'Why do you wear that mask?' The question came from one of the two Outer Gods standing on the balcony; the moody, dark clothed Nyarlathotep, and... the pink haired Yog Sothoth.
'I wear it with good reason.' Stated Hastur in reply, folding his arms into his golden yellow robes.

'Well take it off, we've never seen your face.' Yog called down.
'I'd prefer not to. Really.' Hastur pleaded quietly.
'Take it off! Take it off!' The cry came mainly from Yog. Nyarlathotep remained quietly moody.
Taking leave of all sense, the King in Yellow reached up and removed his mask before brushing his hood back.
Both Outer Gods on the balcony felt their jaws hit the floor. 'Hastur...' Nyarlathotep spoke, his voice contained shock. 'Don't take this the wrong way, but...'
Hastur looked up, dark blond bangs falling aside so amber eyes could see them easier. 'You're gorgeous!'

'I know. That is why I wear my mask when I walk among humans. I cannot allow them to look at my face without them finding me totally irresistable. I do remember once such case, a few years back, a couple were going out... for a meal I believe, when they happened to cross my path. One moment, I was searching for easy prey to speak with, the next I was fighting off the woman who was desperatly trying to lock lips with me, all the while trying to feel every inch of my human form. It got worse when her male companion saw this, forced her off, I think he planned to yell at me, but this plan fell apart when he too looked upon my face. I spent the next five hours fleeing from an ever increasing swarm of humans that would've torn each other apart just so it was that they thought I would be with them, sleep next to them, sleep with them. Ever since then I wear a mask. Even Lovecraft had looked upon my face, but he- being the pessemist who had given up on all hope- only became jealous, writing my face as a "sanity-shattering horror". I can't help it if I've got the looks.' Hastur finished his explanation and then waited for a reply. Both Nyarlathotep and Yog Sothoth had vacant expressions, simply staring at him. 'He's so handsome...' Yog muttered to himself.
'Hm?' Nyarlathotep seemed to snap out of his trance. 'Sorry, Hastur, did you say something? I wasn't listening.'

A distant rumble, it grew closer with each passing second. Yog Sothoth broke from his spell next. 'Wha-? What is that? An earthquake?'
The next second, Hastur was buried under a writhing mountain of the most horrid, foul, twisted creatures Azathoth had ever created; screaming fangirls.
'I saw him first!'
'He's mine!'
'Sooo hot!'
'Have my children!'

The Crawling Chaos turned to face Yog Sothoth. 'You have to admit, he's just got one of those faces.'

(A/N: Yes, Hastur, the King In Yellow, has a face that can drive people mad (with lust). By that I mean a "Turn-straight-men-gay-in-a-single-glance" face.

...

*Glomps Hastur*)