#host au

So! Ghosts need a physical Anchor in the living world, or they are liable to fall apart and fade away if they stay for too long.

In Amity Park, this usually isn't too much of a problem. Sure most Ghosts can't stay for a week without a Host, but the ambient Ecto-Levels in Amity Park are enough that they can stay for a few days or so at a time with little worry.

This changes however, during Reign Storm.

When Pariah Dark awakens, Tens of Thousands of Ghosts use the Fenton Portal to escape the Rule of Pariah Dark, running away into the Human Realm.

If Amity Park had stayed where it was, this would have been fine. They could have stayed in the Living Realm for a few days, and maybe the Weaker ones would need to find a temporary Host, but that was fine since Amity was filled with thousands of Liminals.

Unfortunately, Pariah Darks first move was to suck Amity Park into the Ghost Zone, alongside all of the Ecto-Energy that had accumulated there.

Now left trapped in the Living Realm with no way back to the Zone, thousands of Ghosts suddenly needed Hosts or they would start dying off by the Hundreds. In a Panic, they spread out across the Planet in search of viable Hosts.

Any normal Person wouldn't do, they needed a Living Being that could actually handle their Power, or someone who matched their Soul. Preferably both. Liminals were the best since they had a durable Body and a Malleable Soul, so any Ghost could use any of them as a Host.

But outside of Amity Liminals were very rare, and finding someone who matched their Soul was time-consuming and hard. Thankfully, in recent years the population of Aliens, Metahumans, Enhanced Soldiers, and even extra durable baseline Humans had spiked across the world.

All across the planet, People suddenly found themselves stuck with a new Passenger in their Bodies.

Those new passengers thankfully weren't malicious, for the most part, but it was still annoying. The only good thing was that they now had new Powers, which neat.

They could summon the Ghosts in their Body outwardly, and then command the Ghost to use their Powers in whatever way they wanted. Only other Hosts could see another person's Ghost, which meant they looked very awkward to normal people when they fought. Generally, Hosts seemed to act more strangely after getting a Ghost, as if they lost a few of their Inhibitions.

WARNING!!!!!! this has depictions of depression, suicide and drowning!!!!! Reader discretion is advised!!!!

Staring up at the ceiling, in his bed, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the grey and scared skin underneath. The feelings of crushing defeat piercing his cold dead heart, he couldn’t understand where it was coming from. He couldn’t remember how he got here in his room down in hell, last he remembered was preparing a shopping list in his host’s mother’s home.

Trying to prop himself up on his elbows, he found it hard to do so, like the weight in his chest was quite literally pushing him down. Looking down to eye his chest, he noticed he wasn’t the only one in his bed, turns out his darling host was there, hair spread out covering their delightful face. By the looks of it they were asleep on him, making a warm smile appear on his face. Though the question of what they were doing there in the first place crossed his mind. Had he accidentally dragged them down to hell with him when he came? It was a rare coherence when that happened, however over the years of their contract, Alasator had been gaining more control in preventing that happening to stronger their bond became.

He reached a hand over their hand, combing through their hair and detangling it at the knots, for some reason his hand feeling heavier and heavier by the second. He simply brushed it off, thinking it was simple strain from how exhausting their days have been these last few weeks. “Dearest,” he started softly, “we need to wake up, we have quite a lot to do,” he continued, the swelling in his heart continued to weigh him down.

His host was normally quite quick to wake up, so after the first couple of shakes on their head brought no reaction did it finally register that something might be dreadfully wrong. “Darling?” Alastor questioned, moving his hand down to their shoulder, gently removing them from his person to lay more on the bed. Still not able to see them properly, he tried a second time to prop himself up, “Dar-“ now he got a clear view of the state of his host.

Eyes wide open and greyed, face pale and bloated. Alastor cried out their name, all feelings of heaviness gone from the shock and how alert he became in the moment, jolting up to sit up properly to start shaking them, trying to get a reaction from them. He shouted their name again, louder and more desperate now, smile far from being absent from his face, with his voice shifting between radio glitches to actually using his normal voice without radio effects.

He shouted their name a few more times, each time getting louder and louder, each time failing, even going as far as to gently while still apply force to slap their head, desperate for a reaction that he isn’t getting, head instead limping and moving to the force that was applied to it.

Finally having enough he gets off the bed and summoned his microphone, this wasn’t his host, only a mere reflection of what was happening in the human realm. He needed to take over! NOW!

He slammed his microphone down on the ground, fully expecting to now take over their body… but it didn’t work… if anything everything got fuzzier and harder to focus. It was as if they were actively blocking him out, something they haven’t done in oh so long. He slammed his microphone down, more forcefully this time, panic of not knowing what is happening to them creeping in. But still nothing happened.

He yelled out in frustration, screaming their name out loud like Bloody Mary, and in his fit of rage he used his powerful magic to telepathically make the bed slam into the door of his room. The body of his host dissipating from the sudden movement, door and bed breaking and leaning on the opposing wall outside his room. Feeling even more enraged, he started to repeatedly slam his microphone on the ground. He was nearly there, he could feel it with how exasperated he was, it just felt like a kicking down a metal door with extra reinforcements.

And at long last… he finally broke down that door…

Waking up to a gasp and jolting up from the bathtub. Alastor now in his host’s body let out very harsh sounding coughs. Water sprayed everywhere with his jolt, on the walls and on the floor, nearly reaching the toilet on the otherside of the bathroom. While even taking over his human dearest, eyes were like radio dials, showing just how much of a hole he had now, voodoo symbols filtering through the air announcing his arrival.

His coughing turned into hacking, lungs full of water that would not come out. He turned and leaned over weakly trying to summon the strength to get out of the bathtub, but it only led to him vomiting all the water that was inside their body out and onto the floor. Feeling more water climbing up at the back of his throat he gave up on leaving the tub very quickly, turning to the vapor ridden wall beside him, shakily drawing symbols that he had practiced a million times when he was alive, and a million more times in his death. Slamming his hand on them to activate their spell, filling the room with a sharp red glow that near instantly. Once the red faded his breathing started to calm down, a healing spell, something that removed the water from inside their body.

“What,” he started, still grasping for air, “happened?” he was in total control, so obviously he was met with silence. Whenever he was in complete control it is as if the host of the body is in a slumber, which was the case since before he woke the body up.

He looked around the room and saw what a mess was left by the water. Flinging his arm to wave shadows out, commanding them to clean the bathroom from the watery mess, which they obeyed and everything was as it should, floors dried, clothes neatly folded on the closed toilet, all that remained was to ensure the Madam was not home. Thankfully the shadow he sent out to scout the house for her presence came back to report she was not home. Good, the last thing the poor woman needed was to walk in on her child nearly dying.

“What’s going on?” a meek voice sounded in the back of his head. Making him lean back in the bathtub to try and calm himself as much as possible, which he found hard to do in the now cold deathtrap they both were in.

As softly as possible he called out their name, “You tell me.” Trying to hold himself back from absolutely exploding on them, he could already feel them trembling in fear, just as much as he knew they could feel his frustration from the stress building up.

There was a pause in the air, till the meek and extremely weak sounding voice of his host, “I fell asleep…”

“You-“ he interrupted himself, trying to make sure to handle the situation as delicately as possible, taking a steady breathe in and out, “nearly drowned…” he ended quietly and softly. Feeling the waves of failure crashing down on him. Something that normally would give him great pleasure and joy in this world, but he has grown far too fond of his host to enjoy it from them.

“Makes sense,” they replied back, “wish I could drown,” this made Alastor freeze up, “but it already feels like I am,” he could hear them choking up a sob in their mind, despite the forced and strained smile he wore, he could feel tears starting to form. “It’s been nearly a year! It’s not fair!” this is broke the dam and tears let loose.

“I know my dear, I know your struggles,” Alastor cooed, bringing the shared body’s hands up to their face, trying to wipe away the tears while being sure to cup their cheeks in whatever comfort he could try to provide.

“I’m twenty-fucking-whatever! With a bloody degree! But no, I’m unqualified for a proper job, too over qualified for a shitty part-time! Just what the royal fuck am I supposed to do!” he could hear them screaming out in despair, it’s not the first time this has happened but their breakdowns were never this bad. Honestly he had to admire their perseverance on this matter, some people of his time would’ve just given up and dropped dead. “And to top it all off, I can’t even afford my own place! Have to bunk down with my parents! Again!”

Tears still streaming down their face, falling and making their way into the cold water while Alastor continued to gently hold their face, now using their thumbs to caress their cheeks, trying even more to provide some comfort. “When is the next one?” he whispered, there have been so many of them he hardly has been able to keep track of them.

“Tomorrow at 1pm,” the defeat started to echo in his head, “Al?” he hummed in acknowledgment, “What am I going to do?” A good question indeed, this contract of there’s was him helping them in whatever way he can to succeed in exchange for their soul and servitude in hell. And he has not been able to uphold his end of the bargain quite well. First few interviews with him taking over turned out to be a fluke, turns out you can’t simply charm your way into being hired like you could in the 20’s. Then he simply took the backseat and let his host show him the ins and outs of modern-day interviews, and they certainly got close with a few call backs, but still nothing.

“I genuinely do not know sweetheart,” an endearing term he is starting to enjoy using in these times, his little way of showing that no matter what he will always be there. But his statement only gave way to more silence for a few more moments. He was about to get up, seeing their body start to get goosebumps from how cold the water was getting, but stopped when his host spoke up again, “What is hell like?”

He let out a sigh, they didn’t have many conversations like these, as much as it was going to be the reality of them being with him in hell, long were the days he used this topic to jest and upset them. “I am truly sorry to disappoint, but it somewhat similar to this. If you are referring to it in terms of struggles. Drug fuelled streets, people selling their souls and themselves to make a buck, if you’re not lucky in making connections your suffering does continue.”

There was a prolonging silence, Alastor would’ve tried another attempt at getting out of the water if it weren’t for the crushing defeat that had him hunching forward, nose coming in contact with the water, a harsh and choked up sob breaking out from his throat, “I have to go through this again!” this time the voice of his host that resounded in their head was loud and absolutely soul crushing. If he had his own heart, Alastor was sure it would have broken tenfold at this sound of this distress.

“No, never!” he cried out, starting to slowly lose control as they started to gain more power over themselves again, but while he was up and about, he would do whatever he can to provide comfort, lest he wants them to harm themselves again, “We made a deal!” he removed their hands from their face, wrapping them around their shoulders as if to embrace them in a hug, “You will succeed in this life, and if I have anything to say about it, you will succeed in the next in Hell!” he was still feeling the waves of powerful emotions coursing through them as he tried to hold back a sob. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this in his time alive, but then again, he hardly felt pity or sorrow for anyone except for his own mother, not even for himself.

“You mean it?” his host asked, going back to the slight meek voice that they had moments ago.

“HA!” he exclaimed, “Like I would let my first human contract become like one of those drug and sex fuelled pigs that never amounted to anything in their lives! And will continue to amount to anything in Hell! Only destined to be exterminated and perished!” he continued starting to feel a wave of slight confidence building up, trying to build it up as much as he could through his way of reassurance. Which seemed to work because he felt laughter resound through their shared body, “You are starting to share my sense of humour my dearest,” he jested while he could mentally feel them childishly sticking their tongue out at him.

Finally he was able to get out of the cold bath water, with heavy shiver that nearly rendered him unable to continue moving, he snapped his fingers which made the towel on the rack float through the air and wrap around their body, hearing a faint mmm cold being let out by his host. Merely continuing with what he was planning, pausing for only a second to make sure to send waves of warmth to his host and stroke their cheek playfully, making his way to the bathroom door to leave. Only stopping as the state they were in caught his eye in the mirror.

Wet hair stuck to their face, skin paler than the norm, eyes sunken and dark circles forming, hardly looking presentable at all. “We may or may not have let go of ourselves,” the sight broke him, smile wavering, he supposes they both have been too out of it to notice, “It’s ok though, mum’s got a lot of makeup, I’m sure we can use some to look good for… tomorrow.”

What he was mostly paying attention to were the eyes, they had a very slight red tint to them that were only noticeable if you really paid attention to it. That was mostly the only way that anyone could tell that Alastor was in control of his host, aside from the smile ofcourse. “An issue for tomorrow morning dearest,” he merely said walking out the door and down the corridor to their bedroom.

“Can I be your receptionist?” his host’s voice peeked up.

“Excuse me dearest?”

“Yeah in Hell, can I be your receptionist?”

“Of all the things you could strive for. Fame and power, you would aim for something below your talent’s?” he asked in amusement.

“Maybe I would go for that later, but I think I would rather work and be close to you.” This made him stop in his tracks, suddenly feeling flustered and muttering something along the lines of full of surprises, before marching through the bedroom door and beelining for the cabinet with indoor clothes, drying off and getting dressed. The rest of the day will be focused on solely comfort and relaxation for his host. Hotel and Overlord duties be damned, his human needed him.

He was about to leave the bedroom now that he was dressed to the nines in fluffy cat pyjamas, though the clothes hanging on the wardrobe caught his attention. Making him now walk up to inspect it, “Is this what you are wearing tomorrow?”

“Yes…is it bad?” confidence was on the verge of breaking once more as doubt started to creep into their shared head.

“Not at all, you would be dressed for success,” Alastor smiled warmly, “It only is missing one small detail.” Snapping his fingers to make a necklace with a small amulet attached appear in his hand, hooking it onto the neck of the hanger. Now flicking his wrist to make a red scarf appear, wrapping on the hanger well enough to cover the amulet, “And now dressed for the kill!” he exclaimed proudly.

“What is that?”

“Just a little charm for good luck, not that you’ll need it, I am sure you will win them over,” Alastor bounced on the body’s heels placing the clothes to hang back on the wardrobe, putting a pep in his step leaving the bedroom.

“Oh yes because the other how many other interviews went so well,” his darling said sarcastically. He could quite literally feel them rolling their eyes in their conscious.

ft. vanitas, noé, johann, lord ruthven, jean-jacques, marquis machina, olivier

based on this photo right here your honor... it's been rotting in my drafts for so long...

marquis machina is one of the big sponsors that keep club je t'aime running. he is one of the reasons why club je t'aime is more of a host bar, sleek and classy with each customer feeling special due to one-on-one interactions with the hosts rather than the gaudy places lining the streets. the hosts have to have some sort of quality to be able to even make it to the doorstep of the exclusive club, let alone actually have the honor of being selected by the top host bar in the country. he occasionally drops his opinions at the meetings and provides the necessary supply of items as asked. other than that, he is rarely present and prefers not to show his face, sometimes showing up in different disguises, but occasionally visits the club to check how things are going or when he is bored — he has every right to know where his money is going, after all. when you walk through the door, he's at the reception asking around, and, well, when such a gorgeous specimen is in sight, who is he to resist? before you can ask the receptionist about the availability of the host you presumably came to see, he introduces himself right away, leaning in to kiss your hand, and welcomes you to the club with a charming smile as if he's a host himself. after learning you're a regular, he proposes that he hosts you today — a change of pace would serve both of you well, no? protocol be damned for once. you're absolutely stunning and he's not willing to let such an alluring person slip from his grasp. judging by your flustered expression and how you blink at him like you don't quite understand why he's even offering such a thing, you're none the wiser about the natural charm you possess, but you bashfully fix your hair and take his hand, trailing behind him as he leads you to a vip room most luxurious without even knowing who is, and he's just fine with that. the different disguises become almost a dress code for you two when you meet up, having a private masquerade for two every time he invites you over.