#that went like “i may have a small dick but i do have an (adjective) (adjective) pulsating rotting open wound”

[resonantbellworld]

in my dream last night there were two words that perfectly described the visage of an open wound and i cannot for the life of me remember what they were

[honestlypeter]

Confessions |Spider-Man: Hoco|

Summary: Peter has a crush on fem!reader, and Ned is quick to think she likes him back. Peter, however, doesn’t believe him.

A/N: Aight, so this is my first fic for this fandom. Let’s do this. Quick thing, Flash is super dicky in this one, so be prepared. Like, not creepy, just hella dick-ish.

Word Count: 2633

Warnings: cursing, that’s it, and i barely proof read this

WEDNESDAY

         Peter, Ned, and Michelle were having an intense conversation about who would win: a shark or a personified tornado. Okay, maybe just Peter and Ned, because Michelle was reading her book; however, she would add in little comments every now and again. Usually, the comments would consist of insults, but Peter and Ned didn’t really mind, for she was their friend and knew it didn’t mean a thing.

“Look, all I’m saying is that a shark can’t go on land! Your argument is bogus!” Peter told his best friend, Ned.

Ned shook his head, ready to tell Peter that the shark would obviously win, because it had razor sharp teeth.

“The tornado is personified, meaning it can get hurt! It has feelings! And the small tornado would never stand a chance against a beast of the ocean!” Ned exclaimed, getting more frustrated as this conversation went on.

“Wait- we never said how big the tornado was. So you admit that if it was a big tornado-”

“Peter, shut up,” Ned said, cutting the other boy off. Peter rolled his eyes, about to continue, when Ned swatted his arm.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Okay, don’t freak out, but (Y/N) (L/N) is coming over here, and you need to act cool,” Ned explained, his voice suddenly a lot lower.

“Dude, no way, why would she- holy shit, you’re right.”

Peter’s chest tightened as he saw the most beautiful girl in school walking towards him and his friends. As she got closer, Peter started breathing heavier, his mind swarming through all the embarrassing outcomes that could come from the interaction he was about to have. When she finally got to their table, which to Peter took years because it felt like he was watching her in slow motion, she sat down.

“Hey, you guys!” (Y/N) said, all eyes on her, even Michelle’s.

“H-Hey, (Y/N),” Peter squeaked, eyes widening. Puberty was going to be the death of him. The other two said hi, Ned giving her a small smile, and Michelle returning back to her book.

“Soooo, whatcha guys talkin’ about?” (Y/N) asked, seeming genuinely interested in their conversation,”You seemed to be pretty heated.”

“Oh uh- n-nothing-”

“Sharks and torandos! Like, who would win in a fight. A personified tornado or a shark.” Ned informed (Y/N). It was Peter’s turn to whack Ned’s arm for confessing to talking about such a stupid topic.

“Oh! That’s cool. Which team are you guys on?” wondered (Y/N).

“I’m on Team Shark,” Ned said confidently, proud of his answer.

“I, uh,” stuttered Peter,”I’m on Team Tornado.”

“Hm, interesting,” (Y/N) said, tapping her manicured nails on the table.

“Why is that interesting?” Peter asked, surprising himself, Ned, and Michelle, with how calm his voice came out.

“Because, well, how do I put this lightly? You’re both wrong.”

Peter and Ned glanced at each other from the corner of their eyes, both unsure of where the conversation was about to go.

“I mean, c’mon. Clearly, sharks and tornados would team up to destroy humanity. Haven’t you seen the cinematic masterpiece known as Sharknado? Sharks would be pissed that humans were in the ocean- because let’s be real here, we’re the ones infesting the waters, not them! They’re the ones that live- sorry, that’s a whole other conversation. Uhm, where was I?” Peter was about to help (Y/N) find her train of thought, but she got there before he could,”Oh! So, sharks would be pissed, and tornados are just ready to fight. Basically, tornados are the muscle, sharks are the brains, and together, they’re unstoppable.”

Ned’s jaw was dropped, Peter’s jaw was dropped, and Michelle simply looked impressed.

“But uh, I came here for a reason other than to school you on sharks and tornados. Liz is having a party on Saturday, and I wanted to invite you guys,” (Y/N) said, smiling brightly. But when they all just stared at her, the smile faltered and she quickly went to her own rescue.

“But you totally don’t have to come if you don’t want to! I mean, obviously, but-”

“(Y/N), we’re going.”

(Y/N) looked at Michelle, who had spoken.

“Okay! Awesome! Uhm- let me just give you guys my phone number and you can text me and I’ll give you the details…does anyone have paper and a pencil?”

Ned and Peter scrambled to search for paper and pencil, but Michelle already had the items out, so she pushed them towards (Y/N). Quickly, (Y/N) wrote down her number, before getting up and telling them all goodbye.

Peter and Ned stared at the ten digits in front of them.

“What the fu-”

Before the sentence was finished, the bell rang, indicating that lunch was over and to head back to class.

THURSDAY

“Dude, I swear (Y/N) has been looking at you ever since she invited us to the party,” Ned said excitedly. Peter glanced up at at the girl who sat across the lunchroom. She was, in fact, looking over at their table.

“Wha- no. She’s probably looking at you,” Peter told his friend, a frown on his face. There was no way the iconic (Y/N) friggin’ (L/N) was looking at the not-so iconic Peter Parker.

“Have you seen me? I’m like-”

“Hey!” Peter interjected before his friend could deprecate himself,”you are a handsome guy, Ned! You have just as much of a chance with (Y/N) as any other person.”

Ned smiled at his friend, feeling better about his appearance. Peter was right, Ned was quite a catch.

“Thanks, man! But honestly dude, she’s totally into you.”

FRIDAY

         Peter sat at his desk, working on his advanced geometry homework. Peter rarely hated being in advanced classes, but when it’s an advanced class that’s meant for the grade higher than your’s as well- it’s hell. To Peter, it felt like everyone was judging him, mainly because Flash always picked on him, which lead to him having a nerd reputation. So yeah, basically everyone was judging him, except for one person: You.

         The only reason why Peter didn’t bash his head open with his geometry textbook was because you were in his class. You were the perfect person. Kind, smart, funny, stunning, etc., etc. Every single adjective to describe you was always positive. Peter didn’t think he had  seen a single day where you weren’t smiling at people, and brightening their days.

         When Flash Thompson first started calling Peter “Penis Parker” you called him “Flaccid Thompson,” which shut him up as quickly as he had opened his mouth. From that point on, Peter admired you, which quickly became a crush.

         Finally giving up on his never ending geometry homework, Peter decided it was time to text you.

To: (Y/N)

From: Peter

hey (y/n)! It’s peter! i was just wondering if i could get the deets for the party?? haha!

Peter, for some reason, decided it would be best to send the text and then reread the message. Dear God, he thought, there’s too much punctuation! Who types out that many exclamation points? OH MY GOD! Did I actually use the words ‘deets?’ Kill me, just kill me. Before Peter could plan out how to run away from home, you texted back.

To: Peter

From: (Y/N)

Aye! Yeah, I got the deets. B)

Hold on.

Okay! So it’ll be at 1205 Lakeview Blv., and it’ll start at like 8, or 8:15-ish? Don’t know when it’ll end, but sometime late I’m sure. Ned already texted me and told me he’s going, but have you heard from Michelle?

To: (Y/N)

From: Peter

i’ll text her real quick.

Peter sent a quick message to Michelle, reminding her about the party before getting back to (Y/N).

To: (Y/N)

From: Peter

just texted her! thx for the info. i’ll be there!!

Peter needed to chill on the exclamation points.

To: Peter

From: (Y/N)

Ayyye, just got her message. I’m so excited to see you guys there! And hey, if Flash tries to start any trouble, let me know. He’ll catch these hands (ง •̀_•́)ง

Peter laughed, wondering how such an amazing girl could be texting him.

To: Peter

From: (Y/N)

Hey, Pete, I gotta go. Mom’s making me do the dishes. Sigh. But I’ll see you tomorrow :)

Peter groaned, not wanting to wait until tomorrow to see (Y/N). But he had to, and to pass the time, he figured he might as well work on more geometry.

SATURDAY

“Alright, be safe, have fun, don’t do anything too wild,” Aunt May reminded Peter and Ned, a smile on her face. Peter hadn’t always been the most social teenager, so seeing him go off to a high school party was exciting for her.

“Yeah, yeah. Can we go now, Aunt May?” Peter whined, becoming more and more impatient by the minute.

         Aunt May sighed before unlocking the car doors. Both Ned and Peter scrambled out of the vehicle (not before saying goodbye, of course) and hurried up towards the relatively large house on the hill.

           Peter was so excited that he was actually shaking. And apparently it was noticeable enough for Ned to tell him to chill out. When they walked into the house, the first thing Peter noticed was the lack of people, but quickly realized it was because everyone was in a group in the living room.

“Hey look,” Flash yelled out,”It’s Penis Parker!”

Everyone looked at Peter and Ned, which caused them to wave awkwardly.

“Why don’t you join us? We’re playing truth or dare,” Flash told the two boys, a cocky smile on his face.

The boys nodded, considering the fact that everyone else was doing it. Peter and Ned sat in the back of the crowd, but Flash quickly told everyone to move that way Peter was nearly in the middle.

“Since the doofuses were late, let’s have one of them go first,” Flash suggested. Peter’s heart dropped, knowing that Flash would probably use this as a moment to mess with him.

“So, Parker, truth or dare?” Flash asked.

“T-truth.”

“Okay, tell me now, and be honest. Is it true that you having a crush on (Y/N)?”

Peter’s face flushed red, as he stammered to redeem himself. But, Flash was relentless and continue to hammer Peter. That was, until, (Y/N) stepped in.

“Fuck off, Flash,”she said, a scowl on her face,”If he doesn’t want to answer the question, then I’ll take his place.”

Flash looked over to (Y/N), rolling his eyes,”Fine, fine, but you ruin all the fun. So, since Penis picked truth, you get truth.”

“Fair enough,” (Y/N) mumbled, a bit relieved that it wasn’t dare. She had no clue what Flash would make her do. The relief was short lived once Flash asked his question.

“(Y/N), I heard from Alec something very interesting, and I’m dying to know if it’s true.”

(Y/N) stiffened at the name of her ex-boyfriend Alex Westfield. Apparently, they ended on very bad terms.

“Get on with it,” (Y/N) told the boy.

“Alec told me that the reason you dumped him is because you prefer softball to baseball. Is it true?”

Peter was confused, what did sports have to do with anything? (Y/N), however, seemed to know what Flash was getting at.

“Shut the fuck up, Flaccid,” (Y/N) warned, clenching her hands so tight her knuckles were becoming a lighter shade.

“No, I’m not finished yet, (L/N),” Flash spat. Peter was still extremely confused, and as the tension grew, the more silent the room became.

“As I was saying,” continued Flash,”(Y/N) over here really enjoys swinging for the other team.”

The other team- oh shit.

“(Y/N) LIKES PUSSY!” someone from a corner of the room shouted. A few giggles erupted in the room, but it stayed mostly silent.

“Bingo!” Flash said, clapping his hands together, seeming thoroughly impressed with himself. Peter looked over at (Y/N), her head was hanging low, and she was visibly shaking. Slowly, she got up, fixed her dress, and walked out the front door. Peter quickly got to his feet, and chased after her, leaving the awkward room.

“(Y/N)!” Peter called out, chasing her down the road. For a girl in wedges, she sure could run fast.

“(Y/N)!” Peter shouted, finally catching up to her as she slowed down,”Are you…are you okay?”

She sat down on the sidewalk, feet out in front of her. Peter sat next to her and put an arm around her. She leaned into his chest, and quietly cried.

“I-I’m sorry Peter,” she whispered in between sobs.

“For what? You didn’t do anything,” he reassured her.

“F-For being l-like this,” (Y/N) explained, sitting up. She hated feeling like a mess, it reminded her how weak she could be. It felt, to (Y/N), that she always had to be the strong one in her family. Keeping face for her siblings during her parents divorce was one of the hardest things she had even done. (Y/N), not wanting to further embarrass herself, pulled out her phone and went on to the camera app.

“Jesus, I look like a raccoon,” (Y/N) sighed, trying to fix the mascara and eyeliner that ran down her face. When she was satisfied with her work, (Y/N) stood up again.

“I don’t live too far from here,” the girl told Peter, who was silently staring up at her,”Walk me home?”

Peter nodded, and got to his feet. He and (Y/N) walked, neither saying a word until they got to her house.

“So, are you wondering if it’s true?” (Y/N) asked as the pair approached her front door.

Peter tried to brush off what she was asking,”Uhm, wondering if…what’s true?”

(Y/N) gave her newfound friend a cold stare, basically telling him to cut the bullshit.

“…Yeah, I am,” Peter confirmed, feeling ashamed in himself. That wasn’t his business.

“Well, it’s true. I do “like pussy” as that one fucker said.”

“You sure do curse a lot, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes,”I only curse when I’m being emo, but…that’s what you choose to focus on? I enjoy your company, Parker.”

Peter smiled at his crush, and made a mental note to never trust Ned again.

“Well I better go.”

“Before you do,” Peter paused to make sure she was listening,”Why did you take sudden interest in us? Like, Ned said it was because you liked me…Jeez, that sounds so conceited, but I mean…why us? If you didn't…”

“It may not have been you I had a crush on Peter,” (Y/N) told him, a shy smile adorned on her face,”But…oh hold on. My phone buzzed.”

(Y/N) checked her phone, and her smile got even bigger. She typed a quick response back, and giggled a bit. She put her phone back in her purse, and gave Peter a quick peck on the cheek.

“I’ve gotta go, Peter. Thank you for being so lovely.”

And with that, (Y/N) opened the door to her house and went inside, leaving Peter to his thoughts. As Peter walked back to the party, he made the (what should have been) quick connection to who she had feelings for, and honestly, Peter felt really stupid. Now that he was looking back on it, it was right there in his face.

(Y/N) liked Michelle!

[what-is-going-on-mate]

The Legends crew in Vegas??? Amaya and Mick accidentally get married. Leonard deal with Sara hangover, Nate and Ray Gamble to much, Jax goes to many party and Martin be the one who marry Mick and Amaya.???

Here it is ! It was really fun to write that ! Thanks for the great ideas.

If you want to send prompts, you can do it here.

Vegas. Why on earth would they go to Vegas ? That was a terrible idea. But it was Jax’s birthday. So, of course, Sara agreed to offer him and the team a weekend there.

And now, the Legends looked more like college students partying during spring break than heroes responsible to save the world. 

Mick was completely wasted because of Sara. He tried to take his revenge from the Old West, in vain. At least this time Sara was drunk. Very drunk. 

Amaya had eaten a space cake without noticing, and even Martin was drunk. Not wasted, but definitely drunk. It was funny to see. He was the kind of drunk person who would suddenly love everybody and hug them. Love above all else.

Jax was on another planet. He had been dancing and taking shots for a few hours now, and he wasn’t a bit near finished, whereas Nate challenged Ray at poker, with real money. Ray had been a billionaire up to now. He was now a multimillionaire and Nate wouldn’t worry about his student loans anymore.

Leonard had watched Mick and Sara drink themselves under the table, accompanied by a few shots. He was drunk, but probably the most capable of being in charge of the team. 

He felt responsible for the crew. It seemed like there could be an alien invasion and the team wouldn’t even notice. So he decided to look after the team.

Big mistake.

Drunk Legends were worse than babies.

When he turned his attention to one person, another needed help and at the same time a third party wanted to show him something. They were impossible.

But then things began to be easier. For an horrible reason. He hadn’t noticed Mick, Amaya and Martin leaving the club secretly.

Of course it was easier, he didn’t have to check on them anymore.

Leonard had dedicated his night to Sara. A drunk assassin was probably the scariest thing he had ever seen in his life. She almost kicked a guy for trying to dance with her and another was lucky to only have his shoulder dislocated. When a dancer came near Leonard, she almost started a brawl. He tried to avoid dancing, but it seemed like it was the only thing that would keep her from turning into a wild lioness.

So instead of watching, he joined her on the dance floor.

He could keep an eye on Jax from where Sara and Leonard were. Bonus point for strategy !

Ray and Nate were happy with their games. They continued playing and when Nate eventually had enough money to build a house, they decided to team up and challenge other people. They were practically stealing from people’s pockets. A physicist and a historian, both scientists and strategists. They’d win against everyone in this club.

Everything was fine, until Leonard saw Sara’s face go white as she jerked her head with her hand over her mouth and left stumbling towards the bathrooms. Leonard quickly caught up with her once she entered the ladies room and crashed on a toilet seat. He took her hair in one hand to prevent it to get dirty. He caressed her back with his other hand.

As soon as Sara had emptied her stomach, she was back on the dance floor, pulling Leonard near her.

Wild was the only adjective that could describe her.

Or crazy.

Then « On the floor » came on and Sara completely lost it. She began to dance even more wildly and provocatively against Leonard. He really enjoyed it, but Sara wasn’t herself.

Leonard couldn’t see Jax anywhere. Maybe he went to the bar.

And oh my god, was she grinding ?!

That felt really nice. Like, really nice. He was tempted to let her continue, but if she found out come the morning that he let her do that, she’d kill him.

Leonard made her turn around to unstick her ass from his, well, dick. There was no way to put it differently.

But she was just having fuuuuuun !

Maybe she misinterpreted what he wanted her to do, or she really knew him and knew exactly what would drive him completely crazy.

Because she immediately ran her arms up his chest and kissed him. Snart was frozen on the spot. So she put her hands around his neck and pulled him closer. Leonard realized what was happening and deepened the kiss, taking her hips in his hands.

At least she wasn’t making anything stupid or dangerous, that was the most important thing.

So he let her kiss him fiercely and returned the kiss with even more passion. Minutes or hours passed, he wasn’t sure anymore.

Jax had…simply left the club to go to another one. And then another one. And finally, another one.

It was now 6 a.m. and they finally arrived at the hotel. Leonard opened the suite to see Mick and Amaya sleeping in his bed. He didn’t check if they were dressed, and if memory serves correctly, they were. Damn. No gossip or blackmail material. 

Martin was sleeping on the couch and Jax was sleeping…on the dining room table.

Wait, weren’t they with them all night ?!

And why were Ray and Nate throwing money from the balcony ? They were already back ?

But who stayed with Sara and him during the entire thing ?

Leonard looked around him and saw only Sara. But then he heard a « whoof » coming from the ground. 

There was a dog. A dog. Between Sara and him. She was holding his leash. 

Why ? 

It was a beautiful dog, but who’s dog was it ?! 

Then his brain cells worked a little and he remembered that he bought it for Sara because he was « so cuuuuuute and fluffy it hurts ! ». She may have continued her speech with things like : « He looks so fragile and pure ! He needs protection ! And who better than heroes to protect him ? Right, Len ? » And she may have put on her puppy eyes. And at this instant Len couldn’t tell who was cuter between the puppy and the drunk captain.

He cracked under the cuteness of the situation and agreed to get the small husky. 

Oh right. He remembered something else. « He is the perfect fit for you ! A husky for Captain Cold, come on ! His fur is black, just like your clothes and you both have amazing blue eyes ! You can’t deny that that’s just perfect ! » she was right, theoretically speaking. But he didn’t buy the dog for himself, he bought him for her. She’d just have to live with a Snart-resembling dog.

So. He had been watching over Sara, adopting a dog in the process, at the same time completely losing his other teammates.

Good job Mr. Snart. 

Really. 

Impressive.

« Ow, my head huuuuuurts. » complained Amaya, waking up. « Oh no. Mick ! No, no, no, no, no ! Mick, wake up ! Micccccck ! Move ! » what was happening to her ? She was freaking out for absolutely no apparent reason.

His response was a groan and him turning his back on her. 

« What the hell happened last night ? If we did what I think we did, we need to talk ! Now ! » she fumed, her voice low, because she had an horrible hangover. She pushed him out of the bed.

It felt like an earthquake.And he was up.

« Oh, no ! I remember. Do you remember what I remember ? » he asked, looking at her hand. She was wearing a ring.

Fuck.

« Stein ! You were with us ! Did we do what we think we did ? »

Martin looked at them, looked at their hands, smiled and turned back.

Yes, they sure did. With his help !

Leonard was leading Sara in the suite, his arm around her waist to keep her steady, the husky following the two. « Mick ? What are you all talking about ? » 

The dog barked.

Mick was going to answer when Sara did a small sob and said : « Owwwww, you’re married ! That’s soooo cuuuuuuute ! » and ran into Amaya to give her a hug, the puppy running after her.

« Len ! They got married ! I never thought the day would come ! From single to married in one night ! I’m impressed, Amaya ! » she said, stumbling back to Leonard and his firm grip on her.

Now the dog was laying on his boot. Just great.

Ray entered the apartment-like room. « You say that, Sara, but you were the one who spent her entire night with her tongue in Snart’s mouth. »

« What ?! » exclaimed Mick.

« You shut up ! At least I didn’t get married with my crush ! » retorted Leonard, pulling Sara closer to him. Why did he do that ?

« Your what ?! » asked Amaya to Mick.

« Oh come on, we’re married ! I can at least have a crush on you ! » he answered, trying to avoid the subject. « And why is there a dog sleeping on you ?! » he continued.

« Where are we ? » 

That was Jax waking up from the table. « I feel like I experienced all the Hangover movies in one night. Is that even possible ? »

Martin walked to his partner to help him and explained to him that Mick and Amaya were married, that Sara spent « her entire night with her tongue his Snart’s mouth », that Nate was now rich and that Ray had doubled his wealth. Oh, and there was a dog somehow sleeping on Snart.

« Yeah, so I did experience all three movies at once. That wasn’t an impression.»

« Kid, is that a tattoo on your back ?! »

Fuck.

You know what they say, what happens in Vegas…

[ricardosousalemos]

Fugazi: In on the Kill Taker

If 1991 was The Year Punk Broke, and 1993 was when the underground had fully bubbled to the surface, between that, the world got Cliff Poncier, the singer of the band Citizen Dick in Cameron Crowe's 1992 movie Singles. Cliff (played by Matt Dillon) is a musician in a band with Eddie Vedder, Stone Gossard, and Jeff Ament of Pearl Jam, and has an album out on an independent label. To a large swath of America that was still getting used to Kurt Cobain’s face and R.E.M. winning Grammys, Cliff was the fictional bridge into the world of indie artists. He’s “like a renaissance man” we’re told, but it’s obvious he wants to make it big. Everybody wanted that, right?

Alt was the new normal. Things had gone from “Our band could be your life” to stadium concerts opening up for rock legends and poisonous major label contracts. Nirvana followed up Nevermind with the Steve Albini-produced In Utero, former SST bands Dinosaur Jr., Sonic Youth, and the Meat Puppets enjoyed radio and MTV airtime, countless kids got copies of the No Alternative compilation, and grunge was officially a runway style thanks to Marc Jacobs. Fugazi’s independent scene had become a global phenomenon, funded, largely, by corporate money.

Fugazi—reluctantly—turned into one of the last bands standing from the old guard of American punks. They became a band that mainstream kids and college radio stations wanted to check out at the perfect time in their career. Fugazi’s nonstop touring made their music more accessible to a wider audience than ever before. They had an organic buzz that led to better distribution deals, which allowed them to remain fiercely independent. To kids straddling the Generation X and Millennial borders, Fugazi were a touchstone, an introduction into the DIY mindset. Their ability to get people excited without a team of advertisers, big hit song, or anything besides word of mouth is, at this point, the stuff of legend.

And while their hardcore contemporaries were chasing big contracts and slots on the Lollapalooza tour, Fugazi teamed with groups like Positive Force—a Washington D.C. youth activist collective that took on poverty and George H.W. Bush’s war in the Middle East—to the band’s decision to only play all-ages shows with a low door price, Fugazi wanted to let you know they stood for things, and that maybe you should, too. Punk was more than just not knowing how to play an instrument but having something to say, it was about starting a zine, doing distribution, or going to a protest to fight inequality in all its forms. They were champions of the utopian freedom of the 1960’s filtered through the busted amps of punk. If there was any environment for Fugazi to put out the biggest record of their career, this was it.

Since the band considered live shows to be their most natural setting, Fugazi toured relentlessly between albums. One look at the band’s show archives finds them playing the Palladium in New York City to 3,000 people on a spring night in 1992, Father Hayes Gym Bar in Portland, ME to 750 people a few nights later, then wrapping up an East Coast tour at City Gardens in New Jersey to a hair under 1,000 before embarking on a tour of Europe two weeks later. At some point during 1992, even though none of the band’s 73 shows were played anywhere near the Midwest, they found time to go to Chicago to record with Steve Albini. Self-producing their second LP Steady Diet of Nothing left the band “pretty disappointed at the end of the day with that record,” as Ian MacKaye would later say. Bassist Joe Lally found the experience “weird,” and that going to Chicago to record new songs was less about getting a new album out of the sessions, “it was more about working with Steve.”

The resulting demos were not what the band or producer wanted. The song “Public Witness Program,” had the same buzzsaw guitar and sped-up tempo of what you’d expect from one of Albini’s own Shellac songs. “Great Cop,” sounded much more like a raging hardcore song than the band may have wanted. The sessions, which float around file sharing sites and YouTube, would end up being simply a footnote in American indie history; titans from the 1980s underground getting together to mess around. In the end, after they made it back home to D.C., the band received a fax from Albini saying, “I think we dropped the ball.”

The band just couldn’t beat the sound they created in their hometown, so they entered Inner Ear Studios with Don Zientara and Ted Niceley in the autumn of 1992. When they finally emerged playing their first show on February 4th, 1993, at the Peppermint Beach Club in Virginia Beach, the 1,200-person crowd got a set filled with almost all new material, peppered with older songs like “Suggestion” and “Repeater.” The band went on an American tour that stretched over 60 shows. In on the Kill Taker was released on June 30th, sold around 200,000 copies in its first week alone, and Fugazi cracked the Billboard Top 200. Later in August, they played a show in front of the Washington Monument to celebrate the 30th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King’s march on Washington. Five-thousand people crowded the outdoor Sylvan Theater and this time, when they played their new songs, the crowd knew every word.

Like the albums that came before it, In on the Kill Taker begins small and grows into something larger. Maybe it’s a metaphor for how Fugazi sees the world, or at least the one they helped to build: “Facet Squared” opens with a few seconds of near-silence that builds into feedback, then some guitar mimicking a heartbeat checks in at the 15-second mark, joined in by the rest of the band who work together building up what sounds like it will be a slow jam with no real leader. The guitars, along with Joe Lally’s bass and Brendan Canty’s drums, all work together like a machine. MacKaye’s guitar takes over for a few seconds, signaling the next level the song is about to take. That buildup leads to one of MacKaye’s most furious deliveries as a singer, opening by claiming, “Pride no longer has definition,” with the kind of energy and anger he channeled in his younger days with Minor Threat. The song ends and cuts right into Canty pounding away to start the Guy Picciotto-fronted “Public Witness Program.” Complete with handclaps, a ringing chorus, and Picciotto yelling, “Can I get a witness” like a punk preacher; it showcases the band at their most driving. This is the closest you get to a polished Fugazi record, but by no means is it slick.

MacKaye, in an interview for Brandon Gentry’s book Capitol Contingency: Post-Punk, Indie Rock, and Noise Pop in Washington, D.C., 1991-1999, believed that little bit of shine was intentional, the result of producer Ted Niceley reacting to what he heard from the popular bands with the same DNA as Fugazi that were getting heavy airplay. “It’s that consciousness of radio,” MacKaye said, “that puts me off a little bit,” while also railing against the producer’s “total fixation on detail.” Yet it’s exactly that consciousness of radio and fixation to details that gives In on the Kill Taker its real edge. It’s hard to imagine a song like “Cassavetes,” with Picciotto conjuring up the ghost of the dead director, screaming, “Shut up! This is my last picture,” being sandwiched between the Smashing Pumpkins and Candlebox on a radio station’s playlist. The extra lacquer on top only makes it more scathing and visceral.

There’s no single on In on the Kill Taker. Besides “Waiting Room” somehow becoming one of the defining Gen. X anthems, Fugazi never set out to make any one song hold any more importance over the others to try and get radio program directors to pay attention. In fact, on their third album, they threw all curve balls, going from fast and hard to slow to mathy and instrumental. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Picciotto and MacKaye had helped lay the foundation for the hardcore and emo scenes in the ’80s with Rites of Spring and Minor Threat respectively. The roots of Fugazi were blooming out into hundreds of sub-genres and taking hold in regional scenes across the country. Fugazi appealed to such a vast swath of people, something a lot of punk, hardcore or indie bands couldn’t claim in 1993, and In on the Kill Taker had something for everyone.

Songs like “Smallpox Champion,” again with that slow start that builds, then blows up into Picciotto delivering a sermon, railing against America being a country founded on genocide, “The end of the future and all that you own.” While “23 Beats Off” sounds like a song from Wire’s early years literally stretched and pulled out to nearly seven minutes, MacKaye going from singing (as best he can) to screaming about a man who was once “at the center of some ticker tape parade,” who turns into “a household name with HIV.” You get a dose of the past, present, and future listening to these twelve tracks.

Lyrically, it’s also one of the more ambitious albums from the era. While burying any meaning beneath a pile of words like Cobain or bands like Pavement were so fond of doing was certainly du jour, Fugazi liked to mix things up. Picciotto flexed that English degree he got from Georgetown, while MacKaye’s muses were Marx and issues of The Nation. The band blends political with poetic, while sometimes erring on the side of the latter. If there’s any deeper meaning behind “Walken’s Syndrome,” besides being an ode to Christopher Walken’s character in Annie Hall, it’s difficult to tell what that is. “Facet Squared,” with MacKaye singing about how “flags are such ugly things,” could either be about nationalism or the facades people wear when they go out in public, you pick. Maybe that’s what they wanted the listener to do.

Fugazi were so unbelievably popular that it was more so the idea of Fugazi had caught on like it was just another adjective like goth or grunge. Even with their famous anti-merchandise stance, an entire small economy of bootleg shirts popped up, including the infamous “This Is Not A Fugazi T-Shirt” t-shirt. The press also took even more notice. Rolling Stone, in a positive review, said Fugazi had inherited the title of “The only band that matters” from the Clash, while Spin wasn’t so hot on it, calling the members “radical middle-class white boys” and the album “rigid, predictable.” The food critic Jonathan Gold, whose music writing tends to be overlooked when discussing his oeuvre, gave it three out of four stars in his LA Times review. In on the Kill Taker wasn’t hailed as a masterpiece or an album that was changing the game, but everybody needed to weigh in on Fugazi.

And as a profile that came out in the Washington Post a month after the album’s release showed, everybody wanted to be associated with them. The article mentions fans like Eddie Vedder, “rock’s couple of the moment,” Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love, and Michael Stipe, who shows up to one of the band’s shows in Los Angeles: “He dances the hokey-pokey in the street in front of the Capitol Theatre with Fugazi drummer Brendan Canty,” in a very 1990s moment. In on the Kill Taker isn’t brought up until somewhere near the bottom of the piece. It was almost like saying that you liked or knew them was like a badge of honor, it absolved you of your own sins. The music was eclipsed by the message.

Mainstream interest in Fugazi was never as strong as it was during the period surrounding their third album. Two years later, when they released Red Medicine, the spotlight had shifted to pop-punk bands like Green Day and the Offspring. Fugazi continued to put out albums and pack shows that usually cost around five dollars, but the press was less interested in figuring out this crazy band with their wild set of ideals.

Many of the people who did pay attention to Fugazi, however, reacted. Like Brian Eno said of the initial 10,000 or so people who heard the Velvet Underground when their first album came out, the hundreds of thousands of people who bought In on the Kill Taker or saw the band as they trekked across America, Canada, Japan, Australia and New Zealand, that year and beyond, were impacted in some way. Maybe it was one kid out of 1,200 in attendance on September 27th, 1993 who saw them in Philly with the Spinanes and Rancid, or another of the 100 who saw them in Kyoto, Japan. Maybe a 15-year-old girl read about them in a magazine, this band that everybody was talking about, and decided to start her own band. Maybe it was a kid in El Paso, or a kid in Iowa City, or Greensboro. Maybe they inspired another kid to start a zine, which led them to realize they wanted to be a writer. Maybe 10,000 teens were so moved by Fugazi in 1993 that the ideas the band lived and worked by were ingrained into how those people have tried to go out and face the world.