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t0rturedangel · 3 months

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╭ . . . 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕 ੭

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ; ♰ ৎ﹕𝘦𝘹𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘶𝘮

TUMBLR DECIDED TO FUCK ME SO HARD BC IT CRASHED AND I LOST ALL OF MY ORIGNAL WORK. AUGHRRRRRRRR I'M GOING TO SCREAM SO HARD.

but here is scene two as promised my lovlies, I'm sorry that it's short

➷ ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳＳＣＥＮＥ | ＮＥＸＴＳＣＥＮＥ

With her fall,

the cherubim went mad,

with sorrow and hate

she now sat on jagged rocks

You glared at the sky, or whatever it was above you- the bottom side of heaven? whatever it was, this place was not the earth the angels created nor was it the hell your Lucifer was dammed to but there is one thing for sure- you fucking hated this shithole. There was no life here (no life that was thriving, all the nature that could have been here is now reduced to rotten carcasses of what they used to be), just barren land with not a single soul in sight- besides yours of course though your soul was practically torn to shreds.

For endless days of your damned punishment you'd scream at the top of your lungs, begging heaven for it's forgiveness, to be let back in- making empty promises of never betraying them again. You'd sob into your hands when your voice finally gave up, your tears felt unusually acidic and whenever you did cry a weird feeling over came your senses, almost as if you had to get your hands on whatever moved- just as long as it didn't watch you. Eventually, when your crying sessions would end, you'd make an attempt to fly to heaven though their skies, those clouds you'd always rest on, the clouds you and Lucifer would fly through in utter glee were now so far to reach, no matter how fast and strong you flew. For hours, you'd manage to make your wings fly and then- they'd give up, your feathers simply gave up just as much as you did then once again you'd plunge down into the mossy yet rocky ground.

˓˓ HEAVEN! ʾʾ you screamed out as you fell ˓˓ HEAVEN FORGIVE ME! I BEG YOU! ʾʾ though as always your words were never heard, you were sure they could hear you- at least even some of them, perhaps St. Peter?... yeah you heard of him, you heard of his arrival- from who or where you cannot remember but you knew he was now by the gates of heaven allowing good moral souls to enter- GOD FUCKING DAMN IT YOU ARE MEANT TO BE WITH THEM! those shitbags dont care about anyone but them, they're selfish little fucks who only want to see the good- never the bad! Cant they open their fucking eyes to see that they aren't perfect?!

Sharp rocks dug into your back as you landed on them for the umpteenth time for that day, or week, or month- you didn't know any more, time was a concept you lost the knowledge to a while go, as much as other things. Your old social behavior was sure to have faltered, gone wrong, your mind had probably twisted into something horrific. That Cherub that once thrived is now dead, in her wake a new angel- a weeper angel now takes her place.

Now with heaven's ignorance and silence

the weeper lost hope for salvation,

and then she turned to the ground beneath her feet

Out of sheer anger of the lack of reply from the heavenly skies, you kicked yet another rock out of your way- while flying from where it once stood the rock broke into several pieces. It's been so long. So long of you begging and pleading with heaven for one more chance and they have done nothing but ignore you, you'd tried so many times to reach out to them you flew for hours- screamed for days- wept so loud you were sure all three worlds could hear you crystal clear. ˓˓ GOD DAMNIT ʾʾ kicking more things you looked above you ˓˓ CAELO TE DAMNO! TE ANGELOS PATHETICUS OMNES ʾʾ 〔 DAMN YOU HEAVEN! DAMN ALL YOU PATHETIC ANGELS 〕 if heaven will not answer your calls, then you'll turn to hell. While yes, you saw Heaven as a choice first it was mainly because you could not bare to see Lucifer again, after you failed to keep his place in heaven he would surely hate you, he's want you to suffer but seeing as even heaven will not take you- Hell was your only chance of escapism, but how would you get there? Would you be able to stomp onto the ground with such power that the ground would crack and open up?

Perhaps not, after all what if you end up on the earth's land- with humans, eugh, the thought of them makes your stomach twist, full of virtue or full of vice they were disgusting mortals- your presence would send them into insanity, they'd all go mad and kill one another and plus they were dirty, vile creatures- you felt that if you even saw one, they'd end up dead by your hands. Something was wrong with you, you never thought that way before. It was this isolation that was breaking your mind, you needed to get out and fast.

again, but how? There was no way you were willing to break the ground, and the only other way to even get there was through the extermination- yes this was another thing you were aware of, after all Angels needed to pass through your current home to get to hell, so maybe just maybe while they're flying through the portal you'd be able to sneak in too. There was only one problem, you dont know where the portal appears, it never appears in the same place and whenever it does appear you're too far away.

But, it was your only chance and you had to take it, or else you'd go truly mad, turn into a beast and kill anyone and anything you set your glossed over eyes on. Now the waiting game begins, though it wont take long at all- the last extermination was 350 days ago, you counted. Only 15 days left until you could be free from this torture.

Forget heaven, forget it all- now hell is your new destination.

ＷＡＩＴＦＯＲＭＥＨＥＬＬ

𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 ⠆(want to be reminded when I post a new chapter? Lmk!) ⸺ @reverse-soe @jellibean2018 @aliazy @sugarrush-blush @littledolly2345 @immahuman @marsilis @c0sm1cstqrsx @redqueeen99 @persephosposts

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non-bee-knees · 3 months

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Alright Sinners,

My ranking of every Hazbin Season 1 Song, (purely based on how much I like them for whatever reason)

Starting With:

16. Welcome To Heaven:

St. Peter pisses me off. Idk if it's his voice or whatever, but he's annoying and unnerving and I hate it. :((((

15. It Starts With Sorry:

This was originally bottom of the list, before i remembered tht Welcome to Heaven exists. I think it's a cute song, sure, but it's just...meh. It's kinda lost when its surrounded by other bangers, and especially when it's preceeded by Stayed Gone - it had no chance. I love Pen, but this isn't it for me

14. Whatever It Takes:

If I had a nickel for every time a musical series had and wasted JAMES MONROE IGLEHART, I'd have two nickles. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice (the other time is Tangled the Series)

Seriously though, when it's just Carmilla singing, this song is great, it's powerful and passionate. Then Vaggie starts singing. And don't get me wrong, I think Stephanie is a great voice actress and singer, but from the start I just didn't like her as the voice of Vaggie. It seems off to me, and it feels even worse here. Great song, but I think this is a person preference sort of thing bringing it down :(

13. Happy Day In Hell:

Opening song, pretty good. I was planning on using this as a sort of middle ground for the rest of the songs, but once you get into it, it's clear that while it's good, so many other songs are better, sadly. It is such a fun song, and I love the background voices, they're fun. Plus the little tempo change is cute halfway through, I like it a lot. It just doesn't hold up in comparison to the rest of the soundtrack

12. More Than Anything Reprise

Cute little thing right before the end, it's sweet and I'm glad that Charlie and Vaggie are good again. It suffers the same issue as Happy Day in that while it's good, there are other greats. It wins over it because I like the vocals here, and the change in the music from the original More Than Anything is neat.

11. Hell Is Forever:

My boyfriend is very very bummed that I put this one this low. I like this song, but again, there are others I like so much more. Adam is a dick, Alex does a fantastic job voice acting, and I do like the way he emphasises bits like 'pearly gates' its neato. Plus the whole 'guitar solo' bit is fun :))

10. Out for Love:

The first listen, I thought it was meh. As I relistened, it just got better and better. Idk who voices Carmilla but she is FANTASTIC, the mix of the guitar and the heavy beat, and her sining/speaking on beat is good. As well as the bit where the music stops for a second before the second chorus. Fabulous stuff honestly, if being an Overlord doesn't work out for Carmillia she could become a singer instead like holy shit.

Also this is the second Carmilla/Vaggie song... the whole Carmilla was from Heaven theories are looking stronger by the minute

9. Poison:

Shit. Banging song. Blake does such an AMAZING JOB>?!?!?!?! Like holy fuck what a banger. I like this song, the way it's used in the show is brilliant, the ENDING?????? OMG. The bits around "Anyway you want me baby thats the way you got me baby" Are my faves, like those longer notes are so good ffrrrrrrr. I very like this song.

8. Respectless:

GIRLLLLLLL????? VELVETTE?????!!!??!?! OMG BABY GET IT. Vox is my fav V but shit Velvette is such that Bitch fr. This song is so fun, she's so right, and Unpopular Opinion- I think her voice is absolutely perfect for her charcter. Couldn't imagine her without her shitty little british accent. Also Velvette changes clothes every Ep; such a fun detail

7. More Than Anything:

Screaming, kicking my legs, giggling JEREMY JORDAN SBF HIBDBB:VHIBDHF I LOVE HIM HE PUTS HIS WHOLE SOUL INTO EVERYTHING HE DOES AND THIS IS NO DIFFERENT

such a sweet, genuine song, i love hearing them realise that they really love each other and learn about each other, I love the duet at the end, I love charlies solo bit, the fucking "Apple doesn't fall far" sbdfbhhb'bvofvj ADOREEEEEEE Such a cute song FR kisses

6. Finale:

So many elements here that are just *chefs kiss* JEREMY JORDAN I WANT TO KISS YOU. The gang all singing together is just so fucking cute, Vox and Val are Gay and Canon and theyre so cute thinking they're gonna rule Hell T-T - I need to see how Vox reacted to Al not being dead. AND SPEAKING OF: AL's VERSE???? SIRRRR?? ARE YOU OKAY??? mans was loosing it frrr (i also wanna kiss him on the forehead and put him to bed) (Some one pointed out that he doesn't have his staff in the last moments of the song) (also it's cute that he headed back to his radio shack to breakdown, babe really said 'safe space')

5. You Didn't Know:

We all knew this was gonna be this high up, WHAT A BANGER?????? I adore Sera's voice, it's so good, and Lute singing?? get it girl. And we all know the 'Hell is Forever' Reprise is absolute PEAK soooooooooooooooooooooooooo fucking good. ANd the end??? ADAM YOURE A CUNT but also Drama ✨✨✨

4. Stayed Gone:

NFBHBH{B@OUFE@OF Alastor and Vox are two of my fav fiction men Types: Suave sassy cunts with way too much power (with fun voice effects for extra Style)

Seriously this song really outlines them so well??? Like Vox is desperate for control, hence the fucking new's cast, and he's erratic and insane, trying his best to make absolutely sure that his viewers stay his viewers, instead of pivoting to Radio. In contrast, Al is still and calm, staying in one place while Vox flicks all over the place through his screens. AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE END PART He really went Sicko Mode to bully a man after 7 years of ignoring him, FUck i love Alastor

3. Loser, Baby:

Need more be said? It's Loser, Baby, it has it all. Smooth vocals, fun jazz, cute choreography, a dancable beat, a wonderfully approachable message (my bf got worred that i liked it so much because he thought it was concerning at first, but it's so comforting to be told, 'hey we're all fucked, let's be fucked together 😊'

Blank and Keith work so beautifully together vocally that if we don't get another duet in S.2 imma riot I swear.

also "They're fucking singing???" GOLD

This song put Husk right into my top 3, only for Ep 5 to push him righ to Number 1(*)

2. Hell's Greatest Dad:

JEREMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

JORDANNNNNNNNNN

IS A FUCKING MASTERPIECE

'from the big boss of hell himself' FUCK ME (/hj)

Seriously tho, an electrojazz duet between Al and Lucifer was such a gorgeous idea whoever made this song needs a fucking RAISE the differences in their music while they're soloing, only for it to 'clash' when Lucifer brings out the fiddle (yes its a fiddle, not a violin)

(also violin and piano are complimentary intruments, so while its not a violin, it's still neat to know that they still work 'together' as they hate each other)

The end with Mimzy?? Funny, I liked it. I hate mimzy, she's annoying and she's bound to return, but yeah, I liked her interuption as her intro, it's fitting. Also Lucifer's little 'who' at the end makes me giggle.

Ready for This:

D ;bvb'obvrgo#rjhprb#o#RPGNR

I quite like this song. In case you couldn't tell by the way it's No.1. Its a mix of the vocals being FUCKING GORGEOUS, the changes in style as the song goes on 'come on boys hop in the saddle' IMMA KISS ERIKA. Also the way the Cannibals get on board so fast is so funny, their verse is so fun

And don't get me started on ROSIEjf bhfb'au#bf'h[bfb#ru "That's enthusiasm darling" I LOVE HERRRRRRRRR

Her and Al are so sweet, thier little verse at the end is lovely. I think in trying to convince Rosie to trust Charlie, Al accidentally realised how much he cares about her 🤭

You can tell how much I like each song as I slowly loose my sanity as the list goes down 😅

(*) My fave is Husk, the Rosie, then Al, then Vox, then Angel 😊

This is all just my opinons; Please let me know what you agree with, what you disagree with, where you would put each song and why - id love to hear it xxxx

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel songs

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amilliontinywraiths · 5 years

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Everything was boring and it fucking hurt

I find myself sitting on the fifth floor of an unidentifiable River North office building—a neighborhood humming with New Money and (likely, unknowably) depressed office drones. Brick walk-ups and well-trimmed hedges are the background of lives made better by Airpods, purebred puppies, and a recent mass-dump of motorized gig-economy scooters. I am sitting on the toilet.

I sit on my Apple-developed Notes app, typing ideas for possible blog posts, wishing to fill a blog that is yet to exist. Wishing to distract myself from the world outside of this stall, and to shit on my employer’s time. The list goes as such:

Airbnb as an idea of what is it like to really live alone, or an experiment in someone else’s (put-together) life. Adulthood as studio apartment living in anonymous stranger’s room while he moves out for a week to make rent and I am on vacation. Permanency of homes, impermanency of apartments (youth?) where you cannot drill a hole. DIY baby boomers tweet thread. (see here and here)

“One Last Zine Workshop to End Them All,” or why contemporary art museums think they are saving the children when they teach them a saddle stitch – see MoMA PS1 calendar of events

The myth of the Irish-American dream, or why my coworker talks to me like we are two oppressed comrades while he sips Jameson, or why when I applied to a job in London I marked my ethnic identity as “Irish”

I write none of these and wipe my ass and leave the two-stalled restroom, shimmy-ing around an aggressive older woman in Sketchers, an employee of the landscaping company housed next door (whose company name is an oddly conceived mix of “soil” and a commonly-used slur for Romani people, if you catch my drift). Much like this entire restroom situation, my life feels like shit.

I am a recent graduate of an arts college with a vague bachelor’s degree teetering somewhere between visual art and critical theory; a tale as old as time. I graduate, and unlike a tale as old as time, I am offered a full-time job at a small journal where I have worked for the last three years. I am lucky, in the so-called grand scheme of things. But with a salary of $27k, I take home around $850 every two weeks, and in three months, if my body so needs, I am eligible to pay a $150 premium monthly and be welcomed into the world of a PPO. My weary teeth will walk through the pearly gates, introduced to the world of dental insurance and regularly cleanings (making St. Peter a BlueCross BlueShield customer service representative?). At this point, my titanium teeth and I will take the 65-bus home to our five-hundred-something-dollars-a-month apartment with a monthly take-home pay of about $12.98 an hour. I think I have vacation days. Truthfully, I’ve never made this much money!

I am the youngest non-intern in the office, the vegan who makes group ordering difficult, the one with (too many) tattoos, the projection of coworkers who once were youthful and excited but were sucked into the world of 9-5’s and caring too much about a company that keeps them late on weekday nights. A coworker notes that I look sad, about two weeks into my full-time office labor: “You seem like you’re getting used to how bad this all is.” I smile, he smiles, I walk back to my tiny stall, making sure to grab the pink lanyard with a key, and sob.

Apologies, I am not here to complain about money or my lack of emotional well-being. I am really here to discuss this transition from the demands of a thesis program and part-time service work into the simultaneous chaos and monotony of working at an arts journal—which happens to be published by an international arts fair akin to Art Basel—and the utter mind-fuck that comes with this work. The transition from deeply believing in everything I was learning and writing to halting completely, this transition to the boredoms of office work (sung to the tune of Kate Bush’s This Women’s Work). Wait, yes, I’m here to complain.

My girlfriend buys me a copy of David Graeber’s newest book, Bullshit Jobs: A Theory. This book stems from a 2013 article (On the Phenomenon of Bullshit Jobs: A Work Rant) commissioned by STRIKE! Magazine, a publication whose office I have been to and whose former editor I once kissed (A note that the world of radical publishing is much too small, and the kiss was weird). I begin the book on the bus to work, descending from the bus at 9:55 with an anger marinating in my questionably professional work attire. Graeber outlines what a “bullshit job” is, to paraphrase, employment which could disappear and nothing would happen (think bureaucratic middle-management), labor in which the employee does not think it holds any value, and, the kicker, there is a pressure upon the employee(s) to pretend it does matter.

My coworkers seem to notice, or rather, are pretending better than I that this all matters. From being the only employee to take their designated (paid!) lunch break and promptly leaving at five, to sitting silently in meetings in which higher-level associates scream at each other in roundtable arguments on which VIP attendee deserves to stay the W Hotel (versus, say, another lakefront luxury hotel), I am clearly the only one that visibly does not give a shit. Still, I feel the pressure myself—I sheepishly ask my boss if I am doing enough, hiding my insurrectionary tendencies underneath a borrowed Uniqlo button-up.

I *try* to read The New Inquiry every day, a perk of perpetual boredom protected by dimmed screens and quick Desktop shifts. I type “boredom,” in the search bar, hoping to find a critical “hot take” on this lingering feeling; to be clear, I am searching for redemption in the result page #8. An editor of TNI, Rob Horning, perhaps fulfills my yearning with his Ordinary Boredom essay, relating postcards depicting boring landscapes (offices and shopping malls, parking lots and highways, American staples) to varying definitions of boredom, the feeling or the state. He frames boredom as a resistance, as rejecting the demands of consumerism and the pressures of high-production: “My boredom is actually a sign of my focus; my refusal to be distractible is so militant that I will decline to pay attention to anything.” It’s nice to hear that my boredom is militancy, when really, I feel like I’m slipping into another layer of Hell.

Graeber theorizes on Hell in his piece, too. He writes,

Once, when contemplating the apparently endless growth of administrative responsibilities in British academic departments, I came up with one possible vision of hell. Hell is a collection of individuals who are spending the bulk of their time working on a task they don't like and are not especially good at.

I’d like to think I am alright at my editing job, which checks off half of the requirements for living in this Hell, as if I have one foot in the bucket (but the bucket is a sculpture sold by Gagosian). On the other hand, Horning marks boredom as eternal salvation: “Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.”

Shit, I must be in purgatory.

Welcome to the blog.

originally written June 27, 2019

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mileenadelanoche · 7 years

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Japanese Vending Machines are Amazing (Ch. 6 update)

Read it on AO3

Like sweet angels’ wings, strong gusts of wind caressed Yuuri’s body as he was slowly pulled from his deep slumber. His frame shivered as he felt the warmth being stolen from him by the cool air. Rudolf Clausius and William Thomson smiled down from the heavens, happy to know that the Second Law of Thermodynamics still applies. Their life’s work having reached the hearts and texts of any respectable and stressed science major.

As Yuuri’s eyes opened to half-moons, the first thing that he noticed was how beautiful Tokyo looked at night from a bird eye’s view. Monsters made of carefully laid steel and shining glass reflecting the weak rays of the gibbous moon, the flashing signs and rolling late-night cars, the dark sparkling waters of the Pacific, the gyre of marine debris and plastic that make up the Great Pacific Trash Vortex… ah the universal law of equivalent exchange floated into his subconscious: humankind cannot gain anything without somehow f*cking shit up in return.

As the hideous result of the folly of humankind floated its way into Yuuri’s mind’s eye, he was startled awake and was so shaken by what he saw that his entire body froze. At least 10,000 feet, his mind supplied, he had to have been floating at least 10,000 feet in the air and it was only climbing—the city where he once was grounded rapidly becoming a spec as he was pulled up by what felt like the suction of a typhoon. His hair went wild with the force of the winds.

The land and sea disappeared from his sight as he passed through a cloud, nothing but thick wispy water vapor. With eyes larger than a seal staring down the maw of a great white, Yuuri started yelling. Covering his eyes while balling himself up into the fetal position, he braced himself as he saw the nose of a Boeing 787 racing towards him.

He barreled through the cabin as he was swallowed by the murmur of hundreds of passengers. A customer on the JAL sanctioned flight asked for dinner set A but, there were none left—we are sorry to inform you. As the words whizzed by him, Yuuri was overtaken by a sudden calm as he was ejected out the butt of the plane. Somehow, that was all the confirmation that he needed. This was probably a lucid dream.

Floating to the outer reaches of the troposphere, the clouds became thinner and lighter until he broke through some invisible barrier. Eyes burning from the sudden light, he squinted to see that there was a glittery man dressed in red waiting for him at the pristine gates—the silver gates to what Yuuri assumed was supposed to be the afterlife or the planes of reincarnation.

It felt like his body had lost all its mass as he began to walk towards the man—probably the guard of the gates. The clouds felt like quality alpaca wool beneath his feet-squishing lovingly between his toes, leaping to lick at his toned calves. Although aware of his phantom heart hammering away in his chest at the awe-inspiring sight, Yuuri felt some sort of unsettling peace flow up from his legs.

That is, until he got close enough to the guard that he was noticed. The guard’s entire face dropped to the floor as he saw Yuuri before slowly morphing into one of euphoria, smile so wide that it could stretch from sea to shining sea. Something about that was extremely unsettling but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The guard looked like he knew him. But, Yuuri didn’t think he’d ever encountered such a person in his life. He would have remembered such a flashy individual.

Yuuri froze like a pole once the guard began to squeal—jumping up and down in excitement before speeding towards him like a bullet. A bullet with a stylish bowl-cut for a head.

Ecstatic, the guard let out a happy shout before mowing down frozen Yuuri like a goat before a field of overgrown yet helpless grass. The air was forcefully removed from Yuuri’s lungs as he let out an ‘ack!’.They both bounced across the clouds before sliding to a stop. Yuuri hissed painfully as the air mercifully returned to his body. What was the point of dreaming if he still felt pain? Wasn’t that a part of the deal? In exchange for suffering through daily life you were supposed to be able to escape to a nice fantasy at night. What did he do so wrong for the world to break rules just so his suffering could be prolonged?

“YUURI!!!!” the guard on top blasted the stream of conscious right out of Yuuri’s head before having the conscious to pull away. Excited eyes looked down into bewildered eyes, Yuuri’s hair had spread around him like a faux crown from the force of the impact. “What are you doing here?! Last I checked you still had a good amount of time going for you, what happened? Wait, sorry I’ll get off you. Here, grab my hand.”

Yuuri still looked disoriented as he was pulled onto his feet and dragged back to the golden gates. His eyes were still rolling from the fall as they looked in opposite directions. Stumbling a little, he sat upright as he was unceremoniously dumped onto a raised cloud lump.

He felt a weight in his right hand and found that his blue-rimmed frames were being held there. Rubbing them a bit, he put them on wondering if they had always been there. The world regained its clarity. The guard who had been blurry before focused into a man with nice sun-tanned skin wearing a loose, over-the-shoulder red robe with gold accents. This close, Yuuri could see that his eyeliner was impeccable—gold swooping out to dark black wings. He was grinning widely so his pearly whites were shining. Even his eyes seemed to be smiling and he looked at Yuuri like a long-lost friend.

“Who are you?” he asked confused before slapping his hand over his mouth in shock. That’s not japanese! “What?!” He closed his mouth again as the beginnings of an identity crisis began to unfold. “What?!”

The guard just laughed his loud laugh as Yuuri became more and more troubled. “Yeah it always shocks people when they get up here but don’t worry about it!” He reached behind him to grab two long drink glasses and let them fill under the small ambrosial waterfall suddenly manifesting from out of the aether. He took a long sip from one and sighed in bliss. He handed one to Yuuri who looked like he wasn’t sure what to do with it as he held it nervously with both hands.

“I don’t get paid at all to translate so I just make everyone default to a universal language up here. This language—that just happens to read like English—was conveniently imparted to your soul, spirit—your whatevertheheck—when you died! Congratulations! You know what? We should toast.” The guard, still smiling like the sun, wiggled his fingers before ‘Presto!’ a piece of golden brown toast exploded into existence right in front of Yuuri’s eyes.

Yuuri went cross-eyed. His head was spinning. His dreams tended to be weird, but this was pushing it.

“Did you like that, Yuuri? Looked like I was a handsome magician for a second, right? I wish David Blaine could have died to see this, he would have lost his shit!” The guard cackled before sighing. “Aaahh, too bad magic’s not the same up here. Anyways, I’m getting off-topic.” He lifted his glass to Yuuri who still looked shell shocked. He didn’t look like he could process language in his bewildered state.

“You’re supposed to cut me off when that happens, Yuuri! Now toast! Don’t give me that look, I know that you, of all people, should know how to toast!” The guard’s smile faltered a bit. “Fine then, I’ll show you. All’s you gotta do is gravitate the glasses together-like magnets.” He leaned forward and moved his glass slowly as to not further alarm the frightened creature. As the lips of the glasses clinked together he finished his narration. “Yep, just like that. Softly, like when two sexually repressed college dudes make their dicks kiss on a double-dog dare.” The guard sighed as he pulled back, eyes far away and full of nostalgia. “Ahh, the infinite stupidity of youth.”

Yuuri looked more than mildly disturbed as he finally asked the question that had been bugging him for a while.

“I’m dead?” he asked; the face of skepticism. “Then, are you supposed to be some sort of St. Peter?”

The guard looked most offended at this remark. “Uuuhh, that’s Saint Phichit, to you. Do I even look like-“ the gatekeeper—Saint Phichit—looked like he was rearing to go into a rant about how no single man named Peter could pull off his look before he stopped himself. “-Actually, you know what? That’s fair. I’ll let you off the hook with that one. I’m more offended that you don’t remember me.” Phichit pouted as he sipped on his drink.

“Have me met before?” Yuuri asked, trying to look back into his memories to see if he could recall anything. He kicked at the clouds gathering around his feet. “I can’t remember meeting you before…”

Phichit just waved him off as if swatting away annoying flies. “It’s alright. Memories from past lives generally don’t carry over but, I know you are my Yuuri! I’m surprised you kept the same name—there must be some of you that’s left.” Phichit paused. “Ah, I wasn’t supposed to disclose any of that information. Forget I said anything.” He pointed at Yuuri’s untouched drink. “Take a sip of ambrosia, we have a lot to do!”

With so much metaphysical knowledge entering his head, Yuuri’s head began to ache. From everything that he’d unwittingly gathered, he’d been good friends with Saint Phichit in a past life. That means either he used to be an angel or something or Phichit was a human beforehand. But more than that, apparently some kind of reincarnation exists. Did destiny exist? Why was he taking this in like it’s real? Wasn’t this supposed to be some elaborate dream? With all these thoughts storming his brain, Phichit’s cool ambrosia seemed more and more appealing. He took a refreshing sip. Sweet, slightly bitter, caffeinated milky goodness exploded in his mouth.

“I think…” He took another sip. “Isn’t this just Thai coffee? I thought you said this was ambrosia.” He kept on sipping. It was helping his headache to recede after all.

Phichit tapped on his chin as he adopted a suave look. “A rose by any other name.” Yuuri felt a sudden weight on his head. It only elicited mild surprise when he felt the soft rose petals of his new flower crown.

“Ambrosia’s good right?” Wait. He knew that Yuuri was working as a coffee man before he died. Did he just induce a form of cannibalism by having Yuuri drink coffee? It sounded far-fetched but whatever the case he hoped he hadn’t. “Anyways!” He clapped his hands together, rubbing them before throwing them up into the air. “Let’s get to the bottom of this mystery! You weren’t supposed to be here for a while. Shall we playback the footage of your life?”

Yuuri nearly spit out his coffee as his recent night-time activities came to mind. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, coughing. “No, you don’t have to do that…”

But Yuuri would be far too late. Phichit had already produced a tablet from the fabric of reality. He blew off the leftover cloud from the surface and the disturbed mist made him look like a winter dragon. Seconds later, the screen came to life.

A fire had started in his eyes as he shoved his cloud tablet at Yuuri’s face. “Look at how fancy! This model isn’t even out on earth, yet.” Phichit gushed before tsking to himself as he pulled back to look for Yuuri’s archives. “Can you believe that—before I lost my shit and yelled at the higher ups—they used to use filing cabinets for this? You know, those old-ass alphabetical drawers with the file dividers from the last ice age? From when Homo fucking habilis was still trying to learn how to walk?” Phichit shook his head. “Unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable. I almost died my first week and I’m practically immortal.”

Phichit typed Yuuri’s name and date of birth into the search engine. “Aha, here you are. Man, look at your profile picture. Beautiful, I think I might have to cry.” Phichit wiped a few fake tears away as he showed Yuuri the same picture that he had on his driver’s license. Yuuri’s hair was in a clean job interview comb-over and he looked frozen in a state of shock like a cat being introduced to a stalk of catnip. The camera man must have not given him any warning.

“Beautiful…?” Yuuri asked, with a look that questioned Phichit’s eyesight. ‘Where?’ he seemed to be asking with his eyes.

Phichit made an unimpressed face. “Yuuri…I swear you’re always so hell-bent on making my job as a loving friend difficult in every. Single. Alternate. Universe. That exists! Just accept the truth, angsty pants. Gee whiz. You’re killing my vibes.” Phichit breathed out and his sunny demeanor returned.

“Now, let’s look at how you died, shall we?” said Phichit, in the most inhumanly refreshing way possible.

Yuuri started shaking his head and hands in the most visceral movement of PLEASE DON’T in all of history. “No, no, no! Let’s not watch that.”

Phichit nodded as if in understanding. “I got you, Yuuri. It must have been traumatic for you. Sorry, I’ve been insensitive.”

Yuuri relaxed but, it was too soon as Phichit continued. “It’s okay, we don’t have to watch it if it makes you uncomfortable. That’s my job anyways! You just sit tight, okay Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as Phichit pressed play. He could only sit tight and maybe ask for a miracle. Buddha, Amaterasu, god, whatever higher power… if you’re out there, please let me rest in peace.

In a rather anticlimactic way, the video began to load and Phichit made an annoyed noise grumbling about how they needed to get fiber optics. Internally, Yuuri was hoping that his small prayer had actually worked. Long story short, it did NOT as the video pulled up seconds later.

“It’s kind of a shame…” Phichit started as the thumbnail which showed Yuuri’s hotel room loaded. “I was gonna show you all the cool features like zoom and the tilt-controlled panoramic video feature, ah, on second-thought I see why you wouldn’t want to see your own death played out in high-def 360 degree video footage. Good call.”

Yuuri put his head in his hands as Phichit clicked the play button. Like a pig before slaughter, he waited for his impending death by embarrassment. In the farthest reaches of his soul, he still had a tiny glimmer of hope that what he thought was going to happen would not happen despite all signs pointing to yes this is happening. Some internet troll was probably typing out how he brought this on himself. Wait, why was nothing happening yet?

Peaking out from between his fingers, Yuuri saw that Phichit was fiddling with his tablet as he saw a familiar scene from when he and Viktor had first began to explore the love hotel room. If his memory serves, soon after they’d explore each other.

“Aha!” Phichit shouted in triumph as he flicked on a switch on the side. Muffled sound began playing from the device. “People always put these things on mute, and I will never understand why. Hmmm…” He watched the footage for a few minutes. “Viktor, huh? You can never trust the handsome ones, I tell ya. Let’s just go to the scene right before the crime. Tablet, show me when the dying begins.”

“Showing when the dying begins.” Echoed the robotic feminine voice of the tablet.

Putting aside how nonchalant Phichit sounded which clashed with how disturbing the actual words coming out of his mouth were, Yuuri had never felt such an urge to knock himself unconscious in his entire life. As he was contemplating how to do that with nothing but soft cloud around him, they began. The sounds.

They couldn’t have been much louder than the rest of the video, but they sounded like a sexual operatic concierto blaring into the sacred air of the heavens. Yuuri’s face grew hot with first-hand embarrassment.

“Aaahhhh~ nnggghh~ *SLUUURRRP* ah, haaa… *slap* *slap* haaa…!” Yuuri wishes that he had four hands so he could cover his ears too but he just wasn’t lucky enough to be a mutant. The wet slapping sounds of rough lovemaking and the occasional snippets of unfortunate dirty talk flooded into Yuuri’s ears and disrupted all his thinking processes. Yuuri couldn’t see it, but he knew that if he peered over to look at Phichit he’d see the horror of finding what was essentially his friend’s sex tapes.

“Oh wow, hello.” Phichit said in the most suppressed form of surprise Yuuri had ever heard. “Sorry about that, lemme just uhh turn down the volume.”

The sounds slowly faded away but the will to turn to dust that was in Yuuri did not.

Out of morbid curiosity, and morbid curiosity alone, Phichit turned on the tilt controls. When Yuuri wasn’t looking, which was almost all the time, he angled the tablet down and… a little to the side now, ah, perfect. He really couldn’t help himself. After all, he had wanted to be a producer at one point and wow. These tilt controls were really something. This angle, that angle, pinch-in here and the video didn’t pixelate at all! The cinematography was just breathtaking; it could rival hit motion picture Inception directed by Christopher Nolan. Here, make no mistake, Yuuri was Leonardo Dicaprio.

Dang, didn’t Yuuri feel any lactic acid build-up at all? He was wolfing down that german sausage like Takeru Kobayashi who currently holds the world record for most bratwurst consumed in 10 minutes. We’re talking 58 bratwurst sausages here. That’s like six sausages in a minute. Could he submit this video to Guiness? More importantly, where was all of that going? It looked like it was disappearing like a good magician should. Elephant imagery stampeded into Phichit’s mind and he found that it was really fitting.

Human bodies shouldn’t do that. OH MY, WORD. This violated everything that Phichit knew about the limits of the human body and basic arithmetic. You can’t just keep packing a car that’s full. You can’t fit two balls into a box that only allows one. Unless Yuuri was a black hole and he was bending the fabric of space and time which of course Yuuri would do that.

Yeah! That’s just like his best friend: doing the impossible in every single aspect of life. Someone give him a medal. Someone give him two medals! Because he treasured all his relationships, he secretly readjusted his robes into a more strategic position. Just in case of course. Phichit was a good person and it didn’t hurt to be prepared. Or at least that’s what he kept telling himself as he listened to several variations of moaning over the course of a few minutes. He tried to skip around the repetitive parts to get to the erm, important points.

The video was nearing its end and currently Yuuri was on the floor trying to smash himself into the clouds. In the video, Phichit saw Yuuri’s soul, battered and weary, escape from under the covers as naked Viktor crinkled his nose smelling something putrid and kept snoozing away. He fought the strange urge to clap as the screen faded to black and instead joined his horrified friend on the cloud floors.

With as must gentleness as he could muster, he pulled Yuuri from out of his cramped tornado-drill position to sit up until they were shoulder to shoulder. Right now, Yuuri probably didn’t want to look him in the eyes so they both just stared out into the ocean of endless cloud cover. The light of death was blinding, but Phichit knew he would never be able to un-see that. Yuuri contemplated whether it was good or bad that you could not die of embarrassment as he squinted out at the golden whiteness of the bright clouds that continued into infinity in every direction.

It was silent for a while. Phichit never really had training to deal with these situations. He grabbed a handful of airy cloud and looked at it closely as it floated out from his hands. Maybe they would hold the answers to the world. Nothing was coming to mind, so Phichit did something he was good at: break the silence.

“Sooo…” he began whilst drawing out the ‘o’ sound, “funny thing, I kind of assumed that Viktor was your murderer but nothing could have quite prepared me for how you were murdered.”

Yuuri made a strange face and chose not to follow up on that. Phichit understood, after all most people don’t like to think on death. He let the silence hang for a while until he couldn’t take it. He had to say it. He was dying to say it.

“What a… interesting weapon, am I right?” Phichit bit his lip, trying not to grin. He looked over at Yuuri who looked like he was making a constipated expression. That was probably a sign to continue.

“You know.” Phichit fought down his giggles as he kept talking, “When he first pulled it out I was like, what? Is that a gun? That can’t be a gun.” Phichit’s lips were wobbling so hard, he couldn’t take it anymore he had to let loose. “But then, but then,” Phichit paused so he could turn to look Yuuri dead in the eye, “he fucking cocks it.” Phichit goes completely nuts. Yuuri has the most offended look on his face- mouth open in shock, eyebrows raised.

“HAHAHAHAHA!!! HE COCKS IT!! GET IT???? YUURI I’M DYING” Phichit’s bowled over, there are tears coming out of his eyes.

“Phichit!” Yuuri screams, “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you!”

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that.” Phichit recovers enough to rest a reassuring hand on his decimated friend’s shoulder. “But, you know what?”

“What?” Yuuri asks genuinely confused as to what could possibly be the silver lining here.

“Well,” Phichit starts, “at least you went out with a bang.”

Phichit laughs harder when he sees the way Yuuri’s looking at him. Yuuri’s got the deepest pouting frowny-face on; the one that’s wobbly at the edges because he’s trying so hard not to smile at terrible puns and Phichit knows he’s won him over.

Exasperated, Yuuri just sighs as he can’t help but smile at this stupid saint’s antics. “Alright, alright. Stop before I actually hit you.”

Phichit puts his hands up in surrender. “Ok, ok, I’m stopping so no hitting!”

“So now what happens? I’m dead so, do I get to go to the afterlife now or are you going to send me back as a flea?” Yuuri asks, half-joking.

Phichit adopts the thinkers pose as he thinks about how best to pass judgement. “Well, all things considered with your early demise, the way you died, and your fateful reunion with me I can only come to one conclusion.” Yuuri waits, a bit nervous. He really didn’t want to be reborn as a bug, if possible.

“And that conclusion is…” Phichit draws out the sentence like a game show host as Yuuri hopes with all his might. “You are far away from god.” Phichit says it while winking like it’s a good thing but Yuuri doesn’t look at all amused.

“Really, Phichit?”

“No, No! I know it sounds bad but just hear me out Yuuri, this is actually a very auspicious thing for you!”

Yuuri stares at him, searching his eyes before he relents. “Alright, you’ve got my attention.”

“So, if my theory is correct and your death was an unpredicted death, this means that you are off the grid right now. That means, none of the important people in administration have caught wind that you’re up here which means you might still have the power to go back.” There’s a light in Phichit’s eyes as he says it, his hands are clenched in excitement in front of his face as Yuuri lights up in return.

“Really!” Yuuri says, all excitement.

“Really, really.” Phichit says, 10,000 watt grin on his face. “All’s you have to do is find something that ties you strongly to the physical world. Can you think of anything? I’ll take care of all the rest.”

“Wait, won’t you get fired?” Yuuri asks a little worried for his new supernatural buddy.

“You want to go back, don’t you? Just be selfish for once in your life; I know you need to go back, c’mon Yuuri.” Phichit snorts as he gestures to his tablet. “Besides, it’s not like any of those old farts could afford to lose me over someone who’s not supposed to be dead anyways. I’m one of the only tech-savvy gatekeepers there are so don’t worry about it.” The clouds began to stir in front of him. “So, tell me who it is that you want to return to?” Phichit has a knowing glint in his eyes even as he inquires.

“You already know who it is, but, can I see Viktor again? I only knew him for a night but I feel like I’ve known him forever. I know it’s hard to believe, but I really have no one besides him. I was alone before him. Every day was monotonous as I did my job, spreading the love of canned coffee. Viktor’s the only one who’s ever loved me back…” Yuuri felt the beginnings of tears spring to his eyes. “I can’t die yet Phichit, I miss him so much and I don’t know why.”

Wrapping an arm around Yuuri, Phichit shushed him as the clouds in front of them slowly cleared. “Awww. Yuuri, don’t cry. If it makes you feel any better, I think he misses you just as much. Let’s see what he’s up to shall we?”

Once the clouds vanished leaving a reflective barrier, the busy city of Tokyo was projected on the faux screen before zooming in on a frazzled silver-headed man. Viktor could be seen gesturing to his phone and trying to communicate to the locals who shook their heads and walked away. This continued several times, Viktor seeming to sag more and more in dejection. Before long, he made it to a park and sat down on a bench before putting his head in his hands. It zoomed in on him, he was probably crying.

“Oh, that’s so sad.” Phichit commented. “He’s gotta be crying, oh no, he’s shaking. Look, even the ducks are starting to collect around him, they probably think he’s going to make a pond for them to play in.”

“Viktor!” Yuuri shouted as he tried to touch the man on the cloud screen. He felt helpless when he realized he couldn’t comfort him as his hands just stopped on the image like the glass of a television. He turned to look at his friend, both hands on Viktor’s projected face. “Phichit, look, he needs me! How do I go to him?!” he said, desperation in his voice.

Hypnotizing like a desert haze, Phichit’s image began to distort and bleed into the surroundings.

“Phichit! What’s happening?”

The clouds began to swirl in on each other and Yuuri was overcome with a feeling of nausea. “Oh Yuuri,” Phichit said, voice sounding faint and distorted, “have you already forgotten what you are?”

Yuuri’s stomach dropped into his guts as he began sinking into what used to be firm cloud. His struggles to get out were in vain as he was pulled under like a horse stuck in quicksand.

“Phichit!” he screamed terrified, “Help me!”

Phichit’s distorted face just smiled at him as he sank lower and lower until the clouds began to obscure his vision. “Next time you come up here you better not forget me!”

#jvmaa #going to post them on tumblr now #yoi fanfic #viktuuri

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