#infernooc

[humanransome-note]

2/23/2023

I haven't art-ed since August, and not the spicy bartender here since April!

so in honor of my sweet enby disaster, and the ren fair getup im getting with them in mind, here they be! all angy

[clairjohnson]

WOO! My Dante’s Inferno OC (Lamia) is finally done! My Beetlejuice Discord group did a Inferno OC challenge and it was a blast. I had so much fun designing her and getting to see all the awesome characters my buds made. Check out the cool peeps who made cool OCs: @neitherworld @vicunaburger @hoodoo12 @lazifyre @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @nerdexpress @strange-n-unbluusual @go-commander-kim @darkrimmedeyes @turtlepated @jeuchrit

Our Dante’s Playlist: Link Stage Names: Lamia, The Witch Age & Height: 25, 5’4” Backstory: Was a witch during the German witch trials in 1626. was freed only to die shortly after (bit by a snake, causing her to trip and crack her head.)

More backstory under cut!

Real Name:  Ayla (eye-la) Hagen Song: Rev 22:20, Puscifer (link) Role: Pole Dancer, escort, call girl Relationship: Long time drinking buddy with Movie Beetlejuice. Likes: Being in control, helping friends, testing new spells, dancing, seducing men. Hates: disrespectful clients, disorganization, people touching her stuff.

Ayla Hagen, who prefers to go by Lamia, died in 1626. She was one of the only real witches during the German witch trials. She managed to get released by accusing another girl of talking to snakes. While leaving prison, elated that she’d escaped and telling the city guards where to shove it, Lamia was bitten by a snake (karma) on the road, which caused her to trip and crack her head open.

Always a fan of seducing men, Lamia decided to start working at Dante’s when she passed over. Her pole dancing routine is sultry and dark, and after cursing a few clients for treating her poorly, she earned the stage name “The Witch.”

Lamia usually is just a pole dancer, but will occasionally, and selectively, sleep with clients. Normally, her role is to be dominate. She prefers to be on top and in control of any sexual situation. She and Movie Beetlejuice have been drinking buddies for a few hundred years and they met one of her first nights at Dante’s. After becoming more comfortable with him, Beetlejuice Is the only one she’ll let dominate her – for the right price and if she’s in a good mood. Musical Beetlejuice is a little intimidated by her, like many patrons, but loves the adrenaline rush Lamia gives him when she calls the shots in bed.

Lamia is extremely protective of the other Dante’s workers and will straight up hex clients who cross any of them. She puts on an older sister role even if she isn’t physically younger (she’s been dead a very long time).

[writing-good-vibes]

Dante's Inferno Room - Vale (OC)

thank you to @clairjohnson and @neitherworld and @hoodoo12 (and all of the wonderful content creators) who came up with the Inferno Room AU! it's brilliant, and they very kindly invited others to create their own Inferno girl oc, so here is my very rough contribution.

extra thanks to @djarn who's wonderful picrew i used to create Vale.

warning for mention of death, drowning, sex and sex work.

Name: Vale, she doesn’t bother with her ‘human name’ anymore, what’s the point.

Age: 22 (at death).

Year/Cause of death: Sometime during the 90s (she’s a very new recruit to the Inferno Room). Drowned after falling in the river on her way home from a night out.

Favourite song to dance to: Running up that hill – Placebo (cover)

Role in the house:

Surprisingly not much of a dancer, or at least she doesn’t like to be the centre of attention, so she dances around the club, mingling with potential clients, rather than on stage (security keeps a very good eye on her in case any patrons want to get too handsy).

Vale is the girl clients go to for ‘normal girl sex’, which is surprisingly hard to come by in the Netherworld (people tend to go ham kink-wise now that they are dead, no such thing as regret in the Nether). She likes ‘normal sex’ because it makes her feel less weird about her cold, dead body.

Loves hearing about the kinky stuff everyone else gets up to (if they want to talk about it, obviously).

Is a friend to all, she doesn’t get involved with any in-house arguments, and people find her easy to talk to, so she knows all the drama but gives impartial advice.

Kinda still sad about the whole ‘being dead’ thing, but having people always around her (the other Inferno girls) makes her lowkey forget she’s even dead.

Hair/skin colour/appearance:

Skin is a sickly grey-blue, because she drowned.

Horns are green from the build up of algae on her body, like rocks near the sea with a slippery layer of seaweed/algae on them.

Has ‘freckles’ but it’s really just mildew because she is perpetually damp (and yes, BJ does make never-ending jokes at her expense).

Black hair that she keeps in 2 plaits, clients like it for the pulling factor, she likes it because it means she doesn’t have to wash her hair as much.

A lil’ chubby! Just more of her to love (or fuck, because, as she has to remind herself, none of her clients love her).

Relationship with BJ:

Accidently got attached and caught feelings for him (which she will never admit out loud, she’d rather die all over again) because he was her first client at Dante’s and, honestly, she hadn’t had sex with that many people when she was alive.

Movie!BJ wanted to ‘test out the new model’ when she arrived. As much as he likes being a dom (and he was fully expecting to be a dom, to really ‘welcome’ her to the Netherworld), he was intrigued about how normal she was in bed. Secretly is into it because sometimes simple is better. Doesn’t go with her often though, but will talk to her if he see’s her around in the club, she gets all flustered afterwards (because of the crush she definitely doesn’t have).

Musical!BJ likes to play that they have a real relationship while with her. Jokes around with her and likes the façade of them having normal sex (secretly makes him feel less weird about his demon body). Pretty good friends outside of the bedroom, though she gets lonely when he doesn’t pick her (she thinks its because she’s not interesting enough and he’s having wilder, sexier times with one of the other girls).

Clothing style:

Wears a longish flowing, almost sheer, white dress that fits with her whole ‘drowning victim’ look.

Bare feet.

Has a spiked choker because that was what she was vibing with before she died and she didn’t want to totally start over, even if she is dead.

When she isn’t working, she just wears pyjamas and hangs out with the other girls in their communal living space.

Backstory: It was the 90s, night clubs were all the rage and Vale went out pretty much 7 nights a week. Unfortunately, she also has no sense of danger, so often went home on her own. One fateful night she walked home by the river and tripped, unable to catch herself in her tipsy state, she fell into the water and drowned. Her body wasn't found for months. When she got to the Netherworld, she kind of just wandered around looking for something to do. She didn’t have much direction in life (hence her consistent clubbing), maybe she could find her calling here, she only had the rest of eternity to find her vocation.

Likes:

Gentle sex

Warm blankets (blankets are abundant in her room, even though no one in the Netherworld can ever get warm).

Her drink of choice is beer (even if Netherworld beer is shit).

There’s a very specific genre of horror movies in the Nether that Vale is a sucker for (e.g. very domestic settings that have an uncanny valley, ‘clearly no ex-humans were on the production team’ vibe to them).

Dislikes:

Clients who want something she isn’t willing to give (after BJ she decided the rest of her clients had to want it vanilla or they could go elsewhere. BJ is the only guy she’ll let get a bit kinky, because of the crush she definitely doesn’t have on him)

Baths (she will have showers, but baths make her phantom feeling of being waterlogged feeling to intense).

Being alone.

Exceptionally sad music (it may be her look, and her signature song, but she loves when a heavy rock comes on in the bar that she can really vibe to).

(picrew credit: @mieczyk)

[rhodochrosite-love]

i doodled up an inferno girl based on @clairjohnson and friends’ prompt! Her stage name is Delight and she loves showin off her goods

[hoodoo12]

Stiffed (3/3)

Beetlejuice on a stage with a pole, stripping.

OCs mentioned: @beetlebitchywitch​ ‘s Mal; @humanransome-note​ ‘s Niphera; @jeuchrit​ ‘s Ivan; @memedemonhours​ ‘s Lyra; @neitherworld​ ‘s Bambi; @clairjohnson​ ‘s Lamia; @vicunaburger​ ‘s Lollipop; @go-commander-kim​ ‘s Lorelai; @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice​ ‘s Zia; @turtlepated​ ‘s Evvie; @pennytrash​ ‘s Beatrix; @lazifyre​ ‘s Vivian; @strange-n-unbluusual​ ‘s Punkin; @texasblues​ ‘s Anais

Part 1 here, Part 2 here

Use the stage. That was easy, since the group with their eyes pinned to him was a literal circle around the edge of the elevated floor. Although at first unsure of himself and dismayed that he was put on display just for the measly excuse that he sometimes was a little short on cash, he did like attention and no one’s wandered. Not even Madame’s although she watched from a distance, allowing the girls to have the front row. This song was a long one, but he had been given no indication how long he was going to be required to stay up here. Slowly, he mapped out the breadth of the stage, learning where the spotlights hit more frequently and their patterns. They were multicolored and he marked which color was where. As he walked, his feet and hips moved of their own will to the music. Madame hadn’t been wrong; his ass was good for dancing. When he first swayed to the music, he earned a giggly round of praise. He saw a few of the girls elbow their neighbors, and more than one of them whispering to each other, even as their eyes were still locked on him. Grabbing the pole made the whispers stop temporarily, but he didn’t capitalize on it. He knew a tease was better than giving it all away at the beginning. The song was half over, and he hadn’t done anything but walk the stage. Casting a glance over to Madame Bouriseau and seeing her drop her chin like she was going to reprimand him, Beetlejuice took the hint and loosened his tie. That caught everyone’s attention. Quickly he thought back over what he’d seen strippers do and how they worked their audience . . . okay, so he’d never watched male strippers--much--but a slow reveal of skin was always more fun than an immediate disrobing. With that in mind, instead of taking it off completely, he left the knot loose and the tie hanging down his chest. His fingers working automatically, he undid the top buttons on his shirt as his lower half got more into the music. At least this song was explicit and almost like an instruction to guide his hips. He didn’t doubt it was a deliberate choice, maybe to make it slightly easier for him at the beginning. Each button pop lead to an increase in noise around him. Seeing that he had everyone’s rapt attention, Beetlejuice lost his reservations. He was being forced to dance for their enjoyment? Then he’d pay his tab in full. Maybe even put himself in the black. By the end of Nine Inch Nail’s telling everyone how he’d penetrate them, he’d found his groove. He hadn’t lost much of his clothing yet, just a teasing show of pale skin and suggestive thrusting that many watching him knew intimately. He was well warmed up for the next song to come up, “Horns” by Bryce Fox, and then to everyone’s delight, he did start dropping clothing. He tossed his jacket to Beatrix, who shook her head but smiled and wrapped it over her shoulders. There was no sexy way to get rid of his shoes or socks, so he called Vivian and Lyra closer. He actually sat down on the edge of the stage and paid them direct attention as they unlaced his shoes and stripped him of them and his socks themselves; he figured the rule of “no touching” was negated when he got a bouncer to be the one to do it. As a reward, he kissed them both lightly, teasingly, as he got back to his feet and resumed. A song sung in Russian--courtesy of Ivan? Beetlejuice wasn’t sure who was selecting the music--came up, and he used the rhythm of it to extract himself from his shirt. He may not have the build of a typical dancer, but this reveal made all them laugh and cheer. To his surprise, Lorelai whistled and held up a bill in her fist. Zia, who’d come out from behind the bar to join the crowd, laughed and held up her own money. Emboldened, Beetlejuice dropped to his hands and knees and took their money with his teeth. Back on his feet, he shoved the paper money into his pants, earning more cheers. Suddenly more people were offering him bills. “Poison” from Alice Cooper came on, and that was good enough to move sensually, making sure to make eye contact with each and every one of them, and start to get rid of the rest of this pesky clothing. His belt was gone, each jerk through the belt loops in his trousers emphasized with the beat of the music, and by the time he popped the button on his fly, the next song-- “Army of Me”, by Bjork--started, his hand was on his zipper. When he paused, he felt someone shove their hand into his back pocket. Running his hand over his own ass, he came away with more money. Evvie winked at him and he spun into a crouch, planting a kiss on her too. This song was slower, which helped with this big reveal. Unlike Madame’s prediction up in her office, he was wearing underwear tonight. Nothing fancy and more grimy than not, but he hadn’t had time to prepare. They were going to get what they got. Making sure they were all watching closely, Beetlejuice undid his zipper, and took an inordinate amount of time shimmying out of his pants, deliberately bending over and making eye contact with as many of his audience as he could. They all waited with bated breath, their hands still in the air but not vying for his attention at the moment. Then, with every eye in the place riveted to him, he dropped his pants and kicked them over the ring of girls around the stage. Anias had to duck but shrieked in laughter. The roar that went up was worth it. Beetlejuice continued his circuit, feeling pumped up, allowing his audience to run their hands over his legs and chest and ass. More random money was shoved into his briefs. Dancing was hardly a term for what he was doing, but that didn’t seem to matter. He just found whatever beat from whatever song was playing--”Hourglass” by Set it Off, “Girly” by the Refreshments--and let it guide him. When he slowed for a moment, letting his hips move in half time, someone shouted over the noise, “What about that pole?” It sounded like Lamia. “This pole?” he replied, grabbing his crotch, to everyone’s ultimate delight. He caught her eye, and with a cheeky grin went to the pole she actually meant, standing astride it and running his hands over it like it as a substitution for what was in his underwear. A much thicker, shinier substitution. The music from one song was blending to another and although he stroked the pole, he waited until he knew what he was working with before moving more than that. “You Spin Me”. But harder than the original. Perfect; he couldn’t have asked for better. He grinned and blew a kiss to Lamia, then mounted the pole. That earned him the wildest cheer and encouragement yet. Graceful, no, but enthusiasm played better for his crowd. He hadn’t realized what strength it took to use the prop, and before he knew it his arms were shaking. A thin silk cloth fluttered to the stage and he took a moment’s break to wipe his hands. Looking upward, he caught Xanthe’s eye and realized she’d been watching the show from a different vantage point. He tied the silk around his waist. Before going back to the pole, he walked the edge of the stage again, letting the colored lights play over him. The girls made rude suggestions and that made him laugh. More bills were slipped under the silk and into his underwear, and more than one hand fondled his junk or ass. In fact, he spun to the girls nearest him--Lollipop and Punkin--and offered them his hands. “Come up?” With quick shrugs and squeals, they did. Then he offered the same invitation to all of them, assisting them up if they weren’t close to the stairs. Anais he caught by the waist and lifted her up onto the stage; she shrieked in laughter and squeezed his upper arms as he moved her, He extended hands even to Zia, Niphera, and Ivan. Dante’s barkeeps hesitated, then joined the group on stage. The bouncer stayed on the floor with his arms crossed, although he looked amused. Beetlejuice waded through the group to the edge of the raised floor and gave Madame a saucy smirk and an eyebrow raise that invited plenty. She declined taking his outstretched hand and stepping up with a shake of her head, but smiled as well. By the time he’d frowned his disappointment the stage was full of laughing dancers he had been tasked to entertain. Hands roamed over him. Bodies pressed against him. He touched and squeezed and ground back. Maybe this was supposed to be some kind of lesson, but it was starting to feel more like a reward. A song about snakes came up and the used that to his advantage, moving sensually through the crowd of them, making contact with as many of them as possible. When it finally stopped, a single pair of hands clapped for the group. “I think he’s paid you back,” Madame Bouriseau announced to them. She was met with groans of dismay and that maybe he hadn’t quite yet. She smiled indulgently. “He’s danced for forty minutes,” she replied, because of course she’d kept track of something as mundane as that, “and that’s longer than a standard set for any of you.” There was nothing to do but agree. Slowly they exited off the stage. They all got a moment’s personal attention, and it was Mal who helped him off the stairs so she could return to the pole herself. 

Ivan had collected his discarded clothing and escorted him back to Madame. With one arm holding his balled up clothing, he picked bills out of his underwear with the other hand as he went. “You’ll return all that to the girls,” she informed him. Beetlejuice glanced up at her, about to argue. Then he shut his mouth with a snap. “Perhaps if you’d like to earn your own money, we can find a time for you to return and dance for real customers. That might go over very well! I’m sure we can design a costume that riffs on your favorite suit.” As if a concerned mother, she straightened his tie, which had never come off. “You did well up there, Lawrence,” she praised. “If you’d like, we can retire to my private quarters for the evening. You deserve a little pampering after all that, I believe.” She didn’t often extend an offer like that to him. He usually spent time behind closed doors with one of the girls, and that was fine. But tonight was unique-- “|Yeah. I’d like that,” he replied. With a smile, Madame led him by his tie through the club and back up the stairs. 

fin!

[vicunaburger]

Some of us cool kids on our Discord server decided to have a little fun this week and create some Inferno Girls OCs!

If you wanna see more lovely ladies, gents, and NB lovelies, check out the “#infernooc” tag.

Without further ado...

Poppy “Lollipop” Remington

More information under the cut!

Name/Stage Name: Poppy “Lollipop” Remington

Year/Cause of Death/Age: 1988, sawblade to the chest, 25

Favorite Dancing Song: Dead or Alive’s “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)” (or anything 80s synth pop/new wave)

Role in the House: Dancer/Payroll “Payment Enforcer” -Prefers dancing on stage and working behind the scenes of the club to 1-1 clientele. Very self conscious about her less than stellar appearance

Hair/Skin Color: Mauve/pink hair, mint green skin, small orange horns normally surrounded by teased hair, 5’8, plus sized and proud/ a thin scar runs from her hairline to the bridge of her nose diagonally down to the left; a giant, nasty scar runs the length of her torso from neck to navel, matching an identical scar along her back, she tries to hide them by tying corset lacing patterns every few days along the length of the wounds

Relationship with Beej?:

- Movie!Beej: - Calls him “Dead Man” or “ATM” for kicks. Enjoys him as a client because he pays well and knows just how to sweet-talk her into giving him a discount on private dances. She pretends to fuss about it, but doesn’t mind in the long run, since he always makes it worth her while. He’s much nicer than her usual clientele and doesn’t treat her like a complete ditz, despite it being her “character” during her sets on stage. He’s one of the very select clients she’ll sleep with, as she’s more akin to a “hostess” in a club rather than a prostitute. She loves the fact she can be a complete brat and snark off to him, and he just loves it. He’s also the only one she’ll drink with while on and off the job, because she is a party girl and goddamn if he isn’t a party. Beej is one of the few people outside of the other girls at the club that knows how she ended up on the other side, as she changes the story every time to keep clients from being too nosy.

-Musical!Beej: - Calls him “Honey Bunny” and nothing else. Thinks he is the cutest, most adorable demon to walk into the Inferno Room. Immediately perks up when he visits during her shifts, even more when he books private time with her because most of the time is spent making each other laugh in the middle of intimacy. They’re both very handsy when they’re together, sharing a mutual touch-starved affection with each other. Poppy doesn’t find herself on par with the other girls of Dante’s and hesitates to initiate physical contact with patrons. However, she will drop whatever she is going to at least go over and greet Beej before going back to work and considers him her special VIP client. The two of them have been spied occasionally partying outside the Inferno Room together on her nights off, often in the midst of causing mischief and mayhem upon the unsuspecting Neitherworld citizens. He was the first one to get her to “loosen up” after her untimely death.

Clothing Style:

- On Stage: bright 80s lace realness, legwarmers, tulle skirts, THE WORKS

- Working the Floor: tight athletic wear “Physical” video glam, the only fabric in the world to dance with is LYCRA

-Office/Off Duty Wear: casual 80s preppy vibe, oversized jackets with dresses, polo shirts with popped collars, handkerchief skirts

Backstory:

The summer of ‘88 was not turning out the way Poppy Remington expected.

Not only did her father temporarily cut off her only source of income, but the only way to get it back was to work a job during the summer to prove she could be a responsible adult. For a few months, at least, her father wasn’t expecting miracles. The only short-term notice job available was working the local overnight camp as a counselor, which she reluctantly agreed to take at her friends’ urging. They were all going to work there that summer.

Supposedly.

On the night before they would set off for camp, the group decided to throw one last bash before they were shackled with the responsibility of making sure children didn’t get themselves killed in some horrible accident. One of her best friends had the idea to use the yard outside of the abandoned sawmill for the party. It was out of the way with no chance of being bothered by the cops.

Which meant, naturally, that when things started to go downhill, there was no way out for the unsuspecting adults.

The 2x4 shook violently with the force of her grip, splinters digging into her palms as she shifted the weight of the weapon backwards. Ahead of her, the open door of the sawmill swung wide open as if to taunt her; beckoning her to make a run for it while the room was clear. There was no possible way the crazed “Mill Murderer” could have made it from the farmhouse to the mill ahead of her. He was knocked prone on the kitchen floor with a swift blow to the back of his masked head.

Poppy licked her chapped lips, glancing at the body of her – now ex- boyfriend, shorn in half by the supposedly broken lumber saw. She had told him to wait for her before going to check out the sawmill, but like the idiot he was, Chad decided to play macho man and go tearing through the grounds like the energizer bunny.

“Ugh, you were so cute, but so stupid.” She muttered to the body, kicking off her high heels in preparation to bolt out the door.

In a flash, Poppy sprinted toward the other side of the sawmill, focused on nothing else but reaching the running police car outside.

Of course, that meant she wasn’t paying attention to the ground, causing her to trip over some unfortunate victim’s severed arm and tumble headfirst to the ground. She managed to land on her arms but hit her head on a small pile of discarded lumber scraps. Her face felt like it was on fire, already feeling the blood seep out of the gash that spread from her hairline to her nose.

Poppy tried to stand, managing to get halfway up on her own before being helpfully pulled up and off her feet by a large, gloved hand. Screaming in anger, she swiped at the masked killer, trying to find some vulnerable part of him to attack.

Was he waiting for her to run? Did he plant the arm there as a trap?

The Mill Murderer carried Poppy by the throat as she struggled, back to a corner of the room she hadn’t explored before now. Trying to turn her head and see their destination, her eyes widened as she saw the ridiculously convenient, oversized table saw just waiting to be used. Doubling her efforts, Poppy tried to dislodge herself from his grip, and dug her nails into a bit of skin that was exposed under his gloves.

He howled in pain, tossing her away from him like an angry cat-

-right on top of the dormant sawblade.

Poppy felt the serrated, rusty blade digging into her back, unaware of just how deep the tool had impaled itself within her. Maybe it was the shock, maybe she was fueled by pure spite and an unwillingness to give up so easily, but something was keeping her alive. Even though she spit a mouthful of blood at him as he loomed above her, tilting his head as though impressed that she was lasting so long. People only bled out of their mouths like that when their lungs and esophagus were thoroughly punctured.

Not wanting to risk this angry woman gaining a second wind, he quickly slammed her torso further down onto the blade, watching it sever a line down the middle of her chest before she stopped squirming around. He waited a few moments before gathering himself and shuffling out of the sawmill: that was definitely a victim worth writing about in his journal.

--

Poppy stared angrily into the mirror, wincing as she pulled the neon pink thread through the tender skin of her chest. Just a few more stitches and she would be ready to go, already hearing the halfway mark of the performer’s show currently on stage. She was next, despite her best efforts to change to a later time slot, and now had to do a rush job on her sewing.

At least she had gotten Madame to sew up her back earlier that day. It was hell trying to stitch backwards in a mirror. Most of the other girls shied away from such a gruesome task, but she could always count on Madame to help her without complaint. It was embarrassing to even need such care and attention, and Poppy did her best to make up for her physical flaws but working extra hard behind the scenes of the Inferno Room.

Tying a cute, knotted bow at her collarbone, she snipped the thread with a pair of scissors before wrapping her lace bustier around her torso, snapping it into place. Her favorite acid-wash denim jacket was next, sliding across her shoulders like a comforting blanket. The scar on her face could be hidden with makeup and clever hair styling; small favors she had learned to appreciate the longer she performed.

Poppy leaned forward into the mirror, checking for any lipstick stains on her pointed teeth, “Just one set, and then we’re all his for the night.”

Thinking about him made all of her efforts seem inconsequential, already picking out the flaws in her stitching from under the lace of her top. She could have taken a little more care with them… and maybe she needed more volume in her hair? Tonight was a bad night for mousse. What was the point of having limp, lifeless hair when her favorite was coming to see her? Would he think she didn’t care? Or that she wasn’t good enough anymore and he would seek companionship elsewhere?

She barely acknowledged her five-minute warning, waving the stage manager off with a huff, too focused on trying to blend out part of the scar that touched the bridge of her nose.

[lazifyre]

We did an Inferno Girl OC challenge on my BJ discord server and this was my go! We’re using the hashtag InfernogirlOC and I really recommend checking out everyone else’s, they’re all so good!!! This was so much fun to do

My Inferno Girl is Ida Denholm, known at the inferno as Vivian. She died in 1802 when she was tried and charged for manslaughter, and was subsequently drawn and quartered. She runs the phones at the club and is known for her wild personality.

[memedemonhours]

I’ve made an Inferno Girl OC!

Lyra aka Belladonna

Death by stalker in 1979. Stabbed in the stomach while walking home from work, died of blood loss in an alley. She was 26.

She worked a lot of odd jobs, mostly bar tending. She gained a stalker from her community college classes. He was never arrested in her life, she had to become vigilant in trying to keep away from him and using various routes to get home to keep him off her trail. Unluckily, that did not work for very long.

Her afterlife has the mission of taking down creeps. A ghost trap, spent years attracting men to the alley and killing them. Her anger built up into a lot of power that she can hone very well. Effectively a Jennifer’s Body succubus. She was eventually recruited to the Inferno because she became infamous to breathers, so she lost most victims and was in trouble with the case workers. Her strength was valuable to the establishment.

Bright red hair and dark eyes, her skin is paper white due to blood loss as her cause of death. Stomach scars where she was stabbed, some still appear open as open wounds. Covers them with her dress she got from work. Finds the “sexy devil” look is enticing to customers.

Actually a bouncer for Dante’s as well as a worker, she’s very good at weeding out the creeps. Appears to be harmless due to her small stature, but her anger built as a vengeful ghost makes her dangerous.

Enjoys the development of pop music that’s come about after her death. Favorite song to dance to is Cannibal by Kesha.

She has difficulty trusting people, affects on her from her paranoia in life. She becomes more comfortable with her fellow Inferno coworkers, but retains her walls with customers.

Relationship with Movie!Beej: doesn’t trust him very much. He has surprisingly never been kicked out of Dante’s though, so she’s never had to bring the hammer down on him, so she keeps him as an acquaintance. She has her eye on him though. He’s definitely tried to convince her to take his money for some “private time” but she only dances and and keeps as a bouncer so she turns him down.

Relationship with Musical!Beej: he got too close and she had to swing at him. He’s since learned boundaries very well so they are more friendly as time has gone on. He somehow has the ability to make her smile, and sometimes even laugh which is a rarity. Has taken care of him when he’s gotten too drunk at the bar a few times, mostly drags him to an empty bedroom to sleep it off.

At work wears flashy and red, has a devil motif because she thinks it’s fun and finds it hilarious. When off the clock she wears ripped jeans mostly and tee shirts and flannels.

Likes:

-fun music

-getting rid of creeps

-fishnets

-vodka

-flowers

Dislikes:

-rude and rowdy clientele

-disrespect

-weird drama

-the netherworld system

-people assuming that she’s weak

[jester-junk]

My Inferno Girl: Zia Rookey

Zia Rookey was an art student and died with 25 years only half a year ago after she came home from a LARP festival. She's still a fledgeling when it comes to her time in the Netherworld and there is a lot she doesn't know yet. Still, she tries to cope and get by, which is why she eventually found herself on the steps of Dante's Inferno Room, asking for a job. Again. And again. After lots of begging, she assumed the role of the bartender (despite initially winging every single cocktail she mixes. She also lost count of all the glasses she broke so far). Zia helps clean the place as well, in exchange for a sleeping area to call her own on the top floor. She greatly prefers the single room over the house she's still bound to for a few more centuries. Not once has she explained why, and luckily, people generally don't pry in the Netherworld.

She's not a dancer, but she uses a Stage Name nonetheless, never revealing her true identity. While the Inferno Girls and the Madame call her "Jinx" because of her clumsy attitude and ability to wreak havoc within mere seconds, she tends to pick random names each time a customer asks. She'll just look at what's around her and improvise accordingly. Fawks, Button or Red Velvet are just a few examples of names customers use when conversing with her.

The cause of her death is no secret - she bled to death because of an abdominal stab wound. How it happened, though, is a mystery. Every time someone asks, Zia changes the story, but it always ends with her being clumsy and killing herself in a stupid accident. She always jokes how she technically should've become a Case Worker, but the way she died was so embarrassing and ridiculous, they couldn't stomach (Ba dum tss) having her among them and made an exception for her. The truth that she's been killed by her abusive boyfriend is only known by her Case Worker, and their pledge of secrecy keeps them from spreading the word. Zia is very much in denial about her passing, and joking or lying is her way to cope. Other than that she has a cheeky, sometimes sarcastic attitude, but overall she's friendly to everyone who treats her with respect and as an equal, despite her inexperience in the Land of the Dead. She loves to make people laugh and forget their worries for at least a little bit. If you need someone to cause lighthearted trouble and play pranks, she's your gal. She ain't no snitch and will never reveal a secret someone entrusted her with.

The fact that she's a murder victim cause her to be triggered by people who think everything happens for a reason, or that things are just meant to be a certain way. She will not get along with them and will leave the room instead of staying in their presence. She also has difficulties being in the proximity of murderers. 

Her regular clothing style as a bartender is nothing extravagant (red, green or purple blouse, black vest, short skirt and Dr. Martens boots that fit the colour of her shirt) and she rarely alters her appearance. Never change a running system. When she's alone in her room she prefers baggy clothes, loving to wear shorts and shirts too large for her size. She feels safe in them. Especially if they’ve got silly or nerdy prints on them. She is absolutely fine with wearing clothes that reveal her neck, back, arms or legs, but she will never wear anything that would show her stomach. She guards and hides the scar on her front vigorously. She swears that nobody will ever see her completely naked. The damaged pearl in her hair is something she only takes off to shower or sleep. 

She has always been very pale, and while she should be deathly white now, she makes it a habit of changing her skin tone to something more lively while working. She keeps up the charade until she’s alone in her room. When she thinks nobody’s watching, she often practices her shapeshifting abilities. She likes to grow sharp fangs and admire them in the mirror, the involuntary drooling, however, keeps her from displaying them while on the job.

She doesn't quite know what to make of Keatlejuice. He only ever approaches her for booze and never showed any real interest in small talk or even deeper conversations, which is fine by her, as she thinks he's a little creepy. She sometimes watches him leave with Inferno Girls to the private booths, but isn't jealous in any shape or form. They acknowledge each other. From a distance. That's enough for now.

Musicaljuice is entirely different. They love to talk until it's time to close up and she will draw funny faces for him on napkins and exchange puns while mixing his favourite drinks. She knows deep down there's a good core inside of him and she wants him to succeed in finding happiness, never realising that she might play a part in that. He eventually finds out her last name and will never stop calling her Rookie because of her inexperience about the whole being dead thing. She plays pranks on him nearly every time he's there and it's her personal highlight to aggravate him.

No matter the AU (if she’s alive or dead), she will eventually fall in love with Musicaljuice (preferably Bright!Juice), but she’s adamant on keeping it a secret. 

[jeuchrit]

The Fortunate (NSFW)

Keatlejuice X M (Inferno OC) Ivan

Disclaimer: I have never written Beetlejuice before so this is my first attempt at doing this. I’m using my Inferno OC Ivan; this is NSFW!

Tag list: @clairjohnson , @go-commander-kim , @neitherworld , @memedemonhours , @darkrimmedeyes

It hadn’t been the death he had wanted, going out on his knees with a bag over his head in mid-winter. But after that first murder, it wasn’t like he had expected himself to continue to live a normal life either. To age peacefully in Moscow’s low-income housing, a small fortune amassed in his name. What a life it could have been. Could. But he had found a greater calling to follow and just when it had begun to hit it’s peak, when it had all began to come together in one final revelation of understanding the lights had been shut out on him. 

Ivan had thought of hell many times before. When he had sat in his cell it was one of the only things on his mind. Just what it would look like for him now that he had committed one of the ultimate sins against God; 6 times to be exact. 

It felt nearly comical that in his life he had been killing girls and now in his after life he was protecting them. It reminded him of a proverb; “Fortune and misfortune live in the same courtyard”. While his death had been a misfortune in his eyes his afterlife had been, fortunate, for lack of a better word. 

Dark brown eyes looked up, past the beer belly, to the pasty, moss patched-covered man before him. Yes. So fortunate. Pale pinkish-blue lips parted themselves to take the tip of the wriggling stripped tentacle in his mouth. Clawed hands finding themselves tangled in Ivan's blonde-white hair as a satisfied grunt came from the man. 

Beetlejuice. 

Not his favorite customer. 

Beetlejuice. 

Women lover and girl fanatic. 

Beetlejuice.

Still somehow always came back to Him for more. 

“You got lockjaw down there?” There was little time for Ivan to answer or even move before Beetlejuice bucked his hips forward, forcing the larger man to take more of the wriggling thing in his mouth. His throat nearly clenching shut when the tip of it hit up against it. 

“Ain’t that much better?” 

There’s a snort of laughter as Ivan threw Beetlejuice a warning glare. The squirming thing in his mouth was almost repugnant, it’s owner wasn’t too far behind. Breath reeking of alcohol and body smelling of cheap cologne. Beetlejuice’s smug look of confidence shifted to one of twitching pain as the Russian pressed half-moons into the man’s hips, hands attempting to hold him still. 

Pulling his head back Ivan’s attention shifted to the thing in his mouth. Thick and slick with wet, he tried to ignore the taste. He’s certainly had, had better. Pink-blue lips stretch over it once more as he sunk his head down on the appendage, a pleased hiss escaping from Beej. 

A rhythm began to start up. His head bobbing on the stripped cock as his throat closed tight around it each time he went down. Air was whistling through Ivan’s nostrils as he tried so desperately to not choke on it, even if Beej would love that of him. 

His hands had moved from the salesman’s hips to thighs now, their grip tight as he placed a majority of his attention in his working his tongue on the underside of the unusual cock and rest of his attention in not dying (again). He carefully placed his teeth down on the cock, gently dragging them up to the tip. He’s had enough practice to know what exactly to do now and the motion was enough to make the smaller man’s knee bounce as he shuddered. 

Ringed fingers tightened themselves in Ivan’s hair as a warning of what was to come. 

“Easy with the teeth, comrade. I ain’t paid for any biting.” 

The tug on his hair became a rough yank as Ivan was forcefully pulled upward, a dazed look in his brown eyes. 

“What a look, I outta take a picture of that. Big guy like you on you’re knees. Really does it for ya huh Ivan?” 

The Russian could only groan in his agreement as he was pushed right back down onto the thing. Drool that has been collecting on the sides on his mouth now dripped down his chin, his breathing had turned more ragged then he would have liked. 

“Nevermind Lockjaw, you’re practically slack-jawed now!”

The pulls on his hair kept the pace as Ivan’s cheeks hollowed themselves, desperate now to just get the salesman to cum. Any more of this rough abuse and he was going to choke. 

It took only a couple more rough thrusts into Ivan’s cold wet mouth before the thing was pulled out with a slick pop. It took one tight gripped stroke from Beej however for hot thick strands of cum to hit Ivan's face. His instinct was to keep his mouth closed but he knew better and like the good dog he was, kept his mouth open and eyes closed. 

It was a solid minute of ragged breathing between the two men. Ivan’s eyes fluttering open almost prettily as he gazed up at Beetlejuice. Even if his expression was almost deadpan, his heaving chest and slightly pinked cheeks gave away just how much he too, had enjoyed himself; as if the bulge in his colorful pants wasn’t already a rather big hint. 

Beetlejuice had relaxed into the plush red sofa he was sat on, breath equally as ragged as his green eyes took in the picture before him. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who had fun” A foot pressed painfully against Ivans bulge, making the Russian let out a heavy huff of air. “C’mon comrade! I’d say it’s your turn for a big finish.” 

Yes. He thought as the grip on his hair loosened so he could stand. So fortunate. 

[humanransome-note]

ya know, well you probably don't, I don't really have an emotional relationship with my own face... i recognize it as mine, but that's a factual recognition, not an emotional one, which is probably why i usually give my character's my features.

in Mary's case, she literally just has my face

to give you an idea of how detached I am from my own face, I only realized I had freckles when I opened up the reference photo and it filled up the program canvas, they're faint, and idk if they'd be more or less obvious with some sun. but i literally didn't know i had freckles

there's probably some psych analysis that can be done with the fact that I made a character that has the only part of my dead name i felt any real identification with, and my face.

with a lot of scaring

there's also something to be said about the fact that i have made another character missing an eye

[clairjohnson]

So I’m writing another thing n I had YouTube playing in the background ride by ciera came on nd I had a flashback to the day I figured out I was a simp for a nice set of legs. What I’m saying is lamia can step on me nd I’d probably say thank you (same apples to Niphera)

AW thanks! That’s totally valid. You’re not the only one who’s a leg guy, btw. ♥ (also, can’t wait to see what you write next!)

[spooky-raccoon]

I keep forgetting to post her haha

But I made a Dante's Inferno OC for a friends server.

Her relationship with Beetlejuice is she's giving him a few escort specials (she's weak for a man who can make her laugs and she likes to joke back with him)

She can look snooty sometimes but she's an actual sweetheart who usually takes the 'mom' role in friend groups.

She was a wealthy woman when she was alive, married rich but after her husband started to have an affair with another woman he started to poison Beatrix. She eventually succumbed to it.

She enjoys her work at the club, finding the energy of the place to be more lively and exciting than life ever had.

[vampyrefay]

I really want to make a dantes inferno oc becase all of them look beautiful and it seems really fun! But idk if i'd be allowed since i'm not part of the discord the idea from

[turtlepated]

Meet Evvie, my Inferno girl OC! Created for a challenge on Discord.  Link to her bio below.

Photo manipulation by me, of a photograph taken by Alfred Chaney Johnston of Myrna Darby cir. 1920s

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_Ml-aq3XKUUISkX4QkpNYhedSZ1xzL4qDEjAbWw4n9M/edit?usp=sharing

[memedemonhours]

I’m getting addicted to making my Inferno Girl OC in picrew