#you brought me your pansy guitar

[drdeathdefyissy]

I want this dudes guitars.

#pansy #i brought you my bullets #you brought me your pansy guitar #right now #frank i love you

[leelee120000]

#MCRXX – An Analysis of My Chemical Romance’s “A summoning…”

February 17, 2020

My Chemical Romance (MCR) has decided to light my emo heart on fire once again by releasing “A summoning…” The short film is 13 minutes and 19 seconds long and cryptic in the same insane manner as Twenty One Pilots’ and BTS’ videos, creating a mystery for the fans to solve.

The video starts with a zoomed-in shot of black Converse being laced up. The person gulps and stands, walking past a white guitar. It’s Pansy, a clone of the guitar that was burned during the Life on the Murder Scene era. The camera pans over a desk covered with vinyl and a quill pen well. The camera pans to a corkboard with some of Gerard Way’s sketches, Mikey Way’s photographs, and some other paper scraps; the centerpiece being a spooky eye.

The young man* wearing the shoes walks into the kitchen, grabbing a coffee mug labeled “NJ Dept. Of Corrections.” (MCR is from New Jersey.) He brews the pot and then looks through some clothes. The first is the jacket Gerard wore during the band’s “Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys” album era, the next is a black jacket with golden buttons, looking like a shirt from the bands “The Black Parade” album era.

The man grabs a black hooded cape and tares duct tape with his teeth. He tapes off the windows with black trash bags. The camera pans over a gas mask which is a symbol with triple meaning for fans, as it is the same one used in all three of Gerard’s comics. The man puts on the vinyl of MCR’s debut album, “I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love.” He then proceeds to light candles around photographs of the band member’s families.

He walks with another candle and sits it on the floor. There is a pentagram in tape with an MCR album in each corner with an ouija board in front of him. The camera focuses on his obscured face as his hands move the placet, blocking the question from the camera’s view. The TV erupts with static, rapidly flashing five tarot symbols:

The candle

The sun

The hand with a match

The blood drop

And a never before seen logo. Which I assume is this new album’s logo. Correction, members of the witchcraft community in the comments have said that it’s actually a sigle symbolizing MCR. I’m still trying to verify this.

The camera drops to the ouija board. Moving from around the O area over to spell out “R-U-N” as the front door is hit with loud knocking. The man looks through the peephole and sees three Draculoids from Danger Days.

The camera pans over a key ring labeled “Hotel Bella Muerte Room 512”. Which is a reference to the song “The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You” off their album, “Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge.” The 512, however, is new. The only thing I could think of is that 5-8-12 was the last day they performed live. Or maybe it’s the release date of this new album, May 12 2020?

The man sprints into a red door with the candle on it. He runs into a bar with green and purple lights, the helmet from “The Ghost of You” music video sits above the bar, it is clear that this bar is representing the album, “I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love”. First room, first album, and all the references are from this era. (The song lyrics in the graphey, the posters, etc.) The patrons are drunk and watching the “The Ghost of You” music video.

Suddenly, a woman is sucking the arm of another woman and the camera flashes a man’s vampire fangs. 

The three Draculoids reappear, the man runs through another red door. This one with the blood drop. The music is a slowed-down version of “Helena,” and the church this man has entered looks identical to the one from the “Helena” music video. He picks up a flyer for  Helena’s funeral. We see the blood-splattered couple for the album cover of “Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge” being married. They look back at the door, Helena stands, doing her dance.

The three Draculoids reappear, the man runs behind a curtain. He lights a match. (The matchbox is another song reference, labeled “Fire at Will.”) He steps out of a coffin, and into the hospital from “The Black Parade” where we see The Patient’s bed from the music video. Something is under the sheets. The man pulls them and the heart monitor stops. Showing 5-18-12. This is the events of TBP being shown from the other side. The three Draculoids burst through a red door with the hand and match. Our man hides and then sprints away as they follow.

A red door with the sun appears he runs through. Suddenly he falls out of the passenger side of the “Danger Days” Trans A.M. [I screamed.] It speeds off while blaring Dr. Death-Defying’s iconic radio transmission. The car circles back, almost running the man over. He walks past the mallets from the “I’m Not Okay” music video. The Draculoids march forward, the man runs into a red door with the moon symbol. A nuke explodes like the beginning of the Danger Days comics.

The man is lying in the middle of a circle of candles as five cloaked figures stand around him. It fades to black and the music becomes hopeful as he walks into the gymnasium from “Teenagers,” the door is black with the new logo. He follows a path of candles as he’s suddenly in a stadium. The pentagram and ouija board is back, it says “Yes”. The man looks up and smiles, the lights turn on to reveal, “FORUM” the symbol appears and city names fade in and out.

At the very end, we see the skeleton with the ex band member Bob’s TBP jacket and the dead Draculoids.

*I assume he, the nameless character, is a man. However Gerard Way is genderfluid and if this character is a representation of them, then it is reasonable to assume the character is he/them. In a 2014 Reddit thread when asked about gender Gerard had said, “I have always been extremely sensitive to those that have gender identity issues as I feel like I have gone through it as well, if even on a smaller scale. I have always identified a fair amount with the female gender, and began at a certain point in MCR to express this through my look and performance style. So it’s no surprise that all of my inspirations and style influences were pushing gender boundaries. Freddy [sic] Mercury, Bowie, Iggy, early glam, T-Rex. Masculinity to me has always made me feel like it wasn’t right for me.” 

LeAnne McPherson

#my writing #mcr #my chemical romance

[xjustlikeyou]

I feel like being an elder millennial in this new/old "emo" music scene is a weird experience.

But fuck Paramore. You wanna give a history lesson - where's the history lesson that includes the NJ/NY hardcore and post-hardcore scene that emo/post-punk mostly spawned from that has always fiercely defended queer and trans fans/rights? Geoff's been out here all along - vocally defensive of our rights for over 20 fucking years. Bert has been fucking with gender and vocally supportive since the beginning of the Used. Frank didn't wear a homophobia is gay shirt and have a guitar named Pansy for you to "grant" queer fans a place in this scene now. Gabe was defending our rights while in Midtown and brought that spirit into the FBR/Decaydance scene and most of those involved in that scene jumped onto it - if they weren't already doing it on their own.

I had 15+ years of a music community who supported and defended me and my rights and I don't need someone's "prettiest straight friend" coming back now to tell me I have a space.

I've always had a space.

Your band was not always a safe space and that's not on us or the scene we built.

I'm irrationally irritated about this. I'm aware of it.

But fuck all of that.

#soapbox #probably delete later #but I've been fuming all morning about this

[neon-garbage]

#drawing #sketch #art #aestheitcs #aesthetic #mcr #emo #gaypride #gerard way #frank iero #ray toro #mikey way #pansy #black #white #edgy #punk #guitar #my chemical romance #i brought you my bullets you brought me your love #bullets #three cheers for sweet revenge #revenge #danger days #the black parade #black parade #ink #faber castell

[hptriadfest]

Masterlist with Creators

I’m ecstatic to reveal the list of all of the wonderful works created for this year's fest. If you haven’t already (or even if you have) please go and give some love to our brilliant authors and artists!

The title for each work is a link to it on Ao3

Day 1 Scalene Author: lumosatnight Harry has a house; Pansy needs a place to stay. It’s a match made in burning hell that only gets hotter when Pansy encounters her new roommates: the strangely intelligent Luna Lovegood and the intriguingly provocative Ginny Weasley. And that’s only the beginning! Throw in a giant snow leopard, yoga in the hallway, and an electric guitar. Welcome to Grimmauld Place!

Day 1 sunlight girls Artist: babooshk_art They'd started out in three separate flats. Cho, close to the arena for practice. Padma, a studio apartment over a bookshop (a childhood dream), and Luna in a fourth-floor walk up that she'd chosen purely for the windows. Plants needed sunlight, she needed sunlight, it all made sense.

What made better sense was when they all came together.

Day 2 The Three of Us Author: storyofeden Communication and understanding are perhaps the most important things in a relationship like theirs. Except…Hermione breaks her unspoken, unwritten rule. She falls in love with them.

Unfortunately, Sirius and Severus have each other, and she’s just…an arrangement. What could they possibly need her for when they have everything they need in each other? Then, Hermione’s world drops out from under her, and her fears are confirmed; she’s been nothing but a game this entire time.

Except miscommunication and misunderstanding have clouded everything, because Severus and Sirius love her, too. They thought she knew.

Day 2 Taking a Third Author: The Muse of Apollo (mtwb) Hermione needs help during the Horcrux hunt to pull herself together. Daphne is just the person for the job.

Day 3 Icarus Author: thistlecat A year after the war, Parvati runs into Pansy and Millicent at a club in Ibiza and finds herself embedded in their debauchery. None of it’s healthy, and it works until it doesn’t.

Day 3 Just the Way You Are Artist: herman_the_moth A kindly offered mug of tea can be enough to start a beautiful friendship. And sometimes friendships turn into something more...

Day 4 Balms To The Spirit Author: BleepBloopBotz "Harry has had chronic pain since ever since he died and came back to life. Now that he's in a relationship with Ron and Hermione, he's worried the relationship will be over before it's even began because he often has bad joint pain during sex. Ron and Hermione of course see no problem with this and are more than willing to adapt their sex lives for Harry."

Day 4 Time Triad Author: aleysiasnape Hermione accidentally bonds with Abraxas Malfoy and Orion Black.

Day 4 If Three's a Crowd, Then Crowd Me Author: SumthinClever Draco is asexual and fears Blaise will leave him due to his inability to fulfill his needs, and so suggests they open their relationship for Blaise to find partners willing to fulfill him. Draco fears Blaise will fall in love with someone else and still leave him, but neither of them figured it would be Draco that found someone else to love, too.

Day 5 Silver becomes Gold Author: dark_pookha Neville and Luna were brought together by the D.A. Ginny joins them later after leaving Harry. Each of them has a long-term lover in their open relationship.

Neville, Luna, and Ginny have just one rule: "When two or more of us are home, it's just us, but what you do on the road is your business."

Day 5 or else a scar Artist: babooshk_art The transition had gone smoothly, months of appointments and bitter potions and questionnaires that mediwix had him fill out, every detail laid out on parchment. His shiny pink scars were aged silvery with magic, and Harry couldn't stop running his fingers over them, over the soft flat expanse of his chest.

His boyfriends were equally enamored with his new body, and took it upon themselves to teach him a few things.

Day 6 Four Little Words Author: TheSlytherinGurl Severus made a face, “That particular phrase always has issues, most of the time it's never good.”

Frederique Weasley has been having a rough time. Both of her wives have been gone for a week. Work has been tough with Georgia off on her honeymoon. When she is at her lowest, she gets that dreaded text. "We need to talk."

Day 6 For All You Give (I'll Give It Back to You) Author: bluefay A birthday, a beach cottage, a love confession (or two). All Harry can wonder is why it took him so long to figure this out.

Day 7 Querying their quarrel Author: Contrarian_hedgehog Remus likes his new colleagues. If only they could learn to get along with each other...

Day 7 A Love Like This Author: SumthinClever Harry, Ginny, and Draco are ecstatic about their incoming baby. They don't know what the baby will look like or who fathered it, but they'll all love it regardless. They are shocked to discover not everyone feels the same way.

Day 7 Sigh No More Author: multilingualism No one said surviving a war would be easy. And even then, surviving is only half the battle. But just as Ron wasn't alone in that fight, his two best friends—and greatest loves—will be there for him every step of the way.

Day 8 Epicurea Author: SmallSherbert There is a kink club in Diagon Alley, Epicurea, a temple of hedonism and pleasure.

Epicurea is the perfect playground for Pansy to explore her love for women and dominating.

Day 8 Bonds Forged in Shadows Author: sarmofishy Three people brought together in war find love in the aftermath.

Day 9 Hanging by a thread (to love and be loved) Author: Vertraymer "The strongest bonds are those made in battle."

Day 9 A Break in the Waves Author: brightlightsfading Grief comes on like waves during a storm but they always break.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron navigate their eighth year together back at Hogwarts while also dealing with post-war life.

Day 9 Two In The Hand Artist: slytherco Draco Malfoy has a unique gift—he can see Magical Auras and the way they interact. Both a curse and a blessing, his talent let him become an exceptional Curse-Breaker but ruined most of his relationships, including The One Draco still can't quite shake. When he's unexpectedly summoned to Grimmauld Place 12 to dispel a particularly stubborn jewellery box, complicated spellwork isn't the only thing Draco has to face in the next several days.

Harry Potter's sons are now grown men and their Auras are not what Draco would ever expect. Nor is their unabashed, persistent interest—and Draco could never resist a Potter.

#hp triad fest #hp fests #triad fic #hp triad #HP #Harry Potter

[rekrappeter]

looking at the moon, but seeing you

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself drawn to draco malfoy, an october evening welcoming something you never expected

warnings: mention of feeling numb, swearing, typos

notes: please let me know what you think of this, feedback would be amazing thank you - if there’s an inaccuracy of the wizarding world in this, please don’t let me know, I’m not interested <333

I had originally started writing this for @bricksatanakinswindow​ ‘s wc and had a prompt in mind, but then I went on a tangent and finished it forgetting to use the prompt oops but anyways, I hope y’all enjoy it either way <3

It was your favorite time of the year. Orange and brown leaves scattered the grass, the sound of them crunching when students trampled over them to get to class, and it was always dark before the final class ended. The ghosts seemed to be more present during mealtimes and the flickering of the crimson fires above the four tables created shadows around the dining hall. There was an eerie, yet wholesome atmosphere that Hogwarts welcomed during the month of October. But the thing you loved most about October in Hogwarts was the Annual Halloween Feast. 

You were staring wide-eyed at the mounts of food that appeared in front of you, your mouth watering at the sight of the freshly trimmed turkey and the pumpkin pies that were making your stomach grumble with hunger. It took everything in your power to not reach out for your first servings, knowing that everyone was waiting for Professor Dumbledore to finish up his annual Halloween speech. The moment he gave you permission to start eating, your hands reached out for the first bowl of vegetables closest to you. 

“Calm down there,” Ron chuckled, his red hair brushing across his forehead, “It won’t disappear right away.” 

“You’re one to talk,” you snapped back, a playful smirk tugging on your lips as you eyed his plate already half-filled with chicken wings and mash potatoes. 

Ron scoffed, his cheeks turning red, “Quidditch practice makes me hungry.” You rolled your eyes as the boy rambled on, trying to plead his case but as you looked over his shoulder towards the Slytherin table, his voice was just a mere whisper amongst the eyes staring back at you. Cold, dull blue eyes were on your figure from across the room, his porcelain face rested in the palm of his hands and his pink lips were a spark contrast from his snow-white hair. 

“Is Draco Malfoy staring at me?” you whispered softly to Hermione, ignoring the confused glances from the red head boy that thought he was having a conversation with you. Hermione peaked over Ron’s shoulder strategically, pretending to scratch her nose in the process. The creasing of her fluffy brows confirmed your suspicions and you both stare at Draco, it wasn’t until the taller boy beside him, Blaise, nudged his shoulder with his that Draco was pulled out of what seemed to be a daydream. His eyes widened for a second, his tongue darting from his mouth to wet his lips as he raised a brow in your direction. 

‘What?’ you mouthed to him, and he shot you an annoyed, almost hateful, glare your way before tearing his gaze from you. A scoff passed your lips, it was so typical of Draco to make it seem like it was your fault that he was staring at you. “That was weird,” you murmured, shrugging your shoulders and the grumble of your stomach remembered that you had forgot to feed it all day. 

When the Feast had come to an end, the magically thundering and lightening lit up the Great Hall causing students to erupt into discussions of thrill and excitement. The tables disappeared from underneath you, as the room transforming into it’s annual Halloween afterparty. Pumpkins that Hagrid grew himself were huddled in the corners, big enough to fit three full adult males in them, and orange and black streamers were dangling from the ceiling. The table that the teachers occupied was gone and replaced with a stage, instruments scattered around on top and you could spot a skeleton tuning a guitar. 

A grin was unfaltering on your face, the excitement bubbling inside you. You glanced at Hermione, seeing her face in complete awe at the sight in front of her and you hated the fact that your eyes found themselves travelling across the room to the platinum blonde. Despite his foul demeanor throughout the entirety of the feast, an amused smile was rested on his lips as he watched the band of skeletons take the stage. As the music started, people began shuffling onto the makeshift dancefloor, still draped in their house robes. Your stare constantly kept finding it’s way to Draco, and no matter how much you scolded yourself, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. 

This started towards the end of last year, these growing unwanted feelings that you held for the Slytherin Prince. The summer break couldn’t have come quick enough, Hogwarts was a big place but you kept finding yourself bumping into him or walking in the same empty corridors as he did. Throughout the summer, you hadn’t thought about him once - you labeled it as a stupid crush, the inevitability of falling for the ‘bad boy’ of your year. Of course, he had ladies falling all over him, but you’d never seen him with anyone other than Pansy Parkinson and even at that, you weren’t sure if they were exclusive. You tried not to dwell on it much, the thought of the two doing things together in the dungeons brought a wave of nausea each time. You thought the feelings that developed were gone, but the moment he walked onto the platform at Kings Cross, time stopped and it was just him there amongst the bustle of people bidding goodbye to their families. You scolded yourself the whole train ride, feeling yourself falling into daydreams and fantasies of what could be. But you were a Gryffindor, and he was a Slytherin. It wouldn’t work. 

“You’re staring this time,” Hermione smirked, an amused glint in her eyes. She twirled you around so that your back was to Draco, and you silently thanked her. You had confided in Hermione about your little crush on Draco, hoping she’d be able to smack some sense into you and help you remember all the cruel things he’s said to you in the past but the thing was… you remembered all those things, you repeated them in your head but it still wasn’t enough to stop you from wondering where he was and letting your eyes linger after him. 

The night was drawing to an end, a night filled with endless laughter and dancing. You were on your way to the common room, arm linked with Harry as he swayed with you, drunk on happiness. Passing the courtyards, somehow your eyes spied a figure making it’s way to the black lake, and if it wasn’t for the hair that gleamed under the moonlight, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But you detangled yourself from Harry, him giving you a puzzled look. “I-I think I forgot my bookbag by the lake earlier.” 

“Do you want me to go down and look for it with you?” Harry asked, his hair tousled and sweat beading on his forehead from the amount of dancing he was forced to do. 

“No, I’ll only be a second,” you said, stepping backwards onto the grass, “I’ll follow you up.” Harry was hesitant to leave you behind, Ron calling his name from inside the castle but he nodded reluctantly. Hogwarts was after all the safest place you could be. You scurried down towards the bed of water, your eyes adjusting to the darkness until you spotted his figure sitting underneath a tree that was naked of leaves. 

“Following me, y/l/n?” you could hear the ennui in his voice, and it made you halt your steps. Maybe it was the glee from the October evening that led you to follow him, or maybe it was the dissatisfaction of not knowing how it felt to feel his lips on yours that made you come down here. Pursing your own lips, you took a step back hearing the crinkle of leaves under your foot as you twirled to march back up the hill you practically ran down. Draco sighed, “you can stay.” 

You were thankful that it was dark outside, the grin on your face practically glistening at his words. You sat crossed legged in front of him, feeling the October chill kiss your cheeks as his eyes gazed at the stars above you. While his eyes were lost in the nature that surrounded you, your eyes were on his face, taking in every fraction of it up close. How the eleven year old boy with an innocent smirk you met a number of years ago had morphed into the exhausted looking seventeen year man sitting in front of you. His pale face was separated with dark circles hoovering beneath his eyes, his pink lips were chapped and the speck of blood on his bottom lip indicated that he must have been nibbling on them recently. 

When the oddly comfortable silence became too much for you, your fingers digging into the grass underneath you, you breathed out a sigh gaining his attention. It was as if he forgot you were there. “Did you have fun tonight?” you asked. 

Draco scoffed, his eyes rolling, “I hate Halloween.” 

“How can you hate Halloween?” you questioned, your jaw dropping, “It’s practically a holiday dedicated to us!” 

“It’s a holiday dedicated to pretending to be someone you’re not, how incredible,” Draco drowned sarcastically. 

“Have you never wanted to be someone that wasn’t you?” Draco was stunned at your question, and he so eagerly wanted to scoff and question why would he want to be anyone else, but when he caught sight of your curious eyes, he became speechless. He stared at you like he did in the Great Hall previously, but instead of the lifeless stare that you were accustomed to at this point, his eyes were filled with sorrow and sadness. Of course he wanted to be someone else, the more he thought about it, he’d began to accept the fact that he wanted to be anyone but him. At the mere age of seventeen, he had so much responsibility resting on his shoulders, missions and tasks that he wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone about. He felt as if he was drowning. 

“Draco..” you breathed out, your breath fogging underneath the moonlight. Draco barely heard your face, he only came back to reality when he felt your soft, warm hand rest on his cheek and he jumped back in fright. “Hey, it’s just me..” you whispered, wiping the stray tears that were leaking from his eyes without him realising. 

Draco scrambled away from you on the grass, and you let your hand drop from his face. The spot you touched tingled as he stood up from the ground, fixing his robe that was draping off his shoulders. “W-why are you here?” he spat at you, his eyes twitching. 

You remained on the grass, looking up at his worried expression. You wanted to have an explanation as to why you were suddenly drawn to him, but you didn’t even know. “I-I don’t know, Draco.” 

Draco. Draco. Draco. His name that barely passed his ears lately felt like butterflies and fireworks falling from your lips. All he heard these days were Malfoy, no one addressed him as Draco anymore and he didn’t realise how much he needed to hear it, it grounded him. “Say my name again,” he mumbled, barely audible but from the raise of your brow, he knew you heard him. 

You stood up from the grass, taking a hesitant step towards him and you waited for him to jump away from you but he didn’t. You closed the gap between your bodies, his breathing racing as he watched every move you made. Lifting your hand to his face again, he let himself relax underneath your touch and his eyes fluttered closed. “Draco,” you said softly, the twitching of the corner of his lips motivating your next move. His stature was slightly taller than you, making you put all your weight on your toes as your lips touched his cheek, “Draco,” you repeated, your lips moving down to his jaw, “Draco..” 

You gasped as his hand suddenly gripped the wrist of your hand resting on his cheek. He opened his eyes, a confused look swirling beneath the blue but you never got the chance to see beyond the confusion before his lips crashed against yours in a breathtaking kiss. You stumbled back at the impact, but he wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you. Your lips moved in sync, the kiss rapid and intrusive. He pushed your body up against the large tree trunk, your head hitting the bark and your breath hitching in your throat. “D-Draco,” you stuttered against his lips, trying to push him off you to catch your breath, “What are you doing?” 

“I… I just wanted to feel something,” Draco mumbled, almost feeling guilty for kissing you and his eyes casted downwards. He tried to step away from you but you clasped your fingers around his wrist and stopped him. He glanced up at you, the swollen lips a reminder of seconds before. 

“How did it feel?” you asked, a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. 

The overly confident and obnoxious man that you once knew was nowhere to be found, seemingly lost in the October breeze. When Draco resulted in silence as his answer, you closed the gap again and connected your lips in the second kiss of the evening. This one was more delicate and you could tell he wasn’t expecting it, it took him a moment to kiss you back. Your hands slipped into his, your fingers intertwining as you lost yourself in his touch. He broke the kiss, his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he breathed in your scent, “It feels like a new life,” he finally answered, his heart hammering against his chest, “but please answer this, will you forget about it in the morning?” 

“Never.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco #malfoy #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy fanfic #fanfiction #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #tom felton #draco malfoy blurb #draco malfoy headcannon #brickswritingchallenge

[the-ice-sculpture]

A Summoning video analysis part 1

[part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

Okay so I’ve gone frame by frame through the whole video and collected a total of 55 screenshots so here we go for a shot by shot analysis of different references and symbols and potential hidden meanings. This is gonna get really long really quick so I’m splitting it into different parts and most of it’s gonna be hidden behind cuts.

Feel free to add to this/clarify stuff!

In order:

Pansy! Frank’s iconic guitar from the Revenge era

A photo of an MCR crowd at the top right (not sure where from yet but it feels really familiar. Is it from The Black Parade Is Dead?). Does the symbol of the coffin at the bottom left mean anything? My Chem being My Chem of course there are multiple links to coffins. I don’t know what the drawing of an eye means but it feels deliberate. Edit: The Light Behind Your Eyes?

The pentagram symbol that’s used in witchcraft. Each point’s supposed to represent spirit plus the four elements. I can’t think of a meaning for Ice Palace and the two little polaroid photos, they might be unrelated?

New Jersey! And coffee is a favourite of MCR’s but not sure if that’s an intentional link because coffee’s a pretty standard everyday thing. As for the photo of a person with a painted face on the fridge... Who’s that? It looks really familar but I can’t tell why. I know the make up style is similar to Kiss’s so that could be it but I’m not familiar enough with Kiss to know for sure. Also reminds me of the make up they wore for the Black Parade House of Blues show but I might be reading into this one way too much and I’m not sure if it’s supposed to mean anything or I’m just completely missing something

Hello Killjoy jackets!

This one in the foreground is a little different. Not sure if this is a Black Parade Jacket since I can’t see in enough detail to tell and I can’t see any markings either? It looks kind of similar to something Gerard wore for some of the Danger Days tour as well so that might be it?

Gas mask! Definite Black Parade imagery. Worn both by Mother War and the dancers in the video for Teenagers

I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love. And the other two albums shown look like Living With Ghosts and May Death Never Stop You

Bullets goes in the record player and Romance begins to play

There’s probably loads of stuff in this shot but I don’t know what most of it is. Sweet Pea? Franks dogs? I don’t know who the people in the photos are (family members of the band?) and I can’t quite make out the objects. The statue looks fairly catholic. Is this Our Lady Of Sorrows? Also more Black Parade imagery with the skeletons

Picture on the wall is some of the artwork Gerard did for Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge. You can find it on the inside of the casing underneath the CD. There’s also a shot that indicates there are two more framed pictures above this one but you don’t get to see the artwork

Hello, we’re summoning My Chemical Romance now. Starting from the far left going clockwise we have: May Death Never Stop You, Bullets, Revenge, Black Parade, therefore the album for the hidden star point must be Danger Days

We got a whole bunch of flickering symbols on the TV, all the hands plus a couple more I can’t screenshot because they’re going too fast. Other people have analysed these symbols better than I can so I don’t have much to add here

#my chemical romance #mcr #a summoning #mcr spoilers #mcr meta

[razorblade180]

Melody of Emotions au

*A giant white sandy beach in some strange place. The stars are out and shining brilliantly as a massive bonfire illuminates the area. Countless RWBY confusingly appear here*

Yang:Uhhhh where the hell are we?

Raven:Yang?

Yang:Mom? What are you doing here?

Raven:How should I know? Where is “here” anyways?

Weiss: *looking around* Well this is unexpected. Also way more random than usual.

Winter:*behind her* Are you telling me there’s things that happen like this to you regularly?

Weiss:Winter!? You’re here?

Winter:I’m not the only one. *points to Whitley and their father a couple feet away*

Weiss:Oh boy.....

Nora:Look Ren, we finally made it to the beach!

Ren:Yeah but, what beach exactly?

Jaune:Sigh, another day of shenanigans. I’d like to sleep in for once.

“Long time no see Jauney boy...”

Jaune:*sees Cardin*...........I hate this already. This place is hell.

Nora:J...Jaune? Did we all die because... *turns him around*

Pyrrha:.........H...hello again.

Jaune:........*eyes widened* what is going on?

*Mercury and Emerald walking around*

Mercury:Anyone else really confused here?

Emerald:I recognize just about every here. You think Cinder is here?

Mercury:Probably not.

Cinder:I’m right behind you....

Mercury:*jumps* Gah! Don’t sneak up on people!

Emerald:Cinder!!!! Where are we?

Cinder:I haven’t the foggiest clue. It seems though this place doesn’t care about the rules of life or death. *points ahead*

Roman:Woah! You miss me kiddo?

Neo:*hugging him and crying her eyes out*

Yang:Ruby!!!! You around here somewhere? R- *sped away with her mom and brought to a group of friends and family*

Ruby:*letting them go* This place is crazy! I’m finding so many people. *dashes off *

Blake:*stands with her family, Sun, Neptune and Ilia* she’s been doing that for awhile. By the way everyone this is my family.

Ghira:Hello....

Kali:Nice to meet you all.

Sun:Uh Blake, don’t look know but.....

Blake:*Adam walking over* How!?

*everyone reaches for their weapon to realize they don’t have them*

Adam:Don’t waste your energy; I’m just as confused as you are.

*Ruby comes back with Qrow, Tai, and Oscar*

Raven:Boys....

Qrow and Tai:Raven....

Ruby:Okay I think that’s everyone import-

“Salutations friend Ruby!”

Ruby:.........

Penny:*standing behind her smiling*

Ruby:I’m going to turn around and when I do you better actually be there. *tearing up* because I’m gonna be really upset if-

Penny: *hugs her* I missed you....

Ruby:*tears run down her face* This has to be a dream. If so I don’t want to wake up either.

Oscar:Oz where are we?

.......

Oscar:Oz?

Qrow:Uhhh kid? I don’t think he’s in your head. *looking at Ozpin and Glynda hug it out right next to team CFVY*

Raven:*screams* CAN SOMEONE TELL US WHAT IS HAPPENING!?

*silence over the entire beach*

“Stop screaming....”

Raven:Who the hell said- you too....?

Summer:Uhhh hey everyone? Long time no see?

Ruby:........

Summer:Hey squirt, you’ve grown like a wee- *tackled to the sand*.......

Ruby:*weeping* You’re.....you’re here.

Summer:*holding her* I am my little rose bud. Good to see you again.

Tai:This place wants to throw any other surprises at us?

*Ozma in front of the fire*

Ozma:Give it time.....

Qrow:*looking at Oscar, Ozpin, and Ozma* Okay I need answers in the next minute before I lose it. I feel like I’m poisoned again.

Tyrian:*in the distance with the rest of Salem’s crew* That could be arranged!

Qrow:Why are you here!? Why is any of them here.

Salem:*groaning* I remember this stupid place. Of course this place still exist.

Watts:Which is what exactly?

Ozma:It’s a small magical world that exist outside the rules of remnant. It brings in whoever it wants from time to time. *eyes darting around* Looks like it’s a bunch this time. Hello Salem, I missed you.*smiles*

Salem:Don’t act like we’re on good terms here.

Ozma:Wasn’t talking to you.

*Salem as a human walks pass her and into Ozma’s arms*

Salem: Hello my love, it’s been ages! *kisses him*

Salem:Of course she’s here too.....

Jaune:Not that I’m complaining but why are we suddenly reunited and meeting everyone we know.

Ozma:For this worlds amusement.

Velvet:I don’t like the sound of that.

Ozma:This world only craves one thing. The honesty of the heart.

Villains:*groan loudly*

Whitley:So what exactly does that mean? Is this a giant confessional?

Ozma:Yeah but you can’t just say what you mean.....

*instrumemts form around the fire*

Raven:Oh no....

Weiss:Oh yes!!!!! *grinning*

Ozma:In here everyone can hold a note, perfect pitch, musically gifted, etc.... because you have to sing. I do mean everyone *points at Neo*

Neo:......

Roman:Hey, try saying something.

Neo:Cinder’s a bitch....

Cinder:I hate this place.

Mercury:And if I refuse to sing!?

*bonefire erupts to a pillar of flames and bloody screams*

Everyone:*slowing stepping away*

Mercury:Okay! Message received!!!!

*turns back into a majestic bonfire*

Salem: Rules are simple; bonfire gives a criteria and you have to meet it if you’re chosen. We then vote on your performance honestly to decide if it was good. Unless the rules dictate otherwise like only having to impress one person.

Ozma:Don’t know how long we’ll be here but there’s always a prize that it gained when returning home. An extremely lucky break.

Vernal:Some of us are dead!!!!

Amber:My luck is all out...

Pyrrha:Same....

Adam:Kinda serves no purpose.

Ozma:I’m dead too in this form. However, who’s to say by some miracle I can’t look like this again? Just because you may be gone doesn’t mean your hopes or dream have to die.

Pyrrha:So if I wanted my team to be become strong and remain safe.....

Ozma:They might catch a lucky break in a fight that should’ve killed them. They might even get revenge for you in a flawless win.

Cinder:*slight panic* (This world is dangerous)

Adam:No amount of luck is gonna make my goal a reality. Only one person had the resolve to see it through and it was me. Now I’m dead on some ledge.

Sienna:*laughing in the background*

Blake:Actually you fell in the water....

Adam:What?

Yang:Yeah you hit your head on the way down and landed in a deep river. Pretty sure you’re dead. He’s dead right? Right!?

Raven:I don’t know; you really left it vague and up to chance didn’t you?

Cinder:Should’ve looked for a body.

Adam:*completely motivated* I guess today might be my lucky day. You guys can’t actively vote against me either!

Yang:I’ll doubt you’ll impress anyone.

Blake:He already knew how to play guitar and sing.

Yang:Fuck......

Ozma:One final thing. If you sing along or help with someone’s performance you automatically saying you like the song. It’s very easy to get persuaded to sing here so putting on a good show can only help you.

Coco: What if everyone hates your performance?

Salem: Nothing good.......*stares at the fire* please don’t suck.

Ozma:That’s all I really know about this place. Everyone make a big circle around the fire and have a seat.

*everyone getting into position around people they know or tolerate*

Neptune:Why does this place have to be by the ocean?

Ilia:Stop being a pansy. No one is making you go in it. It’s actually very beautiful here; calming even.

Sun:Makes sense if you want people to be honest. Alright bonfire, show us what you got!

*the flames rise and forms words in the sky*

Sun:I didn’t think it could actually respond but okay.....

Ruby:Oooo I hope we get to sing fun songs. How hard can singing about your real emotions be?

Weiss:It’s not as easy as it looks. Especially if it’s about-

“First category: Songs pertaining love”

..........

Weiss:*sighs* Yep....this gonna be a long night.

#rwby #rwby au #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #jaune arc #pyrrah nikos #lie ren #nora valkyrie #qrow branwen #summer rose #taiyang xiao long #raven branwen #sun wukong #ilia amitola #oscar pine #penny polendina #adam taurus #whitley schnee #rwby ozma #team cfvy #mercury black #emerald sustrai #rwby neo #roman torchwick #cinder fall #rwby ships #easily the most self indulging au I have thought of #rwby melody

[frankierose]

IT HAS ARRIVED

Some terrible trash for your soul.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

Frank looks up and the three men. As though they didn’t tower over him enough already, he was draped over the armchair of the low worn sofa in the main area of the tour bus while they stood, dressed to impress on their night out on the town.

“Frank, it’s New York. How are you not going to go out?” Gerard asks, slightly exasperated. All three had been trying to pull him from the couch all day to join them, but Frank never budged.

He rubs his eyes in faux sleepiness. “I’m actually feeling kind of tired… all the thrashing from shows must be catching up to me, hm?” he jokes, desperately wanting them to accept he wasn’t going and leave.

Right when Gerard opens his mouth to spit out another vain attempt, Mikey clasps his arm and pulls him out of the van. He slams the door and Frank can make out the muffled shout of  “He’s not coming” before Ray grabs his attention.

“You and I both know that’s bullshit, Frank. What’s actually going on?”

He’s cornered. Ray wasn’t one to let things go and would pay attention to every little detail about a person before he even knew their name. Living in a cramped van with Frank for a few months definitely gives him enough data and knowledge to know if he lied.

In reality, Ray was the only one Frank knew would be difficult to shake. Mikey would accept it and move on. If he didn’t have his brother and Ray with him, he would have been out hours ago probably making out with a drunk girl while equally drunk at this point. Gerard would have been easily dragged away by Mikey. It’s only because Ray is persistent that Gerard is persistent, he’s got hope that they’ll figure it out when someone sides with him.

Of course, Frank was blatantly lying. It didn’t take any high-class detective or lie detectors to see that. Frank just didn’t want to explain why he didn’t want to go out with them, knowing it would change their opinions of him.

Gerard and Mikey storm in, both looking equally annoyed for extremely different reasons.

Instead of the full lying approach, Frank bends the truth. “I’m just going to play guitar, that’s all.”

In Ray’s eyes, he could see Frank wasn’t lying to him anymore, but he still was anxious. Gerard, however, didn’t see the answer to be satisfactory.

“You play guitar every day! Why can’t you just take this one night to go out with us?!” he demands, confidence boosted with Ray siding with him.

Said confidence quickly fades as Ray pulls Gerard to the door where an annoyed Mikey stands, tapping away at his phone. Gerard tries to sputter out a last attempt to keep Ray fighting, but he’s just led outside. Mikey moves to leave with the two, but abruptly stops and turns to Frank.

“You could’ve just told us what you were actually doing. It would’ve saved a lot of time.”

The Way’s share their hazel eyes, but the difference between them is drastic. While Gerard’s are warm and honey-colored, only adding to his sweet persona, Mikey’s are an icy frozen slush. He practically shoots icicles in Frank’s direction, waiting for something to happen.

Frank clears his throat, praying it didn’t crack or croak from nervousness. “I’m just gonna spend time with Pansy, that’s all.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Frank to refer to his prized guitar as its own being, so Mikey left it at that and strode out of the van with a huff. Pansy is what Frank would call his first guitar. Not that the other guitars he’s owned aren’t guitars, but for the fact, he paid off Pansy in full completely on his own. All his others had been gifts or hand me downs or a combined assortment of people’s paychecks. Pansy was completely his.

As soon as the chatter outside faded, he hopped up from his comfy spot on the sofa. His mind was woozy and his body swayed at the sudden movement. How long did they take to leave? After shaking the feeling off, Frank popped open the door to the very back room where all the clothes were stored. As they were on their tour for Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge and Frank’s stage clothes happened to consist of tight slacks or jeans and white dress shirts, it wasn’t hard to find optimal date attire.

He wriggled into an especially tight pair of pants, calling back memories of the compliments he’d get when he wore this specific pair. Once he stripped himself of his shirt, Frank crouched down to shovel the mounds of smelly clothes away to reveal a fresh button-up sealed tightly in a bag. This day had been on Frank’s mind ever since they had first officiated tour dates. He’d come prepared. With a quick smudge of his eyeliner, he practically leaps out of the backroom and barrels towards his bunk.

He rips back the curtain and feels his heart lurch. There they are, in all their beauty, Pansy. The cream body lays in the propped open fur-lined case, reflecting the light exposed to it without the curtains protection. Each lopsided letter glimmered at Frank’s lustful gaze. The two needed no words, only each other.

“Oh, Pansy,” Frank practically moans, “You look so beautiful all dolled up for me.”

Delicately, he reaches across his bunk to the far side where the case rests and picks up the beauty by the neck, careful not to ding any of them on the edges. In a show, he and his love thrash around and break all regards to any gentleness. Pansy digs into his ribs, slams into his chest with a large force with every jump. Frank rubs the guitar all across the floor and the equipment, leaving what he calls “love marks” all over.

With a few small tugs, Frank has switched out Pansy’s frayed strap with a thicker new blue one, one he’d refrained from using all tour to give to his love on this very night. His other strap was hanging by a threat, basically on the verge of death. Frank never gave it a second thought once it was removed, too engrossed in the magnificent colors before him.

Pansy’s letters shone bright with the dim light, letting the polychromatic colors beam brightly up at him. Within the sheen was a blue, which connected the strap to the scheme, unlike the thin black one, which only drew focus on the overwhelming black and white of the body.

Before he lifts them up to wear across his chest, Frank softly kisses each fret until he reaches the stopping point. At the stopping point, he gives it a teasing lick and pulls the strap over his head and slips an arm through. Anyone normally would have slung it behind them to keep it out of their view or path when walking, not Frank. It seemed like an insult to put Pansy on his back without another thought. He let them rest in front of him, as you would if you were about to play.

Pansy had been polished earlier while his persistent bandmates were cleaning themselves up to enjoy the gracious free day. Frank also took that time to make a reservation. A reservation at The NoMad Restaurant, to be precise. One of the most romantic restaurants in the city. It showed rooms filled with deep luxurious colors on even more luxurious furniture. Only the best for his Pansy.

All of this was, of course, paid for with the band’s emergency funds card. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t pay for this himself, what with all the money rolling in from their albums, but it felt more efficient. He’d pay back the bill later.

The two make their way outside, Frank’s hand resting on the dip in Pansy’s figure. He walks them over to a busy avenue not too far from the van’s parking spot and waves his hand violently, trying to hail down a cab. When one does pull up, a smile etches on his face to see it’s a classic yellow one, as though he were in some sort of cheesy romantic movie. A sigh escapes his lips and he gazes down at Pansy. He supposed he was in a romantic movie with how lucky he’d gotten.

When Frank hops in the backseat with his guitar still in his lap, dangerously close to scratching up the driver’s cab, the woman opens her mouth to speak. She and Frank glower at each other, but neither saying anything. Frank had somewhere to be. This woman had bills to pay. In unison, they break eye contact and recite basic dialogue.

“Where too?”

“The NoMad Restaurant.”

The woman presses her heel to the gas and opens her palm for the prepayment, not glancing back at Frank once. He slips half of the money he brought into her hand, storing the other half away for the drive back. The drive there is silent. Occasionally they’d meet eyes through the rearview, immediately breaking it and scoffing afterward. Discreetly, Frank rubbed his hands in the dips of Pansy’s neck and traced over each of their letters. He softly kisses each of the tuning keys one by one a few times over before he realizes the car has stopped.

He freezes, mouth barely an inch away from the fifth peg. At an agonizingly slow pace, he looks up, heart rate becoming twice its usual speed. The driver’s gaze is not trained on the mirror which would’ve been a relief if she hadn’t turned her upper body back in full to watch the display. Her face was what could only be described as a disgusted confusion. Frank peered back at her for a long while before bolting out of the car, grateful for the pre-pay system.

The line wrapped around the block leading to the restaurant. Luckily, Frank had pulled a few strings with the person who had booked his reservation, using his fame as leverage, and managed to snag a two-seater. While there were curses and pissed off attitudes from the people at the length of time they’d been waiting, Frank easily walked up to the front and pointed at his name on the list. Whoever had been cueing people into the building seemed offended at Frank’s lax attitude about being at the establishment. It was extravagant. Yet, he stayed neutral.

A young man in a tight uniform lightly guided Frank to the sectioned-off table. It wasn’t technically sectioned off from anything, but the intimacy of the decor left each table feeling as such. Plus, no one ever looked at any other tables, too engrossed by the decor or their food. It seemed way too elegant, and suddenly, Frank felt underdressed. Of course, Pansy looked stunning in the dim lighting, they always did.

There was one other thing Frank had planned for the date, a lovely stroll through a park. He’d play some of their favorite songs, despite them being electric, he loved to pluck without any speakers connected. Then take them to a beautiful spot upon a hill he had scoped out on a virtual map. Then, finally, he’d break out the true meaning of tonight… 

Frank set Pansy in the seat across from him, making sure they were secure before even daring to look at his own seat. When he finally did sit down, he picked up a large menu and skimmed over the options. It felt like someone was staring at him. Frank peered up over the top of the menu and grinned at Pansy, who sat there, gorgeous as ever. Such a fine establishment was sure to have pasta, which happened to be what Frank was in the mood for, so he set the menu aside and let his headrest in his hands. He propped his elbows up onto the table to get into a comfortable position to view Pansy, who still sat and gleamed back. Boy was he glad he took the time to shine them up.

The waiter that Frank had completely ignored scuttled over to him once again.

“Sir, you don’t have to put a placeholder in the seat. It’s reserved for you and your partner only.”

Frank shot a confused look at Pansy. “This is my partner and they would like the Hamachi and Bitter greens to start us off as appetizers.”

The waiter stands there a moment, staring at Frank, notepad limp in hand, jaw slack. He finally lets his whole head swivel unsubtly to where Frank’s eyes had flickered and stared at Pansy in utter confusion. Frank nearly lets his jealousy show before the waiter is focused on him once more.

“Is this your way of saying you want to play for us tonight?”

That definitely wasn’t the argument Frank had been expecting. He’d been expecting laughter or mockery, but not this. “That’s not what I was going for, but…” He glances back at Pansy. “We’d be happy too.”

Clearly, the waiter was trying to convince himself that what he was seeing was only a humorous musician and not a crazed lunatic in love with an inanimate object, so he only smiles. “I’ll ask them to bring an amp over for you. They’ll be happy too since Sarah, our manager, loves your band. She had us move around all kinds of reservations just so you could get a table,” he chuckles, letting himself walk over to wherever the manager was.

Frank sheepishly looks over at Pansy, who says nothing, but that silence speaks more than words could.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know that people would have their plans changed because of me!” he exclaims, causing a few people to look over and give him confused looks. He let’s that be the signal he should lower his voice. “I promise. I thought they had the table already free.” Still nothing. “Don’t look at me like that!” he begs, giving his best puppy dog eyes.

He figured they wouldn’t budge. Pansy was loud when they were happy, but when they were angry you’ll get silence or blasting noise. This was one of those silent times.

“Fine, we’ll get it to-go, but only after the performance.”

That seemed to satisfy them, but if it didn’t, Frank would never know, for the waiter had come back with an especially eager woman carrying an amp.

The waiter from before still seemed uncomfortable to be in close proximity of whatever Frank and his guitar had going on, but kept a neutral front. “This is Sarah, the manager. She wanted to personally bring you the amp and cord,” he adds with an eye roll.

That comment earns him a painful, obvious stomp on his foot, letting him release a loud yelp. “Right, I’m Sarah. I brought this over here if you’re comfortable playing while sitting.”

Her voice struck a chord with Frank, realizing it was the woman on the phone when he reserved his seating. “Here is fine. Pansy wants our food-to-go if that’s not too much trouble. We’re planning to leave right after I play.”

Sarah’s face slowly morphs from disappointment to confusion. “Pansy, as in, guitar Pansy?”

Frank grins widely, lip ring protruding out from beneath his top lip. “Yeah, guitar Pansy.”

“Okay then.” Her brow is still furrowed in concern but her mouth matches Frank’s now, counteracting her other features.

She utters something about a chord for Pansy, making the waiter hurry off without a word. Sarah sets the speaker down near Frank and jumps up to face him, all her previous apprehension suddenly gone. She abruptly launches into an elaborate story featuring how much his band had helped her through life and when her work was overwhelming. Of course, Frank found it endearing. How could he not? Someone had been touched by his music, which was what he’d wanted from the start.

There’s an ear-splitting shriek that sounds an awful lot like the feedback you’d receive from a microphone.

“Sorry about that!” a voice in the distance yells. It’s the waiter.

The waiter waddles back through the onslaught of people glowering at him over to his boss. A thick long black cord dangles from his hand, a microphone with a stand in the other. So it was feedback. He props the stand next to Frank and adjusts it so his voice would reach the microphone without it being to deafening. He offers a selection of jacks to Frank, who plucks a glossy silver one an begins to hook Pansy to the speaker.

Entering a jack into Pansy had always felt so intimate. It was something that couldn’t be achieved in any other fashion. This is something that Frank took time in. But not with people around. He rammed in the jack and internally apologized twenty times before plucking a few test notes. The simple melody echoed through the hall with a booming thrum, sending all conversation to a hush.

There weren’t any odd sounds coming through the speaker or any crackling that could signal a faulty jack, so Frank sent Sarah off with a reassuring grin and leaned into the microphone.

“How are you all doing tonight?”

A couple of people, Frank noticed they were considerably less well-dressed than many of the people dining, hollered a response.

“Good, it would be a shame to be in such a nice place with a bad attitude,” he chuckles, scrunching his nose. “I’d guess a lot of you people are here on dates?” he asked with a hint of suggestiveness in his tone.

This gets a better response. Couples hold hands if they weren’t before, others give one another an affectionate peck on the cheek. “Well, I happen to be here on a bit of a date myself.”

The room has gotten considerably less tense so a few people whistle while others shout a demand to see the lucky date. “Oh, but you do see them,” he laughs, giving a light squeeze to Pansy, who he feels vibrating in anticipation. “I’ll show you after the song,” Frank promises. “Then I’ve got to go and you have to eat, this place runs on a schedule.”

There was probably a response to this, but Frank turned his focus to Pansy, sitting obediently in his lap. It wasn’t as though the two never done a show as relaxed as this, it’s that the energy on these shows could be so heavy and lustful. It was hard not to look at Pansy with Frank’s kind of emotion. You could compare it to a couple and their wedding song, that was how Frank saw it anyway. In a way, every song was like a wedding song.

“This one is called The Secret Goldfish. It’s from a band I used to be in,” he laughs softly, remembering how his life was before My Chemical Romance took off. “Anyway, just relax and enjoy. I’m not getting paid for this, so you better,” he adds.

“I can’t close my eyes,” he starts.

“I can’t shut my eyes to you… I can’t close my eyes.” Thoughts of Pansy filled his head. He left his palm rub against their neck a bit more and he normally would.

“I won’t shed a tear for you this time.” The first time he’d broken a string.

“No matter how hard I try, I break all the ties, but heartbreak is forever.” The first month he’d gotten them, he’d returned Pansy, angry that the sound wasn’t what he’d wanted.

“Land of the lost, I found myself in nothing. This time promises broken find me, clutching to you for something.” There was no time for him to search again, he had to take Pansy back.

“Something that you’re not. Believing in what you say.” Everyone had told Frank that Pansy was one of the best guitars he’d owned, so he’d been pushed to take them out and play.

“It makes me lie awake at night. The truth, the truth is not what scares me; it’s why you have to lie all the time.”

“I can’t close my eyes. I can’t shut my eyes to you. I can’t close my eyes. I won’t shed a tear for you. I can’t close my eyes. I can’t shut my eyes to you. I can’t close my eyes. I won’t shed a tear.” It was the very first show he ever did. It was like magic. He still tried to convince himself it was a hoax, but it wasn’t. It was too real to be.

“Heartbreak is forever. I found myself with nothing to believe in. This time, promises broken find me.…” he finishes, eyes locked onto the scratched stickers on his beloved.

He ignored the clapping as he stood up. He ignored the well-done pat on the back from Sarah and he unhooked Pansy. He ignored the waiter handing him a to-go box filled with his meal as he walked to the exit. He ignored everyone; everyone except Pansy. They seemed to have absorbed all the attention he could possibly spare and keep it trapped onto them.

Frank could hardly remember even getting into the taxi. He couldn’t even remember waving it over to him. He didn’t remember paying for it. Yet, when the car pulled to a stop, he left without a word or a protest.

It was the final destination of tonight.

Central Park.

Frank’s legs ached and his stomach churned. Pansy slapped against him as he walked up a particularly steep hill with soft pats. He suddenly stopped in his tracks and slapped his hands on his ass, feeling a flood of relief when he felt what he’d been looking for. If it had gotten lost… this whole night would’ve been a waste. He knew he shouldn’t have done this on an empty stomach, yet here he was, nearing the bench far too quickly for his liking. But not quick enough.

The moon shone brightly above them. The worn wood of the bench glimmered with an old polish to it, making it perfect. He sat Pansy down in the groove of the seat so they could support themselves without him hold them.

“Pansy, you’ve been such a big part of my life. I know it seems like we barely know each other, but it’s not like that to me. No one would approve of us. I know that, but you need to give this a chance…”

Frank slowly lowers himself to rest on one knee in front of Pansy. Pansy’s body gleamed under the moonlight and left the letters at their base shimmering in a metallic rainbow.

He shakily reached into his back pocket and pull out the special piece he’d bought especially for this night. A sleek black capo rested in his palm, to which he presented to Pansy.

“Pansy… Pansy will you marry me?” he breathes, not daring to look at his lover’s reaction.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?!”

Frank’s head shoots up and his eyes grow wide. Ray stands in a crowd of bushes with two pairs of arms attempting to pull him back down into whatever hiding spot he’d appeared from.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?!” Frank demands, shoving the tool back into his pockets and protectively putting his arm in front of Pansy.

This sends Mikey and Gerard to pop up like the bad guys in a terribly animated game. All three of them have leaves in their hair and dirt on their faces, matching nicely with the equally smudged up clothes they’d been wearing.

Mikey pushes up his glasses and steps out of the garden area and onto the paved pathway. “No, Frank, I think we should be asking what the fuck you’re doing.”

#long post #thank you for this z #submission

[halethesourestwolf]

🌷 🎼 🐾

🌷 What’s your favourite flower?

Pansies! Don’t ask me why, but I’ve always loved them. There’s a few flowers I love, though I can never remember the names of most of them, but, yes, I love a good pansy. :)

🎼 Do you play any musical instruments?

Does the recorder count? I can play a little guitar and a bit more of the keyboard, but other than that, not really. I do wish I could play them a lot better to claim I can play, though.

🐾 What’s your favourite animal?

I love all animals! I don’t know, though, I always used to say rats were my favourite, but I love dogs to bits, and I have a thing for wolves and foxes, not to mention pigs, don’t get me started on how adorable and intelligent they are. I guess I have to go with dogs, though, they’ve brought me the most joy, but I love them all.

Get to know me!

#asks #moirabartons

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #6: Magic.

Written: 12/21/2016

“You wanna see a magic trick?” It was the last thing his uncle said to him, before the cops would come for him, cuff him, and then shove him into the back of the car while he was thrashing and screaming for a lawyer, “I know my rights mother fuckers I need to lawyer up now, law can’t touch me till then!” The kid stood at the second floor window watching the whole scene, realizing that day that, more than anything else, he wanted to be a police officer.

The magic trick: His uncle slowly walked over to his closet, which wasn’t very small compared to the cramped quarters of the room he lived in, and he sifted through old, stained jackets, dirty magazines (which he would try to throw behind the couch he slept on so his nephew wouldn’t see, but one landed on the top of the couch, revealing the cover, so he just started stuffing them into half a parka), yellowed newspapers, cereal boxes, and one mannequin arm before he finally found what he was looking for: his “big ass hunting rifle”, those same words written on the side of the gun with a permanent marker. He gave a smile to the boy and then, without saying a word, held up one finger as to instruct him to wait while he loaded a single round into the gun, loading the chamber and giving a shit eating grin as he did so. Then, rifle slung under his right arm, he bent down by the couch and reached his left arm underneath, searching, feeling the dust and gunk that had collected on the wood floor beneath, then he let out a satisfied grunt and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, half empty, and drank half of what was left, letting out a satisfied exhale afterwords then patted his lips together, savoring the taste that kept him going through the days. He looked over at the boy, who seemed very confused about what was happening, then gave him a grin and explained “For my aim”. He tossed the bottle onto the couch, landing with a soft thud, then he shambled over to the window, the only window in the cramped room, then stuck the rifle out, using the bottom of the window to steady the gun. He put his eye up to the scope and then scanned the neighborhood for a target, finally ending on a neighbors dog, lying in the shade under a large oak tree. He looked to the boy and asked if he could see the dog. The boy, nervously, walked up to the window and looked out into the neighborhood and finally spotted the animal in question, then gave a fearful look to his uncle, who replied with a laugh, looked down the scope, aimed slightly above, then pulled the trigger.

The child heard nothing but a loud ringing, felt something wet but thick travel from his ear and down his neck, and watched as the dog turned into a red mist.

He hadn’t known he had an uncle until then, but in later years was unsure if this man had any relation, his parents and the detectives who would question him later seemed like they didn’t want to startle the kid, and every time they used the word uncle it seemed forced. The man told the boy he was his uncle, and the body had not known his extended family at all, they were supposed to live on the other side of the country, so he only had a few hazy memories of his relatives. Not wanting to offend the man and say he didn’t remember, he just nodded and went along with it. The man was living in a room at the back of their attic that they boy hadn’t known about until he decided to explore up there one day, he had been bullied at school on the previous day for being a “pansy” because he was too scared of a nearby bee. The whole event had been constantly playing in his mind during the night before, when he’d been trying to get to sleep, and the fact that he had a night light on in the room made him feel worse, and then the fear that came with trying to turn it off and sleep in the dark just filled him with a sense of self loathing. Half of that night was spent trying to hold back tears, something that would show him that he at least had a small amount of courage inside of him. Too bad he didn’t know that all the kids who teased him also had night lights, and that the whole ordeal was basically already forgotten. The second half of that night was spent listening to faint footsteps coming from above, in the attic, which had to be a ghost.

So the next day he decided he’d go into the attic, which was the spookiest place in his house, and he’d seen several kids horror shows that depicted attics as a dark and scary place, so he’d have to be pretty brave to be able to stay in there a while. It was a Saturday so he was free to wander around the house all day, and his parents were out gardening in the daylight so they wouldn’t notice if he snuck away, and while he didn’t admit it to himself he could only really do it in the daytime, since there was a window in the attic that would shine light into the room, making it anything but scary, but he was just planning on leaving that part out when he would tell his friends that story anyways. Also, he was pretty sure that ghosts don’t come out in the daylight, and if he saw one there was no way he could stay up there for very long.

When he climbed into the attic for the first time, flashlight and lunch box in hand, filled with snacks because he would be up there for some time, he was surprised by how boring it all really seemed. The daylight filled the room and it was just wood walls, floor and ceiling with the whole area covered in boxes. Nothing scary about dumb boxes. After sitting in there for a little while he started to get bored of the “adventure”, already starting to forget his humiliation and realizing that he could better spend his time watching cartoons, the boredom that crept in was worse than what he felt in school and weekends didn’t last for long anyways. He decided to start looking through the boxes to try to find something entertaining but it was just a bunch of old clothes, picture books, toys from when he was a baby, holiday decorations, just a load of junk, but his disappointment led to determination and he figured since a lot of the boxes were dull then one of them had to be super neat, and in his search he completely forgot about the reason he had for coming up there in the first place. After a while of searching the boxes he made his way to the back, and noticed that some had been cleared out in an area, and thats where he noticed the door.

When he opened the door on the back wall he was face to face to a shirtless, hairy man with bloodshot eyes, a thick beard, camo pants, and a tattoo on his chest depicting a bald eagle playing an electric guitar, with its talons, that was colored like an American flag. The man was sitting on a couch, which almost completely filled the tiny room, smoking cigarettes and apparently just staring at the door, surprised to see it open. “You don’t happen to have a pizza with you, do ya kid?:”

For a couple weeks before the adventure pizza guys, almost every night had been arriving to the family’s house with a large combination pizza, extra anchovies and sausage, that they never ordered. After they’d tell the people delivering the pizza, the second time that they’d show up, to stop coming to their house another person would arrive from a different company with the same exact order. The father ended up having to put a sign out front, which confused their neighbors, that read “We didn’t order a pizza, no delivery zone”. The two delivery people who ignored the sign got an earful, and to the father’s embarrassment the boy learned several new words from the whole ordeal.

When the kid sad he didn’t have a pizza, he held out the lunch box to offer, but quickly brought it back closer to him, realizing he had no idea who this man was. Was this where all of the footsteps he heard came from? Then the kid suddenly remembered his reason for being up there, and putting his hypothesis to the test asked, “Are you a ghost?”

The man scratched his beard and pondered this for a second, it made him think of how low he had sunken and how he was just the ghost of the man he used to be, years ago, in another life, but this wasn’t what the kid was asking so he gave the first reply he could think of, “No, I’m your uncle. I’ve come to visit for your fathers birthday,” he peered behind the boy, who seemed unsure of his story, it seemed like the kid was up there alone, “but its gonna be a surprise so don’t tell nobody.” The kid bought the story, but it lead to more and more questions so he decided he moved the conversation in a different direction so he wouldn’t have to keep making up stories. Unsure what to do, he stuck with the first idea that popped into his head: “You wanna see a magic trick?”

The kid never told the whole story to his friends, the whole ordeal made him realize that he didn’t need to impress them, and he stopped caring about the opinions of others, but also started to sink inside himself, hiding away from others. His parents were worried and tried to take him to therapy but the boy didn’t want to open up, and he was doing much better in school after the incident so they left the idea alone, and just starting hoping that he would open up more. He moved through life with little friends and more determination, he had seen the officers in action and he wanted to make sure that he would be one of them some day, hoping he would someday help another child, and return the favor.

He was constantly plagued by nightmares, a scene that would keep replaying and cause him to wake up drenched in sweat and terrified, but he’d never be able to remember the dream afterwards, but it would be waiting for him when he’d return to sleep: A loud ringing, faint voices yelling in the distance, his uncle panicking, looking towards the kids end of the attic, yelling something to the boy but he can never hear what, the shape of his father coming from the back, a flash, something hot and metal hitting him above the eye, being grabbed by the back of his collar and being positioned in front of the man, the door in front of him closing on its own, the feeling of sinking into the floor and trying to claw his way up, looking up at his uncle and seeing new tattoos, all looking down at the boy while the uncle puts a hand on his face and starts pushing him down down down into the dark recesses of the floor, darkness, the sense of being utterly alone, the ringing subsiding and replaced by the sound of heavy breathing, another presence in the darkness that he can feel but not see, paralysis, two hair hands reaching for his neck, the cessation of his own breathing while that around him gets louder and louder.

#Well Meaning Shut In #Free Write #Short Story #Writers on Tumblr #Early Mishaps

[marcoshassanlevy]

fore the inception of Los Crudos in 1991, U.S. punk and hardcore already had a handful of Latinx figures involved in the genre’s biggest bands. Artists in The Bags, Black Flag, Descendents, Adolescents, Suicidal Tendencies, Agnostic Front, and so many others made their mark on the scene, yet they rarely confronted their unique life experience in the U.S., instead focusing on general themes of alienation and social unrest. Los Crudos, on the other hand, composed lyrics explicitly about their experience as people of color and immigrants.

Los Crudos played a radical take on hardcore punk – one of austere musicality, maximum speed, and overdriven guitar tones. Vocalist Martin Sorrondeguy spewed concerns of an immigrant in the United States almost exclusively in Spanish (in the spirit of true rebellion, their sole English track was titled “That’s Right We’re That Spic Band“). Their impact shook punk far and wide, and not only for those who spoke Spanish – they influenced non-white and non-binary folks across the scene. The band toured relentlessly throughout the decade, creating connections with groups like Spitboy and even touring south of the border. When Los Crudos hit Mexico, mobs showed up and bum rushed the venues to get inside.

After Los Crudos broke up, Martin formed Limp Wrist, an equally radical band both musically and thematically. Limp Wrist embraced Sorrondeguy and the other members’ queerness to challenge heteronormativity in the punk scene. Again, LGBTQ punks were no strangers to the scene at the time, with political bands like The Dicks, Big Boys, and MDC singing about queerness in the 80s. The movement formalized under the term “queercore,” with bands like Fifth Column, Pansy Division, and Team Dresch. Limp Wrist made their music harder and faster without sacrificing any part of their identities.

Ever the punk lifer, Martin Crudo (as he’s known to fans far and wide) has also been documenting punk through his photography, which he has exhibited internationally. He published a collection called Get Shot! in 2012, and has been invited to talk about the intersection of punk, Latinidad, and LGBTQ identity at various universities.

On September 30, Sorrondeguy hosted the launch of Desafinados, a 9-day event that celebrates all things Crudos as well as the Latinx punk scenes in the Chicago neighborhoods of Pilsen and Little Village. Along with performances, Desafinados will feature talks, lectures, readings, and art exhibits from Latinx punk icons like Alice Bag, Michelle Gonzales, David Zamora Casas, Dorian Wood, Gerardo Villarreal, Cristy C. Road, and many others. We sat down with Sorrondeguy to get his perspective on the event and reflect on the 25th anniversary of Los Crudos.

Organizing a retrospective required Martin to revisit his past, and Los Crudos’ reunion has certainly made the identity of the band clear. The crew decided to reunite in 2013, after learning that a friend – who is a trans woman and played in peer bands in the 90s – had been diagnosed with cancer. “On the spot, I called all the members of Los Crudos and everybody said, ‘Yes, let’s do it.’ It felt right under the condition that it had to be done Crudos-style. It had to be done in a way that felt authentic and comfortable.”

“That’s the true spirit of punk, to challenge within it. We need the rule breakers.”

Martin is not one to dwell on the past, and though reuniting a group he first started when he was young might come off as pure nostalgia, he says it made as much sense in 2016 as it did in the early 90s. “The thing about the lyrics that we wrote 25 years ago is that they are completely relevant today,” he explains. “For me it’s not hard to scream these lyrics and still feel very strongly about them. It’s all still happening. The U.S. is very anti-Latinx and the world is very anti-immigrant, and that also includes us.”

Because those lyrics remain relevant, Sorrodneguy continues to be vocal about underscoring Latinxs’ pivotal role in punk history. He’s brought his expertise on the scene to academic settings, but is reluctant to fully support roundtables on the genre at universities – for justifiable reasons. “I still go to basement shows and I’m still pissed off [laughs]. I never left that. I don’t do many lectures in universities. I see that they invite a lot of scholars who study punk but often they don’t invite punks [laughs]…If I get invited, I’m glad and honored and I do my best to give a true sort of representation of what punk is. I also don’t have a problem with challenging these ‘punk scholars’ because I think sometimes they’re wrong and need to be challenged before it gets written down in their books,” he avers.

Identity is crucial to the style of punk Martin has been playing since he first started his career. “Sometimes people get into punk because they like fast, aggressive music,” he says. But for Latinx punks, the genre encompasses more than teen rebellion. “For Latinxs in punk, living in the U.S. is different than angry suburban white youth…In the lyrics, you find [that] some of those songs are against Mom and Dad, and it’s like ‘I don’t have problems with my mom and dad.’ [laughs] We were living in different realities. We weren’t living in the suburbs and then came to the city. We grew up in the city in gang-infested neighborhoods, [with] corruption and all this stuff. We came from aggressive and violent areas and upbringings as young Latinxs,” he describes.

So Sorrondeguy set out to address that reality with Los Crudos, writing songs about his experience as a child of Uruguayan immigrants. “There was a dictatorship and most American punks would go ‘What? What are you talking about?’ It was one thing to write a song about El Salvador from a U.S. perspective – and that was cool, I think there were some great bands who did good stuff – but when you have people coming from certain places and have dealt with these ugly realities and they go writing songs, then it’s a little different. It got to a point where we needed to write our own songs about these things that were important to us.”

“I like punk too and I like to suck dick and I don’t give a fuck if you don’t like it.”

Ever since Los Crudos first started, there has been a huge movement of Latinx punk and hardcore in the U.S., as well as bigger exposure and scene unity between bands from Mexico, Central and South America, and Spain. As a sort of godfather to so many things happening right now, from Downtown Boys to Latino Punk Fest in New York, I ask him what he thinks of the proliferation of Latinx punk. “I think it’s cool. When you talk about Latinxs in punk, there are so many, and not all of them sing about identity. I think that’s what’s differentiating when you say ‘Latinx punk’ instead of just regular punk, because it’s sort of a statement. You’re putting a stamp on yourself which is good, but you have to be careful because some kids might go, ‘This is just for us.’ And I’ve never been into that mentality. I’ve always been into making connections with people who weren’t from where we’re from. Los Crudos spread out to so many communities and different people because we weren’t about isolating ourselves.”

“I fear the formula, you know?” Sorrondeguy continues. “Like, ‘Oh, I’m a Latinx in a band so I need to speak about politics and identity,’ and I don’t think you have to. If that’s not you, don’t do it.” Sorrondeguy favors authenticity and artistry over performative politics. “I want to see some totally freaky queer person doing something that has nothing to do with queerness as political…I’m curious about what people bring to punk or take or give to punk. I get bored easily when bands do the same thing over and over and over. I think kids are afraid to take risks, to look different from their peers and their scenes. When they step outside of their peers and scenes, te critican, but si te están criticando, maybe you’re doing something fucking cool, you know? [laughs] I said to people in the past who have interviewed me that I don’t believe all bands should tell me all their politics, after which they tell me, ‘But that’s what you do!’ Yeah, that’s what I do and what I have done, I don’t expect everybody to follow in my footsteps.”

Martin Sorrondeguy at University of Pennsylvania in March 2015. Photo by David Ensminger

Queerness has been a big part of Martin’s music, most notably in his work with Limp Wrist. Since LGBTQ communities have gained more visibility in both the underground and the mainstream, we wondered how Sorrondeguy saw things develop in the punk scene. “Over the years, there has been a much larger presence of queer punk and people coming out or being more visible. I’ve seen that there’s a lot more trans kids that are part of the scene and I think that’s amazing. You wouldn’t see that sort of thing in a hardcore punk setting 15 or 20 years ago. People were so afraid because punk and hardcore had a very macho exterior, and to a certain degree I get it, because you have to fight a lot, to be always ready to battle. Because you were a weirdo y la gente te veía raro and they would fuck with you. You’re fighting to create your own space within punk, to say, ‘I like punk too and I like to suck dick – that’s who I am – and I don’t give a fuck if you don’t like it.’ That’s the true spirit of punk, to challenge within it, especially once it became more codified and [adopted] more rules. We need the rule breakers.”

Martin sees the future of punk in empathy and positivity, as tools to counterbalance oppressive forces facing POC communities. “I fear that this younger generation will have this sentiment of defeat. One of the things I talked about [at a recent festival] was, ‘No matter what they do if they gentrify us out of our neighborhoods, or that this clown Trump is saying these horrible things about your community, your families, your people and who you are – no matter what, we will always survive; we’re not going anywhere.'”

Sorrondeguy is quick to emphasize that political progress comes from experimentation, rather than division and aggression. “[Right now] in politics, if you don’t think exactly like other people think and you don’t say exactly what they want you to say, they just insult you and call you a sellout. It’s almost like there’s a wave of fascism within the left. ‘Oh my god, you don’t think like me! You’re an asshole!’ That’s a really fucked up mentality to have. It’s bizarre; there’s no room for subtleties or mistakes or room for people to experiment, explore, and learn.”

The Desafinados festival is a culmination of Los Crudos and their peers’ longtime efforts to uplift Latinxs in punk history. “[The exhibition] is a history of how punk started happening in our neighborhood. It starts with the first show that occurred in 1987 and then the beginning of Los Crudos and all the other bands that came afterwards. We also invited artists from our neighborhood who were always supportive of our bands and used to come see us…it’s kinda of like a community.” Twenty-five years after Los Crudos’ inception, the project keeps the flame alive in this trying political climate, and celebrates the band’s continuing legacy.

#punk #Remezcla #Los Crudos #Limp Wrist #martin sorrondeguy #interview