Happy Lupercalia!
Now, I know traditionally we're supposed to perform animal sacrifice and run around the town whipping people with floggers made of sacrificed goat and dog skin to promote fertility and ease the pains of childbirth, but honestly? I don't even have two goats to sacrifice. I know, it's embarrassing; who realizes they're fresh out off male goats the very day of the festival? I do have a dog, but anyone who tries to sacrifice her is getting punched in the throat.
But I still do want to honor Lupa the she wolf, and Faunus, that horned (and horny) god of the forest. Therefore, I present this picspam in their names. FYI, there's some blood in here. Nothing that's not from an injury sustained in the line of rock, but I thought I'd give you a heads up.
Spencerius Iacobus Sura, with some Brennius Bonafatius Urias and Georgius Rianus Roscus
No, Spencer, the women are supposed to be whipped on their hands to promote fertility, not the men.
I don't even want to be fertile, but I think maybe I'm pregnant, now.
Hi, naked backs. Hi. Hi, Spencer's arms. I like you a lot.
He just wants to look like he got whipped on the hands. In reality, I'm pretty sure that's ketchup. Or maybe if you're a hipster, menstrual blood's the new hand lotion. Who can keep up with those wacky hipsters?
In his goat skin cap from last year's festival.
Like I told
pennyplainknits, it's a good thing he's not smiling in this photo or we'd all be dead from hot.
Brennius knows not the meaning of the word gravitatis.
And now just a collection of things that I find hot. Because while technically, Lupercalia is about fertility, let's be real. It's about fucking.
I can focus on little but his thighs.
I love every single one of their faces.
I want so many Reservoir Dogs AUs, you don't even know. Only without all the torture and everybody dying in the end.
Oh. Hi. You're quite lovely, aren't you?
I'm too lazy to look up how to Latinize Dallon. Let's just call him Dallonus and say that he's an attractive man, okay?
Seriously, these boys. I can't decide if I should be amused or aroused.
Amused.
Aroused.
Amused.
Aroused.
Horrified.
Impressed.
Impressed and amused.
Amused and kind of aroused.
Wow. He's bendy.
And back to aroused.
Speaking of which...
Mea Amor Chemica, starring Francus Antonius Ierus, Michaelis Iacobus Vatia, Gerardus Arcturus Vatia, and Reimundus Manlius Taurus
Ow, ow, ow, Frankie! Once again, you're not the one who's supposed to get whipped! Huh. That could be a line from a fic. Somebody write that for me.
Okay, that really happened because Frank plays like this.
And this.
And this.
Action shot!
Frankie, goddamnit, Lupercalia is about preventing sterility.
But his hands are fine, now, see?
Leathermouth Frankie scares me and turns me on in equal, confusing amounts.
My Chem Frank? Not scary, just hot.
I actually stopped giving a lot of my Frank pictures custom names because they were all just variations on, "OMG forever the prettiest."
I usually even think he's prettier than this guy, but Gee's got that gamine look down pat here.
Isn't this perfect? It's Frank, Frank, Frank, oooooh, Mikey!
Mikeyway, always my favorite.
Because of reasons.
I like usually-high scene kid Bullets-era Mikey.
And Dear Lord God Who Let Him Near an Iron? Revenge-era Mikey.
He maybe got a little too into his flat iron for a while, there.
I honestly think he was trying to make his hair look like a Klingon Bird of Prey.
I think he might love boots even more than I do. Which is fine. He looks good.
I never get tired of looking at all his angles and lines.
I never get tired of the fact that most of the lyrics Pete contributed to Vices and Virtues are about the Summer of Like. Sing to me about Mikeyway, Brendon! Sing!
Unf.
Two things about this photo. One, Mikey has always preferred silver basses as shown here and in his wicked fucking awesome, super sparkly signature Mustang bass. Two, Gerard actually looks fourteen years old.
The sparkles make me so happy.
Thankfully, Gerard no longer looks fourteen.
Even in the Eyeball days Gerard was being deliberately homoerotic. Or am I just reading too much into the way he was always touching his open, round mouth like that.
Does anyone else think maybe Gerard has a painting in his attic that's aging instead of him?
I'm too lazy to think of a clever segue! Ray and Frank are my favorites, too.
Favorites!
Faaaaavorites.
Ray might be even better at looking like a badass motherfucker with his foot up on the amp than Mikey.
And also, he's the man with the plan. Where would we be without Ray Toro? We'd be in a world with no My Chemical Romance, and that would suck.
Also, he has natural rock star hair.
And now some professional cyclists just so Bananas doesn't feel left out, even though I think she should totally become attracted to men with tattoos and questionable personal hygiene just so we can squee over Frank and Mikey together. Instead, I give you European men who wear scarves well.
This is Tyler Farrar (pronounced FAIR-uh). He's not actually European, he's American, but he can rock a scarf. Damnit, why don't I have any pictures of him in a scarf?
He wanted to win stage 15 of the Tour de France. He didn't. But he didn't break his wrist this year, so bonus! A month after this photo was taken he did have to quit the Vuelta a Espana because he was coughing up blood. Actually, he didn't quit; team management forcibly removed him. He was just coughing up blood and cycling hundreds of miles because that's what pro cyclists do. Crazy bastards.
His tattoos are all related to Buddhist teachings because he's a hippie.
In the off season, he starts to look like a lumberjack. And nobody minds.
This pretty motherfucker in a scarf is Jakob Fuglsang (YAH-cub and then, well, fuck it. FOOL-sahng? FOO-gul-sang? FOOSH-lang? Nobody knows!)
What we do know is that he can rock a scarf. There's also video of him with a cut in his leg so deep you can see his tibia. And he's just chilling in his hotel room all unconcerned, not even going to the hospital, just letting somebody from the team pour iodine over his leg and bandage it up all casual. Crazy bastards.
This wee child is Thomas Riis.
Posting a picture of him being extra young just to make Bananas feel bad.
What is he, a model?
Oh, wait, no, that would be his brother, Jesper.
Chris Sorensen and Matti Breschel wearing Viking hats for some reason.
Frank and Andy Schleck. Further proof for my theory that dolphins are evil.
Random whatevers at the end, as usual.
Belly!
So drunk.
Tiny little wrists.
That's right, Bogart. You get that disgusting beer out of your daddy's house and bring him back a nice IPA.
Hi, Eva Green. I don't know why you're in my bandom folder, but I'm okay with it.
We so rarely get to see the tattoos on Frank's legs.
Rocking on the sparkly bass.
Spencer strutting off stage with a bra in his hand.
I am a bad person for thinking the thoughts I just did. No, wait, we're all bad people. Awesome.
Oh, shit.
Did I post this one already? Yes?
Tell 'em what I think, Ray!
And also?
This entry was originally posted at http://janesays.dreamwidth.org/14210.html. Comment wherever you'd like.
But I still do want to honor Lupa the she wolf, and Faunus, that horned (and horny) god of the forest. Therefore, I present this picspam in their names. FYI, there's some blood in here. Nothing that's not from an injury sustained in the line of rock, but I thought I'd give you a heads up.
Spencerius Iacobus Sura, with some Brennius Bonafatius Urias and Georgius Rianus Roscus
No, Spencer, the women are supposed to be whipped on their hands to promote fertility, not the men.
I don't even want to be fertile, but I think maybe I'm pregnant, now.
Hi, naked backs. Hi. Hi, Spencer's arms. I like you a lot.
He just wants to look like he got whipped on the hands. In reality, I'm pretty sure that's ketchup. Or maybe if you're a hipster, menstrual blood's the new hand lotion. Who can keep up with those wacky hipsters?
In his goat skin cap from last year's festival.
Like I told
pennyplainknits, it's a good thing he's not smiling in this photo or we'd all be dead from hot.
Brennius knows not the meaning of the word gravitatis.
And now just a collection of things that I find hot. Because while technically, Lupercalia is about fertility, let's be real. It's about fucking.
I can focus on little but his thighs.
I love every single one of their faces.
I want so many Reservoir Dogs AUs, you don't even know. Only without all the torture and everybody dying in the end.
Oh. Hi. You're quite lovely, aren't you?
I'm too lazy to look up how to Latinize Dallon. Let's just call him Dallonus and say that he's an attractive man, okay?
Seriously, these boys. I can't decide if I should be amused or aroused.
Amused.
Aroused.
Amused.
Aroused.
Horrified.
Impressed.
Impressed and amused.
Amused and kind of aroused.
Wow. He's bendy.
And back to aroused.
Speaking of which...
Mea Amor Chemica, starring Francus Antonius Ierus, Michaelis Iacobus Vatia, Gerardus Arcturus Vatia, and Reimundus Manlius Taurus
Ow, ow, ow, Frankie! Once again, you're not the one who's supposed to get whipped! Huh. That could be a line from a fic. Somebody write that for me.
Okay, that really happened because Frank plays like this.
And this.
And this.
Action shot!
Frankie, goddamnit, Lupercalia is about preventing sterility.
But his hands are fine, now, see?
Leathermouth Frankie scares me and turns me on in equal, confusing amounts.
My Chem Frank? Not scary, just hot.
I actually stopped giving a lot of my Frank pictures custom names because they were all just variations on, "OMG forever the prettiest."
I usually even think he's prettier than this guy, but Gee's got that gamine look down pat here.
Isn't this perfect? It's Frank, Frank, Frank, oooooh, Mikey!
Mikeyway, always my favorite.
Because of reasons.
I like usually-high scene kid Bullets-era Mikey.
And Dear Lord God Who Let Him Near an Iron? Revenge-era Mikey.
He maybe got a little too into his flat iron for a while, there.
I honestly think he was trying to make his hair look like a Klingon Bird of Prey.
I think he might love boots even more than I do. Which is fine. He looks good.
I never get tired of looking at all his angles and lines.
I never get tired of the fact that most of the lyrics Pete contributed to Vices and Virtues are about the Summer of Like. Sing to me about Mikeyway, Brendon! Sing!
Unf.
Two things about this photo. One, Mikey has always preferred silver basses as shown here and in his wicked fucking awesome, super sparkly signature Mustang bass. Two, Gerard actually looks fourteen years old.
The sparkles make me so happy.
Thankfully, Gerard no longer looks fourteen.
Even in the Eyeball days Gerard was being deliberately homoerotic. Or am I just reading too much into the way he was always touching his open, round mouth like that.
Does anyone else think maybe Gerard has a painting in his attic that's aging instead of him?
I'm too lazy to think of a clever segue! Ray and Frank are my favorites, too.
Favorites!
Faaaaavorites.
Ray might be even better at looking like a badass motherfucker with his foot up on the amp than Mikey.
And also, he's the man with the plan. Where would we be without Ray Toro? We'd be in a world with no My Chemical Romance, and that would suck.
Also, he has natural rock star hair.
And now some professional cyclists just so Bananas doesn't feel left out, even though I think she should totally become attracted to men with tattoos and questionable personal hygiene just so we can squee over Frank and Mikey together. Instead, I give you European men who wear scarves well.
This is Tyler Farrar (pronounced FAIR-uh). He's not actually European, he's American, but he can rock a scarf. Damnit, why don't I have any pictures of him in a scarf?
He wanted to win stage 15 of the Tour de France. He didn't. But he didn't break his wrist this year, so bonus! A month after this photo was taken he did have to quit the Vuelta a Espana because he was coughing up blood. Actually, he didn't quit; team management forcibly removed him. He was just coughing up blood and cycling hundreds of miles because that's what pro cyclists do. Crazy bastards.
His tattoos are all related to Buddhist teachings because he's a hippie.
In the off season, he starts to look like a lumberjack. And nobody minds.
This pretty motherfucker in a scarf is Jakob Fuglsang (YAH-cub and then, well, fuck it. FOOL-sahng? FOO-gul-sang? FOOSH-lang? Nobody knows!)
What we do know is that he can rock a scarf. There's also video of him with a cut in his leg so deep you can see his tibia. And he's just chilling in his hotel room all unconcerned, not even going to the hospital, just letting somebody from the team pour iodine over his leg and bandage it up all casual. Crazy bastards.
This wee child is Thomas Riis.
Posting a picture of him being extra young just to make Bananas feel bad.
What is he, a model?
Oh, wait, no, that would be his brother, Jesper.
Chris Sorensen and Matti Breschel wearing Viking hats for some reason.
Frank and Andy Schleck. Further proof for my theory that dolphins are evil.
Random whatevers at the end, as usual.
Belly!
So drunk.
Tiny little wrists.
That's right, Bogart. You get that disgusting beer out of your daddy's house and bring him back a nice IPA.
Hi, Eva Green. I don't know why you're in my bandom folder, but I'm okay with it.
We so rarely get to see the tattoos on Frank's legs.
Rocking on the sparkly bass.
Spencer strutting off stage with a bra in his hand.
I am a bad person for thinking the thoughts I just did. No, wait, we're all bad people. Awesome.
Oh, shit.
Did I post this one already? Yes?
Tell 'em what I think, Ray!
And also?
This entry was originally posted at http://janesays.dreamwidth.org/14210.html. Comment wherever you'd like.