#There’s no chance in hell that man’s music tastes are normal

[mapleandgingeroatmeal]

Laios Touden would 1000% be the Cbat guy. He would love that song, he would fuck terribly to it for literal years. Look into your heart you know it’s true.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Ritornello (Alastor x Cursed!Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 3,565

Previous Part: Rhapsody

Next Part: Rapture

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N Okay I know that canonically Charlie is like 200 but we're gonna make her 25.

After everything with Alastor, Y/n tried to continued their life as it had been before he'd stepped into. It was challenging, they faltered and misstepped. They had been good at being on their own once but now that they had a taste of the alternative, it was difficult to fall back into their old ways. Eventually, they managed to fall into a new pattern of being.

They were a bit more careful now, they didn't dash out unannounced from behind corners or secret hiding places. Seeing Alastor was the last thing they wanted to do. Now, they had someone to avoid.

For seventeen years, they continued on like this. They struggled through their battles on their own, against the overlords and against their own personal situation. They searched high and low for a cure but the only things they ever seemed able to come up with were false promises and temporary fixes. Every day, the curse the overlords had placed on them to limit their powers was growing stronger. Every time they used their magic, played their music, it became more and more corrupted and so, they learned to fight with their hands. This was until they got the call from Lucifer, of course.

The pair were old friends of a sort. Y/n had met him by chance within their first few days in Hell when he'd pulled them out of a tight spot. They didn't spend time together ever or really see one another at all but, Y/n had a vague sort of trust for the man, a strong sense of a debt needing to be repaid. Y/n didn't like owing people things, not even back when they were alive. They didn't like depending on people in that way. When he asked them if they could keep an eye on his daughter, they couldn't refuse.

Charlie was a lot. At twelve years old, she was bright and over the top and constantly bursting out into song. At first, Y/n had been rather uncertain about the whole arrangement, even when she'd gone through her emo phase at fifteen.

Y/n tried to steer clear of them for the most part. Picking her up from school, dropping her off. Babysitting when her parents needed a night to themselves, the normal stuff. When the issues started between Lilith and Lucifer, Charlie was suddenly thrust into Y/n's life a lot more. She had no idea the real reason, both her parents wanting to keep the trouble from her due to their own care and protective natures, and Y/n tried their best to keep it that way. It didn't help that by sixteen, Charlie had practically moved in with the demon but they managed.

Charlie had always pushed for a connection, something more than Y/n making her dinner and getting her where she needed to go. Y/n resisted at all costs. They'd been hurt before by trust, by care. The idea of going through it all again was terrifying. That all changed the day Charlie found out about the curse.

Y/n hadn't meant for her to find out. One of their situation's many many downsides was that while the curse ate away at their magic, it also ate away at their physical form. If they weren't careful, if they didn't temper their emotions and make sure they were eating enough raw meat, the beast would take over.

The beast was a horrific thing in their eyes, blood hungry and devastating. It was sub-human, sub-demon even, writhing and scornful. A mass of twisting shells of prey, a mass of claws and sharp teeth.

Of course, Y/n couldn't keep it from Charlie forever and on one fateful evening, Y/n had transformed. They'd been overworked, stressed about the fact that the Vees were gaining more territory and power, that soon they would be practically untouchable. They had forgotten to take care of themselves in the rush of it all, prioritizing Charlie and their plans.

When they had come back to their senses, come back to themself, it had been to the sight of Charlie. With a damp rag held to their forehead by the demoness and a whole lot of bones from victims of their situation on the floor around them, they had opened their eyes. Y/n had expected Charlie to flinch, to run in fear, to tell Lucifer who knew nothing about the curse. Instead, she had smiled brightly and told Y/n she was glad they were okay. From that day forward, they were absolutely inseparable, completely attached at the hip.

With Charlie's help and cheerful influence, Y/n was beginning to learn how to exist. They loved the girl like she was their own and Charlie knew if she ever had an issue of any sort, she could go to Y/n about it. Even when Y/n had relayed the story of how they'd been cursed and why, there had been no issues, no qualms, nothing. Charlie promised her watcher that she would help them break the curse, no matter what it took.

It was watching Charlie come into herself as a young adult, watching her meet and fall in love with Vaggie that made the real difference. The princess of Hell was unapologetically herself and Vaggie took everything she had to offer with open arms. Slowly but surely, the search for a cure took a back seat as did Y/n's goal of taking down the overlords of Hell. Their life was different, but they were happy. They found themself wishing for the past, the one they had shared with Alastor, less and less, channeling their energy into the world around them. They didn't even notice when the reports started to come in that the Radio Demon of the overlords had seemingly vanished.

Things hadn't been without their challenges. Charlie's relationship with her dad was strained to say the least and when her mom had disappeared? She'd been absolutely inconsolable but with one another's help, they figured things out, made it through.

When Charlie pitched the idea of the Happy Hotel, Y/n had been doubtful. They knew a lot about Hell, the way it functioned, the way the demons within were. It came from decades running around back streets and surviving in the underworld of the underworld. It was Charlie's hope that did it, her earnest gaze. Y/n had caved and after months of hard work, the Hotel had finally opened.

Things were going well, too well even. Then there had been the interview with Katie Killjoy, the other shoe dropping. Y/n had watched it from the sidelines with Vaggie. As soon as Charlie had come down off the set, they had enveloped her in their arms and held them close. With Vaggie's help, they managed to get Charlie back to the hotel.

Once she had calmed down a little bit, Charlie stood from where she had been seated in the sitting room beside Y/n, Vaggie, and the hotel's one resident: Angel Dust. She mentioned something about calling her mom before disappearing into the lobby.

Y/n and Vaggie exchanged a look. They both knew the situation Charlie was in with regards to her mother and how she tended to get after one of her failed attempts to contact the woman. Neither thought this was the time or the place to step in however, and remained seated, chatting idly with Angel as they waited for Charlie's return.

When she finally did, it was with a nervous attitude and a strained expression.

"Hey Vaggie?"

"What?" Vaggie asked as she and Y/n twisted to look at Charlie who stood in the door way behind the couch.

"Can you come help me please?"

Vaggie got to her feet and exited the sitting room with her girlfriend. Y/n turned to Angel to continue their conversation but had barley gotten a word to the spider demon out when Vaggie stepped back in the room.

"Y/n?"

"Yeah?" Y/n replied calmly.

"Charlie actually needs our help with this one, I think."

"Alright then." Y/n got to their feet, shooting a glance back at Angel, "A true hotelier's work is never done." they lightly joked and Angel rolled his eyes.

"What's this about?" Y/n asked Vaggie as they followed her down the hall towards the hotel's main entrance.

"Just..." Vaggie sighed, "you'll see."

Noting the girl's odd behavior and stressed demeanor, Y/n steeled themselves. Not much put Vaggie on edge. She was strong, toughened, as far as Y/n knew, by a brutal upbringing in the streets of Hell. While each use of their powers made the curse grow stronger, they would not hesitate to protect Charlie or her dreams should the need arise. Besides, they'd become quite good at other means of self preservation over the years.

As they rounded the corner into the lobby space, Y/n was greeted by a flash of red as someone pushed past Charlie into the space from the street and a familiar voice.

"Excuse my sudden visit, but I saw your fiasco on the picture show and I just couldn't resist. What a performance! Why I haven't been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929. So many orphans."

Y/n let out a low growl, summoning their lute into their hands and Vaggie pointed her spear at the Radio Demon. It was pure instinct. If they knew anyone, they knew Alastor and redemption was not the Radio Demon's cup of tea. As Charlie shut the door, he turned to face them. Y/n walked a few steps forward, planting their feet a little ways away from Alastor and poising their fingers to play.

"Get out of here." They said through gritted teeth.

Alastor's eyes widened with recognition for the smallest moment. As quick as he had lost it, he regained his composure.

"My what a protective force this Hazbin Hotel has." Alastor mused.

"It's called the Happy Hotel actually?" Charlie hesitantly corrected and he laughed.

"Not anymore its not. I did you the favor of fixing your sign."

A little threat couldn't hurt, a little reminder of who he was dealing with. Alastor had no idea Y/n was any less capable than when he'd first met them. One little note couldn't hurt, wouldn't show any of the damage done. Y/n plucked a single string on their instrument and the room around them began to glow. Everyone's hair lifted around their faces, the loose edges of their clothes beginning to flutter.

"Get out of here now. I wont ask you again."

"Now, is that anyway to treat an old friend?" Alastor replied, smirking.

Everything suddenly clicked into place. There was something different about him. Y/n couldn't put their finger on exactly what it was, but they could tell he hadn't been lying. He'd been at the Hotel for at least five minutes by now, maybe more with all Charlie and Vaggie's running back and forth since his arrival. If he had had any truly negative intentions, they would have revealed themselves, especially to Y/n. Alastor was a good liar, but no one was that good, good enough to trick someone who had watched them become the person they are.

"Old friend?" Vaggie repeated, turning to Y/n in confusion.

Their grimace faltered, before falling completely. They released their instrument, letting it hang loosely in their hand by their side.

"Alastor! You're embarrassing me in front of my kid."

"Your kid?" Alastor asked after a moment.

This time the shocked expression that crept its way onto his face stayed there.

"You know him?" Charlie asked at the same moment as Alastor spoke.

Y/n let their instrument dissolve into the air and gestured to Charlie.

"My kid. And yes, Charlie. I know Alastor."

Alastor turned, looking Charlie up and down.

"You got with Lucifer?" Alastor asked in confusion as he looked back at Y/n.

They laughed lightly at the notion, unable to stop themselves. They shook their head.

"No. Oh my gosh, I would never. Seriously just... great guy and all but no thank you. I just take care of his kid for him. Well, used to. We sorta got attached."

Charlie walked up to Y/n as they spoke, pulling them into a side hug.

"Y/n practically raised me. They were kinda the only one who was always there for me."

Y/n looked down at Charlie with a fond smile. They ruffled her hair and Charlie quickly batted their hand away.

It was clear to Alastor that Y/n had changed. They were no longer the trouble making demon he had known, that he had loved. Still, there was that same spark in their eyes, that fervent desire, that want. From just the small interaction playing out before him, he could tell that Y/n had learned how to trust and protect rather than just fight. They had learned to live hand in hand with that creeping need woven so tightly around their bones, rather than despite it.

It made him happy to see, it made him happy for her. At the same time, it caused his heart to ache terribly. They had finally been able to let someone in, and it hadn't been him.

In the years since their separation, Alastor had never stopped thinking about Y/n. Their memory was tender to the touch, shot sparks of joy or anguish down him depending on the day. It was like an old wound that had never quite healed right. Seeing them now was unexpected. The wound reopened. He sheltered himself.

Y/n saw the way Vaggie still had her spear pointed at Alastor, aimed straight at his neck. Gently, they placed a hand on it, pushing it down. Vaggie looked at them, her eyebrows raised.

"If he wanted to hurt anyone here, he would have done so already."

Vaggie stared at Y/n for a moment. Seeing how serious the demon that had become a mentor to her was in this moment, she lowered her blade. Y/n's hand fell back to their side.

"Now," Y/n turned to look at Alastor once again, "why are you here?"

----

It was late. Vaggie had told Y/n that Charlie wanted to speak to them about something in their office and so, Y/n found themselves outside the familiar door. They knocked once on the dark red wood.

"Yeah?"

They opened the door and Charlie smiled.

"What'd you wanna talk to me about, Sunshine?" Y/n asked as they entered the room, taking a seat in the chair across the desk from their young charge.

"Just about Alastor."

They should have known. Not only was the hotel at a potential risk thanks to the decision to allow him to work with them but Charlie had always had a sharp sense of curiosity. Y/n sighed.

"Fire away, kiddo."

"Well, how do you two know one another? Can we trust him? Do you think he means what he says he does? I thought you hated overlords? I.. I..."

Y/n smiled softly, the change in their face easing Charlie's nervous temper.

"We will handle these one at a time, no prying. Deal?"

"Y/n, you realize how suspicious that makes you sound, right?"

"Fine. A little prying. Deal?"

"Deal."

Y/n leaned back in their chair, letting out a sigh of nostalgia. Their hands rested on their stomach as they kicked their feet up onto Charlie's desk.

"I... I met Alastor practically right after he arrived. We both thought the overlord system was dumb and so, we decided to team up."

There was a moment of silence, broken by Charlie. The young demoness had always loved Y/n's stories, begged to hear them. They had never once heard this one before.

"Is that all?"

Y/n shook their head.

"We dated."

"You dated!" Charlie exclaimed in shock, nearly jumping out of her seat, "You dated the Radio Demon. Were you in love?"

Of course she'd go on and ask that next. Not 'how'd that happen?' not 'when was this?' No, Charlie had to go for the hardest question first, like she always did.

"Yes." Y/n hesitantly replied, "I did."

"I... oh my god. This is actually crazy. You dated? You actually dated. Like for real, in love, dated."

"Alright." Y/n clapped their hands, taking their feet off the desk and righting themselves in their chair, "Next question."

"Bu-"

"I said some prying."

"Fine." Charlie sighed, crossing her arms, "But I am gonna get that story out of you eventually."

"I'm sure you will, sunshine." Y/n chuckled lightly, "Now. Can we trust him? I... I'm not sure."

All the excitement vanished from Charlie as she looked seriously over at Y/n.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because, he's up to something but not with us. Or, if it is with us, it's not to hurt us. I... something happened to him, something is different. I am not sure what I just... he's not here to hurt us... I think..."

"You think?" Charlie repeated indignantly, "Can you be a little more sure of that maybe? Why only think?"

"It's been a long time since I've seen him, Charls. Maybe being an overlord is what changed him. I have no way of knowing but my gut tells me he's okay, at least for now."

"You knew him before he became an overlord?"

"You really think I would team up with one of those bitches? Come on. You know I hate them."

"I-"

"Next question." Y/n quickly interrupted, not wanting to think on the past anymore than was necessary, "I think he does mean what he says, as was implied in whether or not I trusted him but the same caveats that applied there apply here too. And I do hate overlords, I just..."

"You just love him." Charlie teased.

Y/n's cheeks grew hot. They looked away.

"I do not. I loved him. There is a difference."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Why did you guys break up?"

Y/n turned back to Charlie. They couldn't say no to those eyes.

"Well, he became an overlord. Also I maybe... never told him. About the curse. He could tell something was up and..." Y/n took a breath, "couldn't take it after a while I guess."

"So you guys still loved each other when you broke up."

"What are you scheming over there."

"Nothing! Nothing!" Charlie quickly replied as she not so discreetly scribbled something on a piece of paper, "How long were you together?"

Y/n placed their hands on the arms of the chair, pulling themselves to their feet.

"Alright, trouble maker, I think thats enough lore outta me tonight."

"But Y/n!"

"I'm gonna go to bed. Vaggie already headed upstairs for the night I think. Sweet dreams, princess."

"Good night Y/n." Charlie dejectedly replied as she realized she really wasn't going to be getting anything else out of her mentor that night.

"Good night."

Y/n was about half way through the Hotel back to their room when they felt a hand on their shoulder. Reacting purely out of instinct, they ducked out from under the person's grip, spinning around with their fists raised. Alastor smiled down at Y/n and they sighed.

"What is it?" they asked, straightening up.

He had expected Y/n to be angry, to have that familiar sharp edge behind their voice. Instead, they looked up at him. As if everything was normal, as if it hadn't been thirty years since they'd last seen one another, as if they had just been together yesterday, their eyes met his.

"I... it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too." they replied after a moment's thought, "What are you doing up this late?"

"You know me, sleep is not my preferred way to pass time."

"I meant what are you doing in the hall, but sure. Yeah, I know you."

"That darling Charlie asked to see me."

Y/n scoffed, shaking their head with a tired smile.

"Of course she'd... yeah."

They stood in the hall facing one another. Just a few feet apart. The silence was thick.

"You seem happy."

"I am." Y/n nodded, "Charlie is a great kid. I was pissed when Lucifer first asked me to look after her, I'll admit it but, she has grown on me."

"I didn't know you were acquainted with the big man. I thought you despised all authority figures."

Y/n looked critically at Alastor, over his whole being. He felt they were looking into his very soul, the heart of all his intentions and desires. He felt absolutely naked in the worst way under their gaze.

"No, just overlords. Especially ones who make deals for the souls of others. It's a stupid and outdated system. Even the best of them like Rosie abuse their power to get what they want."

It was a well sharpened arrow, the remark. Perfectly aimed. Alastor had, after all, introduced the small group inhabiting the hotel to Husk and Nifty just that afternoon. Y/n turned their back to Alastor.

"She has big dreams and the passion to see them through. I believe in her. Don't... don't fuck this up for her, Alastor."

----

Next Part -> Rapture

@moonmark98 @luzzbuzz @snowlotr @randomuser-89 @fakeguysarehot @xdolls-crownx

[qfzeeph]

People liked the first Kaito x Reader post I made, so lets say, hypothetically, I made a part 2. And for the sake of debate, lets say that it was about him having a lil' crushy crush on the reader >:)

♡Kaito (Vocaloid) x Reader/Master HCs [2]♡

♡All fluff. No spice!♡ ♡Kaito is crushing on the reader!♡

☆ He won’t outright say he’s got a crush on you, but there will be signs. He’s shy about it, worried you’ll think of him differently if you were to find out how he felt.

☆Kaito has been down this path before with other Masters who have gotten bored of him in the past. He hopes that if anything ever came of the two of you, it’d last. He’s simultaneously nervous and yearning at the same time, afraid of the worst outcome but praying for the best.

☆ He tries to spend as much time with you as he can, learning about your favorite things and what makes you yourself. He’s a quick learner and before you know it, he’s gifting you little things like your favorite snacks or candies when you’re having a rough day.

☆He flusters real easy. Any sort of accidental contact, be it bumping into him in a crowded space or your hands grazing one another when reaching for a treat, his face lights up bright red. He always apologizes, hoping you won’t notice his flushed cheeks. You see it every time. ☆In case you couldn’t tell, he’s not the best at hiding it. He might not outright say how he feels, but you can tell from every move he makes he’s into you.  ☆You see more of him. Much more of him. He wants to be around you as much as he can, chasing that serotonin only you can give him.

☆He puts a lot of extra effort into the songs you ask him to sing, the more intense his feelings develop the more effort he puts in. He wants to be his best for you, hoping you’ll catch on. ☆His heart melts if you compliment him. He’d stutter out a nervous “thank you,” as if he had forgotten how to speak.  ☆He’d eventually get brave and confess. Unless you beat him to it, he’ll be the one to tell you. Not because he’s any less nervous, but because keeping it to himself would become too much to bear. Of course he’ll be a shaking nervous wreck, but once he starts his onslaught of praise for you he’ll loosen up and put his entire soul into it. He wants you to know how special you are to him and how much it would mean to him if you were to return his affection.

☆If it ended up you two were smitten, he’d be overjoyed. Expect a barrage of light kisses and hugs on the spot the minute you tell him you’ve felt the same way the whole time.

☆If his confession caught you off guard, he’d hope you’d at least give him a chance. He’d understand if you didn’t despite the fact it’d sting like hell for him, but he’d hold out for the best outcome either way.

☆If YOU were the one who approached him to tell him, he wouldn’t know how to respond at first! He’s wanted this so bad, but he never expected you’d be the one to come to him. Of course he’d tell you he loves you too, but not without short circuiting out of pure joyful shock first. 

☆Bonus:☆

☆L/N: You thought normal Kaito was shy about his feelings. L/N Kaito is worse. This man is mortified to speak to you and prefers to fawn over you from a distance. You’re going to have to be the one to catch him and lay all your tender feelings on him. Once you have him though, he’ll gradually start to open up to you and only you. ☆WxS: He’s always trying to impress you, whether it be magic tricks, voice impressions, monologues from a play, or some sort of crazy stunt Miku taught him. He’s planning on asking you out via a magic act, by the way. ☆VBS: Everytime you see him, he’s either got a new brew of coffee for you to try, a baked good he made himself for you to taste, or a new mix for you to listen to. You’re his motivation! There was never a formal confession, but a touching of hands on the DJ board one day when he was showing you how he makes his music and a heat-of-the-moment peck on the lips after that sealed the deal for the two of you. ☆MMJ: You’re a distraction. A lovely, lovely, distraction. He can’t get any stagehand work done when you’re around, or when you’re on his mind. If only he wasn’t so busy, he could talk to you more. If you offer to help him with his handiwork, you may just get him to slip up and tell you how he really feels. ☆N25: Good luck. He’s a proud one, and isn’t going to drop the act for anyone. Except for you of course, when you’re alone and there’s nobody else around to see him. He’s honest with himself and you regarding his feelings, and he’s just as passionate as he is irritable. He loves aggressively, but not so much as to break your boundaries. You belong to him, but in the best possible way.

...cool fun fact. I've been trying to write a fic of N25 Kai and it keeps uh. going in an interesting direction. I had to put it down for a little bit because some life stuff came up but if I ever get around to finishing it, lord have mercy on all of you. anyway, thanks for readin' and I hope you enjoyed <3

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

Texas angst?

Why of course :)

Despite what he might tell you, his immune system is absolute sh*t and he gets sick a lot, though he usually works it off and there’s a 50/50 chance as to whether it gets better or worse.

^sorta related to the hc above: heat exhaustion. Yeah. He’s suffered from it on more than one occasion yet he still works outside when it’s boiling hot for WAY too long.

^oh yeah he also has asthma but refuses to use his inhaler cuz he’s afraid of being seen as week. Same goes for his iron supplements and meds that his therapist gave him.

If he gets into a serious fight that’s going too far, either the person he’s fighting has to give up, or someone has to separate them. There’s no other way for it to end. Texas is going to fight till his very last breath, and would rather die than accept defeat.

poor baby is insecure about the little bit of pudge on his lower belly 😔

(this is sorta happy but also sad-ish) whenever Texas is missing his mom, who’s name was Maria, he’ll go sit down on the beach and just stare out onto the ocean for hours since it reminds him of her (not to mention, the name "Maria" means "of the sea"). He also named his chihuahua Maria, after his mother.

He hates that he has to listen to what his government tells him to do, but if he doesn’t, his handlers will hurt them. One of the worst parts is, is that Texas thinks that they’re allowed to do this. The State Handlers are NOT, under ANY circumstances, allowed to harm the states. Texas doesn’t know this. Even if he did, he’s too scared to tell anyone.

Texas cannot handle seeing any animals die. He can’t. He will cry. Even if it’s a movie. Oklahoma tried teasing him about it and Louisiana nearly strangled him for it. Everyone needs a Loui in their life. (TW: s3lf h4rm and dr^g and 4lcoh0l mention under the cut, but I’m also gonna include some normal hc’s cuz why the hell not)

Texas does alot of stuff that he doesn’t know counts as self harm (ex: taking REALLY hot showers, biting himself, pulling at his hair, not eating for extended periods of time, etc…).

I’m not gonna say he smokes weed and cigarettes, but I’m not gonna say he doesn’t.

Yes he does in fact drink alcohol to numb the pain.

Normal-ish hc’s!

If you decide to ask what’s in his cup, prepare to be mildly horrified (or not). What’s in his cup? Well dear reader. Straight up whiskey, at least 10 shots of caffeine and espresso, a few red bulls and a C4 (the energy drink). This man is not okay (i promise) /ref

To the surprise of pretty much the whole statehouse, Texas does in fact listen to hyperpop, ESPECIALLY Odetari and 6arelyhuman (fun fact: they’re both from Texas. Yeah.). Sometimes you’ll hear him muttering under his breath: "hey scene sl*t we’re still cutting tonight, that’s why my wrists are so sore-". The only state that wasn’t surprised was surprisingly Louisiana. Cuz him and Texas make song recommendations to each other and they have the same music taste (except Loui doesn’t listen to country alot-).

Texas👏Does👏Trickriding👏. It👏Terrifies👏The👏Others👏.

He also makes knives and daggers out of random rocks his finds and he’s (not)surprisingly good at it.

^he makes slime too and you can pry that off my dead cold hands.

Me when,, me when I torture the blorbos,,, 👉👈 (I’m so notsorry):

[kandyrezi]

[ ♡ / ♢ ] Android!Funtime Foxy x Reader hcs.

- : - : - : - : - : - : -

» funtime foxy is overly-dramatic, androgynous, and a bit of a diva.

» he loves performing for children, but he becomes very shy if he has to interact with others or if he’s on stage with the other animatronics. but if there are no children to entertain during the night, then he’ll perform a show for the one-man audience; meaning you. 

» even if you ask him to do something as ridiculous as the macarena, the spinning starts before you can even finish your sentence while he exclaims, “oh, what a fun choice!” (there is no spinning in the macarena dance. he doesn’t even know what that is.)

» funtime foxy is normally reserved, and somewhat impassive around other animatronics.

» can’t resist checking himself out in literally every mirror he passes by. you just have to deal with it. he’s one of those guys who just can’t stop running his hand through his hair all the time and fiddling with it.

» he likes sewing clothes. he’s quite proficient at it, too.

» it’s normally not your job, but he lets you put eyeliner on him before one of his shows - actually, he wants it to be you instead of one of the other workers.

» you’ve tried to ask if you can give him a different name to differentiate him from his counterparts at fazbear’s pizzeria and fredbear’s diner, but he refused, preferring ‘foxy’ as his real name.

» when it comes to strangers, he tends to have the behavior of a frightened, rabid dog whose bite hurts like hell and bleeds like a water fountain. for a fox-type of android, he has some pretty wicked sharp teeth. don’t try to sneak up on him to play the ‘guess who’ game by covering his eyes from behind, because there’s a real chance of him  accidentally violently lashing out in panic. he wouldn’t ever forgive himself should he hurt you in any capacity.

» he’s isolated from the outside world, so introduce him to new music and broadway musicals. reciting the same song and dance for the children becomes droll after a while, so he’d really like what you would show to him.

» seriously, if you’re just sitting, chilling on the floor with your ipod, he’ll saunter his way over to you and make himself comfortable in your lap. his audio receptors can pick up on the sound waves from the earbuds just fine, but you’ll end up sharing/wearing them with him anyway.

» he has a particular fondness for britney spears and green day, but his favorite song would be mr. brightside. you’re a little confused in his taste for music, but you don’t judge.

» he has a knack for making people mad for the fun of it. you’re not sure if he does it intentionally, or by accident just with his over-the-top personality.

» funtime foxy has feelings for you long before he’ll have the guts to let you know. he’ll flirt and dance around his feelings, but he’s too shy to actually be upfront and honest.

[aller-geez]

Vaelyn’s Journal

(A glimpse into the journal Vaelyn left when he disappeared after the fire at a Toad Biscuit show)

(A continuation of this fic can be read here, and LET ME TELL YOU, WORTH THE READ.)

Nebralis 3rd, 4777

Well, here I am—journaling. Never thought I’d sink to this level, but Rexar said I needed a hobby that wasn’t, and I quote, “making everything about myself” or “picking fights for fun.” He doesn’t get it; those are my hobbies, Rex. But no, apparently, scribbling in a notebook counts as productive. So congrats, journal, you’re officially my new therapist. Sorry in advance for the mess you’re about to witness. At least you don’t charge by the hour.

Tour’s been insane lately—in the best way possible. Last night’s crowd was on another level. I swear my ears are still ringing from the sheer volume of people screaming our lyrics back at us. There’s nothing like it. That wall of sound? It’s like an electric current running through your veins, charging every nerve, making you feel invincible. For those two hours, you’re not just a guy on a stage; you’re a god, and they’re your worshippers. It’s addictive, man. Makes all the sleepless nights, shitty gas station snacks, and the occasional questionable motel worth it.

Oh, and “Inferno’s Lament”? Absolutely nailed it. I mean, not to toot my own horn, but I shredded that riff so hard the strings were practically begging for mercy. Rex didn’t even try to steal my thunder for once. I caught him smirking, though. He’s sneaky like that. He’d rather choke on his own pride than admit it outright, but I know he was impressed. It’s the little things, you know?

Kriia, on the other hand, is a one-woman health brigade. This morning, she stormed onto the bus wielding a blender full of something green, chunky, and entirely too suspicious. “It’s for your immune system,” she said, like that explained the fact that it smelled like a lawnmower threw up. I choked it down like a champ because I’m nothing if not a team player, but let me tell you, grass has no business being in liquid form. Pretty sure my taste buds are filing a formal complaint.

Speaking of the bus, it’s becoming more of a madhouse with each passing day. Rexar’s got his guitar permanently glued to his hands, Kriia’s organizing everything like she’s running a military operation, and I’m just trying to keep up with it all. Life’s chaotic, exhausting, messy—and I love it.

Here’s hoping it stays this way.

(Also, note to self: figure out how to casually bring up to Rexar that we need actual snacks on this bus. If I see another bag of stale chips, I might riot.)

Nebralis 10th, 4777

You’ll never believe what I pulled off last night, journal. During soundcheck, I might’ve cranked my amp up to 11. Not metaphorically. Literally. The poor speakers didn’t stand a chance. One minute, everything’s normal, and the next, there’s this unholy screeching noise followed by a very satisfying pop. The crew was pissed—like, “ready to string me up with guitar cables” pissed—but the look on Rex’s face? Priceless. He looked like he was one bad chord away from punting me straight into next week. Worth every penny it’s going to cost to fix the damage.

That said, Rex has been… weird lately. Normally, his broody “I’m too cool to smile” shtick is just part of his charm, but recently it’s like he’s carrying around the weight of the world on his overly muscled shoulders. Case in point: I made what I thought was a hilarious crack about his hair looking like it had gone twelve rounds with a weed whacker and lost. Usually, he’d fire back with something equally brutal (and probably funnier), but this time? He just gave me this weird, disappointed look, like I’d kicked his dog or something. It was unsettling, honestly. Note to self: retire the hair jokes until further notice.

Anyway, back to more important things—my music. I’ve been working on a new song, and let me tell you, it’s a beast. Heavy as hell, with a gnarly breakdown that’s going to melt faces and maybe even break a few bones. The kind of track that makes the crowd go feral in the pit. I’m calling it "Oblivion’s Grasp," and yeah, I know it sounds pretentious, but it fits. It’s got this raw, almost primal energy that just screams “instant classic.” Rex hasn’t heard it yet, but I’m banking on it being the thing to snap him out of his funk.

Tour life is exhausting, yeah—barely any sleep, running on gas station coffee, and constantly surrounded by people who are way too chipper for their own good—but it’s moments like these that remind me why I love it. The chaos, the adrenaline, the thrill of creating something that can make thousands of people lose their minds all at once.

Now, if only Rexar would stop looking like a kicked puppy, and Kriia would stop trying to make me drink liquid spinach every morning, life would be perfect.

Nebralis 22nd, 4777

Something’s wrong.

It started small—barely noticeable. Just this weird pressure in my head, like someone pressing their thumb into my temples. At first, I brushed it off as another headache or maybe the lack of sleep catching up to me. But now… now, it’s whispers. Faint, almost inaudible, like a distant radio frequency that keeps cutting in and out. They’re constant, though. They ebb and flow like waves, just loud enough to make me turn my head, only to find… nothing. Every. Single. Time.

I haven’t told Rex or Kriia. What would I even say? “Hey, by the way, I’m hearing voices now. Cool, right?” They’d just worry, and the last thing I need is Rex launching into another lecture about “self-care” or Kriia dragging me off the bus to meditate under a tree or some shit. Besides, Rex is already on my case. He’s been riding me about snapping at the crew, and yeah, okay, maybe I’ve been a little… prickly lately. But it’s like my patience is razor-thin, and everything—everything—feels like it’s grating against my nerves.

We had another fight today. I don’t even remember how it started. Something about my amp, maybe? Or was it the soundcheck schedule? Doesn’t matter. It ended with Rex storming out, his footsteps heavy and furious, and Kriia giving me that look. You know the one—the look that says, “You’re better than this, and you know it.” But am I, though? Because right now, I don’t feel better. I feel… cracked. Like there’s something sharp and dark splintering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break through.

I can’t shake this feeling, either. Like something’s watching me. Always just out of sight, hovering in the corners of my vision. It’s stupid, right? Stress, exhaustion, maybe even a touch of guilt over how I’ve been acting. That’s all it is. Except… sometimes I’ll catch a flicker of movement—a shadow where there shouldn’t be one. Or I’ll hear my name in those whispers, just faint enough that I can convince myself I imagined it.

I’m probably just stressed. Or tired. Or maybe…

...Maybe it’s something else.

Nebralis 37th, 4777

I haven’t slept in three days.

Every time I close my eyes, the shadows come alive. They don’t just move—they writhe and twist like they have a purpose, like they’re watching me, judging me. Sometimes they take shapes: faces I don’t recognize, with mouths stretched too wide, eyes that don’t blink. It’s like they’re daring me to look away, and when I don’t, they dissolve back into darkness, leaving behind this awful itch in the back of my mind.

And the voices… they’re louder now. No longer faint whispers in the distance, they’re right in my ear, hissing and mocking, their words just out of reach. Sometimes, I think I catch a phrase—“failure,” or “liar,” or “you don’t belong here”—but it’s so fleeting, I can’t be sure. I feel like I’m being haunted, stalked by something I can’t see but know is there.

I’m losing it.

Rex and I had another blow-up today. I don’t even know what set it off. He said I’m “impossible” lately, and he’s not wrong. I can feel it, too—this creeping, suffocating sense that everything is spiraling out of control and I’m powerless to stop it. I lashed out at him. I could see the hurt in his eyes before he stormed out, but I didn’t stop him. What could I even say? Sorry I’m losing my mind, please don’t take it personally?

Kriia tried to step in, like she always does, her calm, steady voice trying to pull me back to reason. But I snapped at her too. It was worse this time. Her face fell, and for the first time, I saw real pain in her expression. She didn’t say anything, just left the room quietly, and now I can’t stop thinking about how much she didn’t deserve that. None of them do. They’re trying to help, but every time they reach out, it feels like claws digging into my skin.

If this is what losing your mind feels like, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. It’s like being trapped in a box where the walls are closing in, and you’re screaming, but no one can hear you—or worse, they can hear you, but they don’t know how to get you out.

The worst part? I’m afraid to tell them what’s really happening. How do you explain to your best friends that the shadows are watching you? That the voices are getting louder? That every time you blink, you’re afraid something will be there when your eyes open again?

I’m terrified. But even more than that, I’m ashamed.

Eclipsin 2nd, 4777

Tonight’s going to be epic.

We’re playing one of the biggest venues of the tour—massive stage, insane acoustics, sold-out crowd. The kind of show every musician dreams of. And I’ve been planning something special: a surprise pyro effect during “Burn the Sky.” I spent hours setting it up, tweaking the timing, making sure it’s flawless. When it goes off, it’s gonna blow Rex’s mind.

He needs it, too. The guy’s been in this weird, brooding headspace lately, even more than usual. I mean, I get it—touring is exhausting, and dealing with me can’t be a picnic. But tonight, when he sees those flames shoot up on cue, he’ll have no choice but to crack that stoic exterior. Maybe he’ll even smile. Hell, I might faint if that happens.

The whispers are quieter today. I’m not gonna lie, it feels like a win. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe I’m finally starting to beat this thing. Or maybe—get this—I just needed a good distraction. Who knew the cure for existential dread and auditory hallucinations was obsessing over pyrotechnics? Thanks, science.

Anyway, I feel good. Really good. My head’s clearer, and for the first time in weeks, I’m not jumping at shadows or snapping at everyone like a rabid dog. It’s like the fog is finally lifting.

Rex and Kriia still give me these side-eye glances, like they’re waiting for me to combust or something. Can’t really blame them; I have been a bit of a nightmare. But tonight, I’ll remind them why we’re out here doing this.

This show is going to be legendary. The crowd’s gonna scream their lungs out, Rex is gonna lose his cool when he sees the pyro, and for once, everything’s gonna feel right again.

And hey, if the flames accidentally singe Rex’s eyebrows off… well, that’s just a bonus.

Eclipsin 5th, 4777

What have I done?

The fire… it spread so fast. One moment, the crowd was screaming in excitement, their energy electric and feeding the stage. The next, their screams turned to panic, to terror. Smoke, flames, chaos—it’s all a blur in my mind, fragmented and broken like a smashed mirror.

I remember the pyro. I was so sure it would be perfect, that it would blow Rex’s mind and leave the crowd breathless. But something went wrong. Or maybe I went wrong. My mind feels like it’s full of holes, memories slipping through the cracks. I keep replaying that moment in my head, but it’s like trying to watch a shattered movie reel.

People got hurt. People… died.

I can still see their faces, distorted by the flames. Some were terrified, running for their lives, while others… others were laughing. Twisted, horrible laughter, echoing over the roar of the fire. Was it real? Or just another trick of my broken mind? I don’t know anymore.

I saw Rex, just for a moment. He was looking at me—no, through me—like I was a stranger. Like I was something dangerous. And Kriia… she wouldn’t even meet my eyes. That look of betrayal, of fear… it’s burned into my memory as vividly as the fire itself.

I ran.

I didn’t know what else to do. The smoke, the heat, the chaos—it all swallowed me whole, and I ran. My legs carried me out of the venue before my brain could catch up. The shadows were everywhere, crawling along the edges of my vision, twisting into grotesque shapes that felt too real to ignore. And the voices—they were louder than ever, screaming accusations, calling me a monster, telling me this was all my fault.

Maybe they’re right.

I can’t remember how I got out. I only know that I didn’t stop running until my legs gave out beneath me. I woke up… somewhere. A cheap motel, I think. The walls were stained, and the air reeked of mildew, but I didn’t care. I was too afraid to leave.

It wasn’t until today that I finally checked my phone. Rexar’s messages were there, a flood of frantic texts, each one worse than the last. He said he saw me leave the venue, but I haven’t responded. What could I even say? “Hey, Rex, sorry I burned down the place and killed people. Let’s grab lunch soon!”?

The voices won’t stop. They whisper every horrible thing I’ve ever thought about myself, clawing at the inside of my skull. And the shadows—they’re still here, slithering just out of reach, mocking me with their presence.

I can’t shake the feeling that something is chasing me, something I can’t outrun. Maybe it’s the Oblivion. Maybe it’s just me.

But one thing is clear. I can never go back. Not to the band, not to Rex, not to Kriia.

….I’m not sure who I am anymore, but whoever I was died in that fire.

[eryiss]

[Jet x Freed] Cubicle Capers - Chapter Four

Summary: Jet was meant to do more. He was meant to do something with his degree. He was meant to have a purpose. He'd taken a job at Grimoire Pharmaceuticals to work his way up into a lab position, but found himself stuck in a cubicle. Every day the same. At least he had a new boss coming. Freed Justine. He’d be like the rest, though. Boring, outdated and.. hot as hell?

Notes: Conflict. Forgiveness. Embarrassing pictures. All here right now. Again, this was requested by @jethro-art.

Links: Ao3, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Epilogue

Chapter Four – The Argument

Jet

There were shit days, and there was the day that Jet was having.

Slowly, over the past few weeks, little things had gone wrong and he'd dealt with it. His coffee machine as home had started giving the beans a weird taste. The supermarkets had decided to change the layout and he had no idea where his usual brand of heavy-duty trash bags had ended up. The new neighbour across the street had decided he'd start making his front lawn look presentable, but had to blast out trance music at top volume to do so. Jet's nerves had already been grated on, even before the shit-show of the morning.

Speedster, his vintage sports car and only transportation, had decided to splutter and smoke and cut out. He tended to the car like a child, taking every precaution to make sure she ran like she was showroom fresh. He'd invested a fair portion of his meagre wages on her, and for no understandable reason, that morning she had died.

That would have been bad enough already. To deal with the fact his pride and joy was dead on the street would be difficult, not to mention the fact all the money he'd spent on her had essentially been flushed down the toilet. But then he had to navigate the streets – littered with trash since the refuge union were rightly, if annoyingly, striking again. Then the bus system, which had been underfunded since before Jet was born. Then the tram system, which as a cost cutting measure had decided to half the carriage amounts and force everyone into overly cramped and revoltingly sweaty quarters not fit for humans. They also were running late, and Jet hadn't known he'd had to contend with any of this crap before his normal leaving time, meaning he was late for work. Very fucking late for work.

He stormed into the building, cursed out the stupid turnstile which took three attempts to identify his ID card, and ran up the flights of stairs because it would be faster than taking the elevator. Sweaty and angry, he threw his bag down under his desk and let his expression harden. He would let himself be angry for a little while before he started; best not let that anger touch his scanning or he'd be pissed off all day.

"Jet," Laki said, head poking into his cubicle. "Freed says he wants to see you when you get in."

Jet ground his teeth together a little. "You think I could have a couple minutes before I go?"

She winced. "I don't think so. He seemed pretty insistent," she screwed up her face. "The phrase 'if he deigns to show his face' was used, so I'd probably go now."

He forced himself to unclench. He had wanted to get a mug of non-burned coffee, and maybe a chance to splash some water on his face, before he did anything professional. He wanted to not be pissed off at the stupid busker and his stupid crowd of watchers who had gotten in his way. He wanted a moment to get his heart rate down. He wanted a better goddamn job that might be worth the stress of a crappy morning.

But duty, and managers called, so he had to do as he was told.

This was Freed, though. In the half a year he'd been working there, Freed had never once been unreasonable. Jet was always punctual, and it was obvious this was a random occurrence. Freed would see reason. With two knocks, Jet walked into Freed's office.

"Hey man, I'm really sorry-"

Freed silenced him from behind his desk, not with a word, but with a raised finger. He motioned for Jet to take the seat opposite him, and Jet did so with a scrunched-up face. Freed seemed different.

The room was different, too. Freed's phone was lit up red on all lines, the pinboard beside his desk which previously had been entirely clear now was filled with spreadsheets and random charts, and a small collection of half drunk and discarded mugs of tea and coffee decorated his desk. Freed had always kept his desk clean and his office minimalist. He was a neat freak, Jet had assumed, and yet his office today looked cluttered and messy.

"I don't know what you think is happening," Freed said, and his voice had an edge to it. "But you cannot do this."

"I wasn't-" Jet tried again, but Freed shot him a look that shut him up.

"I am your boss and as such it is my responsibility to make sure you adhere to the company rules of employment. One of which – the most obvious, I would say – is that an employee must be in the office and working for the hours their contract dictates. Your contract states you should be in the office at eight thirty and leave at five. It's ten o'clock, and you've only just gotten here. That cannot happen. There is a small amount of leeway I can give you. An hour and a half goes far beyond that."

Jet knew that, and it kind of pissed him off that Freed felt the need to explain it in that condescending tone. "Yeah. Obviously, but-"

"I understand that perhaps I blurred the lines of proper conduct between us by our trips to the bar," Freed began, and Jet could see where this was going. Oh fuck no. Freed wasn't actually gonna do this, was he? "But, us having a friendly relationship outside of work does not allow you to disregard the rules of your employ."

"You're kidding me," Jet muttered, leg bouncing.

"If us meeting outside of work is going to give you reason to think you can come and go from work without care for the proper-"

"Are you fucking kidding me!" Jet snapped, and it might have been louder than he expected because Freed sat up a little straighter. Jet didn't care. If Freed was implying this, then fuck Freed. "That's what you thought this was huh? Me, cosying up to the boss so I don't have to come to work on time? That's my evil plan, huh? Make friends with ya then half ass this job."

"One and a half hours late-"

"Happens! Shit like that happens! You don't get to-" Freed didn't get to imply their meetings in the pub, which had been a weekly thing for them both since the first, were anything but two guys having fun. Freed didn't get to imply that Jet was going to the pub with him for malicious reasons. Freed didn't get to paint Jet in that light. But he couldn't say any of that. It all sounded too soppy and emotional. Instead, he stood up and walked to the door. "Fuck this."

"I'm not finished speaking with you Jet," Freed said in a voice that might have intimidated Jet if Jet wasn't sure he was in the right.

"Who cares?"

"We are going to have this-"

"HR's been on our asses about taking all our vacation days since that lawsuit. I'm taking mine. Guess I'm not late after all."

"Jet."

"Whatever you're about to say, I don't give a shit. Don't care about the words of a guy who'd assume the words of me," Jet shrugged. "In fact, take your words and shove them up your tightly wound, hypocritical, shitty at Donkey Kong asshole!"

He left the office, slammed the door, picked up his bag from the cubicle, and got the fuck out of there. If Freed wanted to yell at him tomorrow, so be it. That just gave Jet a full day to think of the ways to make Freed feel as shitty as Jet himself felt.

Fuck Freed Justine. Fuck him.

———

Freed

Exactly twenty-two and a half hours later, Freed had been given more than enough time to realise how terribly he'd handled the situation.

He could give himself excuses. He could say that before Jet had arrived, the CFO had come into Freed's office to discuss a matter, and had decided that because Freed wasn't drowning in paperwork and visibly stressed beyond functioning, he wasn't working hard enough. He could say that this had led to his phone being the go-to for all the questions that no department was specifically meant to answer. He could say that the reality of his office job had started to crush him, and for the first time Freed was considering quitting a job purely because he was struggling to handle it.

None of that mattered, though. Yes, he was a person who had flaws and bad days, but so were his employees. If he hadn't allowed Jet to explain his lateness, then Freed had no right to explain his unfair assumptions. He was wrong, he had deserved Jet's yelling, and the onus was on him to fix things.

As such, Freed had spent the morning waiting at the elevators, looking for Jet. He hoped he'd come in. He would come, wouldn't he? Jet hadn't quit, so he'd come back to work eventually. Right?

His question was eventually answered, when Jet trudged out of the stairwell beside the elevators, and Freed saw him from the corner of his eye. Jet saw him at the same time, and they looked at each other. Jet's posture was rigid and anticipatory, the very personification of someone waiting to close either fight or flight.

"Could I speak with you in my office please, Jet," Freed requested. The shift in Jet's jawline and the slight straightening of his back told Freed that Jet was ready for a fight.

The walk from the elevator to Freed's office was long, and Freed had to wonder how long it must have felt for Jet the day before, swirling with anger and annoyance and, if Freed wasn't deluding himself into thinking Jet saw him as a friend, a sense of betrayal. That made the guilt squirm harder in Freed's stomach. But he was going to make this right; or at least he'd do his best to try.

With the door closed firmly behind them, Freed took his seat behind his desk and gestured for Jet to take his own. Jet's leg was bouncing and his fingers twiddling. Jet was a fidgeter. A ball of energy. It must be hell to work in this office.

"Yesterday," Freed began, and suddenly, looking into Jet's eyes, the professional apology he had planned went out the window. "I behaved like a dick to you. I was unfair and presumptuous and put outward stresses onto you. I was rude, and I'm incredibly sorry."

Jet looked at him. His face portrayed nothing. Freed continued.

"For what it's worth, yesterday won't be removed from your designated vacation days, so you haven't lost any Holliday due to what I did."

"So I've got a full day on record without doing any work." Jet had muttered that. Maybe Freed wasn't meant to hear, but he had.

"No, your figures are entirely as they should be," Freed explained, and a look of panic flashed across Jet's face. Freed belatedly realised what that sounded like – like Freed had fudged the figures in a way that could come back to haunt them – and quickly spoke again. "I got your work done. I realised… fairly soon after you left that I was in the wrong, and that your professional reputation shouldn't be affected," his cheeks flushed a little, and he had no idea why. "I made sure all the scanning was done; you don't need to worry."

Jet looked at him. Stared him down. "What time d'you leave last night?"

"That's not important," Freed dismissed. He hadn't actually left at night. It had been a little after one in the morning. Saying that would be like pointing out a sacrifice he'd made, which wasn't fair. Recompense wasn't something that should end in pity.

"So I ain't in trouble, and I ain't behind on work, and I ain't missing a vacation day. That's all you wanted to tell me?"

"And that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you the way I did, and I promise it won't happen again."

Jet kept staring at him. Freed could only stare back. Jet was clearly expecting something, but Freed had no idea what that was. If Jet needed something to forgive Freed, then Freed would get it for him no questions asked, but he really had no clue what that thing might be. Maybe Jet sensed that, because he spoke again. "You not gonna explain what was stressing you out? That you had your boss breathing down your neck or whatever, and that's why you were being an asshat."

"I've found that an apology followed by an excuse tends to not be worth saying," Freed met Jet's gaze. "I'm sorry, I was wrong, no amendments needed."

And, rather heartbreakingly, Jet looked like he'd been struck. Like such a thing was so unfamiliar in his life that it was worthy of a shocked response. Like he didn't think he deserved it. Like it was so out of the realms of possibility for Freed to treat him like a human being. Like an equal.

Freed really had fucked up. And Jet really hadn't been treated right. It wasn't appropriate for Freed to quietly think that he could treat Jet right. He could make the man feel worthy of all the apologies in the world. He could make Jet smile that sharp toothed smile.

"Oh, right. Thanks."

Before dangerous thoughts could persist, Freed pushed on. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, laminated card. "This is also a gesture of good will, I hope. It tends to make people laugh and, given you like making fun of me when we're drinking, I thought you'd appreciate it."

He placed the card on his desk and let Jet pick it up. He saw the moment apprehension gave way to amusement.

"You look like a jackass," Jet grinned. "What the hell made you do that to yourself?"

"A drunken mistake, I'm afraid." Freed glanced down at his old ID card from about five years ago, with his green hair buzzed short and looking entirely ridiculous. He had a face that served long hair, and certainly not an army style buzzcut. It was a point of consistent ridicule among his friends that he'd done that, made worse by the fact he'd done it days before a job translating for the king of Lichtenstein, his most publicised job. "It's ridiculous, I know. Feel free to circulate it around the office should you feel the need."

"Nah, I'll keep it to myself."

"Really?"

"Not a fucking chance. Gotta make sure this gets around. You okay with me doin' a scan of this and sending out a company wide email, make sure everyone knows."

"Do as you wish," Freed laughed. "But, might I ask, are we good?"

Jet paused. "I think we're good. I'm gonna stew on it a little longer, I think, but I think we're good."

"I'm glad," Freed smiled. "I've taken too much of your time already, so feel free to leave."

"Yep, got work to do," Jet agreed, holding onto the ID card. "See you later Bossman."

"See you later."

Jet saluted to him, and Freed leant back in his chair with a small sigh. The dampening of his nerves hit him suddenly, and he placed his hands on the desk to stop them shaking. It had been far too long since he'd cared like this about something.

Jet had called him Bossman. That was enough for now. That was a promise that they'd get back to where they'd been, even if Jet was still a little raw and likely to make some negative assumptions about Freed for a while. He could understand that. He could live with that. So long as it ended up okay, that was fine.

A little trill came from his PC, and Freed glanced over to it. An email, sent to the entire company list. The little fucker had actually done it. Brat. Freed had to grin. He really did love being in Jet's aura; the chaos was wonderful.

[wonderfuldeath]

.o| It's a small world : XXII |o.

Warnings : Violence, injury, graphic depictions, sex

Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥

His head was spinning, his eyes struggling to open as he tried to work out what was happening. Taehyung tried to move his hands, but the pain of the bonds made him moan softly, as he turned his head right, then left, to see where the hell he'd ended up. It was strange, his mouth pasty, his wrists aching, his head like a brick. The acrid taste on his lips made him slowly panic, his condition proving to him that he had consumed something illicit, which he would never have taken in his normal state, and Taehyung replayed the sequence of events in his head. He was at the festivals, Jimin was giving the best performance of all time, Jungkook had moved away for a second, a blink of an eye, before he felt something stick in his throat. Panic overcomes him, as he is now fully conscious, locked behind this thick glass cage, his eyes getting used to the strange darkness with difficulty. His heart sinks, painfully in his temples, as he searches for something he recognizes, to find out where he is, but he doesn't recognize anything.

“- Awake at last. Excuse this little… inconvenience, but it had to be done if I was to have a chance to interview you.

- You are… Damarro.

- I see my prestige precedes me. But I'll take you, call me Heisukei.”

He recognizes the man from the party, from his vacation at the chalet, the place is white, like a laboratory, somewhere underground. There was no resonance when neither of them spoke, and Taehyung took a breath before looking at him again. Heisukei was taller than Jungkook, or a normal Korean, which told him he must certainly be American, or European. He couldn't see him well in the half-light, hidden behind the large tubes. Taehyung wasn't sure he wanted to understand what was inside. He didn't even really want to be here, to be perfectly frank.

“- What do you want from me?

- Me? Not much. I have nothing against prestigious doctors like you. I even find you fascinating, a real waste when it comes to your decision to stop practicing altogether.

- I only stopped working for you.

- Exactly what I say, a waste.”

A thud startled him, as he saw a shadow pass by, two military-looking men forcibly dragging the hospital director away, under Taehyung's curious and questioning gaze, he was lost, not understanding what was happening, or where it was all going to lead him. Heisukei had this kind of terrifying smile, as he let the men shove the old man into a capsule.

“- Let me show you my work, Mr. Kim, so we can understand each other better, and have an adult conversation.”

With a wave of his hand, he tells the two men to start work, and they both move to one side of the tube, each grabbing one of the levers, before lowering it in perfect synchronization. A howl of pain passes the man, before a propeller noise is heard and Taehyung cries out, a mixture of pure horror and terror, trying to free himself to potentially help the man in his pain. The shredding noise finally stopped, as did the screams, before the large tubes, hitherto invisible because transparent, filled with the red liquid. The man had been transformed into an amont of flesh, leaving only his nectar. Horrified, Taehyung watched the scene as if in slow motion. The door opens, and all that's left inside are bits of bone, which Taehyung looks at Heisukei, trying to understand why he'd let him discover something so macabre.

“- Now that we're on the same wavelength, we're going to have a very interesting conversation about my companion.

- I have no idea what you're talking about.

- Come on, don't play that game, Doctor. Your life's at stake, you know?”

-x-

No matter how loud the music, Jungkook can't quite get into it. For the fifteenth time, he puts his phone to his ear, listening to the long beeps, before finally hearing the unpleasant voice of the answering machine. A long shiver of terror runs down his spine, and he tries again, looking around, trying to find a sound resembling a ringtone, but the place is too noisy, so he hears nothing but background music. An animated growl passes his frustrated lips, as Jungkook looks around again for a face he knows, before quickly approaching Min Yoongi's minty head.

“- Have you seen Taehyung?

- Nope. Not since just now. Why not?

- He's not answering his phone.

- Maybe he can't hear it?”

Yoongi looks at him, realizing that he clearly doesn't want to hear something like that, and pulls out his phone, trying to reach Jungkook's lover as well. Direct messaging, so he calls Jimin, looking for a less noisy corner to have a better conversation than with the bass noises. Several intonations are heard, before they hang up on him, and his eyebrows furrow, he tries again, but this time, nothing. No dial tone, just the answering machine directly, Jungkook can understand when Yoongi turns paler than average, that something's wrong.

“- What?

- Something's wrong .”

The realization of this information makes Jungkook pinch his lower lip as an expletive passes his lips, he grabs his phone with more fury, dialing the emergency number of their illegal little group, barking out his orders, as Hoseok comes in a little panicked, understanding that the three of them have the same problem without needing to really talk.

“No mercy. I don't want to hear it, the first one who finds him gets a good shot.”

-x-

The heavy silence buzzes in his ears, as Jimin takes the bucket of icy water over the fresh burns of torture, a grinding of teeth passes his lips, he can no longer really speak, nor answer, he barely straightens his eyes when his hair is pulled back, making him scrape the cold, soaked ground. The man in front of him glares at him as he punches him again, this time in the stomach, causing him to regurgitate the alcohol he'd consumed earlier in the evening.

“- Disgusting.

- Speak for yourself. You type like a little girl.

- Tch. Aren't you going to answer me? Your buddy spilled the beans a long time ago.

- Then why are you hitting me?”

The man loses patience with Jimin's attitude, and takes another blow, making him stagger. If he wasn't tied up with his wrists in the air, like a common animal, he'd already be rolling on the ground. But he could only take a few steps to the side, his head spinning as he tried to stay awake, watching his tormentor circle him like a predator. Jimin had woken up an hour before, in this icy room, and ever since, this creep had been giving him a hard time. Yet he remained sure of himself, making no comment on the man's questions, unwilling to answer any of the obviously stupid man's interrogations, because he would never hand over his friend, even if he had to die to do so. His eyes were cloudy, and he coughed up a little blood. He wasn't a doctor, but it was never a good sign to have something like that pass your lips. Jimin can't hold his head up.

“- You could be smart, and answer me, your death would be quicker you know?

- My death? Yours won't be so sweet.

- He'll never find you. Suga will never know about this.

- You're an idiot. He's probably circling the city already.”

The very idea of Yoongi looking for him makes him smile, even if he had to die, then he'd accept it, he wouldn't die without really loving, and remaining himself. He closed his eyes, terribly tired, as he could feel the man in front of him moving, his last thought before falling completely into a coma being that Suga must have been worried about him, and that he must have looked adorable. The bang of the gunshot being the last thing he can hear, not completely sure whether he's totally alive or not.

The pain in his head seems to have subsided as he finally regains consciousness, the bin of the machine to which he was attached by the drip, his eyes rolling to understand what's happening, as he can feel the arms around his aching body, and the doctor's voice, which he recognizes as Taehyung asking the patient to let some air.

“- Where am I… And Elyzabeth?

- Don't worry, everything's fine. Everything's taken care of.

- Settled?

- Heisukei is no more.”

Nodding, he tries to situate himself in time as he moves a little, to be more comfortable in bed. He was at Yoongi's home, he could recognize the familiar smell of the blankets against his back, before turning his head slowly and seeing what was around him, Taehyung was straight, he had a few bruises too, but he seemed to be doing fine, Yoongi looked like he was about to cry, while Jungkook was on the phone behind them. Elyzabeth wasn't there, so he looked for her a little before Taehyung spoke again.

“- She's gone to get some fresh water, relax now. Patients get better when they're relaxed.

- What happened…? Heisukei..? And the rest?”

Yoongi spoke up, they'd gone through all Heisukei's businesses, one by one, before finding where they'd brought them, taking down everything in their path. They'd arrived just in time for Jimin, his tormentor about to finish him off with a bullet, but Yoongi had been quicker. Jimin nodded again, still feeling the weight of fatigue. Closing his eyes gently as Taehyung embraced Jungkook, telling everyone to let him sleep. They were safe, all of them, and that was the best news of the day for him.

[jeonqkooks]

I seriously don't get it. Like, you can be a fan of an actor or a director and it doesn't mean you automatically love every single movie they've ever been in or made. You can talk normally with other fans about what you loved and what you didn't. And *gasp* you might have different opinions because taste is subjective! And just because it's not your type of movie doesn't mean you won't give it a chance or not be excited about the next one.

Why is the attitude towards BTS so different? Hell, sometimes they don't even love the work they put out or change their minds on it as their tastes evolve. You can support and love JK and wish for his happiness and success without vibing with every single thing he does. And it's ok to talk to each other about it without it being classified as a personal attack on the artist. The whole point of art is to provoke thought and discussion!

i think the reason why the attitude is different toward bts is bc kpop fandoms (and maybe this fandom especially) are toxic as hell 😭 the kpop fandom culture sucks and i think we can all agree on this. literally anything less than absolute worship is considered “hate” and (as you said) “a personal attack on the artist”, which i think is stupid as hell because ??? make it make sense. 😑

yeah i don’t know why it’s such a “controversial” thing to have an opinion that’s different than the majority of the fandom, an opinion that doesn’t include always screaming about how much you love bts and the thing they’re doing. i say bts but honestly i only ever see this kind of stuff happening with jk. 95% of the discourse i come across is jk discourse.

i am literally a jk stan. we all know that. if i love a thing he does, i’ll proudly say it. i can yell about how much i love Stay Alive all day long. you guys KNOW how much this blog used to revolve around jk. clearly i am not “out to get him” and i am not lurking in the shadows with my little rat hands waiting for him to release new content just so i can dunk on him. 😑

as a fan and a literal consumer of his music, i am allowed to have certain expectations. he doesn’t seem to be going down the direction that i would’ve liked, and that’s perfectly fine. you do you, boo 😗 if it’s not my taste, then it’s not my taste. but i’m still allowed to have my opinions on this and i’m still allowed to express them.

expressing my disappointment does not mean that i hate him or i don’t support him anymore. it’s as simple as that, but apparently even that is still a very hard pill for a lot of people to swallow. “but they see everything!” okay lol i can guarantee you (not you anon, just people in general) that bts are not creeping on my tumblr blog and taking notes of every single thing that i’m saying about them. even if they are, i can still guarantee you that they do not care lol. me not listening to a song/album literally will not affect their streams at all. it will not affect their revenue in any way. jk is still a multi millionaire whether or not i listen to or buy jjk1. he does not give a shit about me because he does not know i exist lol.

with that said, a big reason why i am PISSED is because of the fans. jk doesn’t care about me, do you think he’s crying in his room because i said i didn’t like a song? do you think that he - a 26-year-old grown ass adult and global superstar with 10 years of experience under his belt - cannot handle criticism? do you think he’s a baby in an adult man’s body or something that you feel like you personally have to defend him against any and all criticism? that you have a duty to make sure that he doesn’t hear anything less than positive that people have to say about him?

if your answer is yes, then, well, idk what else to say to you lol.

but if your answer is no, and you still come after people for having different opinions, then lol sorry i think you’re weird 🤷‍♀️ why can i only speak my mind when it’s something along the lines of “OH MY GOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH. ALBUM OF THE CENTURY”? when i say something as simple as “i’m a little disappointed by this. this isn’t something i really vibe with,” i’m considered a hater, an anti, and told to shut the fuck up? why can i only say what i really think when it aligns with what the majority of the fandom is thinking?

i am not attacking jk by not being into his music. i am not attacking jk stans by having a different opinion than they do. i am literally just being honest about what i think, my opinions which only affect me. what is so hard to understand about that lol

another point that i would like to touch on is when people say things like “but why can’t you let people enjoy it?” erhm. i’m not going into people’s inboxes and screaming in people’s faces “I DON’T LIKE IT, SO WHY DO YOU? YOU SHOULDN’T LIKE IT EITHER!” 😑 if my not liking the music ruins your fun, if it genuinely hurts and upsets you, then maybe you should take a step back from all of this and reevaluate. if you are hurt by an online stranger having a different opinion than you about something as simple as MUSIC (which is subjective to everyone’s personal taste) made by someone you will never know, then i don’t think the internet is for you, honestly.

[lustastarte]

♤ drop that | caejose ♤

genre: fluff/angst (some sexual themes)

joseph meets his soulmate in the club, caesar believes he's just another friend with benefits

published: 2023

modern au

Blinding neon lights, incoherent chatter, deafeningly loud dance music, scent of sweat and sex, taste of alcohol in the air. Mindless bodies moving with and against each other, slurred 'I love you's and scattered kisses, liquor-stained breath meets lust-tainted flesh. The uncontrollable primal instinct to hold someone close and dance as one, separate and together at the same time. Joseph can no longer tell if he loves the club for these qualities or hates it. Yet, he finds himself there every single weekend, 10 p.m. to 3 a.m., getting drunk out of his mind and dancing with whoever will dance with him. He's not normally picky, but tonight wasn't normal. His eyes were trained on the man that had just walked in. Out of all the attractive people in the room, he was standing out to Joseph. He didn’t know if it were his voluminous blonde hair, his body-complimenting outfit, or the strange marks on his cheeks, but he had Joseph’s full attention from the moment he walked in.

"Do you know who that is?"

"Yeah, he's a regular," the bartender, Lisa, said.

"I mean, does he have a name? Do you know him?"

"Oh! His name is Caesar, and I think he's coming over to you right now," she finished, wiggling her eyebrows and walking off to make another patron’s drink with a simple, "Have fun, use a condom."

The other regular made his way to the bar, nodding at Joseph.

"I've seen you here a lot," Caesar yells over the music. "You dance well."

"Yeah, I'm here every weekend. Why don't you let me show you some moves?"

"Only if you'll buy drinks."

"Deal."

One drink became three. Three became five, and Caesar decided he was finally ready to dance. Joseph grabbed his hand and led him gently to the dance floor. The once reserved Italian was freed by the alcohol, allowing his lust for the British-American man to shine through. Their bodies moved to the beat, working together to attract one another. Soon, their lips moved in sync, crashing into one another in an attempt to gain dominance. Caesar grinded on Joseph, urging him to do the same. Joseph had had more than enough. Caesar was teasing him relentlessly, and now he wants to take him home. Who wouldn’t? It wasn’t like Joseph got a chance to be with someone this attractive often. So, like any normal person would do, he grabbed Caesar’s hand, led him out of the club as quickly as possible, and hailed a taxi.

The backseat of the cab was overflowing with sexual tension. And not long after the men stepped inside the front door, Caesar was pinned down on his bed, with Joseph preparing to make that night something neither of them could forget. He would be damned if this strange man ever forgot about him.

There was something comforting about Joseph. Caesar felt safe talking to him at the bar, dancing with him on the dance floor, and lying under him while being showered with wet kisses and pillow talk. He even felt safe enough after their rendezvous that he could fall asleep, which was uncommon for him. He actually slept. And if you asked him, he'd tell you it was the best goddamn night of sleep he's ever gotten.

Joseph squinted, groaning. The sun was shining directly into his eyes, and his head hurt like hell. He turned over, hoping to get a small nap in, feeling his phone buzz under him. Only when he opened his eyes did he realize he was not in his own bed, and there wasn’t just a couple of pillows next to him, but a half-naked, grown man beside him, sleeping peacefully. Last night was a blur for him. All he remembered was drinking and dancing. Nothing more. He did, however, faintly remember the man's name. Caesar. Though he didn’t agree to it, his job was calling him away from the bed. But, hoping to meet him again, he left Caesar a note.

Dear Caesar,Sorry I had to leave, I had to go to work. If you want to talk sometime, here's my number.xxx-xxx-xxxxThanks for last night :)Hopefully I'll see you soon,Joseph Joestar.

At work, he couldn't focus. He couldn't even get a simple black coffee with cream right. He forgot the fucking coffee. Joseph could only think of the beautiful man he woke up next to. He could only imagine the things that drunk him got to see and do, because god knows he can’t remember it. His mind wandered all day.

"I'll bet his lips taste like strawberries, and his skin tastes like cake. I wonder if his hips are wide enough to keep him balanced on my face. I'll bet my hand fits perfectly in the small of his back, and that one day, that gloriously large ass will be mine," Joseph would think from time to time, accidentally arousing himself with obscene thoughts and images running through his head.

He could just imagine Caesar sprawled out on the bed, begging to be touched. He could just imagine watching him unravel under him. He could just imagine him riding him into oblivion. He could just imagine the beautiful noises that he would make. He could just imagine him screaming his name as he drills into him relentlessly. He could just imagine teasing and playing with him, watching him whimper and shake. He could just imagine being his nightly routine. He could just imagine holding him in his arms. He could just imagine kissing him goodnight. He could just imagine his head buried in his chest. He could just imagine running his fingers through his hair and drawing on his back, lulling him to sleep. He could just imagine him lightly kissing him awake. He could just imagine being his daily routine. He could just imagine calling Caesar his.

Wait. What the hell is he talking about? It was just a one night stand. That's it. He probably won't ever see Caesar again. He should just forget it. Yeah. Just forget it.

Joseph’s entire work day went like this. Simple orders, even regulars he saw every single day were screwed up. He couldn't even write a name on a cup. Just forget it, Joseph. Pull yourself together. But he can't. You can do this, forget him. Joseph can't get him out of his head. Caesar who? You don’t know him. Doesn’t ring a bell.

Joseph just can't forget.

He sighed as he took off his apron and name tag. He really hated working at a coffee shop. The orders were outrageous, the people were rude, and worst of all, the lovers flocked to the building. They were all so sickeningly sweet to one another and it made him want to puke and cry at the same time. He waved to his coworkers and walked quickly out of the building, hurriedly driving home. After opening the door, his face lit up. Finally, he could check his phone! He whipped out the small device and grinned when he saw the notification he had waited for all day.

xxx-xxx-xxxx 1hr agohey joseph, it's caesar

xxx-xxx-xxxx 1hr agodo you wanna meet up sometime? maybe when we aren’t drunk?

xxx-xxx-xxxx 1hr agoi'd be more than happy to, just not today. i can't even walk :/ limping around my house as we speak

Joseph smiled. He didn't know whether it was because Caesar wanted to try to take it further, or because he couldn't walk and he knew it was his fault.

Joseph:

hey, i'm glad you texted i really want to be something more with you| i really want to be something more wi i really want to be someth| i really wan| i re| do you mean meeting up as a date?| do you mean meeting up| do you mean me| do you m| i really hope you mean more than friends| i really hope you mean mo| i really hope you| i rea| i think i like you| i think| i'd love to meet up :D i hope you feel better btw, i'm sorry if i was too rough with you

Caesar:

okay, how about this saturday at 7:30? we could do whatever you want to do also please don't apologize, it was amazing. in my book, it's only good sex if you can't walk afterward ;)

Joseph:

i'll make sure to remember that ;)) and saturday sounds great! you don't have to dress up, just be ready for me to come get you

Caesar:

sounds like a plan :) also i have a question is this a date date or just a friendly date?

Joseph:

whichever you want it to be

Caesar:

then it's a friendly date : ) 

Joseph:

oh, i was kinda hoping it'd be a date date| oh, i was kinda hoping it| oh, i was kin| oh okay

Caesar:

are you upset?

Joseph:

very| yes, i really like you| yes, i rea| yes,| i really fucking like you and you're friendzoning me yes i'm upset why the fuck wouldn't i be| i really fucking like you and you're  friendzoning me yes i'm upset| i really fucking like you and you're friendzoning| i really fucking like you| i really| nah, i'm good anyway, i'll see you saturday i gotta sleep, i have a really early shift tomorrow night caesar

Caesar:

oh okay good, i thought i had upset you goodnight joseph

Joseph put his phone on his nightstand and sat down on his bed, placing his head in his hands.

"Maybe it was just a one night stand. Maybe I'm in over my head. He doesn't like me," he thought, changing out of his clothes and into sweatpants. He fell onto his bed, frowning.

When he woke up, he shot him a quick text.

Joseph:be ready at 7:30

And then he began his dull, lifeless work routine.

Caesar was nervous. But why? It's just a friendly meet-up.

He was so nervous, in fact, that he had called his friends and fellow teachers, asking them to come over.

"I just don't know why I feel like this!"

"You might have a little crush," one of them suggested. "I felt like that when I first met up with my husband."

"How? You had only talked through instagram before you met."

"Yeah, but I fell for his personality, and I knew he was hot. But I mean, 7 years of keeping up a long distance relationship was worth it. Look at us no-!"

"We get it," another interjected. "You guys are now happily married and have two sons. Quit rubbing it in our faces."

"I'm not, I'm just-"

"Rubbing it in our faces," the third said with a blank face.

"But I-"

"It's like talking about having a great wife in a room full of newly divorced people."

The first friend sighed violently.

Caesar furrowed his brows, leaning forward. "But how is that supposed to help me? You and your husband were already dating when he got off the plane. Joseph and I aren't!"

"Well, sucks to be you, I guess?"

"Try staying casual with him. Don't try too hard," the second friend said quietly. "Be calm."

Caesar nodded, listening intently as the others gave their input. Not long after they had all left, the time was approaching 7:30, and the teacher was nervously sitting in his living room.

Honk! Honk!

The man jumped up as fast as possible, grabbing his phone and keys, and walked out the door. At the restaurant, the two talked about everything from jobs to friends, and Caesar’s fears slowly disintegrated. They had a real connection.

Joseph couldn't breathe. Caesar looked so damn beautiful in his outfit. He wasn't even wearing anything fancy, but he looked like a prince. The younger man could just feel himself falling in love. Every time Caesar smiled, his heart flipped. Every time Caesar laughed, he wanted to tell him every joke he's ever heard just to hear him laugh again. Every time he spoke, Joseph could only hear him. With every heartbeat, he fell harder and harder for Caesar.

Caesar was stunned. Joseph was cute when he smiled, funny when he didn't intend to be. Joseph was kind when he was not required to be, quiet when others were talking. He was a good guy when it was almost impossible to be. And Caesar? He was falling at the speed of light. But Joseph doesn't feel the same about him. He knows this, and sadly, has come to terms with the fact. Maybe if he stopped focusing on him altogether- Look at how he smiles when he takes a bite of his food... Stop it!

However, when Caesar was dropped off later at his place, the only thing running through his mind was him. Caesar just can't clear his head.

"Let me see you drop that like you did the night we met," Joseph whispered deeply, running his hand over Caesar’s ass.

"Only if you're willing to pull an all-nighter," the blonde said with a wink, suggestively trailing his fingers down Joseph’s chest.

"Deal."

The two men were spending tonight at the club. Joseph wanted to see if Caesar really liked him or not; Caesar wanted to have fun and get drunk.

The brunette felt the blood rush to his pelvis as Caesar danced. The way he moved should be illegal. The way he looked at Joseph drove the latter insane. The way he felt him up, innocently brushing his fingers over the younger's growing bulge 'by accident.' The way his lips moved perfectly against his should be impossible. Caesar made Joseph want to fuck him on the spot.

Caesar’s lips trailed down Joseph's neck, the latter groaning softly and tightening his grip on Caesar. Joseph's hands slid down Caesar's back, stopping at his ass. The blonde boy began sucking on his date’s neck, making sure he left a mark. Joseph brought one arm up to Caesar's hair, running his fingers through it before using it to pull his head up. The hand traced his jawline, tilting his head up so he and Joseph were eye to eye.

He froze as he saw the almost animalistic look in Joseph's eyes.

"We're going home. Now."

Caesar wasted no time hailing a cab for them and no time dragging Joseph into his room.

When Caesar opened his eyes, he heard his door open and close.

"Caesar?"

The older man pretended to sleep as Joseph walked into the room. "Caesar? Oh," the younger whispered. "He's still asleep."

Joseph walked over to Caesar, kissing him on the forehead. "God, you're so beautiful. I don't think there's a moment in each day that you aren't. You were exceptionally beautiful last night," the brunette said with a smirk. "I'll be back in a second."

And with another forehead kiss, he was gone.

"he only whispers i love you

as he slips his hands

down the waistband

of your pants

this is where you must

understand the difference

between want and need

you may want that boy

but you certainly

don't need him"

-rupi kaur, " milk and honey"

Caesar sat up, wiping his eyes.

"Am I just here for him to have sex with? He's taken me on one date, and it wasn't even a real date... Was that just to make me think he actually likes me? Just to make it seem like I'm not another one of his late-night booty calls? Maybe I am just that. A drunk, late-night booty call. He only does this when we're drunk. All I am to him is drunk sex. A friend with benefits," Caesar thought to himself, trying not to cry. He had started to fall for Joseph, but he didn't know if he could handle just being someone's sex ticket.

When Joseph opened the door, Caesar was sitting on the couch.

"Hey! You're awake," Joseph said, grinning. "I got breakfast."

The younger man went to kiss the older's forehead, but was pushed away softly.

"Caesar?"

"Joseph, I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"Be just friends one day, and then fuck each other the next. You only want me when I'm drunk and horny."

"No, it's not like that," Joseph's eyes widened as he spoke. "I wasn't drunk last night, and I don’t just want you for sex."

"But I was. What if I wanted to get to know you better before we had sex again?"

"I- But you were the one grinding up on me!"

"I was drunk!"

"You're honest when you're drunk! You said so yourself!"

Caesar sighed, tears beginning to collect in his eyes. "Am I just sex to you? Is that all you want me for? Someone to fuck whenever you please?"

"Caesar, it's not like tha-!"

"I don't want to hear it. All you want me for is sex. You only text me when you want to go clubbing or something that always ends up with us fucking. I'm sick of it! I mean nothing to you, I'm just another sex toy," the older said in a croaky whimper before bursting into tears. "Please leave."

"Caesar, please let me explain," Joseph begged.

"I think you've done enough explaining. Please leave. Take your goddamn food with you."

Joseph grabbed the bag he had brought in, opening the door. Right before he stepped back, he whispered to the older man. "Caesar, please."

"Leave."

As Joseph closed the door, he broke down. He tried so hard to stay strong in there, but he couldn't keep holding it in. The boy he adores thinks he only wants him for his body. But he's wrong. Joseph loves Caesar's personality, his voice, his smile, his eyes, and everything in between. Joseph has fallen hard for Caesar, and to hear him say that Joseph doesn't want him for anything but sex drove him crazy. The brunette hailed a cab and hopped in the back, tears streaming down his face.

"Just t-take me wherever you want," Joseph said in between sobs.

"Rough day?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"You can talk to me if you want," the driver said softly, turning the radio down. "I'm here for you."

Joseph half-smiled. "Thank you. Where do you want me to start?"

"Wherever you feel comfortable starting."

"Okay... So I met this guy at a club last weekend, who I ended up having a one night stand with. The next morning, I had to go to work, so I left him my number and name. He texted me later that day and we agreed to meet up, but he wanted to meet up as friends, which kinda hurt me since I already had a little bit of a crush on him."

"Alright, what happened after the meet up?"

"We decided to go clubbing together, and he got drunk. He started dancing on me, and of course I got aroused. He kept teasing me, and then we went back to his house and did it again."

The driver nodded and hummed to let Joseph know he was still listening.

"And then I left to get food for us. When I came back, he was awake, and he started pelting me with questions. He thinks I only keep him around for sex and I don't," Joseph said, his eyes watering up again. "I- I've only known him for a week, but I think I need him in my life. I think he belongs with me. And when he told me to leave I-... I broke..."

"I'm so sorry... I know how you feel, my ex broke up with me because she thought I only wanted sex... I really miss her."

"Hey, I never caught your name," Joseph said quietly.

The taxi driver smiled. "I'm Suzi. You are?"

"Joseph. And I think you should try to talk to your ex. Explain it to her."

"Thanks, I think I will."

The cab went silent before Joseph spoke again. "Can I have your number? You seem nice and I want to be friends with you."

"Yeah! I was about to ask you the same question, I want to make sure you're doing okay every once in a while. My number is xxx-xxx-xxxx."

"Thanks man," Joseph said, wiping the tears from his eyes and smiling.

"Now where to? I've been driving you around aimlessly for 30 minutes," Suzi said with a laugh.

"xxxx Magnolia St., XX xxxxx."

"Home, I'm guessing?"

"Yep. I don’t really have anywhere else to go…"

Soon, Suzi was dropping her new friend off, and telling him the expense of his ride.

"It's $xx.xx, but I'm not making you pay for the aimless part of the ride."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. You call me if you need me, and text me later, okay?"

Joseph nodded and Suzi grabbed his hand gently before getting back into the taxi.

“Be safe now, okay?”

“Yes ma’am, I will,” he assured.

Once inside, Joseph was left to think. He quickly lost any happiness gained from his friend, tears forming once more. His thumb hovered over Caesar's contact, but he never clicked it.

Joseph really likes Caesar, and he can't forget him. Suzi visited him often, as did his co-workers, but they couldn't fill the hole in his heart. Each time he thought of the blonde, it felt like some invisible force was sat on his stomach, ripping his chest open, and pouring concrete in to dry. The weight made him feel as though he were breathing in corn syrup. Why did it hurt him so much? He had only known the guy for a week, yet the misunderstanding hit Joseph like a hurricane. It flooded his heart and leveled his mental state. Nothing was left but a pile of everything that could have been between the two of them, now rotting and molded in the stagnant water.

Joseph was absolutely empty.

"Joseph, I think you should try to talk to Caesar," Suzi said while she attempted to shove food down the man's throat. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to eat for a few days.

"I'm not hungry right now, and I couldn’t if I wanted to anymore. He won't answer any of my calls or texts..."

"Then try a different way," she suggested, closing the plate of takeout. "He's a teacher, right?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Send him flowers. Tell him to meet you somewhere on the note."

"He won't if I put my name though."

"Then don’t put your name," Suzi concluded. "Just get flowers and have them sent to the school for Caesar. I could get one of the other teachers to ask what his favorite flower is, I drive a few of them to and from school."

"Please," Joseph sighed. “I don’t have any other ideas.”

Later that day, a couple hours after she had left, Suzi returned.

"Carnations. Light pink, to be exact."

"Thank you Suzi, you’re the best," Joseph said, smiling. "Will you stay here while I write the note?"

"Why are you writing it now?"

"I'm bringing it to the flower shop today, they said they could deliver the flowers tomorrow."

Suzi nodded. “Let me go switch my taxi out for my car, I’ll be back.”

Not long after that, she was honking her horn outside Joseph's house. Once inside the car, they made their way to the flower shop, placed the order, and prayed that it would work.

Caesar sighed as he walked into his classroom, flipping the lightswitch. He froze, however, upon seeing a vase on his desk. The large glass container was filled with several large, baby pink carnations, and in the very middle was a small, sealed blue envelope. Carefully, he opened the envelope and pulled out a small note.

Please meet me at the cafe next to the school at 4:00 p.m.-your secret admirer

4 o'clock had never come so fast.

Caesar rushed out of his classroom after finishing the stack of work on his desk. He drove the short distance to the cafe and walked in, his hands shaking.

Who could it possibly be?

The teacher looked around the room, trying to find the stranger.

"Are you looking for someone?"

"Yeah, they-"

"Over there, the booth in the corner."

"Thanks."

Caesar made his way over to the booth cautiously and sat down quickly. When the person sitting across from him moved the menu in front of his face, Caesar got up to leave.

"Wait!" Joseph cried, grabbing Caesar's wrist. The entire cafe was deafeningly silent, the customers watching the couple like hawks.

"What do you want?"

“I want to talk to you. Please…”

“No! What the fuck dude? I told you to fuck off and you stalked me instead? Do you know how fucked that is?!”

"You wouldn’t answer my texts or calls and I’m fucking desperate, okay? I wasn’t even sure if this would work, but I have to talk to you! I don’t even care if you believe me or not, I just need to know that I tried. Please, just stay for a second and let me explain," the younger begged. "Please..."

"You have one minute, and that's it," Caesar said coldly, arms crossed as he sat back down.

Joseph took a deep breath. "Listen. I know you think that I only want you around for fun and games, but what you don't know is that every night that we're apart, I dream of being yours. I wish on every shooting star I see that one day I'll be able to hold your hand in public and say, 'This is my boyfriend.' I pray to every deity I've ever heard of in an attempt to make you see that I'm not here for fun and games. I belong with you, Caesar. My soul is literally chained to yours. You’re meant to be with me. I don't care about having sex with you. I want to love you. I remember when I first met you, my heart quit beating. Time stopped, and all I could see was you. All I could hear was your voice. I want to love you with every inch of my being, and if that isn't enough to show you that I don't just want your body, then I'll leave you alone. I'll quit trying to win you over. I'll delete your number. I'll disappear so that you can forget."

The younger boy slammed a $20 bill on the table and continued, a steady stream flowing from his eyes. "Use that to pay for both of us. I feel like I'm making you uncomfortable, so I'm gonna leave... Sorry..."

Caesar couldn't move for a second, stuck in shock. Suddenly, he jumped up out of the chair and ran to the younger boy. He grabbed his shoulders tightly, spinning him around before grabbing his face and pressing their lips together. Every customer in the building looked on as the boys kissed. Caesar ran his thumbs over Joseph's cheeks, wiping away the tears as he pulled back from the kiss and connected their foreheads.

" I belong with you too, Joseph. "

Joseph laughed, kissing Caesar again. "Let me do this right. Caesar, will you be my boyfriend?"

Caesar could only nod frantically as he pulled Joseph in for a hug, holding him as if his life depended on it. Joseph's world was finally right again.

He has successfully taken Caesar on many dates over the two years they had been dating, but this one was special. Yes, they were only going to the park for a picnic and to watch the fireworks, but there was something special about it. After picking his boyfriend up and driving to the park, Joseph grabbed the blanket and basket from his trunk. Caesar helped him lay the blanket out and unpack the small basket. The two ate quickly, getting up to play tag together. Joseph disappeared from Caesar's sight at one point, but was found when he gave the older's ass a swift pop and yelled, "You're it!" before running away.

"Ah! Joseph, get back here!"

Within an hour, both men were back at their blanket, laying down and panting. The two sat there for hours, talking about everything you could imagine, when the park founder announced that the firework show would start in a few minutes.

The blonde took the time that he had left and grabbed Joseph's hand. "I'm sorry if I annoy you or make you want someone else sometimes..."

Joseph grabbed the older boy's other hand and smiled, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Caesar, you'll never annoy me. I'll want you every day, no matter what has happened between us. I want you even when you're mad at me. I want you even when I piss you off. I want you. I want your happy days and your 'I don't wanna be alive days.' I want you in the middle of the night and I want you in the morning. I want to kiss you and I want to be in your arms. I want to stay up all night talking and I want to hold you."

Joseph took a breath, tears threatening to fall from both his and Caesar's eyes.

"I want to be the reason you smile and the reason you're laughing every day. Even if you have a bad day, I want to be the one to make you happy, if only for a second. That's why I'm about to say this," the brunette said, fishing a little black box out of his pocket.

Caesar held his breath, not knowing what was happening. The park was completely silent, any background noise blocked from his ears. Joseph pulled Caesar up, holding his hand. Now that both of them were standing, Joseph dropped to one knee, still holding one of the teacher's hands.

"Marry me. We can spend our weeknights eating cereal on the floor, even though there's a table right behind us. We can go to the movies and sit in the back row, just to make out like kids falling in love for the first time. Marry me. We'll paint the rooms of our house, but end up with more paint on us than the walls. We can hold hands and go to parties we'll end up ditching to drink wine straight from the bottle in the bathtub together," Joseph spoke, both men in tears at this point.

"Marry me. Slow dance with me in our bedroom, candles lit on our nightstand and an unmade bed next to us. Let me love you forever. Marry me, Caesar."

There was now a crowd of nosy people around them, waiting with baited breath for the older man's response, mumbling and murmuring in suspense. No one in the small crowd cared about the firework show any longer, they wanted to see this. ‘Aww’s and gasps filled the air as he finished, the crowd’s hearts rejoicing at how Joseph looked at the man in front of him.

Caesar was crying. His throat had closed, preventing him from speech, so he began nodding. Just as Joseph had slipped the ring on his finger, the older man tackled the brunette, kissing him as if it was the last time they'd ever see one another. The crowd lost it, most of them cheering and congratulating the couple, and some videoing them.

Just as Caesar slammed his lips onto his fiancé's, the fireworks went off.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Caesar pulled back from the kiss, giddy from the fairytale proposal.

"Did you plan this?"

"Maybe," Joseph laughed before kissing the older again. "I love you so much."

"I love you more. Thank you for this," Caesar whispered, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Anything for you, beautiful."

Caesar laid his head on Joseph's chest as they watched the fireworks illuminate the sky. And even though the sight and sound of the fireworks were beautiful, Joseph's heartbeat was all Caesar cared to hear. Caesar was in love and Joseph didn't want to forget anymore.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The first bell of the year rang as Caesar prepared for his new class. Last year, he was known as Mr. Zeppeli, and that's what the kids in his homeroom know him as. Once they had all sat down, the teacher cleared his throat.

"Good morning," Caesar began.

"Morning Mr. Zeppeli."

"Actually, I got married last month. I'm Mr. Joestar now," the man explained, writing his new surname on the whiteboard. "Keep in mind, it's Joe star, not Joe star ."

The mention of a wedding sparked the children's interest, so instead of teaching, Caesar answered their questions the entire class period. With each class, he had different questions thrown at him, but for the most part, there was one frequent question.

How do you decide which man will change his name?

"Well, we looked at who would sound better with the other's surname," Caesar would say with a laugh. "Joseph Zeppeli sounded weird, but Caesar Joestar was beautiful."

When Caesar got home, his husband pulled him in for a kiss. "How was work?"

"The kids wanted to know every detail of our marriage," Caesar giggled. "One of them even asked me if I was gonna get pregnant."

"Well, they're second-graders, they don't know any better. What did you tell them?"

"That I personally am not able to get pregnant, but some men can."

Joseph smiled, kissing Caesar again. "I got home about a minute before you did so I haven't cooked anything, sorry."

"Cereal it is, then."

So the two sat in their floor, wrapped tightly in a blanket, watching Aladdin , and eating cereal from one bowl. This was a normal occurrence for the men, and neither of them would want it any different. After the movie ended, the two washed up and climbed into bed. Joseph wrapped his arms around Caesar, peppering his face with kisses.

"Good night, beautiful. I love you."

"Good night, handsome. I love you too," Caesar said, kissing his husband's nose lightly.

[chim-chim1310]

I'm also looking forward to tae's album. That man has a good taste and unlike jungkook, he's classy and has more dignity. Idk if he's going to be backed by 🛴 but I doubt it and for sure he won't get the same numbers as jungkook. I'll be rooting for him though and I'll be preparing my 🍿 to see jjks and kths fighting. Tkkers will be losing their minds lmao but then again they love tae more than jungkook

I do like some of tae's songs. And I do think he would do good considering his fanbase. But I also think his songs are not to everyone's taste. So I wonder if it will have a large impact globally. But if he decided to release something other than his normal style then maybe the song would be more popular. We'll know after we hear the song. But he hasn't teased any new music nor has he gone anywhere to work on music, no studio pic either. So idk if his album is even coming out or not. Or if it will be after jk's album.

Cause I thought that after seven, tae will release his album and then after that jk will release his album but tae hasn't shown any sign of releasing new music yet. He's just doing that fashion thing.

I've also noticed something about taehyung is that he is not a saint. I think no one in bts is a saint.

In my opinion if tae will be offered an opportunity like jungkook got.... I think he wouldn't think twice before accepting it. If he's getting an opportunity to get big, he would definitely grab onto it.

I've noticed that taehyung likes to be a socialite but I have never felt his passion for music. And also I feel like he's a bit........ detached from the group. Like I think he's not really emotionally attached to the bts. Like yeah he loves them and they're his family bit I think if he has the chance to make solo big or be in the group then I think he would chose to go solo. And honestly any smart man would choose to go solo if they'll be given an opportunity like that lol. But then again scooter is a snake and not someone to be trusted.

But I could be wrong about tae. I do think I will like his album.

I do think that his album will not be promoted like jungkook's but it will definitely be treated better than jimin's album. He wouldn't face sabotage. I think hybe and scooter had decided to invest on jk and are hell bent to establish him.

But I wouldn't be surprised if taehyung will accept such an opportunity if it's given to him.

[alastor-simp]

Soothing Sounds📻🌧- Alastor x Reader Oneshot

Thank you @itsmskeisha for the request. Hope you enjoy

"UGHHH! Satan damn it!" you exclaimed as your pillow ended up on the other side of the room. It was 3:00 AM in the morning, which was the witching hour, haha how ironic, and you still couldn't fall asleep. Your name was Y/N and you were currently staying at the Hazbin Hotel that was run by Lucifer's own daughter, Charlie. She had found you a month ago on the day of the extermination, and you happened to have arrived in hell at the worse possible time. Thankfully, she was able to help you avoid the angels and offered you a place to stay at the hotel, seriously how sweet is she?! Nevertheless, you adapted to life at the hotel and got along with a lot of the other inhabitants like Angel and Niffty. However, after being in hell for a full month, you assumed that catching zzz's would be easy peasey, but it wasn't. Heaving a sigh, you got out of your bed and decided to make a trip to the kitchen. Maybe a glass of warm milk would help you relax and fall asleep.

Opening the door slowly, you slowly tip-toed down the hallway, as you didn't want to wake up the others, especially Husk, as that poor cat man needed his sleep for those hangovers. As you made your way into the kitchen, you noticed the lights were turned on along with the sounds of music playing. Peeking your head out, you were surprised to see Alastor, cooking while dressed in his pajamas. He was stirring something inside a big pot while he swayed to the music that was coming from his microphone staff, that was leaning against the wall. Feeling rude to be staring at him, you softly knock against the door to get his attention and whispered a "Hi Al." Alastor's ears perked, as he turned his head towards you, with his signature grin on his face: "Ah! Salutations, my dear! Grabbing a late night snack perhaps?" His head tiled at you, as his hand was continuing to stir the pot that was in front of him. "I can't sleep sadly, so I figured some warm milk would help me.", you said as you walked closer to Al, with a small smile. "Oh dear! Don't worry darling! I can help prepare that for you!". You were about to protest, saying he didn't have to do that, but he already snapped his fingers and a pot had appeared on the stove, and milk hovered over it as it magically poured itself in. Alastor told you it was going to be a few minutes and gestured you over to one of the chairs to have a seat. Thanking him, you headed to one of the seats, and sat down. Alastor turned back to what he was making, humming softly to himself, while also keeping an eye on the milk. The aroma in the air smelled heavenly as it was coming from whatever Alastor was making. You asked Alastor what he was cooking as it smelled delicious. Turning his head back to look at you, the smile on his face got even wider: "Gumbo, my dear! A Louisiana delicacy! Care for a taste? Be warned, the spice will knock your socks off, HAHAHA!" Giggling at Alastor antics, you sadly refused as eating something spicy would probably wake you up more but you thanked Alastor for offering you to try it. Al was deflated a bit, given his ears dropped a bit, but he quickly said he would save some for you tomorrow to enjoy. Alastor then quickly asked why weren't you able to fall asleep, and questioned if it was because of screaming meemies. Shaking your head, you leaned back against your chair and stared at the ceiling: "No, its not nightmares. I can only fall asleep if there is some rain sounds playing. I use to play them on my phone when I was alive, but my phone sadly broke when I fell and I don't really have the funds now to get one. Charlie has offered, but I declined as she already allowed me to stay here at the hotel. Plus with it being hell, the chances of it raining here are VERY slim."

The whole time you were explaining your situation to Al, his heart ached more and more for you. How frustrating he thought for you. Normally, he would cackle in laughter at seeing someone stressed or annoyed with something, but he didn’t feel that with you. He was an insomniac himself, but he was able to deal with it after spending an eternity in hell, but a darling like you shouldn’t have to go through this. Lowering the heat on the stove, as to prevent the gumbo and milk from burning, Alastor made his way over to you. Not noticing him walking closer, you jumped in shock as you felt two hands on your cheeks, pulling your head that was pointed up, to come down and look at Al. Words caught in your throat as you stared at Al, his ruby red eyes gazing into your soul. His fingers moved a bit on your cheek, touching the spot under your eye, most likely examining your dark circles. “It pains me to see you so fatigued, darling. If my powers could extend to that length and cause a rain storm for you, I would do it without question.” Well, that made your heart skip a beat, you never expected Al to have a soft side like this. Smiling softly, you thanked Al and told him he was sweet. Staying like that for a few minutes, Alastor jumped up and rushed back to the stove, turning off the milk and placing it into a cup. He sprinkled some cinnamon on top then came back and handed it to you. Thanking him, you grabbed the cup and stood up from the chair. You told him that you would drink it in your room and hoped it would help you a bit. Alastor nodded and wished you a pleasant sleep as he watched you leaved the kitchen, leaving him only with his thoughts and gumbo.

***NEXT DAY***

The milk had actually worked and you were able to fall asleep, but you only slept for 4 hours which wasn’t enough for your body to function properly. The lack of sleep was affecting your day and the droopy feeling in your eyes was becoming more frequent. Niffty noticed straight away that you were tired and said you should take a nap, but you shook your head as you didn’t want to mess up your whole sleep schedule, but you thanked her for looking out for you, and gave her a hug which she happily accepted. The day went by quick and was slowly drawing to a close, thank Satan, but you knew that heading to bed and trying to fall asleep was gonna be yet again another challenge. Sluggishly walking down the halls, eyes barely able to stay open, you didn’t noticed the person walking in front of you, and bumped right into their chest. “Ah, I’m sorry.”, you apologized and looked up to see that you had bumped into Alastor. "Quite alright, my dear! I was just looking for you!" Alastor said, as he gazed down at you, smiling wide. He raised his fingers up and snapped them. Out of nowhere, a little portal opened on the top of his hand, and out came a wooden vintage radio. "This is for you my dear! This radio should help you with your sleeping problems!". Handing the radio towards you, you grabbed it from his hand, and looked at Al, feeling a bit confused. "Um, thanks? You didn't have to get me this, plus I don't think electric swing will help me fall asleep.", you said, smiling shyly up at Alastor, who's smile got even bigger. "HAHA! Not to worry my dear! This radio is special! Well! Time for bed! Sleep well, darling!" He then disappeared into a shadow, and flew away from you, leaving you by yourself. Gazing at the radio, you wondered what was so special about it, but you just shrugged and made your way back to your room.

Sitting down on your bed, you placed the radio on the night stand. It was very different to the radio you use to have at home when you were alive, but you knew how old-fashioned Alastor was, and how much he detested today's modern technology. Pressing one of the buttons, the light inside the radio began to glow a soft yellow, and static emerged from it. As you turn the dials, the static began to thin out and what sounded like slow jazz began to play. As the sound got clearer, you froze in shock from what you heard. As the jazz was playing, there was also rain sounds playing as well. Your eyes got teary, as you didn't think this was possible. How was Alastor able to do this?! HOW?! Your heart began to beat rapidly at the sweet gesture that Al gave you. "Thank you, Alastor", you softly said, as you turned the lamp off, and laid down, placing your head on the pillow. Soothing sounds of the rain and jazz filled the room, creating a relaxing sensation as your body became absorbed in it, and pretty soon, you fell asleep. Unbeknownst to you, there was a deer shaped shadow, standing in the corner of your room, it watched you with soft eyes, whispering "your welcome, y/n", before fading away.

Here is the sound that would be playing on the radio -->

[nashvillehq]

name: Sid Thorne gender & pronouns: Cis Man | He/him age & date of birth: 30 years old | October 30th, 1992 neighborhood: Downtown time living in nashville: 12 years occupation: Singer, Songwriter, Co-Owner of Bad Omen Music

BACKGROUND.

TW: drugs, death, cancer, overdose, addiction

Among the burning buildings and sirens that accompanied Devil's Night, Annie Thorne was giving birth to her first and last born child, Sid. Divorced before he reached corporeal realization, Ethan Wilson didn't meet his son until he was three days old. This absentee pattern would continue for the majority of Sid's childhood. He was unique in knowing his father as bad dad, Ethan's other three children knew him as a doting father who was there for them whenever they needed it. This separation was the first of many things that left a bitter taste in Sid’s mouth, leading him to harbor anger and spite later in life. As child, however, his mother’s love made up for everything his father couldn’t give.

From as far back as he can remember, he’s been a performer. Whether it be singing songs or dressing up and performing skits for an audience of action figures and his mom or practicing in front of a mirror. Music was his passion, his coping skill. Annie tried to get him in sports, he played baseball until he was in his teens but nothing quite stuck like the need to be creative. He hated school, it was forced hell for him because he was never a normal kid. He painted his nails black, wore eyeliner, clothes never fit right because they were thrifted or hand me downs, he struggled to follow lessons, and he was always getting into some kind of trouble. Between the rough neighborhood he lived in, his absentee father failing him, and lack of social life from school, Sid developed a deep seeded anger and resentment for the world around him. This led to a lot of fights and eventual further isolation from the crowd.

He did find comfort in some things, however. Writing, singing, and playing music was his greatest outlet (along with listening to it of course). Sid found comfort in melodies and lyrics that no one else could ever seem to offer him. He put his emotions into songs and art, worked relentlessly on fine tuning his abilities from the small room in their apartment. When his mom was diagnosed with cancer, he changed it to writing things for her - coming up with jokes to see her smile. The disease took her quick, and with that last bit of light gone from his life he felt no need to stick around in Detroit anymore. He took off to Memphis to live with his cousin. There he met he met another musician and told them the vision of the band he wanted to create. Quickly they became best friends and moved to Nashville where they would have a better chance at fulfilling their dreams. They formed the Crimson Crypt and immediately started making music, playing gigs, and grinding their way through the underground. After a year or two of this, they finally had a song that made some headway and were picked up by a label.

The industry is hard and there’s no doubt about that. Barely eighteen with little to no social skills and thrust into an environment with no experience was rough. They were on tour constantly, opening for bigger names, playing festivals, and small gigs throughout the country. There were dedicated fans that loved them but for all that love they were also met with a lot of hate. Sid and the band kept pushing through, trying to not let it weigh on them and devoting extra time with the fans that did like them. Far too early into all of it, Sid started becoming a garbage disposal for any and all substances. It was all he could find that helped with the anxiety and compulsive thoughts. Anything to numb the pain of loss, hate, and his own insecurities. It didn’t, however, stop the anger and often it amplified it. He would start fighting and arguing with haters at every show, giving them attention instead of playing for those there to see them. That’s what they were all doing at that time, though. Living fast and playing hard, so it was hard to see that it was becoming a problem.

Somewhere in the mess of everything, a new beacon of light came into his life. He met Juliet at one of the shows he was playing. Some no name news outlet for the scene was interviewing him and he spotted her. Sid left mid-interview to meet her and one smile from her had him hooked. Quickly she became his person and integrated into the little Crimson Crypt family. Though it didn’t stop his substance abuse issues, it was her helping the band get through to him that made him see it was becoming a problem. He tried to stop many times, especially when they went out on tour but the withdrawal only made him worse, getting into fights with people in the crowd or at bars that dared to show any kind of dislike for him or the band. Sometimes he went out of his way to start a fight with someone for simply looking at him the wrong way. The withdrawals and behavior got so bad that the tour manager eventually encouraged his drug use so he could get on stage and get through the remaining dates. Unfortunately it was all cut short when he got on stage ranting about nonsense and halfway through the set he forgot his own lyrics, mumbling and incoherent until he collapsed.

When he woke up in the hospital, Juliet was there and it was the worst he ever felt. He’d been blinded by all the spite that he didn’t see what he had right in front of him: the love of his life that wasn’t scared away by anything, a band that had bonded beyond friendship into family, and fans that adored the music he wrote and the shows his band put on. They broke their deal off with the record label, took a hiatus so he could go to rehab and clean up, and they started over. Together with a couple of other bands slighted by the labels available to them, they formed their own record label and called it Bad Omen Music since they all came together in low points of their life or careers.

Things got better for the band and for Sid. He married Juliet, and after ten years they’re still going strong. The band and the record label continue to see success. Sid’s addiction and anger issues are still a work in progress, but today he recognizes those problems and continues to put effort into getting better with it all the time. He also recognizes what he has instead of focusing on what he doesn’t. His life is good and now he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[talenlee]

Story Pile: Call of The Night

This is the anime of a song. It doesn’t follow the plot of the song. It follows the vibe of a song, and that song inspired the manga, and then, the manga got made into an anime and that anime got to have the ending theme be the song that inspired it, and the same band made the opening theme, because they had already, in their music, defined this anime.

And damn if it don’t feel like a hell of a song.

Call of the Night is a 2022 anime, which means that, it seems, it has a higher than normal chance of being completely gonzo good, and while I wouldn’t necessarily think this is one of the best of its year, I liked it a lot and I can imagine a situation where if it wasn’t competing with say, Summer Time Rendering or Bocchi The Rock or Do It Yourself or Chainsaw Man or Spy Family or My Dress Up Darling or Birdie Wing or oh no I am committed to this bit and there’s a lot more to go, or Lycoris Recoil or Witch From Mercury or Akiba Maid War or My Master Has No Tail or The Executioner And Her Way Of Life then chances are it’d be one of the best anime of the whole year.

Call of the Night is a story about an insomniac guy called Kou, who is apparently fourteen years old, who starts missing school because he’d rather roam around at night, on his own, in the privacy of the vast dark of a dull city, an impulse that makes sense to me as someone who was also fourteen but I lived at the time, in places with population density like seawater, and where going out at night meant not seeing anyone, as opposed to this guy who lives in Tokyo. While out, he meets Nazuna, a vampire.

Yeah, a vampire.

Nazuna is the intersection of ‘fanservice sex-bomb’ and ‘extremely stupid gremlin,’ and her impression on Kou leaves him wanting to become a vampire too, something that she asserts can only happen if he falls in love with her. He thinks that seems reasonable, and what ensues is a mix of workplace drama, chill hangout vibes, oddly wholesome relationship building as a boy learns what it means to love someone, and then it takes a hard sweve into vampire drama, that you’d probably have expected to show up earlier.

The manga Call of The Night replicates is very long, compared to the short twelve episodes of the anime, and I wouldn’t really recommend watching the anime if what you want is that long haul. Consider it a sort of tasting platter for the manga, which I understand goes longer and involves more expansion into the vampire politics-as-romance-metaphor space. I didn’t read it, but I did chat with some friends to double check some themes in the anime in case I misread something.

And I liked it!

Here, just in the same way I used Shikimori’s Not Just A Cutie to talk about social transition timelines (or did I), I figure that Call of the Night is a really interesting avenue to talk about demisexuality.

Here’s the basics of the theory: Asexuality is not a simple ‘on off’ switch for people, it’s a gray spectrum with a lot of different modes and means. Allosexuals (people who aren’t asexual), as observed by asexuals (you know, people outside of our behaviour, who aren’t necessarily interpreting confusing signals, and just observing our behaviour), demonstrate primary sexual attractions, then secondary sexual attractions. Allosexuals definitely have things that they can visually notice and react to that demonstrate a sexual attraction, but they also have things that aren’t related to that kind of observation or experience that can in turn, provoke sexual excitement.

Following this, first, in that ‘primary’ mode, there’s things like being attracted to tall people or green people or redheads and I am trying to be very careful about this because we get into some complex ways people interact with perception and persona and jerking off here. Then there’s the ‘secondary’ stuff where you can be sexually attracted to someone because they have a preference for eating apples or they like you looking at hockey games or knowing they also say the word maize like it’s three syllables long. And these examples are all chosen to be deliberately odd so nobody feels selfconscious about their specific kinks (though, know that they’re all based on real kinks I’ve really encountered), but they’re just examples made to make you laugh. Most often, secondary sexual attraction is a byproduct of emotional engagement, and kinks are just ways to signify that emotional engagement – I will not judge you or hate you for this specific complicated ritual you and I need to engage in. I accept you. I may even be excited to accept this part of you.

A conventional, simple vision of asexuality is that neither of these things is available. There’s a pair of gates that potential partners need to pass through to activate the Wants To Do Things part of the brain, and for the simplest explanation of asexuality, they do not have those gates. Not ‘nobody can pass through them,’ the gates are not there. This is nothing that’s going to pass through and set the flags or tip the linedefs or whatever.

Demisexuality, however, is the idea that while there’s no primary gate, there is a secondary gate; that a demisexual person does have a sexuality that can be engaged, it can only be engaged after the development of a deep emotional connection. And given the way a lot of allosexual relationships can start out as a crush where you want to get to hang out with the person in case you can wind up having sex with them, then realise you just like hanging out with them and now you have a great new friend you like, demisexuality can go in the exact opposite way where you get someone into your friend zone, which rules, because friends are cool and having friends is great and then after a long period of emotional establishment you realise that to your surprise you also wanna do sexy things with them.

This is obviously confusing and complicated and it can be part of the eternal whirling dance of people wanting to do sexual things with one another, and it’s just a simplified example of the sexuality, which is where the terminology started. But there’s the idea: Demisexuality is the idea of a sexual interest that is only activated after the establishment of an intense emotional attachment. Besties To Besties Who Also Have Sex. And when you’re aware of demisexuality, it’s only a hop skip and a jump to demiromantic relationships – ones where characters aren’t capable of engaging romantically until after they’ve established an emotional connection.

This may strike you as being ‘just normal’ in which case, may I suggest you go check out the ace forums and see if maybe they’re talking to you.

Kou’s sexuality or romantic attraction are literally part of the narrative of the story, and that means examining them is something the show actually does. Kou wants to fall in love with Nazuna, which is a weird thing to say like that because falling in love isn’t a thing most people tend to assign themselves like a project. It indicates to me that Kou isn’t very connected to what ‘being in love’ means, and that could mean that he’s a fourteen year old, that’s pretty reasonable, people are working themselves out. Later in the series we get a pretty bold declaration that he doesn’t see attraction in terms of gender, either to Nazuna or a boy hitting on him, so, based panromantic prince I guess.

I don’t think this series is trying to be about a demiromantic boy trying to work out what it means to love an extremely horny girl for the first time. I think this is a series about hot and horny vampires doing cool things and the boy bouncing around with them in stories that are goofy and fun and funny. I still think though, that if you want to point to a character in media who describes being demiromantic without ever knowing the word existed, this is one of the best examples I’ve seen.

Call of the Night is a pretty cool anime with some chill vibes and a few different genre ideas going on under the hood, and it is very horny, so I can understand that being a turnoff to watching it. Me, I find Nazuna, the character, too much of a likeable idiot to really dislike the anime. I mean who doesn’t have a bestie who loves lewd jokes and falls to pieces at the idea of being emotionally honest with you and also likes to suck the blood out of your fingertips?

Surely it’s not just me.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Anime #PrideMonth #Media #StoryPile

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, Vigilantes 78, Replies Part 2

1) “HE LOOKS SO OFFENDED BY THIS SHIT

“HUUUHH??” I CAN ALMOST HEAR THE DISGRUNTLED VOICE”- He and Endevour share the same taste in music, but he’s not the guy with a hair-trigger temper and a licence to fry…. 2) “The fuck you are using a phone for? Don`t pro heroes have mini communicators- oh wait, not a pro hero, I forgot that details. Carry on.”-I actually liked that little attention to detail there, though if they were volunteering, it might have been prudent to make sure they all had standard-issue equipment to use when the emergency actually went ahead. 3) “OH HEY, IT`S YOU, ONE OF THE CHARACTERS UNDER-UTILIZED ON THIS STORY, SO GOOD SEEING YOU AGAIN. ARE THE REST OF THE IRRELEVANT PEOPLE ALSO HERE?”- Gotta have all the side-characters located in one easily bombable spot for maximum drama…. 4) “Look pal, after just glancing at the lineup they had, I think y`all have a better chance of taking her down than the “heroes” have. Hell, we have three proto nomus here, even without trigger you guys can still pack a punch. “- On the other hand, none of they can fly, and they don’t have licences. Them interfering would likely only get them arrested for interfering in hero business, and they cant move fast enough to catch Pop, so it needs to be a speedster to counter her. Plus, it keeps them from being crispy charcoal from Endeavour’s firepower. 5) “Nah don`t worry boy, the city is always like that. You can`t even use that as a way to identifying if she`s around, considering the amount of villains we see on a regular basis. That`s just how Detroit is.”-I sometimes wonder what a ‘normal’ day in the MHA world looks like. There’s apparently villain and hero battles around every corner, and massive property damage galore, you wonder how society stayed so stable for so long. 6) “I think that Koichi could probably get there faster than y`all could drive him, but alright, sure, let the boy go on the car roof. He`s like a puppy, he enjoys the breeze.”- Also helps conserve his stamina so he’s as ‘charged’ as he can be before he has to start racing against Pop on his own. 7) “Oh no, a giant onomatopoeia! How dastardly from her! “- The trigger strains this time apparently came pre-loaded with Manga’s DNA traces. 8) “Oh- okay, I take that back, you guys actually recruited at least one hero with the ability to fly… which is not that much, I think some people with long range hits or crowd-control would be better suited for this. Sure, I know those people are ~volunteers~ but even so, if it is so important to take her down that you need to call a bunch of heroes exclusively for that then the least you can do is to select who is most suited to actually chase her.”- Judging by how Nomura was able to easily infiltrate, I think the only criteria they were looking for to stop Pop is ‘more boots on the ground to corner her’, without expecting any of the volunteers to actually tangle with her- merely tie her up and distract her so the pro heroes could step in before she did too much damage. 9) “You sure do Pop. You sure do. Unfortunately that won`t last, Koichi and the Fuckboys are almost here, and they are ready to swat you out from the sky. You need to see the firepower they put on that truck of them, it would put the U.S. army to shame.”- Knuckles may not have All Might’s ties to America, but his arsenal and prepping abilities would sure fit right in over there. 10) “ Oh hey, is that Phelps? I didn`t even remembered he was here.

Also, great observation there my dude, if only you guys had actually planned something, right?”- They planned to bring in a pro to handle the job. Unfortunately, they got the one who currently refuses to handle things with kid gloves. 11) “oh what the fuck dude”- Shit just got real.

12) “oh jesus fuck.

wow

now… Now shit got actually serious

holy fuck man, what`s this”- So, the volume cover for this actually spoiled Endevour’s appearance.

But it’s also a callback to MHA’s own Volume 9 cover page with Izuku facing off against a similar ‘counterpart’ fight, with a rampaging uncontrollable beast in the background…that Endeavour takes the place of for Koichi’s own showdown.

13) “Pop being possessed by the Parasite means that she won`t surrender, and even if Endeavor doesn`t incinerate her for not surrendering, she is gonna get caught, and if she does, the bees are gonna leave only a shell behind.”- Koichi also can’t reason with Endeavour like he could any other hero and explain the scenario, meaning that he’s now in a situation with a pro hero that will attack him if he interferes in official business and will treat him like a villain for doing so, meaning he will actually have to fight against a hero, and that’s grounds for being officially labelled one by the law. @thelreads​

[lovehaiduk]

SINGLE BUT MARRIED

Yesterday was my birthday. One of my friends gave me an Ouija board as a gift. I said to myself, "Better than a dildo, like last year!" It's already an improvement, you have to admit... The dildo will become superfluous because the ghosts will become my pain in the ass starting from now on.

         So, after the party, I didn't try the new X-box that some other friends had brought me, but I did try this novelty, which makes you chase pokemons in Hell. I put a few bottles on my neck before starting. I didn’t want to be sober when I meet some dead people in my living room. Otherwise, I can scream too loud and somebody from the block may call the police. But they should call the ghostbusters, not the cops, if they want the mess solved.

            Anyway, I was so drunk that everything was spinning around me, not just the Ouija board. I read in those magic letters the following message I had received from the underworld: "We make you rich!" Ha, ha, ha! For a moment I thought I was at one of those motivational speaker conferences. I suppose they've all gone to hell and are preaching from there, too. I asked, "Should I buy a lottery ticket tomorrow?" And the answer was, "No, you must drink some poison!" I forgot to laugh. It was getting too macabre for my taste. Maybe it was a joke. Can dead people be sarcastic or not? Good question! Maybe this thing is a clone of an original Ouija board, so it's full of errors or something. "What poison?", I asked further. And the answer came immediately: "Love!" Oh, they can be sarcastic, no doubt about it!

            So I suppose I've to fall in love to get rich. I wasn't sure whether to become a male prostitute or marry a wealthy widow. Maybe both, to be sure! OK so, let's ask the name of the victim. So I asked the question about her name. And the answer was, "Pamela!" For a few seconds, I searched memory to see if I knew a Pam. And, bingo, it was one: the old lady next door. But she isn't rich. Or perhaps she is! Who knows! Until now I've avoided her with all my strength. I must pay her a visit. Under the pretext that I want to sell my apartment, maybe she'd be interested in buying it. I'll tell her that I'm in a big hurry and I'll ask for half the price. Rich people are always crazy about bargains. So I knocked on the door. She opened it. She was wearing a nightgown. A cheap nightgown - a bad sign!

"I'm sorry to bother you; my name is Chris and I live next door. Would you be so kind as to give me a minute I've a business proposition for you!"

"Oh, sure, please excuse my outfit! I wasn't expecting guests at this hour!"

"Tomorrow I'm meeting with a client who wants to buy my condo, and I wanted to ask you first. I know you don't have a big family; I mean, you don't have a family at all, but would you be interested in buying it by any chance? I'll ask for half the price; I'm kind of in a hurry...! "

"Oh, you're such a sweet neighbor; why do you want to go?"

"Really?!"

"Yeah, my niece is in love with you! She keeps asking me all the time to introduce her to you!"

"Do you have a niece?! I thought you were living by yourself!"

"No, she is in her bed right now. You can go into her room and say hello. She'll be delighted!"

"Are you sure? How old is she?"

"Nine"

"Nine years old?!... And do you want to go to her room?!"

"Yeah, yesterday she was complaining to me all day because you didn't invite her to your birthday party! She heard the music from your apartment and was so restless!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry about that! But there were no kids at the party! It wasn't a good occasion for her at all, believe me! Lots of drugs and buzz, so no way!"

"But she wants to marry you!"

"Sorry, what! She's nine years old, and do you think it's normal for a little girl to marry a grown man like me?"

"Yes, that's normal; you're a very handsome man!"

"Yes, but if I will try to marry your niece, I'd be a very jailed and handsome man!"

"Anyway, go to her room!"

"I'll, but please don't call the police!"

            I was mesmerized. But I was also pretty sure she lived alone, so this could only be a farce. So I went in the direction she had indicated. I just wanted to expose her dementia, that's all.       

            Very carefully I opened the door in front of me. Inside it was dark. I waited a few moments to let my eyes adjust to the dim light. In the middle of the room there was a bed. And on the bed I discovered a Ouija board. At first moment I thought it was my board. But it had a different color, so it was similar, but not the same. Anyway, this coincidence gave me a shiver down my spine. How is that possible?

            I heard the same voice from behind:

"I talk to my niece every day! She has the same name as me: Pamela. She died 10 years ago. She drowned in a lake. Now she's old enough to get married. And she chose you for some reason! You should start talking to her! I can lend you my Ouija board."

"That won't be necessary, ma'am; I have my own!"

            From that night on, I started chatting with my new girlfriend every day. And I actually got rich as it was predicted to me, because I did publish the story on the Internet and it went viral; I got 10 million subscriptions to my channel.