has a feeling, by the way your phone kept buzzing and buzzing that you hadn't really stopped talking to art. so he waits, just in case. you're naive enough to invite him over--and you do. art is at your house exactly ten minutes after you tell him you're available. you pretended you had homework.

and art is giddy as he comes in, happy to be chosen. happy you dropped that douchebag 'friend' of yours. he mentions it and you nod. and patrick realizes he can see in your window still; god, you're so helpless without him. he's told you men are creepy. he's told you to close your curtains, especially at night.

art kisses you; you're needier with him. your hand roams up his chest-- you don't do that with patrick. you straddle his lap as art pulls you on top of him. you pull his shirt off and patrick convinced himself it would be okay because art wouldn't be that attractive. but here he is, toned and muscular. lithe underneath you.

patrick watches as art moves your panties to the side and pumps his fingers into your needy, slutty little pussy. his pussy. patrick seethes. he slashes art's tires. and then he's even more upset, not realizing that now art has to stay the night. maybe that's why he came second in the first place.

[foliejpg]

give him more toys !!

[mattdillonbae]

𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐂 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐈 𝐒 𝐒 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑

𝐏 𝐎 𝐍 𝐘 𝐁 𝐎𝐘 𝐒 𝐂 𝐎 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐓 𝐑 𝐈 𝐀 𝐋

˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ᯓ★ ˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

The room was unnaturally quiet, a stark contrast to the tumultuous storm raging outside. Raindrops pattered against the window, each one a silent whisper that seemed to carry the weight of the world with it. Inside, a single lamp cast a warm, flickering glow across the worn wooden floorboards, illuminating the huddled forms of the Curtis siblings. You, the youngest at twelve, had your knees drawn up to your chest, your eyes glued to the judge. The judges voice droned on, recounting the events of the night that had led to her brother Ponyboy's arrest. You bit your lower lip, the tremble in your hands betraying the fear you tried so hard to keep hidden. Ponyboy's face, etched with a mix of shock and defiance, filled the small room. You felt a lump in her throat, the gravity of the situation threatening to overwhelm you. Darry, the eldest of the siblings, sat in next to you and Sodapop, his eyes never straying from you. He could almost see the storm of emotions swirling within you. As the case report grew more intense, your trembling grew worse, and your breaths grew shallow. With a gentle sigh,he placed a firm but comforting hand on your back, his thumb tracing small circles in a soothing rhythm. His eyes remained on what the judge was saying, his jaw clenched tight, but his attention was solely on you.

"It'll be over soon, baby," Darry murmured, his voice low and steady. "Pony'll be okay."

You nodded, trying to believe his words. You felt the warmth of his hand on your back, his touch a silent promise of protection. Despite the chaos that had become their lives, Darry had always been your rock, the one you could lean on when the world felt too heavy. His kiss on the top of your head was a familiar comfort, one you had known since you were a child. It was a silent language that spoke of love and reassurance, a tender gesture that seemed to calm the tempest of your fears. Sodapop, their middle brother, returned from his daze. His eyes searched their faces, noting the tension in the room. He gave you a gentle smile, “Darry’s right, Pony will be okay.” His voice was softer than usual, the usual teasing tone absent. Soda knew the gravity of the situation; he had seen the same fear in your eyes that he felt in his own heart. They were all walking a tightrope, balancing on the edge of a future that seemed uncertain and perilous. You managed a small smile for Soda, but the sadness and worry remained, pooled in your eyes like rainwater in a storm drain. Darry took a deep breath, his own eyes reflecting the turmoil of the night's events. He didn't know what to say to ease your pain, so he just held you closer, his arm wrapping around your slim shoulders like a protective shield. The whispers grew louder in the room, as random people and friends of the family trickled in, their hushed voices a cacophony of concern. They spoke in low tones about the trial, the tension between the Greasers and the Socs, and the fate of the youngest Curtis. Darry's jaw clenched with every mention of Ponyboy's name, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and fear. He knew that his little brother had been forced into a corner, and the thought of him facing the consequences alone was unbearable.

———————————————————————————

Hours later, as the storm outside finally began to abate, the news broke. The judge had ruled in favor of Ponyboy, stating that he was not the one who had committed the murder, but rather had acted in self-defense. It was Johnny Cade, their friend, who had made the fateful decision to protect them both from Bob Sheldon's violent intentions. The words "not guilty" echoed in the room like a distant bell, bringing with it a wave of relief that washed over your taut frame. You looked up at Darry, your eyes wide with hope and unshed tears. Darry and Soda both let out breaths they seemed to be holding and chuckled a bit but didn't say anything. The tension that had coiled around them like a tightening noose slowly began to unravel. For the first time that night, Darry felt a genuine smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling her into a fierce hug. Soda, too, let out a sigh of relief, his eyes misting over as he released his tie that he'd been clutching. The room was still, save for the distant thunder that rumbled outside like a fading echo of their fear. As soon as Ponyboy got off the stand and met his siblings outside, he rushed the rest of their makeshift family. Then they all rushed toward the him, pulling him into the warmth of their embrace. The room was a tangle of limbs and emotions, mostly relief and joy. "I love you buddy," Darry said, his voice choked with a mix of pride and fear as he held Ponyboy tightly, his eyes glistening. It was a declaration of brotherly love that was rarely spoken aloud in their tough exterior world, but it was felt in every bone of their bodies, every beat of their hearts. Ponyboy leaned into the hug, feeling the weight of the world lifting off his shoulders. The warmth of his brother's embrace was the most comforting thing he had felt in weeks.

[hum--hallelujah]

Patrick being like yeah I'm not the words guy lyrics aren't my strong suit that's Pete's thing it's a good thing Pete writes all the lyrics... I could make this post about Soul Punk but mostly I'm just thinking about how "Pete and I attacked the laws of Astoria with promise and precision/ a mess of youthful innocence/ and I read about the afterlife but I never really lived more than an hour/ more than an hour" makes me feel

[bleachersgirl]

all he wanted was to talk about something other than tennis with the two people he loved most in the world :(

[patrickztump]

if i was one of the twenty random people selected to have allie replaced with my name in 2011 and, after saying it repeatedly, patrick stump said “tonight we ought to do naughty things” i would have a stroke

[poppy-metal]

realistically I'm so far removed in personality from tashi patrick and art would shatter my heart into a million little pieces for being a lovergirl. no chase in sight I fold like wet paper. no mind games because I literally can't help but explode with what I'm feeling at any given moment. the three of them would run me into the ground and wring me dry. a sweetheart would not survive the tumultuous back and forth.

would be great sex, though. mind blowing, even.

[around-your-throat]

as someone who's watched all of buzzfeed unsolved and none of watcher i think it's incredibly weird how steven immediately got singled out as the Evil Overlord who's holding everyone hostage behind close doors forcing them to make a problematic business move when it was clearly a group decision

[anthonyboyledarling]

[zweiginator]

patrick comes back from the tournament and seeing innocent reader glued to her phone. takes a little peak when she’s gone…

oh!!!!! him coming back and he thought you'd be more excited. thought you'd be all over him. and you were, initially. hugging him and kissing him on the cheek. telling him over and over how much you missed him. and strangely, patrick realizes, you haven't talked about your needs. odd, given how desperate you just were, how you couldn't seem to get off by yourself.

and then you turn on a movie. the whole time you're giggling, glued to your phone. you get up to make some more popcorn, leaving your phone. he knows your passcode, knows everything about you. so against his better judgment, he unlocks it. it's easy to tell what's happening; he immediately sees a text come through from some 'art'.

the texts are bordering on inappropriate; flirty but in your own naive little way. he texts you about how he wants to see you, how pretty you are. how he wants to kiss you. how lucky he is to have met you. some of them, more so as day turns to evening, becoming more explicit. asking what you're wearing, if you still feel weird down there. are you wet? patrick rolls his eyes. what a fucking prick.

when you come back, you realize you're probably in trouble. and he really doesn't have a say in what you do or who you speak to, but your knees get wobbly and you feel really guilty. patrick looks upset.

"who is art?"

you set the popcorn down and shrug.

"don't shrug. i'm asking you a question. c'mere."

you shuffle over to him on the couch. he makes you look at him. stare him in the eye.

"i met him at the grocery store. he talked to me and i got his number. i dunno." you keep looking away, embarrassed. not wanting to tell him the truth, even though he already knows.

"and he makes you feel the way i do?"

you shake your head. "no. not--not as much. it's bad right now--not when i talk to him. not as much."

"not as much." patrick parrots.

"i'm sorry. i missed you--i--"

"wish you would've waited for me."

you lean forward. "i did! i did wait for you, i haven't--"

"i saw your texts."

and patrick knows he shouldn't care. knows you have zero romantic commitment to him, let alone sexual. but he knows that you care what he thinks; you care to a fault. you'll do anything for him and his approval. and he wants you to kick this guy to the curb. he's annoyed and jealous and you're acting like a slut.

you beg him to make it better; him being mad at you is somehow making it worse. you're so wet and so sticky and patrick won't touch you. not til you prove you broke up with that piece of shit. and you just bite your lip because you want patrick--but you really don't want to do that. you like art. and you lied to patrick; it's just as bad when you talk to him. sometimes worse.

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1657 – Death of Franciscan friar and historian, Luke Wadding, in Rome.

Wadding was born in Waterford to Walter Wadding of Waterford, a wealthy merchant, and his wife, Anastasia Lombard (sister of Peter Lombard, Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of Ireland). Educated at the school of Mrs. Jane Barden in Waterford and of Peter White in Kilkenny, in 1604 he went to study in Lisbon and at the University of Coimbra. After completing his university studies, Wadding became…

[pagodazz]

Love shack by the b-52s is so Patrick Andersen coded it makes me SICK!!!!!!!!!!