alright fine here’s the terrible beard

Idk why haven’t they announced Chicago dates yet?!?!?

1. Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy (acoustic) - Fall Out Boy

2. Shake Tramp - Marianas Trench

3. Astoria - Marianas Trench

4. Dance Miserable - Patrick Stump

5. Coast (It’s Gonna Get Better) - Patrick Stump

Thank you 💛

○ Who’s the messiest one:Patrick without a doubt

○ Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA:Patrick again

○ Who’s the funniest drunk: Pete because he gets drunk and tries to freestyle (especially freestyle about Patrick)

○ Who texts the most:Peter again, I see Patrick more of a phone call person because it takes him five minutes to text one sentence

○ Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: Them BOTH (but Pete thinks it is Patrick and Patrick thinks it is Pete)

○ Who reads the most:Pete

○ Who’s better with kids:They both rise and fall with the occasion. Pete is the one who lets the kids say crap and tells epic bedtime stories and Patrick is the one who makes cool snacks and enforces nap time and accidently falls asleep while watching kids)

○ Who’s the one that fixes things around the house:Pete (but Patrick has to go back and fix it when Pete isn’t looking)

○ Who’s got the weirdest hobby:Patrick hands down

Sunbathing, candles and accost. I know you don’t ship Patroh, so I’ve tried to make this one gen-ish, although it’s set in the same universe as the others. It’s set very early in the tour, before the other fics posted so far.

There was a highway running way too close to today’s venue, in Joe’s opinion. It made the air thick in the heat and irritated his lungs as he ran around on stage, taking great gulps of it in his leaps. It was utterly gross and he’d found himself complaining to at least three different Warped staff about the choice of venue, during the day. He probably sounded like an entitled dick, but he was pretty sure he was entitled to air to breathe, like it was a basic human right or something.

He didn’t bother changing after the set, either, he just peeled off his soggy shirt and flopped down onto the grass outside the bus to let himself gently roast in the southern heat. The dry, yellow grass prickled at his back and somewhere a generator was whirring gratingly. This was totally not The Life.

“Sunbathing?” Patrick’s voice asked, as he dropped onto the ground beside him.

Joe opened his eyes to squint at him in the bright afternoon light. His cap was pulled low over his face, sweaty, reddish strands sticking out from beneath it, stuck to his forehead and cheeks; his shirtsleeves were unrolled to protect the pale skin on his arms; still, he looked pink in the face and faintly flustered. “Yeah, bathing in my own sweat,” he snorted. “It’s actually pretty gross and I think I’m lying on a bug’s nest.”

“I am not designed for this,” Patrick nodded resignedly, tugging at the shirt sticking to his belly and shaking some air in to cool down.

“I’m like, dreaming of a Chicago winter, right now, dude. I will take my car buried in, like, six feet of snow any day of the week, rather than this crap.”

“You’re a Floridian, shouldn’t you be able to deal with it?”

“Don’t you curse at me, jerk. Floridian! How dare you?”

Patrick grinned and dropped a handful of dead grass on Joe’s face in response.

For a little while, they sat, not quite enjoying the weather, but tolerating it peacefully together, watching the rest of their tour mates wandering around in varying degrees of misery and sweaty disarray. There was a distinct solidarity with the My Chem boys, their fellow Not Southerners, watching Gee stoically remain in his stage jacket in 102°F heat, his make up smearing itself into the overheated redness of his cheeks as he dragged on a cigarette in the thinnest sliver of shade on the site.

But it was Frank who strolled over to them, his hair plastered to his face with either sweat or pomade, the remnants of black smudged all around his eyes and down his face.

“Hey,” Patrick said, grinning up at him and giving his habitual half-wave. “How’s it going?”

“I’m melting like a fucking candle, man,” Frank told him grimly. “You seen Pete?”

“Pete?” Joe asked, opening one eye to peer up at him curiously. “Like. Our Pete?”

Frank frowned and glanced around them shiftily, shrugging. “Well, yeah - is he around?”

Patrick glanced at Joe pointedly. “He’s on the bus, I think.”

“If not, look for the horde of screaming girls if you feel like getting accosted,” Joe offered, watching as Frank nodded a thoughtful thanks and made his way to the door.

“Hey, you don’t… you don’t think…?” Patrick asked, under his breath.

The splutter of laughter slipped from Joe’s lips before he could stop it. “Seriously?”

“Well, I mean… stranger things have happened.”

Joe scrunched up his nose and grinned at the thought. “It can’t happen, dude. It’d be like dividing by emo.”

I’d love to read that rebuttal post actually! I’m just starting to learn about this really old fandom stuff. i kind of missed the boat on bandom for awhile and i love reading about this old stuff for some reason haha. if you can find it, i’d love to see it. maybe i’ll also try to find it myself.