so you’re finally going to your first punk show. it can be a little intimating for sure! here is what i tell my newbie friends when i take them to their first show:
1. take it at your own pace. start the show at the back of the crowd, if you’re vibing and feel the need to jump around get closer to the mosh
2. the mosh is a lot less scary than it looks. it really is a bunch of people just wanting to move around. There are times where it can get violent. if you feel overwhelmed at all just push (don’t feel bad, you might even need to shove a little, nobody will care) your way through the crowd that is encircling the mosh.
3. if you see someone on the ground in a mosh, PICK THEM UP!!!! not only to keep them safe but for your own safety as well, moshing can get a little disorienting (especially if you are drinking or smoking) so you might not even see them. along with this if you see someone’s personal item, try your best to pick it up and hold it in the air. Essentially, if something or someone could get damaged, help them out.
4. a lot of the people there look really intimidating and cool. yes they are cool as fuck, but they are some of the nicest people on this earth right now. Talk to a stranger. some of the kindest people i’ve met and become friends with i met at shows.
5. don’t be afraid to be yourself. don’t feel like you match the “punk aesthetic” you see on tumblr tiktok and pinterest? who give a fuck!! the most punk think you can do is be yourself. if you fake who you are people will notice.
reblog with more tips!!!!
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Sex is great and all, but have you ever watched a scene with so much tension that your soul left your body?
Like Togawa's thumb in Nozue's mouth?
Or Teh smelling Oh-aew?
Perhaps Ritsu giving Masumi some water?
Maybe Mangkorn commanding Yai to kneel and not speak?
Possibly Vegas sniffing Pete while forcing Pete to talk to his grandmother?
When Tan leaned into Bun and asked him this?
Did Li Cheng licking Mu Ren's lips finally do it?
Or is your soul intact and still very much tethered to your body?
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Punk Steve!
Steve who feels so fucking lost bc robin went off to college and the kids can drive themselves around and he’s lonely and doesn’t know what to do with himself.
So he takes to driving around aimlessly on the evenings, because that’s what he and Robin used to do.
And one night, he stumbles on this building, out in the middle of (mostly) nowhere. There are beat-up cars in the parking lot, and he can hear the music all the way on the road.
He doesn’t totally know what he’s doing when he pulls in, and he’s out of the car before he can really decide if this is a good idea or not.
He’s glad he was wearing something plain, a dark green t-shirt and jeans, because he’d stick out like a sore thumb in his usual attire here.
He’d never seen so much black clothing.
Everyone had on similar items, black pants, all ripped up. Some people had put patches on their clothes. He saw names like The Dead Kennedys, The Runaways, The Ramones, The Sex Pistols. He saw leather jackets, clothes covered in safety pins and spikes. Big dark boots with blue, or yellow, or purple laces.
The band was playing some crashing song, and it was so fucking loud that Steve could hardly pick out the words, let alone differentiate the sounds of each instrument.
But something about the way the crowd was moving, head-banging and slamming into each other. Everyone had huge smiles on their faces, even as they all smashed together.
He didn’t join in the first day, sue him if he was a little scared, but he just kept, coming back.
And he made friends. Friends his own age. Friends with piercings in their faces, who shared cheap apartments on the outskirts of town. And they called him a yuppie, but they gave him hand-me-down clothes and helped him diy his first leather jacket, one that had been hanging, sad and forgotten, in his closet since last July.
He would go to the little venue every weekend, smearing black make up around his eyes in the car on the way there. He got his nose pierced in the bathroom, three people crammed into the tiny space. (He’s fucking shocked he didn’t get an infection).
He made out with a boy against the back wall while some shitty band raged up front, slamming their instruments into the floor.
(He ended up in tears later that night, black eyeliner staining his cheeks, because the boy’s blue eyes reminded him of someone he was too heartbroken to think about.)
It was a weird coincidence that led him to this little sea of punk weirdos, and nobody, not even Steve, had expected him to get so deep into this counterculture, but he finally felt free, and himself, and happy, and he can’t remember a time in which he has ever felt more comfortable in his own skin.
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