#patty stump

[gummy-sharks666]

Rick

[stump-o-matically]

happy st pattys day ft my favorite patrick in green + livin in up!!

[imamfstarboyyy]

i remember seeing this post about andrew hozier that basically went like

"hozier has the greatest lyrics but reading them feels like an invasion of privacy-- if andrew wanted me to know what he was saying he would have enunciated."

that is how i feel listening to any fall out boy song ever. amazing lyricism but if patrick wanted me to know it-- he would have enunciated better.

[omegalomania]

posts that haunt me

[whack-patty]

finally got my act together and organized my thoughts for the whole rest of the sneep snorp story. id like to apologize in advance because it's gonna get . uh. it's gonna. um. uh

[tvbles]

Patrick laying in bed with Evelyn, staring up at the ceiling, deep in thought: Evelyn, do you ever stay awake at night thinking about something that’s bothering you?

Evelyn, who is tired and most likely half asleep: Well, I don’t think much about such Patty, but maybe. Depends really.

Patrick: Do you think about how Tim is a natural blonde?

Evelyn: Um.. not to the point it’s keeping me up at night, no?

Patrick: Well I do.

Evelyn: Don’t think too much about it sweetie, if it’s keeping you up at night - Patty you need your sleep.

With that, Evelyn let’s out a short yawn before drifting to sleep. Patrick, on the other hand, stays awake thinking about the fact his coworker is a natural blonde. He is stumped. Curious. Intrigued.

Undoubtedly, Patrick stayed up more so then he thought he would. A blonde Timothy haunts his mind at work.

[janort]

hello clown mutual, could you please provide me with information about this here clown I just adopted? I can tell he's a porcelain and maybe part jester, but other than that, I'm stumped

My my! A stunning clown, with such a strikingly unique pattern!

It seems this individual may actually be part porcelain and part plush clown, based on the variation I can see in his skin texture. Although not impossible, this mix is generally pretty rare! I myself have never encountered one, and I don’t know much about their specific needs, so perhaps bring him to the vet for a checkup. If he is partially porcelain and partially plush, I’d wager a guess that he will need a bit of extra sugar in their diet to maintain his exoskeleton portion, and that he may be less prone to cracking or shattering because of his soft patches.

His facial markings are also very interesting, I’m not quite sure what to make of those stubble-like spots. If he was a larger clown or had a more muted color pallet I might attribute it to possible rodeo-clown ancestry, but because of his size and coloration that seems highly unlikely. I don’t know what that could be from, because aside from mutations those markings don’t occur in thorough-bred teacup patty clowns or teacup jesters, and Pierrot facial markings around the mouth tend to more closely resemble waxed mustaches.

Overall I’d say I’m most sure that he has some amount of jester ancestry, as well as party clown ancestry. (based on his coloration and the shape of his head plumage)

Good luck to you and your fascinating little companion, best wishes!

[cold-heart-warm-writings]

Which of the DWMA students are the most to least likely to rearrange their room in the middle of the night

Most Likely - Patty - She goes where whatever random thread of thought takes her, and if a voice in her head randomly says “what would the bed look like slightly slanted in the middle of the room?” at 2:37am, then she will get right up and start moving.

Maka - She spends too many nights staying up late studying, and eventually she hits a point where her brain is fried. Maka is big on the feng shui of rooms. She rearranges her room constantly with the change in seasons, changes in her life, changes in the school year, so that every object in her room flows to best fit her needs. It’s also how she works through problems she’s stumped on. While discovering missing socks under the bed, and knick knacks that got stuck under her dresser, Maka also finds the answers to problems she couldn’t quite solve.

Black Star - He is surprisingly big on catching enough sleep to help him power through each day and defeat God, but when he can’t sleep, he’ll rearrange his room as extra strength training. He likes to maximize the amount of empty space in his room so he can do extra at home workouts. 

Crona - Something would set them off. Like they don’t like how the moon is shining in their eyes when they are trying to sleep at night, and then the ticking of the clock is keeping them awake, and then they think they see a shadow until they spiral and start rearranging their entire room. But then they get overwhelmed by THAT, and just pass out on the floor. Maka finds them curled up in a ball the next morning when she goes to check in on them and make sure that they ate breakfast. She sees the mess, steps out to make a few phone calls to clear the rest of her day, and then helps Crona organize and set their room up how they like it, and is patient no matter how many times they want to rearrange everything.

Death the Kid-  He’s in the same boat as Crona where something might set him off, but Liz banned him from rearranging his room in the middle of the night after she woke up too many times to him screaming about the symmetry of his room. He can rearrange his room if he really wants to, but only when she is on vacation for a week or longer.

Liz - More likely to empty out and go through her entire wardrobe than to do the heavy lifting without any help in the middle of the night. She’s down for a good middle of the night “I want to remake myself” moment, but moving everything around? No. She would rather go through her closet and make some impulse online purchases. 

Soul - He just… can’t be bothered. Soul’s room is already set up exactly how he likes it, so there’s no reason for him to go moving it around, especially not when he’s tired after a long day. If he sees something he wants changed, he just does it. But Soul doesn’t feel the need for a big room revamp in the middle of the night.

Least likely - Tsubaki - Girl needs her sleep. She handles Black Star all day, and if she is going to match his energy, then she is in bed at a decent time, cooling eye patches on, humidifier and essential oils steaming away, minding her own business, tucked into bed, catching them zzz’s. Do Not Disturb.

[noodle-doodle]

My friend drew patty stump🤭

[voraciousvore]

Bucky's (6/44)

***This chapter contains some gore, and some soft vore***

Chapter 6: The Next Day

Patty had nightmares about being violently eaten, having her limbs ripped off, one by one, by huge white teeth, her blood spurting like a fountain from the severed stumps. Giant fingers squeezed her body with unbearable pressure, crushing her ribcage and causing her organs to pop out. She saw a Giant laughing, red rivers running down his lips and chin, before he went in for the kill, shattering her vertebrae with a hard crunch between his incisors. She awoke with a start to thunderous banging on the ceiling. 

“Rise and shine, my little bipedal sausages! It’s time for the breakfast shift!” Bucky’s voice rumbled overhead. Patty groaned with despair as her memories from yesterday came flooding back to her. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be safe at home. She hauled herself out of bed, with the knowledge that Bucky probably wouldn’t be too keen on having stragglers. She prepared for the day as best she could, shoveling in more leftovers for breakfast. As she ate, Little Debbie nudged her to get her attention and handed her a new nametag. 

“Put this on,” she whispered. “You don’t want Bucky to see you without one.” She motioned to a stack of nametags, so Patty would know where to get a new one in the future. 

“Thanks,” Patty mumbled back, sticking the tag to her chest. She thought to herself what a sweet and thoughtful person Little Debbie was, to care about others as she did. Patty didn’t know if she could be capable of the same generosity herself, especially considering that her survival might be better served throwing someone else under the bus rather than cooperating as a team. She realized, with how frantic she had been yesterday, she had stuck out like a sore thumb. The others, excluding Little Debbie and Slim Jim, had purposely refused to help her because she was an easy target, and if she was selected to be eaten their chances of not being picked themselves increased. These thoughts filled her with disquiet, but she couldn’t really blame them for looking out for themselves. She doubted any of them had much control over their fate as it were.  

She recalled Little Debbie’s missing fingers and cringed internally. She didn’t deserve such cruel treatment. Patty discreetly glanced around and noticed some of the other humans were missing fingers and toes as well, forms of mutilation subtle enough that restaurant patrons wouldn’t notice the blemishes, with how small the humans were. She comprehended, with a creeping tightness in her chest, that those were merely the punishments for disobedience that she could physically see. Bucky probably did other things, just as bad, that didn’t leave physical scars. Patty knew she needed to stay on Bucky’s good side. 

The ceiling lifted, and Patty experienced a surge of frightened electricity in her gut at the sight of Bucky looming over all the humans. “Line up for inspection!” he commanded, and the humans scrambled into rows. Patty caught on quickly and fell into line. Bucky leaned forward and studied each human carefully, occasionally lifting someone up in his hand and turning them over to get a closer look. Patty drew in a sharp breath when his huge sapphire eyes scanned her, but after a moment of scrutiny he passed over her without incident. Even so, she didn’t feel like she could breathe easily even after. 

“Graham!” Bucky bellowed, snatching up the tiny man in his fist. “I told you before, you can’t wear your glasses in the dining room! They’re not digestible!”  

Graham Cracker squirmed uselessly against Bucky’s tight grip. “S-sorry! I’ll go put them away! I just can’t see without them!” he gasped, clearly straining just to breathe with the pressure on his chest. Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. 

“I’ll give you one more chance,” he growled. “No more excuses. Next time this happens, I’m smashing those glasses.” He set Graham down and he sprinted away in terror. Bucky ignored him and looked over the rest of the group, gruffly telling two of the ladies to restyle their hair and reminding another to put on a nametag. Once he was satisfied, he released the group and nudged the tiny humans into the tunnel that led to the tank in the dining area. There was a shuttle that resembled a big capsule that shot along a cable, that had to be operated by a Giant on the outside. Patty observed these details warily as she thought about ways to escape.  

The humans were brought to their transparent prison, where they reluctantly filtered in. So far, Patty had not seen any way out. She considered her options if she was chosen to be eaten in a meal. She seriously doubted she would have a good chance of escaping from the Giant cooks, especially if she were high up on the countertop with no way to get down. Last time she was brought to the table, her arms and legs were constricted, so she couldn’t run, but she might have an opportunity to jump out of the dish under different circumstances. She remembered seeing Little Debbie sitting on a pile of chicken wings covered in sauce, but unrestricted. Even so, the woman hadn’t bothered to run, and Patty could see why. Even if she scampered off the plate she’d be trapped high up on the table, with no way to get down that didn’t involve breaking bones or dying. She couldn’t exactly jump into the lap of a Giant eager to devour her and climb down. 

Patty looked down at her wrist, with the tracker firmly clasped on. She tugged and clawed at the thick band of metal, but couldn’t get it to release. If she miraculously managed to get away from the restaurant, Bucky would still be able to find her, no matter where she ran. She couldn’t outrun a Giant. And where would she go? She was a criminal on the human side. Living like a rat in the streets of a Giant city sounded like a frightening and awful existence, particularly if she were caught and eaten without a pill to prevent digestion. Patty couldn’t see any way out of her predicament. Despair and dismay crawled into her chest, constricting and suffocating her. 

Slim Jim, watching her tug on her bracelet, shook his head despondently. “Trust me, there’s no point,” he mumbled. “We have no chance of escaping.” He leaned against the glass, lost in thought, and folded his arms. Patty recalled what he had mentioned earlier, about stealing to feed his family, and wondered if he was thinking about his kids. She sighed. She wasn’t ready to give up so easily. Even if there was no hope, she couldn’t stop her brain from scheming. She knew she at least had to try. 

Bucky’s wasn’t as busy for breakfast, but some of Patty’s human compatriots were still selected for food. Patty observed with trepidation as one man was served wrapped up in bacon, and promptly swallowed whole without a second thought. Another woman was toyed with as a Giant hooked her by the bra with his fork and dragged her across his plate, covering her in maple syrup and butter left over from his pancakes. The Giant lifted her up and licked her body off with pleasure, then dumped her back on the plate and dragged her around again until she had soaked up all the syrup on the plate. The poor woman looked sticky and miserable as her messy hair clung to her face. He sucked her into his mouth and slurped her around in his cheeks for an agonizingly long time before finally gulping her down. Patty hated to watch, yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the morbid, revolting spectacle. 

One saving grace that Bucky granted was frequent breaks to his human prisoners. Every two hours or so, he would allow them a brief rest where they could grab a drink of water, use the bathroom, or freshen up. Patty figured Bucky didn’t want his human entrees appearing unsanitary or disheveled. He wanted customers to see them as fresh and appetizing. Patty considered making herself look dirty or unappealing, but she was scared to anger Bucky. She would prefer to keep all her fingers and toes. 

Bucky was conscientious to keep his humans well fed, pressuring them to eat the never-ending supply of leftovers at every opportunity, in order to fatten them up for eating. Patty noticed customers seemed to prefer humans who were plumper or more muscular, with additional flesh on their bones. She was grateful in this instance to be thinner, but she didn’t know how long that would last. She considered refusing food, but she was certain Bucky would notice if she lost too much weight and punish her, or even force feed her, a prospect she didn’t find appealing to say the least. 

Over time, the number of humans in the tank dwindled as they were eaten. A couple hours after ingestion, the Giants would extract their humans, still alive, from their bellies, and the waitresses would carry each human in a bowl out of sight. The humans were allowed to shower and given time to recover before being thrown back into the tank. Patty recognized, with some consternation, that a human could end up being eaten several times in one day if they happened to be a popular choice. 

The day continued in this same manner for a while. There was a bit of a lunch rush, but then the restaurant quieted down before more patrons started coming in for dinner. Patty grew bored and restless in the tank, with nothing to occupy her mind except gloomy dread and anxiety. She understood now why most of the humans seemed just as weary and indifferent as afraid. The waiting, the constant tension, the Giant eyes roving over the group to find their next meal, was almost as bad as actually being chosen. She had to remind herself not to pace, yet she frequently found her legs moving of their own accord. She found it difficult to sit still. 

As Patty was observing one of her fellow humans getting chomped up in a sandwich, the mood in the tank abruptly changed. Several cries of fear arose and people began bouncing around and trying to hide behind each other, despite having no cover or place to go. 

“What’s going on?” Patty asked, following their gazes to the front entrance of the restaurant. Nobody bothered to answer Patty, as they were all stricken with terror. A couple had just strolled in, a Giant and Giantess, but they didn’t appear to be the typical Bucky patrons. They were very nicely dressed, for starters. The man wore an expensive dark gray suit with a matching tie. He had a chunky gold watch on his wrist that was probably worth thousands of Big Bucks. He was perfectly groomed, with immaculate teeth, unblemished skin, and short brown hair, not a strand out of place. The woman on his arm was gorgeous enough to be a supermodel, with a shimmering, elegant satin gown and silky blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. She wore fine gold jewelry encrusted with gems that appeared very pricey. The wealthy couple looked conspicuously out of place with the more plebeian style of the restaurant and the other customers, mere commoners by comparison. They didn’t seem to care, however, and even seemed pleased to be there. They went straight to the tank of humans and bent down slightly to peer inside. Sensing these customers would tip well, a waitress materialized next to them to take their order. 

Patty’s instincts were screaming at her to run, but her legs felt as heavy as lead and rooted themselves to the floor like anchors. She stared up at those vast, spotless faces, and her mind stopped functioning properly. The Giant man rubbed his blocky whiskered chin with an enormous hand, surveying the crowd of tiny people voraciously. He licked his lips and pointed towards Patty with a tree-sized finger. “That one. She’s got some meat on her.” 

Patty’s heart stopped, until she realized he was pointing at a woman behind her. She cranked her head around just enough to see the unlucky individual was one of the women she met yesterday, Apple, staring with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. 

“Which one would you like to eat, darling?” he asked the Giantess, pecking her cheek tenderly and brushing his hand through her luscious hair. She pursed her coral lips and looked over the scared humans with shiny eyes, blinking her long lashes. 

“Hmmmm… that human right there looks delicious,” she purred, tapping the glass with a manicured nail. A wave of humans parted away from the condemned man, Chuck Roast, who looked stunned, like he had just been slapped in the face. 

“Perfect,” the waitress acknowledged. She wrote down their orders on her notepad, opened the lid to the tank, and snagged the two humans, despite their desperate attempts to scurry away, clutching them together in her fist. 

“Oh, and don’t bother giving those two any pills,” the Giant mentioned with his rich, deep voice. “We’re choosing the option for fatal ingestion.” 

Chapter 7

Chapter 1

[gummy-sharks666]

Babe you gotta wake up a new Patrick Stump reaction image hit the pentagon

[moshpitpuppyx]

direct from livejournal. dont even want to know what winchester snomp is

Does Patrick have a nickname? If so what is it?

Asked by kara on 2005-06-12 23:02:00

rickster. von stump. sophmore strump. winchester snomp, lunchbox. cookie jar. healthbar. rick ta life. patty boy. dont ever call him these. they are mine.

Answered by peter on 2005-06-13

THANK YOU SO MUCH this is doing awful things to my brain

[gentleoverdrive]

[29/300] I was more animal than man!

One of my bands recently had an anniversary show. And we actually turned a profit. We needed like 40 people to show up so we could at least cover expenses for the show... but almost 200 people ended up showing up. It was kinda wild! ---- Wilder still than that, though? I played 3 shows in less than 24 hours. By the end, I felt like a person-shaped burger patty. Just... complete physical and mental exhaustion. Nothing to think. Zero fucking thoughts beyond "I want to be in my bed." ---- I was so blessed that both my wife + my bandmates from 2 of the 3 musical ensembles were able to help´me through with the whole journey, because by the end I was TOTALED. I could even barely put my guitars back into their cases. Funniest thing, though...? ---- By the next day, I was fine. And that's what has been sorta left me a bit stumped in the part two weeks. Maybe the trick IS to take better care of your body in your day-to-day life, instead of running yourself ragged. But let's see how things shake up! Read you later, alligator!

[phantombs]

Mother Knows Best. He never learned his manners. He likes to play with his food.

The night feels distant. Haunting, even. And down through the meadows with its gnarling ivies, the world gone grey wears the summer mist.

It is – or so he imagines in mother’s voice – as ominous as death is, isn't? He nearly laughs, amused. Don’t be so ridiculous. Unlike her, wisdom crimped with the crow's feet at her eyes, he hadn't nothing but superstitions to turn. He trudges on foolishly, a proclaimed saint of logic. Yes, he’s sensible and arrogant. He makes through the fields.

Of course, he rebukes: it is only the night. That is all. The humble man, blind and brave, continues scuttling for home. A serpent hisses sharp as he ambles through the patties. He doesn't think it an omen, and less, still, a threat.

But then, with a mangled cry, its timbre wet its edges, a creature shudders the night.

What was that? he wonders.

Oh, what, indeed.

The farmer turns in the waterlogged fields. He waits. Rice baskets swinging, his weathered eyes squint to gauge the vast, swallowing nothing. The forest taunts him with rain, plundering. Who goes there? he thinks. A curious chill fingers whispery up his back, and he nearly imagines he can trace the 'e' in its treacherous curl. But he, sensible, denies those whorls as it writes out ‘danger’, and he, a wise man, thinks it dripping rain.

There is nothing there, he asserts. Perhaps a stray dog whining, but nothing more. That’s all.

And then the whimper froths again, and his body jolts.

No – that? That is a child!, he gasps. It bubbles up tight and twisted, lanced thorough with pain and fear both, and cleaves pathetic through the trees. He worries, eyes wide. A young boy… Laboring for hours on these rice fields, they must have forgotten to flee at that sign of storm. Now, clouds since parted, they’re met squarely with the midnight, its shadows thrown endless and its echoes so deep. They must be terrified, he reckons. The crickets, amused, all burst in laughter.

But, no, don’t listen to them. “Your parents are lucky to you have such a hard-working child like you,” he starts, repositioning the rod at his shoulders. He steps further near the forest’s clearing, wizened eyes squinting through the dark, and cajoles. “But you can’t work hard if you’re sick, now, can you?”

“N-no.” A sniffle, some dark lump shivering by a shattered stump. There, he thinks. “I guess I can’t.”

“That’s right. Now, stop crying, boy. Wipe off your face. I’ll take you home.”

“Really? You will?”

“Of course.”

“But my home's too far from here, and it’s too dark now. Do you think maybe you can take me to your home, bác?”

The words distort. The farmer blinks. He wonders if the rain had clogged his ears somehow, made wind and word sound April-howlish, but alas: there is no drip or drop in his skull. His brows furrow, hand pushing a thin branch back.

“Sure. You can go home when it’s light out again,” he says.

“Thank you, bác. I'd love to see your family.”

The words twist again. The farmer watches dumbfounded, mother’s words ringing in his ears when that small lump, that pitiful mass, begins to unfurl like the endless night. He, they – or it, rather, uncurls forever. Uncurls longly. Bác can only stare as its limbs unravel midst the branches. It is tall, towering two grown men, and at last reveals its eyes as silver as lake.

It's all black otherwise. It's a void-shadow between the trees, like the night’s cut out a shape in the dark and neglected to fill it. It is ominous. Foul. The farmer’s mouth parts, and all he sees are those eyes like moons.

“I'd really love to,” it rumbles like cave. “Why share dinner alone when three’s company? You alone could barely fill my belly. But with your wife and child, maybe you would.”

The farmer falls. He knocks back onto his rear, stunned into stumbling, and – god, his heart. His heart’s lunged into his skull, battering it incessant like ram. Or thunder. He trembles terribly. His eyes widen as that demon nears, a thin, wiry creation, and begins to adjust to its shadow. At first glance, it’d seem a dog, something hovelled by starvation, but a mutt, he knows, can never grow that mighty. And a mutt, he knows, hasn’t teeth so foul.

It oddly smiles, and there are too many teeth crammed in those jaws. He shakes. He peers up, and its taloned paws squelch the earth beside him wet. It leans down, sinew dried coppery at its muzzle, and its fearsome eyes gleam cold as snow.

“Generous man,” it begins like child. And then, like beast– “do I terrify?”

Yes.

High and panicked, a shriek erupts the summer night.

Blood spills unto the soil.

Mother’s always right.