#or drabble

[phantomcode18]

Hot Day - Creepypasta

On an incredibly hot day the creeps walk in on you lifting up your shirt to a fan in their room because the ac in your room broke.

Incl: Nina, LJ, EJ and BEN

SFW, non-specified gender, established relationship, not specifically romantic but can be read that way

Nina:

As Nina walks in you give her a lazy acknowledgement. Without much fanfare she immediately hops up and joins you by the fan, similarly unhappy with the weather. Her makeup half-sweated off by that point and a frown to match. She's glad to be joined in her misery by you however. Eventually you both start playfully hip checking eachother for more space in front of the fan which ends with breathless giggling insults. You spend the night together lying down in various states of undress complaining, echoing "I know righttt"'s to one another. Long ago eaten ice cream that you'd picked up at some point laid by your sides and faint scene music played in the background.

Laughing Jack:

Laughing Jack crawls back into his room to see you standing in front of his fan that you'd requested be put in place because you found his room a bit stuffy. It was coming into some good use now. Jack doesn't quite feel temperature the same way humans do but it didn't take a genius to see how miserable everyone was in the heat today, including you. Not one to stand by while his darling suffered he starts comically fanning you with his hands in an effort to help. It actually does kind of work. You smile with a huff at his antics, which endeared him enough to hold you tightly in his arms. Which definitely did not help but begrudgingly you let it happen.

Eyeless Jack:

Jack upon seeing you heads out for a minute and when he comes back hands you a couple icepacks from the infirmary to try help you cool down. They melt relatively quickly. Jack himself is naturally pretty cold so after a while you end up pouncing on him and holding him hostage as your personal cooler. He tries escaping weakly but you win him over in the end, he didn't have his heart in it. It won't ever leave his mouth but he secretly loves hot days like this when you attach yourself to his side. He brushes his claws through your hair as you sit watching bad medical dramas together, pointing out the inaccuracies.

BEN:

BEN whistles at you to which you shoot him a heat filled glare. He shuffles away to go to play his videogames after that, cursing at whatever is going on in it and occasionally shooting you glances only to find that you'd actually been watching him play while you cooled off the whole time. He most certainly does not miss being human and going through that whole ordeal but he sympathises. Not enough to not joke about your current situation but enough that he manipulates the fan to work as well as it's physically capable of doing. When eventually you've cooled down enough you harass him into playing a 2 player game and you end up just as sweaty as before from the effort you put in to beat him.

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

Can you write some headcanons about how you think Jake would comfort you after a bad day at work? Or how you would comfort him? Whichever you feel like writing for more. Thank you! 😘

Oh gosh, I am DEFINITELY needing this today. 🥺🫶🏻 Thanks for sending it in! And, again, I am SO SO sorry for how long these requests have taken. I swear I’m trying to get them all finished up before the two-month mark rolls around. 💀

P.s. It lowkey turned into more of a vent than a comfort. My bad. 😅 But there is some cutesy stuff towards the end!

________________________________________________

• It was a shitty day.

• No, more like a shitty week. You freaking hated inventory weeks.

• It would’ve been one thing if your coworkers understood the definition of the word “calm.” Or if your boss didn’t scream at you as if the world was ending and you were personally responsible for its downfall. It would’ve been one thing if the warehouse was clean and stocked and actually properly organized.

• But it wasn’t. It never was. And somehow, it was always your fault.

• Usually, on inventory weeks, you were happy to be booted out of the warehouse—placed as cashier where a friendly smile and a joke worked wonders to deescalate any potential customer complaints. You were happy to be out of the way of your war-mongering boss.

• But today… today just wasn’t a good day.

• “Jake, honey. I’m home.”

• You tossed the keys onto the table by the entryway and lazily kicked off your shoes, leaving them strewn across the hall before flopping face-first onto the couch.

• You could hear Jake shuffling from the bedroom.

• “Hey, pretty girl.”

• His drawl instantly soothed some of the tension in your shoulders, stretching up into your skull until your brain beat like a drum.

• He leaned across the couch and planted a kiss on the back of your head. “Bad day?”

• You groaned, voice muffled in the couch cushions. “Bad week.”

• You expected him to chuckle. To brush off the severity and try to lighten the mood.

• But instead, the weight of his silence was reverent in the small apartment.

• Confused, you propped yourself up on your elbow and turned to face him. He was studying you, something disturbed in the subtle green of his eyes.

• Your brow creased. “What is it, Jake?”

• He hesitated, rubbing a palm over his thigh before settling on the edge of the coffee table across from you.

• “I don’t know yet.”

• Your brow furrowed more, and you were about to question him when he interrupted.

• “Tell me about your day.”

• You sighed, blowing a strand of hair away from your forehead. “Where do I even start? My boss was yelling at me within ten minutes of me being on shift—somehow, everything was my fault, despite the fact that I had just gotten there.”

• You pulled a throw pillow up underneath your chin, resting your head against it as you continued.

• “She put me on till—which you know I usually enjoy—but today was just… I don’t know. I think the customers picked up on the environment. One lady even threw a coffee at me for not bagging her order ‘appropriately.’ As if physically assaulting a store worker is ‘appropriate.’”

• You groaned, burying your face into the cushion, your voice coming out muffled and disjointed.

• “It was just a long day, Jake. I’ll be fine.”

• Silence filled the apartment again.

• You peeked out from behind your cushion, trying to gauge his expression. But you couldn’t quite make out the message the lines of his face were saying.

• Finally, you tossed the pillow aside, arms shooting out to your sides.

• “Hug me? Please?”

• You didn’t need to convince him. Within seconds, you were wrapped around your military man, settled into the couch and wrapped up in a blanket.

• You don’t remember Jake grabbing the tv remote, but he must have, because soon your favourite show was playing in the background.

• Warmth from Jake’s body emanated on your back, loosening the last few muscles that refused to calm at his voice.

• When he spoke, his lips were in your hair, grazing your ear. “I think you should quit. This job is making you miserable. You come home upset more days than not—“

• You attempted to protest, but he wasn’t finished.

• “I know a guy. I can make some calls. We could have you in a new job by Monday. I’m—I’m tired of seeing you so down, sweetheart.”

• This time, you were the one to let the silence drag, that final statement enough to quiet any argument you might’ve broached. Was it really making you that miserable?

• Thinking back on it now, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d genuinely enjoyed your job. You used to. You used to love it. …What happened?

• Jake breathed in your ear, waiting for a response.

• And finally, you gave it to him.

• “Okay. Jake Seresin… let’s find me a new job.”

[docockbrainrot]

Okay for the drabble requests please consider: reader x doc ock waking up in bed together with cuddling + sleeping morning kisses?

But also no pressure❤️❤️❤️

here you go, my dear friend! thank you!

---

The sunlight filters in dappled rays through the parted curtains lining the windows of your bedroom, rousing you from a deep slumber of the mid-morning. Your body still feels heavy with sleep and you can’t even bring yourself to open your eyes all the way, warm and cozy and snuggled up in the familiar nest of your bed and blankets. There’s a weight slung over your side and pressing against your back and it’s tempting to fall back into the lull of sleep, but there’s a shuffled movement behind you and you finally blink awake. You grimace blearily into the sunshine and roll over with a lighthearted huff to hide your face in the bare chest of the man sharing your bed with you.

“How long have you been up?” you mumble and feel Otto chuckle softly before the strong arm around your waist tightens and draws you even closer to him. You nuzzle into his sternum, peppering his skin with gentle kisses.

“Not that long. Sorry if I woke you,” he replies softly, pressing his lips to the top of your head and eliciting a quiet sound of approval from you. Moments like this with him are often few and far between, you find yourself thinking and appreciating every second.

“Nah, it was the sun. Shoulda closed the curtains… Do you want to get up?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper as if you’re scared of breaking the fragileness of this, something that’s so delicate it could be crushed in the palm of your hand. You hope he says no.

In fact, he doesn’t say anything. But the arm around you retracts and you think he’s going to withdraw from the bed entirely. Surprising you not for the first time, he brings his hand up to tilt up your chin so you have to meet his gaze, which you do with no hesitation. Otto leans in and your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet, a kiss that doesn’t so much as kickstart your heart as it does soothe your soul, a drink of crystal clear water to your parched tongue. As he draws back, you give him a sleepy smile, gently taking his wrist and lifting his hand so you can turn your cheek into it, kissing his palm lightly.

“I would like to stay in bed for a while longer, if that’s okay with you.”

You don’t respond right away, instead stealing another kiss from his lips, leaving him returning your smile and melting you from the inside out just as he always does. “You drive a hard bargain, Otto Octavius, but I think I can make that work.”

[emerald-onion]

Idea Given Form (Discarded Drabble)

The moment Dream opens his eyes, he immediately knows that this is a dream.

For one, he still remembers the softness of his mattress, the way it dips under his body as his consciousness unravels beneath the heavy weight of exhaustion. For another, as the Guardian of Positivity, Dream has visited a numerous number of alternate universes, and yet none of them looks even remotely close to this one.

The sky is a vast ocean that stretches from the inky shore to the hungry skyline, filling up with twinkling constellations. One particular playful shooting star zips through the endless void, trailing the faint smell of stardust in its footsteps. A heavy and enormous planet hangs overhead, and from there, he can see the flickering silhouettes of long-forgotten cities, of crumbling skyscrapers and barren wastelands.

Dream marvels at the sight in front of him. It is so beautiful, and at the same time, so haunting, as if he is cutting open time itself and peering through the gaping wound of reality.

Shaking away the thought, he starts to walk, admiring the many islands that lazily drift through the unending Cosmo, each one of them seems to be a universe of its own. One has been overgrown with vegetation, wisps of green gently dancing in the wind, another lay domain to slumbering mountains, looming over everything else like an ancient beast.

In all of his awe, the Guardian bumps against a piece of stray rubble, the force nearly sends him tumbling on his pelvis. Rubbing his sore nasal cavity, Dream grumbles, ducking under the floating rock-

And then he sees it.

A towering tree woven from human arms, forever grasping for something unreachable. If Dream thought the mountains were big, this... thing, it can crush all of them in its grip. The skin is scrawling with black tattoos, indecipherable language in indecipherable patterns. Hundreds, thousands, millions of eyes blink in slow discordance as they quietly weep rainbow ichor.

It is something out of this world, unfathomable, incomprehensible, something never meant for a mortal’s eyes.

Dream can’t help it. He gasps.

Wrong move.

At the foreign sound, all of the entity’s eyes synthetically snap toward him, peering at the small, insignificant mortal who dares to intrude on its home. The Guardian sucks in a sharp breath, taking a shaky step back, only for his spine to hit the rubble he bumped into just earlier.

There is a rumbling sound that shakes the whole island, and when Dream realizes it, a lone hand has detached itself from its coiling mass, leaving trails of dripping rainbow strings. He barely catches the sight of an entire galaxy stuffed inside that gigantic body before he is snatched from the ground, any form of thrashing or struggling completely useless against the fingers that are doubled his size.

This, he thinks, is the strangest dream I have ever had.

Getting stuck in an unfamiliar universe? Being killed by an eldritch monster made of human hands? Dream would laugh if his being isn’t struck with an overwhelming fear, the bone-deep terror that brushes its icy touch against his SOUL, leaving him paralyzed.

Completely powerless, Dream has no choice but to squeeze his eye sockets shut and wait for the inevitable end.

Except-

Except... Nothing happens.

Cautiously, he opens his eye sockets. The entity doesn’t hurt him, doesn’t grind his skeletal body into paste or fling him so far he will instantly turn to dust the moment the Guardian touches the floor. Instead, those many eyes seem to... sparkle?

Another hand lifts, moving toward him, and he instinctively jerks back. But if the entity has any harmful intentions, Dream cannot find any of them because at the moment, the only thing he can focus on is those gentle, caring strokes against his spine. Blink, and suddenly, the inky tattoos have shifted, surrounding him like over-hyper toddlers.

“Uhhhhhhh,” he mumbles, more confused than ever. “What...?”

HI!

Dream flinches. The sound seems to come from his own mind, echoing inside the confine of his skull. Fortunately, the entity doesn’t notice anything, too busy vibrating with excitement.

YOU <FRIEND, GUARDIAN, POSITIVITY> ARE FINALLY HERE <LOVE, JOY>! YOU <FRIEND, GUARDIAN, POSITIVITY> HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I <GUARDIAN, CREATION> HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU <FRIEND, SLOW-POKE, GUARDIAN, POSITIVITY>!

It has?

No, wait, the voice is familiar. Very familiar. Dream has heard it before. But where...?

A puzzle piece clicks into place.

“Ink?!”

THAT’S ME <BESTEST-FRIEND-EVER, KIN, GUARDIAN, CREATION>! The entity, Ink, beams.

“But... How...?” He sputters. “Why do you look like that?”

<CONFUSION> LIKE WHAT?

“Like that!” Dream gestures sharply at the towering mass that is his friend. “Last time I checked, you are a skeleton, not some eldritch horror of unfathomable power.”

Ink lets out a gasp of realization.

YOU <FRIEND, GUARDIAN, POSITIVITY> DIDN’T KNOW?

Know what? Dream tries to say, but Ink has already continued.

SILLY ME <IDIOT, FORGETFUL, GUARDIAN, CREATION>, OF COURSE YOU <FRIEND, GUARDIAN, POSITIVITY> DIDN’T KNOW! UNLIKE ME <VOID-BORN, GUARDIAN, CREATION>, YOU <VOID-FORMED, GUARDIAN, POSITIVITY> WEREN’T BORN A GUARDIAN <CHILD-OF-VOID, IDEA-GIVEN-FORM>!

“Ink,” Dream struggles to catch the jumbled mess of his friend’s thoughts. “Ink, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The millions of eyes blink, clearly gearing for another ramble, only to freeze when the world flickers around them.

OH DEAR <SADNESS, GUILT, REGRET>, IT IS TIME TO SAY GOODBYE.

“Time to-?” He scrambles to interrupt the Creator, as if it would stop the way everything slowly melts into colors around him. “No! Wait!”

SEE YOU <BEST FRIEND, FAMILY, LOVE-YOU-DEARLY> SOON, DREAMBOAT!

A splash, a faint sense of loss, the smell of freshly-painted canvas.

And Dream wakes up.

[summoner-renzus]

Open Starter - Remembrance

At the mouth of the valley in which the Institute’s ruins reside, near the rivers along the old trade ways of the Nockmirch region, there is a monument that has stood for most people’s living memories. A simple pillar of carven basalt, set upon a plinth to support its weight, stretching twenty feet into the air.

Inscribed on its surface are names. Few know the significance of those names, or at least, few bother to remember. To Renzus, these names were family. Every name upon that monolith was a former Summoner, who had given their life in some capacity or another. The First Crow was kneeling near the base, a hammer and chisel in hand, sweat beading off his brow as he added several names to the stone.

Urias. Kang Fei. Serena. Eliphius. Petyr.

When the Institute of War was disbanded, many Summoners became Crows. Like him, they could not simply set aside their oaths to the people of Valoran. When a Crow fell in the line of duty, Renzus added their names to the pillar. Even though it would be a simple matter to do with magic, the First Crow made it a point to do it himself, with his own hands upon the stone, strained and chafed from the effort.

Some things simply could not be trivialized.

He knew them. While the recent times had prevented him from training them personally, Renzus knew each and every Crow that took on the same oaths, and donned the same black pinions. The Crows were a family, however distant, bonded through the collective promise to fight for a better tomorrow.

Even if they would never see that tomorrow come.

Renzus had long run out of tears to shed, but sorrow and grief were very familiar sensations. Discipline and conviction were the walls that steeled the former Summoner’s spirit, but the pain he felt with each passing day was growing to an uncomfortable degree. He caught himself, as the hammer slipped from nerveless fingers, a moment of weakness in which Renzus’ vision swam, his breath caught in his throat, and for the briefest instant, he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it through the next few seconds.

The chisel joined the hammer on the ground next to him, shortly after. Slowly, the First Crow put his back to the monument, sliding down to a half-seated posture, not quite registering that he was no longer alone until a shadow cast across him.

“Didn’t see you there.” He rasped quietly, not even bothering with a threat assessment, still too caught up in a moment of raw emotion to care if he lived or died. A thought crossed his mind, unbidden, fleeting as a passing breeze.

Would anyone be there to put his own name on the pillar?

[plush-rabbit]

Questioning

Hero or not, you gotta lie through your fucking teeth. Act innocent, but not too innocent and try not show any signs of anything. Not a single twitch of your eyebrows, eyes, nose, no bouncing legs, not a single nervous laugh- complete denial. You’ve been framed, you swear! Where did they all get that ridiculous thought? You want to do good by society and helping someone commit crimes isn’t the way to go. 

Your main goal is to just get out of the room. You can worry about your place being bugged, about being trailed, having literal eyes on you later. You can have a paranoid induced panic attack attack in the shower, but right now, you have to survive- you just have to exit the building. You’ve been here plenty, you know the quickest way out in case things do turn south but you need them to let you out on their own volition. You need just an ounce of trust, just a tiny smidge, oh god, please. Come on, you all worked together, you were a respected hero and even now people still stop you in the streets and ask for your help because you’re so approachable. You try to argue with human rational- kids can sense when there’s a bad seed, and you aren’t one of them! 

If you have to flirt your way out, then don’t be afraid to show a bit of skin, to purse your lips and bat your eyes, spread your legs and look oh so helpless. You can wash yourself of their touches later, can explain yourself to him later- he’ll understand, you’re sure of it and if you have to take a bit of harsh words and harsher hits, you can handle it because at least you’ll be out of here and he’ll be safe.

They don’t have any proof, they have absolutely nothing on you other than suspicions. You quit and suddenly the League has been doing better in certain attacks? They know which weak points to go for? Which battle fronts to charge at? It’s a coincidence. You all have fought each other for so long, they were bound to pick things up. You have to be careful with your words, open and close your mouth at the right time. Don’t reveal too much without questioning- don’t offer explanations when they haven’t asked. You’ve watched enough true crime to learn something.

It’s a slight eye contact that they make when you realize you aren’t being trusted, that your words are empty and they’re only doing this for necessity. You’re tired. You lower your facade just a bit, plead that all you want to do is go home and you’ll kick your legs out like a child stuck at a store. Just let it slip a bit, enough that you’re someone of interest, that perhaps letting you go and following you will lead to a bigger reward. 

It doesn’t take much after that for them to let you go, and you protest a bit when they have someone take you home but with an annoyed scoff, you step into the car and make careful note of where you’re headed, quirk ready to activate just in case the wrong turn is made- just in case the person driving or the one who sits behind you injects you with a drug to make you sleep. 

You get home and you’re safe. Well as safe as you can be. You know the Commission enough that your house is bugged. Every motion, blink, voice will be monitored. You’re under the all seeing eye now.

All you have to do now is play the waiting game until you can sneak past watchful eyes and into the underground.

[ichor-and-symbiosis]

today is shirakumo day