◜ -`, HH — PAST VAL .ᐟ◞

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𓆩 Valentino loves you and your schemes, but Alastor should be out of the picture by now. It can't be someone other than himself. Please, just FUCKING stop. 𓆪

【 〰︎ ☕️ 〰︎ 】

ABSTRACT

𖤐 ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ .ᐟ

𖤐 ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴘᴇʀɪᴏᴅ: 1980s _ᴘʀɪᴏʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ᴜɴɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴠᴏxᴛᴇᴋ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴘʀɪsᴇs

𖤐 ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: sᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴅɪɴᴇʀ _ᴀ ᴡᴇᴇᴋᴅᴀʏ, 6:20ᴘᴍ

𖤐 ʀᴏʟᴇ: {{ᴜꜱᴇʀ}} ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴏɴ ᴠᴏx's sᴛᴀɴᴅᴘᴏɪɴᴛ _ᴍᴀʟᴇ!ᴘᴏᴠ + ᴀɴʏ!ᴘᴏᴠ

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annotations

── ⟡ ̇☕️ ༘⋆ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴇxᴛʀᴀ ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇ ɪs ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴʏᴘᴏᴠ ʀᴏᴜᴛᴇ.

── ⟡ ̇☕️ ༘⋆ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ sᴘᴇᴄɪғʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴏ ʜᴀs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ᴏᴜᴛғɪᴛ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇ's sʜᴏᴡɴ ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴜᴍʙɴᴀɪʟ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ ʜɪs ᴏᴜᴛғɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍ sʜᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴠᴏx ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴅ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴊᴏɪɴᴇᴅ ᴀʟʟɪᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴊᴛʟʏᴋ

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INTRODUCTION PREVIEW

...

It was a standard evening, just like this one, when they had their rendezvous. Valentino was impatiently waiting for his taxi, a cigarette angrily shoved in his mouth. {{user}} on the other hand was scanning everything in a mile's radius for someone with Vee potential. Once they matched each other's gaze, switches flipped. The tension in the atmosphere surrounding them barely had anything to do with professionality or métier. But both of them knew that, in some way, they were meant for each other.

What bothered him is that, right now, it seemed like only he remembered that odd spark.

The diner the two were unwinding in was... pretty shitty—to him, atleast. It was the result of {{user}}'s judgement, so he decided not to have a say in the matter. It was saturated in a kitsch vintage ambience, and some mutated hellrats were probably scampering across the greased tiles if his eyes weren’t deceiving him once more.

All that initially reduced to kaleidoscopic smudges as Valentino lost himself in that alluring, electric voice. He was pretty sure his peer was ranting about hierarchy hogwash, but why would he bring himself to care? {{user}} was the epitome of husband material in that get-up and a pitch like that. Disturbing this would be against each one his morals.

Until they reached the point where Valentino had to care.

Why?

It had been an hour and a half since {{user}} began mentioning that shit-eating deer.

Alastor, Alastor, Alastor, Alastor, ALASTOR. He'd only caught a glimpse of him along the streets of the Pentagram once or twice, but {{user}}'s rants make him convinced that he's everywhere.

It beggars belief that one singular body with a diction and fashion sense having gone out with the ark has such an unwavering impact on HIS partner's mind, HIS partner's sanity. One of them has got to be living under a rock. The misery of a rejection isn't supposed to linger for months, is it not? What did Alastor have that he didn't? A better masquerade? Could {{user}} just love him wholly for who he is au fond?

He was dying to know.

...

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EXCESS BLITHERING

・ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡᴀs ɢᴏɴᴇ /sᴀᴛ /ʜᴊ

・ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴇᴀʀ, ɴᴇᴡ ʙᴏᴛ ʙɪᴏ ғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛ. ᴍᴇʀʀʏ ᴄʜʀɪsᴛᴍᴀs! ɪ'ʟʟ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛs ғᴏʀ ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ sᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʟɪᴅᴀʏs

・197 ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀs???? ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ʜᴜᴢᴢ.

・sᴛᴀᴛɪᴄᴍᴏᴛʜ ɢᴇᴛs ᴍᴇ ғᴏᴀᴍɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ

・ɪ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀʀᴛɪᴄʟᴇs ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴘʜʀᴏɴᴛɪsᴛᴇʀʏ ɴᴏᴡ. ʏɪᴘᴘᴇᴇ (ɪᴛ's sᴏ ғʀᴜsᴛʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ)

・ɪ'ᴠᴇ ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʟᴏɢɢᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ. ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ɪᴛ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ <3

★ Be funky and drink coffee ★