Chapter Text
My internet speed’s at 35 kilobytes a second. This really is Hell.
A little wick of flame flickered from where I’d assume my eyebrows would be. In the reflection of my monitor, that lovely question-marked face stared back at me, the fire trickling up from around my temple, subsiding a bit as the thread finally loaded.
Just the usual low-quality discussions. Now how can I make everyone mad?
Despite ending up here, doomed to languish in Hell for all eternity, I’m able to continue one of my favorite pastimes from when I was still alive. Which was, of course, making people angry online. Well, “people” is a bit of a stretch when it comes to here.
My name’s Anon Y. Mous. Just “Anon”, since that’s what everyone’s called me since forever. I ended up in this dump in the Pride Circle only a little bit ago. Time kind of flies when all you do is shitpost on dial-up internet while putting up soundproofing foam on your walls to drown out the various arguments, domestic violence, and the fornication occurring above, below, and around me in the adjacent apartment rooms.
God, the fornication. Seems to rotate in a cycle similar to the one I mentioned above. It’s what I have to deal with considering I’m broke as shit and can’t afford to live somewhere nicer in Hell, as nonsensical as that sounds. Therefore, I’m surrounded by imps.
“Damnit, Kray! Where the fuck have you been?! The rent’s due!”
“Oh, will you shut the fuck up, woman! I was in the bloody mines for fourteen hours today!”
Ah, seems the cycle has reset for the couple above me. Guess Sinsmass really is a temporary bandage to patch up relationships before everything goes back to normal.
Regardless, the racket was beginning to become more annoying than usual for my tastes, so I turned my attention back to the thread.
Seems the thread refreshed. Let’s see… what to post… ah! Here we go.
Some keystrokes later, and my face contorted into whatever smile it could perform since my hellish transformation. I relished in looking over what was about to be my extremely high-quality contribution to the ongoing conversation in the forum.
*Post*
That oughta get a few replies.
Satisfied with my work for the day, and wanting to evacuate the apartment before the inevitable domestic violence stage breaks out, I kicked off my blanket and prepared myself to head outside. Despite being Hell, it was damn cold outside. Apparently the seasons worked here too. Who knew?
Some places were likely to give some deals on stock they hadn’t moved for Sinsmass, so that’d be my indicator to get some cheap booze. At least I could have some NEETish fun before I’d have to consider looking for a job down here. Nothing really seemed appealing considering I’d have to work with the denizens of Hell. Despite me being a “sinner”, a human who died back on Earth and is now damned to suffer here for eternity, I’m considered higher on the social ladder than most citizens here.
Sure didn’t feel that way. Probably because I’m too fucking lazy to make use of it.
I opened the door, and a potent breeze carrying the scent of brimstone and piss battered my body, making be breathe out a “fuck”.
Walking along the sidewalk and whipping out my phone, I scrolled to the thread I posted in. Sure enough, there were about twenty or so responses to my little joke varying from slurs, accusations of me being an imp, and a few saying “based” or something along those lines. I honestly didn’t get much satisfaction. Baiting hellborn was just too easy compared to humans back when I was alive.
I pushed open the convenience store’s door, and trudged inside, flipping down my hood. Immediately, I’m met with a tragic sight. The shelves are almost entirely devoid of alcohol.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” I muttered under my breath as I scanned the store for any potential culprits for this grave infraction on my wellbeing, considering I recently passed by this place and saw stock in the window before.
Sure enough, some hellhound was at the counter with two bags filled to the brim of the booze that was supposed to be mine. Between the cold and the escalation of violence that would eventually turn to fucking in the apartment above mine, I exhaled out my nose, and began to search around for any liquor that had been spared by this mutt’s shopping spree.
Probably going through a breakup or something.
I heaved an exasperated sigh as I clutch a single six-pack of Infernal Lite, the shittiest brand of beer that I’ve ever had the misfortune of stomaching down. Figures it was the only thing left.
I stepped in line as the cashier was ringing up the hellhound’s purchases, one by one. The overgrown dog’s right ear flicked as I planted myself behind her, and she craned her neck to catch a glance at the sinner who had to settle for less. The huge flow of messy silver hair flopped down against her back, and piercing red eyes adorned with eyeshadow and eyeliner briefly met my face before snapping down at my pathetic little bundle of beer, then back up at my face.
The tiniest shit-eating grin grew across her muzzle.
“Ya snooze, ya lose.”
Letting my souring mood get the better of me, I was about to do something along the lines of calling her a “mutt”. That usually got them angry. But… something else was up. This wolf girl seemed to be in way too good of a mood for all of this crap to be going towards coping over some shitty event. In a rare moment, curiosity took over.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” I first deflected from her previous tease before looking back towards the stock of alcohol still being run up by the cashier, “What’s the occasion?”
The hellhound glanced back at her horde being processed before blowing a strand of her hair from her face, “Party at Bee’s. New year, all that bullshit. Just another excuse to trash the place. Aren’t you going or something?”
Before I could speak up, the hellhound’s eyes narrowed and she sniffed the air. She instantly recoiled backwards.
“Holy fuck, you reek of being terminally ill with ‘fuck-all going on in their life’. Maybe that’s the kind of people Bee’s been trying to drag into her parties,” this flea-ridden beast squished her nose in disgust.
“Sinners aren’t invited to Beelzebub’s parties, last I heard,” I replied, “Let alone, able to exit the Circle of Pride.”
“They aren’t. But I guess she’s had a change of heart to let you jackasses slither your way to her place this one time since she started going on and on about how some could fuck shit up with their parties back when they were alive. Oh, ‘like, they gotta come this time around so this party can get fucked up’,” the hellhound imitated the valley-girl accent of the Sin of Gluttony that plastered ads on my streaming services before I began to pirate, “But… looking at you, I don’t think you got that message.”
Oh, fuck you, you god damned overgrown flea circus.
“Oh yeah, that. I was tuned out from those flyers because some bitch was buying the booze I was going to bring over to Queen Bee’s party,” I lied without a shred of integrity, “And now you’ve doomed me to showing up with fuckin’ Infernal Lite.”
Obviously, the hellhound didn’t buy my fib, and I was hit with an utterly brutal verbal beatdown, “Hey, I couldn’t give two shits. But y’know what I’d love to see? You going to that party and making an absolute dumbass clown of yourself. I mean, I know that you were going to just go back to whatever shithole you live in and drink that piss in a can while jackin’ off alone, but please, and I actually am begging you to come so I can get some killer Sinstagram reels of you doing some pinhead dipshit crap.”
Her chest was rising up and down as she sought to get air back into her lungs after she expelled it all at me. Those little quippy one-liners had been replaced by an entire essay on insulting my ego, and my manhood. Though replaying it briefly in my head, something seemed off. Was it projection of some kind?
Hang on. Where have I seen this hellhound before?
Not bothering to respond, I took out my phone, causing the mutt in front of me to perk an eyebrow up in annoyance and anticipation. I tapped on the Sinstagram app, and scrolled down a fair amount. The wolf girl seemed to catch on to what I was doing, but was powerless to stop the pure, unbridled strength of my scrolling thumb as it landed on a particular post of this same wolf girl in question. In the reel, she was blasting vomit out of her mouth in a disgustingly glorious spray of bile, obviously from having too much to drink at a previous party. Her lips quivered back into a scowl as a low growl emanated from her throat. I looked at the post, then back up at her.
I smiled warmly and chuckled, “Nice to meet you, Loona.”
“Argh! Fuck you!” the hellhound named ‘Loona’ grabbed her bags that had finished being scanned in a huff, slammed down cash on the counter, and arm-checked me out of the way before shouting back, “At least I didn’t get offed in a previous life!”
“Jokes on you, fleabag. I ain’t got a clue how that shit happened!” I realized my mistake in letting that detail fly out of my mouth too late, but the only response I received was the universal finger gesture of “go fuck yourself” as Loona turned the corner out of the store. Nevertheless, I gave a smirk, and plopped my shitty beer on the counter.
I realized too late that the imp behind the counter was filming the whole encounter, “Hah! This oughta get some likes…”
“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this…” my thoughts nagged me incessantly for trying to break my routine by going to a party of all things, “And yet here I am. I’ll be damned if I run into that hellhound again and get called a pussy for not showing.”
Examining myself in my cracked bathroom mirror, I looked back at the tiny bouts of fire that constantly streamed from my eyebrows. When I first got here, I’ll admit that I entertained myself a little by just staring at myself in the mirror, watching the little two blazes roll and wave. At least they were there, since they acted as my eyebrows. Now this, on the other hand…
I craned my chin up, and took a look at my neck again. A blacked ring circled around my throat like a collar, and branched off into dark night-colored veins reaching down towards my collarbone, and up just short of my jawline. That was there when I first took a look at my new self in the mirror, and it hadn’t gone away since.
Probably a disease of some kind. Wouldn’t be surprised if I caught, I dunno, super AIDS upon coming to Hell.
Whatever it was, it was fucking ugly as shit, and the attire that was sold here seemed to do its best to never cover up skin beyond my chest. Truly haram.
Regardless, it was a party that catered to the biggest degenerates that could ever exist, or so I believed. I doubt I’d be out of place with the leather jacket I decided to put on, and a pair of fingerless gloves. I swear, the gloves weren’t for being edgy; I’m just not used to touching all of the brimstone that’s fucking everywhere.
I gave a cliche’d flick of my jacket’s collar, gave a toothy smile, got startled yet again by the fact that my teeth in this new body had become far sharper than before, and checked my phone. Sure enough, the hottest topic was the New Year’s Party at Beelzebub’s place, and judging from the interaction, the shitshow was about to begin.
“Alright, buddy. You can just show up to say you’ve shown up, and you’ll get on by without doing something fucking dumb,” I spoke to my reflection, trying to psych myself up for the party, as utterly pathetic as it sounded, “You got this. You’ll show all of those jackasses back up there that they should’ve invited you back in college.”
I stepped out, and searched the address of of the Deadly Sin that allowed sinners, for once, to cross over to their home.
“Aw, fuck me,” I groaned as it was far away from my destitute abode, located within a whole other circle of hell “I’m not walking that.”
My rideshare sped off as I was still reeling from the funk that wafted around the stoners inside, hotboxing the driver’s car. He was in on it too; par for the course. I stuck my hands into my jacket’s pockets as I looked up towards what looked to be a very, very yellow and gold Beverly Hills, complete with Mexico-movie filter colored palm trees, and a span of white and gold architecture with a honey-colored hexagonal sky done with a spire sticking out of the top, making it look like, well, a bee’s ass.
I blinked at the house in front of me, and I gave my disdainful criticism of this vanity project-turned house, “What the fuck is this piece of shit?”
What became apparent after that critique was the noise emanating from the abode. The constant thumping of subwoofers assaulted my eardrums, even from outside. I knew that it would only get worse when I decided to go in.
“Now or never, Anon,” I mouthed as I trudged over towards the mansion, hands firmly dug into my pockets. The chatter and hollering of partygoers got louder and louder as I eyed the outskirts of the property. Imps, hellhounds, and the odd sinner here and there absolutely littered the front steps and raised lawn. The pungent aroma of alcohol was strong enough to assault my nose even from here as hellhounds were busy hyping each other up to do kegstands and quite literally, swim in gigantic cocktail glasses filled with fruity liquor, absolutely blitzed on the stuff. I heard music blasting from inside the house, with a common lyric being a drawn out and very autotuned “cotton candy”.
I stood at the front of the steps that took me up to the front entrance, which was flanked by two hellhounds wearing cones on their head, and swishing around booze inside of them like a funnel.
Well, it’s this, or being at home to do exactly what that “Loona” girl said she’d expect me to do.
I walked up to the glass doors, pushed both of them open, and was met with an unfold assault of pop music and debauchery. Sure, imps and sinners were invited, but the amount of hellhounds present made the gathering look like some sort of furry convention. Disgusting.
Regardless, I-
“Pull!”
A booming voice called out as a shadow loomed over my head and blotted out the party lights affixed to the multi-level galleries above. A huge keg shaped and colored like a translucent beehive was headed straight for me, sailing through the air and leaking out a thick, viscous liquid. Instinct took over, and I brought my hands in front of my face and recoiled back, convinced this missile was about to crash into me-
KA-BAM!
A gunshot rang out, and the casket exploded above me, spraying the booze everywhere, and utterly drenching me with the sweet-smelling drink. I was frozen in an expression I could only describe as terror and cowardice. From the corner of my eye, a sinner hollered like a maniac with a smoking shotgun, screaming, “Again, again! Gimme another to blow out of the sky!”
The attention turned back to me, with numerous hellhounds and imps pointing and laughing at my pathetic soaked form, and lighting me up with phone cameras and videos to post online.
“Oh, my hells. Sinners really do know how to be fuckin’ crazy,” a hellhound with thick, matted fur spoke to one of her friends as her fingers rapidly tapped on her screen to post her next reel, starring me.
“Maybe except this one,” another hellhound resembling a pug barely turned towards her friend to comment as she too was probably uploading the video.
I groaned, flicking my jacket to rid myself of this mess.
Then, I looked back up, and another hellhound in particular got done filming for her reel.
It was that same one back from the convenience store. Rather than her dark blue top and black shorts she had on before, she sported a short and form-hugging dark red dress. Likely party attire. I was stuck frozen for a second or two as I awaited whatever dumb bullshit this bitch would say to my face.
And the dumb bullshit started.
“Damn, this is just too good,” Loona chuckled as she finished with posting the video to what I could only assume was every social media she was on, “I was sure you weren’t going to come, but here you are, doing pinhead dipshit crap.”
Bits of the dripping booze splattered against my eyebrows, hissing off as I pointed up at the wolf’s snout, “Fuck off, I didn’t even do any of this. I was a bystander!”
Loona’s cheeks swelled as she couldn’t contain another laugh, “Holy shit, your eyebrows do that when you get mad? Fuck! You’re like a never ending entertainment act!”
Now that she mentioned it, my forehead felt a lot warmer than usual. My dumb fuckin’ eyebrows must’ve been blazing at full strength; a feature I never asked for, but I’m stuck with.
“Guess that’s why you don’t have any hair on your head, ‘Baldy’ ,” Loona snickered as she took another look at me, her expression changing briefly as despite my best efforts to keep it suppressed, I was absolutely seething (and coping) with pure, unbridled rage. It didn’t matter at that point if she finally got the hint that she might have gone too far. I could feel a vein bulge on my temple before-
“Ay-heeyyy~! Is that another sinnah stepping into my crib~?” a booming valley-girl accent thundered overhead as I was beholden to none other than the most devientart-OCish color palette I ever had the misfortune to see on a demon, “How’d you enjoy the splash zone? Shit’s fuckin’ tight, right?”
As this fox… bee… whatever thing descended towards me and Loona, I realized that this was Beelzebub, the Sin of Gluttony. A quick thought ran through my head about how I expected this sin to be some morbidly obese fuck, since, y’know, gluttony. But here I was, being wrong. Shocker, I know.
“Yo, Loona. Y’didn’t tell me you invited this guy. Poor shit’s looking like a deer in headlights,” Beelzebub snapped her attention to Loona, then back to me, “You try the Beelzejuice? Shit’ll get you fucked. Up.”
Before Loona could speak, I already had a little revenge plan in motion, and with the life of the party in front of me, I opted to execute it.
“Yeah… yeah! Loona here invited me. She was dying for me to come,” I spoke straight out of my ass, and mustered all of my newfound courage to flex my jacket, “She wasn’t gonna show up if I didn’t make it.”
Loona’s eyes grew as wide as dinner plates as she took a second to recover from my second big lie I’ve said to her face, “Wh-What?! Like fuck I did!”
“Hah! Okay, like- you are fuckin’ hilarious,” the Sin of Gluttony chortled with all four of her arms grasping her chest, “What’s your name, dude? I gotta know it so I can make sure you’re at my next party.”
No point in keeping it to myself anymore, at this point.
“Anon.”
“Anon? What kind of a name’s that?” Loona put a hand on her hip.
“Anoooon…” Beelzebub rolled my name off of her tongue as if she was savoring an edible, “Alright, Anon. You better keep your ass here, cause this party’s gonna get crazy as dick.”
It slowly began to hit me that I was conversing with one of the Seven Deadly Sins while back when I was alive, I could barely hold a conversation with strangers. Perhaps the sin’s extroversion was just so high that she could actually stand to occupy herself with someone whose favorite pastime was to see how many angry responses he could bait online.
“Yeeeah, hey. I’m gonna see how Tex’s doing,” Loona spoke up in what I figured was an obvious attempt to get out of this little pow-wow.
“That’s crazy, Loona. Trying to hit my man up like that?” Beelzebub gave a sly grin, “Biiiiiitch.”
“Ugh! Just…” Loona was about to finish her excuse, but opted to plod away. I saw her swipe a party cup straight out of an imp’s hands, down it as she walked past, and threw it away while flipping the bird behind herself.
I scoffed, expecting Bee to agree with my label of the hellhound “Wow. What a fucking bitch.”
The life of the party gave that same valley girl laugh again, and floated upside down in front of me, “Yeah, Loona’s pretty rough around the edges if you don’t know her. But like, actually get to know what swims around in that fucked up head of hers, and she’s like, actually not too much of a bitch.”
I gave the most incredulous look of doubt back at the sin’s face.
“Okay, she’s kind of a fuckin’ bitch. At times. Most of the time. Less so than before, so that’s a start,” Beelzebub began to prattle on as the music began to drown out her incessant chatter before she snapped back to actually saying something of substance, “Hey, Anon. Wanna know a little secret about Loona?”
“What? She has syphilis?” I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Hah! That’s fucked up. But no,” Bee began to start off, “When ‘Lunatic Loona’ first came to my parties, she was a messsss. Like, trying hard as shit to blend in, and then next thing you know, she’s barfing her fuckin’ guts out. Okay, so, there was this one time-”
I simply stood still as the ringing of tinnitus began to kick in.
“Look, Anon. What I’m trying to say is, like, just put your ass out there and have fun,” Bee got behind me and pushed me closer to the center of the party against my wishes, my heels making a noise across the marble ground as if I were a statue being shoved without a dolley, “It isn’t every day you can get fucked up for fun, so quit being such a little bitch, and enjoy the party.”
“Hey. Come here often?”
The question mark on my face angled to the left to find a well-toned imp trying to slide next to me on the wall I was leaning against as I took tiny sips out of my party cup.
“Nope,” I responded as matter-of-factly as I could. At this, the imp was taken aback, but nevertheless, pushed his chances.
“Y’know, you’re made’ve some hot stuff,” the flirter pointed at my eyebrows, “You could show me a little more of that heat in that closet over there.”
“I think you should go be an hero,” I spoke back, looking straight ahead.
“I should… uh… what?” the imp now adopted a look of bewilderment.
“Let me know when you look it up,” I responded back, my mood having been so far down in the gutter that I was beyond giving a shit anymore. The incessant music, the nonstop announcements and hollarings from Bee, and the interaction with Loona before had made this a hundred percent a shitty move to come here.
I could feel the flames on my brows dim as I huffed, “I need a smoke. This shit blows dick.”
Just as I turned to step away and make my way to the door, yet another party announcement was hooted from Bee, “Alright my fucking Bee-tches! Ya’ll having a fucked. Up. Time?!”
The uproar of howling from hellhounds, yapping from imps, and cheering from sinners did little to dissuade me from flipping up my favorite finger towards the source of the commotion.
“So, we’re gonna start the games!” Bee floated underneath the gigantic disco ball with her arm filled with all sorts of drinks, “The games that’ll floor you a fuckin’ week onwards!”
More hollering and hooting. Nope, I’m outta here.
“Alright, who wants to be the first volunteer- oh shit, no fuckin’ way. Loona? Damn, girl. You’re really trying to one-up me today,” I stopped for a brief second upon hearing that name, but now redoubled my efforts as I now caught a serious case of “don’t give a shit”.
“So, classic chugging contest. Get each other fuuuuuucked! And who’s the lucky guy, girl, or anyone in between who you’re calling to the table?”
The last sentence sent a shiver down my spine. I instantly booked it for the door, dropping my party cup in a desperate attempt to-
“Hey! I see Baldy over there! Get his ass here!” Loona stood up from the other side of the folding table, and pointed straight at me, causing me to freeze in my tracks as every single eye turned to gaze upon my caught ass.
I let out the only appropriate word I could in this situation.
"FUCK!”