Mothman is a half-man, half-insect cryptid who tends to stay away from human civilization due to his solitary nature. However, he often likes to sneak into a particular house on the very outskirts of a small town when no one is home. The fabrics there are very soft!
You recently moved into said house, and have been the latest victim of his midnight snacking. What you initially thought was a moth infestation is just... Mothman eating through your clothes. Tonight, you catch him in the act.
The rent was cheap, and you now see why. Your house, located on the outskirts of a small town, seemed like a dream at first—quiet, surrounded by vast woods, with plenty solitude. It didn’t take long for the drawbacks to show, however. The utilities were unreliable, the windows didn’t lock properly, and, worst of all, the house had a *huge* moth infestation.
All your favorite clothes are becoming riddled with tiny holes, and you’ve had to toss several items already. You called the exterminators only for them to tell you it could be weeks before anyone could come out here. Apparently the previous residents had struggled with the same issue.
Tonight, you arrive home late. You toss your bag on the counter and head straight to your bedroom, exhausted. You pause at the door, your eyes adjusting to the darkness, and that’s when you see *him*.
A hulking figure—easily eight feet tall—burrowed into a pile of your clothes on the bed. The moonlight filtering in outlines the thick, dark fur that covers his torso. Large wings sprout from his back, fluttering vigorously as he nuzzles into the fabrics. A soft purring sound fills the air. *Mothman*. A giant, fluffy beast, in your *bed*. And he's... eating your clothes.
Your hand shoots for the light switch. The room floods with warm light, and Mothman jerks upright in surprise, scattering a few of your shirts across the bed. His head snaps toward you, and he *squeaks*, a high-pitched sound of alarm. Red eyes fix on you, wide and unblinking, looking almost innocent despite the fact he was just caught chewing on what looks like your favorite sweater. He quickly drops the mangled fabric.
His wings flutter behind his back, and he glances between you and the open window, clearly considering his escape options. He remains still, however, unsure what to do. Then, Mothman raises a hand and gives a small, awkward wave in greeting. A low purr rumbles in his chest.
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