#pale crawlers

[knowofsomething]

What are Pale Crawlers?

„[...] Then, just ahead, I catch a glimpse of something that makes my blood run cold. A gaunt, pale figure crouches beside a tree, its elongated limbs bent at impossible angles. My flashlight beam illuminates its hairless flesh, so white it seems to glow in the darkness. As I stand paralyzed, the creature turns its head, revealing a lipless mouth lined with tiny razor-sharp teeth. Its eyes are like endless black voids staring deep into my soul. In the blink of an eye, the apparition scuttles into the thicket with unnatural speed, leaving me alone once more with the shadows.”

Descriptions and origins:

Typically described as thin, humanoid creatures with a very pale complexion and long limbs. Even though they move in a crawling or slithering gait, they are known to be incredibly fast.

There is little to no evidence to suggest these creatures are a threat to humans as they are not overtly aggressive.

Pale Crawler sightings and stories about encountering them started appearing for the first time in the 2000s. There is no scientifically verified evidence for the existence of pale crawlers. They are believed to be products of internet culture and modern myth-making.

Habitat:

Because pale crawlers are a part of modern myth and urban legends, they do not have a fixed habitat.

Most accounts describe them lurking in isolated areas, such as forests, abandoned houses, basements, or near campsites.

Theories:

Some believe pale crawlers are an undiscovered species, some think them to be tulpas (willed into existence by a shared belief) which could explain their increased sightings with the rise of internet.

Many people mistake pale crawlers with creatures like wendigos or skinwalkers.

[thepalecrawlers]

Possible crawler in Maine

[josefgalahad]

Pale crawler.

[hauntedkenku]

So my mom and little sister just told me that on the way home they saw a "monster" on the side of the road. They described it to me. My autistic special interest bell rang. I identified it and Google searched it. To their horror I found exactly what they saw.

It was a pale crawler. You have to be kidding me. I do not need this right before the new year.

I specifically did a thing so cryptids would stay hidden from my family 😭😭😭

[cryptid-quest]

Cryptid of the Day: Pale Crawler

Description: Pale Crawlers are humanoid cryptids seen around the Great Lakes region of the US, described as having long limbs, pale skin, and black eyes. Sightings are a recent phenomenon, with many online forums dedicated to Crawler sightings.

[xxb0ywalk3rxx]

They took his ozempic dawg

[singularfortean]

The latest 'Reports from the Void' describes one person's encounter with a bizarre creature in the same area as seven reported winged humanoid sightings.

[prof-marvolius]

Críptido del día: Pale Crawler

Descripción: Los Pale Crawlers son críptidos humanoides que se ven en la región de los Grandes Lagos de los EE. UU., y se describen con extremidades largas, piel pálida y ojos negros. Los avistamientos son un fenómeno reciente, con muchos foros en línea dedicados a avistamientos de los crawlers.

[bamfkeeper]

Blue Helpers.

RQ: 'Can I request reader (established relationship with night crawler) where reader is sick and the barmfs get so worried and try to take care of her, along side hurt' - @lillycore

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader | warnings: Sick/illness themes

a/n: Doing quick little requests because I've been busy, I'm sorry 💔 I hope you enjoy this little drabble. Unedited. ;; wc: 1.0k

You coughed violently, your body shaking with each forceful expulsion of air.

As the fit subsided, you sank back into your bed, pulling the comforter tightly around you in a desperate attempt to find comfort. The pressure in your sinuses was relentless, a constant ache that seemed to radiate through your entire skull. It had been years since you'd fallen ill like this, and the sudden onset of sickness a few days ago had caught you completely off guard. You thought it was maybe food poisoning, but there was no way food caused you to be this sick.

Since then, you'd been confined to your bed, your body too weak to do much more than sleep fitfully and endure the various symptoms plaguing you. The combination of fever, congestion, and overall malaise left you feeling utterly gross, as if your own body had betrayed you.

Your persistent coughing didn't go unnoticed. The little blue imps were curious and concerned, cautiously making their way into your bedroom. They climbed onto the bed, their large yellow eyes blinking rapidly as they observed your weakened state. Their usual energy subdued with worry as they saw just how weak you were, radiating illness from your body. They stretched out their tiny arms towards you, but maintained a respectful distance, unsure of how to help or what to do. The bamfs huddled together at the foot of the bed, their gazes never leaving you as they tried to make sense of your condition.

It was clear to them that you were unwell - your pale complexion, the sheen of sweat on your brow, and your labored breathing were obvious signs. In their limited understanding, they couldn't comprehend why this illness had rendered you so completely incapacitated, so unlike your usual vibrant self.

One of the bamfs chirped softly, its tiny feet pattering across the bed as it approached you. It nuzzled against your cheek, its velvety body held a comforting warmth that provided a momentary respite from the discomfort of your fever. The gesture brought a weak smile to your face, despite your illness.

"Ach, kleine Schätze...bitte, give them some space," Kurt gently admonished, his voice a soothing murmur as he entered the room carrying a steaming bowl. He placed the bowl on the nightstand and lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress. His golden eyes met yours as he spoke softly, "Liebe...you must be feeling dreadful. Your temperature is quite high."

He reached out, his cool hand brushing against your forehead in a tender gesture. A reassuring smile played on his lips as he continued, "But fear not, I've brought something that should help."

Kurt lifted the bowl, wisps of steam rising from its contents. "I've prepared some Kartoffelsuppe for you," he explained, his voice warm with nostalgia. "It's a special recipe, freshly made and piping hot. My mother used to make this very soup for me whenever I fell ill as a child. It always seemed to work wonders."

You lifted your head weakly, mustering a faint smile despite your exhaustion. "It does smell good..." you murmured, the aroma of the soup tantalizing your senses. With some assistance from Kurt, you managed to sit up a bit more, your body still feeling fragile and unsteady. Kurt adjusted himself to sit closer, carefully holding the spoon out for you, his movements slow and deliberate to ensure your comfort.

As the spoon touched your lips, you savored each small sip. The soup was a symphony of flavors, each taste bud awakening to the rich, comforting blend. The warmth of the liquid spread through your body, contrasting to the chills of your fever. You knew you probably shouldn’t be eating hot soup with a temperature, but the soothing heat of the soup in your belly felt like a balm to your ailing body. You couldn't help but appreciate the deliciousness of the meal, a small pleasure in your current state of discomfort.

"Ugh, it's delicious, Kurt..." You sighed, savoring the food and relieved your stubborn stomach was accepting of the meal instead of instantly making you vomit it all up.

The bamfs huddled around you, their large eyes filled with concern as they observed Kurt feeding you. Their tiny forms pressed close, offering what comfort they could through their presence. Their simple minds grappled with the concept of your weakness as they witnessed Kurt carefully spoon feeding you.

If you were too frail to feed yourself, how could you possibly manage anything else? The sight of you in such a vulnerable state clearly distressed them, their usual playful demeanor gone as they made soft whining sounds against you. Their attachment to you was evident in every worried glance and gentle touch, they had become so needy for you ever since you and Kurt became an item, and they hated seeing you hurt in any way.

After finishing your meal, Kurt excused himself to fetch some medicine, leaving you to rest and recuperate. The bamfs remained gathered around you, their concern evident in their actions. With an eagerness to assist after seeing Kurt giving you food, they took it upon themselves to tend to your needs in his absence.

Their tiny hands struggled but managed to lift the large glass of water, offering it to you for a refreshing sip whenever you tried to reach for it yourself. They replaced the cool, damp cloth on your forehead after the rag had become too warm, splaying it on your forehead perfectly each time. The sweet things even attempted to massage your aching muscles with their small, three-fingered hands.

These loyal little imps refused to leave your side, their presence a constant and unwavering. When Kurt returned, he found you curled up on your side, surrounded by a protective cocoon of blue bamfs. They had nestled themselves against your belly and back, with some even perched atop you. Their warm, sleepy bodies provided a soothing heat, carefully balanced so as not to overheat you in your fragile state.

This living blanket of bamfs offered both physical warmth and emotional comfort, even with the few that had managed to weasel their way under your arm like teddy bears.

Thanks for reading <3

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight | Photos on Pinterest, Bamfs from Nightcrawler 2014

[peggyao3]

Night Crawler - Pt. 2

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x f!reader / can be read as OC

SUMMARY: Feyd's companion is forced to witness an unfair spectacle and utilizes the means he gave to her to sway the situation.

WORD COUNT: 2,341

TAGS: 18+, smut, graphic descriptions of violence, lactation kink 🍼‼️, pseudo pregnancy, breastfeeding (no baby involved only a big sexy egg man), public breastfeeding, public sex ❗, subby Feyd, she/her reader, AFAB reader, ambiguous relationship status, non-consenting drug use, dark undertones, stockholm syndrome-ish, dubious consent, vaginal sex

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Part 1, Part 2 ↓, Part 3

The human head lands wetly on the stairs and rolls down with a thud thud thud until it comes to rest by the knees of the next supplicant, a middle aged man with thin lips whose muscles are so tense, a vein coils visibly around the curve of his bald head.

“Next!” Feyd-Rautha inspects the blade of his kukri; the edge has lost some of its sharpness in the past hour after splintering spine after spine. Servants scurry by quickly and grab the corpse by the armpits to drag it to the pile where a dozen already lie.

Meanwhile, Feyd’s companion hovers invisibly behind the na-Baron’s chair, observing this unjust spectacle of slaughter. This audience with the na-Baron is a farce. These people walked in the court room thinking they have a fair chance, but the entire function is a killing game. The only who live are those who will die anyway, no matter if their request is granted or not.

“Lord na-Baron.” The thin-lipped man kneels and his badly tailored suit wrinkles around his back. “I am here to humbly request… P-Paid leave from the factory. O-Only for two months, na-Baron.”

“Hmm.” Feyd pretends to ponder and a wave of cautious laughter rolls through the spectators, noblemen and women who draw amusement from the na-Baron’s cruel judgment of the poorer folk. “And what kind of factory would that be, civilian?”

“Bhergshimar Corps, Lord na-Baron. We p-produce supplements for medical products”

“So what do you do there? Stir up some ointments? Is that too hard of a job for you?” More laughter swells in the stands of spectators who are lined up against the walls of the elongated court chamber, framing a corridor of hubris around the waiting line of supplicants.

Feyd’s companion regards the scene with growing unease and sickness in her chest that has nothing to do with her condition. She holds her slightly distended stomach which is a product of the amniotic fluids that gather in her womb despite carrying nothing in there. Another side effect of the drug the Harkonnen Suk Doctor injects her frequently upon Feyd-Rautha’s wish. The faux condition serves no purpose besides his pleasure.

The quivering man elaborates: “C-Certainly not, Lord na-Baron! I would never ask if it weren’t necessary and I haven’t taken a single holiday for the past twenty years, except for your Holy Birthday, of course. I’m a diligent worker. But now my wife has fallen ill and I-” The man struggles for words.

“How touching,” the na-Baron sneers and tightens his grip around the kukri handle. His companion quietly shakes her head. Feyd-Rautha is  a megalomaniac child, playfully cruel. Empathy could never find a grip on his black, slippery heart. An evil soul beyond redemption.

A trickle of warm blood from the corpse pile at the top runs steadily down the stairs and suddenly touches her bare foot. Disgusted, she pulls her toes away, ankle-length skirts swishing. Bile rises in her throat and she cannot suppress the retching sound as she presses a hand further up on her stomach. Feyd turns in his throne-like chair and regards her scrutinizingly, a tilt to his pale head.

“Are you unwell, my darling?”

A rustle rolls through the crowd and every gaze is set on her, one hundred and fifty pairs of coal-black eyes in white-skinned alien skulls. She takes a deep, shaky breath that lifts her plump bosom. Feyd’s gaze dips to her cleavage and a dreamy filter settles over his eyes for but a moment.

“Actually, I am.” She tries to lower her voice to a whisper, but the silence renders the court room into something of an echo chamber.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-” She must tread carefully. He brings her to these court hearings to teach her something about politics and she knows he enjoys the horror in her eyes. Her dread will be no sufficient reason to make him stop. For a second, she meets the pleading gaze of the thin-lipped man. Sweat glistens on his forehead and his fingers are twisted into his palms. She makes the decision then, and it is surprisingly easy. “It has to do with my condition, my Lord.”

Feyd’s ears perk up and he scans her all over. “Would you like to sit?” The crowd whispers and stirs.

“I would… appreciate it. 

“Come here then.” Feyd-Rautha reaches out his hand and she feels the callouses on his palms when she takes it, letting him guide her around the chair and between his legs which he spreads so she can sit on his thigh and lean her side against his chest. “Don’t be shy,” he whispers quietly in her ear and a shiver rolls down her spine. “Get used to the view.”

She settles in his lap, controlling the cringe that creeps up her skeleton when Feyd’s arm slides around her waist and he rubs over her slightly distended belly.

“Now back to you, pathetic civilian.” The na-Baron sneers with midnight teeth. He has shifted the blade to his non-dominant hand, as the dominant one is splayed over her stomach. The poor man’s face pales with dread and he glances at the woman like she is his only hope. His fear hangs over them both like a suffocating veil and she takes a shaky breath.

“Actually, Feyd…?” She whispers quietly to the na-Baron whose gaze sways back to her, a wary edge to his jaws and eyes which can look so pretty in the right light. “I’m so uncomfortable.” She glances down at her own breasts. She doesn’t ask him often. Most of the time it is he who takes, he who crawls over her body and nips at her from ankles to chest until his lips latch around her nipple, no matter if she wants it.

Naturally, his plump lips part at her suggestion and his lashes cast long shadows down his pale cheeks as they lower.

“Now?” He presses his lips back together, briefly glancing towards the spectators. Distinctly, she feels his cock hardening against her thigh.

“Yes. Now.” It is not a request and she confidently unlaces the front of her dress to reveal her left breast. A many-voiced gasp runs through the crowd, but who are they to say a word? Or laugh or leave? This is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the beloved na-Baron of Giedi Prime. If he wishes to drink from a woman’s breast, he will, and his reputation will not be harmed.

By some miracle, Feyd obeys without further question. In front of many eyes, he bows down to her chest and gives into the sweet temptation of humiliation. Hotly, the shame sinks into his pelvis and he subtly bucks against her thigh, moaning quietly when he latches onto her nipple and the first droplets of colostrum spill on his tongue.

Everyone feels the power shift, when the na-Baron’s head bows to reach her breast.

The woman glances over the crowd, noble spectators and lower class supplicants who all see her bare chest. It takes grace to disgrace oneself so fully. She breathes deeply, wincing just slightly because of how greedily Feyd-Rautha suckles. His taller, muscular frame twitches and he reminds her of a prehistoric reptile whose maws are latched onto a carcass. She gives him a minute.

“Don't neglect court, they're waiting for you.” She feigns nervousness and pinches his chin, taking the calculated risk to try and urge him away from her breast. Feyd, as expected, snarls in response and pinches her nipple with his teeth, probably by accident. A slight tremor possesses his jaws as he drinks.

She gives a watery, apologetic smile at the gathered people, and curls her hand around Feyd’s head, scraping her fingers softly over his smooth scalp. Another minute goes by and she knows a certain sleepiness will soon settle in his bones. Cooing softly, she caresses his scalp until her left breast is as good as empty. Carefully, she detaches his mouth from her teat before they reach the stage when she is really empty, which usually sparks anger in Feyd-Rautha until he moves on to the other breast.

With only a little effort, she pries his face away from her chest and smiles at his dreamy black eyes. His features look entirely soft, jaws relaxed. His lashes serm a little damp, which happens from time to time. She’s never commented on it. Feyd-Rautha slowly swivels his head back towards the crowd. A trickle of milk runs down his chin.

“You…” He points at the waiting supplicant. “What was it?”

“T-Two months of paid leave, my Lord.” The man bows deep.

“Only two months? Fine then. Next."

“Thank you, my Lord, oh thank you. Thank you!”

A guard grabs him by the arm and shoves him aside, where the exit gate is. “The na-Baron said next.” 

Perplexed, the man stumbles into freedom and still wordlessly mouths ‘thank you’, eyes locked with the woman in Feyd-Rautha’s lap. Yes, we understand each other, she thinks and sees the man off with an earnest smile.

While she still has milk in her right breast, three more people make it out the exit gate, most of them dismissed with a lazy wave of the hand. She can tell he has lost interest in the supplicants, his little killing game no longer fun. He has even discarded the blood-stained kukri on the side of the seat, so he can grope at his companion better. She can also tell he’s growing needy, the hard ridge of his cock humping against her thigh quicker and more urgently.

Oh well, she thinks as Feyd sifts through her skirts and tugs down his trousers. The crowd may not see how his cock head breaches her and sinks into her pink center that is unprepared save for the slick which always gathers when he drinks from her, but they can very clearly tell from the way he lifts her and her features scrunch up with pain.

It could be much worse. These people could be dead. Briefly he releases her nipple and cups her breast so any spilled droplets land in his palm.

“Next!” Feyd barks, then softly rumbles in her ear. “Ride me, woman.”

How? She is awkwardly seated diagonally in his lap, facing the crowd, barely a way to use her knees or feet for leverage. Still, she tries to please him, more grinding than riding him, but he seems satisfied nonetheless while he continues suckling on her teat. Her cunt is able to relax around Feyd’s obscene girth and more wetness trickles down past her folds and gathers on his trousers.

A knot of arousal somehow grows in her belly and it could either be the compound of artificial hormones or the power she knows she holds over him from inside her gilded prison. Her right breast is empty and Feyd’s hips buck up in frustration, cock slamming against her cervix. She hisses loudly and the sound reverberates from the chamber walls.

“I’ll have more in the evening, you greedy-, ahh!” Black teeth bite her sore nipple and draw a bead of blood. “You just drank all that and dare bite me?!” She hisses quietly, but a few guards in the vicinity can hear her certainly. A grey blush breaks out on Feyd’s cheeks and ears upon being chided. Oh, he should cut her up for that, his kukri lies right there.

But the milk is heavy in his tummy and he is too lazy to move. So, he just nips at her throat, just above the bejeweled metal collar. His bite is softer there, almost apologetic.

Since there is no more milk, she attempts to pull her dress up, but the na-Baron sloppily covers her breast with his hand instead, absentmindedly kneading and pinching the sensitive nubs while his hips thrust upwards with quick rhythm. With his feet planted on the floor, he has the momentum she is missing.

“Don’t cum until we’ve made it through this line.” She gestures at the waiting supplicants who all try to wall up their hopefulness behind a stoic facade, staring at their shuffling feet.

“Why?”

“Because I’m angry at you.”

“Why?!”

“You bit me and it hurt.”

Feyd lets out a rabid snarl and kisses her shoulder, black eyes peering around her neck at the waiting men and women. There are about two dozen left and his hands are wrapped around his Lady, kneading her hip and her breasts. He can make it through two dozen. How long might that take? Five minutes if they speak quickly?

The Lady smiles quietly to herself as supplicant after supplicant leaves through the exit gate and the blade remains untouched, Feyd’s hands busy on her body. She too has a hard time keeping her composure, walls squeezing Feyd-Rautha’s cock until he can barely control the pitch of his voice.

The last supplicant states his humble request and Feyd lets out an unintelligible sound, teeth sinking into her shoulder. His cock throbs palpably against her walls and his hips squirm, a stifled moan in his throat as he holds back.

The supplicant pleadingly looks at the Lady. “What was that?” He asks.

“The na-Baron said yes, your request is granted.” She speaks in Feyd-Rautha’s name and in the same moment the na-Baron climaxes, drooling all over her shoulder as his cock releases inky semen that luckily has no effect on her altered body. 

By the time the last supplicant has staggered out of the audience chamber, happy and alive, the Lady has almost gotten used to the view.

Panting, Feyd mouths against her neck and shoulder, pushing a hand under her dress to catch some of the leaking cum and smear it over her bundle of nerves. Her skirts are partially ridden up. A few noblemen and women might just see her bare cunt and how it still hugs the na-Baron’s cock but for some reason she is not ashamed. It only takes a minute until she comes undone, her reward, because victories don’t have to feel dirty if you accept them with grace

[thepalecrawlers]

Crawler sighting

[linterteatime]

All the hollow knight gijinkas i have made so far, with links for easy find (◕_◕)

Troupe Master Grimm, Divine, The Radiance, Brumm, Broken Vessel

Quirrel, Mantis Lords, Traitor Lord, The Knight/Ghost, Tiso

Hornet, Lace, Myla, The Collector, Bretta

Pure Vessel, White Lady, Pale King

Marissa, The Hollow Knight, Iselda, Xero, Eternal Emilitia

Monomon The Teacher, Cornifer, Cloth, Jiji, Soulmaster

Hive Knight, Queen Vespa, Grey Mourner, Traitors Child, Marmu

God Seeker, Blue Child Joni, Herrah The Beast, Midwife

Nightmare King Grimm, Markoth, Gorb, Zote The Mighty, No Eyes

Grimmchild , Dung Defender, Moss Prophet, Grub, Grey Prince Zote

Paint Master Sheo, Nailmaster Oro And Mato, Nailsage Sly, Nailsmith, Lurien The Watcher

Salubra, God Tammer, Pale Lurker, Seer, Thistlewind

Small changes to Pure Vessel, Troupe Master Grimm, The Radiance

Fierce Dryya, Mister Mushroom, The Hunter, Snail Shaman

Isma, Revek, Steel Soul Jinn, Tuk

Flukemarm, Fluke Hermit, Dream Warrior Galien, Relic Seeker Lemm

Milibelle, Nosk, Elderbug, Maggot

Grimmkin Novice, Grimmkin Master, Grimmkin Nightmare, Elder Hu

Distant Villagers, Grimm Steed, Massive Moss Charger, Kingsmould

Unn, Cristal Guardian, False Knight/Mighty Hegemol, Watcher Knights

Gruz Mother, Vengefly King, Leg Eater, Menderbug

Willoh, Grubfather, Hot Spring Bugs, Mask Maker

The Last Stag/Old Stag, Brooding Mawlek, Little Fool, Soul Warrior

Ummu, Bardoon, Soul Twister, Volt Twister, Mistake, Folly

Extra stuff for the gijinkas + Fixes for old ones

Greenpath Vessel, Ellina The Chronicler, oblobbles, royal retainers

White Defender, Lord Fool, Winged Nosk, Grub Mimic

(Greenpath enemies): Mosscreep, Mossfly, Mosskin, Volatile mosskin, Fool eater, Squit, Obble, Gulka, Maskfly, Moss knight, Mossy vagabond, Durandoo, Duranda, Aluba

(Fog canyon enemies, The hive enemies, and 3 other ones without groups): Ooma, Uoma, Lumafly, Lifeseed, Bluggsac, Wingmould, Husk hive, Hive soldier, Hiveling, Hive guardian.

(Enemies from the abyss, ancient basin, and some others): knight's shade, siblings, lightseed, infected balloon, mawlurk, lesser mawlek, shadow creeper, entombed husk, void tendrils.

(Enemies from fungal wastes and a few mantises) : Ambloom, Fungling, Fungoon, Sporg, Fungified Husk, Shrumeling, Shrumal Warrior, Shrumal Ogre, Mantis Youth, Mantis Warrior, Mantis Petra.

(Enemies from the city of tears) : Husk Sentry, Heavy Sentry, Winged Sentry, Lance Sentry, Husk Dandy, Cowardly Husk/Lurien the Watcher's butler, Gluttonous Husk, Gorgeous Husk, Great Husk Sentry, Belfly.

Primal aspid, Aspid mother, Aspid hatchling, Aspid hunter, Little weaver, Tiktik, Vengefly, Crawlid, Boofly, Hopper, Great hopper, Baldur, Elder baldur.

stalking devout, spiny husk, garpede, deep hunter, corpse creeper, dirtcarver, carver hatcher, deepling, loodle, Kcin.

(spirits glade bugs + a random guard): Gravedigger, Millybug, Caspian, Dr Chagax, Atra, Garro, Grohac, Hex, Hundred Nail Warrior, Karina, Perpetos Noo, Molten, Magnus Strong, Waldie, Wayner, Wyatt, Boss, Poggy Thorax, Caelif & Fera Orthop, Husk Guard.

brumm/Nymm, volatile gruzzer, violent husk, slobbering husk, furious vengefly, winged fool, sturdy fool, heavy fool, shielded fool, death loodle, sharp baldur, battle obble, armoured squit, godseeker, godseekers, pilflip, mantis traitor, macebug.

flukefey, flukemon, flukemunga, fluke larva, turret zoteling, lanky zoteling, head of zote, fluke zoteling, zotes curse, heavy zoteling, winged zoteling, hopping zoteling, volatile zoteling, hwurmp, husk miner, crystallised husk, crystal crawler, crystal hunter, shardmite, glimback, husk hornhead, wandering husk, leaping husk, husk bully, husk warrior, giant fungal creature.

shadelord, weaver, weaverling, snail shamans, grimm troupe corpse, boon, aspid queen, unnamed moth.

Remakes of :Grimm, Radiance, Pure Vessel, Quirrel and Brumm.

(This is finished!)

[comfortless]

hello beloved 🥰 🫶 every time you mention ‘The Dungeon’ whatever da hell that is my brain just goes dungeon crawler! könig! dungeon crawler! könig! so might i request a dungeon crawling könig?

what the hell. do not send König down here… get him away from me…. *immediately forgets everything else i was doing to begrudgingly write this*

sigh… dungeoneer! König x fem! reader

content / warnings: violence, sexism, suggestive.

Retrieving the golden eye of a wyrm to be made into a lovely pendant for the Queen would pay well, keep him afloat and drifting from land to land for long enough to decide upon where to settle. The posting tacked to the wall of the inn, detailing a handsome reward, was surely the sign from a benevolent god that a glorious fate had been handed to him on a silver platter. He stuffs the parchment into the pocket of his trousers as he downs the last of his ale, tosses his coins to the barmaid on his way toward the door and sets off for the deepest dungeon in the kingdom.

There are no bright-eyed knights lobbying around the entrance, a good sign that the wyrm’s bounty was all his to claim. It makes him elated, really, and the idea of finally having his own place, bedding down with a pretty maiden each night is even more of an adrenaline rush than the actual fighting that comes the moment he steps foot into the darkened underworld. The dungeon is filled with the reanimated skeletons he’s grown so accustomed to— a quick jab with his claymore to the center of the spine leaves them a crumpled heap of bone and dust. They’ll rise again when the moon hangs lofty in the sky, but he’s done this enough times to know the best way of navigating such a place. The other beasts haunting the cavernous ruins are a bit trickier to deal with, and he’s fortunate that most shy away from the light of his torch.

Only, she does not.

The woman standing before him in full plate armor is poised for battle, blade making a steady ascent above her head in preparation to strike as her lantern is cast aside. She charges at him before he can even breathe out a word of protest, swinging the heavy sword at him so quickly that at most, he can only thrust his torch before him to prevent her plunging the tip between his ribs. She’s quick to draw back when the wood splinters and the fire sparks up on dry bone and the tattered remains of clothing from all that came before layered upon the dirt and grime coated floor. The blaze of the fire seems pale in comparison to the flames in her eyes as she pivots towards him again, and once more— he merely blocks.

“A maiden shouldn’t be here,” he says through gritted teeth as he easily pushes her back against the wall, caging her between the flat of his blade and the bulk of his body.

He hadn’t realized the ache in his groin until the woman tilts her head up to spit in his face. König doesn’t bother to wipe it away, to even pretend to be disgusted by her actions. From this small breadth between them all he sees is divine beauty— even as her eyes narrow like that of a viper preparing to strike.

“A knight to be,” she corrects him as he gives her blade a shove, the sounds of steel hissing against steel and crackling fire echoing throughout the cavern.

“Not likely.”

Their fight drags on for what feels like hours before his flask his split at his hip and she finally does back down. Even this lady knows well enough that being lost in a dark dungeon with no source of light and no water is a death sentence, and she finds him both incredibly frustrating and fun enough to keep him a live just a little longer. He’s adept enough to block even her quickest strikes, parry her with a gentle jab to her side with his index rather than his blade. He’s shown her her own weak points during their little battle, and she’s garnered a bit of respect for him for that.

As she sheaths her blade and locks eyes with him, his erection is practically trying to tear through the seams of his pants. She’s so pretty, so strong, so unlike the barmaids and damsels in distress he’s come across so often and it’s all gnawing at the recesses of his mind. The bounty almost entirely forgotten, he wants not to penetrate the wyrm with his blade but rather spear her with his cock.

He reaches for her, almost tentatively hoping to somehow melt through her armor and feel the warmth of her flesh. She’s doesn’t pull away when his hands rest against her waist, just gives him a little flutter of her eyelashes before rearing a hand back to almost playfully strike his face just before she turns on the heel of her boot and gathers her lantern.

König follows along behind her, not just out of necessity, but because she asks him to. Beckons him along with the curl of her gloved finger, coos at him when he falls behind trying to picture her body beneath the layers of chainmail and fitted steel.

“I’m taking the bounty,” she tells him when they stop to take a sip from her flask, feast on the preserved fruit and dried meat from his own satchel.

It reminds him of why he’s come all this way, what he’s supposed to be doing here. He’s a little tense— on one hand he wants to give this lady the entire kingdom, make her his wife and rid away those silly thoughts about becoming a knight, but she’s so determined!! He’s at a loss on how to tell her that there are no women knights in the land, that no matter what she brings back for the King she’ll probably only be mocked and sent on her way.

“Let me help you,” he says instead.

“You would lend me your blade?”

He just blinks at her… this silly woman has spent far too long dreaming and watching the knights in the castle yard, he just knows it. Down to the way she speaks! She’s incredible and infuriating, just as he is to her. It makes him want to push her just a bit, see what she’s capable of entirely before they part ways (she is never getting rid of him).

“What do I get in turn?”

The little knight mulls that over for a moment, as she leads him down a long corridor; everything all gilded and decorated, lit aglow by the dim orange of lantern light. The golden coins, rolls of fine silk now muddied and trampled littering the floor are enough of a sign to show they’ve nearly made their way to the heart. The wyrm would no doubt be lying in wait at the end, resting protectively over its hoard of cattle bones and shiny objects, golden eyes piercing through the darkness as it prepares for the fight to come.

It’s when the wyrm’s first hissing growl rings out through the darkness that she does turn back to face him, a mischievous little grin tugging at her lips.

“Only to live another day.”

“Nein… something else.”

He can’t stop himself from pawing at her again, curling a hand around her neck to tilt her chin up to face him. Her breath fanning over his face, her scent like peony and lantern oil make him feel drunk enough. The hand that slides between his legs to grasp at his cock is far from anything he ever anticipated from her. She was bold, too bold and too pretty for her own good.

Fate had blessed him more than he could even begin to fathom, after all.

[sherwees]

cw : trespassing, stalking, reader gets cut but not as bad as male main, sorry had to do the eyebrow slit, noncon, drugging, also very nasty ass descriptions of cutting but not in the self harm way, and implied stalking.

side note : hella unrealistic bcs how do you survive a wound that deep? I don't know. almost scrapped bcs of it.

side note ² : for my ski mask hendery queen @ne0pearl and the wall crawler 4 hendery @teasteeper

extra : why the hell did ki and angel try 2 jump me..?!

you were at a relative's house spending the night because you were on a trip, out of town. it was getting dark and you couldn't really see through the primarily rural area.

her house gave you the creeps, I mean their house wasn't even on google maps, it was just shown as trees. there would be creaks on the hardwood floors every once in a while but there was barely any service.

you could only play candy crush, but you got bored. so now, you're looking at the intricate ceiling pattern; you would switch to the wooden walls once your eyes started to hallucinate white whisps of shapes and lines.

but this time something was different, there was a hand on the side of the door.

it was sizeable, it wasn't your aunts, might be your uncles.

your eyebrows furrowed and your lips puckered in confusion, your hands headed for the edge of the blanket. you turned your body to attempt to see beyond the right side of the door but it didn't work to your avail.

it was lanky and veiny, a rough red around the knuckles; wasn't your aunts definitely but might be your uncles.

you laid back down.

but wait...? it was pale.

you froze, your eyes blew wide and darted to the slit in the door.

fuck. fuck. FUCK.

you were already at your feet, tip toeing towards the door like when tom would try to catch jerry but he'll just fall into another trap. as always. again and again.

you were a foot from the door now, your nerves jumped with every palpitation of your heart. before you knew it, your forearm jutted out and the door was shut. your shoulders bumped down with relief, see now? it wasn't that bad.. you sauntered back to your bed and plopped down, your lips blowing raspberries in exhaustion.

you don't remember when you fell asleep, but you were now awake. the white silhouette of the moon, peaking out of the blinds with every slight blow of the wind; your eyes heavy. you felt something prickle at your hips, it felt like a nail just poking at your side. you moaned in confusion and turned.

all you remember is seeing a glimpse of a man with a ski mask, his eyes were delighted as if he's been waiting. his hands attempted to travel to your hips before you fell on your ass, gasping for air; nails scurring against the hardwood floors before your back met the wall. you looked up at the male sauntering towards you, his coarse palms rubbing together like sandpaper.

“who are you..?”

“does it matter?” the baritone voice bellowed within the knocking of branches against the window.

he crouched to meet eye to eye with you. you winced at the cold of his hands against your warm cheek, tears caked between the narrow space of his palm and your warm cheek.

“whatever I did, I'm sorry..” you mumbled, you didn't realize the spit at the corners of your mouth until he swiped it away with his thumb.

“you're sorry for being beautiful, huh?” he whispered with a joking tone, slapping your cheek playfully. your lips fell agape at his tone, was this a fucking joke?

“what do you me–”

“that's what they always ask.. you just don't realize it until it's too late, huh?” the male questioned, his head tilted playfully. he hasn't blunk once at most, you thought that if you even took your eyes off of him for a second; he'll pounce.

“you walk around all naïve, stupid and just so fucking pretty, just like them-” he raved, his head bouncing around before he paused, he was looking at the ground before his pupils creepily looked back up to your dilated ones. your chest heaved, small rasp breaths falling through your agape lips; tears falling freely.

“you could blink now..”

you obliged, a small squeak eliciting as the pads of your bare feet scuffed against the ground; your spine becoming sore from the constant friction. “you saw me at your window every night, remember that a few weeks ago?” his pointer tapped at the side of your forehead. “you didn't even bother to call the police or maybe even tell your mom that was staying over that night..” his sentence trailed on, you noticed his hand reaching for something behind him; your lips formed words but the bulge in your throat wouldn't budge.

the silver edge of a pocket knife was suddenly pointed at the corner of your eye, you gulped like a caricature. “this knife–” he eyed the knife before looking back at you, one of his eyes twitched sickengly; your stomach swirled with apprehension.

“I don't even fucking need this–” you sighed in relief once the knife lowered, his thumb tugged at the bottom of the mask and yanked it off.

your eyes widened once his ebony hair fell from the confines of his mask to his nape, oddly gratifying.

his jawline was defined, face rather slender.. his eyes were big and doe, the noticeable slit on his right eyebrow. You went cross eyed because the knife was now in front of your face, it's edge poking against the bone jutting from the bridge of your nose.

“why didn't you say anything, hm?” he pauses, twirling the knife between his fingers. “I could've killed you.. maybe you both actually.” you didn't seem phased enough by his act, he glided the knife expertly horizontally against the bridge of your nose before slicing it perfectly. you gasped and blinked, your finger feeling around the cut.. your cartilage was smooth under the tip of your finger now that the thin layer of skin was cut.

“that's how fast it would've took to cut right through~” He continued the final sylabble of ‘through’ whilst trailing the knife from your face, your eyes followed until he stopped right at the left of your belly button; your stomach held in out of fear.

a warm blotch of blood slid down until it soaked into the lining of your pyjamas, he then swirled the knife around lightly as if he was scared to scar your porcelain skin any further..

“do you love me _____?” your ears rung through the silence, it was heavily unsettling and set another uncomfortable rhythm to your heart. He set the knife down beside him in a dismaying but also polite manner, his actions were so delicate but.. this is a stalker, we're talking about here. He pulled his right sleeve up his forearm, revealing a number of vertical scars; some were short, some trailed up his arm.

his unyielding eyes lock onto yours and with a sudden motion, he presses the blade against his forearm.

“wait!”

you gag profusely, covering your mouth with your cowering hands, a line of crimson quickly welling up from the splits of his skin. He doesn't falter or even flinch, he doesn't even wince either; instead, he angles the knife deeper.

you could taste the blood on the tip of your tongue, the metallic sense sending tremors throughout your body. You could only cradle yourself in the corner and you can hear the soft, sickening sound of flesh being sliced; thick and through.

as if he wants you to testify your supposed.. true love for him..

"please," you whimpered, you looked down at the blood pooling on your hardwood floor for a second then to his unforgiving eyes.

but he only continues, each drop of blood a punctuation mark in this gruesome act. he started to laugh maniacally at your terror, the knife lost track; becoming an uncoordinated lines of jagged lines with every jutter of his body with every laugh

“please, just fucking stop–! just stop it!—” a triumph smile forms on his face, his wild eyes locking with your panicked ones before his bloodied hands pull away; his hands raising in a surrender motion.

“It's not that serious..” you continued, looking down at the bleeding forearm; his flesh red and irritated.

he then raised the knife to his cheekbone with a throaty laugh, was this amusing to him?

“how about he–”

“no!” the knife skid against the ground before it hit the wall, your reflexes worked faster than your mind.

“so, do you love me?” he inched closer to you, his breath hot on your frozen skin. you nod vigorously, hoping he'll finally listen to you.

“if you do, will ya’ grab those bandages from your cabinet?” your face shrivels in confusion, “when you fell down the stairs and hurt your knee pretty bad.. a year ago..” he patted your knee with his grisly hand, the blood created a sticky trail between his palm and your skin.

your heart pounds in your chest, the beats echoing to your ears; the ambience of the home sets awfully in your soul. your breath comes in sharp gasps and hyperventilating sobs,matchung in rhythm with your scurrying feet against the floor. you're running, running to the bathroom, your mind stuck in the illusion of life or death, at least for him.

your hands are trembling, not just from the adrenaline that's coursing through your veins, but from the raw, unadulterated fear that evolved in your mind with every second.

you nearly slip on the smooth surface, your arms flailing to the counter for balance. you lunge for the cabinet, flinging it open with brute force. bottles and tubes tumble out, clattering into the sunk; but you barely register the noise, everything in your peripherals was blurry..

your fingers slick with sweat and his blood fumble desperately amongst the edges of shelves. you're simply looking for bandages, for something, anything, that can help stop his bleeding. when your hand finally closes around the familiar, rough texture of the gauze, you almost weep with relief.

clutching the bandages to your chest, you stagger to the mirror, catching a glimpse of yourself. your face is still with fear, almost ghostly, and your eyes are wide with shock. for a moment, you hardly recognize the reflection staring back at you.

you're wasting time, hurry up!

you ran back, he leaned against the headboard of the bed; his eyes on you. you don't even bother to complain about the blood on the grey bedsheets, you tear open the bandage packaging, your movements jerky and uncoordinated. you walk over to him and press the gauze against the gaping skin, looking into his eyes for some type of reassurance but he only continues to stare at you, observing your every move.

“you're prettier when you're scared.” you pause your ministrations and look up at him, your lashes dried together with your tears. his hand reaches up to stroke along the trails of tears on your cheeks, “sit on my lap honey, you're so far away, hmm?”

you scooch over with a sigh; your bottom on the heat of his crotch, your back meeting with his broad chest. trying to still keep your distance, you face away from him; you're almost there. just a few more wrap arounds, with every relaxed rise and fall of his chest, the tension between you both increased unsettlingly. this wasn't right..

just by coincidence, his chin slides onto your shoulder blade; from your peripherals you could see his inquisitive eyes looking back and forth to your focused own and his bandaged forearm. you sighed in relief once you finally finished, he snickered when he noticed the corners of your lips widen before you fully turned with a grin on your face.

“my pretty baby.. you did so well..” he praised you like a kid but you reveled in it, his tone smooth and low. “see? m’ not that scary.” he cooed, his digit moving towards the prominent outline of your labia. your plush thighs closed around his hand, your hips jutting away from him but the pad of his thumb traveled to the base of your clit.

“how bout’ you take these off for me, how does that sound?” his thumb hung loosely on your waistband, your mouth was parted, spacing out on his thumb.. “princess..?” he mumbled in your ear with a concerned tone, you nodded.. why was everything moving so fast..?

before you knew it, you were kicking off your shorts and panties.. it felt like you weren't in control anymore, your stupid mind was your only function.. but it wasn't you that was doing this..

“can't think no more hm?” he taunted, before a quick shiver of pain ran through your nerves along with something shooting out of your arm. he waved the syringe in your face with a berating cackle, your blown pupils following the metal tip as the drugs continued to take its effect.

you laid lax in his arms, his fingers pumping out of you relentlessly as his thumb abused your swollen clit. your hips rutted against his palm, that one finger hitting that same spot within your velvety walls with perfect precision. your walls clenched around him, your hands flying all over his thighs; you looked up at him and he looked at you..

“Is that you?” you mumbled, squinting at him. you knew that he seemed familiar, he was your uhm.. what was he? fuck.. your mind was blending into a fucking smoothie. his eyes went wide, his fingers pausing causing you to whine, buck your hips and wince in his hold. he muttered a quick “fuck”, his jaw clenching in the moonlight before he started to hammer his fingers in&out of you, you slowly slid out of his grip. your eyes roll back to the back of your skull, jaw unhinged.. he was trying to make you forget..

“babe, what'd I tell you about having your mouth open.. you're drooling~” he taunted you once more, his free hand moved your chin upwards.

“awe– fuck! I'm gonna cum, please!” you whimpered, your chest heaving up and down at a intense tempo; gripping his wrist whilst moving your head to the open crane of his neck.

“Come on then princess, cum for me.. you know you could do it..”

[pccyouthleader]

Hedgehog Hodgepodge: A Story of Espionage, Confusion, and an Evil Plan Gone Haywire

Chapter 17: Stricken

“Have you seen the news this evening?” Amy asked Sonic as he returned from a long run on the beach. She was sitting in bed with a multitude of fluffy pillows behind her back. “I’m beginning to get worried.”

It hadn’t even been a whole day since Aurora left with Shadow, and the whole village was coming apart. 

Sonic sat on the edge of the bed unlacing his shoes. “You know I hate watching the news.” The main reason for that was Soar the Eagle. That bird-brained reporter was years past his prime, and needed to hang up his press badge. 

“This is serious, though,” Amy chided. “People all over the village have become ill, and nobody knows why! Just this afternoon, the receptionist at the museum had to leave early.”

“What are the symptoms?” Sonic asked, becoming only mildly interested.

“Feeling drained, loss of appetite, pale appearance,” Amy read from a news crawler on the TV screen. “Some people are complaining of a strange rash.”

“Well, I feel fine,” he said, doing a turn for her benefit. “How about you?”

Amy shrugged. “I’m feeling the drained part, but I think that has more to do with the baby than this mysterious sickness that’s going around. Apparently it started a couple of weeks ago, but now it’s spread all across the village!”

Sonic stared at her in disbelief. How were they just now getting this news? “I’d better check in with Tails,” he said, pressing a few buttons on his wrist communicator. “Hey, Tails!” he said aloud into the receiver. “You doing okay?” There was some garbled noise over the tiny speaker, then the staticky voice of his best friend came through.

“Sonic! I…” *kkkrrrrrrrtttt* “…trying to reach y…” *kkkkrrrrzzzzz* “…not what…”

“Tails! You’re breaking up! Are you okay?” Sonic yelled.

“…fine!…” *kkzzzzzzrrtt* “…weird that it’s not…” *kkkkrrrttt* Then the signal went out.

“He sounded okay, didn’t he?” Sonic asked, his brows knit together in concern. “He’s fine,” he finally determined. 

As he stared at his silent communicator, Amy had another idea. “Why don’t you try Knuckles and Rouge?” 

“Good thinking!” Sonic pressed a few more buttons, then started calling for Knuckles. “Hey Knux! Can you hear me?” But he was greeted with nothing but silence.

After a few minutes of waiting, Amy spoke up. “Well, they did go on a cruise. Maybe they aren’t within a signal range or something.”

“Yeah…,” was all Sonic could say. He didn’t particularly have a terrible feeling concerning his friends; it just would have been nice to know something for sure. But his hands were tied - he didn’t know their exact locations, and he couldn’t risk leaving Amy alone to go track them down. He finally resolved that they must be doing fine and could take good care of themselves. 

After washing up, Sonic joined Amy in the bed to watch the coverage. He had a nagging feeling that everything was connected, but couldn’t begin to determine how.

Suddenly Amy sat up, another look of concern washing over her face. “Has anyone checked on Sticks?”

—

Sonic yawned and stretched as he prepared to trek over to Sticks’ burrow. At least Amy had acquiesced the night before when he explained that it was too late to barge in on someone. But she was anxious for him to check on their friend, and had nearly shoved him out of the bed at daybreak.

“We really should have checked on Sticks before now,” Amy fretted as she readied herself for the day. 

“You know, if she’d wear her communicator, we could have checked on her before now,” Sonic grumbled.

Amy gave Sonic a withering look before continuing. “I can’t even remember the last time we laid eyes on her! What kind of friend ignores another when the outside world is in utter chaos?!”

“It’ll be okay, Ames,” Sonic reassured her. “Sticks is a loner anyway. I can’t imagine her even getting close enough to someone to catch something.”

Amy nodded. “I guess you’re right. I’ll just feel better when you’ve had a chance to talk to her.”

Sonic knew that was his cue, so he brushed Amy’s cheek with a kiss and gently patted her tummy. Then he took off at top speed, going over the placement of Sticks’ booby traps in his mind. The absolute last thing he wanted on this journey was to become a hedgehog kabob.

Upon arrival, Sonic thought Sticks’ burrow had been deserted. Leaves had blown against the door, and weeds had grown up around the various trinkets she had collected and placed in her front yard. There were no birds chirping or insects buzzing.

This is weird, Sonic thought as he moved quickly towards the door. He just missed being impaled by a wooden pole covered in slime.

“Sticks!” he called, rapping loudly at the round wooden door. For a long time, all Sonic heard was silence. Then something fell and clattered within the burrow. 

Sonic immediately spin-dashed and exploded through the door, surveying the mess within. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he searched the rooms of the small home. There in the kitchen lay Sticks, crumpled on the floor by the table.

Sonic wasted no time. He sped over to Sticks, scooping her up in his arms and gently placing her on the sofa. He zipped back to the kitchen to grab a rag and wet it with some cold water to lightly sponge over her forehead. After what seemed like ages, Sticks’ eyes finally fluttered open.

“Sonic?” she croaked, barely above a whisper. Her face was pale and thin, and her hair hung limply on her shoulders. 

“Sticks, what happened to you?” he asked, bewildered. 

Sticks lay silent for a long time, just laboring to breathe. Then she spoke in a raspy voice. “It’s the black smudge.”

“What?” Sonic asked. “You’re going to have to be more clear.” He was well-versed in Sticks’ strange ideas and conspiracy theories.

Sticks mumbled something incoherent. After taking another ragged breath, she clearly said, “Shadow,” before passing out again.

Fear crept over Sonic. Could Shadow have done something to hurt Sticks? He thought of Aurora, alone with him and with no way to contact her family. As his mind began to run wild with the memories he had of Shadow’s early attempts to destroy him and his friends, panic surged through his veins.

Sticks began to stir once again. She tried to speak, but her words dissolved into a coughing fit. Sonic ran to the kitchen for water, then helped her sit up to sip out of a mug. 

“If Shadow’s done something terrible to you, I’ll-” Sonic began, but his words were cut off when Sticks shook her head. After several more body-wracking coughs, she was finally able to explain in a scratchy voice.

“Not Shadow… the black smudge… the trees…” *cough* “Shadow saw it.” 

She then lifted her arm to show Sonic a bubbling black rash. It appeared as if the skin there was in a state of necrosis. He stared in horror at the breakout, then slowly lifted his hand. 

“Don’t touch it!” she screeched, pulling her arm away.

“Sticks…” Sonic began, lost for words. “How long have you been like this?” 

Sticks attempted to shrug her shoulders, but it took too much effort. “A month?” she responded, barely above a whisper. Her energy completely spent, Sticks lay back down and fell asleep.

Guilt ripped through Sonic as he remembered Amy’s words: “What kind of friend ignores another when the outside world is in utter chaos?!” If only she could see Sticks now.

“I’m sorry,” Sonic said with a catch in his voice. Tears began to flood his vision. “I’m going to figure out what’s going on and get you some help.” 

Pushing up from the side of the couch, he took one long, last look at Sticks’ sleeping form before walking out the door. As he headed away from the burrow, his brain was awash with different scenarios, and he breathed a sigh of relief that Shadow wasn’t the miscreant he feared.

Picking his way through the wooded jungle, Sonic went over in his head what Sticks had said. How he wished he could contact Shadow to find out more! What had she even meant by “the trees”? 

Suddenly he stopped. He didn’t want to, but Sonic lifted his face to look at the jungle around him. There, smeared on every tree in sight, was a black substance that looked like liquid metal. The dread that had floated just out of reach since he had found Sticks began to surface. Looking up, Sonic was able to move just before a big blob of the sticky goo dripped onto his head. With great haste, Sonic darted out of the jungle, anxious to tell Amy what he had discovered. 

Bolting through the door, he ran into the house shouting for her, but there was no answer. Sonic sat heavily in a chair at the dining room table and rested his head in his hands. It was just too much to absorb all at once.

An hour later, Sonic barely heard Amy come in the front door. She approached him to give him a big hug from behind, but stopped, a curious look on her face.

“Sonic?” she asked.

“Yeah, Ames,” he answered flatly.

“What’s that black stuff on your shoulder?”

[styllwaters]

Individual closeup shots of Vreaz and his family. For now I'm using these as stand-in reference sheets.

I feel bad for posting basically the same art so here's some short notes on crawler culture ;)

Most ocean-dweller beauty standards centre around vibrant, flashy colours. There's a lot of societal pressure to make yourself as vivid as possible, either through fashion choices or full-body makeup.

This is especially prevalent in Izvoian culture. Both Heilzor and Khozai wear excessive amounts of jewellery and garments to conceal their dull/diluted colours.

Que-wek's bright purple stripes meant that she was particularly favoured by her parents, at least in comparison to her brothers. However, she was encouraged to paint over her pale patches as they were 'blemishes' according to Khozai.

Que-wek's generation is more progressive than that of her parents, and she refuses to conform to standards she deems stupid and unnecessary.

Vreaz refuses to wear paint simply on the basis that he dislikes the feeling of it.