starriesty

[starriesty]

are you open for reqs? 🫶

hello!! :D i hope you're feeling great 💗💗🌺🌺

and yes!! (:DDD

just, ehm, especially from mcyt :DD

(and not weird things 😦😦)

[starriesty]

te sigo de wattpad pq no publicas cupido loko 😾 (bromi te amo JAJAAJAJ) 💔💔 como te haces el gringo aquí (DE LA NADAAAA)

te doy con la chancla si no hay cupido loko de karmalans 💕💕

por qué me hablas asi amor 💔💔💔 ok entiendo escritora starriesty sobreexplotada laboralmente

maldito ya me acordé de ti DEJA DE AMENAZARME CON UNA CHANCLA *se onvierte en escritora alfa mujer lobo tosika

[starriesty]

hi!! i just wanted to say how well done your writings are >_< i do hope to see more of how you develop c!quack and especially how you write reader to be gender neutral, keep up the good work i love them so much!!!!!!!!!!!🐾

hello! :D thank you so much for your love words pookie 😭🥹💗🌺🌷

— i write [name] with gender neutral because it is difficult for me to describe someone as male or female 💔🥹

and when someone says they like the way i write, it makes me very happy!😭😭💗💗💗💗🌺🌺🌺🌺🌷🌷🌷🌷

(my happiness is demonstrated with uncontrolled emojis😛😋🤗)

[starriesty]

i love your characterizations of q so much!! your writing is very nice :]c

WAAAA THANK YOU!! 💗💗😿😿 you already lit up the rest of my day :D (and it's just 12 PM…)

these are my first posts here, thanks again! let's talk more if you'd like :D 🌷🌷💕💕

thanks, have a nice day <333

[starriesty]

💗🦆 ✦ do you think you can escape quackity las nevadas? (you can't.)

QUACKITY LAS NEVADAS HEADCANON

✦ pairing: quackity las nevadas x reader (they/them) ✦ genre: fluff + crack + slowburn tsundere core ✦ summary: after Charlie’s departure, Quackity clings—desperately, stubbornly—to his last personal assistant: [name]. not that [name] is actually planning to leave… but try telling that to Quackity. yeah. good luck with that. ✦ wc: 699 (just for fun :D)

[name] was sitting on the back steps of the Las Nevadas administrative building, chewing the last bite of their homemade tuna sandwich and Googling "flights to literally anywhere with a beach," when a shadow fell over them. A very familiar and very annoying shadow.

"What are you doing?" Quackity’s voice sounded way too casual to be casual.

"Existing," [name] replied. "Barely."

He squinted at their phone screen. "Are you looking at beaches?"

"Is that illegal now?" [name] muttered.

"Depends. Are you trying to abandon your job, your duty, and…" his voice cracked slightly, but he recovered with a cough, "and your contractual obligations?"

"Vacation," [name] said with their mouth full of sandwich.

Quackity stared at them, wide-eyed, like they’d just said they were planning to set the casino on fire. Again. By accident.

And okay, maybe this wouldn’t have been so dramatic if Charlie hadn’t left a few weeks ago. Dramatically. In the rain. With sad music. And the sound of ducks in the background. Ever since, Quackity hadn’t been the same. He didn’t laugh like before. He’d gotten… clingier. More sarcastic. More “I’m gonna make you sign a 49-clause contract just to walk five blocks away.”

“Denied,” he said flatly, tossing a newspaper aside. “Las Nevadas is in a crisis.”

“We’re functioning perfectly,” [name] argued. “Everything’s going as planned. The casino’s open. The vault’s secured. The fridge is finally restocked.”

“Emotionally,” Quackity corrected. “We’re in emotional crisis.”

“Oh my god.”

He looked at them. “You can’t leave.”

“I haven’t gone out in months. I’m seeing cactus mirages in the break room.”

“Those are real. You brought them.”

“I need new cacti.”

And [name], who honestly didn’t have time for a presidential emotional breakdown, said it:

“You’re being unbearable, Quackity. You’re literally projecting all your Charlie stuff onto me. I just want to relax. I don’t even like casinos.”

“Of course! Because everyone leaves! Nobody cares about this nation!”

“I don’t care about nations in general!”

The next morning, [name] packed a backpack with a towel, sunscreen, an ugly-but-functional sunhat, and a (very professional) letter of temporary resignation. Not final. Just a break.

They left it on their desk with a smiling cactus sticker.

Eventually, [name] reached the coast. Everything was perfect: the sun, the warm air, the succulents swaying in the breeze. The bright blue water. The silence.

Then came the shadow.

A familiar one.

One shaped like a hat.

"You know," Quackity said, standing next to their beach towel, "you could’ve told me you were coming to the coast."

[name] looked up slowly. “How did you find me?”

He pulled out the vacation form. “You wrote your destination in the notes.”

“I hoped you’d ignore that part.”

“I ignored the approval part, not the location.”

Of course.

Quackity didn’t sit right away. He stood there, awkward, watching the waves like he was afraid relaxing too much would dissolve him into salt.

“Did you follow me here?” [name] asked.

“No.”

“Yes.”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he pulled out a suitcase from behind his back. It had gold Las Nevadas detailing, with a tiny cactus keychain on the zipper.

“Is that your beach suitcase?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, taking off his shoes. “This isn’t a vacation. It’s a business inspection. Of coastal security zones.”

[name] laughed. Loudly.

Quackity frowned. “What?”

“You’re the clingiest boss I’ve ever had.”

“Shut up. I’m conducting an official inspection.”

“Of the ocean?”

“Of staff in unapproved locations. You. You’re the staff.”

Quackity huffed. Crossed his arms. Then looked up at the sky. Then at the cactus. Then back at [name].

[name] looked at him. Then looked again.

“You literally can’t be alone for more than two days.”

“I said shut up.”

[name] shrugged. “You can stay if you’re such a control freak.”

Quackity sat down without a word. He didn’t say “thank you.” He didn’t say “I miss you.” He didn’t say “I’ve felt alone since Charlie left.” But he sat there with them, watching the sea in silence.

[name] closed their eyes.

Maybe it wasn’t a perfect vacation. But at least, for now, they were together.

And the cactus seemed to approve.

thank you all people support my work :D

[starriesty]

💗🦆✦ quackity didn’t know [name] was allergic to ducks (awkward)

QUACKITY LAS NEVADAS HEADCANON

✦ pairing: quackity las nevadas x reader (them) ✦ genre: fluff + crack + slowburn tsundere core ✦ summary: [name] is allergic to ducks. unfortunately, quackity is very duck-coded. [name] tries to escape—quackity ties them down with a totally-not-exploitative las nevadas contract (haha oops, guess that’s love). ✦ wc: 656 (just for fun, you know-)

[name] had a very peculiar allergy.

it wasn’t one of those life-threatening allergies that required a medical certificate and emergency pills, but it was annoying enough to ruin their entire day: sneezing, watery eyes, itchy nose, and a voice so nasally that charlie once said they sounded like a duck trying to talk underwater. (he said it with love. probably.)

the cause?

chicken feathers.

and no, it wasn’t the chickens’ fault. [name] actually found them kind of cute. but just getting near one would send their immune system into a dramatic, horrible collapse.

so when they met quackity, they had a mild existential crisis.

because Quackity had wings. not just wings— feathered ears, a fluffy tail that sometimes wagged when he got excited, and a suit that definitely smelled like bird.

[name] went completely silent the first time they saw him, their eyes already irritated just from being in the same space.

—"are you okay? are you crying?" —asked the president of Las nevadas, as [name] blinked through tears and sneezed like they’d inhaled an entire plant.

—"it's nothing. I'm just sensitive to the environment..."

—"yeah, las nevadas has that kind of majestic air. i get it."

…he didn’t get it.

from that moment on, coexisting with him became slow torture.

quackity took off his coat? sneeze. flapped his wings as he walked? sneeze. leaned over the meeting table and a little white feather floated toward [name]? sneeze—dizzy.

And the worst part? Quackity found it adorable.

—"You've got an exotic allergy. Makes me feel unique."

—"It makes you feel unbearable."

—"Should I get feathered gloves too?"

[name] gave him a death stare.

they tried to keep their distance. slept with a scarf on, avoided his office chair, even sanitized everything with a flower broom (courtesy of Sam).

but then quackity would say things like:

—"you're gonna leave me with these incompetent fools? only you understand me, [name]."

and there they were again, breathing the contaminated air of las feather-nevadas.

of course, quackity noticed.

—"do you hate me?" —"no." —"then why do you treat me like I’m radioactive?"

but [name] never had the heart to say it outright. “sorry, i’m allergic to your entire feathered existence” just… sounded bad.

and as if that wasn’t punishment enough, they somehow ended up as his personal assistant. by his side. all day. watching as every time he shifted, clouds of allergy hell floated through the air.

once, [name] had a sneezing fit so intense they tripped over a lamp. that’s when quackity finally asked:

—"hey… are you allergic to feathers?"

[name] didn’t answer. they just gave him a look that said everything.

and so began the quackity allergy awareness era.

he started wearing this massive coat that covered his whole body (he looked like a walking beanbag), tied his tail up with a scarf (bad idea—don’t try that), and even kept his distance on purpose, like he was the one scared of hurting them.

it was… kind of sweet.

[name], still sniffling, started to smile more.

but of course—it was quackity, so eventually:

—"hey, I’ve dressed like a mummy all week. don’t I deserve a hug?"

—"NO! you’ll flap and I’ll literally die!"

—"just a little one. just with my hands. my wings won’t even move, I promise. Look, they’re asleep."

—"how can wings be asleep?!"

—"trust the process."

and that was the beginning of chaos.

because every time [name] started getting comfortable, quackity got excited, feathers flew, sneezing attacks returned, and their eyes were watering all over again.

and yet… [name] kept coming back.

—"was it worth it?" —quackity asked one day, handing them a tissue mid-sneeze.

—"for you, no. for me… also no. but I like you, i guess."

at some point, nobody understood why [name] still worked with him.

except [name].

and Quackity.

though one of them took it more seriously than the other.

—"do you want tea? feather-free?"

—"WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT, QUACKITY?! 😭"

starriesty notes: haha im driving crazy :3

[starriesty]

💗♦️✦ quackity (as a boss) has severe abandonment issues when [name] tries to quit

QUACKITY LAS NEVADAS HEADCANON

✦ pairing: quackity las nevadas x reader (them) ✦ genre: fluff + crack + slowburn tsundere core ✦ summary: las nevadas arc: “a jobless love story” [name] decides to quit their “very professional, absolutely indispensable, totally real” job in las nevadas. obstacle: quackity. ✦ wc: 720 words (just for fun)

“i quit.” — they say. but do they really?

[name] had enough.

enough of quackity talking at them like they were just a wall with a clipboard. enough of the fake job title, the unpaid labor, the daily assignments that included things like “stand near the fountain and look slightly impressed.” enough of cleaning up broken poker chips after charlie’s meltdowns, enough of being told to “look professional” when they hadn’t even been given a shirt with sleeves.

so, they quit.

they didn’t make a scene. just… left a note on quackity’s desk that said:

“thanks for the trauma. i’m gonna go work literally anywhere else. - [name]”

they packed the one bag they had (with their cactus tea mug, a pencil, and their sad collection of casino chips), dusted off their boots, and marched through the sunlit streets of las nevadas.

they would get a new job. A real one.

they tried the sandwich shop.

“sorry, we’re not hiring.” tried the hat store. “we only hire qualified people.” tried the cactuar delivery stand. “we already have a delivery person. it's… confidential.”

everywhere they went, there was a smile, a sorry, and a no. and behind the counter, always, always: a glance at the window. a whisper into a communicator. a lingering silence.

SUS. VERY SUS.

by noon, [name] had no job, no direction, and half a sandwich they’d been saving since breakfast.

they sat on the curb outside the general store, legs stretched out in the heat, chewing slowly. staring at the sky. thinking.

that’s when they heard the steps.

the confident, smug, stupidly well-timed steps of the one person they definitely did not want to see.

quackity.

“hey,” he said, standing over them. “you look like trash.”

[name] blinked up, chewing their sandwich with aggressive neutrality. “thanks. i feel worse.”

he crouched beside them, sunglasses glinting, wings twitching a little behind his back.

“you know…” he began slowly, like he’d practiced this in the mirror. “if you were struggling, you could’ve just asked for help.”

[name] narrowed their eyes. “i’m not struggling.”

“you’re sitting outside the store like a kicked puppy eating sad bread.”

“it’s a sandwich.”

he smirked. “it’s a cry for help.”

[name] stood up.

“well, guess what? i’m still not going back.”

quackity tilted his head, casual. “oh? i wasn’t gonna offer. just came to check if the streets were clean. it’s part of my job as president.”

“you’re following me.”

he gasped, mock offense. “me? follow you? noooo. i have a nation to run. important people to see.”

“you’ve ‘coincidentally’ found me four times today.”

he shrugged. “las nevadas is a small country.”

[name] groaned and started walking away. “leave me alone, quackity.”

he followed. “i can’t do that.”

“why?”

“because i haven’t trained a replacement yet.”

they stopped.

turned.

stared.

quackity stopped too, almost bumping into them.

“…you didn’t deny it,” [name] said, quietly.

“deny what?”

“that you’re the reason no one’s hiring me.”

he looked to the side. Whistled.

“quackity.”

“i mean,” he muttered, “i might’ve reminded the locals that you’re… technically under contract.”

“i’m not!”

“…you were. it was verbal. verbal. lots of yelling involved. that counts.”

[name] glared. “i quit.”

he looked at them now, a little more serious.

“you think quitting solves everything?”

“it’s called boundaries.”

he hesitated. then added:

“…it’s also called abandonment.”

silence. [name] flinched.

and quackity immediately looked away, biting his cheek, clearly regretting his own words.

a beat passed.

“i just…” he tried again. “look. you were useful. i mean—good. at your job. even when i was a dick.”

“you still are.”

“yeah. i know. but when you’re around, i feel like I’m not talking to myself. that’s… useful.”

[name] blinked.

then blinked again.

“…that’s your apology?”

“i’m new at this.”

“you kidnapped me, quackity.”

he raised a finger. “hired. forcefully.”

“you trapped me in a pyramid and made me host poker nights.”

“that was training.”

[name] sighed. looked at the sandwich in their hand. it had a bite mark in the shape of stress.

they sat back down. quackity sat beside them.

another silence.

“i still hate the job,” they muttered.

he nodded. “i’ll double your salary.”

“it was zero.”

“…i’ll give you a cookie every friday.”

“add cactus tea and you’ve got a deal.”

he held out a hand.

[name] didn’t take it right away.

but they didn’t walk away either.

note: quackity is a pretty weird boss. (my first post! hey! i'm starriesty, i just write because it's fun :D)

[starriesty]

baby, keep talkin' but nobody's listening

🎧 based on "bored" by laufey (link)

one-shot (yes that's my draw-)

✦ pairing: quackity las nevadas x reader (them) ✦ genre: angst ✦ summary: quackity is so self-centered, [name] is tired of listening to him and being treated like an ignored advisor. (in reality, quackity just wants to impress them.) ✦ wc: 570 words

...

the bakery bell rang as he pushed the door open—like always, unannounced. as if walking into your space required no permission, no manners, not even, well, a “hello.”

—"[name]! you're here," he smiled, as if it were a surprise to find you in your own shop, ignoring your apron and flour-covered hands.

—"i'm baking, quackity."

—"perfect. that means you have time."

it wasn’t a question.

you already knew how this would go: small talk, some clever line, and then the same old offer disguised as a demand:

—"let’s go to the casino, i’ve got things to show you. i need your opinion." another phrase that really meant: “i want you there while i talk for hours and never let you speak.”

you sighed. you didn’t say no. but you didn’t say yes either.

he was already halfway turned around before noticing your lack of enthusiasm.

the wine glass had your name, but not your taste. he never remembered that you hated wine. too sour. too fancy for you, in his opinion.

quackity talked. a lot. about las nevadas. about ponk. his power. his tower. his enemies. his plans. his mind. all him.

and you just sat there, glass untouched, the smell of cigarettes crawling into your nose like a warning.

your head pounded slowly.

quackity never remembered that tobacco made you dizzy.

“and then I thought, ‘why not build another floor?’” he laughed, exhaling smoke right into your eyes.

you blinked. once. twice.

and then you'd had enough.

you stood up without saying a word at first. just grabbed your coat from the back of the chair and started putting it on. he looked at you, confused, almost offended.

“what now?”

“i’m tired, quackity.”

“of what?”

“of this. of you. of being your pocket advisor that you never actually listen to.”

quackity frowned, taking another drag of his cigarette. sometimes it seemed like he smoked just to avoid saying what he really felt.

“don’t say that. we’re friends.”

you laughed. without humor.

“i’m your friend, quackity. not a trash can for you to dump your crap into.”

“are you mad because I didn’t take your advice on the ponk thing?”

“no. i’m mad because you didn’t even hear it. you never hear anything. you talk like you’re the only person in the room.”

he stood up, quickly.

“you’re really doing this? now?”

“yes. because if i don’t do it now, i’ll sit through another night of listening to you talk and pretend to care.”

“you don’t get it. you’re just a baker. i run a nation.”

“and yet, when you first came to l’manberg with nothing, i listened to you like you were a king.”

silence.

“now you can’t even remember that i hate wine.”

ihs expression cracked for just a second. a barely visible fracture. but real.

“you’re gonna go see your other friends, huh?” he muttered, shoulders tense. his little wings behind him twitched nervously. “charlie, or… whoever else. anyone but me.”

“no. i’m going home. to sleep. to rest. in peace. in silence.”

“[name]…”

“don’t follow me. i’m tired of being here just for you.”

you turned around. walked toward the casino’s exit. the lights flickered behind you like they wanted to hold you back.

quackity didn’t move. he stayed right there, between the untouched glass of wine and the dinner that never began.

he looked at the wine. still full.

“…right,” he whispered. “you don’t like wine.”

...

ty for reading lol (just silly writing files starriesty makes bc she wants to get better at english translation 💌)