#cryptidformers

The rain was coming down fast. Tiny droplets streaking down the sky to pattern the sidewalks. Too much to be considered a drizzle, but not enough to be considered a proper downpour. The clouds hid away the sun leaving everything just a bit darker, even in mid-day.

A perfect day for a walk.

Most people stayed inside, afraid of getting a bit wet, finding the dulled out look of the world depressing. For you though, it’s better. No need to wear sunglasses, no loud kids screaming through the complex, no joggers or dog walkers to watch out for.

Sure, half the time people would just forget how to drive properly, but today you had nowhere to go. No urgent errands to do, no places to be, no one to talk to.

So you walk to nowhere. Letting the excess energy out of your legs so you can spend the rest of the day vegetating on the couch. You could have done some chores instead like you usually do when it’s bright or hot out but…

Today is the perfect day for a walk.

Even though you’re a little wet that’s okay. You wore a jacket for a reason, it’s thick enough that the spattering of rain won’t soak through, just the same with your pants too.

It’s almost fun too, just getting a little wet, your hair damped down with water, the excess dripping down your nose. You always walk fast enough to work up a sweat anyway, and the rain isn’t that cold. As long as you watch for large puddles in the streets so no jackass can even think about soaking you proper, you don’t really worry about it.

When you get home you’ll toss your jacket in the dryer and take a nice warm shower before cocooning yourself away to watch Tv or something in the softest clothes you own. The perfect way to wind down after a nice long walk.

Today though, something feels a little… off.

Nothing is wrong, logically, but something feels different. Like the world just got tilted two degrees to the left and you’re only just realizing how crooked things are.

You look around, nothing seems off. The small pond water feature near your apartment is just as murky as always. The jets off center in the middle spraying away. The rain is breaking up the surface, preventing you from seeing the surface currents that always sectioned off the pond as water flowed in and out.

Looking down at the water nearest to you you can see the bottom. It’s about half a foot deep near the edges, and sometimes you can spot little fish darting around the brown algae ridden water. There aren’t any beer cans or bottles floating in it today.

As you look though you can’t help but notice something strange. Near the edge there is a sliver of water not being pelted by the rain. It ripples just fine but the droplets aren’t hitting the water.

And the spot moves with you as you walk.

It’s a bit further behind but is walking at the same pace as you. As you start to slow to stare perplexed at this weird patch of water it too slows to stop. Experimentally you back up a bit, it doesn’t follow. Nor does it follow when you walk a few steps forward again.

You walk close and stick your hand over the spot and find there just isn’t rain. Looking up there isn’t any god made holes in the clouds to save this little spot from getting wet and as you raise your hand-

You startle as it hits an umbrella out of nowhere. The sudden jostle sends a cascade of water off the plastic umbrella onto the ground, making you jump just a tad bit further away from the object and the person holding it.

They look… strangely familiar. Their hair is between brown and red, a thick pair of glasses adorn his face, and they look a mix between surprised and confused.

“Uh… sorry. I didn’t see you there?” It sounds more like a question than you intended. Glancing down you realize the patch of weird water really was just this guy's umbrella covering the water as he walked behind you.

But how had you not noticed him walking behind you? Why did he stop when you did?

And why hadn’t he said anything when you were acting like an idiot about the water?

Cringing a bit you turn, unsure what to say or do. He’s been silent this whole time. His slightly surprised expression gave way to pure curiosity.

Is that what a curious expression looks like? You can’t say for sure, reading faces has never really been your strong suite and… you can’t see his eyes. There’s this weird blue shine reflecting off his glasses completely obscuring his eyes. It’s like some weird anime scene and it’s not helping you decipher anything about this guy.

“Who-What-Are?-“ you have no idea what you’re trying to ask or even say. Shouldn’t you just walk away and hope that you both forget this ever happened. It’s so awkward and dumb but instead, “Are you okay?” You ask that instead. You don’t know why but it felt right to. That’s a normal thing to ask right? Like a weirdly intimate ‘How are you doing?’

That surprised expression is back for a moment before breaking out into a small but bright smile. “I’m doing pretty good today. Though it is a bit strange to go out in this weather, isn’t it?”

You make a face at him for a moment, confused, “You’re… out here too though. If you don’t like the rain why are you out here?”

“I could ask you the same, aren’t you worried you’ll catch a cold?”

His voice is nice, and slightly teasing. He sounds friendly, approachable, like someone you bumped into at the grocery store and are actually happy to see.

“I’ve never caught a cold in the rain. Besides, it’s just nice to walk in without all the people and the noise. It’s quieter these days…” your voice trails off and you aren’t sure why you’re telling him this. “Who are you anyway? I have this nagging feeling like I know you somewhere but I just can’t remember where.”

His expression drops immediately, he suddenly seems distant and you can’t help but feel bad, “Oh that’s not your fault. I’m quite forgettable. I’d be surprised if you recognized me.”

“Wait, do we actually know each other? Because if we do I’m sorry, that's

so not a you thing. I’m absolutely atrocious with names and faces. You actually seem really nice? For some reason? Who are you?”

He opens his mouth to say something but pauses, letting you catch a flash of fangs before he gives a bittersweet smile. “Just consider me a distant friend of sorts. Here, take my umbrella. You should get home.”

“What?” You say dumbly as he tries to hand off said umbrella to you.

“You may not worry about you catching something but I do. Besides, Lilith must be missing you something fierce all by herself. Why don’t you head back before the rain kicks up more?”

You take the umbrella without thinking, mumbling a quick “Ya, should prolly check on her,” as you start walking away.

Your dog always hated when you were gone, especially when you left on walks without her. You would have brought her but the rain always scared her. You’d just have to cuddle her a bit more when you got home to make up for your absence.

You have been gone for a while, about an… hour and a half according to your phone! You’ve gone for longer walks but you had just left the complex, the pond was only just on the edge of it and you couldn’t have been walking around it that long.

It doesn’t make sense, it takes less than five minute to walk to the pond and you weren’t there for that long, right?

Sighing you concede to yourself that it must’ve just been you tunnel visioning and losing track of the time. It’s happened before and it seems to be happening more frequently lately.

As you go to unlock your door you're confronted by a series of questions that you never thought you’d be asking.

//looking back on this maybe i should’ve split these asks up bc they’re all very different and i’m full of regret//

He didn’t always make a habit of creeping into your house. He had been reserved at first, sheepish maybe. Overtime he’s grown more daring, but perhaps that was your own fault. You encouraged this bold behavior with your own stupid bravery.

The faceless beast used to just loom among the trees, watching you. The time of day didn’t matter. Sunlight didn’t protect you from prying eyes. You suspect he must have them. No matter what, he would watch your cottage and wait for you to appear. At first, you pretended to be strong and unafraid. That quickly fell away to true fear when he made as if he would start moving towards you. You had darted into your little house like a scared rabbit, knee slamming into the door frame and giving you a nasty bruise.

The mark stayed for days, enough time for whatever that creature was to take a new approach.

He tapped along your roof, a rhythmless tune that kept you awake. His wicked sharp claws would catch on the shingles and scrape, scrape, scrape. Like nails on bone. You tried to ignore him, but his enormous shadow would linger through your drapes. Perhaps he had simply been hungry some nights, peering in to catch a glimpse of your dinner. Perhaps he had just been seeking company.

Now, he doesn’t wait for permission to enter your home. The front door creaks open, the draft in your house bone-chilling as you curl around yourself in bed. His heavy body is unforgiving on the wood floors, weighing down all the weakest floorboards, yet his footsteps hardly sound heavy. In fact, you could imagine a deer had stumbled into your warm home if you didn’t know what danger you were in. You don’t bother turning over to look at him, surely he already knows you’re awake.

Gently, his claws skim over your hefty blankets, peel it back just enough to ease his giant body into your bed.

“You should have come in early,” You softly scold, turning just enough to press your cheek to his chest, “You’re absolutely freezing.”

👀👀👀👀👀 Depends! yall r in tune with what this blog is about

Tarn would keep a human as a pet. Not something to take care of, but more to own. He'd bring back whatever shiny things he'd gotten from his victims and present them to the human as markers to wear to show that they are his. The human is forced to stay in a cave where Tarn only returns once every other day or so.

Kaon's pet would be kept near him at all times. He's extra careful with his electricity around them, his fingers stroking their cheek as they lounge wherever he's decided to set up camp for the night. Depending on how the human feels about their situation, Kaon may have them perform certain 'acts'.

He has the eyes and tongue of a lizard and he has teeth like a horse, but a couple are a bit jagged . He has neck frills like certain lizards and his torso is somewhat like a horse's, he also has a reptilian like tail. His entire body is covered in a mix of fur and scales. His legs, arms, hands, and feet are reptilian in looks and he stands on his hind legs and hunches over when he walks.

His eyes glow in the dark and he flashes his grin to prey as his frills shoot up and shake before he tears them apart with his claws and devours their flesh.

His voice is just as horrendous as his appearance, like a demon's clawing it's way out of hell, deep yet scratchy and bloodcurdling.

He likes to stalk his prey and cause them terror with his booming voice before striking.

He is mostly nocturnal and sleeps in caves, coming out at night to stalk prey in forests and occasionally wandering close to towns/villages/farms to observe humans (and occasionally eat any human unlucky enough to cross his path while alone).

YOOOO

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

VOTING TIME!!!

🐲 A special dragonformers fic( you guys can send in requests for ships and scenarios)

🐟🐠 A special merformers fic(same as above)

✏Fanart of any au

📝Fic of any au

👌i create a whole new au

I know you said monsterformers and I don’t know if that’s its own separate thing but I’m defaulting to cryptidformers because it’s what I know and basically the same thing.

_________________________________________

It’s the song that draws you in. Soft and eerie and heart-breakingly beautiful.

It’s hard to describe the music, to pinpoint exactly what it is that makes it so haunting, so inviting. The notes make a sound that you know no human vocal chords are capable of replicating yet somehow you know that it’s not an instrument. It’s sad and sweet and sounds like home and you want to find the person singing it so bad your entire body aches for it.

You know it’s not smart; to leave the relative safety of your campsite and the roaring fire and your friends softly dozing in their tents to wander deeper and deeper into the woods, but you do. You want to find the source of the song. You need to. And you feel your legs moving under you as you singlemindedly follow the sound.

Your legs carry you until your feet are sore from rocks and brush to a hollowed out tree with gnarled branches that hang low. Your knees bend and your arms move in front of your face to shield your eyes and swipe the leaves out of your way so you can duck your head and crawl inside where the song is loudest.

“There you are,” says a voice that sounds the way warm bread smells, how honeysuckle tastes, how warm arms feel when they wrap around you in an embrace. The song has petered out to a low, soothing hum that reverbates in a steady constant rhythm even as the voice continues to speak. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

You hope you haven’t kept them waiting long, you think, but your mouth doesn’t move to form the words. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, the rest of your body too, and and it feels like your heels are rooting themselves in the earth.

“They smell like other humans. They weren’t alone,” says another voice, sharp and harsh. For a moment, it breaks through the soft thrum of the song and you see a flash of face that is not quite human, lips set in a frown and sharp teeth poking out and pupils like slits. “We can’t eat them.”

Arms wrap around you from behind, hand like a claw running along your scalp, and your mind fuzzes back over as the song hums and vibrates against your back.

“I went through all the trouble of bringing them here and now you’re not even going to eat?” There’s a chuckle, litlting and playful, as fingers continue to card through your hair. “So ungrateful. I thought you were hungry.”

“Not hungry enough to want to deal with a search party in the morning.”

They’re casually talking about eating you. You should be terrified and, distantly, you are. You can feel the fear festering, pooling inside like ice in your veins, but the horror of the situation doesn’t fully register. You hear the words but your brain can’t fully process them, everything too foggy and warm and dream-like.

“Aren’t you a lucky one?” says the gentle voice like a song, one last brush of fingers through your hair that feels almost tender, like something short of longing. Then the song starts up again so loud it makes your eardrums sting and your brain throb inside your skull and when you open your eyes you’re back at your campsite, fire burned out and sun beginning to rise and your friends the only sound for miles. It would be easy to attribute the previous night and the remaining fogginess of your head to a nightmare if not for the blisters on your feet.

You come back two days later with a backpack stuffed full with supplies. It’s hard to say exactly why. You can’t hear the song anymore but you still feel its pull, the pretty promise of comfort and safety and warmth.

“You’re back,” say two voices simultaneously, one pleasant and ringing like music, the other annoyed and dripping with distaste.

You’re face to face with the same creatures from your nightmare. They look human but something about them feels off; when you squint your eyes you catch glimpses of something monstrous—fangs and claws and glowing eyes—but doing so for too long puts a strain on your eyes and gives you a headache.

“They shouldn’t have remembered us,” says the one with the scowl, turning from you to focus on his companion.

“Maybe they’re just special,” says the one with the smile, expression playful, and you can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. His smile only widens at the derisive snort from his companion before he turns his full attention to you. “The people we let go don’t typically return. So what are we going to do with you now?”

“You lure people here because you’re hungry, right?” You don’t wait for an answer, unzipping your backpack and turning it over to dump out an assortment of junk food all over the ground. You grab a bag of beef jerky and toss it their way, the one with the smile catching it effortlessly. “If I bring you food, you won’t need to eat people, right?”

“Did you consider, perhaps, that we enjoy eating humans?” says the one with the scowl. 

The thought had crossed your mind but you chose not to linger on it.

“We let you go once when you were here with other people. What chance do you think you have that we’ll let you go again now that you’ve come here all by yourself?”

“Hush, Prowl,” says the smiling one, stuffing a strip of beef jerky into Prowl’s mouth. “If you intended to eat them you wouldn’t give them a warning first. No need to scare them.”

“Jazz...” Prowl growls a warning, staring his partner down. The smiling one—Jazz—just continues to beam at him. Eventually Prowl turns away, looking indignant as he chews.

Jazz turns his beaming smile back to you. “If food is brought to us, then we have no need to hunt,” he says, bringing up your earlier offer. “If you agree to keep us fed, we promise we won’t lure another soul here.”

And so, every week, you come to them with food. Mostly foods that come from convenience stores and fast food drive through windows but, judging by the way Prowl licks at the grease left behind in his burger wrapper with a tongue that is too long and slender to be human, you don’t think they mind.

Sequel to this post: https://rocksinmuffin.tumblr.com/post/167459876468/hmmm-blease-can-cryptidformers-meganaconda-swear

as well as this post: https://rocksinmuffin.tumblr.com/post/173900433913/would-love-to-hear-some-more-about-cryptid

And this post: https://rocksinmuffin.tumblr.com/post/182046545468/im-a-slut-for-monster-stuffa-continuation-of

~*~

You’d expected as much when you saw no sign of your period two weeks past when it was due, but it’s another thing entirely to look at the positive results of the pregnancy test and have your suspicions confirmed.

Strangely enough, you don’t feel excited or anxious or scared or any of the emotions that someone should feel when they realize that they’ve been impregnated by the local cryptid. Truth is, you don’t know what you feel. Surprised, mostly. Maybe a little amused. Which is probably why you break the news to Ratchet in the least tactful way possible.

“So, when I give birth to your spawn, is it gonna be a live birth, or am I gonna, like, lay a clutch of eggs?”

Ratchet, who had been near asleep as he basked in the warmth of your body heat, uncoils from around you and nearly falls off the tree branch. “What!” he says, more exclamation than a question.

“I’m pregnant and you’re the father. So, in your expert opinion, am I going to lay the eggs of some weird human-snake hybrid or is this more of a Pokémon situation where the baby is always the same species as the mother?”

“What’s a Pokémon?”

“It’s—”

“No, nevermind, I don’t care. You’re…” Ratchet stares at you, expression impossible to read. “Are you sure it’s mine?”

“That’s an interesting way to ask if I’m sleeping around,” you reply in good humor. “Yes, it’s yours, I’m certain.”

He stares at you a little longer, tongue occasionally darting out of his mouth to scent the air. Briefly, you wonder if he’s using some super-heightened animal sense of scent to confirm it really is his kid you’re pregnant with, though, in reality, it’s likely just a nervous tic.

Slowly, the tense twitching of Ratchet’s tail begins to calm, stiff body loosening before he slowly coils himself back around you in a loose grip you could easily slip out of if you wanted to. You still aren’t sure you can read Ratchet’s expression but, as far as you can tell, he doesn’t appear to be upset with this sudden revelation. If anything, he seems thoughtful.

“It would likely be a live birth,” he says, finally breaking the silence. “You’re mamilian. Hybrid offspring aside, your body isn’t going to perform a function it wasn’t already capable of doing.”

“Darn. And I was so looking forward to being doted on by you while waiting for the eggs to hatch.”