#dancing at the end of the world to fob

[lovesgoneinsane]

the constant references to the apocalypse/end of the world in sm(f)s <3

[steddieas-shegoes]

Another request idea! I was listening to What a Time To Be Alive by Fall Out Boy and the line "But, baby, please, I just need someone to hold me Even though you don't even know me" struck me as a particularly good steddie prompt. Maybe some hurt/comfort? Thanks for even reading this request!

Full disclosure: I never got really into FOB. I mean obviously love their classics. Anything that was on the radio I liked it just fine. But I did have to go listen and look up the lyrics for this one because just that line had me going feral with an idea. I've read a few fics where Steve and Eddie meet at a party, which honestly makes a lot of sense canonically. Eddie has the goods, parties need the goods, Steve threw a lot of parties. This is a slightly different take on that premise. It's a LOT of hurt, and a LOT of comfort. Steve is kind of pitiful actually, and I love that for him. Eddie's super into it too. Also tagged it light dom/sub because of nonsexual type things that happen while Eddie is comforting Steve. To me, since they didn't have a discussion about it and aren't in a relationship, it could just be seen as one dude kind of being a little pushy when taking care of another dude, but that tag doesn't exist so here we are. I hope this gets posted in time for you to cry in the school pick up line! - Mickala ❤️

---------------------------------------------------------

Steve should not have come to this party. Tommy always threw a huge one at the end of the year, right when his parents left for their anniversary vacation, and Steve always came.

But this year was the first year he hadn’t been invited by Tommy.

He really hadn’t been invited at all, but it was just common knowledge that it was happening here and now, so here he was.

No more crown, hanging onto his sanity by a thread, and his only friends were barely 13 years old.

Being a wallflower was a new thing for him.

He watches from the corner of the kitchen, sees the people he used to call friends getting drunk, getting high, dancing. It doesn’t seem fun anymore.

He’s glad that’s not him anymore.

So why does he feel like crying?

He holds it in, takes small sips of his beer, focusing on the bitter taste. He didn’t even like beer. Just drank it to maintain the King of Keg Stands crown

As the night drags on, it sinks in that he just doesn’t fit in this world anymore. It wasn’t made for him, he wasn’t made for it.

He didn’t really fit anywhere.

He choked back a sob, rushing out the back door of the house and down to the pond that Tommy and his dad fished out of.

No one ever went out here, too worried about bugs or snakes, but Steve couldn’t find it in himself to care right now.

His legs gave out when he reached the dock, his body sinking down to the wood below him as he felt tears fall down his face.

It wasn’t a panic attack, he’d had plenty of those, made it through plenty of them on his own. This was just sadness.

He was alone out here, not even the noise of the party to keep him company.

He was alone everywhere, really.

Sure, he had the kids. But they were kids. They hung out with him because he protected them, not because they thought of him as a friend.

His parents hadn’t been home in nearly six months, hadn’t called in two, didn’t even seem interested in the fact that he was graduating high school.

Nancy didn’t give him the time of day, nor should she after everything that happened.

The friends he grew up with, the friends he thought would be there for him, ended up being terrible.

“Shit, Harrington? Is that you?”

Steve sniffed.

He couldn’t be found like this, his reputation would suffer even more, somehow.

He wiped his eyes quickly, hoping that it was dark enough the other person wouldn’t see the movement.

“Uh, yep,” Steve managed to say after a deep breath, surprised that his voice didn’t sound as wrecked as he felt.

He turned around and saw Eddie Munson walking up the dock.

Everyone knew Eddie only got invited to these parties because he sold weed. Eddie himself only came to the parties because he knew he could make a killing just for showing up for an hour or two.

The only times he’d ever spoken to Eddie were to make sure he showed up for his own parties, offering him a tip of $20 just to come well-stocked.

He always came, never accepted the tip, and usually left a rolled joint in Steve’s room at the end of the party.

He didn’t think he did that for everyone, but he was too scared that it would stop if he asked.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Just felt like fishing,” Steve responded, slapping his hand against his face as soon as he said it.

“With your bare hands in the dark?” Eddie snorted. “I will give you free weed for a year if you can manage to do that right now.”

Steve cracked a small smile.

“Make it free weed for life and I may consider hopping in and giving it a try.”

Eddie’s laugh filled the night, loud and full of life. Something Steve needed to hear.

But Eddie sobered quickly, watching as Steve looked down at his lap.

“Needed a break from the party?”

“Guess so.”

“It didn’t seem like you were doing much in there.”

Steve just shrugged, not sure how to explain without crying again.

But apparently Eddie wasn’t going to let him get away with that.

“Heard about you and Nancy, man. Sorry it didn’t work out,” Eddie said, nudging his shoulder with his hand.

He was really close, close enough for Steve to feel the warmth radiating from his body. It was that awkward time between spring and summer, and the night was warm, but it still felt nice.

He hadn’t had someone so close to him on purpose in a long time. Maybe if he scooted an inch to the left, he would brush against Eddie’s hand just right and-

“Shit, you’re crying again,” Eddie said.

His hand was suddenly on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve shivered at the contact.

He closed his eyes and realized that, yes, he was crying again.

Dammit.

Warm, strong arms were wrapping around him, pulling him tight against an equally warm, strong chest.

He let out a sob, his chest hurting with the effort it took to hold in as much noise as he could.

A hand was in his hair, fingers carefully running through the length of it.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Let it out. I got ya,” Eddie was saying quietly against the top of his head, his breath sending shivers down Steve’s spine.

Steve couldn’t catch his breath. The way Eddie was holding him, talking to him, caring for him, it was more than he’d ever really had.

He knew he’d never see or talk to Eddie again, so why not embarrass himself?

“Match my breaths, Stevie,” Eddie calmly tried getting him to calm down.

And he could if he tried, he knew he could. He wasn’t having a panic attack, just a breakdown he’d been meaning to have for a year now. He needed to get it out.

“Look at me.”

Eddie’s tone was different now, deeper and difficult to ignore.

Steve looked at him, eyes wide, wet with tears still falling. His nose was running, he could feel it starting to drip, but Eddie was holding him tightly, and he couldn’t move his hands to try to wipe his face at all.

“Good boy.”

Steve shivered again. He blamed it on a chill in the air, but he knew that they both knew there was no chill in the air.

The air was humid, a rainstorm expected the next day keeping the environment around them stale and still.

“You can cry as much as you want, but you have to breathe. Understand?”

Steve nodded, taking in a shaky breath.

“Better,” Eddie smiled, his face still showing concern, but relaxing when Steve started taking more frequent, slow breaths.

He felt less tears gather and fall the more breaths he took, his eyes never leaving Eddie’s smiling face.

“Doing better, sweetheart?”

Steve nodded, but he still felt the lingering loneliness, knew that when Eddie left him, he’d be back to square one.

“What’s got you so upset, huh?”

Steve shrugged, letting his head rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Did someone hurt you?”

What a loaded fucking question that was.

Yeah, a lot of people hurt Steve, for as long as he could remember, emotionally and physically.

But he wasn’t about to spill his guts to Eddie, even if he was being nice. He didn’t know the guy enough to start talking about his abandonment issues.

Eddie’s hands were running along his back, soft and then harder, soft again, then settled in his lower back.

His hands were big, bigger than Steve’s even, and his fingers were long. His splayed out hands covered all of Steve’s lower back area.

He felt covered, protected.

He didn’t want to get up.

“Steve, if someone hurt you, you need to tell someone. It doesn’t have to be me, but maybe your parents or the counselor.”

“Can’t tell my parents if they’re the ones who hurt me,” Steve spoke before realizing what he was saying.

It hit him so suddenly, he started to pull away, a small whimper leaving his body without his consent.

But Eddie wasn’t letting him go, tightened his arms around him and shushed him gently.

“Hey, stay with me. We don’t have to talk about it, let me just hold you a bit more.”

Steve gave in. He couldn’t understand why, or how, or what was running through his mind. He just knew the way Eddie was holding him made him feel whole for maybe the first time in his life.

He chased that feeling, sinking further into Eddie’s chest and letting the man rock him back and forth slowly.

Thinking went out the window as one of Eddie’s hands slowly brushed through his hair, then a finger slowly traced along his hairline, down his jaw, over his lips.

The whimper he let out now had nothing to do with being upset.

“Okay, sweetheart?”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

Eddie’s fingers froze, but only for a moment. Steve knew he’d never outright bullied Eddie, had probably been nicer to him than most of his friends had, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d never been particularly kind either.

His finger moved back along his lip, then up along his nose, then to his forehead. It was like he was trying to commit everything to memory, soaking every moment of this up because he didn’t think he’d have it again.

And maybe he wouldn’t.

But Steve wanted this to happen again when he wasn’t having a mental breakdown in Tommy’s backyard.

“Because sometimes there’s a lot more to people than what everyone sees and I think I see you a lot better than most people do. I don’t need you to explain anything to know you’re hurting and you don’t deserve to be.”

He said it like it was simple, like it made all the sense in the world for him to comfort him.

Maybe to him it did.

“But I was an asshole.”

“You were. But it doesn’t take a genius to see you aren’t anymore.”

“How do you know that?”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, his fingers moving back to Steve’s hair and tugging gently so he had to pull away from his chest and look at him.

“The old Steve would have never even given me a chance to help. He also wouldn’t have been standing by the wall for a party like this or escaping to a secluded area to cry. The old Steve wouldn’t be looking at me like you are right now.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like you want me to kiss you,” Eddie smiled.

He said it easily. Like saying it wouldn’t have made most other guys punch him immediately.

“And if I do?”

“You’ll have to ask nicely. You may be a changed man, but I do deserve some manners.”

Steve smiled at him, his charm replacing any lingering sadness.

“Oh? So if I were to lean in and kiss you that would be rude? I need to say please?”

Even in the dark, Steve could see Eddie blushing.

“I’m not stopping you,” Eddie finally said, voice strong despite the redness of his cheeks.

“So if I said please, you’d kiss me?” Steve asked as he inched closer, his breath hot against Eddie’s lips.

“If you said please, I’d do anything you wanted,” Eddie gasped out.

“Please kiss me,” Steve breathed out, his lips gently grazing against Eddie’s.

Eddie pushed forward the final centimeters, his lips warm and wet against Steve’s.

They both groaned into the kiss, Eddie’s hands cupping Steve’s jaw to keep him there.

Steve moved so he could straddle Eddie’s lap, his hands resting on Eddie’s shoulders as he finally gained the higher ground.

He realized quickly he didn’t want it, not with Eddie.

He let out a whimper and Eddie pulled away for a moment, but only to smirk and nudge him back.

“This dock isn’t gonna collapse under us, is it?”

“Don’t know,” Steve supplied as he settled on his back, Eddie hovering over him.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

Eddie’s lips were back on his, demanding, but slow.

Minutes passed, maybe hours.

Steve felt safer than he ever had, here under Eddie, with every possibility that someone could find them eventually and not giving a shit about it.

Eddie would keep him safe.

He didn’t know Eddie well, but he knew that much.

No one who helped a known asshole when he was having a breakdown at a party would just leave him to be beat up for kissing a dude.

The way Eddie touched him, rough hands fluttering over any place his skin was visible, lips and tongue making new patterns against his own, it felt like Steve was being cherished, appreciated, loved.

If this was all he ever got, if this is all he ever felt and tasted of Eddie, he thinks it would be enough.

Or it wouldn’t and he would never feel like this again.

“You’re thinking too loud, sweetheart,” Eddie mumbled against his lips.

“Just feels good,” Steve added, placing another kiss against his lips.

He could feel the shift, the way Eddie was slowing down, pulling away inch by inch.

It wasn’t enough.

Steve whimpered.

“Sh. It’s okay, Stevie. We’re just pausing for now,” Eddie moved back, kissing his forehead before there was too much space between them.

He heard voices in the distance, a reminder that the party was still happening and possibly wrapping up.

“Did you drive here?”

“I walked.”

“You walked?”

Eddie sounded upset.

“I’m only a street away. Not a long walk.”

“I’ll drive you back to yours. Walking this late after so many idiots have been drinking and plan to drive is dangerous.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a damsel in distress or whatever they’re called.”

“Ah, but you are. Crying alone outside in the dark, waiting for a big, strong man to come save you? My chariot awaits!” Eddie was helping him stand as he spoke, then bowed and gestured towards the road where his van must have been parked.

Steve couldn’t help the laugh he let out.

Yeah, maybe he was a damsel in distress. Maybe he would let Eddie rescue him.

Maybe he didn’t have to be so lonely, at least for tonight.

[haunted-headset]

I want a Wilbur fanfic..

WITH HIM AND Y/N DANCING ON THIS SONG😭♥️

♪ Love Me Normally ♪

Summary: After a long day at work, Wilbur tries to make you laugh by dancing with you.

A/N: hi guys!! happy November!! hope you guys like this fic :)

tags: @vibestillaxxx@joviepog@ax-y10@themonsterunderurmom @wilburstan@smolsleepykitten@funnyreally2009@crows-death@dykepunz@aresriiots@0miamor0 @cathers-world@defonotval@chipch0p@mazzistar16@unmellowyellowfellow@justalittlebitofchaos@thosecolorfulsheets@vopix@taylors-version-from-the-vault@aine-lasagna@merianakross@veeislost@urfav-sapphic-siren@shazbaz58-blog @wifiatthetrainstation@mcr-pr-fob@shd454@universe-friday@rqvii@idioticion@m0thza (let me know if u don't or do wanna be tagged!!)

word count: 484

warnings/cw: reader being stressed out, LOADS of pet names, rude customers, & a suggestive sentence (something happened at work), reader cries for like ten seconds, angst if you squint, loads of fluff, swearing

Today had been absolutely horrible.

Every single customer that came into the coffee house that day was rude. They either scolded you for getting their overly complicated drink wrong or they'd condescendingly tell you what a bad worker you were because you were too slow or too bubbly or some other bullshit that they somehow created with their singular brain cells. You also had tried to go to the restroom, but, unfortunately, a drunk couple decided to do the devil's tango in the restroom, so you had to contact your manager & your boss & the police as the couple screamed at you & the other customers complained about their drinks not being ready & you had to use every single muscle in your body to prevent a mental breakdown. To add to all of this, nearly every single car cut you off & one car nearly caused you to get into an accident.

You opened the front door & kicked your shoes off & almost sat down on the couch before you paused & groaned with exhaustion. You still had to cook dinner for you & Wilbur since he was streaming. You trudged over to the kitchen & began to cook dinner. You tried to grab the flour for part of the recipe, but it was on the high shelf & it slipped from your hands & fell on your head & onto the floor, covering your face & the kitchen floor in a white powder.

"SHIT!" you shouted angrily. &, of course, at that moment, your body decided to start leaking tears from your eyes. Great. At that moment, you felt someone wrap their arms around your waist.

"What's happened?" Wilbur whispered in your ear.

You told yourself to only tell him a little bit about your day as to not bother him, but before you knew it, you had explained your awful day in extreme detail to Wilbur as tears ran down your flour-covered cheeks.

Wilbur smiled. "I have an idea. An idea you'll most definitely like. But first, we need to wipe off your face." He grabbed a cloth & wiped your face & then swept the floor. When that was done, he ran to the bedroom & came back with his phone & a mini speaker. Before you knew it, he was playing Love, Me Normally on the speaker & dancing like a maniac. Your laughter mixed with his & created a sweet melody that harmonized with the music as you wrapped your arms around his neck & danced slowly with him as you giggled. When the talking part of the song came on, he dramatically talked along, making gestures with his hand & exaggerated facial expressions. When the song ended, he sat you on the kitchen counter & kissed your cheek.

"Feel any better?" he asked.

You ran your hands through his hair & smiled. "Better than ever."

[meat-wentz]

FOB LORE POST Pt. 2

this one is mainly links, plus resources at the end for more in depth dives.

some cool pre-fob/outside fob links:

arma angelus livejournal

where sleeplessness is rest from nightmares (arma album playlist, heychris is working at the moment to get these on spotify)

the grave end of the shovel (arma EP)

last arma show

first novena show (pre-arma arma angelus)

racetraitor "broken dust" ft. a young pete and a young andy

another one

racetraitor 2019

racetraitor 2022

interview with mani mostofi 2018

now some general lore, i'll bold the ones that are referenced most often:

"The Story" 2004 (from My Heart Will Always Be the B-Side to My Tongue dvd)

"Cutting Room Floor" (LOTS of classic moments in this, joe sleeping in a cage, patrick drinking garlic butter, dunking his head in a pool, getting nervous and shaking pete's hand, etc)

extra bits sorry this literally opens with a dirty toilet

the story behind the album cover (patrick, joe and pete all lived in a shitty apartment together, where the cover of tttyg was shot on their broken couch, i promise this link is so much more informative these are just the basics)

take this to your apartment pt. 1 (fall out boy return to the apartment)

take this to your apartment pt. 2

a little reflection on the van accident

notes between patrick and joe (resolution by pete)

patrick in high school

first interview

HALLOWEEN 2003 (THE PRIEST SHOW)

the hollister show (includes pete jumping off the roof with an umbrella, van tour, andy "what's goin' on guys" which is important TO ME)

2003 acoustic set (IMPORTANT TO ME)

the hollister show pt. 2 (the show, which is fucking insane, sweater, shorts and black socks mention, borders mention, patrick drinking half a bottle of tobasco, pete getting tazed, first ??? mention of jason which will be expanded upon later)

i'm not putting release the bats lmao that's your job, warning it's gross, it's a will-tester for sure.

but you do get bedussey, it's like, on the syllabus. there will be a test.

FOBR bio during futct

the jason interview

patrick and pete interview for the documentary bastards of young (2005)

behind the scenes AOL

TRL debut

nintendo ds makes me forget that i don't have any friends

mtv vma performance of sugar (iconic because of the uniforms)

mtv2 video awards arrival

mtv2 win

warped diary (fob did warped in a fucking van, which is hardcore af)

behind the scenes sugar we're going down

behind the scenes dance dance

behind the scenes a little less 16 candles

fuse rock star guide (IMPORTANT TO ME)

you look good in everything honey

behind the scenes live in phoenix

don't google yourself

you look like the unabomber

wind power

fall out boy gets uncomfortable

pete's do's and don'ts for valentine's day

moustachette

world's most in depth interview

gabe bothering patrick with socks and sandals

piss roulette

IMPORTANT PATRICK VIDEO TO ME (black clouds and underdogs tour)

gay above the belt

it's not a hot girl

the backpack

mark hoppus shaves pete's head (death of emo)

drum battle and this view of patrick

andy drum solo (live in phoenix)

thanks pete

boys of zummer

happy paintings

coffee's for closers dance

YBC commentary by patrick and pete

family feud

just a few reading extras because i'm tired and i've worked on this for so long i'm going crosseyed:

pete/patrick huge primer

interviews

what a catch donnie songfacts page

in defense of folie a deux

(btw patrick does a different song every intro for i hate myself, also it's very healing please listen to all 6 episodes)

Loud and Sad Radio (pete podcast)

@stumpomatic-blog and @fobomatic-blog are both archival projects to document the band

here's a giant video vault

peachy.stump on instagram, invaluable resource for updates, throwbacks and all the little tidbits you could want.

[devildomditzy]

Are there any fob songs you associate with Mammon? I was on a listening spree earlier when Disloyal Order came on and "What a match, I'm half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet" feels so MC/Mammon coded.

aksjs sorry my two interests constantly intertwine, and Mammon lives in my mind rent free 👉👈

oh ho ho I should have a large sign on my back that says please talk to me about fall out boy

I’m going to just give you the list and the lyrics, but this will still be a loooong ass post

I'm sorry this post took so long anon it's been sitting in my drafts forever.

From Evening Out With Your Girlfriend

Moving Pictures

"Last night I saw a movie And I thought about many movies I've seen at your house Excuse me if I'm rude But I'd rather that we just strike from the record ones I'd see again without you Leaning on my shoulder Distracting me from the plot line

Where can I go when I want you around But I can't stand to be around you? Go home, I'll walk myself to you I'll walk myself away from here"

From Take This To Your Grave

Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy?

"You need him, I could be him I could be an accident, but I'm still trying And that's more than I can say for him"

From From Under The Cork Tree

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me

"And you're just the girl all the boys wanna dance with And I'm just the boy who's had too many chances I'm sleepin' on your folks' porch again, dreamin' She said, she said, she said, "Why don't you just drop dead?" I don't blame you for bein' you But you can't blame me for hating it So, say, what are you waiting for, kiss her, kiss her I set my clocks early 'cause I know I'm always late"

Of All The Gin Joints of All The World

"We're making out inside crashed cars We're sleeping through all our memories I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive (now I only waste my time dreaming of you)

Turn off the lights and turn off the shyness 'Cause all of our moves make up for the silence And oh, the way your makeup stains my pillowcase Like I'll never be the same"

Sugar We’re Goin Down

"Am I more than you bargained for yet? I've been dying to tell you Anything you wanna hear 'Cause that's just who I am this week"

From Infinity on High

Bang the Doldrums

"Best friends, ex-friends 'til the end Better off as lovers and not the other way around Racing through the city, windows down In the back of yellow checkered cars"

The Take Over, The Breaks Over

"Baby, seasons change, but people don't, and I'll always be waiting in the back room I'm boring, but overcompensate with Headlines and flash, flash, flash photography"

"Wouldn't you rather be a widow than a divorcee? Style your wake for fashion magazines Widow or a divorcee? Don't pretend, d-d-d-don't pretend"

From Folie à Deux

Disloyal Order of the Water Buffalos

"Oh, I'm a loose bolt of a complete machine What a match, I'm half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet"

Tiffany Blews

"Oh baby, you're a classic Like a little black dress You're a faded moon Stuck on a little hot mess (little hot mess) Whoa, whoa"

From Save Rock and Roll

Miss Missing You

"Making eyes at this husk around my heart I see through you when we're sitting in the dark So give me your filth, make it rough Let me, let me trash your love

I will sing to you every day If it will take away the pain Oh, and I've heard you got it, got it so bad 'Cause I am the best you'll never have"

Where Did the Party Go?

"This is the story of how they met Her picture was on the back of a pack of cigarettes And when she touched him he turned ruby red A story that they'll never forget, never forget"

From American Beauty/ American Psycho

Jet Pack Blues

"Did you ever love her? Do you know? (I remember) Or did you never want to be alone? (I remember)"

From Mania

Last of the Real Ones

"I was just an only child of the universe And then I found you, and then I found you You are the sun and I am just the planets Spinning around you, spinning around you You were too good to be true, gold plated But what's inside you? But what's inside you? I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you But not as much as I do, as much as I do, yeah"

Hold Me Tight or Don’t

"I got too high again, realized I can't not be with you Or be just your friend, I love you to death, but I just can't I just can't pretend, we were lovers first Confidants but never friends, were we ever friends?

But when your stitch comes loose, I wanna sleep on Every piece of fuzz and stuffing that comes out of you You, I took too many hits off this memory I need to come down"

From So Much For Stardust

Flu Game

"Last night I dreamt I still knew you You I carved out a place in this world for two But it's empty without you

I got all this love I've got to keep to myself All this effort to make it look effortless"

Hold Me Like a Grudge

"Hold me, hold me like a grudge The world is always spinning, and I can't keep up, woah Faster and faster, can't do it on my own Part-time soulmate, full-time problem, yeah So, hold me like a grudge"

"Call you up and demand, you have no fun without me"

From Believers Never Die Volume Two

Bob Dylan

"When they say, "You and what army?" I guess they're talking about you and me Baby, nobody will love you, nobody will love you like Like I do, I guess that's half true"

"Baby, no one ever thinks of you, no one ever thinks of you As much as I do, not, not even you"

"Cause everyone loves Bob Dylan I just want you to love me like that, yeah Would you bury me next to Johnny Cash? I'm obsessed, do you love me like that? Yeah

I'm sure there's a million more of their songs/lyrics I could correlate to him but we'd be here all day.

I could literally yap about Mammon and Fall Out Boy all day.

[tropes-and-tales]

Shadow and Light: Prologue

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x F!Reader

WC:  1769

Other Pieces:  This is part of a larger miniseries that can be found here.

CW:  Slow-burn; plot-building.

You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up on Nevarro.  Well, that wasn’t true:  it was a series of decisions – some good, some bad – that led you to that forsaken, rocky world.  It was more of a philosophical question.  How did I get here?  Where am I going?

Right now, where you were going was the local cantina.  The drinks were weak, the food was questionable (the vegetables limp, the meat had a queasy grey cast) – but the chatter was good.  The cantina was the only real place to socialize, so it was a motley cast of Nevarro locals, travelers passing through, bounty hunters…and even a few stormtroopers, remnants of the Imperial Army.

You settled into a corner seat and focused on the latter.  Stormtroopers were bad news.  After the fall of the Empire, it was usually just petty thuggery, bullying.  Most stormtroopers had taken off their helmets and melted into the shadows.  Assimilated to local cultures.  Started families, got jobs, explored the galaxy.  But some stayed in their uniforms, and without a central tenant to march to, it was chaos.

Since you landed on Nevarro, you had honed in on the small troop of Stormtroopers stationed nearby.  They weren’t the usual rowdy bunch of bullies – they were regimented and orderly.  They guarded a nearby building that you had scouted a few times.  You weren’t sure what was going on in there, but whatever it was, it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.  The entire building had an aura of evil, and that was before you observed the two chief occupants entering and leaving.  The scientist was bad enough, hiding his beady little eyes behind tinted glasses, but the older man…you could feel the ill intent radiating off of him.

You ordered a cup of the house swill and tuned your ear into the two Stormtroopers sitting nearby.  When you concentrated, the din of the place fell away, and you could make out their conversation.

“They keep sending bounty hunters,” said one.  “But they never come back.”

“They’re all dead,” the other replied confidently. 

“Glad we’re here then.”

You tilted your head in their direction slightly and caught them out of the corner of your eye.  Their helmets were off as they downed tankards of drink.  Their white armor was tinged red from the dust of Nevarro, a little worse for wear like everyone on this awful planet.

The one nearest you signaled for a refill.  “Karga keeps sending new guild members.  At this rate, the guild will be empty before anyone brings the asset back.”

“Wouldn’t be too sure of that,” said the other.  “Heard that Mandalorian is on his way back from Maldo Kreis with a ship full of carbonite.  If anyone can bring the asset back for Pershing, it’s him.”

The other stormtrooper replied by scoffing and muttering something unintelligible, but you had all the information you needed for now.  You knew the Mandalorian they were talking about, and you knew his ship.

Now all you had to do was wait for him…and make him an offer.

*****

The Mandalorian landed the Razor Crest and immediately made his way to the cantina, zeroing in on Karga.  The guild leader sat in the middle of the room and held court like a little lord, handing out fobs and parsing out outdated currency for jobs.  Back and forth the two went, their little song-and-dance, and the Mandalorian didn’t even mind that Karga called him ‘Mando.’

Finally, the guild leader gave up a good job for him:  off-the-books, pays well, but limited information.  The man handed over a chit, and Mando found himself standing outside of a non-descript building that had more security than seemed necessary.  The building was on a street with storage units and small repair shops.  Whatever was behind those walls – well, it wasn’t a landspeeder repair shop.

He’d admit to himself that it all felt off – the older man sitting at the table as he made an offer that Mando could resist taking.  All that beskar, returned to the Tribe.  Enough to outfit him with a new suit of armor with plenty left over for the foundlings.  And as an enticement, a generous down payment.  Mando pushed down the unease that settled into his gut as he took the down payment and left the building. 

Mandalorians are a hyper-alert people, constantly scanning their perimeter for threats and opportunities.  As Mando made his way through the maze of buildings toward the entrance to the covert, however, he failed to notice the person following him.  Later, he’d blame the pile of beskar steel, tantalizingly within his grasp, and how it would elevate his covert.  Much later, when he knew you, he’d realize that if Mandalorians are stealthy, you were stealthier.  Like a Mandalorian’s shadow, almost.

For now, though, when you reached a tentative hand and laid it on his arm to get his attention, Mando was completely surprised, and his reaction reflected that.  Pure instinct drove him, and he grabbed your wrist and twisted your arm behind your back before pressing you against the wall of a nearby building.

“Who sent you?” he hissed.  He tried to look you over while he held you firm:  you were….species unknown.  He couldn’t see your face under the dun cloth wound around your head – the same dull brown as the buildings.  You blended in.

“No one,” you replied.  Your voice was tight with pain as he gave your wrist a tug, and you added, “we need to talk about your new job.”

“You Guild?”

You shook your head.  Mando paused a moment, then said, “I’m going to let you go.  Keep your hands where I can see them.”

You gave a single nod to that, so he released you and stepped back.  You turned to face him as you gave your wrist an experimental flex, and then you reached up and pushed the hood hiding your face back.  You were human after all.  Or at least looked like one.

“That man gave you a job,” you said, and when Mando didn’t reply, you added, “I want to join you for it.”

Mando was glad for the helmet – it hid the incredulous face he pulled.  Most people scattered when they saw a Mandalorian walking, and you had obviously followed him enough to know where he had just come from.  People feared him, slunk away from him, but you only gazed at the slit in his visor as if you were looking right into his eyes.  In your eyes, he could see fear, but it didn’t seem to be for him.

Who were you?  If you were an assassin, you wouldn’t have given up the advantage you’d had on him.  If you were Guild, why would you lie and say you weren’t?  You didn’t seem old enough to be a bounty hunter.  The more he looked you over through his visor, you didn’t seem old enough to be much of anything other than an apprentice with some easier profession than bounty hunting.

“No,” was all he said, and he turned to leave.  Now that he knew you were following him, he had to go to a different entrance for the covert.

“Wait.”  That hand again on his arm.  It brought more questions to his mind.  It was known that laying a hand on a Mandalorian was a good way to lose said hand, but you didn’t seem to know that fact.  Mando didn’t turn, but he did pause in his step. 

“I…I have information,” you offered.  “I can help.  I don’t want any cut of the bounty, just – “

“No,” he cut you off, curt.  Mando had only gotten the final four digit of the target’s chain code and its location – no way you had any more information that would help him.  He shook your hand off and strode away, and he was alert enough now to know that you weren’t following him.

*****

Your foster-mother had raised you under the idiom:  you can do it the easy way, or you can do it the hard way.  “It” could be defined as anything she had taught you:  how to cook, how to disassemble and reassemble an engine, how to braid your hair, how to fight.  You, her most troublesome child being raised in a different culture by a different species, almost always did things the hard way first.  It took a long time for that lesson to sink into your skull.

But now, as an adult, you did truly try to do things the easy way.  Following the Mandalorian and reasoning with him was the easy way, and it ended in a bruised wrist and no partnership established.

So, the hard way it was.

You held back and watched the Mandalorian disappear, then went to where you rented a room to gather your stuff.  You traveled light anyway, but you didn’t want to miss the small window you had.  If you knew anything about bounty hunters – Mandalorians especially – it was that they didn’t dally when it came to new jobs.  The one you had spoken to would do his business in the covert (it wasn’t really that covert, in your estimation, but you often saw what others didn’t), then resupply, then leave immediately.

Night was falling by the time the Mandalorian finally returned to the Razor Crest.  Of course, you were already aboard, nestled in the cargo hold between spare canisters of carbon gas and extra ship components.  Like most ship captains, he didn’t even inspect his ship before taking off.  Lazy.  Half of your trips around the galaxy were as a stowaway on ships with lazy captains.

You waited for the tell-tale sign of hyperspace – that pleasant little dip you got in your stomach – and then you waited a little more.  You listened to the creaks and pings the old ship made, and then you took a deep breath and stood up.  You didn’t hear any other noises beyond the Razor Crest journeying through space, but that didn’t mean much.  Mandalorians could be quiet even with all that armor.

Still, he was probably in the cockpit.  That was your best bet.  Catch him sitting, hold him at the end of your bo-rifle, and hope you could get enough words out to convince him before he shot you with his blaster or shot you into deep space.

You’d talked yourself out of worse situations.  Your foster-mother had always told you (and only in exasperation half of the time) that you had a clever mind and a cleverer tongue.  You hoped both would be enough for the Mandalorian.

[lixxen]

Since @the-chapmania and @eeternalferret told me I should do this, here is Fall Out Boy (and others!!) songs but I've assigned them to Always Sunny characters/ships because I'm absolutely insane and Fall Out Boy is one of my special interests (plus a ton of other songs that fit them at the end!!)

The first few will be above the cut then the rest are UTC

Disclaimer: most of these are just I think the characters fit the dynamics or I have specific situations and dynamics for the songs. I'll specify some of them. These are all opinions and you're allowed to disagree. A few will repeat!

Charlie

I Don't Care

Novocaine

What A Time To Be Alive

Saturday

Sunshine Riptide (I'm laughing over this one. You'll get it when you see it)

Mac

Sugar, We're Going Down

The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years)

Young and Menace

Thnks fr th Mmrs

Dennis

This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race

The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years)

Pavlove

Bishops Knife Trick

Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea

Dee

So Much (For) Stardust

Fake Out

The Lawyer

You're Crashing, But You're No Wave

CharMac

Alone Together

Fourth of July

Disloyal Order of Water Buffalo

The (Shipped) Gold Standard

The Kids Aren't Alright

Bang The Doldrums

Favorite Record

What A Catch, Donnie

Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown on A Bad Bet (Dennis is the husband!!!)

It's Not A Side Effect of The Cocaine, I Am Thinking It Must Be Love

CharDen

Dead on Arrival (early friendship)

America's Suithearts (could be just Charlie, but has the vibes for both)

Disloyal Order of Water Buffalo

My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon

The Phoenix

I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me (early friendship)

Hold Me Like A Grudge

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me (Charlie's POV if this makes sense)

CharMacDen

American Beauty/American Psycho

Twin Skeletons (Hotel in NYC)

Thnks fr th Mmrs

Bang the Doldrums

Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy

Grenade Jumper

MacDen

Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) [Dennis POV]

Immortals

Love From The Other Side

Last of The Real Ones

Dance, Dance

Where Did The Party Go

Miss Missing You

Irresistible

HOLD ME TIGHT OR DONT

Heaven's Gate (Mac POV)

CharDee

She's My Winona

Disloyal Order of Water Buffalo

Rat A Tat

Jet Pack Blues

I'm Like A Lawyer In The Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off

DeeStress

Just One Yesterday

Last of The Real Ones

Pretty in Punk

CharStress

Chicago Is So Two Years Ago

Last of The Real Ones

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today

Honorable Mention

Growing Up

Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy

Dennis & Dee (Platonic)

I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me (cover ourself in cheap perfume and can't cover it up is them fr)

Non-FOB songs:

Panic! At The Disco:

The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide Is Press Coverage (MacDen)

Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks (Dennis and Frank)

There's a good reason these tables are numbered honey, you just haven't figured it out yet (Dennis and Dee)

Nearly Witches (ever since we met) [CharDen or CharMac, pick your poison]

This is gospel (Mac)

Girls/Girls/Boys (Mac/Carmen)

Let's kill tonight (CharDen)

Casual Affair (charmacden)

Crazy = Genius (CharDen)

Folkin around (CharMac)

She had the world (past CharMac current MacDen from Charlie's POV. Charlie is Brenden and Mac is Ryan)

Ready to go (get me out of my mind) [DeeStress or charden]

Bittersweet (CharMac)

Turn off the lights (CharDen)

But Better if you do (MacDen)

Camisado (Charlie)

Spiritbox

Hurt You (MacDen)

Too close/too late (Charlie)

Jaded (Mac)

Lilyisthatyou

RELAX AFTER WORK WITH A DRINK (Charlie)

GRINDING MY TEETH (Charlie)

DANCE (Charlie)

SIREN (Charlie)

Competition (CharMacDen)

INTIMACY ISSUES (Charlie)

The Happy Fits

She Wants Me (To Be Loved) [CharMac]

So Alright, Cool, Whatever (MacDen)

Mary (Charlie)

Dirty Imbecile (CharMacDen)

Moving (Charlie and his mom)

Miscellaneous

Impressively Average by Brigitte Calls Me Baby (MacDen. LITERALLY THEIR SONG!!!)

Codependency by Orla Garland (Charden)

If you ever leave, I'm coming with you by The Wombats (CharMac)

Here comes your man by The Pixies (Charlie)

Alley Rose by Conan Gray (pre-canon CharMac)

[ne0n-and-garbage]

Marvel Characters as FOB Lyrics Part 1:

Tony- "You can only blame your problems on the world for so long Before it all becomes the same old song." "Robert Downey Jr. Iron Man."

Peter Quill- "Time crawls on when you're waiting for the song to start, so dance alone to the beat of your heart." "Wearing our vintage misery, no I think it looks a little better on me."

Steve and Natasha- "Former heroes who quit too late."

Bruce- "I got troubled thoughts and the self esteem to match."

Steve- "I didn’t come for a fight but I will fight to the end." "Seasons change, but people don't."

Bucky- "I cried tears you’ll never see so fuck you, you can go cry me an ocean and leave me be."

Natasha- "I'll stop wearing black when they make a darker color." "And I'd promise you anything for another shot at life." "Mummified my teenage dreams. No, it's nothing wrong with me. The kids are all wrong. The story's all off. Heavy metal broke my heart."

Loki- "They've gotta kill themselves nine times before they get it right." "Every lover's got a little dagger in their hand."

Wanda and Vision- "You and me are the difference between real love and the love on TV."

Gamora and Natasha- "Inscribed like stone and faded by the rain, give up what you love before it does you in."

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

WiP Wednesday

Sorry. This is just me craving that vintage Mandalorian season 1 vibe

. . . . .

The ice flats of Maldo Kreis were once oceans and forests.

It was beautiful, it was warm; there were trees and flowers and animals that played and danced under the sun.

Then something or the other happened, the planet’s axis tilted and it all froze solid as rock; the creatures dependant on warmth died off and the ones already built for cold multiplied and overwhelmed the world.

The records couldn’t say for certain whether or not a native people once dwelled on the planet. Some believed there had to have been, but any evidence lay beneath tonnes of impenetrable ice, buried for the rest of eternity.

Ancient, unverifiable history aside, Maldo Kreis’ only redeeming quality these days was its location in the Outer Rim. It resided near Tatooine, ironically orbiting one of its suns; it brushed a hyperspace lane rather cozily; and neither Empire nor Republic ever deigned to bother themselves with it given its lack of interesting resources and its only permanent population consisting of old whalers kicking around in lonely, far-flung settlements.

It had no spaceport, no trading hub, no industry (unless one counted the fishing), but it was close to everything and it possessed the one thing the majority of travellers in these parts sought most keenly.

A cantina.

It was a gross exaggeration to say bounty hunters always found their quarries in cantinas, but things often worked out that way. If they weren’t presently drowning their sorrows or burning time via fights and other vices, then it was a safe bet that either the proprietor or the patrons had information—information easily unlocked with a few loose credits.

The Mythrol was a cantina-crawler.

His last known location was the watering hole in Mos Eisley. He hung around nearly a full week, playing rigged games of sabaac and the like, until he swindled the wrong person and almost got his physical features rearranged. Chaos broke out and he absconded in the confusion.

Despite his chosen vocation as a high-stakes gambler, he was a coward: he would’ve taken the first scrap of transport off-world he could reach and a quick check of the local shuttle schedules narrowed the search down to either Nal Hutta or Maldo Kreis.

While the Mythrol hadn’t demonstrated the greatest intelligence in the galaxy, one had to be a legendary breed of stupid to wander anywhere near Nal Hutta with an active bounty on their head and a laundry list of debts.

So the middle-of-nowhere ice world it was.

As soon as the Razor Crest dropped from hyperspace, the tracking fob wedged in beside the fuel gauge awoke, instantly validating Din’s hunch.

He breathed out in relief, trepidation dissipating—he had yet to rid his cloak of the stench of Nal Hutta’s swamp soup from his last sojourn six cycles ago.

The time between blinks clipped shorter and shorter as he breached atmosphere. Positional data suggested the Northern Hemisphere, so Din adjusted course accordingly.

Beginning descent, the layers of grey quickly cancelled out the ambient glow from sun and stars, accentuating the artificial light of the cockpit and the controls. The ‘Crest juddered and bucked, but the old ship barrelled on without let-up—it had weathered hail and hell a thousand times over, it could handle some snow.

Gradually, the dense clouds dissolved, exposing a tundra without end or border in sight. The viewport and the helmet’s visor narrowed the scene but Din saw more than enough to paint a vast, vacuous landscape.

He cycled through the landing procedure and set down in the shipyards, just off from the port: an area distinguished from the surrounding flats less by the fishing paraphernalia and more by the unnatural lake of murky sludge seeping around the parked ships.

Din set down as far away from the sludge as possible, refusing to trade one swamp for another.

He went through the cycle of switching everything off, flicking switches without even glancing at them.

It all stopped.

The engines wound down, metal pinged as it cooled, wind howled and lashed; his world fell still but not settled, not silent.

He sat there a moment—not pinned but not pulled, not despondent but not driven. He only was: nothing more, nothing less.

Snow drifted across the viewport, falling one way before the wind dictated another. He watched it in a vague way, his mind on other matters.

This was the last stop for the trip. After this job, he would return to Nevarro, collect his earnings, deliver them to the covert, pick his next commissions, refuel the ship and go again.

And again and again and again.

He had heard of people who faced the endless and went mad.

He was not one of them

He feared the ending.

It would come.

He was sure of himself, determined, but he was no fool. One day, a blade would strike too deep, he would lose one ounce of blood too many, or a concussion would put him to sleep permanently. One day, he would meet a challenge or an opponent he couldn’t outsmart or outmanoeuvr; he would lose his footing, draw a heartbeat too late, miss…

And if he outran all that?

Well.

Then it was just a question of how long until his back broke for good.

A sigh dispelled his straying thoughts. They did that, more and more these days; he put it down to getting older.

But the never ending wasn’t ending today.

[thekidsare-not-alright]

it's funny when people are trying to put pete down by insulting his bass skills or whatever and they're like "he didn't even write fob's most iconic bassline!!!" (which I'm assuming is dance dance ig idk) and it's like. buddy, pal, friendofmine. sibling dearest. I'll do you one better: I can't name a bassline he has written.

great news! it doesn't matter. I'm not suggesting he's a good bassist either, because I've never really seen anything that really supports that idea. but he's not in the band to be the world's best bass player. it's a means to an end. he's a fantastic lyricist, he's a good frontman, and the three other members of fob wouldn't want to be in the band without him. I think that's all you could ever truly ask of him. nice try though

[sodascherrycola]

Instagram Intros (Pete Wentz’s Kids)

Greyson Peter Lewis Wentz (@greysonlewis)

DOB: March 11th 2003 Age: 21 years old Hometown: Chicago, Illinois Nicknames: Grey, Greys, Gigi S/O: Leanna Patton Kids: None Best Friend(s): Miles Stumph and Lincoln Merritt Aesthetic: Greyson was a wild card for both Pete and Amanda. He was born whilst they were still trying to understand what exactly they were. They knew that they loved each other, that they loved their son. They also knew that they couldn’t live without each other. Even though they had been dating for two years, one when they had found out, they weren’t too sure on the stability of their relationship. As a child, Greyson’s parents were on and off, though he had always had a good experience with their co-parenting. He thought he had the coolest dad in existence and begged his mom to let him go on tour with his dad and band members. He can vividly remember the first time he saw his dad perform. Pete was onstage slamming the ever living life out of his bass and in that moment Greyson knew what he wanted out of life. He wanted to be just like his father. When he was about 15 he had started a band and tried it out a few times with different people, but truly found his passion working with the young Miles Stumph. Miles always found Greyson as sort of a big brother and adored him in every way. Besides they grew up together watching their dad perform along side one another, why wouldn’t it be a good fit? And a good fit it was. They were touring two years later.

Mia Violet Blake Wentz (@mimipriv)

DOB: September 24th 2006 Age: 18 years old Hometown: Chicago, Illinois Nicknames: Mi, Mimi, Mini S/O: Graham Hill Kids: None Best Friend(s): Stella Stumph and Sasha Hensley Aesthetic: Mia Wentz’s nickname wasn’t mini for a reason. She was Mandy’s mini me through and through. Mia inherited both her mother’s lively spirit and beauty inside and out. It was funny to her mom, how her and her best friend Stella reminded her of her and her own best friend, Stella’s mother Anna. Mia was constantly lovin’ on her dad, just like Mandy. Always dancing in the car, and the shower, her room, and the grocery store, just like Mandy. Pete could’ve sworn that Mia was his wife only smaller and squeakier, it was something he found most endearing and he was proud of his baby for finding love in everything. She had this in-the-moment attitude about her from the beginning. It was an on-going joke between her parents that she was born early because she couldn’t wait to meet everyone and dance on something other than her mother’s bladder. When Mia was around five or six, she became the Fall Out Boy spokesperson. Everyone in the band claims that she’s the reason the hiatus ended and the new age of FOB began. Considering how young she had been when they broke up in the first place, she had a yearning to go on tour with her dad the way her older brother used to reminisce on with her. All of this to say, Mia was the reason we still have Fall Out Boy to this day.

David Alexander Cole Wentz (@davesoncolewentz)

DOB: August 7th 2010 Age: 14 years old Hometown: Chicago, Illinois Nicknames: Dave, Davey, D S/O: Elyse Waller Kids: None Best Friend(s): Zackery Waller and Isabella Strong Aesthetic: David hated his name. He hated it more than anything else in the entire world. His mother named him after his great grandfather, a man she loved as a little girl who had sadly passed away when she turned 21. Grandpa David was the only one in her family that accepted Pete, liked him and thought he was fantastic for his granddaughter. After her family had practically disowned her, she decided to live with him for a while once he got sick. Pete had made sure to ask for his approval to marry Amanda and the rest is history. Pete was actually the one to suggest naming their second son after the man. David despised him for it. He thought it sounded too old in his 2nd grade class of Mason’s, Jackson’s, and Ryan’s. He hated going to school because of the constant bullying he was facing. It wasn’t until he blew up on Pete one day that his father finally had had enough and lied down with his boy to have a chance at making the situation better. He had to explain why he was named after Grandpa David, then why his mother’s family disliked his father. He had to explain that he didn’t like his old man name either, but it suits him like David did him. Why should he want to have the same name as Jackson who sits beside him. Daveson would sound pretty silly huh Davey? It was a tough pill to swallow for a seven year old, but it worked, sort of. He had yelled a lot of hateful things at his dad, an outburst of all the anger and frustration built up from his peers who had hurt him. He cried to his dad after, the sense of guilt washing over him. Pete took him out of school the next day for a hangout with his boy and it became the norm every Tuesday until David got into high school and started skipping with his buddies. Pete still holds a special place in his heart for the two David’s, and the time he spent with them each.

Bruin Chester Bear Wentz

DOB: December 9th 2013 Age: 11 years old Hometown: Chicago, Illinois Nicknames: Bru, Boston, Ted, Teddy S/O: No One Kids: None Best Friend(s): Hattie Stumph and Ruby Trohman Aesthetic: Bruin was Pete's duplicate. They were the same person inside and out. He had his father’s curls and loud personality. He oftentimes had teacher’s phone his parents due to his active nature. He had a hard time with distractions and staying still for even a minute. He was diagnosed with ADHD when he was 8. At first he was embarrassed and didn’t like all the extra attention he received from staff at his school, but then he started doing really well in class, something he had difficulty with before. He loved his older brothers, always looking up to them for advice. David was the best with this, knowing what it’s like to be a younger brother himself. He taught him how to play the drums, something that could help with Bruin’s need to keep busy and stimulated. He actually got really good at this. His Uncle Andy even suggested him coming up on stage and playing with the band. Pete and Amanda were quite private with their family and children, trying their best to keep them away and safe from paparazzi and weird fans. So it’s safe to say that they were not too thrilled with the idea of their 9 year old being on stage in front of thousands of people with their cameras out. The rest of the band came to Bruin’s defence though saying it’s a good thing to show off what the kid has been dying to working on. Bruin had begged his parents all day all night until they finally agreed on one show one song and that’s it. Bruin freaked and called everyone he knew. It was truly a beautiful moment when the kid went on stage and jammed out with everyone, his dad was really proud that he could share this with his son. And you know damn straight David was in the curtain watching his little brother have the time of his life.

Romeo Edward Brookes Wentz

DOB: October 17th 2020 Age: 4 years old Hometown: Chicago, Illinois Nicknames: Ro, Rome, Romey S/O: No One Kids: None Best Friend(s): Charlotte Stumph and Lucky Otto Aesthetic: Romeo was by far the quietest out of the Wentz bunch. He rarely cried and when he did it came out more like a whimper. He was so quiet that he never woke his parents up during the night when he wailed and his mother had to put an alarm at night to check on him. Romey had a very good emotional radar. He was in touch with his emotions at a young age. Ro would communicate to his parents the same way you would see an adult do, and it shocked them how eerily well spoken their baby was. His first would was please when his father was feeding him, Pete of course taking too long talking to his wife, Romeo reached for the spoon waved in his face and said “Please” in the tiniest voice you could barely hear it. His parents heard and freaked out. He couldn’t even cry, just reach his tiny hand closer to his food. Ro didn’t like his father’s music, being a little too loud for his mini ears, and he wasn’t afraid to tell people. His Uncle Patrick invested in baby headphones for him at the next show. He was actually quite close to his Uncle Trick. They would just chat before shows about anything that came to Romey’s little brain. Things like how does the sun get energy and why are cats tinier than dogs. Things that Patrick didn’t know how to answer and so they would google it together. Bonding.

Evie Amara Inez Wentz

DOB: October 17th 2020 Age: 4 years old Hometown: Chicago, Illinois Nicknames: Eve, Evvy S/O: No One Kids: None Best Friend(s): Charlotte Stumph and Lola Roberts Aesthetic: Evie was the opposite of her twin brother Romeo. She was energetic and giggly, always running around, always trying to do something. She was much more ambitious too. While Romeo sat in his crib waiting for his mom’s alarm to go off, Evie was climbing out to remind her parents. She joined dance when she was 2 and has been dancing ever since. She makes sure that every single one of her Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents, and Siblings can attend her recital. She had loads of energy, and loved to sing along with her dad’s band and mom’s playlists. Evie loved playing mom with Mandy and PJ, inviting herself to dress and change her little brother, of course with the help of her parents. She would stand on a stool and feed him, watch as he played in his playpen, you name it, she helped. Eve was all around a good kid, knows her manners and is an early riser despite her parents praying she would just go back to bed. Pete was a big push over for his youngest daughter too. Oh you want a puppy? Here you go and toys and a new collar. The puppy’s name was Robbie if you were wondering. Still don’t know why she named him that.

[mint-mumbles]

I’m evolving…

Here’s my Spotify Wrapped if anyone is interested (I’m not adding pictures other than the conclusion, I’ll just write it out in text):

I listened to 21 genres

1. Rock

2. Vocaloid

3. pov: indie

4. Pop

5. Pixel

My song taste is most similar to Savannah, Florida, USA (because Spotify said how they like MCR, Will Wood, and IDKHBTFM)

I played 769 songs this year

My top songs were:

1. Vampires Will Never Hurt You by My Chemical Romance (played 35 times)

2. Absinthe by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

3. Freak on a Leash by Korn

4. Dead! by My Chemical Romance

5. The End. by My Chemical Romance

I listened to Spotify music for 9,272 minutes (6 days) with the highest day coming out to 363 minutes (6.05 hours) and was in the top 33% of listeners worldwide

I listened to 397 artists this year

My top artist was Muse (as you saw up top, I’m keeping up the trend) and was a top 1% fan who spent 1,401 minutes (23.35 hours) listening to them with the song I listened to the most by them being Futurism (2001)

My other top artists were:

2. MCR

3. Korn

4. Pierce the Veil

5. Ghost

I now conclude this by letting you know that I’m going to Spotify’s HQ and finding the person who didn’t pay their overworked employees who created this… “design” (I just wanna talk…)

Top 100 incoming, so brace yourself! Turn back before it’s too late!

1. Vampires Will Never Hurt You (by MCR)

2. Absinthe (by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME)

3. Freak on a Leash (by Korn)

4. Dead! (by MCR)

5. The End. (by MCR)

6. System of a Down (by SOAD)

7. Young Girl A (by Siinamota)

8. Futurism (by Muse)

9. Demolition Lovers (by MCR)

10. Rolling Girl (by wowaka)

11. Moonchild (by Fields of the Nephilim)

12. Sunburn (by Muse)

13. You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us (by MCR)

14. Duality (by Slipknot)

15. Death of an Executioner (by Pierce the Veil)

16. Pretty Rave Girl (by S3RL)

17. Freakin’ Freak (by Dot Dot Curve)

18. 2econd 2ight 2eer (that was fun, goodbye.) (by Will Wood)

19. King for a Day (by Pierce the Veil)

20. This Ain’t a Scene, It’s an Arms Race (by FOB)

21. Dragula (by Rob Zombie)

22. The Second Law: Unsustainable (by Muse)

23. I Can’t Decide (by Scissor Sisters)

24. Venom (by Kairikibear)

25. As the World Caves In (by Matt Maltese)

26. Muscle Museum (by Muse)

27. The Only Hope for Me is You (by MCR)

28. Ga (ft. Hatsune Miku) (by Utsu-P)

29. girl’s a liar (by witted)

30. Neutron Star Collision (Love Is Forever) (by Muse)

31. I / Me / Myself (by Will Wood)

32. It’s Not a Fashion Statement, It’s a Deathwish (by MCR)

33. Got the Life (by Korn)

34. Screenager (2001) (by Muse)

35. People Are Strange (The Doors)

36. The Foundations of Decay (by MCR)

37. Redesign Your Logo (Bonus Track) (by Lemon Demon)

38. Creep (by Radiohead)

39. You Know My Name (by Chris Cornell)

40. This is How I Disappear (by MCR)

41. Ruler of Everything (by Tally Hall)

42. Eighth Wonder (by Lemon Demon)

43. Virtual Insanity - Remastered (by Jamiroquai)

44. Planetary (GO!) (by MCR)

45. Lost One’s Weeping (by Neru)

46. Newly Edgy Idols (by Mitchie M)

47. Take Me to Church (by Hozier)

48. Hang ‘Em High (by MCR)

49. Hurt (by NIN)

50. Starman - 2012 Remaster (by David Bowie)

51. Escape (by Muse)

52. Give ‘Em Hell, Kid (by MCR)

53. Dead Bodies Everywhere (by Korn)

54. Because You’re Here (by PinocchioP)

55. Setting Yourself Up For Sarcasm (by Get Started)

56. BUG (by Kairikibear)

57. Twist (by Korn)

58. Mama (by MCR)

59. Witch Image (by Ghost)

60. DARLING DANCE (by Kairikibear)

61. Freely Tomorrow (by Mitchie M)

62. Sleep (by MCR)

63. Press Play Walk Away (by S3RL & SynthWulf)

64. Hysteria (by Muse)

65. Babooshka - 2018 Remaster (by Kate Bush)

66. Party Poison (by MCR)

67. Law-Evading Rock (by Neru)

68. Meltdown (by iroha(sasaki))

69. Du hast (by Rammstein)

70. Micro Cuts - XX Anniversary RemiXX (2021) (by Muse)

71. Acid (by Ghost Town)

72. Hurt (by Johnny Cash)

73. Living Dead Girl (by Rob Zombie)

74. White Rabbit (by Jefferson Airplane)

75. Bad Romance (by Lady Gaga, covered by Artist Vs Poet)

76. KING (by Kanaria)

77. ‘Cause I’m a Liar (Kokichi Oma Fan Song) (by Mcki Robyns-P)

78. Showtime Ruler (by Karasuyasabou, covered by Kino Hina, Machico, Hirose Daisuke, and Toki Shunichi)

79. Little Kandi Raver 2012 (by S3RL)

80. Poi Poi Poi Popoi Poi Popi (by Ayaman Japan)

81. Thank You for the Venom (by MCR)

82. Points of Authority (by Linkin Park)

83. Love Me, Love Me, Love Me (by Kikuo)

84. Death city (by 6arelyhuman, syris)

85. GouZinZanGoku (by DEVILOOF)

86. Hurt (Quiet) (by NIN)

87. Dead Star (by Muse)

88. Blind (by Korn)

89. Absolution (by Ghost)

90. Savior (by Rise Against)

91. Unintended (by Muse)

92. My R (by WADATAKEAKI KurageP)

93. Caramelldanse (by Caramell)

94. I’m Not Okay (I Promise) (by MCR)

95. Endlessly (by Muse)

96. Johnny Johnny (by Danny Gonzalez)

97. Cirice (by Ghost)

98. I Never Told You What I Do For a Living (by MCR)

99. Momento Mori: the most important thing in the world (by Will Wood)

100. I’m Sorry, I’m Sorry (by Kikuo)

[annerbhp]

A while ago, i was postponing some work i felt insecure about and went on a little the walking dead binge watch. I combined it with day dreaming about ginny harry post apocalypse, like that fic idea you had. It was excellent. Safe and fun thoughts to be in. After witch i did the work and i am now reaping the first rewards. Just sharing what a happy place your blog is for me, even the smallest posts. :)

Amazing how something so dark can be comforting and help reboot our energy and mindset. Glad to even tangentially be part of you taking excellent care of yourself. And great job going back and getting that work done!

In reward, have the first chapter of the hinny zombie apocafic that I'm not sure I'll ever finish. but sometimes taking a break from something before going back to it if we can is a great idea!

Wasteland

Harry wakes in a world that has completely changed. Forced to learn the rules of this new reality as fast as he can in order to survive, he comes across someone more than capable of teaching him. If she would just stop threatening to shoot him long enough to answer a damn question. (harry/ginny, zombie AU, post-apocalypse, magical!harry, muggle!ginny)

warnings: death, suicide, blood, gore, violence, viral pandemic, apocalypse, general end of the world unpleasantness and tragedies

Chapter 1

“It is just about time, I think,” Dumbledore says, voice calm and unhurried as he inspects a silver pocket watch hanging from a frankly ridiculously long fob.

Harry shifts his gaze from the gleaming metal to Dumbledore’s face. With his white beard and robes, he’s hard to pick out against the blindingly white background.

“Time for what?” Harry asks, feeling like maybe he’s forgotten something.

In answer, a train glides silently into the terminal. Dark silhouettes move behind the curtained windows, soft sounds like laughter and voices just far enough out of reach to be indecipherable.

People, waiting to greet him.

“Will you board?” Dumbledore asks, knees dancing up and down under his palms as he taps his toes rhythmically against the ground in what feels like childlike wonder.

A question with an obvious answer, because isn’t this train exactly what Harry’s been waiting for? It feels like it’s been a long time that they’ve been sitting here. Waiting for something. And here it is—warmth and welcome and calm. The kind of calm he’s rarely experienced in his life. At least not that he can remember.

A door on a compartment slides open, golden, warm light pouring out like a path across the empty space.

Before Harry can get to his feet, he registers a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like a quiet tug, like something has snagged the back of his robes and won’t let go.

“You are free now,” Dumbledore says.

Yes, Harry knows this. He is free of something that has long held him down. But this is somehow different. Something of his own. He could shrug it off, he knows. He just kind of doesn’t want to.

“I think maybe I’m not quite ready,” Harry realizes.

“If that is your choice,” Dumbledore replies, and Harry can tell he’s pleased, though not without worry as the train door slides shut.

“What is it?” Harry asks.

Dumbledore’s head tilts to the side. “As you know, death is just the beginning. That is even more true in the world you return to than it was before.”

This seems overly cryptic, even for his old Headmaster. “What do you mean?”

Dumbledore smiles. “I’m sorry. Not all things could I foresee.” He gets to his feet, and Harry does as well. “Just remember, Harry. Remember that to live, you must remember what it is you live for. Let your heart guide you, as always, and I have no doubt you will find your path.”

He touches Harry’s cheeks, eyes warm and full of pride as he looks down at him.

“Now wake.”

*      *      *

Harry wakes with a gasp, the echo of the last question the mediwitch asked him before he closed his eyes still echoing in his ears.

“You don’t feel anything?” she asks, smile friendly from beneath her wimple as she pulls the now-empty flask away from his lips.

Sirius, the arsehole, is smirking over her shoulder at him.

Before Harry can get the word “no” past his lips, he’s out.

It was all hazy after that. Vague passing words and images, more likely dreams than rooted in reality. Was Dumbledore there? No. That makes no sense. His long-dead Headmaster probably had not kept him company while his soul repaired itself after an experimental procedure.

They’d promised it wouldn’t hurt, he remembers. Maybe it hadn’t, but now as he struggles to open his eyes, his head feels like it’s splitting in half.  Not an unfamiliar feeling, to be honest, but this time not accompanied by the usual flare of emotion or vision of Voldemort doing something particularly nasty somewhere. It’s just a sharp endless ache.

And maybe that means something. Maybe it actually worked.

With a groan, he cracks his eyes open, his brain having a hard time making sense of the sight in front of him—dark and irregular patterns of what it takes him a moment to realize is the ceiling above him. It wavers unhelpfully, though he assumes that is just his vision and not the stone that is shifting.

His hand gropes blindly to the side, bumping against a flat rock with his glasses folded neatly on them. Slipping them on after a few aborted attempts, he notes that they haven’t helped his vision all that much.

He licks his lips. “Sirius?” he asks, the word coming out as little more than a croak.

There’s no response.

All he can hear is a trickle of water somewhere nearby and the moment he identifies the sound, it triggers a deep, ragged thirst in him. Harry rolls to his side, body heavier and weaker than he expects, knees and hands hitting the rocky ground as he falls to the floor. He crumples, limbs shaking. Reaching out with his forearms, he drags himself towards the sound of water, reaching the edge of a small pool. He scoops water to his mouth, heedless of the cold water slopping down his chin and neck and soaking his shirt. He drinks and drinks like he may never find the end of his thirst, his arms tiring before he does.

Flopping over onto his back, he lets his arms fall wide. The irregular rocks of the ceiling tell him he’s in a cave, not the monastery. The sacred grotto, he assumes. As he stares up at the ceiling, it isn’t clear if the moss is glowing, or the rocks themselves. He closes his eyes against the pulsing light.

See you on the other side, Harry. The last thing Sirius said to him.It isn’t exactly proving true. They hadn’t been sure, though. How long it might take for him to heal. If Harry would even survive the attempt.

Apparently, he has.

Reaching for the ledge of the platform he’d been lying on, Harry drags himself to his feet, one hand braced on the rough wall as he tries not to trip on the cloak twisted around his body. He looks for any sign of his wand or shoes, anything other than the thin bedclothes he’s wearing under a brown woolen cloak of sorts. There’s nothing though, the space empty of anything other than rocky walls and ceiling and the trickling pond.

His legs are shaky, his head still pounding, but as his vision clears, he can make out a square of white light in the distance. He stumbles towards it, very much hoping it’s the way out.

His legs start to feel more solid as he goes, like his body is beginning to adjust, muscles slowly remembering how they work. Approaching the square of light, he’s very relieved to see that it is the cave entrance.

There’s slight pressure across the front of his body as he passes through what he assumes is a ward of some kind. Hopefully one that will trigger a warning and send someone down to look for him.

He steps outside, the rush of sound and light and wind hitting him all at once. His head spins, hand tightening on the rough stone wall as he fights off a wave of nausea.

Slowly the world around him settles, eyes adjusting to the searing brightness. He’s on a narrow ledge, the rock dropping steeply away towards the sea. Waves pound against the rocks, a faint spray of mist and salt against his face helping to further clear the muddled mess in his head.

Harry retreats, hoping to duck back into the cave to get out of the wind and bright light, but the entrance has disappeared, more likely carefully obscured behind a ward again.

“Dammit,” he mutters.

He slides down against the rough wall, sitting on a rock. It’s freezing, though his cloak does seem to have been set with some sort of warming spell. In the light, he can see the flash of runes along the hemmed edge. That doesn’t keep cold from seeping up into his sock-clad feet.

Hopefully someone will come get him before he freezes to death. Huddling down as far into the cloak as he can, he settles in to wait.

He’s too miserable to sleep, and eventually boredom and curiosity set in, Harry looking around for anything of interest, or just anything to distract him from his discomfort.

There’s a shallow puddle on a large curved rock next to him, collected from a recently passing storm. Leaning over it, Harry sees the grey sky reflected on the surface. His own face slides into view as he shifts closer. It’s hard to make out, the planes of his face almost feeling foreign. Bracing one arm on the rock, he leans closer, brushing his hair back from his forehead. For a second the skin looks smooth, untouched.

Like maybe it’s actually gone.

Wind ripples across the puddle, Harry’s face fracturing and obscuring. He rubs his fingertips across his forehead, finding the familiar spot, and he feels it, just the faintest ridge, like a scar finally healed and beginning to fade.

He closes his eyes, reaching out for that hated, vile connection he spent so many years learning to block, to keep Voldemort from manipulating his mind or emotions.

There’s nothing there. Just the continual sweeping rush of the wind and the nearby roar of waves beating against the cliffs.

He is completely alone. Perhaps for the first time since he was a year old.

Leaning back against the jagged cliff, he feels the unexpected press of tears.

It worked. It actually fucking worked.

Just as Sirius promised. And, maybe, just maybe, this means he doesn’t have to die. That the sacrifice he’s been so carefully trained up to accept in the name of ending this war, stopping Voldemort, maybe it won’t be necessary after all.

Maybe he actually gets a future.

“This will work,” Sirius promises, hand firm on his shoulder. “We’ll get that bastard out of you and then we’ll finish it. I swear to you. All you have to do is survive. Do you hear me?”

Harry opens his eyes, the swelling sea stretching out in front of him. Had that happened? Has Sirius finished it? Or does Harry still need to play his part? Does he need to kill Voldemort himself? His heart thunders away in his chest, a solid reminder of the life ahead of him. But also the stakes of this war.

It’s time to find out what’s going on. There’s no more room for waiting. It’s time to end this.

Getting to his feet, he looks up the narrow set of stairs hugging the cliff face.

At least the climb will probably help keep him warm. Wrapping the cloak tighter around his body, he starts to climb, swearing each time he jams his toe or steps on a sharp pebble.

It seems to take an eternity, but he finally crests the ridge and gets his first glimpse of the monastery, very much hoping to see people already moving towards him. Maybe a nice warm bowl of stew, or a massive mug of tea with more sugar than will properly dissolve.

What he sees instead is the lonely stretch of rolling heath and a crumbling stone ruin tucked in between a few scraggly trees. Lancet windows empty of glass and complex vaulting fallen in on itself.

Harry blinks, wondering if his brain has been damaged in some way, his eyes not able to make sense of the sight in front of him, nothing like the memory he has of this place from what feels like only moments before.

The building looks to him what he imagines Muggles looking at it have seen for the last 300 years since the magical religious order was forced into hiding with the Statute—a crumbling series of medieval arches and cloisters.

Is that what this is? Did whatever they did to his brain when they removed the horcrux…is he somehow now a Muggle? Is he going to hit a Muggle Repelling ward and wander back off into the distance without even realizing it?

Only one way to find out.

He reaches one of the outlying buildings first—the groundskeeper’s cottage, if he recalls. It’s burned down to the foundations, a haphazard pile of singed beams and a partially collapsed chimney the only clue to what the space might have once been. Not a recent fire, either, Harry thinks, kneeling down to touch the hearthstones. Not just the lack of heat and smoke, but the green plants and moss starting to take over the ruin telling him months rather than days or weeks. Maybe years.

Years.

If this is somehow real, if he’s not imagining it. What the hell could this possibly mean?

What happened here?

Harry knows the monastery to be lively with a branch of magical brothers and sisters, the last of an order set in place to be caretakers of the very cave he woke in. An ancient magical site with healing properties. But now it is a true ruin, scorch marks on the stone, windows broken, beams fallen.

For all the violence of the scene, it is eerily peaceful.

Harry walks the perimeter, passively noting the pattern of fire damage through the pounding in his head. Though hard to see with the growth of green over the scars, it’s somehow too regular, too controlled. As if it were magical. Done on purpose. But why?  

Around the back, the brother’s garden is overgrown, various plants gone to seed or brown and shriveled. A row of trees along a tumbled stone fence bears small apples, probably not quite ripe, but at the sight of them Harry is too hungry to care for such trivial worries.

He plucks a few apples from the tree, immediately eating them. They’re hard and tart and he forces himself to stop after two, knowing he will pay for that if he doesn’t, but picks a few extra, shoving them in the pockets of his cloak as he moves to finish his circle of the property.

It’s a harder task than it should be, Harry tripping and falling in his distraction.

“Fuck,” he says, wincing at the pain in his hip as it smacks solidly into some sort of a branch or bar.  Clearly he’s even weaker than he realized.

Pushing back up off the ground, his hand closes around something that it takes him a moment to realize is a bone. In a pile of bones. A nearby skull gapes back at him.

A human skull.

With a hoarse cry, Harry scrambles back, wiping his hand on his leg.

The meager bites of apple roil unpleasantly in his stomach as he stares down at what is clearly the remains of a person, the tattered remnants of fabric and some dried hardened bits of flesh. Like they’d fallen on this spot and weren’t buried. Felled by the killing curse and left to be eaten by wildlife.

He scans the rest of the space, horrified to see at least another dozen similar piles.

Had the war come here? Had the Death Eaters tracked him down? Was this all to get to him? Did Voldemort win?

Harry’s entire body prickles with sudden awareness, adrenaline thundering through his veins. Forcing his squeamishness aside, he searches through he remains, needing a wand in his hand now. He finds nothing, reminding himself that the monks and nuns here did not wield wands, invested as they were in the old magicks.

“We have no such need for parlor tricks,” the head of the order had said with a serene smile full of faith. 

Only now he, along with the rest of the order, is more than likely dead. An order that managed to hide and maintain themselves for 300 years. Wiped away completely.

And Sirius— 

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to even entertain the idea that Sirius is somewhere in this pile of anonymous bodies.

Right now, he just needs to find a way to fucking survive. Because if the war with Voldemort isn’t done, he’ll finish it. The way he was always supposed to.

Forcing himself to his feet, he shifts through the rest of the remains, not finding a single wand. But he does find a fairly intact pair of shoes. He also loses the small amount of food he managed to eat, gagging and throwing up during the process. He keeps going though, making a complete circuit of the building, aware of the sun shifting lower and lower in the sky. 

Back around at the garden, Harry is forced to realize that he isn’t going to find any answers here. He also doesn’t have the slightest form of protection. Can’t make fire, doesn’t have a way to light his way, or build shelters. He has no food and no water.

And no one is coming.

He digs up whatever he can from the overgrown garden, a few gnarly carrots and a handful of underripe apples. On impulse, he also grabs a moldering old rake with metal spikes on the end, using it more as a walking stick, but feeling mildly better having it, for all he knows it isn’t going to protect him from shit, let alone a Death Eater if one should come across his path.

He sets off in a southerly direction, vaguely knowing the location of the monastery, and hoping to come across a road or a Muggle village at the very least. He eventually finds a game path worn into the grasses, leading him over mostly treeless hills.

As the sun dips lower and lower, slipping below the horizon, Harry makes out what could be the silhouette of a fence far in the distance. He keeps on as long as he can before he starts tripping on things in the dark. He finds a tree among low shrubby bushes.

He spends a miserable night huddled at the base of the tree wrapped in his cloak, burrowed into the bushes in search of any sort of warmth. He dozes in and out, never truly falling deeply asleep.  

Ignoring the lingering ache in his head and body, the constant gnawing thirst and hunger, Harry pushes on as the sky finally lightens.

By midday he’s at the fence line and follows it to a dirt track that slowly widens. It doesn’t look like it’s been driven on in a while, but it’s still a sign of civilization which will mean water and food and some way to make contact.

He ignores the fact that it will likely be Muggles. He can’t exactly be choosy right now. Or worry about how he will explain wandering in from a place the Muggles don’t even know exists.

He comes across a sheep carcass first.

It’s a lot like the bodies back at the monastery, scattered bones and lingering bits of flesh. Must have died and been eaten by some sort of scavenger.

Harry shudders at the thought and keeps moving.

Movement on a distant hilltop catches his eye. Another sheep, he imagines. One luckier than this one. But it’s hard to tell at this distance.

He finally spots a building a few hours later.  He stands on a hill watching it, trying to catch any movement of people, but the chimneys are clear, no sounds covering the distance. The adjacent paddock is empty of animals.

As he gets closer, a low stone wall lines the gravel lane, enclosing a yard with a few sparse trees. The door to the whitewashed stone outbuilding creaks as it listlessly shifts in the wind. A car sits in the yard, a tire swing hanging from a tree, other toys strewn about the yard.

The main house is built of dark stone, white casing windows on the top floor. Neither of the chimneys on either end of the gabled roof are giving off any smoke.

Weeds have grown tall up across the doorway and windows on the ground floor. 

“Hello?” Harry calls out, his voice feeling unnaturally loud in the silence.

There is no response.

Crossing the yard, Harry steps up to the front door. He knocks, the sound echoing loudly. He waits, but there is no answer. He glances back at the car, the empty paddock.

Reaching out, he grasps the doorknob, cautiously easing the door open. “Hello?” he calls again as he steps inside.

The interior of the house is musty and dark, sunlight barely penetrating the dirt-darkened windows. From the shaft of light falling through the open door, Harry can see that dust has settled across every surface. A collection of chairs and couches sit around a fireplace, black soot streaking up the whitewashed walls.

The whole place smells of rot and decay.

Harry crosses over to a phone hanging on the wall, lifting the receiver. He’s greeted with silence, tapping the cradle a few times, but there’s no dial tone. Not that he’d know who to call anyway.

There’s a tin of biscuits sitting out on the counter and Harry can’t resist pulling it open and shoving one in his mouth, his stomach rumbling painfully.  He nearly gags at the taste. They’re horrible—irredeemably stale, more sawdust than anything—but he’s hungry enough to force it down.

A dragging sound from upstairs has Harry spinning on his heel, the tin lid hitting the ground with a deafening clang.

“Hello?” he calls again, not keen on having to explain trespassing and helping himself to food, no matter how old.

There’s no response, just another low scraping sound. Feeling an inexplicable need to maintain the pressing silence, he eases up the stairs, placing his feet carefully. The stairs still creak mournfully underfoot.

At the top is a long hallway, two doors leading to rooms along the front of the house, one of them with a trunk pushed across it. At the end of the hall is what appears to be a loo. But it’s the long white wall on the rear of the house that catches his attention. Someone has written on it with what looks like dark paint.

forgíe us the wrangs we hae wrocht

th’ de’il sunder us

Harry feels his heart thud away in his chest, wondering why someone would write that. Turning to the first room, Harry opens the door. It’s a bedroom, a double bed taking up most of the space with a wardrobe on one wall. In the corner near the front window is a chair. In the chair sits what was once a person, a shotgun still in what is left of their mouth, the spray of blood and brains on the wall behind dark with age.

Harry slaps his hand over his mouth, nearly doubling over as hot nausea burns at his throat. He stumbles back into the hall.

The scraping sound has only become louder, the second door listlessly pressing out against a chest that has been dragged across the doorway. The door hits the chest and then falls back. Again and again.  

“Hello?” Harry asks, his voice shaking as he moves closer.

With the chest in place, he can’t really see inside the room.

“Is someone in there?”

There’s no answer, Harry leaning down to pull the chest away from the door enough to peer into the room.

A hand emerges through the widened crack, flying out at Harry with alarming speed. He stumbles back, tripping over his own feet and falling hard against the wall behind him.

He doesn’t think he’s hit his head, but there is also no way he is seeing what he thinks he is seeing. The arm is pale, grey skin stretched over bone, the tattered remains of cloth hanging from it, slimy and grasping.

Harry gropes for his wand, finding nothing but air.

The scraping escalates into an insistent thud as someone—some thing—pushes harder and harder against the door, something like a growl echoing out into the hall. The chest scrapes along the floor, a face emerging after the arm. Harry barely gets a glimpse of a desiccated, decaying face, mouth wide and gaping—one ratty ribbon hanging from what might have once been a pigtail—before he recovers, kicking out with his feet, slamming the chest back into place. Rolling back up to his feet, he puts both hands on the door, shoving it hard. He rams it against the grasping, insistent arm over and over before it finally pulls back into the room, the door shutting with a solid click.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” Harry pants, shoving the chest firmly against the door before turning on his heel and thundering down the stairs.

He doesn’t stop running until he is back out in the yard. He spins around in a circle, having no idea where to go, what to do.

His eyes land on the car. He rips the door open, sliding into the driver’s seat. Groping around, he finds keys still dangling in the ignition. He grasps them, twisting them, but the engine is dead, the ignition just clicking and clicking, and Harry knows next to nothing about cars except that this is a very bad sign.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, banging the palms of his hands against the steering wheel.

He rests his head down against it, his breath thundering in his ears.

He must have imagined it. There is no way he just saw what he thinks he did.

Turning his head to the side, he sees newspapers spread across the front passenger seat. Pushing off a hand-addressed envelope from on top of a copy of The Scotsman, he peers down at the date.

March 23rd.

2004.

Harry curses. More than three years after he went under the procedure at the monastery. And this paper doesn’t seem recent either, to judge from the way the edge crumbles under his fingers, how it’s browned with age.

There’s a larger broadsheet underneath, this one a copy of The Herald.

STAY IN YOUR HOMES

The headline covers nearly the top half above the fold. Harry sits up, carefully unfolding it. Still no explanation of the strange hemorrhagic fever sweeping through London.

Harry skims the article, most of it speculation about the disease’s origins. It maybe came from France, perhaps originally from China or the Americas. Spread by blood and bodily fluids. Do not go to the hospitals, even if you suspect you have the disease. Isolate in your homes and wait for help.

Harry looks back up at the house, thinks about the body he saw, the decayed nature of it. They’ve been waiting a long while from the looks of it.

But not the thing. Not the other…person. That looked dead, but was still moving.

An Inferi? In a Muggle house?

Harry closes his eyes and he’s instantly back to the last time he saw an Inferi: in the watery cave with Dumbledore, the army of bodies rising up out of the lake to protect Voldemort’s locket-horcrux. The swirl of fire from Dumbledore’s wand driving them back despite his weakened state.

That was the night so many things became so crystal clear. Above all the understanding that Harry himself would have to die, just as Dumbledore did, body falling, falling, falling from the top of the tower. Snape standing and watching it happen, long before Harry would finally learn of his true loyalties, loyalties that would get the potions master killed less than a year later.  

That was Harry’s last night at Hogwarts as a student before he went on the run with Sirius, his godfather endlessly focused on finding any other way to defeat Voldemort. They’d looked for years even as they destroyed every other one of Voldemort’s horcruxes they could get their hands on.

Each minor victory had only moved them one step closer to the inescapable fact that as long as Harry lived, Voldemort could never be defeated. Harry would have to die. Even Dumbledore hadn’t been able to see a way around that.

That didn’t stop Sirius from searching, even as the war grew around them, not a loud, concussive battle, but one played out in politics and laws and Muggles and Muggleborns disappearing with barely a ripple.

Maybe it’d been selfish, taking the alternative procedure Sirius found rather than just facing Voldemort like the prophecy always said he would need to. Maybe that shortcut is what lead to this, whatever this is. The wrongness of this world that has been here from the moment Harry woke, no matter how much he tries to ignore it.

He leans forward, resting his head against the steering wheel.

He’d much rather think he’s woken in a nightmare. That maybe he’s still under and this is all an elaborate hallucination? Or that he’s just cracked under the pressure of prying out that intrusive fragment of Voldemort’s soul entwined with his.  

Is he imagining all of this? It’s the only thing he can think of, and yet everything in him is screaming that this is real. No matter how implausible, no matter how horrible. This is real.

He rubs at his forehead, an old habit. He feels cut off, almost wishing, for a second, that he could still reach out and steal glimpses from Voldemort, that he could know what the hell is happening. Where he was, what he was doing. Where the fight he spent too long running from is happening.

The lack of connection is haunting, mostly because he can’t know if that means he’s just no longer a horcrux or if Voldemort is gone too. If what’s happened in that house and is written on the cover of the newspapers, is this Voldemort? Has he finally achieved what he always wanted? The complete obliteration of Muggles? An endless army of Inferi to conquer the world?

And what could Harry do about it even if it were true? He has no wand. He doesn’t even have proper trousers for fuck’s sake.

He looks at the house.

Gathering the tattered remains of his bravery, Harry opens the car door, stepping out into the yard with its abandoned toys. He walks back to the front door, hesitating slightly before pushing it open and stepping inside. He listens carefully, and all he can hear is the slow rhythmic thumping of a body against a door.

Near the front door is a peg board hung with coats, scarves, and the like, most of them large but a few in the small scale of child. A dusty jumper is hung carelessly across the back of a chair in the kitchen.

Harry reminds himself that no one in this place is in need of any of this anymore. Beating the jumper free of as much dust as he can, Harry pulls it on over his head. He kicks off the worn, ill-fitting shoes he took from the abbey and tries the various pairs of boots by the door until he finds the ones that fit best.

What he’d really like are some trousers. Maybe a blanket. He looks up the stairs.

Thinking of that thing upstairs in the bedroom, he picks up an iron poker from the fireplace before easing back up the stairs.

Up in the room with the body, Harry finds a pair of corduroy trousers, some thick woolen socks, and after another moment of hesitation, pulls a blanket off the foot of the bed. He tries to ignore the soft, incessant thumping coming from the next room.

Stopping in front of the body, Harry considers taking the shotgun. But even if he could face trying to get it free, he has no idea how to fire a gun, has never even held one in his hands. He’s probably more likely to shoot himself. In the end, he decides to leave it where it is.

“I’m sorry,” he says to the body. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

Whatever this is.

Passing back by the loo, he roots out some painkillers from the medicine cabinet before going back down into the kitchen. A quick search turns up a tin of beans and a jar of some sort of preserves. Harry takes a spoon and a can opener and heads out to the yard.

Getting back in the car, he pulls the door closed, locking it for good measure. He eats the tin of beans, flipping through the paper for any more clues, most of the pages disintegrating as he moves them. Partial, crumbled muggle faces look up at him.  

Once he finishes with the food, he curls up in the backseat of the car, pulling the blanket over himself and closing his eyes.

He sleeps fitfully, and once the sky starts to lighten, he eats the jar of what turns out to be some kind of pickle, filling the empty jar with water from the yard pump.

Going once more into the house, he finds a rucksack, filling it with his meager haul of another two tins filched from the kitchen, a pot, a box of matches, and the blanket with the jar of water carefully wrapped in it. After a moment’s consideration, he picks up the iron poker.

Turning away from the house, he looks down the long winding road. He needs to press on. Needs to find another person. Needs to figure out what is going on.

He starts walking.

[thekidsarentalright]

ok ok i’ve started to process the album but honestly cant stop yelling enough to write a coherent ask so here’s a whole bunch of stuff that has me going feral:

the title track. i think fob just released one of my fave songs ever, it went to my top 5 from them so fast!!! it reminds me of how much the pandemic fucked up for everyone… “thought we had it all” fr!! but like. the strings??? the choir at the end?! SUNSHINE OF MY LIFETIME REPRISE?!?! SHUT UP FOREVER!!!!! (also my bday is the “day after christmas past” so i nearly screamed when i heard that line lmaooooo… followed immediately by “my pain isn’t cool enough”?! literally almost fell over at that point. that felt like an accidental shoutout and then getting punched directly in the gut 😭)

flu game is absolutely my second fave!!! the “youuuu” in the chorus just hits my brain a certain way i’m obsessed!! also i relate to it a little too much 😭

what a time to be alive!!!!! soul punk vibes fr <3 also that bridge goes so hard i think screaming it live would fix me 😭 WHEN I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE THIS ISNT QUITE WHAT I MEANT!!!! GOT THE QUARANTINE BLUES BAD NEWS WHAT’S LEFT!!!!!

the strings in i am my own muse?!?! patrick is just flexing at this point (as he should) <3

my synesthesia went crazy with heaven iowa… it’s this beautiful deep blue/indigo/purple situation and i want to live in it <— totally normal thing to say abt a song

so good right now gave me whiplash right after heaven iowa but it’s so fun! i went from crying to dancing so fast lmao

in general i love space and this album delivered w the references!! i caved and bought the glow in the dark stars 😳

and the living even though it’s painful and scary, especially when it’s painful and scary vibes… fob always knows what we need to hear i swear!!! ur post abt the themes on this album is so so true <3

patrick dressed as a chicken playing the piano… i love him so much it’s stupid <3 also that music video nearly killed me. couldn’t see the screen super well when they were on fallon and didn’t process that the costume was like… a muscle suit for a solid minute. my brain literally shut down lmaooo 😭

ik there’s like… lyric parallels and stuff i got rlly excited abt but am totally forgetting rn! i’m sure it’ll come back when i listen to the album again (which i’m probably gonna go do rn) but… yeah!! so glad we get to be insane abt all this on here together lol <3 peace and love in fob world ☺️

- 🧋 anon

YESSSS the title track is INSANE with how good it is and how much is in it like. i swear every lyric hits Hard, the reprise absolutely breaks my heart it is so. Perfect. so so so valid for it being in your top 5 fob songs of all time already it is genuinely That Good!!! and made for you Clearly with that birthday shoutout!!! even with the gut punch after. every lyric feels like such a gut punch i swear kfgjdhfkjs

flu game is ALSO one of my top favs, i could not rank this album yet even if it would save my life kfjsdkfj but i know for Sure flu game is in like. top 5 territory. i'm obsessed w it for the same reasons fr it is. too relatable thanks pete (haha i said the thing!)

REAL i need them to perform what a time to be alive live SO bad literally just so i can scream that bridge i think that would fix me fr fr. also just love how dancey it is while having. incredibly depressing lyrics. vibe of all time fksjdhfks

patrick is flexing w his arranging skills all over this album but Esp in i am my own muse and i hope he keeps flexing forever bc it is. so good!!!!

OUGHHH heaven iowa being purpley blue it so pretty... to me it's like... idk a very warm song, orange/yellow/golden so. the opposite of you KFJDSK but still pretty i Also wanna live in it. we are So normal for that bff <3

they are literally sick for putting so good right now right after heaven, iowa it was Such an intense tone shift fsdkjfsh i Love so good right now tho it's slowly becoming one of my favs i think

i absolutely love how jam packed this album is w space references, i was anticipating it but Still am like. fuck yeah space fkjdshkfjs i'm still debating on getting the glow in the dark stars tbh... is u getting them a sign i should too... much to think about

but yeah the albums themes are SOOOO. like. i think what the world needed to hear right now, also what i needed to hear rn, what You needed to hear like. they always know!!!! it is just so cathartic to hear that things might not be okay or better but that you can still live and be fulfilled and have love Despite Despite Despite!!!!

and lastly fr i. didn't process it was a chestplate/muscle suit at first either so was like. ready to die over patrick looking like That lmao honestly i still am he pulls off that look way too well. also pulled off the chicken costume imo <3

[starburstcosmos]

god, let me TELL YOU about the day i fucking had.

this morning: fell asleep at MAYBE 3:30 for a 5 alarm to catch a greyhound leaving at 6:45. which didn't leave until after 8. my connection was at 11:50, we arrived at 11:55ish. thank the punk rock gods, the connecting bus was still here.

BUT OH NO. in my rush to get to the connection (in a cast and hobbling my best because fuck the crutches), my headphone case (sans headphones) falls out of my pocket in a sacrifice to the punk rock gods. devastating, i can't charge my headphones without the case, but whatever, they're charged enough to get me through the connecting bus ride, and I have backups at home, where I will be after the show anyways.

my friends pick me up in at the stop and head to the venue to get in line. after a few merch mishaps and bracelet trades, im at my seat. it's a GREAT view, and i realise that one of the bits of the show i love is going to happen about ten feet from my seat. fuck yeah. by the time fob is set to go on, even better seats have opened up, incredible! I'll be five feet away from pete!

now, let me take you on a detour: one of the things we as the fans have been doing this tour is printing out pink seashells to light up during fake out to turn the venue pink, and we've been doing it since the tour started in Wrigley. its a group effort with people handing out shells to people without and explaining how it works.

right before fall out boy is set to start, im doing my best to pass out shells when someone taps me on the shoulder and asks, "do you want to give a shell to Pete's girlfriend?" immediately i say yes, of course!

another tangent: i have made several bracelets for both shows i went to. four of these are for fall out boy, saying thanks. I tried in indy to get them to the boys through crew to no avail.

so, after i give meagan, pete's girlfriend, a bit of the spiel and some shells, i humbly request, "i made bracelets for the boys saying thanks, is there a chance you'd be willing to give them to them?" she agrees! another win!!

dance, dance rolls around, im screaming my head off, i get video of pete doing his magic trick (and patrick waving his fingers to pretend like he's the one doing the magic -- ill put everything into a gdrive folder later and post a link somewhere) and then pete is five feet away from me in his mesh rose shirt and im having the TIME OF MY FUCKING LIFE. WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE.

the show ends, im waiting for people to clear out to go towards the designated spot to meet my friends. no one else has really stayed by the sound booth. i carefully make my way over there (the seats are mostly empty at this point) and ask the sound guy working if i can have his set list. he hands it to me with a smile :)

and on my way to my meeting spot we pass by the pit and manage to get one of the security people to grab me a handful of confetti and streamers and get it shoved into a ziplock bag before im out for the night.

so: shitty morning, incredible fucking night including confetti and being five feet away from pete wentz and the setlist (the code for 27 was tango sierra btw!) and finally getting my bracelets to the boys. i am so, so, so fucking happy and i feel like the luckiest person in the fucking world and like im currently living the life of a wattpad protag.

[pwblogarchive]

September 2005

September 2, 2005

bed at 4am- day one of the video shoot. woke 5:30 am for a 6pm lobby call. car to just outside of nyc. how come starbucks in manhattan aren’t open this early. its just tragic. get to video shoot. start with some scenes revenge of the nerds style. you won’t see some of this coming and those that did hopefully you will fall in love all over again. reminds me of all the movies we grew up on. met the cast. don’t want to spill to many secrets. my mind is swirling. but in the best way possible. got to see all of the overcast kids, s.o. kids and fans- you guys did an amazing job in the video and i just feel great that we don’t have to hire “extras”. more from tommorrow.

i’m dying to not give up on this.

September 4, 2005

on the getaway car, the rush of blood to the head: it’s strange to find myself again back at the feelings of the blue cover after going through the red and the gold. its kind of always like that. i am sorry if i am not making any sense. but everybody likes to take chances and make bets. i always put my money on the longshots. and no matter where my head was in the world i always dreamed of waking up next to the biggest brown eyes i have ever seen/'meandyouunderneaththehoneymoon’.

“go back to what it meant back then”: and you imagine yourself moving deep into the summer and disappearing, and for me it was always with you. and then things got crazy. you stopped calling me back. i stopped trying to call but not in my head. and then you got malicious but i’m guessing only because you learned from the best- take back your taste and all.

i never thought it would be just me again. but that’s okay. we’re gonna hole up and wait it out. i feel like i can see for the first time, like i was born just in the last minute. wake me up. baby boy, you’re gonna be okay. hearts between our knees sticking to the summer sheets. are you catching my drift….

its gonna be alright.

your love would be hell but its just not hot enough baby.

September 6, 2005

citing 'irreconcilable differences with myself'.

selling 50,000 records a week and i can't look in the mirror.

i am disappointed in myself.

i am disappointed in this.

and it should have been kept safe.

the reason we never told anyone is because we knew the world would ruin it. and at the end of the day it did.

the whispers never stopped.

i lied. so you lied.

and it made you crazy. and i'm sorry.

people pulled us apart. lured us. and you were my home.

it didn't matter what was said when our heads were on the sides of the pillows.

last night i dreamt it turned out differently.

i would stop this in a second and move to middle of nowhere with you and disappear.

it so hard to find someone who likes me for me and not because i am pete from fall out boy.

and i found them. and then watched it fade.

dear world, fuck you.

- petey

September 7, 2005

first. most of our fans are amazing. thank you for being you- you made last year amazing. i want to make this year amazing for you. the new songs are insane.

second. please leave my friends alone. don't attack them.

third. there is nothing like experiencing failure at the speed of light.

'i am badnews, but i still love you...'

- petey

September 9, 2005

it’s all a balance.

+ late registration

+ new october fall song “you can dream upsidedown”

- time is not on your side

+ thundercat cat’s lair fortress

- the laser on the cat’s lair no longer lights up (but i still do)

- the workers strike at the rumor mill is over, they’re back on the job

+ dreams

- the second after the dream where you think it is all still real

+ buddy and gerard for being the best

+ seeing fob kids at the brothers grimm

- the brothers grimm

+ the red light special

+ falling asleep phone on the chin

- i love my friends but i don’t really like some of them

ill keep adding more as i think of them.

kanye wentz

check the behind the scene photos for updated pictures from the dance, dance video shoot.

09/09/05 Q&A

question

wut are petes and patricks fave things to do ????

answer

eachother.

September 11, 2005

again my internet life is hacked.

i am thinking it just wasn't meant to be.

the only thing that applies.

"try and right these wrongs but its funny how the same wrongs helped me write these songs"

143

September 12, 2005

news: back from the headshrinkers. we are gonna be on the cover of another magazine this winter and have some other exciting possiblities. we write other bands songs in our sleep. you should see us now. we are gonna have a benefit item for victims of katrina coming up soon. cause doing good makes us feel good. we are polishing up everything for october. can't wait to get back out there and off of the porch in my parents backyard.

it can't rain all the time: i love wearing your clothes cause it some how makes me feel closer to you.

01/01

09/14/05

question

Hey Pete! You guys rule.. Just wanted to tell you that. Anyways, I just got home from seeing The Exorcist of Emily Rose and it made me wonder if any of you guys have seen it? Personally it freaked me out. So my question is if you saw it what did you think of it?

answer

to me it was like law and order meets sunday school. too much “objection overruled” and not enough headspinning vomit scenes. go see Green Street Hooligans. thats what the fob nanny Chuck is like.

question

seriously, I dare you… 1-701-471-6101

answer

enough torment… don’t give strange boys your number. i am definitly the strangest boy of them all. i think i will give you one last call just cause i goofed around on here waaaaay too much, so i will say im sorry.

question

making out with the band after the show in or out in 2005?

answer

pretty out. id give it to frankie from my chem though even if it is out of style.

September 15, 2005

gotta get up at 9 am. gotta turn it around. been writing alot of words lately. the new songs are gonna blow your mind. we have a couple of things coming as our way of saying thanks for voting at the VMAs and all. also, thanks to everyone who came out for the dance, dance video. trying to get a good spring tour together for you too! something different maybe. keep your ears to the ground but keep your eyes on their hearts. new pictures up all the time from the video shoot….

i’m gonna make you shake so hard you might not make it through the night.

young

September 15, 2005

from a closed closet at bamboozle fest in nj... its all coded. i don't have any reason to post. everything is feeling alright and better since having the headshrinkers and labcoats around. you know what actually has me feeling amazing this week? "almost here". this band has grown up in front of my eyes. i haven't listened to the record in a month or so because i drove it into the ground. but its making me feel amazing right this second. but you know why mostly? because this isn't shit compared to what they have coming.

william beckett plus peter wentz.

- petey

09/17/05 Q&A

question

we are starting a band, and we having trouble any advice? I love you pete!!! I love you Joe T.

answer

it depends on the trouble. if you can’t riff- then get metallica’s ride the lightening. if it’s a vibe thing you should probably get a master p. record for some inspiration.

question

I love you guys, do you love me back? Anyways, I was wondering, Peter, how was it like shooting “Bedussey” for Release the Bats? I loved it by the way, you looked hot ;). You dudes rock. xo

answer

it wasn’t very hightech. we had a camera that our friend jim used. then i wrote some lines and patrick snorted some lines. thats kind of how it went. i wrote a sequel. i dunno when we’ll film it though- its called “bad twin”- its a bit different. just as crappy though.

question

You mention alot about robots in your posts. Do you resent these robots?

answer

do i hate myself? no way cat lady.

question

My sister and I were talking the other night who Patrick reminded us of and we came to the conclusion that he looked like the Santa from “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”. What is your opinion.

answer

patrick reminds me of patrick. cause i knew him before he was this famous hottie with a body.

question

My parents have been divorced for 4 years but they still fight and my dad wont talk to my mom so i have to be put in the middle of things and i hate it and I dont know what to do to make them stop. What would you do

answer

you just have to understand that some things are far beyond your control. it is important that you tell your parents that. you don’t want to end up resenting one of them later in life for something they do now. they should keep you out of the middle.

question

Does any of the other members of FOB see these questions or are you hiding them?

answer

no they “doesn’t”.

September 19, 2005

barely awake 12:59pm.

getting the first edit of dance, dance video really soon.

we're gonna premiere it on mtv october 12. hopefully we'll have a sneak preview online soon though.

got some suprises coming up for you.

i had a dream we were playing a show last night. it felt so fucking good.

can't wait.

thinking about opening a clandestine store in chicago where we could sell that stuff, records, skate stuff and maybe have a cool place for people to hang out. i dunno though.

went to the mcr show last night.

its an honor to be put in the same sentence as that band.

i djed their after party at trevia.

pretty much that involved lots of faint and refused.

matt skiba came over and said he was proud of fob which made my heart swell cause we probably wouldn't be a band if it wasn't for alkaline.

go over to livejournal.com/~dickplan and tell him what you think his new design studio should be called. if he picks your name you can have one free clandestine outfit or a kiss from demar hamilton.

hangin with mcr at malls today. should be hilarious.

you're not even bad news, you're old news.

September 21, 2005

got a first cut of the "dance, dance" video. you guys look amazing. i think joe might be the mvp of the video. check out www.fbrvote.com - choose your own adventure. you pick the songs we play on the nintendo tour. gonna go see panic at the disco this weekend and maybe celebrate my friend's birthday. this is a fucking stick-up now give me all your tears. went out with william from the academy last night. he really puts things in perspective for me every time. when you're down it's nothing like having the family we do. i gotta get a haircut. i gotta get a life. when the chips are down, always bet on the longshots.

it's funny the way you talk about sharing an A&R; guy like it matters - it's too bad you wrote a couple of good songs, otherwise it'd be that much easier to write you off.

09/21/05

question

hey peter, i just saw some…interesting photos taken by mark hunter from a party you went to…i think it was saturday. you look like you had an eventful night, so i just wanted to know, what exactly did that guy do to make you steal his underwear/bathing suit?

answer

he’s friends with me. that was his only crime. i gave him moonshine and it was over.

question

you boys make my heart smile. do you ever get the same feeling about us?

answer

yes.

question

Hey Pete i wanna go as patrick to a school dance soo i can get into alot cheaper and what should wear??(i am a chic soo yea) and i would go as you but i dont wanna cut off my hair ..lol

answer

wait. why would that get you in cheaper?

question

Halloween… going as Pete Wentz.. in or out in 2005? its also an excuse to buy great clandestine merch..

answer

id never go as pete wentz on halloween. way too plain.

09/22/05

question

HEY PETE!!!! WHAT THE F&%K IS GOIN ON? WHAT DO U LIKE TO DRINK?

answer

apple juice or chocolate milk.

question

soo pete, you and i will both be attending the panic at the disco show saturday. why dont you dance all night to their catchy songs?

answer

i do. i drive around my neighborhood listening to it and pretend i live in other peoples houses. wooooaaah creepy.

question

are you guys planning on putting out another acoustic album with newer songs on it? if not.do it.thanks. ps.i heart you

answer

right now no… we’re thinking about maybe at some point putting out a b-sides and rarities record

question

Pete- your brother makes my heart skip a beat…. how old is he?

answer

he is 20 years old. but thats like 450 years in weed years.

question

I got to make out with my girlfriend in your music video. ;)

answer

finally. we succeeded.

question

If you werent in fall Out Boy..what do you think you would be doing right now? and whats your faborite song/lyric at this moment I heart U

answer

i dunno. playing soccer or playing dead. favorite lyric of the moment “i sleep with my arms across my chest and dream of you with someone else…”

question

wuts with the stripes in the saturday video? u guys look like a bunch of flippen pirates, especailly pete.

answer

we do anything we can you keep your beady little eyes scoping the screen. keep that brain going…

September 23, 2005

bloom. come to life. at best you got a couple of short ones. "heaven help us if this is our prime". see it all play out. observe. approach and act casual. raise the anchors. your ears and your brain have had this amazing marriage. but now they are in their golden years and the new panic at the disco record is the sexy next door neighbor. midlife crisis. take her out for a spin. don't you dare fall in love. i hope none of THE OTHER las vegas BANDs get jealous that there is another gem out in the middle of the desert. ive got saturday nights on loan from sunday but i got some pretty bad credit. lets ride it out. friday night seven days a week. just until we forget. bloom. come to life. picked from the stem. FUCKing wasting my time on FLOWERS.

if you live in chicago i hope to see you at the panic at the disco show this saturday. they play at 4:30. ill pick you up at 4 so we can get a soda on the way.

- petey

September 23, 2005

ruckus juice.

happy birthday geek.

your plans are kinda funny.

but mostly miscalculated.

put your seat upright.

this shit is gonna take off.

when you say that you stop caring about things everybody freaks out.

but the scary thing is, you stopped caring about things awhile before you even said anything.

panic at the disco in chicago on saturday.

come high five me.

the nft is gonna be so much fun, i can’t wait to see all of your pretty little faces.

09/27/05

question

fob, my heart aches because i cant have you. wuv you. ps. pete, ask patrick if he will marry me. see you in phx!

answer

he said that would be impossible.

question

Okay so theres this kid I like, but hes a grade below mine, but, somedays he acts like he likes me and somedays he doesnt..what do I do

answer

i would say take some time to get to know him. younger guys and older ladies is definitely in. just ask demi moore.

September 27, 2005

day one of nft. we are in detroit. met up with all the bands. this thing is gonna be fun. i will let you know how the first show goes later on.

younglove.

ps you fucking blew it.

September 30, 2005

i am really excited to be going home to chicago to see exactly one person. butterflies. tired eyes.

there is a body out there that was perfectly designed to fit with mine.