Cobweb Couture & co.

Cobweb Couture & co. Est. 1936

The official hellblr page of Cobweb Couture tailors.

Your go to shop for the clothing of yester years! Our services include the creation of custom-made vintage clothing, fittings & alterations, clothing repairs, and more! Inquire about complex cases in store, or through our brand-new hell mail inbox!

We've recently reopened! Our cannibal town address is no longer accurate. PLEASE do not venture into cannibal town looking for us! Our new shop is located in the transitional territory between the entertainment district & Pentagram City. We do sincerely apologize for the inconvenience to loyal long-time customers in cannibal town, we will be offering house trips to save you the trip, Please contact us at XXX-XXX-XXXX to arrange house visits.

A word from Our Staff,

Beau | Founder & Owner| Tailor

"I'm happy to announce that after the devastating closure of the shop due to the last extermination, that we're back!, and there is no longer the risk of being mauled by cannibals. Hopefully, I had been receiving complaints about that for a number of years actually. "

Mutton | Seamstress/Customer Service Representative |

"Well Howdy! Oh, this is for that internet thing? Did Beau approve of that? You know how shitty he gets when you try to bring anything past 1943 in here. A word? I suppose, I'm Mutton! I usually work the counter where the register is at, I'm also the one who goes to cannibal town- I live there actually! Yeah, hell of a commute, huh? I'm kind of busy, so can we cut this short sweetie?"

Hazel | 'Modern" order handler & Tailor Apprentice |

"...I did NOT sign up to work here, I wondered in one day, and this spider guy looked at me, and was like "Did you make your clothes?". I said I did, and he dumped fabric in my arms and said I was in charge of "modern orders" except, I guess the shops definition of modern is the 50's-70's. I get paid, which, I suppose is cool. I'm trying to start a band If you wanna joi-"

Staff Photo!

OOC DISCLAIMER: Because I can see someone assuming, All my ocs here are ADULTS. I know Hazel is short, they're an adult. I do imply that they view Beau as a father figure, but that's because he's a mentor to them, If ya notice they're his apprentice.

OOC: This is a Hazbin Hotel OC RP and lore dump blog. I made it to have a place to talk and RP with my ocs so I didn't keep clogging my Alastor-Centric Sideblog. That blog being @terriblealastorart If I'm talking OOC it will be with this text, the "A word from the staff" section is to show what character text looks like, and what characters you can "interact" with on this blog. My only rules are: Don't send me NSFW content or text, No hateful content, that idea. Thank you for checking the blog out! As a Note: I ship my OC Beau with Alastor, so there will be OC x Canon content on this blog. If that isn't your thing, this is me telling you in advance! You can send asks too btw!!

OC Lore Master LIst

OC Profile: Beau.

OC Profile: Mutton.

Gen info:

Beau: Gay, Homoromantic, cis male, He/Him, it’s convoluted. (In a situationship canonically, but honestly I consider it more queer-platonic at this point.) MBTI: ENFJ-A

Mutton: Bisexual, Biromantic, cis female, She/Her, They were roommates. (Married to her wife Coraline.) MBTI: ESFP-A

Beau

Beau's weird I can hear him as both Tramp and Thomas so you like whichever you like better!

Mutton:

Hazel:

Beatrice:

Elm

Belle:

I don't have photos of her on my PC TOT

—

“I ain’t ever been much of a dancer, Mr. Whittman.”

Beau fixed that man with a look of someone who had sung this song long before Vincent ever began to learn it.

Traces of a time where laughter floated through the haze of cigarette smoke in crowded dance halls. Jazz, bouncing off the walls, beating as if the room itself had a pulse.

Despite the ban, drinks flowed freely, passed around in a hedonistic blur. What a time, not that Beau could tell you much of those illegal sin dens he frequented in his youth.

On account of alcohol-induced amnesia, of course, it’s a wonder he still has a functioning liver.

No, Beau Monroe had never torn up a dance floor, more likely he’d have been tearing up his poor partners feet.

“You can’t expect me to believe that.”

Vincent Whittman, six foot and three inches of clean, pressed suits, the kind that cost more than your average working man made in a year.

“I do?, I’m not followin’ as to what is so hard to believe about my havin’ two left feet.”

Oh yes, that young man, so he’s not that young, Beau concedes. There isn’t but at most 10 years between them, but you get past a certain point that anyone with light still in the eyes seems youthful in comparison.

Vincent, Vincent fuckin’ Whittman, pardon his French! Bigshot, beloved, America’s late night sweetheart, leaning over his well-loved piano, arguing half-heartedly that he couldn’t possibly be that terrible.

Absurdity, it’s- to Beau, it’s quite frankly one of those dreams you have after getting drunk as a skunk, awakening half-naked in the bayou, and narrowly avoidin’ becomin’ a gators brunch.

In a simpler place, a thinner man took up that space, with auburn curls and a grin that put all others to shame. Beau still hears his voice, creeping up through the empty cracks in the back of his mind.

“I refuse to believe the man who can bust out rag-time can’t even muster up a jitterbug.”

Nearly spit out his tea, sputtering as he twisted his head toward Whittman.

“Jitterbug?! Now I know good and well you can hear how I creak like a loose floorboard, Vincent.” Eyes half-lidded, he leaned forward to meet the other man.

“Sure, maybe the hinges are a little rusty, nothing a bit of oil wouldn’t fix.” Vincent purred, stepping round the piano, till his shadow consumed what little light filtered in from the street.

“I’m no handyman, but I’ve been known to...tinker...from time to time.” Hands planting firmly on the older man’s hips, chin digging into his shoulder as he pressed against his back.

“Oh my, you using that one on all the ladies?, you dog!” Beau chided, half flushed and reeling from the attention.

“Only you, promise baby.”

“Sure, only me.”

—

@dawn-of-fawn

ITS BEEN A FEW HOUrS 😭

Rosie: Grandma. Gives it Non-alcoholic Yum Blood (tomato juice). It enjoys Rosie’s accent, it could listen to her talk for hours.

Vox: Old & Stinky. It’s sick of old, stinky men orbiting around Papa’s shop. It hates this one especially, because he’s not even remotely fun like it’s progenitor can be.

Niffty: Yes. Stab Stab Stab. Harlan got to stab roaches on take your kid to work day.

Husker: Harlan likes Husker, he taught it how to cheat at cards.

Charlie: Funny, nice lady. She played go fish with it and gave it an apple juicie. They’re friends as far as it’s concerned.

Lucifer: Harlan likes ducks :(. Whenever Harlan tried to approach the duck guy started rambling about deer and bellhops so Harlan went back to the Morningstar it prefers.

Vaggi: Unsure about. The Angel lady thinks it’s going to bite people. Harlan doesn’t just bite people, thanks.

Angel dust: Alastor said no to this one and brought Harlan on a day Angel was out.

Buckshot Wen ( by @dawn-of-fawn )

It doesn’t understand how it’s weird progenitor found such a fun lady. It likes Wen, she tells exciting stories and lets it put it’s middle finger up at people on the street.

Harlan likes that Wen doesn’t call it’s drawings ugly. (Alastor is unintentionally kind of a dick sometimes.)

BB Alastor and Wendy. (By Dawn-of-fawn)

For context: Harlan would be the child of Beau and Max (BB verse Malachi.)

BB Alastor:

Everyone is always like ‘Alastor would be a good dad’, he also strikes me as the man who has beef with a child. Harlan or Harley in BB verse doesn’t like Alastor. He’s always asking papa for favors or lingering around with his creepy smile. Harlan thinks he’s off putting, mainly because Harlan is also off putting, it can tell, trust.

BB Wendy:

Alastor for Harlan: Little Pest, Cock Roach, Muscle, Shrimp, Little Shit, Dreadful Thing, Petite Araignée, Petite Poupée.

Harlan for Alastor (in its internal monologue):  Progenitor, Magic donor, Originator, Mr. Radio, Buzz Guy, Papa’s old, stinky friend.

Beau for Harlan: Sweetie, Lem, Dear, Little one, Petit Ange, Dolly, Lou.