#but I now have three cheers and the black parade

[zieatsramen]

FINALLY GOT MY HANDS ON THOSE DANG CDS

OHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOOOHOHO IT'S AO OVER FOR Y'ALL

You have no idea how long I've tried to get my hands on these guys

[heimonas]

okay all I'm saying is MCR would love the magnus archives

[glxybld-mustdie]

Makeup is fucking great for a guy, because it makes a guy look beautiful, which a lot of times, a guy is not beautiful, and I wanna change that. I wanna make sure that everybody thinks guys are beautiful

I just wrote that by memory I think I made an error somewhere

Anyway

Their best single

Come on this is the song that made me fall in love with them, how could I not choose it?

[aleatoryw]

there's something interesting to me about two artists i really like - MIKA and Gerard Way of MCR fame - both being raised catholic and realizing they're queer, but in adulthood making art that goes in completely different directions about it.

MIKA makes this bright, campy, bubblegum pop that utterly rejects a the premise of sinfulness placed upon him. his lyrics often rejoice in being gay - even before he was publicly out! (see: we are golden) - while still reflecting a struggle to find worth in the larger world. he only occasionally dips into anger at the church for how it treated him (see: promiseland) but you can see patterns of choosing the joy of being himself over the rejection of family and society and religion throughout his discography. His art says "you were wrong about me, i'm not a sinner, queerness is beautiful and God means nothing in the face of gay love" (see: origin of love).

and then MCR makes this violent, powerful, satanic-panic-inspiring, and sin-drenched music that pulls from the darkest, gothest parts of catholic lore to create stories of death and irredeemable foulness and guilt, while still ultimately rejecting the premise that because we are sinners, we are unworthy. gerard sings about bad things they've done dragging not just them, but everyone to hell (house of wolves, mama), they sneer openly at salvation in life (thank you for the venom), but ultimately, some of their most popular songs have a glimmer of defiant hope (famous last words). Their art says "you were right about me, i'm a dirty sinner, and isn't that kind of beautiful? don't i still ache and bleed and yearn? don't we all?"

[moe-broey]

Got any music you listen to for any FEH characters? Be it for vibes or brain animatics?

WAH.... I'VE BEEN......... SITTING ON THIS ..... mostly cause I worry my answer might be a bit lacking 🧍

I have. A small handful of songs that make me think of Alfonse! Some are silly, some not! In no particular order:

I Earn My Life - Lemon Demon

> THIS ONE..... IS SO FUNNY TO ME...... but it is so painfully Alfonse-core........ to me. Esp lines "I learned it from my father and my father never lied" and "I wouldn't be so worried if I wasn't always right". Biting him. Killing him, even

Devil's Train - The Lab Rats

> Not a direct one-to-one (it is a specific ass situation song and I love it for that) but! This one is so Book 3 to me... if any of these are animatics in my brain material it's this one! Esp if it's following the Alfonse who would become Líf... I also think it captures the generational cycles that are present with Alfonse, Gustav, and Grampa Askr as well!

Ghost - Mystery Skulls

> Some are more Líf leaning tbh LMFAO but! Speaking of! I've mentioned it before, but Lewis was actually a huge inspiration/reference for me when learning How To Draw Líf -- sorting out how to simplify him, get him to fit more w my cartoony style, and how I want him to look body-type wise (big broad guy!)

Also the way I emphasize heart motifs on Líf is very inspired by Lewis! While also trying to simplify the shapes/taking creative liberties and running with them LMFAO

So Ghost is like. Yeah I think the lyrics can fit! But there's Deeplore here too LMFAO

Sex With A Ghost - Teddy Hyde

> This one is very just vibes/up to interpretation. It also feels like a companion to Ghost LMFAO

Cupid - Jack Strauber

> THIS ONE. IS ANOTHER SILLY ONE. BUT. Hear me out. I get such a strong mental image when I listen to it. Bruno just dumped him/ghosted him. Alfonse is face down ass up laying flat on his bedroom floor. He's been playing this song on repeat for at least an hour. Sharena tentatively checks in on him very "Are ya winning, son?" but she knows he fucking isn't. I think it also captures the feelings of heartache and regret of letting someone in and getting hurt for it. AND AND it's because of THE CIRCUMSTANCES. Lamenting The Circumstances -- "Cupid, how could you be so cruel?"

Fist Bump - Sonic Forces themesong

> SONIC THE HEDGEHOG JUMPSCARE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ It is. So fitting though. I am ALWAYS thinking of him when listening to it...........

This December - Ricky Montgomery

> This one..... is so him...... it makes me soft. If you check out any of these I def recommend this one!!! And Devil's Train, both are also just so fun to listen to in a Music That Sounds way (I like the flow!)

I could have SWORN I had more but........... I never made a complete collection...... honorable mention to The Black Parade and a handful of MCR songs tbh (This Is How I Disappear feels very distinctly Líf, I Don't Love You honestly could be either depending on the circumstances, Famous Last Words feels a little more Alfonse-leaning). I think if you introduced Alfonse to MCR it WOULD rearrange his brain chemistry, it Would be the closest thing he's had to therapy. And in addition to music I would introduce him to personally, I think The Wonder Years is another good one (but all of TWY's stuff feels so deeply personal... like diary entries and poetry.... cannot be entirely Blorboified. To me)

[frogstappen]

𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐧𝐥

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 3k

you watch max's home race from the red bull garage.

⚠️: description of major crash, some mentions of injury. sickly sweet friendship with a hint of something more. jealous!max, soft!max, cheeky!max.

“Headset?”

“Yep.”

“I got some snacks for you. Where are the –?”

The bag rustles as you lift it. “Pretzels. Got them.”

“And you know where the bathroom is? Out that door, down the corridor –”

“Max,” you push his arm down, “You know who we sound like right now?”

His eyebrows lift. “Who?”

You giggle. “You and GP. Radio, check. Headset, check. Bathroom, check.”

Max sighs, propping a hand on his hip. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just – listen to me, please, okay?”

“I’m going to be fine,” you assure him. “I’ve watched you from the garage a thousand times before.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been down here in a while. I’m just making sure.”

The track is already deafening. The roar of tens of thousands of bloodthirsty Formula One fans isn’t quite as earthshaking as that of twenty racecars – but Jesus, there’s not much in it.

The attendance in Zandvoort this weekend has reached well over three hundred thousand. Earlier, you stood out front to watch the drivers’ parade with some of the team.

Max lifted his head as the bus turned the last corner and trundled down the main straight. The crowd thundered all around. He caught your eye and, with a smirk, lifted a waggling hand – and you felt your bones vibrating with the cheering.

An orange sea parted by a strip of black asphalt; they twirl flags between thick clouds of tangerine smoke. They paint their faces and wave their banners, topple their drinks with the thrill that just a half-second glimpse at their Dutch Lion ignites.

Formula One fans go hard. Max Verstappen fans go harder.

An assistant taps Max’s shoulder. She flicks up the mic on her headset as he turns. “Three minutes to anthem.”

He nods, and she totters off.

“Promise me,” he takes hold of your elbows, “that you’ll stay right here. I’ll find you after, okay? One of the guys will bring you to the podium.”

“Confident,” you snort, though his expression tightens.

Your phone buzzes on the desk. You flip it over and the screen lights a name adorned with a heart emoji. Beneath, a picture of the classic overhead of the grid, stretched across a flatscreen TV.

Bet your view is better than mine! Miss you. X

Max grumbles, grabbing his balaclava. “I should go.”

“Hey, wait.” You tug on the sleeve of his suit, dangling from his waist.

He sways back into your side, the weight of him familiar and gentle. “Mhm?”

“Have a good one, okay? Be safe.”

“Safe?” He smirks, toying with the cord of your headset. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m serious, Max. Don’t be a dick.”

Okay, he mouths, patting your head. “Speaking of dicks,” he taps your phone, “Better reply.”

His head tilts back in laughter when you shove him off, and he swaggers out of the garage. An assistant hoists a parasol in the air and scurries down the pit lane at his side.

He’s so calm, you think, that he may as well be out for a Sunday drive. It comes naturally enough to him.

He’s on pole today. The car has been good, Max’s form even better. The sky is clear (save for the fans’ fluorescent flares), and there’s no chance of rain – though, sometimes, you find yourself praying for it.

He’s Dutch, okay? The rain is always on his side.

It’s been a decent weekend, for once. No hiccups, no setbacks. He’s soared his way around the track, producing lap after perfect lap. The way he always does, when he knows you’re somewhere nearby.

His lucky charm, since his first go around a karting track. So Max says, anyway.

He’ll say it with humor; that wit of his that you’ve learned like a second language. Still – sometimes, after his hardest races, his toughest battles, he wraps his arms around you tight enough to convince you that he might just be telling the truth.

Just for a moment.

You’ve been best friends for as long as you can remember. Never one without the other; always whispering into each other’s ears or otherwise communicating through flashes of eye contact, kicks under the table.

Wherever he goes, you go. You bicker like a married couple, and trust each other much the same. From the school playground to the Circuit de Monaco – and everywhere in between.

The orchestra swings to life, sending the sound of Wilhelmus skyward. Onscreen in the garage, the camera focuses in on Max: calm, composed, staring off down to the first corner like it’s his next meal.

Nothing has ever happened between you. Not really. No secret rendezvous nor dear diary crushes. Once, and only once, a chaste kiss during a high school game of spin the bottle.

It was about as awkward as it should’ve been. This quick, electric shock of a kiss. Over all too soon and not soon enough. He tasted like the lager he’d been drinking. He steadied himself with a hand on your thigh.

You sat back on your heels, wiped your lips with the sleeve of your sweater, and aped Max’s look of disgust. You snickered with your girlfriends as the circle moved on – but anytime you snuck a glance at him, he was already looking straight back.

He never brought it up again, though – and so neither did you. As far as either of you were concerned, it never happened. You’re just friends.

Best, best friends.

This new guy you’ve been seeing – you met him in a bar in London. He said he liked your dress, said he liked your smile, then offered to buy you a drink. It’s been no more than six weeks, but Max had already quietly decided his thoughts over summer break.

He’s a nice guy, he said, deliberately bumping his rubber ring into yours.

You pushed away from him, floating across the pool. Nice? That’s all you got?

What do you want me to say? I’m not the one dating him.

I just don’t believe that nice is all you have to say. You’re not that good at pretending. I know you too well, Verstappen.

Okay, fine. Too much styling of the hair.

Too much…What?

Yeah. And he wears weird shoes.

Well, he likes F1. Said he’s a fan of yours.

Ha, Max clicked his fingers, That’s the biggest red flag of them all.

Your phone buzzes again. You turn it facedown without looking, and pull your headset on.

The circuit shudders as the anthem comes to an end. The drivers split up, pulling off ice vests and zipping up their suits. The mechanics prop chairs in front of the screen, thumping their helmets over their heads.

Almost ten years in, the anxiety still hangs heavy in your stomach. The rumble of the engines, the babble from the loudspeakers. The rapid-fire orders shot over your head in the garage.

It comes naturally to Max, sure – that doesn’t mean it’s easy for you.

You watch him as he lowers into his car. Eyes narrow and focused, blurring everything but that first bend from his vision. All good humor shaken off, replaced by a vicious hunger to hit the end of the straight first, to be a speck on the horizon before the first lap is through.

Your thumb picks at the 33 sticker on the side of your headset. You burst open the bag of pretzels.

Max checks the radio and GP replies: “Loud and clear.”

“Beautiful day,” the driver says, weaving through the formation lap. “Simply lovely.”

You smile, suckling on the salty snack. As nervous as you may feel, at least he’s having fun.

He brings the car to a soft stop on his line and waits as the others follow suit. The lights flick on one by one, a painful pause between each. One sharp breath, held at the bottom of your throat, – and the red dissolves.

The Red Bull fires down the track.

Your lungs fill with a gulp of fuel-fumed air. Veins flood with warmth – the ice-cold grip around each nerve thawed as soon as Max begins to lead the flock.

He fights off contenders for first all the way to turn four – snuffing the flame of a Ferrari here, squeezing the papaya of a McLaren there. He catapults ahead just past Hunserug, and the garage springs to cheerful life.

In your headset, the pit wall is serious, fixed on the race. They murmur over wavelengths, static fizzling between words. Voices flat and emotionless; statistics on top of statistics, strategies on top of strategies.

You crush more pretzels between your molars, watching, unblinking. You twist the cord around your index finger, draining the tip of blood, then loosen again as Max puts more than a second between his car and the next.

He’s doing good. He always does good, as far as you’re concerned.

He’s doing what he always says he was made to do. He was raised this way, weathered into shape by each storm he powered his way through. Not born, not destined – Max doesn’t believe in any of that shit.

God doesn’t drive F1 cars, he’ll say. I do.

A couple tense laps pass. The Red Bull is still up front, though he’s tussling with the Ferrari now hot on his tail. Each chance his pursuer takes, each split-second jab at his lead, Max has already squashed before it materializes.

He rips around turn fourteen, following the track through its widest bend down to fifteen, and hits the main straight to thunderous applause. The cars scream past the pits, a roar sliced in two as they barrel straight for Tarzan.

The gap is barely two tenths. The mechanics clutch their helmets. Max taunts the corner on the outside of the track, eyeing his target.

“Defend,” one of the mechanics growls. “Hold him, Max.”

The Ferrari tucks behind, its front wing edging closer and closer.

You blink.

The red car swings out, shuddering with the force of the maneuver. He steadies himself and floors it, each closing centimeter perilous.

Blink again.

They’re side by side. Almost wheel to wheel. There’s no way Max can’t see that scarlet smirk from the corner of his eye. The apex is right there, though, it’s right fucking there.

Another blink, and –

He’s gone.

He’s gone. He’s –

Hurtling off the track. At almost two hundred miles per hour. The gravel spits at him as he spins; smoke and dust billow from beneath. He slams straight into the barrier, and, finally, the moment ends.

Your chest shrinks; a weak wheeze passes your lips. “Oh, my God.”

The mechanics leap to their feet. They bark amongst themselves like a pack of angry dogs, though you can’t make out a word.

Your hearing is shot. Every sound bleeds into the next; one long, high-pitched scream. You move without thinking, without feeling; slip off the stool and tug your headset. It hits the desk with a distant clatter, though you’re already wandering away.

The sound of the crowd rattles against your skull. Numb, muted. An awful groaning sound as the cloud lifts, revealing the chewed-up car.

It’s bad. It’s the worst one in a long time. He must’ve hit that barrier at near-enough full speed. The dread fills your lungs like torrents of heavy, black water. Sickly salt, suffocating sea. Oh, God.

You scan the garage for any of his mechanics. Matt. Ole. Chris. Fucking – any of them. Who did he say would bring you to him when this was over? He said he’d meet you at the podium. He said he’d find you –

A rough hand grabs your elbow.

Max’s face flickers across your vision. Blue steel gaze, freckle above his lip. The dust pulls him away from your grasp. He hits the barrier again and again and again.

“Max –”

The voice is calm – too fucking calm, you think, when it tells you, “He’s talking. They’ve got him talking.”

“Talking,” you echo, begging it to solidify in your brain. “Can you put me on to him?”

The engineer pulls you over to the exit. He plucks at his mic, murmurs some response down the line to the team. He takes your wrist and leads you out, muttering, “C’mon.”

“Hey,” you tug on his arm, “Please let me speak to him.”

“You will,” he replies, snaking through the tight corridor. “Once he’s out, they’ll check him over. He’ll be taken in for evaluation, hitting the wall at that speed. Force must be bloody nuts.”

The thought sends another bitter stream of panic through your blood. “Can he move? Is he –? Can he get out of the car?”

He gives one quick nod. “Medics are there. They’re helping him out.”

Sunlight floods overhead, dazzling as you follow him out front and towards a sleek car. An attendant opens the door for you, and you slide into the backseat.

The engineer gives your shoulder a friendly shake. “He’ll be fine,” he says. “He’s done worse.”

The door falls closed and the car moves off, purring through the paddock towards the medical center.

You slump into your seat and press your fingers into your eyes; a headache already blooming between your temples.

He’s moving. He’s moving and he’s responding. They’re helping him up out of the car. He’s probably already being checked over.

He’s probably already asking for you.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, fingers dragging down your cheeks.

The center is a polite little hut inside the circuit. By the time you pull up, the race has already resumed. The remaining cars whizz by as you jog over, slipping inside behind a couple guys from Max’s team.

He’s had his fair share of scraps on the track. You don’t make it to the top without a sincere sense of dare, and an even sincerer lack of fear. Some call it idiocy. You’re often one of them.

Sitting on the other side of the clinic door, though – knee jerking, nails picking at the skin on your fingers – you’d be thrilled to never see these four walls ever again. Idiot or not, you care about him.

More than anyone else in your life? Jesus. Probably.

The door clicks open, and your blood jumps.

A pale woman in a pale coat steps out. She peers over her glasses, eyes you from the sneakers on your feet to the worry on your face – and says your name.

You push yourself up, squeezing past her into the room.

Max is perched on the edge of the bed, still in his fireproofs. Hair disheveled, face flushed and exhausted. Translucent with shock or concussion or worse, he lifts his head and flashes a lopsided smile.

It’s weak, barely there – but it’s him.

You care about him more than anyone else in your life. Definitely.

He opens his arms, fingers beckoning you in. “C’mere.”

“Oh, my God,” you sweep over, already in tears by the time you meet his body, “Oh, my God – you fucking idiot.”

His shoulders shudder with a bottled laugh. He wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head against your chest. “How was I supposed to know he was going to turn into me, huh? I had the line, I was –”

“Max,” you pull back, staring into his bleary eyes, “I don’t care. Just – don’t do that ever again.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers, corners of his mouth twitching.

You sigh, collapsing onto the bed at his side. You lean against him and he winces a little, before pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“You really scared me,” you admit, turning in to his chest.

Max slings an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight. “I’m fine, no? I mean, everything’s blurry and I can’t really hear much, but – it could have been worse.”

He props the pillows against the wall and pushes himself back gingerly, reaching past you for a paper cup of water at his bedside.

You move slowly, carefully, waiting for him to get comfortable before settling back, too – leaving a safe gap between his battered body and yours. Your cheek rests on the curve of his shoulder; fingers trace the logos on his sleeves.

Max breathes in the scent of your hair. He turns his hand and watches as your fingers trail down his wrist, circling his palm. He sucks in a deep breath, sighing to the ceiling.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” you whisper, and he hums.

“Nerves,” he mutters.

“From the race?” You lift your head. “You don’t get nervous.”

He takes another breath and turns to you. He’s blushing, and doing a shitty job at hiding it. “No,” he says. “Not from the race.”

You gulp. “Are you sore?”

“Yeah. My back, my ribs.”

“Do you want me to get up?”

“No. Stay.”

He wears the same expression he did all those years ago, sat too many people apart from one another in that drunken circle. The same expression you only allowed yourself fleeting glances at: bashful, a little awkward – all the more endearing for it.

Maybe he actually doesn’t remember that night. Maybe he was just too tipsy – alcohol gone straight to his teenage head. And maybe he won’t even remember this, what with the concussion and all.

It’d make things a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure. You could go back to your old ways: arguing over the best flavor of chips, screaming while playing video games. No second-guessing, no jumping to conclusions. Hell, maybe you hope he doesn’t remember any of it at all.

Somewhere, though, deep down – you know that’s not true.

“How’s, uh…whatshisface?” Max asks, nudging you with his elbow. He takes a feeble sip of his water and offers you the cup.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No idea. I left my phone in the garage.”

He scoffs, staring at your lips as you take a drink. He takes the cup from your hands once you’re done. “I don’t mean to give him shit, you know. If you like him, I like him.”

“Well, there’s liking someone,” you pout, “and then there’s willingly watching them crash full-speed in a racecar.”

Max smiles, lifting his cup.

“Whoever that is, sounds pretty cool to me.”

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

[earlycuntsets]

"DEATH COMES RIPPING" - SPOOKY ISSUE

'THE BLACK PARADE, THE TRIUMPHANT NEW ALBUM BY MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE MAY HAVE A TRAGIC STORYLINE, BUT IT'S NOTHING COMPARED WITH WHAT THE BANDMATES ENDURED TO BRING THE DISC TO LIGHT

PHOTOS BY JON WIEDERHORN PHOTOS BY JUSTIN BORUCKI

STANDING ON A BALCONY nine floors above the teeming streets of New York, Gerard Way overlooks the city in which My Chemical Romance began assembling their ambitious new album, The Black Parade. The newly peroxide- blond frontman takes a deep drag from a cigarette and exhales with a sigh. He knows he shouldn't smoke, but it's his only remaining vice.

"If I hadn't been sober, I think The Black Parade surely would have killed me," says Gerard, who climbed on the wagon in 2004. "We were going insane the whole time, and I had to cling to my sobriety to stay even a little lucid. The album became like this beast that was consuming us."

Following up a release as successful as 2004's Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, which sold 1.4 million copies in the U.S. alone, is never an easy task. And the various scares the band experienced as they worked on the new record-drummer Bob Bryar had a near-fatal staph infection, Gerard seriously injured his foot, and some restless spirits at the studio where they recorded kept them all on edge-did not help matters. And neither

did MCR's decision to make The Black Parade (Reprise) a concept disc. Together, Gerard and his bandmates-Bryar, guitarists Frank lero and Ray Toro, and bassist Mikey Way (Gerard's younger brother)-decided to craft a record about a dying young man who is visited by a cast of strange characters that help him examine his short life.

But diving into the conceptual deep end proved well worth the hassle. The Black Parade is not only MCR's most realized offering; it's also one of the most eclectic, enjoyable rock records of the year. One listen to tracks

like "House of Wolves," "The Sharpest Lives," and "Dead!" makes it clear that My Chemical Romance can still rip a good metallic punk tune. But the bandmates are now equally influenced by epic albums like Pink Floyd's The Wall, David Bowie's The Rise & Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars, and Queen's A Night at the Opera.

"A lot of bands from the scene we came from try to strip down their music to 'keep it real," Gerard notes. "But the real you is what you've always had inside you and what you strive to be. So when we started compiling the material we had written, we were like, You know what? This has to be a huge, theatrical record."

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE started working on ideas for The Black Parade in the back of the bus while on 2005's Warped Tour, after which they flew to New York and rented a rehearsal space for two months. And that's when things started to get weird.

"I was living in Queens, and I had to commute on the subway every day," Gerard says. "I was suddenly very scared and paranoid. I felt more like an outsider than I ever had, and I had no confidence, which is bad when you're trying to work on a record. And I had no anonymity because there were a lot of teenagers on the train." In reaction to the young fans he encountered on the underground,

Gerard wrote "Teenagers," a T. Rex-style romp with the chorus line, "Teenagers scare the living shit out of me." "The song came directly from commuting when school let out and being so terrified of them," the singer says. "I was like, Wait a minute. These are the same people that listen to our band. Why am I scared? And I realized it was because they're scared, too. Teenagers are made to feel like they can only solve their problems with violence. They lash out at each other in a really volatile way." After several months experiencing the joys of mass transit, MCR had completed only a handful of songs and felt like a change of scenery (and climate) might do them some good. "I couldn't keep working in New York," says Gerard. "We wanted isolation."

id: Gerard leads the way to what will likely be the band's second platinum record

So the group relocated to Paramour Mansion, outside of L.A. Nestled high in the hills, the deluxe estate overlooks the trendy Silver Lake area and boasts spacious rooms, a gorgeous pool, lush gardens, a state-of-the-art recording facility-and a few special guests.

"The place is definitely haunted," Gerard says. "Doors would slam, and the faucets would turn on. You'd get a bath drawn for you of freezing-cold water in your room, and you wouldn't know why." As unnerving as its mischievous spirits could be, the Paramour was also inspiring, and contributed to the haunting vibe of songs like "The End" and "This Is How I Disappear." More important, it led Gerard to come up with the bleak, surreal concept for the record. "I would have these night terrors, where it would feel like someone was choking me, and my heart would stop and I would stop breathing," he says. "I would wake up in the middle of the night and write these notes to myself, and one of them read, 'We are all just a black parade.' So I started thinking about how this band is kind of a black parade, like a funeral-procession rock thing. And I used that idea to piece together this story about the idea that when you die, death comes for you however you want." Gerard molded his concept into a narrative about a character he dubbed the Patient, whose strongest memory from childhood is of his father taking him to the city to see a parade. Two songs into the album, he dies, and the black parade comes for him.

"During the rest of the story, he meets this entity of death and all these characters, like Mama, who represents anyone who's ever lost their son in a war," Gerard explains. "It's almost like these Canterbury Tales, where he goes along on this journey, and at the end he decides whether he wants to live or die." With the concept in place, My Chem made the songs as sweeping and theatrical as Gerard's lyrics. They accomplished this, in part, by combing through their own eclectic record collections and pulling choice elements that would set them even further apart from other melodic punk bands.

The first two minutes of "Welcome to the Black Parade" stemmed from Gerard's love for Broadway musicals, the horns in "Dead!" came from Mikey's interest in Blur and Britpop, and the jaunty feel of "Mama" was informed by Tom Waits and Nick Cave. But the most poignant moment on the record, "Cancer," was (unlike its morbid moniker) something of a pleasant surprise. "I was very upset about something in my personal life, and that's when that song came out," Gerard says. "It was really spontaneous, and it was recorded pretty much live with Rob [Cavallo, the record's producer] on the piano and me in the vocal booth. Then we added layers of drums, which gave it a certain urgency. It's the song I'm most proud of because it was the most pure emotion we've ever captured, and it gets such an immediate response. You can't shake what the song is about."

As the CD approached completion, some members of the band began to show signs of nervous exhaustion. The group was scheduled to fly to England to play the Reading Festival, and as the date grew near, Toro, who has a fear of flying, got noticeably agitated. Then, after the band tracked "Welcome to the Black Parade," which was originally called "The Five of Us Are Dying," the guitarist lost it.

"I thought I had this premonition," Toro explains. "I was flipping through the TV channels, and on the news. there would be something about a plane crash, and every time I woke up in the morning, the clock would say 9:11. I was playing Tomb Raider the night before the flight, and on the level I ended up at, there was this whole flashback to a plane crash. So right before the flight I was like, 'That's it. I'm not flying."

Despite his misgivings, Toro boarded the plane, and when My Chemical Romance returned to L.A. (all of them still very much alive, thank you very much), The Black Parade was completed without further incident. Listening back to the record, the band members were in awe of what they had achieved and eager to share it with their fans. "There was a real confidence that came to us," Gerard explains. "Having survived it, we felt like we were changed forever. I feel different as a performer now, and I think we really finally discovered who we were as a band." But just because MCR were done with the record didn't mean that it was done with them. About a month later, the band was shooting a video for "Famous Last Words" with director Samuel Bayer (Garbage, Smashing Pumpkins) on a set featuring walls of flame, when-seized by the moment-lero grabbed Gerard's throat from behind and wrestled him to the ground. The singer rolled one way; his foot went the other. "It bent completely backwards, and I heard a crack and felt this agonizing pain," Gerard recalls. "I tore all the ligaments in my foot, but I got up and continued to perform." "I didn't know what I was doing," says lero, shaking his head. "I wasn't trying to hurt him. I felt awful. I still do." Gerard's injury was serious, and he still walks with a cane, but it paled in comparison to what happened to Bryar. At the end of the shoot, the pyro was so intense, the drummer could feel his leg burning, but he stuck it out for the rest of the song. By then, he had a nasty third-degree burn. And the misfortune didn't stop there. Bryar didn't take his antibiotics regularly, and he failed to keep the wound clean. By the time the band got back from a brief tour of Japan, the burn was severely infected. Then Bryar's face swelled up and, after doing the MTV Video Music Awards preshow telecast and a special club show, stumbled into a hospital emergency room in intense pain. "I thought I'd be there for 10 minutes, but as soon as they saw me, they got all serious and gave me an IV and said they had to do a CAT scan," recalls Bryar."They did all these blood tests and kept me there for 14 hours." Doctors discovered that Bryar's leg infection had spread to his blood and caused an abscess in his face that was creeping dangerously close to his brain. If it had been left untreated for another two days, he could have died. "The whole thing was such a nightmare," Bryar says. "This doctor stuck my cheek with a needle about six inches long and the width of an IV tube. Then he went in and out of the inside of my mouth with the needle about 10 times. Fortunately, the treatment worked, and Bryar left the hospital three days later. With tragedy averted, My Chem are now focusing on touring for The Black Parade. They'll be in Europe for most of November, and when they get back at the end of year, they'll start rehearsing for a U.S. arena tour that starts in February. "We want to put on a full show with props and staging like The Wall," Gerard says. And MCR plan to keep the Patient alive long after they're done touring for the CD. "I would love to see the story turned into a play or a musical, and it could easily be a movie," enthuses Gerard. "Making this record, we cut ourselves open every day, pulled out every organ, and lay them on a table so it would be something we're completely happy with. We want The Black Parade to exist for a long time." "The whole hole thing nightmare. This doctor stuck my cheek with a needle about six inches long and the width of an IV tube." -BOB BRYAR

"I felt more like an outsider than I ever had, and I had no confidence, which is bad when you're trying work on a record."

-GERARD WAY

12/2006 revolver - mcrhollywood on flickr

[nightlyrequiem]

Challenger Deep

You're a marine biologist sent down to a newly build base in the Marianna's Trench. You and a few other selected scientists have the opportunity to be the first to study the creatures up close. However, something malevolent stalks the open abyss around you, watching. Waiting.

Masterlist AO3

A/N- I'm sorry if this feels rushed. Some stuff happened and I didn't have much time to give this as much attention as I wanted to. I also didn't proofread this...

Tags/Warnings: Deep Sea Monster Valeria, Blood and Gore, Inaccurate Marine Biology, Kidnapping, Death, WLW

You struggled to get work after completing your bachelor's. No one was hiring. Or rather, no one was hiring you it felt like. You jealously followed the progress of the completion of a new marine base in the Mariana's Trench. A deep-rooted desperation and need to be among the team of scientists sent down to the deep blue. It should be you. It was your discovery of the Mariana's Trench that sparked your curiosity and love of life in the sea. While other kids liked wolves and cats, your favourite animal was the Mariana Snailfish. It's devastating that after investing all that time and money into your education, that you can't even find work.

You greet your coworker Rob as you enter the little coffee shop you work at.

"Hey," He says. "Do you think you could cover my shift next week?" 

You check over the machines to make sure they're on the correct settings. "Sure, what for?"

"It's my mom's birthday and she wants to take the family to Italy." Rob grins. You try to push down the resentment. It must nice be wealthy enough to take trips out of the country. To be able to afford vacation time. Rob isn't here because he needs to be, he just wants some extra pocket money.

"That sounds fun." You force a smile, not wanting to rain on his parade. Everyone just seems to be having a better time then you. You struggled through school, struggled with money, can't find work, and your girlfriend had recently dumped you for a man. Realising a year and a half into your relationship that she actually didn't like women. You are a dead horse and life won't stop beating you.

The bell above the door rings as a customer walks in. You put on your customer service face and turn to face the man.

"Good morning, what can I-"

"Black coffee and a croissant."

You type in his order and tell him his total. Tempted to charge him an extra dollar. Once done, he grabs his coffee and croissant from your hands without much gratitude and hurries out. Having better places to be then some lowly coffee shop.

You spend your shift daydreaming. Thinking about how nice it would be to study whales on a base by the ocean. tagging and tracking fish. Spending three months seven miles below sea level. How unlucky you are to be around when technology strong enough to withstand the crushing pressures of the Mariana's Trench exists when you may never get the chance to experience it. Your shift can't go by fast enough. It feels like the hours are just crawling by. Luckily for you, you get to leave a few hours before closing. The sun is beginning to set. Las Almas is alight with a golden glow. Not even the sun's glory is enough to cheer you, for you are determined to remain bitter over the opportunities you feel you were cheated out of.

You reach your home and tiredly unlock the door. Taking off your shoes and dropping them somewhere nearby. You shut the door behind you and move through your apartment. It's a shitty, cramped space but it's cheap enough. Posters of marine life clutter the walls. Past symbols of your hopeful future now turned into just that: posters. You think about taking them down at least three times a week. You're not sure you're ever going to be a marine biologist. The heavy dread that you'll be stuck behind a counter for the rest of your life threatens to break you and you shove those thoughts away. Better to not think of them.

You set your keys down and look over the mail you picked up this morning. Phone bill, gas bill, rent, student loans. How encouraging. Your hands still as they reach a different envelope. Challenger Deep Project. Your heart pounds. That's the company behind the construction and scientific team of the new deep-sea lab in the Mariana's Trench. You make quick work in tearing open the envelope and pulling out the letter. Skimming over the name and address details.

'We hope this letter has reached you. The minds behind the Challenger Deep Project have come together and have laid down the path for the next steps in science. Never before has humanity been able to properly or extensively study the astounding depths of the Mariana's Trench. Our team of physicists have come up with technology strong enough to withstand the crushing pressures of Challenger Deep. Construction of Lab-07887 has been completed after thirteen years.

We are recruiting only the most qualified scientists to be the first to step foot down in Lab-07887. We were wary to consider you for this position as you have had zero previous experience as a marine biologist but after careful consideration and review of your university transcripts, we have decided to proceed. If you wish to join the team of scientists to be sent down to Lab-07887, contact us at our email to begin the preparation process. The team is to be sent down to Lab-07887 by October 31st, 2024. You will be accompanied by biologists in the marine and microbiology field, as well as two technicians, one nurse, and three soldiers.

challengerdeepgmail.com

-Mathew Connigin, Challenger Deep Project'

You read the letter. Then re-read it to make sure you're not misunderstanding. You squeal. Clapping your hands with glee. You've been selected as one of the most qualified scientists to join the expedition down to the Mariana's Trench. You knew all those grueling hours you put into your studies would pay off.

The month couldn't go by any slower. You had contacted the email and got all of the details set. Your bags have already been packed. Waiting beside your front door. Even your coworkers have noticed your exceptionally joyful mood. October 31st finally rolled around, and you set off for the airport at 4PM on the dot. Arriving thirty minutes earlier then you needed to be. What an opportunity this is. Not only will you get to study the Mariana's Trench, but this is surely going to kickstart your career.

You've never been inside of a submarine before. You always imagined what it would be like but it's not as fun as you thought. It's claustrophobic and dark. The bright white light in the ceiling seems to be swallowed by the jet-black abyss outside. It took two hours to fly to the meetup point and seven to make it to Lab-07887. You're feeling exhausted and drained. Ready to settle down into your quarters for the night. Your exhaustion is momentarily forgotten once you finally enter the lab. The walls are light blue with yellow strips running along the top. White linoleum floors shining beneath bright fluorescent lights. The real show stealer is the observation room. A room jutting out from the lab made of heavy-duty, fortified glass. spotlights strong enough to pierce through the darkness shine into the empty waters. Polychaete worms wriggle by.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Heath, an American microbiologist murmurs, Coming up beside you.

"It's incredible. I can't believe we're really several thousand feet down below sea level." You reply. In awe. The black expanse is infinite.  Hiding all sorts of mysteries. 

"I know. And we're the first to uncover it's secrets." He smiles. You smile back before catching sight of something on the glass. 

"Is that a handprint?" You ask, furrowing your brows. Heath follows your gaze.

"Looks like it, probably one of the others." He shrugs.

"It looks like it's on the other side." You frown. Walking up to the glass. You peer at the marking. "It looks webbed." You swipe your fingers over it. A little alarmed to find the print is on the other side of the glass.

"It was probably one of the people who built it." Heath dismisses. Leaning down to inspect it. "Did you see our diving suits? They have webbed gloves."

"Oh." You say. Feeling foolish. That makes sense. You need to get a grip, you're here to learn and discover, not spook yourself with childish fears.

The intelligent endeavors are put off for the rest of the night. Right now, everyone is focused and getting familiar with the various passageways and equipment and settling in. Everyone is sat at a round table in the commons. Sharing meals and small tidbits about themselves. The three soldiers brought along have decided to go into a self-imposed exile. Sitting themselves down at a different table and not joining in with the chattering. One of the only other girls, Brie, turns to you.

"Why do we even need soldiers here?" She asks you quietly. Thin brows pulled down into a soft frown.

"Not sure." You shrug. You had wondered that yourself. "Maybe to fight off the deep-sea monsters lurking just out of sight." You grin. "I found a handprint on the other side of the glass in the observation room."

That hooks Brie's attention. She leans towards you with wide, excited eyes. "Really?"

You nod. "Yeah, it looked like the fingers were webbed, but it was probably from the people building this place." You say. "Our dive suits have webbed fingers."

Brie nods, looking disappointed at the logical explanation.

On the examination table lies a very large, very dead fish. You and the other biologists stare at it with confusion and excitement. It's something that has never been discovered before. It's got a similar body and internal system as an angler fish, but it's fins are elongated and jointed. The only thing you feel... weird about, is the fact that it has fingers. Well, apendages that look very close to fingers. Five thick thin bones sprout out from the ends. Slightly webbed and even growing nails. If you look closely enough it even looks like it has knuckles.

"Do you think this could have been what left that handprint?" You ask Heath. "Not a diver?"

"No." He shakes his head. "The fingers were slimmer and longer."

You all stare at this discovery in silence. This wasn't as magical as you thought. Sure, you knew the creatures in Challenger Deep were bound to be ugly, but you weren't expecting them to look so... human.

Heath backs up and takes off his gloves.

"I'm going to go out and see if I can find anything else." He says.

"Oh, can I come? I haven't had a chance to see the outside yet." You speak. Excited at the prospect of getting to actually explore the trench.

"Sure." He nods, standing from the table and taking his tray to the collection cart. You follow suit, setting your down on top of his and following him out into the hallway.

"Was that hand-fish the only thing you saw out there?" You ask curiously. Imaging what kind of things could be living undiscovered. Heath pauses and begins to speak but stammers a little, like he's changed his answer. 

"Not really."

The dive room is separate to the rest of the base. Closed off by mechanically sealed doors to prevent flooding. The suits are big and bulky and hard to move in. Made to withstand the pressures of the deep. The flippers are thick and webbed, the gloves are made of a thinner material but still webbed in a way that's hard to get used to. On your backs are two, full oxygen tanks. Attached to a utility belt is a special GPS and light. Heath types in a code and the lights flash before the exit slowly opens. Water rushes in, making you anxious despite the suit.

You and heath wade into the emptiness outside. Few things can survive down here.

"It would be so cool if we could see a whalefall." You say, voice lost to the sea. If it weren't for the built-in radio, nobody would be able to communicate.

"It would." Heath agrees, his words muffled and staticky. You and Heath part ways. Wandering off on your own. It's unnervingly quiet and dark. You can feel the heavy pressure pressing against your limbs and ribs. Even through the suit designed to withstand it. You come up to a large cliff face. Shining your light, you see that it must go on for miles. High enough for your light to disappear into the darkness.

You walk alongside it, hand gliding against the rocky surface when you come across an opening. You aren't supposed to enter underwater caves. Not alone and not without markers. It's easy to get turned around and the oxygen only lasts for so long. Your curiosity wins out over your rationality, and you slowly wade inside. You'll just be very cautious. You're amazed to see some kind of biofluorescent algae growing on the walls. The slim tunnel opens up into a very large cavern. Several other tunnels opening up. You gasp as something darts back into one. Disappearing into the darkness. All kinds of thinks lurk in the abyss. Getting only more predatory the deeper you get. You reassure yourself that it's probably not a threat to you if it's trying to get away. Most things won't pass up on a meal down here. Not with how scarce they are.

You still feel... weird about it. You want to follow after it but this time your fears win and you retrace your steps. Just as you're about to exit the cave, something wraps around your leg. You scream as you're dragged back into the narrow tunnel. You turn over and shine your bright light over the creature. Heart stopping at the short glimpse you get of it. It hisses and darts away but for a split second you got a good look at it. A nose with cartilage attached to a narrow, huma face. Instead of round, large bulbous eyes that are the common feature among deep sea creatures, it had smaller, almond shaped eyes. You hurry away. Paranoid that you'll be grabbed again. You make it back to the base and hate how long it takes for the doors to open.

Nobody believed you. It was dark and you were already on edge. you didn't see anything humanoid down here. Knowing what's out there, only fifty feet away, sucks any excitement out of you. That experience is all it took for you to begin reconsidering things. Maybe it's better to leave these things undiscovered. Some things aren't meant to be comprehended by the human mind. You're unable to sleep. Feeling homesick and the effects of the lack of vitamin d. You sit crisscrossed in the observation room. It's the only room inside the lab that always has it's lights off. After a few minutes you see thin, ghostly tentacles gliding along the floor. It takes you a few moments to place the name. Magnapinna. Bigfin squid. Not much passes by. A few, small slug like creatures drag themselves by. The few that rub against the tentacles getting snatched up for a quick, easy meal.

Your eyes finally grow heavy, and you get up. Walking back to your quarters and missing the other creature. The one staring in at you with interest.

The loud, frightening blaring of the alarm is what wakes you. Ominous red lights flash thorough the building. Everyone stumbles from their rooms. Confused and stressed.

"What's going on?" Brie asks. Panic lacing her tired voice. One of the technicians pushes past you. Running down the hall. Something wet touches your feet and you look down. A thin layer of water is soaking into your socks.

"Oh God." You say. "I think the lab is flooding." 

Everyone was panicking. Running around like chickens with their heads cut off. One of the soldiers rounded everyone up and got them into the diving suits.

"Stay calm." He commands. Giving everyone a look. "The glass in the observation room shattered, we're taking care of it. The building has a drain function in event of a flood. It shouldn't take longer than forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes. "The control room is free of-" His voice is cut off by the scream echoing through the radio. Raw and primal. The sound only an animal facing it's death could make. That too is cut short. Not even the soldiers move.

"What happened?" Brie whispers. "What the fuck happened?"

Nobody responds to her. 

"...Stay here." One of the soldiers says. He gestures at the other two to follow him.

"Where are you going?" Heath asks.

"We're going to check things out. Stay here."

The scientists are left alone. In the flooded dive room, red lights still flashing.

An hour passes with no sign from the soldiers or technicities. Heath attempts to speak to them through the radio but no reply comes through. Heavy dread slowly builds within you.

"...We should go look for them." Heath says seriously.

"What?" Brie snaps. Swiveling to look at him. "He told us to stay here. We don't know what's out there." 

You find yourself agreeing. Something made that technician scream, something happened to the soldiers.

"If we don't, we'll just be stuck down here." Heath says grimly. "We need to get to the control room. They have a backup radio that connects to the surface."

The halls are completely flooded. The red lights cutting through the water are disorienting. You, Brie, and Heath slowly move through the water. It's dead silence in Lab-07887.

"What's that?" You ask, squinting and trying to see what that dark lump at the end of the hallway is. You fumble for your flashlight and shine it. It's still too far to see so you inch closer. Jerking back in surprise at what you find. "Oh fuck."

"What?"

"Fuck!" You turn back and hurry back. It's one of the soldiers with his throat ripped out.

"What did you see? Fucking tell us already!" Brie snaps, vibrating with fear.

"He's dead." You say shakily.

"Shit." Heath curses. "Hurry. We need to get to the control room now."

"What killed him?"

"Let's go." Heath br5rushes past you and turns down the hall. You and Brie follow.

"What killed him?" Brie repeats harshly.

"How the hell would I know?" You snap at her. "I was with you two."

The three of you make it to the control room door. Heath reaches out his hand to open the door when something slams into him. You and Brie are helpless to do anything but watch as something tears him apart. A long, scaled tail slams into the walls, leaving dents. The spine of the creature is sharp and protruding. Jutting out from under the skin. markings that almost look like tattoos cover it's back and shoulders. All you're able to focus on though, is the pained screaming from Heath.

Almost as fast as it began it stops. Heath goes quiet and still and the creature releases him from it's grasp. The creature tuns to face you and Brie. Those human eyes staring into yours. It blinks, the eyelids clear. It has hair. And breasts. Mammalian traits. Her eyes narrow and she swims towards you. Everything happens too quickly for you to react. A strong body collides with yours. Brie is screaming. Or maybe it's you. You expect to have your throat bitten out. To feel those sharp claws pierce through your lungs but it never comes. You're instead dragged along the ground. Carried away. You try to struggle only to accidently slam your head into the wall, knocking yourself out.

When you come to, you realise you're somewhere dry. You're not wearing your suit, and you are freezing. You sit up, seeing stone and rock. The cavern is alight with more glowing algae. In the corner is the monster. Long tail curled around it's body. She stares blankly. The sight is almost enough to kill you right then and there.

"Valeria." She says.

You furrow your brows. Wondering if you really just heard it speak. "... What?"

"My name." She replies.

"Valeria?"

Valeria nods. She abruptly crawls over to you, startling you into backing up. Valeria grabs ahold of your ankle and yanks you closer with a surprising strength. Scraping your back along the stone. "You smell good." She remarks. "I'm going to be keeping you."

[miryum]

"Halloween"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy's relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

“I- I don’t like Halloween.” Tim manoeuvred around a packed, crazed precinct. “Especially in Gotham. So many people in weird costumes doing weird shit that we have to fix.”

“The holding cell’s completely full,” Jason called from where he was pushing a Raggedy Ann into the folds of costume. Raggedy Ann blew him a kiss and Jason stalked over to his desk opposite Y/n’s. “So many people have slipped me their phone numbers or thought I was a stripper.”

“Seems like you should follow your true calling then, Jaybird,” Y/n said. “You’d make an excellent stripper.” She winked dramatically at him and said, “I’d be first in line to see you.” 

Before Jason could cuss Y/n out, Steph said, “Seriously, we need to do something about the prisoners. We’ve already had to separate Kim Jong-Un and Hillary Clinton.”

Y/n was walking past the holding cell when she noticed a Hillary Cilton practically in the lap of a Kim Jong-Un, sucking his face off. “Hey! Hey!” She barged through the door and attempted to pull Hillary off. “Come on, now! What would Bill think? I mean,” she paused and muttered, “he kind of deserves it, but you could do so much better than Kim Jong-Un.”

“And… who are you supposed to be?” Jason squinted at Cass. 

“Dude, it’s kinda obvious.” Y/n said, “The entire precinct’s got a theme going on. It was decided in the group chat.”

Cass was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, a pillow shoved in for her stomach. She wore large, comical glasses that looked like she’d bought them for three dollars at a convenience store. Y/n, on the other hand, was in a yellow shirt with thick denim overalls, as were Tim, Steph, and Damian. Tim seemed disgruntled about it, while Damian sat reclined in his chair, taking it with pride. 

“Minions!” Dick called out loudly, silencing the precinct. He was in black jeans and a sweater. Around his neck, he wore an iconic scarf and a bald cap was thrown haphazardly over his hair. “Tonight, we steal… ze moon!” He threw his arms up and Y/n jumped up, cheering. 

“Ze moon! Ze moon!” Steph clapped along and Damian pumped his fist lazily. Tim just sighed and covered his face with his hands. “I was blackmailed into this,” he whispered.

“Oh my gosh, I work with idiots.” Jason sat back in his chair. 

“Attention,” Wayne strode into the bullpen. “I need two detectives to go undercover at a Halloween party where we suspect there will be a transition of drugs and illegal behaviour.”

“It’s like he was born on a thesaurus,” Y/n whispered. 

“Brown and Drake, you’re already in costume. I’m assigning you two to the case.” Tim groaned at his Captain's words, but nodded anyway. He couldn’t disobey his superior. 

“Drake,” Steph looped her arm through his, dragging him to the elevator. “I know you hate Halloween, even though it’s one of the greatest holidays, but I’ll make it the best.” 

“Can you make everyone kind, sober, and fully clothed? Tim asked desperately. 

“Kind, sober, and fully clothed!” Y/n shouted out. “Title of Jason’s sex tape!” 

Jason gawaffed. “I wasn’t even in this conversation!” 

Y/n exhaled and said, “Yeah, but I already tease Timmy-boy enough. He needs a break. However, I haven’t filled my quota for bugging you today.”

“I feel like your quota for teasing me is much higher than anyone else’s.” 

“Yes,” Y/n nodded. “Yes, it is.” 

“Listen up, dorks!” Y/n paraded into the bullpen, wearing a GCPD jacket over her costume. “I just arrested my first Halloween idiot! He was trying to rob a bank but had a… heh. Little bit of trouble getting away.” 

A man dressed in a large banana suit was stuck in the doorframe of the bank. Y/n couldn’t hold back her laughter as she tried to arrest him. “Trying to ‘split,’ huh? But I’m sure you’ll get out on ‘a peel.’ You have the ‘ripe’ to remain silent.” She snickered before saying, “I’m so glad you’re stuck! I’ve got a million of these! Wait, no, no! Don’t touch the money!”

“I swear, some of these perps are so stupid. I’d make a better criminal than any of them. And the best part is, none of you would be able to catch me!” 

Jason scoffed as Captain Wayne said, “That’s unrealistic. I’m one hundred percent sure you’d get caught.”

“Oh, ho, ho! Chall-enge accep-ted.” She sounded the words out slowly, placing her hands on her hips accusingly.

“I didn’t issue a challenge. There was no challenge. Where did you hear a challenge?” Wayne shrugged, his arms crossed.

Y/n hummed, thinking. “What’s the most valuable thing in your office?”

“My medal of valour,” Wayne replied instantly.

“Oh my god, you’re such a nerd. Fine. Okay. I bet that by midnight tonight, I can steal it from your office.”

“And why would I possibly agree to that?”

Y/n sang out, “because if I lose, I'll work the next five weekends, no overtime. And I won't tell anyone about the time I saw you wearing shorts outside of work. But if I win…” She rocked back on her heels, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“You won't,” Wayne cut her off.

“You have to do all my paperwork tonight, the busiest and spoooookiest night of the year. Oh! And you must publicly state that I am an amazing detective-slash-genius.”

Wayne raised a brow, intrigued. ”And this won't interfere with you doing your job?”

“You mean my job as an amazing detective-slash-genius? No, it will not.”

Wayne hummed and his eyebrows lifted by half a centimetre. “I'm considering it... I'm interested. I agree to participate.” He held out a hand and Y/n giddily shook it.

“Hey, Damian? Dami? We don’t talk much anymore. How are you? Did you get a haircut? How’s Titus? What’s the Captain's schedule? I love you, bestie!”

Damian glanced up at her, unaffected. “I’m not going to assist you with your scheme. I am Captain Wayne’s assistant; a job I take incredibly seriously.”

“You’re literally making paper knives out of police reports.”

“How else am I to stab someone?”

“More like give them a harsh paper cut.” Y/n whined, “come on, Dami! Please, help me out here!”

His gaze was piercing. Quietly, he finally muttered, “he has a meeting downstairs in ten minutes.”

“I love you! I love you! Thank you so much!”

A while later, Captain Wayne was in his office and suddenly spoke to the air, “Are you in my ceiling, L/n?

There was a pregnant pause before a voice filtered through the vents. “No?”

Wayne seemed unimpressed. “So what's the plan? You wait for me to leave my office, lower yourself down, take my medal, and win the bet?”

“Die Hard meets Mission Impossible,” Y/n snickered before remembering her place and tutting, “who are you talking to? There's no one up here!”

“L/n, just so you know, right now, I am taking my medal off the wall and placing it in a locked safe whose combination is known only to me. The safe, in turn, is locked in the cabinet. The only key to that cabinet is on my person.” True to his words, Wayne did as he was saying. ”I'm off to my meeting. Good luck with your plan.”

Y/n cried out, “you think that scares me, fool? I laugh in the face of adversity!” She waited a moment before asking timidly, ”Are you still there? Captain, are you still there? I can't hear... Ack!” Suddenly, the ceiling fell from beneath her and in a crumble of dust and plaster, she collapsed on the floor. “Ow.”

“Oh, geez, what happened to you guys?” Jason asked Steph and Tim, the latter who was covered in runny eggs. Steph seemed to be unharmed. Dick stood up in surprise.

“We got egged,” Tim said flatly. “Some pieces of shell got in my contacts and my underwear.”

“Ooh, very hot,” Y/n snickered, swaying where she stood. Jason held a hand out to steady her. 

“I wish I was dead,” Tim grumbled.

“I’m doing great!” Steph squealed. “I’ve made four new friends. How’s the unwinnable bet going?”

“So little faith, Stephanie,” Y/n sighed. “On one hand, I fell through a ceiling. On the other hand, I think I bruised my brain.” She cupped her face in her hands, muttering nonsense about how brains look like loofahs.

“Look, Y/n,” Dick said carefully. “I love you like one of my daughters.”

“Aww, you do?” Y/n cooed.

“Yes, and I need to look out for you like them. You’re all irresponsible and need constant supervision. But this bet isn’t about you. It’s about Captain Wayne. That man is a genius. He’s had your number at every turn.”

“Well, not this day... Turn... time,” she stuttered. ”Sorry, I'm pretty sure I had a concussion back there! Jason, please catch me.” Jason leapt forward and cradled Y/n to his chest when she started falling backward. “Ooh, strong one,” she mumbled incoherently as he gently set her down in her chair.

“Damian.” Wayne walked up to his assistant and asked, “could you please decipher L/n’s handwriting? I believe the concussion is affecting her. She and Cain arrested a group of Royal Babies, but I’m unsure of what for.”

Damian took the paper and inspected it. “The Royal Babies were attempting to rob a small bakery. Being able to read Y/n’s handwriting is a gift. A useless gift, but still one nonetheless.”

“Pardon me, Damian.” Captain Wayne turned to a nearby janitor who was emptying Jason’s trash. “Nice costume, L/n.” 

The janitor cleared their throat and said in a deep, faux voice, “no L/n here. Just a random janitor pushing trash around.”

“L/n.”

Y/n spun around, a sheepish smile on her face. Jason hid a snicker as Y/n awkwardly said, “hey, Captain! What’s up?”

“You thought this was going to work?” Bruce hummed. 

“It did work!” Y/n scoffed. “This… was supposed to fail. It’s like chess. Sometimes, in order to win, you have to sacrifice your king.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That’s how you lose chess. Have you ever played?”

“Uh, yeah!” she put a hand on her hip. “My Uncle Dave taught me!”

“Come on, lass! Even girls need to know how to shoot!”

“You’re slightly misogynistic, Uncle Davey, but I love you anyway!” A much younger Y/n propped up a handgun and carefully shot a number of chess pieces lined up on a faraway bench.

“Atta girl!”

“I expected better of you, L/n.” Captain Wayne shook his head. “You could’ve created a diversion to distract me from your terrible costume.”

“I had a diversion!” Y/n stomped her foot. “There was just a slight timing issue…” Just then, a nearby trash can lit up in a brilliant fire. “Whoops?” Y/n shrugged.

“Come on, Tim!” Steph threw her hands up in the midst of a party. “You look like such a cop! Have some fun, you know? It'll help you blend in!”

Tim stood stoically on the dance floor, not moving a muscle. “Stop trying to get me to love Halloween. It'll never work. Hey, heads up!” He noticed a man swap drugs for money with someone else. “I'll cut 'em off at the exit!”

Steph whirled around, instantly forgetting about the party. “Move! Move, move!”

The pair raced after the culprits and Tim cursed when he found the pack of drugs abandoned on the floor. “He ditched the drugs. I'm on it.” Tim shifted through partygoers and spilled drinks. “Ew… it’s sticking to me. Ugh! What is that? How is it hot and cold? Stephanie, help!”

“Hey, Cap-i-tan?” Y/n called from the bullpen. “Can you come out here for just one teeny weeny second?”

Bruce sighed and rubbed his temples, but did as his detective requested. “Do you need something, L/n?”

“Why yes, yes I do. Hit it, Royal Babies!” Y/n shouted out and at her command, all the Royal Babies marched into the bullpen. They began walking around randomly, swarming Captain Wayne, and throwing key chains around. Wayne just rolled his eyes and returned to his office. He found Y/n hunched over the cabinet drawer, attempting to copy Wayne’s keys. “Wha…. no!” Y/n groaned in frustration, slamming her fist down on the desk. “Ow…” She shook her hand out.

“Give me my keys, please.”

“Can you just stop catching me?” Y/n whined, “do you know how much I spent on key chains?”

“Probably around twenty-three dollars,” Captain Wayne said instantly. 

“That is unbelievably close and scary,” Y/n admitted. “Twenty-two dollars and seventy six cents.”

“Keys,” Wayne demanded.

“Okay, okay, look.” Y/n stood up, an embarrassed smile plastered on her face. “Tonight has been a tiny bit humiliating. Things aren’t going well, so what do you say we call off this silly little bet and pretend this whole thing never happened?”

“Oh, no no no,” Wayne let out an unusual chuckle. “I’m not letting you off the hook.” 

“What? Pffft. No… I’m giving you an out so you can save face.”

Wayne shook his head. “This is getting sad.” 

Y/n scoffed and tossed him his keys, sauntering out the door. “Uh, yeah. For you.”

“Captain,” Tim knocked on Wayne’s opened door. “Sorry to interrupt, but, uh, some officers just arrested L/n.

Bruce blinked. “What?”

“They caught her scaling the side of the building with a blowtorch.” Tim shook his head, still not understanding how Y/n managed to find a blowtorch and climb the building in the first place. Wayne just sighed in response. 

In the interrogation room, Wayne found Y/n handcuffed to the table. Knowing her, she had probably asked for the handcuffs.

“Welcome to the endgame.” Y/n tried to spread her hands ominously, but the handcuffs harshly pulled her back. “Ohh, that hurt. Forgot I was wearing those.”

“What the hell were you thinking, L/n?” Wayne shook his head, sitting down opposite Y/n.

Y/n inhaled through her teeth, trying to look ashamed. “I was thinking I had better core strength. I got winded, like, ten feet up.”

“I have to admit,” Wayne said. “I expected better of you. You have five minutes until your deadline, and yet, here you are, handcuffed to a table, in a locked room.”

“Which is precisely where I planned on being.” Y/n smiled sinisterly. “You remember when I pretended to be Herman, the janitor?”

“Yes, it was mere hours ago. And I caught you as Herman.”

Y/n wagged her finger. “But you didn't catch Cass! As it turns out, she’s great at picking locks!”

Cass crouched by Captain Wayne’s desk, carefully and quickly picking the lock as Y/n distracted him.

“Of course, I needed a way to get her out of your office without you noticing. Y/n explained, “so I created a diversion. Not a mistimed one… a perfectly timed one so Cass could escape.”

A fire burned in the trash can that caught Captain Wayne’s attention. Cass somersaulted out of his office.

“But you needed a way into the safe,” Wayne reminded her.

“And I got it. You were so concerned with getting your keys back, you didn't even notice the sergeant stealing your phone. That's right, even Dick is on my side! Then, Jason dusted your screen cover for prints. The greasiest smudges revealed the four numbers you use the most…” Y/n leaned back in her chair. “Based on your advanced age, I assumed that you use the same passcode for everything.”

Wayne conceded, “that would be a fair assumption.”

“It was at that point that I made fun of Jason for reading some sappy romance book.”

Wayne raised a brow. “And how is that a part of your masterplan?”

Y/n shrugged. “It wasn't. It just ruled. And that brings us to five minutes ago, when Tim barged into your office and told you I’d been arrested. I knew he’s the only one you’d believe because, frankly, he’s too lame to partake in these things.” Y/n grinned sharply and continued, “And as you walked over here, Stephanie crawled into the ceiling, using the hole I so cleverly left behind to enter your office. We had the four numbers for your code, which meant there were twenty-four possible combinations for Steph to try. That would take up to four minutes, which is why I really dragged out this explanation.” Wayne shook his head in disbelief and sat back in his chair. Y/n chuckled and kept rambling, “I mean, really stretched it. I don't know if you noticed, but there were times where I was like, what am I even talking about? I could make a career out of this! Professional monologuer.” The beeping of a timer interrupted her. “Oh! But now, four minutes is up. Which means Stephanie is either on the other side of that door holding your medal, or I've lost.” She pointed towards the interrogation door and simply smiled.

Captain Wayne stared at her a moment longer with a look somewhere in between wonder and frustration. Slowly, he stood up and opened the door. Stephanie proudly grinned from the opposite side, holding up his medal of valour. “Just one question,” Wayne started, not bothering to sit back down. “How’d you convince them to help you?”

Y/n chortled. “You think so little of me. Of course, I appealed to their sense of teamwork and camaraderie with a rousing speech that would have Shakespeare begging for my talent.”

Y/n stood atop a chair in the middle of the bullpen and announced in a terrible Scottish accent, “For too long, we thee have been ridiculed, pushed around, and put down. But I say no more! For today, thee shall defeat the mad king and win our thine country back!”

“How did you actually do it?” Bruce gave Y/n a knowing glare.

“Unfortunately, my speech did not work.” Y/n sighed and continued speaking as if she hadn’t heard the Captain. “The sixty-sixth precinct has no sense of honour and solidarity. Maybe we should start doing team-building activities… Anyway, I bribed them. Told them I would do their paperwork.” She gave her superior a shit-eating grin. “And cause you’re doing my paperwork,” she sang, letting him come to the same conclusion.

Wayne huffed a laugh. “Well played L/n. Well played.” 

He slowly exited the room, leaving Y/n to cry out, “Captain? Hey, Captain? Are you gonna unlock me?” She rattled the handcuffs. “Captain?!” Eventually, Jason came in to help her (not before taking many pictures).

Later that night, Wayne gathered everyone in the briefing room and swallowed his pride. “Y/n L/n is an amazing detective-slash-genius.” Y/n mouthed along to the words. “And if you’ll excuse me, I have some paperwork to do.”

Captain Wayne sat in his office, surrounded by paperwork. However, instead of beginning, he opened a pad of paper and wrote: Halloween 2

[mikeywayarchive]

Mikey Way: “I was borderline terrified a lot of the time My Chemical Romance was active. I was learning the bass in front of 20,000 people every night!”

By Gregory Adams ( Bass Player ) published June 9th 2023

The reunited emo kings’ low-end ranger reveals why he swapped out his signature Fender Mustang for a sparkling new signature Jazz Bass, learning bass in arenas, and how he overcame insecurity about his chops

Full interview under cut:

My Chemical Romance’s reunion has seen bassist Mikey Way thrumming through the high pomp punk of The Black Parade and Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge favorites with a familiar rhythmic fortitude, but keen-eyed band obsessives have probably noticed the musician is no longer sporting the snazzy, silver-flake Squier Mustang signature model Fender built for him back in 2012. 

The good news is that’s because, as Fender have just formally announced, Way has a brand-new – but just as glammy – Jazz Bass out now. There’s a good reason why Way’s made the switch: the Jazz Bass is his first love.

Though he started out on guitar, Way got the hang of a four-string in the mid ‘90s while playing a loaned-out Jazz Bass in his pre-My Chemical Romance project, Ray Gun Jones. He upgraded to a silver-finish Jazz of his own by the time MCR started touring in the early ‘00s, but a trailer mishap led to that instrument getting smashed to pieces on a highway.

Way tells Guitar World that he eventually became obsessed with the short-scale sturdiness of a Mustang bass guitar as My Chemical Romance were writing their 2010 full-length, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, after fooling around with a model Duff McKagan had left at North Hollywood’s Mates Rehearsal Studio. By 2012, Way had his Squier model in stores.

It was during the downtime after My Chemical Romance went on hiatus in 2013, though, that the stubbiness of his Mustang became a little hard to handle.

“I stayed away from playing bass for a little while, which is natural – I was just decompressing,” Way explains. “Then, sometime in 2014, I picked up the bass again, to get my chops back, [but] I noticed that the Mustang felt strange to me.” 

After reaching out to the folks at Fender, Way got a grip on his playing by stretching out on the longer-necked Jazzes they sent him. Way’s take on the Jazz Bass is outfitted with ’70s-style single-coil pickups, and a thinline “C”-shaped maple neck the bassist says is super-speedy.

The finish is silver, of course, but Way also wanted an aesthetically inkier black pickguard. The headstock, likewise, pops with its matching gloss-black finish.

Speaking with Guitar World, Way gets into the glam and grunge gods who inspired his love of a good sparkle coat, overcoming performance anxiety, and why a steady attack wins the bass race every time.

What were some of the musts when it came to designing this latest signature?

“I’ve been obsessed with the sparkle finish as far back as I can remember. Growing up in the ‘90s, the silver-flake [finish] was big in alternative music. Chris Cornell had the Gretsch Silver Jet, [Daniel Johns] from Silverchair had one – [with] the imagery the Smashing Pumpkins used, they liked sparkles.

“Ace Frehley, of course, was big into flake finishes, and as a kid, you love the larger-than-life, comic book world of Kiss. [And there’s] David Bowie – the glam rock stuff. That flake finish makes me think of so many different things, but that’s why I love it so much.

“I remember being younger and going into stores and seeing a flake finish and being like, 'Oh my god, that’s an expensive [looking guitar] – I can’t afford that, let alone play it.' It was almost intimidating.”

One aesthetic difference between your Mustang model and this Jazz is that you didn’t throw a racing stripe on this one.

“I thought about bringing it back and keeping the continuity. Maybe somewhere down the line we’ll throw a racing stripe on this. The thing with [seeing a] racing stripe was always like, 'This player is a badass!'”

Is there a psychology behind removing the racing stripe, then?

“The psychology behind it is that I forgot about it. When My Chemical Romance was talking about doing reunion shows [in 2019], I’d contacted Michael Schulz from Fender and was like, 'Is it OK if I make a new bass for this [next] era of My Chemical Romance?' I wanted to take my past and bring it to the future – taking my Mustang and melding it with the Jazz Basses that I loved so much. 

“I tried to have my cake and eat it, too. I wanted the thinner neck, and I wanted the silver-flake, but I wanted it on a Jazz Bass. They knocked it out of the park immediately.”

Getting back to how you used to admire those silver-flake guitars in the shops, you actually started out as a guitarist, right?

“So, the story goes that my brother [My Chemical Romance vocalist Gerard Way] had a Sears acoustic guitar when he was 10 years old. We would take a shoelace and make a strap, and we would stand on the couch pretending we were in Iron Maiden. And then it got real around ’93-’94, which lines up with the rise of alternative music. You started to see people that looked exactly like you, and they were playing guitar. They were playing Fender Strats! 

“My brother got a Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue. I found it not too long ago, and Michael from Fender hot-rodded it. That’s how I cut my teeth – that Mexican Stratocaster [was] my first foray into really trying to learn how to play guitar. I would watch bootlegs of concerts, and watch [guitarists’] hands and fingers – Thom Yorke, Billy Corgan, Noel Gallagher, Jonny Greenwood. I would watch what they were doing. It all started from that.

“Bass came out of necessity, twice. Me and my brother had a band called Ray Gun Jones, I guess in ’95-’96. It was kind of Weezer-ish, or us doing a surf-punk thing [with] a little bit of pre-mid-west emo. At the time we were really into Weezer, Jawbreaker, Promise Ring, Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, Sunny Day Real Estate. 

“[Ray Gun Jones] needed a bass player, so my brother was like 'Hey, do you want to play bass for my band?' I was already a huge fan – I’d always tag along to practices. The ex-bass player let me borrow their bass. We had 4-5 songs, and I got the rudimentary from that. In that era, everyone was like, 'I want to be a guitar hero,' but I realized I had a natural knack for [bass]. I picked it up right away. 

“Then, with My Chemical Romance, it was the same thing. My brother was like, 'We need a bass player,' and I was like, 'Well, this is familiar' [laughs]. 'Here’s the demo; learn these songs.' They weren’t terribly difficult.”

Was that bass you had borrowed a Fender Jazz?

“Yup, I’ve only ever played Fender. I’ve tried tons of other basses from other companies, but it always feels alien to me.”

You mentioned studying the playing of Thom Yorke or Billy Corgan through those bootleg vids. Were there any bassists that you treated similarly, to understand the mechanics of bass?

“Matt Sharp from Weezer. I tried to ape him in the beginning, but my attack sounds vaguely reminiscent of a Smashing Pumpkins recording. I would learn Siamese Dream and Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, and the Blue Album [the band’s 1994 self-titled debut] by Weezer. Those were the three albums that I put the most time into learning. That’s in my DNA.”

How about from a hyper-local perspective. If My Chemical Romance started out playing New Jersey basements and VFW halls, where there any bassists from that scene that inspired you, or that you appreciated?

“Yes! We shared a rehearsal space with this band called Pencey Prep – that was [MCR guitarist] Frank Iero’s original band. John McGuire was their bassist, and he let me borrow his equipment all the time. He taught me fundamentals, and gave me pointers – he taught me a whole heck of a lot. 

“I always respected Tim Payne from Thursday, I loved his attack and stage presence. And when I’d watch Gabe Saporta from Midtown, I thought 'This dude is the coolest guy in the room.' He’s got this calm, cool, and collected [presence] that you can’t fake or learn. And then Eben D’amico from Saves the Day – brilliant! 

“I would try to learn Saves the Day basslines. They were pretty complex [compared to] what most bands were doing in that scene. Most bands in the post-hardcore scene had simplistic basslines, but Saves the Day did not.

“There’s also Ray Toro, the guitar player of My Chemical Romance. Not only is he truly gifted at guitar, but he’s truly gifted at bass and drums – Ray can do everything. He was instrumental, early on, with showing me the ropes. Ray gave me lessons when I was a novice. I can’t thank him enough for that.”

What kind of pointers was he giving you?

“He showed me proper fretting, or [how to maintain] a steady attack. I got a really great compliment from our front-of-house guy, Jay Rigby. He told me that I’m one of the very few bass players that he doesn’t have to go in and tweak the volume [for]. 'You’re steady, throughout.' I think that’s something that Ray Toro instilled in me: the consistency of attack. 

“It’s funny thinking about it, but I was such a novice going into My Chemical Romance that I would bring myself into an anxiety-ridden state of, 'Oh my god, we have a show tonight; I have to start practicing right now.' I would be practicing four to five hours before we played – I’d play the set [in the green room], and then I’d play it again. Other bands would be like, 'What are you doing?' I was so neurotic at that point, because there were so many people around me that were beyond gifted. 

“I got pushed into the deep end; you’ve got no choice but to figure it out. Ray and Frank are so gifted that I had to keep up. I didn’t want to ever do the music a disservice.

“That brings me back to the simplicity of the early My Chem basslines. The first album [2002’s I Brought You Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love] was me learning the bass, and somehow [producer] John Naclerio recorded me and said, 'You did a great job,' which I did not expect. 

“I thought I was going to go in there and they were going to have to do some studio magic, or someone would come in and play [my] part. I thought of the worst-case scenario, but I went in and did it. I played the bass seriously [enough] by that point.”

What are you generally looking for in a My Chemical Romance bassline? 

“What makes it for me is if I do a fill, I’ll only do it once. If you listen to [the band's 2022 comeback single] The Foundations of Decay, any fill on there I only do one time. What’s interesting about The Foundations of Decay is that it’s very loose and run-and-gun. We went in and punched things in for timing, which everyone in the world does, but the meat of that is first-or-second take. Which brings me to someone else who was very instrumental to my bass playing: Doug McKean.

“He’s no longer with us, unfortunately, but he was our engineer from The Black Parade [until his passing in 2022]. He was always a huge cheerleader for me – he instilled confidence in me. He was always good at getting a killer performance out of me.”

What are some of the biggest My Chemical Romance bass moments for you?

“I’ll say that fill in on Foundations. No-one saw that coming.”

There’s a YouTube video out there of someone playing their favorite Mikey Way basslines, some while using your signature Squier Mustang, but one standout in particular is The Black Parade’s The Sharpest Lives.

“What’s funny is Sharpest Lives has a bass solo, and I was terrified of it. I had performance anxiety [through] the 12 years before we broke up – I don’t have it anymore. Somehow when the band got back together, a switch in my brain [got] flipped. [But] while My Chem was active, I was borderline terrified a lot of the time.

“I’m playing with people far above my skill level, I’m playing [on bills] with bands where their bass players are way better than me, [and] our shows were getting massive. We were playing arenas! So not only are you learning the bass, but you’re learning the bass in front of 20,000 people every night. It made me tweak a little, but I think it shaped me into what I became.

“That solo gave me anxiety. It was when we were playing the biggest venues of our career, and it would break for the solo [Way starts singing his ascending bass lick]. I practiced it relentlessly, then it [became] second nature. Later on, it [became my favorite part of the show.”

You’re already playing the Jazz signature in your live show, yeah?

“It’s what I use for the live show. Basically, Fender built [it] for the reunion, and then we made a couple tweaks for when we release it.”

Was there a learning curve at all towards transferring My Chemical Romance songs you’d written on a Mustang onto the Jazz?

“There was Planetary (GO!), a song off Danger Days. I’d guess you’d say the whole thing is a disco beat. It’s dance-y – [Mikey starts singing an octave-popping bassline], I do that for the entirety of the song. I was very happy that I only had to do that on a Mustang, initially [because of the shorter scale]. But going back to what I said, [after] I took a little break, [I] went back to a Jazz Bass. 

“I missed the room, or the way my hand went up and down the neck. I wanted to go back to that, so I jumped back in and felt right at home again.”

How many Jazzes are you bringing on the road?

“I bring two basses out, [but] I stopped even switching [during the set]. This is a testament to Fender craftsmanship – that thing stays in tune. It’s got the four-saddle bridge, and it stays in tune so well. I’m a little neurotic so I’ll tune every few songs, but if I went five to six songs you probably wouldn’t even notice.”

What does it mean to you to now have a fully-formed Fender signature model – as opposed to the Squier – and with the body shape you began your career with?

“It’s really a dream come true. It’s funny, in 2002-3 we started touring across the country. I had a Mexican Jazz Bass, but [the band] were like, 'You have to use something with better electronics; better wood. Step it up!' So, I went into the Guitar Center on Route 46 in New Jersey, and at the time Fender had released a special Guitar Center edition that was silver-flake. 

“It always bugged me that the pickguard was white – it threw me off, aesthetically, and I was like, 'I’m going to change that pickguard one day.' So, I got that, and I was using that for a while. 

“We were out with [Boston emo quartet] Piebald – it was one of our first cross-country tours ever – and one night someone forgot to close the trailer door. We’re driving on the highway, and half the contents spilled out – unfortunately, my bass was a casualty of that.

“But Frank Iero, and his heart of gold, jumped out on the highway in the middle of the night and tried to recover [the bass]. He was like, 'Maybe we can fix it!' I’ll never forget him doing that. He got a chunk of it – it’s in one of our storage units.”

For more information on the Limited Edition Mikey Way Jazz Bass, head to Fender.com.

[clairewritesjjkxreader]

Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) Part 3

TW: pregnancies, miscarriages/spontaneous abortions, and other mature themes ahead

Sukuna can still remember your suppressed whimpers when you believed that he was asleep, how your weight would go up and down every few weeks, and how nothing would interest you, not your foreign books or drawings or koto. No matter how many times you two tried or how faithfully you listened to the advice of your doctors and shamans, children were a faraway dream. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…What’s wrong with me?” You used to cry.

“Nothing,” he always answered, rubbing circles on your back. “Nothing is wrong with you.”

You never seemed to hear him. Sukuna would tirelessly comfort you while reassuring you that spending eternity with only you was his idea of a happy life. However, his words fell on deaf ears. You would always hope, and every single time, your hope would get crushed.

Until you discovered yourself pregnant again for three months. The past pregnancies never lasted for more than a few weeks. Sukuna didn’t want you to hope too much, but how could he resist the brilliant smile of his beloved wife?

He accompanied you to every shop for toys and fabrics and clothes and furniture. He patiently gave his opinions on what the baby’s room should be like. 

You successfully carried to term, your belly round with a healthy child. Sukuna had to admit that it was not an unattractive sight, and despite the protests of the midwives, he stayed by your side, dabbing the sweat from your face and neck as you delivered your precious child. Uraume waited outside with a whole parade of maidservants prepared to help you get washed once everything was over. The cotton blanket which would envelope your baby was washed three times. You wove it yourself, pestering your husband to embroider enchantments for protection and a long, healthy life.

However, as you fell back after giving your final push, you instantly sensed that something was wrong. You had silently turned to your husband. “Ryo?” His head was hanging, unable to meet your gaze. He didn’t need to say anything.

You stopped being you that day.

The Sukuna household, which used to be so full of life and music and cheer, was enveloped in darkness. The one and only madam of the house was given a taste of motherhood like she always prayed, but she was never even able to hear her child’s cry let alone hold them. You stopped leaving the main house. You refused to go down the village to browse for any new foreign products. The maple trees you adored were ignored and the garden you personally tended would have wilted completely if not for Ryomen’s intervention.

You slept on the floor right next to an empty cradle. 

You would have died there too if your husband couldn’t take it and spent three straight days pleading for you to try and go out.

“A merchant passed by and Uraume bought several flowers from him,” he said, trying to make conversation as he eased you into the garden. “I think you’d like them. One species even eats flies.”

It was then, Sukuna recalled, when the two of you heard it.

An inhuman sound came from the bushes.

You hurried to investigate, with Sukuna warily following.

“Oh!” You gasped.

“What is it? Are you hurt?”

As if you hadn’t heard him, you dug into the shrubbery. “Here you are.”

“My love, be careful–”

“Naughty, naughty, you made us worried.” You rose to your feet and started cradling… something. 

Sukuna called your name. He didn’t sense any malicious intent right now but he couldn’t risk you getting hurt.

You turned around. “Ryo-chan, I found him.”

The maids knew better than to show their emotions, but their mouths tingled with the desire to gasp and talk amongst themselves.

Sukuna whispered your name and you walked towards him, arms protectively wrapped around a black-striped overgrown cat. You carried it like one would a newborn. 

You made a fake angry expression at the stupid cat as you scolded it:

“Yuji–” that was the name you and Sukuna agreed on while you were eight months pregnant “–you can’t just disappear without asking permission. You made your father and I worried!”

The cat made a sound that could only be described to be close to a purr, but not quite a purr. 

You giggled and nuzzled its nose. “How can I stay mad at you?”

Sukuna watched as you continued to baby the odd-looking cat. You were the happiest he’s seen you in weeks. He missed your smile.

He no longer cared that it was some stray from some traveling merchant. He didn’t care if the damn thing was eating way too much and growing a hella lot for a simple cat. All that mattered was that you were happy. No servant was allowed to treat your behavior as anything but normal. No one was allowed to even try to destroy the illusion. 

There were times when Sukuna swore he could see clarity in your eyes, when you would watch the sleeping “infant” or when you thought you were alone. A part of you must’ve known.

But because you never stopped treating “Yuji” as your beloved child, he never brought it up.

You were eating, you were smiling. You were happy. That was enough for him.

Though admittedly, he hated the little twerp. 

Not only did “Yuji” get spoonfed and burped personally by the madam of the Sukuna household, you also bathed him, dried and brushed his fur, and let the thing sleep between the two of you. 

It was so annoying.

He couldn’t even embrace his own wife anymore.

Now, over a thousand years later, he still had to share his darling wife with this damn brat.

Part 4: An immediate continuation of this chapter

@laurcad123 @aidanstan @deepinballs @satosuguswife

[tisamustdie]

"The Black Parade" lyrics ☠️

Lyrics masterlist

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"Another contusion, my funeral jag/ Here's my resignation, I'll serve it in drag" The End.

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"When I grow up I want to be nothing at all" The End.

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"Save me (Get the hell out of here)/ Save me (Too young to die, and, my dear)/ You can't (If you can hear me just)/ Take me away (Walk away, yeah)" The End.

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"If life ain't just a joke, then why are we laughing? Dead!

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"To un-explain the unforgivable/ Drain all the blood and give the kids a show/ By streetlight, this dark night a seance down below/ There's things that I have done/ That you should never know" This Is How I Disappear

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Who walks among the famous living dead/ Drowns all the boys and girls inside your bed" This Is How I Disappear

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"And now/ You wanna see how far down/ I can sink?" This Is How I Disappear

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"You can watch me corrode like a beast in repose/ 'Cause I love all the poison, away with the boys in the band" The Sharpest Lives

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"A light to burn all the empires/ So bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be" The Sharpest Lives

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"There's a place in the dark where the animals go/ You can take off your skin in the cannibal glow/ Juliet loves the beat and the lust it commands/ Drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hands, Romeo" The Sharpest Lives

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Do or die, you'll never make me/ Because the world will never take my heart/ Go on and try, you'll never break me/ We want it all, we wanna play this part/ I won't explain, or say I'm sorry/ I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar/ And give a cheer for all the broken/ Listen here, because it's who we are/ Just a man, I'm not a hero/ Just a boy who had to sing this song/ Just a man, I'm not a hero/ I don't care" Welcome To The Black Parade

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"So take your gloves and get out/ Better get out while you can" I Don't Love You

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Well I know a thing about contrition/ Because I got enough to spare/ And I'll be granting your permission/ 'Cause you haven't got a prayer/ Well I said, hey, hallelujah/ I'm gonna, come on, sing the praise/ Let the spirit come on through you/ We got innocence for days" House of Wolves

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"And bury me in all my favourite colors" Cancer

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Oh, my agony" Cancer

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"We'll let the fires just bathe us" Mama

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Mama, we're all full of lies/ Mama, we're meant for the flies/ And right now, they're building a coffin your size/ Mama, we're all full of lies" Mama

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Oh, mother what the war did to my legs and to my tongue/ You should've raised a baby girl, I should've been a better son/ If you could coddle the infection, they can amputate at once/ You should've been, I could have been a better son" Mama

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"We're damned after all/ Through fortune and fame, we fall" Mama

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"So raise your glass high, for tomorrow we die/ And return from the ashes you call" Mama

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Three cheers for tyranny/ Unapologetic apathy" Sleep

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Just sleep/ Just sleep/ Just sleep/ Just sleep/ Wake up/ Wake up/ Wake up/ Wake up/ Wake up/ Wake up" Sleep

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"But if you're troubled and hurt, what you got under your shirt/ Will make them pay for the things that they did" Teenagers

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"I hate the ending myself, but it started with an alright scene" Disenchanted

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"About a lifelong wait for a hospital stay" Disenchanted

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"I spent my highschool career spit on and shoved to agree/ So I could watch all my heroes sell a car on TV/ Bring out the old guillotine/ We'll show 'em what we all mean" Disenchanted

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"So many bright lights to cast a shadow" Famous Last Words

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"I am not afraid to keep on living/ I am not afraid to walk this world alone" Famous Last Words

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"'Cause I see you lying next to me/ With words I thought I'd never speak/ Awake and unafraid/ Asleep or dead" Famous Last Words

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love" Blood

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Well my gun fires seven different shades of shit/ So what's your favorite color, punk?" My Way Home is Through You

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"We're not to give a compliment or sing about the government/ Or oxycontin genocide, adolescent suicide/ I'll give you my sincerity, don't give a fuck about a Kennedy/ Here's what I've got to say" My Way Home Is Through You

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Sometimes you scrape and sink so low/ I'm shocked at what you're capable of" Kill All Your Friends

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"I was killing before killing was cool" Kill All Your Friends

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"And I can't tell if I've been breathing, or sleeping, or screaming, or waiting/ For the man to call, or all of the above/ 'Cause mostly I've been sprawled out on these Cathedral steps/ While spitting out the blood and screaming/ "Someone save us!" Heaven Help Us

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"'Cause I'll give you all the nails you need/ Cover me in gasoline/ Wipe away those tears of blood again/ 'Cause the punchline of the joke is asking/ "Someone save us!" Heaven Help Us

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Heaven help us now/ Come crashing down/ We'll hear the sound/ As you fall" Heaven Help Us

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"Sometime you do things/ You have to do to survive" Emily

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

"And if you open up your heart and stay so far away/ But you are all the same/ And if you maybe find a better way to love me, then/ You are all to blame" All the Angels

┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

This album is mother fucking insane dude

[foxoftamriel]

Mistborn Era 1 Characters- Would They Listen To My Chemical Romance (as an MCR fan)

Kelsier: Yes, but specifically Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge and the heavy songs in Black Parade. It's great background music for killing nobles.

Vin: Yes, she is obsessed. She has posters in her room, merch, and has seen them live. She has listened to all their songs, and Gerard Way's solo music.

Elend: Not really, they used to scare him. Now he'll sometimes listen to them with Vin but they're not his favorite.

Sazed: During the time between Tindwyl's death and his Ascension, yes. But all other times no, he finds them too intense. Even during that time he only listened to their sadder, calmer songs.

Marsh: definitely after he escaped Ruin's control, I'm not sure about before that.

TenSoon: not until he met Vin. But he spent a lot of time listening with her and now loves them.

Rashek: I want to say no because if MCR formed in The Final Empire he would probably have them killed but like... he has dark pitch black hair and hates the world. If you looked at him you would assume he's an MCR fan.

Ruin: He would find them very fun, so probably.

Straff: The only main villain who definitely would not listen to MCR. He would probably be one of those people who's think MCR is ruining younger generations.

Zane: Do I even need to write this one? He would probably be creepily obsessed. Like Vin is jut having fun with it, Zane tries to find out where the members live.

[incorrect-gravescest]

👿: Thanks for inviting me over, Ashley. I hope we can settle our differences. You're practically my future sister in law and I just want us to get along!

🩷: No problem, Hus-I mean, Julia. Have a seat. You thirsty?

👿: This tastes funny. What is this?

🩷: Just a new flavor of Toxicola, definitely not drugged with tranquilizers. Say, Julia, you like My Chemical Romance?"

👿: Um, they're okay.

🩷: Their early work was a little too emo for my taste, but when Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge came out in '04, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. The whole album has a clear, crisp sound, and a new sheen of consummate professionalism that really gives the songs a big boost. They've been compared to Fallout Boy, but I think MCR has a more darkly sarcastic edge.

👿: (slurring her words) Hey, Ashley?

🩷: Yes, Julia?

👿: Wh-what's with the eyeliner all over the place? You-you opening a Hot Topic in here? Or a Sephora?

🩷: No, Julia.

👿: Is that a raincoat?

🩷: Yes it is! In '06, MCR released this: The Black Parade, their most accomplished album. I think their undisputed masterpiece is Welcome to the Black Parade. A song so catchy, that most people don't pay attention to the lyrics. But they should, because it's not just about The Patient embracing death after a long struggle with cancer, but it's also a personal statement from Gerard Way about the lasting impression a parade he saw as a child had on him! Hey Julia!

🩷: Try stealing my Andy now, you fuckin' stupid Hussie! AHHHHHH!

[geffenrecords]

update on my physical media collection (not including books / records ). list of everything shown in the pictures below the cut ⬇️

DVDS:

IT (1990)

it / it chapter two

ready or not

beetlejuice

glee season 1 (sorry)

glee season 2 (SORRY)

jaws

the secret of nimh

jurassic park, the lost world, jurassic park 3

the breakfast club / sixteen candles / weird science (John Hughes collection)

bill & Ted's excellent adventure / bogus journey

flatliners

the lost boys

diary of a wimpy kid

Grey's anatomy season 1 (SORRRYYY)

aliens

alien resurrection

TMNT (honestly idk why I still have this)

the outsiders

trainspotting

over the edge (matt dillon first movie)

Donnie darko

venom

Jennifer's body

jackass number 2

twilight

the karate kid

the princess diaries

fight club

star wars phantom menace, attack of the clones, and revenge of the sith

Narnia the lion the witch and the wardobe

the osbournes season 1

little miss sunshine

spiderman 1, 2, and 3

the amazing spiderman

elephant

Kung fu panda

the passion of the christ

pay it forward

original star wars trilogy

the polar express

a clockwork orange

heathers

life as a house

surfs up

scream

bowling for columbine

hackers

natural born killers

terminator 2

mysterious skin

moonrise kingdom

American idiot Greenday documentary

that was then, this is now

jackass the movie

suicide kings

the matrix

the Goldfinch

the day after tomorrow

speak

stand by me

kids

rumble fish

CDS;

the black parade (mcr)

danger days (mcr)

American idiot (green day)

21st century breakdown (green day)

in love and death (the used)

may death never stop you (mcr)

baby one more time (britney spears)

life on the murder scene dvd / cds

nevermind (nirvana)

dookie (green day)

nimrod (green day)

uno, dos, tre (green day)

nirvana greatest hits

blue weezer

selfish machines (pierce the veil)

collide with the sky (pierce the veil)

three cheers for sweet revenge (mcr)

from under the cork tree (fall out boy)

teens of denial (car seat headrest)

in utero (nirvana)

licensed to ill (beastie boys)

lost and found (mudvayne)

what it is to burn (finch)

slipknot

no strings attached (nsync)

infinity on high (fall out boy)

fallen (evanescence)

green weezer

mellon collie and the infinite sadness (smashing pumpkins)

Tallahassee (the mountian goats)

bleach (nirvana)

in the areoplane over the sea (neutral milk hotel)

the downward spiral (nin)

facelift (alice in chains)

placebo

smash (offspring)

dirt (alice in chains)

peace sells but whos buying ? (megadeth)

garage days (metallica)

folie a deux (fall out boy)

devil put dinosaurs here (alice in chains)

spit (kittie)

alice in chains

incesticide (nirvana)

hot fuss (the killers)

load (metallica)

american beauty / american psycho (fall out boy)

among the living (anthrax)

oops i did it agian (britney spears)

viva la cobra (cobra starship)

almost here (the academy is...)

kill em all (metallica)

and justice for all (metallica)

lets knife (shonen knife)

lithium single (nirvana)

ride the lightning (metallica)

homemade bullets cd my dad made for me for christmas using scans he found online :)

nirvana unplugged

killings my business (megadeth)

enema of the state (blink182)

take off your pants and jacket (blink182)

pretty hate machine (nin)

screaming for vengeance (judas priest)

fabulous disaster (exodus)

let go (avril lavigne)

hidden treasures (megadeth)

dude ranch (blink182)

there be squabbles ahead (stolen babies)

master of puppets (metallica)

the black album (metallica)

twilight soundtrack

neighborhoods (blink182)

south of heaven (slayer)

blink-182

angst (kmfdm)

adios (kmfdm)

nevermind the bollocks, heres the sex pistols (sex pistols)

hybrid theory (linkin park)

the lion and the cobra (sinead o connor)

seasons in the abyss (slayer)

reign in blood (slayer)

meteroa (linkin park)

anything is (my bloody valentine)

CASSETTE TAPES:

pearl harbor attack story

music from hungary

so far so good so what (megadeth)

the four seasons (vivaldi)

concerti (vivaldi)

hangin' tough (new kids on the block)

tchaikovsky / liszt paino concertos

bach flute sonata

mozart symphonies

cats musical

days of future passed (the moody blues)

60s surf hits

doomsday for the deciever (flotsam and jetsam)

st elmos fire soundtrack

phantom of the opera highlights

defenders of the faith (judas priest)

VHS:

a year and a half in the life of metallica (original 80s tape from my dad!)

cliff em all (also original 80s tape from my dad )

walking with dinosaurs bbc

dead poets society

the lost boys

flatliners

family values 1998 tour (korn, limp bizkit, ice cube, rammstien, orgy)

attack of the clones

aliens

the terminator

hackers

not pictured are my books (way too many and way too unorganized to actually take pictures of), and my records. im not big into record collecting but i do have;

life on the murder scene soundtrack

three cheers for sweet revenge

the black parade is dead!

kill em all

master of puppets

[iwouldkickahorse]

I listened to three cheers and black parade back to back but it was my first time listening to either of them so now I feel like I am an immortal god and I have the desire to be visibly more queer