Hooodieeeeee - Hoodie

this hurt my chest. like angst doesn’t usually do much to me in any one capacity but this made me upset man. great job

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.

THIS. this is the correct attitude. she funds the despair of so many trans people every day, there’s no room for what’s “too harsh” and what’s not. her hate doesn’t just live on the internet, she’s making real life waves and that doesn’t upset you all enough

also I wholeheartedly am wishing death on JKR and I don't give a shit if it's unethical at this point her existence is way more unethical.

just finished up my first ever fanfic !!!! One Day I’m a Mess is a 5+1 kiribaku fanfic. my first ever published work so go easy on me here-

suuuuuper excited, go check it out !!

*****

Kirishima has a habit of taking his shirt off for no reason. Katsuki has a habit of liking it. A lot.

Or

Five times Kirishima was shirtless, and one time he wasn’t.

Inspired by a post I saw the other day by @venadorosas on Twitter.

*****

One Day I’m a Mess by hooodieeeeee on ao3

When you thought it would be easy peasy lemon squeezy but it turns out to be difficult difficult lemon difficult.

see him schmoove

Hey btw, this is how I attach loops on fabric strips for belts, decorative straps, etc. Take a soda can tab, attach it to the loop with jewellery chain links, and then sew them both onto the inside of the fabric before sewing the seam shut.

reblogging to remember this bc i LOVE rockstar eddie more than anything

Do you like rockstar Eddie? Do you like aspiring Broadway actor/theatre kid Steve? Would you like it if they kissed?

Part 4 of Old Lovers In Dressing Rooms is out now!!! It’s an angsty one!!!!

READ HERE

bakugou’s favorite fruit being oranges but honestly having an obscenely strong hatred of pith so kirishima starts peeling every last strand off of them