𝐀.𝐌. 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 ║ 𝐌𝐂𝐘𝐓

finally, some good fucking food

        five months. (y/n) had gone off the grid for close to five months. their fans were still going fucking ballistic over their disappearance. it was sadistic of them to leave without notice, and then enjoy the panicking reactions of everyone on twitter.

        (y/n) stepped on set, sitting down on a velvet chair. holy shit, they forgot how rich their uncle's family was. they nervously adjusted the microphone attached to their red button-up shirt. the people behind the scenes shot them thumbs up, hyping them up. (y/n)'s eyes caught techno's, which made them feel slightly more at ease.

        "are we... alright, notify me when we're airing. or like, going live, or whatever the fuck you guys call it," (y/n) said, staring at the man behind the camera. he nodded, but then almost immediately started counting backwards.

        "three, two, one, and... we're live."

        "wait, fuck, what?" (y/n) almost dropped their coffee mug. "why so soon, i-"

        the straightened their posture, because god knows its a fucking C. "uh... how's the..." (y/n) nervously coughed into their hand. "how's the weather?"

        techno laughed behind the scenes, tweeting out that (y/n) was "live," but, like, actually live. "you're doing great."

        "thank you for the reassurance, the blade. so, i know what you're thinking, cishets." (y/n) stared into the camera's soul. "'what the fuck is a minecraft youtuber/streamer doing here, and where is my weekly michael?' uh... michael is gone for now, because personal reasons, so i'm here in his place. i'm (y/n), or AMRADI0_ for cultured people, temporarily taking over the set. i'll be here every week, for eight hours a day. crazy, i know." (y/n) did jazz hands.

        "BUT, CHAT! i have something that uncle michael didn't have. i have a phone system! and a number! obs moment. can you put my alt number on the screen for callers, or something?" the producer shrugged, and let tech support make it happen. in fact, she went and left for a cup of coffee, or something. physically got their ass up and went to the nearest tim hortons (she's broke as shit/j). holy shit, she was actually a girlboss, in so many ways (y/n) couldn't describe.

        (y/n)'s phone started immediately ringing, and a beautiful ringtone filled the ears of the audience. "i sucked his dick with a smile for hours at a ti-"

        "(Y/N)!" tommy and wilbur simultaneously shouted. phil chuckled in the background.

        "we're at the ah-muse-ment-park right now, so we don't have lots of time to talk. i have girls to impress."

        "bitch, you can't even impress your own mother."

        "i..." tommy shut down. might've shed a tear. wilbur took the phone, laughing.

        "hello, (y/n) it's quite a surprise to see you on an actual radio station... thing. amradio, amirite chat?"

        "this is like twitter spaces," (y/n) said, leaning back in their seat. "i'm talking to an empty audience, putting select persons on the spotlight, and having a late night discussion. all with no chat, but also in the afternoon. also we've got like, cameras, this time."

        "oh shit, really?"

        "yeah! it's like the news. we're both on radio, and on tv! so cool, we are."

        phil was handed the phone. "hi m8."

        "hi m8. how's babysitting?"

        phil and (y/n) talked for a little more, wilbur and tommy occasionally saying something that thousands of listeners unfortunately had to listen to. they had to leave after a little while, though. pain.