#The Cryptid's Stories

[nataliedecorsair]

For this Halloween, I present you my MRI monster + a little bonus story about it >:) --

It’s the tail end of October, when the days shrink down to thin slices of cold sunlight. The late autumn air is sharp and crisp. It’s carrying the scent of wet, dying leaves; it stirs a strange feeling inside you, a mix of melancholy and restless hunger for something more. An adventure, perhaps... or something darker.

And why not? You’re young, curious and like everything weird and unusual. For you anything out there is a story, and this one could be a story about the unfortunate abandoned hospital at the end of a broken road. Folks say this place is haunted, but maybe no one’s ever dared to find out for sure. You're certain it is time for you to solve this mystery for good.

You ease your way inside. The door gives a long, miserable creak as it opens, as if it hasn’t been touched in decades. The paint, once green, is almost gray now; it hangs in shreds, peeling off the wood like dead skin. The air in the hallway hits you, stale and thick, smelling of dust and something sour. You pull out your flashlight, clicking it on with a soft snap, and the narrow beam cuts through the dark, scanning over pockmarked walls and the occasional room. But, of course, you don't see anything but empty beds, rusty buckets, piles of ragged fabric left to rot. No signs of ghosts or ghouls - or anything remotely interesting, for that matter.

You explore for ten minutes, maybe more, telling yourself you’ll see something any second now. But after the seventh empty room, you start to think there's no mystery at all. Pretty expectable, isn't it? Or what, did you really think you’d find anything but dust, broken glass, and busted syringes? With a sigh, you turn to go, shaking your head.

You take a step into the hallway, flashlight slicing through the shadows, and that’s when you hear it: a low, dry crrrk-crrrk. At first, you think it’s the old building settling. But then it comes again, irregular and jittery, like static: crick-crack, crick-crick-crack. The sound’s sharper now, that unmistakable staccato of a Geiger counter ticking.

Your heart beats faster. You swing the flashlight in the direction of the noise, but there’s nothing there, just the same hollow walls and chipped paint. Crick-crack-crick. Louder now, closer... For a sick, sinking moment, you wonder if there’s something radioactive buried here, and shake your head in disbelief.

"It doesn’t make any sense," you think. "I don’t even have a Geiger counter." But your mind, stubborn as a mule, wrestles to make sense of the nonsense, to catalog that weird crackle and shove it into some drawer that fits. Maybe you’re just hearing things? The building is old, there could be some pipes. It's always the pipes that make the most uncanny noises.

But the thing making that sound... it doesn’t care whether you understand or not.

You run forward, not watching where you're stepping, and a rusty bucket clatters across the floor. You fumble as your flashlight slips from your hand, the beam ricocheting off the walls and scattering shadows like startled birds. You crouch to retrieve it, fingers scrambling over the filthy, dusty tiles. And that’s when you see it, illuminated by the flashlight laying on the floor.

Feet.

They're human, but wrong. Slightly translucent - and shot through with slowly swirling masses of black and red liquid, twisting just under the skin. You look upward, and you make out the outline of a woman in a tattered, filthy hospital gown. Her body consists of that liquid, contained within the thin walls of her grayish skin. Everywhere but her head. It looks like an MRI scan, flickering between 2D and 3D, a nightmare too strange for your eyes to comprehend. Empty white orbs stare down at you, soulless and wide. She has no lips, but her mouth peels back, revealing a row of long, black teeth: it almost looks like a smile. She leans in, and before you can scream, rushes towards you - and the world plunges into darkness.

...You wake up in your own bed, the morning light spilling through the curtains. What a horrible nightmare you just had! Head feels so heavy, it hurts with this annoying, pulsating, throbbing pain deep within your brain. You feel feverish. You got sick, perhaps? It would explain the dream, so realistic - and so ephemeral at the same time.

With a sigh, you brush your palm through your hair, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep... but your fingers snag on something. A clump of hair. You pull it free, bewildered. Since when have you started balding? Confusion morphs into unease as you glance down at the skin of your hand, red and sunburn. Sunburn in October? In this area?

"I should definitely see a doctor," you think, an anxious knot tightening in your stomach. "But not in this abandoned hospital." Nervous chuckle escaped your lips, as you tried to calm yourself down with this silly joke. "I will never go there again, whether it's a dream or not."

…At least, you thought so. -- More spooky art here and here

[whereserpentswalk]

Most interdimensional entities that humans consider horrifying demons and eldrich horrors actually consider humans pretty dangerous unless they're actively trained fighters. Your average extraplaner being isn't used to dealing with a species that evolved to hunt in groups, and developed to survive in violent scenarios.

Most final girl situations happen because young entities deeply underestimate that humans have such a strong will to live, and are willing to fight back agasint a stronger foe. Most older entities keep at bay for this very reason, which is why you just see them stranding around being creepy.

That pale long limbed cryptid you spotted in a subway station moved so quickly because it doesn't want to end up near you. That shadow person whose hovering over you in the woods is trying to observe you, but it will teleport away if anyone comes near it for a good reason.

And that doppelganger that's standing by your door at night just wants to observe you too. He was smart to try to copy your roommate's face, but he doesn't realize how good humans are at recognizing eachother's faces, and that his copy will be disturbing to any human who sees it. And he got way to reckless with his movements and bad attempts to imitate human speech. Trying to trick the human who he wants to study into coming to his dimensions is an even bigger mistake, especially since he didn't realize how quickly the human would catch on. He's soon going to learn things he should have read up on before hand: humans will try to attack things they're afraid of if they can't run away, humans can use almost any hard object as a weapon by holding it and swinging, and that those decorations on your wall are called 'swords' and were not originally designed as decorations...

[castrian-amore]

DC x DP Prompt

Danny hasn’t used his powers in so long. Ectoplasm is trackable, hence him settling in Gotham with just enough ambient energy to keep the GIW from getting too close. He doesn’t realize how his power is increasing as he gets older, or how the city bends around, or how he begins to loose sense of what being human is. What looking human is.

Enter the Batfam.

[canadiancryptid]

Look at that face. She wants him so bad

[kurgy]

have not been able to stop thinking about this mythical beast Morgott post so heres mythical beast Morgott

[mollykflood]

The Dirt Man song has always felt like some BS Gravity Falls cryptid that Ford had studied at one point.

I'll finish the full song one day, but for now enjoy a tidbit I made so I could learn how to use PROCREATE DREAMS on my ipad

[old-skyguy]

The silly stupid alien show about ghosts that steal your cock and balls just pulled the most gut wrenching, poignant shit possible and portrayed it so artistically and meaningfully what is even life.

This was MASTERFULLY done. The visual and environmental storytelling, the subtle foreshadowing, and inject those motifs into my fucking BLOOD.

Ho. Ly shit. Good fucking lord.

[sapphicseasapphire]

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

[clockworkreapers]

Making more stuff up for Tales From The Road, maybe rest stop to figure out where exactly you are cuz its looked like this for nearly three hours of driving

Boy Nebraska is flat, hope someone doesnt get abducted by something in a corn field, that would so suck

[clowncryptids]

Calling all OC havers!!!

Hello all! For one of my design classes I am working on a fake website/app design, and I have chosen to make my site a OC organization and sharing platform similar to Toyhou.se, UnVale or CharacterHub!

For this project I need to collect information from those who would be possible users! So! If you use OC sites and/or just have OCs I would be forever grateful if you filled out this google form!

You don't need to answer all the questions but the more answered and the longer the answers the more information I get!

Thank ya!

[starcurtain]

I don't post about it often, but my favorite brand of Wriolette is definitely:

Despite being however many centuries old, Neuvillette still has significant dysphoria about being in a human body and doesn't think himself even capable of physically doing things the way humans do, so when he starts experiencing attraction to Wriothesley for the first time he's just like

"Oh dear."

But maybe Traveler is right? Maybe Sigewinne is right? Maybe it's time to truly start living the life he's been born into? This is his body, racing heart and trembling, drippy palms and all, and maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing to just... give it a go?

His mind is made up. Neuvillette is going to express his interest to Wriothesley in a mature, respectable, and perfectly normal manner!

But, ah... how?

Meanwhile, Wriothesley is growing ever more confused at Neuvillette's odd behavior by the day, but like... it's an endeared sort of confusion. Dragons are just kinda weird like this; it's all perfectly logical. Neuvillette has Wriothesley's unwavering support even if he does keep swimming down to the Fortress of Meropide in his full suit and cravat at 5am in the mornings and scaring the shit out of the morning shift gardes.

Wait. Wait. Run it by Wriothesley again--Neuvillette wants to what--?! The consent can only be described as enthusiastic.

Still, the ultimate takeaway is that Neuvillette doesn't just learn how to love a human, but also learns how to love himself, the strange vishap in smooth human skin that he's become.

[seeminglydark]

👻 IT'S HERE! PRESENTING CARO GREENE'S MIL-LIMINAL-THE PODCAST! 👻

Consider this a soft launch cuz i know it's not live on ALL services yet, but you can now listen to the introduction episode of Caro's podcast, Mil-Liminal on Youtube, Podcast Addict, Podbean, and Spotify, and probably more cuz idk how distribution works.

There will be a full length episode soon, but for now, take a listen to the intro, and if you like it, share it to your friends to help people find it! Its written in a way anyone can jump in, even if they aren't familiar with the comics or characters. Thank you SO MUCH for all the support getting here, I'm so happy to finally be able to do this!

Mil-Liminal is a cozy horror podcast featuring the charming and slightly unhinged Caro Greene, an employee working the counter during the night shift at a tiny gas station in the middle of the woods. Join their journey of witnessing the unexplainable! Liminal spaces, ghosts and ghouls galore, there won't be any jump-scares or hopelessness, just unsettling vibes with moments of comedy to lighten the mood. The podcast is in canonical order, meaning the first episode is Caro's first 'episode' as well, learning as they go to create their podcast. 

[kiwi-koala]

Happy year of the snake! 🐍 🥳 I celebrate with spreading the word of the tsuchinoko monster from one of my favorite scenes!

[whereserpentswalk]

There are fallen angels all around your city. They don't do much, but they're always there. They're probably the most common cryptid in the city by far, they're almost a mascot for your city now. Your city used to be protected by actual normal angels, but history happened, now they're all fallen, their relationship with humanity forgotten, the ancient alliance lost. You don't think there was a betrayal, humanity just didn't need them anymore, they moved on, and now the fallen are just one of countless cryptids who landed here from another dimension.

Some look almost like humans, pretty humans, pretty humans wearing tattered and dirty clothing, but with wrong things about them, too many eyes, too many fingers, or just something off about them. Others look like their old angel selves more, but with time catching up to them, armor rusted, feathers unclean, the golden light turned cold and pale. Others look distorted, ghostly, like glitches in reality, sometimes monstrous and demonic in eldritch and terrifying ways. They say those were the most radiant before they fell.

Everyone kind of just knows to ignore them. Sometimes you'll see one, in an abandoned store, just on the street, in a subway station or an alleyway. But you know not to stop and stare like you would for other cryptids. They're common, and perhaps dangerous, at least unclean. And beyond that sad and unpleasant, and this twenty-first century world does not want to look at sad or unpleasant things. All the anger and little joy in the world is in a single cellphone, why bother taking a moment to pay respect.

There was that one time that one flew at you, with big, bloodstained wings, and a sword in its hands. It terrified you. But it was nothing, it didn't hurt you, you were just afraid. They set up traps for them, and places to make sure they don't rest. Little demonic sigils on pieces of architecture to make sure they don't perch there. Or pedants on shops so that they can never go in. Even a security camera, and a monster hunter's number, in case they're seen in the wrong place. They scare you sometimes, and to some creatures scaring a human is a crime that could cost them their lives. It's just how it is.

You gave some food to one, just some meat. She was small, would have looked like a pretty human girl wearing nothing but an old black coat she found, would have looked human if it wasn't for her featherless wings twitching in the rain. You let her come close to you. She didn't want to be touched. But you sung to her, and she liked your song. She told you that she used to sing before she was fallen, used to have shinning golden wings, and sing in the finest of restaurants. You let her sing back to you for a bit. You didn't ask her name. It would be weird to. But you hoped she was ok. Hoped she didn't pay the price of someone's fear.

You didn't see her again. But you think about her sometimes. It's silly to wonder if such a creature is ok. It's just a cryptid, the lowest and most forgettable of cryptids. It wouldn't affect you if anything happened, but you'd weep just to think of the possibility.

[canadiancryptid]

GOOD NEWS, EVERYONE!

[switchkick]

NO SOMETIMES OR MAYBE FULL SEND

reblog for sample size