#I AM HEAD OVER HEELS FOR PETE WENTZ

[whatacatchdoggie]

I've been into MCR since 2017 and Fall Out Boy for as long as I can remember, but if you swapped Frank and Pete's places I fear I would not even notice.

And it's not that I don't know their faces or don't like them, it's just for some fucking reason I cannot remember which one belongs to which band. I have fully looked up their names before to make sure I was putting the right guy with the right band. Someone mentioned Pete being at MCRs performance and my first reaction was "isn't he in the band?" I don't know why it happens.

[mychemicalficrecs]

hey, u got any good lesbian fics? can be a genderswap or irl girls, but no Gerard/mikey pls

Hi Nonny, here's some femslash for you!

Femslash

Didn't Get To Heaven, But You Made It Close by gala_apples, Ray/Mikey, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. Ray's new to this thing, whatever it is. But she'll do it right for her girlfriend. Mikey deserves getting it right.

Ass-Kickin' Chick Music by ladyfoxxx, Frank/Gerard, 21k, Explicit. She's not someone's girlfriend. She's not anyone's anything. She's a fucking force. Gee doesn't know if she wants to be her or fuck her.

skipping school (what the bad kids do) by inkk, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Mature. L is for Lesbians. (In which class is skipped and a staff bathroom is occupied for questionable purposes.)

Rumors by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Mature. Frankie likes to mess with Gee during interviews and Gee hates it.

girls like girls by etselec, Mikey/Pete, 1k, General Audiences. A little Petekey genderbent ficlet based on the music video Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko

Cloud 9 by OwlHooots, Frank/Gerard, 3k, Mature. Gee realizes that she's been bit by the cheesiest love bug.

Alazarin by victoriachase (orphan_account), Frank/Gerard, 1k, Not Rated. i'm on holiday at the moment, and i was bored, and i really desperately wanted to write a girl!frerard fic and i wanted to write a fic where they met on a train, so this happened, i am sorry in advance

Freighthopping by CryptoHomoRocker, Bert/Gerard, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gee should probably be afraid of Bert, but she's too busy falling in love with her.

the world's not waiting by mirrorchord, Patrick/Gerard, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. Patrick jerks off, at some point.

the joy of rediscovering you by xofrnk, Jepha Howard/Mikey, 2k, Not Rated. She's just a beautiful, pale expanse of skin and ink and perfect. Sometimes Mikey just doesn't know what to do with her.

Alone Above A Raging Sea by something_safe, Bert/Gerard, 13k, Explicit. It's the Summer of Like and Gee Way and Roberta McCracken are still the demonic duo. Sometimes. When they've not fallen out. About nothing. Mikey fixes everything, like always.

Some Hearts Are Gallows (I'm Not Here For Hanging Around) by blindlyseeking (orphan_account), Frank/Gerard, 24k, Mature. My Chemical Romance. The name even had that vibe to it: we’re going to conquer the motherfucking universe. It was like The Beatles or Bikini Kill. It was a name that pinned you against a wall and said, “You better remember me.” And she is a part of it. Gina, Michelle, Rae, Maddy, and Frankie are just getting their new band off the ground. The girls are leaving Jersey for the first time on tour. But Frankie has been head over heels for Gina since day one and in a blur of autumn, Polaroids, house parties, whiskey sours, car rides, and cassette tapes 2002 becomes the year that change everything.

Cherry Bomb by my99centdreams, Courtney Love/Gerard, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gina opens her eyes, the sudden silence in the room almost dizzying and catches sight of Courtney’s scandalized expression in the mirror. She laughs and cuts off the first piece – the tiny snip making something flip in her belly - glancing down to see it resting in the sink. She takes a deep breath; it’s cool, she’s got this. “Flip the fucking tape over, will you?”

Hand On Heart by dear_monday, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. Gee doesn't think it's at all fair of Frank to just waltz in one day with brand new candy-corn-colored ink splashed all over her fucking gorgeous guitarist hands, bouncing around like an overexcited puppy on crack and insisting on showing her new art to anyone who comes within a fifty foot radius of her. Gee hates her, she hates her, she hates her. And also wants to fuck her brains out, but mostly just hates her.

Make Me Tremble (Make Me Shake) by Mondegreen, Frank/Gerard, 3k, Explicit. It's like any other Friday night horror marathon in the basement, and then suddenly it's not. Or: the one where Frank and Gerard are high school lesbians, and then they make out.

Get to Kiss that Twisted Mouth by Nokomis, Lindsey/Gerard, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. Lyn-Z doesn't even really realize that the lead singer of My Chemical Romance, dressed in a black suit and red tie, is a woman until halfway through their first opening set.

Raspberry Swirl by brooklinegirl, Frank/Gerard, 16k, Explicit. The time that the whole band woke up as girls was maybe the weirdest.

girls girls girls by Bexless, Frank/Gerard, 3k, Teen and Up Audiences, Explicit. “Would you still be into me if I were a guy?”.

Earth Girls Are Easy by Siobhan_Schuyler, Lindsey/Gerard, 1k, Mature. Her gaze travels around the room, over a hundred faces, and unerringly lands on Gee's, like some sort of inevitable tragedy. Something in her chest skips and squeezes, watching Gee smile, eyes on someone else, some other girl who'd rather talk about art than live it. Someone not worthy of Gee and her kind face and her expressive hands and the way she smokes too much and drinks too much and feels too much and cares about Lindsey much, much too little.

Soft by ladyfoxxx, Lindsey/Gerard, 4k, Explicit. Always-a-Girl!Gee and Lindsey - unapologetic girl on girl porn.

Songs About Hips and Hearts by sinuous_curve, Mikey/Pete, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. So, the point is, sometimes Mikey forgets she's a girl and it's really not that big a deal because even when someone they're touring with suddenly realizes that she is female with actual functioning female parts, nothing happens. Because she is also a girl with one older brother whose scary as shit in his own particularly odd way and three additional older brothers by proxy who have no compunctions about killing to defend her honor.

Three Times a Lady by corruptedkid, Gabe/Mikey, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gee is useless when it comes to girls. Mikey is not.

Pretty Rad by rage_for_love, Frank/Gerard, 3k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. In which Frankie and Gee venture into the world of motherhood, which turns out to be a pretty rad experience.

the noise that keeps me awake by ashers_kiss, Party Poison/Gerard, 5k, Mature. Lady!Party Poison/Lady!Gee, five times they fought, and one time they kissed and made up.

you say cut the stem, i say let's see the flower by userl4me, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. When Gee's school forces her to cut off her hair as part of the dress code, Gee sees no other choice. That is, until her girlfriend comes to the rescue with black hair dye and kissing.

No. 1 Party Anthem by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 4k, Explicit. Gee doesn't like parties. She does, however, like a certain punk with terrible hair who doesn't know how to turn down a dare.

Missing Period by revengera, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Mature. Gee groaned when a knock sounded at her door for the thousandth time that day. She stood up from her seat where she was quite happily signing slips of papers to get sick teenagers permission to leave school. Gee opened the door, being faced by none other than Frankie, who had been complaining about period cramps all day and really, Gee was beginning to think that the period may be a super one by how many times she had shown up at Gee's office that day.

cigarettes and chocolate milk by recklessfishes (orphan_account), Frank/Gerard, Patrick/Pete, 5k [WIP], General Audiences. The media really loves playing the “Who’s in Pietra Wentz’s pants?” game, and Pete wants them all to leave her the fuck alone.

Give Them Blood, Blood, Blood by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. Gee's heat always syncs up with her period. Frankie's willing to help her anyway.

Life Goes On by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 2k, General Audiences. Frankie is an angel who is forced to guard the gates of heaven. She falls in love with a woman who passes through them. The two of them are doomed from the very start. Pete is a djinn who is punished for his sins by guarding the gates of hell and falling in love with everyone who passes through them.

Let me hear your voice by 3cheers4sweet_romance, Frank/Gerard, 6k, Teen And Up Audiences. "The encounter was brief if you measure it in minutes, but it was long enough to make a deep impression on Frankie. She wanted to hear Gee's singing voice again and she wouldn't rest until she'd make her sing again." In this fic, Gee sings random ABBA songs and Frankie tries, with various degrees of success, to convince her to audition for the position of lead singer in a newly formed band.

Record Setter by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. "Frankie, y-you made me cum like-" she cut herself off with a breathy moan, "Fuck, like? Five times already? It hurts."

i'll make you mine (time after time) by inkk, Frank/Gerard, 1k, Mature. S is for Stargazing. (In which Gee is cuddly, Frank is a dork and they have super romantic sex in a field.)

Barely visible stars by giraffewrites, Lindsey/Gerard, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gee had preferred it when she wasn't out to her school. The days when she could just be herself and not have abuse shouted at her as she walked the halls. The days when she wasn't scared of doing such mundane tasks such as catching the bus. And then Lindsey comes along, and maybe everything isn't completely shit for once. Maybe.

[nextdoortotheblues]

Fun fact to keep people entertained: I used to have a major crush on pre-hiatus Patrick when everyone else were head over heels in love with Pete and after the comeback I liked Pete a lot more. (I am talking about their sex appeal here only, 'cause Pete Wentz has always been my spirit animal)

[dnp-and-blankets]

It Could Have Been Perfect

            Chapter One

            Patrick read through the lyrics for possibly the 100th time, and continued to sob. "Pete what is this?" he choked out, grabbing his boyfriend by the wrist as he walked passed the sofa Patrick was sat on. Pete scanned the piece of paper Patrick was holding and flashed an awkward smile. "I wrote it" "I got that much!" "I wrote it for you" "You wrote it for-" "It's a promise. The entire album is" He said sheepishly, turning on his heel and disapearing into his room for a couple seconds before returning with a notepad. "The one you've just read is only part of the promise. I wanted it to be a surprise, when I finished the album, but you might as well read through the rest of the songs, and we can bring it to practice tomorrow?" The elder explained. Patrick only wiped his eyes and nodded. I've got troubled thoughts and a self esteem to match. What kind of promise is that? Although the explanation didn't fully settle Patrick's worries, he stopped crying, and stood up, walking to the kitchen. Maybe some of the British tea his mum had bought him will help him chill out               He filled the kettle. You'll never catch us. He grabbed the box of tea bags from the cupboard and put one in a mug. So just let me be. He put two teaspoons of sugar in his mug and got the milk carton out of the fridge. I'm the one who charmed the one. He picked up the now boiled kettle and poured it in his mug. Who gave up on you. He let it brew for a minute or two before removing the tea bag and mixing in a bit of milk. I will never end up like him. He didn't wait for it to cool down. He picked the hot mug up and sipped it, allowing it to scald his lips and tongue. Behind my back I already am. He dropped the mug and it smashed, spilling the tea all over the floor. What a catch. He slid down the counter and hugged his knees to his chest, not caring that he was now sitting in hot tea. What a catch. He cried so hard no sound came out. He didn't hear the front door open. What a catch. He let out a strained sob. He didn't hear the gasp. What a catch. He coughed and spluttered, and shook with each breathe he took. He didn't hear the brunette shout his name. What a catch.             Patrick continued crying even as he felt himself being lifted off the ground. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't question who was touching him. He didn't return the embrace. He continued to sob as Pete held him close. After almost half an hour of crying whilst sat in Pete's lap as he was practically rocked like a baby, his sobs finally slowed, and he cracked his eyes open, sniffling. "Don't try again please Pete" He begged, his voice scratchy and strained from the crying. "Don't try what again?" His boyfriend questioned with a puzzled expression. "I know a suicide note when I read one!" Patrick yelled, practically jumping from Pete's lap. "It's not even been that long since I broke your gosh darn door down to stop you from killing yourself, don't you dare try it again" His breathing still hadn't calmed down from the crying fit he was still recovering from, and he felt tears threatening to spill over again, "I don't care if it's in song form, I know a suicide note when I read one," He repeated. His voice faltered at the end of his sentence, so his plea was barely a whisper.             Pete stood up and wrapped his arms around Patrick in a bear hug. "Baby, baby, baby," he cooed, "it's not a suicide note, it's a promise that I'm not going to attempt it again." He rubbed soothing circles on Patrick's back until his breathing calmed down. Patrick looked at his boyfriend's hot whiskey eyes, and smiled a pitiful smile, with eyes swollen from the crying, his cheeks flushed and damp, and his bottom lip still quivering, but at least it was a smile. "Do you pinky promise?" He said quietly, averting his gaze. Pete only kissed him softly, and during the kiss, Patrick felt his boyfriend grab his hand and entwine their pinky fingers. He smiled into the kiss.              Patrick went to sleep very early that night, the mental breakdown wiped him completely out. The second his head hit his pillow, he was out. It was good that he slept so early, because they were up at 8am, showering and rushing breakfast to try and make it to band practice in time. Patrick was quite happy and still very nervous over how famous they were getting. Happy because he was getting payed for hanging out with his best friends and doing what he loved pretty much every day. Nervous because it was getting increasingly difficult to hide his and Pete's relationship. The rush of singing love songs about yourself, when you're the only one who knows they're about you, Patrick loves it. But pictures of him being hugged by Pete during concerts were getting around online. People were beginning to question why certain lines fit Patrick and Pete so well. "Peterick" was beginning to trend on Tumblr. And Patrick was beginning to worry. Pete kissed him on the cheek and grabbed his hand and led him out of the house, tearing him from his worried thoughts.              Andy and Joe were already there when they arrived at the run down building they were using for practice. They were just wrapping up the Infinity on High tour (trade baby blues for wide eyed browns was still circling the internet, tagged with peterickisreal) and so Andy was very shocked when Pete threw an album's worth of lyrics on the small desk in the corner of their practice room. It was cluttered with paperwork from tours and merch and other band related things. The room itself wasn't too impressive, but it definitely wasn't shabby. It was big enough for all of their instruments to fit with enough room for Pete to run around and do his thing- whatever that was- and there was also a sofa, a minifridge, and a TV, for when they wanted to take breaks. The walls were a pale brown, and the floors were polished wooden panels.            Patrick read through the lyrics on the drive up to the building, smiling at all the lovely lyrics that were about him. No one could even begin to understand how much he loved Pete. Since the band had first formed he had loved him. And it was times like these, reading through a notebook full of lyrics that were about him, that made him believe that Pete loved him just as much. He suppressed a smile by biting his lip as he watched Andy and Joe read through the notebook. "Christ, Wentz are you ever gonna ask the girl out?" Andy asked with his eyebrows raised. Patrick tried not to look hurt. Pete questioned Andy with a quizzical look, prompting him to explain, "Well the descriptions in your love songs don't really vary much, I figured they were your way of working through your angst of loving some chick, so why not just ask her out?" Pete snorted. Attractive. Patrick restrained from rolling his eyes. "They're not about some chick" He laughed, although Patrick didn't miss the way Pete's eyes didn't crease like they usually do when he laughs, and he definitely didn't miss the way Pete tried to hide the venom in his voice. He smiled. This wasn't just upsetting Patrick.          Andy shoved Pete playfully and winked at Joe, "I call bull," he chuckled. They all grabbed their instruments and began playing around with chords to try and bring Pete's lyrics to life. "Who's Mr Benzedrine?" Joe suddenly questioned, after Patrick had sang the lyrics to the song Pete called 20 Dollar Nose Bleed. "Patrick." Pete replied nonchalantly, not even looking up from fiddling with his bass. "What about Mr Sandman?" Andy chimed in. "Me." He said, finally lifting his eyes from his bass, to meet the questioning gaze of his friends. "There something you not telling us, Pete?" Andy questioned, taking a step towards him and motioning between Pete and Patrick. "I don't know what you're asking" Pete spat. Patrick failed to not look hurt this time. "There!" Joe yelled, pointing at Patrick's solemn face. Pete looked at him and his eyes suddenly filled with worry. Patrick must have looked heartbroken. "Patrick rarely looks that sad, so it can't just be a coincidence that after Pete denies having a thing with him, that he looks devastated." Andy and Joe began taking steps towards the two boys, but Pete stood his ground, shaking the worry out of his expression.          "Then that's 'Trick's fault isn't it? I'm not gay, especially not for him" He said. The words rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, Patrick had to try his best not to run out of the room. "Are you sure? Cause it's not just us that's been noticing things. The fans have too" "For the last time, you jerks, I'm not dating Patrick, and I wouldn't even in my nightmares!" He yelled. Everyone in the room snapped their heads towards Patrick as he let out a sob. Pete tried to mouth "I love you" to calm him down, but Patrick shook his head and began furiously wiping at his eyes, desperately trying not to let the tears spill. Pete looked between his suspicious friends and his heartbroken boyfriend, and cracked. He ran towards Patrick and wrapped him in a hug that was awfully similar to the one he used the night before. Patrick felt Pete lips on his hair, then on his forehead, then on his cheeks, and then finally on his lips. He kissed Pete back, and felt the tears disappear. Andy was the first to speak. "You should have just been honest with us guys. It's not healthy to not tell anyone." He said, his voice laced with concern. Joe nodded, and apologised to the two of them for pushing them. Patrick was beaming. He could hold hands with his boyfriend during practice now. He could finally show him off, albeit only to two people, but that was good enough.  They wrapped up practice a few hours later, and Patrick's smile hadn't faltered once. The entire ride home he was staring at Pete lovingly, and whenever they were at traffic lights, Pete would return the gaze. "I love you" "I love you too"

         Patrick slammed his Macbook Air with such force, he almost worried it was broken. Almost. He flew his bedroom door open with the same fury. They were still touring Folie a Deux, but it was not going well. He stormed into the tiny kitchen their tour bus had. He glared at Pete from who was sat at the table. Andy came over and placed a hand on Patrick's shoulder, "What's up man-" "Don't touch me" Patrick growled, shrugging the hand off him, and maintaining his death stare at his boyfriend. "Babe?" Pete quizzed. "Don't babe me, you, you," Patrick stuttered trying to think of an insult that would have an effect without having to swear- he never did like profanity, even in states like this, "You dry wet wipe!" He yelled. Joe snorted. "Did you just call me useless?" Pete demanded, an irritated look spreading across his face. "Yes. I did. Go check the internet, genius, every single person is questioning us. Madness of two? When we made it clear who Mr Benzedrine and Mr Sandman are? Some of the lyrics?" Everyone in the room was shocked at how livid Patrick was. This was very rare. "People are questioning! Slam your head in a door Pete, you're an idiot!" Patrick screamed the words, then turned on his heel and locked himself in their tiny bathroom.            He didn't speak to anyone in the band for the rest of the tour. He sang the songs, he signed things, he acted happy on stage, but he didn't speak to the band. He was barely even awake at this point. He was on autopilot. Wake up, skip breakfast, sing, meet fans, lunch, sing, meet fans, skip dinner, shower, sleep. He avoided most meals because he didn't even want to look at Pete. He was ashamed for yelling at him, but whenever he went on Tumblr, he was livid again. Pete was getting careless, and he shouldn't be. There was a knock on his door. "Get lost" He growled. They entered anyways. "Babe, you can't keep doing this," Pete said gently, sitting down at the foot of Patrick's weight. Patrick chose to ignore him. "Babe," he tried again, "Babe," he said with more intensity this time, "Babe!" Patrick shot up. "Shut up! I'm not your babe anymore," He spat. The words even hurt him, but it didn't make them any less true to him. He meant it. "What do you want?" "I want to try and save us," Pete said desperately. "There is no us." "I meant-" "There's no band either." An awkward silence followed after Patrick declared the breakups. "Why?" Pete spat. Patrick could tell he was heartbroken, because unlike Patrick, he didn't cry, he got angry. "Why are you suddenly calling this off? We've been dating since 2002, and the band has been since 2001, and you're suddenly not feeling up for it?"           "Because you let your emotions get in the way, Pete!" Patrick was now standing menacingly close to Pete, so he could see how much the words were hitting home. He felt strangely relieved. "Because you had to get so carried away with your own selfish thoughts, that you put the entire band at risk, just to write me a stupid petty promise? You can shove the entire album up your-" Patrick was interrupted by the door opening and Andy entering along with Joe. "What the hell is going on?" They both demanded. "We're breaking up" Pete spat, "and not just me and Patrick. The band." "Yes now can you all leave?" Patrick sighed. Andy left. Joe followed. Pete stayed. "Patrick we were so perfect-" "No, Pete, it could have been perfect. But you got selfish." Patrick's voice was thick, because he was trying not to cry. He lay down back in his bed and covered his face with his duvet. "It could have been perfect," He repeated. Pete left a few seconds later. Everyone on the tour bus heard Patrick crying. Everyone on the tour bus felt Pete punch the walls of his bedroom. No one on the tour bus spoke to each other after that. They were over. Finished. And Patrick was devastated. If only Pete hadn't told the fans that he wrote Folie a Deux for Patrick. Chapter Two

[shark-myths]

Folie A Deux

I promised to write FAD meta like, forever ago. It took longer than I planned. Here it is, at last.

Folie is anthemic, artistic; it’s cynicism and heartbreak all layered up in failing hope. It’s Pete saying goodbye to his band and embarking on a new life as a husband and a father. It’s Patrick finding his confidence as a showman just in time for it to turn to ash on his tongue and prompt him to remake himself utterly. It’s Joe finally feeling like he has a role in FOB and creative ownership of his own band. It’s Andy, um, drumming. Super well. Without any particular emotional interpretation on my part because Andy’s, you know, pretty content to just play with his friends.

Without further blathering, allow me to present, at long last: a rambling, tear-filled, official Tryst Theory ™ interpretation of FOB’s fourth-and-almost-final studio album.

I am always struck most by the quality of obstruction in the albums produced during the Commercial Success/’Sell Out’ era. Pete begins obscuring himself for the first time during Infinity on High and especially Folie A Deux: the lyrics become increasingly senseless, more about cleverness and sound that saying things plainly. But he’s so honest during this era too. He tells us exactly what it feels like to be him, to be so pulled apart and scrutinized and sad, to be sick on his own hope. To be sick and fuzzy, made of stuffing, and far away on way-too-many anxiety meds. We get lines that don’t make much sense on the surface, like ‘I’m not a chance, put a heat wave in your pants,’ and we get the self-aware aggression of bops like I Don’t Care.

In the previous era, Pete didn’t really know what it meant, yet—being Pete Wentz. Being so public. Being the face of the band, being the bad guy and the heel. What it would cost. Now he understands that anything he touches, or looks at, or says at loud is going to change. Once he does it, says it, thinks it, feels it, it’s out of his control. It’s owned by someone else. Even his private body, his private phone. Even his decision to defend his friend from an aggressive bouncer onstage. The brand of phone he carries, the girls he texts, who he stands next to in photos, the cities where he plays shows and the cities he does not. Now he understands that his life is not his, but something the public will use to hurt him if we get bored. This is drugstore cowboy Pete. This is a Pete grown so heavy under the weight of his own misery and bullshit that he can barely go on. This is a Pete preparing to say goodbye.

Which is a long way of saying: Folie A Deux fucks me up.

 A little history (sourced heavily from Wikipedia):

The album was recorded from July-September 2008, beginning two months after Pete and Ashlee were married, and released in December 2008, shortly after Bronx was born. They started recording ahead of schedule, without telling the label, and deliberately limited their studio time. They wanted to recapture what they had felt during Grave, when they were racing against their drained back accounts to get the album set down. They wanted that simplicity and rawness, the feeling of being mixed-up kids half living out of a van and making music that felt vibrant and essential. Patrick told AP, “There was something really interesting about that creative process when we were starting out. The more time you have, the more potential you have for excess.” (He thought he dominated Infinity and wanted to pare himself back, reign himself in, for Folir.) They tried to emulate the process and feeling of Grave as much as possible: “first-thought, best-thought.” Joe pushed to be included more in collaboration and felt like he “owned the songs a lot more. It made me really excited about contributing to Fall Out Boy and made me find my role in the band.” Pete made an effort (this is him making an effort, okay) to keep his personal life more sequestered from the writing and use more metaphor and the conceit characters speaking lines, more like a stage musical. And, perhaps true to the feeling of Grave, Pete and Patrick fought painfully and violently over the record. It was personal and artistic for everyone. They felt it was their best work.

Fans tore them apart, of course. Booing anytime they played anything off the new record. The album undersold and public reception did not match the glowing critical reviews. They tried to say something important, to talk about society and convey real messages in their music. They were publicly rebuffed. Joe told Rolling Stone, “Some of us were miserable on stage. Others were just drunk.” The reception, the struggle, cemented what Pete had already decided to do: leave the band.

(Let’s not talk about the last song of what he thought would be their last show ever during which, instead of playing Saturday with his best friends and his me-and-Pat, he had the man who named the band in the first place shave off his signature Pete Wentz hair in a symbolic ritual of fucking morning, let’s not let’s not)

(but in case you want to)

 A little cover art:

I just want you to know that Pete Wentz has the original painting of that cover in his home. IN CASE YOU THINK THAT’S RELEVANT.

This image. With Pete’s furry history. With the costumes and feeling like a zoo animal and playing the role of the heel, with the way he said in the Folie Making Of video that being perceived in media is “like wearing a costume, you’re not who you are.” With his interest especially in bears, the talk of stitches and stuffing and seams, with the Lullabye track and ‘honey is for bees silly bear’ (and Black Cards’ ‘you’re my best friend, honeycomb head’) and the whole Winnie the Pooh vibe. With the devoted companionship and singular love exhibited by Winnie the Pooh and the way he turns back into inert, lifeless stuffing when you grow too old and you forget what he really is and see him as just a toy, empty and pliable, and the way only childhood wonder and innocence can return him to life. How the cover has not just one person on it, but a bear-boy plus one: a madness shared by two. A real bear, and someone who’s just pretending, or just trying to be. What a match, what a catch.

WHAT A PETERICK MASTERPIECE THIS FUCKING ALBUM IS

The liner notes are empty, by the way. For the physical CD. The liner notes are just pictures and names of band members, then production information and thanks to ‘fans, friends, and loves.’ Nothing else. No lyrics. No record. If that’s not foreshadowing—

 And now said masterpiece itself:

1. Disloyal Order of the Water Buffaloes

Okay, so let’s take a step back and imagine for a second the decision-making process that went into writing a magnum fucking opus Peterick anthem to open the album with. Are we all on the same page here? WHAT THE FUCK, were they TRYING to kill me

This album is the fucking Holy Grail of the drug use = Patrick metaphor, and we dive right into it with this one. Boycott love. Detox just to retox. DRAW YOUR OWN HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T PARALLELS. #trysttheory

For all that Pete tried to move away from autobiographical lyrics on this album, his view of himself is plain in this song: ‘perfect boys with their perfect lives, no one wants to hear you sing about tragedy.’

The line ‘fell out of bed, butterfly bandage, but don’t worry’ brings up my theories about what dreams mean. Falling out of bed and getting hurt is a clear consequence of dreaming so hard you forgot it was just a dream (or trysting with your best friend and forgetting there could be consequences, real people you can hurt and yourself included). ‘You’ll never remember, your head is far too blurry’ ties into w.a.m.s as well as Cooperstown and the idea of being blurry-headed, impaired because you’re fucked up on love or some other drug, and making choices you’d regret, if you could remember them. Making mistakes you’ll have to live with whether you remember them or not.

(Romantically speaking, water buffaloes are disloyal: Google suggests a single male water buffalo can sire as many as 100 baby buffs in a single mating season. It seems pretty obvious throughout this album that issues of infidelity were large in Pete’s mind while writing these lyrics.)

2. I Don’t Care

This song makes me think of Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) so much. Starting over again in Mexico, friends who don’t care about you, the blues-pop bounce to it and repeating riff? Sonically, they have a lot in common.

Pete may be playing on his previous reference to Closer (‘he tastes like you only sweeter’) with the opening line here—‘say my name and his in the same breath, I dare you to say they taste the same’—which is the saddest and most painful movie about heterosexuals you will ever watch, but writing that line and putting it on Patrick’s tongue? That may be the gayest thing that happens to me all night, guys, and I’m a queer girl with a bottle of wine and a long, long Friday evening ahead of me.

This song is so much a conversation Pete is having with the world about his fame and notoriety, imo. He calls it a narcissist’s anthem but I don’t think that’s it, exactly. I think—and the music video backs me up on this—it’s a coy wink at their own reputation, all the shit people are slinging about them and Pete specifically. We get a drug reference here, too: ‘take a chance, let your body get a tolerance.’

Also, Patrick is a nun in the video. Pete put Patrick in a literal fucking habit. What more do you need to me to say to prove definitely that Pete is desperately in love with him? This. Kid. In. A. Nun’s. Habit.

3. She’s My Winona

IF THIS SONG ISN’T A DISCUSSION OF HOW PETE HAD TO REVISE HIS PETERICK AMBITIONS WHEN HE FOUND OUT ASHLEE WAS PREGNANT

(There are so many suicide references in this song I want to join Pete and the band’s manager in cheering and celebrating all over again that our boy lived to 28. You can physically feel him resigning himself to living a long life in these verses.)

‘Hell or glory, I don’t want anything in between.’ I take this line as pretty directly about him and Patrick: he doesn’t care if they go to hell and it ruins the band, he wants to take the risk, because he thinks together they could be—glory. He wants to roll the dice. (Take a chance—I’m not a chance.) And ‘then came a baby boy with long eyelashes, and daddy said “you gotta show the world the thunder.”’ In other words, he wanted hell or glory, ruination or Patrick, but then along came his son. And his priorities changed. Of course they did. True love is one thing; raising your child is another.

‘We had a good run, even I have to admit.’

(And—here’s the thing—people ask me sometimes, what I think about Pete marrying Ashlee. “Do you think he married her just because it was the right thing to do?” No. I think he believed in love and family and forever. I think Pete believed it would work. I think he wanted it to. I think that’s why the trysting, and eventually the band, stopped: because Pete tried his fucking best. I think he loved her and loved the idea of a future for himself—the first time he’s ever really imagined that. The idea of somewhere to belong, a real family, one that he felt part of. I think he wanted more than anything for it to work precisely because it was so different from what he, or anyone else, ever expected for him. He said ‘I want to marry this girl’ and he meant it. He really did intend to love her forever, as best he could, and not love anyone else if he could help it.

But those aren’t good reasons to build a whole relationship on, a marriage on. And he was a mess, and in love with Patrick too, and hated and famous and fucked. He had no privacy, limited emotional maturity, a burgeoning substance problem and no sense of himself that wasn’t dependent on what the culture and the media and his fans and his friends reflected back to him and said was true. There was no way they could be happy together under those circumstances, and he’d have stayed forever anyway, I think. His interviews about that time—when he stopped shaving, then stopped showering; when he was a drugstore cowboy stay-at-home dad, depressed and giving up—he doesn’t blame Ashlee for wanting to leave. He hated himself enough to be miserable forever, but she didn’t. So of course it fell apart.)

4. America’s Suitehearts

This commercial headfuck of a song. Jerry christ, guys, someone throw me an anchor so I can drown myself. This caricature, the monstrosity and performance of celebrity, the way the band is reduced to wrestling alter egos, painted and pretend. No one’s being subtle with this song, this video. They are showing us exactly what they mean.

‘I must confess, I’m in love with my own sins.’

DO YOU MEAN LIKE BEING IN GAY LOVE WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND

DO YOU MEAN THAT SIN?

And this verse, though ostensibly about the vagaries of fame, sounds so much like him falling in love with Patrick while Patrick is oblivious:

‘You can bow and pretend you don’t know you’re a legend. Time just hasn’t told anyone else yet. I’m sorry, I just let my love loose again.’

For so many years, Pete believed his love was something he had to apologize for. 😭 😭 😭 😭

5. Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet

Okay, fuck this, I’m done

This fucking

This

UGH

Remember the paternity rumors at the time of Ashlee’s pregnancy? Look at this whole complicated, tangled-up song about infidelity and paternity and the idea of Ashlee cheating while Pete’s cheating too. ‘Keep a calendar, this way you will always know’ [who impregnated you]. ‘I will never end up like him. behind my back, I already am.’ I literally cannot

‘Does he know the way I worship our love’

6. The (Shipped) Gold Standard

do I even need to keep writing this or is the album now, itself, independently writing the tryst theory

my notes for this song just say ‘come the fuck on’

This song is about: living in LA and missing Chicago (and what it felt like in Chicago, who you were and who you were with); taking accountability for your own actions even when it does not satisfy your hedonistic urges (e.g., marrying your pregnant girlfriend and breaking off your illicit love affair with Patrick Stump), trying to remake your identity and change yourself like those are the same thing and you can get a new heart as easily as a new name; losing your luck and breaking up (‘tell that boy I’ll leave you alone now, like a stove, I’ll turn my love down); horseshoe crabs; and of course, that good ol’ famous-in-the-closet feel:

‘I wanna scream I love you from the top of my lungs, but I’m afraid that someone else will hear me.’

7. Coffee’s For Closers

I’m just crying by now I can’t type anymore

He’s using this whole album to break up with Patrick, to explain, to say goodbye

‘I want everything to change and stay the same. Time doesn’t care about anyone or anything. Come together, come apart.’

‘We will never believe again’

And: ‘kick drum beating in my chest again’ and that feeling, the one we’ve all felt in the pit at any show, any good one with that golden-vibe in the air, the one that makes your heart feel connected to the hearts of everyone around you, like you could be lifted on light and floating around the room, like the love is pouring out of you and rising like heat and linking up to the network of love flowing into and out of everyone else, when you feel it and know they do too and your whole body vibrates with the impossible imperceptible hum of your very atoms, your constituent fucking molecules lit up and stitched together by this, this, this. The feeling like you don’t need lungs because singing in breath and bellows enough, the feeling like the only reason you ever had a heart was so the drummer could pump it with their sticks. ‘Preach electric to the microphone stand,’ Patrick the conductor, Patrick the evangelist, Patrick the gospel of his fucking love. Pete’s saying goodbye to that feeling. Pete knows, he knows already, what he is planning to do.

Pete’s lying. Pete’s saying ‘I love the mayhem more than the love’ like all he’s really been out to do is make a mess, break hearts, take names. Like he is no more and no less than what all the tabloids say about him. (Never watch the Fresh Only Bakery videos on youtube. They are boring, for one, and also the saddest fucking Pete you will ever see.) Pete’s saying ‘I will never believe in anything again’ and he’s making Patrick say it too, because true-blue love was supposed to last forever, and then Pete got married to someone else.

‘Oh, change will come.’

8. What A Catch, Donnie

NO. NO

how the fuck dare this song even exist

So this is it. This is the goodbye. Pete has talked about how he wrote this song from Patrick’s perspective, and he recruited some of Patrick’s favorite artists and friends of the band to sing different lines in a medley of the band’s hits up to this point. This is like, the FOB song equivalent of a suicide note. (To follow this with a greatest hits album—! G O D)

The reference to Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway—their collaboration, his ultimate suicide, and the way Miss Flack looked on all his destruction and said ‘I still want you back’ is absolutely a testament to the way Patrick, and the rest of the band, forgave him and took him back in after the notorious Best Buy Incident. The gratitude for the whole band and what the band has done for Pete is tied up in this song. ‘You’ll never catch us’ smacks of trysting, and there’s something to the line ‘I’m the one who charmed the one who gave up on you,’ as the speaker in the sentence in meant to be Patrick and the ‘you’ is presumed to be Pete.

‘They say the captain goes down with the ship, so when the world ends, will God go down with it?’ is both Pete’s intention to go down with the band (which he’s planning to sink, or sees unraveling already in the painful writing process—we don’t know at what point he made his decision to destroy yet another thing he loved in penance for some deep, unknowable conviction of sin) and his gesture of setting them free. The Video of Which We Will Not Speak shows this pretty clearly. Pete saves everyone and everything he’s ever loved at the bargain price of drowning himself. He does it without ever even appearing in the aired version of the video. *broken sobbing*

(The links for the full version are not currently on Youtube, but you can read about it here: http://www.mtv.com/news/1618609/fall-out-boy-release-wrong-version-of-what-a-catch-donnie-video/)

What a match, what a catch. If I say anything else about this song, and how basically everyone who heard it knew it meant the band was going to break up, I will absolutely fall apart

9. 27

OH GOOD A SONG I CAN MAKE IT THROUGH WITHOUT CHOKING ON MY OWN TEARS

NOT

So here’s a lovely little ditty about how Pete Wentz did not kill himself and die at age 27 as he always thought he would! Hahahahahaha I’m fine it’s fine I’m so glad this album exists I’m so glad I’m TALKING ABOUT IT

‘If home is where the heart is, then we’re all just fucked.’ All three of them: Pete, Patrick, and Ashlee. And every FOB fan out there. Ahahaha. GUYS I’M NOT OKAY

We’ve got Peterick drug metaphors to rival the punch of Hold Me Tight Or Don’t: ‘I want it so bad, I’d shoot the sunshine into my veins… Doing lines of dust and sweat off of last’s night stage just to feel like you. Milligrams in my head, burning tobacco in my wind, chasing the direction you went.’

We’ve got desperation about growing and changing and losing that which they so valued in their sound and collaboration on Grave: ‘I can’t remember the good old days. Are all the good times getting gone? They come and go and come and go.’

We’ve got the pressure of keeping your love affair with your lead singer a secret lest you risk your fame, label representation, and fortune: ‘My mind is a safe, and if I keep it in we all get rich’ right next to the dirty, hollow feeling of having images of your body stolen and used to drag your name and reputation like you had no more heart than any other empty doll and losing the value of yourself in that process: ‘My body is an orphanage, we take everyone in.’

We’ve got the romantic comparison to cosmic entities, just like in Real Ones: ‘you’re a bottled star, the planets align. You’re just like Mars, you shine in the sky.’ And that tinge of disparagement and lonesomeness: ‘I’ve got a lot of friends who are stars but some are just black holes.’

10. Tiffany Blews

This song plays with a lot of fun moth/flame metaphors that I really enjoy, while also really amplifying the isolation and quick-burning nature of fame. I think that Pete gets a sick satisfaction from having Patrick sing out the worst things he thinks about himself, that he thinks everyone else thinks about him. (Pete, I think, is the little black dress that will be faded soon.)

Interestingly, we have ‘a roman candle heart keeps us far apart,’ which is a pretty direct link to the later Fourth of July. A heart that flares, explodes, and then burns out quickly certainly would be an obstacle to building a lasting relationship, no matter how much you loved someone…

‘Hate me, baby. Maybe I’m a piece of art.’

‘Dear gravity, you held me down in this starless city’ makes me think of the Moonrise Kingdom quote in Wilson (Expensive Mistakes): ‘I hope the roof flies off and we all get sucked into space.’ It’s the opposite, basically. Hoping to fall in love and get thrown up among the glittering cosmos rather than anchored someplace dark and starless. (Aside: I love how susceptible Pete is to grand, cheesy quotes? Like when, a few days after the release of The Last Jedi, he tweeted the heavy-handed noir line ‘I want to put my fist through this whole lousy, beautiful town.’ Like, look for that in a FOB song someday.)

11. w.a.m.s.

For the curious, Andy confirmed on Twitter that the title stands for waitress/actress/model/singer, a reference to the stereotype of people who run away to Hollywood to make it big but end up washing out and struggling as the starving artist/waitstaff type. If this idea of our boys citing bankrupt ambition does not make you emotional, you may not have a heart.

This song is incredibly relevant to the dreams meta linked earlier—‘when all the others were just stirring awake, I’m trying to trick myself to fall asleep again’ is very evocative of being in denial over the jarring reality of the end of the tryst. I think this song is about one of the last times Pete and Patrick slept together before breaking up.

‘My head’s in heaven, my soles are in hell’ again highlights that Pete’s wildest Patrick dreams are very different than where he actually finds himself; ‘let’s meet in the purgatory of my hips and get well’ is a pretty transparent request, isn’t it? Especially since pre-hiatus Pete really loved to use ‘hips’ as a signifier for sexual desire/activity. Let’s just fuck and pretend it’s all okay. Let’s lose ourselves in each other and pretend we can have it. Tell me I’m the only one, even if it’s not true. Let me get high on this memory one last time.

‘Hurry, hurry. You put my head in such a flurry, flurry’ is the urgency and compromised judgment of the tryst. ‘Oh freckle freckle’ can be read as Patrick’s forehead mole. ‘What makes you so special? I’m gonna leave you’ tells us what makes the last time so good: Pete knows it’s the last time. Pete knows he has to end it. But he’s so addicted-sick, ((stray-dog sick,)) he can’t stop. ‘I’m gonna teach you how we’re all alone’ doesn’t really sound like something a newlywed and soon-to-be-dad should be saying, does it? But there it is. How can he let go when he knows ‘how heartwarming it is inside your skin’?

The final nail in my coffin: ‘I’m a sunshine machine. I want to get stuck and be golden in your memory.’

We’ve talked about how Patrick = sunshine = gold, right. r i g h t

12. 20 Dollar Nose Bleed

Fun fact: this song is basically erotica to me ever since I wrote that recording booth smut about it! I can’t even listen to it without blushing and becoming uncomfortable. So there’s something you didn’t need to know about me that you… now know about me.

‘Permanent jet lag, please take me back. I’m stray dog sick, please let me in. The mad key’s tripping, singing vows before we exchange smoke rings.’ It is OBVIOUSLY my prerogative to interpret this as slightly depraved sexual longing, but I especially like the bit about singing vows without ever exchanging anything lasting or visible that implies commitment—this can be heard as a comment on the fickleness of commitment, or it can be heard as a comment about how deeply he is/was committed to Patrick even though they never had anything to show for it. Anything they could show for it. Even to each other.

Benzedrine is, of course, the very first pharmaceutical amphetamine (read about it here!). Many great artists and thinkers were influenced by the impossible energy it gives you, which is obviously relatable to someone who experiences natural mania, peddling his own prescription like a ‘medicine man’ (Wilson lyrics). I think the verse about Benzedrine and not letting the doctor in not-so-obliquely references the issue with medication compliance that Pete experienced and many people diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder also do: the meds for this disorder are really unpleasant. They dull you out, they give you tremors, they have really strong side effects, and they take away that amazing manic spark that so many artists credit with their success. Don’t let the doctor in. They’ll take away the only thing he really likes about being himself.

‘Have you ever wanted to disappear?’ is, I think, a glimpse of the unadorned real.

The spoken word bit at the end of this song really hammers together a lot of the themes of the whole album, the whole band, personal and political both. ‘You said you’re not listening and I said I’m wishing…’, only we don’t ever find out what’s really being said.

13. West Coast Smoker

I love the hell out of this song because there are few things in life that are hotter than Patrick singing the chorus. And fuck. Patrick saying curse words. I die every time. I think this is a kink I share with Pete Wentz. I think one day Pete Wentz and I will share a circle of hell. It will be called the ‘Underage Stump Mouth Rotunda,’ and we will all be very ashamed.

We’ve got a lot of the same themes: the ease of suicide and the conviction to live, the way shows feel and how it was when they were kids, drug use and overmedicated ennui. Pete was once the son, is becoming the father, is resolving not to become the holy ghost.

‘I’m the last of my kind’ and ‘when they made me they broke the mold’ and the finality of it all. (Contrasted with the modern era: ‘you’re the last of a dying breed.’ Pete has grown up and away from his recursive self-obsession, from his own myth. Pete learning to look inside others and stop dismissing himself, and everyone else, as fool’s gold.)

‘Your eyes are blocking my starlight’ to me really speaks to the person who is keeping him from Patrick, or the people—the fans, the Public, with their eyes on his every action.

14. Pavlove

I LOVE THIS SONG

Once again, we have a drug use metaphor: ‘she’s back to the bathroom for one more,’ ‘get addicted to this,’ and of course, the endless seeking for something to make ‘my chest stir/my head blur.’ And: ‘I’m not ready for a handshake with death, I’m just such a happy mess’ shows us, for once, what Pete has to live for—not just that he’s resigned to life, but the reason for it. This song is all tied up with the heady swell of live music and self-medication, and there’s no line more representative of my experience as a bisexual person than ‘I’m the invisible man who can’t stop staring at the mirror.’

‘I want to make you as lonely as me so you can get addicted to this’ seems very directed at Patrick, doesn’t it? Because this is a Pete who needs Patrick too much, thinks Patrick doesn’t need him back, is terrified. Doesn’t know how to solve his problems except to flee them. So: he flees them.

 I MADE IT. I BARELY FUCKING MADE IT BUT I DID.

To sum up: Folie is an incredible, sweeping, beautiful album about the glory of Peterick and the band’s impending end, and it will break your heart. Hit me up with questions and requests, and as always, thank you for reading!

shark-myths out *mic drop*

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

*Halloween* Light ‘Em Up. (Pete Wentz x Reader)

Request: @raversam: ’12 with Pete’

Prompt 12: Haunted house

“G’morning, doll,” Pete whispered into your ear, placing a kiss in your neck.

With a smile on your face, you shifted your body so that you were facing your boyfriend, and ran your hands through his short hair. “Good morning,” you cooed, snuggling closer to him.

He placed a kiss onto the top of your head. “Whaddya want for breakfast? I’m making,” he murmured into your hair.

“Mm… cheese omelette and blueberry pancakes,” you hummed.

“I can do cheese on toast and a bowl of strawberry yogurt.”

“Perfect,” you giggled, pecking him on the lips before climbing out of bed and putting on your gown, Pete doing the same. “I’m gonna go get the mail, okay babe?”

Pete muttered an ‘okay’ and the two of you walked downstairs, him going into the kitchen and you going outside to the mailbox.

The crisp morning air felt amazing, and you inhaled deeply as you stepped down the porch and towards the mailbox. Extending a greeting and a smile to your neighbour, you opened the box and removed the contents, shuffling through them as you walked back up the path to the house. One particular flyer caught your attention.

“The houses on Green Street are having a street garage sale later today,” you announced as you entered the kitchen, where Pete was buttering some toast, “I think I’m gonna go.”

Pete made an unimpressed face. “No, ew. Those things are just plain weird.”

“No, they’re not,” you argued, moving to pour some coffee from the pot, “You never know what hidden gems you might find there.”

He scoffed. “This isn’t ‘The Goonies’,” he placed the cheese on the toast, “The only thing you’ll find there is diseases.”

“Pete!”

“Sorry, but it’s true,” he shrugged, holding his hands in the air before turning and getting the yogurt from the fridge. “You don’t know where those things have been.”

“I’m going,” you said, close to his ear so that he was sure to hear you.

“Fine,” he sneered, pouring the yogurt out from the container, “just don’t bring home anything haunted.”

~

Rummaging through the various boxes and crates in the garage of house number fifteen, you tucked your hair behind your ears and blew out a breath. You’d been searching these garages for a long while now, and you still hadn’t found anything worth taking home.

With a final sigh, you tuned around, about to head home, when a particular object caught your eye. A lopsided grin formed on your face as you approached the small box on one of the bookshelves. Standing on your tiptoes, you reached up to carefully take the box off and admire it. It was one of those old jewellery boxes – the ones that had the dancing ballerina inside, complete with a wind-up key at the back of it.

The grin on your face grew wider the more you studied it. The box must’ve been at least a decade old, but was still in surprisingly mint condition; whoever owned it must’ve taken exceptionally good care of it. Running your fingers over the patterned outside, you rested it on the clasp in front, using your other hand to wind it up a few times before opening it. A mechanised rendition of ‘Swan Lake’ began to play, and you watched in admiration as the tiny ballerina spun around. You used to have one of them when you were little; your grandma had given it to you one year for your birthday, and it was your most prized possession. Until it got lost, that is. You used to carry it everywhere with you; a habit that proved to be detrimental when you’d lost it in the park one day.

But it seemed as if the universe was feeling usually generous today, allowing you to find the one thing that you’d been missing for the past however many years.

You couldn’t wait to take it home.

~

“Oh hell no!” Pete exclaimed as you entered the living room, his unnerved eyes landing on the box in your hands. You cocked your head to the side and swaggered over to him, making him shake his head in violent protest. “No! Nah uh! No fucking way!”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed in perplexity.

“(Y/N), take that demon spawn right back to where you found it!”

“Pete, what’s wrong with you?” you frowned, slightly agitated by his sudden shift in behaviour.

He pointed a shaky finger at the box and scooted down the sofa, further away from you – or rather, the box. “That. That’s what’s wrong. Fuck, (Y/N). Don’t you know to never buy antique shit like that?”

“It’s just a jewellery box,” you sighed, waving it around in the air, making your boyfriend flinch. “I used to have one just like it when I was younger but I lost it. Call me nostalgic, but as soon as I saw it, I knew I had to have it.”

“There’s, like, a 99.9% chance that we’re gonna die now. You know that, right?”

“Calm your tits,” you rolled your eyes as you winded up the box again. You opened it and when the ballerina started dancing, you held it out to your boyfriend. “See? It’s just a normal music box.”

“There’s nothing normal about it!” he shrieked, flailing his arms about. “I swear that tiny person just blinked at me! Be gone, demon!”

With another sigh and eye roll, you left the living room and stalked up the stairs, placing the box in your study once you got to the second floor.

~

“Alright, look,” you said slowly, turning from your boyfriend and to the music box, your fingers closing the lid and firmly clasping the latch, “I locked it. Nothing is going to happen.”

Pete blew a raspberry. “And what if it does? I’m 100% convinced that that thing is haunted.”

“If it were haunted, I would know. I watch Supernatural,” you smirked, walking out of the room and down the stairs, Pete practically running right on your heels.

“Okay, but what if something does happen? What then?”

“What are you worried about, Pete?” you chuckled, gathering all your things and heading for the front door. “Are you scared that the ballerina is gonna come to life and eat you?” you teased.

“…”

“…”

Pete frowned at you. “Well, now I am.”

Giggling, you leaned forward to give him a kiss. “Just relax, everything will be fine. I’ll be home soon, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” he sighed, folding his arms in an effort to comfort himself. “But I still can’t believe you brought a demon into our house.”

Blowing him a kiss as a final goodbye, you headed out the door and to work, leaving a petrified Pete alone in the house.

Pete spent most of the day doing nothing productive. He listened to a few albums he hadn’t listened to in a while, ordered some pizza, watched a few episodes of his favourite series (as well as a couple episodes of Supernatural, just in case), and that was about it.

He was sitting in the recliner watching TV when he heard it. His entire body went stiff and the hairs on the back of his neck and his arms stood up. He could feel the moisture seemingly evaporating from his mouth, and his pulse quickened.

Slowly standing up from the seat, he very reluctantly made his way upstairs, wanting to make sure that his mind wasn’t just playing a cruel trick on him. But sure enough, when he cracked open the door to your study, his eyes caught sight of the box – with its lid open.

Gulping and gathering as much courage as he could muster, he sprinted over to the box, quickly shutting the lid and making double sure that the latch was super secure before sprinting back downstairs.

He took his seat in the recliner once again, heartbeat annoyingly loud and fast-paced. After a few minutes of some breathing exercises, and some mental meditation, he managed to calm down again and resume watching his programme. But not half an hour later, he heard it again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit, fuuuccckkk,” he squealed, fumbling around in search of his phone and when he found it, he dialled your number.

“(Y/N)!” he yelled, so loud that you jumped in your chair a little bit.

“What happened?”

“You need to come home now! I fucking told you! That shit is haunted as fuck!”

~

“…and then when I went up to look, the lid was fucking open! IT WAS OPEN, (Y/N)!”

“That’s impossible,” you derided, “I closed it before I left. Tightly.”

“Yes, I know! Which is why it just proves that it’s haunted!”

“So wait,” you held up a hand, “you went up there to close it, right?” He nodded. “And then shortly after, you heard the music again?” He nodded again, more vigorously this time. “But you didn’t go up to close it a second time?” He shook his head no. “Well, then if you really did hear it, it should still be open, right? Let’s go check.”

You walked up the stairs, a nervous Pete trailing closely behind you, and entered the study. The lid wasn’t open. In fact, the box was as securely locked as it had been before you left. Placing a hand on the box, you turned around to shoot your boyfriend an annoyed look, raising your left eyebrow.

Pete stammered, trying to find the words to say. “I-I-I’m not lying! It really did play music and the lid really was open!”

“Sure it was,” you nodded, eyes wide.

“(Y/N), I’m not making this shit up,” he whined, scowling at you, “We need to get rid of that thing!”

“I’m not getting rid of it, Pete! Whatever you think happened today was just your overactive imagination. The box is not haunted.”

~

It goes without saying that the rest of the night was spent having to listen to Pete try and convince you with all his might that the box was haunted. It also goes without saying that you paid no attention to him and his ramblings, only increasing the intensity of the ones that followed.

At about 11pm, you had managed to subdue him enough so that the two of you could go to sleep, which is what you were currently doing. You were enjoying your slumber, dreaming a lovely dream when all of a sudden, you were woken up by the sound of music. But not just any music.

Swan Lake.

Your eyes shot open immediately, and your heart rate picked up. It couldn’t be, could it? Was Pete right all along? No. It was impossible. But there was only one way to know for sure.

Slowly, you slid out of the comfort of your bed and took small, tentative steps out the door and down the hall to the study.

You treaded lightly past the staircase towards the study, a nervous crease forming on your forehead. When you got closer to the room, a chill ran down your spine. The sound was unmistakable; the music box was playing music.

You picked up the pace, wanting to get to the room and close the lid of the box as fast as possible. You were about two steps past the staircase, when you felt the temperature drop, and a cloud of what looked like mist appeared in front of you.

The mist moulded into the shape of a person – a little girl about ten years old, dressed in ballet clothes with tear-stained cheeks and hair that was once in a tight bun, now hanging messily around her face. You gasped loudly, taking a step backwards. You were so stunned that you couldn’t react. You tried to yell out – for Pete, for anything – but your voice caught in your throat and all that came out was a soft mewl.

Suddenly, the little girl opened her mouth, contorting her face in horror. “YOU!” she yelled, pointing an accusatory finger and advancing on you. “YOU! YOU DID THIS! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!”

You tried to scream, to run, but it was too late, and before you could process what was happening, you were falling. You desperately thrashed your arms, trying to grab onto the bannister to steady yourself and prevent the fall. Unfortunately, you weren’t that lucky, and you toppled down the wooden steps, head banging harshly against them. You were almost unconscious when your limp body rolled onto the floor, and with the most voice you could muster, you whispered hoarsely. “Pete…”

Pete was woken up by the loud banging and crashing, and he shot up in bed, his hands immediately extending to his left in search of your body. When he couldn’t feel you lying next to him, he felt his stomach drop.

“(Y/N)?” he called out desperately, jumping out of bed and running out the door, “(Y/N)! WHAT THE FUCK?” he stopped dead in his tracks, stumbling back a bit when he got to the staircase and saw the ghost of the little girl. “W-where the hell is my girlfriend? What did you do to her?”

Instead of responding, the ghost vanished into thin air, leaving a shaking, panting Pete to rush down the stairs and to your aid.

“(Y/N)!” it felt like his heart stopped when he saw you, laying motionless and barely conscious on the floor and tears started to stream down his face, “(Y/N), doll, I’m here, I’m here. You’re gonna be okay. Just stay with me, baby, please,” he pleaded, hands shaking as he gathered your tinier frame in his arms, using one of his hands to reach for the house phone and dial 911.

While Pete was speaking to the operator, you managed to open your eyes a smidge, and let out a soft groan. He placed the phone back onto the receiver and ran his hand through your hair, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “The ambulance is on its way, doll. Just relax,” he comforted, “Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”

“S-Supernatural,” you breathed out, your voice sounding gravelly and barely audible.

Pete furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What? Baby, we can watch Supernatural after you get checked out-“

You shook your head in disapproval. “No. Su-Supernatural that shit.”

It took Pete a moment to comprehend what you were talking about, but when he did, his eyes lit up in excitement.

~

With you safely in the ambulance and on your way to the hospital, Pete stood in the deserted area of the local park, well hidden from plain sight. He was clad in a black hoodie and jeans, and he was holding a bottle of lighter fluid and a box of matches as he glared in complete and utter hatred at the haunted box which was laying at the bottom of the two feet deep ditch.

Dumping essentially the entire bottle of liquid out into the hole, he lit a match and tossed it in, a feeling of relief and satisfaction surging through him at the sight of the burning box.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he murmured in triumph, nodding, “burn motherfucker. No one fucks with my girl.”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

[cvmisado]

ryden fic rec list

ahh so over the years i have read some AMAZING ryden fics…and some not so amazing ones. here, my dear friends, is a masterpost of some ryden fics that are definitely worth reading. make sure to read the warnings that the links give before reading please!! (there are 41 as of now, i update it like once a month)

 ♡ = favorite

one shots:

1. Falling is Like This: So, Brendon is madly in love with a boy from the candy shop. The boy from the candy shop. There’s only one. 

“I bet he’s sweet,” Pete cracks, and Brendon rolls his eyes and groans.

ryan is so cute in this. and the story line is so fluffy and adorable i mean,, c’mon. 4,571 words.

2. let the good times roll: A college/barista AU. 

ryan’s kinda obsessed with fall out boy. i love how this ends. also slight joncer. 3,650 words. 

♡ 3. Love, Sex, and Parachutes: Spencer owns Decaydance Skydiving and employs many of the bandom boys. 

this fic is kinda like the office and it’s so funny and i love it okay just read it. lots of ships. 3,847 words.

4. Purple Is Not A Christmas Color: KID!FIC Brendon has a problem with the fact that Santa put Ryan on the Naughty List.

i live for kid fics and this one is no exception. so fluffy. 5,657 words.

♡ 5. If I were stalking you then I’d know your favourite cookie flavour (Oatmeal Raisin, by the way): Spencer’s a video game addict, Jon’s kind of an ass, Brendon’s in Fall Out Boy and Ryan, uh, well he has a stalker.

ryan and jon work in a coffee shop. brendon’s kinda creepy but he has good intentions. trust me, it’s good. 6,011 words.

6. Sleepover Princes vs. Goodnight Girls: Ryan totally has a thing for Pete Wentz. Brendon should be happy for him, right? 

ryan’s a slick motherfucker and brendon’s a jealous one. 5,487 words.

♡ 7. Love In A Letterbox: AU. He’s always found a sanctuary in books, a protection almost. A world of your own where no one else can change things you don’t want to be changed.

so deep and well written. really cute library au. 6,007 words.

8. From A Pretty Mouth: “Are you wearing lip gloss?” Spencer asked as he passed by the two boys right when Brendon pursed his lips in the mirror. “Damn right I am!” Brendon exclaimed, and grinned at the drummer.  “It tastes like strawberries.”

ryan has a brendon’s lips kink. hot make outs. really short though, 2,000 words.

♡ 9. This Is Halloween: Brendon turns into a four-year-old just before Halloween.

the CUTEST. baby bren is so so great and has a lisp when saying spencer’s name. 2,981 words.

10. Candyboy: There is an urban legend about how a boy can get the most spectacular and orgasmic kiss of his life, if he dares to try it. 

this fic is pretty hot with an interesting story line. i’m pretty sure it’s a crack fic. 1,700 words.

11. Like A Magic 8 Ball, But You Can Only Ask One Question: Jon has the power to know whether someone’s gay or straight or somewhere in between.

jon saved everyone’s lives. just like irl. 3,689 words

♡ 12. Every Night You Stay: It wasn’t Ryan’s fault that Brendon had, apparently, taken everything he said to heart and decided to make Jon his new best friend and secret boyfriend. 

ryan is so weird, jealous, and hilarious in this. i felt so bad for jon hfshjfsdj. it’s by one of my fav authors. 5,342 words.

♡ 13. Best Laid Plans: Brendon had a three-step plan to make Ryan Ross fall in love with him. He didn’t write it down or anything (and if he did, the tiny, shredded pieces of paper were scattered across some highway between Wisconsin and Indiana, so no one could prove it), but it was a very specific plan. 

THIS IS HILARIOUS. i love this fic sossoso much cause brendon tries so damn hard to get ryan. featuring octopuses playing pianos (it’s not crack i promise) 4,600 words.

♡ 14. The Theory of Infatuation: Brendon’s the drama geek with the voice of an angel, and Ryan’s the socially crippled boy on the newspaper staff who loves him.

o!!!!m!!g!!!!!!!! the perfect high school au, ryan is too cute for his own good.  5,896 words. 

long fics:

♡ 1. Eccentric Times At Barrington High: The Office/High School AU: For some odd reason, a documentary company decides to document the daily lives and struggles of the teachers and students of Barrington High.

(OR: Music teacher Patrick Stump is hopelessly in love with his best friend trademark emo English teacher Pete Wentz, valedictorian William Beckett may or may not have had sex with the new Spanish teacher Gabe Saporta over his summer break in Jersey, pretentious and Coldplay-addicted Ryan Ross hates the lively and optimistic music teacher Brendon Urie, and more scandalous and weird things happen)

oh. my. god. this fic made me laugh so hard. mikey way is kind of an asshole and the description isn’t exaggerating when stating “Coldplay addicted Ryan Ross” because he honestly is. I’m pretty sure he fantasizes about Chris Martin on a daily basis. tyler and josh are the camera men. oh yeah, and halsey is in it. they are teachers except the tai guys and halsey. 75,032 words. 

2. Two Weeks In Hawaii: After being left at the alter the night before his wedding to Pete-fucking-Wentz, Ryan cashes in his honeymoon tickets to Hawaii where he finds that maybe not all men are complete assholes. – features pretty much every relationship ever, tons of characters, a bunch of relationships, and more butthurt and angst than any one story should. 

william is so great in this story. brendon’s such a sweetheart too. the beginning is so sad. i may have hated pete wentz for three days after reading this fic. lots of drama and angst. 112,075 words.

♡ 3. Two Vatos Locos Full of Carnalismo and Inamoratos: You dream with your soulmate. That’s how you learn who you’re meant to spend the rest of forever with. It’s simple, really, almost too easy. There’s no struggle unless your soulmate lives miles upon miles away. At least, that’s what usually happens. At first, Ryan thinks he’s sick. That he’s messed up or broken– maybe that’s why he didn’t dream with his soulmate for so long. But then he does, and fuck. Of course his soulmate is a fucking trauma case.

WARNING: WILL FUCK YOU UP. i’m not even exaggerating. it’s so angsty and sad and perfect and i love it so much. also, please read the tags before deciding to read this fic. some include: abuse, alcohol, suicide attempt(s). this isn’t the full thing so please take care and read the tags. 207,878 words.

♡ 4. Our Eyes Shine the Brightest When Our Faces Are Covered in Dirt (sequel to Two Vatos…): “Life isn’t a Disney Movie, and the world isn’t that generous. Sometimes, a story ends with an unsatisfying fade to black, and that’s all you have.”

Ryan struggles to teach his students this after taking a university teaching job to distract himself from his absent soulmate and his dying friend at home. He begins wonders if the ring on his finger means anything at all to Brendon.

read Two Vatos before reading this one. this may be even more sad and angsty, if that’s even possible. i cried a lot while reading this & the prequel. keep tissues handy. 104,062 words.

5. The One Thing I Never Expected: Ryan is Brendon’s best friend, they grew up together. But Ryan is different. An accident when he was a child left him deaf. Brendon has always taken care of Ryan, but now he’s starting to care for Ryan in a different way.

this is one of my all time favs. there’s a rape, suicide, and alcohol mentions. this is so cute and yes, they do have sex eventually. high school au. 91,000 words.

6. Star Shaped: Brendon’s not having the best holidays season ever.

you may want to read Forever, Now before reading this fic for it to make more sense. it isn’t ryden, but the story will make more sense if you do. 54,593 words.

7. Brilliant Smiles and Barely Scraping By: Brendon’s holding something inside of himself. It’s far from his heart; that’s where his favorite songs are kept. What he keeps secret is held in a place that Brendon himself doesn’t even want to try to find.

If Brendon couldn’t fight battles, Ryan was more than ready to fight for him

so so sad and worth reading. highschool au. there’s mentions of abuse and is quite angsty. this fic made me really angry. 73,600 words.

♡ 8. Rock Band Is (Not) A Synonym For Love: A mall AU. Pete’s head over heels for an oblivious Patrick, Gerard���s running out of ways to tell Frank he won’t date him, Ryan’s successfully trying to ignore his feelings for Brendon, and Spencer’s trying to make ends meet even as he slowly falls for Jon. On top of all that the big mall celebration is coming up and there’s all kinds of trouble keeping everyone on their toes.

so so cute. all your fav ships in one: peterick, frerard, joncer, and ofc ryden. pretty funny as well. 45,000 words.

9. Freaks: An accident lands Ryan in the hospital, and he meets Jon, who tells him of a mysterious patient on their floor.  There’s something not quite right about him, but then again, there’s something not quite right about Ryan as well.

ryan is so self concious and kinda an ass. jon & spencer are the best. 46,000 words.

10.  I Don’t Have a Library Card… But I’d Love to Check You Out: AU college. Brendon is close to flunking out of college, and his roommate and partner in crime, Jon, is not helping. He seeks refuge in the school’s library and finds a little more than a place to study. This is a story about finding love, taking chances, and being true to one’s self. 

ryan is adorable and sarah may seem like an ass at first, but she’s not. oh, spencer and sarah are siblings. 46,500 words.

♡ 11. How To Kill A Straight Guy: “Have fun eating your once-living flesh! I’ll be in here masturbating to girl magazines I got from my pot-smoking friends!”

the summary above is just for the first chapter. this fic is AMAZING and soooo much angst. it’s unbelievable. you will probably end up crying. it has a kind of sad ending, just warning you. 75,766 words. 

fics that are too long to be one shots, but too short for the long fics:

♡ 1. Just A Dash Of Fairy-maldehyde:  Brendon had never expected to even meet a real nymph, let alone fall for one.

so so so cute!!!!!!!!!!!! the story line sounds weird, but honestly it’s not at all?? the author totally works it. ryan is flustered so easily and it’s adorable. it’s written by the lovely @buttercupross give her a follow and check out her writing! it’s amazing, and so is she. 14,914 words. 

♡ 2. What We Invented: Now Brendon really doesn’t mind having boys in his bed, especially pretty ones and the one currently occupying his sheets seems quite pretty. It’s just…he likes to know who the boys in his bed are and he has absolutely no idea who this boy is.

ryan is so strange in this but it’s a good strange so it’s okay. the joncer is also so cute like? bill beckett is ryan’s roommate. 7,411 words. 

3. Let Me Down, Charlie Brown or How Jon Walker Saved Christmas:  Christmas time at the mall sucks, especially for those who work there. Brendon has given up on Christmas, Ryan is uptight, and Jon just wants to help. 

pete dresses up in a santa costume and patrick is in an elf one. brendon works in a pet shop and spencer always somehow always knows shit. 13,239 words.

4. Love in Bloom: Ryan Ross is a normal boy who struggles with his past. Can one rose seller at the side of the road help Ryan remember the past while still living in the present?

i’m pretty sure i had a revelation while reading this. i remember crying after reading this. a lot. 12,000 words. 

5. The Interpretation of Dreams: “I think something’s wrong with me,” Brendon tried to explain. “I basically have dreams so great that they kind of make real life pale in comparison. But not so great that I can tell the difference when I dream.” “And this… is a problem?” Spencer looked skeptical.

this fic was also really sad. very well written. so much pent up emotion. 20,000 words. 

6.  The Laundromat: Ryan doesn’t want to know the names of the people who come into the Laundromat. He doesn’t want to know what makes Tattoo Guy talk to Guy Who Never Showers. He doesn’t, but a new customer might just undermine all the work he’s done to distance himself from the world.

ryan’s names for people are pretty funny. features joncer, frerard, gabilliam, and peterick. 20,427 words. 

7. Silver Roses: Happiness doesn’t grow on trees - but maybe it grows on rosebushes. 

there’s slight william beckett/jon walker which was a first. spencer is evil. this is kinda a cinderella au. cute. 23,000 words. 

8. Brendon Urie: Pet Detective: Ryan Ross is the new kennel attendant at Thompson & Thompson Vet Clinic. When he meets his co-worker, Jon Walker, they begin to discover dogs disappearing from their kennels. When Ryan’s own dog, Hobo, goes missing, Jon Walker knows exactly who to call.

i almost gasped out loud when i found out who took hobo. pretty creative. 18,000 words.

♡ 9. Just One Of The Girls:  “Spence, I’m. Look, I’m going to prove this girl-thing to you, okay? I’m going to,” he held up his hands, “this is so brilliant, I’m going to become a girl.”

pretty hilarious. ryan turns into a girl. vicky t is amazing. 20,830 words. 

♡ 10. Every Speck of Dust Illuminated: “Z Berg.” Brendon pauses dramatically for effect. “Is a witch.”

Jon drags a spoon through the foam to draw a four leaf clover, complete with stem. Brendon admires it for a second.

“Brendon,” Jon sighs. “I know you don’t like that Ryan is spending so much time with her, but you don’t get to go around saying shit about people.”

Spine stiffening, Brendon responds as levelly as he can manage, “This has nothing to do with Ryan. Well, besides the fact that he’s hanging out with a witch.” 

Elizabeth Ann Berg is a witch. (and there is Charlotte the cat, Ryan the oblivious, and Brendon the hopelessly infatuated.)

you need an account for the link to work. it doesn’t take very long to make one and it’s free. but, this fic is pretty good and ryan is an old man. not literally, he just dresses like one. 15,931 words. 

♡ 11. For Whatever You Loose: You can’t always get what you want - unless you fish it out of the ocean.

mermaid au!! brendon and jon are mermaids and ryan and spencer are humans. brendon is so cute. 14,500 words. 

♡ 12. You’re Going to Recycle That, Right?: The one where Ryan is a hippie college environmentalist and Brendon just wants a better music auditorium. Featuring Ryan Ross chaining himself to a tree.

ryan is pretty hilarious and smokes a lot of pot with jon. the ending is really cute. 10,600 words.

13. Because You Looks Like A Jackass: Apartment AU! Basically: Brendon’s just moved into town. He courts Ryan Ross with flowery words and also a coat rack. He falls flat on his face. 

brendon is honestly so weird in this but it’s kind of endearing and cute. 7,600 words.

♡ 14. Serenade In Blue: Brendon makes Ryan stupid.

brendon likes ryan and ryan likes brendon but they both have no idea. ryan acts really weird when brendon is around and even more when he’s singing, it’s hilarious. z berg is the greatest. 8,013 words.   

♡ 15. This Happy Ending’s Just Beginning: The Disneyland parade has evolved into an all-singing, all-dancing extravaganza and Brendon wants to be part of it. Unfortunately there aren’t a lot of opportunities for the guy who sells knick-knacks by the park gates. Enter Ryan, the parade’s current star attraction, who might just have a plan to get Brendon everything he always wanted.

disney au!! my heart melted. spencer hates everyone, overall really amazing. 28,348 words.

  16. You Got A Crew? (I Got A Crew Too): AU. Every June, in the world of Las Vegas hair care, it’s all about one thing: the Annual Services Survey. Can struggling hairdresser Brendon Urie and his coworkers finally win over rival salon Cobra Starship? Shenanigans ensue as they battle it out, all while Brendon struggles to keep his eye on the prize—and away from that cute but prickly reporter.

i kept avoiding this fic for some reason? i wish i hadn’t though, it’s hilarious and the pranks are hysterical. one of my favorites. 24,000 words.

here, my friends are 41 of really good ryden fics totally worth your time. if you ever have any questions, don’t be afraid to hit up my ask box. oh, and i apologize for the sucky descriptions, i’m not good at summaries. i tried including fics that i haven’t seen everywhere, so that you can get some new fics. please let me know if the links aren’t working.

make sure to take care of yourselves and read the warnings that the links give before reading. happy reading!

[musiccriticonline]

Fall Out Boy, Machine Gun Kelly and State Champs Concert Review

Thanks for joining me! Welcome to my blog! As my first post I would love to critique and talk about the concert I attended last night.


You might ask what inclines me to talk about concerts/music? My dad was incredibly busy trying to provide for our family while I was growing up, we really didn't have anything to bond over other than food and music (two of my passions). We also used to go on food road trips while we lived in Oklahoma. We would just take a weekend, head up to Kansas or down to Texas to get away and eat! We had a ton of time to listen to music as a family. Starting young, I've seen close to 130 bands live. I feel I need to put my experiences out there!
*I love all music genres (particularly rock, metal and the blues). I get told a lot I have an old soul.


As a teenager/pre-teen, I was head over heels for the band that was founded in the summer of 2001.. Fall Out Boy, otherwise known as "FOB". Pete Wentz's attractiveness paired with Patrick Stumps voice was perfect combination to capture this little heart of mine back then and now. This group has held a special place in my heart for years and will continue to do so.


My teenage fantasy came true last night in an arena, I got to rock out to their music live for just about two hours. Now: it didn't live up to my complete expectations. Although their concert was nostalgic, with a good mixture of good and older more of the classic songs; the band members (aside from Stump and Andy Hurley) where just kind of there.


There was really no "rockin' out together" as I had imagined. Pete Wentz and Joe Trohman stayed on their separate halves of the stage and just kind of played. I was expecting more energy from the seasoned performers, but there wasn't much. Before they would play a song, Wentz would kind of talk about the song and foreshadow what epic piece of music was coming our way, even when he spoke, there was really no enthusiasm. Made me wonder if they were just tired of touring or just not into it tonight.


FOB definitely puts on an amazing performance that is definitely arena worthy. The stage was set up to the right of me. There was a long runway/walkway that allowed the band members to roam and get closer to the crowd. In the middle of the concert, the lights went out, audience was "hootin' and hollerin'". Hurley started a great drum solo on his own separate small square stage, lights went out again, then Trohan joined Hurley. Wentz and Stump then stood on their own separate small square stage which raised and lowered.


Overall, FOB's sound was phenomenal, nostalgic and classic. Some bands don't sound like themselves live, but FOB does. They have such a unique sound, I personally like to think of them (along with My Chemical Romance and Panic! At The Disco) were pioneers for the punk/pop rock genres. They all kind of set the standard in the early 2000's for the upcoming artists to achieve. I would highly recommend seeing Fall Out Boy live. The tickets I purchased were a little over $100 and totally worth it (and I'm a cheapskate!).


Machine Gun Kelly: second act


I'm not an avid listener of his music. I only knew two of his songs, the "Bad Things" which is a duet with Camila Cabello. The other song, which was his opener was "Bad Mother F*cker", which by the way, was a great opening choice. He had great energy that transferred to the crowd, if I knew his music more, I would've loved it even more than I had. I'm unsure if he tours on his own, but I'd be willing to see him again.


State Champs: the opening act


I had no idea who this group was! They had some great energy and really hyped up the crowd for the following groups. I am looking forward to listening to them on Spotify!


Overall, great show! Highly recommend. Let me know your experiences or likes/dislikes about these bands!

**Disclaimer: Photo was taken from FOB's twitter account because I couldn't get a good photo with all of them together!