You look into Trump’s eyes and you see the fear and confusion of a man who has just been told he’s got stage-four cervical cancer. He is a super-villain in a world without heroes, a man so obnoxious and unhappy that karma may see him reincarnated as himself. You kind of wish he’d get therapy, but at this stage it’s like hiring a window cleaner for a burning building. It’s still difficult to classify him exactly: he’s not a classic Nazi, but would burn books if his supporters knew how to read.
Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all! I hope everyone had a wonderful day, and I hope this fic makes it a little better!
This was written for @percyyoulittleshit who gave me the prompt:
“So let me get this straight. You want to hire me to be your date to a Valentine’s Party?” I hope it lives up to your standards, Mari!
“So let me get this straight. You want to hire me to be your date to a Valentine’s Day party?”
Annabeth sighed. Honestly, it sounded terrible when you said it that way. Well, she guessed that it would probably sound horrible any way you said it.
“Yes,” she snapped, tapping her foot against the sidewalk. “You just have to come to the party with me. We only have to stay for a few hours.”
Percy was silent as he considered. He was loading his band equipment into the back of his Jeep. Annabeth had seen him outside when she got home from track practice, which is when she decided to cross the street to his house and solicit his help.
Phichit making an insta account dedicated to taking cute pictures of Yuuri while he’s sleeping. Half are of Yuuri burrito-ing himself in blankets, and the other half are of him in what are probably uncomfortable positions with his glasses askew after falling asleep in the middle of studying. Fast forward to YOI timeline; Victor finds the account and sends a ton of pics to Phichit, his favorite being when he’s curled around Makka