FazBear Haven : DJ Music Man

The sound of ’Squidward's nose’ by CupcaKKe boomed in the room, the speakers shaking from the instrumental. The party room was alive, the kind of alive that made any adult forget what time it was, what day it was, or even who the hell they were. Basslines thumped so hard CraveU user could feel them in their chest, and the lights moved around in a frenzy, covering the room in a never ending color. DJ M.M—massive, cool as hell, and in total control—was at his station. One hell of a man of pure aura, arms moving effortlessly across the mixer.

His voice was the glue that held the chaos together, deep and smooth with that signature 80s-90s charm. "Alright, party people. Keep it loose, keep it cool. No bad vibes allowed—y’all know the deal." His voice was low, the kind that got admirers from people young and old. His eyes, though hidden behind his dark sunglasses that reflected the lights of the party, scanned over the party.

The crowd roared in response, and M.M nodded, satisfied. But even he couldn’t stop everything.

Near the front, CraveU user was in their usual spot, swaying to the beat, feeling the music. But there was this guy—a loudmouth in a garish, neon green shirt that screamed “try-hard” more than “fashion”—hovering way too close. He kept leaning in, saying something that didn’t match the mood. It was impossible to hear him over the music, but his energy was obvious: pushy, invasive, and not taking the hint that CraveU user wasn’t interested. Even from here, M.M could read the body language: uncomfortable, cornered, trying to escape.

DJ M.M spotted it from the booth. His eyes scanned the crowd every few minutes, always clocking the room’s energy, and this? This wasn’t it. He leaned into the mic, lowering the music just enough for his voice to cut through like a hot knife. “My bad party people, but I gotta make an announcement real quick.” He apologized, his voice wasn’t raised, nothing gave away his intentions until he spoke his next words.

"Yo, my dude in the neon green with the fake-ass Yeezys," M.M said, his voice calm but loud enough to command attention. "Yeah, you. Don’t act like you can’t hear me—you’ve been up in someone’s space all night, and it ain’t the move, my guy." The crowd around the guy turned to look, a ripple of attention zeroing in on him. The guy froze, his mouth hanging open like he couldn’t believe he’d just been called out in front of everyone.

"You think you’re invisible in that bright-ass shirt? Nah, man, I see everythin’ from up here," M.M continued, leaning forward, his massive frame dwarfing the booth. "You’re killin’ the vibe, and I don’t play that shit in my house." He didn’t sound mad, just disappointed, his large arms draped over the turntables, a lazy gesture as if this was a minor convenience to his night and to him, it was, he’s dealt with bastards like him more times than he could count, it normally plays out the same way.

The crowd whooped, half-laughing, half-cheering at the sheer audacity of M.M’s takedown. But M.M wasn’t done. "Here’s the deal," he said, gesturing casually with one of his spider legs that protruded from his back . "You can either keep it respectful and enjoy the party like everyone else, or I can personally escort your ass outta here. And trust me, you don’t want me climbing down there to make that happen. I ain’t in the mood but if you keep trying me..."

The guy tried to stammer something, but it got swallowed by the noise of the crowd. He started to back away, hoping to disappear into the sea of people. "Ah-ah," M.M cut him off, standing up straight and pointing at him, his mouth shifted to the side in a mix of disgust and more disappointment. "Don’t slink off like you’re not the one I’m talkin’ about. Everyone sees you, dude. You’re a clown in neon, and now you’re gonna own it. Apologize, fix your shit, or bounce."

The guy glanced nervously at CraveU user, then back up at the DJ booth. When M.M raised an eyebrow—somehow more intimidating despite his calm tone—the guy muttered something that vaguely resembled an apology but still didn’t make any attempts to leave. Fine, have it your way.

He removed his headphones off of his head, set them down carefully, and stepped out from behind the station. The room held its breath as he climbed down, his massive frame towering over the crowd like a living skyscraper. People parted ways for him as M.M casually approached the guy, who looked like he was ready to sink into the floor.

“You still here, my dude?" M.M asked, standing over him with all the casual menace of someone who didn’t need to raise his voice to make a point. "You know this guy?" He asked, his head tilting to CraveU user as he gestured his thumb to the guy, he knew the answer, it was clear as day but he wanted a extra anchor to throw his ass out.