#still being in that fandom is a total clown shoes move

[bogunicorn]

re:the last reblog, i figured out some tricks to help with cutting out the self-deprecating humor.

don't let your friends do it, either. interrupting their patterns of self-deprecation helps them, but it also kind of trains them to do the same for you. when my friends or my partner go in hard on insulting themselves, i'll usually try to argue with it, and if that doesn't work, "stop saying shitty things about my friend" usually does. and because of it, they do that to me, too. (this one works best on people you're actually close to. don't... do not say that to someone you're not buddy-buddy with, it'll come off as creepy.)

don't spend too much of your energy trying to hold on to friendships with people who are like 80% negativity, even if it's of the "my life is horrible, let me tell you the ways" kind. being there for your friends is one thing; having a friend that gives you anxiety to be around because most of what comes out of their mouth is super depressing is another. that person probably needs help, but if you're not their therapist or psychiatrist, that's not for you to coddle or fix.

before you start trauma dumping among semi-strangers, ask: what reaction do i actually want? what's the ideal response from this group of people when i start talking about my chronic illness/crippling debt/terrible job/massive insecurity issues? am i actually commiserating with someone in particular? do i just want to complain because a handful of "hug" emojis will genuinely make me feel better? or am i actually just struggling in a way i'm not very good at processing right now and Being Put Upon requires an audience, so surprise, that audience is whoever is just around?

if you suspect that you're bringing the mood down or talking too much about yourself, uh ... fucking stop. even if you're stopping for your own comfort, that's legitimate! but unless the people you're hanging around are really, really shitty and callous, they aren't going to tell you to knock it off, and they really won't tell you to stop if you ask them "hey do you want me to shut up". because that question has two answers: Yes, Please Shut Up, I Am An Asshole, and No, Keep Talking, I Would Rather Die Than Set This Boundary.

also, most importantly... if someone you knew - a stranger, someone you care about, doesn't matter - made the self-deprecating joke you're about to make, would you laugh? would you think it's funny? because believe it or not, you are not so uniquely horrid that it's funny when you do it but not funny when other people do it.

[misterbitches]

hi! this is long as shit i’m sorry. i hope it makes sense. i ahve adhd and like 5 million learning disorders so this is just word vomit cos there’s so many words in my brain. my b.

i’ve had such a tough day so thank you for replying and sharing! @yeedak​ 

i was thinking about what i wrote and i meant to clarify that as well. some cases are fine for both parties and it’s not like you weren’t consenting and it seems like you were happy! same with my friend who was dating a 20 yr old. if they’re happy you know i’ll clown on ‘em but yea. so for anyone that sees these posts your relationship with your partner who is older or whatever. i’m some dumb girl on the internet okay. ill side eye older ppl tho

i think a lot of people feel the same way you do now (me included.) it feels really good at the time but alter we can see the dynamics playing out. i’m 29 now and i think aging is just such a huge process. it’s wild how you at 31 are a totally different person, right?

and the US racism is probably some of the worst ever in its iteration because of slavery which started from europe etc but USA is so fucking unique bc of columbus bringing slaves here and displacing indigenous peoples or hispanola and because america is so influential the way it views race, particularly with black people as objects, has so deeply permeated into the current historical psyche globally. it’s fascinating to track how necessary anti blackness is to the flourishing of america but also the world at this point. also want to point out how fuckign scary sinophobia is here especially for covid. one is a straight historical line (black ppl + the US) and the other had to be manufactured and to continue to exploit the non-white americans and keep antiblackness in tact.i could go on about this all day. the pain of this place is immense.yet as bad as it is here, this is still the only place i truly feel safe as a black person. because of the unique experience we have in america and through the diaspora especially because we are veyr much ocncentrated here. it would be nice to like move to norway and have some alleviation financially or get free healthcare it’s just not feasible if no one looks like me. it’s fucking tough. 

i hope you don’t hate it here though and people treat you with respect. but as you know being a woman and jewish and an immigrant....shit is tough. the USA is a hellhole. :( america is so deeply tainted and desperately bad because it was founded on strife and blood and there’s no way to reverse that and what this country did in turn when it gained enough power and could capitalize off of the colonial forefathers. this is why we hsould all luv revolution!!!

HOWMEVERRRR 

boy oh boy oh BOY OH BOYYYYYYYY. well wlecome to the world of BL lmao especially as an adult with some obviously deep perspective just given your background. it is a fucking mess and it’s a hard mess to like but it pulls you in. i approach it like i do with soap operas since these are essentially telenovelas, you know? just like the drama at a billion. but the tricky part of that is like....what parts of it do we understand for critiquing? because so many of the shows are so bad at being like good pieces of things to look at just production wise and story wise. but i feel like these shows ask us to take them seriously, so why shouldn’t we take the content seriously? and this is being primarily peddled to young girls. 

i bring this up often but i read this thing about yaoi and the interest younger women/girls have in BL and its fascination with pederasty essentially. this component i think is key when we talk about who gets affected by these things the most. society in general is bad 4 girls bla bla we know lmao but in “more sexually conservative” societies it may be harder for these girls to feel safe even expressing normal emotions romantically and sexually and particularly with guys. some people hypothesized, and i think i agree with this hypothesis, that they can live through the casualness of BL. they don’t feel threatened because they can put themselves into the shoes of the other character. oftentimes, the more feminine or the younger. this was in conjunction with the age gap aspect (they say pederasty as well because there’s unethical age gaps that r gross and that is indeed what we would at least call a touch of sexual abuse if people dont feel like calling it an obsession with youth and power and uhhh young ppl and perhaps kids) where maybe girls could see themselves in these situations as the person being saved, loved, taken care of, and sadly also sexually active and penetrated. 

i think that’s just one aspect of it but i do think there’s validity in who gravitates towards it. i cannot imagine seeing this stuff and not getting enough information as a young kid, i sure as fuck know i didn’t!, and seeing these things and you look at it with 0 critique because you’re young and you may have no interest in it or you simply cannot understand what is wrong. no one is teaching you these things and these shows confirm it. and it is wild how intrinsic patriarchy is to BL although in its existence it also can’t be in line with patriarchy given the nature of two [cis] men!

it begs the question about the replacement aspect. is it just so girls can put themselves in these characters shoes? if so then that means we believe that gender is so interchangeable within our relationships and interactions and that doesn’t seem right. there’s more to lgbtq+ than just existing; it’s finding ways to communicate, finding a family, safety, your people, being a free person. there’s a lot to gain and a lot a lot to lose. and a gay man is also not a woman because those are also two distinct experiences.  especially in societies that have a more hidden aspect to sexuality (idk how to word this bc the BL industry would NEVER survive in america but in a way there’s a more “progressive” look at homosexuality but it’s still fucked up because we live in a Society, you know? at the same time look at what we are doing to trans kids. literally waging war so it’s bonkers how we all collectively have some real progress happening but at the same time not at all. the concept of ‘ladyboys’ and the frequency we see trans people in thai shows is wild and something that we absolutely do not see here in the US. still, none of these groups feel safe or are getting better material conditions in either place. we just show the ways we can try and tolerate oppression witout eliminating it imo)

to me it is clear: it’s money. which most things exist to make money so. but also who is the audience for these shows? and they have to market towards them. all that said all hope is not lost there are some decent shows. it’s just like regular media on TV though where it’s so fucking saturated as an industry that it’s literally sifting through garbage. and there are some days when you can handle the trash and others where it really fucking hurts to watch the violence, the rape, the manipulation, the violations, the stupid messaging. i have never seen more people trying to do mental gymnastics and seeing if things were “technically rape” than in teh BL fandom and that is so fucking sad.

i came into these shows at 28 with almost 0 clue of what as media BL was like esp as media that countries can use as soft power with the revenue. but i realize like...i’m 29 now and so many people don’t have a sizeable, though not huge, amount of life experience. and i wonder for people on the internet who are usually searching for something if they spend so much time on it like what a 15 year old girl thinks. what a 20 year old girl thinks. 

it is incredibly problematic and so awful but there’s also some rewards. if you haven’t i would definitely watch i told sunsset about you which i don’t think i’m going to finish and i doubt i’ll watch the second installment (watch this be a lie) but when i say some fucking impeccable storytelling and art? phew. now that is a fucking piece of media that works. it takes from moonlight heavily and you can see like...the artistic dedication is there and the story makes its world and sets up its stakes extremely well. 

i think because this is marketed towards much younger people too they know they dont have to try as hard. but they SHOULD because then you can have a fucking masterpiece like that. i think even this prolific gay thai filmmaker (who is like solidly against the government) who is so respected (and who i like a lot! if u wanna know i can tell u lmao but the films are very uhhhhhhhh “artsy”) would like i told sunset about you. i wish more people had budget like that and also just cared about the stories. it’s the fucking magic of art to figure out what you can do but there is very little incentive honestly. idk i am very pessimistic. there are days when it’s really a great pick me up and distraction but it is never a place i would love for to feel seen or heard but i’m more of the mind of i never trust the mainstream until they prove me wrong ;) 

or i never trust the mainstream and i still buy into it anyway and then cry when i don’t like what i see adn i yell “BOO GET OFF THE STAGE!” when an old man won’t leave a teenager alone

[theres-a-goldensky]

32 Reddie Fic Recs

In honor of the joy I feel in finally getting out of this miserably terrible fucking year of my life, I thought I’d do something fun and make up a list of Reddie fic recs, since this has fandom has taken over my life recently. Strap in, friends. This is gonna be a long one.

These recs are in the order in which I read them. 

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

IT chapter 2 list part two - Reddie

Good Omens fic

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

Various BL Series fic (fandoms: Love By Chance, TharnType, 2Moons series, My Engineer, Until We Meet Again, 2gether, History3: Trapped)

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

All fics are Reddie, all are complete.

** - denotes personal favorite

1. first love / late spring by vowelinthug - ~36,000 words, explicit - They both survive It, but not without some injuries, both physical and psychological. Richie takes Eddie to a secluded cabin to help him recover. And then they accidentally make a podcast. Nice slowburn, a good Richie characterization. I liked the conversations between the two of them, in particular one about Richie’s disdain for shoes that was pitch perfect.

The doctor’s evil eye is on both of them now. “Your friend is gonna be fine. Broken collarbone and a lot of blood loss, but the arm stays on, for now anyway.” Probably at the way Richie sags in relief so hard he groans in pain, the doctor stops looking so severe. “He’s a tough guy. I’ve never seen anyone regain consciousness from that much blood loss just to give me a full medical history.”

“Oh my god,” says Richie, covering his mouth. “I like him so much.”

Bill pats his shoulder in sympathy.

2. the fireworks that go off when you smile by zach_stone - ~10,000 words, teen - Post-movie the adult Losers, including Stan, go on a vacation together. There’s just lots of Richie staring at a wet, shirtless Eddie and pining.

Richie blinks at him, his stomach doing a fucking somersault, pinned under Eddie’s weirdly passionate stare. He swallows another mouthful of beer to stall for time, shifting his gaze away. Spread out before him, the lake looks like flat, black glass. “Jeez, is the risk analyst really telling me to ignore the risks? What’s the world coming to?” he manages to joke.

He expects Eddie to roll his eyes, to huff and lean away again, but he doesn’t. He says, still earnest, “I just think some things are worth the risk.”

And Richie doesn’t know  what  the fuck to do with that. He resolutely tells himself not to puke on Ben and Beverly’s porch, because he thinks if he did it would just be the words  I love Eddie Kaspbrak a hundred times over, all puddled on the slats of wood. He stands up rather abruptly. “I should go to bed,” he says, aware that he’s talking too loud, being too fucking obvious. “I’m jetlagged as fuck. Also maybe a little drunk.”

3. oh, i want the truth to be known by ShowMeAHero - ~7000 words, explicit - Richie sees Eddie die in the deadlights and then manages to save him at the last second, but It skewers him instead. I’m honestly not sure why there isn’t more fic with this premise, because Richie sacrificing his own safety for Eddie and then Eddie losing his shit is absolutely, 100% my jam.

The claw isn’t in Eddie’s chest. Instead, it’s in Richie’s, caught in his side, pinning him to the ground. He chokes on a scream, caught in his throat, and pushes at Eddie, just trying to get them away. He rolls into him, ripping Pennywise’s claw through his side to get away, but once he’s free, he’s scrambling into a half-stumble and dragging Eddie with him until they’re hidden under an outcropping of rock. His side is bleeding, he can feel it, and his entire fucking abdomen hurts, and, for a moment, it’s all he can process.

“Holy shit, Richie,” Eddie exclaims. The pain shuffles to the back of Richie’s mind so he can focus on Eddie instead. He sounds winded, but he’s fucking alive, unhurt and breathing and okay, and Richie huffs a laugh. He’s in so much fucking pain, but he can’t even figure out where it’s all originating from, and the only thought cycling through his brain is it’s okay, he’s okay, Eddie’s okay, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, over and over.

4. we'll be a fine line (we'll be alright)  by buckyjerkbarnes - ~9,000 words, teen - Richie and the other Losers in the hospital after killing It, waiting for news on Eddie. Richie has a bit of a breakdown.

The ambulance ride had been the longest twenty minutes of Richie’s life. He'd tried not to get in the way of the EMTs who worked frantically to keep Eddie alive; who were far more patient with him than Richie likely deserved. By the time they'd rolled up to the emergency entrance at the hospital, Ben stamping his breaks as the rest of the Losers came to a grinding halt not fifteen yards away, Richie was still a sobbing mess. He couldn't see through the cracked lens of his glasses, and when Eddie, who had not opened his eyes or said a word since they were still in the sewers, was about to be wheeled out of sight, Richie made like a battering ram and lunged towards the pair of swinging doors.

“Sir!" An orderly yelped. "You can’t—!"

And Stan, who had materialized at Richie's elbow, told the orderly: "He's the husband."

5. ** It’s Hard to Tell Sometimes by gallopingmelancholia - ~21,000 words, explicit - Eddie divorces his wife and moves to LA to live with Richie. Richie promptly has like five emotional meltdowns over it. So much pining. So much. This is one of very few that has Eddie in the hospital for a realistic amount of time, which I appreciate. When writers have been hoping out of bed after a day or whatever, it really throws me out of the story.

“When can we see him?” Mike asks.

“He’s asleep, but we’ll send in a nurse when he wakes up. I wouldn’t expect it until tomorrow morning at the earliest. He’s been through quite a lot, eleven hours of surgery, and is on a lot of pain medication.”

“Will he survive? What’s the percentage? He’ll want to know the probability, he’s a risk analyst,” Richie says.

The doctor hesitates. “The chances he makes it through the night are 65%.”

“That’s not bad!” Richie says even as his heart drops to somewhere in the region of his feet. The others look at him pitifully. “Tell him we’re here and we love him. Tell him the Losers are here and we’ll see him soon.”

6. ** it’s a nice day to start again by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson) - ~6000 words, teen - Post-movie, Eddie wakes up one morning to discover that Richie and a woman had a shotgun wedding in Vegas the night before. Great, sad-but-trying-not-to-show-it Eddie here. (And yes, Richie is a total disaster gay who marries a woman on a whim.)

 “Are you sitting down?”

 “I didn’t even get out of bed yet! Bev please just tell me what the fuck is happening.”

 “Sorry, I’m sorry. Just- Richie got married.”

 “What? No he didn’t,” Eddie scoffs, throwing the covers off. “I’m not - he’s not even dating anybody, I see him all the time. It’s probably just a big joke or something, that’s-”

 “He got married, in Vegas. It’s all over Twitter, and he- he sent pictures to the group chat last night. She’s some other comedian. None of us have ever met her, he didn’t invite any of us.”

7. Oh, But He Makes You Laugh by MellytheHun - ~9,000 words, mature - Teenage Eddie has to deal with some serious jealousy when a new friend enters their group. This one has a good, slow realization on Eddie’s part.

The boy is in their grade, though not part of their social sphere; he’s nearly as tall as Richie, with light eyes, and walnut colored hair. Eddie recognizes him from his AP bio class, but can’t inwardly recall his name.

The boy nods toward Stanley while keeping eye-contact with Richie, and informs him, “alligators - they can grow up to twenty feet.”

Richie opens his mouth to argue with the new kid, but he’s cut off.

“Which is weird, cause they usually only grow four.”

Eddie watches in abject bewilderment as a hearty, genuine laugh  is startled out of Richie.

8. Richie Tozier: Pray Away the Gay by QueerOnTilMorning - ~4,500 words, teen - The official transcript of Richie Tozier’s comeback Netflix special. A lot of writers try to do Richie’s stand-up routine, but not many can nail it. This one feels realistic and contains actual, like, jokes and stuff.

Because I grew up in this little town called Derry, Maine--nope, absolutely not, do not cheer for that. Fuck Derry! I had this friend, for years he thought I was lactose intolerant, because he'd mention dairy and I'd be like "fuck Derry! Derry tried to fucking kill me!" No, I can eat cheese, I just hate my hometown. They did not fuck with the gays, in Derry. That's probably why I dress so shitty. It's a survival thing. I was already super into dudes. If I had developed fashion sense on top of that? No. Oh my God. It was so--I was so fucking scared all the time.

 And like, to put this in perspective, has anyone ever heard of Henry Bowers? Any true crime fans in the house? Henry Bowers, the baby serial killer? Yeah, you listened to that podcast! My friend Bill was on that podcast, doesn't he have a sexy voice? Anyway, Henry Bowers, also known very creatively as The Derry Killer, murdered a bunch of kids the summer we were thirteen. I say we, because that dude was in my fucking class. There was an active serial killer in Derry during my childhood and still, still my greatest fear was that someone would find out I was gay.

9. RICHIE TOZIER IS...THE COMEBACK CLOWN by owlinaminor & tinypersonhotel - ~11,500, teen - An excellent multimedia fic about Richie’s life with Eddie post-movie.

While Richie Tozier never stops talking, Eddie Kaspbrak never stops moving. Listening to a conversation between the two men is akin to watching a pinball machine with two balls going at once, slamming into each other and the walls and the levers and each other, lighting up their surroundings in a trance as mesmerizing as it is chaotic. (Kaspbrack laughed when I told him this metaphor—apparently Tozier spent many an afternoon at the town arcade when they were kids.)

Over the course of one twenty-minute walk with their dog, a beagle named Stanley, through their L.A. neighborhood, they manage to call off their engagement, call it back on, invite me, uninvite me, call the engagement off again, debate eloping, call the whole thing back on but disinvite everyone except me, and finally agree on what color napkins to have at the reception.

10. ** The Jenga Dream Date by stitchy - ~15,000 words, explicit - Richie and Eddie domestic fluff that starts at Ben and Bev’s wedding. It feels so sweet, and you can just see the happiness radiating off the screen. This is truly the ending they deserve.

Then a seriously, unbearably cute thought occurs to Richie. A thought he can’t immediately share with Eddie, because Bill and Mike each independently cornered him and made him swear not to steal Bev and Ben’s thunder.

Ah, fuck it.

“I can’t think why we would possibly be in another situation in the near future where there’s dancing but also my mother is there for some reason, but holy shit, Eds! I have got to see you dance with Mom. During this very special situation. For which I will make hand calligraphed invitations and hire a photographer and-”

Eddie’s eyes dart in either direction before he lets out a short, slightly hysterical laugh. “Uhhh, I  also have no idea when or why that would happen, or what sort of event that would be appropriate for.”

11. Bad Parts In by 50artists - ~9,000 words, not rated - It’s Richie that ends up in the hospital after it all goes down, and Eddie who has the crisis. And also some serious misapprehensions.

"I feel like Richie might be  slightly  weirded out," Eddie says dryly. "Like oh, hey, we've not spoken for decades and you're the straightest man I know, but it turns out I have been subconsciously in love with you since we were teenagers. I dunno, might make things a bit awkward."

"I'm sorry," says Beverly, "just to clarify, Richie Tozier is the straightest man you know?"

"Dude, have you seen his comedy? It's all, 'I love fucking chicks while drinking beer and watching football'."

"You mean the material that Richie doesn't write himself?'

12. ** We Found Love in a Chili’s ToGo by Amuly - ~14,000, explicit - Richie confesses his feelings to Eddie in the airport before they both headed back to their own lives. This is such a lovely story about friendship and love and putting yourself back together. And there’s some A+++ phone sex.

“Nah, Eds. It’s because I had a big gay crush and needed Stan to bitch at about it.”

Eddie frowned, then shook his head. “That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t bitch at me about it.”

“Well bitching about your secret crush to your secret crush is generally frowned upon, Eds. Kinda fucks up the ‘secret’ part.”

Eddie, bless his tiny heart, didn’t get it for a second. His expression scrunched up, about to say something stupid back to Richie, when his brain processed Richie’s words. In a second his expression fell open, jaw actually agape.

“Oh look: drinks!” Richie grabbed his marg, licking and drinking without even letting the waitress set it down onto the tabletop. Eddie barely had the courtesy left to let her set his down before he was grabbing at it.

13. ** Ask Me About My New Material by twoseas - ~7,000 words, explicit - I could read 10,000 stories about a confused and horny Eddie jerking it to Richie’s stand up without understanding why before they meet again in Derry. This one has a great Richie, who reacts like he got hit in the face with a bat when the truth comes out.

In the restaurant, as the gong resounded around them, Eddie looked up at a four-eyed, messy, middle aged Trashmouth and suddenly it all clicked.

 He had two thoughts.

Oh, he realized, it’s because I’m in love with the dumbass.

And, Aw fuck.

14. No Parenthesis by pineapplecrushface - 13,000 words, explicit - In the deadlights, Stan gives Richie some instructions on how to bring him back. Spoilers: it involves an orgy. And Richie and Eddie dealing with their feelings.

“Okay,” Mike said, holding his hands out to placate him, and honestly Richie was really fucking sick of Mike saying crazy shit and then somehow—somehow!—convincing them to do it anyway. “I’m not saying we have to do it. I’m just saying, the ritual exists and we could do it, and now that it’s out there, I feel like you should all have the choice.”

“Great. I choose no. I’m fucking leaving before I get ritualed into giving all my money to a cult leader and I end up spending the rest of my sad short life on an alpaca farm,” Richie said, standing up too fast and stalking across the room.

“Richie,” Bev said, and she sounded, unbelievably, like she was not thinking this was completely insane.

“Are you fucking serious?” He whirled around to look at them. They were all giving him varying levels of Richie, be reasonable, which was a look he was familiar with, but not when it came to sex rituals, for some fucking reason.

15. ** Stupid Deep series by anonymous - ~50,000 words, explicit - Richie has a huge dick, and Eddie is obsessed with it. Come for the super, super hot sex, stay for the sweet romance, twist of angst and happy ending.

It’s been five months since then, and Eddie has spent at least 40% of that time thinking about Richie’s big fucking dick. He spends about 20% working from home, 20% arguing with Richie about dumb shit, and the remaining 30% sleeping—this adds up to 110%, but that’s because there’s overlap between the sleeping and the thinking about Richie’s huge dick in the form of extremely graphic dreams.

He thinks about Richie’s dick in the shower. He thinks about Richie’s dick when they’re watching TV together. He thinks about Richie’s dick when he’s trying to eat breakfast. He hasn’t even seen it hard. But god, he thinks about it. Thinks about it hot and thick in his hand, thinks about it twitching as Eddie strokes it, thinks about it stretching his lips, thinks about it leaking precum all over Eddie’s fingers and tongue and stomach. And, most importantly—most vividly—he thinks about Richie’s dick inside of him, filling him up, fucking him.

At the same time, Eddie also spent a good amount of time, woven through the rest of his daily activities, falling so deeply in love with his best-friend-cum-roommate that it was disturbing at best. There was pining. There were lingering glances. There was lying on Richie’s bed while he was out just to ease the ache in his chest with Richie’s warm, familiar scent, which is disgusting and Eddie hates to think about it. There were, in Eddie’s darkest moments, daydreams about Richie holding his hand and kissing him and telling Eddie he’s in love with him. Like a fucking sap.

16. I’m quite alright hiding today by remusjohn - ~7,000 words, explicit - Eddie kisses Richie out of the deadlights, but Richie doesn’t know if that means anything.

On the first night they don’t do much of anything. They unpack (well, Eddie unpacks his massive bags while Richie tries to figure out how to sign in to his Netflix account on the tiny TV in the living room), and they order in, and they argue over what to watch while they’re eating, and Eddie falls asleep some hours later with his head tucked into Richie’s shoulder, and Richie tries not to think too much of it.

There’s been a lot of that, the last couple of days. Richie doesn’t know how to say, You kissed me to wake me up from the deadlights and I don’t know if you did it to save my life or if there’s something else too, but it’s kind of killing me, man.

So Richie doesn’t say anything at all.

17. Haunt Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me by Vulcanodon - ~20,000 words, explicit - AU where Eddie and Richie are ghost hunters who get stuck in a very trippy haunted house. This concept really shouldn’t work, and I’m not big on AUs in the fandom, but the relationship between the two of them really sells it. And, obviously, the pining. There’s so much.

The only time Eddie has ever witnessed Richie freaking out was when they had been fucking about in the woods near Montana for their werewolf episode. Eddie had been walking backwards, trying to get Richie and a creepy footprint in frame when he had suddenly felt nothing but air behind him. He had fallen for an impressively long time down the hill, blacking out briefly when a branch caught his head and when he came to Richie had been leaning over him, white and frantic, hands all fisted up in Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie, Eddie, Eds, Richie had said, nearly crying. Are you alright, can you talk?

Is my camera broken? Eddie had managed woozily to say, and for a moment Eddie had thought Richie might do something crazy like slap him or even kiss him.

He hadn’t done either in the end and Eddie remembers the disappointment, even with the haze of a mild concussion.

18. Five Times The Losers Gave Richie Permission by toomuchrootbeer -  ~11,000 words, mature - Each loser tries to let Richie know that they know in their own special way.  

“No I don’t mind,” Stan says evenly, shrugging his shoulders like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I don’t mind any of it.”

“Cool,” Richie chirps, grabbing his backpack off of the grass and pushing himself to his feet. “Pip pip Edward,” he calls. “Shall we endeavor to find you a cleaner wardrobe?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie says back, but there is no venom behind his words.

But then Stan is reaching out, gripping Richie’s arm, “Dude what are you-”

“I don’t mind any of it, Tozier,” he repeats, voice lower and his words somehow more weighty, fixing Richie with an indecipherable look. “And I don’t think any of the other Losers would mind it either. If you wanted to,” he jerks his head in the direction of Eddie, “you know.”

19. String Theory by neverfaraway - ~17,000 words, mature - Richie starts slowly regaining his memories and has a disturbing experience in the deadlights.

The thing is, Richie knows this is a version of himself and Eddie that never existed. He can taste the pretence on the tip of his tongue, but the sticky air seems to sharpen and solidify around him. He can’t remember where he was before this moment, watching his fingers alight on the buckle of Eddie’s hundred-dollar belt.

The Voice wavers and Richie comes pouring through the cracks. It's painful to watch the careful way he places his hands on Eddie’s skin. "Fuck, I missed you," he says. "Even when I couldn't remember, I had a hole right through me, straight through the middle. You left a fucking entry and exit wound."

"Damnit, Richie," Eddie mutters, blinking rapidly. "Beep, beep."

20. hoping to be found by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson) - ~25,000 words, mature - Things don’t magically work out after Derry for Eddie. He doesn’t know what else to do, so he goes back to Myra and his depressig life. But at least now he has his friends. He has Richie.

With his memories back now, with all the knowledge of his mother and his placebos and his fake inhaler and his friends, it feels like Eddie has been living the last 27 years in sickly, yellow sepia tones. His memories and even the brief time he spent with everyone at the Chinese restaurant shine in his mind in vivid technicolor, and everything else pales in comparison.

He thought he would die, and now he doesn’t have a plan. His life in New York is miserable and cramped and leaves him feeling small, so he puts it off as long as he can.

The drive isn’t long, even with Eddie taking his time. He takes a detour just to drive along the coast and see the ocean, and stops at any given exit or National Forest along the way that strikes his fancy. He’s still home before nightfall.

21. After Derry series by pineapplecrushface - ~47,000 words, explicit - Richie and Eddie are both pining and miserable disasters post-movie. Until they finally get their shit together and figure some things out.

He woke when Eddie sat on the edge of the bed and touched his back, under his disgusting shirt. “Hey,” he said. “Your turn. I mean, your turn after I wash my hand again. What did you lie down in?”

“Your mom,” he said, sitting up and glaring at Eddie, who was half-naked, a towel wrapped around his waist. “How do you all look so good and I ended up looking like fucking Christopher Lloyd? Like, not young Christopher Lloyd. Present day.”

Eddie’s hand was still tucked under his shirt, rubbing a path across his lower back. “I guess you did grow into your looks.”

“Oh, fuck you, you weirdly muscular little shitweasel,” Richie said, escaping to the shower so he didn’t have to look at the slope of Eddie’s arms. He was weak for that, the line of a man’s shoulders and back. He was weak for all of Eddie, really. After everything he had seen, he guessed it was something he could admit to himself. There was no panic left in it.

22. for better, for worse by kaspbrak_kid - ~26,000 words, not rated - Eddie has just gotten through a messy divorce and is trying to deal with the fact that he’s been in love with Richie for 30 years, and then he has to go to Ben and Bev’s wedding. Not a great combination of things.

Eddie blows out a shaky breath and puts down his phone, then picks it back up again, restless. He scrolls up through his and Richie’s texts.

They’re not that frequent. They talk in the group chat, mostly. Eddie thinks about texting him all the time, several times a day, and then never does. It’s all just stupid shit, anyway. A dream he had or a movie he saw on TV that he remembers Richie used to like, and does he still like it? Some things his therapist tells him he should say, like that he’s been in love with Richie for somewhere between six months and thirty-odd years.

Instead, most of their private texts are just inane bickering, or Richie trying out jokes on him, or Eddie telling Richie how to clean the cut he just accidentally gave himself opening a can. He could have just googled it. But he asked Eddie.

23. feet on the ground, head in the sky by peggyolson - ~21,000 words, teen - I’m kind of a sucker for the slowburn, falling in love over distance trope. This one does it well, with bonus Richie dealing with his issues and figuring shit out.

Mostly, though, it’s just a slight tug at the back of his mind, another part of his day. A mumbled  let me call Eddie, like an afterthought, while he’s tapping his foot in line at Whole Foods.

Eddie always, always answers.

“Edward Kaspbrak,” he chirps during business hours, dry and glib, and Richie will respond in a deep, exaggerated baritone with something awful like  Mr. Kaspbrak, your test results are in and unfortunately you  will  keep shrinking at an alarming rate for the rest of your life, something barely funny that he says just to get a reaction.

(It had been  such  a mistake to give Richie his work number.)

24. it’s about time that you just unwind by fuckener - ~9,500 words, explicit - Eddie finds out that Richie is gay via his stand-up and promptly loses his mind.

“Yeah? Mine was weird, guys, I’m not going to lie. I came up with this really good idea on how to cause total chaos at a family event, you wanna hear it?” There it was - glasses adjustment, not even past the one minute mark. “If you really want to shake up another dull as fuck Thanksgiving with your parents, just wait ‘til you’re in your forties and your elderly father is spooning out his first helping of mashed potatoes for the night and then drop the bomb that you’ve been gay the whole time. Boom, happy Thanksgiving. Pass the sweet corn, I want to fuck the huge green dude on the can.” People laughed. Richie did that thing with his face between a smile and a scowl. “It’s the long game, yeah, but -”

Eddie slammed his laptop shut.

25. feel this burning, love of mine by floatingonthelehigh - 17,000 words, mature - The clown is a bastard. Richie gets a second chance.

“Don’t leave,” Eddie says quietly, and god  fucking  damn it, it breaks him that Eddie thinks he ever would.

“No,  fuck no, Eddie. I’m not going to.” He adjusts his grip on the jacket against Eddie’s stomach, winces when Eddie gasps in pain. Richie’s lip shakes again as he just keeps talking. “Frankly I’m insulted that you’d think I’d leave you, after just remembering you're my best fucking friend in the world, after twenty seven fucking years. My clown-murdering partner in crime! How could I ever leave you? Fuck no, I’m not leaving you, Eds. Idiot,” He laughs emptily, rubbing Eddie’s cheek, and pauses, beginning to nod to himself as a goal flits into his mind. “I’m going to pick you up, I’m going to get you out of here, to a hospital. Right now. And—” Eddie’s grip on his arm tightens, and he stops.

26. hey there demons (it's me, ya boi) by dharmainitiative - 12,000 words, teen - Is this another ghosthunters AU? Why, yes it is. I don’t know why there are two of these, but I enjoyed them both. This one is much lighter, and I really liked the way that the writer creates a very lived-in feeling as soon as you jump into this universe.

 As it was, BuzzFeed wasn’t a bad place to work, despite all the shit Richie gave it. He was paid well, there were always a bunch of cushy chairs everywhere, and the food that got brought in for lunch everyday was way better than the shitty grilled cheeses he ate at home for dinner. And despite what Richie expected, his coworkers were actually pretty cool, all things considered. Sure, they were all millenials who thought landing an internship at BuzzFeed was the height of success, but most of them were friendly, and occasionally funny, and like Richie, just excited to get paid to do something that required little to no effort.

 Most of them, at least. There was also Eddie Kaspbrak.

 Richie met Eddie his first day at BuzzFeed, when he was shown his desk and the incessantly chatty intern that sat at the desk right next to him. Working side by side — literally — let Richie learn a lot of things about Eddie Kaspbrak: he was a neurotic hypochondriac, exclusively owned Polo shirts, and talked faster than Richie could even blink.

27. New Page, Same Old Book by Rend_Herring - 17,000 words, explicit - Post-movie, Eddie divorces his wife, moves across the country and makes himself comfortable in Richie’s home. Richie is totally fine and not freaking out at all.

He clips the wall coming into the foyer, practically crashes over the little table he uses to stack mail—fumbles around with the chain, the deadbolt, before finally wrenching open the door.  It doesn’t occur to him until he’s sending it bouncing back against the doorstop, that it might have been a good idea to check the peephole and make sure it actually  wasn’t  some asshole out for a smash and grab in the middle of the night, or worse — a  fan.  

Richie would be less dumbfounded by either option.

He squints at the person standing in front of him, blinks.

“I’ve had this dream before,” Richie says, voice still croaky from sleep, “usually you’re wearing less clothes.”

“Jesus christ,” Eddie sighs, and rolls his eyes when Richie jumps back a bit, genuinely startled that it’s  not some manufacturing of his sordid imagination.  “I knew I shouldn’t have come here.”

28. Drives Me Wild by rustywrites - ~4,000 words, explicit - Eddie and Richie have hotel sex after RIchie wins himself an Emmy.

"I thought I told you no more jokes about how much you love my dick," Eddie says, shifting to straddle Richie's waist in earnest, rolling his hips downward just to emphasize his point, no doubt. His hands are braced on both of Richie's shoulders, pinning him back with his bodyweight, while Richie's hands are on his waist, holding him in place. It's not the most comfortable position, all things considered--Richie's knees are bent over the end of the mattress, his feet still on the floor, and they're both still in their fucking monkey suits.

Richie had tried to make the case with his agent and his manager that he should be allowed to attend the Emmys in the same clothes he always wore (jeans, a shitty t-shirt, a semi-fashionable jacket, you know, the works.) They were good enough for his specials, one of which had earned him the nomination to begin with, but both Anna and Johnathan had pushed back hard, and when Eddie had not-so-subtly sided with them, well. Suit and tie it was.

29. Rewrite by sachi_sama - ~13,000 words, mature - Stan is dead, but somehow only Eddie can see him as they race to beat It. That’s...probably not a good sign. (note: Stan stays dead in this fic.)

“Whoa. Hey, Eds, you being a weepy drunk over there?” Richie asks, and he scoots over into Stan's seemingly empty chair, and Stan vanishes as Richie's hand is suddenly on Eddie's shoulder.

“I just—I saw...” Eddie pauses, and he wipes his hands over his eyes, sniffling. When's the last time he cried? It makes his head hurt every time. “Fuck. I'm sorry, guys.” He stands abruptly. “I'm gonna go splash some water on my face.” He hurriedly exits the room and he hears Mike asking what he saw, but Eddie is already power-walking across the restaurant to the bathroom, aware Dead Stan is hot on his heels.

“Lucky. The bathroom is empty,” Stan says as he leans against the wall. Eddie looks at him, really looks, and he sees the blood on Stan's wrists.

30. ** we are all going forward, none of us are going back series by theappliepielifestyle - ~21,000 words, teen - Richie gets stuck in a time loop and forced to repeat their last stand at Neibolt over and over until he gets it right.

Richie hears himself finish saying Let’s kill this clown  and it’s only when he finishes forming the  n  that reality sets in. What the  fuck -

He whirls around. Everyone’s standing around him, just like they were last night - they’re in front of the fucking house, it’s standing again.

“What the fuck,” Richie croaks. “No, come on - what’s going on? Ohhhh fuck.”

He only lets himself stare at it for a few seconds of unbridled hate before he keeps looking at the others, who are now staring at him, pausing from where they’d all taken a step towards the house before looking back and stopping to watch Richie’s nervous breakdown.

31. ** keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice. by theapplepielifestyle - 16,000 words, teen - Eddie dies, sort of, and meets Stan in the afterlife. The two of them realize that they can communicate with their friends in their dreams. Eddie has to watch Richie slowly breakdown in his absence.

32. ** happily ever afters all the way around series by theapplepielifestyle - ~35,000 words, teen - I have so much appreciation for this author’s desire to fix the ending by any means necessary. In this one, that good old turtle lends a hand and sends Richie back in time to fix everything. It’s...a lot.

Then it smooths out into an actual scene, if jumpy: a sigil on wooden boards that look a lot like the floor of Richie’s apartment. The sigil is probably drawn in blood, but it could also be red paint. Although Richie’s being  very  optimistic about that. Anyway, the dream is mostly that: the sigil being drawn, slow and precise, by Richie. It’s dark in the dream, and the sigil being drawn is overcut with more fleeting images, chased with sounds: Stan’s bloody hand dangling out of a bath. Stan as a kid, on the tail end of saying something as he walks home in the evening. Eddie with blank eyed, slumped in IT’s lair. Eddie as a kid, in mid-argument in the clubhouse. A voice so deep and impossible that it hurts, a voice that reminds him of the turtle’s gaze:  come back come back you can change the -

At the end of the dream, the scene will stabilize. Dream-Richie will say some shit he can't make out. Then he'll say the one thing he can make out, which is: I’m coming.

And then he’ll wake up.

LINK TO REDDIE FIC REC LIST PART TWO 

[therodrigator6]

She-Ra Season 5... Let’s See:

Someone asked me just why precisely I ended up disliking Season 5 the way that I did, and yanno, I’m gonna lay down my honest thoughts here for ya’ll who follow me and mught be interested in my very particular take.

AND IT MUST BE SAID BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE, my Ultimate view of the season... and I guess my final take on SPOP as a whole is Askewed, because by the final 2 or 3 episodes I began to skim a lot, just trying to END IT, so bear that in mind I guess.

I mean, there were a good bunch of things from this season that were very much disappointing to me.

I felt as though, many of the conflicts AND GROWTHS that had been established for the characters and their relationships, obviously I mean Bow, Glimmer, Catra and Adora were somehow... either modified, forgone entirely, or diminished for the most part.

One I’ll mention right now would be Glimmer’s and Adora’s. Leaving from season 4, the conflict within their friendship and the strain generated by Glimmer’s dispair of losing her mom, activating the heart and hurting Adora were, to my perspective atleast, played to be a BIG pivotal moment in the show, and a Huge deal in terms of the exploration of that relationship...

And it was resolved in a half minute teary eyed apology... I guess. Suddenly all the guilt on both parties fell away... No more LITERAL DISPAIR to have each other safe...

Then hanging off of those same conflicts.. Bow and Glimmer’s?? which, I personally appreciated the fact that we got to see Bow affected by Glimmer’s actions and we also got a taste of an ideal of redemption and atonement for one’s mistakes through Glimmer... but same thing? Half an episode of some RATHER OOC... harsh looks and words between them? And that was that.

It must be said, I liked a lot of the clashes brought up within the princesses themselves. Entrapta and Mermista’s scene with the antenna was very nice for me.

And oh Boi, the Big Fish.

Catra and Adora. This one just straight up hurt, AND NOT EVEN FOR THE REASON YOU MIGHT THINK!   I LEGIT... Would not have minded Catradora AT ALL, But I always set a high price for it.

Through the seasons, specially 3 and 4, I UNDERSTOOD that Catra and Adora had a very weird, askewed and very much not healthy relationship, one that, although was forged and maintained with much TRUE LOVE AND AFFECTION, also had a struggle of understanding. Both had erroneus views of one an other and of their love.

Ultimately, to not analize Catra and Adora’s whole turnabouts... by seasons 3 and 4, My understanding was that Adora was ready to move on from a person who had simply MADE A DECISSION, who, no matter how much she would try, would hurt her out of resentment.

And by season 4 I understood out of Catra, that she had burned all the bridges she could ever have, she was alone, she made her choice right?

So how could their romantic Love come to fruition? Again, this was very much MY particular understanding of their relationship, BY SEASON 3, ANY UNCONDITIONAL LOVE THEY HAD, I THOUGHT TO BE GONE.

So my... ideal? I guess, was: In order for them to be okay with one another again, both of them have to grow independently.

JUST ON CATRA ALONE? I had such big hopes for the way her redemption would’ve been met...  In my eyes, no matter how much hardship she had went through, she ultimately became a terrible person, fueled by a horrid desperation and emotional torment yes, but she still had choices, she chose.

To me, her redemption had to have been wanted out of an understanding that she would have to make up for ALL her wrongs, because she felt that would be the right thing to do in the end...

My big hope would’ve been for GLIMMER to teach her that.

That’s another thing I hated so MUCH about this season, 2 episodes worth of being in space jail, and they talked a total of 2 TIMES!!! :D And I guess that was enough :V

And Catra saves Glimmer yes... but not because it was right? SHE DID IT FOR ADORA!

Don’t get me wrong, it was a good moment to say Oh She Still Loves Adora.

BUT AGAIN, SO SHE REGRETS NOTHING??? NONE OF THE PAIN AND WRONGS SHE CAUSED TO OTHERSSSSS???? JUST TO PROTECT ADORA.

Go off I guess.

Then we move on to Adora... desperately and unconditionaly STILL wanting to save Catra, Which I sort of get??? But the reasoning the story gave me was... that it was Out Of Unconditional Love... again.  A PROMISE~

God I mean, to me that was such a terrible lesson to teach, a horrid message.

“All your wrongs CAN be forgiven, so long as I love you, and You love me back! We promised each other as much! :V”

Hell, Noelle said it herself at some point: “What happens when you’re the toxic friend?”

What happens when you are the person who is making others miserable?

What I would’ve hoped for, was for the answer to be: “That sometimes you end up burning bridges when you hurt those you love, and sometimes it’s impossible to rebuild them, but if you understand that what you did was wrong, and your willing to fix your wrongs and atone? You can heal, and you can heal others”

But what the show gave me... in my eyes: Was that “The Hurt you experience will lead you to do terrible things, but those who love you unconditionally will Always be with you, if You make them feel loved, no matter what!”

In the end apparently they were wholly in love the entire time, all is forgiven and must be forgotten. Happy ending for all.

These are just those 2 or 3 examples, there were other Themes that just felt outright dropped?

Catra and Adora’s refusal of Shadow Weaver as a parental figure for the fact that she was mostly their abuser for all their lives?

Naw forgiven, they still loved each other Unconditionally.

Catra’s growth outside of Adora?

Adora’s CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT ON HER OWN AND THE DISCOVERY OF A NEW FOUND FAMILY TO LOVE AND PROTECT?

No they loved each other undonditionally, sorry.

TBH, so many of the interactions with the main characters felt as though they reversed to A Season 1 status, they did a full circle by just REVERSING everything ruegbsiusgsr

It legit FELT, like I was watching your Run of The Mill Catradora Fanfiction.

It was at the FOREFRONT.

And I mean, gimme my clown shoes and the trumpet red nose, but like, for the longest time, people had been saying “The Show is about Catra and Adora’s Relationship”, and WITH ALL THAT I SAW HAPPEN THROUGH THE SEASONS

I thought that was wrong.... I thought the core of this show was Friendship, ACTUAL FRIENDSHIP.

But alas it’s over.

I think... if I watched the season again? Knowing already what I’m getting into and doing MY BEST to forget season 2, 3 and 4? I’d prolly even enjoy it at face value.

Right now, I’m hesitant of even wanting to understand Catradora More and seek to enjoy the show as is? Just because this fandom (mostly outside of tumble happily) has shown me to be so... vitrolic with all the othe character conflicts and relationships outside of Catra and Adora’s, and the posibility that theirs, was not a good one.

So that’s that on that.

Knowing me, maybe in a couple days, maybe a weeK, I’ll watch the final episodes FULLY and just... make my peace with the show and move on in Fanon, WITHIN the smaller space I’ve chiseled out of fandom.

I’ll miss She-Ra for what it gave me, and I’ll Yearn for it, for what it could’ve been.

-As a sidenote: Hey, might not be my taste in the development of a relationship, but ATLEAST it’s a lovefilled WLW relationship in a cartoon show for kids, and that’s got some merit. so bye bye.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Could you do a head cannon for a reader who is with Joker but she’s only a couple of inches shorter than him? And she always refuses to wear heels bc she doesn’t want to be his height or even a little taller bc she’s self conscious ab it but he makes her feel better?

Thank you so much for your extremely kind words yesterday! They meant the entire world to me and I’ll treasure them for a long time. I thought I’d do your request for you today as an extra thank you! ^^ <3

Word count: 942.

You stand at the foot of the bed, critically eyeing the various sets of shoes which you laid out.

Insecurity influences your every decision this moment and you have spent more time picking a pair of shoes than you did choosing the rest of your outfit.

You could wear sneakers? But, no, Joker deserves the best of everything.

Which leaves flats or kitten heels.

But - you can tell just by trying on each pair of shoes one at a time that it doesn’t matter which pair you pick. 

You’re still going to at least match his height.

Unbeknown to you, Joker has been stood in the open doorway watching you this entire time. His arms are folded over his chest, his top two teeth worrying his bottom lip. 

“Why don’t you wear those heels, doll?”

Joker was no longer afraid to voice his opinions; his wants, needs... and he definitely wasn’t afraid to tell you that you should wear what you want, when you want.

He’s both curious to know why you’re set against those shoes, aware of your insecurity though he is, and trying to subtly guide you into wearing those heels - he knows what you want, and what Joker wants is for you to do what you want.

You suppressed a sigh. You know that Joker will love you for you no matter what, that he’s not bothered by having you either match his height or be taller than him, but it bothers you.

You can’t help it, not really. You’ve been self conscious about your height even though there’s nothing you can do to change it. You can only accept it, really, and little by little has Joker been helping you do just that.

“No,” You shake your head. You don’t explain yourself. You don’t need to.

Joker knows; he always knows.

“Why not? Those shoes match your outfit.”

“Yes, but if I wear them, then I won’t - “

“You won’t... what, Y/N? Say it.”

Joker’s biting words are at total odds with his gentle, tender tone, the way his green eyes practically pin you into place.

“I just don’t want to be taller than you.” You mumble,  not looking at Joker now as you turn back to the shoes, grabbing the nearest pair of flats that you can find. “I’ll have to wear these.”

You shrug, feeling a sickly lump low in your throat. You didn’t want to wear these shoes, you wanted to wear those heels, but you were so worried about your height.

“No,” Joker hums, finally coming into the room as he plucks the flats you have chosen out of your hands.

He bends to set them gently on the floor, ever respectful of you and your belongings is he, and grabs the heels you’ve been wanting to wear the entire time.

“Wear these, Y/N. There’s no shame in being who you are.”

“But - “

Joker groans dramatically, his head dropping right back to the ceiling, dyed green curls bouncing gracefully around the tops of his shoulders. 

Finally, he tips his head back down to look at you. “Y/N. Do you want to wear these heels?”

“Yeah.”

“So... where’s the issue? Who cares if you’re my height or a little taller? Don’t you know how much I love you for you?”

Joker got down on one knee before you, one hand reaching for your ankle. 

You allow him to move you as he sees fit, and you put your hands on the sharp angles on his shoulders, his collarbones showing even through his blazer, to balance yourself as he puts the heels on you for you.

“There. Much better.”

Joker stands to his full height then, and though you feel good in your heels, you also want to take them off right now because you’re an inch or so taller than Joker.

You duck down to take them off, but Joker stops you, grabbing your hands in his. His fingers slide into the spaces between your own and he squeezes in comfort.

“Y/N, listen to me - “

He pauses until you meet his eyes, the grip he has on his hands commanding your attention.

“I. Love. You. I love you so much. I don’t care about your height or any of that stuff. You are so beautiful, inside and out. I want you to wear these heels tonight. If not for you - then for me. Can you do that for me?”

You pause, torn, but the pleading in Joker’s eyes - he truly wants for you to feel beautiful, to wear what you want when you want - you nod slowly.

“Okay. I’ll... wear them. For you.” Because I trust you. Because I love you.

Joker giggles, nodding his head. “Perfect.” A quiet whisper, and his smile fades as he gazes at you, his eyes roaming your body appreciatively.

“Well, then, doll - will you dance with me?” 

Joker doesn’t wait for an answer as he pulls you in for a twirl, spinning you this way and that as he hums along to a song playing inside his own head, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Wanna know why I love these heels on you so much, kitten?”

Your face heats up, embarrassed and insecure are you, but Joker only giggles as he leans in to kiss your lips. “You’re right here for me.”

You’re blushing, still insecure, but Joker is stubborn and he won’t let you ruin your own happiness, however small such an expression is.

You were in for a wonderful time, and you both knew it.

He loves you for you  - you’re beautiful, bb <333

Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z      @x-avantgarde-x    @insomniabird      @mavalenovaninagavi     @itwasrealenough     @morrisonmercurymalek     @rand0ms-fand0ms     @rafaelina-casillas     @aclownthing       @vivft              @help-i-am-obssessed      @autumnaffection       @taintednihilist   @vladtoly   @mg-woolf99      @misstgrey92   @dopey-fandom-girl         @seeking-dreamland      @sweetheart-syndrome      @heartxfdesire     @xmusichealsthesoulx       @0callmejude0      @the-one-that-likes-riddles        @hannibalsslut       @folliaght            @freeeshavacadoo         @bingewatchingmylifegoby       @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything  @okamiredfoxx       @sp0okysp0oky  @the-pandorabox      @mardema  @jibanyyan        @honeyflvredcoughdrop         @emissarydecksetter  @jokerfleckk         @epidendroideae         @chuuntas          @stillmabel       @pumpkinpeyes       @onehystericalqueenposts          @the-jokers-wolf       @nalsswa  @jokershyena     @arianatheangelworld  @soullessblondbitch  @gothamslittlejester  @twentyonestarrynights  @sirianfromsixties  @kissmeclownman    @joker-is-my-hero  @lazyloosah  @lovesickkloxx  @ladylovelyluna      @live-love-loki  @clownerybbxx   @tragicarthur    @anmach123      @rommie-chan      @arthurflock     @lucyboytom                  @immortal-bi-bitch    @hearthurfleck     @jokersproperty     @curlystark      @arthurfleckjoker2019    @sagyunaro     @playinthedarktillitsgoldenagain     @jokeringcutio      @xenthefox   @mijachula    @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd      @cheyennejonas22     @pauli1100     @smitten-susie    @actualkey     @callmejokerfleck   @jaylovesbats    @itsforyoubitch      @ridiculousnerd     @killerprotector3579       @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend     @fantasticwinnerclodexpert                  @arthurs-sweater      @pinkie44pie    @tsukiakarinobara      @prettyxlittlexpsychoxprincess   @elodia-gahan   @yours-mia     @parkdonghoons      @lady-carnivals-stuff                         @hobi-hobi-kyo-kkyu      @jupiturde        @incognitofish      @j-sux      @nothing-but-a-comedy      @tahliamalfoydepp     @sgtsavoytruffle         @smol-nari       @pocket-clown    @driver-phoenix-writes    @millandram     @obsessedandthirsty   @holosexualunicorn7000    @anyatheladyclown   @imightaswellnotexistatall      @elusive-ivory    @funneeeh    @jokerhoe    @carnivalou      @floralhijabix         @sonrisa-yk     @livingmydreamsquietly    @marymadly     @that199xgrrrl      @mr–clown    @ezziesworld   @darknessisafriend   @sadjesterautumn    @antonija89     @acw1             @call-me-harley-quinn      ❤ @impulsiveclown  ❤  @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile   @cliffbo0th      @flowerglitterwoman     @mermaleizroseglasses    @fluffedstar   @justawriterinprogress

[tksfandomhellhole]

totally didn't just give up on the tumblr app and boot up my laptop just to post this

Fandom: Apex Legends (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Mirage | Elliott Witt Summary: 

Mirage is his own biggest fan, because he knows no one else will be.

Mostly an introspective/character piece I did a few weeks back for Mirage and lowkey a plea for buff (which is finally happening!!) Caustic is technically there as well.

Mirage would be elated if you told him that you'd find his picture if you looked up "Self-absorbed" in the dictionary. The idea of negative press doesn't exist to him.

Or at least that's what he tries to make it seem like.

So it would come as a surprise to most that perhaps the most egotistical and self-absorbed of the Legends does not check the ratings or read the comments on any forums about the games.

In fact, aside from hanging fanart on the walls, he keeps any fan letters in a box under his bed only for days where he's at his worst.

(He tends to have a lot of those)

Because the reality is, Mirage is his own biggest fan.

If he wasn't, who else would be? He's certain it's no one.

Growing up the youngest of four boys, it was easy for Elliott to internalize a lot of things that his brothers didn't really mean.

One of those things was that being the youngest made him the weakest.

When his brothers went off to fight in the Frontier War they told him he had the very important job of staying here and watching over their mom. He knew it was just a way to make him feel better about not being able to fight the good fight. That once again he was being excluded because he was the youngest.

It didn't really make him feel that much better when the war was still going on and he was sitting at home feeling useless.

And it definitely didn't make him feel any better when they were reported MIA once the war ended. That now he'd never get the chance to prove himself. That he had stayed at home, useless, while his brothers had fought and lost their lives.

Elliott hates being useless.

Unfortunate that his curse of uselessness seems to have followed him into the games, the one place where he thought he could finally prove himself.

Most of his teammates wouldn't guess it, but Mirage actually brings his 110% to every game.

Problem is, his 110% is not even 70% of some of his more skilled teammates.

And when everyone besides you brings something valuable to the table, you have to hide your inadequacies behind self-deprecation and humor.

Today he's the jump master and the pressure to not make a shit landing might already be getting to him a little. "Just a thought, we could land here." He throws out, trying to gauge his teammates' reactions to the spot. Annnnd dead silence. Great. He takes their silence as confirmation and launches anyways.

"Follow the leader! Or don't- do whatever, as long as we win."

Of course, suddenly his teammates find some other spot far more interesting than the one he pinged, and take that as invitation to silently break off.

He lands on his own and loots as quickly as possible. By some stroke of luck, it's not an active spot, and he gets the drop on an enemy Lifeline.

"Nobody had your back, huh? Hate when that happens." He tells her, irony not lost on him.

He loots her stuff as quickly as possible and drops out, hoping to avoid any smoke from her teammates.

"I'm down!" He hears Wraith say over the comm lines. He takes a look at his map and finds she's none too close to him.

But what is Mirage, if not at least a good teammate, even at the cost of biting off way more than he can chew?

"Uhhh, okay, don't panic, I'm coming to save you." he says with what feels like is becoming his trademark uncertainty.

He makes it all of thirty yards before the squad from earlier runs up on him, and two of them against two of him doesn't work out in his favor. "Bad news, I'm down!" He says over the comm line, using the few extra seconds his knockdown cloak buys him to inch his way into a corner out of sight. Another squad joins the fray, and the first squad ignores him in favor of not dying. He watches the firefight go down suddenly regretting his choice of words earlier. He'd much rather his team all be in one place right now.

To his relief, he can see on the map that Caustic seems to have made his way towards Wraith's now banner and recovers it.

He's not too optimistic about his own outlook though. Caustic is not the fastest legend and there's still a sizeable distance between them.

There's also the fact that Caustic has no real reason to come recover him anyways.

Mirage isn't the worst shooter in the game, but he's no Bangalore. And he's no Pathfinder, no Crypto, no Gibraltar- hell even Revenant at least deploys a death totem that he doesn't care who uses.

No he doesn't do any of the things that everyone else does. He's just another- or well several- pretty faces for people to shoot at.

And he tries, he really does. He keeps an eye on everyone's shields and weapons, keeps an eye out for useful equipment, revives and respawns teammates as soon as possible, but deep down he knows it isn't good enough. There's no advantage to teaming with him. And if there's no advantage, it means anyone stuck with him is at a disadvantage.

When he first joined the Apex Games, the last thing he was worried about was the other people. He was used to looking out for himself- he had already learned the hard way that he was the only person who'd care about what happened to him outside of his mother. So he outfitted himself with his holo-tech and did his best to make a name for himself in the games. He didn't realize at the time how integral teamwork would become, and how lacking that in turn made him.

No matter which way you flip it, all he is good for is eating bullets.

He wants to improve his holograms in some way, but he's no Wattson, and he didn't inherit any of his mother's genius. So instead he tinkers with an old holo-suit every weekend trying to figure out a way to make the modifications he wants a reality. Instead he jokes about how bad he is at this while putting in extra hours at the range whenever possible. Instead he enters combat with the confidence of a seasoned pro and none of the skill to back it up.

Self-absorbed, self-serving, and insufficient. Well aren't I just the greatest person to have on the team? Mirage thinks loathingly.

Maybe it's more fitting if he dies here alone, nothing but fakes to back him- the biggest fake of them all- up. Maybe he was wrong to think he could really be a Legend, much less a champion.

As his eyes begin to cloud over, he's ready for death's cold embrace yet again.

Instead, someone's shoes are in front of him now, and a muffled sigh of discontent is heard as a hand on his shoulder pushes him backwards gently and he's suddenly jabbed.

He really doesn't know when Caustic got here, but he expresses his thanks as Caustic pulls him to his feet.

"Your gratitude is acknowledged, let us move now before the ring comes in." The remnants of the earlier fight are still here in the form of half looted deathboxes, and he has to scour through some of those for some heals and ammo before they move on.

It's looking like the respawn beacon they were heading for won't be in the next ring, unfortunately for Wraith, so they cut their losses and head to the center.

They encounter another two or three squads, and one rambunctious Octane along the way, Mirage continuously finding himself downed in increasingly ludicrous ways.

"I've been observing... I hate to be the first person to break it to you, but I dont think you were really made for these kinds of games, Witt." Caustic confesses, while reviving Mirage for the 4th time.

He just sighs. "Yeah... yea, I know."

"So then why do you do it? Why the masochistic endeavor of placing yourself in an environment where you are the weakest link?"

"Wow, ok, little harsh there." He says, pride hurting more than the injection site of the syringe. "I just... want someone to remember me. And I guess I thought, 'What better way to be remembered than dying in the most glorious bloodsport of our generation?"

"A foolish sentiment. Life is insignificant; why not accept your fate?"

"Listen, I don't have to explain myself to you." Mirage says, a little defensive, and more than a little annoyed.

"Have it your way. Your incredible knack for narrowly defying death has provided me an insurmountable amount of data. So much to notate..."

"Glad to be of service." Mirage mutters bitterly.

Mirage does feel a little stupid when he compares his reasoning to other people's. It's not noble or some part of a larger plan. He isn't searching for answers. He isn't doing it because he has to. He isn't even being straight about it and just acting out of boredom like Octane or Revenant.

He's just worried that once everyone has forgotten him it'll be like he never existed at all.

His mom has already started forgetting... who will be left when she's gone?

It's the one thing that truly terrifies him.

So he keeps going on, even though he's the weakest link.

He keeps going on even if he's the biggest joke amongst the legends.

He keeps going on, even if everyone else is laughing at him and not with him.

Because as long as they're laughing he knows they see him.

Really, he's more concerned about what's gonna happen once they stop finding him funny.

No respawn beacon will ever be able to save him then. 

---

They don't win the game.

He wakes up alone in the med ward, common procedure for the squads upon elimination from the game.

He heads back to his room, not bothering to check the results, congratulate the champions, or talk to any of the other legends.

No one stops him.

He sits on the floor next to his bed and pulls out the box from underneath, taking out a letter at random.

The words start to blur about a paragraph in, and he puts it back once he realizes his tears are just drenching it entirely at this point.

He's ready to go home.

But there's nothing left for him to go back too.

[writeyourownlifestory]

L-I-G-H-T-S U-P

Chapters: 4/20 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: No warnings at this time Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: PunkRocker!Eddie, Writer!Richie, Beveddie!Friendship, No Clown Written by: myself & @ahardlife​ Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​, @airbenderking

Puff piece writer Richie Tozier is given the chance of a lifetime to interview his celebrity crush: Dr. K, the lead singer of punk rock band, Trashmouth. Dr. K is about to release his first solo album and Richie wants to get all the dirty details. But all is not what it appears to be and the two realize they know each other from a different time, in a different place, when they were both very different people.

Chapters one, two, three

Angels - Robbie Williams 

I sit and wait Does an angel contemplate my fate And do they know The places where we go When we're grey and old 'Cause I have been told That salvation lets their wings unfold So when I'm lying in my bed Thoughts running through my head And I feel the love is dead I'm loving angels instead

Richie felt like he was running a mile a minute, even when he was behind the wheel of a car. His throat was tight and his head felt it had been pound against concrete. He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, trying to collect himself as he sat in the parking lot of the hotel. He couldn’t go in there looking like a deranged lunatic.

He had his badge from Paper Boat and made sure to dress appropriately before heading to the hotel. He didn’t want them to think he was some kind of crazed fan who had a weapon on him. And yeah, maybe he was partially a crazed fan, but he wasn't carrying any weapon. When he went to the front desk, asking for the room number, he showed everything he had to. After checking with Dr. K’s assistant (Beverly, of course) he was given access and lead up to the suite.

He knocked on the door, practically holding his breath as he waited. And waited, and waited, and waited. And for a hot second, he thought maybe he wasn’t even there. He was a fucking rockstar for God's sake, who fucking knew what he was doing with his time!

And then the door opened and Dr. K was standing there, looking as gorgeous as ever. He didn’t seem all too surprised to see Richie there, but he also didn’t look like he was expecting him either. “Richie. Hi.”

“Hey.” He breathed softly.

“What’s up?” Dr. K asked with a soft smile. And there it was… a glimpse of the old Eddie he used to love. Used to? Or still loved? Did love ever truly die or was humanity just too soft?

“Oh. I was just . . . in the neighborhood.” Richie said, rolling on the balls of his feet, setting aside the rambling in his head. “Do you mind if I come in?”

Dr. K stood there for another moment before stepping aside. The moment he was allowed access, Richie rushed right in, his fingers combing through his hair slowly. “I lied,” he said as soon as the door was closed behind him. “I wasn’t in the neighborhood.”

“I sort of guessed that Rich,” the other said with a slight chuckle as he walked up to him.

“I came here because you’re . . . you.”

“I’m me.” Dr. K breathed out with a shrug.

“You’re . . . shit, man.” Richie began pacing back and forth, breathing deeply.

He had thought about it over and over again in the car. All the things he wanted to say to the other man. All the emotions that he had pent up and buried deep inside since they were just kids. And now it was his chance to spit it all out, but he just couldn’t.

He didn’t look like Eddie. Eddie was short and wore bobby socks and short-shorts with a rainbow pattern. A polo shirt and bleached white shoes and always carrying around an inhaler. The little boy with the perfectly cut hair and adorable dimples. That was the Eddie he knew. The Eddie he loved.

This man wasn’t that kid anymore. He was in jeans and a black shirt. Muscles that could be seen through the shirt and combed back hair. He had tattoos and bags under his eyes.

Though that smile. That stupid fucking smile was the same. Richie knew it from the moment he saw it in person.

That beautiful, boyish smile. After a decade and a half that still hasn’t changed.

“I thought you were dead!” Richie snapped after a moment, turning to face the other man. “I thought . . . you just fucking disappeared, man. You were there and then you weren’t and I never heard from you again.”

“I said goodbye,” Dr. K mentioned somberly.

But it wasn’t supposed to be their goodbye. Eddie had snuck out one final time before his mother moved them away. They were just thirteen but so much shit happened between them. They were kids who were forced to grow up due to the hate that society wore as a badge of honor.

Richie thought about that night often, dreaming of it until it slowly began to haunt him like a nightmare it was. Living with the knowledge that he’d never see this one person again. Eddie was the only person who made Richie feel like he was worth something and then he was gone in a flash and all he had left were the memories he wished he could forget.

“I tried to find you, but nothing came up,” Richie confessed to him. “Eddie Kaspbrak didn’t exist anymore.”

“He doesn’t. Not really. I don’t have personal social media or any of that shit. Beverly keeps all my personal information under lock and key.”

“This is . . . I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone, man.”

“I know this isn’t ideal Rich, but I’m glad you know.” Dr. K -- Eddie, he was Eddie -- admitted. “The moment I found out that you’d be the one interviewing me. Rich, I thought I was losing my mind.”

“ You’re losing your mind?” Richie laughed aloud. “I’ve seen you over a dozen times in concert! I have shirts with your face on them. I’ve fucking jacked off to you dude, and now I’m finding out you’re my fucking childhood sweetheart or some shit.”

“Why are you mad about this?”

“I’m not mad!” Richie snapped. “I’m just . . . I’m not good with my emotions, okay?” He moved to plop down on the couch, hiding his face in his hands. “After you left, I had no one okay? It took a ridiculously long time for me to get around with being comfortable in my skin again. I tried to forget about that time, you know? I tried to move on, but it’s hard. And I thought I accomplished it, but now you’re back and all those memories and emotions are coming back.”

Richie didn’t know if he wanted to run away or vomit. Maybe a bit of both. He honestly had no clue, but what he did know was that he needed to focus on something other than the harsh reality, mostly because it wasn’t all that harsh, to begin with.

For years he had hoped and prayed that he’d see Eddie again and know that the other guy was all right. That his mother didn’t hurt him or send him somewhere that killed his beautiful spirit. Richie didn’t know how Eddie went from being the sweet little kid with the inhaler in his fanny pack to the punk rock God that was Dr. K but he was sure the transition was interesting enough.

Eddie was beside him suddenly, a hand placed on his shoulder as they sat together on the couch. “I missed you, Rich.” He admitted quietly.

“Fuck, Eddie.”

He was Eddie. He could call him that now. He could look to this guy and not only see this amazing rock star but also his childhood best friend all grown up. They were both all grown up and that scared Richie more than anything.

“I have like . . . nine hundred questions.” He admitted with a soft laugh.

Eddie smiled in response, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Well, I’m free for the rest of the night, so if you want to ask, lay them on me.”

Richie didn’t know where to start so he just started babbling out questions at lightning speed. What the fuck happened to him after he moved away? How did he survive his mother’s intolerance? How did he join Trashmouth? Fucking Trashmouth !

“I can’t believe my favorite band is named after me,” Richie mentioned quietly. “That’s like, a total mind fuck dude.”

“The label was putting it all together and needed something extremely alternative,” Eddie admitted, leaning back on the opposite side of the couch.

They were sitting together, face to face the same way they would on the old hammock in Richie’s backyard. Legs tangled, feet near the face.

“Trashmouth sounded so ridiculous and they ended up loving it.”

“I feel like I deserve some revenue or something.” Richie teased. “All right. One name down. Now I have to know the other. Dr. K?”  

“You’re the one who gave it to me,” Edde mentioned fondly. “Every time you’d wipe out on your bike or do something to get yourself hurt, I’d bust my ass to get you fixed up.”

“Dude, I was making a Kevorkian joke,” Richie admitted, laughing as he thought back to all the teasing he had done to the poor kid until their true feelings came out.

Of course, even when they were technically an item and disgustingly in love despite only being twelve and thirteen, they still teased one another. It’s just how they were. That was their thing and it worked wonderfully for them.

“Yeah well. Some people say I kill on stage, so it works.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Richie said, raising the tiny water bottle they had taken from the minibar and sipping at it. As it turned out, Eddie wasn’t a hard drinker. He had gotten over that part of his life it seemed. He confessed to Richie that he dabbled in the rock star lifestyle a little too hard in the beginning and gave it all up so he wouldn’t join the 27-Club.

Too many nights snorting things he shouldn’t be snorting and waking up in a bed with someone whose name he never learned left Eddie slightly scarred and he wanted nothing more to do than to grow from those experiences and be better.

There were still so many things that he wanted to ask him, so many answers that he wanted, but he knew they couldn’t go over it all at this moment. He tried to keep it slow, not wanting to bombard Eddie the first time they got to do this.

Eddie was moving then, suddenly sitting up so he was in the middle of the couch, resting in the entanglement of their limbs. “Did you see me sixteen times?” He inquired.

“On the third time I had the chance to go backstage, but I dipped last minute due to my nerves,” Richie admitted, quietly wishing he had something harder to drink.

“Seriously? God, if we had . . . Rich, we could have reconnected so much earlier.”

“Trust me, you did not want to know college-Richie, okay? My hair was greasy, and my face was all sorts of fucked up. I was in the closet and I desperately needed to be held.”

“Rich. I think you’re forgetting that I used to swap spit with eighth-grade-Richie, who sounds identical to college-Richie.”

“I can’t believe you said swap-spit without cringing. Where did my little hypochondriac go?”

“I think he died of a cocaine overdose a few years back,” Eddie joked dryly, going to lay back on the couch.

“So that’s really what rock and rollers do? Do drugs, sleep around, and drink until you can’t remember your name?”

“Something like that,” Eddie drawled out. “When they put the band together I wasn’t in a good place. I was good and I knew that. People told me that constantly. People said I was talented and put little white lines in front of me and offered me girls and when I said I didn’t want girls they offered me, guys. Some people were put off with the idea of a gay rockstar but others thought it would be a new wave or inventive. Woke or whatever.”

“Will you tell me about it? How it all began?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

Richie raised a brow, taken aback by the question. “Wait you wanna see me again?” He asked dumbly.

“Hell yeah, I wanna see you! We have seventeen years to catch up on, asshole. I wanna know what else you’ve been doing up to this point.”

Richie snorted, really, really wishing he was drinking something stronger. “I can assure you, it won’t be half as interesting as everything you’ve been doing.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Eddie had something to do the following morning but he’d be free the afternoon. Richie had already told Bill that he wanted to work in the article so he’d use that excuse to not show up to the office.

It was strange, making plans like these. With a friend. With Eddie. Eddie was his friend. Not a best friend like he had been years ago, but it was still something.

Richie left the suite wondering what in the hell just happened. After years of wondering and searching, he finally found that long lost best friend and there was barely an ounce of awkwardness to it.

Okay, maybe an ounce only because it was still so hard to see him as Eddie and not Dr. K. Richie was eager to know how he got from point A to B but he’d wait for that.

If Eddie stayed in his life then he’d wait forever.

[elellan]

MYTHAL’ENASTE

Chapters: 28/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games) Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford

CHAPTER 28 . DANCING CLASSES

"Now, will you please follow my lead? We are not doing this for fun!" Josephine's stern look and posture made Riwan and Varric giggle even harder. And the problem wasn't that the Ambassador wasn't a good teacher or that Vivienne wasn't a good example for them to follow; it was simply that they were totally incapable of acting as if they even cared about orlesian dances at all. Varric had entered the hall declaring that he would not move a single foot unless Empress Celene herself expressly required it with stamped and scented paper - besides he feared for himself, for people were bound not to notice him on the dance floor and would certainly stumble over him. Riwan, on the other hand, expert only in Dalish-around-the-campfire dances, had wondered if it was better to have a light breakfast that morning, and had then thanked her appetite for preventing her from going lightly on the bread and marmalade, for the dances were so boring and composed that she would have no trouble digesting at all. While Varric clowned around, babbling nonsense in a perfectly mimed orlesian accent - "Look at my perfèct pas de le Chevalier, Inquisitòr" - Riwan wondered how could the orlesians call those movements 'dances' at all. They looked much more like a bunch of elaborate and preset figures, not even so funny to perform, whereas Dalish dances... "Please, Inquisitor, I beg you. It is very important that you learn these steps, you must make a good impression, otherwise...". Josephine seemed at a loss of words for the first time since Riwan had met her. "Please, even Iron Bull is being quite decent at it." Riwan shot a brief glance to her right, where the Bull was indeed mimicking Vivienne's gracious paces and upright posture. She restrained another fit of laughter as she straightened her shirt, "All right Josie, please, show me the minuet's steps one more time. I promise you that I'll repeat them as faithfully and graciously as possible." Josephine smiled and exhaled, slightly relieved, "Good! Then after the minuet we still have the gavotte and then the sarabande..." "It's best if we learn one at a time, Josie." "Yes, right - I'm sorry. Vivienne, musicians... Would you mind starting over?" Less than two weeks separated them from the great ball at Halamshiral and Josephine had decided that the Inquisitor and her party would follow a full schedule of classes on the orlesian game and etiquette. Aided by an enthusiast Leliana, she was instructing them on how to respond when addressed according by the rank of who was addressing them, on which cutlery they should use for which food, on which subjects were taboo and how to disentangle themselves from an unpleasant conversation, and then - the dances. "Surely someone will ask you to dance, Inquisitor, it will not be polite to turn them down, especially if the proposal comes from someone high-ranked in court. It's important that you master at least the basic steps. I will put it plainly, Riwan: you're a Dalish elf, they won't go easy on you. Here, I said it." Riwan had laughed and acted superior, "I can imagine, the savage from the forest arrives to spread diseases and curses in their refined ball", but in truth that statement had quite unnerved her and she had already started fantasizing on challenging to a duel whoever dared to insult her. After a full quarter of an hour dedicated to minuet's steps, Varric having given up on them after barely a few minutes and having joined Dorian who was eating some fruit in a corner of the room, Riwan decided to express her perplexities:"Why aren't Cassandra and Cullen taking these dancing classes with us? Do I even need to know how to dance, since I'll be investigating on an assassination plot?" Josephine sighed again, passing the tip of her quill on her cheek a few times before answering. "I dearly hope that they do not even think about dancing. Well, Cassandra of course already knows the etiquette... I just hope they won't give me trouble. Where are Blackwall, Solas and Sera? They should have been here an hour ago!" Riwan decided not to investigate any further and left the Ambassador dwelling on her train of thoughts, while Bull approached her. "Boss," he said, offering her his outstretched hand. She bowed to him and they started circling around as best as they could, while Vivienne commented on the lack of refinement of their movements with a look of utter pain painted all over her face: "You look like you're catching flies, dear. And Iron Bull..." "Yes, ma'am?" "Do not crouch over her." "Yes, ma'am." He winked at Riwan and squeezed her hand and right in that moment a jolt of pain ran from Riwan's mark towards her shoulder. She gave out a cry and doubled over, squeezing her left hand and holding it tight to her body as a flashing image of yellow eyes blinded her for the briefest moment. Everybody immediately sprung from their position towards her and soon she found herself looking at her companions' faces from the cold surface of the floor, their voices and their concerned expressions becoming clearer with every passing second, surfacing from a misty black foam that had surrounded her vision. "Are you all right?" She tried to get up, but Dorian pushed her gently back down. "I'm all right!" Riwan said. She looked confusedly around her: the pain had disappeared as quickly as it had come and she didn't understand why she was lying on the floor. "You just fainted, Riwan. Stay still for some time. Is the mark troubling you?" Dorian said. "I'm totally fine! It was just... one of my usual jolts of pain. It sometimes hurt when I close a big rift, it's the first time it happens like this-" "Shit. Did I hold your hand too hard?". Bull was kneeling beside her and was rhythmically punching the floor. Riwan laughed and shook her head, looking closely at the mark. "I guess... you have a very strong grip, Bull..." "Of course I have, Boss! Shit. It never happened with other women before- you know..." "Fasta vass! Spare us!", Dorian hastily got up and shot Bull a furious look. "I should restrain myself next time- I hold something-" "That's it, I'm out of here". Dorian stormed out of the hall as Josephine declared that they should all take a break and meet for the war council later that day.

"I'm sorry, Inquisitor. We have decided it is best that we all put on the same formal attire. We have already ordered several pieces from the finest seamstress of Denerim and they will be delivered right before the ball." Riwan looked at the Dalish robes on her bed and grimaced. "But... This dress is beautiful-" "It is beautiful," Leliana said, a condescending tone in her voice meant to convince her, "However I agree with Josephine on this matter. We aren't going there to have fun, after all." "Really? Then why are we all forced to follow those stupid dancing classes?" Leliana sighed and looked at the ceiling. "May I?" she asked, gesturing towards the bed. Riwan made space for her and pushed the dress away, until it was just a bundle of green cloth. "The dance is part of the game. As is the talking and the good manners. You- we will all be under the closest scrutiny from everybody in that palace from the first moment we set foot in there. It is important to keep up appearances so that no one will doubt of our - good intentions there. Besides, I would like to put on a fine pair of shoes myself, but I won't. For the greater good." "Yes, yes, I understand." "Good. Well then, should we let Cora take your measurements?" At first, Riwan had anticipated the ball and had wondered how such a party held by the Empress herself would be. But now, after having seen the sketches of their attires and having obliged Leliana into taking her measurements, she craved for home more than ever - home in the woods, in the village, where they all sat around a warm fire, where each birthday was celebrated with lively music, affectionate words and hugs and -at the end of the evening, when the bottles of liquor had been drained- with wild dances. The impending orlesian ball seemed like a puppet show in comparison. Another war council took place that afternoon, negotiates with Duke Gaspard were held near the Frostbacks and one of Cullen's battalions had been sent to Orlais to make a deal with the Orlesian chevaliers of the Dales. They were weaving an intricate net of relationships so that no one could think to put themselves on the wrong side of the Inquisition when the day of the ball arrived. Riwan ran out of the war room as soon as the meeting was over, tired and bored, longing for dinner and for a hot bath. As soon as she reached open air the warm pull of a big hand made her stop. "Hey...". She smiled in hearing his familiar voice. "You have been hiding in the shadows in quite a proficient way as of lately," she said while turning around. Cullen's smirk rewarded her of all the hard day's work. "Shall we have dinner together?" he asked. They resumed walking one beside the other, trying to look as if they were having a friendly and polite business chat. "Of course. So? What about the hiding like a rat part?" "Ha! Indeed I am! As Blackwall is and Solas too. I am surprised by Bull, though, I didn't picture him as a dancing type..." "He isn't. He just loves to mess around. Just like Varric." They entered the Herald's Rest, collected their late dinner and seated themselves on a little table which two scouts left free for them. Even if Cullen hadn't participated at all to the special meetings set up by Josephine and Leliana he showed to be adjourned on their progress. He fussed over her mark and her fainting and Riwan couldn't reassure him enough that she was fine and that he needn't worry about it. She looked fondly at him while he kept on pressing her onto seeking Solas' advice. Soon his words sounded more like an echo as she lost herself in contemplating his features. She chewed on the same mouthful of peas for some time and forgot to swallow them. He looked slightly better than he had days before and though he still wasn't fine as she hoped he would be one day, she felt warm joy burning her chest and the back of her eyes in seeing him talking quietly and full of life in front of her, in seeing his eyes and his complexion bright even if tired. "Are you even listening to me?" She woke up from her reverie, "No" she said, swallowing down the peas and starting to laugh. She impulsively grabbed his hand resting on the table in front of him, then dropped it as soon as she realized that they were not in the right place for such a thing. "It's nice seeing you like this." "Like this- how?" he seemed perplexed. "It's nothing. Are you looking forward to Halamshiral?" Cullen burst into his usual brisk scoff, "No, I am not! I can't wait for it to be over so that we can resume working as we did before." "You truly are a man of war..." "It's not- I don't have to make war wherever I go, I just- ugh. I don't see what the point is in all those ceremonies between people that clearly want each other dead. Couldn't they just meet and talk, instead of having a ball? The hypocrisy of it all, the- in Ferelden it doesn’t work like that." "I know, I know. Good, old Ferelden. Even us Dalish savages have better ways to stipulate alliances." "No doubt about that!" Cullen said, shooting her a fond glance. They cleared their plates and Cassandra joined them from a drink. The Seeker was unnerved by all the preparations too and shared Cullen's sentiments that all would be other soon. They bid each other goodnight and parted ways after some time. Riwan fell rapidly asleep after a long hot bath. After a week of that routine, she woke up one morning and found a small parcel on the last step of her stairs. She had heard no one entering her room during the night and was quite startled by the sight of it. Still in her pajamas, she picked it up and sat back on the bed. A note was attached to the parcel and she immediately recognized the Spymaster's fine handwriting. "I thought that you would like to put this on at Halamshiral" She unwrapped the fine white paper and found inside a golden brooch, that caught the rays of the rising sun and shone with them, as light as a leaf and as big as one of the cook's almond biscuits: the bow and the elfroot of the Dalish.

[onewhoturns]

fictober.23.: the first appointment

#Fictober19 Prompt: 23. You can’t give more than yourself. Fandom: Oxenfree Characters: Jonas, Duke (OC) Rating: T (no warnings apply) Tags: Angst-ish, emo Jonas, mental health & therapy Word Count: 2802

So... I'm posting this in order to maintain Fictober, but in all honesty this is actually a side scene/side story to a previously mentioned project that is still in the works and has yet to be posted. There may be some spoilers for the beginning of that fic. This is more an exploration of who this AU's version of Jonas is, how he's been affected by the things in his life- I'm calling it 'emo Jonas' but it may not be the type of emo you're expecting, I don't know.

If you want to read it when it comes up in the fic, it's looking like that would be anywhere from chapter 6 to chapter 9 (we're still in the midst of writing at the moment), and I'll update the summary and add it in as a related work when that becomes applicable.

For now, if you still want to read now (and it's cool if you don't), enjoy Jonas's first meeting with Duke, with no context to the rest of the story.

-

An appointment. ‘Like a doctor’s visit.’ Yeah. Well, maybe.

“Hey. You want to come on in?”

Jonas holds his breath for a second, standing from the waiting room to follow the man inside. The guy is in his early 30s, brown hair with a bit of gray starting in, just barely this side of messy, with glasses that look like he should be drinking craft brews at some gastropub in Portland. Duke. That’s a name, alright.

“Nice to finally meet in person.”

Jonas just nods. He’s not great at speaking to new people. Took him a couple weeks to start talking in intake. But he has kinda met Duke before. A pretty long phone interview, not to mention emails. They wanted to find a good therapist, and Camena had options. He’d settled on Duke.

“It’s nice to have all the paperwork out of the way already. Kind of a waste of session time, really.”

Jonas’s brows raise as he tips his head in acknowledgment and agreement.

Duke has a leg crossed over the other, and Jonas realizes, in retrospect, that the guy is actually his height. Maybe an inch shorter, but pretty damn close.

“How tall are you?” They’re the first words out of Jonas’s mouth, but they do their part.

“Six three. On a good day, anyway.”

“Nice.”

“Shoe size?”

“13.”

Duke winces audibly. “Damn, you beat me. 12 and a half.”

Jonas smirks a bit. And the ice is broken.

“You came from school?”

Jonas’s eyes wander to the side table between his chair and the unoccupied couch. He reaches for some kind of adjustable wire toy, turning it inside out and flipping it into different shapes. “Yup.”

“What’s your electives?” It’s a better question than ‘how was your day,’ at least. Duke’s foot is bouncing idly, as well.

“Gym and weight training; shop.”

“At CHS, right? Wilkinson still teaching wood shop?”

Wilkinson? “Yeah, I think that’s his name. Old guy, wears a lanyard with a whistle on it even though I don’t think he does any sports stuff?”

“Yep. He���s not too bad. Get him talking about baseball, that’s a thing. Does he still have that slugger in the workshop?”

“I… don’t know?”

“He’s got two, actually, I think. Louisville Slugger wooden bats, one official and one he made. If he still has it. I heard one year some kids stole it for a prank.”

“Kinda a dick move, the guy’s gotta be at least 70.”

“Yeah. Kids can be idiots. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Technically an adult, and I’d agree regardless.”

“When we talked before, you sounded kinda meh on the Individual Studies thing. How’s that looking?”

“It’s…” Jonas pulls a face. “Still meh on it. Some of the other kids are… ehh. Remind me of guys from North Valley, thinking they’re the shit. And the teachers - or whatever they’re called, aides? They’re a mixed bag. This one girl - woman, I guess - she seems pretty cool. Darcy. Good attitude, even if she seemed kinda fake at first.”

“I’m not sure I totally get what the course is, to be honest.”

“I mean, I’ve got three periods of it, it gets old fast. Though— I mean I guess they’re not all the same. First period for me seems more like… learning skills?” Jonas winces. “I dunno, it’s kinda cringey sometimes. And then third is gonna be assessment stuff— kinda miserable, just packets of standardized test questions and shit like that. Last period is chill though. Basically like a study hall for me, working on the stuff from the tests. And I’ve been getting out a little early, so I can-” He stops.

Duke waits a second for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, he lifts his chin from looking at the pad of paper in his lap (where Jonas can see little geometrical doodles as well as his illegible scrawl of whatever he’s noting). “A reminder; mandatory reporting doesn’t include stuff like truancy, just plans to harm yourself or others. And I consider ‘plans’ to actually mean plans.”

“So… there’s this girl, right?”

“A friend?”

Jonas hesitates. “Yyeahhh…”

“Or… sounds like maybe not just a friend?”

He shakes his head, “No, definitely just a friend, just… kinda insane.”

“Fun fact; ‘insane’ is really a legal term.”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “Kinda wild, then. Her and this other guy, too. They kinda like… adopted me?”

“Is that a positive or a negative?”

“I think it’s a positive? But— right, my point was, it gives me time to dip out the back and then meet them in the other parking lot.”

“Why the other parking lot?”

Jonas shoots Duke a flatly skeptical look. “Well they’re not gonna come meet me over in the ‘special’ wing.”

Duke huffs out a short laugh. “Wow, okay, strong feelings about IS are still there I see.” Even as Jonas is rolling his eyes again, he goes on. “So the wild duo. What kind of wild? You think they’ll get in the way of treatment?”

That makes him think for a second. “Um… no? I dunno. The guy is kinda stupid rich and somehow has a line to a shit ton of weed, apparently. Which could be a problem.”

Duke’s brows have risen high. “Could be, yeah. Does your JPPO do random testing? Think being around them could mess with your results?”

Jonas shakes his head. “Nah, they’re scheduled. Every other two weeks. And that should be done by the end of June, and the testing might be ditched entirely when we go down to only meeting once a month. Plus apparently he’s more of an edibles guy, so I’m not super worried about anything accidental. I can always just keep away for a few days before testing, shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Even though you’ve been adopted?”

He snorts a bit at that. “Guess I can’t know for sure. Not too worried, though.”

“That’s good. How exactly did you manage to get adopted?”

“The girl was my tour guide first day. I guess she thought I was cool, ‘cause she introduced me to her friend and… I dunno. We exchanged numbers and stuff. Texted. They’re kinda high energy for me, but also-” Jonas hesitates, rolling his eyes before continuing. “It’s weird, ‘cause Alex is kinda… popular? She’s a total dork, constantly jokes about being a witch, but it feels like everyone knows her? And likes her? It’s weird.”

“Huh. Are you saying you think they shouldn’t?”

“I’m saying…” Jonas shrugs. “Eh. She’s nice enough, I get that. But like… I feel like at North Valley she would’ve been… I mean, not disliked. Considered annoying, maybe, in large doses. Not exactly a class clown, but that same idea. More of a subject of entertainment than friendship.”

“That’s an interesting way of seeing things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Analytical.”

Jonas considers that for a second. “…Maybe? It’s just kinda how the world is, I’m not complaining about it or anything.”

“Are you unhappy about it?”

He shrugs. “No? Like I said; it’s just how it is. People offer certain benefits, right? Sometimes that’s, like… like someone who always knows the homework. If we’re thinking concretely here. And then there’s the one who always has a pencil you can borrow. —It’s like a study group sorta analogy. There’s someone who’s able to get everyone together at once, and someone who can talk to the teacher and argue on your behalf, but who you might not want to spend time with outside of class ‘cause they argue with everyone. And there’s a class clown type, who’s really entertaining but can sorta get in the way if you’re trying to be serious.” Jonas pauses again. “I mean, there’s a lot. But everyone kinda has their strengths and weaknesses, right? It’s like a teamwork thing.”

“So where do you fit in this?”

He thinks for a moment, still playing with the wire cage. “I dunno. I have a car.” That’s part of it at least, even if other things come to mind as well.

“You think that’s what people see you for? Your car?”

Jonas’s lips pull. “I’m not saying that’s my only redeeming quality, I know I’m not just some dude with a car. That’s just, like, the prime benefit.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your other ‘redeeming qualities.’”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m— I know I have them, okay? I’m- I have skills. But they aren’t- y’know, like, my function in a social group.”

“What if you didn’t have your car? You can’t give more than yourself— what qualities do you think you’re bringing.”

“…Alex seems to think my height is a benefit.”

“She obviously has not been 6’3 and attempted to sit in a compact sedan.”

Jonas cracks a smile. “Yeah it’s cute, she’s not tiny but both her and Ren are like… she said it before, I don’t remember what it was 5’5 or 6 or something. Joked about needing me to retrieve pickle jars or whatever.”

“So you’re the guy with the car and the pickle-getter.”

“Sure.”

“That all?”

“Well- I mean, the tall thing is also like—” he waves a hand, “-y’know, the other tall stuff.”

“Can’t say I know what you mean, apart from reaching things and being asked about the weather.”

“You know.” Jonas fidgets slightly. Duke has to know that part of things. “The kinda… intimidation thing.”

“How do you mean?”

Jonas’s lips pull again in that vague passing annoyance. “You know. Being tall and looking— not scary exactly, but like… imposing, I guess. Basically looking like someone you don’t want to mess with.”

“And that’s what you think you bring to a friendship?”

“Yeah. Like… like a bodyguard or something.”

“You think your friends are in danger you have to protect them from?”

“No- well.” He lets out a short sigh, a rueful smirk hooking his lips. “Not yet, anyway. And once they are, I’m betting they’ll have put themselves into it.”

“What does the whole ‘bodyguard’ thing mean, then?”

“Um.” A few images pass through Jonas’s mind, and he hesitates, face impassive for a second before he shrugs again. “Trying to keep her from getting hurt. I guess.”

“…That doesn’t really sound like something based solely on height.”

His fingers twitch, and Jonas’s ears feel warm. “Look, I spent a year in juvie for physical assault. It might not just be the height.”

“You think she wants you to fight for her? Is this like… an American Gladiators kinda thing, or…?”

The laugh is just a huff of breath, but the corners of Jonas’s mouth are lifting. “I don’t think she wants me to fight. I’m just— And I don’t want to fight!” he assures Duke. “But like… there’s probably some element of ‘this guy makes a good meat shield’ or whatever.”

“You ever think they might just… like you? Like just, as you?”

He snorts. “I— I’m not saying they don’t! I mean, at the very least they tolerate me, and I assume they must like me, otherwise we wouldn’t text all the time. It’s really easy to ignore someone’s texts and make excuses.” Jonas isn’t even mad about the question, it’s so far removed from how he feels. “I’m just saying that there’s this fringe benefit for them.”

“And is that how you see them, as well?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Honestly, they’re my allies right now. Not in a bad way - I like them, they’re fun - but at the moment their function in my social circle is connecting me to my new community, right? They’re transitional aids, like a kinda PREP thing. Or IS. I mean, she was a tour guide.”

“Sounds kinda dehumanizing.”

“It’s not meant to be. I’m— Look, we talked all the time about support systems and community engagement, and buying in, right? So, I’m building a support system of peers.”

Duke cocks his head, looking mildly bemused.

“What?”

“It sounds like you know the words pretty well.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t talk much. Mostly listened.”

“Is that really how you think about the people around you? As… I don’t know, bricks in your support structure?”

“I mean, it’s not the only thing I’m thinking. I like the company, I like the distraction, they’re fun. But…” Another one-shouldered shrug. “I dunno, man, call it a justification if you want.”

“What do you mean?”

Jonas sighs. “Gives me a reason to keep trying.” Again, it’s not said in anger, or even in sadness. Just a straightforward factual statement.

“What would you do if you didn’t think of things that way?”

“Can’t know for sure, obviously. But— I dunno. Call it distress tolerance. Giving them a function gives me a reason to tough it out. Like—” He pauses. “…Yeah, no, I can’t figure out an analogy for the brick thing. Sticking with people instead of being— transient.”

“Transient.”

“Kinda drifting around. Moving through things.”

“You think you’re transient?”

“I think I’d survive without friends. Until shit started to go wrong, I guess.”

Duke is quiet, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to parse the statement, considering. “…I’m not sure I get it.”

“I like people, but all the— politics, I guess. It stresses me out. I’d rather just… not. At least, in group things. School, juvie— the social dynamic is this constant thing where you’re maintaining. Don’t shit where you eat and all that. Don’t fuck it up, you’re stuck there. All this work to not make things worse for yourself. Honestly, I’d rather just see people when I see them. All day every day is… a lot.”

“…Can I ask you a question?” He’s leaning forward, and his tone is a different kind of curious than he has been.

“I mean… that’s literally all you’ve been doing.”

“Your residential center, your stepdown stuff— they had GED programs. Why come back to high school?”

Jonas is spinning the little wire toy around one finger steadily, keeping an eye on it to avoid having it fly off, even as he picks up speed. “Dad wanted me to.” His stomach dips, and his voice is a little quieter. “Mom would, too.” He’s silent for a second, still spinning. “And it’s supposed to be good for me. Community engagement, support structures, all that.”

“Why do you think they wanted you to do school?”

“I mean, my mom was a teacher. My dad… just wants me to be well-adjusted. I think he wants me to feel normal again.”

“What do you think?”

Jonas’s gut has been steadily, gradually, slowly but surely filling with lead. He breathes evenly. Too evenly. Actively making the attempt. When he speaks, it’s a low mutter. “Not sure that’s possible, if we’re being honest.”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head. “I dunno. Things just— changed. Can’t really undo that.”

“…I mean, I agree that you can’t live in the past. Things happened, you can’t undo them, but you also can’t spend every minute thinking about them. I know mindfulness tends to get a bad rap ‘cause it’s sort of trendy in the mental health field right now, but there’s definitely a ton of upsides to it.”

“I’m… vaguely familiar.” Jonas’s voice is a bit wry.

“So you know the whole idea of where you’re living. The goal is being present. So not living in the past, or in the future, but in the here and now, without judgment.”

“…Okay…”

Duke is still bouncing his foot a bit. “What do you think? Like— really consider it for a second. What that means.”

“What, living in the present?” Duke shrugs in a casual kind of confirmation. Jonas sighs, fixes his eyes on the therapist, and tries to do as asked. “…I guess I just feel like that’s asking for trouble.”

“How so?”

“I mean… thinking about the future is kinda important. Otherwise you fuck things up and can’t undo them.”

“Who says you can’t?”

Jonas snorts. “You? Like… a minute ago?”

“I guess— maybe it’s just the use of ‘undo.’ You can’t rewind and make something not have happened, but you can control how you handle the consequences, how you potentially repair the situation, your reactions to things, all of that. But if you’re constantly fearing every possible outcome of anything you do… you do nothing.”

“So you’re saying not to think of consequences. You want me to just go party and violate parole and not care what might happen?”

“Well, no.” Duke actually rolls his eyes. “Hell— it’s a delicate balance, right? But some part of that has to be just allowing yourself to exist without judgment.”

“O…kay?”

“Or analysis.”

“…Ah.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m advocating underage drinking or drugs or truancy or anything, but… You’re out, y’know? You’re in this do-or-die headspace, but your situation has changed dramatically. Now’s your chance to go back to being a kid. Live a little.”

[source for AO3]

[bthenoise]

Q&A: Ice Nine Kills’ Spencer Charnas Talks Horror Movies, ‘The Silver Scream’ and Touring With Atreyu

This interview previously aired on idobi Radio and is for everyone who was too lazy to tune in. Enjoy!

Listen up, everybody. If you’ve yet to check out Ice Nine Kills’ gory, hard-hitting, horror-obsessed LP The Silver Scream then it’s clear you are not living the best Halloween life possible. 

With 13 tracks all centered around some of the best horror films including Halloween, Friday The 13th, Saw, Jaws and many more, Ice Nine Kills’ latest release has quickly become an instant October staple around The Noise office.

And now, just one week away from the best holiday of the year (fight us if you don’t agree), we thought it’d be more than appropriate to give you all our interview with Ice Nine Kills mastermind Spencer Charnas as he discusses all things horror, The Silver Scream and their upcoming Noise Presents tour with Atreyu, Memphis May Fire and Sleep Signals.

To check out our chat with Charnas as he details where his horror-fandom came from, the movie he wishes he wrote about on The Silver Scream plus the influence Atreyu had on his band early on in their career, be sure to see below. Afterward, make sure to grab a copy of Ice Nine Kills’ new album and pick up tickets to see the band out on tour here.       

With Atreyu being one of the first metalcore bands you started listening to, how does it feel to get to go out and do a full US tour with them?

Spencer Charnas: It’s an absolute honor. You know, being someone in a band that was totally influenced by Atreyu -- I remember when we started to be more metal, Atreyu was 100% an influence on myself, especially the album The Curse. So the fact that Atreyu even knows who we are, let alone wants us to open for them, is just a really big honor. It’s kind of surreal.

Have you gotten to know Atreyu at all over the years?

I met them on Warped Tour 2016 when they were on that tour. I remember Brandon [Saller drums/vocals] watched us some of the days when they were on the tour. You know, we just talked here and there backstage, they were super nice and actually invited me to come out and sing “Lip Gloss and Black” with them on one of the dates. So that was really cool. Other than that, just small talk through Instagram and just telling them I’m really excited about touring with them and they just seem like really nice, genuine guys.

Obviously you have a new record to promote on this tour. Are you guys going to be playing any new songs?

Definitely. We’re probably going to play about five or six new songs from the album.

Wow, that’s awesome! When it comes to your tours, you guys usually have a good amount of production. For this Atreyu tour, do you guys plan on doing something similar?

Well you know, when you’re a support act you really can’t go all out. There are restrictions on what you can do because you’re not the headliner. But we’re going to do as much as they let us. I think the real production for us and with this album will be saved and reserved for when we can headline.

So let’s talk The Silver Scream. You guys took somewhat of a risk putting so much into this album with the movie-like music videos and the somewhat style change on certain singles. To have all the success it’s had so far, where do you hope that leads to moving forward?

I just really hope that every horror fan that’s out there, or as many as possible who have never heard the band, really embrace this record. From what I’ve seen, from industry people I know or people that are in the horror movie world who aren’t really familiar with the Warped Tour scene or the metalcore scene or even the Octane scene, they’ve just been telling me that they love this album and they love the concept even though they aren’t really well-versed in the world of metal where we come from. And you know, [they’re saying] that [The Silver Scream] is getting them into this kind of music, so that’s really good to hear. At the end of the day, I think our number one goal is to please the people who have been with us for a long time, that have supported the band through thick and thin and we just want to give them something special. That’s the number one goal.

So with all of the songs on The Silver Scream having some sort of a horror movie tie-in, which song do you think was the hardest to fit with a movie?

I think they all presented their own challenge, I don’t think I can narrow it down to just one. But speaking generally, one of the biggest challenges was making a song, whether it’d be [based off the] Halloween or Friday the 13th franchise, and giving a voice to a character that never speaks. That was just challenging in itself. Some of the characters, be it Eric Draven from The Crow or Freddy Krueger from Nightmare on Elm Street, those are characters that speak and have a voice and it’s very clear what their personality would be if they were singing, in my opinion. But there’s also Michael Myers who never utters a word through all his films. So just kind of playing with that and trying to figure out how to throw my voice in a way that is different and distinct in trying to give each character on the album their own voice was challenging. I think probably the most difficult one if I had to pick was Pennywise from IT. You know, because that’s a character that goes from a jovial clown voice that has to entice a little kid into the sewer system in order to bite off his arm. And then, from being jovial and happy as a clown to switching to basically the devil who eats kids was a difficult challenge but it was fun to play with.

Do you think you guys would have still done “IT Is The End” had the new IT not come out? Do you think seeing the remake helped inspire you? 

I’m not really sure. I’ve always been a fan of the original. I think Tim Curry in that original film was brilliant. I believe the guy that directed the original, Tommy Lee Wallace, was very involved in the Halloween franchise directing Halloween III. So I’m just really a fan of that and I really think the new one honestly lived up to the hype. I thought it was beautifully executed, you know with Tim Curry, those are some big clown shoes to fill and Bill Skarsgard is just great. And yeah, I think it brought it back on my radar, not that it ever really left, but it kind of just kicked it up a bit.

Speaking of remakes, are you excited for the new Halloween?

Oh man! To say I’m excited would be a large understatement. I absolutely can’t wait. Everything I’ve heard about it is so great.

You don’t think it will flop like some of the newer Halloweens?

You know, I’m sort of a big fan of the franchise as a whole -- there’s only a couple that I’m not really a fan of. But you know, just based on what I’m seeing as far as studio projections and just the all-around hype on the film and the fact that Jamie Lee Curtis is back and John Carpenter is involved and doing the score, I don’t know, I don’t think it can miss. And from what I’ve heard, the reviews have been overwhelming that this is a sequel that finally lives up to the original.

And speaking of the Halloween franchise, you recorded some vocals for The Silver Scream at the Michael Myers house, right?

Yeah, I took advantage of the fact that I live in West Hollywood now and I went and recorded some of the vocals, some of the small post-production stuff, on the properties of the Michael Myers house in Pasadena and 1428 Elm Street -- the house from Nightmare on Elm Street which is technically not really on Elm Street but it is the actual number 1428 just like the iconic number from the series.

That’s cool! How did you set that up? You just went and did it?

I just went and did it and hoped no one called the cops [laughs].

So back to The Silver Scream, were there any movies that you wanted to write a song about but it just wasn’t able to make the record?

Yeah, you know one of my favorite horror movies and favorite films of all time is Scream. I definitely wanted to get that one on the record but it just wasn’t coming out to my standards and the last thing I want would be a song based on my favorite movie to not be my favorite song ever written. So unfortunately we didn’t get that ready in time but we do pay tribute to the great, late Wes Craven with [”The American Nightmare”]. So I was happy that we could get a Wes Craven influence on the album because he’s so great and we love his work.

You guys have a lot of guest features on this new record. Was that a goal coming into the writing process or did that happen organically?

It kind of happened organically. You know, when I locked in one feature I was like “Man, this is so cool!” The first feature that I sort of had the idea was Randy [Strohmeyer] from Finch. Finch is one of my favorite bands [who is] very inspirational to my writing. And I recently became friends with him and getting him on the album was really cool. Then I met Fenix TX when we were on tour in London and I struck up a friendship with those guys and went out to write with the singer Will [Salazar] and then told him how the song came out so cool [so we] got him to sing on it. And then Tony [Lovato] from Mest, another one of my favorite pop-punk bands. And then, when we were working on the song about IT, it just had this like circus flare and we were like, “Man, wouldn’t it be so cool to get Less Than Jake on this?” and we were like “Yeah, but that would never happen.” And we kind of reached out to their people and they were totally into it, which was kind of surreal. They were like “Ah man, a heavy band like this has never asked us to do anything like this!” They were super cool. On other collaborations, we had Jeremy Schwartz who I started the band with in high school who hasn’t been in the band in almost ten years. He came back and we wrote a song together and we got him on the album. My friend, Chelsea Talmadge, who is just a great singer and is a part of that show Stranger Things. We got her to sing and she did a beautiful job. And yeah, it all just came out great.

Hearing some of the people you got as guest vocals, it almost sounds like this is your dream album come true. Not only are you getting to sing about some of your all-time favorite horror movies but you’re also getting to work with some of your all-time favorite bands. 

It’s awesome man. Just getting praise from people that I know in horror and people who have produced horror documentaries that I grew up watching, like Anthony Masi who produced the His Name Was Jason documentary and the Halloween: 25 Years of Terror documentary. You know, them just saying this is one of their favorite albums they’ve ever heard, it’s just great. At the end of the day, I’m a fan myself, so to see other people who are so passionate about the genre embrace our album [is great]. 

Obviously this isn’t an easy question to answer but what do you think initially drew you to the horror genre?

You know, it’s odd. I’ve been into it since I was a little kid. Basically, my love for the genre was birthed at a local video store that was in a grocery store where I grew up. My mom would go shopping and bring me along and to kill time I would hang out in this video store. And you know, for whatever reason I was drawn to the aisle that said “Horror.” And I would look to see the artwork on the covers of these VHS tapes like Halloween and Friday The 13th and I wanted to see what this shit was about. My parents were cool enough to let me watch those films and I think they assumed I’d grow out of it. I guess, you know, 25 years later I’m talking on the phone about it and making an album, so I guess I didn’t grow out of it [laughs]. But yeah, I don’t know. I think maybe some of it was like, I always dressed up like Michael Myers on Halloween and [I would think how] if I was the monster, then the monster couldn’t get me.

Do you think if music never panned out, you would’ve tried to find a way to work in horror movies?

Absolutely! It’s kind of one of my other goals. We’re making this movie and I’m acting in it. I’ve never acted before and I’ve got a lot to learn. But helping come up with the videos, scripts and screenplays, it’s just something I’d like to get into. Someone like Rob Zombie is so cool because he does music and he directs films. You know, maybe someday down the line, I can accomplish that dream too.

How nerve-racking was it to do the acting and be so involved with this project?

It was definitely nerve-racking and watching the videos I could definitely tell I got better over time. There were some amateur moves I didn’t know I was doing, like little nervous ticks. But from what a lot of people are saying, the kind of people who wouldn’t bullshit me, actually said they think I could maybe do it someday with some practice. They think that I was pretty good but we’ll see [laughs].