#cupboard cryptid

[evelyn-d-art]

botober day 16: "A cryptid in your cupboard"

[maxwellshimbo]

Botober, day 16: A cryptid in your cupboard

[cryptiddeer]

The Indian in the Cupboard and Night at the Museum take place in the same universe. To me.

[beloveds-embrace]

I've fallen down this rabbit hole of COD fanfics and I think your writing is awesome and I really enjoy your Poly 141 x roommate!reader and it got me thinking about the first month that you live with them and how weird it probably was.

You’re like a cryptid in the beginning, awkward and determined not to take up a lot of space. The guys see you at odd times during the day or night. You see them at odd times. Like I can imagine one of them, probaby Simon catching you going through the fridge at like 2 in the morning. You stare at each other as you shuffle past with what looks to be a handful of loose lunch meat. Simon is concerned.

Also I bet they forget you live with them on occasion at least to start off with. Like some of your clothes get left in the laundry and get mixed with theirs and the guys are just like ????

I imagine they have to tell you that you can ya know put your dishes in the cupboards, leave your shoes in the entryway, or that you can simply just exist in this space because it’s your home now too.

Thank you sm!!

The first month is, unsurprisingly to everyone, definitely the hardest for you especially if you’d never had roommates before, or roommates like them. You are afraid of overstepping any hidden boundaries, stressed because of moving, college and life in general, and it’s just not a fun time for you.

With the way you are always coming and going, they’d thought you just like to eat outside with your friends, or somewhere else you’d prefer. They think up until Simon catches you not once, not twice, but several times late into the nights eating leftovers like a bird pecking at seeds.

After that last time, though, you start finding whole plates left for you in the fridge, covered and a little note declaring it for you, their resident night owl. It’s such a sweet action you might sniffle just a little. Just a little.

It’s not just lunches and dinners; Kyle is also concerned when he learns that no, you aren’t a wild party animals always out and about and that’s why they never see your shoes, but it’s because you have your own shoe rack inside your room.

In another instance, Johnny accidentally forgets about you and thinks the lovely looking parfait in the fridge is one of the guys trying out new flavours, and eats it.

He doesn’t realize it’s yours until you stumble out of your room, bleary-eyed, and make a beeline to the fridge. He’s watching from the corner of his eye, and gets confused when you just… stare.

“Something wrong, lass?”

“My parfait…”

“…Och, that was yours?”

He does get you another one as an apology, but also makes a mental note to not forget about you again.

As for the laundry; yes. Yes. Kyle and Johnny had a fun time watching the unimpressed look on Simon’s face when they found pink, striped socks with little ghosts on them and asked him if he was getting into fashion.

They are good sports about it, though! Not bothered at all, and they simply fold yours as well if it winds up in theirs. No harm done; you clean up the whole apartment when they are deployed, what’s a little folding in comparison to that?

But inevitably, a month and a half in, they do need to have that conversation. This place is meant for you, too. You are taking up space that is yours, that is meant to be yours, so no more keeping everything in your own room like you are a hermit.

By month two, your shoes have joined theirs, your chair at the kitchen table has a few stickers, and your favorite throw blanket is also their favorite because you know where the good places to buy them are.

[fandomeldersintheirthirties]

Proship-friendly stimboard/gif blogs

This list is intended for proship blogs and stimboard makers to use gifs and reblog stimboards safely without fear of harassment for breaking someone's precious DNIs.

Proship safe:

@cryptid-stimming

@black-salt-cage

@black-salt-uncaged (18+)

@brandokisser

@corpsey-moodboards

@simon-stims

@ghostmoodboards

@monstettes

@prxshipping

@alphystims

@secret-stimboards

@trollstims (it's a me!)

@stimmers-please-interact

@teas-cupboard

@purplehazestims

@moonstoner-edits

@windosing

@dr-frankenstims

@toxic-yuri-stims

@yuri-stims

@vhs-n3cr0mancing

@proshippersstimming

@darlingstims

(New and updated) admins with proship/profiction stances (they're the same picture):

@murrustims

@stimmedhams

@kin-forest

@sprinkles-stims

@sakurautism

@spectrum-stims

@y2kstims

@erostims (18+)

@stiminality

@gmanmedias

@redcomet-stims

@s00ther-stims-blog

@wry-and-erring-stimmer

*Blogs whose DNIs are is vague ("gross/supporters/general dni, "etc"), don't have DNI or don't have "proship" in their DNI are not listed. I still assume it's fairly safe/okay to use their gifs but I will not name them because I don't wanna put anyone in an uncomfortable situation of having to overexplain themselves to fandom police.

If you want your blog added or removed from this list just contact me. Anon is open.

If your blog is here it's because it doesn't have an explicit or vague DNI for proshippers and admin stated they're proship/pro fiction (they're the same picture) or that everyone is wercome regardless of ships. If you want yourself removed from it just message me, no need for harassment, I'm not a mind reader you know.

[connorsbonez]

Stalkers and Cryptids

Incorrect Quotes #3

Tim: There is no future. there is no past. do you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet.

Danny:

Bernard:

Wes:

Everyone Else At Tim’s Surprise Birthday Party:

Danny: All I asked was if you wanted to cut your birthday cake first.

0000000000

Tim: A pessimist sees a dark tunnel.

Danny: An optimist sees light at the end of the tunnel.

Bernard: A realist sees a freight train.

Wes: The train driver sees three idiots standing on the tracks.

000000000

Danny: You were stabbed. Do you remember anything?

Bernard: Only the ambulance ride to the hospital.

Danny: That wasn't an ambulance, I drove you.

Bernard: But I heard a siren.

Wes: That was Tim.

Tim: Sorry, I got nervous.

0000000000

Bernard: What if people had food names and food had people names?

Danny: Hey, spaghetti, we're having Wes for dinner.

Wes: What is wrong with you people?

Tim: Shut up, chocolate.

0000000

Wes, banging on the door: Tim! Open up!

Tim: Well, it all started when I was a kid...

Bernard: No, they meant-

Danny: Let them finish.

000000000

Tim: What's it like being tall?

Danny: Is it nice?

Bernard: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

Wes: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

000000000

Wes: Christmas is cancelled.

Tim: You can't cancel a holiday.

Wes: Keep it up, Tim, and you'll lose New Year's too.

Tim: What does that mean?

Wes: Danny, take New Year's away from Tim.

000000

Bernard: Why is Danny crying on the floor?

Wes: They took one of those 'which Amity Park ghost are you?' quizzes.

Bernard: And?

Wes: He got Plasimus.

0000000

Danny: Wes isn't answering his phone

Bernard: I'll call

Danny: Tim and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Wes: Hello?

000000

Wes: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no idea what to put in them. Any suggestions?

Danny: Put spaghetti in it.

Wes: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you.

Tim: Put spaghetti in it.

Wes: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you two.

Bernard: Put spaghetti in it.

Wes: I am no longer taking suggestions.

[vote-gaara]

2025 is the year of GOOD!!! FORTUNE!!!!

And to bless this post, here are some money and luck headcanons for Gaara.

Gaara doesn't get paid a very high salary for being Kazekage, however...this man has like zero bills. Basically everything but his food, entertainment and miscellaneous items are covered by the Kazekage's estate budget, his health insurance, his uniform budget (yes you get one as a ninja), and people offering him free/complimentary stuff.

Speaking of medical insurance, he has a plan that covers EVERYTHING health and dental related. No deposit, co-pays, fees or anything. The only exception is that the Land of Wind doesn't have great healthcare facilities due to under funding. Because of this, sand ninjas will often seek healthcare in different countries.

He doesn't have a great pension...mostly because when he was younger and filling out the paperwork, he wasn't concerned about his future and opted not to pay much into it. As he grew older he decided not to pay more into it because...

He has a crap ton in his savings...well, actually his chequing account. He doesn't have a savings account, just one very large chequing account he barely glances at.

That being said, he spends A LOT on clothes (though he likes to believe he doesn't!)

Some rare cacti he got at private auctions are like $10,000+

He doesn't donate money to many charities or to his village because he doesn't want people to think he's lobbying or bribing his community. If he does it, he'll donate anonymously or through a third party. He also donates A LOT of his time.

Always offers to pay for his friends' and siblings' dinners when they go out to eat together.

Shinki gets everything when Gaara dies. Although Shinki has the same financial stability as Gaara, he believes that his son would be able to distribute the wealth to various causes, without having as much backlash or criticism as if Gaara were to do so himself.

Gaara likes buying gifts for people and he does so often. He thinks he's bad at it, and in some cases...maybe he is...but when one of his gifts lands, it really is a hit and very meaningful to the recipient.

I could see Gaara and Kankuro going to a Casino together every year or so. Gaara may still be awkward around people, but he feels like the games are a good buffer to help him through interacting with people, and with Kankuro's help, he would actually be really good to chit chat with over the course of a game. Gaara isn't prone to addiction, and knows when to stop - perhaps even setting himself a general budget which he has no problem tapping out at when he goes over. Generally he enjoys the strategy of poker (and he has the poker face for it lol), but after awhile he misses the quietness of his home.

Now onto luck! Yeah, Gaara has terrible luck. I'm talking shit luck. They say the Kazekage line is cursed, and that very well may be true cause holy moly did he ever inherit a potent dose of the family misfortune.

He's not clumsy, but has weird accidents. Things seemingly leap out of the cupboard when he opens the door. Appliances break. People around him seem to get bad news every other week...He just can't seem to catch a break when he needs it most, and bad things will happen several consecutive times before things recede. Poor Gaara has the luck of a genuine curse.

During festivals, he used to stop and get his fortune read upon his siblings and friends insisting "it would be fun!" He doesn't go anymore. It is not fun, not for himself or the fortune teller....not that he believes in that stuff anyways.....

He believes in superstition and curses. He tells people he doesn't, that luck and curses and all that mystical stuff is ridiculous, but he believes, truly...after all, it is difficult not to have some kind of superstition living in such a mystic place such as a desert, with a rich oral history of hauntings, legends, cryptids and gods.

He rolls snake eyes constantly when playing dice. At first it was kind've humorous, then it got really weird, only to become accepted as an advantage that he rolls with. His siblings have even noticed, and when they play a dice game and Gaara goes to roll, his siblings always shout out in expectation, "snaaaake eeeyyyeesss!!!"

That's all! Good luck on 2025, everyone! And may good fortune find you!!!!

[p1nkpeanuts]

Hello hello I'm your friendly neighbourhood ghost and I am a collector of spooky tales, folklore, Urban legends, cryptids and spooky experiences and I was wondering if you want to share your favourite one?

I hope you are having a wonderful day and I really love the blog vibes 💕

Okay but get ready cause it's a doozy!

So I used to live in a party house with a bunch of friends for like 3 years. It was a pretty normal house, except there was one "bedroom" that could literally only fit a twin bed and it had no windows, and we would hear noises from it every now and again. My one friends bedroom was right next to the room and he heard the most, sometimes scratching on the wall, sometimes voices.

It started escalating with more noises around the house, things like footsteps (sometimes running), lights turning on and off, and things going missing around the house. We were all skeptics, so we thought maybe someone was squatting in the attic, so the bravest of us (definitely not me) took a look up there, and no one to be found. We had no explanation.

One day while cleaning out the garage I found a huge old oil painting of a Buddhist temple (which was kind of odd because we live in a prairie province in canada) in front of a sunset. It was gorgeous and the owner we were renting from had no knowledge of it but said I was welcome to keep it, so I hung it up in my bedroom. That's when it all started to go sideways.

One night most of us were asleep except for the newest member of the house family. She was hanging out in the kitchen when all of a sudden she heard a constant knocking on the coffee table in the living room. She went to investigate, but as soon as she walked into the room it stopped, and all the cupboards in the kitchen slammed closed all at once (worth noting: none of them had been open before she got there) waking up the whole house. My friend ran to my bedroom in fear. We all stayed up together for a while waiting for something else to happen but that was it for the night.

A few weeks went by and my friends dad was staying with us for a week. While he was with us he slept in her room while she slept on the couch in the living room. I was checking the mail when I got home (I worked late) and woke her up by accident. While we talked we heard some sounds from right below us (right below us being the creepy tiny windowless room in the basement). I said "wouldn't it be crazy if I could get a response with a knock". So I knocked to the tune of "shave and a haircut" leaving out the last two knocks, and it knocked back, completing the tune. We both freaked out but at that point we had grown used to the antics of our otherworldly house tenants.

As time went on less and less people lived in the house till eventually I was the last tenant. I had plans to leave soon as I couldn't afford the rent and it was genuinely unsettling being there alone.

On one of my final nights there, I was alone playing some video games in my bedroom. I had all the lights on in the house ( for my own comfort), and I felt genuinely ok. Then I felt a sudden sense of dread, and all the lights in the hall switched off, leaving me in darkness with only the light of the TV. I heard the sound of heavy footsteps walking up the stairs, approaching the open door to my bedroom. They stopped right outside my bedroom, and I could feel a large menacing presence staring at me. I started to cry from fear and called my girlfriend at the time. I was a mess on the phone and she tried her best to calm my fears, but it just wouldn't leave. Then the next moment the lights all switched back on, and I felt the pressure in the room ease. It was gone. That was the last night I stayed in that house. I slept at friends' places till my lease was up and packed my things during the day. The only other night spent on the property, a friend and I camped out in the backyard.

I've only gone back once to get my mail, but the worst choice was keeping the painting. I put it in to storage for years. There is more to the story but I'll leave it there for now. Hope you enjoy my tale of terror!

[puppetmaster13u]

Lol, in regards to the predators, they're both superpredators who fill in the same niche. Neither is above the other on the food web, and I think that people were concerned about how they might make things worse on taking another predator of the same class and strength as the xenos. Concerned on if they just had to deal with yet another infestation of a different species.

Yeah Jason was definitely more instinctive with his human faculties being damaged. Might have been stuck in an inbetween human and xeno form of sorts. I want to say he was with the league for around a year? Started turning into a prowler early on during that time so got more armored and even more predatory compared to the runner's more hit and run tactics, and then the Lazarus Pits sped up the evolution into a crusher?

I feel like Bruce had to turn off the acid in his blood during certain training moments so he didn't accidentally murder someone or destroyed something, but yeah they definitely default to acid being yes lol

Yeah the predators are literally unnamed. Like the official wiki is 'unnamed xenomorph predator' but some also calls them predamorphs lol.

We really don't know a lot about them, on like if they also have a hive or a more pack-like structure. We know they hunt in groups, but nothing about their lifecycle or if they evolved naturally or not. We do know their blood is black but not if it's poisonous or if it also has an acidic effect.

Like it's such a slept-upon concept. Though now I am slowly rotating on what if someone brought one to earth...

Thinkin more on the Xeno au and about the family. And mostly about what everyone would be. Like of course they'd start out as chestburster-esque with more flesh-colored exoskeleton that'd be really soft like skin and mostly only a long tail. And then grow into other things, but there's several castes that even basic runners and drones can grow into.

Bruce: Drone -> Warrior -> Praetorian -> Queen (Winged)

Barbara: Drone -> Warrior -> Alpha Warrior

Dick: Runner -> Carrier

Jason: Runner -> Prowler -> Crusher

Cassandra: Runner -> Prowler

Stephanie: Drone -> Warrior -> Praetorian

Tim: Drone -> Warrior -> Praetorian

Harper: Drone -> Warrior

Duke: Drone -> Warrior -> Tusked

Cullen: Runner -> Aquatic

Damian: Drone -> Warrior

Carrie: Drone -> Spitter

Terry: Runner -> Prowler

Mathew: Runner -> Prowler

Random fun facts & rabmbles:

Tusked were, well, tusked xenomorphs specifically bred by yautja to act as forced attack dogs, and the ones we know who were released and escaped were accepted by a queen as her own

Alpha warriors are canon and are slightly larger than other warriors, can command other warriors, and in some cases are more intelligent too. They're almost between warrior and praetorian in ranking.

The praetorian caste is also known as royal guards, because that's what they are in most cases. They protect the nest and eggs and queen, and if the queen dies they may replace the queen.

Canonically there was a comic where Batman fought against a giant crocodile alien (no it didn't come from Killer Croc thankfully lol) that he defeated by bleeding it out until the floor collapsed into lava

The xenomorphs have had a civil war before on their home planet for the Royal Jelly, the black xenomorphs and red xenomorphs both fighting each other for their queen to become the next Queen Mother

Did you know there's further castes beyond the queen? A queen can become a Matriarch, then an Empress, and then a Queen Mother

Crushers are the equivalent of praetorians for the runner castes, and are canonically the most armored outside the queen castes themselves.

There's a theory about the spines on the xenomorphs' backs, where the longer they are the stronger the xenomorph, at least for basic castes. However there's another theory that this is an age thing. Neither is confirmed.

Did you know that xenomorphs have worked with others several different times when they're under threat, especially the queens or young.

Xenomorphs have Eidetic memory, and can even access memories from previous xenomorphs along their bloodline.

Normal xenomorphs can eventually become queens, but a xenomorph can be born as one from a Royal Facehugger, which unlike normal facehuggers have two embryo: a queen and a drone/runner to protect said queen

There have been exotic xenomorphs that are individuals such as the tusked or the winged queens, usually altered genetically or with an incredibly rare host (for example a winged queen has canonically come from a vampire in the comics before)

All xenomorphs are female, save for a single individual created using human dna and other genetic manipulation that was known as the king xenomorph.

Other genetic hybrids have been created as well, the most well known being the Newborn but there have been more balanced ones as well such as Eloise (a vat-grown android-xeno hybrid) which can have abilties of both species

Fun fact: A chestburster will not emerge in someone with leprosy, staying dormant, and other xenomorphs will not attack the people due to them carrying said chestburster.

Yautja hunting parties will hunt hybrids more enthusiastically than normal base xenomorphs for both the challenge and in some cases thinking they're abominations, such as a Predalien (in which case elders are usually the one to hunt them)

However they will also use xenomorphs as mounts, attack dogs, and other such things. For example one yautja rode a xeno-rex in ancient times as a hunting steed.

@phoenixcatch7 I summon thee mutual lol

[imaginedreamwrite]

Ghost, Ghost, Host

Part 2: Questions

“Are you done screaming yet?” That question played on an infinite loop in your mind as you tried to grapple with the mental break you were clearly suffering from. You couldn’t have been hearing voices let alone seeing a soldier wearing tactical gear in your apartment.

You couldn’t have seen or heard something that wasn’t real, and it was very obviously a delusion you were suffering from. It had to have been because anything else was improbable.

“Ya go from screaming to silence and then hiding. I hope ya know you can’t hide from me lass.” The voice had echoed in your ears again, a Scottish accent that was farr to aduble to be possible. And a set of blue eyes that were as striking as they were improbable, because he couldn’t be here, and he couldn’t be a ghost.

“You’re not real, I'm clearly suffering from a mental breakdown.” You laughed bitterly and ironically, the sound contorted from your lips as you genuinely struggled to comprehend what you were seeing. “This is all some kind of twisted delusion.”

The way you paced around your apartment was more than a way for you to try and come to terms with what this thing was saying. It was a way for you to try and escape it following you, to find a place of security in your home.

When you were younger, you’d had an imaginary friend like most little kids, an imaginary friend that helped keep your loneliness away. It was a friend that you’d play tea parties with and pretend to explore your growing world with, but never would you have imagined this.

Never would you have thought you'd be plagued with a Scottish...something...in your home now.

“Sage, I need sage.” You stopped short in the kitchen, your barefeet skidding against the floor and pinned the tip of your thumb between your bottom and top teeth. You made a sound under your breath as you thought, your eyes trailing along the confines of your kitchen as if you were hoping to find what sage.

As if you'd had a stash hidden among the cheap wooden cupboards and the aged backsplash behind the sink. Like that was something you though you would always need to have with you as if it were water. You weren’t one to ever really believe in ghosts or cryptids, and anything in between, however it seemed as if you were proven wrong.

“Thought you said I wasn’t real.” The retort comes with a cocky grin that appears on the face of this thing haunting your apartment. While your attention was drawn from the task of opening and shutting the cupboards to find anything useful.

“You’re not real, this is all happening in my head. I'm losing my mind-” you rambled to yourself while continuing your path around your small apartment. You move from the small square table that you'd gotten second hand, past the two chairs on either side of the table, and back to the living room.

You paced in your living room, only completing the same path twice before you ran into the corner of your coffee table. You winced and your hand at once moved to your leg, fingers rubbing the afflicted part of your leg, where the edge would leave a bruise.

You exhaled a curse under your breath, the jolt of the table drawing your attention toward the journals that had rested on top. The one you'd only gotten halfway through was still open and laying in the center of the table with a sketch of some beach at the bottom.

“Can’t argue with ya losing your mind, lass. But I’m as real as that book.” The voice was closer to you, the Scottish brogue was right next to you, which had immediately been followed by the flutter of a hand against yours. “Those’re my journals, I’m Johnny “Soap” MacTavish.”

“What the actual fuck?!” Your mind was desperately trying to process what was going on, a desperation to put the pieces together as you negated the reality in front of you. “This isn’t happening-“

“-I’m attached to the journals, where they go, I go.” He walked around you, picking up one of the journals before he turned it over and ran his gaze up and down the spine. “Lost these in the flight home then.”

The way he said flight home made dread rock you to your core, an overhanging depressive jolt of sadness that darkened the room. You watched him—regardless of you not believing he was real—and listened.

The flight home, his body was empty, his soul was attached to the journals in your possession. Which had rightly only raised more questions than not and left you searching for answers.

“Why-“ you started to ask and stopped yourself, immediately scolding yourself for giving into this faux delusion. “-never mind. You’re not real.”

You stare at the living room window and watch the storm that only picks up pace. The wind blasts rain against the sliding balcony door, and flashes of lightning are seen streaking across the sky. Thunder booms as loud as before, and with the combination of wind, rain and lightning the lights start to flicker again.

“Aye, it’s far more likely that you’re suffering a mental break than seeing a ghost.” The voice makes your attention shift from the storm back to him.

He’s sitting on your furniture, left arm stretched across the back of the couch while his right hand holds the journal. He’s not looking at you, he’s reading the journal he absolutely swears is his, while mumbling under his breath.

You were tired, you weren’t entirely sure you were seeing and hearing what you were. And yet you couldn’t help but allow the word vomit to spill out from your mouth.

“If you’re a ghost, how the hell did you end up with a stranger instead of your family? Why can you touch me? Can you walk through walls? Why can you sit on furniture?” You set your hands on your hips, you stared the thing down while he slowly lowered the journal to his lap.

He was there, with the bloody right shoulder or his shirt, the khaki tactical vest with the UK flag as a patch. The role of sergeant was stitched into the vest and he was sitting there watching you with the kind of intensity you were looking at him with. Hie blue eyes were slightly crinkled at the corners as his eyes narrowed after a moment of silent staring, and then he had slowly tilted his head.

“My family didn’t want the journals obviously. My ma and my sisters had a fight with me before I joined the SAS, they didn’t want me to go further into the military. We had a falling out.” He closes the journal with a snap and sets it aside, speaking to you as if he’s entirely bored with the conversation.

“They’re your family-” your comment makes that level of disinterest shift to something else and even if it’s brief, it shifts again as he speaks over you.

“I can walk through walls, I can pick up and hold some things but not others. I can sit on furniture and I can touch you, cause you believe I exist.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his hands folded in front of him.

“Bullshit, I still think I'm crazy.” You countered him again and shifted positions and postures, to cross your arms over your chest and take a stance of defensiveness. “And this is all some kind of deluded nightmare.”

The living room was briefly illuminated further than before, with the lightning that flashed across the sky. The bad weather hadn’t seemed to be stopping at any point soon, and there was a twisted kind of irony to the storm outside that seemed to perfectly match the chaos in here. Or at least the chaos that was going on in your head.

“And what if I didn’t believe? How does that even work? If you died, why are you here?” Your questions were fired off in rapid succession while you had turned your head to stare at the clock on the wall. The numbers mocking you and the vast amount of overthinking you’d done since he had showed up.

It was now after midnight, the hours between you picking up the journals, reading them and being plagued by this ghost seemed like they took place days ago. You went back and forth with the idea that you were crazy and the idea that ghosts could be real.

An endless loop between doubt and belief.

“I’m not finished, I have things I still have to do.” That was the only question he answered, the only response he had given you, and that was it.

Silence fell between you two, stagnant and awkward. You didn’t know how to react next, how to deal with the ghost that you still didn’t exactly believe in. In the end you had turned away from him and gathered as much as you could of your things and moved toward your bedroom. You left the living room and the ghost behind you, the journals remain on the coffee table and entered your room.

You closed the door behind you and dropped your phone to your nightstand and began removing your sweater. As it was dropped to the basket in the corner, you felt the weight of the day’s exhaustion settling upon your shoulders. You exhaled, feeling foggy headed and drained, and wondered if when you woke up the next morning if this would all seem like a dream.

You removed layers until you could change into something comfortable to sleep in, and then after all that you found the comfort of your bed. Your back hit the mattress, your head hit the pillow, and your eyes were fixated upon the ceiling above you. You stared at the smooth surface of your apartment that felt too small to justify the price and waited.

You waited for noise, you waited for a voice, you waited for the lights to be cut out in the city. It didn’t matter what it actually was that you were waiting for, it was the wait that mattered.

You listened to the thunder, you watched the reflection of the lightning reflecting on the ceiling, all while you tried to prompt your brain to shut off for the night. There was such a battle between feeling like you were crazy and accepting the reality that there was a ghost here, and one that only you could see.

“Ye want me to sing ya a lullaby to put you to sleep?” The voice returned, armed to the teeth with sarcasm, and you turned your head. You watched the soldier who was apparently hitched to you now through the journals, standing by the bed. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and his blue eyes were fixed upon you with furrowed eyebrows and a slight scowl.

“Can’t you go do something else?” The question lingers in the air, and there’s another rush of awkwardness before he steps closer to the bed and stares at you with a growing smirk. It makes you want to reach out and smack him, to throw something at this ghost in your apartment.

“I gotta say bonnie, I was surprised you didn’t ask my name.” He eventually sits on the edge of the bed, and you watch for the bed to dip but it doesn’t.

It just adds to the mystery and the intrigue of this whole screwed up situation.

“I don’t care because you’re not real.”

“My names John “Soap” MacTavish.” He ignores your comment and runs his eyes long you tucked under your blankets and resting on the bed.

“Why Soap?” You rolled your eyes and scoffed, angling your body in order to get more of a head on look at him. But to your annoyance he doesn’t answer your question how you'd like.

Rather he leans in, smirks again and winks your way. “That’s classified, lass.”

[deathontheroad]

I am thinking about making a collection of various creatures (which will be called "Cryptids") I come up with. I made this one a while back and I like it very much :)

Number: #0001

Species Name: Dracotty

Diet: Omnivore (mainly meat)

Height: 1'4" (43 cm)

Found In: Villages, towns and farms

Entry: "Those who aren't familiar with Dracotties (or with any other Cryptid for that matter) may mistake them for an overgrown lizard. Playful and mischievious, a Dracotty is the equivalent to a house cat. They possess scales that can vary in color from deep emerald to vibrant sapphire. These reptilian creatures have a behavior similar to a feline. They are very agile, they love jumping from tall objects such as cat trees, climb stuff and rub their bodies against their owner's legs. Like a cat, Dracotties can also 'loaf'.

Dracotties are known to steal food and hide it, as well as knowing how to get and even open kitchen drawers, cupboards and cabinets. Farmers often use these creatures to scare away crop-eating Cryptids and pests. These creatures are great companions for cat and reptile lovers."

__ ∞ __

← #0002 — Dramask

[ilivethegoblinlife]

Fellow gremlins, crows, and cryptids

I forgot to do an intro to Tumblr. Here it is!

Hi :D y'all can call me either Moth or Cy (User for typical websites is Moth_cylium) and I'm your local gremlin/cryptid/crow boi!

I use he/they and I am one of those demiboy pansexuals, so being pan I naturally came out of the cupboard instead of the closet- I'm so funny guys :D A lover of moss, D&D, theatre, anything nature/nerd related. Also I do tend to over use ":D". Also this is a redone intro from my previous one

I take my leave back into my hole in the forest, and heed my last words. Be gay, do crime, and eat moss. :)

(Art is not mine- I found it on Pinterest lol)

[kassiekole22]

Breakfast For Two, Mainly For One

Picture lightly edited by me.

Pairing: Chris x Ashley Description: Chris wakes up early to cook Ashley breakfast. The only problem: he has never actually cooked before... Warnings: This Is Probably One Of The Sweetest Fics I Have Ever Written So Be Warned: This Contains A Deadly Amount Of Fluff. Word Count: 1.2k A/N: I haven't written a non-x reader fic in FOREVER! Like, the last one I ever written was for Jalim and I can't even remember the last time I wrote for that ship. This was completely a spur of the moment thing but writing it made me so happy, so there will definitely be more Chrashley content coming from me in the future. 💖 (Also, I've begun using a grammar and punctuation checker to make sure I'm writing correctly, but I don't know if it's a legit site, so if there are any mistakes, please let me know. 🙂) Main MasterList: 🖤 TagList: @lorebite, @yellowroses-world, @house-of-kolchek, @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @mornandil, @fortune-fool02, and @raven-the-cryptid. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

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Chris's eyes slowly began to open, but he quickly closed them again as a yawn escaped through his lips. The room was lit with an orange hue due to the early morning sun peaking through the half-drawn curtains. He turned his head to read the alarm clock — that had been shut off since it was the weekend — but everything was blurry. He reached to the bedside table to retrieve his glasses and put them on to read that it was 8 am. He looked down at the lovely little redhead in his arms — the love of his life — curled up at his side and still fast asleep.

He watched her for a few minutes, taking in all the details of her face and took note of how her pretty eyelashes would flicker every now and then as she dreamed. Remembering what he had planned for the day, Chris carefully wiggled out of Ashley's grasp and snuck out of the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him before heading to the kitchen.

Knowing that Ashley was a fairly sound sleeper, Chris knew that he didn't have to worry about noise once he got to the kitchen. He took a pan out of the drawer and set it on the stove before going to the fridge to retrieve the package of bacon he had bought the night before on his weekly grocery run. He laid a few strips on the pan before turning the burner on.

The bacon was tricky for him. He had only really made cereal for breakfast when he and Josh shared an apartment in their early twenties. And Ashley became the cook of the house when he had moved in with her after Josh had found a place of his own. But today he wanted to do something special for Ashley — something to show her how much he loved and appreciated her.

Once he had finished struggling through the bacon, he then went to the cupboard and took out some pancake mix before pulling up a screenshot on his phone of a pancake recipe that he found on some 'cooking for beginners' website.

He followed the recipe as carefully as he could, making sure to get everything as correct as possible — although that plan failed when he couldn't find the measuring cups. So, he decided to eyeball it if needed. Sure, the mix looked a bit too runny and lumpy by the time he was done, but he was sure it would be fine.

While he waited for the pancake to be ready to flip, he decided to set the table. He went to the closet and pulled out a table cloth that he had secretly bought the day prior and put it on the table — before setting two plates and some cutlery down for the two. He even put some yellow lilies — Ashley's favorite flower — in a vase for the centerpiece.

Everything was looking perfect. The next thing on the list was to finish the food— "Shit!" Chris cursed when he realized that he had left the pancake on the stove for way too long. He ran into the kitchen and quickly flipped the pancake over to see that it was black on the other side. He sighed while deciding that he would eat that one because to him, Ashley deserved better.

A few more burnt pancakes later and many failed air flips as well, resulting in pancake mix on the floor and the ceiling, Chris was finally done making pancakes and decided to make some eggs as well. Luckily for him, eggs were much easier than pancakes and didn't take long at all. He had just finished placing the food on the plates when Ashley stumbled into the kitchen while rubbing her eyes.

She removed her hands from her eyes and they widened at the sight before her. There stood Chirs — with a nervous smile on his face — waiting to see her reaction. Trying hard not to scrunch up her nose at the awful smell, Ashley smiled kindly at her new husband and walked over to press a sweet kiss on his cheek. She then hugged him tightly while burying her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head.

"Thank you, Chris." She murmured — her voice being muffled by his chest. This made Chris's nervous smile turn into a genuinely happy one.

"You're welcome, Ash. You deserve it." He then chuckled at his words. "Actually — you deserve better. I'm sorry it's so bad. I'm no gourmet chef at all."

She giggled as she pulled away from him just enough to peer up at his blue eyes with her green ones. She didn't care if he burnt every single crumb, she was still grateful for his efforts. No man had ever treated her as kindly as Chris did.

"It's ok, Chris — Really. I'm sure some of it is edible." She joked and he laughed, wanting to smack his forehead with the palm of his hand because of his stupid mistakes. "Seriously—" She then looked at him with pure love in her eyes. "It means the world to me. Thank you, Chris."

She stood up on her toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips, which he returned while softly placing his hands on each side of her face to caress her cheeks and to keep the kiss lingering for a bit longer. Once they broke the kiss, Chris leaned down to rest his forehead against hers.

"So, shall we eat?" Ashely asked him — her voice barely above a whisper as her lips turned up into that little smile that he adored so much.

"Nah. That would be abuse if I made you eat that." He joked and she laughed. "How about cereal? Now I'm a master at that!"

"Oh, for sure! I don't think I have tried your famous Lucky Charms mixed with Fruit Loops and Frosted Flakes." She thought about it for a minute and then shook her head. "Nope. I haven't."

"Hmmm… Letting you try my famous Lucky Fruit Flakes? That's a big step in our relationship." He said in an overly serious tone as he parted from her and went to the cupboard to get two bowls while she began to clear the table. "Do you think we can handle that kind of commitment?"

She pretended to think about it for a moment while chewing on the inside of her cheek, "Hmmm, I don't know. We've been through a lot together but this is something else…"

"Guess there's only one way to find out," Chris said as he came back to the table holding the two bowls and all three cereal boxes, nearly dropping them all in the process. Ashley chuckled and took the bowls from him so he could set the cereal boxes down on the table.

"Hey, Chris." Ashley spoke softly and Chris turned to look at her with nothing but love and adoration for the girl within his blue eyes.

"Yeah, bean?" She tried not to chuckle at his little nickname for her. He had accidentally called her that on their second date when a memory of her dropping a bunch of coffee beans on the floor popped into his head and he had stuck with it ever since.

"I love you." She murmured as she wrapped her arms around him, taking in the warmth of his body as she held him close.

"I love you, too." He whispered back before wrapping his arms around her to complete the embrace while kissing the top of her head.

He had always known that he had loved Ashley but, at this moment, he knew that she was definitely the love of his life and nothing would ever change that.

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[hmshermitcraft]

Grian is a wild cryptid Stress found stealing bread from her cupboards. Now, he's her emotional support monster whose hand she holds when she's overwhelmed :>

Listen, listen, listen. Just because she found Grian in the middle of the night rummaging through her cupboard with half a loaf of bread sticking out fo his mouth and the light from the torch made his eyes glow does it mean he's a criminal or whatever for breaking and entering. He was a hungry little feller!

After Stress bribed gave Grian more food to let her squish his full cheeks, Grian appeared more and more often until somewhere along the way he kind became an emotion support monster. She doesn't really know how it happened, but she's happy to hold Grian's hand and squish his cheeks when she's feeling particularly out of it. It's also very endearing when Grian breaks the food he's holding in half and gives the bigger half to Stress when he notices she's feeling off.

[scrambledlikeeggs]

Working title: How To Prove You've Lived

Chapter 1: Seeds

it’s been exactly 436 days since he’s been here. But Mumbo would rather forget about that. Instead he thinks he should focus on the part where somewhere in those four hundred and something days he’s decided to harbour a criminal.

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Mumbo's been fine living in the middle of nowhere, minding his own business trying to forget his past so when he accidently befriends a cryptid in the woods he's pleasantly surprised at how nice it is to have 'human' interaction. So when his friend has to flee he does the only logical thing: to go with him across the country in search of safety with both their past and the new gods hot on their tale

The flowers outside were going to bloom soon.

Mumbo had thought that for the past few days now, he’d been waiting for them. Sat at his table ignoring a piece of toast and absentmindedly sipping at a once hot drink that was now a little too bitter to enjoy. The wood was splintering where he rested his arm, not that he noticed it, his eyes were firmly stuck to the horizon eagerly awaiting the arrival of a multitude of colours that would dapple the bland landscape ahead of him in a myriad of colours. It meant that there was still a tiny bit of good out there,  just as it also meant that it had been exactly 436 days since he’s been here.

But Mumbo would rather forget about that.

Instead he thought he should focus on the part where somewhere in those four hundred and something days he’d decided to harbour a criminal.

An alleged criminal, he internally corrected, there was no evidence towards any crime, no wanted posters or radio message, and there had been no cliches that happen before a betrayal like in all the movies. That was because there had been nothing, and it was nothing. Nothing at all.

Definitely not a reason to be pacing the worn floorboards of his house, but then again there were only so many things you could do to be chased down by the New Gods themselves.

He was going to throw up or cry. Possibly both.

Mumbo stopped his pacing, sat down and tried to breathe a little slower. He noticed the splinter, it buried itself further into his skin every time he bent his arm. That was particularly frustrating as it was something he’d been doing repeatedly to try and get a better look at it. Sighing, he dragged his body to the cupboard that held a mismatched bundle of medical supplies that he certainly didn’t buy, but had used more than double the amount of times that the average person would have, and tries not to wince when the seemingly centuries old hinges pierce the air in a futile cry for attention. He was supposed to renovate a while ago. Introduce some simple redstone to this place, maybe automatic doors, the whole shebang, then he had remembered why he came here.

He forced himself to stand up a little straighter, rolled back his shoulders from their usual  position and stretched to pull out a pair of tweezers, disinfectant, and now empty box of plasters. 

He stuttered to a stop and felt his heart seize at a sight he’d long forgotten was even there: stacks upon stacks of books. Hidden from sight, neglected faded in their muted red and maroon  yet cared enough for not to be thrown away, shoved into empty shelves that were much too small for the thick textbooks they were storing. He let himself indulge for a moment. Let his nose inhale the smell of worn parchment that filled the air, let his hands drag through the dust that settled snuggly between pages like a cloak on cold shoulders and let his eyes fondly skim over familiar titles and names inked in metallic looping letters down the spines until he came across his own, Mumbo.K.Jumbo.

He slams the door closed. 

Unsurprisingly, it promptly falls off it’s hinges. He felt the bile rise in his throat and swallowed.

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1st chapter is complete so you get a teaser of the 1st 500 words of the almost 5k 1st chapter to a ten chapter fic of a 10-11 (or more series) i'm holding chapters hostage so i continue to write so i'll see you in six months with the finished thing/hj

1st fic is mostly boatem with their life series persona's growing to become more of the hc boatem we all know and love.

The whole life series crew show up and have their own stories- i'm going to stop myself there before I spoil stuff.

[clowngremlin]

Found all of like my special mugs.....I had a few special mugs in our cupboard because they are ones I got after we moved to the shitty apartment (rainforest cafe mug, haunted mansion mug from Disneyland in 2022, special handmade mug a friend gave me for my birthday, cryptid mug from gavin, bigfoot and swamp thing mugs my dad got me from the horror movie collectibles store)...... my dad and I were like worried they had gotten lost in the move either from the old apartment to the shitty apartment or from the shitty apartment to here.....I'm glad we found them.....I have like 4 tmnt mugs, a ceramic bigfoot cup where he has a funny little ass, two Disney mugs from my sister (jack skellingon and a piglet mug), a cute mug shaped like a dog from my grandma, a funny mug a friend gave me many years ago, a doctor who Tardis mug that I got in grade 10, a small teacup that goes with my teapot that my dad gave me for Christmas in like 2017, a jack-o-lantern mug for Halloween and a colour changing gnome mug I got when I worked at a tea store in 2018....