creature in the closet


The Boogieman: Well, well, it’s the Powerpuff Girls, CRASHING MY PARTY!

Bubbles: It’s the Boogieman!

Blossom: So it’s you who’s been terrorizing Townsville and keeping us awake.

The Boogieman: Aw, I’m sorry, did I wake you?  Hehehe!  Don’t expect to sleep anytime soon, because now that I’ve blocked out the accursed sun WE’RE GONNA MAKE THIS NIGHT LAST FOREVER!

-”The Powerpuff Girls”    

unidentifiedblackthorn  asked:

we were forced to hide in this very cramped space (from friends/authority figures/people trying to kill us) and this is a very awkward position to be stuck in with someone you’re avoiding because they’re too attractive for you to deal with” au WITH RHYS AND LUCIEN?? PLS??? I CRY???

this was for the prompts from a while ago!! still doing them, it’s just taking me 5ever lol. BUT THANK U FOR THIS GIFT IM ALSO CRY. 



“Get off me, you idiotic–”

“You’re the one who’s on me, you get off.”

But there is nowhere to go, and after a few moments of futile struggle, Lucien is forced to settle with his shoulder wedged against the door, half being poked by the cleaning supplies sticking from the shelves in this comically small maintenance closet, and half with Rhysand flush against him, their limbs askew and intertwined as they’re posed to avoid randomly hung buckets and mops.

Lucien swears and Rhysand asks, almost incredulous, “does the Fall Court not believe in adequate storage space?”

“Couldn’t you just replace all their memories with giant squids or something?” Lucien snaps in response, “Cauldron boil me, you’re supposed to be this all-powerful godlike creature and we’re hiding in a closet–”

Rhysand puffs out a laugh and Lucien can feel it on his ear. “I am an all-powerful godlike creature, first of all. And there should be an ‘extraordinarily handsome’ somewhere in there too.”

Insufferable. Insufferable. That he is, in fact, extraordinary handsome, and the slight implication that he knows Lucien thinks that… there are so many awful people in this court it seems impossible that Rhysand could introduce him to new ways to hate a person, but here they are, pure frustrated loathing coursing hot through Lucien’s veins as they hide from the Fall Court guards.

It is entirely Rhysand’s fault, a stunning highlight to this diplomatic trip that seems to have been planned with the specific goal of making Lucien’s life difficult every turn. Today Rhysand had been taking an uncomfortably close look at one of the Fall Court heirlooms, when he definitely had no business being unaccompanied in the vaults–Lucien had stumbled across him and must have startled him, because Rhysand dropped the precious glass artifact he was inspecting, and the sound of shattering was met with cries from the guards and the sounds of approaching boots. A mutual look of fury and fear–neither prince wanted to be associated with the crime, much less face Beron’s wrath for it–and they’d taken off down the hall, since winnowing was magically disabled in the palace. Lucien had been the one to pull them into a closet as the guards drew closer, and as Rhysand’s elbow digs further into his side, he regrets it fervently. His father’s retribution–or almost anything–would have been better than enduring this. It’s pitch black in the closet, and the darkness is heightening his other senses: Rhysand is warm and firm against him, and Lucien is discovering nuances in Rhysand’s scent, thick between them, something like saltwater under the citrus-musk, and he likes it and he hates that he likes it.

Rhysand goes on after a pause; Lucien suspects it’s because he can’t handle the mere suggestion that he’s less powerful than he’s supposed to be.

“In any case, the peace between Night and Fall is tenuous–”

“It gets more tenuous with every passing second of your knee jamming into my thigh.”

Rhys pauses to make a huffy little show of being interrupted. “–As I was saying, is tenuous, and tampering with will or memories leaves traces, if you know where to look. Your father employs people who know where to look. I’d like to not endanger that peace by giving anyone cause for suspicion.”

“Yes, we certainly wouldn’t want you, sneaking around the vaults alone and fondling ancient magical items, to seem suspicious.” Lucien loads it with as much venomous sarcasm as possible.

“Interesting word choice.”

“Oh, you’re going to distract me from your snooping with innuendo? Very mature behavior from a High Lord apparent.”

“I’m not the one who said fondling.” A pause, and Lucien can hear the filthy smirk in Rhysand’s voice when he adds, low and breathy, “And I could distract you with a lot more than innuendo, if I wanted to.”

The points where their bodies press into one another suddenly feel very heavy, and the air around them very thin. Lucien is going to kill him. He’s going to set all of Rhysand’s clothes on fire at once; even if Lucien gets third degree burns by proximity and/or murdered by Night Court spies in retaliation it’ll be worth it.

“Do you just go through life assuming everyone in the world is insatiably attracted to you?” He hisses.

Rhysand hums faintly. “Mostly. I tend to be right, though.”

How can he be so casually haughty, so at ease in this ridiculous pose they’re holding? How in the world does this not phase him?

And what would it take to break that cavalier composure of his?

Lucien feels the urge to try, one way or another, throttle him or kiss him, something, anything, to bring him down to some part of Lucien’s emotional level of lusting contempt. He manages, with great effort, to ignore it and lie instead.

“Consider me an exception.”

“Really?” It’s an amused little purr. “You’ve never thought about me fondling anything other than glass trinkets?”

“Incredibly, I find arrogance something of a turn-off,” Lucien bites out.

“I’m not sure I believe you. Maybe I should rifle around in your head and check.”

“Stay the fuck out of my mind, Rhysand,” Lucien snarls; aware that it’s bait, rising to it anyway. “I catch you trying to get past my shields and I swear I’ll—“

“You’ll what? Mouth off to me some more?” Rhysand says, sharply, baldly. Lucien feels thin fingers find his face in the dark, finds himself paralyzed with equal parts fury and heat as Rhysand traces the shape of his lips, his jaw.  “That temper of yours is going to get you into trouble, little Lucien. I hope you get as good at finishing things as you are at starting them.”

The nickname is too much.

Lucien snaps with something like a growl in his throat, and they collide with the clatter of cleaning supplies, door rattling as Rhysand shoves him against it, lips hot and seeking against Lucien’s. Hands grapple ungracefully, pulling, tugging, digging into clothing, both of them seeking to take; Rhysand tastes like sweat and the dust of the room and a bittersweet darkness, and Lucien is all teeth in search of more of it.

“You bit me,” Rhysand grunts, although it doesn’t stop his hand’s frenzied ascent up under Lucien’s now-untucked shirt to touch his bare chest.

“You called me Little Lucien,” Lucien pants petulantly, as Rhys latches onto his neck, sucking out his revenge.

“Well you are proving me wrong, aren’t you?” Rhys palms the generous bulge of Lucien’s hardening cock by way of explanation. “Not so little.”

Lucien holds back a groan, instead gritting out, “Fuck, I hate you.”

Rhysand chuckles, and Lucien kisses him again, rough, sloppy, just so he’ll shut up, for cauldron’s sake—

And then the world is bright, and they’re both tumbling backwards. Lucien hits the ground hard, arousal interrupted by the painful weight of Rhys landing almost entirely on top of him.

The poor maid who opened the door—and managed to dodge out of the way before her prince and the foreign dignitary he’s clearly making out with tumbled out—stands there in absolute shock, a hand clasped over her mouth.

“Sorry,” Lucien apologizes to her vaguely, feeling his shame return to him with his sense of sight.


Rhysand rights himself and slips away before Lucien can finish calming the frazzled, embarrassed maid, and is mercifully absent for the rest of the day, as Lucien grows more and more mortified about the event. By the time he retires for the night, he’s considering hiding in his room for the remaining days of Rhysand’s visit and also maybe the rest of eternity.

But he opens the door to see Rhysand, calmly inspecting the contents of his desk.

“What are you doing here?” Lucien blurts, too surprised and lingeringly embarrassed to put any real hostility behind it.

Rhysand puts down whatever he was playing with, walks over to where Lucien is rooted to the floor with that brand of disaffected self-assurance that reminds Lucien: he hates him, he hates him, don’t make out with him again–

“We weren’t finished when we were interrupted earlier,” Rhysand murmurs, and kisses him.

Arrogant, entitled, presumptuous, insufferable, insufferable, insufferable–

Lucien’s resolve crumples like wet paper and he kisses him back, Rhysand’s night-cool aura washing over his senses, making him forget why this was ever a bad idea. Somehow they end up stumbling towards the bed, Lucien gripping the back of Rhysand’s neck as they tumble onto it.

“It’s Rhys, not Rhysand, when you come,” Rhys manages to get out against Lucien’s lips, somehow still imperious when he’s underneath Lucien, both of them flushed.

Lucien swears softly. “Only if you promise to stop talking.”

Any story dealing, however seriously, with homosexual love is taken to be a story about homosexuality while stories dealing with heterosexual love are seen as stories about the individual people they portray. This is as much a problem today for American filmmakers who cannot conceive of the presence of gay characters in a film unless the specific subject of the film is homosexuality. Lesbians and gay men are thereby classified as purely sexual creatures, people defined solely by their sexual urges
—  Vito Russo, The Celluloid Closet: Homosexuality in the Movies

anonymous asked:

I think there's a creature in my closet, how do you think I should introduce myself?

Whatever you do, just don’t force them out of the closet . They’ll come out when they’re ready , but until then try to make them feel comfortable . you can still make friends before their ready to come out or let you in .

anonymous asked:

Please please please could you add the minor trip to the sleep talking MC prompt? It was really funny and adorable and I'd love to see Vanderwood, Saeran, and V too! ❤️

✿ Sure can do! The original request was here


  • “V,” you whine into your pillow, rubbing your face across the linen case. “V, your hair is so delicious, it’s like cotton candy.”
  • “…What,” V says, awake next to you as he hadn’t quite been able to get to sleep yet. “E-excuse me?”
  • “Or a caramel apple… V, we should sell your hair… We’ll make so much money, V…”
  • “What,” he says again, slightly louder and significantly more confused. He’d heard you much better that time, and you definitely had been saying what he thought you’d said.
  • “The lizards will love it, V… think of the lizards…”
  • “Excuse me,” V says, still thinking this is you talking since it’s dark and he really, really, really can’t see. “We - we don’t have lizards.”
  • “Yes we do, they’re in the closet.”
  • V converses like you like this for a good fifteen minutes before your snore tips him off that, oh god, you are asleep.
  • He bursts into a fit of giggles, and you wake up with a start, sitting up and looking around blearily. Baffled, you ask him what’s going on, why is he laughing, and he tells you it’s nothing.
  • Don’t worry about it.
  • He doesn’t want you getting embarrassed about your bizarre habit. The next morning, he peers himself in the mirror, and starts laughing again when he thinks about feeding his blue blob of hair to the invisible lizards living in your shared closet.

Unknown (Saeran)

  • The first time Saeran hears you sleeptalk is when you and him are watching a horror movie together. He is freaked the fuck out, because Saeran Choi is actually a huge baby, but you think it’s boring so you fall asleep on his shoulder.
  • It’s the climactic moment of the movie, when the last two survivors are clinging to each other in the closet as a ghoulish creature prowls outside the room, and Saeran has never been tenser in his life. He’s leaning forward, focused entirely on the screen, when he hears a whisper brush right against his ear -
  • “The devil is coming for you, Saeran. He’s going to eat your eyes.”
  • To say that Saeran flips out is an understatement. He launches himself away from you by kicking you in the stomach, an act which both wakes you up and sends him toppling off the couch.
  • “Saeran?” you call out, baffled and rubbing your stomach, and Saeran lets out the most undignified, high-pitched screech imaginable.
  • You are soooo confused, and you spent the next half-hour trying to calm Saeran down and convince him that you’re not possessed. It takes making him an ice cream sundae before he finally relaxes enough to tell you what happened.
  • You feel bad for laughing your ass off, but damn, you really have some great timing, don’t you?


  • You’re the little spoon, Vanderwood is the big spoon, and they discover quite quickly that you apparently don’t shut up even when you’re asleep.
  • Sometimes, it’s just vaguely puzzling shit like reciting the lyrics to songs in a very, very serious voice. Other times, it’s just incoherent - like asking 707 if he’ll ‘toot toot the noot noot’
  • (honestly tho knowing him and u that would be an actual codeword or something)
  • Sometimes, though, it’s just frightening, like the night you spent dictating instructions to your imaginary army that you used to conquer the entire world.
    • “Yes, Advisor Gru, I agree. Belgium must be terminated. Move all of their chocolate operations to Austria. Mmmm. Austria… ”
  • (You start chewing on Vanderwood’s hair after that and they’re like, ok well this is their life now whatever.)
  • Whenever they try to bring this up to you, you vehemently deny that you could possibly be talking in your sleep, so one day they buy a recorder for pettiness sake and decide to prove it to you.
  • You’re horrified when they play the tapes back for you, and you apologize like a million times, which…. makes them feel really bad that they thought of suggesting gagging you at night.
  • They insist it’s not really a problem, even as you try increasingly weird methods to get yourself to stop. Weird herbal treatments, mucking with your sleep schedule… you even start seeing a sleep therapist, but none of it works. You’re stressing out, guilty that you bother them at night, and you even suggest sleeping separately so they can get some rest.
  • “No,” they say seriously, patting you lightly on the head. “If it was seriously a problem, I would have kicked you off the bed a long time ago. It’s fine, ok?”
  • “…Honestly,” they admit, not really able to look at you as they say it. “I might kinda… miss it, if you stopped. It’s, like. Y’know. Background noise. Like leaving the radio playing, or whatever.”
  • Awhh, Vanderwood. What a nerd.
A Touch of Iron [1/1]

Fantasy Pretzel Week: Day Seven: Prompt: Any Modern Trope in a Nymph/Fae/Elves AU.

I went with fake dating/green card marriage! Thank you so much @seastarved for arranging this week, I’ve had a blast! This one’s T, 2,911 words, and open to more if you enjoy folks, so do let me know :D.

It’s an accident of course, these things always are.

She knew she should be home before the sun touched the horizon - every child of the forest knew that - but she’d been distracted, another argument about suitors with her grandmother still buzzing through her head as the dew rose around her feet, the swish of her practice sword through the long grass covering the sound of the flutes until she was almost upon them.

And now it’s too late.

They surround her, the invisible boundary she’d dared to cross shimmering behind them as they circle her with huge, overbright eyes, thin lips drawn back to show off their needle-like teeth.

“Well, well, well,” titters the closet creature, his voice pure as bells even though villainy is written in every scale of his skin. “Whatever do we have here, dearie?”

“Princess Emma of the Enchanted Forest,” she snaps, her shoulders back and her chin held high as she fights to keep the tremble out of her voice. “I demand release!”

The fae laugh, a sound like shattering glass, and creep closer. Some of the smaller ones begin to tug at the edges of her cloak, at the ends of her hair. The one who’d spoken smiles like a crocodile and runs a long, thin finger over her cheek.

“But you interrupted our dance, dear princess! And you know what happens to girls who dance with the fairies, don’t you?”

She juts her chin out further and says nothing. The fairy pouts, the setting sun making his skin glimmer.

“If we like you,” he says. “We keep you.”

“And if we don’t!” cry the smaller ones, taking each other’s hands and spinning around them both until she’s dizzy with watching them, their bodies fading into a swirl of pink and green and gold. “And if we don’t!”

The male smiles again takes her face in his bony hands and breathes magic over her skin.

“We don’t.”

And the world falls away.

Keep reading

how harry answered the question: like any closeted person would

how antis think he should’ve answered: oh, why i am so glad you asked! indeed sweet creature is about louis, who is closeted. i, an also closeted person, am in a relationship with said louis. i’m revealing all of this to you because i, a closeted person, am suddenly out of the blue allowed to divulge all of this with random radio host mcgee.

Daily Bisexual Fact:  

Bisexuals, those most mythical and ethereal of creatures, must all embark on epic quests in order to escape the Eternal Closet of Despair,  On these quests, they will constantly do battle with…

The Dark Lord of Heteronormativity. 


Powers of the bisexual: Invisibility, charm, and wit.

Weaknesses of the bisexual:  Mislabeling, prone to exclusion, and sponge cake (no bisexual can resist it).  

if the monsters come

relationship: broganes
for @true-lab

Shiro remembers those late nights back home, when shadows within shadows would cast themselves throughout his room, transforming furniture into terrifying monsters and other creatures of the night.

He had a routine: check the closet, check the bed, adjust the chair in the corner of his room so it was just outside the beam of moonlight shining through his window. It kept the monsters at bay, and he was able to sleep well knowing that no creepy shadows would come to life and haunt his dreams.

Unfortunately, his routine only applied to his room. So when Keith would push his door open—he always left it cracked, since Keith was too small to reach the knob—and his sniffing and crying would rouse Shiro from his sleep, Shiro already knew what to do.

“Come here,” he would whisper, as if speaking any louder would wake the monsters from their slumber, and then he would pull his blankets down and wait for his brother’s tiny body to waddle over to the bed. Then Keith would grab onto the sheets and pull himself up, determined to do it alone and fussing whenever Shiro tried to help. He would chuckle a little, and then settle in next to Keith as they both drifted off to sleep, knowing they were safe from monsters and the nightmares they brought with them.

Shiro closes his eyes against the memory and swallows down his pride, reaching out to knock on the door in front of him. The metallic echo sounds far too loud to him, and his heart skips a beat as he waits for a response.

The door swishes open to reveal a tired, disgruntled Keith, still so short despite growing so much. He blinks a few times, adjusting to the sudden brightness of the hallway, and then he trails his gaze up from the floor to meet Shiro’s eyes.

“Shiro…?” he asks, voice groggy and slow. “What are you doing?”

He feels a spike of embarrassment turn his face a bright shade of pink, and he looks away as he regrets ever coming here.

“I just… well I had a, uh—” Shiro clears his throat and tries again, “I had a nightmare and, um, I wasn’t sure what to do.”

He chances a peek at Keith and relaxes when he sees his face soften, a small, nostalgic smile cracking through his grumpy exterior. Keith nods a little and moves away from the threshold, motioning for Shiro to follow him into the room.

It’s dark inside, only a few muted lights along the floor as a pathway to the bed. Keith closes the door, engulfing the room in deep shadow. The darkness spikes his nerves again, and he can’t help but feel that something is watching him. His heart rate speeds up as his eyes dart around the room, looking for the distinctly humanoid, purple monsters which haunt his dreams.

Keith doesn’t go directly to the bed, though. Instead, he walks to the closet at the back of the room and opens the door, peaking his head into the pitch black. He moves on to the bed, kneeling down and lifting the mattress up a little, peering beneath before dropping it. There’s no chair, nor a window, so he finishes the routine with a shrug and turns to face Shiro again, a triumphant grin on his face.

“No monsters here,” he proclaims, then climbs into the bed, lying on his side to make sure there’s enough room for Shiro. He turns down the blankets and smooshes himself against the wall while he waits, snuggling into the bed with half-lidded eyes. A yawn escapes his lips, and his brow furrows.

Shiro smiles warmly as he remembers when the roles were switched, so many years ago.  He sits down on the mattress, jostling his brother around as he adjusts himself under the blanket.

They fall asleep almost instantly, clinging to each other, knowing that they’re safe, that no monsters can get to them.

Shiro’s constant nightmares elude him that night.

anonymous asked:

Ama, my bed sits directly on the floor, so there is no space beneath it, and this makes me really sad. i feel like it makes hand holding with other worldly creatures completely inaccessible :(

Not all of them come from the space u dee your bed . Invite the creatures from the closet , leave it open at night . Crack the window and close the curtains over them , or drape some blankets over a chair in the corner . Create a space for them to enter and they will , we are not picky about the lack of a bed frame .

anonymous asked:

HC: It takes both Karkat and Dave a while to get used to each other's "weird alien hoarding" - Dave can't understand why anyone would sleep on a bicycle horn mountain, and KK is irritated that Dave stashes food in their closet like a nut creature. Ultimately they accept that these things are harmless and give each other comfort, so Dave starts leaving gently-worn sweaters by the pile, and Karkat buys extra snacks at the store and dumps them in Dave's lap when he's trying to talk on the computer.

thats cute!

Claustrophobia (Newt x Reader)

Originally posted by secretly-a-wizard

For @leslaiiiii who requested Newt one-shot where the reader and him have crushes on each other but they are too shy to admit, but when they chase after a creature in New York, they end up in a closet and the door lock itself. If the reader is claustrophobic and Newt shyly comforts her before they kiss.

I hope you enjoy this!

Words: ~2500

Rating: Cute comfort fluff, pretty good fluff to get you through the day.

Visiting Jacob and the Goldsteins was supposed to be a relaxing little vacation from your travels with writing the magical creatures handbook. Tina was ecstatic to see you and Newt after receiving letters every month, and Jacob was always anxious to hear your stories of your journeys around the world studying and recording various types of beasts he could only dream of. Queenie, however, was a bit disappointed to find that the two of you continued to have intense feelings for one another (more than mere friends would, anyway), and had yet to act upon them.

You adored him, completely and truly and forever, though in reality, you could never say such things to him. When you tried, you found the words would get caught in your throat, and you would merely mutter your apologies for forgetting whatever it was you were attempting to tell him. And each time, Queenie would give a pout and sympathetic look your way.

Now, Newt wasn’t completely oblivious as you had thought, his hands would tremble and heart quiver at the idea of you confessing some sort of attraction to him when you would approach him…and every time you backpedaled he would deflate just a little bit at his own inability to admit his feelings. Queenie could only fume in silence when she heard the wizard’s thoughts screaming at himself to get over his shy nature and let you know just how much you brightened his days and warmed his heart with just one of your heart-stopping smiles.

Though it was hypothetically supposed to be a bit of a holiday, there wasn’t much resting with a case full of magical creatures that sometimes managed to escape.

Tonight was one of those times.

You had chosen your most flattering of outfits, dressing to impress a certain magizoologist.   Queenie must have read into your thoughts that afternoon, for she had generously offered any of her wardrobe for your taking, and insisted on applying a generous amount of her favorite red lipstick to your lips to prepare for an evening out.

Throughout dinner, you two caught one another staring. You would look up and find Newt’s shy gaze upon you, blood rushing to his face and heating his freckled cheeks as he attempted to hide behind his mop of honey curled hair. In turn, he would chance a glance at you just to find you pretending to drop your fork to distract from your obvious gawking.  

It didn’t take a mind-reader to see how hard you two had fallen for one another. After glancing at a very restless Queenie, Tina took it upon herself to announce to the table once dinner was finished, “It’s a perfect night for a walk, wouldn’t you say so Newt?”

Everyone looked to the wizard for his response, effectively catching him staring at you again, making you smile. Taken a bit off guard, Newt blinked rapidly and pushed his mashed potatoes around a bit with his fork distractedly. “Y-yes, yes I would say so…”

“That sounds nice.” you added, tilting your head and flashing the shy Hufflepuff a reassuring smile that he easily reciprocated.

Jacob couldn’t help but grin at how connected you two seemed to be, all the more after the events here in New York, but he should have known you two were too shy to admit it to one another. “Better go grab your coat, Newt…?” he suggested, as neither of you broke your gaze from one another, smiling like two lovestruck teens.

Newt’s cheeks dusted a rosy pink, having being caught in his infatuation for you for the second time that night. “Oh, yes I suppose,” he tore his gaze from you to stumble to the back bedroom.

Tina turned to you with a light smile. “Sooooo Y/n, how are you and Newt–”

The Goldstein sister was stopped short by a clunking noise from the bedroom. At first you were grateful for the interruption, but when it didn’t stop you became a bit concerned.

You all stared blankly at one another as the clattering continued, followed by some maternal reprimanding, more crashes and an eventual cry of frustration. A few seconds passed in silence.

“Newt?” You tentatively called, already having a sinking feeling as to what had occurred when he emerged with a sigh.

“The, um, Niffler…may have slipped out of the open w-window…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

Queenie raised her brows with a smirk. “Oh. Is that all?”

“Just like old times, eh?” Jacob shook his head with a chuckle.

You had meant to go out during the evening in your lovely outfit with Newt and your friends, though it wasn’t planned you would be chasing a Niffler for the majority of that evening.

You found the Niffler initially at the local jewelry store, where Newt tried his best to re-enact the last success when this scenario occurred, though this time the small creature escaped. The suspicious trail of missing trinkets, money and jewelry then led them to the museum, which was luckily closed so you wouldn’t attract too much attention while chasing for the magical creature that tended to cause havoc.

A quick “Alohomora” made the entrance the easy part. It was when the five of you observed the expanse of the museum while in the lobby that it was made clear things would be a bit harder…

“Maybe we should split into groups?” Queenie suggested a little too innocently as she averted your and Newt’s gaze.

“I’ll take the left wing, it’s smaller.” Tina quickly piped up enthusiastically, though out of breath, catching Queenie’s suggestion.

Jacob, hands on his knees and panting, inhaled deeply before gesturing to the main exhibit and lobby. “Right…well…I can go–”

“Yes, you and I will go this way,” Queenie specified, glancing at you and Newt with a cheerful smile. “Good luck!” she chirped, helping drag Jacob along down around the corner and out of sight. Tina gave a small wave before she too disappeared down the left hallway.

“Right,” Newt sighed, swallowing thickly as he looked to you with a little smirk. “Shall we?”

You two set to jogging down the corridor on the right, anxious and alert to find the mischievous missing beast.

Along your search, the distinct sound of clinking metal was heard from the ancient jewel displays. Initially, the little creature attempted to blend in with the black velvet of the case display, but it wasn’t long before Newt’s keen eye found him and the chase began. With the nimble creature slipping through your hands time and time again, it almost became a competition between you and Newt to see who would catch the naughty Niffler first.

“Y/n,” Newt whispered just loud enough for you to hear. He gestured to an open custodial closet that you could easily corner the Niffler in. You nodded your understanding with a smile, and the both of you set to surrounding the small creature.

It’s beady black eyes blinked at you as you slowly inched closer, “Come on little guy,” you hummed, hoping he would walk into your open hands. Instead, the Niffler turned and scampered into the closet, it’s pouch clicking and dropping a few coins on the way. “Well, that works too,” you giggled, pursuing with Newt right behind you.

The closet was quite dark, until you switched on the dim singular light bulb that dangled from the ceiling. “Where’d he go?” you hissed, scrambling through the shelves of cleaning supplies desperately, Newt searching the upper shelves you couldn’t reach.


The both of you whipped around just in time to catch of glimpse of the magical creature ducking–slipping, rather–through the cracked open door, effectively knocking it shut with a light click.

“The little bugger,” Newt muttered under his breath, though with a slight smile as he went for the door, “Can’t keep his paws off even remotely shiny—oh, dear…” he sighed, peeking over his shoulder sheepishly as the doorknob rattled. “Seems we’re stuck for a bit…”

You felt a wave of fear-induced nausea wash over you in the dim lighted closet, the space feeling too constricting for you, let alone with another person. “Your wand?” you quickly yipped hopefully.

Newt patted his pockets, then gave a sigh of exasperation when he remembered, “Tina has it, she picked it up when it fell out of my pocket when I almost caught the Niffler at that jewelry shop…”

It was already dim and uncomfortable, though you were aware it was only a matter of time before panic swallowed you in this cramped space. Suddenly out of the corner of your eye, it had appeared the wall beside you began closing in to compact you indefinitely. You whipped around, glaring at the seemingly still wall accusingly before pacing. Either way, the space felt smaller, and your heart began thundering in your ribcage when you couldn’t find enough room to breathe properly. You felt your chest constrict and muscles freeze, knees threatening to buckle from under the weight of damp fear that seeped to your core.

Newt tried the handle again, pushing the door forcefully.  “Perhaps the Muggle way is the best way in this situation, don’t suppose you can pick a lock Y/n?” Turning, Newt seemed to take notice of your change in behavior, pausing in his escape attempt to observe your continued pacing and…shivering? “Y/n, are you alright?”

You didn’t answer, though you didn’t have to. Your slight whimper as you backed into a wall and heaved for air gave Newt enough indication that you were indeed in need of help. He approached you slowly, cautiously, knowing you were uncomfortable with your current surroundings.

“It’s going to be alright, I-I’m here.” he assured, taking your hands in his.  “Y/n look at me,”

You slowly raised your embarrassed gaze to his, internally chuckling at the thought of how the roles had switched, as the magizoologist rarely kept eye contact for long when he blushed when in in your mere presence. His seafoam eyes were almost luminescent in the dim lighting as they appeared to churn with concern and affection, staring at you intently, seeming to read you like an open book, worry evident in his creased brow line. “I’m s-sorry,” you stammered, the pressure in your head and tightness of your chest inciting a wave of tears, fresh flowing rivers of sadness and fear that you couldn’t stop.

Newt’s expression quickly melted into one of sympathy, his hands flying from yours to cradle your face, warm thumbs gently stroking your cheeks dry as he pressed his forehead against yours firmly. “Oh, Y/n…” he cooed affectionately, taking note of your instantly relaxing shoulders when you locked gazes with him once more. “Don’t ever be sorry, just…” he inhaled deeply, already feeling his heart pound at how daringly close he was to you. “ …just f-focus on me…breathe.”

You did as he instructed, shifting your thoughts focus to your magizoologist as he tenderly held you like fragile glass, your hands resting on his chest, absorbing the reverberations of his rapidly beating heart. You mimicked his breathing pace, his barely audible murmurs of comfort combined with the soothing sensation of his warm, freckled thumbs stroking your chilled cheeks wrapped you in a sense of harmonious security and relaxation

Newt felt relief and pride swell in his chest. Though you hadn’t realized it yet, your breathing evened and your muscles slowly began to relax. He watched your E/C gaze flicker as you methodically counted the freckles that dotted along his face, his cheeks heating up in the realization, though the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile nonetheless.

You felt as though you had broken out of a trance, blinking to clear your vision, you looked up to find the shy Hufflepuff staring back at you with nothing but compassion lining his herbal eyes. “Thank you.” you whispered genuinely.

Newt’s face may as well have been on fire at this point, for he had never engaged in such a close proximity between the two of you. You intensified his emotions exponentially with something as simple as holding his hand, so he figured if he got any closer he very well may melt from pure bliss.

“Of course.” Newt replied, seeming to absorb every detail of your face in that moment, overwhelmed by the way you looked at him, a look of adoration in your eyes that he knew matched his. Shyly, he leaned in to delicately kiss the corner of your lips.

The other side of your mouth curved in a half-smile, it was so very characteristic of him to present his feelings in a timid, gentleman way, though the fact he took action itself declared him a holder of much deeper and profound emotions that hid behind his shy demeanor.

You felt your breathing hitch when Newt pulled back ever-so-slightly, his lips barely hovering against yours, his freckled nose brushing light Eskimo kisses as he breathlessly whispered, “M-may I…?”

The timid wizard’s shaky but hopeful question made your heart race and stomach flutter in a nervously excited frenzy, wherever Newt’s skin made contact with yours felt delightfully ignited with flames of fondness you desperately desired to kindle. You couldn’t help but smile upon noticing the wizard’s gaze flickering to your lips a few times before meeting your gaze.

Your hands snaked from his chest and up his neck to weave into his cinnamon-peppered golden locks, feeling him tremble slightly beneath your gentle touch. Gingerly, you pulled him into you and captured his lips in a fervent kiss that gushed with compassion and yearning.

Newt gave a barely audible brief gasp of surprise, which quickly blended into a sigh of delight as he practically melted into your embrace, the sensation of your fingers entangling in his hair driving him absolutely wild. It was no longer you trapped in a room, rather you and the wizard you loved sharing a sacred space.

“Hey there you guys are!”

You both jumped at the intrusion, the light from outside the closet almost blinding as a familiar face opened the door. “Everything alright?” Jacob asked in concern upon seeing his friends so jumpy.

“Y-yes, quite,” Newt replied, looking back at you sheepishly.

“Ya gotta little, somethin’…” Jacob chuckled, tapping the edge of his lips. “Right there.”

It was only now you noticed the lipstick stain on the side of Newt’s mouth, and you felt your cheeks heat up in response, giving a light giggle at the wizard’s immediate wide-eyed expression of embarrassment.

“D-did you find the Niffler?” Newt swallowed thickly, obviously attempting to redirect the conversation as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, we cornered the little rascal in the gift shop a few minutes ago, then set off to find you two.” Jacob explained. Newt gave a curt nod of appreciation, which gave way to a moment of awkward quiet with Jacob grinning until he spoke up again. “Gosh, you both are too cute.”

If possible, Newt blushed even harder.

“He’s become much more clever,” you noted, walking alongside Jacob and Newt as you headed for the exit. “We thought we’d trap him in the closet, and he ended up trapping us instead.”

“The way I found you two it couldn’t have been that bad,” Jacob sent you a smirk, to which you scoffed and smacked his arm playfully.  

Eventually, you made it to the main entrance where Tina and Queenie were waiting, the Niffler in a small birdcage. Your brow furrowed in thought of where it came from, but Tina quickly answered when she saw your expression. “I don’t think their stuffed bird in the nature exhibit will miss it that much.” she chuckled, making sure to hand back Newt’s wand.

Though the walk back to the apartment was long, none of you were bothered in the slightest. The night had settled in and the stars gleamed above like shattered diamonds.

About halfway there, Newt had taken your hand, and it was admittedly one of the best feelings you’d ever experienced when he looked down at you in such a deeply enamoured way he never had before.

Jacob had to bite down on his lip in an attempt to keep from grinning, though it wasn’t as effective as hoped. “I could just lock you two back in there if ya want,” he gently elbowed Newt in the side, watching in satisfaction as his magical friend quickly turned a light pink and chuckled bashfully.

“I, ah… I don’t think that will be necessary,” Newt replied in a hush. He gave a giddish grin, squeezing your hand and turning to you with shining green eyes that reflected complete infatuation, and you could only smile back just as elated.

Your friends felt their own excitement brewing as they watched you both ahead, strolling down the sidewalk, hands clasped and hearts fluttering.

Hope you enjoyed this one!

Comfort fluff is good stuff. :)

Tags: @maybe-maj

The Larry Timeline

I’m going to keep this short and simple. If you listen to the following songs in this specific order it’s the timeline of everything since the grand closeting

If I Could Fly
Two Ghosts
Half A Heart
Sweet Creature

Those songs in that order tell the story that we all believe in, the entire Larrie Fandom has been on track since the grand closeting according to these songs!!! If I Could Fly is a complete declaration of love that H&L understand between one another. However, the closeting intensifies which caused Spaces to be written. Two Ghosts and Sweet Creature are continuations of those two songs. Half Of Heart is both of them realizing that they need each other and Home is the continuation of that. Unfortunately their newfound peace with each other is interrupted by Babygate, which is slightly shaded on Kiwi and we all know it. However there’s no continuation for Kiwi out yet, so now all we do is wait. This isn’t even assuming it’s putting the pieces together, and Louis knows that we’re still putting pieces together surrounding the Larry Timeline. He sees everything that we do, and he’s still wearing white shirts indicating that he’s still a ghost until the end of Babygate. Sweet Creature, If I Could Fly, 18, Half A Heart, and Home aren’t only declarations of love. Those are also predictions and reminders of the future when played in this order. We’re currently still in the Two Ghosts part of the timeline, and after that follows 18 and Half A Heart. Those songs are clear and transparently about coming out at some point in order to declare their love openly once more. Then we will be welcomed into a new era of Larry of nothing but them finally being free and open with their love like they were before the grand closeting (Sweet Creature and Home)

Humans and allergies

After the shock of the Halloween prank, Foreg opened every door very, very carefully. His antennas were quivering, and he was alert to every little sound.

When someone screamed, he was already running towards the sound, calling Holag, the medbay doctor.

He burst into crewmember Jonathan’s room to find Jonathan cowering in one corner, and Steve standing in front of him holding a fluffy predator.

Foreg stepped forwards nervously. The predator in Steve’s arms was about the size of a human toddler, with thick black fur, droopy ears, a long snout and a mouth filled with very sharp teeth. At the moment, the predator had its tongue out, and was panting with what Foreg assumed was anticipation at eating Jonathan.

“Steve! You must keep that creature away from Jonathan! It might kill him!” Steve turned around, noticing Foreg for the first time. Incredibly, he laughed.

“Buddy here wouldn’t kill anyone! He’s a baby Labrador, you know, the companion dogs we humans have. He’s only got his mouth open because he’s happy.”

“Then why does Jonathan look so scared?”

"Because Steve knows I’m allergic to dog hair and won’t leave me alone! I can’t be sneezing all day!”

Foreg shook his head. He knew that sneezing itself wasn’t a dangerous symptom.

Humans would happily hide skeletons in closets, dress up as the very creatures who could kill them, keep dangerous predators as companions, but were terrified of the sniffles?

He would never understand humans.

Killing Stalking fanfiction: Bum Masturbating

@eyebagchan @koulej @konekopon @icemiruku I dedicate this to you guys. :) @fictional-serial-killer

Twas the night before shitmas and all through the house, no a creature was stirring except for that country whore. Right in the closet sitting on a hanger next to his sexuality was Sangwoo’s Eminem cosplay.Hot dog! Thought Bum with a strum of his fingers against the lucious man candy’s sweatshirt. He took off everything, and I mean everything and wore only the sweatshirt. Reminds me of that line from Titanic. He thought it was soft as his ex girlfriend from highschool’s hair. Oh no, he couldn’t think of her if he dare.But he did and insta boner. Yoon Bum, you’re a loner. He got on the floor infront of the door hoping when Sangwoo came home he wouldn’t be so alone. Mutual masturbation in the nation of South Korea. Just as he thought, his snake began to be charmed. It looked like a sand mound rather than a mountain. Kinda sad actually. As he stroked his long schlong he began to yodel a familiar Chinese folk toon he learned in the military.
As two office whores were on patrol they heard their mating call. A cop car crashed through the door, getting out of it was two officers dressed as drag queens. Sparkle sparkle. They put down their champagne and began vomiting glitter on each other. That made Bum even more horny. Detective Seungbae and Detective Lee were in synchronization with their flambe van dykes poking through their dresses. Panty shots everywhere. Blush blush. Every single fucking anime has a panty shot. Soon enough all three were ass naked running around the house and rubbing olive oil on their asses to make it super shiny.
Sangwoo walked through the hole in his wall noticing the three naked men. He dropped the bag of groceries and stood in silence. Suddenly the famous gangnum style music video began happening around them. This was a deleted scene and Psy began Gangnum Styling next to them. Copyright Psy 2012. Everyone began screaming the lyrics and soon enough Sangwoo was dressed like Snoop Dawg. Sangwoop Dawg ft. Psy.
Bum woke up from his fever dream and put the coffee down.
“Sangwoo you bitch.”

@nearina you asked for it.

anonymous asked:

i hav a feeling that the het songs were put not coz they were personal to him but coz they hav really good beats n are catchy(according to what ppl r saying) n they rolled with the" harry wrote the songs honestly" angle coz it makes him look straight coz he n his partner r still in the closet

and i can’t wait to listen to them and jam!!!!!!!what i want to say is that i don’t care he signs about fucking groupies (which makes me lol but that’s it), harry is not straight,harry didn’t fuck groupies nor prostitutes harry is not “shading louis with starbucks references”, harry is in a committed relationship for 7 years now, he signs about his sweet creatures and how it was when they started to iron closet both of them and how bad they had it but how GREAT they are together and how much they love each other. He is also closeted, unfortunately, and he’s a singer who writes different things for different people, albums with a mix of everything, real, fake, persona, real Harry, etc. and sings songs for the audience. It’s not that hard. 

My first shadow encounter

I was 4 or 5 and we had moved to a small town. The house was nice and large and had a great backyard. But I remember even then when I first looked at it feeling scared. That feeling only increased as we went through the house and looked around. I got more and more frightened as I was shown the rooms and I realized none of them were mine as the feeling of dread increased. When we finally got to my room the feeling was overwhelming and I didn’t want to go in. My parents, oblivious, just assumed I was upset about the huge move and we went in. It was a good size room with built in shelves and lots of play space. But across the room on the far wall was a small door. My dad went and opened it and mentioned how I could store toys and things in there but when he opened that door I “knew” whatever was causing my dread resided in that space. I never stored anything in there and I always moved my biggest, heaviest toy chest in front of it every night before bed. One night I fell asleep playing and my parents put me in bed, the toy box was not moved into place. I woke in the middle of the night to the sound of that little door creaking open. I was too terrified to scream so I tried to run. As I jumped out of bed my legs got tangled in my blankets and I basically face planted on the floor. This thing had me and it knew it. I could see it slithering from the light of the full moon filtering in my window. As it drew close, and to this day I can’t begin to describe what it was other then it was just wrong, it started to rise up and then I felt something click inside me and every shadow in the room erupted into movement. Some swirled around me like a shield, others formed a wall between me and the closet wraith, and one small shadow stood sentinel in front of me. The creature grew angry and attacked but the shadows pushed back and back until the creature was forced back into that closet, the door shut and sealed and I was never bothered again. I woke up the next day on the floor thinking I had a terrible nightmare. Until that night when I was startled awake but was met with soothing, peaceful whispers of reassurance and I saw my small shadow sentinel sitting at the end of my bed.