The radio crackled on. Robin clutched the microphone as steady as she could, the poor thing not used to the rough location of Steve's beat up Beemer.
"Evening, Hawkins," she announced into the mic. Not in her typical bravado. This was all Robin: trembling, scared, but defiant against it. "This is Rockin' Robin, here with Sailin' Steve in what very well may be our last broadcast."
She adjusts her spear, getting Steve to double check his shield. Not easy to do while speeding down the road, but when their destination is the same no matter where he goes, it doesn't quite matter anymore, does it?
"It's been a pleasure serving you lovely people and WSQK Radio," Robin continues, her voice shaking less as the certainty of her words takes over. "But it's time for us to sign off one last time."
"The end of the world is calling, baby," Steve says, loud enough for the radio to pick up. It's the first time he's ever dared to speak into it, and the wave of power it gives him makes him feel possessed. With the way his hand moves off the wheel to twist the knob of the barely functioning sound board between them, turning the music up as he accelerates and fueling his words, he may as well be. "We're here to pick up the call."
Steve grips the stick in front of the sound board, clutching the leather as familiar as the denim beneath his war clothes. "We've got one final song for you all, dedicated to an old friend of mine."
He smells ash. Tastes blood on the tip of his tongue. Feels the sting in his sides like a call from the other side.
Not painful. Hopeful.
Daring.
Trusting.
Fueling.
"We're gonna finish what you started, bud. I'm gonna make him pay."
As the first notes of the guitar solo to "Crazy Train" begin rattling his car, as his fingers tighten impossibly more on the wheel and a tear rolls down his cheek, he feels the ghost of a hand on his shoulder.
Ring laden.
Strong in its fear. Familiar in its loss.
Steve grits his teeth. Takes a deep breath as a calmness burns just as bright as the fire of vengeance.
"Eddie Munson, this is for you."
Then he shifts the stick, grips the wheel, and speeds straight into the apocalypse.
The 4chan situation could be disastrous for the internet ecosystem. As porous as the containment boards (/pol/, /r9k1/, /b/, /vt/, /pony/) were, they still managed to keep a lot of shitty people mostly quarantined from everywhere else mostly through familiarity. Now, all of those wretched specimens, the no-longer ironic Nazis and snuff enthusiasts and self-described lolicons and parasocial stalkers are IN THE WIND. There's people on that website who have never changed their habits since Web 1.0, and they're all going to be barreling through reddit and facebook and TUMBLR like living toxic bombs, ruining everything they touch because they no longer have their outlet. These people use "fag" like punctuation, and they have to find their way in a world that says "unalive" now.
I hate a "you're not a vibe bro" type of a hater. Dogs don't see colours the same way that people do, and yet your dog has never told you that you're stupid for taking a picture of a sunset. Just because you can't see the beauty of something doesn't mean that everyone must live in a world as dull and ugly as yours.
Let an aesthetic bitch be.
notice how nobody’s asking whether or not boycotting makes you sad or uncomfortable ??? it’s because nobody gives a shit. boycotting isn’t supposed to be comfortable for you at all times. get your shit together and stand with trans women.
to summarize: you have the moral backbone of a flatworm if your response every time harry potter comes up is to make it about your inability to give up a book
THIS. disappointed in everybody under this tag tbh.
Write it shitty, write it scared, write it without a clue but don't you be so spineless and have an AI write fanfic for you.
to summarize: you have the moral backbone of a flatworm if your response every time harry potter comes up is to make it about your inability to give up a book
When you thought it would be easy peasy lemon squeezy but it turns out to be difficult difficult lemon difficult.
NEW FIC WHO CHEERED?
"will byers meets mike wheeler in a room of darkness. he's loud, messy and slightly socially inept. he's already had the worst last year of his life and he does not need one more thing, or person, piling onto that.
so he's cold. he's icy. he leaves passive aggressive notes on their minifridge (but if mike would just put his socks AWAY then...).
but the two are destined to be a lot more than just mutually hated roommates. and it all begins with an anonymous radio show Late Night Caller."
basically the byler college roommates au i could NOT stop thinking about
spent all of group therapy today secretly planning a kiribaku longfic i think something might be wrong with me
ur local hoodrat, writing fanfic and being pretentious since 1679 | alt is ohsnapidroppedmykidney
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