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circeyoru · 11 months ago

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Darkest Confession = Requested

[Human!Alastor x Serial Killer Enthusiast!Reader]

Everyone have that one thing that really really sets them apart from the group, right? Some can be way too addicted with coffee that they don’t sleep much cause of it, or some can be so obsessed with ducks that they have a whole collection of it (ahem Lucifer ahem anyways…). Either way, usually it’s harmless

No, not you

You were no police officer or detective, or any career related to crime. You were someone simple working from place to place, always moving. Yet you found yourself engrossed with the art of killing. No, you don’t kill yourself. But you love to read about the people that do, specifically, serial killers

To just have the urge to kill and do it then deal with the consequences. It was like the most extreme of goal making. The thing with serial killers is that they mostly pick random people off the streets and kill for whatever reason they have. One can’t link the killings back to the killer because there was none! Oh, how you eat those stories up like a bedtime story

You somewhat study serial killers and their killings, feeling drawn to them enough that you’d move from place to place. It was your drive and your calling. One you keep quite deep down, you’d let this side of you out from time to time, but you had to control it since some might think you deserve the straight jacket or put in a hospital, or just label you as mental

Close friends and your family knew this side of you and said one day you’d be in deep waters for this interest of yours. They had advised you to stop and just push it away, find something else to think. Maybe a romantic partner that you can settle down with?

Hell no! (like Charlie to Val)

You follow serial killer stories from place to place. As sad that it was to know it after the killings were brought to light because of the slow news outlet, you take what you can. You’d mostly maybe catch a glimpse of the killer, behind bars or during trials

There was a few close calls. You recall yourself impersonating a reporter to interview the killer and your interest in them got them to talk, but you had to left before someone caught on you weren’t a reporter. Another time, a writer hired a helper to talk with a killer on trial, you wrote so much notes that the writer wanted you long term

Still no, you left to follow more serial killers when you could

You heard of a serial killer at large. In New Orleans, City in Louisiana. You heard it over the radio from a rising host that took over the hearts of the people, even outside of his hometown. He detailed the killings, even claiming to have seen a few of the bodies alongside the police so he could offer a clearer picture to the listeners of the horrors the killer can do and wasn’t afraid to show off

A serial killer still free and in society. While the other listeners in the cafe shivered and whispers to each other to be cautious or relief that the killer wasn’t in their town or city, you were planning your next travel

Next stop the New Orleans, hunting ground of the Bayou Serial Killer

Settling down was easy since you had been so custom to it. Like always, you wandered a bit, get the feel of the place and its people, the vibe of the city so you can fit in. Then you visited the place where the bodies were found, information provided by the local newspaper and the radio talkshows

You didn’t know then. That someone was following you after a few of your visits to the body dumping grounds. You certainly didn’t know that chance encounter with the radio host was staged

“I’d like coffee, black!” You heard the familiar voice ring. You didn’t have to look up to know the customers and staff members of the cafe all drawn to the man that ordered at the counter. You rolled your eyes. It was the famous radio host, Alastor, he started frequenting this cafe only recently (when you showed up in town) and would take his morning coffee here before he goes live

If only he was a serial killer or someone close to one… You remember the first time seeing him when he entered the cafe. You wanted to approach him, but he was always eyed by the people that put him on a pestasole. You learned to stay clear of people like that because, there were always some fans crazier than the other. Take yourself as an example, with your obsession and addiction to killers

“May I join you, my dear fellow?” Your eyes quickly scanned the place. Why was it so full today? You didn’t say anything and just gestured to the empty seat opposite to you in your booth. Great, now you had to go to work early because you wanted to avoid him. Wait

“Are you writing your script now?” You blinked at the notepad Alastor started to scribble over, you couldn’t just start by asking ‘are you writing your script on the serial killer? Can I see, please?’. Your keen eyes caught the words ‘serial killer’ and ‘bodies’

Alastor chuckled and said he was merely reorganizing his thoughts so he could envision his radio host as smoothly as possible for the listeners. You blink ‘for the listeners’, again with that. But does he really put others first behind himself? Somehow you didn’t think so

Of course his notes got you to put your attention on him. Alastor had to internally grin. He noticed a new face in town after some time. Then he noticed you going to his dumping grounds. He had thought you were a new detective or police to hunt him down by looking over new evidence. He thought he was right when he saw you noting down the surroundings even with the absence of the body

You were followed carefully to check if you had family and/or friends that would make a fuss of your disappearance. When you had none, he thought you were an easy target. But you weren’t a detective nor a police. Imagine his surprise when he only found you returning home. Never once had you went to the police with that notepad of yours

Odd

So he followed some more. It then that he noticed you had a spark in your eyes whenever serial killers or their killings were mentioned. While other would shiver with the sight of fear in their eyes, you had interest and excitement. So odd, but he didn’t dislike it. It fueled his interest in you

He tried striking conversations with you, but you were so plain and common, one he can brush off as a local polite individual. You fitted in with the commonality that quickly and easily. Though his concern was your disinterest and ignorance to him, he once let his assistant to play a pre-recorded show to see your reactions to his killings reported

There it was. You and that spark of yours with that notepad and pen, writing so furiously like you were possessed. You were more expressive and childish even, swaying from side to side, tapping your feet, drumming your fingers. It was like he witnessed your true self. He confirmed it when the topic changed and like a switch, you were that mundane self of yours

It was all so fasincinating to him and he had to talk to the real you. So he staged this meeting. He was right on the money, you would start off with someone common, then poke at your interest, wanting him to start the topic so you’d be involved. Slowly and with time though, you’d just talk outright with him

It was routine for him, meeting you before his show at that cafe and in their secluded booth you basically marked your own when it was in the morning. He’s review his notes with you and then talk about the (his) killings with you, the newest discoveries, the clues that detectives and polices missed, all that juicy details you’d like

Another problem came. You saw him as a friend. He saw you as a romantic interest

To you, it was rare that you could connect this much with someone. No one back home, not even your closest family members and frends, would indulge with you in this interest of yours. No matter how much you spoke your thoughts on serial killers and their killings, Alastor didn’t push you away and even ask questions on your thoughts. You cared so much for him, as a friend, but he wasn’t your interest

To him, you were now one of his reason to kill more. That bloodlust was on par with the spark you’d have in your eyes when he struck again. Some poor victim died and you only focused on him, the killer! He once compared you to his friend Mimzy, she knew and helped his killings, but she didn’t give him the same joy and bubbly emotions he’d have when talking to you about his kills. It wasn’t the same. So were you the one? The one to his cold dark heart.

And he confessed. More than just his feelings

“My dearest darling, I would be so honoured if you’d agree to allow me the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to officially court you.”

“No.” There was no hesitation in your voice, nor was there a pause. “Sorry, Alastor, I just considered myself married to serial killers. Or at least, this one in your town. I love them no matter what. So I can’t accept your feelings. But I hope we can continue being fr—”

Alastor held onto you, it was just a stroke of luck that this place was the secluded forest he was familiar with. He kneeled down on one knee and kissed your knuckles, his eyes staring straight at you with that crazed look in his eyes and that murderous grin he only let his victims see, “Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Alastor, the Bayou Serial Killer.”

Note: I had SO MUCH FUN writing for this. Thank you for suggesting this, Any~ (I’ll just call all the anonymous asks this from now on). I would tag the person but this is anonymous request (╯︿╰)

Requests are open, but keep in mind of what I wrote in the Masterlist. I’ll ultimately decide whether or not to write for them. Thanks!

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

#alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #human alastor #Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #Darkest Confession

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 1 year ago

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Little Shop of Horrors takes place sometime in the early 60s, but it's hard to pin down the exact year. A radio broadcast mentions President Kennedy, so that narrows it down to 1961, 1962, or 1963. During the song Feed Me (Git It), one of the offers Audrey II waves in Seymour's face is a "guest spot on Jack Paar." Jack Paar hosted the Tonight Show from July 29, 1957 to March 30, 1962. The opening line of the movie says that the events took place on the 23rd day of the month of September, so if we assume Jack Paar was still on the air when Audrey II mentioned him, then 1962 and 1963 are off the table, meaning is has to be 1961, right? Well, after Seymour kills Mr. Mushnik allows Audrey II to kill Mr. Mushnik, we get a short montage of offers and contracts and magazine covers to establish that Seymour's star is rising. One of the covers is a TV Guide for the week of October 6 - 12.

October 6th was a Sunday in 1963, not 1961, so that complicated things until I googled existing TV Guides and learned that they don't start the week on Sunday, but Saturday instead.

April 23 - 29, 1983 (Saturday to Friday) December 27, 1980 - January 2, 1981 (Saturday to Friday)

October 6 - 12 was a Saturday to Friday in 1962.

If we assume Audrey II just pulled the first famous talkshow host name it could think of regardless of whether or not he was still on the air, then 1962 remains our best bet because in the director's cut ending where the plants take over the world there's one shot of Audrey II bursting through a movie theater marquee advertising Jason and the Argonauts, a Ray Harryhausen movie which premiered June 13, 1963.

Little Shop of Horrors starts on September 23, 1962.

Seymour gets his face on the cover of Life and the TV Guide the following month.

Audrey II would hit store shelves just in time for Christmas, spreading around the country faster than hula hoops and the Twist, taking over the world sometime in the new year.

#little shop of horrors #lsoh #audrey ii #seymour krelborn #1960s #1961 #1962 #1963 #jfk #john f kennedy #president kennedy #kennedy #60s #the 60s #musical #timeline

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samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires · 7 months ago

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"My Body's Looking WRONG." - Glass Animals, "The Other Side of Paradise"

"When a gunshot seals his fate, Mordecai Heller dies. However, he did not expect a secondary life that seemed promising. There was only one...actually, multiple problems:

1) This was Hell. 2) He didn't know anyone or anything from or about this place. 3) That pompous, cheesy talkshow shitlord of a radio host...what was his name? Alexander? Allen? Alastor, that's right!

Though a lovely little princess of Hell and her girlfriend try to guide him, as well as the other patrons, to the path of redemption...if it isn't too much of a problem." - The Other Side of Paradise.

The fact that this took me this long is insane. I'm very proud of how this turned out, and I sincerely hope you like this <3

Thank you so much for the support, and because I wanna show how many hours this has tracked, here we go.

There. Hope you enjoy! <3 Thank you for the support through and through.

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hai7ani · 1 year ago

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静かな SHIZUKANA haitani rindou

sfw, an extra to the home collection ⛆

you get into an argument with rindou on the way to the supermarket on a saturday evening and the first thing he says after you make up is "i love you," into your ear when he kisses your neck in the middle of the canned food aisle.

groceries are for sundays, but you're really craving for some yakult right now so you said to stop by the store for a quick grocery run and rindou nods.

the two of you engage in a conversation and it slowly turns heated when the car stops at a red light and the argument isn't really that deep. it's over something silly, rindou and you both know that, but you're getting upset with his words and he's growing frustrated at your curt replies and neither of you knows what exactly it was that has you crossing your arms and looking out the window instead when he tells you to look at him. you're just upset and you don't know why.

please look at me.

i don't want to.

he observes you through his peripheral vision with one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other arm propped up by the window -- his head leaning on it -- and he sighs when he feels himself getting overstimulated. he thinks the angry red lights of the car in front are mocking him for his position -- getting you upset and pouty and he doesn't know what to do -- and he wipes a palm over his face.

you notice rindou's defeat beside you and shift a little in your seat, suddenly feeling a bit awkward with the silence. the radio is playing very faintly through the speakers -- rindou always turns it down whenever you're both speaking in the car -- and you move to adjust the volume louder. a session of the weekend radio talkshow comes up and you both (you're sure he's hearing it too) listen as the hosts talk about the major factors causing a relationship to fall apart.

your lips tremble a little when they mention the point of "lack of communication and understanding" because that's exactly what the both of you just did and you scratch at your forehead. rindou quickly switches it to another channel, a pop song playing in the background and you start breathing properly again.

he pinches your arm gently and you look at him. "sit properly." he says softly, noting towards your slouchy body and you sit up straight at his reminder. he helps you to adjust the flat pillow propped behind your back against the car seat and you lean back down to shift to a more comfortable position. rindou grabs your bag from your lap and places it behind under the carseat, "better?" you nod when you feel yourself getting relaxed and he starts driving again after making sure you're feeling okay.

when he pulls up to the parking lot, you quietly unbuckle your seatbelt and exit the car before he can tell you anything. he's wanted to make sure you're both okay before getting out but you seem so upset and overwhelmed and rindou understands. though he can't help but feel his heart tighten when he sees only your back and you're standing in front of the car quietly crossing your tiny sling bag over your torso, adjusting it so that the handle doesn't press on your bump. your white linen dress sways softly when gentle wind blows past and he thinks you're so pretty. the dress fits you so well and your hair is done nice and he really wants to tell you all that. but you start walking ahead when he locks the car with a beep and he can only follow behind you -- he can only watch as you enter the store and smile softly at the familiar old man (the security) standing by the doors.

rindou reaches for the cart after nodding at the old man as greeting and he props his elbows on the handle, pushing it forward and he sulks while following behind. you don't talk to him and he doesn't talk to you, but he's silently admiring the outline of your body from behind and he's eyeing the way your hips sway with every step you take. he watches as you compare prices and grab a little of something for the house and he can only smile to himself when he sees you grabbing a 5+1 bag of kitkat and a bar of kinder bueno's from the shelves and place it in the cart side by side.

rindou checks in there and sees how you're placing things together. his carton of milk and your box of green tea side by side. grapes -- his favourite -- in two boxes instead of one even though it's expensive because you know he likes eating it. your favourite broccolis in one big plastic bag sealed tight and sits in the corner buried underneath his protein powder and some frozen foods.

and you're busy eyeing different spaghetti sauces when he calls for you. "baby," you look behind to see him holding a big can of familiar milk powder and your heart softens. "you needed this, right?" you nod and he nods -- doctor fujita recommended that you try it on your last appointment and you've sent a photo of the brand to him before and he remembered.

and while you stand there staring at him who is busy checking the words on the milk powder, you find yourself not upset with him anymore. you think you were being unreasonable with him earlier. you want to say you're sorry -- that you didn't mean it when you called him a jerk -- and you want to get closer to him. and so you do. you move on your feet, abandoning the mission at hand (he is far more important) and you stand beside rindou while he rearranges the mess in the cart. everything is toppled on top of each other and he doesn't like it when he thinks the detergent powder is way too close your broccoli.

"i'll do it." you push his arm gently and he lets you take control. he watches as you arrange the things properly and when you're done his heart feels more at ease as you slide yourself between him and the cart while pushing it forward.

"was looking for the brand of spaghetti sauce my friend recommended. i can't find it though." you murmur and he wraps an arm around your body, hand moving to place itself on your belly with the other wrapped around yours and holding onto the handle. "what brand?" you tell him the name and he sees it straight away -- right at the top of the shelf and he swiftly grabs it down for you. "this one?" you smile sheepishly when you realise you're just too short to find it and he pinches your nose, a teasing smirk plastered on his lips and you pinch his cheek in return.

rindou pulls you close by your waist after you place the can down and he kisses the side your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo and you smile into his chest. he leans his head down next and presses a soft kiss to your neck, then to your collarbone and you flush when you see someone walking past. but you don't push rindou away -- you never do. you think it's a bit silly to be this intimate in public and rindou has never been a pda type of person but a part of you thinks it's sweet when you've got your quiet husband clinging onto your pregnant body and kissing all over the exposed areas of your torso up.

"sorry," he rubs at your back and you lean your head on his shoulder, cheek squashed and he pecks your forehead after brushing your hair away. "didn't mean to get you angry." you shake your head with a frown, "i'm sorry for calling you a jerk." you bury your face in his jumper and wet the fabric a little because you feel so bad calling him that -- it just came out of nowhere -- but he simply hugs you close, whispering that it's okay and he knows that you didn't mean it. and you spend a minute or two apologising to each other and you think he's so prince charming when he looks up to smile at the elderly lady observing the two of you from beside.

you smile, a bit shy when she praises your love and rindou bids goodbye when she walks off with her grandson tugging on her shirt. "baa-chan, who's that?" he asks. "just two people in love." she says.

and rindou leans his head back down to your neck and sways your body in his arms softly to the jazz music playing through the speakers and you pat his back. "love you, pretty." your cheeks warm at his sudden confession and you kiss his shoulder. "love you too, handsome." it's teasing and he knows and he taps on your ass subtly. you kick his leg and hurriedly look around to make sure nobody actually saw that and he stifles a laugh when he sees how panicked you are.

and you both walk around the store for the remaining of the trip with your body caged between his and the cart. every now and then, rindou sneaks little kisses to you when he thinks nobody is looking and you grab one of his hands to place little kisses on his knuckles then place it on your bump.

"love you." and he says it again when you both are waiting in line to checkout and you press yourself closer to him at that, relishing in his warmth and his love. "i love you, too."

TUMBLR IS SO MEAN......

reblogs are appreciated! ૮₍⇀‸↼‶₎ა thank you for reading <3

#writing #home collection #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #haitani rindou #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tr

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justinspoliticalcorner · 4 months ago

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Alice Herman at The Guardian:

Kamala Harris appeared on The Howard Stern Show on Tuesday, calling Donald Trump a “sore loser” and receiving an endorsement from the host, Howard Stern.

Her appearance on the radio show, whose listenership skews white and male, comes as Harris embarks on a series of sit-down interviews on popular talkshows and podcasts, including Stern, The View, the podcast Call Her Daddy and the Late Show With Stephen Colbert. During the show, Harris blasted Trump for his comment that he would be a “dictator on day one” and called him a “sore loser” for his role in promoting false claims of widespread voter fraud after the 2020 election. “Understand what dictators do,” said Harris. “They jail journalists, they put people who are protesting in the street in jail.” The interview comes just weeks after Trump, who has appeared on Stern’s show in years past, claimed on Fox News that the host “went woke”. Stern shrugged off the charge last year, telling listeners that he takes “woke” as a compliment and that “the opposite of being woke is being asleep”.

The interview also hit on personal subject matter – from therapy (she’s not seeing a therapist currently), to her preferred choice of breakfast cereal (Special K), to her family. During the interview Stern asked if she thought there were Americans who would refuse to vote for a woman. “Listen, I’ve been the first woman in almost every position I’ve had,” said Harris. “I believe that men and women support women in leadership. And that’s been my life experience and that’s why I’m running for president.” Stern revealed that he plans to vote for Harris.

Appearing on The Howard Stern Show Tuesday, Kamala Harris gave a stern warning that Donald Trump seeks to act like a dictator if he is elected again.

From the 10.08.2024 edition of Howard 100's The Howard Stern Show:

youtube

#Kamala Harris #Howard Stern #Donald Trump #The Howard Stern Show #2024 Presidential Election #Interviews #SCOTUS #Total Immunity #Day One Dictator

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kenandeliza · 9 months ago

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Silly caller (idea for a future work)

(Billy is shown to host a talkshow on his radio broadcasts with his guest, and his experience living in a haunted mansion, a mischievous ghost can be seen to the readers but not to Billy and His guest)

Mr spook: "and that's how it is, whenever you see a house sold very cheap, it's one of the signs of it being haunted. "

Billy on his radio: "Alright folks, we're going over to the QnA section live on the phone, Call this following number to ask our special guest a question"

(Billy gives out the number on live)

(The telephone rings, the ghost purposely possesed the telephone line and speak himself)

Billy:"alright, so who's our lucky inquirer?"

Ghost: "Hey um, delivery service??? May I have a double cheeseburger?"

Billy:"...sir, this is not wendys, you're on live radio-"

(Call gets abruptly ended by Billy)

(Telephone rings again)

Ghost: "you didn't let me finished! Now I want a double cheeseburger with a side of extra large fries-"

Billy getting slightly angrier: "Sir for the last time! this is not a wendy's!!"

mr Spook: "Bah! The same thing happened to me in my house last time! Your phone is haunted!"

Billy:*sighs* "Alright folks, while we take care of that problem, on to the commercial break with our associates with Mechanix Illustrated!"

#shazam #captain marvel #dc comics #billy batson #Scenario #Crack scenario #Golden age comics scenario #Im not a good writer but im writing this one down for a small scenario #"Sir #This is not a wendy's

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littlequeenies · 2 months ago

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April 1971 - Beautiful Marsha Hunt as Bianca in the Rock musical Othello.

This photo can be seen here but this photo without watermarks we can't recall its source, lease comment if you know, thank you!!

#Marsha Hunt #1971 Marsha #Othello #1971 Othello #Othello rock musical #1971 Othello rock musical #Marsha actress #Marsha stage actress #stage actress #musical actress #Marsha musical actress #model #activist #author #writer #muse #playwright #radio talkshow host

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toons-inkwell · 24 days ago

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Finding "Frankie" AU chapter: 3

Warnings: Blood

Words: 2,799

Franky moved quietly throughout the maintenance tunnels of the parkour palace. Despite his size he became adept at stealthy traversing about, those unlucky contestants who made it past the starting line got practically nowhere as he'd always be quick to surprise them and slam them into a wall turning them into a red stain. It was this stealth that allowed him to slink through the shadows and witness what the parkour palace was like before each season would begin.

In a lot of ways it was mostly the same. Vibrant bright areas, long expanding corridors, rooms chalk full of trampolines, obstacles, and less than up to code parkour challenges. All that one would expect a "parkour palace" to have was located within the confines of a several story building. Franky often wondered what was this place like when it was teeming with life, adult and child playing about within its walls. When the place was operational Franky only ever was allowed out of the back charging room when the place was closed and all the patrons had left. At least he could still remember what it sounded like when it was busy. The laughing, footsteps, talking of adults, crying of those who accidentally injured themselves. It was chaotic but a sort of entertainment for the rabbit who was always just out of sight, barred from actually witnessing and interacting the way Frankie would with customers. Franky honestly missed being able to hear all those people in the parkour palace. Without them now both the days and nights were filled with an eerie silence, the only real noise that filled the void was the soft buzz of lights, flies that circled the rotted corpses, whirr of fans and buzzsaws. There was also of course—

RING RING RING

—the occasional ringing of Henry's phone.

Franky came to his first stop in his tour around the facility. Back in the Henry Hotline museum, Franky peeked his head around the corner to spot a usually closed off room with the sign "Henry Hotline Live" above it. Inside was the telephone-headed talkshow host himself, Henry unfortunately being forced to answer calls and talk right before each season would start.

RING RING RI—

Henry picked up the phone on his head and spoke into it "Hello and welcome to 'who keeps ringing that phone' with Henry Hotline, I'm your host Henry Hotline, what can I do for you on this *lovely* day caller?"

Franky could tell by the exaggeration on certain words that Henry was going through it. His voice box made it so that everytime he spoke it was gravely and had that static filter over it. While the gameshow ran on the dark web amongst other gruesome live streams, Henry's show was broadcasted to public television and radio stations. This unfortunately meant Henry would be forced to subtly advertise what they couldn't legally. It was a job someone had to do, after all if no one was aware of it no one would donate, it was just plain unfortunate that it had to be Henry though.

["HELLO! I'm glad to be on the air, I was just wondering in the TV show you're always dragged along by Frankie and forced to help him, I'm just wondering do you actually like him? Or is it a thing where you can't get rid of him and are just forced to go along with what he wants?"]

Henry's usual dismissive attitude towards the callers shifted in an instant. By the way even his posture changed Franky could tell the question caught the telephone off guard. A long pause as Henry contemplated the question confirmed this.

"What do I think of Frankie..."

Henry sat up in his seat and looked towards the camera directed at him, or at least Franky assumed so. It was hard to tell with the telephone's pitch black eyes.

"Me and his relationship is... Complicated" Henry crossed his legs and tilted his head, the coil attached to it creaking "I suppose I should start off by saying that whatever you see in those cartoons are the works of fiction, don't try to replicate anything you see on TV in general kids, but... Uhh, to answer your question I suppose it just depends on whi– I mean– When, when does he bother me"

Franky's ears twitched at the verbal misstep. It could have been a genuine mistake in his words but the initial word choice of which had him wondering if the telephone was speaking about more than the dynamic of their cartoon counterparts.

"When he is making me do things I don't wanna do like talking to people I don't want to speak to..." Henry bit back what he truly wanted to say. With a sigh sound coming from his voice box he continued, his words carrying thinly veiled frustration "but at the same time Frankie has... He's been a real friend if I wanna put it generally, I mean sure he ain't perfect and I ain't always thrilled to see him" Henry's voice lowered into a fearful whisper "and he sometimes scares me..." Henry perked back up again "but he's a friend all the same, one that I probably would have gone crazy without having! Like really, do you think the duck is a fun conversationalist? He HATES me! Hahaha! If it was up to him I'm sure I would be locked up where no one would ever see me, and that sure would be a darn shame—wouldn’t it?”

["..."]

Silence. The caller had hung up about halfway through Henry's ramble leaving the telephone alone, talking to himself while he was live on air.

"...this, this is why I don't do long winded answers" Henry mumbled under his non-existent breath.

Franky's ears twitched. Those words were the last thing he expected to hear from Henry but he was glad to hear them. Despite what the past held and how Frankie forced him to hurt the telephone, the fact that Henry didn't hold a grudge allowed him to go along his merry way with that info in tow. It was that bit of info that made the giant rabbit pause upon seeing a poster on the wall. The piece of art held a cartoon depiction of the mascot rabbit as well as the mascot Henry was on the poster with the words "partners in crime" below it. While it was true they were partners in crime, especially considering soon Henry would have to take part in the show, Franky always thought of Henry as a friend and by the words the telephone gave it was apparent Henry thought of him as a friend too. They were friends.

A small hiccup in his little tour was made, before leaving connections Franky decided to commemorate the moment of confirmation between him and Henry's friendship. He took a page out of Henry's book and with the use of the darkned liquid that seeped from a body a few feet away, the rabbit marked the poster with a big "NO" on it. He hoped that after Henry would be finished in his studio he'd see the poster but that would probably not happen considering the telephone was already irritable and probably just wanted to go and rest after dealing with the constant ringing. Franky wasn't going to press the issue and force Henry to view it, he was just going leave the message there as a little reminder of their friendship in the future if he ever passed by it.

With that out of the way Franky decided to check up on the one mascot that wasn't once a human. While it had sentience and even a sense of justice, Deputy Duck was a simple AI that was implanted into a tablet that mimicked the look of the cartoon deputy. Franky and the deputy didn't get along at all, the duck always trying to peck him if he neared, but the rabbit was just going to make sure he was on charge. It was a simple trip, all it took was a shortcut through the vents which Franky had little issues squeezing into. As big as his hands, feet, body, and head were, the vents were big enough where he could slide through them, rather silently at that. One would figure such a large unwieldy creature like him scurrying through the vents would make quite the clatter, the awful noise of metal scraping against metal being inevitable. Instead Franky found a way to drag himself through making minimal noise, only the very subtle thud of his hand as he pulled himself along could be heard. There was something else heard throughout the vents. By the time he was close to the deputy's area he heard something, something that made him cease his movements and hold still.

Like the flies that would swarm around the corpses of those he killed, Franky picked up on a strange buzz. While at first he thought it the fans that would constantly spin to keep the building temperature controlled, he soon realized it wasn't a natural noise in the vents. He had never heard it once when climbing through the air ducts, not to mention it sounded electronic in nature. What caught his attention most of all was the fact that he swore through the garbled noise there was a voice, a very familiar one at that. It sounded kinda like...

Frankie?

He wasted no time in moving upwards, the cause of the sound concerning him. He struggled to think of what could it possibly be, was it just some auditory mishap? His hearing sensors sometimes did prove faulty, the wires connecting to his eardrums were partially frayed so the occasional glitch wasn't out of place. Even with that in mind he doubted that's what was happening though, he knew Frankie's voice anywhere and that certainly sounded like him. Inch by inch his large body crept through the tight space. He made sure to not leave a sound behind as he took every chance he got to peek his head through the vents to check where he would be in the facility. The confusion he faced only got worse upon finding himself in the air ducts right above the room he would lie dormant in when charging. What one could only describe as audio clutter continued to go off as Franky stretched over to look through the small spaces in between the gaps of the metal shutters.

The charging room was dimly lit, all lights powered off say for the multicolored ones from the electricity boxes and servers. Franky didn't require lots of light to see, already accustomed to seeing in dark spaces he managed to make out the bizarre sight of Frankie, standing there fiddling with several wires dangling from the ceiling. The rabbit was leaking an odd substance from the corners of his mouth, the liquid seeping past the wide grin of his. Even in the vents Franky could pick up the oder, a strange chemical mixture between oil and blood which ran through all the mascots made from humans. While he was accustomed to the smell of blood the oil added a strange tinge that made his snout scrunch up. It was awful and Frankie seemed aware of this, as he held charging wires in one hand he desperately tried to stop the tar from leaking out of his maw.

"Stu-pid-pid-pid fuck-ing-ing" Frankie cursed, his voice box clear as day the cause of the glitchy static sound.

click

Frankie shoved the wires into an unseen opening on his back. Sparks flew from where the wires were socketed, illuminating the dark room briefly and allowing him to see that the liquid was not just pouring out of Frankie's mouth but his entire body. From the small eyes embedded into his head all the way to where the springs connected his hands to his body, the mechanical blood oozed out like some sort puss filled pimple that popped. The stench was rank and Franky struggled to hold still. With everything in him he locked himself firmly in place and refused to take his eyes off the malfunctioning mascot.

Frankie was malfunctioning. Right? He knew what he was seeing, the brother of his running like a leaking pipe, it just didn't make sense. He was supposed to be the perfect one. While Franky was always told he was the one filled with flaws and Henry was a slightly improved version the explanation always given that when it came to turning something human into a mascot, Frankie perfected it on himself. He retained all the memories of when he was alive unlike the other lagomorph and the telephone, he could speak without anything interfering with his voice box’s signal, he didn't even need electricity to run. So what was it that Franky was seeing? This person—or rabbit in this case—who was supposed to be the perfect candidate to take over the show once they gathered enough funds was bleeding. Like a paramedic fruitlessly trying to defibrillate a rotting corpse that was left over in the sun, he spewed the liquid from the crevices of his body as enough wattage to power a generator for several days was pumped into him.

What took Franky aback the most was how casual he was about it. The frantic rush to keep all of it inside ceased, Frankie just hunched over and let it casually drip down. The faint bzztt of electricity pulsing through large wires into his back replaced the earlier noise of the broken sound that came from him. It was as if this was a regular occurrence the way Frankie stood up, wiped the fluid off his face, and began to sort through papers. The earlier file the monstrous mascot was barred from seeing was held in his hands. He flipped through each piece of paper hidden within it like one would a newspaper in the morning, leisurely and without a care.

zzipptt!

"Ah, there we are!" Frankie exclaimed, his voice as smooth as butter "glad that's outta my system, hopefully that was all of it" the smiling rabbit looked downwards at what he expelled from his body.

Franky surveyed his brother's eyes, searching for any sort of emotion that'd maybe help figure out what he just witnessed.

"Maybe after this season this little issue will be fixed" Frankie remarked as he briefly glanced up at the vent, unknowingly making eye contact with Franky on the other side.

There was nothing. No emotion. No care. Nothing but indifference to the casual spew of bile from his body. He was acting like this had happened before. Maybe because it did happen before. Franky didn't have any proof it did but just by his mannerisms he knew. He knew and it just confused him. Why would Frankie lie about not needing electricity or being the perfect finalized outcome of the experiments? What would lying gain him? People lied to gain something right? There was no ulterior motive to it, right? In this situation what was there to gain other than the ability to—....

...

Reputation... What would Frankie gain by lying other than the ability to preserve his reputation... That's what it was, wasn't it?

snap

Frankie snapped his fingers and in ran the small, volatile mysteries that were the Noob Noobs. Little red creatures sporting blue lips and a yellow hat, their bodies capable of self destruction after a specific amount of time or under certain amounts of pressure. These ones he summoned held towels that they used to mop up the puddle of black beneath Frankie's feet before consuming the sopping wet cloth. The Noob Noobs did their task diligently before running back out of the server room—presumably to some far off corner where they would detonate themselves disposing of any evidence. Their life spans comparable to that of a mayfly except they had no other purpose than as obstacles in the games. Obstacles that never went used.

After the Noob Noobs left Frankie soon followed. The rabbit hiding in the vents remained still, his brother's foot steps carrying off downstairs. Even after he was gone out of sight Franky continued to lay there until his ears could pick up nothing but the distant whirr of the fans and the buzz of the servos. His eyes fixated on the floor where the black fluids once were, his mind trying to still wrap itself what he witnessed. Well, it was more likely to say he was trying to rationalize why it was so shocking to him. He's killed people before, brutally too. Why was seeing Frankie leaking that stuff so shocking? Was it because he was his brother or something else…something like the idea that Frankie actually lied. He didn't know. He didn't think he wanted to know.

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