#There's so many creatures I want to write about

[toxintouch]

Yooooooo, you write fan fictions, don't you? Halloween is, like, right over there *points*. would you be willing to do one of mhin taking sparrow ghost hunting? and maybe even having a "guest appearance" of a certain shadow manipulator?

if this has already been done, could you point me in the right direction?

thank you~

I've never seen a fic like that but omg. This is such a brilliant idea, I love how all the pieces come together so perfectly–Vere being said to be responsible for his fair share of local ghost stories, mentions of Mhin and haunted houses in the Uquiz results… Premium thoughts.  I had a lot of fun writing this, ty for giving me the prompt!! :>

It took a couple of extra days but it's also longer (~2900 words) so hopefully that makes up for it.  p.s sorry if u meant it to be more gen bc I wrote romantic pining lol Volume Warning! Ambiance (~BEAUTIFUL FOX NOISES) for y'all /j

Cold Spots

You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, sheltering your remaining body heat from the howling wind.  

You ignore the shiver that creeps down your spine.

You’ve been warned that the night is chilly in Eridia at this time of year, but you haven’t quite scraped together enough coin to afford more layers.  So you huddle closer to the swaying lamplight of the Wet Wick, attempting to leech warmth from the cheery (if occasionally overwhelming) atmosphere of the bar.  You’re on edge, wary about straying too far from the Wick’s affable open doors and the balmy light spilling out of them.

You crane your neck to peer as far as you can around the corner without moving, eyeing the myriad of nearby alleyways, all full to the brim with shadows, searching for a familiar splash of moonlight and blue sweeping through the night.

 That’s when you feel eyes on your back.

You freeze, all of your senses on high alert.

“You’re where I asked you to be.”  Mhin says in lieu of a greeting.  You startle, reeling around to face them.  Even when you're expecting them, they have the uncanny ability of sneaking up on you.

“You say that like you’re surprised.”  You chide, in mock affront.  “You’ll notice that I’m also on time.”  Your giddiness shows on your face, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t act so pleased with yourself,” they snipe while rolling their eyes, “for anyone else, that’s the bare minimum.”  They frown, looking you up and down with their arms tightly crossed. “...Is that what you’re wearing?”

Any further quips you have for them die in your mouth, drowned out by nervous chuckling.  You realize they must be asking (in their own way) if you’re not going to get too cold.  You know you could just ask Leander or Kuras for some seasonally appropriate attire but you’d rather not rely on further charity if you can’t help it.  Hence: “I’m, um, warm blooded?”  You mean to inject an appropriate amount of bravado into your voice, but it comes out as more of a question.

Mhin sighs, long eyelashes brushing their cheeks as they close their eyes for one long moment.   “Sometimes I wonder…  Fine.  Let’s just get going.”

The floorboards shriek beneath your feet as you step across the threshold.  The entire shack seems to groan and sway, protesting audibly against the wind.  You stick close to Mhin’s back as they hold their gas lamp up, casting an eerie glow about the interior of the abandoned building.  Their keen eyes do a quick sweep before they nod decisively and usher you inside with a single precise motion.

The bellow of the wind sounds almost like a scream as the door shuts behind you.

“So, what are we looking for, exactly?”  Your voice comes out hushed, the haunting atmosphere insisting that behave accordingly.

“Likely nothing.”  Mhin responds.  “Actual ghost sightings are very rare.  And of those, few recorded instances come from trustworthy sources.  People in Eridia can be quite superstitious.  Count on rats or other pests.  It’s more plausible that this is a mere infestation rather than–”

The roof above your heads gives a long, low creeaaaak.

You both pause for a beat, listening to silence.

“How would we know if it's a real ghost?”  You ask, more out of curiosity than anything.  You’re not about to waste the opportunity, if Mhin is willing to keep talking.

“Depends on the type of ghost.”  Another protest from the floorboards as Mhin wanders further into the dark.  Since you don’t have a lantern of your own, you have no choice but to follow close behind.  Unless you want to stumble around with nothing but the shatters of dusty moonlight cast through the cracked windows to guide your way.

Mhin and you make a quick round of the small building, finding it mostly empty, only a few pieces of broken furniture left behind.  You draw closer to the back wall, carefully avoiding moth-eaten curtains, heeding Mhin’s warning about a small step.  Based on the layout, you think this place might have been a bar or entertainment hall of some sort.  You imagine it had a nice, cozy parlor at one time, though now it’s fallen into squalor.  As Mhin examines the walls for signs of pests and other clues, you examine the graffiti strewn across them: crude jokes and lewd drawings, mostly.  Some scattered names, belonging to people and gangs you’ve never heard of before.  

Framed in the center, though, there's a huge riot of colorful paint.  An abstract painting with no proper canvas.  It's beautiful, somehow, though hauntingly morose.  The artist has contained their work in a neat square, not a single streak of color escaping the precisely imposed prison.  You’re not sure what the intent of the artist was choosing somewhere like this to display it…  

“Is there a type of ghost that makes artwork?”  You wonder aloud.  You almost wish that Mhin would hand you the lantern so you can get a better look.

Mhin clicks their tongue, sparing barely a glance toward the makeshift painting.  “I wouldn't define that as art.”  Mhin follows the line of the wall to the corner, their lantern held up to the wall.  “That’s just…paint.  If you’re looking for ghosts, try looking for scratch marks.  Those are a possible indicator, though not always a reliable one.  A sudden feeling of hot, or cold–any otherwise unexplainable temperature change.  A strange odor…”

You give the air a sniff.  “...I don’t smell anything.  Do you?”

“Dust.  Rotting wood.  And you’ve stopped using Leander’s bath soaps, which I’ll commend you for.  Why anybody would want to smell that strongly of–”  Mhin stops and gives a short whiff, their mouth slightly parted.  Their brows furrow. “It is unusual…I don't see or smell any signs of rats or roaches.  No vultures either…”

“Maybe something else scared them away?”  You posit.  You shuffle closer to Mhin, not liking the way the shadows around you seem to flow and ebb the longer you look at them, your mind making up shapes.  There’s a silly part of you that wants to feel Mhin’s cloak between your bandaged fingers as reassurance that they’ll stay close.  They’d probably hate to know that you see them as something to cling to–a source of comfort, safety.

You try to take another step closer to further dampen your trepidation, but instead you trip over– something–and stumble directly into Mhin.  They catch you on impulse, strong and quick enough to steady you with one arm while holding the lantern with the other.  You breathe an apology, your lips bumping against their chin as they help you get your feet back under you.  

You both search the ground to determine what knocked you off your balance.

It's a dirty old rug, rucked up at one edge.  

A long line of what appears to be claw marks lies half uncovered below it.  Mhin kneels beside the marks, studying them intently, carefully moving the rug to reveal yet more splintered wood.  “I’m not sure what could have done this,” they admit.  “The marks are fresh, but none of the dust was disrupted…”

The floorboards groan another protest, though it bounds off the walls in strange ways, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where the sound originated.

“Aural contortions.”  Mhin announces.  “And a feeling that you’re being watched.  Reflective surfaces will behave oddly as well.  Hold this.”  Mhin hands you the lantern (more: shoves it into your grasp, really) reaching into their satchel.  Their nimble hands pull out a handful of alchemical concoctions, one which shines like the inside of a seashell, a tiny silver locket, which they flick open to reveal a small mirror.  There’s symbols etched into it, so old and worn away you can’t make them out.

You draw the lantern closer at their behest, illuminating a small smile spread across their face.

Is Mhin …Having fun?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”  You ask, hoping they don’t notice the warmth in your voice. Getting scolded would kind of ruin the mood.

Mhin glances up, blinking at you like they almost forgot you were there.  Their tongue peeks out, wetting their lips as they consider.  “Yes,” they finally agree, “would you–”

The lamplight is smothered by an unknown force.

The cracked streams of light from the window are gone, leaving you in darkness.

Mhin swears, their voice distorting as if they are suddenly very far away.  A moment ago they were crouched beside you, but the shadows surrounding you are so inky you can’t make out their silhouette at all.  Instinctively, you reach your hands out in front of you before freezing and reluctantly forcing them back down.  If both you and Mhin end up stumbling around with hands outstretched, there’s a possibility that they might accidentally grasp onto you and disrupt your bandages.  (You wish you had given into your desire to hold onto them earlier.)  

You whisper their name, frantic, hoping they can hear you.

“I’m here,” Mhin assures you, their voice pitched low and cautious.  You feel the gentle press of a foot against yours, a light tap of reassurance against the side of your sole.  “Stay close.”  There’s a brush of fingertips against your back.  “If the entity is particularly powerful, it will be able to move objects,” Mhin cautions, “but a ghost should never be capable of causing harm to humans directly.  And there’s not much in here that it could throw.  Just stay calm.  If you don’t keep your emotions in check, it will only be more incensed.”

Light flashes through the room again in a spotlight, guiding your gaze to a particular area of the building.

The abstract mural is defaced, dripping black liquid splattered boldly across the wall like arterial spray.  You retreat a step, feeling something wet beneath your feet.  There’s a sharp, astringent tang in the air.  Musty and earthy-floral.  Old velvet and leather, parchment and fresh paint.

You realize, with a sinking feeling of cold terror, that the black ichor on the wall spells your name.

    Eyes on you.  

Touch like a gossamer spider web.  Brushing against the nape of your neck.

“Mhin,” you whisper urgently.  “Something just–”  

The cold hits you then.  Bone deep and all consuming.  Judging by the way Mhin swears, they must feel it too.  Whatever this unknown entity is, it’s close.  And it wants…

Shadow flickers, fingers reaching for you, claws grasping, white glint of teeth.

Mhin sneers audibly, reaching for you and reeling you in by your cloak just before the figure can snatch you up.  Their arm wraps around you, guiding you with them as they recede.  They sweep their stiletto in a wide arc and you hear the clang of metal on metal, though you have no idea what it was that Mhin hit.  Their night vision must be immaculate–you can hardly see more than the fresh glint of their stiletto blade.

“Turns out it is a vermin infestation.”

A bark of laughter.  

Very familiar laughter.

The door starts to rattle on its hinges, moving to the rhythm of Vere's glee.  Mhin walks over to it, dragging your shaking body with them.  With a definitive kick from Mhin and a final cackle from Vere, the door bursts open.

Mhin tugs you out into the open air and slams it behind them.

“Awful fur-bag.”  Mhin spits the words out like the mere thought of Vere leaves a bad taste in their mouth.

You’re far enough away that the black paint clinging to both of your shoes is no longer leaving footprints, but you can’t say the same about the bone deep cold.

You’re shivering so hard your teeth start to chatter, adrenaline magnifying the chill in your bones.  How did Vere even do that?  You rub your arms and nearly stumble into Mhin in the process.  Their features twist into a half-formed scowl, eyes sweeping you before softening into something more delicate.

You find yourself staring into eyes that seem to catch the moonlight, words caught in your throat.

“You’re freezing.” Mhin murmurs, resting a hand against the curve of your cheek, testing your temperature.

You’re surprised at the contact.  Mhin is always so careful about touching you–it’s something you appreciate, usually, this unspoken agreement between the two of you; Mhin doesn’t ask intrusive questions, just makes silent hypotheses and treats your personal space with care.  You appreciate it–usually–but sometimes, (constantly), you wish…

Mhin’s thumb pets against your jaw.  They glace away from you as they do, unable to hold your gaze, but they don’t remove their hand, even as the moment hangs heavy in the air.  Their hand is soft, you think, fingertips like silk, though you can feel the thick calluses built up at the meat of their palm.  Likely hard won and harder lost, trophies from their time as a freelancer and whatever secret misfortune befell them what led them to Eridia.  Unthinking, you nuzzle into their touch, luxuriating in the coveted feeling of skin on skin.  You have half a mind to turn your head, press your lips against their calluses, kiss them like you’re drawing poison from a wound.

Mhin catches your chin between their thumb and pointer finger.  Their grip is assertive, certain.  You’d worry that you’ve angered them somehow, but the intensity of their gaze, the subtle tilt of their head, the flush of their cheeks, the featherlight caress of their breath on your lips…

–You think they might–

They back away abruptly in one smooth stride.  Their hands work quickly at the intricate clasp on their cloak.  Oh, now they’re really looking away.

“Wear this while we head back.  You didn’t come to this city to die of cold.”

They look at their bracers pointedly as you hesitate, as if itching to adjust them.  You slowly reach out and put the garment on.

The trek back to the Wick is uneventful.  The occasional star glances out from the pall of clouds constantly lingering in the Eridian sky.  You look for the waning moon, finding its reticent light and following it home.  You return Mhin’s cloak at the door, careful to hold it in a way that allows them to take it without having to touch you – touch your bandages.  

Mhin looks, oddly, a little reluctant to see it returned.  You’re not sure how else you can possibly read their body language.  Their hunched shoulders, the downturn of their mouth, their uncharacteristic lingering.  Holding the cloak in their hands like they can’t quite decide what to think of it.

They let out a sharp breath.

Mhin levels you with a pointed glare as they settle their mantle across their shoulders, affixing the clasp without need to look down.  “Buy some warmer clothes.” they order, “Tell Leander that the contract is complete and the buyer’s ‘ghost problem’ is solved.  The building should be fine for renovations, just tell them to start their renewal project on a day when the Senobium is actually holding Vere’s leash.”

 

“You’ll come back for your cut tomorrow…?”  Confusion rolls off your lips.

“No.”  Mhin crosses their arms again.  “I just told you to buy some warmer clothes, didn’t I?  Consider it hazard pay.”  Again, that disgusted tone Mhin reserves for Vere.  “Even with that taken into consideration, you’ll still owe me, though.  Don’t forget.  I’ll collect some day; everyone does in this city.”

You’re not sure what to say.  Mhin is insisting that this is just a loan, and you believe that wholeheartedly.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t charity.  Mhin’s also offering you transparency–an open disclosure of the deal you’re agreeing to.  You take their cut, buy what you need, and resolve to pay it back when you can.  And if Mhin needs something similar in the future, you’ll return them in kind.  

You think you stumble over your words a little, but you agree to their offer.

“I’ll be back to collect another contract.  Hopefully something that’s not a waste of my time.”

And a promise to come back is a promise to see you again, isn’t it?  To include you in their life?  Is that what you’re supposed to take from this?  That Mhin cares for you, even if they won’t–

 

Or is it your foolish heart, showing you a path that isn’t really there?  

“Goodnight, Mhin.”  You say the words, but their back is already turned, steps already taken.

   ✦ EXTENDED ENDING...? ✦

 

 You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine.  The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed.  You smooth down the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight.  You tug the covers up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable.

As your eyes finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.  

It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you.

Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort. 

You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream.

“Vere, what–”

“Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin.

“I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

[ghouldtime]

you’re the most correct and sane könig writer and I thank you so much. you characterise him so fluidly and it makes it so so good to read what you write about him. I’m praying to any and every god that paranormal investigators AU wins so we can get fucked up cryptid könig

AHHH THANK YOU SO SO MUCH 💚💚💚💚💚 I'm glad you like how I write him!

I'm aware how I write him isn't like most of the fandom but I just try to give him somewhat solid justice and keep in-character of how I see him/what we do know. I'm just never going to get behind the realllly really awful things that I hear/see most times for him. Like you do you if that's what you want to write, but I'm also going to ignore all content like that because a lot of it is just. Gross. I can't even LOOK in the tag anymore (Genuinely convinced people just are projecting their own horny desires onto him regardless of how he is which is why there's so many really nasty interpretations that just don't fit him??? Also idk who is the person who started the 6'10" rumor but genuinely I'm coming for you it's so dumb and makes 0 sense. He's tall, not THAT tall, I don't think everyone realizes how tall that is and how many issues that causes.) Can you tell I'm easily distracted IRREGARDLESS of what wins, I will happily do fucked up cryptid König. Just a matter of time

And deciding on the creature. Any suggestions are absolutely welcome, throw it at me? I'll write it.

[Minus the cannibalistic W one which I will not fully name out of respect and a similarly popular one starting with S, ending in -alker , that also belongs to Native cultures which I have 0 right to use and would feel like shit doing so. They've been really bastardized by popular culture into being a gimmicky thing instead of treating with proper seriousness and intent when it comes to the topic of them, watered down, and I'm NEVER ever ever going to write using those because it's not in my right to do so]

[byte-your-tongue]

Sebastian Solace x Crybaby!Reader

(Platonic, GN Reader)

AN: This is actually a repost from my main blog. But i edited it to be more general rather than selfship writing! I haven't written anything that wasn't basic headcanons in a LONG time. So please excuse the first couple ones i do being bad lol.

TW: Blood, gore, violence, vomit, descriptions of injuries, constant talk of an impending death (that doesn't actually happen.)

Run.

That was the only thought coursing through your mind at the moment as you were chased through the halls of the abandoned facility.

You weren't even sure if anything was following you anymore, but your adrenaline fueled brain kept screaming at you to keep moving. And that was where your first mistake lie. You were so caught up in keeping an eye out for flickering lights and sparks coming off fake doors you forgot to pay attention to your other senses.

You couldn't hear anything over your own loud footsteps and heavy breathing, failing to notice the tell tale sign of a wall dweller sneaking up on you until it was nearly too late. You whipped your head around just as the creature struck, scaring it off in the same moment it lunged for your legs.

You let out a loud yelp and stumbled, but refused to break eye contact with the fleeing monster until it was fully gone. And even then you lay on the floor for a minute longer, making sure it wasn't faking its retreat. But when You finally went to pick yourself off the ground your right knee buckled from the injury inflicted by the wall dweller.

Just as you sat down to assess your injuries all the lights in the room flickered, an ominous warning of the Angler approaching. You ground your teeth through the pain and dragged yourself into the nearest locker, slamming the door shut right as the monstrosity roared past.

'Goddammit! I really can't catch a break this time, huh?'

You grimaced as you slowly opened the locker door, switching on your only light source you had managed to find so far: a lantern with half the batteries drained already. It was more likely to anger squiddles, but even after who knows how many failed attempts to retrieve this stupid crystal you still hadn't gotten over your crippling fear of the dark. If anything it's gotten worse during your time down here.

And so you limped along, praying they would be out of this stretch of dark rooms before your light source died out. As you entered through the next door you noted the number: 42. That was important for one reason: Sebastian's shop. Sebastian prefered to hang out further from the entrance that your fellow "expendables" used. Sebastian didn't want to get caught by anyone important enough to pose a real threat, and he wanted to give people time to actually collect enough research to make it worth his effort.

But none of that was important to you right now. At the moment the only thing you cared about was purchasing a med kit and fixing your leg up.

And so you continued limping along, hoping that you would soon hear Sebastian calling out to them.

As you opened the next room, it was finally bright enough to turn off your lantern. It was a long hallway with tall glass windows looking out into the ocean. You moved closer to one, admiring and fearing the inky abyss that stretched seemingly endlessly in every direction.

Your thoughts were cut off abruptly when Eyefestation quickly swam up to the glass, invading your mind with whispers and shouts in a million different voices. You doubled over from the physical and mental assault, vomiting and scrunching his eyes closed.

You slowly crawled along the floor, pain searing through your head, feeling around for the exit with your hands. As your faintly heard the hiss of a door opening the pressure in your mind finally retreated.

Your were definitely worse for wear now. You were nauseous, bleeding, had a splitting headache, had nearly no supplies, and were unable to do anything other than pathetically crawl onwards.

You was convinced you was going to die down here.

Again.

But just a few doors later you heard a quiet voice hiss out at him:

"Hey, over here!"

Sebastian.

Safety.

You quickly located the vent and clawed weakly at the covering, finally getting it loose with a grunt. You dragged yourself through the tight space as you felt your vision dimming.

It was all you could do to finally get into the meager shop before you collapsed fully, your mind and vision going dark as you drifted away into unconciousness. The last thing you heard was a surprisingly panicked shout from Sebastian.

'Ah. He actually cares about me?'

It was the last though you could muster up before finally fully passing out.

...

...

...

It was merely 20 minutes later when you finally awoke, groaning in pain and taking note that your injuries were now bandaged. You looked up to see Sebastian. He was fidgeting with something in his hands, his brow furrowed and the tip of his tail nervously swishing from side to side. As soon as he realized you were awake he perked up and slithered over to you.

"Are you feeling ok? You aren't concussed, right? I bandaged you up and gave you some painkillers, but you really shouldn't take them on an empty stomach so let me know if you have eaten recently."

"Ah..." You slurred your words somewhat, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "I don't think I got and injuries on my head, so no concussion. And I haven't eaten. How much for some food? And how much do i owe you for the medkit? I don't have that much research on me right now..." You trailed off as you saw Sebastian face shift to annoyance.

"Are you serious?" Sebastian's voice raised and he looked offended. "Do you really think i'd charge you for something like this? How little do you think of me?"

"Oh....." You looked down in embarrassment. "I don't know i just.... i mean i consider you a friend. You're the only safety i have down here and you let me rest in your shop and-" You cut yourself off. "But... but i thought you didn't like me. I thought i was an annoyance..."

You looked down with a sad look on your face as you continued in a small voice:

"I thought.... I thought i was just another expendable to you..."

Sebastian's face was sometimes hard to read, but the look of hurt he wore at that moment was clear as day.

"Y/N...."

'That's the first time he's said my name so softly...'

Sebastian cleared his throat before continuing awkwardly. "I know that... I am not always the most pleasant person to be around. But... I want you to know.. that.. out of everyone down here.. you are someone who i do truly appreciate."

You were stunned for a second. You had only ever heard sebastian either insult you or try to sell you something. The refreshing honesty and compassion in his tone was something you took a second to savor before you finally realized you should respond.

"Sebastian... I'm so glad you like me. I'm so glad you wanna be my friend. It honestly makes me so happy.... I- I-" You trailed off with tears in your eyes. A common sight yet one that managed to shock Sebastian this time around.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Don't go crying after i just said i appreciate you! Do you really not wanna be my friend that bad!" Sebastian panicked, reaching an arm down to comfort you.

You laughed, your tears starting to dry up as fast as they started. "Noooo! You already said you like me!! You can't take it back now!"

Sebastian playfully jabbed at you with one of his much larger hands. "You're damn right! You're stuck with me now whether you like it or not!" He gave a smile full of sharp teeth, one that used to scare you but was now a comfort to see.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while until you finally broke it.

"Hey... if we're friends now can you tell Painter to stop trying to kill me?"

"Hahaha... I think you'll have to take that one up with Painter yourself."

...

"Dammit...."

[luridon]

Imago Dei

A story of zealotry and bugs.

Or: Could you love a worm?

♡characters: yandere!bug x  deity!reader

♡warnings: MINORS DNI, bugs, blood, cannibalism, murder, obsession, gore, animal death, eldritch themes where YOU are the incomprehensible horror, religious themes, body horror, suicidal thoughts in an I have no mouth and I must scream kinda way, no smut but this is probably worse than smut honestly,  MINORS DNI

♡notes: Buggy People. Bug themes. Fantasyish bug world. Arachnophobes and entomophobes beware. You guys know the adventure time episode with tiny people on a separate plane of reality/existence that's sort of the logic we're operating on. This is the inverse of the "would you love me if I was a worm" meme because the worm comes first here. Does this count as bestiality is that what this is?? Ehh this is xenofiction ish this is FINE everything's FINE we don't have to psychoanalyze this we're all FINE this is all in good fun wtf did I write this

♡w/c: 2k+ | ♡masterlist♡ |

You chose him from the swarm.

You were a thing he could not comprehend, a being so vast his kind's vision was simply incapable of perceiving them in their entirety. You, in comparison, had an eye was so great you saw all his kin at once. You saw the lands beyond, their deep caverns and glass-castled cities, their seas-

And you saw him, an insignificant creature among many. A weak worm writhing among his brethren in the dirt. Your silver claws descended, and you plucked his prone form from the slums of his nest.

The elders had whispered of godkin and cruelty, of their favored being fed the still-squirming flesh of his kind. It was of little concern to him, a young thing starved and cold. He thought only of hunger. If not that, then of an end. . .but that end did not come.

For a moment and an eternity, you tended to him. You brought fresh fruit to his maw, the pulp dripping with sweet nectar. Though hesitant, his hunger won, and he ravenously tore into the meal. He was cradled in flesh soft and warm as he fed, and he could feel your lifeblood pulse beneath the plane of it. Slowly, he had his fill of the nectar, and he regained his strength.

Your great eye gazed upon him through it all. A low sound murmured all about him, and the maw that could have so easily devoured everyone he knew in a bite bared strange ivory fangs. He could do nothing but bare his own black fangs, to try and understand-

And that was his mistake. 

The world fell.

Once again, he was upon the meager dirt, only now his belly was full. He shifted about, but your warm hold was gone, so too was your gaze.

Your favor had ended as quickly as it came. You had vanished from the skies beyond, from the everything in his small, lowly world.

No matter what he asked of the elders or his peers, none could say what had happened.

Why would godkin care for us?  they scoffed, if they even believed in gods to begin with. You imagined things in your delirium. Banish these strange dreams from you head, child. They will only plague you.

Plagued indeed. He was haunted by your strange act. Why had you done so? Why had you shown kindness to such an insignificant creature, a runt fit to only to be torn apart by the rest of his nest when he'd finally keel over and die?

He could not understand.

He wanted to understand.

He wanted to feel that warmth, that gaze that found him worthy, taste that nectar, sweet and cool, hear that soothing god-tongue, even if he could not discern a word. Nothing but a daydream, whispered the nest, but he knew-

You were real. The stories of godkin must have come from somewhere. He would seek you, and understand.

To do so required sacrifice.

To survive, one needed strength. For strength, one needed sustenance, and in the nest, there was no better fare than flesh still fresh and bleeding.

Those the godkin favored fed upon lower beings, so the stories went.

As he tore into the flesh of those he felled, he thought the tales true. The tenderness of their bodies filled him with strength, and he felt something stirring within him with every dripping mouthful.

There were whispers of the power to change. Even the weak could grow strong. Even worms could grow wings and horns and armor.

A vain hope, some would say, clicking their fangs with disdain, delighting in small, pitiful pleasures. We are all destined to die as we are. Is it not lovely, to die as we are?

You did not let him die. He must have been destined for more.

He grew larger, and braver. From the deceased he went to hunt weaklings, then the hale, than the strong. Their cries were heeded no more than their scorn. Their blood wet his maw, their flesh filled his stomach.

They must have believed in gods then. They must have believed in you, for they were within him, a part of him, and he believed in you. Gods like worship, no? Now a whole nest sought you as he did.

Still, you did not appear.

The offering must not have been grand enough. It was a gift so paltry, of course it was unworthy of your attention. What did you seek then? Is there anything you could desire? What would it take to win your favor once more?

He despaired in the ravaged nest, and full and a weary from the fight and the feast, he fell into a deep sleep.

There are rumors of a beast.

One that devoured towns, one that ruined kingdoms led even by the great queens of earth and nector. Walls of crystal could not save their people. Claw and venom, stinger and wing- none could halt the monster.

It would come and conquer, feasting upon the fallen. It was horrible sight, a beast with armor, and wing, and venom- a creature that seemed to take into itself all the powers of those it fed upon. It persisted through cycles and seasons beyond those of mortal beings. It was unkillable, unstoppable.

Only those who spoke of godkin would live. Only those who proclaimed a devotion for the same entity it worshipped were spared.

The rumors spread until they ceased to be mere tales, because the beast was met, or the scoffers perished.

To survive, a cult rose in the monster's wake. Feigned following though it be, the masses were desperate to avoid the beast's wrath. The number of devoted grew, and grew, and grew, and fearing more power to the beast, fearing their own consumption by its fangs or its frenzied swarm, the rulers of nests gathered and one dared to ask the beast what it sought.

A fool's errand, a lover's folly, the ramblings of a lunatick. Still, cooperation was sworn, and scholars all across the soils and skies toiled to bring its god to the land. But how terrible a god it must be- for a such a zealot to be its first follower.

A spell of summoning was found, and alongside it. . . a spell of change. To bring god-kin to their lowly realm would only spell doom for them all. A fragile vessel then, to hold their mind, their essence. Something to placate its gluttonous fiend without ending everything as it did.

The beast knew nothing of the schemes of the fearful rulers. Through much sacrifice, at last the power to bring the god-kin was ammassed.

And so it was.

What a terrible thing it was, a god, or whatever portion was snatched of one, forced into the form of one of scaled wings and thin limbs. Something so vast could not be made so small so easily. Wings twisted with flesh and fat, eyes all about it. It thrashed in its new form, it wept and bled-

But that mattered little.

A godkin was brought low, and the beast was appeased. There was peace in the realm, and the people rejoiced.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

You wake in pain, with senses stolen and an inexplicable wrongness about you. You can move, but nothing moves right. You can see, but your sight is strange. You try to call for help-

There is nothing you can say. You cannot feel your tongue or teeth, or lips, or throat, or anything at all where your mouth should be. A nightmare, a bout of sleep paralysis, a terrible dream is all it is-

You hope that's all it is. You hope in vain.

The world trembles and so do you. You try to bring a hand to your face but find it wrong, find scales and segments over your skin and the color is wrong the texture is wrong everything is wrong-

Your joints feel too low, or too high, your body too light and too heavy. There are heavy masses at your back and like a reflex when they strike something, you lurched forward and they unfurl in a most uncomfortable, off-putting matter. New nerves, you limbs, what is happening to you-?

You feel claws spined and sharp take what should have been your hands. You hear things you could not comprehend yet do- chitters and shutterings, clicking sounds all about filtered through your head as whispers and meaning. The world is too dark yet you can't shut or open your eyes. You need to breathe but can't feel lungs, yet everything smelled. Too strong, too clear, of food, of flesh, of flowers, of soil-

Too much, it is too much-

Your new form grants you one small mercy.

You fall asleep.

You do not know how long you've been here.

A strange, dark place. A burrow, a nest, one with a bed strewn with leaves and petals and silks for a bed. You move little. You do not want to, when every movement reminds you of what you are now.

You hate the dark of it, the cloying scent of decay and earth, the silence.

But you hate the figure beside you more.

It has a terrifying visage, one barely human the way the other few faces you've seen are, the way your own feels like beneath your horrible clawed, scaled hands. It's more buglike than anything, mandibles and chitin and eyes too big and dark. You are one of them now, likely. You have not dared to look.

The figure hums. It's a soft thing, almost a soothing croon, but you loathe it all the same. It's no human sound. There is no human here, not even you.

It sounds pleased with itself, as it speaks of the world outside, of pleasant weather and a garden. You cannot tell what sort of insect it is, but it's held in high regard by the others, it has its own land where none bother it, and so none bother you. It says those who tried to slay you have been executed, and their heads, clean and shining, are piked among the foliage and blooms.

That draws tears from you, and you hate the revolting beast beside you as bows its head to lap up the fluid from all the eyes.

How relieved you must be, it says. I'm glad I could protect you.

You hate it, the creature that brought you here and keeps you here. The one time you felt hope was when those intruders swarmed in, and tried to take your head.

An abomination, they had hissed, raising something sharp, An affront to nature.

You only prayed that they knew where your neck was, if you had one in this body.

Your soft flesh was barely pierced when they were flung from you. The figure now at your side had returned, and it took them all away, slaying some, maiming others. Then it had kneeled beside you, murmuring apologies and begging for forgiveness as it tended to you.

You think you started truly hating it then.

Your captor never tires of muttering about how glad it is to have you here, your flesh and your warmth, your mere presence. It likes to lay beside you, or press its face or claws to your wings to feel the veins and arteries beneath your skin. It drinks of your tears and blood and thanks you for the blessing, and you have much to give as you weep from the pain of your new form, of being here, from the eyes upon your head and the ones upon your wings.

It is a monster that kneels beside you and keeps you here, and you are a monster as well.

You are an abomination, to your kind and its own. You hope others of its kin feel the same, and that they'll seek to finish what their fellows started.

You can only hope one day, one of them will succeed.

Tldr: A worm fell in love with something way beyond it so metamorphosed into an abomination of a beetle and dragged its god down to its plane even if that mean much murder and squishing a human into a horrible fleshy butterfly abomination thing. It is now happily malewifing while its god wants to die.

[whiteraven90]

hello, I hope you're having a good day <33 I saw your recent post on my dash and I was STUNNED at the animated scene! It's insane to me I get to see your characters animated. Feeling blessed to be alive to see it, I am not exaggerating. You know, one of these times where you wake up and things are a little bumpy in your life but there's one thing that shines brightly you didn't know it could give you so much excitement? Yeah, that kind of thing ((:

I took my time for the past hour to reminisce over your blog again. It is one of the places I really love scrolling through and reading your writing. I had a question, if you don't mind me. The way you have improved is truly admirable. I know this might not be an easy ask to say "hey, how did you learn how to paint", so I'll ask this instead: I don't know how long you've been working full-time in art, but when do you make time for studies / drawing for fun? If it's not too much to respond to, how do *you* study? I remembered your posts with your redlines and wanted to ask how do you go about those, or if you switch your routines based on your needs (sketches vs speed painting backgrounds etc). The notes there were very interesting, seeing the mental exercise.

Pretty sure you have a fKTON of stuff on your plate, so please don't feel obligated to respond quickly or even at all. Thank you in advance for taking the time to read my message and for all the time you take to respond in general. Love reading your responses <3

Take care, ok? <3

I'm glad the animation made you feel better! I'll put the answer under the Keep Reading thingy.

I'm not entirely sure... I think I don't study as much as I should/could. I mostly learn as I go. Standalone studies are helpful, I'm just drawn to doing things that are more fun/satisfying to me or things that actively progress my creative goals. Imperfect illustrations for my stories, and incomplete research for worldbuilding! Many people learn faster than I, and those people do a lot more studies than I, but I have no info on whether they have more fun than I. Dopamine is rocket fuel, so it's important. :)

I'm always on the lookout for reference pictures, but I study almost only when I have a practical goal in mind, I guess. Studying is part of my job too, I think? As an indie concept artist I'm supposed to build a hoard of references and pull several new/sensible things out of them, and I think part of this process is understanding the material, and revisiting even what I already know. Illustration is similar. If I'm commissioned to draw an anthro alligator, it's time to study gators. It's not separate from work.

I mean, straightforward version: I wake up at 03:30, make coffee, and start working for myself until the paying work starts, lol. Brain is fresh before noon, and tired late in the evening just like everyone else's. It also helps that the city more or less shuts up at 4am.

The studies with the redlines... I do them when I fancy drawing characters or creatures but feel out of shape. I can get discouraged, feel like I forgot how to draw. I sketch if I plan to sketch, and paint if I plan to paint or want to study colors Drawing live models helps. Studying videos of people and things in motion. Hopping down rabbit holes about how/why things work (e.g. flintlock, Davy lamp, mansard roof). Drawing from refs. Hoarding refs. Trying different mediums (e.g. charcoal, 3D, etching). Small screenshot of one of my ref boards for the animation; I'd say I studied it a lot. How clothes move, what are good clothes, how do good clothes move, lion/tiger + human + eagle anatomy (from specific angles during specific motions if/when possible), how to dive roll, proper sprinting form, how to survive falling from a great height, spearfighting, pole vaulting, poledancing, lighting, colors, environment, kicked-up sand in motion, spear types, emu/cassowary/griffon vulture feet, etc. I didn't draw studies, unless you count the animation itself (I would).

[bad-as-me]

Morgott for the ask meme!

hell yes my boy!!

favorite thing about them

Honestly, Morgott covers the bases for a lot of things I'm weak for in a character. I love a guy who is so single-mindedly devoted to a cause, especially one driven by a need to be loved, that the rest of the world and their own well-being falls apart in the process. Something about the inherent tragedy of someone choosing to die on a hill that nobody asked them to take on, that would really be in their better interest to let go of and start anew elsewhere, and yet you want so badly for their efforts to be rewarded in some way because you know it's all for love.

It's just so terribly romantic in a gothic sense. He reminds me so much of the description of the creature in Frankenstein: someone that tried so hard to fit himself into the image of what his maker wanted, who speaks beautifully and eloquently in contrast to his rough exterior, who boasts an intelligence and a competency that was likely learned while hidden from society. And yet we know in both situations that effort will never be reciprocated.

Also, he growls and purrs and has a giant fluffy snow leopard tail. How can I not be obsessed with him.

least favorite thing about them

His big beautiful horns are so hard to draw :'(

Honestly, he's one of those characters where even his flaws are incredibly interesting to me. I like that he refuses to give up his position of power! It's something he worked so hard for, and to his mind must be the only way he can stay safe in a world that he knows wants him dead. I like that he can't let go of the status quo! As his Great Rune tells us, Omen or not he is the rightful Lord of Leyndell. By all standards of the world they're in, he has every right to be proud of that title. And given the alternatives he's likely had presented to him (Rykard, Mohg, the Frenzied Flame), why wouldn't he believe that this stagnant existence is the best he could ask for?

He's the immovable object to our unstoppable force. There's a nobility in his commitment to that, however misguided it may be.

favorite line

"We are all forsaken. None may claim the title of Elden Lord. Thy deeds shall be met with failure, just as I..."

I love his monologue in the beginning of his fight, but the fact that this is the last thing he says just tears me apart on so many levels. It really hammers home how much of his targeted spite towards us is him projecting his own sense of failure to his lineage. He crawled all this way through the mud, gave every drop of his accursed blood for the Erdtree, and it still wasn't enough. How could we possibly have a chance when all his efforts were for naught?

No matter how many times I replay it, I always take some time just to sit next to him after he says that, listening to the rain over the capitol and the somber song of Leyndell. The city really feels like it's in mourning at that moment, all for someone they hated too much to truly understand.

brOTP

Mohg and Morgott!!! The gruesome twosome!! The dynamic duo! Every piece of art or fic that depicts them having some brotherly squabbles and shenanigans brings a little bit of life back into my eyes :')

OTP

As far as canon characters go, it's gotta be Morgott/Oleg. We love a good knight/master ship around these parts, and I think he deserved someone as devoted to protecting him as he was devoted to his cause.

Outside of that, well. I am writing an ongoing fic of Morgott and my Night's Cavalry Tarnished (who was never a Tarnished but a secret third option, but you know.) I think about them a normal amount.

nOTP

Mohg/Morgott. I just want them to have one single family relationship in their life that is remotely healthy man 😭

random headcanon

He's good with animals, and prefers the company of them to people. Most of his communication to the Night's Cavalry is through carrier falcon, but if he needs to summon them all for a meeting, he can do so with an instrument that's very similar to an Aztec death whistle.

Also, he recanted his blood through the Church of Vows. Him and Miriel have a good rapport with one another.

unpopular opinion

Respectfully, I disagree with both the "Morgott is basically the Lands Between's evangelical gay republican" take, as well as the "Morgott is a soggy baby virgin who will cry if you give him a cookie" take.

I think he is a living contradiction in a lot of ways. He is simultaneously an accursed Omen, the lowest of the low, while also having tangible evidence that he is the child of a god and of a powerful bloodline. He has held Leyndell together for more than long enough both to be aware of its corruption, and to be in a position to change it, but he can't allow himself to believe any of it needs to be changed.

He is too stuck on the idea that he needs to uphold the way things are - to prove himself "better" than his curse - to change anything. This is directly contrasting his brother Mohg, who has made an entire cult around acknowledging the unjust suffering he went through.

Like the sealing of his blood into a sword, he represses that truth, until he is so broken down that it is released all at once - painfully and without control.

Because of this, I think he would recoil at the idea of being an object of pity. He has done too much to earn a respectable position for anyone to tell him that he deserves better - even if it's true, and he should be told that.

song i associate with them

Oh god I have a whole playlist of them. But if I were to narrow it down:

Sonne by Rammstein

Momma Sed by Puscifer

Romans 10:9 by The Mountain Goats

Helvegen by Wardruna

favorite picture of them

I am not exaggerating when I say this illustration by tendermiasma re-wired my brain on a fundamental level

[yandere-sins]

I love nagas so much, it’s so fucking weird because I’m not a snake girly at all. (I touched one before tho! Not scared just not particularly interested) But I think about them, write about them, read about them and I’m just....

They make me so happy I can’t describe it ;;

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Turtle Takedown Teamwork.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[thethespacecoyote]

I still feel like the craziest part of the book of bill is bill making ford stand on his roof in the freezing cold and ford realizing bill couldve made him jump but didn't. like. what the fuck

[moe-broey]

Oh, poor thang!

[icezansky]

why isn’t Hollywolf more popular

[ghouldtime]

same anon from the cryptid König ask. Person who started the 6’10 thing was his own voice actor (who is already a not so pleasant guy).

anyway. you want cryptid könig ideas? Oh bitch (affectionate) I have plenty.

1) most prolific Austrian folklore dude is of course Krampus, who is a specific character in his own right and holds connections to old pagan folk tradition. Mostly the deal here is about punishing people for being bad. Usually Krampus and the other adjacent folklore creatures of the same ilk (namely the Straggele) are depicted with big horns, shaggy hair and weird eyes. big weird goat dudes. this König would probably be a pretty old spirit. Would be fun if he was the reader’s ‘white whale’ of sorts, trying to get evidence of his existence, while he’s watching on with heart eyes.

2) of course, if we want to go more classic campy paranormal, there’s always classic weird fucked up ghost thing. sort of shadow monster creature style that has solidified into a dude who is definitely a regular guy don’t worry about the mist. The type of paranormal entity who’s creation is more complicated than a regular standard death. maybe his ghost-hunting afterlife is so he can figure out what the hell happened to him. maybe he just thinks it’s funny. don’t worry about the mist.

3) weird shit time. You’ve seen the könig with tentacles under his hood fanart trend I assume, and boy don’t I love a nice dose of eldritch with my monster men. weird shapeshifter sort of vibes. Dude in the woods who has maybe two many arms (it helps with his miniature carving, actually). He’s got most of the being human parts down well and can go to the grocery store. but sometimes he needs a second when sweet human offers to help patch a hole in one of his jumpers (because he might start growing feathers from joy). His eyes are a little too bright sometimes and his shadow a little too long but he’s just a regular guy!

rambling over. im a massive sucker for monsterous men.

Oh really??? Explains it. I mean the 6'10" will always have me laugh it is rlly ridiculous (especially when you see his character model near others)

I, embarrassingly, don't know how I forgot about Krampus. I have like a stuffed animal of him, I was JUST playing Wizard101 winter in summer event where he was there. I have greeting cards with him on it. I'm absolutely going to write that one for SURE in some way shape or form so thanks for the idea 👀

I'm also doing the second for sure. I was trying to figure out what kind of paranormal being he would be and I was thinking some type of shade or shadow creature. A being that lurks in the dark and can just be a glowing pair of eyes or something you see out of the corner of your eye before disappearing??? Sign me the hell UP

I love love love all of these ideas so so so much and I NEED to write them all eventually. They've been added into the queue of future things to do 👀 I can already picture it now

Whoever you are anon, I love your big beautiful brain and THANK YOU for the ideas. 💚💚💚💚 You're always welcome to submit any ideas you have for any monster men of the COD characters and I swear I'll write them

[thornilee013]

Happy Wednesday! YAY!! I’m so excited for you! I hope you have the most amazing time! Also, as someone who spent roughly 14 years with a marine biology special interest, I absolutely did not notice that you didn’t include the names of fish so you are so good haha. I’ve really been enjoying the aquarium scenes in baby Jean! I spent years watching documentaries about aquariums/aquarium construction/marine biology and begging for trips the the aquarium any time we were close to one. The little aquatic theme to baby Jean so far has been so fun for me!

When you have some time, could I please get some baby Jean? I hope you and your dogs are staying warm!! 🤍🤍🤍

prev | Baby Jean | WW 18.1.2024

Jean fought the urge to cry as he looked around himself for any hint of his family. Instead, he was surrounded by strangers. He leaned back against the glass of the exhibit and sat down, cradling his chin in his hands.

MASTERPOST

[godblooded]

man i miss hanging out on the dash.

[saltedsolenoid]

i feel like one of the things that makes my new project so intriguing to me is just how childish and friendly it all feels. like. it's a partially-illustrated chapter book you pick up in your third-grade elementary library and never really forget nor remember. it doesn't have as much depth as some other things that i've worked on but it's so warm and that makes up for it all.

[pyrriax]

How about c!Redd, c!Guts, or c!Krow for the character bingo if you’d like! Or Branzy or Zam if you wanna do some lifestealers instead!

i love a challenge and am now gonna do all of them :3

(done with the utmost love, i'm very fond of all of these characters actually <3 i just honed it to base opinions)

in order: c!krow, c!red, c!guts, branzy, zam

((i will say that i haven't watched c!red or c!guts' povs, which is why i lack opinions on them. i've been meaning to and then i got dragged into being hopelessly fixated on lifesteal pfvdfnjk; and for the fact like 98% of what i've written recently have been branzy-centric fics that actually include zam a Lot. so. you've handed me my blorbos on a platter and asked for opinions pdfvfndjk))