#someone must be in the middle of some work

[draconeko]

I just arrived and I apologize in advance if I write a lot of text but omg I like to explain what's on my mind even if there's no need @asperanna @jonksi @onionowt @nanomii @rainbigbrain @ejsuperstar @ebi-skycotl ( You don't have to read my ramblings but I put the tags anyway )

Pluto is a mix of orange, skrunkly and smol. The kind of cat that I would totally hold in my hands but end up with a bitten finger. They are funny, they talk a lot and I find them very authentic, the kind that you imagine running energetically around you and their motivation rubs off on you, when I met them I thought they were more chill but I never felt disappointed for being wrong

Jojo/Kitty/Catofaurora I would say is a mix of Loaf and skrunkly, she is very funny, she makes you feel welcome, she is understanding and her humor always makes me laugh, she always has some joke to make about some random post. You can tell she has a good heart, that's why she is a loaf to me, I wouldn't be here if she hadn't found me.

Onion, nanomii and Rain were definitely (maybe still are) Tux, but now that I've interacted with them they're more of a mix of Tux and other cats

Regarding Rain, I agree with Pluto, they're totally a cloud, they're chill, they're calming and friendly, probably introverted like most of us, but they're the perfect person to talk to when you have an anxious mind.

Onion is a shorthair! Outside of admiration, I always remember the post that talked about their studies, I've always perceived them as someone who has worked very hard but is unable to notice how much their effort has paid off. As a person they seem very soft to me, maybe that's why the hug, must protect?

Nano is smol, we're both too anxious to even talk, we probably want to but we don't know how, if you read this nano, I appreciate you just for leaving little messages on rbs

EJ would say they're smol too, maybe smol creature? they are right in the middle where they are not chill enough to be a cloud, but not chaotic enough to be orange or skrunkly. It's a balance that I find very curious. I can't describe this with cats but I find them very full of passion, I admire people who are passionate about the things they like (even if it's just a hyperfixation). Basically a person that makes me very curious but I'm not sure how to interact

Ebi, Ebi is Loaf and shorthair, they makes me feel cuteness aggression, very soft, very gentle, a good listener not only to friends but to total strangers, sometimes very altruistic too. It's a surprise that there's so much evil for their ocs in their heart, I can expect it from Ari, from pluto, bohap or aria, but ebi… Anyway I still remember what they wrote when thet made the drawing of the deer of the nine colors, I think it's something that totally stuck in my memory and I don't know why.

I hope I haven't forgotten anyone, I'm sure I can assign a cat to some other mutuals but right now my mind isn't bringing them up.

WHAT KINDA CAT ARE YOUR MUTUALS

I REALLY WANNA SIT HERE AMD GO THROUGH TAGGING EVERYONE BUT I HAVE TO GO TO BED NOW SO I’LL DO SO TOMORROW!!!

[moraxine]

Fragments of Us [Ekko]

pairing: ekko x reader

words: 2k

summary: ekko wakes up in an alternate universe where you’re alive and everything feels right—but it’s not his world. torn between love and duty, he must leave to save his reality.

ARCANE SPOILERS!

i.

“Powder. Ugh, she’s so annoying sometimes. I told her that the graffiti on Sevika’s stupid bar wasn’t even that good—like, come on, who even uses pink for a skull?—and she just flipped out ! Called me a ‘wannabe artist.’ Like, okay?”

Ekko’s chest burns as he violently jolts awake, aware , coughing as if he’s been drowning moments before. His head is pounding, all memories flooding his mind and spinning round and round. It takes a few moments for his vision to stabilise and start clearing up.

What the hell happened?

“Hey, are you okay?”

Hearing your voice, familiar yet a voice he never thought his ears would detect ever again, he freezes. His eyes snap open, adjusting to the dim glow of the neon streetlamp. After a while of simply blinking, right hand on his forehead, he dares to turn your way, only to face you in utter shock.

There you are, right beside him, nervously fiddling with a small gadget in your hand while waiting for his answer.

Ekko’s breath gets caught in his throat.

His gaze desperately darts around, taking in the distorted version of Zaun. The buildings look eerily familiar but cleaner, more polished. And then there is you —alive, bright-eyed, rambling as if nothing in the world could ever go wrong.

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

“You’re staring at me like I’ve got two heads or something. All good in there?” You ask, leaning closer as you gently tap his head.

No, no, no.

This must be some kind of twisted joke, a dream soon to turn into a nightmare, like the ones he experienced after your passing.

A strong wave of dizziness takes over and he loses balance. You’re not fast enough to catch him and he collapses on the floor, tears gleaming in his eyes.

“Shit, Ekko, I told you I’m fine walking home by myself! You need to focus on fixing that sleep schedule of yours. You work too much….”

You kneel down to check on him but as soon as you reach for his arm, he manages to pull himself up, wincing as his muscles protest. “I’m fine,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “Just… where am I?”

Your brow furrows. “Zaun, duh. Did you hit your head?”

Zaun. But not his Zaun. This is different. Cleaner. Sharper. Brighter. Wrong.

You wave a hand in front of his face when he’s up on his feet again, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Seriously, you’re acting super weird.”

He shakes his head, trying to gather himself. “I’m… just tired.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you say, leaning back on your heels. “Well, you can sleep at my place if you want. It’s a bit of a mess, but it’s better than the middle of the street.”

“Why…Why are you helping me?”

I didn’t protect you. I let you die-

You scoff, crossing your arms. “You have to be kidding me, really.”

He stares at you, his chest tightening. You are so casual, so warm, so alive. This isn’t his world—it is someone else’s. Someone’s whom was able to keep you safe and happy.

You wave a hand in front of his face. “Helloooo? You good, or do I need to drag you there myself?”

He blinks, shaking himself out of his trance. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Finally,” you say grabbing his arm. “You’re lucky I’m such a good friend, y’know.”

As you lead him down the street, continuing your pointless rambling about Powder and some argument over graffiti, Ekko follows silently, his mind racing. He doesn’t belong here, but for the first time in years, being near you feels like he is home.

ii.

Ekko is standing in the corner of your cluttered workshop, his fingers trembling slightly as he tightens the final screws on a device he barely understands anymore. Weeks have been spent scavenging parts, tearing apart old tech, and sketching blueprints on scraps of paper. The machine is almost ready—his way out of this world is almost ready.

You, of course, don’t know. In fact, you seem to know nothing about Ekko lately. Ever since that incident outside the bar, he’s been acting strange in a way you can’t pinpoint.

“Hey, genius,” you call from across the room, pulling him out of his thoughts. You’re perched on a high stool, playing with a broken clock. “You’ve been staring at that thing for hours. What is it, anyway?”

He stiffens at your question, keeping his face carefully neutral. “Just… something to help me get around. It’s nothing.”

You narrow your eyes, unconvinced. “Since when do you get all secretive about your projects? You used to brag about your tech every chance you got.”

“Since now,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze.

It’s been this way for quite some time now—Ekko growing quieter, more distant, all while you try to bridge the gap with your usual chatter. You’ve noticed the way he avoids your eyes, the way he flinches whenever you stand too close. It’s not like him.

And it hurts.

“You’re acting weird, Ekko,” you admit, setting the clock down and leaning back on your hands. “Like, even weirder than usual. Did I do something?”

“No,” he says quickly, but his voice sounds strained, and the single word only makes you more assured that there is indeed something going on.

“Then what?” you press, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me for days. Is this about Powder? Because if so, she’s the one being difficult, not me.”

Ekko clenches his jaw, his hands tightening around the tool in his grip. He can’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand—not fully. How could he possibly explain that you’re not even supposed to be here? That this version of you isn’t his you? That in his world, you’re just a memory he carries like a scar?

“It’s nothing,” he says finally, his voice low. “Just… drop it, okay?”

You flinch at the coldness in his tone, but you force a laugh, trying to mask the sting. “Fine. Be mysterious, then. See if I care.”

Turning away, you pretend to focus on the clock again, but your heart isn’t in it. You want to push him, demand answers, but something in his expression stops you. There’s a pain in his eyes that you can’t quite place, and for the first time, you wonder if this is bigger than any conflict he might have had with people in the past.

Ekko exhales slowly, his shoulders sagging. He hates doing this—pushing you away. But if he lets you in, it’ll only make leaving harder.

Because he is leaving. As much as he wants to stay, to pretend this is his life, he knows it isn’t real. He doesn’t belong here. And the longer he stays, the harder it’ll be to say goodbye. Especially to you.

“Hey,” you say suddenly, breaking the silence. “For what it’s worth, you’re still my favorite nerd. Even if you’re being a jerk.”

He looks up at you, startled by the softness in your voice. For a moment, he wants to tell you everything—to explain why he can’t let himself get too close. To tell you he loves you. But that would be partially true as you’re not his. Instead, he just nods. “Thank you.”

You offer him a small yet warm smile and his resolve falters for a moment. But then his gaze falls on the machine again—his way out—and he reminds himself why he has to do this.

It’s almost done. Just a little longer.

iii.

Ekko stands in the middle of the workshop, his hand resting on the activation lever of the machine. The room hums faintly with power, the cobbled-together contraption sparking faintly as it waits for his final command. It’s ready. After days of work, this is it—it’s time to go back to the people who need him.

But his chest feels tight, and it’s not just from the lingering ache of exhaustion. It’s because of you.

The door creaks open, and his heart sinks. You’re standing there, your expression caught somewhere between confusion and anger. “What the hell is this?” you ask, stepping inside. “Ekko, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t look at you. He can’t. “It’s… nothing.”

“Nothing?” you snap, gesturing at the machine. “You’ve been shutting me out for God knows how long, and now I find you messing with… whatever this is you’ve made? Don’t lie to me, Ekko.”

He finally meets your eyes, and the raw emotion there almost makes him crumble. But he takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “I can’t explain it.”

You take a step closer, your frustration giving way to hurt. “Why? Why can’t you just tell me? I’m not mad—I just… I don’t understand why you’ve been acting like this.”

Ekko clenches his fists, his mind racing. He could tell you the truth—about the alternate universe, about the fact that you don’t even exist anymore in his world. But what good would it do?

“It’s better this way,” he replies quietly.

Your hands drop to your sides, and the look in your eyes nearly breaks him. “Better for who? For me? Or for you?”

“Y/n…” His voice cracks, but he quickly swallows it down. “I don’t belong here. I need to leave. That’s all I can say.”

You shake your head, your voice trembling. “You’re lying. You’ve been here all this fucking time, and now you’re just… leaving? Without a word?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do!” you shout, stepping closer until you’re right in front of him. “Whatever this is, whoever you think you are—you’re my… friend, Ekko. You don’t just get to disappear without telling me why.”

His hands tremble as he reaches up to touch your shoulder, his gaze locked on yours. “You are—” His voice breaks, and he has to force himself to keep going. “You’re amazing. You’re… everything good about this place. You’re the reason I’m still alive. But I can’t stay.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding. His words feel final, and the weight of them crushes you completely. You fail to understand. Nothing makes sense, absolutely nothing. “Why?” you whisper, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. “Why can’t you stay? Is it something I did?”

“No!” he says, more forcefully than he means to. He takes your hands, holding them tightly. “It’s not you. It’s… me. It’s my world. I need to go back to where I came from.”

You can’t comprehend what he’s saying, but the desperation in his voice silences your questions. You nod, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “Fine,” you say, even though it’s anything but fine. “If you have to go… go.”

His hands linger on yours for a moment longer before he lets go. “I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me,” he says softly. “But I can’t. Not here.”

Tears spill over as you watch him turn back to the machine. “Will I ever see you again?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

He hesitates, his hand hovering over the lever. “I don’t know.”

That’s all he can give you.

With one last look at you, his expression filled with regret and longing, he pulls the lever. The machine sparks to life, and the air around him ripples with energy. You take a step back, shielding your eyes as the light grows blinding.

When the light fades, he’s there, his tired body slumped down on the ground. You immediately run to his side, kneeling down and pulling him to your lap. The room falls silent, the only sound the faint hum of the now blown up machine. You gently caress his cheek, tears running down your hot cheeks.

After a while, he wakes up.

And it doesn’t take you very long to realise.

You glance at the remains one last time.

And you hope that wherever he is, he’s doing what he set out to do—saving his people, his world, even if it meant leaving this one behind.

[cobaltperun]

Darkest Part (6 - Finale) - Like a Bullet

Astrid Deetz x female Reader

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

Word count: 5.3k

-I don't know what it is that you do to me baby, if you knew would you tell that you feel the same way that I do-

A few days following the craziest night of your life you were finally back home in Manhattan. You never thought you would be missing this place. Not that you disliked it, you just never thought you’d get this nostalgic after less than a week. Granted, after everything that happened seeing the old buildings you got so used to felt like the most comforting sight in the world. “Home sweet home,” you said, breathing out a sigh of relief, as you stretched right outside of Lydia's car. They were kind enough to drop you off.

“So eager to get away from me, are you?” Astrid reached out through the window and nudged you slightly with her fist.

“Of course! What did you think? I can't stand being around you, you damn Chihuahua,” you smirked as you said that, at this point you were both just bantering because it came as a second nature to you. To some people it might seem like a genuine argument, but what was going on between you was more of a habit rather than anything, and there was absolutely no malice behind any word you spoke. Still you leaned into the car through the window and took her hand. “The deal remains, right?” you asked with a tiny bit of uncertainty in your voice. “We are meeting on Saturday at eleven in the morning?” that was the plan at the moment, you would meet up in the park go to a café and well, you would see where things go from there.

Astrid squeezed your hand and smiled, reassuring you without a single word. She still spoke up, “Of course, you better impress me, Barnacle.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “Please, you need to earn being impressed,” you replied with a cheeky grin on your face.

Astrid suddenly reached up and pushed a strand of your hair back behind your ear “Oh, do I?

Really?” Lydia must have turned the heating up to the max because it suddenly got really, actually really hot in the car.

“No, of course you don’- wait no, you actually do I changed my mind! You do, you absolutely do,” you pulled away from the car and pointed at her. “Just for that stunt you have to actually earn being impressed, because you’re, well you are- ah, fuck,” your brain just wasn't working. “You’re being you! Yeah, that works, I’m going with that,” and all the while Astrid was laughing her ass off.

Astrid got her laughter under control far too quickly for your liking and gestured for you to come closer, which you did as if drawn in by some spell. She smiled and patted you on the cheek. “Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night, Barnacle.”

You pulled away from her because you just did not deserve to be teased like this. Not when you felt so powerless against her. Why was it easier to deal with Astrid when you were at each other's throats? All the time your thought getting along would make things easier for you, that you already had everything figured out, but no, you were a stuttering mess whose brain constantly failed to deliver a proper response to Astrid’s consistent and tireless efforts to get under your skin.

And the worst thing about it?

She was damn near 100% successful.

No, forget damn near. She was 100% successful.

~X~

You were fucking late and somehow that made you feel like something like this has already happened. It was like you were reliving a day from a while ago, sleeping in, getting ready in a haste, skipping out on breakfast, on a surprisingly sunny November day, and rushing to meet up with someone in a small café in the middle of the park. Only this time you were meeting up with Astrid, instead of with Alex. Huh, their names started with A as well…

Too many coincidences, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You ran through the crowd, narrowly dodging people as you weighed your options. You could jump over the fence and save a couple of minutes, or you could be a civilized human being and take the proper path.

You hated being late too much.

You jumped over the park's fence and ran like hounds of hell were chasing you. Considering everything you went through just a week prior that would actually be tame.

You did not want to be late to your kinda date with Astrid. Hell no! You would not allow that.

And then it happened.

In your haste you didn't pay attention to your surrounding and, honestly you should be surprised it wasn't happening to you more often, you ran into someone and reflexively caught them before they could fall.

"Sorry," you and the person said at the same time and you blinked, looking at Astrid as she regained her balance and held onto your shoulders much longer than necessary. Granted, your hands were on her waist as well and if ignoring that you ran into each other one could be forgiven for mistaking the way you were for an embrace.

But it wasn't that detail that made you freeze.

You suddenly felt like you were transported to the last year, to that day you were meeting up with Alex. To the first time you met Astrid, just like this.

Instead of an apology, what left both of your mouths back then was a simple 'watch where you're going,' even as you were both to blame. Next thing you knew, you met her again at the library and the hate between you properly began.

"Guess neither one of us wanted to be late," Astrid laughed and then she just... hugged you and you pulled her closer, loving how perfect it felt to hug her like this.

"I don't know about you, but I heard first impressions are hard to fix," you whispered in her ear, and she squirmed a bit, she was probably ticklish, and your breath tickled her. That was a theory you'd be testing at a more appropriate time.

"Mhm, Barnacle," she reluctantly pulled away and took your hand, leading you toward the café.

The two of you went inside and somehow you forgot how cozy this place was, it had this rustic feel to it, and it was certified eco-friendly, which was important to Astrid, and to you to be perfectly honest. This was the kind of place you want to one day help create among many, many other things.

Astrid took you to a corner and instead of sitting on the opposite side of you she sat down next to you on the bench so that meant your thighs were nearly touching. The warmth of the fireplace in the middle of the café, the soft music playing, and the dim lighting made this all feel a lot more intimate than you were intending. And it was definitely more intimate than a supposedly definitely friendly date you were on.

The two of you ordered your coffees and then just fell into a comfortable silence, not really sure how to interact with one another when you weren't bantering. It didn’t escape your notice that you didn’t mind being silent with Astrid, it felt comforting, and you had no need to fill the silence. Besides, the somewhat shy smile on Astrid's face told you she didn't mind the silence one bit either.

“So, architecture, right?” she finally broke the silence and you could see that it was something she was curious about for a long time

You cleared your throat, not really used to talking about your passion to anyone other than your mother and Alex and sometimes, though very rarely, Delia while she was still alive. Hell, Astrid probably heard about it from Delia, if the drawing she fixed didn’t give her enough clues. It was actually a relief, that Astrid asked about something you genuinely cared about, it would definitely calm down your nervous heartrate. Or so you hoped. “I've always loved drawing, I guess,” you began, shrugging a bit. “More than that, well, I think that's the most efficient way to changed things on a smaller scale, you know change the everyday living habits and try to counter the climate change like that. Make a small difference one building at a time,” you thought you’d get less nervous, but all of a sudden you weren't exactly confident in your words having never truly expressed them to anyone other than your mom.

Deep down you knew you really wanted to get Astrid’s approval on this. You could only hope Astrid would understand and the smile on her face calmed you down in an instant. She understood, and surprisingly you could see an undeniable admiration in her eyes. And even then, you still felt like she was the one who deserved admiration.

“I think that's amazing,” she replied, actually sounding a bit excited and then it was as if she got self-conscious about it as she looked down at the table. “Sorry, It's kind of weird to be talking like this when we've spent a year at each other's throats, I'm kind of struggling to keep myself from just blurting out things I've been apparently secretly thinking all along,” Astrid confessed with a blush on her face and then, she leaned a bit closer to you, closing the distance as she turned a bit and placed for hand on top of yours. She took a deep breath. “I have admired your talent ever since I saw your drawing for the first time, and Delia did mention we would get along if we just talked. I never realized she was this right.”

This time it was your turn to squeeze her hand in reassurance. “It took some time, but we got here,” you smiled and that seemed to work as she squeezed your hand back. “And come on, whatever you want to say can't be as bad as all the things I blurted out under that truth serum,” you both laughed at the memory of that and listening to Astrid laughing, well, it truly was one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard. “I could listen to you laughing all day long,” you quickly covered your mouth “Damn it! Am I still under the influence of that thing?!”

“I think it faded, it's just you being a goofball,” Astrid laughed and there was just something in her eyes that pulled you in as you were leaning closer. And you were very much aware she was leaning in as well. “You know there's nothing friendly about this, don't you?” Astrid asked as her breath mixed in with yours, as your lips inched closer with every excruciating second that passed.

“I know,” you whispered and in a burst of reckless disregard for consequences that you really couldn't think of right now, you closed the distance between you and kissed her. And her lips felt like the softest thing your lips ever touched. She kissed you back immediately, her hands reaching and caressing your face and back of your head as she held you closer. You rested your palm, slightly sweaty from the nervousness, on her thigh as your other hand slipped around her to the middle of her back.

Astrid hummed as you ever so slightly deepened the kiss and as you basked in the warmth of her lips and the feeling of her touch on you you realized that this passion you were already feeling was just as strong as the one you felt when you would banter any chance you saw one another.

When you separated out of the need for air, you still remained close, your lips still just slightly touching. “We should have done that a long time ago,” Astrid confessed as she kept you close, committing every touch, every feeling and sensation to memory.

“We really should have,” you replied and pulled back slightly. “So is this, uh, second date, fixing your impression on dating?”

Astrid pecked you on the lips once more. “You know, I think I'll just ignore what happened. I’ll just call that what it really was, a trap. So, it's fair to call this my very first date,” she decided and smiled. “This was my first kiss, just so you know,” she was blushing as she said that.

“Mine too. Both, the date and kiss,” you admitted as well. You felt nervous about the date last night which was probably why you overslept and now you felt dumb for being nervous. This was Astrid! You knew her, even when you were enemies you deep down knew her.

The smile on Astrid’s face widened, and you had no doubt in your mind, a part of her was satisfied with finding out she got your first kiss. “That ghost tried to kiss me, but there was an infuriatingly difficult to get rid of face that popped up in my mind, so I didn't. I couldn't kiss him when I was there thinking about you,” you could see what she was doing, evening things out after all, you did spill your guts because of the truth serum so here she was returning the favor one bit of information after another.

And you were absolutely thankful for it.

~X~

You couldn't remember the last time your apartment was this busy, this all over the place! You've actually been kind of anxious over the past week ever since you basically, and by pure nervous accident, invited Astrid and Lydia over for a dinner, and you've been in that panicked state ever since.

“Mom, can you please just go and lay down?” you pleaded with your mother as she continued cooking preparing yet another dish. “Please! We could feed ten people and it's only the four of us!” you said it, but you were clearly seeing that she was just as nervous as you were.

“What if they don't like something here? There needs to be a backup and the backup for a backup because there's always a chance you make two things someone doesn't like,” yeah she was nervous even more nervous than you.

And that was damn difficult to accomplish!

“That's not going to happen, mom. Even if it does, well if they don't like it they don't like it. Come on, it’s just my girlfriend and her mom coming over!” you cried out, trying to reason with her. Astrid and Lydia would be here in two hours and the kitchen was a mess, and your mom was still cooking and not the soups and main dishes, but the side dishes that you had no way of naming. Where did she even pull all those recipes out of?

“That’s exactly why!” she pointed a wooden spoon at you. “Your girlfriend is coming over, and you've never had a girlfriend before, and you are just two weeks into the relationship,” actually three but you were too embarrassed to tell your mom you got together with Astrid barely ten days after you stopped hating her so you only told her after the third date. “And she's coming over with her mother for dinner, so we can get to know each other, so it's serious and I need to make sure everything is perfect,” with her health she would be bedridden for the next weekend and you really should have just taken them to the restaurant, but no, your mom was too proud for that! She needed to cook food to show off her cooking skills, which she had, she was an amazing cook, but she wasn't healthy enough to do all of this, yet here she was doing exactly that!

“I'm going to start washing the dishes,” at this point there was no use in arguing and you needed to get this mess cleaned up.

Exactly 2 hours later the doorbell rang, and you jumped like you got burnt even though you were tired and sore from everything, but at least the dinner was ready and absolutely perfect.

You opened the doors to see them standing there, with Astrid nervously messing around with the leaf of the rose she was carrying. Why was she like this? This-this- you just wanted to squeeze and hug her and never let her go! Lydia seemed to be quite nervous as well, seeing as she was almost bouncing from one foot to another, so, overall all four of you were just nervous messes and it showed.

Astrid immediately hugged you and that helped. It helped both of you a lot as you just relaxed into the embrace. “This is either going to be a disaster or a great night there won't be an in-between,” Astrid whispered to you as she gave you the rose and you couldn't agree more so you hoped it would be perfect.

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst?” you whispered back and thanked her for the rose befo turning to greet Lydia as well.

“That smells delicious, did you and your mom make the food?” Lydia asked as you stepped into the apartment.

“Mostly mom, I hate to say this, but cooking isn't my strongest suit,” you admitted sheepishly and placed the rose in an empty vase. You immediately led them right into the dining room because your mom would already be getting the table ready.

“You actually looked cute as a kid,” Astrid commented offhandedly and your eyes widened, there shouldn’t be any photos of you hanging on the walls! They were all in the photo albums so where did she even see that?! And then you saw it too, the picture of you when you were a kid and worst of all it was the most embarrassing one ever taken of you, the one from the Halloween where you were dressed as a pumpkin. “Orange suits you,” Astrid teased and all you could do was glare at your mother who traitorously hung the photo on the wall while you were distracted by everything else that needed to be done.

“I’m going to find some embarrassing photos of you, just you wait,” you grumbled and that suddenly gained you a surprising ally in the battle, as Lydia patted you on the shoulder.

“Oh, I can show you lots of them,” Lydia promised you and maybe this night would be perfect after all, despite the embarrassing start.

“No! You can't!” Astrid tried to intimidate the Lydia into backing down but you were already leaning closer to the woman.

You put your hand up, as if you were about to whisper, but you spoke loud enough for Astrid to clearly hear you. “I would be very, very happy to exchange the embarrassing photos I took of Astrid enjoying the cutest things imaginable when we were at the amusement park for those photos that you just mentioned,” you proposed, much to Lydia’s liking and the two of you shook hands. It was a deal, one that would benefit both of you.

“I've been betrayed,” Astrid dramatically lamented.

“Oh, don't worry, dear we can have our own little exchange,” you froze when you heard your mother saying that.

She did not just suggest that to Astrid!

“Mom!” you cried out, genuinely afraid because not only did your mother have the pictures she was more than willing to share the stories.

“You know, I had to ask Alex what your name was because all she,” your mom pointed at you, “would ever talk about was Chihuahua this, Chihuahua that, ever since the two of you met. She had a crazy crush on you, I'm telling you,” and your mom wasn't paying any attention to your protests and was instead having the time of her life embarrassing you and revealing your secrets.

And the damn Chihuahua was eating it all up.

Like the hungry demon that fed on embarrassment of unfortunate people.

“How about you just sit down and we can eat?” you suggested and pulled the chair out for Astrid to sit down on. And you chose that chair on purpose, because it was the furthest from your mom, so you could do damage control.

Astrid, instead, took one look at the seating plan you had in mind and took the seat next to the one you so carefully chose for her.

“I think your mom and I have a lot to talk about,” Astrid gave you a quick kiss as a consolation for what was about to transpire, and you just stood there, ready to say goodbye to your dignity. At least you could do the same to her and listen to her embarrassing stories from Lydia.

“This means war, Chihuahua,” you promised, but she just grinned.

“My dear Barnacle, whatever you learn won't be half as bad as what I'm about to learn,” she was so sure of that, and to make things even worse, you were sure of that as well. This was, truly, a war you couldn’t even hope to win.

~X~ Five months later ~X~

Astrid’s birthday was quickly approaching and you had the best idea ever! The most fitting gift for her birthday! Nothing, absolutely nothing could have worked as well as the gift you had in mind, and the grin on your face was something you could not suppress even if you wanted to, so here you were working at the library with the most ridiculously happy grin on your face.

If you weren’t in a library you were sure you’d be whistling or singing with how happy you were.

“You're actually a bit scary when you are this happy, you know that?” Alex suddenly commented there was no malice in his voice, he was just stating the fact.

“I figured out the perfect gift for Astrid,” you told him and you just knew that he would have whistled if you weren't in the library.

“I know I keep saying this and I’ll keep saying it for a long time, but I don't know whether it's wild or actually to be expected to see you two together. Last year you were at the each other's throats and now you are girlfriends,” he was right, you and Astrid have been dating for almost half a year now and it just so happened that her birthday was next week. “So, lover girl, what do you have in mind?”

You leaned in and whispered the answer into his ear and his eyes widened almost comically large as he turned to look at you. “No, no, Y/N,” your grin just got even bigger. “No, you can't.”

“Yes I can, yes I will,” there was no talking you out of this, the gift was too perfect!

“I have 3 words for you,” he suddenly got completely serious.

“Yeah?” you were almost worried to hear them, but your mind was set.

“Rest in peace.”

And it didn't matter that you were in the library you laughed your ass off. He was being too dramatic, surely Astrid wouldn't kill you.

Right?

~X~

Lydia couldn't remember the last time she was this at ease. Free from her show, having a healthy, repaired relationship with Astrid and with her dad and Delia occasionally haunting her. Everything was peaceful and quiet as she sipped on her coffee.

"I'll kill you, Barnacle!" Astrid shouted from her room and Lydia barely nearly choked on her coffee. You and Astrid still bantered, but this time Astrid actually sounded serious with that threat.

"Think of all the cleaning!" your half-panicking, half-amused shout came next, and Lydia honestly prayed that you didn't do anything too stupid to get Astrid to banter with you. Actually, she was probably hoping for too much, you had a strange fixation with making each other as annoyed and willing to banter as humanly possible and it went for both of you. She did not want to think about what the outcome of all of that frustration was or would eventually be especially seeing as the two of you would start living together once you started going to college.

You ran down the stairs as fast as humanly possible and jumped over her sofa to hide from Astrid. Well, hide was generous, as you snickered next to Lydia. Really, Astrid only had to come downstairs and she would find you immediately

"Y/N, don't provoke her on her birthday," she lightly chastised you, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't amused. A bit worried and maybe a tad bit concerned but amused, because as annoyed as Astrid would seem during the banter she could see that glimmer in her daughter's eyes. She knew Astrid was having fun even if she wouldn't readily admit it.

"Not my fault she has no sense of humor. The gift is perfect," you whispered, barely holding back from laughing.

Before Lydia could further question you, she heard Astrid running down as well. "Get this demon spawn pretending to be a dog back where it belongs! Right with you in the deepest depths of hell!"

A chihuahua. You got Astrid, a chihuahua.

Lydia laughed as she looked at her daughter. Despite the anger in Astrid's voice the youngest Deetz couldn't resist actually petting the puppy and it somehow seemed to like her which would probably mean that the rest of you were doomed.

“See, she likes you!” you laughed as well and pointed at the Chihuahua.

“Nonsense,” Astrid said but the blush on her face gave away how she actually felt. Lydia remembered how much Astrid wanted a dog as a child and maybe Chihuahua wasn't the first choice her daughter would have made when she was a child, but she would have been happy regardless of the breed. And seeing her with a dog now brought a smile to Lydia's face.

“I guess I have to keep it,” Astrid tried to play it cool, as she looked at the puppy. “I'm going to call you Barnacle, Barny for short so we don't confuse both barnacles,” she said the second part while glaring or at least trying to glare at you as you went and bravely walked over to her and instead of killing you as she promised she would Astrid just lightly kissed you on the lips.

“See, that's perfect,” you pet the puppy only for it to bite you or at least bite you as hard as the puppy could. “See and she hates me just like you did! Truly a perfect gift if I can say so myself,” you pointed out.

The three of you just laughed at that and that's how Astrid got stuck with the dog.

~X~

If a year ago someone approached you and told you that you would no longer be working for Delia because she went and got scammed and died out of embarrassment, yes you were going along with that version of events, and that you would actually be moving in with Astrid as you were getting ready to start college and that you would be together and having a Chihuahua named Barnacle you would have just laughed at them because it would have been the most ridiculous story you ever heard.

But that was a year ago, back when both Delia and Charles were alive and well, back when Astrid was the most annoying, infuriating person you've ever met instead of just being the most annoying, infuriating person you loved and things really were a lot different.

You spent the day unpacking, which was actually kind of nostalgic given packing and unpacking was part of your job while you worked for Delia and now the apartment you and Astrid were renting was pretty much ready for you. Well, aside from the bedroom, that was the last room to deal with. There were some interior design choices to be made but overall the apartment really was perfect.

“Your passion for architecture is paying off, this looks amazing,” Astrid commented as she stepped inside the living room from the kitchen. She was busy unpacking everything meant for the kitchen. All the while you were busy arranging the living room mixing everything that both of you loved. So, now the living room didn’t look like one person's living space, but rather the combination of the two of you.

You snorted and looked at her. “Sure, tease. You know what that'll get you later,” you couldn't hold back a smirk as she blushed. You sat on the sofa and turned the TV on letting it fill in the silence because neither you nor Astrid were all that talkative unless there was a proper conversation to be had.

If one of you got passionate about something, then yeah you were talking and yapping and basically wouldn't stop speaking but otherwise it was fairly quiet with occasional communication done mostly through glances and silent signs.

“What can I say? You are rather fun to tease,” she told you and even though you you weren't looking at her right now you could tell what was on her mind.

"Heh, Chihuahua," you grinned, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. The sofa sinking slightly next to you made your grin widen.

A shiver ran down your spine when you felt a perfect nail gently, almost tantalizingly teasingly, go down your forearm. "Mhm, how about you shut me up then? If it annoys you so much?" Astrid whispered and you swallowed hard. Since when did her voice have such an effect on you? Right. Since you got together.

You turned slightly to look at her. "Now that's just barbaric," you whispered back, only now noticing how close to you she was, mere inches separated your faces, and you had to resist the urge to look at her lips, fearing that glance would be your undoing. You both still had work to do. The bedroom wasn't ready, because you decided that would be a task you would finish together.

Astrid pulled back a bit, but she placed the tip of her finger on the corner of her lips. Fucking chihuahua, knowing exactly what she was doing as you looked down and instinctively leaned closer to her. "I wouldn't mind, if the approach is correct and what I'm saying isn't important," she looked so confident, raising her hand and caressing your cheek before sliding it to the back of your head and pulling you closer.

You stopped resisting and turned, getting on your knees and leaning over her with your palm pressing right next to her head, and you could see in her eyes that she had you exactly where she wanted you. "Everything you say is important," you could feel her breath against your skin as you both leaned closer.

"Even when I annoy you?" she asked, so close now you could feel her lips against yours. She looked so confident. So sure of herself, but the tremble of her hand gave her away. The bedroom would have to wait.

"Especially when you annoy me, just means I should listen more carefully," you closed the traces of the distance left and kissed her, humming at how soft her lips were.

"Mhm, Barnacle," she relaxed, holding you close, hands slipping underneath your shirt.

"Yeah, that's very romantic, Chihuahua," you chuckled, peppering kisses from her ear to her jaw Taking in the sound of her soft breaths as sheep gave him to her needs and desires.

"It is," she laughed, slightly out of breath as you tugged at her shirt and lifted it up a bit "It means you're hard to get rid of, and that's exactly what I want. To be unable to get rid of you for a long, long time," she said and never before did that word sound so sweet.

Taglist: @alexkolax @osnapitzmel1 @bee-keeping @nebthetautora @lololauser

@nwestra @rroyale-109 @gemz5 @social-pomegranate @mirage018

@the-thing-withfeathers @hello-mtf @leafanonsforest @jaxon-nathaniel-drake @niqmandu

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

A/N: And that's another story complete. I hate to say this, but Astrid really wasn't as inspiring as I hoped she would be, still, I'm satisfied with how the story turned out.

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Viktor x Reader Headcanons

Pronouns for reader: Gender neutral, AFAB undertones if you squint

Relationship type: Platonic to Romantic

General Idea: Some silly little headcanons I have for Viktor because he's still my silly little princess. Even after the whole glorious evolution thing.

Content Warnings: S1 Viktor, no S2 spoilers, But there as little bit of s2 viktor's mindset, I'm projecting a little bit (a lot) but it's fine.

~☆~

I honestly see Viktor as asexual with light aromantic undertones (kinda like demiromantic, I guess??). He rarely ever developes romantic feelings. Like its a once in a blue moon thing.

Like... he has to know you for YEARS before something in his head is like "Oh... hey they kinda cute?"

However, when he DOES develop feelings that go beyond friendship, Viktor HEAVILY struggles with coming to terms with them. Not in like a "I don't DO feelings" type way, but more in a "Well... no... it could be this" type of way.

Oh, his heart rate speeds up a little bit when you two accidently brush hands? It must just be his nerves.

When he does realize that he has feelings for someone, it's kind of like that scene in Gravity Falls where Dipper is like "It's not like I stay awake at night thinking about Wendy" and it cuts to him laying awake thinking about Wendy XD

If he likes someone romantically, he talks about them a lot. Like as if trying to bring them up as much as he can. Like "Oh (Y/N) mentioned something about that book, said they really liked it" Or "(Y/N) actually said something similar about that topic" If he could yap about you for hours, he probably would.

Even if you're being PAINFULLY obvious about your romantic feelings towards Viktor, he will firmly believe you're just being friendly.

Why he does it is a mix between two things: one is that he's just not awesome with people. And second is that he firmly believes someone like you could never love someone like him back.

One night, Viktor had been constantly working without break, so you practically dragged him to his room by his ear and forced him to get some rest.

Viktor has a strong habit of having his workspace FILLED with old mugs, sometimes days old. He doesn't really mean to, just too wrapped up in Hextech to really notice.

He also struggles with meals too. Just like above, because he literally just gets too wrapped up in his work.

If Viktor actually confesses feelings, it's such an interesting experience. Because he doesn't just flat out say "Hey I have feelings for you". He stumbles over his words and rambles about something random in the middle of it. So you gotta help him out a little bit.

Viktor's love language is quality time. He'll make sure his seat is next to you when it can, he always yaps about what he's uncovered about Hextech.

Speaking of Hextech, if you just sit there and watch him work? He'd about die of happiness on the spot. If you, someone he really loved, took an interest to something he truly loved DOING? Perfect.

He used to get really flustered about physical affection. Like you held his hand one time and he about combusted. He was red in the face for hours. He got better with it overtime, of course. But for the first few months, he was pretty much bright red the whole time.

Dates are rare, neither of you have the time for it. But when you two do have dates of some kind, they're mostly stay at home type things.

You know that thing kids do? Like playing their own separate things together? Parallel play, I think it's called? Yeah you two do that a lot.

Viktor will be reading some papers and you'll be reading a book, your feet in his lap.

Speaking of, Viktor is such a reader omg He doesn't read a lot anymore due to his constant workload, but when he does, he reads a lot of like... old books. The ones with yellowing pages and smell nice? Yeah... those ones!

If you two slept in the same bed, he'd be all like... giggly and nervous the first few times. Just like affection, he'd get used to it. But it's still cute.

When you two are cuddling, run your fingers in his hair. He'll melt right into you regardless of the situation. It's like an instant relax button for him.

Him laying his head on your chest, and you running your fingers through his hair? Something about it just... works. It calms him down a lot and makes him feel at peace.

His favorite place to kiss is the crook of your neck. Especially if you're around his height (he's like... between 5'7 and 5'10. I don't remember exactly).

Or your temples. It's simple, it doesn't attract a lot of attention. And let's be real, it's underrated as hell.

He's not big on PDA, but he'll hold your hand in public. He likes holding onto just one of your fingers, like your pinkie or something like that. It, just like temple kisses, is simple and discreet.

He doesn't often say "I love you". He feels bad about it, but you don't mind. He often says I love you without saying it. Things like holding you while you sleep, kissing your forehead as you two read in each other's arms, weaving your fingers with his while he works.

He gets self-conscious a lot. He thinks you could do a lot better than him and that he's not perfect.

Please kiss this poor boy all over and tell him he's perfect as is 😭😭

~☆~

A/N:The Arcane brainrot has gotten to me... This is how I'm coping with the finale. But I've wanted to write Viktor or Sevika stuff for a HOT minute now. I've been in the Arcane fandom for YEARS (a fanfic writer even longer) but this is my first Arcane fic... wild XD

For more fics: my masterlist!

~Squeed

[memorys-skyscraper]

since folks seemed interested, here are some unused and uncommon mid-duty voice lines for the ancients + meteion from shadowbringers & endwalker (most are uncommon/hard to trigger but some are entirely unused)

transcription & notes below

Hades/Emet-Selch (The Dying Gasp): "By His grace will darkness reign over all." "Death comes for Her servants." "I shall rebuild our kingdom upon your bones!" "Abomination! You seek to shatter my soul?"

Warrior of Light/Elidibus (Seat of Sacrifice): "Hah, it matters not who comes to your aid."(1) "Clad in prayer, I am invincible!"(2)

Hydaelyn (The Mothercrystal): "By force unrelenting!" "A change of arms- mark well my movements." "Flee. You have been found wanting."(3)

Venat (Trust): "Quite..."(4) "Ugh, this is nothing..."(4) "A poor showing..."(4) "Confound it all..."(5) "I was unprepared..."(5) "No... I can't afford to..."(5) "I will do better."(6) "It isn't over yet."(6) "I'm in your debt."(6) "Open your eyes, now."(7) "I will tend your wounds."(7) "Your journey isn't over yet."(7) "Stand firm."(8) "Stay the course."(8) "Mayhap this will help."(8) "Let death's judgement be stayed!"(9) "Let life flow ever abundant!"(10)

Emet-Selch (Trust): "Another fine mess..."(4) "This is going swimmingly..."(4) "Would someone hurry up and heal me?"(4) "Pre...posterous..."(5) "Couldn't... get any worse...?"(5) "If only I could... transform...!"(5) "I do have an image to uphold."(6) "Time to repay the debt."(6) "Slow. A sound choice, but slow."(6) "Steady now."(7) "What a bother."(7) "Look alive."(7) "Oh, very well."(8) "Pay attention, now."(8) "Don't waste this."(8) "On my seat's honor, I shall protect all!"(9)

Hythlodaeus (Trust): "Not quite as planned..."(4) "I've had better days..."(4) "Some healing, if you would."(4) "End of my tether..."(5) "I knew this wasn't my forte..."(5) "Take care of the rest, will you?"(5) "Oh, you shouldn't have! ...No, really."(6) "What, already?"(6) "Well... back to it, I suppose."(6) "As you were."(7) "Are you alright?"(8) "Pain, pain, go away."(8) "Ooh, interesting." "I have a proposal." "Let's make a little something." "Hope this works."(11) "Who, me? You can't be serious."(11)

Meteion (The Dead Ends): "The more its people fought to live, the further the plague spread..." "...for altruism and selfishness both were its carriers." "...for naught could be done to stop the spread."(12)

Endsinger (The Final Day): "'Tis so lonely between the stars... battered by the husks of the dead and dying."(13)

Themis/Elidibus (Pandaemonium 11): "I learned this technique from a dear friend!" "Long have I dreamed of the day that we match wits... but every dream must come to an end!"(3) "My deepest desire..."

1. based on file order, this was likely meant to play as an initial reaction to the mid-fight summoning, to be followed by "You...! It cannot be...!" upon recognizing Emet

2. if you attempt to DPS LB while he's not casting/in the middle of something else, he'll say this and use Hallowed Ground to invuln through the LB

3. enrage quote for extreme/savage

4. low health

5. death

6. just raised

7. raising someone else

8. healing someone else or invulning (for tanks)

9. tank LB (unused)

10. healer LB (unused)

11. DPS LB (used but Hythlodaeus REALLY doesn't like to LB so including LB1 and LB2 here)

12. all are alternate/unused lines for the first area of The Dead Ends

13. "'Tis so lonely between the stars..." is used, but "battered by the husks of the dead and dying" is not

[raqualswonderfunblog]

Rebecca Helm PhD., as shared by Open Ocean Explorationa biologist and an assistant professor at the University of North Carolina, Asheville US wrote:

Friendly neighborhood biologist here. I see a lot of people are talking about biological sexes and gender right now. Lots of folks make biological sex sex seem really simple. Well, since it’s so simple, let’s find the biological roots, shall we? Let’s talk about sex...[a thread]

If you know a bit about biology you will probably say that biological sex is caused by chromosomes, XX and you’re female, XY and you’re male. This is “chromosomal sex” but is it “biological sex”? Well...

Turns out there is only ONE GENE on the Y chromosome that really matters to sex. It’s called the SRY gene. During human embryonic development the SRY protein turns on male-associated genes. Having an SRY gene makes you “genetically male”. But is this “biological sex”?

Sometimes that SRY gene pops off the Y chromosome and over to an X chromosome. Surprise! So now you’ve got an X with an SRY and a Y without an SRY. What does this mean?

A Y with no SRY means physically you’re female, chromosomally you’re male (XY) and genetically you’re female (no SRY). An X with an SRY means you’re physically male, chromsomally female (XX) and genetically male (SRY). But biological sex is simple! There must be another answer...

Sex-related genes ultimately turn on hormones in specifics areas on the body, and reception of those hormones by cells throughout the body. Is this the root of “biological sex”??

“Hormonal male” means you produce ‘normal’ levels of male-associated hormones. Except some percentage of females will have higher levels of ‘male’ hormones than some percentage of males. Ditto ditto ‘female’ hormones. And...

...if you’re developing, your body may not produce enough hormones for your genetic sex. Leading you to be genetically male or female, chromosomally male or female, hormonally non-binary, and physically non-binary. Well, except cells have something to say about this...

Maybe cells are the answer to “biological sex”?? Right?? Cells have receptors that “hear” the signal from sex hormones. But sometimes those receptors don’t work. Like a mobile phone that’s on “do not disturb’. Call and cell, they will not answer.

What does this all mean?

It means you may be genetically male or female, chromosomally male or female, hormonally male/female/non-binary, with cells that may or may not hear the male/female/non-binary call, and all this leading to a body that can be male/non-binary/female.

Try out some combinations for yourself. Notice how confusing it gets? Can you point to what the absolute cause of biological sex is? Is it fair to judge people by it?

Of course you could try appealing to the numbers. “Most people are either male or female” you say. Except that as a biologist professor I will tell you...

The reason I don’t have my students look at their own chromosome in class is because people could learn that their chromosomal sex doesn’t match their physical sex, and learning that in the middle of a 10-point assignment is JUST NOT THE TIME.

Biological sex is complicated. Before you discriminate against someone on the basis of “biological sex” & identity, ask yourself: have you seen YOUR chromosomes? Do you know the genes of the people you love? The hormones of the people you work with? The state of their cells?

Since the answer will obviously be no, please be kind, respect people’s right to tell you who they are, and remember that you don’t have all the answers. Again: biology is complicated. Kindness and respect don’t have to be.

Note: Biological classifications exist. XX, XY, XXY XXYY and all manner of variation which is why sex isn't classified as binary. You can't have a binary classification system with more than two configurations even if two of those configurations are more common than others.

Biology is a shitshow. Be kind to people.

[ciceroartwork]

@aceinacloset

Regarding the removal of the jacket, there is one button but she has wings so it can't be a pull-off type of deal bc that would hurt.. and the tie. But I think that's under the jacket. But I could unbutton the button and run around her and scram, but idk how she puts the coat on if she has wings. There has to be velcro or something, which probably isn't strong, so it probably won't hurt her but idk since she didn't have it on in the Honk shorts. If I approach her without silly intent I might be able to inspect her back to see how the coat is put on. BUT wait, there's the waist thingy with the heart. In the Honk shorts, she was not wearing it, but that could just be artist's choice. BUT it is also a dress, and that would be rather rude. But this is a mostly theoretical situation. Does she wear anything under it? Perhaps a dress shirt? Yes, from the CB ref I see she is wearing a dress shirt under there. And from the og ask. She is wearing shorts of some type in the OG ask, I believe, as I don't think she'd be so okay if she weren't. And also in the CB ref I cannot see any clothes past the knees, so maybe she's wearing booty shorts. Perhaps her wings are detachable? She mentioned in the wing-touch ask (i think) that the bases of them were sensitive. I see no way as to how the waist thing comes off, so it must be in the back

Inspect back, how does that work I don't wanna hurt her.

undo waist thing

undo button

Grasp and run around her

Run away because I realized she has no way of taking it off??????

Wait in the 2nd proposal she does not have any clear way as to take it off (no seams)???? She has taken it off twice so far (Honk shorts and OG ask)

Perhaps her side? Her wings must be detachable in some way, or electro-magnetic.

:/

Your mean? She's trapped? WHY IS SHE TRAPPED?! HOW DOES SHE TAKE IT OFF DUDE SHE'S TRAPPED

Ugh I love how woozy she looks in the CB ref?????? AUGH

What if I just get on my hands and knees and beg her at her feet will she let me wear it then

Oh wait I think the middle thing comes off in the front now that I look at it

It would probably fall off of her

So run off in one direction then circle back and grab it and run and attempt to hide with my loot

5. run away

5. Run away and turn back around and pick it up and run

6. Bribe someone for assistance

7. If 6 is not possible collapse with the loot and curl into a ball around it and refuse to let go because I'm stupid and this was stupid and I don't wanna admit defeat she's gonna have to peel it away from me

Or go to Broiler and try to bribe her with Arctic paraphernalia to take me away or 8-Bit because she seems like she'd enjoy the chaos

[random-xpressions]

What an age of instant gratification. There used to be times when letters and postmen existed. It used to take weeks before one would get a response, eagerly waiting for the postman, to see if there's any letter from their loved one. And here we are today, if someone doesn't see a blue tick, they get frustrated. Don't know if I should laugh or cry at this height of human impatience!

Random Xpressions

[tuesdayisfordancing]

hjdhjf just saw the take that if you grew up going to summer camps your parents can’t have been middle class they must have been rich-rich

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent game related things .. hrmm...

[thetangibleghost]

I've always wanted to wake up from a dream laughing and I just did but I realized after I woke up that I have missed a million social cues :((((((((((((((((( it wasn't even funny idk why I couldn't stop giggling. I dont even giggle irl.

[skipppppy]

The life of Stanford Pines must be so bizarre from the perspective of a random townsperson who doesn’t know him. Imagine you live in a sleepy lumber town, where the most interesting thing you’ve heard this week is that a plot of land on the outskirts of the woods was sold and someone has started constructing a cabin on there.

You later learn by word of mouth that he’s a phd student doing some kind of long-term research project. You don’t see his face until one night he comes blasting down the street on a trail of destruction, eyes yellow and glazed over, trashing public property, inflicting gruesome injuries on himself, and laughing like he’s on an erratic, drug-fuelled bender. He then goes home and locks himself in his cabin again. This becomes a cycle; he stays isolated for weeks, then comes out once in a blue moon to wreak havoc and be a nuisance to the authorities.

Then one day it stops. He doesn’t come back out. The next time you see him he’s at a grocery store looking completely different to how you remember; his hair is grown out, he’s put on weight, his clothes are completely different and he’s stopped wearing glasses. Some townsfolk finally work up the nerve to talk to him and you learn that he invited them to his cabin on a tour. His home is apparently FULL of dangerous research equipment and the scientist, who had allegedly been very quiet and level-headed on the days he wasn’t having his “episodes,” has had a complete personality change, he’s loud and confident and less than honest and a little sleazy but a damn good salesman and entertainer.

He hosts tours out of his home for the next 30 years. Over time he’d changed it into a museum of sorts that sells overpriced knickknacks to unsuspecting tourists, but aside from his shady business practices he’s a well known member of his community. He changes up the exhibits every few months, brings his niece and nephew to stay one summer and they become town darlings, and even exposes a beloved public figure for running a spyware scheme.

One day you hear he got visited by the FBI. They start going round town asking about him. A week or so later he gets arrested. The town goes CRAZY theorising why but then there’s a massive earthquake and in the chaos of that you forget what happened to him. One minute you hear that the feds were surrounding his house and the next they’re all leaving like they forgot what they came for. Another week later he resurfaces and announces he’s going to run for Mayor, dominated the polls, wins the popular vote, but loses his position immediately due to an extensive criminal record.

Then there’s gossip that he completely changed his appearance again. He’s lost his fez and is walking around in a coat and cable knit turtleneck in the middle of the July heat. Then you hear from someone else that he looks the exact same and didn’t change anything. Then you see two identical men walking down the street, one matching the description you saw. People are BUZZING to know what happened and you eventually learn that the “new guy” was actually the same Scientist and the guy that had been running the museum was his twin brother who stole his identity after he went missing. Then the apocalypse happens

[sugoroo]

ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, obsessive behaviour, pervy geto, stalking, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, hints of yandere, 18+ minors dni.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who notices you the moment you first attend one of his classes, immediately singling you out among the small group of his regulars laying down their mats.

he's never seen someone so young and pretty in his studio before — most of his customers were married middle-aged women old enough to be his mother. but not you.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who takes a very keen interest in you from that very first session, his sharp gaze never leaving you for long each time you come in. to his dismay, however, you always take the spot right at the back of the room, meaning he has to crane his neck around all of the gossiping older ladies to get a good look at you. hmm, that won't do.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who keeps you behind one day after a class, subtly suggesting that you move closer to the front so he can 'get a clearer look' at your progress. and if you catch on to the real reason he wants you closer, you don't say anything; so he assumes you bought the excuse. perfect.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who, once you begin working right at the front, gets more and more handsy as time goes on. what began as just a light brush of his fingers to improve your positioning turns into him fully grasping your hips to manoeuvre your body the way he wants.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who isn't oblivious to the jealous looks cast in your direction from the other women when he does this. he just pays them no mind; he's not interested in them, after all. only you.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who finds himself becoming increasingly obsessed with you after each session, talking yoga instructor!gojo's ear off about how pretty you are and how utterly delicious the arch of your back is when he gets everyone to do the downward dog stretch.

his friend laughs but reminds him that it's strictly against the rules of the yoga studio to get involved with a customer (as if he cares about such trivial things like that.)

pervy yoga instructor!geto who starts insisting on you staying behind after every single class, claiming it would be good for you to have some one-on-one sessions with him to hone your skills. when you don't protest, he thinks you must either be completely clueless or into him just as much as he is you. he really hopes it's the latter.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who uses these private classes to get you to do various risqué positions for him that definitely aren't real yoga stretches. but what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

pervy yoga instructor!geto whose mood becomes sour once you stop attending his sessions. had he gone too far? did you think he was a creep? he didn't even care if you filed a report about him for his behaviour at this point — as long as it meant he got to see you at the subsequent meeting.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who only lasts a few weeks before he's rifling through the customer files in his office, yanking out your folder and scanning the page.

once he finds your address, he's in his car and on the way there, breaking every speed limit on the way. and before he even knows it, he's outside your house, peeking in through the window.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who spots you curled up on your couch, crying softly in front of the television while spooning ice cream into your pretty mouth. and suddenly, all his previous anger is replaced with concern. he hasn't even formed an excuse to explain why he's here before he's knocking on the door.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who hurriedly tells you that "it's company policy to check on customers who haven't attended sessions for a certain amount of time", mentally patting himself on the back when you seem to buy it and let him into your apartment.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who listens intently as you spill all the details about your cheating asshole of a boyfriend. so that's why you've been absent. but don't worry — he can make you forget all about that worthless scum. after all, he didn't deserve you anyway!

suguru could treat you so much better. and he will, if you let him.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who kisses your tears away, hushing you softly and whispering in your ear about how beautiful you are and how he's had his eye on you since you first entered his studio. (he leaves out the part where he's fucked his fist to the thought of you in those tight little yoga pants countless times. he doesn't want to scare you off!)

pervy yoga instructor!geto who starts by running his hands over your perfect body he's been imagining touching just like this for so long, burying his head between your soft thighs and eating you out like it's his last meal until you're all nice and gushy.

he only stops when your tears of sadness turn into those of pleasure, until you're practically begging him to fuck you.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who starts by fucking you nice and slow on your couch in missionary, praising you over and over in that silken purr of his like you deserve. but soon enough he's flipping your body around, putting you in the yoga position that you always do the best for him; downward dog, ruthlessly rutting his fat cock into you from behind like an animal.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who has to use all of his willpower to make sure you cum on his cock first before he lets go himself, despite the fact he could've busted a nut the second he eased into your warm, tight little pussy.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who watches in silent satisfaction as his goopy cum oozes out of your abused cunt, quickly fingering it right back inside to make sure not a single drop goes to waste. "it's all for you, sweet baby." he murmurs, voice raspy and deep.

pervy yoga instructor!geto who effortlessly carries your exhausted body to your bedroom bridal style, cooing in your ear the entire way about how you're his now, and he's going to take such good care of you, his favourite girl.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

NEXT PART -> pervy lifeguard!gojo

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[seat-safety-switch]

When we were kids, we didn't have access to cool power tools. Every summer, when the soapbox derby race was coming, we'd break into my neighbour's garage while he was at work. Then, we'd use his drill press, lathe, table saw, all the fun tools. Over the course of a week, a race car was produced, which is more than the workshop ever made during the rest of the year.

Sure, we could have asked him if we could have borrowed his tools, but no doubt he would want to be there to supervise. And then he'd want to help. We'd never get done while we were busy indulging the suburb-tinged fantasies of someone who didn't take wood shop and chose instead to idly worship at the altar of Television Presents: The Fantasy of Bob Vila in adulthood.

One year, Old Man Garrett got a security system. Probably this was because Ted (fucking Ted) didn't clean up the sawdust that one time like we asked him to. The old man must have seen the footprint, and realized that he did not wear size-seven Nikes. Child thieves, casing his precious table saw! Now, our humble breaking-and-entering had become significantly more difficult than "reach a coat hanger under the door and pull the emergency release."

With the help of some of the high-school kids who were taking electronics class, we managed to defeat the security system. We did so using an ancient Japanese technique known as "distract Old Man Garrett while he's setting it, and then cut the wires to the panel." I think it loses something in translation, but you get the gist of it. That year's car was especially sweet.

In adulthood, I got drunk and bragged to some work buddies about our little scam. They responded in abject horror, because I was still occupying the weird hump in the middle of a normal distribution of "acceptable crimes." It was terrifying to them to see one of their own, one of the suburbanites, speak openly about largely-harmless property crimes. What if we had been hurt, they shrieked. Around the water cooler, I would become a pariah, unless I could make amends.

I did hunt down Old Man Garrett after that, still feeling the sting of rejection. He was still on the property, and he still had a beautiful collection of immaculate cabinet-making tools in the garage. I rang his doorbell and, when he answered, I told him the whole story. He laughed.

"I knew it was you dumb shits from the beginning," he bragged. "Fucking Ted -"

"Fucking Ted," I echoed, unconsciously.

"Fucking Ted left his library book on building race cars behind on the workbench that first year. You didn't let him drive, did you?"

I shook my head. "We ran the car into him if the hockey-stick brakes ever failed."

We had a good laugh about the whole thing that evening, and I returned to work with my soul cleansed. It's just a pity Ted didn't know how bad he actually was at crime, before he tried to knock over that liquor store and all.

[euthymiya]

Starting an internship at the company Satoru’s father owns but you don’t know who he is just yet.

He’s annoying. He always comes back from lunch late, lets his phone ring at his desk (that’s conveniently placed next to yours) past the three ring policy, writes emails with silly and immature sign-offs, cracks jokes during meetings, and somehow, despite always finishing his paperwork late, he never manages to lose his damn job.

You try to mind your own business. But you can’t help but feel him slowly grate at your nerves as he acts so unprofessional and for some weird reason, not one person seems to care.

He seems pretty intrigued with you, too, if matters couldn’t get worse.

“Hey,” he grins. You try to ignore the tilt of his lips in amusement as you just barely fight off rolling your eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” You sigh, “I’m currently in the middle of something that requires my full attention, but maybe we could—”

“You really love your office jargon,” he hums, cutting you off with a wider grin, “so dedicated.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you smile tightly. He seems to straighten a little, some sick, twisted form of excitement rushing through his system at the way he seems to get under your skin. “Allow me to use simpler language for you to understand: go away, I’m busy.”

Someone has to stand up to this prick, you think. He puts in half the effort, and somehow, you’re pretty sure your boss has a soft spot for him. You don’t understand it, and quite frankly, you’ll be damned if a lazy, lackluster man snags a promotion before your hardworking self.

“Oh wow,” he snorts, “breaking your strictly professional streak, are you? You must be really occupied. I guess I’ll borrow your stapler later.”

Gritting your teeth, you give him yet another tight lipped smile before grabbing the stapler off your desk and handing it to him. (A small part of you resists the urge to throw it square at his face. Maybe the image of him on the floor with a bloodied nose would make your day a little easier, but then you’re sure you’d be jobless).

“Here you go,” you say with as much kindness as you can muster. (It’s not a lot). “Please do bring it back when you’re done. Some of us actually complete paper work, so the stapler is a necessity.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, “don’t worry, I won’t hold your stapler hostage for too long. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the flow of your productivity.”

You watch with wary eyes as he walks back to his desk, stapling some small, tiny note of sorts before walking right back, handing the paper and the stapler to you.

“What’s this?” You raise a brow.

“Some paper work for you to fill out,” he grins, the vagueness of his answer making a vein all but pop in your forehead.

Before you even have a chance to tell him that you most certainly will not be entertaining whatever silly prank he’s playing, he walks right off, sagging into his chair as he does an obnoxious little spin and goes back to typing at his computer. Probably yet another email with a ridiculous ending, you think to yourself.

Against your better judgement, you stare at the note, eyeing the small flap he’s stapled over an index card. You lift it up, quickly scanning over his scribbled writing.

Want to grab coffee during lunch? Check your answer:

▢ yes! ▢ absolutely! ▢ most definitely!

Your eye twitches.

Grabbing a pen, you quickly add a box underneath his (very confident) options, checking it off and writing in neat, pristine handwriting:

▣ not a chance!

You stand, walking over to his desk and ignoring his perked up, excited little smile as you drop the note back on the table and head back to your own desk. A tiny wave of satisfaction weaves through your body when you notice him read over your response and deflate, a small pout forming over his lips.

Regretfully, a small part of you can’t help but acknowledge that he’s actually…kind of cute when his lips are curled like that. But a larger part of you shakes that thought away and cringes internally. It’s a shame his personality ruins the genetic blessings he seems to have been bestowed with.

And you think that’s the end of it—but of course, with someone like Satoru in the office, there’s never the end of anything.

You watch as an email pops up on your screen, opening it only to stare blankly at his name and roll your eyes at the subject line:

────────────────────────

Follow-Up on Submitted Paperwork

Greetings office neighbor,

Thank you for submitting the paperwork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice that it does not fully align with the outlined guidelines. Could you please provide clarification or revise the submission accordingly?

Thanks a million,

Gojo Satoru :)

────────────────────────

And there he goes again with those obnoxious sign-offs, you think bitterly. Instantly, you’re clicking away at your keyboard as you type back an agitated response. Of course, you really shouldn’t entertain his ridiculous schemes, but something about him gets under your skin enough that you simply can’t help yourself.

You huff in approval at your response as you read it over before hitting send.

Instantly, as if he was waiting, you see his hand reach for his mouse and click on his screen to open your email as his eyes scan over your reply:

────────────────────────

Thank you for reaching out,

Unfortunately, I was unable to fully adhere to the outlined guidelines, as they are not viable in this situation. To address this, I adjusted the submission to align more effectively with a more practical outcome.

Hope that helps!

Your office neighbor :)

────────────────────────

Just when you think he’s given up, he rolls his chair over to your desk, causing a couple of annoyed heads to tilt up and glare at him for the noise before turning their attention back to their work. You pinch your nose as his chair rolls to a stop in front of your desk.

“Yes?” You grit through your teeth.

“Hey, office neighbor,” he hums, “just wanted to clarify your most recent email with you. I’m a bit confused.”

“Which part confused you?” You bat your lashes in faux charm, sarcastically smiling at him as he hums, grabbing a piece of candy from your little bowl of sweets at your desk and helping himself.

Your eye twitches a little at the gesture. Those are for you to enjoy throughout a miserable work day.

“Um…” he trails off as he pretends to think, “I’d say all of it.”

“I see,” you nod slowly, fighting every bone in your body not to snap at him with a colorful choice of words. “Essentially, the options in your original document did not highlight a plausible set of deliverables, so I corrected them for you with a more realistic one. Make sense?”

“Not really,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to scratch his head in confusion. You want nothing more than to grab those snowy locks and slam his face into your paper shredder. “Could you go over it one more time? I’m still lost.”

You’re just about to lose your patience with him when suddenly, the entire office seems to collectively take in a sharp breath, everyone scrambling to look as productive as possible while a tall, older looking man with suspiciously familiar white hair and blue eyes walks through the office. Something in your brain sets off alarm bells, but you can’t quite completely piece it together what it is about him seems so….recognizable.

“Who’s that?” You frown, scrunching your nose in confusion as everyone straightens up.

“That would be the final boss,” he snorts. You roll your eyes at his word choice before blinking and straightening up yourself.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, voice a panicked whisper as you ask, “you mean the owner of this company?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, raising a brow at you in amusement. “Never seen him before?”

“No,” you hiss, “I’m just the intern! Now go back to your desk before he thinks we’re goofing off, I’d like to keep my job, please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he hums.

You send him a nasty glare, just about at your wits end as you whisper-yell, “I am going to throw my stapler right at your—”

“Satoru, I need you in my office,” comes a stern, deep voice, interrupting you as you quickly shut your mouth.

“You got it, old man,” he salutes in mock seriousness. Suddenly, your spine goes rigid and your eyes widen. The man walks off with a firm nod as Satoru stands, giving you an innocent smile.

Suddenly, it dawns on you just why he looked so strikingly familiar.

“Did you just call him old man?” You blink, mouth agape.

“Yup,” he winks, walking backwards as his eyes stay trained on you while he heads for the elevator. “I’ll put in a good word for you when he’s in a better mood at home tonight. I think we can discuss the specifics over coffee during our lunch hour, yeah?”