#my boney black hole

[thegaymer-c0mms-open]

mrow

[queenimmadolla]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat. 

  Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

  You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her. 

  And a large hole in their wallet.

  “It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

  “This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

  It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

  You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

  “You got a number we can reach you at?”

  You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along. 

  “Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

  God, I hope so.

  The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

  You’d learned. Eventually.

  Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your bag and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed. 

  Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

  Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

  It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

  A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

  The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

  You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

  With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

  ─

  Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

  His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door. 

  “Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

  Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

  Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

  “Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

  “A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

  “Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

  He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something. 

  “What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

  “Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again. He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group. 

  Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred—with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through. Henry had to go.

  Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

  “I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”  

  “Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more. 

  A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

  The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

  A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

  The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles. 

  Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling. 

  That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh. 

  It’s intimidating. 

  They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

  But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

  “Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

  “Yup.”

  “See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

  “Why not today?”

  “Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

  “I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

  Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

  You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them. 

  People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

  Someday, that would be you. 

  You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last. 

  Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

  The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

  “What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

  “Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

  “Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

  “Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

  As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

  The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

  Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

  Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

  You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

  He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

  He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

  The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

  Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

  But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

  Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

  When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

  Someone who looked like their art.

  You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

  You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

  Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

  “Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

  Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

  What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden? 

  He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. 

  Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

  Professionalism, he reminded himself.

  “Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

  “Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

  Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

  Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

  You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

  There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room. 

  On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

  “Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

  Sure you haven’t.

  “Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

  “You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

  He had no idea how right he was.

  “The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

  “And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

  First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

  “But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

  Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

  “You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

  “Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

  You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

  “Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack. 

  “Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

  “Did your tattoos hurt?”

  Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

  “A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

  “Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

  Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

  No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

  He was getting hard. 

  Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

  Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

  “Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

  You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

  The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

  “What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

  A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

  He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

  “That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

  You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

  Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

  “Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

  “Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

  “I’d be stupid not to.”

  You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

  “Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

  Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

  “Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

  “Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.” 

  “But I thought you said—” 

  “Me.”

  Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

  You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

  “So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face. 

  You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!” 

  He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

  “You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.” 

  Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

  “Wait—this is paid?”

  “Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

  Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

  Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

  The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you. 

  You’d have time to get there.

  “Hey, Deidre.”

  “Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

  He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

  “We’ll see you soon?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

  You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

  “Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile. 

  You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

  It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

  Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

  Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

  He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

  He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids. 

  Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

  “Need a hand?”

  Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

  Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

  “Are you offering yours?”

  She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

  “Mmm, not just my hand.”

  All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick. 

[daisysundae]

I have this fantasy that keeps running through my brain…

It’s late at night and I finally get home from work. I can finally make myself a little something to eat!

I turn on the stove and start to boil a pot of water or put a pan down.

I’m so relaxed and tired I don’t even hear the sound of him walking up behind me.

At least not until he grabs the back of my hair and puts his knife to my neck.

“Don’t move. Don’t Scream.” He says as the knife presses into my skin, but not yet enough to break my skin…

He pulls down my pants and moves his hand from my hair to over my mouth. He takes that knife and moves it lower. Against my cunt, he starts to gently rub the blunt end of the blade,.

I hear his heavy breathing in my ear, noticing his huffing and puffing through his black mask.

He begins to gently grind against the back of my body.

He’s almost hesitant with how delicate he’s being with my body.

I still can’t move. Stricken with fear…but my panties began to be come moist and gooey all at the touch of that blade.

He seems to notice and drops the knife before desperately pushing his gloved fingers against my cunt. He pressed at my leaky hole and seems to huff louder in my ear. His body letting out shaky little moans.

It’s like he doesn’t want to hurt me but the animalistic part of his brain just can’t resist..

He jolts, his hand dripping from my pussy and to his belt. I move as if to try and run but his one hand once again takes hold of my fluffy brown hair. He pushes the pot or pan on the stove aside and pushes my head down over the open burner.

I can feel the over whelming heat start to rise up against my cheeks so close to being burnt. The sound of a belt jingling barely filling my ears.

Tears begin to run down my face and sizzle, as they land on the stove burner. The hand in my hair carefully holding me just a few inches away.

I feel his long, boney fingers force my underwear to the side, before suddenly entering inside me. Wiggling around inside of me.

It was only for a moment before he pulled them out. Wiping the two fingers on my hips before tightly gripping my side.

I feel him jolt and push himself into me. Starting to roll his own hips against me, pushing himself in and out of my gooey little body.

tears roll down my chubby little cheeks still burning up on the hot stove burner.

The hand around my mouth gripping tighter as my cries start to vocalize.

“F-fuck- I-I’m sorry-“ his awkward voice squeaks out of the mask, between his huffs and moans. “I-i can’t help it- I had too-“ all while he thrusted harder in an out of my wet pussy.

His hand on my hip drifting down. Making its way to my clit, that had been so lonely up to this point. That little stimulation to my most sensitive parts began to push me over the edge. My body clenching around him as I cried.

My body finishing as he r@ped me over the stove. His own body becoming weak as I clenched around him. His moans and apologizes all spilling out as he just pressed his dick against my cervix, just letting himself cum inside. He continued to hold me still for a moment after he came, before slowly pulling himself out.

He fully let go of my body, which just dropped to the floor. All beaten and abused, just thankful to not have my skin burning up over the stove..

[praydefiler]

BLOOD AND BONE

ch.0: prologue

> - <

Rain soaked Caliste’s face as she crashed through the woods, boots stomping through puddles and over gnarled roots. Her lungs screamed as she pushed onward, the panic in her gut making her feel too light, like one wrong step would send her floating away. As she rounded a corner, her hip caught the side of a tree, and she flipped, head over heels, through the mud and dirty water and soaked grasses. She tumbled down an incline, desperately trying to catch something, anything to slow her down. Her hands scrabbled for a stray branch or a root, even a small tree, but they ripped from her grip as her body continued down its path. She landed hard in the clearing. Definitely not floating away, and that thing was still after her.

In the middle of the clearing was the moss-covered dias, and she crawled around to the back side of it, the side that faced a small outcrop of rocks, and then the cliff. It dropped off dramatically, with a fall from this height being somewhere around 50 feet from the ledge to the bottom. Fatal for most people. Caliste didn't want to take that chance. Her chest heaved and she struggled to catch her breath. She needed to get out, and she needed to do it now. Whatever had gone haywire with Penny’s magic, whatever that thing now was… it was going to kill her if she didn't kill it first.

It was dark, and the only times she could see where when lightning streaked across the sky in blinding flashes. She needed a weapon, but finding one would be problematic. She checked her own pockets and found nothing but an old receipt and a few coins. Where had her knife gone..? She sighed and leaned her head back against the dias. Think… Her clothes stuck to her now, and the cold was setting in. Her sleeves were torn, and blood trickled down her arm. What was once a beautiful red flannel was now a ruined mess of… who's blood was even staining her shirt? She hoped it wasn't her own, but wasn't brave enough to check. Not the time. Her green cargo pants weren't much better. Borrowed from her sister, they mostly fit though were a bit shorter in the legs than Caliste was normally comfortable with. Mud caked nearly the entirety of both legs. Also ruined.

She steeled herself, and pushed up and got her feet under her. She tried to remember the route they had taken to get here. Was it… left at the waterfall? Or right? Fuck, she wasn't sure. She shook her head, thick droplets falling loose from her black curls. It didn't matter. She just had to make it to the parking lot, she just had to lose that thing. She'd keep running til she found the road if she had to.

Crouched behind the dias, Caliste took one final deep breath, and stood, ready to run. Unfortunately, she didn't get the chance. Standing on top of the dias, spine curved and slowly standing from all fours to a half hunch. Hollow glowing eye sockets bore holes right through Caliste’s sanity. Her green eyes went wide, and she took a half step back before the thing, made of bones, and dripping blood and viscera as it moved, lunged for her, wrapping its boney fingers around her throat.

Caliste screamed. Finger bones tightened around her windpipe, and her vision started to swim. The skull glaring down at her opened its toothy jaw, and a horrible scratching sound came out, barely recognizable as the word “Cal…”

Caliste’s eyes swam with tears, and her final thought before losing consciousness…

“Oh gods, oh gods, no… I'm going to fucking die, strangled by my sister's bones!”

[thesoulesscollection]

The Kinsley Family Reference Sheets

I decided to update my reference sheets for my Ocs, The Kinsley Family, at least, Choc, Honey, & Cherry mostly because the old one is terribly outdated now.

Name: Chocolate Fudge Kinsley

Nicknames: Choc, Fudge, Pops, King

Age: 59yo (in 2015); born April 1st, 1956

Gender: Cis Male; Genderfluid, Uses He/Him, They/Them, & It/It's, Rarely She/Her

Sexuality: Aromantic Pansexual Alignment: Chaotic Neutral/EvilAffiliation: Toppat Clan

Job Title: Semi Retired, Former Enforcer, Current Undercover Agent/Spy

Ethnicity: French (on Mother's side) & Slavic & German (on Father's side)

● Height: 6’3”

● Weight: 125 lbs

Appearance:

● Sun kissed skin that's covered in a plethora of scars, burns, stab/bullet holes, stretch marks & progressed signs of age

● Blackened limbs by magic use being corrupted, so often wears bandages to treat it and lesson the damage

● Gold teeth. Unnaturally sharp. With distinctive scarring across his mouth and lips. His gums are a dark gray while his tongue is pitch black and goopy

● Droopy gold eyes, heavy bags lay underneath with horizontal slit pupils that are white in color

● Sunken in features,

● Thick dark brown wavy hair, natural color is a light blonde that's shown in the roots, a bit in the brows, and slight facial hair. Starting to go gray

● Is unhealthily skinny and boney. Long limbs and primarily all legs. Naturally a lanky, lean body type more built on speed rather than strength

Powers:

● Aura Projection

● Shapeshifting & Puppeteering

● Mental Control & Manipulation Illusion

● Voice Mimicry

● Corruption Touch

Health Conditions:

● Chronic Pain & Illness

●Significant Hearing Loss/Hard Of Hearing

● Eating Disorder (Unspecified)

● Semi Permanent Paralysis

●Hypermobility; joint Hypermobility syndrome

● Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

● Empathy Deficit Disorder (EDD)

● Corruption Effects

Relations:

Honey Kinsley: Sister

Cherry Kinsley: Daughter

Candy Kinsley: Grandmother (Deceased)

Truffles Kinsley: Mother (Deceased)

Ronald Kinsley: Father (Deceased)

Leslie Fernández: Ex-Partner (Deceased)

***

Name: Honey Sweets Kinsley

Nicknames: Hons, Bee, Bumble Bee, Sweet Drops

Age: 56yo (in 2015); born February 14th, 1959

Gender: Cis Female; Uses She/Her

Sexuality: Bi (Preference Leans Towards Masc People/Men)

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Affiliation: The Royals

Job Title: Leader of her own clan; Ex Toppat Member

Ethnicity: French (on Mother's side) & Slavic & German (on Father's side)

Height: 5'11”

Weight: 175 lbs

Appearance:

Warm, cream skin. Very little scars reside. But there's freckles and a few beauty marks.

● She looks like what her age entails but has high standards on her appearance (and that of her family).

● Resting bitch/angry face

● Rose gold eyes. Once was a vibrant gold like her brother & niece. She does have noticeable bags under them from lack of sleep and long work hours.

● Naturally dirty blonde hair, more a light brown. Gets Blond highlights to hide gray hairs. Naturally straight hair that's been styled pretty often.

● Sharper, angular features. Wrinkles and crow's feet.

● Body type is a square that's stacked with experienced muscle

Health Conditions:

● Anger Issues

● Depression

● Anxiety

● Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

● Insomnia

● Paranoid personality disorder

Powers:

● Boosted (inhuman) strength

● Mental Control & Manipulation

● Smoke/Cloud & Crystal Manipulation

● Illusion

***

Name: Cherry Kinsley

Nicknames: Cher, Doll, Princess

Age: 26yo (in 2015); born December 31st, 1989

Gender: Trans Female; Uses She/Her

Sexuality: Demiromantic Omnisexual, Poly

Alignment: Neutral Good

Affiliation: Toppat Clan

Job Title: Non Active Member, Apprentice (for her father), (Anxious eager) Helper to any department

Ethnicity: French, Slavic & German (on Father's (Choc) side) & Dominican, Caribbean & Egyptian (on her other parent's side)

Height: 6’9”

Weight: 235lbs

Appearance:

● Smooth, dark brown skin with freckles and scarring and first & second degree burns all over her body.

● Scars, most noticeable are around her neck, shoulders, and most primarily on her back caused from her first raid, as she unfortunately got ensnared with shrapnel causing most of her current injuries and burn marks.

● Very clumsy though so she does have other minor injuries and scarring all over her body as well.

● Round, nearly baby faced features and physique. Fat & muscled. An apple shape body type

● Big Gold eyes, almost doe like, thick lashes

● Looks far more like her other parent then she does share similarities with her father, Choc

● Naturally curly (4a) hair, ebony black in color with some faint purple highlights

● Has laugh lines from always having a smile on her face no matter what her actual emotions are

Health Conditions:

● Anxiety

● Depression

● Chronic Headaches

Powers:

● Enhanced Strength

● Future Vision, A Seer

● Most Powers are repressed & Unknown

Relations:

Choc Kinsley: Father

Honey Kinsley: Aunt

Terrence Suave: Family Friend

Leslie Fernández: Other Parent (Deceased)

[p-artsypants]

Blurb #68

“Snotlout,” Heather began. “I really don’t appreciate you bothering my customers.” 

Snotlout was about to retort, when the Rider spoke, “I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

“...You were?” 

“Yes.” The Rider stood, and carefully pushed his chair in. He approached Snotlout and reached into his cloak. “I have something for you.” 

Astrid wanted to intervene, to tell the Rider Snotlout didn’t deserve any sort of gift for the way he treated him yesterday.

But the words stilled as he pulled a sheathed sword out of his cloak. 

“Here, this is for you.” He handed it over, handle side out. 

Snotlout just stared at the sword before taking a trembling grasp of it. “I…I don’t know why you would want to give me—why does it have my name on it?” 

The other teens scrambled to get a look, and saw clearly inscribed on the pommel was the name ‘Jorgenson’. Except the sword didn’t look new. The handle was worn, and part of it was gathering a tarnish. 

“A guard needs a sword,” said the Rider. “And this one belongs to you.” 

Snotlout continued to stare at it, two puzzle pieces in his head rotating to try to fit together.

“It belonged to your ancestor,” the Rider explained. “He was a general, and a great warrior.” 

Snotlout’s breathing picked up, as he squeezed the sword in both hands. “This is my family’s? Where did you—?”

“In the castle armory. My father recognized your name and told me to look for it.” 

This bit of information grabbed everyone, and they looked at him in shock. 

“You have a family?” Asked Fishlegs. 

“Yes.” 

“Why have we never seen them?”

Astrid was about to explain that they were also cursed, but the Rider readily answered. “They can’t leave the castle.” Then, in a softer voice, he added. “They can’t even walk.” 

Astrid wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, as she raised her hand to rest on his arm. 

But she didn’t actually touch him. Little vapors of steam filtered out the holes in the mask. The acid green fire of his eyes had gone out, leaving black shadows in the skull’s empty sockets. Then, a rivet of black liquid trailed down his jaw, the only part of his face that was visible. It traveled down his gray skin, leaving a line like ink behind. 

“He’s crying…” Snotlout noted, bewildered. 

“I am sorry,” said the Rider. “For a moment, I felt tremendous grief.” He lifted his long boney fingers and wiped under his mask.

[shedontsmelltoogooddarious]

ChromeskullxOC (SMUT)

Shameless self indulgent first time writing actual smut between my OC, an eldritch mafia boss and Chromeskull from Laid To Rest. Two bad rich older men sdhdhdhd

(Black is trans)

He picked the most upscale club in town to discuss business with his partner, within a private room, drinks going in and out as Ivanov barely paid attention, his wallet was too fat to care. He lit another cigarette, offering one to the man sitting across from himself. He took it, his mangled face lowering to light it- barely acknowledging the desperation bursting through the mafia boss’s seems. “So tell me, are those girls beneath your knife satisfying you enough?” 

Black purred, prompting Jesse to look up, his hands suddenly going into motion; “Very much so, thank you for asking.” He signed, before smirking- knowingly at the face of danger. If he wanted, Black could snap the experienced serial killer like a twig. 

“Nice to know that our rendezvous meant nothing to you, but I guess we’re here to strictly discuss business.” 

He poured himself another drink, taking a swig before slamming it down to the table. “Preston emailed me about you needing another place to “play”, I supposed I could allow you to have free reign on one of my properties in the city- but why should I give you that privilege?” 

“Because you still want to fuck me.” 

Jesse signed once more, before taking a drag off his cigarette, smoke whisping out of the holes where his nose should have been. A low growl could be heard, his human form slipping. But Jesse remained nonchalant, ignoring it like his former lover ignored him when his face melted off. 

Muffled techno music could be heard, filling in the silence between both men. “You’re right, and I always get what I want when I want,” 

His hand shot across the table between them as he grabbed Jesse’s shirt, ripping expensive silk in the process as his lips feverishly collided with his ex’s. Instead of fighting back, he allowed it- his long, boney fingers entwining with Ivanov’s black hair. The don was expanding, sickly popping and crunching sounds being heard as he contorted into his true, monstrous form. Tendrils wrapped around Jesse’s legs, parting them, the sharp blade of a knife suddenly against Black’s throat. 

“No.” An electronic voice commanded, the blade biting into his skin- right above his jugulars. Don Ivanonov was shoved down to the floor, a human dominating a monster, a predator of his species. He undid his belt buckle, his cock throbbing out as it was erect. Jesse’s free hand traveled down to Black’s pants, undoing them to reveal a familiar sight, his fervid pussy already seeping. His face flushed in embarrassment as he turned his head away, forgetting the blade held to his throat before feeling sharp pain as Jesse shoved it deeper. 

“You’re so pathetic- look at me!” He growled, before his black leather glove hand grabbed his bottom jaw and forced him to look into his mangled face. “You’re mine- you’ve always been mine.” 

WIthout warning, his member slid inside Black’s warm insides as he needily thrusted into him. How long has it been since he last was inside one of the most notoriously dangerous dons in this city? Too long. The knife against Black’s throat trailed down to his own dress shirt, cutting it open as the blade slid across his skin, causing inky black blood to bead out against his pale white skin. 

The thrusting gradually turned to a steady pace, syncing with the rhythm of the music outside, stretching Black’s insides out as his claws dug deep into the tiled flooring, leaving deep grooves behind. Jesse lifted his partner’s hips up, gripping his large thighs tightly, shoving himself deeper yet. “I’ve heard you’re whoring yourself out in this city- tell me, what happened to your playthings Ivanov?”

Jesse growled, sparing no mercy for Black as he continued, going faster with the tempo. Black gritted his teeth, his pride now in shambles as he was drunk on pleasure and pain. 

“Answer me!” His fingers dug deeper, Black’s tendrils going limp. 

“You killed them.” He moaned, recoiling in disgust internally. 

Jesse grinned, going slower with the tempo change, but still keeping a firm hold on the man larger than himself. His cock throbbed, he knew he was about to come soon- but he wanted to keep going, to reclaim what was his and his alone. “You’ve been fucking around with my toys as well, you can’t share can you? You’re a greedy old bastard.” 

He was about to come too, his legs shaking- insides clenching around Jesse’s cock. They squeezed, kneading against him. He needed more. His claws found themselves in Jesse’s shoulders, gripping for dear life as his lips once more collided with the human’s, but this time his sharp teeth were prominent. He bit down on Jesse’s lower lip, instantly drawing blood, savoring the familiar taste. “You’re like a damn drug.” Black snarled, 

Jesse was unable to hold it back any longer, his back arching as he came into Black, his hot seed spilling deep inside. As if on cue, Black too came, his name sake’s goo spilling out as it leaked from every orifice, mixing with his partner’s crimson red blood. Black made an attempt to pull away, but his partner had other ideas. He locked in his grip, coming again into Black before thrusting once more. 

“What are you-” 

“I want you pregnant.” 

A new track was placed down, faster and harder.

[ya9amicide]

James Buchanan Barnes [MCU]

View the Marvel Playlist Masterlist here: click me!

View the Playlist Masterlist here: click me!

View the full playlist here: james buchanan barnes.

[helluvascribe]

Hazbin Hotel S1 E2: "Radio Killed The Video Star"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63905872/chapters/163902988#workskin

Part One

The Hazbin Hotel building stood on a black hill, surrounded by a few dead trees and old fences. In the center of a circle of stones was a black pentagram design on the ground. Inside the hotel, everyone was worried about the news of the Extermination being moved up.

Charlie paced back and forth in the parlor, hyperventilating and in disbelief that her meeting with Adam had failed so badly. KeeKee the key cat followed her as she paced.

“Okay. So the Extermination is coming in six months instead of a year. No big deal. Just a little setback. Nothing we can’t handle. Just angels cutting our timetable in half. But who needs a whole year to save souls? Am I right? And next time when they cut the time in half again, and again, we’ll just handle it, right?!”

Vaggie steadied her panicking girlfriend, grabbing hold of her arms. “Yes. We will.”

“Oh please,” Angel Dust scoffed from the couch. He scrolled through his cell phone with a spider web cover on it. “Ya had less than half a chance when you started this salvation bullshit. And now…” His phone vibrated. “…ain’t no silver lining this time, toots.”

Angel Dust scrolled down as he read messages from Valentino:

“SO I’M THINKIN. YOU AND THREE HUGE GUYS ARE GETTING IT ON AND IT’S REALLY HOT AND OILY AND THEN ITS REVEALED YOUR ON A BOAT AND IT’S SINKING SO YOU ALL HAVE TO CUM AS FAST AS YOU CAN.”

“HAVE YOU SEEN TEMPERATURE PLAY VIDS? LOL CAUSE THERE IS GONNA BE ICE!!!!”

“SO GET THAT FLAT BONEY ASS TO THE STUDIO BABY – AS YOU CAN SEE, THE IDEAS ARE FLOWING.”

“HAHA SO IT’S BEEN THIRTY SECONDS…DON’T BE LIKE THIS BABY.”

“THIS ISN’T CUTE, ANGEL, LEGIT I’M SO BORED OF THIS LITTLE CAT AND MOUSE CHASE.”

“FR OVER IT!”

“FUKIN BITCH! BABE. ANGEL, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU????”

“Sure there is!” Charlie breathed, trying to stay hopeful. “We just…have to look a little harder for it!”

“Well, while you’re lookin’,” said Angel Dust. “…the rest’a Hell’s goin’ nuts. People are already freakin’ out about the news. Look at what’s happenin’ in the Doomsday District.”

Angel Dust showed a video of a male demon wearing a hat who was screaming as flames roared in the background. “New Message From Valentino” popped up at the top of his screen in pink.

“Err, what is a Donkey Show?” asked a puzzled Charlie.

“Aah, heh, nothin’,” Angel Dust said, pulling back his cell phone. “My boss Val is just freaked out about the news, too. Like I said, everyone’s losin’ their shit.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Vaggie pondered, putting her fingers to her chin. “Sinners are desperate.” She grinned at Charlie. “Maybe desperate enough to try anything to escape the Extermination?”

Charlie gasped as an idea came to her. “This is the perfect time to recruit more Sinners for the hotel! The commercial we made should be of great help!”

“Cute idea and all,” said Angel Dust, waving his phone, “but you really going to go out in all of this?” On the phone screen, a green-faced aquatic demon wearing a black jacket screamed as his eyes bled and more flames burned.

Charlie began. “Well, it’s not like people are just going to show up on our doorstep…”

Charlie screamed and flinched as a sudden blast shook the hotel and created a large gaping hole in the wooden wall by the bar. Outside the hotel, a steampunk black and gold zeppelin blimp hovered menacingly in the air, looking like a large demonic shark with gold sharp teeth. The small eyes were made of pink glass. There were golden windows with moving gears inside the ship. From the large metallic mouth at the front of the blimp were an array of laser guns and weapons pointed at the hotel.

Inside the ship were the Egg Boiz, two-legged egg minions wearing small black top hats and pinstriped suits of gray and yellow with black neckties. The purple walls were in the design of scales near more gears at the windows. Standing high at the controls was none other than the serpent Sinner Sir Pentious. He wore a pinstriped suit with gray and yellow stripes and had a black bowtie in the center. His top hat was large and gray, with a large pink eye and sharp teeth of its own. Steampunk goggles lay on his head. Sir Pentious’ eyes were pink, his fangs sharp, his face coal black with a long cobra hood of more pink hypnotic eyes against yellow. The lower half of his body was serpentine with scales of black and gold with more pink eyes.

“Show yourself, Alasssstor!” he demanded, pointing forward. “Come and face…”

He glanced around and saw Alastor casually sipping black coffee from his red mug that read “Oh Deer!” on it. He was relaxing in a chair at a small table on the hotel balcony.

“Oh, there you are,” Sir Pentious mentioned. Then he finished in anger, “Face my wrath!” He bared his fangs and hissed. His hood stretched out, revealing his additional pink eyes.

Alastor merely grinned. “Who are you?”

“Who am I? Who am I?! I am the great Ssssir Pentioussss! Inventor, architect of dessstruction! Villain extraordinaire!”

Alastor transformed into shadow and materialized in front of the hotel doors. Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel Dust stood beside him.

“Ooh! You tell ‘em, boss!” cheered one of Sir Pentious’ egg minions, small fist in the air.

Niffty appeared on Alastor’s shoulder. “Oooh, he’s a bad boy,” she said with a sly grin. Alastor picked her up with one hand and gently placed her on the ground. Alastor shrugged and mocked Sir Pentious. “Ha. Well, if all that’s true, you’d think I’d have heard of you.”

“I attacked you literally last week!” Sir Pentious reminded him.

Alastor cocked his head.

“We’ve done battle like twenty times?!” Sir Pentious added.

“Well, you must have been really bad at this,” Alastor retorted, twirling his microphone cane.

“Silence!” Sir Pentious yelled. “Now cover! For when I have ssslain you, the almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me as their Overlord equal!”

“Ooh!” Niffty grinned before pausing. “Wait, who are the Vees?”

Alastor waved a hand. “Oh, nobody important. Just a gross moth porn owner, a boxy TV arrogant ass, and a cocky fashion gossip witch.”

“Can I meet them?!”

“No.”

Niffty’s face fell.

“Why do you want to attack us again?” Alastor asked.

“To get revenge on how you defeated me last time! Also to get the Vees approval so I can stay safe from the next Extermination,” Sir Pentious mentioned.

“Good luck with that,” Alastor said with a smug expression. “Feel free to get defeated again.”

“I will not lose again!” Sir Pentious yelled. “Minions, ready the cannons!”

The Egg Boiz aimed the cannons again, but two large black tentacles shot out from the ground in front of Alastor. In a flash they had wrapped around Sir Pentious’ zeppelin…again…a third tentacle breaking a lower window. Niffty clapped and enjoyed the show, while Angel Dust, Vaggie, and Charlie watched in concern.

“Argh! Oh! Please! Stop!” Sir Pentious cried from inside.

Alastor chuckled darkly.

“Um…Alastor! I think he’s had enough,” Charlie mentioned.

Alastor laughed evilly, mouth open, red eyes bulging out.

“Nah, he’s got a few more hits in him,” Angel Dust countered.

Sir Pentious yelled as he tried to cling onto something on the floor of his ship. The zeppelin tilted downward and with a scream, the snake fell out through a hole in a broken yellow window. He landed with a thud and a faceplant on the ground in front of Alastor, the impact creating cracks in the ground.

Alastor twirled his staff. “Thanks for another forgettable experience.” An Egg Boi #23 fell and broke into pieces in front of Charlie.

Sir Pentious’ hand twitched. “Thank you…for letting your guard down!”

With his tail, Sir Pentious ripped off a piece of Alastor’s red suit. He lifted up his head and held the piece of fabric in triumph. “Haha! Yah!”

Alastor’s shadow loomed over him, and Sir Pentious’ face fell. “Oh shit…”

Sir Pentious screamed again as Alastor tossed him high into the air with another tentacle. Sir Pentious’ zeppelin exploded in green smoke, and he soon vanished into the distance. Alastor grinned as he posed with his cane.

Alastor turned around. “Well, it looks as though I need a visit to the tailor!” He was disgusted at Sir Pentious ruining his fabulous outfit. “Best of luck, chums!” He turned around to leave. Vaggie folded her arms.

“Wait, you’re LEAVING?! Alastor! We need your help! We need you to do your job.”

“We need a wall,” Angel Dust added, mentioning to the hole. Alastor turned around again.

“Of course! Can’t let my new project fall into disrepair already. What would the papers say?!” He snapped his fingers and shadow minions materialized before them as he left. A slender horned shadow grinned while holding a saw. A smaller one held a paint brush. One with a white face and black Xs over its eyes flew and carried a bucket. Another one held a hammer, paint roller, and bucket, and wore a hard hat. Another one also wore a hard hat and floated in the air. The largest one posed with his hands on his hips, one X over his right eye with a small black top hat.

Angel Dust shoved Vaggie aside and swayed as he walked over to the largest muscular demon.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” he giggled. “Whatcha doin’ later? I love me a man with a giant…tool.” 

Vaggie facepalmed before marching over and dragging Angel Dust back inside the hotel.

“Hey!” Angel Dust protested. “I was just gettin’ started!”

0 0 0

Before long, the hole in the wall was almost fixed. The shadow demons posed by the wall as Charlie slumped down headfirst onto the couch in exhaustion.

Angel Dust scrolled through his phone. “Sooo, how’d it go?”

Vaggie sighed. “Not a single new recruit.”

Angel Dust shrugged. “Yeah well, who would wanna use their last days not fucking and fighting?”

Vaggie heard a knock on the front door. ‘Not Alastor again,’ she thought. She grabbed her spear and marched toward the door.

Vaggie opened it.

It was Sir Pentious.

Sir Pentious held his hat and titled his head.

“Why hellooo, my dear…”

Sir Pentious was cut off by Vaggie punching him in the face. He covered his face with his hands before tumbling to the rocky ground. Sir Pentious cowered as Vaggie aimed her spear at him.

“Wait, wait, wait!” cried Sir Pentious. “I come in peace.” He showed two peace signs with his fingers.

“What are you doing here?” Vaggie asked, suspicious.

“Vaggie, what’s the problem?” Charlie asked, appearing in the doorway. She gasped when she saw Sir Pentious. “Oh! Hello again!”

“I didn’t come looking for a fight,” Sir Pentious said as he stood up. “I heard this hotel was a safe place to stay at for the upcoming Extermination.”

“Then why did you attack it…twice?” Vaggie glared.

Sir Pentious folded his arms. “To get back at Alastor, of course!”

“Great job with that,” Vaggie replied with sarcasm.

“Look,” said Sir Pentious. “I had to endure a long walk all the way back here. I nearly got trampled with all the panic and chaos going on in the streets.  I also heard that you’re…uh…helping people, people who want to be better?”

Charlie gasped in excitement. “You heard right!” She pulled him over toward the doors. “Welcome to our Home of Healing, our Resort of Restoration, our Inn of…Innovation!”

Angel Dust glared and blocked the entrance. “Are you fucking nuts?! This chump was trying to kill us like literally six hours ago! And now you wanna bring him in here to live with us?!”

“Absolutely!” said Charlie. “This place is about second chances, and who deserves one more than this slithery…slippery…special little man!” She elbowed Sir Pentious and he grinned nervously.

“Aren’t you supposed to protect this place?” Angel Dust asked Vaggie.

“Yes, I am,” said Vaggie. “Listen to me, Charlie, how many times will we have to watch your people be killed if we don’t make headway, defend ourselves right now, and send shady pricks like him away?”

“Please, Vaggie. Give him a chance just this once.” Charlie gave Vaggie round puppy-dog eyes, begging her to let Sir Pentious stay. Vaggie sighed and relented.

“I guess he’s not much of a threat without the war machine…” Vaggie relented. Sir Pentious lifted his head up in anticipation.

“…or even with the war machine.”

Sir Pentious’ cobra head flopped down in disappointment.

Charlie hugged Vaggie, lifting her around. “Oh! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She let go and walked over to Sir Pentious. “Sir Pentious! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

“Oh no darling! Thank you! You won’t regret this.”

Charlie led Sir Pentious into the hotel as Vaggie reluctantly followed. Angel Dust waved his hands dismissively and followed. “Eh, I give you a week, tops.”

Charlie led Sir Pentious through the parlor.

“So, this is the bar, and the bartender…”

Charlie did a snapping motion of her fingers toward an unamused Husk holding a bottle.

“This is the curtain…” Charlie mentioned to a pink-red curtain upstairs. She pointed around.

“…and this is the new wall after you broke the last one, heh, and oh! Oh! This is the…”

Vaggie grabbed Charlie’s arm. “Babe, you don’t have to show him every detail.”

“Sorry, I’m just so excited to have our first real guest!”

“Uh, what the Hell am I then?” Angel Dust snapped, shrugging.

Charlie turned to Angel Dust. “Well, you’re an important part of our family here, Angel, but you, uhm, uh…”

“Constantly make us look bad, sexually harass the staff, and have literally never once tried to improve?” Vaggie asked Angel Dust bluntly.

“What she means is…” Charlie cut in, “…its’ just nice to have someone interested for once.”

Angel Dust looked upset after what Vaggie had said.

Niffty played with KeeKee with a string. KeeKee hissed at the sight of Sir Pentious and ran off. Niffty turned around to meet him.

“Over here, we have our maid, Niffty,” Charlie introduced.

Niffty gasped in excitement. “The bad boy is back!”

Niffty climbed up and held Sir Pentious’ collar. He flinched back as Niffty stared at him with her giant eye and sharp sadistic smile. “Never leave me again!”

“We’re 80% sure she’s harmless,” Charlie mentioned as Niffty got down. “And over here we have…oh!”

Charlie nearly bumped into a familiar figure. “Uh, Alastor! Our gracious facility manager! You’ve met our newest guest Sir Pentious…hehe…” Charlie backed away nervously.

“Ah yes!” Alastor replied, with narrowed eyes at Sir Pentious. “You’re the one who ruined my coat!” His face turned shadowy and his eyes glowed red. He spoke in a sinister tone, “I definitely remember you now.”

Sir Pentious gulped in fear.

“Well,” Charlie said to Sir Pentious. “I guess this is a great time for your first lesson!” She cleared her throat. “’How to apologize!’ The first step to becoming a better person is to admit when you are wrong. Why don’t you give it a try?” She urged him forward.

“Yes, uhm…” Sir Pentious cleared his throat. “Mr. uhm, Radio Demon, sir, please forgive me for attacking you and ruining your very lovely coat…uhm, here.”

Sir Pentious handed back the small piece of fabric to Alastor. He took it in his hand. “Ah-ho! Not many people have been able to take even this much off me, it must have meant quite a lot to you.”

Alastor grinned and burned the piece of fabric in a green flame with his magic. Sir Pentious and Charlie stood stunned. KeeKee watched the commotion, lying on an upstairs gold railing decorated with eye designs.

 The group soon gathered in front of the round fireplace. Charlie stood up, while the others sat down in various spots.

“Now, with a new resident, I think it’s important we all get to know each other! I’ve noticed there’s been a little…tension in the hotel. So, we are going to play a little game. Everyone, follow me.”

“Is this kindergarten or something?” Angel Dust rolled his eyes. Vaggie shrugged, not impressed with the activity, but deciding to follow Charlie along.

“My name is Charlie!” Charlie clapped twice. “I like to sing!” She clapped twice, “and when we get to know each other, it’s the greatest thing!” She clapped twice again. “Who wants to go next?”

“My name’s Sir Pentious.” He clapped twice. “I like to build,” he clapped twice. “…and despite my sssstupid Egg Bois, I think I’m very skilled!” He clapped twice, proud of himself.

Niffty raised her hand. “My name is Niffty!” She clapped. “I’m very swifty!” She clapped again. “I love to kill all the bugs in a jiffy!” She giggled and clapped again, holding her sewing needle weapon.

“Uh…great one, Niffty,” Charlie smiled a bit.

“My name is Vaggie,” she clapped twice. “I speak Spanish and fight.” She clapped twice. “I’ll make sure you don’t harm anyone here, or you won’t last the night.” She glared at Sir Pentious and clapped twice again. Sir Pentious chuckled nervously.

“That’s the spirit, Vaggie!” Charlie beamed. “Anyone else?”

Husk groaned in annoyance, after a long silence. “I am Husk.” He clapped twice. “I gamble and drink.” He clapped. “With the upcoming Extermination, these games are pointless, I think.” He clapped twice.

“Husk does have a good point,” Vaggie mentioned. “We are going to have to figure out how to defend ourselves when the angels come down here.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Charlie stuttered. “But…let’s focus on finishing the exercises first. Who’s next?”

Alastor talked in his radio voice without moving his mouth. “I am Alastor, I am a great radio host. I can’t wait to see which one of you will fail the most.” His eyes briefly turned to red radio dials against black and the background glitched.

“Enough of your creepiness, already!” Vaggie scoffed.

Charlie then mentioned to the last individual, Angel Dust.

“This is stupid,” he deadpanned.

“This is not stupid!” Charlie clapped twice, walking over to Angel Dust. “It’s just the game!” She clapped twice. “Everyone did it well, so please try to do the same!” She clapped twice.

“I’m too sober for this,” Angel Dust responded, hand to his face.

“Well, get used to it and learn to play, this is gonna be your whole day!” Vaggie clapped twice and grinned at the annoyed Angel Dust.

He sighed. “I’m Angel Dust.” He clapped twice. “I love killing, sex and…angel dust.” He clapped twice. “There is no one I trust.”

“Well, that’s something we can work on,” Charlie said.

“Forget it. I ain’t trustin’ no one.”

“Well, how about we work on it in our next session…”

She looked up and grinned. Razzle and Dazzle flew over and hung up a banner that read “Trusting 101” in blue paint near a stage. Charlie winked at Vaggie as they both stood up together in front of the group.

Charlie and Vaggie jumped in the air. “Trust exercises!” Vaggie repeated Charlie a few seconds after her and added, “Ah shit!” as they both fell on the floor. Charlie pulled Vaggie up and sighed. “Vaggie, we rehearsed this.” She then recovered and repeated, “We are doing trust exercises!”

Husk began, “So what’s with the whole, uhh, this?” He gestured to the Trusting 101 banner and stage behind Charlie and Vaggie. “I’m not about to put on some show for these fucking chumps.”

Angel Dust grinned, putting his feet on Husk’s legs. “Oh, I will, but it’s cash up front, and I know that one…” He pointed at Sir Pentious, “can’t afford me.”

Sir Pentious folded his arms in disgust. “Gross! I’d never think of it, ssspider!”

“Right, well let’s get started. Charlie?” Vaggie began.

Charlie moved to the front, clearing her throat. “We will start with trust falls! Each of you are going to share something vulnerable about yourself with the group, then fall backwards, while the rest of the group catches you. Got it? Who wants to go first?”

Vaggie raised her hand.

“Come on up!”

Vaggie stood on the stage. “Charlie is my girlfriend and…I’d do anything to make her dreams come true.”

“Aww,” Charlie smiled as she caught Vaggie in her arms. Charlie then released Vaggie and jumped onto the stage.

“I, I love you guys. Like really, really love you.” Charlie fell backwards and Vaggie caught her.

“Gotcha!” Vaggie smiled.

“That, felt, good! Angel, why don’t you go next?”

“Fine,” Angel Dust groaned. He walked onto the stage and faced the group. “Somethin’ about myself, huh? How about this? I LOVE to suck…”

Husk threateningly pointed a finger at Angel Dust. “I swear to fuck if you say ‘dicks’…!”

Angel Dust smirked. “Popsicles, ya sicko! Get your mind outta the gutter!”

He fell backward and Husk caught him.

“But, you know, dicks, too!” Angel Dust added. Husk dropped him abruptly and Angel Dust groaned, “Ow!”

“Your turn, Husk!” Charlie called after Angel Dust lifted himself up.

Husk slouched forward onto the stage. “Um…back when I was alive, I used to perform magic shows for kids.”

“Oh, how wonderful, Husk! Can you demonstrate…”

“Not now,” Husk growled. He fell backward and Angel Dust caught him.

“Sweet little Whiskers in my arms,” he giggled. Husk struggled out of Angel Dust’s arms and walked off.

Angel Dust looked over to Sir Pentious. “Alright, new guy, you’re up.”

Sir Pentious did a dramatic pose under the spotlight, tears in his eyes.

“I, I don’t want to live without my minions. Nobody catch me!” He fell backwards, landing in Charlie and Vaggie’s arms.

“Damn it,” Sir Pentious glowered.

“That’s great. Wow you are slimy,” Vaggie dropped Sir Pentious in disgust. “Okay, good job. Uh, Niffty?”

Niffty ran up onto the stage and giggled. “Sometimes I kill mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others!”

Niffty flung herself off the stage and landed with a splat on her face as everyone moved back in horror. She lifted her arms in the air. “Yay! Pain!” She raced up and jumped again, but this time, Alastor caught her with one hand.

“Spectacular performance my dear!” He put her down and materialized onto the stage from shadow. He then spoke in his radio voice again, his smile glowing.

“When I was alive, I loved cooking jambalaya and venison with my lovely mama! She taught me singing, dancing, hunting…but I taught myself how to kill!”

The group stood in stunned silence. Angel Dust, Charlie, and Vaggie moved closer, but Alastor replied, “Touch me and I’ll rip your limbs off.”

He then fell backward off the stage…and into a black portal. He reappeared seconds later from the portal and posed, the background briefly glitching before the radio noises faded back to normal. He hummed and walked off.

Vaggie groaned. “I swear…this guy eludes everyone.”

The last social session was roleplaying. Angel Dust and Sir Pentious were on stage. In the audience, everyone except Charlie and Niffty looked bored and annoyed.

Angel Dust wore a gray trenchcoat and a brown hat with a black middle rim. Sir Pentious was happily licking a round pink lollipop with a yellow bow on the bottom, roleplaying an innocent boy wearing a white sailor suit.

Angel Dust read his lines in a monotone voice, the script in front of him. “’Oh, I’m a bad man on the streets who never got enough hugs, now, where’s an innocent kid I can sell crack to?’ Wow, who wrote this?!”

 Charlie grinned. “It’s great, right? Keep going!”

Angel Dust turned away from Charlie and said the next line. “’Hey, you.’”

Sir Pentious faced Angel Dust. “’Who, me???’”

Angel Dust deadpanned. “’Yeah, you look like a kid who could use some…” he looked at the script drawn in crayon by Charlie: ‘devil’s dandruff??’ Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Sir Pentious acted with enthusiasm. “’Not me! I have to go home and ssstudy!’”

Angel Dust deadpanned. “’Come on, kid, it’ll make you cool like me…the crackhead.’”

“Oh, this is shit,” muttered Husk.

Sir Pentious finished with a proud pose. “’The only cool thing here is to sssay no to drugs! Now if you’ll excussse me, I’m off to not have ssssexual intercourse before marriage!’”

A victory “da-da” fanfare tone played from Charlie’s phone. Charlie stood up and clapped. “Yes! Oh bravo! Bravo!” She chuckled and walked over to Sir Pentious. “Wow, Pentious! At this rate, you’ll be redeemed in no time!” Sir Pentious smiled at the positive compliment.

Angel Dust sighed, feeling left out. “I…I’m going to bed.” He began to climb up the winding stairs.

Charlie beamed. “I am so proud of you, Sir Pentious! That was amazing!”

Sir Pentious was amazed and did a little bow. “Thank you! Thank you! You like me! You really like me!”

Angel Dust went into his room and tossed his trenchcoat onto his pink pet pig Fat Nuggets. Fat Nuggets woke up and peered out from underneath. He had small black horns on his head and little black spikes along his back. He also had small eyes, a curly pointed tail, and a small red heart on his body and behind. Angel Dust took off his hat and sadly lay on his side on his bed, pink neon spider webs decorating the walls. He scrolled through the voicemails left by Valentino. The nice-sounding ones showed pink hearts, while the threatening ones had red spikes.

“Angel baby, come home! It’s not the same without you here, I miss you! Come back…”

“ANGEL, YOU BITCH! IF YOU DON’T COME HOME, YOU’LL BE FUCKING GREASY TRUCKERS FOR THE NEXT YEAR…”

“Hey, amorcito, I didn’t mean to yell, but you know how crazy you make me…”

“YOU FUCKING SLUT!”

“Hey, Angie, about earlier…”

“KILL YOUR WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY!”

“Work’s really stressful!”

“LITTLE COCKSUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!”

Valentino then spoke into his head, his hypnotic pink smoke spiraling around him.

“You actually think you can change? Addict trash like you doesn’t change. I’ll see you soon, baby.” The red smoke curled around his chin and disappeared.

Angel Dust sighed and stood up. “Sorry, not now, Fat Nuggets. Fat Nuggets oinked in concern as he watched Angel Dust leave. Angel Dust grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the bar and gulped it down as he walked. It was one of the few ways to numb all the pain.

0 0 0

The next morning, KeeKee the cat purred and slept peacefully on the red sofa. The cat woke up and jumped off. Charlie stood on a ladder as Razzle and Dazzle helped her hang up a banner. The banner read in dark teal: “HAPPY FIRST WEEK, SIR PENTIOUS!”  with a drawing of a yellow snake off to the side.

“That looks perfect! Aah!” Charlie gasped in excitement. “I am so excited that Sir Pentious is staying at the hotel!”

“Um, Pentious was just trying to take over the city with his weird steampunk bullshit a few days ago,” Vaggie reminded her from below.

“Well, I haven’t seen him try to pull any of that here,” Charlie responded as she climbed down.

Meanwhile, five Egg Boiz were riding on a giant steampunk cannon in purple and gold that had gears inside of it. The weapon was being wheeled inside the room by Sir Pentious.

Vaggie had her hands on her hips. “What the hell is that?”

“Oh hello, gray moth female,” Sir Pentious smiled, lowering his top hat and taking a small bow. The Egg Boiz jumped off. “It’s my new invention, the Skin Flayer 11,000! I’m really looking forward to shooting the other residents!” He bore a mischievous sharp grin, leaning against his machine and posing with his arms folded.

“What? Why?” Charlie asked, surprised, and concerned.

Sir Pentious narrowed his eyes. “Everyone is being too nice. Obviously, it must be a lie. I can sense that they are planning to kill me, but when? How? I must be prepared!” Then he brightened. “Ooh, the new parts of my machine are here.”

Two demons came in. Clara had dark skin, red eyes, thick white curly hair, and black curved horns. She wore a dark skirt and skirt and wheeled in weapons in crates labeled “Carmine.” Odette strolled in wearing red round glasses, and a white lab coat with a high collar with black trim and black gloves. Her skin was white, as was her hair, which was in a ponytail. She also had black horns. Odette and Clara were the daughters of Carmilla Carmine, the leading weapons dealer in Hell, including angelic ones.

“Sign, please,” Odette told Sir Pentious, holding out a clipboard. He happily took the pen and signed the form.

“Thank you for your business. Enjoy your Carmine purchase,” Odette told Sir Pentious. The two daughters left the lobby, while Sir Pentious happily wheeled in the crates.

Vaggie seethed. “Carmine? As in Carmilla Carmine? You’re buying parts from an Overlord?!”

“Uh, of course,” said Sir Pentious. “She’s the top weapons dealer in Hell.”

“Okay, well that stops right now.”

Vaggie rushed over and wheeled the boxes away.

“Hey!” Sir Pentious protested.

“You absolutely cannot build weapons in this hotel,” Vaggie chided. “No one is trying to kill you. People are being nice because they want you to feel welcome.”

Sir Pentious scoffed. “Oh, really?” He glanced over at Vaggie’s death glare, at Husk flipping him the bird, at Angel Dust flipping him the bird, at Alastor’s red eyes plotting a way to brutally hurt him and Niffty eyeing him with a sinister giggle while dusting a corner of a wall.

“Hmm. I have my doubts.”

“Well, it’s true. You have to trust us,” said Vaggie.

“Well, I don’t. Especially coming from the one who has a spear aimed at me.”

Vaggie sighed at the spear in her hands and muttered. “Well…it sounded more convincing when Charlie told me to say all this to you.”

Sir Pentious hmphed. “I know you don’t believe I’m trustworthy either. Leave it to your girlfriend to do all your things for you.”

Vaggie fumed. “Says the idiot who has eggs as minions and can’t even act cool for your Overlord idols.”

Sir Pentious hissed in anger until Charlie broke up the fight.

“Well then, why don’t we focus on trust for today’s activities?” Charlie asked.

“We already did the trust falls yesterday,” Angel Dust groaned. “I can’t take any more of that.”

“I’m with you on that,” Husk muttered from the bar.

“Do you always stay at that bar 24/7?” Angel Dust asked. “Like, I haven’t seen you leave that spot for much of…”

Husk gave him a glare…Angel Dust shrugged and went back to his cell phone scrolling.

“Before we do anything else, we lay some ground rules,” said Vaggie. “No more building weapons, no more plotting against other guests…”

Vaggie glared as Sir Pentious was about to fire a small ray gun at Niffty, who he had wrapped with his tail. He smiled apologetically and let Niffty go.

“…and you need to get rid of these things,” said Vaggie mentioning to the Egg Boiz. Two of the eggs had a tug of war over one of the lasers. They accidentally fired it, and the blast created a hole in the ceiling. “Uh-oh,” mouthed one of the eggs.

“Oh!” Vaggie snapped, pointing up in anger. “What did I just say? What did I just say?!”

“What? Not my little Egg Boiz!” Sir Pentious cried, pulling them close in a hug. “They do my evil bidding for me!”

“Do you want to stay here and redeem yourself?”

Sir Pentious narrowed his eyes at Vaggie. “Yes.”

“Then no more eggs. And no more weapons.”

“Wait! Can I perhaps…keep my Egg Boiz and weapons safe in my room the whole time?”

Vaggie glanced at Charlie who gave her wide puppy dog eyes again. Vaggie rolled her eyes and waved a threatening finger at Sir Pentious.

“One sound from you and all your things go.”

Sir Pentious smiled at Charlie and looked down at his minions. “All right, eggies. You’ve got to stay in my room or else…I can’t keep you anymore!”

“Okay, boss,” said one of the eggs.

“And clean my quarters this instant!” Sir Pentious demanded as the eggs headed upstairs. Vaggie wheeled the boxes away and Charlie awkwardly pat his shoulder.

 Charlie soon felt exhausted as she once again tried to recruit more Sinners from outside. But many of them mocked her, saying things like, “Alastor showed that place as a dump on his commercials!” Or “The king of Hell is a depressed loser. Why should we waste our time with his daughter who dreams up fantasies for attention?” Vaggie managed to pull Charlie back inside before things got too heated.

0 0 0

In Charlie’s small office, Charlie and Vaggie talked quietly. Angel Dust was in his room on his phone with Fat Nuggets, Husk was at the bar, Niffty was hunting for bugs and Alastor was eating his venison dinner in his room, listening to jazz on his radio.

“This is hopeless,” Charlie sighed. “I thought that after Sir Pentious arrived, more Sinners would want to come in. Surely, they must be desperate.”

“Well to be fair, this place still looks pretty dilapidated,” Vaggie mentioned. “And maybe lots of Sinners feel safer…in their own homes?”

Charlie lowered her head. “What if Angel Dust and Alastor are right? What if no one wants to redeem themselves?” She panicked, tears in her eyes. “I’ll never be able to run this hotel in time for the Extermination! Everyone thinks I’m a fool! And my dad and mom aren’t even here to support me!”

Vaggie put a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “You’ll do fine. You still believe Sir Pentious can do it, right?”

“Yes…I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Vaggie, how will he fix his mistakes if he’s stuck up in his room all the time? He has to come down and eventually talk about his problems.”

“You can’t force people to admit their mistakes,” Vaggie told her. “Much of the time, they aren’t even aware of their actions. Take Angel for example. He numbs his daily pain through drugs and alcohol. It has become such a habit for him that he doesn’t even think about it. With Sir Pentious…” She sighed. “…it’s the killing. That’s one reason why sending him upstairs was perhaps the next best thing for now…”

“While I’ll admit the killing part’s not good, he could perhaps learn to use his weapons for something more…productive?”

Vaggie folded her arms, coming up with an idea, her eyes then brightening a bit. “If perhaps I could train him to build weapons to defend the hotel against the upcoming Extermination…”

“I keep forgetting about that,” Charlie groaned.

Vaggie put her hand to her face. “I just don’t want him to hurt anyone else at the hotel. Especially you.” She looked into Charlie’s eyes, hands on her shoulders. “Be careful around him, Charlie. I know you like seeing the good in people, but…” she glanced off. “We may have to send him away if he decides to betray us. It takes years to unlearn toxic habits and beliefs.”

“He won’t do that!” Charlie assured her. “I think he just needs some praise and appreciation…from the right people!”

“An alcoholic spider, a psychotic radio showman, a gambler cat, and a shady maid…I don’t know if your people qualify as the right kind…”

“Don’t forget another Sinner like you,” Charlie said. “No offence.”

Vaggie briefly touched her back, glancing at her Exorcist spear. “Yeah, sure…”

“Let’s give him a chance,” Charlie said. “I’m sure he’ll stay in his room and not cause any trouble.”

“Okay, then,” Vaggie said. “But I still have a bad feeling…”

Neither woman noticed a hidden blue square camera from within the nearby bookshelf, recording the whole thing.

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Part Two

A panicking Charlie showed up on screen, the video soon going viral. “What if Angel Dust and Alastor are right? What if no one wants to redeem themselves? I’ll never be able to run this hotel in time for the Extermination! Everyone thinks I’m a fool! And my dad and mom aren’t even here to support me!”

A sinister chuckle echoed from the darkness. A pair of red eyes appeared against the black.

“Well, well, well…looks like the little princess brat is not so high and mighty now. All those rumors about her so called ‘Hazbin Hotel,’ and this view from the inside only proves her incompetence! My ratings will skyrocket after broadcasting this.”

A row of glowing white shark teeth appeared. “I can see the headline, ‘Princess’ Passion Project Plumets.’ Perfect! My little spy is doing better than I expected. Once her hotel is disbanded, I shall be praised for preventing the loss of Sinner souls from Hell for the Overlords…not that she ever had a chance to begin with!”

Electricity sparked as demonic laughter erupted. “Oh, how fun it’ll be to manipulate the masses further from the fresh fear of the Extermination! So many Sinners desperate to buy my products! So many delicious souls to collect! Only one thing shall vibrate in their ears… ‘Trust the Vees with your safety and money!’”

The lights blinked on, showing the Overlord Vox, the TV headed demon sitting in his throne-like chair, surrounded by glowing monitors and screens all around him. He tapped the arm of his chair with his fingers. Wires were attached to the back of his flat screen head, giving him more power, and allowing him to broadcast many shows at once. He wore a black suit with teal stripes and a large red bowtie. He had a black top hat with red tipped antennae at the top and teal lines at the bottom that looked like electricity. A black dot and two curves were under his bowtie, looking like TV waves. His shirt collar was teal with red trim. His gloves were dark with teal tips.

Vox was showing the videos from the Hazbin Hotel and advertising a drone at the same time. Vox posed at his desk on a separate screen with an image of the Hazbin Hotel, with “Wow, this is shit!” underneath it in red.

“Breaking news! Charlie’s so-called Hazbin Hotel project is going just as we expected…an utter failure. Here is a live look at what really goes on in that tacky dump. Here you see a princess who…” He chuckled as Charlie’s face appeared on screen, “…has no clue what she’s doing. We have some porn star spider of Valentino’s there, probably looking for crack. We have a drunken cat with wings, some moth chick, a steampunk snake, and a crazed maid. How’s that for redemption! Looks like Charlie needs to see her dear old depressed dad more often…they could cry together as more Sinners fall in the Extermination.” Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench laughed on a separate screen. “What say you, Katie?”

“I mean come on,” Katie Killjoy added. “I’d expect the princess of Hell to not be such a childish wimp! And what’s with the clown makeup on her face and all that red clothing? She looks like a pin-up doll from the circus! Oh look, she’s watching this now and she’s crying!”

Vox laughed as the camera panned to reveal Angel Dust showing Charlie Vox’s video from his cell phone.

“Well, if the doll has a hot spot somewhere, then perhaps I could…” Tom Trench began.

Katie Killjoy poured hot coffee on Tom Trench’s crotch and then shoved him aside. “No one fucking cares about you, Tom!” She smiled back at the camera. “Back to you, Mr. Vox!”

“We’ll be right back to discuss Charlie’s utter delusions after these messages.”

The screen shifted to show a gray drone with the V logo on it, a teal-white V shaped like electricity against red TV waves. “The Vees and VoxTek Enterprises are proud to present our latest product! New VoxTek designer voyeur scopes, peeping on the neighbors has never been more stylish. VoxTek, trust us with your money!”

A crowd of hypnotized demons barged into the store to buy the gadgets.

Another commercial flashed.

“Calling all Sinners! Are you scared for your afterlives about the upcoming Extermination in six months?! Fear no more, friends and fiends, for your safety may just be a click away. Introducing the new VoxTek Angelic Security System coming soon!” The Vox logo appeared now golden with angel wings. “This handy VDX (Vox Directional Xtreme) system will alert you to any Exorcist angel in the area, pointing you to the safest places to hide. Handy for Sinners and Hellborn alike, and only 66 souls a month. Upload the app to your phone and start your premium free trial today!”

And many more…

“This week’s episode of “Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?” is brought to you by VoxTek, trust us with your entertainment!”

“Trust us…trust us…trust us…..”

Vox laughed evilly as more electricity sparked around him and the mechanical “trust us,” chant grew. “Muhahahaha! Now that’s good television!” The teal line in his larger left eye moved like a wire and the black lines moved like hypnotic circles as more consumers got hypnotized, their eyes turning red and black with hypnotic circles as they watched Vox’s programs. More screens spied on everyday demons on their cell phones and laptops, allowing Vox an advantageous view of Pentagram City. He relaxed in his chair as he drank his morning coffee. Swimming around him in water from the outside were neon demon sharks of various kinds.

Vox was just about to launch another commercial when he spotted something odd. It was coming from a screen that showed the exterior of the Hazbin Hotel. Vox hit replay and it showed a glitching figure walking away after Sir Pentious’ zeppelin got destroyed. Vox had also noticed this glitching figure appear a few times in the shadows in several of the recorded videos from the camera. He paused it and it showed the figure tall with red hair and a red suit.

“Wait…” Vox breathed. “Clearly that can’t be…”

He peered closer. The figure was holding a microphone cane. No other individual could glitch themselves in his videos…

No one, but one.

Vox’s head fizzled in electricity, and he gripped the surface in front of him so hard that his nails made scratch marks.

“That FUCKER is back!” Vox cried in realization. “He was at that hotel with Lucifer’s daughter…and it’s been seven years!”

The Radio Demon was back all right. Vox and Alastor had been rivals for years. Many years ago, Vox heard of Alastor’s unique power and thought he would make a good addition to the Vees. After all, an Overlord able to easily take down so many others…on the Vees team! They would’ve been unstoppable.

But alas, stubborn in his ways, Alastor stuck to the old technology and pursued his enigmatic goals while Vox and his gang endlessly chased trends and updated their powers as society changed.

“The nerve of him to just show up so randomly!” Vox thought. “I thought he was gone for good! He almost beat me, thinking he’s so smug.”

Then Vox grinned at the excitement of a fresh challenge. “It’s been a while since I had some competition. Yes…things have changed a lot since he left town! I gotta send a message of who’s REALLY in charge of things now!”

Vox chuckled and sang.

“Welcome home!

I’m gonna make you wish that you stayed gone!

Say hello to a new status quo

Everyone knows that there’s a brand new dawn,

Turn the TV OOOONNN!”

Vox surged with power as more wires connected to the back of his head after he pressed a button. He spread out his arms as the screens in front of him blinked to life and flickered under his command. The floor below him lit up with white neon wires and electronic designs.

A demon director announced, “Camera, speeds, rolling in three, two…”

Several demons held hanging microphones as square light cameras blinked on next to them. A grinning gray demon wearing a blue jacket with a white collar was operating a film camera with two pink eyes at the top of it.

“Welcome to the show!” chanted a choir.

“BREAKING NEWS” appeared on TV screens against a glowing orange pentagram on a red moon. Vox turned around at his desk, the 666News logo in the teal background. The subtitles read at the bottom: “BREAKING: UNREMARKABLE LOSER BACK FROM FUCKING OFF.” An artist rendering showed a crude stick figure of Alastor with bloodstains on it. The labels pointing to various parts of the drawing read, “gross hoof foot,” “lame stick,” “dildo?” “Smelly probably,” “furry,” “dumb hair,” and “triangle ass.”

More captions moved at the bottom: “SO THE RADIO GUY’S BACK. I DON’T THINK YOU NOTICED. I DIDN’T AT FIRST. I WAS TOO BUSY BEING A MUCH MORE INTERESTING AND IMPORTANT PERSON. BUT FUCK IT. NEWS TODAY IS SLOW I GUESS. I’M TOTALLY NOT WORRIED ABOUT THIS GUY AND NEITHER SHOULD YOU BE. I TOTALLY WRECKED HIS SHIT LAST TIME HE TRIED ME.”

 Vox happily announced. “Top of the hour and we’re discussing a certain has-been who has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven-year absence. Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice?” Vox shoved the drawing away. “More on tonight’s program!”

On another screen, Vox appeared and spun around on a tall chair at a desk. The desk had a “VOX-NITE” logo on the front of it. The wall had the Vox wire logo and an array of round stage lights around it. Lounging on a white sofa was another Vox wearing neon yellow shutter sunglasses. He held a dark gray mug with a teal V line and “FUCK ALASTOR” was in red on it.

“So, the Radio Demon is back in town!” announced the first Vox.

“Why is he hanging around?” asked the second Vox.

“What does that mean for your family?” asked the first Vox to the audience. “Well, handily, I’ve got good news!”

Vox appeared on another screen in front of red curtains, beginning his rap.

“He’s a loser, a fossil, and I don’t mean to sound hostile…

But the demon is a coward!”

Vox appeared on many TV screens, with “OBEY-N-PAY” in bold gold letters on the screen. Vox was cosplaying as a priest wearing red robes with teal trim. The stained-glass windows behind him were red with purple Vox Vs, and his pope hat was red with an upside-down white cross on it. He stood at a podium with his logo on it.

“You can take that as gospel!”

Vox then posed with 3D glasses on and a bag of popcorn in his hand and a remote in his other hand.

“Pulling my viewers? Impossible!”

A hanging microphone was next to him.

“I’m visual, he’s barely audible!

Stop giving him the time of day!”

Vox then grinned on another screen with a tropical background. There was a palm tree with coconuts, an ocean, an orange sky, and an erupting volcano. Vox wore a white suit with a white sailor hat and a pink lei with yellow hearts on it. He held an iced martini glass with a purple umbrella in it, a lemon slice, and a purple straw in the shape of a V.

“Don’t listen to a word he’d say!

I hope he had a nice vacay!”

The volcano exploded and the screen turned white. He ripped off his sailor costume, revealing his usual outfit. His face appeared on more screens as he loomed over the audience of demon watchers.

“But he should’ve stayed away!”

“While he hid in radio,

We pivoted to video!

And now his medium is getting bloody rare!”

Vox appeared in a chef’s costume and pulled out a severed bloody black and red deer’s head from an oven. Red blood stained the white tile walls, oven, and counter. Vox held the head on a plate as “VENISON WITH VOX!” appeared to the side, a red arrow pointing to “VOX.”

Vox then posed in the hallway.

“Hell’s been better since he split.

Where’s he been?”

Vox chuckled. “Who gives a shit?!”

Alastor had just stepped out of the tailor shop, pleased with his repaired coat. He glanced over and saw Vox mocking him on all the TVs. He sneered and walked with a newfound purpose back to the hotel. He wasn’t going to let that arrogant ass get in the way of the hotel…or his plans. He was soon back up in his radio tower, holding his magic microphone cane near his mouth. He sat on a flat couch with a pillow of eyes behind him. His coat rack was made of deer antlers and a microphone was in the shape of a red pentagram. In front of him were papers, knobs, and a red cup of coffee. A lamp with eyes on the stand was lit on a side table and a few bayou cattail plants were spaced out through the studio. A few rugs covered the wood floor.

Even after many years, his power still worked! “ON AIR” blinked to life in neon red letters over the tower.

“Salutations!” came Alastor’s smoother cadence singing. His voice was heard on all the radios and speakers in the city. “Good to be back on the air!”

More demons leaned to the left toward the red shop section labeled “Old Crap” with a radio on a table. The bottom of the radio was decorated with sharp white teeth, making a monstrous face. Vox glared from his TV screens. Shadowy arms appeared in the small room and operated the old-fashioned radio on a purple cushion. Several demons watched: a blue demon wearing Egyptian garb, a pink demon with a white tank top, a demon with one eye and a clock head, a teal-gray cat with bat wings, a green female mummy, a purple and white fox, a reptile demon, among others.

“Yes, I know it’s been a while since someone with style treated Hell to a broadcast.”

Vox and Alastor then engaged in a heated rap.

 “Sinners rejoice!”

“What a dated voice!” Vox snapped.

Alastor continued. “Instead of a clout chasing mediocre video podcast.”

“COME ON!” Vox yelled.

Alastor grinned. “Is Vox insecure? Pursuing allure?

Flitting between this fad and that?

Is nothing working?”

Vox fumed. “IGNORE HIS CHIRPING!”

 Alastor smirked, “Everyday he’s got a new format!”

 Vox fired back, the screen showing five various Vox faces (including priest Vox and sailor Vox) glaring at Alastor in the center. “YOU’RE LOOKING AT THE FUTURE!

He’s the shit that comes before that!”

Alastor sang, smoother and slower than Vox, his voice coming from more circles of speakers on high poles near the Vee tower. Several demons looked at each other, questioning Vox’s motives.

“Is Vox as strong as he purports?

Or is it based on his support?

He’d be powerless without the other Vees!”

In the Vee tower, Valentino and Velvette smiled evilly at each other as they imagined themselves overthrowing Vox and ruling their own territories. Their cell phones were in their hands, Valentino’s had a moth on it and Velvette’s had a < 3 on it, a large sideways V making a heart icon.

“OH PLEASE!” Vox argued.

Alastor grinned wider. “And here’s the sugar on the cream…

He asked ME to join his team!”

“Hold on!” Vox protested.

“I said no, and now he’s pissy! That’s the tea!”

A furious Vox teleported himself as electricity to the radio in the shop. Vox teleported to Alastor who was lounging on his couch. A blue screen appeared on Vox’s face, flashing white error messages as he glitched and fizzed.

(“A problem has been detected and Vox has been shut down to prevent damage to his systems. The problem seems to be caused by the following file: Alastor.EXE. Vox EXE. Crash – error- eat shit Alastor. Check to make sure all software and hardware is up to date and properly installed. Ask Vox for any VoxTek updates you might need. If problems continue (fuck you, Alastor) please disable or remove any Alastor from the general vicinity. If you need to use “unsafe mode,” reset your VoxTek device or press F6 and select “advanced startup options,” then select “unsafe mode.” Technical information: Stop: AlastorEXE. Old timey prick radio.”)

Vox raged; his fangs bared. “You old-timey PRICK! I’ll show you suffering!”

Vox teleported back to his TV room in the Vee Tower. His screen flashed in rainbow bands and he glitched some more.

Alastor chuckled. “Uh oh, the TV is buffering!”

Vox’s circuits overloaded with electricity as his anger rose.

“I’LL DESTORY YOOOOU YOU LITTLE…”

His signal briefly broke up. He let out an outburst that briefly overloaded and shut down everything in Pentagram City. Velvette’s hair and Valentino’s outfit got sizzled as they sat together in the dark in stunned silence.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost your signal!” Alastor finished in triumph as the pentagram-shaped city blinked into blackness.

No light was visible, save for the eerie red light coming from Alastor’s radio tower.

“Let’s begin.”

“I’m gonna make you wish that I stayed gone!”

His red eyes turned black, save for small red circles. Thick black antlers branched from his head.

“Tune on in.”

He placed his microphone to the side.

He morphed further into his demonic form as he stood up. His long neck extended outward, his yellow fangs growing longer and sharper.

“When I’m done…

 Your status quo will know its race is run!”

With a sinister close-up grin, his eyes turned into hypnotic red radio dials. A red x was in the center of his forehead, the fatal gunshot spot where a hunter had killed him on Earth. He sang in a low sinister tone.

“Oh, this will be fun!”

He finished with a chilling evil laugh. “Muhahahahahaha!”

After Alastor’s shadowy figure appeared on the screen, Vox’s signal was cut off and “no signal” appeared on the screens in front of him.

 “FUUUCK!” a dismayed Vox cried in the darkness. It took half an hour to restore the power.

0 0 0

After Vox recovered and the power was restored, his screen head vibrated. “Velvette is calling” with her icon on top appeared, a clown horn ringtone. Vox tapped his screen and his face reappeared. He snapped his fingers and electricity zoomed into the screen across from him.

Velvette appeared on the screen; her eyes narrowed. Her face was dark gray, and she wore skull earrings. She wore a pink frilly dress, striped fingerless gloves, and a short black sleeveless jacket with three pink hearts on it. Her hair was pink, with a streak of swirly white and gray in a thick ponytail.

“Hello there, Velvette!” said Vox. “How are you this hellish morning?”

“Oh, cut the shit, Vox. I need you up here now!”

Vox drank from another cup of coffee. “Whatever could be the problem, my dear?”

“Your little boy toy is wrecking my apartment, while I’m trying to pull together a show and…”

Velvette looked panicked as Valentino was heard cussing in the background and throwing items. Several demon workers ran in the background in chaos.

“FUCKING BITCH!” Valentino yelled.

Velvette yelled at Vox. “Just get your ass here! NOW!” She glared off to the side. “Damn it, Valentino!” The screen buzzed off.

Vox sighed, stood up and fixed his bowtie, an annoyed expression on his face. “Oh god, here I go, Valentino. Just another day fucking day with Val…and now Al. Hey, hey, hey. Fuck my life.”

He stood on a round platform with the V logo on it and it rose. An elevator with a smiling Vox with “trust us” opened to reveal a frowning Vox. Several posters advertised a Vox television device costing $9,000 and a “Velvette Love Potion.” Vox put on a smile for a crowd of reporters in the next room. They rushed at him with microphones out.

A demon woman reporter called, “Mr. Vox! What are your thoughts about the new Extermination deadline?”

“My dear people! We at VoxTek Enterprises have always been at the forefront of innovation. And now, with this new oncoming threat, we are shifting focus to your protection. We are pleased to announce…VoxTek Angelic Security is coming soon! Trust us, with YOUR safety!” The gold V logo with wings appeared on a screen.

Vox hypnotized the reporters with his eyes.

“Uh sir,” said Vox’s manager. His face was light gray, his short hair was teal and black, and he wore red glasses. A clipboard was in his hands, and he wore a red suit. “When did we begin working on Angelic Security?”

“Since I already aired the commercial about it earlier.” He walked off. “Try to get that bitch Carmilla on the books and cancel all my appointments today. I have a fire to put out upstairs and an emergency meeting about a certain radio demon.” Vox materialized into electricity and traveled up through a security camera.

Meanwhile, Velvette’s studio was in disarray. More demons were running around screaming. Several outfits were scattered on the floor and bloodstains were present on the floor and windows. Velvette stood her composure, strolling over to four demon female designers who stood by three tall mirrors, standing on violet rugs with Velvette’s logo on them.

“Ugh,” Velvette mentioned in disgust to a female demon with purple hair, showing her a red dress.

“No,” Velvette commented to a pink serpent showing her red overalls against a purple sweater.

“Unacceptable,” Velvette added to a blonde demon showing her a gray dress.

“You’re fired!” Velvette remarked to a pink demon with thick curly red hair and two front braids. Velvette held the outfit which had purple and white stripes on it. “What is this? WRIST RUFFLES?! Is this 1750? Burn it like the witches who wore it!”

Velvette sent the designers away as Vox materialized behind her from electricity. Vox waved a hand, and flames from various plugged devices went out.

“Velvette! I can see you’re busy. Tell me, where’s our hot-headed friend now?”

“Up in his room, waiting for a flat-faced prince to calm him down!” Velvette barked, hand to her face.

Vox sighed. “And uh, what’s got him so out of sorts today?”

“Who knows?!” Velvette said. “But he tore up my best model! And you know the show can’t wait for that unlucky bitch to pull herself back together!” A cyclops carried the remains of a demon.

Velvette tossed the remains of a pink gloved hand in the air. “Melissa! Get over here!”

A slender female demon stood nervous, wearing long maroon pants and a red shirt. Velvette snapped her fingers and various dresses magically appeared on her.

“No…” The woman wore torn dark jeans and a purple shirt with white hearts on it.

“No…” She wore black leggings and a short magenta dress with purple frills over her shoulders.

“Hideous…” She had on a short gray skirt with a red bowtie on it, a cream-colored shirt, and a long red coat.

“I want to die…Ew…” Now she wore a short red dress and black collar.

Velvette gasped. “Yes! That’s the one!” She smiled at a poofy red-pink dress with white hearts on it and a black trim on the bottom.

“Well since it looks like you’ve got everything under control here, you need to come to an urgent Radio Demon meeting once you’re…”

Velvette seethed at Vox. “Of course, I do! I don’t have time for any meetings right now. Fuck you! Now shoo!” She flipped him the bird. “Take care of the piss, baby!” She turned to her cell phone.

Vox groaned and headed upstairs. Two pink servant demons with long lavender and white hair and feathers on their heads held open the double doors for Vox. They wore black leggings and red shirts with white hearts on them, their hair looking like moth wings.

Vox was inside and the doors closed behind him. The room was filled with pink smoke. There was a couch, a table with a Venus Fly Trap plant, and a large flat screen TV.

Valentino sat up with fury in his eyes, “Fucking FINALLY!” He smashed a drink and turned to the side. “Kitty! Another drink!” The Robo-Fizz zoomed off and reappeared with another drink. Valentino stood up, wearing his robe of red-pink, the white fluffy collar decorated with red hearts. The pimp lord had hidden moth wings, pink sunglasses with yellow trim shaped like hearts and a tall red top hat with a black and white striped middle. One of his antennae on his head was smaller, lacking the white feathery part.

“Ugh!” yelled Valentino. “Can you believe what that piece of shit did? THE UNGRATEFUL WHORE!”

He tossed the drink at Vox. He moved out of the way as the drink smashed against the doors. A nearby poster showed an erotic picture of Valentino posing shirtless.

“Val,” Vox said. “You need to come with me to my meeting about Alastor…”

Valentino, in his anger, wasn’t paying attention. “STUPID WHORE!”

“Uh, which whore are we talking about this time?” Vox asked, clearly bored.

“Fucking Angel Dust! Who the hell else would I be talking about?! That fucking SLUT walked out on me! ME! I fucking made him!” He walked toward the window. “Without me, he’s just a little bag of meat with some mildly entertaining holes.”

“Oh. Angel quit?”

“NO! He didn’t fucking quit! It’s worse! He MOVED!”

He tossed Vox’s phone to the wall, making it shatter in half. Vox waved a hand and the phone repaired itself.

“He thinks he can just walk in here, work, and then go home somewhere else. Can you FUCKING believe that?!” He walked to the closet. “He thinks he can run off and shack up with Lucifer’s BIMBO daughter!”

Vox sighed. “I already know he’s living with Lucifer’s daughter. I saw the people at the hotel on video.”

“YEAH! That princesa bitch Chuckie or Chandler, or I dunno. Something mannish like that. She’s got this hotel and…”

Valentino turned around, holding up two revolvers. “Which of these makes me look sexier?”

Vox glared at him. “What are you doing, Val? You’re not going over there.”

Valentino loaded his guns. “That slippery twink is gonna remember who owns him. I’m gonna FUCK everyone in that rancid shithole I swear to Satan!”

“VAL!” Vox’s distorted voice boomed in his face as Vox’s eye did the hypnotizing motions. He grabbed his collar. “Hehe. Think about it.” He led Valentino toward the windows. “Our brand is perfection. And what do you think chasing whores around town will do for our image?”

“Uh…fuck it up?”

“Right! Do you want people thinking you can’t control your employees?”

“No!”

“Exactly! And hey, you still have him under contract. He isn’t going anywhere! So…you should…”

“Do nothing?”

“No. You should come with me to an urgent meeting. Following my lead…” he pinched Valentino’s cheeks. “Now that’s why they pay you big bucks.”

“Ugh. But I really wanted to shoot someone.”

Vox lit up Valentino’s cigarette holder with his electricity powers.

“Well, lemme call up the lowest earners this month for you to kill.”

Valentino smirked, blowing pink-red hearts from his long cigarette. “Oh, you know me too well.”

Vox sighed. “Now if we’re finally done here, the three of us need to talk about Alastor.”

“Oh, he really is back, huh?”

“Yes! I was going to tell you, but you were yapping on and on. I swear once I get my hands on that radio bitch…”

“Hey,” Valentino shrugged. “Killing Alastor is your kink, not mine.”

“Come on, Val!” Vox snapped, dragging him along. “We’re all meeting up right now!”

In the meeting room, a pink and white jester Robo-Fizz named Kitty placed a glass of wine onto the table. In a large tank around them swam several sharks with neon colors and code numbers on them. They served as Vox’s pets of sorts (He loved feeding disobedient demons to them). The three villainous Vees sat at a round table.

“We have a problem,” Vox began. “Alastor has returned after a seven-year absence, putting my entertainment brand in a conflict. He is also getting close to little princess Morningstar, so our main concern now is ensuring that no deal is ever struck between Lucifer’s BRAT…” He slammed the table with a fist… “and that smiling freak. If it does, they could team up against us. Sinners leaving Hell means less souls and power for us. We need to keep up a steady stream of chaos so more people will be desperate enough to let us influence them.”

“Quick question,” Valentino asked, giving Velvette a gleam. “Shouldn’t I be the main leader of all this? I mean, my Porn Studio is the biggest.”

“How about me? I’m the youngest,” said Velvette. “And more people are into social media than ever before.”

Vox folded his arms. “We’ve been over this. I arrived in Hell first and both of you depend on my TV services for your advertisements. Besides, we are more or less equal.”  Vox leaned into Valentino, his red eye moving hypnotically, his voice low. “Aren’t we?”

“Yes, Vox,” said Valentino. Velvet narrowed her eyes.

“Good,” Vox smirked, pulling back.

“Well, how exactly are we supposed to stop it?” Velvette asked.

Valentino was putting glue on his revolver, decorating it with glitter and marbles.

“Put something inside them. That’s how I get the bitches to behave.”

Vox rolled his eyes. “Literally fucking others is your specialty. Mine is media manipulation. And Velvette’s is love potions and persuading. This is different. We’re dealing with two powerful people.”

“I meant sending in a spy,” said Valentino.

“Oh, I already did that earlier today. I was checking on their progress when I was interrupted by that radio prick.”

“Is it Angel?” asked Velvette.

“That lanky prick won’t return my calls,” Valentino explained. “I’d kill him like the other demons behind on their payments if he wasn’t so popular and useful.”

“It would be someone Little Miss Bleeding Heart would take in,” Velvette added. “Someone pathetic, desperate with no direct ties to us.”

“I employ every down on their luck loser this side of Hell. Who the fuck is left?” Valentino asked.

Vox scoffed. “I think…I have just the one!” His eye did a hypnotizing gleam and the two sharks moved in to pose behind him. He then pulled from his pocket and placed down on the table…

…an old black and white photo of Sir Pentious.

“Huh?” Velvette and Valentino asked, peering to get a closer look.

Vox grinned. “Genuis isn’t it? This Overlord was so desperate to get praise from us that he was standing outside the Vee tower. He was calling out, ‘Vox! Vox! Notice me!’ He was all tired and was claiming that he was making a long journey back to a certain hotel. What a happy coincidence!”

“What happened next?” Valentino asked, blowing pink smoky hearts from his long cigarette.

“I came out of the tower and was all like, ‘Hey there random citizen! I’ve been curious about the princess’ rehabilitation project. Would you take this camera and digital watch and report back to me?’ And the fool agreed!” Vox laughed. “He had gotten beaten badly from his fall all the way to this part of town, so I healed him and sent him on his way. So then, he was able to get a video of Morningstar crying about how she couldn’t handle the hotel and I got it on the news! Now, I’m waiting to hear back from him to see if she has given up!”

“Uh, Vox,” Velvette glared at the photo and then at him. “You mean to say…that you made me rush through my fashion show for this meeting…AFTER I WAS ALREADY FALLING BEHIND AFTER THAT RAP BATTLE BLACKOUT YOU PULLED WITH THE RADIO DEMON…AND THE BEST SPY YOU COULD PICK WAS SOME STEAMPUNK ARSEHEAD?!” She bared her fangs and banged on the table, spilling a little wine. Kitty wiped it up with a napkin.

Vox held up his hands. “Chill, dear. I was going to tell you guys earlier.”

“Are you sure he’s the right kind of guy?” Valentino added, eyebrow raised. “He looks pretty stupid to me.”

“Val, he’s the perfect one to infiltrate the hotel,” said Vox. “No one will notice him.”

“Um, he did repair his zeppelin and he tried to attack the hotel literally earlier today!” Valentino reminded him. “You saw the video, remember? He’s not exactly a stellar sleuth.”

Vox waved a dismissive hand. “Just you two wait! When that snake comes back with the announcement that the hotel is no more, I will…erm I mean, we will be praised for our efforts!”

“If the Radio Demon is supporting the hotel, he won’t be happy if it’s gone,” Velvette said.

“Plus, my employee is in there,” Valentino added.

“Angel Dust is still under your contract,” Vox said to Valentino. “He won’t be going anywhere. I’m sure you can handle him and get him back. As for Alastor…” electricity sizzled around his hand. “I can’t wait to finish him off myself!”

Valentino smirked. “Still pissed that he almost beat you that one time? And won the rap battle this time?”

“FUCK YOU, VAL!”

0 0 0

Back at the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie buried her face in her hands on the couch. Vaggie comforted her as she cried. They had finished watching the news.

“I…I can’t believe it!” she sobbed. “Just when I thought I was making progress, the news anchors mocked me again! Now all of Hell thinks I’m a fool!”

“Aren’t you going to prove them wrong?” Vaggie asked.

“I…I don’t think I can…it’s too much…”

“Wait…you’re not quitting are you?” Vaggie asked, concern in her voice.

Charlie wiped away some tears. “What’s the point, Vaggie? We’ve tried everything so far. No recruits for the hotel…and look at this!”

Charlie showed several online posts from her cell phone: “#BringDownHasBeenHotel” “#VeesRule” “#VoxOwnsRadioDeer,” “PrincessPassionProjectPlummits!”

“Don’t let those assholes get to you,” Angel Dust said to Charlie, looking up from his cell phone. “But I did warn you that you didn’t have much of a chance to begin with.”

Vaggie glared at Angel Dust. “Not helping.”

Charlie stood up. “I love you guys, and I appreciate all your help, but…I think…I may have to close this place.”

Vaggie gasped softly. Niffty’s face fell. Angel Dust scrolled on his phone. Husk sighed and walked off. “I’ll go pack my stuff.”

“Goodnight guys,” said a sad Charlie. “If we don’t know who’s filming us, there’s no point in trying to stay...it’ll just get worse. You can leave in the morning if you want.”

“Where will you go?” Vaggie asked Charlie.

Charlie looked down somberly. “Back to my mansion with my busy depressed dad I guess.”

“Can I stay with you?”

“Of course!”

“Can I?” asked Angel Dust.

“No!” Vaggie barked.

“Worth a shot,” Angel Dust shrugged.

Charlie glanced sadly at the banner that read “HAPPY FIRST WEEK SIR PENTIOUS!” with the yellow snake on it. ‘We were so close, Sir Pentious,’ she thought. She yawned and headed to her room, too tired to remove the decorations. Angel Dust spotted Alastor and marched toward him.

“Al,” Angel Dust called. “You’re the one who did the commercials mocking the hotel. Did you do the ones mocking Charlie, too?” Vaggie also glared at Alastor, watching Charlie go down the dark hall.

“Nope,” Alastor replied. “I’d never involve myself with Vox and his pathetic picture-box shows.”

“But you used to be Overlord friends!” Angel Dust glared.

“Before he became involved in useless trends and his own ego,” Alastor scoffed. “He was only interested in furthering his company with my powers.”

“And I think you want Charlie to fail for your own amusement!” Vaggie seethed. Alastor just stood with an enigmatic grin.

“You’re the spy, now fess up!” Angel Dust barked.

“You all are a bunch of idiots,” Husk mentioned from the distance. “We know someone was somehow able to film us from the inside. You know he doesn’t like modern technology. Why would he use it to further mock us?”

“Exactly,” said Alastor. He turned to Vaggie. “I told you I was never to be bothered with using such frivolous technology again.”

“Oh…right…” Vaggie suddenly realized.

Alastor materialized into shadow and vanished. Vaggie followed Charlie into her room. She held her hand. “It’s okay, Charlie. Perhaps we can try something else, build a restaurant or something. The Hazbin Inn, how about that?”

Charlie shook her head sadly. “Even though we have Alastor and Angel Dust, it’s still not enough. Let’s go to bed.”

Vaggie relented and sighed, worried about her girlfriend and what they would do next for Charlie’s dreams.

Later that evening, Angel Dust gulped down a bottle of alcohol. He heard something slither in the dark and thought he saw a shadow slip away.

“Huh?” he asked.

Angel Dust peered into Charlie’s office, the door open a crack. Spiderwebs lined several sections of the bookshelves. To his shock, he spotted Sir Pentious with an evil grin setting up the gray square camera on a bookshelf!

Angel Dust slammed open the double doors with all four hands.

“You slippery little shit!”

Sir Pentious turned around and screamed, flinching back.

“You’re working for the Vees?!” Angel Dust asked. He marched over to Sir Pentious, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I fucking knew there was something shitty about you!”

Sir Pentious brushed Angel Dust’s hand away and walked to the side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He grinned and faced Angel Dust. “Whore bug!”

Angel Dust yelled in anger and rammed himself into Sir Pentious. They fought and rolled on the ground, Angel Dust punching him in the face several times. He rolled him over and caught him in a headlock with his arm. Sir Pentious struggled free of his grip. “Get you’re aggressively average body…OFF OF ME!”

All of Sir Pentious’ eyes flashed hypnotically. “FUCK!” Angel Dust cried, hypnotized and stepping back. Sir Pentious hissed and slithered back. Angel Dust shook his head, snapping out of it. He marched toward Sir Pentious again, fists clenched.

Charlie yawned and she and Vaggie stepped into the room. They both wore their nightgowns. Charlie wore red two-piece pajamas and Vaggie wore a white dress nightgown. Charlie had black slippers on her feet with red flowers on them. Her long blonde hair was untied and messy.

“What’s going on?” asked a tired Charlie.

Angel Dust grabbed one of Sir Pentious’ arms. “This little bitch is a traitor!”

Sir Pentious yanked his arm free. “Preposterous!” He walked toward Charlie and Vaggie. “I would never betray you! You…are my best friends!” He hugged both girls.

“Uh huh,” Angel Dust deadpanned. “Then explain this!” He moved a book to the side, revealing the camera. Vaggie glared at Sir Pentious, her suspicion confirmed.

“Now we know how Vox was able to film us!”

Charlie gasped in shock at the realization.

“You…you almost made me lose my hotel…” Charlie whimpered.

Sir Pentious screamed. “Ah! Ah! Abort! Abort!” He slithered to the window and held up his gray wristwatch. “S.O.S.! Agent Pentious in need of immediate evacuation!” Sir Pentious tried to yank open the window in vain.

Vox’s face appeared on the small round screen of the wristwatch.

“Pentious?” Vox asked. “Wait…you were caught?! It’s barely been a day or two!”

“Please! You’ve got to get me out of here!” Sir Pentious begged.

Vox chuckled and scoffed. “I can’t believe we thought you could handle even something this simple. Do us a favor, if they don’t kill you…” His eye did the hypnotic motions and he spoke lower, “…go ahead and do it yourself! You miserable failure!”

The screen clicked off.

“I…I…” Sir Pentious cried, hurt by the words of his former idol.

He slithered forward, shoulders down, head lowered. “Just make it quick I guess…”

He curled into a ball, awaiting his death. “Not that I deserve it…”

“Gladly,” Vaggie replied, readying her spear to pierce Sir Pentious’ skull.

“Wait,” Charlie said, pushing back Vaggie’s spear. She leaned down and held out her white hand. “Pentious?”

Sir Pentious looked up at Charlie, teary-eyed. Forgiveness and a softness radiated from her face as she began to sing.

“It starts with sorry…”

She helped Sir Pentious up.

“That’s your foot in the door.”

“One simple sorry, spoken straight from your core.”

Charlie placed a hand over Sir Pentious’ heart. He gasped softly. He had never felt any real love or kindness since his time on Earth long ago. She put a hand on his shoulder and made her other hand into an encouraging fist.

“The path to forgiveness is a twisting trail of hearts!”

Charlie slid on a sparkling pink trail in her black slippers that magically appeared near her feet. Smoky hearts swayed and vanished where Charlie danced.

“But sorry is where it staaaarts!”

She spread out her arms to him. Sir Pentious closed his eyes and looked away as he sang.

“Who could forgive a dirtbag like me?”

“I don’t deserve your amnesty.”

Sir Pentious leaned backward on the floor, hand over his heart. Vaggie and Angel Dust gave him menacing death glares. Vaggie had her spear and Angel Dust had two guns in his hands. Sir Pentious scooted backward in fear. Vaggie and Angel Dust stood in shadow, a purple light showing their eyes, mouths, and weapons.

“Can’t we just kill him? Shoot him and spill his blood?”

Charlie stuttered.

 “That’s an option you could choose…”

“Works for us!” harmonized Vaggie and Angel Dust.

Charlie bravely walked forward, pushing aside all the weapons.

“But who hasn’t been in his shoes?”

Charlie leaned down and held out her hand for Sir Pentious again.

“It starts with sorry…”

“Sorry.” Sir Pentious began, standing up. Charlie twirled him around in a dance. She pulled him closer to her face, holding his hands in hers.

 “Dig down deeper and say one sincere sorry!”

In response, Sir Pentious leaned back in a dramatic pose and chorused, “I’m so sorry!”

“And your journey’s underway!” Charlie smiled as she and Sir Pentious spun around. Vaggie and Angel Dust shared bewildered looks.

In a purple sky background were flashbacks of Sir Pentious’ life in Hell: Sir Pentious grinning on his zeppelin, Sir Pentious with metal binoculars, Sir Pentious surprised at a broken Egg Boi in front of him, Sir Pentious using a square tablet device, eyes narrowed.

He and Charlie began a duet at the same time.

 “It’ll take time to uncover your vast multitude of sins…”

 “It’ll take time to uncover my vast multitude of sins…”

They both harmonized, “But sorry is where it begins!”

Yellow fireworks exploded the flashbacks and read “SORRY” in sparky letters. Sir Pentious and Charlie smiled as sparkles rained down on them.

“It starts with sorry.”

The song ended with the two of them smiling at each other back in the room. In the doorway stood an unimpressed Niffty in a white-lavender dress nightgown with a pink bow on top.

“I hated that song! Why are you so lame?!”

She stomped over and promptly kicked Sir Pentious’ body. “Not a bad boy!” She folded her arms and marched off. Sir Pentious grimaced in pain.

Charlie sighed. “Good to see things resolved for the moment. We will keep this hotel going! Let’s get some rest.”

“Thank goodness,” Vaggie smiled at Charlie. The gang headed off to their rooms. Vaggie then rolled her eyes and said sarcastically. “The Sir Repentious Arc begins. Yay.”

“Admit it, Vaggie, my song helped him!”

“I’ve told you many times Charlie, life is not a musical!”

“Just…enjoy it Vaggie. I know you do, inside.”

The lights dimmed and in the darkness Alastor’s red eyes and yellow smile glowed. He walked over and picked up the wristwatch.

“WHAT?!” bellowed an angry Vox, before he paused in fear, realizing who it was.

“You’ll have to try harder than that next time, ol’ pal!” Alastor remarked.

Vox bellowed in rage as Alastor crushed the wristwatch with his hand. He dropped the sparking, broken device onto the floor and left the room in shadow with a sinister laugh, his eyes and mouth briefly appearing again.

[canisonicscrewyou]

Playlist: the Master’s party shuffle

message me a made up title of a mixtape/playlist and i have to pick 5 to 10 songs i think would go on it

say “playlist: title” in ur ask so i know what its for (always accepting, probably.)

Taking no criticism at this time. Went over the song limit mostly because the 5 songs canon to Dr Who don’t count, obviously, they just need to be there.

The Master’s Party Playlist

Bonus; I Can’t Decide - Scissor Sisters / Voodoo Child - Rogue Traders / Rasputin - Boney M / Hey Mickey - Toni Basil / Toxic - Britney Spears

DONTTRUSTME - 3OH!3

Hard out Here - Lily Allen

brutal - Olivia Rodrigo

Sexy Naughty Bitchy - Tata Young

Super Psycho Love - Simon Curtis

I Don’t Want It At All - Kim Petras

Witness- Mindless Self Indulgence

Maneater - Nelly Furtado

Bad Romance - Lady Gaga

Dancing On My Own - Robyn

I’m So Hot - Chrissy Chlapecka

The Sharpest Lives - My Chemical Romance

Lay All Your Love On Me - ABBA

Like A Prayer - Madonna

That’s Not My Name - The Ting Tings

Love You Madly - CAKE

Just A Girl - No Doubt

Supermassive Black Hole - Muse

bad idea right? - Olivia Rodrigo

Bubblegum Bitch - MARINA

Under Attack - ABBA

Gimme More - Britney Spears

[megashadowdragon]

the greatest akainu theory @bottlepiecemuses

youtube comments

Personally I’ve always felt it was clear that his idea of “absolute justice” will be born of a sacrifice of a loved one, like every other backstory. I assume that, by compromising on something, someone close to Akainu died, and he vowed to never let any death go in vain. During Ohara he would have said, if one person lives then all of the others who we killed would have been in vain and that’s disgusting to him

A cool thing to mention is that in the official song Red Dog Red, sung by Akainu’s voice actor for a one piece album released quite a while back, the main chorus has him repeat the line “Battle without honor!”. A cool callback from Toei to their earlier series and a fitting line for a character who will rain down hell from above, swim under the ground, and blast a hole through you to get to what he wants.

Great video, a deep dive on the hottest man in One Piece. I appreciate you actually discussing the filmic influences behind all the admirals. Before the Imu reveal, that long stretch of real world time after Marineford but before Reverie, it was always difficult to square which of the two Big Bads, Akainu and Blackbeard, Luffy would punch first, since they both represent the apex of opposition to him in vastly different ways. This analysis helped me to answer that question, even taking Imu into account, but we reach different conclusions. Instead of MarieJois echoing Marineford, it'll reverse things in a way. Blackbeard will arrive to steal what he wants, but this time he won't be the one to kill the king at the last minute, because the dog will have already bit his face off, leaving the empty throne actually empty. Then Blackbeard mercs Akainu leaving his victory a hollow one, because black holes get it? or because magma rapidly cools after finally erupting get it? Then I guess like, Luffy vs Blackbeard happens shrug. My imagined scenario is obviously not as well thought out as yours, hope it wasn't too annoying to read.Show less

admiral akainu being the guard dog puts him in the position to bite their throat out

I think Akainu is really gonna snap back on the world government in some way. When I see him, I think of the story of Sensui from Yu Yu Hakusho. Light/Dark and no grey, but something happens that snaps that line. I don't know what that will be exactly though.

Akainu is Oda's pawn for killing what Luffy won't. Eliminating the World Government from within. Thank you for the video this was great!

What if Akainu is actually the real leader behind Sword? Remember how he's revealed as "an insurgent in the Marines" by Spider Squard when he explains who told him about "Whitebeard's betrayal"? Could've been a subtle nudge of things to come. Then we have the fact that Sword members act without having to be worried about orders from the upper echelon because they're "about to get fired". The fact that Jewelry Boney managed to get away even though Akainu personally came to pick her up, means he likely let her go. And then we go back to the tattoos that Akainu has. No, not the Yakuza one on his left arm, but rather the one on his right that completely stands out: A simple sword.Show less

Interesting! I had never considered that Akainu could only have accepted the fleet admiral position because he didn't want to serve under Aokiji, who he doesn't like. But it does make sense, as I can't really see any other reason for he to be doing paperwork instead of fighting on a battlefield.

Great video and analysis. Another things interesting about akainu’s post time skip design is his snipped ear, which is something that people do to their guard dogs to make them more intimidating. This tiny design change just further emphasizes the fact that he really is the WGs dog

kizaru's "unclear" justice can also be translated as "grey area justice". fwiw i think this gives another perspective on things. it's less that he applies his justice in an inconsistent or unclear way, but more that his justice deals in the grey area of what is legal or "just"

I think nothing would be more interesting than finding out that Akainu's Home Island is none other than Hachinosu. For a man that dreams of Justice, being born on an Island that is the definition of anarchy and chaos. Seeing Piracy be revered as the Way and seeing countless attrocities done to the non-pirate population (mostly slaves, but also traders and other dark deals) Yet the population keep flocking, including his own parents. Corrupted by the desire of wealth and fortune. Akainu being a survivor of Rock's Island during his prime. Would explain why he's the way he is. He probably became somewhat of a vigilante, killing Pirates at Hachinosu. But at the end of the day Rocks always knew, and never did anything about it because he found it amusing. And with a single display of power, shows Akainu that only the Strong can change the world. He even fueled his hatred by letting him live and continue to do his thing. Eventually during a raid by Garp, he manages to catch Garps attention and becomes a Marine officially. But the words Rocks said to him that day and his display of power made him realize, that if he is to change the world to his views, then he needs to have the power to make it happen. Would be interesting. Blackbeard got inspired by Rocks, while Akainu got traumatized by Rocks. But at the end of the day his Will is the one they inherited. Truly painting Rocks as the villain that even dead still affects the world.Show less

Given the implied closeness of Dragon and Sakazuki I've had the idea that Sakazuki was raised by Garp's assistant Bogart

Maybe if doflamingo gets out, sakazuki will come to his realization while in battle with dofi and literally has to cut the strings of a celestial dragon while coming to terms with deciding to not be a puppet to them anymore

I think saka is going to betray the world gov to keep pursing his own justice more, his only equal did it, His thematic animal is constantly threatening to do it His movie characters do it He has every reason to do it Makes the story more interesting to do it It makes senseShow less

[queenimmadolla]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: my fav little hater was upset about my post getting interactions again so they flagged it to be incorrectly labeled, meaning it's hidden from the majority of people so repost time! there is no mature content in this chapter, suck it. based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat. 

  Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

  You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her. 

  And a large hole in their wallet.

  “It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

  “This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

  It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

  You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

  “You got a number we can reach you at?”

  You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along. 

  “Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

  God, I hope so.

  The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

  You’d learned. Eventually.

  Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your back and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed. 

  Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no cool air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

  Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

  It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

  A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

  The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

  You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

  With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

  ─

  Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

  His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door. 

  “Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

  Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

  Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

  “Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

  “A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

  “Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

  He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something. 

  “What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

  “Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again.He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group. 

  Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred–with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through the wall. Henry had to go.

  Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

  “I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”  

  “Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more. 

  A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

  The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

  A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

  The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles. 

  Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling. 

  That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh. 

  It’s intimidating. 

  They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

  But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

  “Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

  “Yup.”

  “See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

  “Why not today?”

  “Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

  “I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

  Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

  You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them. 

  People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

  Someday, that would be you. 

  You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last. 

  Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

  The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

  “What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

  “Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

  “Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

  “Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

  As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

  The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

  Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

  Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

  You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

  He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

  He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

  The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

  Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

  But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

  Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

  When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

  Someone who looked like their art.

  You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

  You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

  Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

  “Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

  Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

  What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden? 

  He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. 

  Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

  Professionalism, he reminded himself.

  “Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

  “Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

  Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

  Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

  You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

  There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room. 

  On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

  “Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

  Sure you haven’t.

  “Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

  “You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

  He had no idea how right he was.

  “The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

  “And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

  First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

  “But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

  Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

  “You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

  “Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

  You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

  “Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack. 

  “Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

  “Did your tattoos hurt?”

  Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

  “A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

  “Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

  Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

  No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

  He was getting hard. 

  Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

  Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

  “Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

  You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

  The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

  “What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

  A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

  He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

  “That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

  You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

  Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

  “Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

  “Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

  “I’d be stupid not to.”

  You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

  “Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

  Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

  “Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

  “Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.” 

  “But I thought you said—” 

  “Me.”

  Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

  You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

  “So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face. 

  You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!” 

  He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

  “You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.” 

  Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

  “Wait—this is paid?”

  “Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

  Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

  Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

  The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you. 

  You’d have time to get there.

  “Hey, Deidre.”

  “Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

  He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

  “We’ll see you soon?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

  You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

  “Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile. 

  You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

  It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

  Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

  Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

  He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

  He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids. 

  Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

  “Need a hand?”

  Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

  Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

  “Are you offering yours?”

  She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

  “Mmm, not just my hand.”

  All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick. 

[vainglory-esque]

Last night I got like suuuuuuper into researching a certain very popular in the 90s rap group from Memphis (hint hint) and the conspiracy that they literally worship the devil

and I find it so fascinating from the standpoint of how opposed it is to the spiritual values of groups they were kinda lumped in with musically during their heyday, the most known (boney) group has a pretty notable beef with the members of the supposedly devil worshipping group and he's made public statements about his experiences with them personally and why he doesn't fuck with their beliefs. Also, I found out that half of them have passed before age 50, and all 3 of those who passed did so in the city where they supposedly sacrificed someone for the asking of fame and glory— that's fucking wild and I'm not a big believer in coincidences personally, especially concerning these matters.

There's also some recent interviews of the less famous (for lack of a better term) remaining member of the three, and he fully admits and goes into detail about their attempts to invoke dark forces, and how they really weren't just fucking around for shock value when one of them called herself The Devil's Daughter.

I'm so morbidly fascinated with the rumors of the sigils named for their home city and the purpose of them as someone coming from the opposite end of the spectrum concerning all things otherworldly, it's so fucking interesting what makes people want to perform black magic (for lack of a better term).

My partner grew up in a similar community as the artists and sought out similar ✨ dark ✨ things as an adult and spent time around people who called themselves priestesses of dark matters, so I made them spend a solid hour explaining it all to me and where the rumors come from, what people consider evidence of the validity of the idea and opposing points to the notion, and it's really so fucking interesting— I highly recommend this rabbit hole if anyone is also into 90s hip hop and black magic/demonology

[cosmiccanidae]

FULL NAME. Raisu Alexeyevich Sovez NICKNAME. N/A ALIASES.‏ N/A PRONOUNS. he/him HEIGHT.‎‏‏‎ 5'7'' AGE. 98 ZODIAC. Scorpio SPOKEN LANGUAGES. Russian, English

‎‏‏‎ ‎𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ―

HAIR.‎‏‏‎ Completely white at this point, kind of fluffy. FACIAL HAIR. None EYES. An unnatural fiery orange, though his right eye looks grey thanks to leucoma. SKIN TONE. Very pale BODY TYPE. Generally thin and boney aside from some fat carried on his midsection. VOICE. Mid-pitch, has held onto his native accent pretty strongly despite how much he's travelled. You can hear some age in his voice but it's still pretty strong. DOMINANT HAND. Right‎ POSTURE. ‎Bad. He's hunched over a lot of the time. MOST NOTABLE FEATURES. His eyes, both because of how piercing his orange one is and the fact that the other one always seems to be half closed. His large ears are notable and his flowing tail that contains stardust.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 ―

PLACE OF BIRTH. Russia HOMETOWN. idk SIBLINGS. None PARENTS. Alexey Sovez (father) and Eva Sovez (mother), both deceased.

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ―

OCCUPATION. ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎Space Pirate and Anarchist Terrorist Activist CURRENT RESIDENCE. Mostly on his ship but also has a secret house on earth. CLOSE FRIENDS. His crew, basically. He's also one of those 'my wife is my best friend' people. FINANCIAL STATUS. Good enough. DRIVER’S LICENSE. He no longer has a valid license of any kind. He probably shouldn't be driving anyway his eyesight sucks. CRIMINAL RECORD. He's got a death warrant on his head for a long list of things including treason, smuggling, hijacking, aggravated assault, and other things. VICES. Does a preoccupation with revenge count?

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. Heterosexual PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. Gonna be honest, I don't actually know what this means. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. ‎Wouldn't you like to know?‏‏‎ TURN OFFS. ‎Nope TURN ON’S. Nope‏‎‏ LOVE LANGUAGE. Acts of service and quality time RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. ‎‏‏‎ ‎Very loyal and attentive. He would do anything for his partner and gushes over them.‏‏‎

‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 ―

CHARACTER’S THEME TUNE. Supermassive Black Hole HOBBIES TO PASS THE TIME. Reading, dad jokes, poker, obsessing over the plan to get his wife back which really shouldn't count as a hobby but- LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. Left-brained‎‏‏‎ SELF-CONFIDENCE LEVEL. High but not to the point of overconfidence. He has a good grasp on what he is and isn't capable of.

[savagesneversleepnyc]

GREAT DAVEY JONES LOCKER

(25 GREAT JONES)

Sitting on the rain guard

Making my bones on GREAT JONES

Hearing a clamoring of profane PARAMOURS stunting interior antithesis

Equations presented like chocolates

Dusted in famous and familiar dust

So desirable in fact…

Most hide their aspirant

In pure intent or lack there of

But as below so yo above a CROWN

Adorned in magnificent light

That isn’t bright at all…

But a polar vortex hole

That he knew was actually

A bottle full of gasoline

Not sweet brown whiskey

As the THING inside the BLACK HOLE

Of the unknown falls as the sun

Chases the moon and touches

Fading tips of branches kissing

The finger of the creature from the black lagoon too soon in monsoon moonstruck

Alley cat LOVE AFFAIRS as

HERCULES appears AIRES

AIRS grievances and deed upon

PAWNS UPON A BORED

PACK OF FELINES

the thumb of the MAGIS to heavens.

THE thumb of the EMPEROR casting volley

To HADES as the wretched masses

Throw rotten words and stones

Dipped in sand and molasses

The VERDICT was VERDUN

and KING would become shallow and swallow

Hallowed be they ONE against the

BLINKING singing of

VOLUPTUOUS HARPIES STAR STRICKEN

with DR MARTEN’s unGODly concoction

As rocks turn to sand and the

hands of TIME whip

Command slips into the glove of LOVE

I place on SOFT HANDS that only

HURT as we stand back and watch the

WEALTH of CURRENCY actually become the

GRAVITY they must TOIL THROUGH TOO

For DEATH SUBS set sail

From DOCKS and PORTS

We care NOT to recall

The TOTALITY of the 20,000 LEAGUES

Of excuses for all the ways we could have incinerated the same currency in kindness not blindly trying to refund the pack

At the TARGET we hit

Riding the great beast upon the line

As BONEY ROOKERS TOOK HER

ALL THE WAY TO THE FOOT

OF GREAT DAVEY

JONES LOCKER

1:34 pm 25 GREAT JONES, NYC 6.27.24.00000093 OGI

[queenlessbee]

i cannot tell you the fear that grips me wrapping its boney fingers 'round my core tighter tighter it holds me there paralyzed captivated lost in the terror in the excitement lost in endless possibilities and i drown in the doubts so many reasons why not why not why not but that pull from you to me that overwhelming attraction like a magnet like a black hole swallowing me whole and i want to fall into you so badly disappear in your depths sink into your core and radiate love and light from within your insides out and i want to taste your soul devour your flesh pick your bones clean i want to give you new definitions for feelings of pleasure for pain for what it means to be home of feeling safe but i am so full of fear that i am too old too damaged not enough too fucking much when you are so perfect so pure and you feel just right in my arms in my gaze in my thoughts in my dreams i just want more and more and more and more to know you entirely utterly and completely every inch from head to toe from heart to soul and i hate myself for all this wanting for wanting more more than the friendship we have the repore the love the respect i dont want to lose any of it but i just cant help but want more