#INTL Waters

[senorboombastic]

Live Review: Omni at The Deaf Institute in Manchester 17 April 2024

Words: Andy Hughes There’s a lot to be said for securing yourself a seat at Manchester’s The Deaf Institute, up the steps with a big fat pint of the finest pale ale and a great view of the live room and the stage beyond. Yes, the prime spot is down on the floor, front and centre, but when you’re hitting quite a few live shows throughout the month, it’s hard to pass up the chance to give your…

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Water Elemental

Unpredictable as the sea itself, Water Elementals shift without warning from tranquility to tempest. Capricious and fickle, they flow restlessly from one shape to another, expressing their moods with their physical forms.

Artist: Jeff A. Menges TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[georgestraitpridemonth]

im trying to get drunk enough to enjoy the club but I got distracted by this house hunters episode that was playing in my hotel room, they were talking abt living next to Lake Geneva so I was thinking like "ooh Switzerland" so I looked up and saw the ugliest lake I ever saw and it turns out there's a lake Geneva in Wisconsin too

[happywebdesign]

https://cove.co/

[usaitbari]

Euro 2022 winner Alessia Russo on making history, inspiring a generation and that viral backheel goal | CNN

Euro 2022 winner Alessia Russo on making history, inspiring a generation and that viral backheel goal | CNN

Euro 2022 winner Alessia Russo on making history, inspiring a generation and that viral backheel goal Alessia Russo burst onto the scene in her first major tournament capturing the media’s attention with her stunning improvised backheel goal against Sweden in the semifinals. Russo has been speaking with CNN about why England’s Euro exploit could prove be the springboard for further Lionesses…

[angelpuns]

A little drabble I did after that one CAS update but forgot to post:

CW for Death mention, sibling death, sickness mention. Lemme know if it needs any others.

Leo stared at the pictures, glancing between the two of them. Comparing them. 

Future Donnie was big. He was huge, actually. Just like all the future turtles. 

So why…why did he look so small in these pictures? He just looked so…so frail. A sick feeling settled in his stomach, Leo somewhat putting the pieces together. But he just had to be sure. 

Casey said something next to him, but Leo wasn't paying attention. He didn't even look away from the photos, eyes boring into the one of Donnie looking particularly small. 

" what happened to Donnie?" He murmured, voice almost a whisper in the echoing, desolate base. 

Casey didn't answer for a moment, Leo's lip quivering a little. 

" You- you said that they all died- that everyone died and I thought- I thought maybe it was the kraang or fighting or  something, but- " 

Leo let out a shaking breath, accumulated dust moving with his breath, " How did Donnie die?" 

Casey moved to stand next to him, staring up at the pictures. He shifted uncomfortably, likely remembering it firsthand. 

" never mind, I shouldn't have asked-" 

" He was sick " Cj interrupted him, frowning, " he was..sick with some sort of krang infection. It…it took everything out of him…. he just sorta…. faded away"

Leo had put that together on his own, but…hearing it aloud made him feel nauseous all over again. He hated being right sometimes. 

" how did he get sick?" He murmured, fiddling anxiously with his belt, " I-I mean did he…did he have contact with the krang or..?"

His thoughts were racing. Because if it could happen to a future Donnie, and he had asked his Donnie to pilot the technodrome…..could that mean- Could he get sick too?

The thought had him squeezing his belt, hands trembling. A cold dread settled its way Intl his chest, the feeling like he had been dunked in ice cold water filling his very being. 

Had he sentenced his twin to the same fate as Future Donnie? 

[END]

Anyway this is all I was thinking when Leo asked what happened to F!Donnie ;-;

This is based on @somerandomdudelmao 's CAS comic!!!! Just a reminder for anyone who is confused

[intersectionalpraxis]

https://www.cnn.com/2024/02/17/middleeast/us-threatens-to-veto-un-gaza-ceasefire-resolution-intl-hnk/index.html

Who's ready to see the US use a POC to vote down yet another ceasefire resolution at the UN?

I watched US ambassador Linda Thomas-Greenfield during the UN Security Council meeting months ago on a livestream, and I will never forget the statement she made after the Biden administration made a speech about "Israel having the right to defend itself." It just astounds me how their 'PR teams' work to make it seems very diplomatic and think that by having a Black or Brown person in a position of power veto for a ceasefire that somehow it will make it seem 'less evil.' It's truly baffling to me, considering how, firstly, global anti-blackness operates -and how rampant anti-black racism is in the US.

She says: “We believe this deal represents the best opportunity to reunite all hostages with their families and enable a prolonged pause in fighting, that would allow for more lifesaving food, water, fuel, medicine, and other essentials to get into the hands of Palestinian civilians who desperately need it.”

While nearly 30,000 Palestinian people have been genocided -nearly half of whom are children -and every Palestinian person in Gaza right now is being starved by the IOF. Most Palestinian people barely eat one meal a day and are being killed near humanitarian aid trucks to GET food and resources. No matter who is saying it -all these US politicians are full of shit and are mouthpieces for Israeli propaganda. They're genocidal apologists and they're working to promote their imperialist policies and to gain benefits for their empire no matter where they exist on the political spectrum, and it's despicable.

[kroosluvr]

someone on twt asked for royal trio tennis playing styles so i will think out loud for several paragraphs under the cut:

PLAYSTYLE

GORO AKECHI. the son of masayoshi shido, one of the best players of all time, so he has big shoes to fill. however he didn't learn from shido himself and was instead passed around various intl academies before settling in at shujin tennis academy. as a lefty he uses it to his advantage: his spin serve is killer and he's a menace with backhand slices and drop shots. he's not one to rush the net and only cleans up with volleys if his opponent is basically off the court already. though not PATIENT by any means, he's very very consistent and i think he seeks to wear you down quickly at the beginning of the match: you get the feeling that "oh shit this guy's an absolute wall, i can't counter this, it's hopeless" so that he can rake in the games from there. i think you have to go into a match with REALLY high confidence otherwise he'll break you pretty fast he also does passive aggressive mind games i.e. instead of passing u the ball to serve he hits em to the corner so u have to go fetch them. doing quick water breaks or none at all if he's winning so you're forced to rush. asking "are you sure?" on linecalls where it was DEFINITELY out just to make you second-guess yourself. he doesn't cheat, though, obviously,that's leagues beneath him, but he'll do little things to break your concentration in a match so there's already a high bar to vault over if u even want a CHANCE at beating goro akechi, but if you get on his nerves somehow then you can crack him from there. someone like akira's unpredictability and flippantness on the court without much sense of planning probably gets under his skin really quick

AKIRA KURUSU. wildcard....... he played a lot of sports growing up, baseball, soccer, track, basketball, u name it basically, but picked up tennis at around age 13 and Somehow was extremely good at it, and immediately scouted and currently training at shujin tennis academy. his athletic and naturally competitive nature means he's naturally really attuned to the nature of Competitive Sport: aka, if he's down, no big deal he'll just fight like hell to get back up. one of the things in tennis is that u can spiral real easily: losing a few points can turn into losing a few games then the match, however, that doesn't phase akira which is his biggest strength. he's really good at Wiping The Slate Clean and starting from scratch if he's down. he's really good at swapping strategies: he can be the moonballer, he can be the 25-ball-rallier, he can be the serve-and-volley menace. etc. and he can do this on the fly without any reluctance. the biggest thing apart from goro and sumi is that he's having FUN. he loves being on the court no matter what, the competition part is secondhand. meanwhile goro and sumi are really really wrapped up in their issues with tennis so the kinda Mind emptiness akira has puts him a step ahead (which they're envious of slash HOW DOES HE DO IT? slash working towards it) SO YEAH hes highly adaptable and fluid in his game style. though, ofc, he tends towards Flashier stuff (which can easily surprise his opponents) so i'd say he's a big fan of cross-cross-down-the-line and such patterns. deep rallies then sudden drop shot and while ur scrambling he beats u to the net. stuff like that. second serve on the first serve. etc. another thing is that his parents are pretty absent (different than the way goro is) i.e. they just dgaf about him entirely, no matter what he does, even if hes good at tennis. (while w goro at least shido would acknowledge him since shido is so far in the limelight). so i think this adds to his adaptability - he doesn't feel constrained the same way goro and sumi do, by their family relationships akira's also one to chat up his opponent mid match LMAO he's not even trying to distract them or play them like that but he's just a friendly happy go lucky guy in the end his thinking is "i hate to lose" so he just keeps playing and keeps winning. it's simple like that

SUMIRE YOSHIZAWA. younger sister of kasumi, she started rhythmic gymnastics w her at a baby age but even from a young age she could tell kasumi was going to outshine her. because of her own timidness holding her back, her own reverence of her sister, she could tell she'd never truly have the willpower/confidence/steadfastness to reach out and be Better than kasumi. because what she really wants is to imprint her name on the world - she doesn't want to be yknow. "kasumi and sumire" she wants to stand on her own, something she doesn't feel she can do if she keeps on with gymnastics. SO SHE SWITCHES TRACKS TO TENNIS another independent sort of sport where you're also scrutinized in the limelight and etc. it'd be difficult to learn this late in the game (age 11ish maybe.) but she's steeled herself and shes determined and READY. it was a biiig decision for her but her parents+kasumi were basically like ok <3 yay<3 and she doesnt reveal how insecure she was about all of that and living in kasumi's shadow and etc. she only confides in akira abt this later down the line (and then goro) her game is really like yknow textbook GOOD like all her shots are impeccable and perfect and really technically perfect. super impressive all around. i dont think she has any specific shots/plays that make her stand out, but her game speaks for itself already in how consistent she is and how steadfast she seems on the court (though inside she's lowk nervous) i think her game might be "predictable" just because of how pristine and mechanically she learned it, but the thing is her form and aim is just so flawless that even if you do know whats coming next you cant counter it all the time actually if anything i think she'd have a killer fast first serve. like CRAZY powerful i think she's not naturally "good" at tennis the way akira and goro are so she works 10x as hard to remedy it. more than just the physical/technical component, getting her mental right is the hard and most important part. when she gets deep into a match sometimes her brain gets the better of her, so in longlong matches she oftentimes loses so that's the current thing she's working on.

PUBLICITY

as with pro tennis comes PUBLICITY and BRAND DEALS and INTERVIEWS and MODELING and ETC

goro dgaf about that but if he's more Famous then he'd be more shoved into shido's face so he goes along with sponsorships and interviews and magazine covers even tho he lowkey hates it.

He doesn't do the detective prince thing here bc he doesn't need to be. he's outwardly bitter and pissed off and snappy the way we know him

akira and sumi are his biggest fans tho always collecting his brand deals and magazines and stuff. they also help tutor him in english so he can do interviews better LMAOO though he's really eyeroll about it

akira and sumi both are good with the publicicty aspect as opposed to goro. sumi, striving to become an intl star, expects it and trains herself for it in spite of her social anxieties. akira, well, is akira and is totally made for the limelight

this causes some sort of internal distress? in goro. he can't quite place it but he feels strange standing alongside them..... something like that. like, of course he wants to take the tennis world by storm, but in the way that he can rub it in shidos face. not really this... aspect? he's not sure what to do with this.

OTHER NOTES

sumi and goro are both highly superstitious and have a solid routine that they ALWAYS adhere to. i.e. goro always practices vs the ball machine the night before. sumi always rewatches rio iwasaki's killer 2016 matchpoint before matches. sumi never wears tennis shoes anywhere other than the court. goro never drinks other gatorade colors besides yellow.

meanwhile u could call akira up 3 mins before and be like hey matchtime and he'd be like ok<3 yay<3

sumi and goro also both analyze their opponents before matches i.e. looking up their ranking and stats and extrapolating stuff frm there while akira is like "oh narukami? from uhhhh. gekkoukan? no. yasogami? ohhh haha thats fun i dont think i played him before :3"

to me at least sumi doesn't come off as naturally competitive the way akira and goro are, inherently: i think she wants to be GOOD, and maybe (in this au) she wants to be Better than kasumi, to gain recognition, to stand on her own two feet: etc. but maybe she doesnt have the inherent Means to get there so that's a lot of what she gains from being friends with akira and goro, to get insight into their mindsets

akira and goro are doubles partners (for better or for worse) (it works great some days and horribly the next. you never know) they dont Seriously compete in doubles though, theyre both singles players to the end.

akira and goro switch off being sumi's mixed doubles partners. she doesn't really play doubles at all i think

sumi is the one who watches pro tennis the most. goro and akira don't really keep up

they all go to shujin academy but kinda half-homeschooled bc as pro players they dont have time for full-time school. theyre also traveling a lot so yeah

goro ties his hair in a low ponytail on the court, sometimes pins his bangs back. akira's hair is too short to tie back, i imagine he pins it back or wears a headband a la rafael nadal

sumi wears a visor! and contacts. akira wears contacts too but sometimes he wears glasses when hes silly goofy

mishima is a sports reporter LMAOOO well theyre all highschool age here so he's a Wannabe sports reporter.

it's also common knowledge that goro is shido's son btw. and goro's mom is dead also. i think only akira and sumi know abt like. his hatred and resentment towards his dad tho

ALSO they all idolize rio iwasaki bc i said so. shes prob like the coolest tennis player of the decade and also woah shes from gekkoukan thats cRAZYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!! hamuko is her wife too. tennis coach ham:3 or smth

i think akira's story is then catalyzed later down the line by an injury - that he can heal from, but it forces him to seriously look at tennis and say for certain "ok this is my dream and this is something i want to devote my life to" the way sumi and goro are already devoted to

[senorboombastic]

A 'Souvenir' - Listen to the third episode of ’60 Minutes or less’, the new podcast from Birthday Cake For Breakfast, featuring Philip Frobos of Omni!

Words: Andy Hughes In case you missed it, to kick off 2024, Birthday Cake For Breakfast has entered the podcast game (better late than never, eh?) Following on from our first two episodes (featuring Joe Casey of Protomartyr and Paul Hanley of The Fall), it’s a delight to say that our guest for our third episode is Philip Frobos, bassist and vocalist in Atlanta, Georgia outfit Omni! We first…

[durnesque-esque]

Been thinking a lot about this image lately in light of these headlines: "‘We are dying slowly:’ Palestinians are eating grass and drinking polluted water as famine looms across Gaza" https://www.cnn.com/2024/01/30/middleeast/famine-looms-in-gaza-israel-war-intl/index.html

(context: the first image is of "a 'good' day's meal" from my visit to Auschwitz including hard bread, porridge, and soup made from hay)

Every day my social media feeds are filled with starving men, women, and children - empty bellies, shivering in the cold, and too often missing limbs, buried in rubble, dying or dead.

Before I went to bed last night, the last video I watched was a little girl - like my middle niece in size and expression - just shivering in the rain. Trying to hide her little hands in the pockets of her dirty pink hoodie with a Disney character across the front. Her only crime is being born in the wrong place at the wrong time. The person filming asked why she wasn't inside the tent (a tent! not her home!) She said it was cold inside too. I don't know how old the video is. Rafah, the area she's in, was promised as a safe zone; now it is being bombed. I don't know if she's still alive or, if like the other little girl on my feed lately, she's been blown apart.

How are we still sending money to a nation repeating these crimes against humanity?

October 7th was the excuse, not the cause. This problem is decades old and the festering wound has gone beyond sepsis.

[astronicht]

Intl border poll— do people not consider living on the coast of a country living near a border? I guess in most cases bc the border almost always extends a distance outwards it’s often inaccessible (but… not with a boat), but places I’ve lived in the US you could just hop on a gambling cruise ship and be in international waters pretty damn swiftly. Like within sight of land iirc. There’s no particular answer to this, just YET AGAIN got caught up in poll pedantics

[myshkafs]

ON NATIONALITY SWITCHES, AND THE RUSSIAN FEDERATION:

Recently as of maybe a few months ago, we've seen two Russian athletes switch nationality in the span of 2 weeks. Sofya Samodelkina switches to Kazakhstan, and Sofya Titova switches to Armenia for the upcoming season.

Is this the first time we've seen Russian girls switch nationalities? No. Will it be the last? Definitely not. However, it is the first time that students of such a high profile coach (Evgeni Plushenko) and coaching team (Angels of Plushenko) have switched, and the first time that 2 have switched in such quick succession.

There have been rumours about Samo's switch since august of last year, so this isn't so surprising. She ranked 11th at RusNats, and was not a top skater at her time at CSKA, before she was kicked, so it makes sense for her to want to switch out. She was relatively competitive in the JGP back when Russia was still eligible for intl. starts, and was pretty decent on the junior circuit, including a silver medal at the 2021 Russian Junior Cup Final and Gold at the same event in 2020, along with some 4th place finishes at Russian juniors Nationals, 2 JGP medals (bronze at Rostelkom and 3rd in Slovenia) and a win at the 21-22 Denis Ten memorial.

When she graduated to Senior level, though, it just. Stagnated. We've known for a while that Russia's oversaturation alongside the biased judging makes it impossible for any up and coming talents to succeed, where the Eteri bonus holds so much weight. Samo finished 11th at both RusNats and the Russian GPF, and her only medals of the season came from her performances at the GP stages, where she came second at the 2nd stage Velvet Season, where her only competitors were Adeliya Petrosyan, Veronika Yametova, and a, at the time, struggling Alexandra Trusova who was fighting through injury and a lack of motivation. She then won the Volga Pirouette Stage, which again, her only competition at that event was Sasha, who wasn't landing any Ultra-C where Samo had a 3A.

All in all, her level of performance just was not enough to get her to that place of success she needed to be at, and with Russia's ban from intl. sport, it was only looking like it would get worse, despite her improvements from switching to AOP full time late last year. Samo, who had stated before that she wished Beijing would be postponed because she knew it was her only shot at going to the olympics, is grasping at straws to stay competitive, and it just so happened that her mother was born in Kazakhstan, making her eligible for citizenship by descent.

For her, I completely understand where this has come from. She will be an eligible senior when she returns to the international stage, and has the technical ability to blow people like Kaori Sakamoto and Loena Hendrickx out of the water. Is it worth is? 100%. She'll be able to get back out there, potentially stake her claim for some senior titles she wouldn't win under Russia, like National Championships and Four continents.

I think Kazakhstan would also be relatively grateful for the heightened exposure her fanbase would bring to the domestic Kazakh events, and hopefully she'd be able to contribute to building that domestic sport up by earning them places on the international start that they lost in womens ever since the departure of Elizabet Tursynbaeva. The problem here stems in that I feel Samo and other girls who defect to other federations will be in for a rude awakening when they don't get the inflated scores they were getting under the Russian flag, and that it may be harder for them to bridge the gap between them and skaters like Kaori and the Japanese who are so strong in their components.

Back when the season was in full swing, we saw how AOP athletes suffered from the underscoring in place of the Eteri girls getting inflated scores. We saw, in 22-23, Sasha's components drop and her STSQ and spins falling for lvl 4 to 3. Sofia Muravieva is a great example. Mura had the scores to best Kamila and Akatieva in the SP, but was rarely given them.

And so Plushenko made his ultimatum to the federation: Continue devaluing his athletes, continue to give them scores less than what they deserve, and they will jump ship, and compete for a federation that wants them. I found this interesting, because we all know Plushenko has quite the reputation for being loud mouthed, and a Patriot??? It made no sense that he would actively encourage his athletes to leave the Russian federation, and so I thought originally it was all hot air. This combined with that Samo's nationality switch had been whispered about BEFORE Plushenko even said anything.

And then Titova. She has no discernible ties to Armenia that I could find, so the switch seems odd. But again, she's not the most competitive, and in a world where the Russian juniors are arguably MORE competitive than their senior counterparts,,, its ruthless. If she wanted any chance at being competitive, she'd have to switch. The timing was smart, she's ineligible for seniors right now, but will be able to make a name for herself outside of Russia on the international stage having never competed outside RUS before, as an armenian skater, and can build up titles and respect in both division. Most people will be unaware she was even tied to RUSFED at any point. She has an abundance of time to wrack up titles and earn Armenia more placements.

My only concern is, is Russia prepared to lose more athletes? We've seen two in the space of 2 weeks defect, and all I can say is, will there be more? Will Plushenko encourage his juniors to look outside of Russia when they cannot compete with Eteri's students and Russian judging? And is Russia prepared to lose more and more athletes the longer they're banned from international sport?

Even from the perspective of Ice Dance, they had the departure of Smolkin/Davis to Georgia, using Eteri's Georgian Citizenship to justify Diana's switch in nationality, and her marriage to Gleb to cement it, and the pair of Karina Akopova/Nikita Rakmanin to Armenia.

In the world of Ice Dance, sure, this isn't a big loss, but Diana and Gleb abandoning Russia altogether and training in US/Canada could be foreshadowing, along with departures such as Samo and Titova, of the future of RUSFED and what this means for their development. The oversaturation and the blatant corruption is discouraging athletes, driving them away from not only the sport, but their country. And if the Federation doesn't make changes soon, they're in danger of seeing this worsen, and the potential for a collapse of this integral part of their sports economy, as more and more athletes decide to leave.

And the potential for success if they choose this route is already being proven. Sofya Samo had just within the last 2 weeks won the Summer Championships of Kazakhstan with a healthy 20 point margin between herself and second place Sofia Farafonova. And while Samo, on a clean slate will have to wait to build up her ranking to go to any major comps, she'll most likely be in the running for a national title by the end of 2024. Titova, likewise, will most likely be in the running for an Junior title in Armenia, and potentially a senior one if she is eligible.

Athletes are seeing the appeal in leaving for success in an easier climate, than sticking around to be mistreated by judges and beaten by 12 year olds with 3As and Quads. And RUSFED has tp recognise now, with so many departures over this last season, that they have a problem.

Now, do I necessarily think it's ethical to allow athletes to leave like this? If they have dual citizenship, sure. If not, and other countries are offering them citizenship to skate for them, then it becomes more tricky. I recognise the trouble that Ice dancers and Pairs face to find partners, but for singles, where the only benefit is to become more competitive, especially in a climate where the Russians are trying to outmaneuver a ban,,, especially when those athletes go on to still live and train in Russia and only visit the countries they compete in to well, compete, it becomes a lot harder to say whether its right or not. On one hand, those athletes have the ability to provide more opportunities for domestic athletes if they do well, but on the other hand, they're also taking opportunities from domestic athletes on principle, and for many domestic athletes who have worked hard, it will feel like a slap in the face to have a Russian athlete waltz in a snatch up all the titles they've worked for for years, under veryyy different conditions and with less resources.

And the ban, although many complain, must be upheld. (On that, though, I will talk more in depth in another post about my thoughts.)

All in all, the switches will be interesting to observe, and we'll see what happens as the season progresses, if any more athletes decide to make the decision to leave.

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 16 - Fallacy

Fallacy (noun) 1. a failure/error in reasoning which renders an argument invalid. 2. a deceptive appearance

Tags & Warnings: Mentions of suicide and depression, Explicit sexual content, Discussions of acts of homophobia and conversion therapy If you see this symbol ♫ I highly recommend to listen to the song "City of Stars" by Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone from the movie 'LaLaLand' (Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/intl-de/track/1xk2Z84gbcn4tPXiiutxzS?si=12af0d158b22496b)

You lifted another 8-pin cable out of a black wooden box, careful not to drop it as your still sweaty hands made everything slippery. Dante. The stagehand was Dante, how did you not recognize him straight away? Now that you knew, it was so obvious. Irritated at your sudden excitement and Dante's beaming smile, Mimzy had quickly ordered you, in a not-so-cute tone of voice “Oy, slackers. Less gawking, more working. The band is going on stage in 30 minutes, so you better get moving.” before pulling a reluctant Alastor backstage. His gaze had been a mixture of surprise, discontent and annoyance as she dragged him along, eyes narrowing at you and the nightingale. You would've felt flattered, but the shock of meeting your long lost friend made you unable to concentrate on anything else.

"I knew it was you the second I saw you." Dante laughed down at you from the ladder, taking the heavy cable from your hands. "I was just waiting for the penny to drop."

Dante had grabbed the end of the cable you were holding and connected it to a spotlight, working with skilled, nimble hands.

"I have no idea how I didn't recognize you sooner."

He hopped down, smiling at you cheekily, just the way he had when you were alive.

"I know, you can be so daft sometimes. Some things never change, eh, munchkin?"

You chuckled at the familiar nickname while he rounded you and plugged the other end of the cable into a power outlet. He quickly checked the time on his wristwatch.

“Okay, done. And with time to spare... you don't wanna see Mimzy when she's angry.” he pulled you to the side, taking two bottles of water out of a backpack, handing you one while opening the other. He eyed you, and his demeanor shifted to nervous and hesitant, now that there wasn't anything but conversation to do. “I'd like to say it's good to see you, but... considering where we are, well...” he started, leaning against a pillar, avoiding your eyes.

“Dante.” you started, fidgeting with your unopened bottle in your hands. “I'm... I'm sorry. I never thought you'd end up... here.”

He gave you a sad smile. “You don't have anything to apologize for, (Y/n). Suicide isn't really a virtue, I knew I'd take the trip down here.” His hands disappeared into his pockets, and you wanted to ask so many things. But you knew Alastor and Mimzy could return any minute, so you decided to postpone the heavy conversation you wanted to have for another time.

“So... you work for Mimzy?”, you asked instead and Date visibly relaxes.

“Temporarily... It's an on-off thing. I'm kind of freelancing, a job here, a job there. It's good money, and she can be very nice and generous.” He chuckled at your doubtful expression. “Don't take her attitude too personally, munchkin. Ever since she saw that video of you, she's kind of miffed that you could fish in her pond. Mimzy doesn't like to share the spotlight.”

You blink at him. “What video?”, you asked, your own confusion mirrored with Dante's.

"The one on the Vee's sinstagram. Velvette posted a story the other day, of you singing in a karaoke joint, apparently it was almost immediately deleted, but it caused quite a stir because she tagged Vox in it, joking about him being 'literally pussy whipped', or something like that." Dante shook his head and sighed. "She was a real pain to work for after that. You didn't know about that?"

"I had no idea. I don't have a smartphone." Well that was just what you needed - Drama with more than just one overlord. How did no one tell you about that? Maybe Charlie, Vaggie and Husk weren't aware, they all used their phones sparingly, but Angel was practically glued to his, and you knew he must have known about it - he was working for one of the Vee's.

"I'm going to kill that spider..." you muttered under your breath.

Dante laughed quietly, and turned his head to the stage, where some demons put up instruments. "I remember the time you spotted a hobo spider in my bathroom and almost demolished my shower cabin, throwing the laundry basket at the thing."

You looked at him. From the fogginess of your mind, a memory materialized, you heard yourself scream in panic and felt the heavy wooden frame as you hurled it against a gigantic brown insect that hung on tiled walls while rushing out a white washed door, right into your friends chest. His loud, amused laughter resounded in your ears as he caught you, and you fell together to the floor. A laugh bubbled up in your throat, and Dante grinned at your giggling figure. In the distance, a door audibly opened.

"All this hubbub and I still missed that damn thing.", you chuckled.

"You always did have shit aim, munchkin, I have a scar from Pettersons' stage fighting class to prove it." he snickered and ruffled your fringe.

"Hey, no flirting on the clock, bird-boy!" Mimzy's voice chimed mockingly, her heels clicked as she and Alastor approached, and you sobered immediately as Alastor's tight smile and burning eyes stalked your face.

"Sorry, Miss Mimzy. We finished right on time and everything is set up and working." Dante took a step away from you, pushing himself between you and the miffed looking woman. He smiled at her, a genuine, bright smile. "And Howard wanted to speak to you about changing the setlist again."

"The hell he will, 'ya leave for five minutes and suddenly he thinks he's John Hammond." She huffed, pulling her strapless dress up at the neckline. "Well, Al, gotta skedaddle, this joint can't run without me. Come by again sometime - alone - have a drink and a dance, just like old times, will 'ya?" Mimzy clicked her tongue at you, then skitted away to find the poor demon called Howard. Which left you and Dante and Alastor. The latter eyed you intensely, while he addressed the still smiling bird demon next to you.

"Dante, is it? Now don't you two look like birds of a feather?", he almost sang, voice light and melodic but his stare was almost violent. "Are you acquainted with my darling little assistant, boy?" He sounded so utterly condescending, you had to cock a brow.

Dante, bless his soul, didn't seem fazed in the slightest. "Very much so, Mr. Alastor. We were best friends in the overworld, almost inseparable." he said cheerfully, completely oblivious of the radiating static that surrounded Alastor.

"Inseparable you say?", Alastor questioned, prickling needles creeping up your legs. "How interesting. Well, as much as I hate to interrupt this surely touching reunion, we do need to take our leave, darling. Say goodbye to your... friend."

"Right.", you said, still irritated by this obvious animosity, but you nodded and took a step to Dante who looked at the both of you with blissful cluelessness. You felt the radio demons looming presence in your neck, and mentally rolled your eyes.

"I live at the Hazbin Hotel. You're welcome to visit anytime... I'd love to... talk." you hurriedly said, before being almost ripped from him by Alastor's iron grip.

"I'd like that too, munchkin. Have a good evening, you too Mr. Alastor." Dante yelled, much too enthusiastically, and waved you goodbye as Alastor practically marched you out of the club. You could've facepalmed yourself. Some things really didn't change, and Dante's talent of being absolutely unable to read a room was one of them.

She was almost jogging next to him, her arm trapped around his, and struggled visibly to keep up with his – admittedly rage-fueled – pace.

He was annoyed, to say the least. Not only was this bird-demon obviously charmed by her, which irritated him to no end, no, but the audacity, the utter nerve he had, calling her such a childish, diminutive pet-name while touching what clearly wasn't his!

That's what he was: Annoyed. And slightly angry. Very, very angry. And, dare he admit, jealous. Yes, he felt jealousy. That vexing pang in his stomach when he saw the way her cheeks flushed and her tail curled when this impertinent creature ruffled her hair, when he saw her openly laughing, handing out a privilege he was sure he had a monopoly of: Her smile. Oh, how he wanted to rip out his feathers then, one by one, and stuff his throat with them until he choked on his own plumage.

Yes, that's what he wanted to do, and it took all his restraint not to give in to these urges.

"Sir... Alastor, please... can we... slow down?” His ears twitched at the sound of her breathless voice, and he stopped abruptly, in his thoughts as well as his stride, making her stumble. He looked down, and his grip loosened instantly. She was clutching his arm, ears and tail hanging low and a worried expression on her face. He blinked at her, the image of her smile and laugh with the stagehand gone, and his rage dissolved. He straightened his back, easing his grip on her a bit more, but he didn't release her.

"Of course, dear, forgive me. I was lost in thought." he said, a bit softer, and she relaxed a bit, sighing deeply.

"I noticed." She looked at him, a frown on her face. "Is something bothering you?"

Alastor snapped his free arm behind his back, pushing away the irritating image of the bird-demon, and grinned down to her. The day had been irritating enough, no need to fill it with further complications.

"Nothing at all, sweetheart. It's just been an awfully long day, hasn't it?", he nonchalantly exclaimed, wanting to wipe the memory of the idiot nightingale away and replacing it with his own touch, so he gently petted her ears. With a grim satisfaction he watched them shiver and her expression melt at his soft display of casual affection.

"Speaking of which, we should get going back to the hotel, wouldn't want to have our friends wait too long for the good news."

She tilted her head questioningly. "So, Miss Mimzy agreed to lend us the equipment?"

"Indeed she did. And the princess will be pleased to hear it won't cost us a helldime." Alastor chuckled at her stunned face. "I just had to remind her of the many times I've handled her ever-returning troubles for no more than her friendship in my pocket and her loyalty on the table."

A beautiful laugh rang out from her throat, and his ears perked at the sound. It sounded so much better at the place where it belonged - between him and you.

"Now, it's getting quite late, let's skip the sauntering and make use of my shadows to hurry home, or we'll risk Niffty to cook dinner."

He received no protest, just a small nod as she tightly gripped his arm. He decided to appreciate this moment of comfortable compliance and couldn't help but to smugly enjoy how close she clung to him as he teleported them back to the hotel.

Three days have passed, and Alastor had returned to his usual, detached self. The news of Alastor's bargain with his friend had Charlie hyped, and that evening, dinner had been on her. She ordered three party-sized pizzas – a cuisine Alastor didn't care for and so he had excused himself to an early nights rest, leaving you with the rest of the residents to live down the events of the day. Angel had been glued to your side the whole time, eagerly waiting for the opportunity to pull you aside. When the group didn't disintegrate after the pizza was gone and bellies were full, he declared loudly that you and him were much too tired for mingling, and had dragged you into his room.

"Tell. Me. Everything!” he had grinned, pulling you onto his bed, legs crossed and face full of impish delight. "Did 'ya yell at him? Did 'ya flip a table? Speak, woman!"

"No, we actually had a pretty normal, regular conversation. You know, like adults."

As much as you had wanted to talk about it, you couldn't tell Angel about your... escapade with Alastor. It was too fragile, too much of a question mark, and you were more than sure Alastor would be livid if anyone knew, let alone Angel Dust. The hotel wouldn't withstand that extend of an explosion.

Angel had raised a single eyebrow, eyes squinted disbelievingly at you, and a deadpanned "Oh come ON, all that riling up and there weren't even dishes flying?" He had sighed dramatically, putting the back of his hand against his forehead. "All my efforts, wasted."

"Not entirely." you had whispered, and decided to at least give him something to feed on. "He told me he's fond of me."

Angel's face had been less than impressed. "Uh-huh, is that old-timey code for 'Show me 'ya ankles?'"

You felt no remorse when the pink heart-pillow had hit him hard and straight in the nose.

You had sworn him to secrecy - "Fine, fine, it's barely some secret anyway, Rocky." - and then changed the subject, confronting Angel about the viral video of you. He outright confessed he knew about it, but told you that "it wasn't a big deal, nothing to worry about. The Vee's do shit like this all the time.", but he looked nervous and uncomfortable, determined to sway the conversation away from the topic. You didn't push it, but made a mental note to find out more about it another time.

Ever since that evening, your routine at the hotel went back to exhaustively uneventful.

Alastor was significantly more present, and therefore more at your side than before - or was it just because you were on the lookout for it now - and he always found a new reason to discreetly touch your arms, back or waist. Not a word was uttered about it, but you swore you sometimes hunger in his eyes and the crooked, knowing smiles he gave you. Yet, the evenings have become lonely again, no visits or invitations, no anything really.

You used the lonesome silence and time waiting for sleep to finally claim you to write in your diary. The sepia pages of the little gift from Rosie were slowly but surely filled, half of the papers were covered in notes, poems or fractured lyrics. Your personal therapy had become an integral part of the nights, the muted scratching on paper helping you gather your thoughts, deal with your increasing fears of rejection and released at least some of the pressure the voices in your head put on your mind. Your writing became a bit more polished, less fragmented than in the beginning, and your pen flew over the pages, words and syllables forming lines and verses, and a certain demon was woven more and more into your work.

Another day, another routine. It had been a pretty productive day, you had finally convinced Husk to dig out his old trumpet and meet you in the ballroom to assess what you'd do for the planned duet. He had been hesitant, the redness of embarrassment visible under his fur. Yet, he came through the double doors with slumped shoulders and a black case in hand and soon after the both of you stood (a bit unceremoniously) on the stage.

"I dunno, kid. I haven't touched that thing in forever." He sighed, the brass instrument in his paws.

"Well, give it a try. For me, pleeeeease?" You blinked at him with overly big, round eyes, and after a short moment, he rolled his eyes and he had given you a defeated nod.

Playing an instrument was like riding a bike - you never really forget how to do it. The same was true for Husk, he picked up his trumpet and, despite the initial rustiness, soon started playing his first song. He laughed, surprised by himself, and you encouraged him to play some more. You listened intently, and after a while, you sat down on the bench and joined him on the piano, improvising the best you could. Soon, the bike ride became a tandem, you and the cat harmonized with ease, and by the end, he wore a very new and unsuspected kind of self-confidence.

The last note was still resonating when the doors of the ballroom were pushed open and a familiar radio voice resounded in the room.

"I knew I'd find you two here."

You and Husk looked up, and Alastor was striding towards you, a curious grin on his face.

"Don't look so shocked, I'm not deaf and this hotel isn't as soundproof as you think." He came to a halt next to Husk, looking at the trumpet. "It seems that you've finally coaxed old Husker out of his artistic retirement."

Husk huffed. "She got a talent for makin' people do shit they wouldn't otherwise."

"Oh, I am well aware of that."

Alastor's eyes were on you, and your gaze dropped down to the keys, your ears twitching nervously. Husk gave the radio demon a wary look, then looked back at you, and then at the both of you again, his brows knitting together, clearly wondering what that was about.

"Hey, uh, Imma grab a drink, oil the old pipes before dinner, yo' know? This was fun, kiddo... Thanks." he said, put the instrument into it's case and hopped off the stage. Without another word he scurried away and out the door.

"Seems you have another resident wrapped around your little finger." Alastor's voice was right behind you as you fiddled with the music stand.

"I wouldn't say that. I just showed him that he had other talents than mixing drinks and sleeping upright.", you said gingerly, placing your hands in your lap. "But I'm glad you heard us. What do you think?", you asked, turning to look at him, a slight blush on your cheeks. He didn't move away from his close position, and the proximity made your tail sway.

Alastor leaned down to reply, again with that glint of hunger in his eyes, his face so dangerously close to yours, so easy to close the small distance between your...

"Husk said she's in there, oh, she'll be so happy! (Y/n)! You have a visitor!", Charlie burst through the doors with more than her usual enthusiasm, the glass in the wing doors chiming from the impact. Behind her, Dante trailed alongside Vaggie and a very pleased looking Angel. Alastor straightened, took a small, unimpressed step back and faced the intrusion, all traces of his former state erased with perfect timing and a subtle sigh of annoyance, leaving you confused and blinking in bewilderment.

You, however, were visibly flushed and taken off guard and Angel, curse that mischievous idiot, cocked a single eyebrow suggestively at you, an angelic smirk on his lips and wiggling his own eyebrows up and down at you behind Charlie, Vaggie and Dante. He would have no chance of survival if looks could kill.

Dante's smile grew wide when he caught your eyes. He was dressed more informal than last time, more like his old self - a simple, tight-fitting white shirt under a sandy brown, heavy-knitted cardigan and light blue jeans.

"I finally finished my gig at Mimzy's yesterday night and thought I'd swing by. Wasn't sure whether your invitation still stood..." He put his hands into his pockets, smile and stance awkward. "But I really wanted to see you again, munchkin."

The harsh and loud sound of feedback cut your answer off. Heads turned, and Angel stifled a snicker and Charlie and Vaggie stared at Alastor, who looked innocently into the distance, grin wide and stiff, his hands hidden behind his back. You however, ignoring the increasing static attacking your back, jumped up from the bench and hurried down the stage.

"Of course the invitation stands. I'm glad you came, Dante."

Charlie took your hands, hopping up and down on her feet as she spoke. "I've already shown him around the hotel! He told me his amazing story of being reunited with you after all this time, it's so nice to meet a friend of yours, (Y/n)!" Charlie beamed at the nightingale, “He's such a nice guy!”

"Yeah, Rocky, where have you been hidin' this hunk A' feathers? And here I was thinkin' 'ya didn't have any hot friends besides me. Guess you have a few skeletons in 'ya closet afterall, eh?" Angel grinned, appreciatively eyeing Dante's backside.

"Alright, let's cool the sexual harassment down, he's only just arrived." Vaggie said unnerved, already pushing the smirking spider out the double doors. "I'm sure they have a lot of catching up to do, how about we give them a few minutes? Dinner in half an hour?" Charlie nodded, following her girlfriend's lead. "You two take your time, we'll be in the kitchen!" She gave Alastor, who hadn't moved at all, a slightly challenging look.

His red eyes snapped to Charlie, the static snapping into a calm hum. "Ah, yes, of course, let's leave those two to reminisce about the good old days." His laugh seemed a little bit forced, but his movements were smooth as he passed you, and stopped just briefly enough to brush your lower back, his eyes fixed on the unsuspecting nightingale. "Do stay for dinner, Dante. Our lovely Niffty does make a fantastic roast chicken , when she get her hands on the right ingredients ." His words, although nice, were sublimely laced with an underlying threat. Something that flew right over both Charlie's and Dante's head, apparently.

Your friend gave Alastor an almost blinding smile. "Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Alastor, that's mighty kind of you."

Charlie's smile was strained, her eyes flickering back and forth between the three of you, and she gave you an apologetic shrug as Alastor turned on his heels and strutted out the door, hurrying after him. You watched the doors closed with a loud thud, shaking your head at the passive-aggressiveness Alastor showed Dante for apparently simply existing.

“Man, everyone's so nice here.” Dante smiled innocently. Oh Satan. Ignorance truly is bliss.

“Yeah, they are... well-meaning.”, you compromise, fidgeting with the ruffles of your blouse. You looked at your friend, not knowing where to begin the conversation you wanted to have the moment you realized who he was. Dante watched your fingers picking at the delicate fabric, his smile turning into a sad, crooked line.

“Come on, ask, I know you want to.”

You swallowed hard.

"What happened, Danny?” His eyes dropped at the long forgotten nickname. “One day, we were out buying a gift for your mom's birthday, and a week later, I get a call that...”, your voice broke, and you blinked tears away. Dante took a step towards you and grabbed your hands.

"I know, munchkin, I know. I'm so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am." He sighed, his breath trembling. “I told them when I was at mamma's house, one day after her birthday. I came out. I thought I was ready, they were ready. But they weren't.”

He turned his back to you, a hand brushed nervously trough his hair, combing back his quiff. “They... well, papa was furious, mamma cried and screamed. I... They told me I'm a disgrace, that I was... sick, and needed to get help. I wasn't allowed to come back to the academy, they wanted to send me to a conversion camp, to... cure me."

You reached out to him, but he began to move, walking back and forth while gesturing nervously. "When I said I didn't want that, that I can't try to be someone I'm not, that I didn't want to pretend and lie to my family anymore... they threw me out. They said.... that I wasn't their son anymore. That I was dead to them. I felt... trapped, and scared, and like a mistake. And then, I stood at that bridge, and I just..."

Dante's shoulders shook, his hand buried in his hair, he sobbed loudly and his voice was raw with emotion.

"Danny...", you whispered, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You hugged him tightly, and he turned to return the embrace. He held you closely, crying quietly into the crook of your neck. "I'm so sorry, Danny. So, so sorry."

You stood there for a while, the nightingale's sniffles and your gentle hushing the only sound in the empty room. Then, he pulled away from you, and wiped his wet cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell me?", you asked, a rogue tear rolling down your cheek. "I would've helped you, I would've been there for you."

Dante smiled sadly at you. "I know. But you had already so much on your plate. Your mom, and your jobs, and your own depression. I couldn't be another burden on your shoulders, you were already close to drowning, munchkin."

You felt awful. Guilty. Devastated. You felt a deep, unrelenting sadness for your friend, for what he had been through, and what he had done because of it. And you were angry, for not being there, not seeing the signs, not saving him from the people who were supposed to love him, but didn't.

Dante gently put his fingers on your cheek, wiping away the stray tear. "Do you remember when I came out to you? Second year, just after our songwriting workshop. I was so scared, I didn't know what would happen, what you'd say. But you accepted me, accepted everything, the way I am." He took your hand and lead you up to the piano again. “The day after, you took me to see LaLaLand.” he chuckled, pulling you onto the bench beside him. “It was the first time I went with a girl to the movies without her thinking it would end in the sheets.”

You chuckled too, weakly. “You cried the whole ride back, I remember.”

"A man has the right to be sad if Ryan Gosling is singing. Those are the rules." he nudged your shoulder, his playful tone returning. Then, he looked at the keys, his left hand tenderly placing itself on the lower half of the piano. "That night, we promised we'd be always there for each other... I'm sorry I broke that promise. ♫

The notes were blunt, but full of melancholy. Dante was never a piano player, but he was so obsessed with this song, you had taught him the left hand in countless nights on his keyboard at home, while full on take-out pasta and cheap Ginger Ale. He started singing, unsure and out of practice, but still as beautiful as you remembered his voice to be. Any faint sound, was it statc?, drowned out by his tender notes.

♫City of stars Are you shining just for me? City of stars There's so much that I can't see♫

Your right hand moved on it's own to the higher keys, joining his and completing the melody.

♫Who knows? I felt it from the first embrace I shared with you.♫

Your voice felt thick and course, but you smiled when you started to sing, and heard him breathe a small sigh of relief. As if he feared you wouldn't join in, leaving him alone. As if you could ever do that.

♫That now our dreams They've finally come true City of stars Just one thing everybody wants There in the bars And through the smokescreen of the crowded restaurants♫

Dante nudged your side with his elbow, something he always used to do to make you miss a note or two, and while singing, you couldn't help but join his chuckle. Your hands moved in wonderful unison, completing each others lack of confidence. Like two pieces of an old puzzle, reunited in a beat-up cardboard box, suddenly falling into place and fitting perfectly again.

♫It's love Yes, all we're looking for is love from someone else

A rush A glance A touch A dance♫

You looked at each other, coaxing the opposite into a grin, while your fingers grew steadier and in self-confidence in pressing down on the keys.

♫A look in somebody's eyes To light up the skies To open the world and send it reeling A voice that says, I'll be here And you'll be alright♫

Dante swayed side to side, his face playful and challenging, and you took the challenge, straightening your back and took on an almost arrogant pose, accentuating the higher notes you played with a smug expression, earning his signature amused huff.

♫I don't care if I know Just where I will go 'Cause all that I need is this crazy feeling A rat-tat-tat of my heart Think I want it to stay♫

His gaze fell back to the whites and blacks of the piano, the corners of his lips falling down again, and he looked forlorn, as if deep in contemplation. You watched him silently, wondering, if he didn't decide to end his life, if he still would've ended up here, in hell.

♫City of stars Are you shining just for me? City of stars♫

You leaned your head on his shoulders, closing your eyes. No, you decided. He wouldn't have.

♫You never shined so brightly...♫

Both of your hands rested on the last set of keys. For a moment, none of you spoke, moved or breathed. The last tunes faded into the empty, lowly humming hall and Dante's head finally fell against yours, his cheek warm in your hair.

"Stay. Here at the hotel."

You opened your eyes and looked into his, smiling earnestly. He looked at you, a bit taken aback, but said nothing.

"Charlie and the others are nice people. They'll love you, and they would accept you just as I did. And if, by any chance and miracle, redemption really is possible, then I know you'd be the first one to archive it, Danny."

"Do you really think I could?", he asked, a hopeful light in his eyes.

"I absolutely believe you could. And no matter what happens, I'd be there for you. Just like we promised."

The nightingales hand slid off the keys, and softly cupped yours, before closing over it completely, engulfing in a warm grasp.

"Just like we promised." he said, determination in his voice.

You opened the doors, still laughing when you ran against something red and solid. Alastor stood rigidly in front of you both, almost glowing in the darkness of the corridor. His toothy smile was menacing, dark swirls of his shadows danced along the walls. Oh-oh.

"Ah, what wonderful timing!”, he said overly joyous, a straight indication of his aggravation. “Husker and Niffty are just dying to meet our visitor."

"Actually", Dante interrupted cheerfully, stupidly wrapping an arm around your shoulders in an unconscious effort to be obliterated, "(Y/n) here convinced me to stay, so... I guess I'll ask princess Charlie to become a permanent resident here!"

Please, please, please, ground, you pleaded, swallow me whole.

Alastor's eyes twitched, and the corners of his lips pulled higher than you've ever seen them.

"My, aren't that news that'll ruffle some feathers?", he pressed through his teeth, a malevolent static laced around his voice. "Why don't you hurry to the kitchen and tell her, my good fellow? Me and this darling kitten will join you shortly, there's some urgent business we have to take care of. Don't wait for us to start enjoying dinner."

"Sure thing, Mr. Alastor!", the nightingale chirped, blissfully ignorant, and made his way down the corridor. "I'll tell them the good news and save you a seat, munchkin!"

Alastor's claws grabbed your shoulder as he followed your friends silhouette disappearing into the foyer, before he pulled you towards him, taking your wrist hostage. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but his shadows were faster, enveloping you in an instant.

His hand were still clamped down on your wrist when the shadowtravel ended abruptly, and your feet fell into damp, soft ground. You blinked confused, head dizzy from the unexpected transportation. Alastor finally let go, and you almost fell backwards into the softness surrounding you. Around you were tall reeds and grasses, that lined the edges of shimmering bodies of shallow waters, like a swamp, rustling softly in an explainable breeze. There was a whisper of crickets in the air, and the dim illumination of a pale-blueish moon above your head, hidden by thick, almost indigo colored leaves of cypress trees.

"I do have to say, my dear, I am surprised,", Alastor stated, his voice betraying his fake, lighthearted smile – he sounded utterly enraged. "I did not take you for the type who would so blatantly throw oneself at the next best tail. Especially not since the right to your body isn't yours to give."

"Wh- What are you talking about?" You stuttered, taken aback. If he intended to make you blush, he hit his mark, but with your confusion, his choice of words was even more questionable, as was his accusation. For a moment, you were baffled. Blinking slowly, his words echoed in your mind. Was he suggesting that...

"I think it's high time I remind you that your body, soul, mind and heart, belong to me.", Alastor took one long step, until your shoes almost touched, and his body loomed over yours. "Undress."

Oh god, yes. Your eyes widened, your mind catching on fire. Your hands instinctively went to the buttons of your blouse, like a natural response to his order ingrained in every fiber. His stare was all consuming, he was literally pouring with possessiveness and - dare you say - jealous energy, and it drove you insane. As unhealthy as it very possibly was, you felt almost power drunk at the thought of Alastor - THE Radio Demon - enacting on jealous rage just because he saw you touch or talk to somebody else- not to mention your very gay best friend. He wants us. But that was the crux, wasn't it? Was he reacting to his, or just your feelings? You had been so full of emotion after speaking with Dante, maybe this reaction of him was - once again - your doing. No, please no. Let him want us.

The whining, wanton voices in your mind made your head impossibly fuzzy, but at the same time, adrenaline spiked your heart rate, flooding your brain with excitement and yearning.

"Alastor... um, maybe my emotions, I mean... my powers are a bit confusing right now?", you started to ramble, trying to regain the little clarity you had left.

"Frankly, darling, I really don't care about whether it's your silly power or not. ʊռɖʀɛֆֆ.”

The amount of intensity that backed his voice made you tremble so hard it had to be registered on the Richter scale. You stopped, hesitated a moment longer - not because you didn't want to obey him, not in the slightest, but because you were overwhelmed by your own, visceral reactions -, but your hands kept popping the buttons, until the collar fell open.

He watched with such voracious intent as your trembling fingers opened the next few, gradually exposing the upper curve of your breasts. His eyes didn't miss any detail, as you finished unbuttoning it. You lifted it from the waistband of your pants and slipped the thin fabric off your shoulders, and he only stepped in closer to you when it fluttered to the floor.

Your skin already glowed faintly, an effervescent mist hovering over it in the strange ambiance around you, pink against teal. Your own heat collided with the cool air of the bayou as you stepped out of your pants, kicking off your shoes in the process - the last barrier only your flimsy, plain black underwear. It felt dangerous, exhilarating, you felt vulnerable and at the same time strangely powerful, and the surge of those two conflicting emotions electrified you.

Alastor's gaze hungrily traveled from the soft expanse of your exposed throat, down the thin curve of your sternum, stopping at your chest before it was shielded by the thin fabric of your bra. The short journey ended when his eyes focused on the crook of your neck again,

"Go on, little gem, you're almost there.", he crooned, tilting his head with a wicked expression when you reached for the clasp of your bra. Your heart made a salto montale.

"Take. It. Off."

The snap of the clasp echoed the flutter of your heart as the cloth fell over your arms onto the ground. You stood shivering, breathless, his starved look making every nerve in you jump. Your nipples hardened as the coolness hit them, goosebumps littered your skin, but it was obvious that you weren't shaking because of the cold. He drank you in, his ears flicked shortly - a brief, subconscious gesture of amusement and satisfaction at your unyielding compliance and the instant reaction your body displayed as a consequence of it. With an agonizing finality, you slipped your fingers under the straps of your panties, and pushed them down, letting them join the mess of fabrics under your feet.

He looked at you as you were something only meant for his eyes, like a masterpiece that had been hidden from the public by a passionate collector. Something he would have wrapped in silk and kept in darkness until he decided to unveil it in the right circumstances, making it only his own to adore - and covet.

He moved, slowly, stepping around your now exposed and vulnerable body. He circled you like a shark, unraveling your frame inch by inch as he walked in an unapologetic, predatory rhythm, savoring every crevasse, every plane that made you up, enjoying every moment of you yielding your bare body to him, your tail whipping around your thighs in nervous swishes.

He reached out with an impish smile, his fingers glided through the soft fur of your tail, letting you twitch and whine at the teasing pull on it.

"I'll make it perfectly clear, kitten, so you won't make this foolish mistake again." Alastor pushed you down, and you fell back with a small cry into the softness of moss and soil. You wanted to say something, but before you even had a chance of uttering anything remotely intelligible, he had thrown off his overcoat and rolled up his sleeves, revealing blackened fingers and hands fading into light gray, not unlike your own skin color before his shirt concealed what looked like soft, thin traces of red fur.

His claws dug into your thighs, spreading them with absolute ease - as if you had a chance of resisting - and knelt in between them, fixated on your painfully throbbing, exposed wetness. You arched at the sharp feeling of his nails piercing into your soft flesh, mind numb from the lack of oxygen as you forgot to breathe entirely.

"This..." he leaned in and dragged his tongue flat through your folds, flicking the sensitive bud above in the process - just briefly and shallow enough for the sensations to register before they ebbed again. Your gasp was as loud as it was shattering, drawing the last reserves of your fleeting air out of your lungs.

"...belongs..." once more he dragged, dipping his tongue deeper this time, before flicking out the pointed tip playfully, leaving you a whimpering mess, and shifted his hands towards your knees - opening you almost criminally wide. He hummed in deep satisfaction, harmonizing with the whispering sounds of the waters and the crickets, the vibrations traveling like a landline right from his mouth into your deepest core.

"...only..." This time, he let the very tip of his tongue swipe the tip of your pearl, again and again, an addicting and wickedly slow pace. Alastor's claws left the spot behind your knees, finding new interest on the lower halves of your belly and chest, scratching almost harshly from your rib cage, down towards your public bone. His nails left tiny trails of redness behind - like writing poetry on your body with your own blood.

"...to..." he smiled menacingly at your whimpering, panting self, your mind addled, your eyes already shimmering through the wildest shades of the color wheel.

"...ME." His unholy mouth closed fully around your clit. Your moans became frantic when he started to suction the already raw spot in perfect, overwhelming pressure and coaxed his tongue, round after round and in slow, sinful pace, over it. You cried out his name, hands flying foolishly into his hair, finding enlarged antlers and gripping onto them like you'd drown without them, desperate for purchase, desperate to hold onto something. He let you, and intensified his ministrations, feeling your mind-breaking build in delight.

You came - oh, how you came - with an urgency and intensity that stole your breath away - yet he relentlessly licked you through it, not relenting in pace or pressure - keeping you on this devastating and haunting edge, drinking every last drop with such hungry need as if it were water and he was dying in a desert. When he finally relented, you fell back exhausted, panting, shaking, sweating. Alastor pushed your hands softly from his antlers, releasing them from your grasp. He was towering over you now, your trembling legs falling on either side of his, completely open - bare, utterly spent and limp. His eyes were on yours, ravenous, his mouth glistening wet from your juices. With his lips curled in a merciless smile, he watched you writhe under the aftershocks, and it only added another tingling sensation on top of them - making you moan and shiver even more, so vulnerable under his gaze alone.

"Did the message come across now, kitten?"

"Perfectly.“, you whispered, still spent from your orgasm. He brushed your disheveled locks tenderly and reached out with his claw, teasing your lower lip with its pointy, razor-sharp tip. A rogue drip of blood escaped your mouth as he cut it, he caught it and licked it off his finger, closing his eyes and letting a gratifying hum escape his throat.

The gang was halfway through dinner when you and Alastor appeared. A snap of his fingers had restored your disheveled physical state, yet it was you who bore the consequences mentally - forcing yourself into a neutral, innocent expression after what happend proved impossibly hard. Half of the table eyed you with suspicion as you made your apologies and sat down - Angel winked, Husk simply raised a brow, Vaggie crossed her arms in disapproval. The other half - Charlie, Niffty and Dante - however smiled happily, the nightingale unaware and innocently patting the empty chair next to him encouragingly. He had, indeed, saved you a seat.

Charlie stood up almost jovially, welcoming a new potential sinner and resident of the Hazbin Hotel now that everyone was present.

"So, let's try and give Dante the best possible welcome to our family!", she chimed, raising her glass to a toast. Dante smiled his usual boyish smile as the others - with the exeption of Alastor, who observed your friend with quiet distaste - joined their glasses to cheer.

"Hear, hear!", Angel grinned, leaning over to Dante with a sly look, his fingers lightly tracing the rim of his glass. "Are ya roomed yet, birdie boy? If not, why don't 'ya crash with me? I got a big... bed.", he offered seductively, giving the nightingale a full-on flirty look. Throughout the following groans, indignant huffs and amused giggles, Dante laughed heartily.

"I don't think that would be the best idea, I wouldn't want to tempt you.", he gave the e flamboyant spider a good natured wink, completely unfazed by the other's shameless advances. Angel huffed dramatically, resting his elbows on the table and cupping his chin in his hands, batting his long lashes at him.

"The offer still stands, Tweety, I like the challenge of turning a straight guy around."

Dante gave you a quick glance, nodding slightly and took a small breath. "Well, then you need to look for one.”

The spider leaned back, a curious tilt of the head while Charlie gave a confused smile and looked between them. "I... beg your pardon?"

You gave your old friend a small, encouraging smile, and put your hand softly on his arm while you avoided looking at Alastor as to not burst out in laughter for what was about to happen.

"I said, 'you need to look for one', because I'm gay.", he said bluntly, smile nervous but genuine. “Munchkin told me you'd be okay with that... I am kind of closeted, she's the only one who knew until now.”

Radio silence hung for a few seconds. Then Charlie jumped up quickly and almost threw herself over the table, a squeak of happiness as her arms encircled Dante's neck in an awkward hug, almost making him fall from his chair. “OH MY GOSH! Of course we're okay with that, I'm so honored, so proud of you to tell us!”

He patted her arm with a bright laugh, as the table erupted in surprised and happy chatter. Vaggie rubbed her temple, sighing in loving disbelief at her girlfriend's dramatic outburst. Husk didn't bat an eye, going back to his meal, but was smirking openly and raised his glass to Dante's statement. Niffty clapped cheerfully, while Angel applauded loudly, catcalling and hollering lewd praises.

You dared to look at Alastor, and the sight was worth everything: the Radio Demon looked shocked. Actually, he looked as close to 'being dumbfounded' as he'd ever get, with the biggest 'what-just-happened-expression' plastered across his face and irritated static popping all around him. When he regained his composure, he smoothed his tie and searched for your eyes. With the rest of the group distracted by congratulating Dante, no one noticed Alastor mouthing at you a single word:

"Touché."

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[stele3]

https://www.cnn.com/europe/live-news/russia-ukraine-war-news-06-25-23/index.html

https://www.cnn.com/2023/06/25/europe/putin-belarus-lukashenko-analysis-intl/index.html

https://www.reuters.com/sustainability/boards-policy-regulation/hollywood-directors-ratify-labor-pact-writers-keep-picketing-2023-06-24/

https://www.usnews.com/news/world/articles/2023-06-20/uruguay-declares-water-emergency-sets-tax-exemption-for-bottled-water

https://www.msn.com/en-us/money/markets/us-india-relations-enter-a-new-chapter-and-could-unlock-even-more-tech-and-defense-deals/ar-AA1cVCC9

https://www.africanews.com/2023/06/25/sierra-leone-vote-tallying-underway-following-general-election/

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-65951188

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/jun/25/istanbul-gay-pride-activists-stage-annual-rally-in-defiance-of-ban

[mixotrophics]

Supermarkets and intl farming corporations are evil I think: international trade, refrigeration, and the race for the bottom

nowadays we have refrigeration, freezing, and fast-moving vehicles with these technologies installed. This means that it's now possible to move perishable goods over longer distances.

Up front, seems pretty cool. You can get mangoes in Norway and saltwater fish in deeply-landlocked places. There have been benefits to some people too. Primarily this is with fisheries for desirable catches with a restricted geographic range and no real farms. For example, Nephrops norvegicus is a crustacean that lives in cold water. It is known as scampi† or langousteen when sold as food . As a shellfish, it spoils incredibly quickly, and so is primarily sold in two forms: frozen, and live (to be killed immediately before cooking). Neither of these options would be possible to sell to far-away locations without modern tech, and french desire for high-quality nephrops was the main thing keeping many individual crustacean fishers in Scotland afloat financially (until Brexit happened, and customs slowed down trade enough that live nephrops weren't able to be sold to france, so the fishers had to sell frozen ones for less profit and it's been very not good and pushed a lot of people into poverty , Brexit, babey )

but the Big Thing here is that a lot of foods are not geographically restricted in a way we can't overcome right now. A lot of things can be just fine living somewhere else, but just can't swim across the ocean to get there, etc. Quinoa farms in england, olives in california, cacao in africa, potatoes almost ubiquitous. So when something can be grown wherever and technology means we can ship perishables around the planet no-prob , big supermarkets can now choose where they get their goods from a wide range of options.

And where do they pick? They pick to buy from the cheapest places; the places where environmental + workplace safety regulations don't impose more costs, where the workers are underpaid or enslaved and their wages don't mess with their boss's bottom line. The way a country can attract a big company (and its money) is by crushing unions, allowing slavery, and so on. If a government enforces environmental regulations or minimum wage etc, then the big company moves its operations to a different country. This is the race to the bottom, where countries gain jobs by disenfranchising their people. Sometimes, "structural adjustment programs" and the like are used by companies to say: Hey, financially-struggling country, we'll pay you a bunch of money in exchange for some land & for implementing laws that reduce workers' rights.

& in countries with better workers rights and environmental protections, jobs evaporate into thin air as supermarkets by goods elsewhere.

Who benefits? only the higher-ups in these companies, buying goods at the lowest possible cost, and then selling them at a huge profit margin in countries where the living costs are different. Buy one chocolate bar in exchange for the money a cacao-picker may earn in a day of backbreaking labor.

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I live in a less-populated country where low-density urban centers are surrounded by farms.

On the bus ride to the hospital i saw fields of oilseeds, edible brassicas, strawberries, potatoes ... sheep and cow pastures ... forest-banks grown lush from the high-latitude midnight sun, full of wild edibles.

In town center there is one store that sells local goods, only meat.

I go to the store and the produce is sourced from despotic regimes and countries implicated in human rights abuses and forced labor. fresh vegetables cost money people don't have. health issues from insufficient nutrition are chronic and frequent. the supermarket CEOs have multiple mansions.

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the Brazilian city of Belo Horizonte established ABasteCer markets, land in prime (town central) locations where proprietors could bid to run the market; certain important foods such as fresh vegetables would be sold at a fixed, lower price, while buying the goods from farmers for a higher price, while others would be sold as normal. While the fixed-price foods didn't have a profit margin, the proprietors didn't have to worry about rent , & the unfixed foods provided enough of a wage for them.

Local farmers got paid more, exploitation elsewhere avoided. Lower prices meant poor people could buy important foods, nutrient deficiency dropped.

i wonder how much fighting it would take for such a thing to be established elsewhere in the world . Shall we?

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† note that if its Cheap then they're probably lying and selling you intensively-farmed Litopeneaus prawns ... these are implicated in ecological problems such as mangrove destruction.

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World Hunger: 10 Myths. Frances Moore Lappé and Joseph Collins, 2015.