#radio wellness network

[veggiechannel]

Oggi dalle ore 11 alle 11.30 Isabella Vendrame vi aspetta in diretta ai microfoni di Radio Wellness Network. Si parlerà di alimentazione vegetale e Isabella vi darà alcuni consigli per ritrovare benessere fisico e mentale. Potete intervenire in diretta con un whatsapp al numero 327 2367006 🙂 Su https://radiowellness.fm/

[ghostbeam]

hi hi ozzie!! what sort of movies do you think sero would be into?

Hiiii Mars!!! Ohhhh Sero oh god actually this came so easily to me….he’s my best friend I fear

The social network

Little miss sunshine

Almost famous

Singles

Pump up the volume

Send me ur fav and I’ll give u some movies I think they’d like

[mariocki]

Patrick Magee works to apprehend the villains as Parsons, the head of airport security in Dial 999: The Great Gold Robbery (1.4, ABC, 1958)

[aidaronan]

"First movie you ever saw in theaters?" Steve lounged opposite of Robin on the couch in his living room, the stereo on low, spitting out Madonna on the local radio station.

"Oh, that's easy." Robin bit off part of a licorice. "Freaky Friday. I remember because I was terrified for weeks that I'd end up switching places with my mom and have to, like, balance a checkbook or something."

Steve laughed, separating m&ms in his hand. "You still don't know how to balance a checkbook, do you?"

"Like you do." Robin playfully glared at him. "Okay, here's a good one. First kiss."

Steve ate the sole blue m&m first, a grin spreading across his face because he usually lied about his first kiss, but he didn't have to. Not with Robin. "Camp Stronghold when I was nine. We met up in the boathouse after lights out to trade contraband."

"Contraband, huh?" Robin raised her brows.

"Candy. I swear my parents loaded me up like I was going to prison. 'This is as good as cash in there, Steven.' I think my dad wanted me to network or something. Because, you know, I was totally gonna start a small business with a group of eight-year-olds."

Robin snickered. "And the kiss?"

"Ah. I didn't actually want candy. I just wanted this kid to like me so bad, and I didn't know why until we were there in the dark tripping into each other because we couldn't see. I had all these butterflies, and we were standing close enough that I could feel the heat off his sunburn in the air." Steve could still picture it. The way he couldn't see more than a few inches in front of his face. "Then he kissed me, just this quick peck on the lips before he turned tail and ran. I left the boathouse with a Snickers and one massive first crush."

"Did anything else happen?" Robin asked.

"No. It was the last week of camp and I think he freaked himself out over it. I don't know. He didn't even really say bye to me after we climbed off the bus to meet our parents. Never saw him again. I honestly never even thought to get his name."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. I just hope he's doing okay, you know? That he's got people in his life that make him feel like he's allowed."

Robin looked at him softly, reaching out to give his ankle a squeeze. "Hey, you never know. You might run into him again someday. Maybe he's your soulmate or something."

"Please. I think you're pretty obviously my soulmate." Steve nudged Robin with his foot. "But I guess he could settle for 2nd place."

"Oh, there's a toast for sure." Snacks tumbling off her lap, Robin reached for her can of Coke on the coffee table and raised it as high as she could reach. "To both of us finding our 2nd places."

"Cheers to that." Steve thrust his own Coke into the air.

____

It felt like a big cosmic joke that Steve would be in a boathouse when he realized who Eddie Munson had been all that time. Eddie had looked so different when he'd transferred into Hawkins that Steve had never even given him a second look, not during their shared classes, not during any of those cafeteria tirades. Not during the numerous occasions where he gave the kids rides to D&D.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!"

It was the eyes that finally pulled back the curtain and cut away all those in-between years. Steve had never been close enough to clock them, but he couldn't deny them now. Not at such close range, Eddie holding a broken bottle against his neck, trembling with so much fear that Steve worried he might actually use it.

Dropping the oar from his own shaking hands, Steve said the only thing he could think to say.

"Well, this brings back memories."

Eddie didn't respond, the fear in the air drawing out every second, making it feel infinite. Behind them and in another universe, Dustin said a bunch of stuff Steve barely heard for the pounding in his ears. He watched beads of sweat roll down Eddie's forehead and waited for something to give.

Like clouds fat with rain, Eddie finally broke open, tension draining out of him, arm and weapon dropping to his side. He exhaled a shaky breath, maintaining eye contact, his expression too complicated for Steve to fully read.

Steve was about to say something else when Eddie finally spoke, cocking his head to the side and leveling Steve with a look.

"And here I spent all these years thinking you forgot."

[safination]

Partners in Death…and Life

Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself

| Part 1: Radio's Not Dead |Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should be Trusted| Masterlist | ao3 Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason.

Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. Hello, I’m back :D This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got busy. Anyway, thank you for all the likes so far. It motivated me to really finish this chapter. Also once again, I have everything planned out, it really is just a matter of writing it down. *Updated 28/02/2024 Just added some stuff that I thought made sense*

Flick…

Flick…

Flick…

Lights flicker above you with a slight buzz. You drape an arm over your eyes when the gleam of the bulb blind you.

The hardwood floors chill your skin, but it’s the sensation of casual loose clothing on your back that warrants your exhale in peace. Just a second. You just need a moment on these hard and chilling floors to ground you… just… one … single … moment to…

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

A stray feather pricks into your arm. The vane tickles, but the barb digs your skin. You’ve called this body ‘yours’ far longer than your human one, yet the feathers that grow on your skin still astound you. You twirl it around your fingers, and wave it in the air like a wand—it’s a proper animalistic feather.

Your nose scrunches into a hard scowl, and you jump up, stomping into the kitchen toward that untouched coffee mug on your counter. Grabbing it, you splash the contents down the sink, letting it flush down the drain.

The sponge is rough against your hands as you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub a̵̯͒n̴̤͝d̶̫͌ ̶͚̇y̶̤̎o̷͔̓u̶̢͐ ̸̓͜s̵̪͗c̸͎͂r̷̀ͅṳ̴̎b̸͖̀ ầ̷̩̯͍̙̳̍͗͘ń̵̰̞̰̕d̴͇̻̮̫̝̓̎̈́ ̶̡̬̬̮̺͗͒́̌͑y̴̙̘̻͇̿̉̐͆ǫ̷͉̟̍̅̑̏ŭ̸̖͓ͅ ̴̛̝͇̭̥̌́́̂s̸̠̑̽̏́c̷̥̺̃̾̊r̶̲̯̈́̈̄͆͊u̵̼̝͕̼̇̍̈́͘b̶͍͖͖̐̾͝.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You rinse the mug, slamming the cupboard door shut when you drop it next to your own clean one. Fingers run through your feather-hair…hair-feather, or your ‘whatever that grows on your scalp’. Some questions you’ve stopped asking.

An audible grumble… well, uhhhhh…. grumbles from where your stomach is placed in this body, and you munch on your lips to keep the inhumane screech from erupting into the kitchen and breaking all kinds of glassware and little knickknacks that Alastor filled your home with.

(These days, the old trinkets collect dust on your shelves. There haven’t been any new ones in years.)

Chopping Hell’s equivalent of carrots calms you. (It’s honestly the use of some type of razor-sharp object that calms you. You’d prefer a different razor-sharp object, but a sharp knife is a sharp knife, no matter the size.) You chop until there’s enough food to make a proper and decent meal that your stomach will accept.

You crash on the couch, dinner secured on a plate, and flip the television switch. Light flashes into the room when you do.

Ad about some impish business—Not interested.

‘Yeah, I fucked your sister, So what?’ — Boring.

Cooking Venison with Vox— Lame.

Settling on the lifestyle network, you munch on your food. Some poor slimy creature flashes across the screen, and it's her home that will be remodeled because of…something. You’re not sure what that something was. You don’t care enough to find out.

The sounds from the television swap with the silence of your living-room as you take each bite. It’s one of the sadder habits you’ve picked up since purchasing this noisy picture box.

Your eyes wander to that half-filled coat rack, while your ears listen in on the show and that woman did not just say that pink would go with brown. Only your singular coat drapes on the hinge, when this particular design was made to hold two.

A commercial plays for some-thing called the Hazbin Hotel.

Your eyes are stitched to the screen until the final note of the song plays, and a different advertisement takes its spot. You take a sip of your drink.  Just ą̷̖̯͈͂ ̷̡̧͚̤̩͎̙͇̞͓̟͈̤̝͉͉͉̘̉͐̓́̆́̇̍̐̿̈̄͜͜͜͝͝s̶̨̢̛̥̣̻̱̰̬̩̹̥̞̟̳̝͔͓͙̗̗͕̟͇̆̉̿į̴̡̢̠͇̱̤͔̙͎͕͛̑̓̒̀̔͆̓͂̃̚͘͘͠ṗ̶̡̢̨̳͙̦̮͍͓̻͎̲̪̲͕͛̔̐́̐̈́̒̒̉̎͛̆̈́̈́̉̔̑̃̕ͅ.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You blink, and you find your keys locking your front door.  Already, your legs are trekking down the garden stones. A flower snarls at you as the gate locks with a click.

Another blink.

 Huh…you’re on the bus.

The sign says it’s headed into the city. Living on the outskirts has always been beneficial for you. Not today, though. Today, the one-hour commute makes your feathers bristle.

You read the barely eligible address scribbled on the note, and pat your hair, smoothing the flared feathers sticking out. It seems…

Hmmmmm.

It seems you did not think this through. H-how…How are you going to get to the hotel?

Tagatha calls you a fossil for using one of those flippy telephones. You considered purchasing those fancy telephones with the lights and screens, and loud robotic voices telling you where to turn left, but learning to use a flip-phone brought enough stress for two lifetimes. You’ll happily stay a fossil.

Turns out, you don’t even need the address.

The Hazbin Hotel sticks out. It’s a humongous building with its name written across what you call the sky in blinding neon lights. Your vision zooms in, and you see that the hotel rests on a giant hill at the other edge of the city. Three large neon-lit arrows point to a crudely attached radio tower. Below it, a wooden ship hangs to the side. Circus light bulbs flicker with electricity.

The Hazbin Hotel is an eyesore – it’s exactly what Alastor prefers.

You reach the dinged-up metal gate on the bottom of the hill and reset your hand on the rusted latch. Trekking through the city took a lot, and you were already here. So, why are your legs frozen to the cement? Why does your heartbeat thump in your ears?

“Excuuussseeeee me.”

A snake towers over you. It’s your first time seeing such a slithery specimen as large as him. His hat rests on his hold, and it blinks at you. His hair … or was that skin … puffs out with two red sets of red eyes.

“Can I help you?” you say, warily. Sinners are in hell for a reason.

“Yessssh,” he says, his tongue slithering out. His flaps stick out, all four eyes staring right into your own. “I’d like to be a guessst at this hotel!”

You glance at the eye-sore that’s called a hotel. “I don’t work here.”

His flaps droop. The snake takes a deep breath, and slides the gate open, slithering in with determination in his … er… snake body.

You follow in silence.

The snake matches your pace. “Will you be a guest at this establishment as well?” he asks you. “Or were you given the same sssssuper secret mission?” Just like before, his tongue slithers out—what a funny little odd man.

Bangs grab your attention. When you focus your vision, you see an inky shadow servant striking a nail into broken wood. “Not at all,” you say slowly. “I’m just here to visit someone.”

His flaps open, and three pairs of eyes and a hat meet yours. “I am the great Sir Pentious!” he says with a proud hand on his puffed-up chest. “Inventor. Architect of destruction. Villain extraordinaire!”

You give him your name “….Doctor.”

“It is only the coward who attacks a battler of health.” His flaps droop as he sinks into himself. “You cannot be my rival, I’m afraid.”

“I guess that makes you brave,” you say, humming. The decorations for the hotel are rather dull. Drawn on the middle of the hill, a giant pentagram is etched on the ground. The flowers dwindle on the cliff edge, and do little to combat the grayness surrounding you. “What a shame to hear—I rather love good rivalries.”

The eyes on Sir Pentious’ hat brighten at the same time his own do as well. “Ssssso do I!”

One of the inky shadow servants waves at you.

You wave back.

Light streams from the glass doors. You blink a few times, adjusting to the sudden change of brightness. Circus-themed stained glass decorate the front entrance. One of the less tacky – but still tacky – designs of this hotel.

Sir Pentious taps the glass with the tips of his finger, clinking with each tap, and his eyes water in excitement. His nose crinkles when he takes a deep breath. You weren’t aware he even owned a nose. Sir Pentious fiddles with the flap of his hat, and bangs on the door.

Your smile strains after a minute of banging.

A young lady with long, white hair creaks the door open. You recognize her from the commercial.

Sir Pentious’ flap open and close with each word as he says, “Why, hello, my dear –”

A punch to the face is his reply.

“Oh dear!” you screech. Sir Pentious drops to the ground, and you kneel next to him, a steady hand on his slimy shoulders. “Have you no manners?”

This insolent girl points her spear and stomps a foot on Sir Pentious. She snarls, and her glare hardens.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sir Pentious’ tongue slithers out as he holds a peace-sign. “I come in peacccccceeeee”

“What are you doing here?” Her spear inches closer.

“Vaggies,” another voice calls out. A blonde with a red pantsuit and a bowtie pokes her head, eyes in a squint. O-oh! You know this lady from the commercial. The Princess of Hell … Cady … Char …Charlie Morningstar! “What’s the problem?” Charlie’s eyes widen when she spots you and Sir Pentious, an honest smile drawn on her face. “Oh, hello again! And hello to you as well!”

“Can you please tell this insolent girl to get her food off this gentleman,” you spit, tilting your nose into the air. Your feathers sharpen when you bristle. “And your weapon away from my face.”

Vaggie takes her foot off Sir Pentious. She holds the spear close, but it’s away from your face.

Sir Pentious straightens into a stand, and the group prattles on.

No one bothers to help you. A huff escapes, and you brush the dirt off your skirt. Absolutely no manners. Insolent and ill-mannered.  Would Alastor stay in such a place?

You’ve never laid an eye on someone as unique as this Vaggie. Her hair patterns are similar to wings. It’s almost unheard of to see such a prominent ‘x’. Her flared eyelashes resemble a bird. It strikes you silly. Almost everyone in hell resembles a human body with animal characteristics hidden somewhere. This insolent girl doesn’t appear to have any of that – only miniscule feathers made to appear native to Hell.

“Absolutely!” Charlie exclaims to who you think is Angel Dust. (The porn-star, not the drug. Obviously.) Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile on his face. There’s a squeak every time he bobs his head. That hat of his looks nervous.  “This place is about second chances and who deserves one more than this…slithery…slippery…special little man.” Charlie takes a peek at you. “Oh, and this feathery…sheddy… and round-eyed woman.”

You do not shed.

You smile at Charlie, and give her your name, “…and I expect it to be used.”

Angel Dust whips to Vaggie. “Aren’t you supposed to protect this place?” he says and turns to you. “How are we even sure we can trust this lady – no offense, toots.”

“None taken,” you say, dryly.

Charlie’s eyes water when she turns to Vaggie, who easily relents with a sigh.

You’re thrust through the apple and circus-themed doors, squinting at the chandelier. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the design—it reminds you of those old rolled films. Charlie leads you and Sir Pentious further down the hall, all but pushing you in. Vaggie and Angel Dust lag a few steps behind.

Charlie waves her arms to go into an enthusiastic point. “So…this is our bar,” she says. Husk drops his drink, a scowl on his face, “and the bartender. This is the curtain, and this is the new wall after Sir Pentious broke the last one. And this is—”

Vaggie calms her down.

The bar clashes with the red wallpaper of the hotel. It’s almost as if someone just dropped it there, and etched it to the very wall. The wood is firm underneath your touch and feels exactly like what wood should feel.

You turn towards the bar and take your seat. Husk focuses on his drink. “Hello,” you say with a gentle voice that should not be mistaken for kindness. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

Husk chokes and splatter out his drink, but you only smile at him. He coughs and his ears droop low. “Uh…yes,” he starts. “Good to see you as well.”

“There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

 “Good.”

You run your finger across the skeleton wrapped around the bar post. A memory tickles your brain. This is one of the many specimens you owned. It took one whole month to strip the muscle off its tight hold on the bones, and another month just to clean, bleach, and wire together. The heads above the bar sign were a gift to you, and the skeletons were your gift back.

The neural spine pokes your finger as you tap each one. “I see you’ve set up shop here.”

Husk scowls, taking another swig of his drink. “Not much of a choice.”

“And tell me,” you start, “how long have you been here?”

Husk doesn’t answer you.

Charlie calls your name, and waves you over. “Over here,” she says pointing to where Niffty plays with some kind of one-eyes cat, “we have our maid—Niffty!”

Niffty hops on Sir Pentious. “The bad boy is back!” she exclaims, pulling him closer, eyes wide and shaking. A bead of sweat drops from Sir Pentious’ hat. “Never leave me again.”

“We’re about 80% sure she’s harmless….” Charlie prattles on.

“Hello, Niffty.” You smile at her.

She jumps off Sir Pentious, landing with a small ‘humph’, and strides to you with her pointy short legs. She calls out your name.

You squat, meeting her eye. “It’s great to see you again—Is Alastor forcing you here?”

Her eyes shine with an innocent type of glee. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She claps her hands. “I get to chase all the bugs here.” Nifftly leans closer to you, giggling. “Can I be strapped to your table again? I love it when you slice me open.”

 “Maybe next ti—”

Charlie grabs your arm, hauling you forward. “Oh! Uh, Alastor! Our gracious facility manager! You've met our newest guest Sir Pentious…hehe…,” she tells him. Charlie keeps pulling you, only stopping when you stand before a grand staircase. “These two will be our special wonderful guests!”

Alastor does little to show you what he feels, there’s just that same empty grin.

He bought a new coat, you note. This new one has white streaks on the new collar and less stripes. Guess some things were more important than others.

You slip out of Charlie’s tight grasp. “I think you’re mistaken, my dear,” you say. “I’m not a guest— just a visitor.”

You hold your husband’s gaze and greet him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“It’s good to see you,” you say, a smile drawn on your lips. “How are you doing on this wonderful morning?”

Alastor turns to you, drops an item into his grocery basket, and blinks. “I am amazing!” he says. He grabs your hand with his gloved ones and shakes it. His hands are warmer than you expect them to be. “Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite the pleasure.”

You chuckle at him. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are.”

“Oh, how lovely!” He waves his fingers. “ are you on of my many fans?” His smile strains, and there, you see it, on the corner of his cheek. His nose flares and his smile takes the appearance of a snarl. Maybe it was the other way around.

“A bit,” you admit, adjusting your hold on the basket. “How are your stitches, Sir?”

His eyes widen—brown eyes, you note. “The good doctor!”

“I think you mean the good nurse.”

“Oh yes, yes,” he hums and inches the basket away from your gaze. “I’ve been taking my medicine, and replacing my dressing every three days, just like you said.”

“Good—that’s great to hear. No more accidents?”

“None!” He laughs. “And if one does happen, I’ll be sure to present you with an injury that is only hours old.”

A giggle slips through your lips. “That’s even better to hear,” you say. You clear your throat, tightening the hold on your basket. “I’d hate to take even more of your time. I’ll let you go on with your day.”

A firm grip on the basket handles keeps your feet planted on the glossy floor of the general store. “Not so fast, my dear. I think you still owe me,” he says. Your teeth bare into what you hope is a polite smile. “You promised to show me your marvelous embroidery the next time we meet! You’re not the type of lady to go back on your word now, are you?

“You sure do know how to put such ladies into a tight spot.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light. “I assure you; I don’t mean to. I tend to get very excited about art

“Well, with you holding my integrity hostage, and the addition of such lovely enthusiasm, I find myself having trouble refusing.” You reach into your purse and pull out a clean handkerchief. “Sadly, I wasn’t expecting the general storm to be an art gallery, so this will have to do.”

And there it is again, that same breathy and light laughter. “They really do have everything in here

Alastor takes your handkerchief with steady enthusiasm, studying each stitch carefully. It’s one of your simpler designs—tiny flower bouquets scattered across the fabric. Your eyes are drawn to the contents of his basket: rope, strong acids, latex gloves, rolls of plastic wrap, and other such interesting items.

“You have such beautiful handiwork.”

“You can keep it if you wish,” you tell him. “I have thousands back home, and I’m always weak to such flattering compliments— a real boost to my ego.”

“Splendid!” Alastor slips the handkerchief into his coat. “I love receiving gifts from fans.”

You smile at him to hide your frown. You are not some fan-girl. “Of course.”

Alastor is following you.

The conversation ended several beats of silence ago, but he trails behind your every step. You skip the aisle where they sell produce, stop to grab some eggs, ask the butcher for 50g of chicken liver, and smile back when he smiles back. You sigh and lead Alastor to the end of the general store, and into an aisle.

You snatch a glass bottle of chemicals off the shelf—they really do have everything here. “Going for a hunt soon?” you ask, and read the label.

His smile brightens as he says, “Why yes! There was this wonderful prey that I spotted the other day, and I’m just dying to have his head hanging on my wall.”

You offer him the bottle. “You have a lovely coat. It would be a shame for it to be ruined by stains,” you say. “This always does the trick when dealing with the redder parts of my job.”

He takes the bottle from you.

“Take this as well,” you say and reach into your basket. “It’s the last bottle of 12% hydrogen peroxide in this store, but you need it more than I do. A ratio of fifty-fifty of this and a bit of hair developer in a bucket of water should brighten up your bones. Just let it soak for a day. Oh…and just in case, those two chemicals are safe to mix. You should avoid doing so, but an accident wouldn’t hurt you.”

Alastor offers his basket, and you drop the bottle along with the other hazardous substances. “You sound certain.”

“That is because I am.”

Fate has granted you a humorous shopping companion, and you decide to stop fighting it. Alastor follows you to the bread aisle.

You point to the top shelf. “Can you…?”

He drops the bread into your basket, and stares at you with what you think is curious tenacity.

“My father works as a butcher,” you say, sighing. “He prides himself on catching the venison he sells. We don’t believe in wasting a precious body, so we use it until there is nothing left to give. He came back from his own hunt and wanted to add another antler to his display

Alastor hums. “Won’t you need these then?”

“There’s still a bit leftover sitting in his workshop. I just came to get an extra bottle.”

Alastor continues to follow.  “Do you often aid your father in his work?”

“Not as frequent as when I was a teen, but I still aid him when I have the time to do so,” you say. “It’s how I got to be so normal around a knife —the sharp ones are the best, they cut right through the skin, and with enough force, the bones as well. I keep a little collection of bones at home.”

“Such interesting hobbies you have.”

You pick up two coffee bags and hum. “Thank you.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him and reach out to straighten it. Alastor jerks away and spins to reach into the shelf behind you. “I rather detest owing favors, and you have done me two,” he says, offering you an entirely different brand of coffee beans. “I suggest you try this one. It’s flavors are far richer.”

You offer your basket and Alastor drops it right in.

You eye his basket once more. “Will that be all you’re purchasing?”

He nods, smiling at you.

You smile back.

Well, isn’t this just lovely? Well-dressed gentlemen really are your favorite.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie whips her head, mouth wide as she stares at you and then at Alastor. Angel Dust has an arm on his hips, his brows furrowed and mouth quirked to the side an awkward but rather cute frown. Sir Pentious’ hat squints at you with what you assume is confusion—you can’t really tell. Sir Pentious’s tongue sticks out of his bewildered and crooked frown. “Oh! How nice,” Charlie says after a beat. “So, you two know each other?”

“Partners,” you say

“Friends,” Alastor says

Your smile strains as you say, “To be called a friend by the Radio Demon is quite the honor.” Alastor wipes his monocle with a proud puff.

Angel Dust whistles, leaning on the railing with the first set of arms crossed, and the second propped on his hip. “Didn’t think Freak would be the type to have friends.”

“Neither did I!” You say with a loud laugh. “Well, that’s what I am – a f̵̼̎r̴͔̃i̶̦̍e̶͕͠ṋ̸̀d̶͚̋.” You smoothen your puffed-up feathers. “Apologies.”

More introductions are done. Charlie insists on giving Sir Pentious his first lesson on apology. It goes about as well as you think.

Charlie winces a bit “….Ooooookay,” she says and inhales to plaster a huge smile. “Why don’t we… uh… take a look at the kitchen!”

Angel Dust takes one look at Charlie’s enthusiasm, winces, and says he’s getting a drink.

Charlie’s death grip on Sir Pentious stays firm as you trudge to the kitchen. She stalls at every painting to explain its history, and introduces every crack on the wall, showing it off with an enthusiastic glee. Even the water-stained wallpaper gets its own special moment during the tour. (Where is that ill-mannered girl when you need her?)

You lag a few steps behind. “Alastor…”, you say as a greeting.

Alastor matches your pace, using his microphone as a cane. With the very tip of his fingers, he plucks a stray feather off your hair with a coy smile that reaches from ear to ear. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering how I’ve been fairing these last few years,” he says, spinning that microphone of his and waving his hand like some kind of street performer.

“Has it really been that long?”

“Yes, I know I’ve been absent for some time,” he starts. “It’s nothing serious; I assure you. It’s nothing I cannot handle as well.”

 “My goodness, and here I thought you were occupied at work.” Your teeth flash when you smile. “But in any case, it’s quite… kind… of you to soothe what little worry this friend might have for you.” Alastor and his microphone laugh at you, but you hum with satisfaction when his eyes narrow into a glare.

Charlie and Sir Pentious wave their hands, calling you from across the hall, and you hasten your steps.

The kitchen intimidates you. So many large and metallic machines. You’re sure it would be a living hell should you ever need to operate such an unorthodox set of appliances.

Copper-red tables fill the space, and similar colored cabinets stick to the wall. Such peculiar stoves they have in this establishment. There seems to be no space for the gas tank, nor a gas burner, just some flat glass with weird markings. You prefer the appliances stashed at your home.

“This…,” Charlie starts, winding her arms to a point, “…is the kitchen!”

Sir Pentious’ flaps extend, his arms rocking with excitement. “Such lovely metallic inventions.” He slithers to counter with a dip that appears to mimic some kind of skin. There’s some type of yellow liquid. “This bubbly torture deviccceeee is my favorite.”

“Uhhhhhh…I love that you love the kitchen appliance,” she says with an honestly gentle smile. “But that’s actually an oil fryer.” Charlie crosses her arm into a big ‘x’. “But no torturing is done here, no siree.”

“What a peculiar shape for an oil fryer to be,” you say, taking a look. Alastor glances over your shoulder to take a peek as well. “And there’s so much metal around—did you run out of paint, perhaps?”

Charlie frowns, her shoulder dropping low. “I’d love to add different colors to the machine, but Vaggie says it would take up too much money and time.”

Her frown lasts a second before she’s smiling again.

 “Oh oh oh! You should take a look around. See if there’s anything you might want to add.” Charlie drags you towards one of the cabinets at the back. “We each have a shelf dedicated to our own snacks, but I always love to leave cookies on the communal snack pantry.”

Charlie prattles on, introducing each section of the cabinet. You watch Alastor warily when he shows his teeth. He wiggles his fingers across the air, reaching towards the shelf where Charlie just mentioned Vaggie storing her personal snacks. You slam the cabinet door before he reaches them.

Soft static fills the kitchen air.

“Go on,” Charlie urges. “Take a look around – I know some species of Sinners have specific dietary needs.” She props a hand on her chin. “Like Angel! He can’t seem to be able to have any milk—I wonder why? But he just keeps drinking it anyway for some reason.”

Does the Princess of Hell not know what Lactose Intolerance is? Maybe because she’s never lived as a human. It’s quite humorous, you suppose. A hell-born trying to guide a human, with little to no insight about humanity. Could this be the reason why she’s so naively optimistic?

Sir Pentious’ smile widens, and so does his flap. “You’re… giving…me permission to poke around?”

“Er…yes?”

You open a random cabinet door, and huh…

On the shelf, towards the back, you have the same set of spices in your own kitchen. One of the bottles here has its label stained and fraying at the edges. Another bottle is nearing empty, and the corner of the cap has been chipped off. There was a time, when your own set of spices was stained with oil, and its label frayed because of the constant picking to the edges.

Yesterday, you threw out a set of unopened bottles of spices, its seal still clinging to the caps and brimming with unused flavor, and replaced it with the same set of sealed spices. It’s a waste of your money to keep throwing out something that you never use, but…but…you find it in your grocery basket every single time.

Alastor closes the cabinet with a gentle click.

Your smile fades, and he holds your gaze.

“You are shedding all over my kitchen floors.” Alastor presents you with a bundle of your feathers bunched up on his palm. His grin mocks you.

You turn away, heading where Charlie and Sir Pentious converse. You do not shed.

Alastor pops out of your shadow, towering over you as he inches closer. “Long day?” he says with a hum, that smile still on his face. “You don’t usually start molting until the mid-summer.”

“Oh yes,” you say with a hum, that frown still on your face. “This day has been quite long. How very generous of you to check up on this friend of yours.”

He holds the feathers he’s collected, examining them with a careful eye. “With this rate, you’ll be able to gift a whole pillow.”

Your frown deepens. “Lovely,” you murmur. “I’ll make sure to do so.”

Alastor twirls his microphone and lands it with a soft thunk. He studies you for a second. “Rosie’s last husband got eaten by a shark,” he says. “Not even a loan shark—just a proper dead shark. She swore vengeance on the creature for taking a bite before she had a chance to.”

“What?” you say, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Is that what happened to him? She would be so vague about it when I ask.”

Alastor draws a line along his face, mimicking a smile with his fingers. “Much better, indeed.”

Charlie insists on showing the view from the top of the Hotel. Her arms cross around your own as she chatters about everyone and everything. It’s refreshing to meet a soul as honest as hers.

The elevator ride is painfully slow. The music strains your ears, and this battered metal death box jerks with every floor.

Sir Pentious and his hat scowl at the ‘absolutely inferior ssssmmelting of this handle, Charlie’ and ‘this piss poor wiring. The endsss are not aligned to the proper sssssafety guidelineeeesss’ or something.

Charlie listens in on every word, nodding to indicate that she hears each and everyone. It makes you smile. Alastor picks at your stray feathers with the tip of his fingers, preening the areas you have difficulty reaching.

Moments too late, the elevator doors open with that heavenly ding.

“The view up here is helltastically a-mazing!” Charlie informs the group. “Alastor, you often hide up here or inside the radio tower. It’s really good, right?”

Alastor switches his hold on the microphone, swinging to catch it. “Quite helltastic indeed!” he says. “ I get to see the whole city underneath my very feet.”

Sir Pentious nods. “I, too, would love to sssseee the city underneath me!”

Alastor swings a door open, gesturing for the group to enter like a gentleman.  Charlie whispers an audible ‘awww’ at the sight and saunters right in. Sir Pentious follows along, slithering behind her.

He shuts the door when you take a step forward, separating you from Charlie and Sir Pentious.

There’s still that never ending smile on his lips as Alastor strides to the other end of the hallway, playing with his microphone. You follow behind in silence. Alastor opens a different door, and this time, you step through.

Alastor closes the door, leaving you and him together, alone, on this flimsy balcony. He beams at you, taking a step forward—

You slap him.

Radio static glitches from his microphone. There, on the corner of his cheek, you see the strain in his smile. His eyes harden into a glare, his nostrils flare, and his smile takes on the appearance of a snarl.

The air around you starts to gray with static. Symbols carve themselves into the space.

You slap him again, staring down at him.

“Is that all you came to do?” Alastor says to you with a low snarl, but the symbols dissolve and his antlers shrink.

You turn towards the view, propping a hand on your chin. “Such harsh words for a friend,” you say with a sarcastic smile. “It’s a wonder why you don’t have more with such a dazzling personality. At any rate, it’ll be impossible to find yourself a wife.”

His eyes twitch, and Alastor strikes the ground with his microphone. “Well, consider it an honor,” he says, inching closer, mimicking your smile. “Not many can say such words to me, much less be able to strike my flesh

“Maybe they should—someone certainly has to.”

Alastor still has a smile—he always has a smile. You watch as his eyes morph into radio dials, and the absolute audacity of that man to look at you like that.

Your feathers sharpen and crack at the sight. “D̷̝̈́o̷̞͊n̷̟̂'̷̗̏ť̵͔ ̴̱̀f̷̳̓u̴͍̓c̷̛͕ḳ̵͝ ̴̲̽w̸̞̑í̵̞t̴̼̐ḥ̷͝ ̵̫͌m̸̻̔e̸̡͘!— you never have, so don’t start. Don’t test me—not today, my deerest,” you say, hissing at him. 

“What is it that you want, exactly?” he says, glancing down at you. “Unless you are a child, I expect you to use your words.”

“You know I’m not just some friend — you do not allow yourself to make such connections. We’re partners,” you tell him, and you don’t know why you remind him when he should already know. Was it in fear that he forgot? “But you left without as much as a word.”

“Was it that I left? Or was it that I left you?” Alastor says with casualty as if to show you such dismissal, and oh…yes, your husband can be a cruel man, indeed. Time and sweet smiles made you forget.

You rub your hands on your face, taking one deep breath. “I want what I deserve—an explanation,” you say. “That’s all I need as your wife.”

It’s his silence that makes you turn away. 

“I see…” Your face falls. “Perhaps, it was a mistake to seek you out. A fool’s errand.”

You study the sinners below. The whole city really can be seen from underneath your very feet. (You ignore the trembling of your fists. You’re a doctor, for fucks sake. Your hands don’t tremble…at least, they never have before.) 

Hesitant, but gentle touches pick at your feathers. Alastor preens you with warm hands. “You are not a fool, my love,” he says. “I would not be yours if such were the case.”

You harden your heart for you cannot let this man see the cracks. “This is not what I wish to hear,” you say, voice steady.

Alastor does not answer you.

“Will you just stay silent every time?”

“Yes.”

Finally, you meet his gaze. You hold it as much as he holds yours. “ There is not a thing in this world that you do not do without reason,” you say slowly. “However,  I’m not sure if your silence is because you cannot or if it’s because you will not explain yourself to me. Which is it?”

There is nothing on his face that you can read, just a small steady smile that tells you nothing. “I will not.”

“I know you, my deerest, and I know that you’ve never once led me astray.” Your grip on the railing tightens painfully. This day has been long. “Then all I need is your word that you will return to me with that smile of yours when you’ve accomplished what you need to do.”

Alastor smiles at you, twirling his microphone. “We can even shake on it.”

You shake your head. “This is not a deal,” you say. “This is your wife demanding that you do so.”

“Then it shall be done,” Alastor says, inching close enough for his warmth to spread.  He turns to you and pokes his cheeks to indicate a smile. "You look much more radiant with one."

You bare your teeth at him, giving a dry smile. “Much better?”

“Indeed.”

You study the sinners below once more, but this time your hands stay steady next to Alastor’s own. Well, Charlie was correct, the view is helltastic. The entertainment district blinds you, but only for a second. And when you sharpen your vision, you can faintly make out acid clouds forming on the outskirts of the city. You should have grabbed an umbrella on your way out.

“I heard you on the radio today,” you say.

He glances at you, his smile widening ever so slightly with smugness. “And you came all this way for me?”

“Well, that is what good friends do for each other.”

Alastor points his nose to the air with a huff.

“I only jest, my deerest,” you say, chuckling at him. “ I came all the way here to see if I’ve been widowed a second time, or just dumped like a common rag.”

“Is that so?”Alastor hums with dissatisfaction. “I’m sure you mentioned something about not noticing such a long disappearance.”

You hold his gaze, inching your hand to cup his cheek. You stop inches above his skin, and your palm hovers enough for Alastor to feel the warmness you hold on your hands. “Don’t pout, my deer,” you tell him, softly, oh so very soft as you caress the air. “Of course, I noticed your absence.” 

You clap your hands together with the brightest and most innocent smile you can muster.

“But if I told you that, my deerest,” you start, “I feared that big head of yours would implode if I fed your ego.”

Alastor laughs, and his real voice bleeds in as he does. “That humor of yours has been my most wonderful companion all these years.”

You smile with satisfaction. “My, my, you make such fine compliments.”

His smile relaxes. “I do, indeed!”

“Just as you say that my humor makes a fine companion,” you say as you laugh, bright and heavy, “that smile of yours has been mine.”

A knock breaks the moment.

The door swings open, slow and hesitant. Charlie pokes her head, and her hair droops to the sideways. Behind her, Sir Pentious waves at you. You wave back.

“Oooooooohhhh….yikes,” Charlie says, shrinking deeper into the door. “Am I interrupting? I could just go an—”

“Not at all my dear,” you say. “Come right in. You have such a lovely view, and things like this are better when shared.”

Charlie swings the door wider, sauntering right in, and grabs your hand, squeezing it. “You could live here as well!” she says. Behind her, Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “We accept everyone.”

You flicker your gaze to Alastor. “I already have a home,” you find yourself saying. “And this place is far too close to the city. So much honking and blasting aren’t good for my ears.”

Charlie pouts, but she doesn’t press you.

The view is better when shared. Charlie points at every detail and explains everything you see. The sky darkens to a red, and too soon, it’s time to leave.

There’s a warm, but firm, hand resting on your back when you walk out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. Alastor keeps his hands steady, even when you reach the common room.

Vaggie is the first to greet your group—well, it’s more appropriate to say she greets Charlie, and you just happen to be there. There’s a bag by her feet. “I was able to find the costumes you need for the exercise,” she says. “Even the giant lollipop is here.”

Charlie squeals. “Thank you thank you thank you!” Her excited gaze filters to you. “I have this wonderful game in mind, and then we could fo a bit of some of that good ol’ roleplay.” Angel Dust quirks a smile from the couch. “You should totally sta—”

“I’m afraid not,” Alastor says, drumming his fingers on his microphone. “I think it’s time for our visitor to head home. She’s had quite a long day.”

“Oh, of course. No worries!” Charlie says, giving you a bright smile—a real genuine and honest smile. “Feel free to come by anytime. The Hazbin Hotel’s doors will always be open should you change your mind.”

Vaggie scratches her face. “Before you go, I want to apologize for this afternoon,” she says. “It wasn’t right of me to be so hostile—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, my dear. I understand,” you say quickly, ignoring the static behind you. “You were protecting something you cared about. I find great value in those who do.”

Vaggie smiles, and maybe she’s not too bad after all. “Thank you.”

From the couch, Angel Dust props his legs and waves at you. “And you’re welcome to open these doors any day.”

Alastor leads you to the door. You wave back at Niffty and Sir Pentious, whose eyes water as he frowns. Alastor’s hand stays firm as you trudge down the hill, past the rusted gate, into the city, and to the correct bust stop.

“You sure know how to find the most interesting groups of people, my deer,” you say. “Charlie and that hotel of hers are wonderful.”

Alastor adjusts his monocle. “Well, you know me. I see potential, and I follow it wherever it leads.”

“Should I be worried?” you say, chuckling. “The last time you saw potential, it ended with us married.”

“Not at all, my love.”

“You should continue to stay at the hotel,” you find yourself saying. “There’s just something about it—I think you’ll pick up quite a lot from your time there.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him, and reach out to straighten it. Alastor inches closer. The fabric is smooth underneath your touch. There’s stray lint on the shoulder of his coat, and you brush that away. You grab the lapes and adjust its fit, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingers.

“Much better?” he asks.

“Indeed,” you say, softly.

“I will see you soon,” he says, and you hear the unspoken promise and question hidden beneath his words.

“Good.”

Alastor tilts your chin with the tips of fingers. (And oh…oh. His gloves are off, and his hands are warmer than ever) He presses his lips on your cheek.

That blasted bus arrives too soon. You step inside, but turn to your husband and say, “Next time, when you disappear for several years, I expect to be informed and not just left with a vague note,” you say with a huff. “And when you return, I also expect to be the first to be informed.”

“Of course.”

“See to it that you keep your word.”

The bus door closes, and you take your seat. You smile to yourself and lean back on the crusty bus fabric. Patting your pocket, you take out a single gold band, slipping it on your finger.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

That habit of recklessness in moments of excitement was something your father hoped you’d grow out of. Thinking things through never really was one of your many strengths when such an exhilarating opportunity presents itself.

You scold yourself for not double-checking for gloves. Measure twice, cut one, and all that. But no matter, you’ll push through as always, clawing and digging to unearth the treasure left behind.

Your scalpel fits into your palms. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You sigh, breathy and exhilarated, and begin.

‘First, do no harm’

But this…this does not harm a single living being.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: |Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should Be Trusted| If you guys know who Octavia and Stolas are, that's what I imagine when I think about the reader's hair. Also, maybe some of you noticed, but I'm very relaxed when it comes to formatting my writing. Its why I use quite a lot of ellipses and em dashes and utilize italics and spaces. But the one thing I was very strict about was not to use the word, "miss". So there are no "You miss..." and "I miss..." But the words are there and spoken beneath actions and thoughts, hidden and unspoken, but known. My inbox is always open because I'd like to know what your favorite unspoken "I miss you" is/are. I have my own favorite ones as well.

[hazbinfictivesofabiggersystem]

💅 so I think Alastor and Vox used to be close. As much as Alastor likes to appear unbothered, it's pretty clear Vox gets under his skin at least a little bit. And there's this picture

Where they are in close proximity to each other. Why would the Radio Demon allow such a good picture of him to be taken with someone he hated? Just doesn't make sense. But a friend or maybe a mentee is a different story.

I'm just theorizing for shits and giggles but maybe went something like this:

Vox didn't have a lot of power when he first manifested. TV was new and not terribly popular in hell at that time. But he Wanted it. He was used to being a powerful man when he was alive and was determined to achieve the same success in his afterlife.

To climb the ladder he would have to network, make friends, maybe get someone to teach him the ropes of this new place.

He first heard about the radio demon through one of his broadcasts and was entranced. But what really got to him was the way every demon around him was also entranced. That. That was the power he wanted to have. The power he needed. Control and adoration of the masses.

From there Vox set out to work with the Radio Demon. He worked his way into the same circles Alastor ran in by way of his natural charisma and small deals that led to bigger deals and bigger opportunities.

Eventually he made it. He got to meet his new idol and charmed him too! Alastor liked him at first! Saw potential in him and took him under his wing. Vox gained power, knowledge, and influence while learning from the Radio Demon. And also fell in love with him .

At some point, feeling emboldened by the positive attention he'd been getting from Alastor and the power he'd admassed for himself, Vox came to him with a proposal. He put his heart everything on the line and suggested they be equal partners in everything.

Alastor laughed in his face at the notion that they could ever be equals. He laughed and laughed and laughed and then laughed some more when he saw how shattered Vox looked.

Vox, unable to deal with the rejection, attacked him. It was messy and bloody. Or well, Vox was messy and bloody. The radio demon walked away with barley a scratch.

Vox has been obsessed with hate fucking getting revenge against Alastor since then.

[archtroop]

Sometimes I need to remind myself that tumblr is a fringe social network, and is by far not the average. What it is though, is a good sampler of the more extreme, I would say, ideologically swayed. A bit.

The more comments and notes I read from the Free Palestine crowd, the more it gets obvious that these are incapable, useful idiots. Literally, spoonfed couchpotatos at best. Starbucks Boycoyters at worst.

It's like the 00's insecure attention seeking posers, with an amoral, ignorant twist to them.

And they are entirely, ABSOLUTELY useless people.

Some morally rotten such individual wrote me that "Israel deserves what's coming for them, you deserve to die" etc. And it really made me think. What's coming? WHO'S coming? You? You, an unemployed tumblrina? You and what army?

What are you gonna do? Try to kill us all? What's the WORST you can do that wasn't, hasn't been tried already?

Truth is, no one is coming.

You read about this pompous, self indulgent "Palestinian Activism Solidarity ". What the FUCK are you talking about? Where is it? What, SA under IRI at the ICJ?.... Watermelon emojis...? ...Slogans?

The most "affective" actions FreePalestine Movement "achieved" was a few shootings/stabbings/rammings here and there, a hostage situation in Turkey in the name of Palestine (the man was executed on the spot after some negotiations. Turkey, yeah). A few burnt synagogues around the world and a whole lot of terrorized Jews in the Diaspora. Not a single Palestinian benefited. Not in Gaza anyway. To sum it up, what exactly are you gonna do? Blow yourself up in a subway in the name of Palestine? How incredibly unoriginal and unhelpful. Although expected and unsurprisingly fitting to the roots of the movement, I'll give you all that.

No one is coming. A lot of pakapaka from Nassrallah and Co. and a radio silence from the Arab world.

Iran pulled the Houthies out of their boydem only for Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan to reluctantly push the button to down Houthie ammo flying towards Israel. Houthies "asked" of Saudi Arabia to "let them cross over to fight the Zionists", and not only this is a joke, a caravan of sandals-wearing, AK-47 totting, Houthie caravan crossing Saudia to do what exactly? Bite Israeli ankles in Eilat Port? Rather It's an insult, to show that "here see we tried", since Saudis are fighting the Houthies FOR YEARS, it was never an actual option to begin with.

Are you blind? No. One. Is. Coming.

After 75 years of trying to erase Israel from the map, the 7th of October unleashed what could only have happened after Israel had its last straw broken.

Congratulations, you've managed at dehumanizing Israelis to the point that you managed to rob us from one aspect of humanity, even if temporarily: our symphaty.

Not forever, but for a period. And when you did so, you WERE LUCKY, for US were here WITHIN MINUTES, being smart enough to talk Israel out from attacking on the freaking spot. Instead, Israel waited 3 damn weeks. For 3 weeks, Israel called for the evacuation of Gazans from the northern side of Gaza.

Symphaty has an expiration date. The 7th of October 2023 was that date. You backed Israel to a wall, and no slogan will suffice against a nation that KNOWS that its very existence was threatened in a very real, visceral, inhumane, and depraved way.

No one is coming. Not for us, not for the Gazans. The Arab world is waiting to see, when will they wake up with one Iranian proxy less on the map. The truth is, aside from the pakapaka all round the clock, Isrsel was left with "do what you do, we wait" kind of global attitude.

Arab nations don't care about Palestinians. They don't care for the Palestinian Cause. Never had. It was always for show, as a pawn. A distraction. And we know it, very well.

The Palestinians are, and always were, used. They were used to carry on this idea that Israel would disappear from the map. If not by force, then by proxy warfare and terrorism, with time. If not by proxies, then by mass protest and public opinion. But the thing is, reality is a material thing. You need TO DO a thing for it TO HAPPEN. And public opinion rarely holds. And for how it's loud, the Free Palestine Movement is nothing but that: Loud.

As for the undoing of Israel and Bney Israel, well. Many have tried.

And oh boy, did the Arab nations TRIED.

They PAYED for trying.

But that's in the past, largely. Now, the annihilation of Israel and the creation of a Palestine is just a cruel pipe dream, with human prisoners, and an international cheering squad. After all, you can't free something that never existed and couldn't form one coherent ideology that makes sense and strives towards a positive, creation-adjacent activity in 75 years of its yappery. It's just not there. If the ideology surrounds destruction, it can not create. It can only destroy.

You may shout your lungs out and make up all kinds of delusional narratives. In the end, they are just that: empty words to make the righteous self of the woke crowd feel better, to feel active. To be a part.

To be USED.

It says a lot about the sad reality of this mass of people. The yearning for purpose, this loneliness. The rootlessness. Loss of identity. Identities so fractured, so incohesive. Loss of trust in the institution. The shallow knowledge. The practically non-existent reading comprehension.

All are easily diverted to create this cult like behavior.

People cry their eyes out over something that not only they have zero way of affecting but oftentimes is inflated, twisted, and presented as something completely false, or fake or what have you, instead of looking around them and doing something about their own realities. Pouring their hearts out over an unreality, fruitless.

This is either willful ignorance or escapism. Can't even say which one is worse.

This mass is being used. It creates a pool of despair, mysery. Feelings of "not enough", of unachievment. Those masses are breeding grounds for terrorism activity recruitment.

One party, one goal.

Free Palestine is a magic combination of words. You would ask, what is it? And they would sell you, ah, it's this magical place over the rainbow far, far away, and you can be the savior of those people. What a beautiful fantasy. Except you can't save those who did all their best to commit a slow, painstaking suicide, over 75 years. It's unrealistic, whatever this so-called "movement" is yapping about. There are no outlines, no strategy. It's just empty, big, bombastic words, to rile up emotionally as many people as possible, who look for a meaning.

I keep remembering the movie The Wave (2008). It's amazing how word by word, scene by scene, the story is playing out right now with worrying accuracy.

I don't know where this will lead Europe, UK, US, Canada... Australia... you all should be on high alert internally. But one thing is pretty clear.

No one is coming. As for Israel... You did your worst already. You have left Israel with nothing to be afraid of.

BDS biggest achievement was the eventual unemployment of thousands of Palestinians from the West Bank. UN is a joke. Red Cross is a joke. UNRWA exposed, visibly and undeniably. Abraham Accords are proceeding, even if slower, yet still they do. HAMAS gets mopped the floor with. And Lebanon has to do the impossible: drag Hezbollah away from the Isrseli border. Otherwise, there won't be much of a Lebanon to speak about in a very short amount of time. And that's not even a threat. It's reality. As government officials in Lebanon plead with Hezbollah to halt, Israel is ready on the border for 80,000 Israelis are internally displaced within Isrsel itself because of the war with HAMAS, but mainly away from the northern border because of constant shelling by Hezbollah.

And it won't hold forever.

And no one is coming.

Because who will? You and what army?

[theygender]

TLT fans: did you guys know about the real Wake? I hadn't heard about her until we covered World War II in my world civ class this semester

Nancy Grace Augusta Wake (1912-2011) was a covert operative who was at the top of the Nazi's most wanted list in WW2, nicknamed "The White Mouse" for her ability to repeatedly evade capture. She was born in New Zealand with Māori heritage, grew up in Australia, and joined the Resistance after traveling to Europe and witnessing the harsh treatment of Jews in Vienna by the Nazis

Wake worked in the Pat O'Leary Line escape network until her Resistance organization was compromised by the Germans in 1942. After that she fled on foot across the Pyrenees—with several close calls that she escaped by flirting with German soldiers—and made her way to England to join the Special Operations Executive. She was part of a three person team codenamed "Freelance" which parachuted into occupied France. During this operation she got stuck in a tree after her parachute became tangled in its branches. The local Resistance leader who found her reportedly said “I hope that all the trees in France bear such beautiful fruit this year" to which she replied "Cut out that French bullshit and get me out of this tree"

While working in the Freelance operation Wake once biked 500 km (310 mi) without stopping in the span of 72 hours across Nazi territory to retrieve a new radio and codes after her team's were destroyed in a Gestapo raid. Without this feat, Freelance would not have been able to communicate with London and there would have been no more supply drops to support their Resistance organization. During the war she was also part of a raid which destroyed the Gestapo headquarters in Montluçon, in which she reportedly killed a Nazi sentry with her bare hands to prevent him from raising an alarm

Wake's fellow operatives described her as "a real Australian bombshell. Tremendous vitality, flashing eyes. Everything she did, she did well. She was an excellent shot, excelled at fieldcraft and put the men to shame by her cheerful spirit and strength of character." "She is the most feminine woman I know until the fighting starts. Then she is like five men." "We both came to the conclusion that she was 10 times the man I would ever be"

By the time of her death in 2011, Wake had been awarded the George Medal by Britain; the Medal of Freedom by the United States; the Médaille de la Résistance, the Croix de Guerre (x3), and the Légion d’Honneur by France; and the Badge in Gold by New Zealand. Due to a complicated relationship with Australia, she originally refused to accept any awards from the Australian government, saying that they could "stick their medals where the monkey stuck his nuts." In 2004, however, she accepted the honor of Companion of the Order of Australia as well

[calabria-mediterranea]

25 April - Anniversary of Italy's Liberation

25 April also known as the Anniversary of Italy's Liberation is a national holiday in Italy that commemorates the victory of the Italian resistance movement against Nazi Germany and the Italian Social Republic, puppet state of the Nazis and rump state of the fascists, culmination of the liberation of Italy from German occupation and of the Italian civil war in the latter phase of World War II. That is distinct from Republic Day (Festa della Repubblica), which takes place on 2 June and commemorates the 1946 Italian institutional referendum.

Every year on 25 April Italy celebrates Liberation Day, known in Italian as Festa della Liberazione, with a national public holiday.

In addition to the closure of schools, public offices and most shops, the day is marked with parades across the country, organised by ANPI, Italy's partisan association which preserves the memory of the Resistance movement against Fascism.

The occasion is held in commemoration of the end of the Fascist regime and of the Nazi occupation during world war two, as well as the victory of Italy's Resistance movement of partisans who opposed the regime.

Formed in 1943, the partigiani comprised a network of anti-Fascist activists, from diverse backgrounds including workers, farmers, students and intellectuals, across Italy.

Resistance

Together they united in armed resistance against the Nazi occupation and the Fascist regime, making their struggle both a war of liberation and a civil war.

The annual event marks the day in 1945 when a nationwide radio broadcast calling for a popular uprising and general strike against the Nazi occupation and Fascist regime was announced by the National Liberation Committee of Upper Italy (CLNAI), a political umbrella organisation representing the Italian Resistance movement.

This announcement - made by partisan and future president of Italy Sandro Pertini - resulted in the capture and death of Fascist leader Benito Mussolini, who was shot three days later.

The Festa della Liberazione represents a significant turning point in Italy's history, paving the way for the referendum of 2 June 1946 when Italians voted in favour of a republic and against the monarchy which had been discredited during the war and whose members went into exile.

Scurati controversy

This year's event takes place against the backdrop of a political controversy after the state broadcaster RAI stopped a well-known Italian writer from delivering an anti-fascist monologue on television a few days before the Festa della Liberazione.

Antonio Scurati accused RAI of censorship after his monologue was dropped abruptly from the Saturday night talkshow Chesarà for "editorial reasons".

The writer claimed that the move highlighted the alleged attempts by premier Giorgia Meloni's right-wing government to exert its influence over the state broadcaster which has seen several veteran presenters leave over the last year including Fabio Fazio, Bianca Berlinguer and Amadeus.

 In his speech Scurati criticised the "ruling post-Fascist party" for wanting to "re-write history" rather than "repudiate its neo-fascist past".

RAI director Paolo Corsini rejected any talk of censorship, as did Meloni who responded to the controversy by posting Scurati's text on her Facebook page, stating that the broadcaster had "simply refused to pay 1800 euro (the monthly salary of many employees) for a minute of monologue".

Meloni added that the Italian people "can freely judge" the contents of the text which was later read live on air by Chesarà presenter Serena Bortone in an act of solidarity with Scurati.

[onesidedradiostatic]

Out of the other current overlords, it’s kind of impressive how relatively fast Vox came into power, compared to other overlords. (Who I assume made their ascent starting from scratch/their arrival power level and rising up the ranks, taking over industries from smaller overlords and sinners, inheriting territory, etc. Particularly since the other overlords’ “domains” aren’t as modern or niche as Alastor and Vox’s. Dealing in weapons and sex has been a thing since forever. Example: Valentino could not be the first sex industry overlord, he’s just the current one. Possibly the same for Carmilla)

TV being a new competitor to radio, Alastor could have taken Vox out immediately. But he didn’t. We don’t know Vox’s power level on arrival, but he was promising enough to work with Alastor, who i think is likely the reason Vox was able to become an overlord as effectively as he did. Asides from Vox’s own skills, he potentially owes a lot to his alliance with Alastor, I think.

Despite Alastor not owning any turf that we know of, he did have a hell-wide network- a advantageous foot in the door for Vox. It also didn’t hurt that Alastor had already eliminated a huge number of well-established overlords, so there were less threats and competition for Vox, and more power positions up for grabs. Alastor would also be providing Vox with backup and protection, allowing Vox with his persuasion and business skills to flourish. I’m thinking about that time earth had higher oxygen levels and bugs got huge. Vox is a very lucky bug, arriving in such a beneficial Hell.

Vox may have inadvertently provided the same assistance and protection to Valentino and especially Velvette. Supercharging their paths to overlordship, a speedrun! Passing Alastor’s favor forward.

The downside to the Vee’s fast and easy ascensions- all reward with little effort- is that it makes them very ignorant idiots. Carmilla is right. The Vees are like two generations of overlord nepotism. Velvette might be the backbone of the Vees but Vox is the jacked arms and legs doing most of the Vee body’s work. Val is just the off-putting dick in the metaphor. I don’t know.

oh yeah I definitely think vox got his footing thanks to alastor. though I didn't actually think about how that makes it so ALL of them technically had someone backing them up to ascend quickly, for better or worse, that's interesting to think about. thank you anon 🫡

[rain0tes]

Hi hi love your hacker reader a bit too much it's great!! What would be their reaction to sir pentious trying to join the hotel? And the little eggbois once he starts staying there for real?

Hacker!reader's reaction to Sir Pentious trying to join the hotel.

Hacker!reader actually comes in after the heaven vs. hell battle, when Pentious has already been redeemed. This is an alternate scenario where you've been in the hotel a few weeks before Pentious makes an appearance.

Warnings: mature language and jokes, mentions of violence (although nothing too explicit), all the obvious hazbin stuff

You've been at the Hazbin Hotel for a few weeks. Although not fully convinced by the idea of redemption, having a roof over your head while easing into your new life (or afterlife) was nice.

You find a friend in most of the other wayward souls in the hotel, especially Charlie, who was more than excited when you show up.

The actual story starts when Pentious comes crashing into the hotel the first time. Literally.

You were having tea with Alastor out on the balcony when you feel the ground below yourself shake.

"Show yourself, Alastor."

That earns the radio demon a side eye from you, which he only shrugs at.

You see the others go outside in your peripheral, wanting to check out what the commotion was about. You shrug and head down as well, actually using the stairs since not everyone can just warp through shadows.

You stand beside Alastor, squinting at the giant blimp as they conversed.

"When I've slain you, the almighty Vee's will finally acknowledge me as their equal."

"Ooh! Wait, who are the Vee's?"

"Aren't they that tacky trio with the crap network security?"

"They're no one important."

One beating later, Pentious is on the ground after Alastor has decimated his war-blimp...thing.

"Thanks for another forgettable experience."

"Thank...you...for letting your guard down! Haha!"

Pentious rips off a part of Alastors suit, causing you to physically wince.

"Ah, you shouldn't have done that."

You can't help but chuckle when you see him get sent flying.

"Looks like team rockets blasting off again."

You expected that to be the last time you'll be seeing of him (at least in a while), but it seems that fate has other plans when someone comes knocking on the hotels doors only six hours later.

Vaggie was the one to answer, and he almost got skewered upon sight. Charlie seemed excited that he showed up, tho, and somehow you're not surprised.

"Are you fucking nuts? This chump was trying to kill us like, literally six hours ago?"

"Yeah, exactly, are you seriously gonna let this pathetic loser live with us?"

They did, IN FACT, let the boyfailure in the hotel. You weren't too happy about it, and neither was angeldust (bonding through a common enemy).

You can't help but feel that something was odd about him, sensing an electrical device on him that was certainly not a phone. You remained quiet for the time being, if only to please Charlie by playing along with her activities (even if they did make you cringe just a tiny little bit).

You watch him slither sometime in the middle of the night, prompting you to follow him as you take a sip out of a monster energy can.

"A camera? Wow, that's pretty cheap. Certainly doesn't help my already low expectations of the Vee's"

Yeah, you caught him in the act when he was placing the camera. Angeldust already behind you, confronting Pentious while you pick up the device.

You take a screwdriver out of your pocket, disabling the thing but not damaging it, all while the two fight beside you.

Pentious immediately calls for backup once he's been outed to Vaggie and Charlie, only for Vox to laugh in his face.

"If they don't kill you, go ahead and do it yourself you miserable failure."

You immediately snatch the smartwatch. He may be right, Pentious certainly was a failure. But you've already decided that you're the only one who gets to insult him.

"Listen here, you musty little bitch. You either shut the fuck up or I do it for you."

He's tearing up as you throw the meanest sentences he's ever heard to Vox. Some of them even sound poetic to some degree.

"Two thousand years of constant human evolution only to make some simple minded cunt."

Immediately refers to you as his best friend after this. You waged war on an overlord of hell for him. There's no take backsies.

For once, there's someone in the hotel who's not actively looking out for you, but you're the one looking out for him instead.

You two would share ideas ALL the time.

One thing you'd accomplish together is making a clone of you. He made the android, you made the A.I it would run on.

"Would it technically be mastur-"

"Don't you dare continue that sentence."

The main difference is that the Vee's know who you are in this one. Actively waging war against them instead of remaining anonymous. All because you've decided that the weird boyloser snake is actually kind of endearing.

I might make another part to this one where the reader participates in the hell vs heaven battle.

(masterlist)

[daegall]

Lee Jeno's top 10 ways to stay warm.

pairing: (implied) bad boy!jeno x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers!AU, college!AU, winter!AU, slight bad boy!AU

warnings: mentions of anxiety

word count: 1.4k words

a/n: hi its jeno hours

also lowkey wanna make this a whole fic idk...

networks/taglist: @neoturtles @knet-bakery @kflixnet @nct-writers @k-radio + @soobin-chois @markhyuckselca @jaehunnyy @justalildumpling <3

It's cold. Really fucking cold. And it's night. Scary. A snowy, cold, scary night, and you have a bus to catch. So, instead of staying outside, where it's cold, and dangerous, you decide to step into the bus stop smoking pod, knowing it's a lot warmer in there.

And now, here you are, reading a novel you can barely focus on, due to the cold, and your slight anxiety of being alone.

A moment later, however, your anxiety spikes its all time high as the door to the smoking pod swings open, causing you to look up with wide, worried eyes, only to soften when you recognize the platinum white hair and leather jacket.

It's Lee Jeno.

He's got his usual cold, bad boy exterior stoic face, and almost permanent scowl on his lips, as he curses and shakes his head like a wet dog, shaking the snow off his hair.

He doesn't seem to realize he's got company, not until you let out the sigh you sucked in abruptly from his sudden entrance.

"O-oh," Jeno stumbles over his words, recognizing you from campus. "hey,"

"Hi," You reply back quietly, lips pursing into a line awkwardly.

He takes a few steps towards you, his sneakers tapping against the ground oddly loudly. Jeno halts after no more than 3 steps, pointing at the seat next to you. "Do you mind...?"

"Oh," You shake your head, hands waving as well. "no, please, sit."

It's a cold night, sitting seems like a more comfortable position, better than having your joints freeze while you're standing at least.

As Jeno takes a seat next to you, you can't help but feel incredibly awkward, glancing down at your novel, once again barely paying attention, but for a different reason now.

You know Lee Jeno. You're not too sure if he remembers you.

Last week, Zhong Chenle's party, you kissed. Twice. Once, at a game of spin the bottle, a small, innocent peck, and another time under the mistletoe. Not that innocent.

You can barely remember it, but Donghyuck made sure he recorded both, and showed you both. You had dreaded seeing Jeno after that party, afraid he would find you... weird, or anything of that sort.

Look at you now, stuck alone with him on a very cold night.

Emphasize on the very. Because it's very, very cold tonight.

You try to hide the slight shiver in your movement, opting to shift in your seat to try create some sort of friction, for some nonexistent heat.

Had you expected Jeno to notice? Maybe.

Had you expected him to take his leather jacket off, and offer it to you? No. Not at all.

"S-sorry?" You blink at the jacket being placed on your lap, too shy to look Jeno in the eye.

You don't have to worry about that, because Jeno's just as embarrassed, looking to his side. "Y-you're shivering, right? It's okay, just take it."

"No, Jeno, I really can't."

"I insist, Y/N."

"You only have a t-shirt on, Jeno,"

"It's okay, you look freezing, Y/N,"

"Jeno, I ca—"

"—hey,"

His hand suddenly envelops yours. It's... very surprisingly warm, as his thumb strokes across your skin comfortingly. "I swear, I'll be fine, okay?"

Jeno's got a small, stupidly attractive smile on his lips, head tilting to the side. He's got some snow in his hair, but it blends in almost perfectly due to how white he dyed his hair. He's... ethereal.

"Fine," You give in, sighing.

Jeno goes as far as helping you slip his jacket on, fixing it on your body, stroking the sleeves across your arms, making sure your neck is all covered. He smiles at the way you simply look up at him, lips agape to say something, anything, but you don't know what.

Lee Jeno knows who you are. He remembers you from Zhong Chenle's party—well, long before that. He remembers you from the day you bumped into him in the hallways, apologizing profusely at something so small. You picked his books up for him, and as cheesy as it sounds, his heart raced and he fell the moment your hand brushed slightly against his.

And when you kissed him in spin the bottle? God, he felt like he could cry. Partially because he was drunk. And when he caught you under the mistletoe with him, pushing Kim Sunwoo out of the way so you could be with him, and when your hands tugged him closer by his hoodie strings to kiss him deeper, he swore he was gonna bawl.

And here he is, how blessed is he to be next to you, alone, just the two of you, with you wearing his jacket, looking all adorable in it?

Lee Jeno thinks the Gods have blessed him, and he will thank whatever is out there in the universe for this opportunity.

He's about to express his gratitude right now, as your hand taps his, your cold skin against his.

When Jeno turns, he's immensely surprised when you have your scarf and beanie in your hands, reaching them out to him.

He doesn't respond, simply freezing and staring at the items with wide, almost puppy-like eyes.

Chuckling, you decide to put them on him yourself, placing the scarf down to start with the beanie. You reach up to slip it over his head, making sure to cover his ears nice and snugly. Your fingers unintentionally skim over the skin of his cheek, but neither of you comment on it, neither of you mind it, really.

"Warm?" You question quietly, grinning when he nods. A small curl appears on the corners of his lips, as he starts to grin as well.

Next, you take the scarf from your lap, raising it to wrap it around his neck. Jeno instinctively leans down to help make the task easier, feeling not only his neck warm when the scarf is wrapped, but his cheeks and heart as well.

Lee Jeno is blushing, you could blame it on how cold it was, but god knows the truth.

"There, all better."

Jeno basks in the warmth of the items you had placed on him, smiling fondly. "Thank you."

"No need, when you gave me your jacket. Thank you for that."

You're incredibly adorable. Wrapped up in his leather jacket, hands rubbing together, a shy smile on your lips.

Lee Jeno wants to kiss you. Again. For real, fully sober with nobody around to record and shove in people's faces the next day, nobody to whistle out and hoot at the interaction, no disruptions at all.

Jeno finds his hands suddenly unwrapping your soft, warm scarf from his neck, holding each end tightly, before he loops it behind your head.

What's he doing? You both have no idea.

A moment later, however, you are fully aware of his lips inching towards yours. His breath hits your lips, as he tugs your neck closer by the scarf, and suddenly all you can see, is Jeno. The red tip of his nose, his hazy, but fully beaming eyes as he stares at your lips, and his lips brushing against yours. His breath is warm, so incredibly warm, the warmest thing you've felt tonight.

And suddenly, your eyes are shut, as you make a move and press your lips together.

Jeno's hands release the scarf, as one of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, the other slipping to hold your neck gently. His warm hands leave a trail of goosebumps on your skin, as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, your own hands holding dearly at his cheeks.

When you pull away, you share warm breaths, finding it comforting in the middle of the cold night.

"What was that for?" You mumble against his lips, laughing lightly.

Jeno shrugs, "It's one of my top 10 ways to warm up. It's cold. Figured I might try the top method."

"Kissing someone?"

"Kissing you,"

He bumps his nose against yours, as he chuckles along with you. "Seems like it worked,"

"If I'm not mistaken, Jeno," You tap at his cheek, stroking his skin. "I'd say that's just an excuse, and the real reason is because you like me,"

"What makes you assume that?"

"Maybe because it's my reason too?"

He grins at your words. "Okay then," Jeno's thumb streaks across your neck, warming it up, along with your heart, with every moment spent near him. "Yeah, I like you."

[schrodinger-swriter]

If you are still doing the fluff alphabet, could you do A B C E G J and K for Alastor?

A, B, C, E, G, J and K for Alastor

I'm still doing this alphabet! I'm unsure of how long I'll be doing it for, but I'll probably cut it when most of the character's have a good chunk of the alphabet done... or when people understandably lose interest. Which ever happens first!

Apologies if I seem a little off today in my writing, that horrid time of the month is approaching and it's throwing me off. I hope you enjoy, Anon!

ATTRACTION:

Now this one is interesting... see I know full well Alastor is aro, or at least somewhere on the spectrum. I'm just unsure of where he lies, if it was ever stated he was totally aromantic or something else. Personally I write him as demiromantic, or perhaps even greyromantic? We also need to take into account on if he's attracted to your romantically or for other reasons. He would probably like to spend his days with someone who keeps him on his toes, at least a fair amount. It keeps things interesting, and unless he has a reason to, he won't stick around if things get dull.

BONDING:

Alastor seems like the type to listen to music while sipping a glass of wine, or some other alcohol. Complete with sitting in front of a fireplace or some other piece that ties the aesthetic together. Reading, too probably. You're more than welcome to come and join him for some quiet time. I enjoy the thought that Alastor spends his time like this when he's not actively doing his job at the hotel or trying to network or build his power.

CUDDLING:

As most sinners are, he's very warm! Very skinny, though. Boney, even. Cuddling is rare, though, because he doesn't enjoy physical touch all the much outside of some occasion. He definitely tolerates your touch better than other's, but it's better to initiate cuddling when the mood is right. He may not initiate it often, however. Cuddling is exclusively done behind closed doors, he prefers his privacy.

EMOTION:

He shows just enough emotion where it's needed. Appearing happy with you and perhaps laughing if something funny has happened, or getting angry about something. He's not totally emotionless, and some of his true feelings do still shine through. But it's hard to tell where that starts, he's good at deceiving those around him into thinking whatever he wants them to think. He reacts and emotes with you, but he's not wearing his heart on his sleeve. In regards to romantic feelings, he does treat you more.. how does one word it..? How he behaves with Rosie, but more... casual and open.

GIFT GIVING:

Oddly enough, Alastor gives gifts fairly regularly. It won't be everyday, but you can bet that you'll always have a new bouquet of flowers by the time the previous ones had begun to die and wilt. Typically small things like that.

If you give Alastor anything, he will politely accept it. Maybe if you go into his room or into his radio tower, you'll find the gifts you've given him. It's a sweet thought, I think, he'd be ready to discard of anything he truly didn't want or need but here he is keeping the things you've given him, regardless of need.

JEALOUSY:

He conceals his jealousy fairly well, often outwardly portraying it by reminding you why you two are together. Re-enforcing the idea that you two are tied together. Be it literally or not.

He easily puts the other person into the ground, once more.. be it literally or otherwise... though that's assuming the other person doesn't turn tail and run when they realize you and the radio demon are an item. Though, that's also assuming they even know who he is..

He's confident that you won't do anything stupid or leave him.

KISSES:

He typically kisses you on the back of your hands and on your cheek. He does a little bow... dip.. when he takes your hand to place a kiss on the back of it. They're usually quick and fleeting.

Receiving he also enjoys cheek kisses. You guys don't do mouth kisses, tongue or not.. that often.. if ever. No harm there, besides kissing someone who's constantly smiling seems like it would be a little awkward.

[katyswrites]

put on your records (and regret me)

PART 2 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, HEAVY alcohol use, recreational weed use, getting drunk/blacking out, descriptions of puking/hangovers, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 3.7k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 2

You don’t truly decide to go to Steve’s stupid party until the last possible moment. You already know that spending more time with him than necessary is a recipe for disaster. But, you reason, you probably should show your face. It actually does seem like nearly everyone from the campus’ music scene would be there - it would look bad if you didn’t show up. The radio station’s funding is always on the chopping block - half of your job is networking and being friendly with practically everyone on campus to keep it alive. 

Still, as you start getting ready, you consider backing out about 50 times. Is Steve actually expecting you to show up? Is it a pity invite? Or, a challenge?

Knowing him, it’s probably the latter.

Throughout the course of getting ready - which mostly involved throwing on some makeup while intermittently feeling like you had nothing to wear every time you looked in your closet full of clothes - you chugged a bottle of wine to help yourself relax. It had been on the door of the fridge, so God knows how long it had been there, but it’s good enough. Then you’re out the door and catching a bus downtown, shivering a bit in the crisp October evening air. You pull your jacket tighter around you as you hop on board, forever thankful that university students get to ride the city’s buses for free. 

It’s packed full of other college kids, mostly freshmen undoubtedly on their way to frat parties downtown. You had outgrown that phase after sophomore year, opting for friends’ house parties and going out to bars as you got older. You can’t help but look at them fondly - somehow, despite being peers in all the ways that matter, you feel so far removed from them; the girls in their mini dresses and crop tops, boys carrying six-packs and sporting unbuttoned flannel shirts, loudly packed onto the bus like sardines on their way downtown to make bad decisions.

Hamilton Street is in the heart of the downtown area, where a lot of students live. You hop off the bus with nearly everyone else, droves of kids filling the streets, chugging beers and smoking cigarettes as they make their way to various frat houses. You follow the groups, the other students slowly peeling away until it’s much quieter - it seems like Steve’s place is one of the last ones on the block.

You had purposely left late enough so that you could guarantee you wouldn’t be in the first wave of people to arrive - it was closer to 11 than 10 at this point. The autumn evening air was chilly enough that you’re walking briskly, jacket pulled tightly around your shoulders. You nearly turn around approximately six times between the bus stop and his house - yet, against all odds, you find yourself standing on his front porch.

Like most student rentals, the house is old and a bit rickety - you can hear the din of chatter and music inside. A good sign, you suppose - part of you had been worried he’d purposely given you the wrong address. You wouldn’t put it past him, not when it comes to you.

You take a deep breath, and open the door. The smell of beer, weed, and sweat hits you like a wave. The small living room is hazy with smoke, the house immediately a bit too warm from body heat. A few heads look up as you enter, followed by an uproar of greetings.

Look who decided to show up!

Hey babe!

Everyone hide, mom’s here!

You roll your eyes, laughing.

“I do have fun sometimes, guys.”

“Oh, I know,” a familiar voice says, Eddie lifting himself off of the couch to give you a big hug.

“I was there at that party freshman year when you nearly fell off of Mikayla Hodder’s roof-”

“Shut up,” you say, face flushed with embarrassment at the (fuzzy) memory.

“Can I get you a drink?” the shaggy-haired boy asks.

You nod, following him back through the house towards the kitchen. You shoulder your way through bodies, saying the occasional hello when someone you recognize catches your eye.

Eddie is rooting through the fridge, pulling out a beer and extending it to you. You accept it gratefully, pushing the fridge closed with your hip as he leans against the counter.

“So…I wasn’t expecting you to be here tonight,” Eddie remarks, popping his bottle cap off with an opener screwed into the wall. 

“And why’s that?” you ask casually.

“Well… I mean, please tell me you know whose house this is -”

“Of course I do,” you say quickly, taking a swig of beer. “Harrington invited me.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“Really?”

You nod. “Is that so unbelievable?”

He just shrugs, staring down at his bottle.

“Dunno. I know he’s not exactly your favorite person -”

“Maybe so, but a lot of my friends are here, so… who's to stop me?”

Eddie grins, clinking his drink with yours.

“There you go - I was hoping you’d come out, to be honest. Sometimes I’m worried you don’t let yourself have fun anymore.”

You scoff.

“I - I have fun.”

“You used to. This year, though, you’d been so…”

“So what?” you ask defensively.

Eddie’s face starts to turn a bit red.

“Well - you know - I know you’re stressed and all, managing the station, but… you can be a little…uptight.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m not uptight -”

“Look, trust me - I’m saying that with love, as your friend -”

“Yeah, whatever - I can be fun.”

“I know - I’ve been there with you through it all. Just… I’m glad you came. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.”

You don’t really respond, crossing your arms as you glance around the kitchen a bit.

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“No one,” you respond absentmindedly.

Eddie smirks.

“Yeah - okay.”

Steve is nowhere to be found. Perhaps that’s a blessing - it’s busy enough here that you ma be able to avoid having a conversation all night.

It’s around then that Eddie’s bandmate Gareth is stumbling into the kitchen, stopping himself for a moment before breaking into a grin when he sets eyes on you and Eddie.

“Thank God - me and Jeff need someone for pong!”

That’s how you find yourself partnered with Eddie, letting yourself forget about Steve as you play beer pong. You’re a competitive person, and arguably more so when you’re drunk - that’s how you and Eddie kick ass two rounds in a row, leading a fed up Gareth to declare the game totally bogus before storming out to the back porch to smoke with Jeff.

You high-five Eddie on your way back to the kitchen to grab another drink. You’re properly tipsy now, probably on your fourth drink in less than 2 hours. Your tolerance did used to be better than this - maybe Eddie was right, about you not being as fun as you used to.

The kitchen is empty, which you’re thankful for - it’s tiny to begin with, so more than a handful of people makes it feel cramped. You’re a bit hot, working up enough of a sweat during the game that you had shed your jacket already. The refrigerator light is nearly blinding in the dimness of the room, but the cold gives enough of a relief that you bend over and lean into the fridge. You hang there for a moment, sighing. In the distance, you hear the sound of a glass breaking, followed by a series of aw, mans - you decide it’s not your problem to worry about, and stay there another moment. You then root through the fridge for a moment until you find a bottle of something you like. 

You slam the door shut and turn to head back towards the rest of the party, only to nearly jump out of your skin when you realize you’re not alone.

Steve Harrington leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and wearing a smirk.

“Jesus - you scared me. Why the fuck are you just standing there like that?”

He shrugs.

“Just enjoying the view, sweetheart.”

You scoff, popping the cap off of your bottle and heading right towards him, hoping he’d move out of the way to let you through. That, of course, is wishful thinking.

“Can I get through?” you ask, bristling as he blocks the doorway.

“You decided to come,” Steve says, looking down at you with a grin.

“Well, you did invite me.”

“I know - I’m glad you actually showed up, though.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” you mutter sarcastically, shouldering past him and back towards the living room.

Eddie’s lounging on the couch, eyelids heavy as he passes a joint between himself and Argyle.

“Got enough to share?” you ask, plopping down next to him. He nods, passing it over to you. You take a long hit, letting the smoke settle into your lungs as you sink further into the couch.

“You good?” Eddie asks.

“Mm, yeah. Just want to chill here for a little bit.”

He nods, paying you no mind as he takes a deep inhale. Your eyes follow Steve as he crosses the room and heads out to the front porch with a girl you don’t recognize. You feel your brow furrow, your eyes trained on the front door. It’s not too long after that that you manage to help Eddie finish the joint. You chug your beer, starting to feel lightheaded, the world around you moving a bit more slowly.

You fall into a comfortable crossfaded lull there for a while, with Robin Buckley eventually placing a beer can in the middle of the table and calling for a game of Kings as she shuffles a deck of cards.

You open another beer as she does, sitting forward a bit to half-heartedly play the game. You find yourself getting stuck taking a drink quite a few times, your reflexes slow and your wits not quite about you. A few more people filter in, sitting criss-crossed around the coffee table and pulling cards from the deck and doing what it dictates. 

“Six is chicks!” Eddie cries out, flashing his six-of-spades card to the group. You roll your eyes as you take yet another drink, reaching to grab your own card as Eddie sticks his under the can’s pull tab.

You glance at it, and giggle.

“Jack - what’s Jack again?”

“Never Have I Ever,” Robin says, holding up three fingers. Everyone follows suit, and you think for a minute to start it off.

“Okay, um… never have I ever done a drug harder than weed.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Eddie asks.

“What do you think it means?”

“Alcohol is technically more powerful of a drug than pot,” Steve pipes up across the table - when did he get here?

“Shut up Harrington, you know what I mean -”

“Yeah, like acid and coke and shit,” Argyle adds.

“Well fuck,” Eddie concedes, putting a finger down. 

You laugh, expecting nothing less of him. It goes around the circle for a bit - things ranging from never have I ever broken a bone to never have I ever had a threesome, followed by a series of laughs or groans as people put down fingers and down drinks. You only have one finger left by the time it gets to Steve.

He thinks for a moment, humming to himself as he does - you can’t help but think that there isn’t much he hasn’t done. After a few more seconds pass, he smirks, and locks eyes with Robin.

“Never have I ever hooked up with someone in the vinyl closet at the station.”

“Not fair,” Robin exclaims, smacking Steve on the arm. He laughs as his friend lays into him. She’s blushing, and officially out of the game. She glares daggers at him as she takes a drink.

You can’t help but notice that Steve gets quite a few people with that - Eddie being one of them, caught in a cascade of groans and fingers getting put down. You feel your mouth fall open in disbelief.

“Whoa, wait - is everyone fucking around in the vinyl library?”

Robin stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded, then laughs.

“Wait, seriously? You didn’t know that?”

You feel your face flush with embarrassment, all eyes on you.

“Well - um, no, this is the first I’m hearing of it.”

Eddie just grins, and gives you a playful pat on the back.

“You seriously don’t know your own radio station at all, huh?”

“I - I guess I’m not that surprised that someone has, but - all of you?”

“Not all,” Steve chimes in.

“Yeah, wait - how have you not?” Robin asks.

Steve just shrugs. “I don’t know… I have things like, I don’t know - a bed, in my own home, for starters.”

Robin rolls her eyes. You meet Steve’s eyes for a moment, and quickly look away.

You stick the Jack card in the pile under the beer can’s pull-tab - only to hear a pop followed by a hiss.

“Uh oh, Madame President broke the seal!” Eddie declares, pushing it towards you. “Looks like somebody’s got to shotgun it.”

You take it begrudgingly and stare at it for a moment.

“I need to borrow someone’s keys,” you finally say, earning some whoops and hollers from the group. The last thing you vividly remember is popping a hole in the can, and downing the whole beer in a manner of 30 seconds.

******

You blink awake groggily - enough sunlight permeates through the curtains that you know it must be morning. You groan, your mouth dry and tasting distinctly of alcohol. A turn over towards your bedside table makes your stomach feel all wobbly - fuck.

You reach for your alarm clock, squinting at it - nevermind. It’s not morning - more like the afternoon. Well into the afternoon.

A pit of dread settles into your gut - when did you get home? How long were you asleep? You never sleep this late, not even on weekends - a late lie-in for you is 11 AM. You’re definitely in your own bed, which is a positive - still in last night’s clothes, though. How? 

You don’t remember much after the game of Kings - though, you were definitely doing shots at some point… with who? You remember being in someone’s car - maybe. Or was it the bus again? If you actually managed getting the bus home while blackout drunk, you’re actually quite proud of yourself. But that somehow doesn’t seem too likely.

You pulled yourself to sit up, only to immediately regret it. Your stomach is now churning like a stormy sea, and your head is starting to throb. You’re an idiot. 

You hadn’t gotten drunk like that since your freshman year - it was a rookie mistake. You just hoped you didn’t make a complete idiot out of yourself in front of everyone.

After finally pulling yourself out of bed, you stumble over to your bedroom window and open the curtains. The bright afternoon sunlight hitting your face made you realize what a horrid mistake that was - you’re practically blinded by the light, and your head is properly pounding now. And now…

You barely make it to the bathroom in time, keeling over the toilet to puke up all of last night’s mistakes. The second your knees hit the cold tile floor, you begin coughing everything up, regretting anything and everything you’ve ever done to lead you to this moment. You don’t even hear Nancy approach behind you, not even aware of her presence until you’ve flushed and fall back against the wall, feeling disgusting.

“I was going to ask how you’re feeling, but it feels like a stupid question,” she says, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. 

You glance up at your roommate, feeling so small.

“Ha ha,” you say sarcastically. She offers a hand to help you up, which you accept gratefully. She waits until you’re hunched over the sink, brushing your teeth and gargling water to clean the taste of sick out of your mouth, to speak again.

“So - it was a fun night?” she asks cautiously.

You laugh dryly. “Um, yeah, I guess the night was fun. Right now… not so much.”

“Aww, poor baby,” Nancy coos teasingly. “You’ll be alright - just chill out today, yeah?”

“Mm - yeah, that’s the plan. I think I’m going to take a shower… and lie down for a little.”

Nancy nods. “Yeah, good idea - maybe I can go down to Blockbuster, rent a couple of movies, get some snacks?”

You offer up a small smile. “That’s nice, but you really don’t have to -”

“No seriously, it’s fine, I think they have some new stuff I want to check out anyways. I don’t have plans anyway - let’s just do a girls’ day, maybe get takeout later -”

“Sounds great, Nance. Thanks. Maybe hold off on takeout, for a bit… let me see how all of this feels,” you say, gesturing to your stomach. 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll head out - take a nice, long shower, it always helps.”

“Sure thing - and hey, I don’t know who called you, but thanks for coming to get me last night.”

Nancy furrows her brow quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“I - didn’t you bring me home last night?”

Nancy shakes her head.

“No - no, I was asleep. I think I heard the door open at some point, but I assumed that was just you coming home - you don’t remember?”

You shake your head, properly confused now.

“No - I don’t. I - think maybe I took the bus back then?”

“I thought they stop running those after like 2AM? I didn’t hear you get home until around 3, I think.”

She’s right - then how did you get back?

You bite your lip, thinking for a bit. 

“Maybe it was Eddie. I’ll call him and ask.”

Nancy nods. “Alright, yeah. Either way, you got back safe. Sorry about the hangover, though.”

You wave her off. “It’s my own fault - I went too hard last night. I’m just going to try to sleep it off, I guess.”

After Nancy leaves, you take a nice, long shower - you feel utterly disgusting, still in last night’s sweaty clothes and smudged makeup. You let last night’s bad decisions cascade down your skin and into the drain, sighing as the shower semi-revives you. 

By the time you’re out and drying off, your stomach has settled a bit more. The headache has only gotten a bit worse, though. You open the medicine cabinet, only to find the bottle of Ibuprofen missing. Did Nancy use it and forget to put it back? You don’t want to go rifling through her room, so you trudge back to your bedroom, praying she can find it when she gets back.

Pulling on a baggy t-shirt and pajama shorts, you reach for the phone on your bedside table - you punch in Eddie’s number, sitting on the edge of your bed as you twirl the cord with your finger. He picks up almost straight away.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Eddie - it’s me.”

“Whoa! She lives!” he cries out, laughing. You wince.

“Can you not yell, please?”

“Uh oh - are you feeling a little… delicate?”

“Fuck you,” you murmur, falling back onto your mattress. 

“I’m only teasing -”

“Yeah, whatever. Listen - did I make an idiot out of myself?”

“How much do you remember?”

“Uh - I remember playing Kings… and not a ton after that. I remember little things here and there, but… were we dancing?”

“You were dancing. On the kitchen table, if I remember.”

You groan, letting your head fall into your free hand.

“Oh God -”

“It’s all good, listen - people thought it was fun, I swear.”

“Yeah, if you say so… did I throw up?”

Silence on the other end.

“Oh fuck -”

“Only actually in the toilet, though - well, someone’s Solo cup at one point. Then it was all the bathroom after that, I swear. I really don’t think a lot of people saw that part though, the night was kind of winding down.”

“You swear?”

“Positive. Even I was leaving at that point. Don’t know if you got worse after that, though.”

You sit up suddenly, despite your body’s protests.

“You - what?”

“Listen, I didn’t want to leave you, but Argyle’s buddy Jonathan offered to drive us, and he didn’t want someone who might get sick in his car -”

“But wait, hold on - how did I get home? I thought you got me back -”

“Oh - you really don’t remember, huh?”

“Well - no.”

“Don’t get mad, but -”

“But what?”

“It was Steve. He drove you home.”

You pause, opening your mouth a few times to say something, but not finding the words.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, Harrington only had like, two beers all night, so he said he could take you back.”

“I - oh.”

What you wanted to say was, why the fuck would he do that?

“So… yeah. Sorry about that. But, I’m glad you made it back okay.”

“Yeah - mm hm…” you murmur absentmindedly. You hear a shrill beeping sound through the phone, making you wince.

“Sorry - fuck, Gareth set off the fucking fire alarm again. Sorry, I -”

“No, it’s okay. Go deal with that. I just… wanted to make sure you knew I’m alive.”

“Glad to hear it,” he says, and you can practically what your friend’s grin through the phone. “Gotta go - drink water, eat some fries, bye -”

Click.

You sit there in silence for a few moments, brow furrowed - Steve? Did you really make a drunk fool of yourself in front of him? You groan - he’ll definitely find a way to use this as leverage. How did he even get you inside? Did you throw up in his car - Christ, you hope not.

Worst of all… now you owe Steve Harrington, of all people.

It’s as you’re making peace with this horrible realization that you finally spot the Ibuprofen - there it is, in plain sight, on your bedside table. The bottle is conveniently right there, somehow, with a glass of water. You hadn’t noticed it in your hungover stupor earlier - when you reach for it, you realize it’s sitting on top of a note with untidy scrawl that reads:

Take some of this - you’re going to need it, sweetheart. 

-Harrington

You stare at it dumbfoundedly, then scoff.

Motherfucker.

author's note: I'm back! I took a bit of a hiatus, but I'm back in the swing of writing. I wont lie though... this is barely proofread. So, please be kind. This is a slow burn, so don't expect real smut for a few more chapters. But, let me know your thoughts, and I hope you enjoyed!

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Daily OFMD Renewal Tasks - Updated 01/31/2024

Hey all! These were starting to get a bit big for the Recap, so I'll link here instead. I'll keep this updated every day so feel free to reference back here and I'll link to this inside the Recaps.

==Things to remember==

Keep it positive! We are wooing them!

Only address one platform at a time!

Make it personal! Tell them why you want to be on that platform (inclusivity, diversity, other shows that are similar, etc)

“It’s okay to reuse some content with new tags but try to space the posts out a couple hours so they dont stack up on top of each other in hashtag very obviously.” -Jac

==Today's Hashtags==

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

#FinishOurStories

==Platforms to Reach Out to==

Netflix

AmazonPrime

AppleTV

If you reach out on the social medias, you can cater to individual mission statements per platform.

Cheat Sheet Below provided by @aproperpirate on Twitter

If you wanna talk about the shows creativity, feel free to reference Ra Vincent's site, he was the Production Designer for OFMD. Great inspiration and pictures to use to show off to the networks.

It's also helpful for Amazon to show them the international reach

== Vote on the Queerties! ==

You can vote once a day!

Best TV Comedy

Best TV Performance

== US Social Media For Each Platform ==

Instagram:

Netflix @netflix

PrimeVideo @primevideo

Apple TV @appletv

Threads:

Netflix @netflix

PrimeVideo @primevideo

Twitter:

Netflix @netflix

PrimeVideo @PrimeVideo

Apple TV @AppleTV

Facebook:

Netflix @netflix

PrimeVideo @PrimeVideo

Apple TV @AppleTV

==Daily Helpful Tasks:==

1. Push That Petition

2. Fill out Feedback forms:

Make sure to request Our Flag Means Death on all the platforms, and indicate why you like the show (if that's an option) and keep it positive. Source: @Lcmwriter100 on Twitter

Netflix

AppleTV - looking for an example letter? Check out @saltpepperbeard’s post

AmazonPrime

For Amazon Prime - Courtesy of @yougotofast over on twitter.

Existing Prime subscribers, you can access a Suggestions/Feedback form on the Prime Video app in the Settings > Help & Feedback section. The form is automatically tied to your Prime account, not sure if that makes any difference compared to anonymous feedback.

3. Platform/Article Engagement

HBOMax

If you still have HBO Max, please still go ahead and stream Our Flag Means Death, it keeps up engagement and numbers.

Search Our Flag Means Death on Netflix

If you have Netflix, after your search, stream the first title that comes up for a few minutes.

Article Engagement - Source: @candiedsilkmoth on twitter

@itsmfgames Has been kind enough to be keeping up a running list of Articles about the campaigns -- so if you have the time and want to go catch up on some articles, please checkout the guide below and visit this google doc for the list!

4. Make Calls

Contact Netflix and say why you love OFMD

You can call them at (844) 505-2993 as well and let them know about a hoard of pirates looking for a new home. You're welcome to try their toll free number as well (888) 638-3549

5. Daily Link Clicks to keep up engagement

Our Flag Means Death Wikipedia Page

Google Search for Our Flag Means Death

Google UK Search for Our Flag Means Death

Our Flag Means Death IMDB

Current @renewasacrew Daily Links:

Tumblr

Twitter

Instagram

For Industry specific help see @TheCozyPirate on Twitter as well. I will try to include any pertinent information in the Daily Recap or here, but if you have twitter they're a great resource

== RADIO! ==

Some awesome new suggestions from @AdoptACrew Check out the thread here. Link to the NPR suggestion site: Here

=== Staying a Polite Menace to Max ===

For those of you who are still up for it-- We are still contacting Max and Commenting on their posts. Thank you @asgardian--angels for the reminder! I'll update this section with more details tomorrow once we have some more.

Current focus with Max is less requesting Renewal and more to Expressing Disappointment about them cancelling marginalised Stories (OFMD, Rap Sh!t, etc), specifically to give them bad PR.

We're still letting Casey Bloys and David Zaslav know no peace.

As usual please be polite, we're not letting max off the hook, but Monday there will be a news article coming out regarding this (Source: Jac (@TheCozyPirate) on Twitter))

==Media Resources (Pics, Gifs, Vids)==

Gifs, Pics, and Videos to use: show clips to use Src: @havethisonelife

Our lovely @kiwistede made some great custom gifs you can use to tweet and message the platforms with. Check out their tumblr here

== Stats ==

Some Cool Stats you can use:

==Infographics==

Some folks like infographics instead of text so here's some stuff for you! Courtesy of @edandstede on Twitter

I have a limited amount of pictures I can put on one post so here is a google drive with more: Google Drive

==Other ideas for engagement:==

Courtesy of @sandwrite2 on Twitter

[astroismypassion]

✨PART OF FORTUNE IN SIGNS AND HOUSES SERIES: 10TH HOUSE✨

Credit: Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

ARIES PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Aries and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via marketing or work in dynamic and fast-paced industries, via coaching, sports management, fitness entrepreneurship, coaching and mentoring services in connection with career development, leadership skills, personal empowerment, via work in innovation management, technology development, product development, especially emerging industries. You find abundance when you are bold, take risks, focus on ambitious goals, cultivate independence, build a strong public image and when you embrace leadership qualities.

TAURUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Taurus and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work in finance, banking, investment, wealth management. Or via working as a realtor, property manager, real estate developer, via curating, selling or managing art collections, working as a chef, restaurateur or food critic. You find abundance in work in hospitality (managing hotels, resorts, spas), via work in landscape architecture or gardening, interior design, or as a performer, producer or manager, through farming, agricultural management or sustainable food production or creating an eco-friendly business. You feel abundant when you are focused on stability, value quality, when you are patient and persistent.

GEMINI PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Gemini and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work as a journalist, writer, editor, public relations, marketing, working as PR specialist, brand manager, social media strategist, work as a teacher, lecturer, educational content creator, via writing content for blogs, websites or online platforms connected with technology, lifestyle, business. You find abundance when you write books (fiction or non-fiction), via work in technology sector, via technical writing, UX writing or product management, via event planning and work as a sales representative, account manager or business strategist. You feel abundant when you network actively, when you keep learning and embrace versatility.

CANCER PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Cancer and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work in healthcare as a nurse, doctor or therapist, work in interior design or home décor, helping others create comfortable and nurturing spaces, work as a chef, baker or food critic, via handmade furniture, textiles or pottery, engaging in childcare, daycare management or family support services, via work in real estate, helping families find their ideal home. You feel abundant when you use emotional intelligence, emphasize nurturing and care.

LEO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Leo and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via pursuing a career in acting on stage, in film or on television, working as a musician, singer or performer, via directing or producing theatrical productions, films or TV shows, work in television, radio or digital broadcasting, you could work as a host, anchor or presenter, designer, stylist, model, painter, sculptor or graphic designer.

VIRGO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Virgo and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via offering personalized health and wellness service. You can offer remote fitness coaching, such as offering personalized fitness plans and virtual training sessions. You could work in mental health professions, like counselling or psychology, work as a nutritionist, dietitian, work as a proofreader or editor, work with biology, chemistry, environmental science, mathematics or with language or having an IT role (system analysis, IT support or cybersecurity). You feel abundant when you develop organizational skills, use analytical skills and when you seek structured environments.

LIBRA PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Libra and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via offering dance classes, via work in art curation, gallery management or the fines arts, helping to showcase and promote artists and their work, via a career in human resources, focusing on employee relations, conflict resolution, via talent management, recruitment or career coaching. You feel abundant when you work in fashion design, graphic design, visual arts, brand management and marketing. You feel abundant when you aim for balance and harmony, emphasize fairness and justice.

SCORPIO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Scorpio and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via forensic accounting, crisis counselling or support services, via a career in scientific research, forensic science, medical research, psychology, surgery, oncology, energy healing, finance, technology or wellness, via art therapy and filmmaking. You feel abundant when you embrace transformation, healing, use psychological insight, when you pursue authority and expertise.

SAGITTARIUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Sagittarius and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via travel blogging, vlogging or becoming a travel consultant. You find abundance via academic research, publishing, by becoming a travel consultant, tour guide, work in the tourism industry, work connected with educational, human rights and cultural exchange, via career as a spiritual teacher, counsellor, life coach, via theological or philosophical work, writing or teaching. You feel abundant when you cultivate optimism or enthusiasm, seek global or cultural perspectives, pursue knowledge or education and embrace exploration and travel.

CAPRICORN PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Capricorn Sun people in your life. You find abundance via work as a financial advisor or analyst, accounting, as a property developer, manager or investor, via work in property management, overseeing rental properties, commercial spaces or large residential complexes, via civil engineering, work in educational administration (school or college management). You feel abundant when you focus on long-term goals and value pragmatism and responsibility.

AQUARIUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Aquarius and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via buying and selling collectibles (stamps, coins, vintage items), creating eco-friendly products or services (zero-waste goods, sustainable fashion). You may also find abundance in esports coaching by offering coaching services for aspiring professional gamers. You feel abundant via work in scientific research, in fields like physics, astronomy, biotechnology and environmental science, work in roles focused on research and development, via digital marketing. You feel abundant when you are pursuing unconventional paths, via networking with like-minded individuals and align with social causes.

PISCES PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Pisces and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work in music as a composer, musician or performer, via a career in painting, illustration, sculpture or other visual arts, via hospice work, via work in non-profit sector, focusing on causes related to humanitarian aid, environmental conservation or social justice, work in hospitality, such as hotel management or event planning, via cultural exchange, guided tours or spiritual retreats. You feel abundant when you embrace your creative talents, cultivate compassion and empathy, when you explore spiritual and esoteric interests and when you focus on meaningful impact.

Credit: Tumblr blog @astroismypassion