#the cryptid across the street

[skyberia]

it's neil <3 art by the wonderful dcas

#please follow dcas and also commission him and show him support. he is so good. my god #the cryptid across the street #ocs #neil #body horror cw #clusters cw #sorry if u were a fan of my oc stuff btw. i simply have not been feeling like doing original stuff kjsdhfk #i will get back to it eventually i prommy. look at them ^ in the meantime tho

[beskarandblasters]

Mothman Fever

Mothman!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: Shout out to @nostalxgic for making this killer graphic for me!! Also the kick ass banners and !!Mothman!! dividers are by @saradika!! This was my first time writing any sort of monster fucking so let me know how I did!!

Summary: You and your friends head to Point Pleasant, West Virginia in late September for the Mothman Festival. And that’s where you meet Joel Miller, a fellow Mothman enthusiast. But once you spend some time alone with him you realize that he’s not who he says he is.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, no outbreak, drinking, semi public sex, use of pet names (luna lol), oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex pollen, dub con, monsterfucking, no use of y/n

“Don’t you think Mothman is kinda hot?”

You glance at your friend Tara in the rear view mirror and raise your eyebrow. 

“How can a moth be hot?”

“Oh, come on! You know he’s not a normal moth… he’s got like… muscular legs,” Janelle, your other friend, chimes in from the passenger's seat. 

“You don’t wanna fuck Mothman?” Tara asks. 

“... No? And you do?”

“How can you be a Mothmanner and not wanna fuck him?” she continues.

“Mothmanner?” you snort.

“Mothman enthusiast, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Not really. I’m more interested in him for scientific purposes.”

“That just leaves more of him for us, Tara,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, after you examine him for research we’ll tag team him.”

“You guys are gross,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

Janelle grabs your phone connected to your car through the aux and opens Spotify, searching for a song.

“Whatcha playin’?” you ask.

“Just a silly little diddy. Perfect driving song.”

The sound of a creaking door and a bubbling sound comes through your car speakers. You know exactly what she chose. As the drums kick in you ask, “Really? The Monster Mash?”

“It’s festive,” she shrugs.

“Oh yeah, turn that shit up,” Tara adds.

You roll your eyes and turn up the volume. You take the Point Pleasant exit off the highway and the anticipation brews in your stomach. You’re into all sorts of cryptids but there’s something different and intriguing about Mothman specifically that you can’t put your finger on. You’ve been picturing this moment for a long time but… not with Monster Mash playing in the background. 

Janelle turns down the music and says, “Look what I found on Facebook! There’s a group Mothman stakeout tomorrow night at the McClintic Wildlife Area. We should go!”

She hands Tara her phone and lets her look at the event details. 

“Sounds like fun. You down?” Tara asks, handing the phone back to Janelle.

“I mean, why not?” you say, entering the residential streets of Point Pleasant. 

To say the city of Point Pleasant is enthusiastic about the Mothman Festival would be an understatement. The city is decked out in decorations and the streets are littered with people in costumes. As you get closer to 4th Street, where the Mothman Museum and the famed Mothman Statue are located, it gets even busier. A black banner hung between two telephone poles reads “Welcome to the 20th Annual Mothman Festival” in white block letters. You drive down the street slowly, careful not to hit any festival goers on your way to your hotel, passing the Mothman Statue before turning onto the street your hotel is on. 

You park your car and hastily grab your bags before heading into the lobby to check in. A hotel like this in Point Pleasant, West Virginia wouldn’t normally cost a lot but it’s Mothman Festival weekend and hotels across the area have jacked up their prices. 

You get your room keys from the desk and head to the room to change quickly before hitting the town. It’s still quite early in the day, only around two in the afternoon and there’s plenty of festivities to be had. You change into a black t-shirt that says “Mothman ate my entire ass at a Denny’s”, a pair of ripped jeans and a pair of converse before heading out with your friends. 

You walk down the street and head to your first stop; the Mothman Statue who is unreasonably buff, complete with a six pack and a tight ass. Each of you take pictures slapping his ass before taking a “normal” group photo standing beside it. 

The next stop is Village Pizza where they have a pizza with toppings arranged to look like Mothman. On the way there you stop and take pictures with other festival goers who are dressed as Mothman, just having a grand ole time. 

You arrive at the pizzeria and get a booth, waiting for a server to come take your order. And that’s when you see him. No, not Mothman but an attractive human man sitting at another booth across the restaurant. You make contact and look away out of shyness. But something about you tells you to look at him again. And when you do you find he’s looking at you still, mouth curving into a smirk when you lock eyes again. This time you notice his features; graying hair, deep brown eyes, and a strong nose. He’s wearing a flannel and leaning forward on the table, resting his elbows on it. He gives you a small wave and you wave back without thinking, prompting Tara to ask, “Who are you waving at?”

“No one,” you say quickly, looking away from the man. 

“Nah, you’re lying. I’m gonna look,” Tara says, starting to turn around. 

“Don’t-” you start but it’s too late. She turns around and spots the man, who also shoots her a wave. 

“Him?” she says, turning back to face you. Janelle turns around, too. And just like with Tara, the man waves to her. 

“And what about it?” you ask. 

“Oh, he’s hot. Go over there and talk to him,” Janelle says. 

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Tara asks. 

“I’m… not that forward.”

“It’s the Mothman Festival, go fucking wild,” Janelle shrugs. 

“Agreed,” Tara nods. 

“Okay, fine. Fine! I’ll go,” you say, sliding out of the boot, legs already feeling like jelly. 

You walk over to him and watch his smirk turn into a full smile. You stand by his table and feel stupid. What kind of person makes eye contact with someone in a restaurant and just decides to boldly introduce themself? What if he’s here with another girl?

“Hi, um, I’m here with my friends and I saw you across the restaurant and I, uh, thought I’d say hello,” you say nervously, feeling even stupider by the end of your pathetic introduction. 

“Hey there. I’m Joel. Would you like to join me?”

“Are you here with anyone?”

“No, just me. My brother was supposed to come but he bailed on me to go to New Jersey.”

You sit down across from him, continuing the conversation.

“Ah so you’re not from around here?”

“No, just here for the festival, like I’m assuming you are,” he says, gesturing to your shirt. 

And now you feel self conscious of what you’re wearing but stupid shirts like this are literally all you fucking packed. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s funny.”

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

“You doing anything tonight?”

“Nothing in particular tonight. But tomorrow night my friends and I are going to that group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area.”

“Oh nice. I’m going to that, too.”

“It sounds like fun!”

“Well if you’re not doing anything tonight maybe I can take you out to the bars tonight. I think some alcohol would loosen you up and make you less shy, Luna.”

“S-sure that sounds like fun. What time?” you ask, heart fluttering at the nickname. 

“Around eight. You staying in the area? I can meet you at your hotel.”

“Sounds good!” 

You tell him the name of your hotel and get up to go back to your friends. 

“And by the way,” he says, stopping you, “I’m Joel.”

You tell him your name but he still chooses to say, “See you tonight, Luna.”

You walk back to your friends and sit in the booth, finding that they already ordered the Mothman pizza and were waiting for you before they started eating. But they didn’t mind. 

“So who is he? What’s his deal?” Tara asks. 

“Uh, his name is Joel and he’s here for the festival.”

“Alone?” Janelle asks. 

“His brother bailed on him to go to Jersey.”

“Who bails on the Mothman Festival to go to New Jersey of all places?” Janelle says. 

“Not sure about that but he asked me to go out tonight.”

“You said yes, right?” Tara questions. 

“I did… Was I not supposed to?”

“No! No, you need to go. Right, Janelle?”

“Agreed.”

“Thanks, guys… He’s also going to McClintic tomorrow night, too.”

“Oooh,” they both say in unison. 

“It’ll be fun,” you say, “But let’s eat and get the other stuff on our list done. I feel bad I’m leaving you guys tonight.”

“Don’t feel bad. He’s hot,” Tara says, taking a bite of her slice of pizza.

“And older,” Janelle says.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We’ll see if it even works out.”

“You sell yourself short. You went over and made the first move. And then he asked you out. He’s gotta be interested,” Janelle continues.

“I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” she laughs.

You finish your pizza and head to the next stop on your list; a local coffee shop called The Coffee Grinder, where they have Mothman shaped cookies complete with red eyes. You eat your cookies and finish up at the coffee shop before heading back to the hotel, weaving in and out of the festival crowds. You get to your room and go to change, looking to wear something less embarrassing but… that’s not possible with the clothes you packed. You decide to put on a shirt that’s a little bit better; one that reads “I kissed Mothman in the lamp section of Home Depot” and opting for a skirt with the same pair of converse. 

Tara and Janelle wish you good luck on your date before you leave. You go down to the lobby a little bit before eight and wait for Joel, anxiously pacing back and forth. You feel a hand on your shoulder, startling you. You turn around to find Joel, greeting you with a smile. 

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me. Didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“No worries. Where are we going?”

“Just one of the local spots downtown. There’s a band playing there tonight.”

“Sounds like fun!” 

And with that you’re walking side by side to the bar. The streets are even more lively than they were earlier in the day. You try not to notice the way he puts a protective hand on the small of your back whenever you walk through a crowd.

He leads you off the crowded street and into a bar that’s also just as busy. Luckily, he spots some empty stools at the bar and leads you over there. It’s pretty loud so getting to know him here might not be in the cards for tonight but at least you’ll have the alcohol to loosen you up a bit like Joel said. Joel orders a beer and you order a special blood orange margarita, complete with a gummy butterfly on top– how festive.

“You must be pretty into Mothman, huh? I guess ya gotta be if you’re coming here,” he says, half shouting over the loud music. 

“Haha, yeah! My friends think he’s hot.”

“Really?” he says, eyes widening as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Yeah, I don’t really get it! I just think he’s interesting but if he were real they’d probably try to fuck him or something.”

“You wouldn’t, Luna?” he asks, a playful grin spreading across his face. There it is, that nickname again.  

“You would?” you counter. 

“Maybe if he bought me dinner first,” he laughs. 

After a few more laughs and another round of drinks, you feel yourself loosening up a bit and enjoying the night more. From what you can tell, Joel seems like a nice, southern guy who’s a fellow cryptid enthusiast, no red flags so far. 

“I have to ask, Luna… Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks after the third round of drinks. He’s definitely a little tipsy by now. 

“No, sir,” you say, immediately regretting the sir that slipped out. 

He inches a little closer to you, eyes looking you up and down, and says, “What do ya say we get out of here?” 

Is it a stupid idea to leave a bar and go somewhere with a man you just met earlier that day? Probably. But do you care? Not really, especially in your slightly inebriated state. 

You nod and he flags down the bartender to pay the tab, before grabbing your hand and walking you out of the bar. 

“Where are we going?” you ask when you step back out onto the street. 

“Wherever,” he says nonchalantly, “But tell me Luna, are you a dirty girl?” his large hand grabbing your waist as you walk, pulling you closer into him. 

You can’t deny you want him. And you’re feeling a bit more confident than usual. 

“For you? Sure am.”

“Dirty enough to do it in an alley?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” you drunkenly say, excitement building up between your legs. 

He turns a corner, leading you down a small, dimly lit alleyway. You ignore all of the red flags practically screaming at you. Between your undeniable attraction to Joel and the alcohol, your judgment is heavily impaired to say the least.

He walks you to the end of the alley, to a spot where you hopefully won’t get caught. With a brick wall pressed up against your back, he starts placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck, hands greedily pawing your breasts over your shirt. A small gasp escapes your lips when he nips at the soft skin on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark that your friends are definitely going to question later. 

His hand slips under your skirt, toying with the fabric of your underwear; your damp underwear. He pulls it to the side, running his fingers along your entrance, collecting whatever wetness is there and bringing his hand in front of your face to show you. 

“This,” he says, rubbing his thumb against his index and middle finger, pulling them apart and watching your wetness stretch with it, “is all the evidence I needed,” he finishes. 

The deranged and devious look in his eyes as he looks at the physical evidence of how bad you want him makes your knees weak. He brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting your juices and sucking them clean, closing his eyes at the taste. He replaces fingers back on your cunt, stroking it lightly and nipping your neck again. 

“You taste so fucking good, Luna. So sweet,” he says, coming out as a low growl. 

Without warning, he pushes two fingers in, not letting you warm up with a single one first. He curls them against your walls and you’re so drunk you forget you’re in public, letting out a moan that’s just a bit too loud. 

“Shh,” he whispers against your neck and you try your best to keep quiet…

Until you hear a stern “HEY!” causing you to gasp. 

He pulls his fingers from you quickly and you both look to your right to see a police officer with a flashlight, pointed directly at you. The officer’s eyes trail down to your skirt and then back up to your neck; to the marks on your neck. He sighs. 

“Really guys? Trying to fuck in an alley like a couple of teenagers?”

You stand up straight and smooth your skirt down, unsure of what to do next. 

He sighs again and says, “Get outta here before I arrest you for public indecency! Damn festival goers…”

You blink a few times, in disbelief that he’s letting you go. But Joel grabs your hand and leads you out of the alley, with you holding your breath the whole time. The cop mutters something about how he thought he caught a drug deal as you walk past him. When you hit the sidewalk you exhale, letting the tension leave you. As for Joel he starts hysterically laughing, a stark contrast to the embarrassment you’re feeling. 

He notices the look on your face and asks, “What? You didn’t think that was funny?” while trying to hold back more laughter. 

“Not really!” you say, lightly slapping him on the arm. 

“Aw come on, Luna. He just blamed it on the festival and let us off with a warning. It could’ve been a lot worse but it wasn’t!” he reassures you. 

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh. 

Your phone vibrates in your bag so you pull it out. Your friends are texting you, asking you when you’ll be back. The time on the screen says two in the morning but how is that even possible? Joel met you at eight and you only went to one bar, only had three rounds of drinks and you didn’t go all the way in the alley just now. Chalking it up to being drunk and losing track of time, you put your phone back in your bag and say to Joel, “I think I should get back to my friends.”

“Of course,” he says, “I’ll take you back now.”

The walk back to your hotel is somewhat quiet. The festival goers on the streets are mostly cleared up by now. You assume the quietness is due to the embarrassment from earlier and you wonder if Joel is mad at you for getting worked up. You shake your head and try to put that thought out of your mind, still trying to salvage what you have with him, if anything at all. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you start just as you turn onto the block your hotel is located on, “And I’m excited to see you tomorrow at the Mothman stakeout.”

“Me, too, Luna,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Trust me, we’ll have lots of fun tomorrow night.” 

You stop at the entrance to your hotel and begin to part ways. He pulls you in for a kiss and wishes you goodnight. But before he leaves he exchanges phone numbers with you, just in case it’s hard to find each other at the stakeout tomorrow night. You type your name into his phone followed by a butterfly emoji. He chuckles when he sees it, saying, “See you tomorrow, Luna.” And with that, he turns and walks down the street, disappearing into the night. 

Heading back up to the room, you replay the night’s events, trying to get a read on Joel and determine your feelings for him. You decide that you’re definitely interested in him… but you need to know more. Upon entering the door, Tara and Janelle are standing within just a few feet of the entrance, side by side and arms folded. 

“What?” you ask, reading the expression on their faces. 

“An update would’ve been nice,” Tara says. 

“I lost track of time!” you reply. 

“I get that but you were with some mystery man you just met today. You don’t know his intentions!” Janelle adds. 

“You’re right,” you sigh, “Nothing crazy happened. I just forgot to look at my phone.”

“We’re just glad that you’re okay! …And that we can finally go to bed now,” Tara says, yawning and moving over to the bed. 

“Sorry to keep you guys up! But thanks for being concerned for me. I’m just gonna be in the bathroom,” you say. 

They nod and get into bed, while you go to the bathroom to inspect the marks on your neck under better lighting. And sure enough, there’s several marks and there they are but there’s also… a gold film? Perhaps sheen is the right word? Whatever is it there’s flecks of gold peppered along the hickeys. Maybe it’s something from the bar? That’s the most logical explanation you can think of. You complete your nighttime routine and head off to bed, head filled with dreams of Joel, filling in the gaps of information about him. 

-

The next day is a blur, a myriad of events strewn together haphazardly. Your friends can tell you’re in a sort of daze; you can tell by the way they look at you, but they choose to say nothing. First, you went back to The Coffee Grinder because after your late night, you desperately need caffeine. After that, you hit up the Mothman Museum, taking advantage of some special exhibits and talks for the festival. And finally, it’s time to get ready for what you’re most excited for; the group Mothman stakeout at the McClintic Wildlife Area. But you haven’t heard from Joel at all throughout the day. And you’re starting to worry. Maybe he doesn’t actually like you, maybe he decided that after you guys got caught in the alley you weren’t worth his time. But he did say he was going tonight and you hope he keeps his word. 

You head to the hotel to change, opting for another one of your stupid fucking t-shirts, leggings and a pair of sneakers. This time your t-shirt reads; “Mothman is real and he sells me weed in the Waffle House parking lot” because why wouldn’t it? 

You pack up your camping supplies; a sleeping bag, a backpack, some snacks along with a bear canister to store them in, a canteen full of water, and a lighter. 

The sun is just starting to set now and it’s about time to go. Before you leave the hotel you decide to text Joel: 

Hey, will I see you tonight?

You wait with bated breath for a response. And to your surprise it comes rather quickly. 

Of course, Luna. Wouldn’t miss it for the world🦋

You exhale, feeling a little bit better about things between you two and head out with your friends. You drive to the McClintic Wildlife Area and park your car in the parking lot, which is decently full. But that was to be expected. What’s the point of coming to the Mothman Festival if you’re not going to try and catch a glimpse of the real thing?

You grab your stuff from the trunk of your car and set off into the forest, following the other Mothman enthusiasts until you reach a clearing where others have already set out their sleeping bags. In the middle of the ring of sleeping bags there’s a fire going, surrounded by people already drinking and socializing. Tara and Janelle spot two guys sitting by the fire and decide to head over to them. You can’t blame them, you did leave them all night last night. So you set up your sleeping bag where there’s a free spot, sit down, and wait for Joel. 

And… nothing. The sun sets and you haven’t heard from him. Tara and Janelle make eye contact with you periodically, shooting you looks that are supposed to ask, “Are you okay?” and you nod back to them, not wanting to ruin their fun. You lay down and look at the stars above you, just about to accept the fact that Joel stood you up when all of a sudden you feel your phone vibrate next to you. 

You hold up your phone in front of your face and to your surprise it’s a text from Joel reading:

Hey, I just found the most convincing piece of Mothman evidence ever. Come look. 

You sit up and look around, confusion on your face. He’s nowhere to be found. 

You type out: 

I don’t see you. Where are you?

He replies: 

Look behind you.

You turn around and look at the line of trees behind you and yet again… nowhere to be found. 

You go to type a response back but he beats you to it, saying:

I can see you. I don’t want to leave the evidence behind… Just come to the trees, Luna.

You sigh and get up, making sure to take your phone with you. Tara makes eye contact with you so you pretend you’re taking a phone call, pointing to your phone and putting it by your ear. She nods and you turn to walk towards the tree line, a nervous pit forming in your stomach. This is such a bad idea. It’s such a typical stupid girl in a horror movie trope and yet here you are, walking into a dark forest to meet a man you just met yesterday. 

You reach the trees and take a deep breath before walking into the woods, turning on your phone’s flashlight. You call out Joel’s name and don’t hear anything. Rolling your eyes, you call him on your phone, getting a little fed up now. He doesn’t pick up but you hear a ringtone in the distance. You groan and follow the sound, because if you can hear Joel’s phone but not Joel… who’s to say that Mothman is actually real and he got Joel? 

You find his phone resting on a fallen tree, the screen lit up with Incoming Call followed by your name. You pick up the phone and look around, shining the flashlight out in front of you. 

You smell something in the air… something fruity… almost like apple cider… with a hint of citrus? A golden mist hangs in the air, permeating the area around you and filling your senses. Whatever’s around you smells good and inviting. Without thinking, you take a deep breath, letting the smell and the mist calm you down. A warmth brews between your legs and your skin feels hot, at first it’s comforting… But soon enough it becomes unbearable. Sweat beads up on your forehead and the warmth between your legs grows stronger. A presence behind you is apparent; it’s daunting. Something tells you to turn around and when you do, you can’t believe your eyes. 

Towering above you is Mothman himself. You’re met with glowing red eyes, a muscular stature, large wings fanning out behind him, and threatening claws. He’s tall, anywhere from seven to eight feet tall, his monstrous eyes practically burning a hole into you. You should be terrified right now, running for your life back to your friends. Or at the very least taking some pictures. Instead you’re frozen, not in fear… but in desire. The warmth that was brewing between your legs is unignorable. 

“Joel?” you call out in a small voice. 

The creature takes a step towards you almost as if it can understand. Your skin feels like it’s burning, like if someone were to touch you the heat of your skin would also burn them. It’s like torture, one of the most agonizing sensations you’ve ever felt. Without even thinking you drop your phone and his, pulling off your shirt over your head, and instantly feeling some relief, but it’s not enough. You kick off your shoes, sliding your pants down your legs, followed by your underwear. The cool forest air hits your skin, perking up your nipples and providing you with seconds of relief, but it’s still not enough. The creature’s eyes scan your features, training up and down your naked form.

The air moves around you, and so does the gold mist. Right before your eyes the creature shapeshifts, losing its wings and claws, returning to a normal human height, turning… into Joel? And yet even still he keeps the unmistakable glowing red eyes. He looks at you with a devilish grin, stepping closer towards you. He’s completely naked, body shimmering under the pale moonlight and the flashlight on the forest floor beneath him. 

“So once again, Luna, are you a dirty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out, your body practically calling out for him. 

He grabs you by the waist and pushes you down so you’re lying against a flat rock behind you. The coolness of the rock is a stark contrast against the heat radiating off of your body. Joel spreads your legs apart forcefully, marveling at your cunt and how it’s already dripping for him. His red eyes flash back up at you, taking note of the desperate look in your eye before feasting on your cunt. He licks your cunt in a way that can only be described as animalistic, flicking his tongue across your clit and lapping at your entrance. You writhe against the rock and Joel has to hook his arms around your thighs to keep you steady; to keep your cunt directly on his mouth. The tension in your core builds as he continues to eat you out, tongue swirling around your sex as he drinks in your juices. With one last flick of his tongue you cum against him, one of the wettest and longest orgasms you’ve ever had. The movement of your hips slows down as you come down from your high but alas… barely any relief. 

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you let out a soft whimper. His glowing eyes meet yours and he asks, “Still not enough, huh Luna?”

“No. No, it’s not. Please, Joel, I need more.”

He lets out a dark chuckle, bringing his fingers to your cunt and stroking it lightly, gathering your wetness on his large hand and rubbing it between his fingers. He pushes two fingers inside you, knowing you’re well past needing to warm up with one first. He curls them against your walls, letting his fingers get absolutely soaked. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it while his fingers inside you push against your g-spot. In no time you’re coming again, your cunt fluttering around his fingers rhythmically. Your release soaks his hand all the way down to his wrist and he leaves his fingers inside you, just feeling your cunt clench and relax around him. Your body feels euphoric, tingling sensations coursing through your limbs but still… it’s not enough. 

“How you feelin’, Luna?”

“I still… I still need more,” you whine. 

“Beg,” he says, hovering over you, red eyes staring directly into yours. 

“Joel, please. I need it,” you beg.

“How bad?”

“So fucking bad,” you whine, sounding completely delirious. 

“I suppose,” he teases, spreading your wetness onto his already hard cock, whose size is intimidating…

He pushes into you in one swift motion, hooking his muscular arms around your thighs and leaning forward, folding you in half. You’re face to face with him now, his non-human eyes locked onto yours. His cock stretches your walls, hitting the deepest angles inside you as he fucks you relentlessly; completely feral. You look up at him with the tree covered moon above him, completely in awe of what’s happening to you. You swear his face flashes from his human form to his Mothman form, but only for a split second. He brings his mouth to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin even harder than the night before, surely enough to leave darker marks and more gold film. With one last slam of his hips you’re coming on his cock, your cunt convulsing erratically. He fucks you through it, making it last even longer. Your own release pulls his own from him, and it’s powerful. You feel his warm cum spilling inside you, strong and like it’s never ending. You’re silently grateful you’re on birth control even though you don’t know what the effects Mothman cum will have on you. Eventually your orgasm ebbs and flows as it winds down and Joel slowly comes to a halt. He stays inside you for a moment, keeping his eyes locked on you. 

“I bet now you’re good. Completely spent, ain’t that right, Luna?”

“Mhm,” you say, still a little breathless. 

Eventually he goes soft and his eyes shift back into their usual warm brown shade. He pulls out and lies down next to you. You roll over and rest against him, his own body burning up just like yours. You’re too exhausted to even question what just happened, letting sleep quickly overtake you. 

-

You wake up the next morning alone, the sunlight peeking through the tree cover. You sit up and rub your eyes, looking around you for any sign of Joel. But he’s gone. 

You try to remember last night but it’s all foggy, like it’s a distant memory already. You vaguely remember the fruity scent and the gold mist in the air. You look down at your skin and there’s still traces of it there but not much. You pull on your clothes and grab your phone, looking at the time before rushing to get back to Tara and Janelle. They must be worried sick about you. You power walk back to the group, just trying to get there quickly but also not so panicked that they’ll think something is wrong. From what you can tell, you’re fine. Just a little dazed with a soreness in your core and a stickiness running down your legs. 

You’re back in the clearing and coming up on the collection of sleeping bags. Tara and Janelle spot you and wave, completely cheery with wide smiles. Not the response you were expecting. 

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be gone that long,” you say, stopping in front of their sleeping bags. 

“Don’t be! Looks like you got lucky, too,” Tara says with a wink, looking at your disheveled state. 

“Did you guys-”

“Mhm,” Janelle says, “With those guys you saw us talking with. Did you end up finding Joel?”

“You bet I did. But didn’t spot any signs of Mothman?” you ask.  

They both shake their heads no and you sigh. 

“Guess there’s always next year,” you say, bending down to pack up your stuff; stuff that you didn’t even end up using. 

You walk back to your car after you’re all packed, feeling your phone vibrate in your bag. 

You pull it out to find a text from Joel reading:

Until next time, Luna🦋

Looks like the Mothman Festival will be an annual tradition. 

Part two

End note: Hope y'all liked that!!

Follow @beskarandblastersfics and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post a new fic!

Tag list for anyone who interacted with the announcement post/some mutuals:

@wannab-urs @atinylittlepain @jksprincess10 @theywhowriteandknowthings @pr0ximamidnight @multiversed-daydreamer @undrthelights @millerscoffee @basicoccult @perennialdoll247 @nostalxgic @beefrobeefcal @tuquoquebrute @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @missredherring @xdaddysprincessxx @lahooozaherr @survivingandenduring @axshadows @morgaussy @morallyinept @sleepywoodlandfaerie @javierpenasmustache @bastardmandennis @diosacarino @joelmillersblog @mirandablue1 @topnerd03 @afterglowsb-tch13 @pamasaur @littleeginger @dugiioh @covetyou @downbythebay4 @electriclasso

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller au #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #pedrostories #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

[lacrimosathedark]

So, there's this one image in the most recent Green Arrow series that I just can't stop thinking about.

This is the full page:

And while the whole thing is a big, somewhat confusing, incredibly frustrating lore dump on how and why Lian is like 15 instead of like 9 (she died when she was 4 and I presume it's been a few years but not THAT long) and why she didn't look for her parents sooner, I want to focus, very specifically, on this:

That is Arsenal and RED HOOD in that window. Lian was watching her dad run around with Red Hood. She saw them running around when they were in Gotham together.

Which makes me think that maybe she actively avoided Jason.

From what I can surmise from what I've read, a lot about Red Hood is common knowledge but also in like a cryptid sort of way. A lot is "known" about him, because Jason is loud and, while very smart, sometimes reckless, but a lot of it is sort of contradictory and messy.

It wouldn't surprise me if among common knowledge or popular belief that Red Hood specifically protects kids (who aren't dressed like traffic lights), especially given his one big rule when he stepped on the scene was don't sell drugs to kids. It would be a not too hard theory that he may have once been one of those kids, especially considering he might use his upbringing for clout to gain respect, show he knows how shit works.

And now remember that since her "death" and Cheshire dumping her on a doorstep, she's become basically a Gotham street urchin just like Jason was. She and her friends were thieves in order to get by. She, like anyone else, could have gone to a Red Hood for help and protection. Heck, if she were to go to any Bat, Jason would be her best bet because I believe (and I could be wrong) he is the only one who never met Lian. And he only worked with Roy once after Roy found out about her.

She sure as shit wouldn't be afraid of him. She's still very kind at heart, but she's steeled herself enough to be able to do this:

Because before this, as angry and hurt as she was about Jade's life choices, the worst she had ever done was throw her photo of her across the room and cry "Bad Mommy!" at it. Now, while she's still too attached to Jade for my liking/sanity, she is able and willing to tell Jade to her face when she thinks she's done wrong.

So it comes down to, Jason has attached himself to Roy, and Lian can't risk everything just for food and protection. Not forherself, or her friends.

Selina Kyle was truly a blessing for this child, training her and caring for her.

I know a lot of people don't like Shoes, but Gotham Street Kid Lian just has so much to work with. And it's not like Roy hasn't lived in Gotham before, even pre-Flashpoint.

This is honestly a long-winded way of me saying I want to see Lian interact with Jason.

#Lian Harper #Cheshire Cat #Red Hood #Jason Todd #Arsenal #Roy Harper #Cheshire #Jade Nguyen #DC Comics #Green Arrow #give me more of her kicking ass and throwing sass please

[queenie-avenue]

Never Judge a Book by It's Cover.

💌 ⤻ THE COVER, VALERIO MARCHETTI

—> did you really think that he was the one?

⤻ reader is gender neutral, reader is an assassin, kidnapping, attempted murder, suggestive themes, talks of torture, mafia shenanigans, 1940s - 50s slang, valerio is a creep, reader gets shot

notes: thank you to @resident-cryptid who gave me this awesome idea for a mafia man, i hope you enjoy it. also, i'm not too sure where to set this time period but i do like the idea of them using slang from the old timey days.

💌 ⤻ archives.

A vial of poison rested in the hidden pockets of your clothes as you walked inside the venue event.

Everyone was dancing and laughing, bright looks on their faces. It was an antsville in here. How could they live with all the crimes they committed? How could they live their lives in splendour when people on the streets were starving to death?

Especially that man in the centre of it all.

The man who ran the Marchetti Syndicate.

Valerio Marchetti. The man you were assigned to kill.

Long gone were the days where you were anxious about the act of killing someone. No, for this victim, you felt excitement thrum in your bones as you approached the bar where he was seated, chatting with some men. People whom you recognised, a few judges, some corporate leaders and others, influential people in and out of the political realm. They were all wrapped around his tanned pinky finger.

"One martini, please." You ordered, sitting just beside the gaggle of men who talked on and on. You probably should have listened, but if you had to listen to someone talk about stock prices for more than a minute, you swore you might as well have just spiked everyone's giggle juice here.

Finally, Valerio noticed you and from the corner of your eye, you saw that he was hurriedly shooing away the rest of the men just to be able to talk to you, his eyes looking you up and down. "Well, hello there." He grinned at you as shivers ran down your spine. This... was a tad bit too easy, and your body immediately set into a cautious mode as you turned yourself over, giving him your best award-winning smile there was.

"Hello." You grinned as you leaned forward, grabbing your martini from the bartender.

"What a foxy little individual like you doing around these parts." He asked, running a hand through his gelled back hair, winking at you. On top of being the largest crime boss in the entirety of Italy, Valerio was also a known playboy; men and women alike were always photographed with him, but no one dared to say anything lest their entire family's blood be painted on the walls the next day. "I can see you're not around these parts." He smirked.

"Golly, is it that noticeable?" You chuckled as you took a sip of your martini before offering him a sip, establishing some trust between the two of you as you returned his smirk.

He took the martini glass gratefully from your hand before finishing it. Son of a bitch, you thought when you saw how rude he was despite having just met him.

"Trust me, baby, I can tell from a mile away when I see a deer lost in the wrong forest." He said as he called for the bartender. "Load us up with some good drinks. Shots, cocktails, whatever, just bring the big guns out." He gestured before turning back to you.

Yeah, definitely way too easy.

"What's the special occasion?" You flirted back, deciding to be bold and stroke a messy line down the clean seams of his suit.

"Seeing a hot piece of meat like you." He replied smoothly as he handed you a new drink to replace the one he had basically stolen from you.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Valerio slammed you up against the wall of the dimly-lit hallway, propping you up with his muscular build as his hands roamed across your body with no restraint. His veiny arms were all exposed thanks to you asking him to roll up his sleeves, faking it as something that you had a thing for. "Oh, god. You're amazing." He whispered into your lips as he bit them, drawing out just the slightest bit of blood.

Even with love, he seemed to be sadistic.

His larger than life hands roamed across your body, squeezing your bum as you gasped, causing him to smirk. "Sensitive there, are we?" He questioned and despite your best efforts, you did blush. You nod your head, and he took that as indication that you were liking where this was going. Without warning, he hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his before moving you to a table.

Your hands scratched at his back for support and you took this as your chance. Slyly, your hands reached into your pocket to take out a syringe filled with poison.

And you stabbed it into his back, injecting it into his bloodstream as he let out a gasp. One not of pleasure but shock, he immediately got off you, gasping for air as you watched him tumble towards the ground. He shifted around, grabbing his coat pocket, attempting to fish out his pistol but you beat him to the punch, kicking his hands away. "Not so quick." You whispered.

"Not so quick, indeed." A female voice sounded from behind you, and before you knew it, a chloroform towel was placed over your nose, your gun kicked away as you fell into a deep sleep.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

With a groan, you jolted awake when you remembered the last few memories before you passed out. You hit your head against what you assume to be metal as your vision adjusts itself to the darkness you find yourself in. The only source of light being the one in front of you, illuminating the man you tried to kill tonight, and a woman at his side? An assistant? His lover?

"You're awake." Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard the woman speak; she was the one who knocked you out.

"Who are you?"

"My boss." Valerio said, wiping himself off with a towel, sweat pooling at his forehead as he panted for breath. It seemed he had gotten an antidote on time, but even then, the symptoms of the poison still affected him.

"What do you mean? Aren't you the head?" Your eyes narrowed as cogs began to shift in your head.

"He's a cover." The brunette woman stated without emotion in her voice as she turned away from you, as if she had not just dropped a bombshell of a fact at you, walking out of the room they kept you in. "Have fun with them, Valerio."

Valerio got up from his seat. "Trust me, I will." He smirked.

"Shit." You muttered.

"Don't worry, mi amore, this won't hurt at all."

#yandere oc #yandere blog #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere male x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere fanfiction #yandere #male yandere #yandere fic

[zooophagous]

What's your favorite cryptid?

My favorite cryptid is one I've personally seen. I was a small child, living in a town in North Dakota. It's not a super small town, but like all towns in North Dakota it's not exactly a real city.

What it also isn't, is Australia. So imagine how confused 6 year old me was to see a kangaroo across the street from our house. A white kangaroo specifically. It looked like it had too big of a head, maybe had something stuck on it? Anyway when I called this sighting in to a cryptid podcast the host suggested I actually saw the Enfield Horror which is an extremely funny cryptid and infinitely less likely than an escaped exotic pet kangaroo.

The scariest cryptid is the Fresno Nightcrawlers though.

[twizzyburger]

In the Woods

they seem nice...

part 2!

tags! ❦❀

midwestern horror au! cryptid! Ghost x F! reader

Startled awake by the cold winds and gentle drizzle brushing against your face, you bolt upright in your new home. The room, dimly lit, reveals an open window as you scan your surroundings. Hastening to it, you discover the broken lock allowing a gust of wind to seep through. With a resigned exhale, you attribute the damaged lock to the relentless force of last night's harsh winds. Yet, amidst the scene, a sight captures your attention – delicate petals strewn across the floor and adorning the windowsill.

Intrigued, you step closer to the window and gaze outside. Astonishingly, the tree near your window, once barren in your memory, now blooms with exquisite white flowers. Squinting, you attempt to reconcile this unexpected transformation with your recollection. Could weariness have clouded your perception the night before? The blossoms sway gently in the drizzle, standing out against the town's eerie darkness. Brushing off any remaining doubts, you dismiss the peculiar event as a figment of exhaustion, convincing yourself that you overlooked the blossoms in your tired state. Nevertheless, as you shut the window and observe the petals on the sill, a subtle unease lingers, hinting at hidden secrets within the town that unravel with each passing moment and the sensation of being watched by unseen eyes persisted.

Closing the windows with a gentle click, you mentally remind yourself to buy new locks soon. Glancing down, you notice you're still dressed in the worn clothes from yesterday. Gratefully seizing the chance to rid yourself of the discomfort, you opt for something fresh and clean. Ready to venture into the ambiguous town, you slip into your shoes, grab your house keys, and step outside.

The grey ambiance of the town welcomes you once more as you exit. Despite the early hour, a few houses flicker with dim lights, maintaining a hauntingly eerie atmosphere. The drizzle has stopped, leaving a subtle mist hanging in the air. Progressing towards the town center, you observe a gentle lightening in the sky. The heart of the town emerges, embellished with a few shops. The atmosphere, while still somber, appears to throb with a peculiar vitality compared to the quieter outskirts. Some early risers stroll along the streets, their appearances unremarkable and their demeanor kind. The tension from yesterday's unsettling events starts to fade away as you navigate the bustling center, the semblance of normalcy soothing your nerves. Despite its mysterious aura, the town seems to harbor a community of warm individuals, offering you a newfound sense of comfort amidst its peculiar environment.

After a day of exploring the little town and meeting its welcoming residents, you decide it's time to head home. The bag carrying the new window locks swings gently by your side as you walk back along the dimly lit streets. Noticing a subtle shift, you see warm lights glowing from more houses, creating a comforting atmosphere in the otherwise grey town. Yet, one house directly across from yours remains enveloped in darkness. Shrugging off this peculiarity, you carry on your way, though the familiar feeling of being watched subtly returns to your awareness.

Upon reaching your house, you take off your shoes and set down the bag of window locks on the table. In the kitchen, you lose yourself in the soothing routine of preparing dinner, the clinking of pots and pans offering a reassuring background melody. Just as you begin to relax into the familiarity of your surroundings, a knock breaks the silence of the house. Carefully, you approach the door and peek through the crack before opening it.

Standing in front of you is a kind-faced woman, appearing to be in her 50s or 60s, holding a tray of freshly baked cream puffs. Her warm smile and genuine demeanor immediately calm your nerves. Introducing herself as Lydia, your neighbor, she extends the cream puffs to you as a gesture of welcome to the community. Appreciative of her kindness, you invite her inside, the sweet aroma of pastries blending with the comforting scent of your new home.

Engaging in conversation with your kind neighbor, you learn more about the town's history and its tight-knit community. The lady is more than willing to share information, her eyes lighting up with every detail. However, when you tentatively mention your occasional unease within the town, a subtle change in her demeanor catches your attention. The warm glow in her eyes dims momentarily, and a tension settles over her. You notice a fleeting glance in the direction of the house across the street. Before you can press further, she skillfully sidesteps the question, redirecting the conversation with a genuine smile. Sensing her reluctance, you decide not to push, and she shifts the focus by asking about your origins, a subtle deflection that leaves you with a lingering curiosity about the mysteries veiled.

Lydia's soothing southern accent filled the quiet room as she began, "Well, honey," drawing you in with her comforting drawl. Curious, you leaned closer, eager to hear more. "Most folks in this town steer clear of that house. A tragic accident occurred there, and now, nobody knows who resides within its walls. I can't help but feel a chill just looking at it! However," she paused, a pensive expression flitting across her face,

"I could've sworn I glimpsed a man standing near the forest's edge on my way here."

The revelation sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of the untold story lingering in the air.

After a chat, Lydia bid farewell, her sweet southern charm and genuine warmth filling you with comfort. With a parting invitation, she cheerfully remarked, "Feel free to drop by anytime!" A heartfelt grin spread across your face as you shut the door, grateful for the kindness of your new neighbor. Returning to the kitchen, the lingering scent of cream puffs wafted in the air.

While gazing out the window towards the neighboring house, a shiver raced down your spine. In a brief moment, you could have sworn you glimpsed a shadowy figure moving in the dimly lit interior. The earlier unease resurfaced, compelling you to fixate on the enigmatic house, pondering if it harbored secrets beyond the sorrow Lydia hinted at. The once ordinary town now appeared like a tapestry woven with strands of mystery and ambiguity, igniting a mix of curiosity and wariness within you.

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #cod #alternate universe #midwestern gothic #cryptic #cryptid #simon x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #fanfic #x reader

[thedickgraysonrp]

The shadows feel... off tonight. Winding around Nightwing's fingers like always when he returned to Gotham but somehow slower. Almost sluggish. It's usually fluid like smoke. They don't gather into a solid form tonight, simply drift back to the ground, choosing instead to curl up by his ankles. Even its little chittering sounds have a sleepy tinge to them tonight. Can shadows get sleepy? -arobinwithoutbatman ((have a cryptid Timmy))

A step in the dark, a clattering of lids as some cat escaped a trash bin. It was eerily quiet in the streets of Gotham tonight, but Dick hasn't been afraid of the dark for a long time now.

He stepped through shadow, feeling the thickness of it wrap around its fingers as he marched the dark alleyways of Gotham, clad in his vigilante attire. He could almost feel the dark mist's drowsiness as it gathered around by his ankles, how tired the gloom felt.

He reached up, cleaning a speck of blood that had persistently stuck to his chin. He feasted not too long ago, the pair of razor sharp fangs glinting in the dim street lights protruding from the main street, noticeable for only a moment as he opened his mouth to run a finger across his lower lip before his tongue passed over it as well.

"Come out, Timothy." Dick's voice lulled across the alleyway, satiated by his last meal, feeling the presence of his brother. The pulsating shadows, the caressing flow of the darkness. "I know you're there. I know it's been a while, but you didn't really think I can forget the embrace of my own sibling?"

@arobinwithoutbatman

#arobinwithoutbatman #text-rp #( cryptid tim meets sanguine dick ) #( spooky season is great )

[foolishlovers]

SOCIAL MEDIA AUs: Below you'll find a list of Good Omens fics that contain elements of social media such as Instagram, Youtube & Co.

You can request more fic recs here.

twitter cryptids by doctormissy (T, 36k)

Crowley's latest brilliant idea involves ranting about his undying love tiny crush on Aziraphale on Twitter instead of actually dealing with his feelings now that the world didn't end. Because he will never find out, right? Right?

Press L in the Chat (for Love) by Djapchan, Phoenix_Soar (E, 29k)

Bickering fan-content creators Aziraphale and Crowley only have three things in common — they are both avid fans of a new revolutionary TV series about pirates, they are popular for their fantastic fanfiction and fanart… and they are members of the same discord server. Neither of them likes the other, but across the chaotic virtual world of a discord chatroom, who knows what can happen when these two unlikely fans are paired up for an exciting collaboration? Us. We know ;) Discord Server AU — a collaboration between Phoenix_Soar (fic) and Djapchan (multivoice podfic organization & editing) for Pod-Together 2022

Angelic Whispers by AppleSeeds (T, 20k)

Crowley runs a very popular ASMR YouTube channel, but is considering applying for a job at a real life ASMR spa. He books an appointment as a client to try out the experience for himself, but becomes completely flustered when he meets the ridiculously gorgeous ASMR therapist, Aziraphale, who will be spending the next hour giving him unrelenting personal attention.

No Picture Can Express by nutmeag83 (T, 12k)

Ezra Fell prefers books (and discretely watching the lovely florist down the street) to social media, but takes up the hobby at Madame Tracy's urging. Anthony Crowley has been pining after his neighbor for ages, happy to keep his distance until Ezra asks him to tutor him in using Instagram. They find they have more in common than just having shops on the same block in Soho.

your smile speaks books to me by laiqualaurelote (T, 5k)

Aziraphale's bookshop becomes accidentally famous on Instagram, to his great distress. Since Crowley invented Instagram, it's also his problem.

it's a new craze by attheborder (T, 5k)

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we? CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all. AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.   *** Crowley and Aziraphale are very possibly the people least qualified, on the entire planet, to start up an advice podcast. But what else is there to do when the world isn’t ending anytime soon, you’re technically on indefinite sabbatical from your lifelong careers, and you need a plausible excuse to spend more time with your best friend who you’re definitely not, absolutely not, maybe just a little, actually maybe overwhelmingly in love with?

You've Got Kudos by curtaincall (M, 4k)

Aziraphale and Crowley both write fanfiction. As it happens, they both write Good Omens fanfiction. Of course, neither of them would ever admit this to the other. (A love story told primarily in AO3 comments)

London Book Shop Recommendations? by nothankyoudear (G, 3k)

A.Z. Fell and Co. is recommended as a local London bookshop on a Reddit post. Chaos ensues when someone actually takes the recommendation and goes there, only to find that: 1. They don't get to buy books 2. The gentle bookshop owner apparently owns a giant python And 3. The bookshop owner is 100% in love with his best friend with the sunglasses OR Ineffable Husbands told through Reddit posts.

Parsley, Thyme, Sage, Daffodils by MostWeakHamlets (G, 3k)

Aziraphale has a cooking show on the internet. It started out with three viewers, but now he's known as the happy grandfather that blew up overnight. Crowley occasionally makes cameos, has dedicated his garden to giving Aziraphale fresh herbs and vegetables, and struggles with living after the apocalypse. _ “Taste this, my dear,” Aziraphale said. He held a spoonful of jam to Crowley’s lips with his free hand cautiously under it, ready to catch any dripping. Crowley leaned forward to wrap his lips around the spoon. Most likely his shyness came from the small tender moments Aziraphale was not afraid of showing the world. It had been the topic of many long conversations after Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in St. James Park, causing Crowley to freeze and break out in a cold sweat. Being discreet had always been their top priority. For 6,000 years, someone would have surely seen them if they embraced in the middle of London. But now, Aziraphale had assured Crowley, things were different. They no longer needed to hide, but Aziraphale would go as slow as Crowley needed him to. It was almost funny how their roles had switched after the apocalypse.

Crowley Invented Youtube Recommended (Parsley, Thyme, Sage, Daffodils remix) by flibbertygigget (T, 1.9k)

After Aziraphale's video on crêpes makes it into Youtube recommendations through a little demonic intervention, he quickly goes viral. Cue college students just trying to make it work, a bunch of young queers who see A.Z. Fell and his husband Anthony as "goals," and quite a few comments from one Newton Pulsifer.

Get Connected by AgentStannerShipper (G, 1k)

Crowley signs Aziraphale up for social media. Even if it's a slightly outdated one.

#reblogs appreciated <3 and come talk to me if you've read one of these!! #good omens #good omens fic rec #good omens fic #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #social media au #foolish recs #go fic masterpost

[sincerely-sofie]

Have you ever wanted to draw something but you fought due to your skill level at the time you decide not to do it

Ohhh man. I’ve got so many projects that I want to make but haven’t because I view my current skill set as lacking— and they’re almost always drawing related, because I’m very insecure about my drawing skills— even moreso than my writing skills. To go on a tangent and paint a picture of how severe this visual art insecurity is, I will list off how many people I have directly permitted to read my major written pieces once I passed my mid-teens:

My older sister, because she was my co-writer for the project and not letting her read my work wasn’t an option

My mother on one occasion

My aunt, who has experience with writing and publishing, and I have only ever sent two pieces to

Look at that number of people. The number of pieces I shared with them, in total, was four out of the hundreds of projects I’ve made over the years. I was so precious about my writing because I’m insecure about it. I’m even more insecure about my art. I couldn’t list off all the drawing projects I hesitate to make because I think it’s impossible with my current skill level, not even in a thousand years, but I’ll give a few examples that are always in the back of my mind lately.

A semi-animated pilot to a fantasy-comedy cartoon parodying The Office, starring a goblin secretary who’s trying to assassinate her employer and take over as the final boss of an RPG-esque dungeon that operates like an office building, while her employer is a lich who misinterprets all her efforts to kill him as her being flirty, leading him to develop a very severe crush on the goblin. The project is titled “Boss Fight”, and I have all the resources I need to make it, but I drag my feet because of my art insecurity… also I would be doing all the voice acting myself, and I don’t find my voice very appealing even when I change it to fit different characters.

A webcomic about a fantasy world populated by bipedal bug people that features a very brief “save the world” plot, then focuses the rest of the storyline on how the characters recover from the events of their backstories and the trauma the experienced while saving the world. It’s titled “The Creeping Chronicles”, and I love the project but am so insecure about being able to do the story justice with my art skills that I’ve tentatively pivoted to making it a book series instead. It’s got 21k+ words across 10-ish chapters because I’m too insecure about my art to draw it fully.

A slice of life comic titled “Welcome to Wayside” that’s basically Gravity Falls meets Stardew Valley where a young girl saves a cryptid’s life and now he’s stuck helping her until he repays the life debt he owes. The story features a vaguely men in black-style evil secret agency called G.L.O.O.M. (Gents for Ludicrous Oddity Organization and Management) who have various ranks are named after facets of fashion (khakis are their grunt labor and pocket squares are researchers) and they use a threat-ranking system based on dress codes (i.e. “WE HAVE A BLACK TIE DOWN ON SOUTH STREET, REPEAT: BLACK TIE DOWN ON SOUTH STREET”), and I adored G.L.O.O.M. along with the cast of characters featured in the story, but I don’t feel confident in my ability to design interesting-looking original cryptids.

I could leave this post at that, but I’ve got an important thing to say on this subject—

If you want to make something but are hesitating to because your skill levels are lackluster, make it anyways.

Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever can. Let yourself make the thing, and let yourself make the thing badly. Love it and how ugly it is. The perspective is all askew in this part, and that character is horribly off model there, and isn’t it all amazing? You made that! You made a thing! And you wouldn’t have this thing that you made if you waited until the conditions were perfect to make it and refused to create the thing before your skills were sufficient.

There’s this terrible thing about creative projects— one that is very noticeable in drawing projects especially, in my experience. As your artistic skills develop, your artistic vision also develops to become more and more detailed and masterful… and it’s always going to be outside of your grasp. If you wait until you’re ready to make the thing, you will never make the thing, because you’ll never feel ready no matter how much you build your skills. But if you make the thing before you feel totally prepared, you’ll learn and grow artistically as well as personally, and will be able to feel more confident in future thing-making efforts.

#creativity tips with sofie #(kinda) #(not an official installment to the series but it fits into things well enough to include it in the tag) #sofie answers asks #creativity tips #creativity tip #creativity advice #art tips #art tip #art advice #drawing tips #drawing tip #drawing advice

[finxwrites]

here have this snippet from a fic I'm not getting back to any time soon

Barbara was going to be a detective when she grew up, just like her dad. He was a hero—not like Superman or Wonder Woman, but a real hero, a regular person who stood up and fought for justice despite the danger. Her dad wasn’t bulletproof, but he chased bad guys anyway. He didn’t have a magic lasso or x-ray vision, but he found the truth anyway. Gotham didn’t have a hero like Metropolis, but Gotham didn’t need one, because Gotham had her dad.

He didn’t talk about his work too much at home. He didn’t want her to hear about the bad stuff, the violence and corruption and cruelty. But Barbara was going to be a detective, and detectives were observant. She eagerly drank up her dad’s carefully abridged work stories, and read far more between the lines than he thought she did. And when he started dodging questions differently, dodging them for an entirely new reason, Barbara noticed.

Barbara was going to be a detective, and detectives are tenacious. Detectives do whatever it takes to uncover the truth. Detectives don’t flinch from hacking into their dad’s phone and installing a covert GPS tracker. 

Barbara found out Gotham’s resident cryptid was real when she was eleven years old. She had snuck her way into a building across the street from the one where her dad stopped nearly every night. It was an aging office building, built by a now-dead conglomerate and rented now by nearly a hundred different companies that each claimed a fraction of a floor. It was, kind of, on her dad’s way home, and at first she’d assumed he stopped there each night for a smoke break or something. But he was going inside. 

She couldn’t ask him about it. If she did, she’d have to reveal that she’d been tracking him, and then she’d be super ultra mega grounded. But she could learn how to forge a key card and then install herself in an equally unkempt office building across the street, hidden behind the tinted windows, and watch to see where he went.

It took a few nights to figure out that he was going all the way up to the roof. She had to borrow her friend Amy’s fancy birdwatching binoculars with the night settings to be able to track him through the windows, and even then she could just see him going to the elevator, and then she had to guess which floor he’d come out on and rush to get there in time to see him emerge. But she did figure it out, and then she watched for a few confused nights as he apparently just…took a smoke break. On the roof of a mildly dilapidated office building, two blocks out of his way.

But detectives are tenacious because tenacity pays off. On her third night of watching her dad stand around on an empty roof nursing a cigarette for twenty minutes, Barbara saw something impossible.

It was exactly like the rumors said. A patch of shadow detached from the night, and between one blink and the next the shadow was a man, striding across the roof to where Barbara’s dad stood, oblivious. Barbara cried out, fruitlessly, as the Batman bore down on her unsuspecting father.

Her dad jumped. For a confused moment she thought he’d heard her somehow. But he turned, and she realized the Batman must have spoken. And then she realized her dad wasn’t afraid. He was almost comfortable. He was speaking to Gotham’s most secretive monster as if they knew each other, trusted each other.

Barbara’s dad knew the Batman.

Barbara’s dad was so freaking cool.

#dc comics #batfam #batfic 8: gems

[thepeanutbutterwizard]

Something fun for way down the line in HS au:

The citizens of Gravesfield have no idea what to make of Luz, Vee, and Hunter

Their nice local vet lady suddenly has three teenage cryptids living(?) with her, she introduces them all as her kids without any real explanation for why no-one had ever met or even seen them before

Only one of them goes to school in town, but the other two never drive in from their out-of-town boarding school, they seem to just appear

And, come to think of it, they were around really often for boarding school students

If you ever ask about any of their scars, the youngest sister, with the bad eye, will answer with some outlandish story she made up on the spot. She's never told the same story twice

Sometimes there's an even younger brother with bright orange hair and an older lady with one arm who looks so much like him you'd swear he was her clone. They seamlessly fold into the family when they show up

The annoying flat earther guy insists they're from Mars and trying to steal people's teeth, but he always does it from across the street. Some people say it's bc there's a restraining order against him, but there's a rumor that he harassed one of the girls at the shopping market and the brother broke his nose, and now he's scared of the teen

With how protective the teen seems, most people could believe that

No-one can get a photo of any of the kids that doesn't have bad eye shine

The brother likes to feed birds in the park while whittling. Sometimes an old man with a missing eye and a trained bird will sit with him; it sounds like his teaching the teen

Sometimes a man with purple dreadlocks sits with him. He always brings a purple towel to drape over the bench for him to sit on

Sometimes he brings a purple tea set and table with him. No-ones ever seen him carrying anything to or from the park

Quite a few of the high schoolers swear they've seen the brother and younger sister parkour-ing around in a lot of the same alleys and parts of the woods where they like to go to when they skip school

One time the HOA president confronted the vet about her lawn being a centimeter overgrown, making her late for work, and the president got hit with a two-week long streak of bad luck that was so bad the whole neighborhood knows most of the details

There are. So. Many. Feathers. Very very big feathers

The younger sister has a pet snake that she keep in her beanie. Only a few people have gotten a good look at the snake, and those that have insist she made it a cat-ear headband

The middle sister is surprisingly strong. She got scouted for football, but declined the head coaches offer for a spot on the team. He wasn't happy when she immediately walked across the hall to ask about softball tryouts

No-one know what the age gap between the sisters is. No-ones been able to get a straight answer

They basically just confuse the town into letting them go about their lives without bothering them, its great

#the owl house #owl house #toh #half sibling au #the owl house au #owl house au #toh au

[bigjbonk]

Okay, tell me Kyle isn't a retail cryptid.

You walk into the Nasty Burger, and he's taking your order.

You then go to the convenience store down the street, and see him stocking the shelves.

You go to the bank across town, and he's at the counter to process your deposit.

You call your cell company because your cable box doesn't work, and it's Kyle who picks up the phone.

This could all happen in a ten minute period.

Nobody remembers ever hiring him.

Tell me he isn't a retail cryptid.

#danny phantom #dp #kyle weston #retail #cryptid

[tathrin]

I should probably wait for when I get around to posting this whole chapter, but. I just wrote this section and I like it a lot and I don’t want to wait, I want to share it now. And this is from like chapter seventeen or something, and I only have up to chapter six posted and I really don’t want to wait that long ugh. So please have some peaceful, before-the-storm, out-of-context (but you don’t really need the context for this, I promise) pre-gimleaf interaction from my zombie au fic.

(Spoiler Warning for the Zombie Au Fic, I suppose, although nothing that’s particularly plot-relevant, I don’t think. Y’all knew they were going to meet eventually, and the fact that it’s happening in Rivendell is not much of a give-away imo. But stop reading now if you’re reading that story and don’t want to read anything out-of-order, I suppose.)

Strange as Rivendell is, however, it is nothing compared to the strangeness of the elf who flits up to Gimli now, his loose golden hair bouncing like tufts of dandelion in the breeze behind him.

"Legolas," Gimli says; a flat acknowledgement rather than a greeting.

Legolas smiles brightly and hops onto the bench beside him, crouching on his heels rather than sitting like a proper creature, as seems to be his wont. (Gimli tries to remember if he has ever seen this elf sit in a chair the way people do, then wonders why he is wasting the mental effort on someone for whom he cares so little.) Legolas is holding some kind of long stem in one hand, and he pinches a small purple bud off of it and sticks it in his mouth.

"What are you eating?" Gimli finds himself asking before he can remember that he doesn't care.

"Lavender," says Legolas. He holds the stem out. "Would you like some?"

Gimli blinks. "No," he says. "No, thank you."

After a pause while the elf plucks at his lavender and tilts his head back to stare up at the trees that line the street beside their bench, Gimli cannot help but to say anxiously, "Lavender. Which you…plucked from someone's garden as you passed?"

Legolas tilts his head, apparently thinking the possibility over. Then he says, "Yes."

"Ah," says Gimli.

He does not know much about gardens or flowers, but he thinks of the humans of Dale, and how territorial some of them can be about their homes and the surrounding grounds.

"Perhaps…perhaps you should not do that again," he says gently.

Legolas turns his silver-bright eyes on the dwarf and blinks at him. "Why?" he says, tilting his head the other way now before breaking into a grin again. "Oh! No, you do not need to worry, Gimli, it will not hurt the flower to lose a few buds. We grow lavender in Mirkwood, too, and I know its growth well. It flourishes in the south of our trees especially, or—or it did," he finishes, his voice going soft and a shadow passing across his gleaming eyes. "I do not know how it fares now, of course." Legolas ducks his head and turns away.

Gimli does not know what to say that will be of any comfort, and he cannot bear to make this strange creature feel worse while he is mourning for his homeland, so he abandons his attempt to explain the concept of private gardens and potentially possessive gardeners. He has a difficult time imagining that anyone in this peaceful valley will take offense to someone plucking a single strand of lavender from their garden, anyway.

He hopes.

I love writing about Mirkwood elves as these weird forest cryptids, and one of my favorite parts of this modernized-Middle-earth AU I’ve got going on here is how while everywhere else is a little bit more like our world due to the modern technology/society/etc innovations, Mirkwood is just even weirder than it was in canon, and Gimli is just like...what the fuck, what is this weirdo elf and why won’t he leave me alone. what the hell am I getting myself into. fuck.

Anyway whether you’re reading the zombie fic or not I hope you enjoy this little moment of out-of-context levity from it.

#gimleaf #gimli #legolas #mirkwood #lotr fanfiction #gigolas #my writing #my stuff #lotr zombie au #lotr

[rhaegnarokmidwinter]

weird bleach headcanons part 5:  we’re in too deep now buckos

apropos of nothing I have more bullshit. in honour of our boy coming back, he’s up first. welcome, grimmjow. we missed you and your hole.

Grimmjow Jaegerjacquez: The universal headcanons for this man seems to be that he’s either a choke-me-like-you-hate-me-but-you-love me one night stand blow me in an alley guy, or absolute goblin in the streets softie in the sheets hard as hell shell but ooey gooey center guy.  Enter the variant, properly feral kitty cat Grimmjow. You don’t run into Grimmjow in a bar, in an alley, in a fight, or in a fucking coffeeshop. No. One day you’re taking out the trash when you run into this teal-headed juicehead who can’t keep his shirt on, digging through the dumpster cause the babushka down the hall threw out a whole ass rack of lamb when the power went out and it defrosted too quick, but hey he’s a Hollow and its free real estate free dinner. Prolonged eye contact ensues cause Grimmjow don’t give a fuck when he’s hungry but its kinda weird for you when all you wanted to do was take out the trash and now you’re having the worlds weirdest fucking meet-cute. And then he just? Walks away? With the lamb leg? You shrug it off because urban cryptids are the least of your worries except this one is persistent and you see him kinda going to and fro at random points of the day? Where does he work? DOES he work? You don’t know, he seems remotely put together and fucking shredded so he presumably works out and has the means to clothe himself. Then again you did come across him eyeing up a dubious piece of expired dumpster meat like he won the million dollar jackpot so its anyone’s guess how sane or employed he is. He’s like a stray street cat that does what he wants, and like a stray cat, its not that you’ve chosen to take in Grimmjow, Grimmjow has chosen you to take him in. Ichigo Kurosaki: Will never admit it, but he’s a fucking dom. The polite, respectful kind of dom who makes sure you drink your water, go to bed at a semi-reasonable hour and doesn’t run out of toothpaste, but who will also consensually spank and fuck the absolute brains out of you if you forget said toothpaste even though it was right on top of the list. Not like you’re complaining though. Jushiro Ukitake: An actual cinnamon roll and there’s no precise way of getting around this, or the gentle fatherly vibes he gives off. He is pure, he is daddy. The more attainable, tamer DILF to Isshin’s “unattainable DILF” thing. Gives off insane vibes that he’s into ropeplay but like, shibari. Like he’s more interested in the aesthetics of it. Cinnamon roll with a tiny hint of cayenne not too much though or it aggravates his throat! Kenpachi Zaraki: Alright uh, the obvious headcanon route for Kenpachi suggests he’s into hard and fast and the trope of feeling the dick in your lungs. Cooo. Coolcoolcool. I can respect that. Except we.. know Kenpachi likes to fight. And he likes to really enjoy the fight. If its over too fast he’s bored.  Consider if you will, Kenpachi, really getting off on edging.

take your time with that one I know its a lot.

Ikkaku Madarame: is a Manchester United supporter. I can’t explain this one.

#weird bleach headcanons #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #grimmjow #ichigo kurosaki #jushiro ukitake #ukitake #kenpachi zaraki #kenpachi #ikkaku madarame #not tagging man united in this one #idk why that last one is true it just is #same with kenpachi and edging. #i feel it in my soul #aizen next?

[andrewbarrillustrator]

March 16: Oakville, Ontario. I was woken up by the sound of sirens, screams and lots of flashing lights. Looking out my window I saw a bunch of emergency vehicles. Something climbed onto the roof of the house across the street and ran off. That’s when the house burst into flame. I think this is the first time I’ve seen a Spikefist Terror in this area. Must be a climate change thing. Or maybe someone just didn’t bother reading all the instructions. #monster #monsterart #monsterdesign #creature #creaturedesign #cryptid #spikefistterror #mutant #horror #horrorart https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp5Ja6rs6jG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#monster #monsterart #monsterdesign #creature #creaturedesign #cryptid #spikefistterror #mutant #horror #horrorart

[strange-august]

Tag Yourself as Energies my friends and I have

🐺 Werewolf Energy 🐺

Has an intimidating "tough guy" presence but is actually a big softie.

Has a contagious howl like laughter that they hate but everyone adores.

Less of a wolf kind of werewolf and more of a golden retriever kind of werewolf.

Actually insanely dog-like (IE: strong sense of hearing, taste, smell. Red-Green colorblind and wears glasses.)

Loves to cook but doesn't drain their ground beef. Says that's where all the flavor is and will not listen to reason.

Has a deep booming voice that you can hear from across the house. Even across an empty field on a good day.

Doesn't mind getting dirty and prefers hands-on types of jobs.

Laid back but has zero tolerance for bullshit.

Only truly scary when they're angry or frustrated which is rare from them.

Actually knows the phases of the moon by heart.

Aesthetic: Muddy clothes, Messy hair, Sun kissed skin, Piercing gaze, The roar of an engine, Oil stained hands, Leather jackets, Bacon and eggs in the morning, Hamburgers and fries from Mom and Pop shops, The full moon peeking out over the treeline, Audio books, Caramel flavored coffee, Driving with the radio full blast, Light growling, Thunderstorms, Lazy days, Tequila shots, Loud laughter

Theme Song: The Nights by Avicii

🐉 Dragon Energy 🐉

Like werewolf, they're more akin to a dragon from a kid's movie rather than a traditional dragon.

Major hoarder and has a spending problem. Most of their hoards consist of art supplies, crystals, candles, weird trivial objects they find on the street, stuffed animals, DnD dice, lighters, knives, etc.

Able to romantize and find the beauty in even the most mundane of activities like a trip to the grocery store, a boring car ride or doing laundry.

Sleeps in a "nest" of blankets, pillows and stuffed animals with the A/C full blast. Can't sleep otherwise.

A child at heart and has an imagination so vivid they often get lost in it. They often need a little guidance back into the real world.

Loves going on adventures and exploring new places. Can turn even the most mundane errand into a fun excursion.

Sometimes their emotions are too much to handle and they might get overwhelmed and explode. They always feel guilty about it though and apologize afterward.

Fiercely protective of their treasures (aka: their friends) and would probably die for their friends if they had to. Though maybe a little too protective.

Opens their mouth wide when they yawn because it makes them feel like they're roaring.

Bites and headbutts their friends as a show of affection.

Aesthetic: Shed snake skin, Shiny objects, Watercolor paint, Fleeting eye contact, Soft blanket nests, Gray afternoons, Chai tea, Apple Cinnamon candles, Fine china, The glow of a heat lamp, Notebooks, Big fluffy clouds, Vivid sunsets, Bonfires, Head stuck in the clouds, Aluminum pins, Thrift shop clothes, Wide eyed stares, Awkward toothy grins, Fountain pens, Patchwork jackets, Cracking your knuckles

Theme Song: Geronimo by Sheppard

🦋 Mothman Energy 🦋

Has real cryptid energy, thanks to their height and lanky limbs. Not to mention they're already a chaos incarnate to boot.

Immuno-compromised and kind of delicate but doesn't let that stop them from obtaining their dreams.

Has the spice tolerance of a God. Will eat a whole bag of hot cheetos till their mouth is completely raw.

Stares at lights before turning them, thus accidentally blinding themselves each time. Does it so much that everyone genuinely thinks they might be part mothman.

Honestly just hates society and people in general and wants to live in the mountains as a hermit for the rest of their life.

Pretty much everything they wear came out of the 60s-70s era.

Knows an astounding amount of information on cryptids from all different states and even countries.

"When your sleep schedule is abysmal, you can sleep anytime."

Seems to subsist entirely on root beer and mountain kickstart pineapple orange mango.

Has at least twenty different kinds of potted plants in their room, all in various handmade pots and on every available surface.

Aesthetic: Moss samples, Cheap ramen noodles, Cat hair on clothes, Bomber jackets and aviator sunglasses, Leather messenger bag, Pine trees, Waterlogged boots, Moths flying around a street light, Watching the stars, Wondering what's out there, Empty paint cans, Early morning walks, Zoo and museum visits, Befriending a stray cat, Watching obscure movies, Oragami figures, Late night talks, Sarcasm, Walking sticks, RGB lights

Theme Song: The Moss by Cosmo Sheldrake

👽 Alien Energy 👽

Dresses like a cartoon character and it's honestly so cute. Wears a lot of patterns and colors that somehow all work together.

Mall culture to the max. Responsible for keeping the American mall dream alive.

Kinda shy but genuinely sweet. Will always offer you help when you need it.

Absolutely loves weird and unique animals, especially elephants. They track all the ones in captivity and give updates frequently.

Like Mothman, is very tall and lanky with long limbs. They also have freckles just like a galaxy.

Misses arcades and wishes they would come back. Goes to Dave and Busters for their birthday ever year.

All their pets are unique and named after foods such as their sharpei dog, Taco.

Has an old barn on their property where stray cats like to take refuge.

Loves old Disney movies and anime. Their favorite disney movie is Lilo and Stitch.

They also have a huge collection of anime and disney related figurines. A whole shelf full and continuing to grow.

Aesthetic: Teal and turquoise, Varsity jackets and athletic shorts, Pixie cuts, Binging anime, Microwave popcorn, Cuddling with your pets, Shag carpets, Colorful notebooks and fun pencils, Scented markers, Cotton candy soap, Cheaply made gimmick erasers, Tile floors, Homemade slime, Glowsticks, Stickers on laptop, Marble soda, Fairy lights, Ramen shops, Cinnabons, Star shaped Earrings, Young Adult Novels, Sour candy, Hibiscus tea, Orange tic tacs

Theme Song: Something in the Water by Brooke Fraser

#tag yourself #types of people #mine #augies-posts