#which i mean i know like that’s franks killjoy but still

[frnkiebby]

fucking— U G H~🎃

[mwolf0epsilon]

Hi there. I'm still new to tumblr and to the starwars animated series fandom so I'm not very good at keeping up with things or asking about stuff that's been going on. As of late I've noticed there's a lot of discourse about Tech from the bad batch show. Could you maybe explain to me why? It's ok if you don't want to answer, I just saw that sometimes you answer these kinds of questions and you never sound mean when you do it? I'm trying not to sound dumb but I don't understand what's going on.

Yesterday when I got this ask I decided I wasn't going to answer it immediately. Both because it was my birthday and I'd rather enjoy it than delve deep into fandom drama that I'm not 100% interested in following, and because I just didn't have the time to do it any sort of justice in terms of explaining what's gone down.

Newbie Anon I'll be frank with you, I am not really sure what sparked the recent mess relating to Tech (there's always hot debates sparked by TBB for obvious reasons if you ask some of the older people in the fandom, but that's something I think you'll figure out fairly quickly if you stick around tumblr for a while). But I do have a bit of a theory...

I'm gonna keep this one under a cut for the sake of my followers and pals that don't want to get slapped in the face with this topic.

---

To start this off Newbie Anon, The Bad Batch is unquestioningly a Whitewashed Mess.

It has surpassed The Clone Wars in piss poor poc design, and while this is not a new issue (the clones have always been inconsistently portrayed as white men in various forms of older media) the animated series haven't done jackshit to fix the models despite the producers going back to fix other character models in Tales of the Jedi (proving that they can do so but simply refuse to properly represent Temuera's features in the characters that should all look like him).

Temuera Morrison as Jango Fett, compared to clone trooper Dogma

The example above helps point out some of the issues with the clone models. The profile of the face, the shape of the nose, chin and ears, the bone-cheek prominence and even the brow ridge is incorrect.

The shape of the lips and eyebrows are the only parts of the model that look right. The eyes are almost correct if not for their size and coloration. This is less of a stylistic choice like many claim, and more obviously an attempt to make the clones's features resemble less of those of a Polynesian man and more of an Euro-centric man.

Cody is another excellent example of comparison because he was directly portrayed by Tem as well, and thus his model in the show is more blatantly incorrect in the way it was depicted. Down to both the features I mentioned above and also his height being needlessly exaggerated to make him look more "intimidating" (the wikia lists all standard clones as being 6 feet tall despite Tem being 5'7").

Commander Cody as he appears in ROTS compared to his TCW Model

And then we have Clone Force 99...

Clone Force 99 aka the Bad Batch

Newbie Anon, you'd need to be blind not to see the physical discrepancies between Jango Fett and the Bad Batch. The only member that looks remotely like a clone is Wrecker who unfortunately draws heavy inspiration from the Hulk...

The Hulk... Let that sink in.

Even Echo who was a standard clone prior to his capture barely looks like a clone anymore, and the insistence on keeping him looking the way he does while justifying it as medical in nature is offensive in many ways (both towards poc and the disabled) especially when Echo was most definitely treated very poorly by the writing team (dehumanized on various occasions because of his cybernetics all in the name of a "good laugh", portrayed as the broody "killjoy" that does nothing but complain and argue with Hunter, missing the point entirely on his character which we'd gotten to know long before cf99 were a thing, just to then toss him away when they no longer wanted to focus on anyone but TBB exclusive characters).

Their designs are atrocious examples of whitewashing and the fandom has been divided on this topic for a long long time now.

There's those who likely don't understand what the problem is, which doesn't make them dumb mind you. Not everyone who watches a show is super connected to a fandom or with this kind of debate. A show is a show, animated or not, and it's watched and sometimes not spared a second glance. And since TBB is mostly aimed at kids it's mostly kids who are watching it, and the issues pass over their heads because... Well they're kids and they're still learning. No harm in that at all, eventually they'll grow up and grow wiser (or not, sometimes that's just how these things happen).

There's those who have pointed this out time and time again, arguing that they should look more like clones because it makes no sense that they look so wildly different from the rest. Especially when the explanation provided is that their "desirable mutations" made them look like that (which essentially means that being white is a desirable mutation and that's a brutally racist thing to claim).

There's also those who see nothing wrong with their designs and that even consider them hot. Hunter, Tech and Crosshair especially are viewed as the Hotties of the squad and have a massive following of kinnies and girlies who would definitely not mind getting hot and bothered with them.

Which is where the recent discourse kind of starts off...

But not as unexpectedly as you'd think. More, it happened because of something I suspect is far too big of a coincidence to ignore. The overall timing matches up with the recent outcry at least.

So, there's this company called Sideshow. It's a figures/collectibles/merchandise company that has been producing high quality star wars figures for a while now. They take pride in making as accurate a facial sculpt as possible, and over the years they have improved tremendously especially when portraying characters who have Tem's features (mostly thanks to Hot Toys who've improved the original sculpts they were using).

A comparison between the original Sideshow captain Rex sculpt vs the more recent Hot Toys version

Commander Wolffe's two much older face sculpts compared to Commander Cody's more recent face sculpt

Clone trooper Domino Twins face sculpt compared to the Jango Fett face sculpt

ARC trooper Domino Twins face sculpt compared to the ARC trooper Jesse face sculpt

Sideshow and Hot Toys are undeniably good at what they do in terms of sculpting the faces of these characters. They've done a lot of improving and while some of the skin tones are still a little off off on occasion (especially in Rex who's lighter hair color automatically makes his skin tone look even more pale than it already does), you can't exactly say they don't look like the source material.

When it comes to quality figures, the fandom was of course pleased when Sideshow and Hot Toys started working on a TBB line where the figures had facial sculpts that matched Tem more closely than their show counterparts.

The first three figures of the TBB line to be unveiled

Obviously there's still issues (especially on the skin tone department) but you can see Tem's features more easily in Hunter and Echo. In Crosshair's case he seems more like he's related to the clones rather than being a clone himself (he looks like he could be the son of a clone) but at the very least the shape of the eyes, brows and ears is a more accurate match than what his model looks like in the show.

It's not perfect. But the fact Sideshow and Hot Toys tried to make them look like clones made a lot of people happy that there was someone in the companies trying. So when Wrecker and Tech's facial sculpts were announced everyone was excited to see what the end result would be like.

The Wrecker face sculpt revealed at long last

They managed quite well with Wrecker aside from how pale he looks. I'm very grateful they didn't try to make his brow and jawline thicker to make him look "meaner" or more brutish.

The Tech sculpt on the other hand...

The Tech face sculpt

They managed to get the ears and shape of the head right... But the rest is most definitely not at all what a clone should look like. I draw attention towards the shape and size of the lips, nose, brows and eyes specifically (coupled with his lighter hair colour and his hairline being quite receded and it's even worse to look at). The balance is way off to the point they manage to make him most definitely look like a basic white guy in altered clone armour.

This was a blow to people who were hopeful that the figure would make him resemble Temuera a little more like what they'd done to the others. It just didn't work for Tech and people were rightfully frustrated with it.

However, as soon as this was brought up there was a spark of "What's wrong? I thought you said Tech was hot :)" arguments with people laughing over the "Tech Girlies" getting what was coming to them for thinking their whitewashed pretty boy was suddenly less attractive than what they previously thought.

Now I could be wrong, it could have nothing to do with the figure reveals. I'm not very good at keeping up to date with fandom discourse because I mostly don't have the energy to care anymore (I'm here for a good time, I know my own convictions and where I stand morally, I don't need to constantly argue and moan about it when instead I could just pass along information and make my own stuff to share with the people who're here to have fun with me, I am not morally bound to star wars nor would I ever dare equate my enjoyment of the fandom to something like a marriage commitment because that's honestly ridiculous). But I donno Newbie Anon...

The timing seems too much of a coincidence and this fandom is notorious for starting fights very easily. Tech's figure coming out as the ugly duckling of the bunch and setting off a war between people who are genuinely disappointed the sculpt is bad, the Tech fangirls, and anyone who's just eager to pick a fight with everyone else, wouldn't really surprise me much.

I've seen shit like this happen in every fandom I've been. It's a matter of getting used to it and learning to pick your fights more wisely. Getting worked up about fandom discourse will only burn you out faster than you can say "oh bother".

[mychemicalraymance]

ok sorry idk every single thing there is to know abt the band… damn :/ no it wasn’t a joke

okay i mean that's fine but the drummer rotation is like. for a good reason lol. i'm rubbing my hands together at being able to tell you this. this is all based off of a mixture of interviews based off of old memories from the band and also the rumor mill and like i'm just saying this off the top of my head so it's not gospel truth

matt pelissier or otter was their original drummer. his timing wasn't very good, and he was appearantly so stubborn that he refused to use a click track to help himself keep time, so that sort of speaks to his personality. apparently someone in charge of production during bullets or maybe early revenge suggested just trashing matt's tracks and getting a session drummer to replace him on the recording under the table, but ray apparently refused this. anyway in the middle of gerard's lowest point in the timeline of his early 2000's depression and drug spiral, they decided they had to let matt go. Ray did it and matt was apparently a huge dick about it. there's some vague story about him wrecking their trailer in an act or immature rage or something like that. frank has said about him - i told him to give me a call when he grows up. he hasn't called yet

bob bryar was hired after being their sound guy for several shows, and he toured with them a lot. he was hired like a day before they recorded the inok video, which is why he's drumming in it but not a character. they were friends, and bob and the band got along very well. if you watch lotms you'll see that he was pretty integral to their dynamic for a while. he stayed on during TBP, and also got a pretty crazy injury on the set of flw music videos, where his polyester pants melted onto his leg, and i think it became septic? it was pretty bad. i can't remember if he was the drummer for conventional weapons or not, i think he was. anyway he was going to be part of danger days, but he sort of randomly left under mysterious circumstances before it came to be. gerard had a killjoy design for him. anyway, there was some beef for sure. when mikey was going through his lowest point essentially, he had a lot of substance abuse issues, divorced his wife, and started dating a young fan. bob made fun of him a lot on twitter about that. bob's twitter ALSO revealed that he is fucking racist, he made disturbing tweets about the ferguson protests. so fuck him six ways to sunday. people hate him for being mean to mikey; that's like not good but his pretty blatant racism is my main reason for being a hater. no one knows EXACTLY why he left the band, only known reason is from a statement from the band about "artistic differences". i suspect that it was a lot of things, i think perhaps he didn't appreciate the sort of brutal machine of mcr touring, maybe that caused tension, maybe he changed! but it's entirely possible he always sucked and mcr just never cared. he eventually left twitter, tried to make money off of his mcr shit, became a real estate agent. mikey apparently is still acquaintances with him via social media i believe.

mike pedicone was their drummer during danger days. mike was there for a short time, and the band was hesitant to make him a full member, which was good because mike was caught out STEALING MONEY FROM THE BAND. like literally stealing from them, in order to frame a techie that he didn't like. the day that happened, frank said "trust no one" during inok on stage. lol.

anyway. this is why

[st-just]

Hey, Cuba-anon again with a slightly different question. Less about Cuba, more about foreign policy and ethics in general. I am interested to know what you think about Nationalism and it’s place in the modern world. How should one view their relationship to their country versus their relationship to the global community?

To give my point of view, I think I am a pragmatic nationalist? I am not gung-ho about America because “it is the best nation ever and the president is never wrong, uwu”, but rather because I live here, my parents and grandparents live here, and if something in the world negatively impacts America it will by extension negatively impact me. I don’t think other countries are beneath me or anything, but I also know that the feeling is not always reciprocal. So, to me, putting the well being of Americans first and everything else second is similar to putting on your air mask first before helping others in the event of a plane crash.

Either way, would love to hear your point of view and see how others tackle the question.

(sorry for the delay in response, got halfway through writing this then saved it to drafts and completely blanked on it)

But okay, interesting question, and worth breaking down.

So, you know how through the '90s and early 2000's there was this just utterly overpowering narrative where the last chapter of every history textbook ended with a chapter about how national borders were less and less important and how through the magic of The Internet young people were more connected and cosmopolitan than ever, with the strong implication that the weight of history was pulling us inevitably towards a post-national utopia of frictionless exchange and understanding. Call it the Star Trek ideal.

Hasn't exactly worked out, of course. And to a large degree was bullshit even at the time (or the optimism of academics expecting all of humanity to think like they do, being charitable). But in my heart of hearts, that's still how I think things should work.

But okay, to get a bit less abstract, a bunch of barely connected thoughts-

- Nation-states (and states generally) are, at best, convenient administrative divisions of humanity. They have no value outside the services they provide to their residents, and certainly no rights or moral worth outside that. America doesn't deserve your loyalty or life anymore than the state of Ohio or city of Baltimore do (replace with wherever you live.)

-If you accept the basic idea of humans having equal moral worth (or anywhere close to it), then the entire idea that someone's entire life should be defined by what side of an imaginary line on a map they were born on seems obviously absurd as soon as you start thinking about it?

-Nations - in terms of borders, whose included, what characteristics are 'national', etc - are also both contingent and a great extent artificial, defined by state and cultural elites via a standardized language, a mythologized national history, patriotic holidays, nationalizing and creating traditions and rituals, national education and entertainment, etc, etc. There's nothing primordial or inherent there.

-Unfortunately, people really, really like having teams to identify with, and like excluding people from those teams and/or treating them like shit for not belonging to them even more. (People talk a lot about x or y horrible thing being fundamental to human nature, but I really think this is one of the places where human nature really lets us down.)

-Nationalism is an extremely easy and powerful way of dividing the world between us and them, and across the world there has been massive success using it as a locus for identity formation and to organize populations around basically every sort of project imaginable, from funding public education and welfare to genocide.

-Nationalism is, as mentioned, inherently exclusive - and no matter what it's proponents say, in practice there's always someone within the borders of the nation who doesn't quite fit (in the European context, Romani and Jewish people are the most obvious examples). Cases where the nationalist imagination doesn't perfectly overlap with state borders, or with the identity of some subset of the 'national' population also tends to go, uh, badly.

-However, within the national population, appeals to national solidarity or theoretically shared ideals can often be (to a limited degree) useful in transcending or working to ameliorate regional, ethnic, class, etc divides.

-While it's true that large chunks of the American (Canadian, British, French, Japanese, etc) populace benefit quite a bit from their position in the current international system, it's almost universally the case that what foreign policy elites consider 'the national interest' extends far, far, far beyond anything that provides concrete benefits to the average citizen - I'll just gesture vaguely towards Afghanistan, here. Or World War 1 - and quite a lot of death and misery is inflicted for the sake of a narrow slice of the elite's material interests and entirely meaningless concerns around national glory and prestige.

-To be frank, in specifically America's case, putting the interests of co-nationals first and everyone else second is less putting your own air mask on first and more launching a life boat at half capacity to make sure you have leg room.

-But, again, the fruits of pursuing the national interest really, really aren't evenly spread. Does the US government's tireless and vicious championing of stringent IP laws, regardless of how many needless deaths result from the constraints on the drug supply they create, really do much for the average American?

-Which, to go back to the air mask analogy, brings up the awkward point that very often it's not so much putting your own mask on first as tearing the masks off people around you so you have extras, just in case. How much less is the life of someone on the wrong side of the border worth? Half as much? A tenth? A thousandth? The pursuit of America's national security and national interests has a death toll well into the millions.

-Honestly, even if you don't care at all about foreigners, in terms of domestic policy it's just a useful heuristic to instinctively distrust anyone who relies too much on nationalist rhetoric to justify themselves. I mean, the music's almost always bad and anyone who actually gets invested in the symbolism of their flag is reliably a complete killjoy, but even beyond that - they're just very reliably the worst people. This is admittedly unkind and not always true. But, well, see that quote about patriotism being the last refuge of the scoundrel, which applies wonderfully to both people and organizations. If someone's trying to sell something by wrapping it in the flag, that usually means they don't want you looking too closely.

-Viewing the world through a nationalist framework and caring about zero-sum issues of national prestige also make it incredibly hard to coordinate around issues that don't care about national borders, or are going to disproportionately hurt people without rich and powerful nation-states defending their interests. Like, I don't know, global pandemics. Or climate change.

-Anyway, in conclusion, borders bad, nationalism bad, and also any officially codified 'Patriotic' culture is instantly cringe. Hopefully some of this makes sense.

[thewordworrier]

Born Bob Dylan - Part Twelve

Story Main Page - see this for warnings, etc.

Word Count:  2,597 words. Notes: A curse or three, mildly spicy. Nothing too explicit.

- - - - - - - - - - Shelly gently pushed him so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, having already managed to quickly strip him of his jacket and belt as they were kissing on the way over from across the room. He pulled her back against him so he could kiss her for a while longer before gently tugging on the hem of her t-shirt. With a strange burst of confidence, she took a step back and stripped her clothes off, leaving herself in an, in her words “embarrassingly simple,” cerulean blue lace set. After taking a quick look down at herself, she blushed and covered her face. “Oh god, I wish I’d worn something nicer today.” Gerard pulled her hands away from her face and kissed the back of each one. “You look beautiful. I’ve always loved this colour on you.” She looked at him as he kissed the back of her hands, watching him, her cheeks still a pretty shade of pink. “Is that why you made my Killjoy persona’s main colour this blue?” “Mm hm. Went nicely with Siren’s hair.” “Did you ever share your art of her?” Shelly asked softly, watching him place her hands on his shoulders. She moved one hand to run her fingers through his hair as he nuzzled her stomach. “On social media or anything?” “I think I might’ve accidentally shared one of the sketches; I was sharing something on another page and her sketches or linework got caught in the picture too. Never her in all of her colourful glory though. Never her symbol or her colour scheme.” “Probably a good thing,” Shelly hummed. “Her colours are really similar to Poison’s after all…” “Her shade of red is prettier. Suits you better,” he lifted a hand from her hip to tangle it in her blonde hair. “Though I much prefer this. That’s why Siren had streaks. Or dyed ends. Or was in need of a re-dye; I mean, it was set in the desert. I don’t remember which I preferred, though I know I drew as many options as I could. Please never go full red again.” “Flatterer,” she leant down to kiss him again. “You don’t need to do that, you’ve already got me. You’ve always had me.” Gerard hummed into her mouth as she kissed him. He untangled his fingers from her hair and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her to him and pulling her close enough so she had to kneel on the bed slightly. It wasn’t until she was kissing along to his jaw to his earlobe that he mentally replayed something she said. “Wait, why would that be a bad thing?” “Why would what be a bad thing?” Her fingers were unbuttoning his shirt, just a little, so she could get to his neck better. “Siren and Poison’s colours being very similar to each other.” Shelly drew back and looked at him. “Because people would’ve misinterpreted that. Like, they were two sides of the same coin, like they belonged together, or were together,” she coughed slightly. “Or something. And that wouldn’t’ve been good, considering we were nothing of the sort and you were definitely not on the market.” “People used to ‘ship’ you and me anyway,” he said quietly, his cheeks going a faint shade of pink. “I think they have since Revenge.” “Did you Google yourself?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “No, Frank showed me some fan… Works? Some art and some - ” “Oh god, he didn’t show you fanfics did he?” Shelly groaned in annoyance after Gerard nodded. “I’m going to kill him.” “Wait, you knew?” Shelly held her hands up in defence, watching him shuffle backwards on the mattress a bit more. “Not during! At least, not for certain. You forget that I spent more time on our social media than you guys - I saw a lot of comments. Some good, some bad, some utterly weird. I didn’t see any…  Creative work until Frank showed me something one day. And then it was… You know when you notice something that you’d never picked up on before?” “It’s suddenly everywhere?” She nodded, moving up the bed to straddle him properly this time. “Yeah, that. But it wasn’t until the band broke up that I went purposely looking for it, out of curiosity.” Gerard hummed appreciatively as he let his eyes look her over, enjoying her change of position, and let his hands rest on her hips. “Why did you do that?” “Hey, there’s some talented artists out there!” Now it was her cheeks that were flooding crimson. “And some of the writing was actually pretty hot.” He couldn’t help it - he laughed but pulled her back to him to kiss her again. Not that she complained about this. Or at least, he didn’t think he could exactly call her winding her fingers in his hair and kissing him harder a complaint. “You’ll have to let me know what you like,” Gerard said softly, kissing along to her jaw and running his hands over her back. “I might be a little rusty, but I’ll learn.” “Your hands Gee,” she whispered, arching against him a bit. “I’ve always had a thing about your hands.” “I think I can work with that.” Shelly giggled and had to shift just out of his reach so she could focus on stripping him of his shirt, dropping it on the floor, or thereabouts, she wasn’t paying that much attention because she was trying to fend off of his hands. “Hey,” he protested quietly. “Nope, you don’t get to touch again yet. Just let me get this off of you; it's not fair that you have all this skin to mark up and touch and I don’t have anything.” Gerard hummed but let her have her way. When she dropped the shirt he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Go on then.” Gerard reached for her and pulled her closer. He kissed the scar she had on her stomach, running his hand up her side until his thumb brushed over the tattoo under her right breast, though it was closer to her ribcage really - a familiar sight of black and red ink on normally pale skin. Not as pale as his own skin; she actually liked the sun, but she was still pale. He replaced his thumb with his lips, kissing over the words and the simple art. “Still so humbled by this,” he whispered, feeling her squirm and hearing her giggle as his breath tickled her skin. “So, so humbled. Thank you.” “Thank you for writing it,” she breathed, trying not to laugh. “Thank you for drawing the roses for me.” “Thank you for loving both my words and my art enough to get them permanently marked on your body.” “Any time.” Shelly giggled again and found herself petting his hair as he slowly trailed open mouthed kisses across her chest where the lace met her skin. His hands slid around her until he found her bra clasp. He looked up at her with bright, happy eyes and, in such a soft voice, asked; “May I? Please?” She swallowed and almost melted at the softness and the politeness, managing a soft “yes.” “You sure?” “Yes,” she nodded, her voice a little stronger. He concentrated for a moment, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he did so, which just made her giggle. Though that giggle morphed into a squeak as he slid her bra off of her and dropped it either on the bed beside them or on the floor; she wasn’t paying enough attention to figure out which. Her instinct was to cover her bareness, to hug and hide herself, and this made Gerard frown. “Why are you hiding from me, love?” He tucked some hair behind her ear. “I mean, it’s just me.” “No no no!” Her eyes went wide and her hands went to his face, cupping his cheeks and forgetting her own shyness. “What do you mean ‘just’ you?!” “I, um - ” “You’re the most amazing,” she kissed him once; “the most talented,” twice; “the kindest man,” three times, before continuing. “I’ve ever met, that I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, in my whole life.” Gerard looked at her. He just looked at her quietly for a moment. Like he thought she was the most magical thing in the entire world; like no one could ever match up to her. Like she was a work of art that he’d never seen before; that he'd only heard rumours and legends about. Shelly tilted her head as she looked at him, her hands having slipped to his shoulders a moment ago. She was about to open her mouth to say something when he kissed her again. He kissed her harder this time, one arm winding around her waist to hold her against him as he maneuvered her backwards off of his lap. She went with it, trusting him not to hurt her. That’s why she did anything he suggested after all - because she trusted him. So she wasn’t surprised or afraid when he got her pinned underneath him with very little effort. He kept running his fingers through her hair, making her hum in contentment into his mouth as he ghosted his fingers over her skin. She trembled and wriggled underneath him, even arching her back a bit when his hand cupped her breast for the briefest of moments before almost shyly dropping away, to grab at her hip. “Gerard,” she murmured as he kissed her neck. “Mm?” “Two things sweetheart,” she sighed softly as he found a particular favourite spot of hers. “Oh, okay… Maybe three.” He hummed. “Mm, what?” “One; that’s really nice, right there,” she felt him chuckle against her skin. “Two, you’re wearing too much.” Gerard glanced up at her before kissing down to the top of her breast. “Is that so?” Shelly tangled her fingers in his hair and gently tugged at the bright strands, mostly to move him back. “Yes, that’s so. Not fair that you’re wearing more than me.” “It’s really not by much though,” he tilted his head to her fingers, which were still in his hair. “What was the third thing?” “Nuh, are you gonna take them off or not?” She nodded to his jeans, but felt her whole posture soften when she noticed the blush on his face. “Gee? You don’t have anything to be nervous about, you know that right?” He watched her face suddenly go very pink. “What did you just remember?” “I um…” Shelly nibbled her bottom lip before clearing her throat. “I remembered a few of those mornings we woke up together, back on the Revenge tours. I think it was mostly when you’d had a really bad night, for one reason or another.” Gerard nodded. “I vaguely remember you staying with me to help me with withdrawals, or just because I couldn’t sleep.” “Mm hm. You… Um,” she went from pink to red. “You were always a very, ah, responsive and reactive man. Especially in the mornings.” It took a minute or two longer than he would’ve liked to get what she was hinting at but when it clicked his eyes widened and he swore quietly under his breath. “I am so sorry you had to put up with that.” Shelly giggled softly. “It’s okay. I’ve never really minded. But my point is, it’s not like it’s new to me, really, not entirely. I kinda know what - ” Gerard went almost the same colour as his hair and kissed her to shut her up. It stopped her words but not the quiet giggles he could still feel against his lips and tongue. “Mm, please just take them off.” He felt her tug at his belt loops and realised that he didn’t know when her hands had moved. “Or let me do it for you?” “I’ll do it,” his voice came out as more of a squeak when he felt her fingers on the zipper. He swallowed and gently moved her hands away. “I will.” “You want me to close my eyes?” Her voice was soft and kind, and he knew she wasn’t teasing. “Because I will.” Gerard shook his head and shifted away enough to remove the (apparently) offensive article of clothing. He noticed that she tried not to stare, she tried not to watch - really she did, but she just couldn’t help it. She bit her bottom lip when he caught her watching him and looked away guiltily, trying to avoid making eye contact with him, even when she felt the bed dip as he joined her on it again. She kept avoiding his eyes until she felt him gently place his fingers under her chin and turn her face so she was looking at him. “Better?” He asked. Shelly nodded, still pink in the face but looking rather pleased with herself. “Very.” He laughed and kissed her, feeling her fingers stroking his cheek as his arms settled around her waist again. “Oh! The third thing, the third thing - ” she whispered as she felt his fingers stroking the skin of her hip above the waistline of her panties. “Mm? What’s that?” “You don’t have to be quite so gentle with me, you know,” Shelly ran her fingers through his hair slowly. “I’m not going to break.” “I know, I know,” he kissed her like he couldn’t get enough of her. “But I want you to want to do this again. And again and again. With me, I mean. So for now, I’m going to be gentle.” “Gerard…” “And if you decide that I…” He swallowed and took a minute to collect himself and his thoughts. “If you decide that you still want me, that I’m good enough, then we can experiment with all the rhythms and tempos.” “Gee,” she cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Why wouldn’t I still want you?” He kissed her back for a moment before he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Because I’m not as young and fit as I used to be.” Shelly let out an unladylike snort. “Well, neither am I.” “You are!” He protested. “But even if you don’t think so... I think you’re still really very hot.” “Oh, shut up.” Shelly rolled her eyes. “You’re still a fucking dreamboat.” Gerard laughed against her neck. “Oh, I am not.” “Yeah,” she pulled back to look at him. She hummed and smiled. “Yeah you are. I still think you’re fit.” “You might be a little biased though.” “A little biased?” She laughed. “I’ve been biased forever. There’s never been any hope for me.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you kidding me?” She held his face in both of her hands. “As soon as I laid eyes on this beautiful fucking face, my heart was already gone. It just took longer for the rest of me to catch up.” Gerard just stared at her. “What?” “You’re doing it again,” he said after a minute. “Doing what?” She looked genuinely confused and maybe even a little concerned. “Making me realise exactly how hopelessly in love with you I am.” Her eyes widened as her expression softened and when she spoke she still sounded like she couldn't quite believe it. “Really?” “Yeah,” Gerard nodded once before looking her over, slowly. “Really.” She caught him and then it was his turn to blush, but instead of looking away he held her gaze and licked his lips. “Can I show you now?”

[drummergirl231-2]

Why This Hiatus is a Lot Less Fun

So @beaglelover62​ and I were talking about this the other day, and like... people aren’t posting many speculations these days.

Speculating is one of my favorites. That’s probably why I never got full-on obsessed with Gravity Falls. I watched it all after the series was complete and didn’t get to speculate with the fandom. I was never curious about what would happen next because I knew I’d get to find out whenever I wanted.

Going back to DuckTales, usually hiatuses are such a great time to speculate. Usually whatever just happened in the last batch of episodes starts turning the wheels in my brain, and I get all kinds of new ideas. We usually go on hiatus after a cliffhanger, too. 

It’s a little different this time.

First things first, “The Rumble for Ragnarok!” didn’t end with a cliffhanger. It was more of a character development episode than a relevant-to-the-main-plot kinda episode... not a filler exactly; the character development was still important. But like... it didn’t directly involve the main plot.

Another reason why this hiatus is a lot less fun is that there weren’t any hints to new plots in the first 7 episodes that Frank didn’t already hint at on his blog.

Let’s look at Season 2 to compare.

In the very first episode of Season 2, Louie starts Louie Inc. and his plot is set in motion. 

In the third episode, Scrooge and Glomgold make their bet, which is another important arc in the season. In episode 6, we revisit the Della issue, and learn she’s working hard to get home to her family and has been family-oriented since she was a little girl. That was in the first batch of episodes, but if we add episode 7, which aired by itself, we got flippin’ “What Ever Happened to Della Duck?!” 

Season 2 Episode 7 - “What Ever Happened to Della Duck?!” Season 3 Episode 7 - “The Rumble for Ragnarok!”  ...See what I mean?

The first batch of episodes for Season 2 were so much more plot-relevant in an obvious way. It felt like a lot happened in the first part of Season 2.

So far we have seven episodes of Season 3, and it feels like nothing has happened in terms of the season’s plot (even though there’s been some AMAZING character development and the greatest Donsy ship ever has set sail).

Huey still hasn’t begun his journey as a little conspiracy theorist (though “Quack Pack!” was good foreshadowing). He still has no idea, no inkling, that F.O.W.L. is targeting his family, and we’re seven episodes in. 

Is it? Is it, Bradford???

As for Webby... we only got hints that this season would address her origins. But we got those hints from Frank before the season ever aired.

And since the only hint we have now is that Beakley’s been keeping secrets from her... well, that’s nothing to go on. “The Lost Harp of Mervana!” kinda sorta backed up @alliterative-albatross​‘ theory of Webby’s origin, which is my speculation, as well, but it could also back up other people’s theories, too because Beakley was so vague.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but nothing has happened to fuel new speculations for me.

My speculations haven’t changed after the first seven episodes of Season 3, and all the speculations I do have are from SDCC stuff from last year, hints and spoilers from Frank that we got before the season started, and my own daydreams.

My speculations about Huey? They haven’t changed. My speculations about Webby? They haven’t changed. My speculations about Dewey and Louie? Haven’t changed. Della? Haven’t changed. Scrooge? Nerp. Beakley? Nerp. Donald? Nerp.  Daisy? Nerp, not really, except I’ve come up with cute scenarios revolving around her dress design skills, now that we’ve met her. The Duck cousins? Nerp. Drake and Gosalyn? Nerp. HDL’s father? I’ve got like five flipping AUs and nothing from the first seven episodes of the season changed any of them.

So now here we are, a month and a half into this mid-season hiatus, and really with no more speculation fodder than we had before Season 3 began, if we’ve been following Frank.

Plus, for me, every time I do think of a speculation I haven’t posted about yet and I post it, I’ve been getting a lot of people who are like, Well I think this instead, and for the longest time I couldn’t figure out why that bothers and tires me because like, hello, we can all think different things and we’ll eventually find out what’s canon anyway, but today I watched a video by Frank James on youtube called “7 Things You Should NEVER Say to an INFJ,” and #3 at 3:16 explained it perfectly. So thank you to my fellow INFJ for making my life make sense again (even though technically the context he was talking about was decision-making, not speculative post making, but still. It applies). Extroverted thinking with strangers just does not come naturally.

It’s been kind of exhausting, to be honest, putting effort into these posts and then pretty much just getting a lot of indifference sprinkled with No, see, I think this, or What about this instead from others, which makes me not wanna bother. Particularly, I got one person reblogging multiple posts of mine within a few days telling me repeatedly they think this other thing instead, and it’s like Omigosh then go make your own post about it and leave mine alone! Geeez.  Bit of a killjoy.

To sum up:

So many characters haven’t officially begun their arcs seven episodes in.

We’ve had no new hints from the first seven episodes about what’s in store that Frank didn’t tease about first.

I already had a bunch of speculations before Season 3 started and nothing has confirmed or contradicted them.

The few speculations I can think to share get largely ignored, challenged, or outright shot down.

And for all these reasons... this hiatus is extra dull. 

[mychemicalficrecs]

if you could, just some absolutely solid kidfic? could be danger days or "canon" or anything. just like the top tier ones tho. idc if its short! and no waycest please <3 (ps glad to see you back 😘)

Thanks nonnie! <3 I’ve made a bunch of rec lists with similar themes (linked below for your convenience) but apparently never a proper kid fic one!

Frank And/Or Gerard Are Parents Fun Ghoul/Party Poison Taking Care of the Girl The Killjoys and the Girl Frank/Gerard and Mpreg Mikey Mpreg

Kid Fic

In A Pretty How Town by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone, Frank/Gerard, 23k, Explicit. Single dad Frank Iero moves with his son to a new town. Everyone is nice, but the mayor, Gerard Way, is positively too good to be true.

Professional Healers by synonomy, Frank/Gerard, 34k, Explicit. Frank never wanted to be a pediatrician.

I Know What It Means to Me by mistresscurvy, Frank/Gerard, 9k, Explicit. Gerard didn't go to his single parents support group expecting to find love, but it found him there when Frank showed up one week. A single dads AU.

Envision the Magic by innocent_wolves, Frank/Gerard, 69k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gerard is a talented magician, responsible for much of the success of the famous Envision Destiny cruise ship. He's also one of those people. You know, one of those people who just seem to take up all the space they come across with their arrogance and confidence. You wouldn't wanna touch their personality with a 10-foot pole, but still people admire them. That is beyond Frank. Working behind the cruise ship bars and seeing Gerard pretty much every day, he can't understand what's so great about him. Besides, everybody else doesn't have to deal with his snide remarks and rude comments. Because if there's one thing Gerard seems to love, it's the act of constantly pestering Frank.

Against the Wind by theopteryx, Frank/Gerard, 21k, Explicit. Frank is the tutor for the two young children of Michael and Alicia Way. He has always been sickly, but when he begins to fall seriously ill he tries to hide it from his employers, terrified he will lose his position and have nothing. When Michael’s older brother Gerard unexpectedly returns from the continent, however, his problems only grow.

Forever, Now by harriet_vane, Gen, Frank/Gerard, Ryan/Brendon, Spencer/Jon, Brian/Greta, 227k, Teen And Up Audiences. Kidfic! Brian rescues kid!Gerard and Mikey from life on the streets, and eventually everyone finds a family.

Hounds Tooth Hearts by jatty, Frank/Gerard, 2k, General Audiences. Every year the teachers made them decorate boxes to receive valentines from their classmates on Valentine's Day. The year before, Gerard had been given nothing except a mean letter from another student. Distressed by the story of his classmates' cruelty, Frank is determined to make sure that this year is one Gerard won't have to regret!

Sidekicks by jatty, Frank/Gerard, 12k, Mature. Frank doesn't want to spend three weeks of his summer vacation at Tranquil Maples Camp for Kids. The whole thing feels so juvenile! He's in sixth grade. He doesn't want to spend his days making crafts and walking in the woods... At least Gerard's unique spin on each of their crafting tasks is enough to keep things interesting. Unfortunately, they don't get long to stay friends. After leaving the camp, Gerard fails to keep in touch and Frank--through years--commits to the idea that he'll never see his old friend again. That is, until he agrees to be a counselor at a camp during his sophomore year at college and there's a familiar face at the counselor's induction meeting.

A Constant Work in Progress by onceuponamoon, Frank/Gerard, 33k, Explicit. Frank spends his time at Cedar Creek Elementary sucking at answering the phones, playing nurse, spinning in his chair, and avoiding glares from Principal Bryar. His life gets turned upside down when his cousin Dani gets thrown in jail and he suddenly has custody of her three kids. Frank copes with the abrupt change with help from his mother, his friends, and this Gerard guy that he (sometimes literally) can't seem to quit running into.

Vampires Will Never Hurt You (But I Make No Promises About Zombies) by Solarcat, Frank/Gerard, 1k, General Audiences. Gerard clenches his fists tighter. "It's a disease," he says defensively. [Elementary School AU]

The Heart You Need by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 92k, Explicit. How the Killjoys became the Killjoys. ...if the Killjoys were telepathic space pirates. (Featuring superheroes and sidekicks, sneaky illegal activities after dark, broken hearts and bitter grudges, and a whole lot of get up and go.)

Devotion to the Domestic by onceuponamoon, Frank/Gerard, 4k, Explicit. “This is the best decision I’ve ever made,” Frank says, licking the residue of the most spectacularly delicious plate (or three) of homemade mashed potatoes with brown gravy from a spot he’d missed on his inner wrist. “Seriously, if I had a do-over, I’d pick you every time, Gee.

Babysitter by silentdescant, Gen, Frank/Gerard, 2k, General Audiences. Frank Iero: an obnoxious little shit since birth.

The Sad Dad Club by mousefrnk, Frank/Gerard, Ray/Mikey, 85k, Explicit. Ex-frontman Frank Iero is a single dad in New Jersey doing his best to raise his three girls. He meets Ray and Gerard, two dads with sons in the same class as one of his girls. Along with Gerard’s brother Mikey (who is soon to be a dad himself), they make plans to hang out every Friday, asking each other for advice and getting some much-needed adult social interaction. Thus, the Sad Dad Club is born.

Séance Weather by dear_monday, Gen, 20k, General Audiences. It all begins with the worst storm in fifty years. Or, in other words, how Frank meets the Ways and learns to embrace the dark side. An Addams Family AU.

Youngling by iamdali, Ray/Mikey, 5k, Mature. Ray laughs. “Uh huh. You do realise this is going to make it harder to convince everyone that we didn’t name our child after a Star Wars character?”

You Only Hear The Music (When Your Heart Begins To Break) by Acadjonne, Frank/Mikey, 28k, Mature. Mikey and Frank have known each other for years. They're roommates, and best friends. They're also friends with benefits. The arrangement is casual, and it suits them both. Somewhere along the way, Mikey develops feelings for Frank, but he pushes them aside. They aren't important, he'll be fine. Or, Mikey is fine, until he somehow ends up pregnant a year into this thing with Frank, and all of a sudden, he's got more to deal with than just how long he'll be able to hide his feelings for Frank or how the hell he's supposed to afford his transition.

I Saw Mikey Kissing Santa Clause by orphan_account, Mikey/Pete, 5k, Not Rated. In which Mikey is a tattoo artist and falls in love with florist Pete in the most awkward way possible.

[yeaimfishboi]

A Flawless Plan

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader (ft. Hyuck)

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: None? Just an annoying ass Donghyuck really

Requested by anon:  If you are still doing the Drabble game, can I request for 14+29 w Markly?? Uwu I also really love your writing

Prompt:  14.“Take. It. Off.” 

29.“Come over here and make me.”

A/N: This was for the 2 year/19th birthday drabble thing that I finally got around to. So, here we go with the first one! Thank you anon, so much!!! Also, Kait wrote- a drabble? it’s been like 700 years!

“Trust me Y/N, this plan is flawless,” Donghyuck chuckled as he smoothed out the wrinkles in the sleeves of your shirt.

“When have any of your plans ever worked, Hyuck?” you sneered emphasizing the last two words. He just scoffed at you, making a big deal of rolling his eyes to the back of his head. He’d been trying for months to get you two together. That is, you and Mark. You, Donghyuck, and Mark were practically inseparable since you became friends about 4 years ago. This means Donghyuck knew that your feelings for Mark were far from platonic, albeit way before you did.

“Listen, I’m the one who coerced Taeyong into buying the three of us ice cream at 3 in the morning. I’m the one who successfully convinced Kun that it was Jisung that broke that expensive ass vase when it was actually you who knocked it over. I’m also the one who managed to get the blue stain out of the carpet before the boys came home after you and Mark had spilled Kool-Aid everywhere. My plans work, idiot.” He nudged your shoulder

“Fine, I’ll hold you to this Hyuck because if this doesn’t work and I end up making a fool out of myself in front of Mark, I swear to god I will beat your ass. Taeyong won’t be able to save you this time,” you shook your fist in a threatening motion as he threw his arms up in defeat.

“Lucky for me, and for you, but mainly for me, that won’t happen. This plan has a 100% success rate. Well, I mean, it was created by a handsome genius.” 

It was your turn to scoff at him, “it may also have to do with the fact that, um, you’ve never tried it before?”

“Listen, Killjoy, he should be getting home from practice any minute now, so just act natural.” He shooed you into the room that he and Mark shared.

“You know I suck at that Hyuck. What should I do?” Your voice raised a little out of fear for the inevitable, but your shaky voice wasn’t loud enough to raise concern from anyone else.

“You act as if I know. Just lay on my bed while on your phone until he shows up or something.” And with that, it was like Hyuck disappeared into the darkness. 

You followed Donghyuck’s instructions to the T and just sat on his bed as you through Instagram until a creaking noise had awoken you from your blue lighted trance, which signaled to you that someone entered the room. You managed to squeak out a “hi” before you jerked your face back into your phone.

“Oh hey, Y/N! I didn’t expect you to be here. And on Donghyuck’s bed nonetheless,” Mark chuckled. 

“I mean he is our best friend as well Mark, what did you expect?” you didn’t want to look at him. Your stomach boiled, goosebumps erupted from your skin as this cloud of anxiety loomed behind you. Of course, your eyes betrayed you as your gaze quickly dipped to him. He was looking directly at you. Not at your face or your eyes, like a normal human being would, but at your shirt. Well, to be frank, it was Hyuck’s Michael Jackson shirt. His favorite shirt. He never took the damn thing off. Damn, you Donghyuck. You egotistical bastard, you thought. 

“You’re wearing Hyuck’s shirt? Why is that?” Mark asked.

“It’s comfy, smells like him, and so, I wore it. Nothing more to it,” you stated matter of factly.

“So it should be no issue for you to just wear something else then?”

“No, I’m comfy. Why would I change if I’m comfy in his shirt?” You sat yourself up on your bed. You were starting to feel angry with his response. 

“Just change,” his voice rose.

“No.”

“Take. It. Off. That shirt looks stupid on you,” he was basically growling at this point.

“How about you come over here and make me.” This line made your insides squirm, but it was one of Hyuck’s instructions. It was too gross for you to handle.

“Just take it off, please. You don’t understand how it makes me feel,” he sighed. 

“Why should I do that?” you huffed out. Follow Donghyuck’s instructions, don’t stop until you get the answer, you thought. 

Mark took in a deep breath, “I can’t really tell you. I’d rather die.”

“Just tell me. I’m your best friend, we tell each other everything,” you muttered out.

“It might be because I’m in love with you. I mean I’ve loved you for a long time. It’s not like it’s something that just came out of nowhere. And honestly I never thought you had any sort of feelings for me in return, but seeing you in Hyuck’s shirt, makes me feel like my heart has exploded into a thousand pieces, but I can’t be too mad as I’m just your best friend. He’s something more and all I can do is watch from the sidelines and cheer you-”

“Would you just, like shut up? I love you too Mark,” you giggled before you wrapped your arms around him.

“But, you’re wearing Donghyuck’s shirt, doesn’t that mean that you two are together?” Before Mark even had a chance to breathe, the door to the room burst wide open, revealing an elated Donghyuck.

“See, I told you this would work Y/N! I. Am. A. Genius. Now, Mark, before you get mad at me or Y/N, you two were way too dense to understand that you like each other, so I just nudged you along,” Donghyuck panted while he did a little happy dance.

“You are one giant asshole, Donghyuck, but it worked,” you smiled as you looked up into Mark’s eyes. He was too busy processing his shock before you planted a kiss right on his cheek. You tried to turn your head back to face Donghyuck doing God knows what, but you were stopped by Mark pulling your face back towards his with his knuckles. He smiled back down at you and kissed you.

“I’m so glad that his plan worked,” Mark smiled again before kissing you one last time.

You two were caught up in your own world until you heard, “EW! That’s gross. I do not need to see that, thank you. Also, Y/N, give me back my shirt, I do not need your feminine-ness all over it.”

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Hey fuckers! So I can’t let the all the smiles verse rest, so I ended up writing another four thousand words about the aftermath. This is basically a bunch of found family shit with a little bit of angst regarding Cherri being Not Okay. This one you actually probably should read the first three fics to understand. (You can find them here, here, and here, there’s also the last thing i see here, but that’s not essential to understanding this. And mind the warnings!) Also shoutout to @wishiwasthemoon-tonight for encouraging me to post this.

Title: at the end of the world

Wordcount: 3861

Summary: 

Cherri Cola is back from the dead, but that doesn't mean everything is solved right away. Not to mention that, unsurprisingly, there are some important conversations you need to have after you went to rescue your brother from the dead.

(Direct follow-up to if i died we'd be together.).

Warnings: Some pretty frank discussions of suicide and some implied past self harm.

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

There was no time for the serious conversations that one needed to have when one had quested into the realm of the dead for their brother the next day, or the one after. Newsie didn’t sleep for a week like they’d threatened too, but they did sleep in until about noon the following day, leaving the afternoon for more catching up and a little bit more ‘you scared the hell out of us never do that again’ to which Cherri dryly said that he would attempt not to die, but death was an inevitability for anyone who wasn’t some sort of storybook immortal. (That earned him a lot of shit for being so depressing.) 

And the day after that, there wasn’t time for important conversations either, since that morning they woke up to three teenagers bursting through the door with a collective “Hi, Doctor D!” and a lot of drama between the three of them. Well, mostly the first one. D explained that these three were the Terrific Trio, a group of young killjoys who Pony had run into and helped out while Cherri and Newsie were off in the Phoenix Witch’s domain. They had already made themselves a fixture of the radio station, dropping by every so often to annoy the radio crew, and they were scouting for a permanent home in the area. Newsie thought they seemed rather chaotic. 

After that, there were announcements to make on the radio (“Turns out our favorite radio poet didn’t get himself ghosted after all and NewsAGoGo is to thank for that, not to mention that they’re back with a vengeance.”) a poetry corner to get up and running again, and more people to tell (“So, sorry I vanished for a month, Hot Chimp.”)

And finally, almost a full week after Cherri and Newsie’s return, there was time to sit down and talk about what had happened in the unreality and before then.

“Why do you think there was an oak tree in Death Valley?” That was how Newsie started the conversation, flopping down next to Cherri on the old and rather saggy sofa of the radio shack.

Cherri shrugged. “Witch magic? Everything there seemed just not quite right, even to me as a spirit.”

“Well why would the Witch do that?” Newsie didn’t wait for his answer before asking more questions. “What was it like as a spirit, by the way?”

He frowned, tilting his head thoughtfully. “It was odd. Very odd. The Witch kept me next to her for a while- I don’t think I could fully move on because she didn’t have my mask. So I ended up in that weird borderland for a while, too, floating around. The further I got towards reality-reality, the less I could do to influence the world. And the further I got towards the spirit-whatever, the more I could do.”

“So were you like, following me the whole time?”

“Oh- yeah. I was.”

“Creep,” Newsie laughed, giving him a playful shove.

“I wanted to help!”

“Well you weren’t much help with the walking!” They gave him a grin to show they didn’t mean their harsh words.

“I couldn’t do much,” Cherri defended, smiling back at her. “You were still too close to actual reality, so all I could really do was brush against you and make sure you didn’t get lonely.”

“You’re such an older brother. I’m assuming it was you steadying my hands on the ray gun, too?”

He nodded. “By that point, I could speak and you would hear me as a low whisper, but I was still most capable of physical touch.”

She nodded too. “Makes sense. So by the end…”

“You were starting to be faded because you didn’t belong in the spirit world. So I couldn’t see you as well, but I could still see and hear you, and you could see and hear me, I think.”

“Yeah.” Newsie messed with the edge of her shirt. “Thanks for that, by the way. Don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

“I think I should be thanking you, given all the effort you went to just to get me back from the dead.”

“Just,” Newsie snorted. “Just. As if your life wasn’t worth every second of that fucking walk.”

He looked incredibly touched. “Oh. Well thanks any-“

“No, seriously. I bitch about it a lot, but you know I’d do that a hundred times if I had to, right?”

Cherri’s eyes were glittering with tears, and Newsie glared at him. “Don’t you dare start crying, asshole, I’m trying to get it through your thick head that people care about you.”

He laughed softly, wiping his eyes. “I love you, Newsie.”

“Love you too, fucker.”

-

“What was it like to die?” That was Show Pony, his time, and Newise glared at em across the room as Cherri flinched. 

“Well, it was painful, as you might expect. And…scary. Dying was terrifying.”

“Why?” 

“God, Pony, shut up,” Newsie muttered to herself. 

Cherri didn’t seem to mind the questioning. “It was scary because I knew I was leaving you guys.”

“Aw, Cher!”

“I didn’t want to die alone,” he went on. “I never wanted to die alone.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Because I wanted to not be hurting anymore,” Cherri said simply. “I didn’t want to die, not really. It just seemed like the easiest way out. I realized I didn’t really want to leave you all maybe three days in, but by that time, I was already dying. And I was helpless to do anything.”

“Oh.”

“So there’s your answer. Dying is terrifying, and lonely, and painful. But peaceful, too, when you finally close your eyes. There’s no pain when you’re already dead, but…it was still a mistake. I still never should have left.”

“Don’t think Pone was ready for that much honesty, Cherri,” Newsie put in.

“In my defense, ey asked.”

Pony had been briefly shocked into silence, but ey returned to asking questions almost immediately. “So, then did the Phoenix Witch take your soul?”

Cherri nodded, running a hand up and down his arm. “She took the bracelet that Newsie gave me, said it was the closest thing to a mask in terms of soul that she would be able to get. It wasn’t enough for me to fully move past, but it let me into the borderlands between this world and the next. That was where the Witch let me stay until Newsie came for me, and she let me walk next to Newsie on their quest.”

“And you were such an older brother,” Newsie complained.

“That’s kinda my job, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t have to be, you chose to adopt me as your sibling.”

“Oh, well would you like me to redact that?” He was smiling, a little bit playful and a little bit wry.

“Nope! You’re stuck with me now, no taking it back.” 

“And I wouldn’t want to.”

“Awwwww, do I get to be your sibling too, Cola?” Pony was grinning.

“You get to be my nibling,” Cherri deadpanned.

Pony threw back eir head and laughed. “You’re not old enough to be my uncle, but I’ll take it.”

“Bold words from the person who’s always calling me old.” 

This time, Newsie joined in Pony’s laughter. “You are old!”

“Well if you’re my sister, and I’m old, what does that make you?”

“Young and fun because I’m the younger sibling,” Newsie declared with as much seriousness as she could manage.

Pony was laughing so hard ey fell off eir chair, and that was how D found the lot of them five minutes later, collectively laughing and cracking jokes about age as Pony laid on the floor giggling.

“This is why I can’t leave to do my broadcasts,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“I promise I tried to keep everyone sane,” Cherri said, but he was laughing too hard for that to be really believable.

“Uh-huh, and my name is Dr. Life-loving.”

Newsie almost fell off her own chair laughing, sliding down to join Pony on the floor as Cherri giggled. “Okay, that was a little funny.”

“Anyways, I was coming to tell you that I checked the date, and you ought to be very excited.”

Newsie and Pony both sat up straight at that, ceasing their hysterical laughter.

“Oh?” Cherri was still grinning, but not giggling anymore.

“Christmas is just around the corner, which means-“

“GLITTER!” Show Pony shouted at the top of eir lungs.

“A massive tumbleweed that will fill half our living room and be covered in glitter!” Newsie contributed.

“Decoration!” Cherri looked like a child on Christmas Eve, which wasn’t too far off. “Right, who wants to help me get the stuff out of the attic?”

“Not it, there are spiders up there!” Pony shivered dramatically. “Big spiders!”

Newsie flipped em off with a groan as she climbed to her feet, following Cherri up the ladder into the cramped little ‘attic’- more of a crawlspace, really, but it was where they stashed all their random things, including but not limited to spare power pup, Christmas decorations, old poetry, a bottle of bright pink spray paint, and two Helium Wars era shotguns. Which meant, of course, that it was perpetually a mess, and quite dusty. There were also quite a few spiders, Pony wasn’t mistaken about that.

Newsie squashed one that tried to crawl over her hand. “Alright, fucker, where did you stash the fucking decorations this time?”

“Back here, I- achoo! I think.”

“Great, pass them over to me so we can get down, huh?”

“Hang on, I’m still looking.” 

She waited in silence for a few more moments as Cherri banged around, occasionally swearing when he hit his head on the ceiling. “Hey, uh, Cherri?”

“Yeah? You okay out- fuck! Fucking beams- There?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted to say…you know what you were talking about earlier? When Pone was asking all those questions?”

They couldn’t see him very well, only a bit of his legs, but they knew he had gone still by the lack of crashing and banging. “Yeah?”

“I figured I’d say that you can- and should- talk to us, fuckface. You don’t have to fight all your battles alone, you know.”

“Oh.” 

“We want to help. And we don’t want to trek five hundred fucking miles to get you back from the Phoenix Witch again.” 

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Anytime, fucker.”

Cherri emerged a second later with the big box of decorations, passing it over to Newsie with a tiny sniff. “Fucking dusty back there.”

They smelled bs, but they decided he could keep his pride for now. “Why do you think I made you do that part of it?” She climbed a few steps down the ladder, setting the box on the ground before hopping off fully. Cherri followed them down, still sniffling a little as he gave one final sneeze. 

“We should clean up there,” D muttered.

“Yeah, and how are we supposed to keep dust out of the desert, genius?”

D gave her a glare. “That’s the point of this building.”

“Yeah, well dust gets everywhere.” She pulled open the box as Cherri peered inside. 

“Hey, we kept that wreath I found last year! Great!”

“Of course we did, do we ever throw anything away?” D was smiling, despite his seemingly irritated words.

“Nope!” Pony went skating by, grinning. “Sparkle time! I’m off to the glitter stash.”

“Yeah, you do that,” D sighed.

“I’ll detangle these, see if I can get some working,” Newsie decided, pulling out a strand of lights.

“And I’m going to go get a tumbleweed,” Cherri said with a grin.

“Don’t you dare go alone, you’ll get run over by a tumbleweed! I’m going to radio that Terrific Trio and see if one of them will help,” D said firmly. 

The floor wasn’t exactly comfy, but it was a good enough place to sit as Newsie detangled and fiddled with the lights. Honestly, they would think there was a better way to do it than throw it all in a box every year and have to re-detangle it the next.

After about twenty minutes, a tall killjoy she vaguely recognized as a member of the Terrific Trio came to join her. “Hey, uh, Dr. Death Defying said that I should help with detangling these and sorting the ornaments? Poison and Kobra are going with Cherri Cola to go get a tumbleweed.”

“Oh, my dumbass brother.” They nodded. “Sit on down, sort some ornaments. I’m sure Cherri will look after your friends.”

“He’s your brother?” They could practically see the wheels turning in Jet Star’s head.

“Yeah. We don’t look much alike, I know. It’s not ‘legal’, or whatever.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, we’ve been friends for years and we just decided we were siblings somewhere along the way.” She swore as one of the lights flickered out.

“Oh no!” Jet was sorting the ornaments very precisely. “That’s sweet though, you just adopted him as your brother?”

“Uh-huh. He’s the older one because he’s such a protective dork. Fucking idiot.”

“Ah. I don’t have any siblings, but Poison is so protective of Kobra. Is Cherri like that?”

“Oh Witch, yeah. Just because I’m ‘reckless’ and ‘get myself into trouble’ well who fucking died? Not me.”

Jet was giving her a very concerned look, and she sighed. “Sorry. I’m salty at my brother. Fucking idiot, I had to walk so far to get him back that one time.”

“Oh.”

They didn’t get a chance to say anything else because at that moment, Cherri came through the door, dragging a truly massive tumbleweed. He was followed by Kobra Kid, looking extraordinarily disgruntled and covered in bits of tumbleweed, and Party Poison, who was laughing their ass off.

“Kobra- Kobra he got stuck in the tumbleweed! He got fucking stuck!” 

“I almost died, asshole!”

“No, you just got stuck in a fucking tumbleweed!”

Cherri looked somewhere between exasperated and amused. “He did, but he’s out now, so please stop laughing, Poison.”

That mostly shut them up, since they shot a glare at Cherri instead, but they were still smirking as Kobra flipped them off. Newsie thought the whole thing was pretty funny, to be honest. 

“So! Fucker! You got a massive fucking tumbleweed?”

“Yep.”

“And where are we going to put that?” D’s voice was exasperated (as was common) as he stuck his head into the room.

“The living room,” Cherri said with a straight face (or, well, the straightest face a gay poet could possibly manage). 

“Not what I meant.”

“I know.”

“You, my dear Cherri, are a bit of a bastard sometimes.”

“Only I get to call him that,” Newsie protested. “He’s my brother, only I get to call him a bastard.”

D sighed. “Fine. Anyways, Cherri, where are we putting this?”

“I figured over here?” Cherri was putting the tumbleweed in place in a corner, and D nodded with another sigh. 

“That works.”

“Great! Decorating time!”

“And that’s our cue, since my brother is going to stab me,” Party Poison announced. Newsie waved goodbye to them as the Terrific Trio made their way out, laughing and swearing at each other in equal measure. Which left the radio crew to put lights and ornaments and ridiculous amounts of glitter on a tumbleweed, followed by a strand of bad luck beads each. 

-

Seeing the beads hanging there had given Newsie an idea, and the next day, she hopped on her motorcycle. “I’m heading to the Zone Four market, fuckers!”

“Have fun, Newsie!” Cherri shouted back.

“See ya!” Pony chimed in.

Newsie waved as they revved the engine and sped off.

The market was as bustling as ever, and Newsie had to shoulder her way through the crowd in order to get to the one ‘joy who they knew sold semi-decent beads. “Oof. Damnit. Fuck!” They applied a well-placed elbow to get past the large group of killjoys blocking their way and tromped up to the little stall. “Hey.”

“Oh, hi…NewsAGoGo, was it?” The ‘joy shot her a charming smile. Xe was probably a bit older than her, maybe around Cherri’s age, and Newsie knew ae always had the best beads.

“That’s me and you well know it, Penny Pincher.”

“Oh good, always want to remember my best customer’s names. What can I do for you this time?”

“I could use some beads, wood if you have them.”

“We’re out of stock today, will plastic do?”

Newsie sighed. Plastic would be cheaper anyways, she supposed. “Plastic is fine. I need enough for a bracelet, about as many as I got last time.”

“That will be twenty carbons.”

“Swindler. I’d pay five.”

Penny Pincher laughed and pushed xyr coppery hair out of xyr face. “Ten.”

“Seven.”

“Make it eight and you’ve got a deal.” Ae dropped a couple of extra beads into the little bag, tilting aer head at Newsie questioningly.

“The extras seal the deal,” Newsie laughed. They passed over eight carbons, giving Penny Pincher a smile. “Thanks, Penny!”

Penny grinned back. “Anything for my favorite NewsAGoGo!” Xe waved her off with another bright grin, shining like pennies in the sunlight.

Newsie’s next stop was a ‘joy called American Idiot who sold paints and other art supplies relatively cheap, and then it was back home to the radio station. Cherri seemed to have gone out when she returned, thankfully, seeing as his truck was gone. 

“Where’d Cola go?” Newsie asked, wandering into the living room. 

“Think he’s off to get some water for some crew that got themselves in a pickle,” Pony told them. Ey was lounging on the sofa. “They’re all hurt and don’t have carbons to spare, so you know our Cola just had to go help them.”

“Of course he did.” They plunked down on a chair, setting down the paint and beads. “Warn me if you hear the truck coming, will you?”

“Will do. Whatcha making?”

“A bracelet for Cherri.” She picked out her first color, a pretty sky blue, and started to paint careful designs onto a few beads.

“Shiny! I bet he’ll love it.”

“He better, American Idiot practically swindled me out of all my carbons,” Newsie buttered. That wasn’t exactly true, she had bought some of the nicest paints the other ‘joy was selling, and a lot of them too, but they were still overpriced. Better than going to Tommy Chow Mein’s, though, so they still thought it was a good choice.

She had most of the beads painted by the time Cherri came back, yawning and rubbing his forehead. “Well, that was a day.”

“What happened?”

“Just some idiots being stubborn.” He peered curiously at the bead she was painting a little tree onto. “What are you doing?” 

“None of your business, nosy brother,” Newsie replied. 

“I was just curious,” Cherri said mildly. He pushed Pony’s feet off the end of the sofa to make a place for him to flop down. “Pone, your feet are gross. Stop putting them on the couch.”

“As if your feet are any less gross!”

“Well I don’t put my feet on the sofa when other people are trying to sit there, at least.”

Pony pouted. “Fine, you win.” Ey flipped around so eir feet were dangling off the other end of the couch and eir head was in Cherri’s lap. “I’m not moving, though.”

Cherri chuckled and brushed his fingers through eir (currently rather sparkly) hair. “That’s alright, I won’t kick you out of your spot.” 

“This is why I like you better than Newsie.”

“You only like him because he’s a pushover!” Newsie hollered across the room. 

“Hey!” Cherri was grinning tiredly despite his protests. “Maybe I’m just nice.”

“Uh-huh, sure. No, you just never stick up for yourself! Pone isn’t going to die if you don’t let em sprawl on the couch, you know.”

Pony put a hand on eir forehead like a fainting woman in an old-timey painting, sitting up off Cherri’s lap just so ey could ‘faint’ back into it. “You don’t know that, maybe I will die! I am gay, after all.”

“The gayest Pony in the desert,” Cherri laughed fondly.

“And don’t you forget it!”

-

A few weeks later, it was Christmas day. Usually, being in the desert was about survival. But being a killjoy was about living. Everyone would die in the end, killjoys sooner than most, so they had to take advantage of the time they had. So just for that one day, they ate their nicer food, and danced around to shitty Christmas music which Show Pony sang along to at the top of eir lungs, and eir singing might not have been on-key, but it was filled with joy and feeling. 

Gifts were usually small in the desert, but they all happily exchanged them that evening anyways. Pony had painted ‘world’s best dad’ on a mug for Dr. Death Defying (and covered it with glitter), and for Newsie and Cherri there were pins. Cherri’s said “I lived, bitch” and Newsie’s said “I met the Phoenix Witch and told her to fuck off”. 

“This is the best thing I’ve ever owned,” she told Pony (after she had finished laughing, that is).

Ey bowed dramatically. “Pleased to be of service.”

Meanwhile, the glitter trio (as Pony had declared them) had all pooled their collective carbons, braincells, and scavenging skills to find a set of rare vinyls for D, who spent the next ten minutes exclaiming over and examining them. “These are incredible, you three!”

Cherri, Pony, and Newsie exchanged satisfied grins. 

“Glad you like it,” Cherri told him, still grinning.

Pony nodded. “Uh-huh! Those took some trickery to acquire!”

“I love them, thank you.”

Cherri turned out to have written a poem for each of them, producing three relatively nice sheets of paper covered in his messy but lovely handwriting. Newsie’s was about life, death, siblings, and the word ‘fucker’, a silent promise hidden in every line that said ‘I won’t leave you again’. She didn’t know what the other two’s were about, but she did know that D gave Cherri his sad smile and Pony threw eir arms around Cherri with a “Love ya, Cola.”

And Cherri smiled and said “I love you too.”

Finally, Newsie got to give Pony a new bottle of glitter to add to eir collection (which had cost a pretty penny, they might add), and D a patch for his jacket that they and Cherri had worked on with Pony as well as the records. And finally, finally, she got to give Cherri the new bracelet.

Cherri didn’t look up from the bracelet for several moments after they placed it in his hands, turning it over and over and examining the patterns.

Eventually, Newsie got nervous enough to speak. “I figured I’d make one. Since, you know. Since the Witch took your old one.”

Cherri was smiling broadly as he did look up, still holding the strand of bad luck beads carefully. “I love it, Newsie.” He slid the bracelet onto his wrist, still grinning. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” she shrugged. “Fucker.”

“I love you, Newsie,” he added.

“Love you too, fucker.”

[robinrunsfiction]

Year-End Writers Round Up: 2020

Thanks for the tag @archiwrites​!

Word Count

Oh... oh no... this is gonna take  minute hang on

oh my god

Sooooo I just added up my approximate word counts for just my GWay fics and I’m already at approximately 148,000 words. Ok so this is helping me out. I have one story that is linked wrong (a Frank fic going to a Gerard fic and a Mikey fic with a dead link).

Approximately 221,000 words in 2020 and that’s not including that those two fics listed above, and WIPS

New Things I’ve Tried This Year

I actually used an outline this year! I used it for A Long Way Back, as the story covers a long time, and I wanted to keep the events in the correct order. I also wrote a story that jumped back and forth from flashbacks to present day, Do It All The Time.

I also gave myself permission to write a fic that was longer than like a 1,000 words, but was just like 100% fluff, I See Stars. I also worked hard to write a slow burn fic, which is something I struggle to do because I always wanna jump right to the Good Stuff. That was Swing Life Away.

WIP I’ve Spent Most of My Time On

Ooof... If we’re talking stories I worked on in 2020 exclusively I think I spent the longest writing Do It All The Time and A Long Way Back. They are also the stories I am talking about above. I’m pretty proud of them. 

If we’re talking WIPS that are still WIPs, either my mobster AU, or this Mikey story that has had like two different versions so far and I’m not sure either will ever see the light of day.

WIP I’ve Spent Least of My Time On

I am so so so so sososososoososoososoosoosooooo sorry to anyone who hoped to read more of Late Dawns and Early Sunsets in 2020 or were waiting for part 3 of Weapons of Clairvoyance. I mean I looked at them! I thought about them... they just didn’t get a ton of time.

Favorite Thing I Wrote

Specific line? Oh man, I have one that jumps to mind right away: “... but he would recognize that smile until the day he died, and knowing her, she would probably be smiling over him when it happened.” from Do It All The Time.

If we’re talking fics, any of the ones listed above, but also Baby You’re A Haunted House

Favorite Thing(s) I Read

True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: National Anthem has been great so far. There have been so many fics that I’ve loved as well, which I have reblogged with the tag Fic Recommendation (buuuuuut I also have a tendency to misspell recommendation, so this may change to something shorter because i’m a dummy lol)

Writing Goals For Next Year

I haven’t spent much time thinking about ANY goals for 2021 yet. Umm... well I’d like to stay on top of requests better, and get them posted more promptly. I do still have ones from 2020 that I intend on getting to as well. I want to work on my longer WIPs and get them up. I guess that’s it really.

[deltacomerade]

so, i’ve been a lil confused by this since it was posted: why did the MCR accounts post about Umbrella Academy? like, okay, obviously Gerard wrote the comic and produced the show, it’s their project, but it’s strange that both the band’s account posted about it and the show’s official page tagged MCR in the post teasing Here Comes The End (which is honestly fucking great, not perfect, but great).

i know a lot of people have naturally assumed it means that the boys will make new music for the soundtrack, which if it is the case Hell Yeah Sign Me Up, but i’m a lil hesitant to believe that.

some others are thinking Gerard just posted to the wrong account on accident (which sounds like something they would do), but if they did, why would the post still be there, and then followed up by a thing for Here Comes The End? i know Gerard doesn’t give a flying fuck about social media 8 times out of 10, unless its about some cool rocks they found, but still. ((EDIT: I haven’t seen solid proof of this, but someone mentioned the reason MCR was tagged and why it posted there is Maybe because Ray is in charge of the acount, and that was their way to include him since he helped out on the song with Additional Guitars and (also weirdly) Bass, which kinda makes sense, but last i checked, or simply assumed, i’m pretty sure all the of the guys have access to the account, since both Ray and Frank posted stuff about their experiences in the band, so i’m not entirely sure about it. Also, while about as active as Gerard, Ray does have his own Instagram, so that doesn’t help support this theory.))

and some people have also said it’s just Warner Bros. wanting to get some free publicity, which definitely sounds like something they as a corporation would do. BUT Umbrella Academy isn’t owned by them, the show itself is owned partially by Dark Horse (who published the comic) and Universal, who bought the rights waaaay back in the day to make a movie out of the comic, but then changed it to a show. so it could be Them wanting to get publicity (maybe as “repayment” in a way for Dark Horse doing the Killjoys comic for Gerard and MCR or some dumb shit like that, who knows) this honestly makes the most sense out of everything else, but a lot of people, unfortunately myself included, just naturally assumed it was Gerard’s idea alone. which is a great transition into;

at the top of this Weirdness Heap (which is probably gonna be Gerard’s second solo album name. back off Moss Lord, i call dibs), someone mentioned years ago when the band was originally together, Gerard wanted to keep the two projects seperate. and, to add onto the last point, as a producer, does Gerard actually have the power to choose where to advertise the show, or are they just going along with what Netflix marketing decides to do because Netflix is in charge of the whole shebang? either way, it still don’t make a lot of sense to me.

ALL THAT BEING SAID, it isn’t the first time the MCR social media accounts were used to promote the members’ individual projects, the FB account promoted Frank’s album last year in May, but weirdly not Mikey’s work with Electric Century on either FB or IG. (again, Devil’s Advocate, there has been publicity on the other members’ Personal Accounts on different platforms and such, but not that i remember on the MCR page) ((EDIT 2: After a bit more careful digging and some assistance, i did find that the MCR account DID help promote Mikey’s new album, i just overlooked it a bit...in hindsight, i’m realizing maybe i didn’t work hard enough on this, and am kind of an actual dumbass? honestly though, this was All just a personal thoughts thing, not actually a criticism of Gerard or the band, so it doesn’t really matter.))

in summary...i honestly don’t know. like, obviously Frank, Mikey, and Ray knew about it ahead of time, they showed and voiced their support. and honestly, i fucking love how they all support each other with their own projects, its kinda sweet. (and yeah, i know some douchehole is gonna chime in with “Free Money”, but I DONT CARE THIS YEAR IS A FUCKING CESSPIT GIVE ME THIS ONE THING) and also, while i know they aren’t a perfect person, and they’ve acknowledged that themselves, i really truly firmly don’t believe Gerard did it to be selfish and abuse their power as the band’s leader to make a quick buck. while they obviously need to support their family, Gerard still does their best to stand by what they believe or oppose what they’re against, including selling out. i know some of you would disagree and think i’m just stupid, but i stand by that.

in the end the best answer may be the simplest one; since the virus started, maybe the band didn’t want the account to be stagnant until the tour starts up again, and thought they would use it to support each other’s work. it’s honestly possible once they start posting things related to their own work collectibely rather than just as individuals, they could just take both posts down.

[ So Bottom Line Here Is Don’t Go And Try To Bully, Accuse, Or Make Fun Of Gerard Again Of/For Something As Asinine As This, It’s Literally Not That Big Of A Deal, They’re Both Things They’re (G) Passionate About You Shitheads] (i’m not saying Stop The Memes, cuz i know that most of them are not made to be mean-spirited and some are honestly a lil funny, just...Dont Be A Dumbass, thats all i’m saying)

like i said, i dont know, maybe i’m overthinking again? it’s not a huge deal, i’m excited for the new season and for whatever things the Emo Gang summon in the future after this hellhole of a year blows over, just my two cents.

[kenology]

i was tagged by @gaycinema​ to pick my top 14 albums using this site! ty claire 😌 these aren’t really in any order but they ended up kinda color coordinated which is fun

1. twin fantasy (face to face) by car seat headrest / i have this album cover tattooed on my hip so i had to put it first lmao. every single song on this album holds so much significance for me and i constantly feel like im reinterpreting them and growing with them. i love every song individually and i love the story they tell all put together and i will never shut up about this album thank you

2. the sunset tree by the mountain goats / this album has singlehandedly gotten me through some rough Times over the past few years and i’ve named at least two fics after song lyrics from it </3

3. teens of denial by car seat headrest / this one holds less emotional significance/nostalgia for me but i still love all the songs on it and find myself coming back to them again and again and getting obsessed w the songs all over again.

4. blond by frank ocean - one of the greatest queer love/pining albums ever i think. i found “ivy” during a time when i really needed to hear it and know that someone else felt the same way i did, and i ended up falling in love w the whole album.

5. channel orange by frank ocean - do i even have 2 explain this...frank ocean’s lyrics and musical composition or w/e are mindblowing, a couple songs from this album and blond will be lifetime favs i think

6. how to be a human being by glass animals / i found this album during like...junior year of high school? and every song on it is an absolute banger plus listening to it brings back fond memories of listening to it while being insane during stage crew

7. danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys by my chemical romance / my shit since 7th grade. i think i know every word on this album

8. teens of style by car seat headrest / this album has a great mix of songs that are just fun to listen to And songs that hit you directly in the heart. i have also named a fic after this album. this is becoming a theme

9. humanz by gorillaz / if uve listened to this album u know how hard it goes. every song sounds so wildly different b/c they all feature a bunch of different artists and they’re all amazing as standalone songs but somehow they manage to fit together into a beautiful hot mess of an album too

10. (come on feel the) illinoise by sufjan stevens / the predatory wasp of the palisades is out to get us! is on this album. end of story. (also chicago and casimir pulaski day are very very good)

11. be the cowboy by mitski / im gay and i have depression and a complicated relationship with old partners and friends....yeah. also “two slow dancers” inspired an entire fic for me so thank you mitski

12. carrie & lowell by sufjan stevens / i don’t listen to this album very frequently compared to the others on this list -- i love the songs and they hold a lot of meaning for me, but they’re hard to listen to (in a good way). i can play “the only thing” on guitar which is fun too

13. how to: friend, love, freefall by rainbow kitten surprise / this album slam dunks me back into spring of 2019. i can confidently say i’ve listened to this entire album more times than i can count. the songs are just really fun to listen to and they bring back (mostly) good memories.

14. three cheers for sweet revenge by my chemical romance / this is my emotional support 2004 emo album

tagging @jarchiekinz @yukichouji @serpentlady @englishmajorjughead and anyone else who feels like doing it! consider urself tagged

[transmedicalism-saves-lives]

Hey y’all,

I have a lot to say, I think. I’ve been in the community for a year, and it was a really lovely place sometimes. I made some of the best friends I think I’ll ever meet here, and I learned a lot about myself. I’m starting college now, though, and I’m feeling like it’s time for me to move on.

I joined the community after a genuinely messed up experience led me to thinking someone was dead. That’s probably not the best way to be introduced to anything, but it did serve as a wake-up call, and it made me start researching. I researched a lot, from April to September of 2018, before I made this blog. I initially was just scared to reblog a transmed post on my main, if we’re being totally frank here, but pretty soon, I’d decided to turn this into a positivity blog specifically for transmeds. I can’t remember exactly who it was, but someone decided that wasn’t a good idea, and thought they should inform me of how bad an idea it was.

Since then, this blog has kind of gotten big, and it stopped being positivity a long time ago. I don’t really know where things went wrong, but somewhere along the line, I started feeling this paranoia, and this twisted hate. I’ve never felt anything like that before, but it was overwhelming. I was convinced that the people who I said I was trying to help were part of some evil cult, which... honestly, looking back, embarrasses the hell out of me. I thought anti-transmeds were a cult. Do I still think they’re weird and not correct in their beliefs? Yeah. 

But who cares?

I mean come on, why do we let this debate control our lives? Yeah, we have a medical condition, but why do we need to spend our limited time on this planet caring so much what everyone thinks about it? God, the things I did, said, thought, because I was defining myself around this condition, they’re absolutely not the kind of things I want to make into myself. I burned bridges with some of my best friends because I couldn’t just let it go. I had to be agreed with. Not just heard, but agreed with. 

Now TO BE CLEAR- I don’t think this is most transmeds! Hell, I don’t think this is a lot of transmeds, but this is how it’s been for me. This community wasn’t toxic at all, but I was. 

As for the times I posted drunk... all I can say is I’m sorry.

I’m moving forward. I’ve already gotten into a bit of trouble with the head of diversity at my new school, so y’all know I’m going to be keeping on with the fight. There’s a few transmeds where I am, and oh, guess what? I’m a registered Republican now! I guess we really have come full circle! 

So there are definitely some people to mention here. 

Tristan (who I cannot tag because blocked)- I’m sorry for everything. I’m not really sure what else to say here. I wasn’t a good friend to you, and I definitely wasn’t a good person. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my messes over and over again. There was a lot I shouldn’t have done. I’ve changed my mind about a lot of things, and I don’t really expect you to forgive me, but I do hope you’re happy, wherever you end up. I’m sorry.

@not-a-happy-killjoy - Thanks for being there. You’re a good person, and you were a good friend to me. I’d like to stay in touch, if you want to as well, feel free to reach out. If not, it’s chill and I understand. You’re going to do amazing things, I can tell, and I’ll definitely be bragging about knowing you when. 

@keyhollow - Sorry about that one post.

@terflies - We disagree on most things, but you’re really, really good at making TERFs look bad, so I respect you. Not sorry we got into a million fights, but that’s mostly because I enjoyed arguing with you. You always made me have to think things through, and I think you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever debated.

@totallyalegitspy - You’re a good kid. You need to learn how to phrase things if you ever want to convince people of things, but once you’ve learned that skill, I wouldn’t be surprised to see you running a political party in a few years. You’re smart as hell, and you’re going to bring down this house before it’s over. 

@ghovl - You were one of my first ever friends in the community, and you helped me understand a lot of things for the first time. Thank you. 

Sam (who I think deleted but whatever)- You already know all I’ve got to say. 

@peachy-political - Ainsley, you saved my life. A few times. You were there for me when nobody else was. Every crazy thing that happened here, all the highs and lows, it was worth it for the chance to know you. You are the absolute most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and probably the most amazing person I ever will meet. It’s an honor and a privilege to know you, and be known by you. I genuinely know that you are capable of changing the world, and I wish you every happiness known to man. You deserve every good thing this Earth has to offer, and if you ever need anything at all, you know how to contact me. Thank you for everything. 

For everyone else- I’m gonna be online until Midnight EST tonight. If you have anything else to say, speak now. I hope y’all have beautiful lives, and get your happily ever afters. 

Sincerely,

Oscar

[thepartyresponsible]

this fill is for @plantgrapes, who asked for frank castle and matt murdock as “ghost hunters a la buzzfeed unsolved.”

i have seen about...sixty-five collected seconds of buzzfeed unsolved. so this fic is actually about frank, who used to be haunted, and matt, who fixes hauntings, going around pretending to be ghost hunters while actually being ghost killers.

it’s frank, so warnings for violence and ptsd.

It works because it has to. The restless dead may be rich in misery, but they are almost universally poor in material goods. Foggy edits the videos together, and Karen does the research, and Matt looks affable and earnest on camera while Frank, at his best, sometimes earns the title of long-suffering skeptic instead of surly killjoy.

Ghost hunting can be reasonably profitable, but they aren’t hunting so much as they’re mercy killing. And there’s never any cash in mercy kills. Frank spent enough time in the murder business to know there’s never any money in mercy at all.

“Oh, yikes,” Matt says, as the EMF reader beeps and bips an insistent staccato beat. “We’ve got a live one.”

Frank holds his face perfectly still. He does not react to the terrible pun.

Foggy giggles off-camera, and Frank thinks, with less longing than he used to, that he could’ve died in Kandahar.

Matt curls his hand around Frank’s elbow, shuffles closer than he needs to, and makes an interested noise in the back of his throat. “What’s it say, Frank?” he asks, nodding at the reader in Frank’s hands.

Frank doesn’t really understand the damn thing. They bought it online because all the other ghost hunters had them. It has something to do with electromagnetic fields, and, as things get spookier, it sometimes obligingly lights up its little line of LEDs like a tiny, handheld rave for ghosts.

They had to alter it for Matt, because viewers kept asking inconvenient questions about Matt’s constant awareness of the silent EMF reader. So now it beeps and bops with increasing intensity as the reading climbs higher.

Foggy claims all the noise adds drama, which is what Foggy usually says about any annoying bullshit that’s going to ruin Frank’s whole damn day.

“Frank,” Matt repeats, fingers tightening around Frank’s arm. “What does it say?”

Frank should’ve worn long sleeves. Matt always gets handsy on the creepier jobs. Frank knows that. He knew that when he picked this shirt out this morning.

He really needs to stop all this self-sabotage. He suffers enough as it is.

“It says,” Frank reports, dutifully, “that this hundred-year-old building has some real shitty wiring.”

“Ah.” Matt smiles that sweet, secretive smile he uses on reporters and fans and attractive cops who show up halfway through a job with unhelpful questions. Frank has no idea why he’s using it on him. There’s nothing Matt needs from him that he couldn’t get just by asking.

“It’s a good thing you’re here, Frank,” Matt says, as they start navigating their way down the dark hallway, toward the rooms where the ghost children are supposed to walk. “Without you to ground me, who knows where I’d end up?”

Matt found Frank in crisis, walking the streets of NYC in the middle of the night, three months after the divorce, hauling sixteen dead men in his wake. The ghosts chattered and whispered and wailed, and he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t breathe without feeling their hands wrapped jealously around his throat. He walked with deep, festering wounds in his soul that ripped open again and again, leaked blood and hope and life right out of him.

Without Matt, he’d be dead. And there’d be seventeen dead men following Russo around, and Russo wouldn’t ever know or care, because Russo welded his soul shut, made his heart impregnable and cold.

Ghosts don’t haunt places. Memories haunt places. Walls can hold echoes of fear and pain and joy and hate, but they can’t hold souls. Ghosts only ever haunt people.

But the process of ripping a ghost away from its focal point is ugly and brutal and hideous to watch. It’s a second death. It’s not something that sells well. They’d lose their sponsors over it. So they sneak around places with troubled pasts, hunting safe scares for their subscribers, and they do their real work with the cameras turned off.

A door slams shut in front of them. It’s a draft, or maybe the hospital remembers a patient with a temper.

Matt flinches hard and leans into him, laughing in the tight, anxious way he laughs when he’s pretending to be startled. Frank can feel the warmth of him, all along his right side.

He really, really should’ve worn longer sleeves.

  Matt senses ghosts, the same way he senses people. It caused all sorts of problems for him when he was younger, because he couldn’t always tell the difference.

“It’s the heartbeat,” he tells Frank, once, when he’s drunk after a particularly grim night. “They can get the heat and the shape and the smell of a person right, but they mess up the heartbeat. They do it out of habit, like breathing, but they’ll forget for a while, or they’ll get a song stuck in their heads, beat to that instead. I once caught a ghost cuz his heart was beating ‘Highway to Hell.’”

Frank never asks about his ghosts. He doesn’t want to know. He killed them once, or he got them killed, and they attached to him because they could smell their blood on his hands.

He went to war, and he killed them. And then, when he could, as soon as he found someone who could do it for him, he killed them all over again.

He felt each one ripped out of him, like getting a tooth pulled from his heart instead of his skull. A long, building scream of pressure and then a sharp, bone-deep crack as they lost their hold. Every nerve in his body sent up static signals, like getting electrocuted all over, like getting plugged into something strong, and boundless, and starving.

He felt hollow afterwards, and he slept for two days straight.

“They’re not always malevolent,” Matt says, another time. “It’s a 60/40 split, maybe. The warmer ones mean well, help out sometimes.  People think they have angels.”

“Angels,” Frank says. That sounds nice. Sounds like not feeling alone every Goddamn second of his life. Sounds like not calling his kids from hotel rooms and roadside diners, sending postcards when he remembers, trying like hell not to forget their faces but knowing, when he sees them, that they won’t look the same anyway.

“They’re parasites, Frank,” Matt tells him, tone so gentle that Frank wants to punch him right in the mouth. “It’s in their nature. They can’t help it. They feed from the living. All of them.”

“Everyone’s a fucking parasite,” Frank says. And he leaves, because he has to. Because if he sticks around any longer, he’s going to tell Matt that the 60/40 split is bullshit, and he knows, just like Matt knows, just like everyone knows, that there’s no good or bad, no warm or cold, no malevolent or benevolent.

There is no or. With people, living or dead, it’s always an and.

Frank earned every one of his ghosts by killing someone who was a mix of saint and sinner, just the same as Matt murders ghosts who are a blend of angel and demon.

They’re killers. For whatever cause, they’re killers. Sometimes Frank can’t get the taste of blood out of his mouth.

  The video of the abandoned mental hospital goes viral overnight, because Frank is exceptionally surly, and Matt is especially charming, and Foggy catches the doors slamming on camera, and the machines designed to light up and beep manage to light up and beep in particularly theatrical ways.

They get thousands of views, then tens of thousands. It climbs higher. Karen makes a lot of enthusiastic noises at her phone.

Before they leave town, they pull the ghost of a boy who died in that hospital out of the grandniece he’s haunted her whole life, passed from mother to daughter like a family heirloom for three generations.

The woman’s still crying when they leave two hours later. Frank doesn’t blame her. She’s never lived alone, never been without him, and, even now, three years on, he still sometimes misses the souls that huddled and shook in his overcrowded ribcage.

Sometimes harvesting ghosts breaks the host. It’s like resetting a bone or amputating a limb. People are never the same afterwards. But carrying a ghost is always eventually fatal.

They steal life. They have to.

The haunted grandniece’s mother died at forty-five of a heart attack. Her grandmother ate a bullet at fifty-two. The grandniece is thirty and exhausted, but, if she recovers from the shock, her life expectancy should go up by decades.

They saved what was left of her life. It’s a good thing. Good work.

Matt’s quiet on the drive back to New York. He saves the amiable charm for fans and viewers, and Foggy, Karen, and Frank are the only ones who see him like this, blank-faced and grim, worn down by the work that they do.

“Hey,” Frank says, because Foggy and Karen are in the other car, and so it’s his job to keep Matt steady. “It was the right thing to do.”

Matt laughs, soundless and eerie. He tips his head back against the headrest. “I can hear lies, you know.”

If it’s a lie, it’s only because Frank stopped believing in the right thing the moment after his first messy headshot knocked a soul out of its body. “You did what you had to do,” he tries, instead.

“There we go,” Matt says. He smiles. It’s small, and sad, and so transparently fond that Frank can’t look at it, not even in the reflection on the windshield. “Thanks, Frank.”

“She deserves a life,” Frank says. He’s gone off-script. He doesn’t know where he’s heading. With everyone else, he just keeps his damn mouth shut, but, with Matt, he’s always saying things before he has a plan. “She didn’t—that boy deserved one, too, but he lost it. And it’s her turn. She deserves a life.”

Matt tips his head Frank’s direction. He’s not wearing his glasses, and his eyes aren’t aimed the right direction. He does this sometimes. He means to look someone in the face, and he ends up staring straight at their hearts.

He only ever does it with people who know what he can do, so Frank thinks, maybe, it’s not an accident. Maybe it’s intentional. Maybe Matt reads hearts the way everyone else reads faces. Maybe this is his way of warning people he’s listening.

“You’re right.” Matt’s voice is quiet and scratchy, the way Maria used to sound, years ago, when she’d wake up in the morning affectionate and soft instead of cold and hurt and walled-off. “Everyone deserves a life.”

Frank swallows and focuses on the road. He doesn’t want to know what his heart is doing right now. He doesn’t want to see the expression on Matt’s face as he listens.

  Between episodes, Matt freelances around the city. He goes to a lot of churches. He got kicked out of seminary school for fucking men or killing ghosts or both, so he has a sort of complicated relationship with most of the priests in town, but people will grab hold of any rope they see, when they’re drowning.

“Why don’t you tell these old bastards to fuck off?” Frank asks one evening, when he and Matt are sitting on the steps outside a church, eating cold sandwiches, waiting for Father Whoever to deign to speak to them.

“People trust them, Frank,” Matt says. He has mustard smeared on his chin. It’s adorable. “If you’re haunted, you go to a priest.”

“I hate these places.” Frank glares at the stained glass, gets a gunfire flash of memory, thinks about sacred places and penitents and how everything holy burns just as fast as everything profane.

“Hm,” Matt says. He licks at his mouth, maybe hunting for the mustard. He doesn’t get it. “Is it the guilt or the shame?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Frank advises. He takes a mulish bite of his sandwich and chews until he can speak like a sane, normal person. “It’s the lies.”

“Ah.” Matt seems perfectly at ease with that comment, like it doesn’t bother him at all, even with that cross hanging around his neck.

He prays for every one of the ghosts. He prays for the hosts. Frank once caught him praying for a raccoon they almost hit with the car.  

Matt’s got so much mercy in his heart that Frank doesn’t understand how the damn thing doesn’t shatter apart every single day.

“It doesn’t change anything,” Frank says, finally. Matt didn’t ask, but Frank doesn’t care. “It’s bullshit. It’s just words. They promise you shit they can’t give, and then you just—these guys make a whole fucking life out of lying to people. At least we elect politicians.”

“Not sure that’s fair, Frank.” Matt’s voice is mild. His body language is loose and calm and so trusting it’s almost sleepy. “I don’t hear any lies from some of them. If they believe in it--”

“And you weren’t good enough for them,” Frank says, which isn’t what anyone asked, and isn’t relevant, and isn’t what he meant to say.

Matt’s quiet for a moment and then a delighted smile breaks across his face. “Are you holding a grudge against all of Catholicism for my sake, Frank?”

“You have mustard on your chin,” Frank says, because he probably can’t tell him to go fuck himself twice in two minutes, not right in front of a church. “You asshole,” he says, instead, as a compromise.

  Half their fans think they’re fucking. Frank pretends not to notice. Matt knows, of course, because he’s the one people overshare with the most, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. He keeps grabbing onto Frank’s arm, and leaning in close to murmur perfectly benign shit right into his ear, and sitting slouched into him at panels and interviews, so Frank thinks maybe he plays it up, to get more views or make a point.

Frank doesn’t care. Maria sends him a screencap and a shitty, passive aggressive text about accepting himself that she apologizes for later.

“Look,” she says, because she calls him, because she’s the kind of brave that looks right at the heart of things that hurt her. “That was cruel, and uncalled for, and I’m sorry.”

“Hey, Maria,” he says, “how’re the kids?”

“Fine,” she says. “You should visit more. That’s not why I called.”

“I don’t care,” Frank tells her. “It’s all over the fucking internet. You think I don’t know? I don’t care what people say. I don’t care what you think. It’s fine.”

“That’s a lot of not caring,” Maria says, and it’s like a live wire straight to his chest, the way she says it. Sad and gentle and serious, like a goodbye kiss. “It just hurts to see you happy without me, Frank. That’s shitty, and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

Things rotted and fell apart between them, and that’s always going to be Frank’s fault. Because Frank went to war and came back someone else, and it’s not Maria’s fault she didn’t love the stranger who came home. It’s not Maria’s fault she started flinching away from him.

He never, ever would have hurt her, but he scared her anyway. And some things don’t ever get better, so you cut your losses, and you run.

“I’m sorry,” Frank says, because he is. Because he probably always will be. That black well of hurt inside him doesn’t belong to anybody. He thought for a while that it was something she did to him, some pain she inflicted on him when she cut herself free, but Frank knows now that she cut herself just as deep. They were stitched together, after all.

If she hadn’t left him, he wouldn’t have found Matt. And if he hadn’t found Matt, those ghosts would’ve eaten him alive.

“Christ, Frank,” Maria says, “don’t be sorry. Just be happy. And visit sometimes. Your kids miss you.”

  They do a whole episode at a graveyard in the middle of the night, and Matt’s smug the entire time, because he’s the only one who doesn’t trip over any gravestones. “You should be more respectful to the dead,” Matt tells him, as Frank’s nursing a badly stubbed toe and offering a litany of crude suggestions to Leticia B. Vaughn, 1819-1836.

“Also,” Foggy says, off-camera, “Leticia’s a minor, so maybe watch your language.”

“She’s two-fucking-hundred years old,” Frank snarls back.

“What was the age of consent in the 1800s?” Matt asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“Not high enough,” Karen says. “She died in childbirth. Sorry, Frank. She probably hates men with good reason.”

Frank cannot believe that this is his life. He used to murder people, professionally. Back then, people took him seriously. His own wife divorced him because she looked at him and saw a monster looking back.

These idiots are needling him like they’ve never been scared of him in their lives.

It hurts like something cracking open, like blood coming back to fingers nearly lost to frostbite. He throws in one last, final, “Fuck you, Letty,” and then clears his throat before anyone notices the way his hands are shaking.

“Hey,” Matt says, hooking his arm through Frank’s. “Protect me from the angry Letty’s of the world.”

Frank is so much worse than a dead 1800s woman. He breaks every nice thing he touches.

The thing about Matt, though, is that he isn’t very breakable. And his kindness is almost saintly, but he isn’t, on the whole, very nice.

He takes two malignant spirits from the overnight groundskeeper, and the man is so grateful afterwards that he cries on Matt’s shoulder and blesses him six separate times.

Those spirits, when they go, aren’t anything like grateful. But Matt never flinches, not once.

  They go to Josie’s when they’re back in town. It’s a tradition they probably can’t keep for very much longer. “People keep asking for you,” Josie tells them, like they’ve brought syphilis into her bar instead of paying customers. “They say they’re from the internet.”

“They’re not from the internet,” Foggy says. “They use the internet. They find outstanding bars like this one on the internet.”

“They asked me,” Josie says, visibly outraged, “for a pineapple mojito.”

“Jesus,” Frank says, picturing the subsequent bloodshed.

“And may God have mercy on their souls,” Matt intones beside him.

They stay for a couple of hours, drink their way through at least half a bottle of uniquely terrible tequila, and play pool until their fine motor skills degrade past the point of entertainment. A small crowd comes sneaking in behind them, and Frank wonders if this is why Karen and Foggy have been so gleeful about their phones recently.

He stopped checking the view counts on their videos a month or so back. As long as they’re getting paid enough to live, he doesn’t need to know more.

Someone sends them a tray full of shots, and Foggy wades off, charming smile in place, to thank their admirers, and it’s all fine, really, until someone gets weird with Karen, and she drops him to the ground before Frank can even pass his drink to Matt.

“Whoops,” Karen says, Bambi-blinking with a look of practiced innocence. “Time to go.”

“Take your groupies with you!” Josie yells, and Frank honestly doesn’t know how she stays in business with a temperament like that unless she’s running an absolute mess of drugs through this place.

They empty out into the night. Foggy peels off to walk Karen home, and Frank ends up taking Matt all the way to his place, even though Matt’s not that drunk, and Frank’s not that sober, and it’s honestly a little hard to tell which one of them is holding up the other.

“I’m gonna go see Maria,” Frank tells him, when they get to Matt’s door, and Matt’s waiting, expectantly, like there’s something Frank forgot to tell him. “To see the kids,” he clarifies. “I can’t avoid her forever. And I miss her. You know? She was my best friend for years.”

“I know,” Matt says. He’s good with things that like. Painful things.

The dangerous thing about Matt Murdock is that he makes you feel like you can hand him every bit of pain you’ve got, like he’s some kind of Atlas. Like he’ll hold up your whole world while you find your place within it.

Frank’s never thought of pain as something you could share. It’s always been something he lived with or destroyed or evaded. It’s something he ate, piece by piece, until it poisoned him or disappeared.

Frank doesn’t know how the hell those priests could turn Matt away. He’s the holiest thing Frank’s ever found.

“I don’t love her anymore,” Frank says. But it’s a lie. “I’m not in love with her anymore.” And that’s true.

“Frank,” Matt says, slow and careful, voice curling up like there’s a question he won’t ask.

That’s the trouble with Matt. That’s what Frank’s learned. From the day they met, Matt’s been taking other people’s nightmares, swallowing pain, banishing demons. He takes bad out of the world, but he can’t ever seem to ask for anything good. Not for himself. Not ever.

“I wanted you to know that,” Frank says.

Matt’s turned his direction, head cocked, mouth slightly open, when Frank kisses him. He makes a soft, surprised noise into Frank’s mouth, and Frank’s been letting himself think about this for weeks, but he still not ready for it.

It’s not that different, really, from kissing a woman. He’s not sure why he thought it would be.

Matt’s warm and familiar and friendly, and it’s not until Frank’s got him pressed fully back against the door that he realizes things are getting a bit out of hand.

“Okay,” Frank says, stepping back, licking his lips and tasting Matt’s. “I wanted you to know that, too.”

Matt smiles at him, and there’s an echo of that very first smile Matt gave him, when Frank was stretched to the point of splitting right in half, hauling dead men behind him with every step, waking up to the taste of blood and gunpowder every damn morning.

Frank’s spent years being grateful to Matt for sensing all those ghosts, when all Frank could feel was the war. He’s just now realizing that maybe the most miraculous thing about Matt Murdock isn’t that he can see ghosts. It’s that he could see Frank beyond them.

“If you come by in the morning,” Matt says, “I’ll take you to breakfast.”

Frank’s heart is doing something stupid in his chest, beating out a rhythm he’s reasonably sure isn’t meant to sustain life. It’d be embarrassing, except Matt’s smile is wide and dopey and getting sweeter by the second.

“Yeah,” Frank says. He takes a step back. He knows, in the morning, that Matt will be waiting for him. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll be here.”

[current-mcr-news]

Casual Interactions #1: Full Transcription

John: Welcome to Casual Interactions, a show about old friends getting together and telling stories. I'm John "Hambone" McGuire, and with me today are some of my oldest and dearest friends, Frank Iero and Shaun Simon.

Frank has been a traveling musician all his life, best known as the guitar player of My Chemical Romance, and singer of Leathermouth and Death Spells. He's currently fronting his own band and writing music as a solo artist.

Shaun is a writer and is best known for his work on The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, Art Ops, and Neverboy. He's currently working on Wizard Beach for BOOM! Studios.

I'm a jack of all trades, and if I told you what I actually did for a living, I'd have to kill you.

So to say that we're busy is an understatement. We are a group of friends who are just looking for an excuse to get together more and hang out. We used to do it over breakfast and we figured that eating eggs on mic would be a little too gross, so we're gonna do this podcast instead. How are you guys doing today?

Shaun: Hey, man.

Frank: Doing good, man. Doing very good. I'm very excited to see you guys.

J: I'm very excited to see you too, man.

F: Especially in front of a mic without eggs on your face.

J: Well, you know, I often have egg on my face. I do say a lot of dumb shit. However, it is a little better to not be chewing on microphone, or slurping, or-

F: I do have hard boiled eggs in my pocket that I'm waiting to bust out for later.

J: Is that what that smell is?

F: That's what I have. I'm prepared, that's what I'm saying.

J: You were a Boy Scout for like 2 weeks. It's evident that you've actually survived your training.

F: When I was a kid though, I went to Catholic school and everybody wanted to be an altar boy, but I couldn't do it because I would see my dad on the weekends.

J: Right.

F: And I couldn't do Boy Scouts either and I was real depressed about that. I remember.

J: Yeah but you know, he taught you how to play drums so there's gotta be a-

F: That was the upside, upswing.

J: There's gotta be an upswing to it.

F: I didn't get touched-

J: Jesus, Frank.

F: -and I learned how to play drums.

J: We're not even a minute in.

S: I can't picture you as an altar boy.

F: I know, me neither.

S: You probably would've burned that altar down.

F: Well here's the thing, think about this-

S: Holding fucking fire in your hands on the fucking altar.

F: Later on, in my career as a grammar schooler in 8th grade, right before graduation, we were gonna have practice graduation. I don't know why you have to have practice for graduation.

J: They need to make sure you can walk in a straight line.

F: Yeah! Exactly. It's like a DUI, basically, yeah, for 8th graders. But we'd have them in the church. And I remember a few of my friends had these stink bombs, and they were like, "Oh, we should throw them in the church." And everybody was like, "No fucking way!" And I was like, "I'll fucking throw that shit!" And I took them and I threw them and I got-

S: Of course you did.

F: Of course I did. And then they wouldn't let me graduate.

J: You were an 8th grade domestic terrorist.

F: I think I was just pissed that I couldn't be an altar boy!

J: Well just think about how a church smells musty, base-line. Like any church you go into, you never walk into a church and go, "Wow! This place smells really good. They must be like, using Yankee Candles or something." It always just smells base-line musty. And then you add a stink bomb to it, in a room that's not very well ventilated either. Oh, Jesus!

F: Yes, I called it Frankincense. Later on though too, I remember I had to go to one of those retreat things because of this, and then I ended up getting in trouble there because we stole the wine and they caught us drinking wine.

J: How about you, Shaun? You ever an altar boy or a Boy Scout when you were a kid?

S: I was an altar boy.

F: You were?!

S: I was, yeah.

F: Oh!

S: I don't know if I have any stories, though. I just did the shit and left. Right?

F: But you have the knowledge and that's how you can judge if I-

S: Right!

F: -you could see me in that position.

S: That's why I can see you burning down the church... if Frank was an altar boy.

J: Now churches just burn when you walk into them. Which is like, gotta be a 9th level spell. Good for you getting to that level of wizardry... So why don't we take a second and step back and talk about how we met.

F: Okay, go ahead.

J: So we all grew up in different parts of town. Frank grew up in Belleville.

F: True.

J: I grew up in Clifton. Shaun grew up on the other side of Clifton. Now for those listening, the city of Clifton is shaped like a giant horseshoe, and this is in New Jersey. It borders 12 other towns, so where Shaun lived in Clifton might as well have been 4 towns away from where I lived.

F: Is it really shaped like a horseshoe?

J: It is shaped like a giant horseshoe.

S: It's shaped like horseshit.

J: Yeah. Just parts of it smell like horseshit. I actually did a report on it in the 6th grade and that's how I know it's shaped like a giant horseshoe. Borders 12 towns, don't ask me to name them now because I don't remember most of them.

F: I'm still thinking of like how- because I get lost everywhere, but maybe that's why I can't figure my way around Clifton.

J: Well you were only ever in Clifton, you'd never actually been outside of it. Like you went from Belleville into Clifton and you just never left.

F: That's true. That's true, yeah. We're talking about origin stories, right?

J: Yes!

F: Alright. I remember, because I met Shaun first.

S: Did you?!

F: Yes!

S: Oh, freshman year!

F: I don't even remember- freshman year orientation.

S: Oh!

F: I met you at the orientation.

S: That's like another world, though. Like, I feel like, I don't know.

F: It's alright, you can say you don't remember me.

S: No, I do remember you. I do remember you!

F: But you were friends with Eugene. And I was friends with Costa.

S: That's right.

F: And they were friends.

S: He used to steal cheese.

F: He used to steal cheese?

S: Didn't he used to steal cheese?

F: From who?!

S: I don't know!

F: I think you made that up, but maybe!

S: Maybe, maybe. He was just a really small kid and I used to think he used to steal cheese.

F: He might have!

J: I think you just projected that on him.

F: I definitely stole a lot of things with him. None of which I believe were cheese, but I mean, it's possible!

S: Maybe he was just mouse-like and I just- anyway.

F: So they would skate together and I remember finding out that you skated too, and then I would just bring a board and watch you guys skate.

S: Did you actually skateboard, though? Or did you just like-

F: I did! And then broke both my ankles, and I was never good.

S: Oh, okay.

F: I think I got as far as, like, I maybe landed 3 Ollies.

J: That's 3 more than me

F: So that's my first remembrance of you. But then you didn't stick around long.

S: I left after freshman year, yeah.

F: So we didn't even really hang out that much.

J: Now, I was 2 years older than Frank in high school, and so, I didn't even know up until we started hanging out years later that you were in the same high school as me because I wouldn't- not that I was like some cool older kid, I definitely was not. However, I wasn't at freshman orientation that year because I was a junior, so yeah. So years later we end up meeting again because of a mutual friend. It was Bruno right?

S: Bruno, yeah.

F: Oh yeah!

J: Because you went to Bergen Community College with Bruno.

S: Kinda went there.

J: Kinda went there. I mean, one does not simply really go to Bergen Community College.

F: Shaun didn't stick around any school for very long.

S: I didn't stick around very long.

J: He's just out there smoking cigarettes, hanging with the cool kids, being bad.

F: Yeah, and he can be an altar boy. I see, alright.

J: He can be an altar boy. He's quiet about it. He shuts the fuck up, he gets in there, does his job, and gets out. Like you, you had to make a production about it.

S: Yeah, Frank would've made sure everyone knew he was an altar boy.

F: This is true! This is true. Fucking drama... Drama boy! Drama altar boy!

J: I mean, I could imagine you like, "I'm an altar boy," and flashing your cross like you're a cop. "Yeah, here. I'm on the job. I'm on the job for Jesus."

F: Ah, shit. Alright, fine. Touché!

J: So, Frank and I played in bands together in high school, and we played with one of our friends named Bruno. Bruno brought Shaun along one night to hang and we've all been friends ever since! We've since played in bands together, we've since played in bands separately, and now we're here in Frank's basement recording a podcast.

F: Isn't that crazy? Fucking small world.

J: It's 20 years.

F: Is it really?!

J: It's about 20 years worth of friendship happening, culminating in this podcast.

F: I'm so old.

S: I don't feel like I'm 20 years older than I was.

J: No, neither do I, man. I still, like-

F: I do!

S: I also don't feel like I look it.

J: No, you don't.

S: I don't know if that's just me.

F: You kept your handsomeness.

J: You were always the looks of the band.

S: Yeah... I don't know about that.

J: So yeah, we love hanging out together. We are always looking for new reasons to hang out because it's hard when you get a little bit older. People have kids, people have different jobs, things that take you different places, some of us going all over the world. So what we're going to do every episode is talk about a different topic. So today we're really just gonna focus on our origin story. So that's how we end up all meeting, and then a little while after that... You know, Frank and I have been playing in bands together since high school, I played with a couple different people. Frank tried to go to college, I tried to go to college a few times, and then we ended up getting back together and deciding to start a new band, and that band ended up being Pencey Prep.

F: Yeah.

J: So we wanted a keyboard player, and we just loved hanging out with Shaun.

S: Wait, did you want a keyboard player-

F: I think we did!

S: -or were you just like, "We like hanging out with this dude, do something for us."

F: I think it was both.

S: It was a little bit of both.

F: Yeah!

J: A little column A, a little column B.

S: "Guitar is a little too hard to learn, here's a keyboard."

J: Right. And I was already playing bass. And that's what it was. We pulled a keyboard out from under the bed and said, "Learn how to play this and you can be in the band." Because we just wanted to keep hanging out with you. And that was it, you know, that's the real origin story of how Pencey Prep started. We just wanted to hang out more with Shaun.

F: This is true. Yeah! Here's the moral of it: is that we continuously manufacture things so that we can hang out with you, Shaun.

J: Like this podcast!

F: Yeah! That's just an ongoing thing. 20 years later, Hambone bought a bunch of mics.

S: Right, right!

F: Just to lure you to our house to hang out.

J: Because breakfast wasn't enough sometimes. I had to take it up a notch, recording you right now.

F: Yes, exactly. Goddamn it.

J: I mean, that's what it is. You look at a band like The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, right? Like, what does Ben Carr really do? Well, apparently Ben Carr is a tour manager and he runs the whole day to day operations of the band. But back in the day, they just wanted to hang out with their buddy, they wanted something for him to do, so they said, "Well, just dance onstage."

S: Oh, that's right!

J: You should be happy, Shaun. We didn't make you dance.

S: Yeah, I wouldn't have done that anyway. We would've had to say our goodbyes back then.

F: Well, even early Pencey shows, there was a lot of playing verses- no, playing choruses! And then during the verses you would just smoke. Just smoke onstage.

S: So I was like, "Here's this dude, he's gonna stand there and look cool, smoking a cigarette."

F: Right, yeah. It was very Velvet Underground.

J: And you wouldn't even face the crowd either. You know, the whole band is going at it with the crowd, you were just turned sideways and just staring at whatever wall was in your direction on stage left, and just... smoking.

F: Judging. Just judging everyone. Yes!

J: Light it up during the verse, fly in for the chorus, Shaun Simon.

F: There it is! I mean, it worked.

J: That's what you did.

F: It did!

S: It worked.

F: That was a fun band to be in.

J: That was a fun band.

S: You know what's weird about that band? It feels like we were a band so much longer than we actually were. It wasn't that long, right?

F: You know what I think? I think that Pencey wasn't long. The time period after when we were doing I Am A Graveyard, that was longer.

S: Was that longer?

F: I think so.

S: Because we only had like 3 songs, didn't we?

F: Like 4 or 5. But I think that was the other thing too, we just liked hanging out so much that-

J: We didn't wanna stop.

F: We didn't wanna stop, yeah.

J: I feel like it was about a year and a half leading up to us getting ready to record the record. Then we recorded the record, we went on that one ill-fated tour across America, and then we just kinda restructured the band when Tim left.

F: Yeah.

S: No, actually we restructured the band and then we did I Am A Graveyard, and then Tim left.

J: Then Tim left. Then that was the end of the band.

S: Then Frank joined My Chem.

J: Yeah, I mean it was a really great time. The thing about that is to me , I look back on the record kinda cringing-ly. Because I just can't listen to it, it's really hard to get through. And it's funny when I look at kids who were our age, recording now and the kinda stuff they're doing. And granted, I know technology is very different, but the idea of our playing ability at 19, 20, 21, versus a kid who's 19, 20, 21 now's playing ability, it's like night and day.

F: Oh my god. Oh, I know.

J: It's like, god bless that it happened before the internet and nobody caught on that we stunk. We were tight! We were a good band but we were like the high school band and everyone else is doing laps around us.

F: I feel like that's the thing too is like, now you see these young kids, 11 and 12, going on YouTube and learning how to play, and really giving it their all. It's insane! I would just listen to records and smoke pot in my room and try to figure stuff out. And I don't know, there wasn't that outlet to get better. You actually had to go and take lessons from somebody. And it was like, "Fuck that."

J: And taking lessons sucked.

F: I know.

J: I mean I'm not shitting on anyone who does take lessons.

F: No, no!

J: But when I was a kid I was like, "Dude. I don't wanna take lessons, I just wanna go out and do this." However, I realize now that it takes a lot of effort to make something look effortless.

F: Yeah!

J: And I also look back at that record fondly because where I am today, kinda where we all are today, is because of that record. Like, the friends that I have and the family I have in my life, I met all because I was in the music scene. I think we all did, right? We all did.

S: Everything kind of originated from that band.

J: My friend Carrie hit me up from Tennessee the other day and she was like, you know, talking about the Pencey Prep record. And I was about to just shit all over it because it's- well it's hard for me to go back and listen to. But she gave me the perspective and she said, "Hey, because of that record, because you were in that band, we met. And because of that, your other friends have met and now they have families and they're all together because we were all kind of in that same place at the same time." I have a profound sense of gratitude for the record. I just can't listen to it.

F: I wouldn't change anything, because everything ended up the way it did. That's wonderful. But if I could Doc Brown it, and just tweak little things here and there, I'd definitely- there's a lot that I would tweak.

S: Yeah, if someone played to a click track.

F: Well, click- click would help!

J: Lots of auto-tuning.

F: But that's- yeah! I mean that's the thing. There are certain things that you listen back and it's cringy, but that's because you were a fucking teenager! It's supposed to be.

J: Right, and it was a very different thing being a teenager when we were teenagers, and being a teenager now.

F: Yeah.

J: Night and day.

F: I totally agree.

J: I would not survive as a teenager now.

F: No! Fuck no! I'd be naked on the internet somewhere. 

J: Somewhere.

F: It would ruin my goddamn life! Totally. Doing some dumb shit.

J: Yeah, absolutely.

F: We had VHS recorders. Destroy that shit.

J: Yeah, absolutely. My friend George Bungle lores over my head that he definitely has pictures of me when I was wearing eyeliner and flat ironing my hair, and I was like, "Please!" I was like, "George, just let me find a wife first, because it'll be harder for her to leave me once those pictures come out. There would be lawyers involved."

F: Yikes. Yeah. Well, that's the thing too, is like, I do have minor interactions on social media. Just like, through Twitter and Instagram, stuff like that. Facebook is an animal that I can't understand so I just decide not to use it.

J: It's all racist

F: Is it really?! Jesus!

J: Facebook is where you go to figure out which of your friends have actually been racist this entire time.

F: Oh my god! Ugh.

J: Yeah, just stay off it.

F: That sounds terrible.

J: It's pretty bad.

F: So anyway, I'm not going on Facebook then. But people will send like, pictures of like, a moment in time, just this fucking split second moment in time, but, "Explain this." I'm like, "Motherfucker!

S: What do you mean?

F: Yeah, exactly! "What are you talking about?" You have to explain every goddamn moment of your life that's been captured in some sort of video clip or like still, or photo, like- So you'll see some questionable hairstyles, or styles of things. And certain things maybe made sense in a moment because you were making fun of something, but when it gets taken out of context, it makes no sense. But my response usually is like, "Alright, yeah, that may have been questionable, but I will show you 100,000 people that are wearing their hair like that still, right now, because I did that."

J: Absolutely! Absolutely.

S: What? Are they talking about your dreadlocks?

F: Oh, that's one!

J: That's one!

S: Is that one of them? Remember when we cut those off?

F: Yeah!

S: Threw them out the hotel window-

F: In Chicago!

J: Chicago, yeah!

F: Yeah, we planted them.

J: I mean, they're technically biodegradable, right?

S: Yeah. 

F: No!

S: I don't know about that.

J: Oh, no, they're not!

F: No. Those are bad for the environment. That's why Chicago is the way it is. Because we threw them out the window.

J: Frank's old dreadlocks. I'm sure there's a tree growing where you threw that dreadlock outside of the hotel where I'm staying at next week. 

F: I don't know if you remember this, though. That started out of a joke because we're all in the back of this van, and we were talking about the music that Tim liked, which he was really into nu-metal and weird shit.

J: Oh my god, yeah, I remember.

F: And I started tying knots in my hair, and they turned into that, and we put like, crazy glue in it

S: Ew.

F: And that's how it started. And then it just got real nasty.

J: I wonder if people like, because you know everyone like, lives on their phone now, like the distraction in the back of the van. I don't think a band would ever do that now because they're gonna be so distracted being on social media. Whereas, to pass the time you guys were really busy throwing my Thin Lizzy CDs out the window and gluing your hair together!

F: Oh man!

J: You left the case, though, which I always thought was funny.

F: Did we leave the case?

J: You did leave the case.

S: Why- who threw your CDs out?

F: It was a tape, it was a tape. I think-

S: Why did we decide that was a good idea?

J: How many times can you hear "Jailbreak" on the same tour?

F: That! Yeah, it was like, "The boys are not back in town. we have to stop." It just got to be too much.

J: It was the first intervention of many.

F: Alright, here's another thing about origin stories. I remember this like it was fucking yesterday, and Shaun will vouch for this. Those early My Chem tours in the van where you would have to bring these billfolds of CDs.

S: Oh, absolutely.

F: That was like 100 pounds of CDs that you were bringing with you every tour, to just pass the time, stuff like that. It was fucking horrible! Everything would be scratched and destroyed by the time you got back.

S: Start it all over. 

J: Oh yeah, absolutely. Because every bump in the road-

F: Oh my god!

J: It's the same thing when we used to drive around. So we had a van, a yellow school bus van, that I bought for like 800 bucks. The thing was the drizzling shits. It was a terrible, terrible van, but we needed a van to go on tour, and all we wanted to do was tour, so we went and I got the van and we got it fixed up. And the very first night of tour, we were playing at the Loop Lounge for our tour kickoff party. And as we were driving the van to the rehearsal space to go and pick up the gear, I bumped into a curb, the timing belt jumped, and we almost missed the first day of the tour. And it was all downhill from there because this van also, the anti-freeze hose popped, and destroyed the van's on-board computer so we got stuck in Minnesota.

F: Can we dive into that story a little bit more? Because that was the whole reason of the tour, was this one show that we got booked. Was it with Les Savy Fav? J: It was Les Savy Fav at the 7th Street Entry in Minneapolis. So the 7th Street Entry is the smaller part of the First Ave. which one of the biggest and most famous rock clubs in America. You've seen it in Prince's "Purple Rain," and the whole point of the tour was that we got this gig at the 7th Street Entry with Les Savy Fav, and we were traveling out there to go and do this show. Now on the way, besides the timing belt jumping, we had a problem with the seal on the gas tank, so we could only ever fill the tank up-

F: This is true, I remember!

S: That's right!

J: We could only ever fill the tank up three-quarters of the way, so that was the second problem.

F: But you kinda didn't know how far you were going. You just thought, "Alright, that's three-quarters of a tank," and then it would seep in and you would smell gas all day.

J: And we would smell gasoline.

S: And wasn't it like, we were nervous about flicking cigarettes out the windows?

F: Yes! But it didn't stop us.

S: We just kept smoking.

J: No, and I remember going and getting that fixed, getting the seal fixed, and just sitting there, and the guy was literally- he had the van up and he's underneath it and he's smoking a cigarette and he's checking it, and I'm like, "This is how I die! This is officially how it ends for me." Thankfully, it didn't. So, take us back. Frank, we were driving to Minneapolis.

F: Driving to Minneapolis. This was the show, man. This is it, we were gonna make it. This is the like our big show! And so we stop off in Minnesota, right? 

J: Right.

F: And we're like, "Alright, we're gonna get a good night's sleep. The next day, we're driving to this show, we're gonna play the biggest show of our band's career. We're gonna have our CD. It's gonna be great. We're gonna do this." So we head out and I think it was maybe 2 hours into a 3 hour drive, and the van was like, "No, you're not." Because it just like- you ever see like, in a horror movie where like, someone cuts a stomach and just the bowels fall out? That's how- everything. Like, the poor girl just fucking disemboweled on the highway.

J: So the hose popped-

F: Blood. Car blood!

J: Anti-freeze everywhere! And now I know what hot anti-freeze smells like. It smells like hot maple syrup. 

F: Yeah.

J: So we pull over to the side of the road. Thankfully, there was a Ford dealership literally 1,000 feet where we were at the top of the hill. So we got them to tow us there. It cost $666.34 to repair, which I called my dad. I was like, "Dad, please! Please, let me use your credit card, we're stuck out here!" And he did. Like, my father has-

F: The greatest.

J: -always been so supportive of the music that I've played, the music Frank's played. So he came and he gave his credit card number over the phone to this car dealership outside of Minneapolis, and we never made the show. 

F: Uh uh.

J: We didn't play the show.

F: Did not play the show. Did not pay him back either. Fucked up! Sorry. Oh shit.

J: He just put it on my tab. It's like, "How many times you drop out of college, John?" And just add it up, you know. So I mean, so that was the first Pencey Prep tour. You know we played- our friend, Neil, who was in the band, he booked the tour, and this is back when e-mail is just new. Like, you know, there is internet, but people have like Juno and AOL. There's no high speed internet, you know. You used to call CBGB's to get a gig, they didn't have an e-mail address. You'd have to call at like Tuesday or Thursday between these hours and if you did not call during those times, or you couldn't get someone on the phone, you weren't getting booked to CBGB's. So, this is so many years ago! Like you think about it, this was 2000! This is almost 20 years.

F: Was it 2000? Or was it 99?

J: Oh, maybe it was 99 at that point, yeah! I mean, you know, you and I have been friends- I graduated in 97, I met you in 1995. And then I met you a few years later so-

S: Hm...

J: Yeah, 99.

S: 99, yeah maybe.

J: 99 was the first Pencey- the first and only Pencey tour.

F: Right!

J: So you know, we made the towns, we played the clubs, then the van had another problem where we got to, I think, Missouri of all places, and had to fix the gas tank again. And we were at a point, our last show of the tour was Columbus, Ohio in this basement. I forget the name of the club but it was a basement club and the guy stiffed up for money, because he's like, "Well I'm not gonna pay you guys, you didn't bring anybody.” It's like, "Well, we're from fucking New Jersey!" So we gunned it all the way home, we would not turn the engine off because we were afraid it wasn't gonna turn back on. Do you remember the CD that was stuck in the CD player that we had to listen to the entire 10 and a half hour ride home?

F: No.

S: No.

J: "Stay What You Are" by Saves the Day.

F: Oh god! So bleak!

J: It got stuck in the CD player, because everything was going on, why wouldn't that go wrong? 

F: Well, that's the thing. That's a great record, but like, to listen to over and over again on our- already being depressed. Fuck!

J: Yeah, we got our asses kicked on that first tour, you know? A little while after that, Neil wasn't in the band anymore. And then a little while after that, we became I Am A Graveyard, and we did a couple years of that, still slugging along, and then the rest is history for Frank.

F: For everybody!

J: Yeah.

F: You guys did The Hostage after that, too.

J: We did do The Hostage for a little while. The Hostage, I think, we lasted maybe 6-7 months.

S: I think we played, like, 3 shows.

J: We played 3 really awesome shows.

S: Really, yeah, really good shows.

J: We had a good buzz about us, but the other guys in the band were dicks. You know what, I take that back. Dan wasn't a dick, Paul wasn't a dick, it was the other guy that was a dick.

S: Yeah.

J: So... He got a little too big for his britches and the band had to break up.

S: Well the problem with Dan, he... I remember, I think I was talking to you, and you with My Chem, you were like, "Yeah, why don't you guys come out and open for us?" You remember that?

J: Yeah.

S: In like Pittsburgh, or something like that. And then Dan was like, "Oh, I have to work because I have to pay my car lease," or something.

J: Yeah, yeah.

S: And it was like, "Dude, where's your fucking drive to do this?"

J: The thing about being in bands and the things about doing any kind of like, artistry, or any kind of like, going into business for yourself, takes sacrifice.

F: It does.

J: Putting the time and effort into doing something that's outside of working 9-5, it takes hard work. Like, you could either make that decision to work 9-5 for someone else, or you work 18 hours for yourself.

F: My dad and my grandfather were musicians and they played all the time, and it wasn't always something they did full time, for a living. It was something they could do- you know, they had to have another job to support. But my dad would always tell me like, you know, "There's music and then there's a music business, and one, very often, has nothing to do with the other."

J: Absolutely.

F: And the thing about, you know, music- the business side of it is so cutthroat and unforgiving at times. 

J: Right.

F: And there's no justice in it. Some of the best players are still looking for a fucking gig.

J: Absolutely!

F: You could have a degree that you spent thousands and thousands of dollars on, and years and years of your life trying to obtain, and you can't get a fucking job.

J: Right.

S: Yeah.

F: So it would behoove you to have a safety net, or like, a real job so that you can, you know, afford to do these things. But very often, that's not conducive to this life. Know what I mean?

J: Right.

F: So you kinda have to throw caution to the wind and say, "Fuck it. I'm gonna sleep on a bench if I have to, to do this kinda thing," and that's not the smartest thing I know.

J: Yeah, it's definitely not the smartest thing, and I'd never like-

F: It's not easy either.

J: I'd never begrudge Dan, uh, for doing that-

F: No!

J: The thing is, you know, where we- how we grew up, you have to go to college, you have to get a job, you have to do this, you have to be responsible. And not everyone is ready to go off and join the circus.

S: I just felt like with The Hostage especially, that you know, me and you, Hambone, were on the same page with that. And I felt other people weren't.

J: Oh, definitely not.

S: You know what I mean? I feel like me and you were ready to go, if go was a thing that happened.

J: Right.

S: And the others were like, you know, "I still have to do this so I have to work around my fucking flat tire on my fucking Mom's car."

F: It's very easy to say, "Hey, yeah, I'm down for the cause." It's another thing to do it.

J: Yeah, absolutely.

F: That's the scary part.

J: In the words of Jim Teacher, "Everyone wants to rock and roll, no one wants to pay the price."

F: This is true, man. If it were easy, everybody would do it, right? 

J: Absolutely. Absolutely.

F: Fuck! But that's the thing, too, is- you know, the shitty thing is that- even if you have the talent and you have the heart and you take the risk, you still gotta have the luck. It's like, "Motherfucker!" It's like this perfect- it's like winning the lottery!

J: It is.

F: It doesn't make any goddamn sense.

J: For me, I didn't have the luck. My luck took me in very different directions and I'd never change anything about it, I'm super super grateful for it. You know, however, I hit a point where I was in my early 30s and I was like, "Shit, I kinda need to get like, a job job, and make some money because I got nothing." And that was cool, it was alright, because I have a work ethic. When you're a person who's passionate about their art and what they create, you know, whether it's Shaun's writing, Frank's writing music, I'm producing podcasts now, you always have that reason to get up in the morning and kick yourself in the ass and go take care of business. So I was able to go find a crazy job that if I told you what I did for a living, I'd have to kill you. Uh, made a bunch of money, and then I was able to kinda come back to the thing that I love the most, which is playing music, and being creative. Sometimes you just have to take a knee and reassess your situation. Redefine your ideas of success.

F: Yeah! Absolutely.

J: You know? So, I mean, I got my happy ending.

S: There it is!

F: There it is!

J: So do you guys have any final thoughts on the origin story?

F: Oh man!

S: I feel like we didn't cover a lot.

F: Yeah! We could probably keep going on the origin story, I think, for a couple- maybe we could take a break and then do another episode of origins.

J: Alright, so what we're gonna do is, we're gonna wrap this episode up. This'll be Origins-

F: Origins 1A!

J: Origin 1. This is part 1 of the origin story. Yeah, this is just the story of Pencey Prep and friendship, and next will be the story of Pencey Prep and Friendship: The Dark Knight Rises. So, you know, we'll find some catchy subtitle for it. Frank, where can people find you?

F: I live- New Jersey.

S: Don't give them your address!

F: I use Instagram. I have an Instagram called frankieromustdie, I have a Twitter that's @frankiero, and I have a website I guess, frank-iero.com. Because somebody had frankiero.com.

J: How rude!

F: Yeah!

S: Is that why there's no A in it?

F: Oh, what's that?

S: Isn't that- don't you do something where there's no A in your name?

F: I was- yeah, I was doing that for a while, too. So I could at least cut through some of the fakers. It's like faker He-Man, dude. Somebody has frankiero.com, I don't know who it is. I think, I don't know if there's like, I think there's companies that like, go out and buy, just domain names and then try to like, hold them ransom.

J: Absolutely. Absolutely. I mean I'm shocked that I got hamfistedproductions.com.

F: Dude.

J: I'm shocked that we got casualinteractions.com!

S: Do we have that?

J: Oh yeah!

S: The website?

J: Oh, I got it.

F: Oh, nice! See?

S: Oh shit! Look at you, man!

J: I'm proactive.

F: Now, here's the thing! You could use that for this.

J: Yeah.

F: Right? And it'd be alright. Or you could start like, a weird porno hooker thing and make a lot of money.

J: Oh no, that's why we're sitting on it. 

F: Right, right!

J: I'm gonna wait until someone wants to pay us. When the money comes rolling in, we're splitting it three ways, we're going to Cabo! Shaun, where can people find you?

S: I don't use anything. I have Twitter, @shaunsimon.

F: You have a Twitter?

J: You do have a Twitter.

S: I have Twitter.

F: Oh, alright. I'll check it out.

J: He's been known to tweet. What do you have in stores right now?

S: What do I have in stores?

J: Yeah, what books out right now?

S: Oh, nothing! I just- one of my books just was announced a few months ago called Wizard Beach. It's coming out in December, I believe.

J: Alright, very cool.

S: It's a comic book. Not a prose book, so.

J: Maybe one day, you'll write some prose.

S: We'll see what happens.

J: Well, when this episode drops, Wizard Beach will probably be right around the corner so definitely check out Wizard Beach at your local comic book store.

F: Wait, if you write a prose book can you title it "Every Prose Has Its Thorn"?

J: Yes! 

F: So good.

J: You can find me at- you can check out my other podcast. It's The Vintage RPG Podcast, it's a gaming podcast. We talk about Dungeons & Dragons and other RPG games. You could also find me at maitaitv.com, for my punk rock Tiki podcast Mai Tai Happy Hour. 

So, for Shaun Simon and Frank Iero, I'm John "Hambone" McGuire. Join us next month for another episode of Casual Interactions. Until then, hold onto your friends.

[demolitonlcvers]

I found this note on my phone called “My Emo Dreams” and I can’t stop laughing

My Emo Dreams

What is my brain

Ok so I just had a really weird dream that it was Halloween and I was at this "museum" with my parents and my friend Magnolia. We went into the museum and there was a little kids room and we were in there when one kid started chasing the rest of us and we were terrified bc as soon as she touched someone, they turned into an exact replica of her, and so the remaining kids ran and I ended up right in front of a hall of these kids, like ten of them. They saw me and I ran, ending up at this weird playground thingy. Only one of them was still chasing me, and I avoided her like a badass. I found my dad and my uncle at this concert and the people on stage were obviously these clone things. I told my dad and he believed me for some reason. Then again, it's a dream. I went back to the museum to find my mom but couldn't and needed a car, and I saw a group of people in costume. And Brendon Urie was one of them. Which is weird cause I live in Pennsylvania and he lives in Vegas or something? Anyway, I was chasing him like a deranged fangirl or something (which I am tbh), and he tripped over a trash can, and I told him about the clone people. For some reason, he, too, believed me, and I ended up getting a ride from Brendon to get my mom?

What is my brain I mean

But I got to meet Brendon Urie in the dream sooooo...

I had this other dream where I was with Tyler Joseph but I don’t remember it well

Ok so I had another dream this time it was "the Hat Fic" (which I'm never going to read btw) but instead it was this fanfic about Fall Out Boy in which Pete has to kill the other members for some reason

I had another dream where I lived with Dan and Phil and there were unicorns and a girl wearing a Fall Out Boy shirt And I opened the door to the house I lived in with Dan and Phil and they were like "what do you see" and I said "Phan" (even though I don't ship it that much) which freaked them out And then I woke up

I had a dream that I was with a group of killjoys and I had to save the original killjoys and we did and there were people shooting at us but when party poison appeared they were like “oh no it’s party poison” and backed up and then another party poison appeared and we were like “WhO iS tHe ReAl PaRtY pOiSoN??!?” And there were little children and they figured out that the first one was the real one even though his uniform was all messed up but you know the other ones jacket was white and literally said “DeAd pegAsUS” so yeah So we were walking out with party poison and I was like hi party poison and I looked at him and what did I see? THIS KID IN MY GRADE IN A RED WIG WTF

So I’ve had three dreams about warped tour in the past three days and here they are

Don’t remember it that well but my best friend was there and we walked around but it was before anything actually started and I think it was in a library

We saw Falling In Reverse (my best friend was also there) and we were in like the front row and it was great

For some reason the entire family decided to show up and we were eating at a restaurant and we had my dog and my mom was like “go take him to the dog park thing and then hang out with your friends” so I took the dog to the dog park thing but all the dogs were wayyyy bigger than him and so I was like “lol no” and carried him back and he turned into a loaf of bread so I ate the loaf of bread and gave one little piece to my mom and she was like “where’s the dog” and I said “lol what do you think that bread was” and then my dad and my brother got into an argument about whether or not the dog was still alive

I had another dream about warped tour even though its been a few weeks basically I went to warped tour with Sarah and we met Palaye Royale and for some reason they decided to hang out with us so we were like lol sure so we just walked around and talked to Palaye Royale for a few hours fun

I had another dream that I saw Panic! again and Dallon was still there and Brendon flew right over me during Dying in LA. Also my friend Tori was there and I was texting my other friend about it the entire time and then later I went to visit him and then I woke up

I had another dream where we were at a school thing and Gerard Way was there but it was 2017 Gerard Way and he was doing a signing/meet and greet and I got too scared to talk to him but then later he came up to me and we talked a little bit and then the head of the school talked to me, my best friend, and some other girl about making a bi club and I would have to make the promotional video so yay

I had another dream that it was warped tour (I’ve had like five of these smh I’m still not over it) anyway I saw As It Is with my best friend and then met Patty Walters which was pretty cool. And then later I ended up in a school bus and part of a horror movie (????) and then when I got out of that I got wrapped up in this car washing thing for school cause Fall Out Boy was there and Pete started spraying me with a giant hose so I got mad and slapped his car. And then finally I got out of the car washing thing but I got lost and had to help this old guy and watched a few episodes of some show about animated fish. And then I finally got back to warped but Palaye’s set was over and their meet and greet was also almost over. So I got at the end of the line and talked to Emerson for a really long time and hugged Sebastian for like a minute straight and it was fun.

So I’ve had two dreams about Hot Topic:

The first one I just walked in and I’m pretty sure they had a bunch of like comforters and bedsheets for sale??? And then I walked down this really creepy staircase to this underground room which was huge and full of records and posters and stuff and I had a lot of fun.

So I had another one just the other day that the mall near my house was closing so me and two of my friends decided to walk around for the last time and we found the Hot Topic and the inside was kinda empty but the outside had all the band merch. We went inside and Awsten Knight was there and he was like “hi I’m going to draw on you” to one of my friends and started drawing on her so we were all sitting together and I talked about warped and Awsten was like “oh cool you saw me at warped have a free poster or two OR THREE give them to your friends” and I was like “thanks” and then he said “no thank you, little teenager Awsten is quaking” and I was like “ohhhh”

I had another dream that I was at this camp thing and Beyoncé was there and me and my best friend went to this other thing with Hayley Kiyoko and she hugged Hayley really awkwardly and then Tom Holland appeared and it turned out there was this like claw machine that lets you pick out celebrities at any age and two kids were playing with it and they brought out 8 year old Frank Iero and he was really mean and hated me for no reason and also highkey looked like a vampire

I had ANOTHER dream about warped Jesus Christ I need to stop Anyway I was on a tower with a bunch of people from school and watching the main stage from there and mcr was the last band playing and Remington was there and he climbed on the stage and they played Surrender the Night and closed with Burn Bright which is cool

I had a dream that I saw Paramore and I was like right in the front and Hayley kept making eye contact with me and then there was an intermission and panic! played and it was a fun time

Why am I like this what has the internet done to me