's socks

anonymous asked:

Do you have a middle name?

my middle name is “Joe meets Patrick and he’s like, “Yo. I know about music.” And Patrick’s like, “Yo. i know more about music.” “That’s impossible. D'you wanna start a band?” And Patrick’s like, “…Yeah, that’s cool.” And then he’s like, “Yo, this is a book store, it’s not a music store!” And then, they met at Patrick’s house. So Patrick’s wearing shorts, and socks, and a hat. Patrick is playing drums for some fuckin’ reason. And Pete’s there, for some reason. They start playin’ music together. They’re like “Oh, let’s play some fuckin’ covers from some other bands.” It was like Green Day… and fuckin’ Misfits… and fuckin’ Ramones… 
Pete said to Joe, “Yo, we gotta change this shit up.” “Yo. We played all these bands, let’s play shit from Fall Out Boy.” And so Pete and Patrick are like “Yo, that’s dope. But we need a fuckin’ drummer!” Because Patrick’s playin’ drums and he’s a singer! And Patrick’s like, “Yo, I got a soul voice.” And they’re like, “Wait, how do you have a soul voice?” And he’s like, “Yo, watch this: YEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEaAAAAHHH!” And they’re like, “Oh my god, that sounds like soul!” So they put it in a song, and it was like, “WHERE IS YOUR BOY TONIIIIIIIIIGHT?!” And then they’re like, “Yo, that’s fuckin’ perfect. This is Fall Out Boy.” And they made records like Evening Out with Your Ex-Girlfriend. Evening Out with Your Ex-Girlfriend, everybody loves it. …With your ex-girlfriend. It’s called Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend. It’s called Eating Out Your Girlfriend, and it’s real and it doesn’t matter. And Pete talked to Patrick and Joe and he was like “Yo, what the FUUUCK! Yo, this is gonna be fuckin’ doooope!” 
So they made a record, and it was called Take This to Your Grave. They made it without a drummer! And they had like three, four drummers come in. The four drummers they had come in were like, Josh Freese… Neil Peart, the dude from Toto… The fourth one was like the guy from like Papa Roach or something. And they’re like, “Yo, we need Andy Hurley. Andy Hurley. Take This to Your Grave. Fuckin’ record it.” And he did it, and he killed it, and he was like bigadigalulululululuPSSHHH! Killin’ the skins! Tappin’ the skins, tappin’ the rim. Playin’ the shit. Killin’ these bitches. Wrappin’ it out. 
(You’re getting a fucking tattoo right now! What the fuck is going on?!)
“We should get signed to Fueled by Ramen. Cause these guys know what the fuck is goin’ on.” They were like, “Yo. If you can make our scene any bigger than it is, which is not fuckin’ hard. We will sign you guys.” He was like, “Yo! We got this record that’s fuckin’ dope, dude!” It’s called, Take This to Your Grave. And it’s called From Under the Cork Tree, it’s gonna be fucking huge. And then Patrick’s like, “I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it artistic, these are three songs that are gonna make the album, it’s called – *burp* – It’s called Thanks for the Memories, Twenty Dollar Nose Bleed, and Sugar We’re Goin’ Down.” And they made this record that was fucking dope and it fucking hit on the charts, like one, two, three! Three two one! Three four five six seven eight nine teeen! Ten to one! From Under the Cork Tree sold like, four million records. … Ten million records! …Fifteen million records! And Brendon Urie had nothing to do with the entire record! And Patrick is like, “That’s GOooOooOooOooOooOooOd!”
Pete was like, “Yo, FUCK YOU! I can do whatever I want!” Joe was like, “…yeah, it’s cool man, whatever. I don’t give a shit.” And then Andy was b , “….eh.. cool.” And Pete was like, “Makeup is fuckin’ great for a guy. Because, it makes a guy look beautiful. Which a lotta times, a guy is not beautiful. And I wanna change that. I wanna make sure that everybody thinks that guys are beautiful.”
*cut to Brendon spitting for 30 seconds* (shutthefuck– oh, fuck.. alright, alright.)
Pete was like, “Oh my god, I’m so embarassed about this dick pic!” And then I saw the dick pic and I was like, “Eh, it’s not bad.” It’s not a bad dick. Let’s be real. 
We made Rolling Stone one issue before Fall Out Boy. And Fall Out Boy made the issue right after us. They were so pissed! They were like, “Yo, fuck you guys!” They’re like, “YO! Panic has the fucking cover of Rolling Stone? Yo, FUCK these dudes! We’re gonna go fucking miles above! We’re gonna hit every fuckin’ continent there is known to man!” But they didn’t! Because they missed a second of time. Apparently. They were like, “Oh, shit, we got every continent!” But they didn’t actually hit it. Dude, Pete was like, “what the FUCK?!” Oh, you didn’t make the continent.. It’s like fuck you!
So, From Under the Cork Tree Happens, we fuckin’ have three, four years of awesomeness… Like, people are cumming on themselves, causeit’s so big.
*people talking in the background, Brendon spills/pours beer on himself* Alright. So, Fall Out Boy was like,
So Patrick’s like, “Yo, we’re gonna name this record from uru-From Under the Cork Tree and from inity-isf- *laugh* From Infinity on High. Pete was like, "Yo. Folie A Deux means the theatric of two. Oh, sorry, I’m sorry.
Fall Out Boy was like, "Yo, we gotta take a break.” Meaning, Pete was like, “Yo. We gotta take a break, bruh.” And Patrick’s like, “I need time for my music. OOHH!” And Joe’s like, “Yo. I need time to find the fuckin’ art, dude. I gotta find some fuckin’ meau-metal.” And Andy’s like, “I’m just gonna play with some fuckin’ metal bands.” And they’re like, “Alright. This break’s been like three years long. Two years long. Three years long.” Three and a half..? “We gotta fuckin’ come back, man. We gotta come back strong. 
(You took my beer away! What the fuck? *someone in the back: you poured it all over yourself! you poured it on yourself, man.*)
"We gotta make this shit legit, it’s gonna be fuckin’ dope. It’s gonna go fuckin’ sky high. We’re gonna make a fuckin’ record that sails the skies. We’re gonna call this record… Save Rock and Roll.” So they made Alone Together, Light ‘Em Up, Alone Together, Phoenix. And everybody’s like, “What the fuck? You’re workin’ with this guy who fuckin’ recorded Avril Lavigne and Pink..”
(There’s p- what the fuck is on my shirt, did I puke on myself? *people in the background telling him he poured beer on himself* oh, god..)
Pete was like, “Yo, we’re gonna end up on a tour with Panic! at the Disco and Twenty Pilots.” And that’s all. That’s all that matters. And that’s just how the fuckin’ story goes.”

anonymous asked:

It’s summer of 2001; Joe meets Patrick and he’s like “Yo, I know about music.” and Patrick’s like “Yo, I know more about music” “That’s impossible. Do you wanna start a band?” And Patrick’s like “…Yeah… That’s cool.” And then he’s like “Yo, this is a book store, it’s not a music store!”And then they met at Patrick’s house. And Patrick’s wearing shorts and socks and a hat. Patrick is playin’ drums for some fuckin’ reason! And Pete’s there, for some reason! They start playin’ music together.

They’re like “Oh, let’s play some fuckin’ covers from some other bands.” It was like Green Day… and fuckin’ Misfits… and fuckin’ Ramones… 
Pete said to Joe, “Yo, we gotta change this shit up.” “Yo. We played all these bands, let’s play shit from Fall Out Boy.” And so Pete and Patrick are like “Yo, that’s dope. But we need a fuckin’ drummer!” Because Patrick’s playin’ drums and he’s a singer! And Patrick’s like, “Yo, I got a soul voice.” And they’re like, “Wait, how do you have a soul voice?” And he’s like, “Yo, watch this: YEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEaAAAAHHH!” And they’re like, “Oh my god, that sounds like soul!” So they put it in a song, and it was like, “WHERE IS YOUR BOY TONIIIIIIIIIGHT?!” And then they’re like, “Yo, that’s fuckin’ perfect. This is Fall Out Boy.” And they made records like Evening Out with Your Ex-Girlfriend. Evening Out with Your Ex-Girlfriend, everybody loves it. …With your ex-girlfriend. It’s called Evening Out With Your Ex-Girlfriend. It’s called Eating Out Your Girlfriend, and it’s real and it doesn’t matter. And Pete talked to Patrick and Joe and he was like “Yo, what the FUUUCK! Yo, this is gonna be fuckin’ doooope!” 
So they made a record, and it was called Take This to Your Grave. They made it without a drummer! And they had like three, four drummers come in. The four drummers they had come in were like, Josh Freese… Neil Peart, the dude from Toto… The fourth one was like the guy from like Papa Roach or something. And they’re like, “Yo, we need Andy Hurley. Andy Hurley. Take This to Your Grave. Fuckin’ record it.” And he did it, and he killed it, and he was like bigadigalulululululuPSSHHH! Killin’ the skins! Tappin’ the skins, tappin’ the rim. Playin’ the shit. Killin’ these bitches. Wrappin’ it out. 
(You’re getting a fucking tattoo right now! What the fuck is going on?!)
“We should get signed to Fueled by Ramen. Cause these guys know what the fuck is goin’ on.” They were like, “Yo. If you can make our scene any bigger than it is, which is not fuckin’ hard. We will sign you guys.” He was like, “Yo! We got this record that’s fuckin’ dope, dude!” It’s called, Take This to Your Grave. And it’s called From Under the Cork Tree, it’s gonna be fucking huge. And then Patrick’s like, “I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it artistic, these are three songs that are gonna make the album, it’s called – *burp* – It’s called Thanks for the Memories, Twenty Dollar Nose Bleed, and Sugar We’re Goin’ Down.” And they made this record that was fucking dope and it fucking hit on the charts, like one, two, three! Three two one! Three four five six seven eight nine teeen! Ten to one! From Under the Cork Tree sold like, four million records. … Ten million records! …Fifteen million records! And Brendon Urie had nothing to do with the entire record! And Patrick is like, “That’s GOooOooOooOooOooOooOd!”
Pete was like, “Yo, FUCK YOU! I can do whatever I want!” Joe was like, “…yeah, it’s cool man, whatever. I don’t give a shit.” And then Andy was b , “….eh.. cool.” And Pete was like, “Makeup is fuckin’ great for a guy. Because, it makes a guy look beautiful. Which a lotta times, a guy is not beautiful. And I wanna change that. I wanna make sure that everybody thinks that guys are beautiful.”
*cut to Brendon spitting for 30 seconds* (shutthefuck– oh, fuck.. alright, alright.)
Pete was like, “Oh my god, I’m so embarassed about this dick pic!” And then I saw the dick pic and I was like, “Eh, it’s not bad.” It’s not a bad dick. Let’s be real. 
We made Rolling Stone one issue before Fall Out Boy. And Fall Out Boy made the issue right after us. They were so pissed! They were like, “Yo, fuck you guys!” They’re like, “YO! Panic has the fucking cover of Rolling Stone? Yo, FUCK these dudes! We’re gonna go fucking miles above! We’re gonna hit every fuckin’ continent there is known to man!” But they didn’t! Because they missed a second of time. Apparently. They were like, “Oh, shit, we got every continent!” But they didn’t actually hit it. Dude, Pete was like, “what the FUCK?!” Oh, you didn’t make the continent.. It’s like fuck you!
So, From Under the Cork Tree Happens, we fuckin’ have three, four years of awesomeness… Like, people are cumming on themselves, causeit’s so big.
*people talking in the background, Brendon spills/pours beer on himself* Alright. So, Fall Out Boy was like,
So Patrick’s like, “Yo, we’re gonna name this record from uru-From Under the Cork Tree and from inity-isf- *laugh* From Infinity on High. Pete was like, “Yo. Folie A Deux means the theatric of two. Oh, sorry, I’m sorry.
Fall Out Boy was like, "Yo, we gotta take a break.” Meaning, Pete was like, “Yo. We gotta take a break, bruh.” And Patrick’s like, “I need time for my music. OOHH!” And Joe’s like, “Yo. I need time to find the fuckin’ art, dude. I gotta find some fuckin’ meau-metal.” And Andy’s like, “I’m just gonna play with some fuckin’ metal bands.” And they’re like, “Alright. This break’s been like three years long. Two years long. Three years long.” Three and a half..? “We gotta fuckin’ come back, man. We gotta come back strong. 
(You took my beer away! What the fuck? *someone in the back: you poured it all over yourself! you poured it on yourself, man.*)
"We gotta make this shit legit, it’s gonna be fuckin’ dope. It’s gonna go fuckin’ sky high. We’re gonna make a fuckin’ record that sails the skies. We’re gonna call this record… Save Rock and Roll.” So they made Alone Together, Light ‘Em Up, Alone Together, Phoenix. And everybody’s like, “What the fuck? You’re workin’ with this guy who fuckin’ recorded Avril Lavigne and Pink..”
(There’s p- what the fuck is on my shirt, did I puke on myself? *people in the background telling him he poured beer on himself* oh, god..)
Pete was like, “Yo, we’re gonna end up on a tour with Panic! at the Disco and Twenty Pilots.” And that’s all. That’s all that matters. And that’s just how the fuckin’ story goes.

anonymous asked:

Ok. Ok. Socks. Are they scandalous or nah? If so, what's the level of scandal with ankle socks? Knee socks? Thigh highs? Tights? ;3 How would the bros (any is fine) react to their SO wearing... toe socks?! //dramatic music

DUn DUN DUN!

Ankle socks are just cute, good for slip on shoes.

Knee socks are pretty cool, good for cold days.

Tight highs are so scandalous! 

Tights are just itchy.


US Sans is so amazed! Wow! Their toes are cradled so well! They must be so warm! Papyrus would love those! His toes get so cold. He loves their toe socks. He’s totally going to buy Papyrus some to keep his toes warm.

US Papyrus’ feet are always cold. He could use some toe socks. They’re like gloves for his feet. Keep ‘em nice and toasty. S/O should not be surprised if al of their toe socks go missing. And Paps’ feet are suspiciously less frozen solid.

.????

Reading some comments on Cait’s IG. Usual sock account shit. Tell me why everyone runs to another’s IG to get their say into the conversation. Trolls don’t care. They stir the pot and then leave the mess while others fight. They go for the topics that hurt the most or someone is sensitive about. It’s their game, that’s how they play it. They hide behind different account names, but Cait stands up for her beliefs and she puts herself out for all to view. While the trolls hide. You can’t change their minds. Their trolls. I don’t think they even like themselves. Don’t waste your energy on useless, mean beings. They just suck the life out of you and move on to the next person. Avoid the mess, step over it and keep walking.

I think Cait was wonderful to walk in the march. She deserves better. Women deserve better. That is why we were marching. Men have mothers, sisters and wives. Would they want some pompous guy grabbing one of their close family women? To bad we still have men out there that feel money or power gets them privileges that they don’t really have. Women who never experience anything in this regard are lucky, but most women have had some encounter with a man who has no respect for them. Whether it’s in the workplace or personal place.

I still have hope someday all women are respected for who we are. Love to all those that marched. You are wonderful souls. Lets keep up the great work. Together we can change things. 😘

221b: catches on fire
sherlock: holy FUCK this has GOTTA be moriarty OH MY GOD
fire guy: we found this hair dryer plugged in and running in the kitchen next to some mostly destroyed men’s socks
sherlock:

Kent has routines. He’s naturally a superstitious guy, but nowhere close to being excessive by hockey standards, but something changed after the incident with Jack. He starts to have these little routines. His therapist said it was probably because he’s seeking some semblance of balance, which Kent thinks is a load of shit. So he cuts his peanut butter-Nutella sandwiches diagonally and never horizontally (who the hell cuts sandwiches horizontally?) So maybe he pets Kit no less than ten times before a game. So maybe when he wakes from another nightmare about finding Jack on the bathroom floor, he doesn’t go to sleep until he’s counted to ninety. It’s not a big deal.

He still waits for the fallout when Tater starts sleeping over more often, when he tries to find his sweatpants but all he finds, to his annoyance, are Tater’s socks and jeans made for giants. He wait for Tater to abandon him, or maybe not abandon him but still for the impending freak out looming like an eternal storm because Tater is not part of his routine.

But it doesn’t happen.

They make peanut butter Nutella sandwiches together, licking chocolate off their fingers and cutting their sandwiches diagonally. Kit curls into a ball and rests on Kent’s stomach while Kent uses Tater’s lap as a pillow while he reads some Russian classic, Dostoyevsky, probably, or one of those dead Russian literary greats whose names remind Kent of keyboard smashing (“Kenny, this is Eat, Pray, Love.” “Oh.”) on their couch like he’s lived there for ages, and not only every so often when their schedule happens to match up. And when Kent shoots up in bed, shaking from another bad dream, he feels Tater reach for him from his left, blindly, tiredly, and say “Shh, is dream. Shh.” And Tater kisses him on the jawline, alternating between sides, exactly 7 times, because “is lucky number. No more bad dreams.” Like it’s a routine.

When he kisses Kent tonight, he’s visibly tired, so he ends up mouthing at Kent’s jaw like he’s a fish gaping for water.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kent says. Tater’s lips are moving very gently along his skin, and it’s getting ticklish.

“Tired,” he says, and finishes his kisses with a real one, complete with an obnoxious smack. “There. 7 kisses. Eh. More or less. Good enough.”

“90’s a luckier number.”

“Mm.”

“Got me pretty far, you know. Have the trophies to prove it.”

“7 is better. More lucky.” Tater saves this into Kent’s hair. “90 I think is little bit ok.”

“Oh yeah? What do you know about luck?”

“Lots,” Tater says, rubbing Kent’s arm gently. “I’m lucky man.”

“How so?” Kent says quietly, his eyes nearly sliding shut again. “You don’t–“ He yawns. “You don’t have a Cup.”

“Not yet,” Tater agrees. “But have hockey. And Kent Parson. And Kit. And sandwiches cut in…” He gestures vaguely, his hands flapping gently like birds, like he can’t quite grasp the word, then says something in Russian, a slow, full rumble that Kent adores. “You know.” He waves his fingers again, mimicking a shape.

“Triangles?” Kent prompts, huffing a laugh in Tater’s throat.

“Hah! Yes. Triangle sandwiches. Most lucky shape, I think.”

“Okay,” Kent says, his heart so, so full, and snuggles back in to Tater’s arms. “If you’re so sure.”

“Always sure.”

This is the cat with no set name. She’s either called Socks, Luna, or Strong Paw. She’s mostly an outdoor kitty but loves to romp indoors. She’s also loves seafood and laying on her special towel.

it’s easy to be negative about bipolar disorder. cause it sucks and goes on forever

but there are days when things are good
not too good, just good enough

and there’s sock-dancing in the kitchen, or tea-full snuggling on the couch, or reveling in the sun outside

just, remember that things are good sometimes, okay?