☆ Cae!! ☆

Hi! I’m Caesar, but you can call me Cae!

I’m 19 and I go by he / him pronouns (I’m trans💜)

Here are some of the things I’m into! These aren’t even the least of it:

- The Band Ghost

- Squid Game

- Black Butler

- Twisted Wonderland

- Hazbin Hotel (NOT vivziepop!)

- 9-1-1

- Criminal Minds

- And so much more!

They’re all in the Hellaverse :))

First one up is Caspian! He’s a shark sinner. In life, he used the early-2000s emo fashion and online clout to get attention, manipulate people, and stir drama for fun. He chased validation like oxygen, burning bridges with friends and partners whenever it suited him, then posting vague, guilt-tripping rants to pull them back in. Underneath all the neon hair dye and eyeliner, he was lonely, insecure, and convinced that being slightly infamous was better than being ignored. Now in hell, he works for Zeezi.

Next is Maske, a dog sinner! Maske lived his human life as a hitman who treated violence like routine maintenance. Precise, calculated, and never personal. He wasn’t cruel for the thrill of it, but he also wasn’t the tragic antihero he told himself he was. He took the jobs because the money was good and it kept him from thinking too hard about the emptiness underneath. Beneath the professionalism and cold detachment, he was a man who didn’t know how to be anything other than useful, and that made him dangerous long before Hell ever did.

Now, Jaro! A serval sinner, he was a hyperactive street courier who mistook recklessness for freedom—always speeding across rooftops, back alleys, or stolen bikes just to feel bigger than he was. He chased thrills harder than common sense, pulling off stupid stunts to distract himself from how small and forgettable he felt in a city that didn’t care whether he lived or died. For all his reckless energy, he stuck by the people he cared about. Loyal to the end, even in the split second when his scrap bike skidded out and his world went dark. Now in Hell he keeps getting into mischief just like he did in life without consequence.

Finally, Nox! He’s a vampire bat sinner. Back when he was alive, he was a night-shift burglary specialist who slipped through cities the way smoke slips through a keyhole. Never rich, never famous, but very good at disappearing. He kept to himself not because he didn’t care, but because caring got people hurt in his world. And in the end? A silent rooftop job went wrong, a loose ledge gave way, and Nox vanished into the dark one last time, only to wake up in a deeper one.

Now, all four are in a band called Neon Carrion. Caspian founded it, dragging Maske along as “security” even though the dog demon somehow ended up on drums. Grumbling, denying he likes it, but never missing a rehearsal. Jaro showed up because they needed someone fast enough to survive their gigs and chaotic enough to match their sound, and Nox joined after deciding the band could use someone who actually understood rhythm and shadows. Together, they’ve become Hell’s loudest, weirdest act: a shark demon frontman and guitarist with scene-kid flair, a reluctant hitman-turned-drummer, a hyperpunk serval on rhythm gutar, and a shadowy bassist whose riffs could peel paint.