#Demons Story

[whumpinthepot]

@figuwhump day 22 - Demon again!

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

‘Up early, or still awake?’

Tony’s voice, while soft, startled Jamie-Leigh’s attention away from the article on her screen, and almost had her falling out of her chair. She absently scrubbed a hand across her face before glancing at the clock on her laptop.

‘Why’re you up at five a.m.?’ she asked, vaguely aware of the soft twittering of birds outside.

‘I asked first,’ he reminded her, dropping onto the sofa. ‘And I’ve actually seen my bed this morning.’

Jamie-Leigh petulantly blew a raspberry at him before sinking lower in her seat. ‘Still awake,’ she grumbled into the neck of her hoody.

‘Jaim!’ he groaned, leaning forwards on his knees, bringing the two of them slightly closer together.

‘It’s not my fault. Do you know how much crap there is on the occult online?’

‘I can guess,’ Tony said softly, successfully deflating Jamie-Leigh just a little. ‘But you don’t really buy into this, do you?’

‘Why not?’ Jamie-Leigh challenged, closing her laptop lid with a soft noise. ‘Are you telling me you’d rather this was just some psycho?’

‘Yes,’ he told her emphatically, gently reaching for her hands. Tiredly, she allowed him to take them. ‘We can leave this up to the police. It is their job.’

‘But what if it is something more?’

Tony heaved a soft sigh, gave her hands a gentle squeeze. ‘Then you get to say your favourite thing in the world.’

‘It’s not about that.’

‘I know,’ he assured her, and there was something in his dark eyes that assured her he meant it. Not quite pity, nor fear, but something close to both. ‘Now, you actually going to go to bed?’

Jamie-Leigh stifled a yawn behind a fist. His interruption had successfully broken the spell research had over her, and she knew that was part of the reason he’d gone to see her. ‘I suppose so.’

Tony offered her a smile as they both stood, as she settled herself beneath his arm in a half hug. Perhaps sleep would make things a little clearer, but she wasn’t holding her breath on that one.

[thevoyageurmoteplass-edits]

Name Meanings: Multiple Perspective Characters

Inspired by this.

Jonas, Ronan and Zinnia from my Experiment Story; Jamie-Leigh from my Demons Story; Kiri and Charlotte 'Lotty' from my Mediums Story; Princess Michelle 'Chelle' Zoya Ivanov and Guard Ross Edwin from my Pirates Story; Campbell 'Cammie' Morgan and Joseph 'Seph' Florence from my Haunted Maze Story.

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC My Brother in the Mirror

Damian doesn't like mirrors.

He never mentioned the fact to other members of the family, but they are detectives and vigilantes, it's their job to be observant. Which, after so many years, becomes a habit.

Damian doesn't actively avoid the mirrors - he has a mirror in his bathroom, he didn't express any discomfort over going into a mirror labyrinth at some carnival they've attended (he expressed disgust over taking part in something so stupid, in his words, but that's a whole another story), and he actually spent a few minutes in front of the funhouse mirrors when no one was looking, watching his own reflection distort in various ways. He also has no problems with his self-image - he doesn't mind pictures of him taken at any time (unless it's Tim, but that's, again, a whole another story), he's drawn a few self-portraits that were rather accurate and he liked them.

He just doesn't like mirrors. For some reason.

His family, both close and extended, never questioned it. They did some gentle research to see if the dislike was caused by some kind of problem Damian was experiencing without telling anyone, but when they found no proof of that, they've just decided it was some quirk of his. Everyone has quirks. Dick doesn't like eating cereal like a normal person, Tim despises sleep, Steph is at war with any color other than purple.

That is, until one day, Tim witnesses Damian sitting in front of a mirror.

He is not even aware of it - the whole family is having a game night, and through some arguments and rearrangements on the couch, Damian ends up sitting on the left side of it, where his back is turned to one of the three mirrors in the room. Tim, who's lost the last round, is slumping in an armchair nearby, pointedly looking away from the screen where Damian and Jason are enthusiastically competing over the first place in Mario Cart. Of course, Tim can't just not watch it since he needs to know their strategies. But turning back around would also be admitting defeat.

The solution? Easy, watch the screen through the mirror.

Which is when he notices it.

Damian in the mirror doesn't act the same as Damian in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim can see the real Damian moving around, shoving Jason with his elbow, fully concentrated on the game, and yelling something. Damian-in-the-mirror is sitting unnaturally still, the back of his head over the couch unmoving.

Tim forgets all about the game when Damian's reflection starts to turn around. Slowly and carefully, eerie in the way the horror movies are, the boy in the mirror turns his head around like an owl, his neck twisting inhumanely.

His eyes are green. Green like the toxic waste, like Jason's madness, like acid in cartoons, like the Waters of Lazarus.

Damian in the mirror smiles, his unblinking, gliwing eyes fixed on Tim, and his teeth are sharp and pointy, and there are too many of them, humans can't smile this wide.

"-im? Tim!" A hand nudges him in the shoulder, and Tim looks away from the mirror, finding Dick standing over him. The noise of the game room returns all at once, and, wait, when did it become quiet for Tim?.. He must have a strange expression on his face because Dick's easy smile falls slightly, and he frowns, "Is everything okay?"

Tim looks back to the mirror, but the green-eyed boy in the mirror is gone, and the mirror only reflects Damian as he is: sitting on the couch.

"Yeah," Tim shakes his head and forces a smile on his lips, "I just zoned out."

"Okay," Dick pats him on the shoulder and gives him the controller, "It's your turn now."

Tim takes the controller and turns around, facing the screen. Tim throws a quick glance at Damian, who had slid down on the couch so his head would not be in the reflection anymore. Tim sees the cold, warning hint to his eye, a clear do not speak of it message.

Tim doesn't like that the mirror is now behind him.

[owlyjules]

Wisptober Day 2 : Jester

" As he coaxes you into the throne room, the peculiar jester seems…Overjoyed at the thought of someone ruling the kingdom once more.”

What is a jester without a ruler?;)

[tanuki-kimono]

Final artpiece by Acotama for their youkai project, based here on Utagawa Kuniyoshi's The Origin Story of the Cat Stone at Okabe. You can find here the presentation of this piece and here the WIP of the big nekomata.

I already share two of those doll monsters (depressed pumpkin ghost / fox-deer-faced discarded hakama), but Acotama made 140 of those creatures, and some will be sold this Winter, so be sure to follow their page if you are interested :D

[jztr-77]

RIORDAAAANNNNN

WRITE MORE ABOUT THE COCOA PUFFS, AND MY LIFE, IS YOURS

[s0fter-sin]

people are acting like we’re saying creators shouldn’t be paid for their work; they absolutely should. and watcher already is. they have a patreon, they get sponsors, their videos regularly get millions of views which gives them ad revenue, they sell merch; they are getting paid. feeling indignant and disappointed that they’re asking us to pay for content we were already getting for free isn’t entitlement, it’s expected. ​they wanted to make bigger produced shows and now their budget can’t sustain it, that’s not on the viewer to make up for

[whumpinthepot]

@figuwhump 6, 7, 8 and 10!!

None of those imps are Clarence btw

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

Demons Story Introduction

University was meant to be one big adventure for Jamie-Leigh and best friend Tony; a stepping stone on the way to adulthood that school had made such a big thing about. It was a chance to explore somewhere new, to learn some life lessons with the partial buffer of being students before they fully released themselves into the world. What neither of them had expected to face, however, was murder. Murder that calls into question every person they come across, and uncovers truths they never could have imagined about the world around them.

Story Tag

Jamie-Leigh Zhang Tag

Jamie-Leigh Zhang Introduction

Story Pinterest

[thevoyageurmoteplass-edits]

Demons Story Introduction

University was meant to be one big adventure for Jamie-Leigh and best friend Tony; a stepping stone on the way to adulthood that school had made such a big thing about. It was a chance to explore somewhere new, to learn some life lessons with the partial buffer of being students before they fully released themselves into the world. What neither of them had expected to face, however, was murder. Murder that calls into question every person they come across, and uncovers truths they never could have imagined about the world around them.

Story Tag

Jamie-Leigh Zhang Tag

Jamie-Leigh Zhang Introduction

Story Pinterest

[dragengyrr]

Goodnight, everyone.

[weirdlookindog]

Virgil Finlay - Burn, Witch, Burn!

(Famous Fantastic Mysteries - June 1942)

[ciderjacks]

despite Laios low self esteem making him think that if he’d been eaten, Chilchuck and Marcille wouldn’t have helped Falin,

theres a small part of me that thinks the reason Chilchuck stayed with the party and went back in the dungeon in the first place was because he didn’t want to leave Laios alone. That Laios was moreso the reason he stayed.

[prokopetz]

My knowledge of superhero comics isn't deep so much as it is frustratingly eclectic. Like, I might well completely fail to recognise a character who's been a regular member of the X-Men for thirty years, but if you need somebody to explain from unprompted memory the complete plot of Spanner's Galaxy, I'm your guy.