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Things have been going really well for you lately. Never in a million years would you have thought that one viral video would have actually translated into new viewers of your podcast. What started as a half-baked idea while you were half-baked with your best friends Liam and Ken while watching a movie on your personal bad movie watch night list actually proved to have potential. It was a slow burn at first, learning as you go, but eventually the listeners started rolling in. It wasn’t your first rodeo on the internet, you had some moderate popularity back before influencers were a thing with the creepypasta community, creating your own take on the found footage genre. You were authentic and funny, and there was a genuine audience that grasped your style of humor. When you had started, you were shy but a huge fan of RedLetterMedia; hell, your love of so-bad-it’s-good movies was reinvigorated when the guy you went on a date with first recommended them to you (even if he ended up being a tool). You took some of the things that worked for them, translated it to your own stage presence, added a cup of Last Podcast on the Left to break you out of your shell, and the rest was history. The follower count started going up, the listeners per episode started growing exponentially, and once a fan clipped a part of your episode discussing The Stuff and it exploded on TikTok, you became a name for yourselves.
That’s when something you had always dreamed of happened. You were invited to one of your favorite horror conventions. Situated at an old drive-in in the hills of Pennsylvania, the HorrorFlix convention would happen during the day, and by night the event transformed into a true 50s drive-in, 35mm projector and all, screening all types of cult classic horror films. It had been your first horror convention when you first got into the fandom almost a decade before, and the one you would always recommend to friends and fans. It looked like the free publicity finally paid off. Months of excitement couldn’t contain it. You were invited to do a live podcast recording on Saturday nonetheless! You thought that was way too prestigious for you, but then the comments started rolling in on their Instagram post announcing your panel.
Junip3R: OMG NO WAY, @Tromatized is going to HorrorFlix? I AM SO THERE
MikeMovieMadness: LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOO🤘
Glvr83: *gif of Godzilla jump dancing*
Sd29da3754f23df9v: click here for nůďěś püșșŷ i n b i o
JohnPorkroll47: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
Diam77777: @TROMATIZED PLS COME TO BRASIL
forza4life: who is that
8o88o88: please discuss The Howling PLEASEEEEEEEE
“Guys you gotta look at these comments” you say while pressing the stop button in audacity and sharing the screenshot in the chat. You had wrapped recording your most recent episode, discussing Godzilla vs Megalon, and hanging out before logging off of Discord as you usually did after wrapping. It was a late night, but you were buzzing. It was the last recording before the three of you left for HorrorFlix. You knew this podcast had true potential, that you weren’t delusional, and it was nice to have those thoughts reaffirmed.
“I know, it’s going to be crazy.” Liam said exporting his track’s audio file, clicking away. “It’s going to be a busy weekend for sure.”
“What time are you planning on getting there?” Ken asks while exhaling a thick cloud of vape juice, desperately trying to catch up to his desired nicotine high.
You fidgit with your headset and trying to fix your hair after the long recording session. “I’m not sure, I mean we’re all driving together so when do you want to get to the hotel? It’s like a 3 hour drive.”
Ken coughs, pulling the vape just a tad too hard this time. “I’d like to get there early, I just want to relax the day before and rather not have to feel like I’m rushing. Can I meet at your place at 3?” he says, catching his breath.
Ken runs his hands through his thick blonde long hair. His soft green eyes reflect the monitor back at the camera. You two had been friends since elementary school, and he was probably your oldest friend. Hell, he’s the one who convinced you to join his found footage project, and you try not to flatter yourself when you realize it’s because you’re probably the only femme friend in the group he hadn’t asked to help out back in when you were still in junior year of high school. All the same, you two were like siblings. The natural, familiar dynamic mixed with the well intended rage baiting you two dished at each other played in your favor for the podcast. And according to the comments on Instagram, it’s obvious why it’s the podcast’s biggest strength.
You take a long sip out of your water bottle, your throat starting to itch from talking for so long. “That works, what about you Liam?” You say in between sips.
Liam, busy uploading his track to his editing software, grunts in agreement. He continues clicking around, his eyes darting around in his square on Discord not veering away from his other monitor that housed the software.
Compared to Ken, you and Liam hadn’t been friends for as long, but when you two met a few years back through your sister (who she dated for what seemed like barely a month), it’s like you both had known each other since you were in diapers. He had just moved here from Austin, and managed to blend right into the northeastern vibes. To your sister’s chagrin after she left him, bored of this ‘flavor of the week’, you and Liam had plenty of movie nights watching Neil Breen on repeat, solidifying your friendship. He was slim and tall, with a tendency to sit in a chair in the most contorted way possible. His olive skin complimented his quaffed bleached hair that matched his well manicured bleached mustache. Despite his quirks, he was well groomed. When you introduced Ken into the mix, you were all inseparable. And thus, the podcast was born.
Liam wasn’t always the best with sticking to a schedule, so you remind him. “And seriously please try to be on time. Last time you said that you were ‘on your way’ and you hadn’t even taken a shower yet. I don’t care if we’re not rushing, but I don’t want to sit around with you”
Liam, again not looking away, mutters “yeah yeah…”. More clicking ensues.
You stretch your arms high over your head, the clicking of your spine realigning after a long day. You take this as your queue to wrap up the night. “Alright I’m gonna get going, I haven’t eaten yet and I think I’m going to pass out if I don’t have sustenance.”
Ken affirms, “Oh my god I forgot to eat again too didn’t I.” He chuckles, checking the time on his phone. His tone drops and his eyes avert the screen. “These damn meds man...” He says to himself. You click your tongue, interrupting his behavior as he requested “Ken…” you scold.
You hear a long sigh come from his video square and a touch of pink forming in his already rosy cheeks. “You’re right, sorry. I’m working on it.” He fidgets with his mic.
Warmly, you respond “Don’t apologize, I know how it’s been. I’m proud of you for working on it. I remember when you didn’t.”
Liam finally breaks his gaze from the other monitor to the one with the webcam, making digital eye contact with his other two podcasters “Alright night y’all, I’m going to edit this episode together tonight. See y’all tomorrow”. All three of you wave to the webcam, saying good night, and you close out Discord.
Tomorrow was a big day, so you decide to try your best to get a good night’s sleep. You walk out of your office to your bedroom, cozy with string lights begging for your presence, but you responsibly start packing your bags instead. You chaotically throw your favorite outfits for the weekend into your large blue duffel bag. You decide you want to go for a punky, horror look. Your bag quickly fills with a variety of black pants, your favorite movie t-shirts, fish nets and short skirts, and at least one lace outfit in case you hit the bars afterwards (despite Ken & Liam’s general disdain for anything bar related). You place the outfit you chose for the panel more respectfully at the top of the pile in the duffel bag so it doesn’t get absolutely wrinkled. A pair of Doc Martens sit upon the pile while you desperately try to zip the overstuffed bag closed. You decide that should be enough for only a few days, get ready for bed, and barely manage to get to sleep. You save the excitement for tomorrow.