im sorry i know i should be writing reqs but i just can’t stop thinking about slightly creepy office au coworker dottore...... im horn
you have a boring 9-5 job, trying to find joy in the mundane, else you go crazy. waking up to birds chirping outside of your bedroom window, the tasty to-go coffee and breakfast sandwich you always get in the morning, and your coworker greeting your still-sleepy self when you step into the office. always one to gossip, she’d motion for you to hurry up and sit at your cubicle so she can gush about whatever rumor was currently roaming the building.
“have you seen zandik lately? his temper is worse than usual! think he just got broken up with or something? honestly, i see why his partner would call things off, it seems like he’s always prioritizing work over people...” you take a long sip of your coffee, relishing in the newfound energy that flooded your system. it takes you a minute to process your coworker’s claim.
“how do you know he was even in a relationship in the first place?” you ask, scoffing in amusement at how fast her brain seemed to work; it was almost impressive, really. “well, he’s handsome, for one. and he’s loaded! i don’t understand how he can afford such a nice car with a salary like ours,” she sulks as she finishes her rambling. you take the opportunity to finish your food, setting your half-empty cup down to start prepping your workspace.
“inheritance? or he’s crazy good at managing money,” you suggest. just as you thought your coworker was about to drop the topic, she perks up and slams her hand on her desk a tad bit too loudly. “oh! or maybe he works a second job? y’know, the cost of living is getting pretty high, so maybe he has a 5-9 on top of working here!”
someone shoots her a look that says “it’s still early, lower your voice”, and she grins at them awkwardly before turning to look at you with a smile that rivals someone that just uncovered the cure to a deadly disease.
you pause your typing, fingertips resting idly on the mechanical keyboard. “why do you care about what he’s up to, anyways? usually you avoid talking about zandik or any of the higher-ups because you know they’ll probably get us in trouble,” you point out, your shoulder getting hit as soon as the words leave your mouth. giggling lightly at how dramatic her reaction was, you turn your attention from your computer to your coworker. you’re met with a petrified expression and uncomfortable body language along with the lack of natural light behind you.
“and why, pray tell, are we gossiping about my foul mood?” someone says from behind you, though you could recognize its owner anywhere. your blood runs cold— the warmth from your morning coffee having vanished from your body, not a single trace left in the presence of the office’s most intimidating employee (arguably). your coworker flashes him a wide, albeit shaky smile, and shakes her head a bit too quickly for it to be considered normal.
“n-not gossiping! we’re just concerned for your health! right?” she says your name, nudging your foot from underneath the desk. you don’t have time to decide whether you want to detach yourself from your predicament or to go along with her bullshit because zandik bends down to your level, flashing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his dull eyes as he speaks for you. “then avoid spreading rumors about my personal life, it gives me a headache,” he murmurs quietly.
you’d catch the unspoken threat in his voice if you weren’t so flustered. he was so close you could smell his cologne— musky sandalwood that made your head spin, losing whatever train of thought you had just seconds ago. “s-sorry,” you’re the one that apologizes since your coworker was frozen in fear, looking more like a deer facing headlights than an office worker.
zandik’s lips stretch wider, vermillion eyes narrowing at her before flickering over to you. you immediately look away, suddenly now noticing the sheer lack of space between you two. if what you were doing before was unprofessional, then this was beating it by a landslide. although you couldn't help but wish that he bent down to your level more often. though, at the same time, he looked good looking down at you…
he stays like this for a few more uncomfortable seconds before straightening his back and walking away, no words spoken between the three of you. your coworker exhales a breath she had been holding in, and turns to face her desk in silence.
you're left with a rapidly beating heart and the need to take a bathroom break even though you just clocked in not even ten minutes ago.
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maybe an unpopular opinion but i don’t think any of the regular g3 dolls should b exclusive to any stores that aren’t present worldwide, or have an equivalent in every country the dolls are typically sold. there’s no sense to me having dolls exclusive to american only stores, cause then that means everyone who doesn’t hav access to those stores is expected to pay a stupidly inflated price for them … like, if i want toralei, which i do, i’m looking at spending about £50 minimum - before shipping - for her. tell me that makes sense to anyone involved
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here's how it goes:
everyone spends valentine's day in DEEP denial. tubbo isn't dead, he CAN'T be. when they die they come back, that's how it is, how it's ALWAYS been. the island is hell but at least fatalities don't stick, except in specific cases and all of them in the same white shells. of course philza jokes, he's thinking about tubbo, he can't stop. he's expecting tubbo to jump out at any moment, he's expecting to go to fobo and see tubbo hidden in the basement throwing darts at a picture of fit and pac looking at each other, he's expecting to go back to the dungeon and the body is gone (he hopes). tubbo's not dead. he can't die. none of them can, just the eggs.
(it never takes this long to come back; he knows something is wrong)
here's how it goes:
tubbo tells the kids "i'm on my last life." the eggs have always had lives. i don't think some of them have ever understood that the players have infinite chances, with their insistence on protecting their caretakers from deaths like their caretakers do for them, charging back into the eye worker war, refusing to back out of a dangerous dungeon before their parents do, wanting to protect. i don't know if they understand that to the players, death is like spit in the face: unpleasant, sure, but no big deal.
tubbo tells the kids "i'm on my last life" and of course they believe him. death is their constant companion, no more than two doors down. some eggs are used to it being a breath away.
here's how it goes:
tubbo is dead. the children mourn him. the players are scared. defiant. they always are. who among them has died? dan, missing; spreen, gone; maximus... well there was no body, no announcement, surely-
(how long did it take pierre to accept it? to realize it? to take down the missing person posters? not a day. not a day.)
juanaflippa died and there was a court case to save her. bobby died and the whole server journeyed to save him. when is the last time the players have taken death lying down?
here's how it goes:
tubbo dies, and he dies unloved (fit's arm is stretched out to save him). he dies without purpose (sunny is there, she's waiting, she knows he won't move). he dies and no one cares (chayanne refuses to leave, his godfather, he failed his-)
here's how it goes:
the valentine's party is so loud but too quiet. there's a name in the air, even when no one is saying it
"wow sure is good tubbo isn't here" phil says (he's said this before, he'll say it again, but isn't it strange how many times? perhaps even he doesn't believe it. perhaps he's trying to convince himself.)
here's how it goes:
a creature with too many faces comes. it tells them the truth they won't face. tubbo is gone.
quesadilla island says, "not for long"
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