must there be a title

The devil walks into your work on a Thursday.

“Hi,” you say, “welcome to McDonalds.”

The devil clops up to the register, red eyes sliding from the cartoonish picture of Grimace, to the Coca Cola drying in the grout, to the ketchup stain on your pale blue button down.

“What can I get started for you today,” you prod when he continues to stare.

“Uh,” he says. “I came for your soul?”

Your smile slips for a moment before you can pin it back in place. Thank goodness your manager is on their lunch. “We don’t sell that, I’m sorry. Have you tried a Big Mac?”

“I know McDonald’s doesn’t sell souls,” the devil says. “Your parents sold your soul. Before you were born.”

“Oh,” you say. That would explain…a lot, actually. “Well. I’m at work, so…can you collect later?”

“I’m owed your soul on your 18th birthday,” he says.

“It’s my birthday today?” You glance at the register. “Wow. I forgot.”

“That is so fucking sad,” the devil says. He punched the bridge if his nose. “When is your shift over?”

“3am.”

“Jesus,” the devil says. He turns on his hoof. “I’m going to go buy you a cake or something.”

“Wow,” you say. You press a hand over your heart. “That—that actually would make my week.”

“And that’s sad,” the devil calls over his shoulder. “See you at 3!”

Now you have a reason to look forward to getting off work.

2:30 am rolled in at such a snails pace, but you kept that plastered mask on the whole night.

You had to deal with a rainbow of people all day. From rich kids looking down on you to that poor homeless guy that comes by asking for your stale fries.

Your boss had watched over you and your coworkers and have scolded you a few dozen times for not upselling, or even appeasing the Karen at max volume.

But now you were doing the one thing no one in a McDonald's would dare do. You cleaned the mc flurry machine. A rare sight to see and probably the only working one in town.

You hear the chime, the chime of dread, your stomach drops, and you fix that mask turning to face the next customer.

Only to internally sigh in relief. Oh good, its just the Devil.

He walks in with what appears to be a medium sized box. He still looked as disgruntled as before. Maybe even more so as he looks around the dingy Mc Donald's.

"Welcome back! You're early!"

"Is... that.. a working mc flurry mechine?" He answers instead looking over you. You nod with perhaps a hint of pride.

"Yes Sir! Just cleaned it. Would you like one?" You can see him staring into your soul. Which, you suppose is his soul now.

"No. Just.. be done already."

You nod to him watching him clop over to a table setting the box down. Huh... your soul is now his? You didn't have time to think about that.

Your manager pops their head out from the back. "Hey. Josh said he's gonna be late. Need you to...." you glance over to see your manager staring at the gargantuan devil sitting there. He looks back causing your manager to freeze in horror. You never seen them so pale.

"Your employee quits as of this moment. Figure out your own issues. Leave." He said with menacing eyes that flash. Your manager turns around and books it to the back, possibly to pray for forgiveness.

You take that as your cue to clock out. You offer a goodbye to your boss but they won't have any of it.

The devil watches you slip from out behind the counter now with even more distain. Your pants look... questionable.

"How often do you even do laundry?"

"If I can have a day off that doesn't involve driving my younger siblings to and from their music classes and tutors."

The devil stares in disgust now understanding what your parents did.

They sold their first born and invested in the younger siblings.

And they say the devil is the worst..

"Just... damnit just sit down."

You do as he sets out two golden plates opening up the box to reveal a professionally made cake with a black marble icing and gold flakes. Set on top are black candles that's wax looks to shimmer like a dark rainbow. The flames flicker and crackle shifting from one color to another. Its beautiful.

You don't know what you were expecting. You almost expected a cheap sheet cake from the store down the street.

"... happy birthday... make a wish I guess... blow out your candle..."

You smile, you make the same wish you made every year. "I wish for a pet." You don't say it out loud. It was out of habit even though you know it won't come true. Least you now understand why.

You blow out the candle and it gives off a sigh like a ghost had escaped your lips.

You watch this soft glowing whisp floats around you while the devil cuts you a piece of cake. You only look back when you hear your fork be set next to your plate.

"Thank you.. its a lovely cake."

He brushes it off. "Just.. eat."

You enjoy your cake as he watches. After a moment he speaks.

"Your parents sold your soul to me."

"Mmhmm.."

"Meaning you belong to me."

"Mmm"

"In hell."

When you clear your mouth you reply. "So, what will I be? Burning punished for all eternity? Slave labor? Dealing with karens?"

He stares at you not sure if he should feel impressed or bothered by the fact you just don't seem that fazed.

"Souls sold to me become whatever I feel like them being. You..." he stares at you as you enjoy more of your cake.

"Your not even fazed by the fact your going to hell."

You shake your head. Simply enjoying the sinfully delicious cake.

"You could be tasked with cleaning up hell hound shit."

"Oh! This mean I can see hells good bois??"

"...... you could be handing out toys for orgys...?"

"Sounds like they be having fun."

"Cleaning up torture chambers?"

"Have you seen the bathrooms?"

The devil takes a breath to compose himself. Mortals these days... whats the point of hell when theres a worse one on earth?

When your full he closes the box, the plate and fork vanish.

"Come with me"

You oblige following him out of the McDonald's.

He doesn't even bother asking about if you have a car. He already knew that answer.

"Your going to be one of my messengers to the other realms."

You blink looking up at him.

"Really? Nothing nasty like the ones you mentioned?"

"Look kid, if you can keep a straight face serving me, practically live like your in hell, and still be the only few willing to keep a mc flurry working.. I'd rather you go deliver things to and from hell to like... I dont know anubis or Hades."

You follow along your little whisp still dancing around you.

"Okay... one more question..."

He sighs "what?"

"Can I pet a hell hound?"

"....... yes.... yes you can pet a hell hound."

me to the demon in the corner of my room: ain’t u got shit to do

He’d been lurking about for days now, this shadow thing. It used to scare me, terrify me straight into insomnia. But it had just stood there the whole time. Now it seemed part of the furniture, if I’m being honest.

I started talking to it. Probably not my best idea, I’ll give you that, but it’s not like I had anyone else around. I would tell it about my day as I readied for bed. Jeff was a dick at the meeting this morning. Had the best hot dog off the best cart in the city for lunch. SIX reports due by Friday? Kellen must be trying to kill me. I even wished it good night. And it just stared, with its glowing red eyes.

One night, I had to stay late at the office. Really late. Remember those six reports? They turned into fifteen. And if I didn’t get them done for this major client, it was my head on the HR guillotine. So I stayed late. I ended up crashing on the sofa in the break room and woke up to more work on my desk. That was Thursday morning. I had to get this all done by Monday.

On Friday night, around ten, I decided to go home and get some real sleep before going back to the office to finish this insane task. And then I felt it. Something was here with me and it wasn’t the janitor.

I looked in the corner and there were those eyes again, surrounded by shadow. I sighed. I really didn’t have time for this, not here.

“Ain’t you got shit to do?” I snapped, walking to the break room for yet more coffee. So much for going home to sleep.

A growling sound, then a deep, rasping voice said, “I miss you.”

I stopped. “What do you mean, you miss me? Aren’t you a demon or something?”

“You didn’t come home. I’ve been worried. What are you doing here?”

We’d never conversed like this. It was almost comforting, like a friend would be.

“I’m working, man. I’ve got a big client coming on Monday and Kellen put all these damn reports on my desk and if I don’t get them done, I’m probably gonna get fired.” I ranted as I took off my tie and ran my fingers through my hair.

The demon paused, thinking. It moved slowly around the room, taking it all in.

“Do you want me to eat Kellen?” it suddenly asked.

I laughed, “No, don’t eat Kellen. It’s not really his fault.”

“Then what shall I do?”

I sighed and considered. What could a shadow demon do to help me?

“Do you know anything about graphic design and marketing?”

It paused its roaming. “I ate an artist’s soul, once.”

“Good enough. Just sit behind me and tell me what looks good.”

On Monday morning, the company landed the client, I got a raise, and arranged it so I could work from home two days a week. We moved to a bigger flat two months later. It makes cinnamon pancakes on Saturdays.

I love this honestly

“I ate an artist’s soul, once.”

“Good enough.”

CUUUUTTTEEEE!!!

This was everything I needed

You wake in the night with your arm hanging over the side of your bed. It is still dark, and your bedroom is shrouded in deep shadow. Something unseen seizes your hand.

You grasp it tightly, knowing that first impressions are important and a firm, confident handshake will establish dominance.

A hollow voice echos under your bed, shaking you to your core, “You’re hired.”

my dad has been riding me for, like ever. get a job, ash. like, okay but. have you even heard of summer. plus i’m tired. plus i literally don’t want to do anything but wear a rainbow bikini and bake on beaches. 

“i’m serious,” he says, in Serious Voice, his hand on the door handle with white knuckles. “you can’t waste your time like this.”

“ugh,” i say, because, like ugh. he slams the door. i bury my face in pillows and like, “ugh” for a solid thirty second, limbs spread akimbo all over the place. without meaning to, i fall asleep. i told you i was tired, dad.

i don’t know what happens. maybe it’s all those times i had to stand in his office pretending to be official in white shoes and a pink skirt but when somebody grasps my hand, i grasp back. like lizard-brain response, i’m still half-asleep when i’m full-on up-and-down single-pump professional-style handshaking a demon. by the time i have bolted upright in bed and retracted my now-sticky (yet somehow also soggy?) hand, the voice is already speaking.

“you’re hired.”

excuse me? “I’m what now?” my voice in comparison is weak, slippery with sleep and fear, dancing all over the place.

i hear something shift under me. my heart is caught in my throat while there’s chuckles from the owner of the handshake equivalent of squeezing a taco bell meal. i’m having flashbacks to french kissing h.p. lovecraft in a bathroom in high school grade and i’ve never even done that. 

“i’ll have to look at your references, obviously, but that’s a hell of a handshake. i like you, kid.”

like but. for some reason, a giggle rises in my throat. like okay. like. this is normal. i’m like. it figures there’d be something under my bed. like, with how much time i spent in the closet? who am i to even, like, judge.

“of course, orientation will be difficult,” the taco bell meal tentacle continues, “but you wouldn’t be the first we’ve hired like you.”

“like me?” like a woman or a gay woman or like a gay woman who’s really good at making hot cocoa or like

“a human,” taco bell says.

i’m actually almost awake now. like i’m pretty sure i’m awake and i’m talking to the CEO of creepy, incorporated. certified possible demon. sock eating friend of cerberus. 

for a second i’m about to call for my dad but then i remember those white knuckles around the door handle and my white shoes and how much gas money is and how he once made me shake hands for an hour but didn’t give me a hug for the next four years.

i clear my throat. like, abuela told us about devils since she was old enough to threaten me with them and like technically i can’t “commune with spirits” but i also know enough not to upset a creature like this so i figure it’s in my best interests to take this in stride and maybe tomorrow throw a little bit more salt over my shoulder than usual. and like, i mean, at this point it’s just negotiating right. and if there’s something i understand from dad it’s negotiating business. 

“hours?” i ask, sitting up straighter. i can’t see more than a writhing something that barely extends beyond the edges of my bedframe.

“night shift, obviously.”

“salary?”

“competitive.” a pause. “lucrative, even.”

well like. what else is there. “i’m in.” 

“wonderful,” says taco bell, expressing with an accent i’m unfamiliar with and a form of joy that i’m uncomfortable with, “i’ll go get the contract. be back in a jiffy.”

like, the sound of hell opening up isn’t exactly a slurp-pop, but it does sound a lot like the way my seventh grade math teacher’s tongue used to sound when she was about to make a harsh comment about my homework. and like, for a second there i’m like. wait what the fuck did i just agree to am i in a horror movie is chucky gonna be my roommate now like does dracula sign my contract as a witness like am i really doing this. like? i’m a smart girl (don’t look at my love life) how am i even considering this.

it’s also when my dad opens my door. “ash?” even when he’s just woken up, he looks tidy. he’s wearing his wingtip shoes. never slippers on this man.

i’m like. coming around to my senses at this point. i hallucinated all that. i ate too many crackers with cream cheese and guava before bed. i listened to too many of abuela’s supernatural sightings. and like, i told you, i’m tired.

“dad,” i say, blinking in the light from the hallway.

“you were talking in your sleep, ” he says.

“oh,” i say.

“it is keeping me awake,” he says.

“sorry,” i say.

“you know i am a light sleeper,” he says.

“yeah,” i say, “sorry.”

“please control yourself,” he says.

“yeah … i… okay.” i say. “sorry again.”

“goodnight, ash,” he says, and he turns to go. he looks back at me and says “and ash?” and for a second, because i always have this moment, because i never learn, because i’m not a good learner, for a second i’m thinking - oh, he’s gonna say something nice, “in the morning, please get a job.”

“yeah,” i say, and my voice cracks and the door closes, “sorry again.”

i sit there, staring at the wall, saying nothing for a long time, or maybe no time at all. thinking about nothing. like the feeling you get when you’re thinking too much so it all just sounds like white noise.

then i hear it again. the crack-slurp of hell. i jump about like twelve feet. when i return from the space station my soul ascended to, i see the barely-defined outline of something, like the leg of an insect outside of a tentacle inside of a crab leg outside of the right back support beam of the eiffel tower. and like, a sphere of dull green light radiates directly above it, which, like, isn’t even the weirdest part of my night. 

“howdy!” taco bell nacho supreme is back, “sorry for the delay, i was checking with management.”

“uh,” i say. 

“just insert your hand into this here contract and you’ll be employed part-time, pending references.”

“hang on,” i say. i swallow. “you said the rate is… competitive?”

“we got wishes, monkey’s paws, souls, video game cheats… you name it, we pay it.”

“…. USD?” 

“666 an hour to start. we do love tradition.”

i choke. “like six dollars and sixty-six cents?”

taco bell laughs. “you know what i meant. and we do direct deposit!”

i swallow. i think of my dad. 

words tumbling out of me. “do i have to hurt anyone? is my soul forfeit? can i ever get out of this? am i gonna turn colors how many days a week do i work is there a retirement plan can i readjust the terms after signing is it permanent will it harm me in any way how many people die doing this when do i start what’s orientation who writes the checks and” i take a breath “is the boss nice?”

“no, no, yes! but two weeks notice. no, usually five, if you sign up for it, yes, no, probably not, not many people are doing it mostly we’re non-physical or extra-corporeal so you’d have to ask H.R? tomorrow if you want, loads of fun and free sushi, H.R again, and” taco bell takes a breath, “usually but particularly on wednesdays.”

i sit there and curl my knees to my chest. 

“all this… because of a handshake?”

taco bell is silent for a moment. well, like, kind of. if eerie silence had a twin brother, or like the silence of a fast food restaurant exactly four minutes before the lights are shut off.

“usually, we come if we’re called by darkness. we deal in darker things than needs. i don’t tend to show up when someone needs something. but sometimes… the lines get crossed, that’s all. instead of your need heading on upwards, it called me instead.”

“uh,” i say, “are you admitting to the existence of like… angels?”

“anyway,” says taco bell, “yesterday Georurng self-terminated.”

“oh my gosh,” i say, “is he okay?”

“oh yeah, no, he retired to live with his six hivenests in west Berlin. we need new blood,” taco bell says. “of course, metaphorically.”

okay. okay. like. i could say i was bartending? in a few weeks i could buy a used car. out of pocket. like. if i needed to i could always quit. and like. honestly, again, how many chances to make closet jokes. plus, time at the beach. plus like. okay like how cool would it be.

“okay,” i whisper, “okay.” i try not to shake as i reach my hand out to the contract. it feels like dipping my hand into the inside of a cold turkey. i repress the shudder that runs up me.

in an instant, the specifics of my job write themselves over my eyes. they burn into the back of my brain. everything is spinning. 

“see you tomorrow!” taco bell is saying. i want to puke. my ears are ringing. i barely hear the portal to hell open again. 

the fire of the contract’s words fade slowly until i am staring into the dark again. it’s not what i expected. it actually appeals to my sense of justice. taco bell was right about being called by something. i’ve just agreed to be the thing that goes bump in the night. the one thing left against the people nobody else can fight. i’m gay dracula. i’m both a lesbian dementor and the boggart. i’m a rainbow-flag-flying boogeyman and i have a long list of people who i got a bone to pick with. 

it takes me a moment to realize i’m smiling. sorry, dad, i’m gonna be like. ultra mega tired. but i got a job. doing what? oh, nothing.

just being the creature that lives under your bed. when bad men have darkness, we come haunting. 

REALLY long comic i did for sequential art class!! i wish i had more time so i could give it a good gay end

I love how the ability to command demons to do one’s bidding used to be a common attribute of saints in popular culture, but then we decided that trafficking with demons wasn’t very saintly after all and quietly scrubbed that element out of all the saintly folklore – except for Santa Claus.

yea but to be fair we stopped associating elves with demons a while ago.

Thanks to pulp fantasy demons and fairies have sort of become their own ecological niche.

I’m not referring to the elves – I’m talking about the explicitly demonic helper figures that appear in many Santa Claus myths, like the Krampus, Knecht Ruprecht or Black Peter (the latter of whom is admittedly more often represented as a racist caricature today, but was originally depicted as a chained devil).

Our fangs are none of your business unless they’re in your neck!

Our songs are not something to fool around with so save yourself the time and possible pain and just stop.

Stop👏telling👏werewolves👏to👏howl!!!

Our howls are only used for communicating and we don’t want to inconvenience our pack members!

It’s a rude stereotype. We don’t like that shit.

We don’t laugh like that! Our laugh is no different to yours, and making rude jokes about it really hurts our feelings!

i had a dream about fucking… vampire discourse on tumblr like;

“reminder that blood sucker is a slur”

“vamp-born-vamps are valid if u got bitten later in life you’re not part of the vamp community” 

“support vamps who drink human blood, support vamps who drink animal blood, support vamps who drink animal and human blood”

“half bloods who are human presenting don’t belong in the community”

fantasy tumblr would be fucking insufferable

god can you even imagine

“If you only have two legs you’re human-passing and don’t belong in the fantasy community”

“What about satyrs?’

“You can wear shoes”

“Just a reminder that if you appropriate mermaid culture you’re a piece of shit”

“Actually we don’t mind because a lot of our culture comes from humans”

“Shapeshifters aren’t valid because they can be human if they want”

Oh my god it gets worse and worse

Listen Sweaty :) :) :) Bigfoots and Jersey Devils aren’t REAL mythfolk :) :) You r just confuused humans :)))

stop fetishizing incubi

stop fetishizing incubi

stop fetishizing incubi

stop fetishizing incubi

stop fetishizing incubi

stop fetishizing incubi

ONLY 👏FAIRIES 👏CAN 👏MAKE 👏FAIRY 👏RINGS

Why the FUCK did no one tag me in this

Werewolves are still werewolves no matter what form they’re in. We don’t stop being werewolves when we’re in human form, we don’t stop being werewolves when we’re in wolf form. Stop werewolf erasure!

Listen, I’ve been in a committed relationship with a selkie for over ten years.  I can tell you that whole hiding-the-pelt-thing is total bullshit.  If he wanted to leave he could, I am not holding him hostage.  Please, stop spreading this hurtful misinformation.

Support veelas who dance naked at the crossroads

Support veelas who seduce random townspeople

Support veelas who take shepherds as lovers

STOP SLUT SHAMING VEELAS!!!!!!!

friendly reminder that “ghost” is a term reserved for noncorporeals. if you’re semicorporeal you’re a poltergeist. stop calling poltergeists ghosts.

destroy the idea that zombies “need” to eat brains

some zombies can’t eat brains due to physical conditions that make them too weak to gnaw through the skull

some zombies can’t digest them

some zombies just don’t like the taste

all of these zombies are STILL VALID

DONT 👏 HOARD 👏 ITEMS 👏 UNLESS 👏 YOU 👏 A 👏 DRAGON

This post gets worse every time I see it

OhmyGOD

LET👏SHIFTERS👏INTO👏THE👏COMMUNITY👏👏👏👏 THIS INCLUDES ALL SHIFTERS!👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

hydras with nine heads are just as valid as hydras with twenty

hydras with nine heads are just as valid as hydras with twenty

hydras with nine heads are just as valid as hydras with twenty

hydras with nine heads are just as valid as hydras with twenty

hydras with nine heads are just as valid as hydras with twenty

hydras with nine heads are just as valid as hydras with twenty

DONT👏WEAR👏FLOWER👏CROWNS👏UNLESS👏YOU👏ARE👏A👏WOODLAND👏CREATURE

ROBOTS. ARE. NOT. ALL. SERVICE. WORKERS.

STOP ASKING ROBOTS WHERE TO FIND THINGS IN SUPERMARKETS

stop calling demons evil just because they defied an oppressive system

demigods have a right to both halves of their heritage!

Repeat after me kids: Kelpies do. not. have to look like horses to still be Kelpies. Kelpies who take non-equine forms are JUST AS VALID as the Kelpies who take equine forms. Stop Kelpie purism and erasure.

Friendly reminder that Wendigos are possessed by cannibalistic spirits and can’t actually help their cravings.

Stop judging Wendigos for something they can’t control!

Don’t date underage elves!  Human years and elf years are not the same!

Stop the pedophilia!

Support tieflings with horns. Support tieflings without horns. Support tieflings with tails. Support tieflings without tails.

Support tieflings.

This gets longer and better every time I see it

When I first reblogged this it had 3 additions to it and now… How far we’ve come

DO NOT stereotype Western dragons for kidnapping damsels and hoarding treasure!! The treasure is for making DEALS, and we DON’T all kidnap maidens.

Okay?

Have I made myself clear?

DO NOT STEREOTYPE WESTERN DRAGONS, WE DO NOT ALL KIDNAP HUMANS AND EAT THEM. VEGETARIAN DRAGONS EXIST, AND IN MY OPINION SHEEP TASTE BETTER THAN HUMANS.  

I’m so over hearing the “a dragon is two wings, four legs. Everything else is a sub-type of dragon.” Like, wtf?!

These are just racist steroetypes of all dragonkind made by Gary Gygax to sell books! Try researching ancient or medieval dragons and you’ll find our ancestor come in all shapes and sizes! Heck, read the Bible and you’ll see that dragon has 7 heads and 7 horns!

STOP ERASING US. ALL DRAGONS ARE CREATED EQUAL!

Just because I’m a leprechaun, doesn’t give you give you permission to try and catch me. You won’t get a pot of gold, you’ll get arrested for assault.

how have I never seen this before oh my absolute god this is beautiful