In the recent “Welcome to the Madness” manga, Yuri references the fact that he bought his WttM outfit while he and Otabek were shopping in Barcelona together. this is a short, fluffy, comic about that time.
if you enjoy my work, and are able to, please consider making a donation through ko-fi! (^ ___^) at ko-fi.com/kofiforpidgy the more support i can get for my work here, the less time i have to spend on other projects! thank you! and no matter what, thanks for making this fandom so fun! 🖤
mostly instrumental music for improved
best for “chill” study sessions i.e. re-reading
lessons, rewriting notes, making annotations, flashcards etc
of cool breeze floating gently into the room,
causing the edges of curtains to flutter. you look up from your notebook and notice
how quiet the world is, how clean your desk is. books are neatly stacked in a corner;
the vase has fresh daisies in it. you can hear your soft breathing in the
1m 1m since theyve hated me 1m 1m 1m 1m 2m 2m since theyve hated me 2m am i crazy? 2m 2m 2m yes 2m no 2-3m yesno 3m since theyve hated me 3m 3m 3m 3m 3m am i crazy? 3m 3yesm no3m 4M 4 MINUTES SINCE THEYVE HATED ME WHAT DID I DO WRONG 4m 4m 4m 5m minutes since theyve hated me 5m 5m i hate them 5m 5m im disgusting 5m 5m 6m since theyve hated me 6m 6m 6m since theyve hated me and i liked them? 7m since theyve hated me 7m 7m 7m 7m 7am i cmrazy7m 7m ye7sno im notm 7m im fine 7m theres nothing even wrong with me 8m since theyve hated me 8m 8m 8m 8m 8m im going to kill myself today 8m 8m 8m 9m since theyve hated me 9m 9m 10m 10m TEN MINUTES AND IVE WAITED ALL DAY FOR THEM AND THEY HATE ME WHY DID I EVEN WASTE MY TIME FOR TH-
A story of why you should ALWAYS pay your web designer...
So I have (had?) a client that decided he didn’t want to pay the full price for my web design services AFTER he signed the agreement. What happened was he paid my 50% deposit, and I sent him the beta version on my server. He took that link to other designers and asked them to build it for cheaper. When he found a designer who would, he told me he was no longer needing a website for his business and wanted to terminate. When I said he was on the hook for the amount, he ignored me for a week and then told me he hated the website. I sent collections after him and the agent found out he had another designer working for him. This new designer charges $350 for a complete website with a year of hosting and SEO.
What happened next is phenomenal.
New designer couldn’t copy my website, so he provided an HTML (non responsive, to boot) website instead. Collection agent gave me the new website and when I looked, it was okay looking. I checked the source and right in the header tag, it said, “mirrored from…”
His designer copied the code, pictures, slogan and favicon from this other company. Being the good little designer I am, I contacted the company and asked if they knew their website had been copied. Obviously, they did not. I sent a bunch of screen caps and information to him.
Owner of website contacted my (ex) client and ripped him a new one. Client threw the designer under the bus, so the company owner called the designer next. Owner of the company threatened corporate lawyers on him.
By 11pm last night, the website was offline. By 7am this morning, a new website was up… again mirrored from a hair & beauty salon in Las Vegas.
So I called the web designer of that website and let him know. His response, “of all the websites I’ve done, they copied that one?”. He called the designer and the designer responded by removing the “mirrored from” tags in the code. Original designer will be doing a little research and starting the process for theft of intellectual property tomorrow.
Because I’m a horrible person, I went through this designer’s profile and found a few more copied websites, and sent screen caps of pages and the code to each of the original owners, as well as information on what to do. If someone wants to copy code and learn from it, fine. But don’t sell someone’s hard work as your own.
At this point, I don’t even care if I get paid from my ex client, because I have been so amused by this entire saga. But I updated my collections agent and after he was done laughing, he was going to call my ex client back and recommend he pay me completely and get the original website I created for him, rather than the mirrored hack job(s) he also paid for.
Teenagers are the worst to try and wake up. I was wondering if you'd ever write a ficlet where Yuri stays the night at the Katsuki-Nikiforov household and the couple work together to try and get Yuri up and ready for the day. I'd like to see all of the insults the blond would throw as his two "parents" try to get him out of bed hahaha
It’s been almost a full 30 minutes since Yuuri came in here and, despite that Mari has always said he possesses the personality of a particularly adorable doormat, he’s just about at his wit’s end.
No one ever prepared him for anything like this. Mari would already be up and about by the time he woke up, helping to set up for the day, and Yuuri isn’t entirely sure that his parents actually sleep at all; Phichit would bounce out of bed at the slightest provocation, ready to greet the day by posting a “this is my brushing my teeth face” selfie; Victor rises from their sheets like a siren surfacing from the sea, all smiles and pillow creased cheeks, and kisses the sleep away from Yuuri’s lips with a rumpled grin. Even Makkachin doesn’t give him trouble when he nudges her awake for their morning walks.
Yuuri himself, even in the midst of his worst teenage attitude, had never been this bad.
It shouldn’t be surprising that he’d probably have an easier time trying to wake the dead. Yuri Plisetsky has always been in a class of his own.
“Yuri, please,” he tries, pulling with all of his not inconsiderable strength, but the cotton duvet burrito that has taken up residence in their guest room doesn’t budge. “The photographers said they were going to be at the rink at 8am sharp.”
“Get out,” the burrito snarls.
“Get up,” Yuuri pleads. “Lilia’s entirely filled up my voicemail. Yakov is threatening to come over himself and I’m not ready to deal with him so early in the morning. I need time to prepare, Yuri. You can’t expect me to survive his shouting before 7am. Is this really how you want me to die?”
The burrito somehow curls into itself until it’s less of a burrito and more of a pill bug. “Fuck off, pig! Why would you schedule this stupid thing so early?”
“You scheduled this stupid thing!” Yuuri puts his hands on his hips. “You said you’d be at your skinniest early in the morning.”
“I said no such thing!” The pill bug flat-out lies. “Now get out!”
“Why did you even come to stay with us if you weren’t going to keep your meeting? You live closer to the rink than we do.”
There’s no answer.
“Yuri.” Nothing. “Yuri.” Zip. “Don’t make me call Yuuko.” Zilch. “You little Russian punk, get out of bed this instant!”
“Fine. Have it your way. When Yakov and Lilia paint the rink with your blood because of this, I won’t shed a single tear.”
Yuuri stomps into the kitchen, hoping for a little bit of sympathy, but Victor is too busy watching something on his phone. A tinny rendition of In The Hall of the Mountain King pours from the palm of Victor’s hand; he’s studiously jotting down notes as the music picks up tempo.
“He’s your son.” The only one who hears and soothes his pain is the box of
Пряники hiding in the back of a cabinet. “I’m not doing him any more favors until he checks that attitude.”
Victor nods absently and crosses something out on the pad of paper in front of him, scribbling above it. “Mm-hmm.”
Blinking, Victor snaps out of it and looks around. “Yuri’s not up?”
“Nope,” Yuuri says through a mouthful of delicious, sugary goodness. “And good luck trying to change that.”
With a scowl that even Yuuri’s own father would be envious of, Victor slides off the stool and walks over to the door that opens onto the balcony. He opens it and shouts, “Otabek, what a surprise! Come on in!” Then slams the door shut.
From deep within the condo comes the deep, bone-chilling howl of a creature roused from its slumber at the mere mention of its embarrassing crush, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor. “WHAT THE FUCK TELL HIM NOT TO COME IN HERE I’M GETTING DRESSED!”
Yuuri stares into the hallway. “Seriously?”
Victor beams and turns his attention back to his phone. “Oh, look. Our son is awake.”
I knew SJM was going to heal Chaol. It’s the entire premise for the book, so of course she would. I just had no idea it would feel like this.
I know I made a vague post about Tower of Dawn, but then I tried to go to sleep and realised I was still pissed so here’s a detailed account of what the phrase “get up” means to me, an actual disabled person, rather than SJM, an abled person who decided to write a disabled character being healed by nothing but those two magic words.
So here’s what get up means to me:
It started with sleeping in. It got harder to wake up every morning. My parents were convinced that I just wasn’t motivated enough, so they kept telling me to (guess what) get up. Because that’s what you say to a moody teen that won’t get out of bed, right?
Then, I started falling asleep in class. I developed a rash over my legs that made walking painful, and the pain felt like it seeped into my bones over time, leaving my legs painful constantly. I walked oddly, stiffly, around the house and at school, and it aggravated a knee injury I had from a car accident 3 years prior, one that I thought had healed within 2 months of the accident. I was wrong, and I’ve continued to be wrong to this day. The rash healed, but my knee did not.
Eventually, I stopped going to school. I tried multiple doctors until I found one that my mother liked. This doctor seemed to believe that I should be woken at 7am every morning, come hell or high water. She misdiagnosed me with an autoimmune disease (easy to do, given that CFS bears striking similarities in some cases) and subsequently viewed my chronic fatigue as a symptom of a greater problem, one she could treat with vitamins, antidepressants, a better diet, more sunlight, etc, etc.
She was wrong.
I, being 14, didn’t get to say that she was wrong. I didn’t get to say that it hurt me when I went to physiotherapy under her orders and was forced onto the rowing machine. I didn’t get to say that it hurt me to do stretches sometimes, that it upset me when I was told to stop being lazy, to get up. I sure as hell didn’t get to tell my parents to stop trying to wake me up at 7am.
My fatigue grew worse. Soon, I got delirious when my mother tried to wake me, often having no memory of her waking me the first few times. She’d insist that I spoke to her when she woke me, that I acknowledged her, but I couldn’t remember. I’d wake at noon after 5 hours of being woken up every 10 minutes with no memory of being woken previously. I thought I was going crazy.
And through it all, I was told to get up.
Soon, I figured out that pain kept me awake. To stop myself from falling asleep in class and getting into trouble, I started beating my injured knee. It never bruised or bled, but it kept me awake. It helped me get up. I wasn’t to know that that would leave me with an injured knee to this day.
Soon, it escalated to me being unable to stay awake for more than 4 or 5 hours at a time. My school attendance was adjusted to only half-days, until even that grew too much for me. Sleep became painful, and I had to prop my knee up on a certain angle to keep the pain at bay for long enough to get the rest I needed, waking every time I shifted in my sleep.
Desperate, my parents and doctor cooked up a plan to admit me to a hospital for what they called “sleep therapy”. Basically, medical personnel would do exactly what my mother had, only they’d enforce a curfew, take away my laptop and electronic devices at night, force me into an exercise regimen, and, in my doctor’s words, “reset me”. After my experiences with physiotherapy, I was terrified of having no voice there.
Thankfully, we moved away at that point, and I lost touch with my doctor. Being admitted to that hospital became impossible given the distance, so I started at a new school with new kids. I had to explain my illness to every teacher I had, because none of them knew I was disabled. Apparently there’s no memo-type arrangement for that. It was mortifying. On my first day I was forced to walk the marathon track through the bush. I was 16, but I couldn’t articulate to them in a way they respected that it wasn’t just a matter of willpower, whether or not I could walk the track.
Turned out, it was. I willed myself through the track because I was embarrassed. I got through the day. Because I’m that strong and inspiring, right?
When I got home, I collapsed. I spent the next 24 hours in bed, unable to even get up to pee. All I did was take pain medication, eating when I needed to to take stronger doses. I barely remember the next 3 days after that, spending most of the time sleeping in bed, sleeping on the couch, or sleeping in the shower.
I received no apology from the school.
Eventually, I got up again. I went back. Months passed, and even though I only attended intermittently, I was soon appointed as a Student Leader. I have a loud personality, when I’m awake, so I guess they figured it would be useful in some capacity. I expressed concern about attending the student leadership training day, but was informed that I couldn’t become a student leader if I didn’t. So I went, having been assured that it was indoors.
First was a hike up a cliff. I almost fell over three times, convinced that if I did I’d never live it down. My knee gave out once, but I managed to stay upright. Several of my peers joked about me looking exhausted because I “wasn’t used to exercise”.
We sat down at the top of the hill, then. You know how, if you have an injury, it feels worse the next morning when you wake up? For me, sitting down without heat packs applied to my joints does the same thing. I’ll always hurt more when I get up.
So, sitting on the hard ground for half an hour listening to some camp counsellor talk wasn’t ideal. When it came time to leave, I knew I’d be so much worse.
It took me several tries to stand. Several people deemed it necessary to tell me to get up.
We walked back to the main house and sat inside for a while, talking. I was not provided with a comfortable chair, as they were few and far between and I was lagging behind the group. No one offered me one. I was the last to arrive, so I sat on the floor. Because that’s fair, right?
Later that afternoon, we were broken into groups for a scavenger hunt around the woods. I objected, informing a teacher that I was tired, but he told me that if I stayed in the house someone would have to stay to supervise me, and everyone was getting involved in the hunt. The same teacher that promised me there was no physical activity involved in the trip made me feel like my pain was a burden while I was trying to learn how to be a leader.
I got up.
I went through the motions of the scavenger hunt, sitting down on the ground and rocks where I could. Not because the pain would stop, but because my legs felt like jelly and the amount of time I could spend on them was decreasing. The more we walked away from the main house, the more panicked I got. What if I couldn’t walk back to the house? I didn’t have a wheelchair, or anything to help me get there. I voiced my concerns to the other members of my group, but they informed me that I was being dramatic and it was “just a little bit longer”.
I did make it back to the bus. I limped into my mother’s car at the school where we met up, and fell asleep immediately.
When we arrived home, I had to walk out of the car and into my bedroom, which was up a flight of stairs at that time. I fell over at the bottom and bawled my eyes out, practically crawled up them, and had to have food and water brought to me for 3 days afterwards.
All because they told me to get up. Get up from the ground, get up from my chair, get up the cliff–I had to do it, right?
I received no apology. I dropped out of high school a few months later.
Get up doesn’t cure disabilities. It puts us in danger. I don’t get up anymore. I roll out of bed after 12 hours of hibernation, but I don’t get up. I don’t set alarms. People don’t wake me (deliberately). Physically, I don’t really get up anymore. Not like this. Getting up for me means sitting up, tying my hair back, and getting to work on my novel. That’s getting up. Sometimes I can’t even do that.
I knew SJM was going to heal Chaol. I’d accepted that. I just had no idea it would feel like I never want to get up again.
People ask “How did you get out of depression?” and my answer is genuinely “I don’t know.” I just remember…I remember vividly I woke up in this room. I just handed in my final paper. I pulled an all-nighter. Maybe the lack of sleep switched something, I have no idea. I handed in my paper, I went to sleep. I remember waking up. It was 7am. I woke up in this very bed on this side of the bed. And it sounds so dramatic, but it’s the truth: that was the first time in a whole year I realized that the sun was shining. And I woke up and I was like “Oh god, it’s so hot. It’s such a sunny day.” And I turned around and I was like “Wow, it’s such a sunny day.” And to be honest, every day prior to that might’ve been sunny, but that’s the first time I realized it.
CAN I HAVE A FLUFFY SOULMATE AU WITH LAURENS!!!
WHERE THEY HAVE A TATTOO OF THE FIRST WORDS THEIR OTHER HALF SAYS TO THEM!!!!
PRETTY PLEASE MY LOVE! ❤❤❤ @predomina-buna
Warnings: None, just fluff my dudes
A/N: i wrote this in a hour so im hope it’s halfway decent, enjoy! and i havent wrote any soulmates so i hope i did this right??
“Well, you’re pretty beautiful.”
Those were the words on your skin. Those were the words
that your soulmate would say to you. Overall, it was quite uncommon to see soul
mates together. Most people gave up on the idea, marrying someone other than
their soulmate. But you, on the other hand, were determined to find them,
whomever they may be. But every time you looked at those words, you worried
that you would never find them. That you would never experience seeing and
hearing your soulmate for the first time.
And it was killing you.
You worked at a flower shop, across the street from an
office building. Some days, you would encounter customers whom worked in that
building. A lot of them told you about their jobs, some more than others. As
you were unlocking the door to the shop, your boss, Peggy Schuyler, sneaked up
“Y/N! Why are you coming in so early?” She asked, perky as
always. You smiled at her, unlocking the door. You held open the door for her,
and she bounced in with you.
“There’s a big order for flowers that came in yesterday. I
just have to make sure everything is ready for the delivery.” She nodded,
sitting on top of the counter. You rolled your eyes at her, smiling softly.
Peggy was the most energetic boss you’ve ever had. She
didn’t seem to be too concerned about sales or anything that seemed too
troubling to her. She always called you her
boss, saying that this place would not run without you. You didn’t mind, since
being around flowers all day was pleasant. As you cleaned up the shop, she
grabbed a flower, sniffing it.
“You know, Y/N, you’re amazing. You keep up with this stuff
more than I do.” She winked at you, helping you fix up the shop. The hours in
the shop were short, opening at 7am and closing at 2 in the afternoon.
Honestly, this was the best job you’ve ever had. And she paid you more than
what you needed. You even told her that she gave you too much, but she shook
her head at you, saying that you were her best employee.
Oh, by the way, you were the only employee.
“Did you go and see your boyfriend yesterday? You were
talking about how excited you were to see the movie.” You said, fixing a
display. You grabbed the order form, and began filling it. She nodded,
“Herc brought me to a restaurant afterwards. He’s so
sweet.” She has a dreamlike gaze in her eyes, and you smiled at her, feeling a
small emotion called jealously full your heart.
Peggy was one of the lucky ones. She bumped into her
soulmate on the way to her shop. She almost dropped flowers that she was
carrying, but Herc helped her, asking if she was alright. And that’s how they
knew. It was a love story unlike any other; they were complete opposites, she
was all smiles and laughter, and he was loud and sorry to say, obnoxious. But
the look on her eyes when they were together told you that they were meant to
“When you get married, you better invite me.” You teased,
winking at her. She blushed, putting her face in her hands.
“I’m so nervous, Y/N. What if Mull doesn’t want to marry
me? What if this whole thing is a dream and I’m actually a single, lonely
“Trust me, this is real, Peg. And I could tell he’s ready
to be with you forever. Did you forget that you were soulmate? You’re meant to
be, And the universe picked for the two of you to be together. Don’t worry
about it.” She beamed at you, running to the back of the store. You noticed her
trip over her feet, but she caught herself, continuing to run to the back.
She’s an interesting woman.
The bell pinged, indicating a customer walking in. You
glanced up, seeing a man with straight brown hair walking in. He wore a dark
green suit, looking around the shop. You greeted him. “Good morning, sir. How
can I help you?” He looked at you, his brown eyes meeting yours. He gave you a
“Oh. Hi. I’m just looking for lilies. My wife is kind of
stressed, since we have four kids at home. I wanted to give her something to
remind her that I love her. And her favorite flower is lilies.” You nodded,
guiding him to the white lilies. He smelled the flower, then looked at you. “Do
you ever smell anything but plant when you sniff flowers?” You laughed.
“Actually sir, I do. Yes, they do smell like plants. But
certain ones have a sweet plant smell that I just love. But yes, plant smell.”
“Can I get two dozen of these?” You raised your eyebrow,
and he shrugged. “She’s the love of my life, so there’s no limit for her. Have
you met your-“ He glanced at the black tattoo on your arm, and stopped talking.
“No biggie.” You replied, smiling.
The people who have met their soulmate have their tattoos faded
into a light red, still permanently on their skin. You already knew he was
telling about his, since you noticed the color peeking out of his sleeve. He
smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.
You took two dozen lilies off the shelf, and as you were
packing them, you told him how to care for them properly. You heard Peggy come
out of the back, her grin widening when she saw the man. “Alexander!” She
squealed, running into his arms. The man, you now knew as Alexander, widened
his eyes, and pulled her into his arms.
“Peggy! How are you?”
“I’m well. I thought you knew this was my flower shop?
Didn’t Eliza tell you?” He shook his head.
“Eliza told me you owned one, but I didn’t know which. I
should have noticed, since it does say Peg’s Flowers.” He joked. She laughed,
then glanced at you.
“Oh! This is Y/N, Alex. She’s the manager and my only
employee. She pretty much runs this place, I just do the accounting.” She
smiled, and Alex held out his hand. You took it, and shook his once. “Without
her, I think nothing would get done.”
“Well then, thank you for dealing with Peggy.” He said
smiling at you. You shook your head.
“Peggy’s the best boss I’ve had. I’m sure I should be the
one thanking her.” As they talked, you packed the flowers, making sure that
everything was okay. After you were finished, Alex handed you cash, in which
Peggy quickly took away. You raised your eyebrow. “Peggy, that’s two dozen.”
“Anything for my brother-in-law. But if you come back,
Alex, you’ll have to pay.” He laughed, shaking his head.
“I’ll pay now. I have no problem with doing so Pegs.”
She refused to let him pay, ushering him out the shop. Once
she went into the back, Alexander quickly came back in, handing you the money.
You thanked him, giving him the change. He waved bye to you, running out into
the day. You continued to fill the big order, finishing just in time for the
customer to come in.
You looked up again, seeing a group of men walk in. One was
taller than the rest, his curly hair pulled back into a bun. Lafayette. As he was speaking to his friends, you noticed
a distinct accent. There was another almost as tall, wearing a light gray hat
and was bulky. Hercules. The shortest one, had a freckled face, his wavy hair
pulled back into a ponytail. This was one you didn’t know, so you kept your eye
on him. They all wore suits, so you assumed that they were coming from the office
building just across the street.
“Good morning, love.” Lafayette said, winking at you. He
already found his soulmate as well, the red bright on is dark skin.
“Good morning to you!” You said, smiling. “How can I help
you?” You asked.
“We ordered flowers yesterday, for a proposal.” He said.
“Well, it’s not mine, it’s this fellow right here.” He pointed at Herc, and
Herc winked at you. You rolled your eyes.
Why would you but flowers for your future fiancée at her
own shop? “Nice job, Herc. That’s the smartest idea you’ve ever had.” He
“You know, Y/N, I feel like I sense some sarcasm in your
voice. How dare you treat me this rudely.” He crossed his arms in mock anger.
You stuck your tongue at him, taking the flowers out of the back. You heard the
smaller one talking to the others, and you heard your name in the conversation.
You walked back with the flowers, frowning.
“You know, it’s rude to speak about someone when they’re
not in the room.” You said to the freckled man, which then, his smile grew, looking
at you. His eyes twinkled, and you wondered what his problem was.
“Well, you’re pretty beautiful.”
You almost dropped the flowers in your hand, looking at
him. He smiled, showing the words on his forearm. You looked at it, seeing the
words that you just said glowing on his. You looked down at your, seeing the
words glowing as well. “You’re my soulmate.” You whispered. He smiled, helping
you with the flowers in your hands. Your fingers brushed against one another’s,
and you felt that spark that people talked about.
“And you’re my soulmate. Nice to meet you, I’m John
Laurens.” He placed the flowers in his friend’s hands, holding out his to you.
You touched his, feeling the warmth going up your arm. “Wow, so this is how it
feels, to finally be with the one.” You noticed that his arm was shaking,
probably from his nerves. You didn’t blame him, you were still shocked as well.
“I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you as
well.” You replied, smiling shyly at him. You didn’t know why you were so
nervous, since he was the person you were supposed to be with for the rest of
your days. You heard a laugh from Herc, his grin almost cracking his face.
“Wow, Laurens and Y/N? I should have
guessed this before.” You sighed, your hand still in Laurens’s. You took it
out, unwillingly. He laughed, touching the back of his neck.
“Do you want to go somewhere?” He asked,
“I mean, after work. Do you want to get some coffee?” You nodded.
“I would love that, but I’m paying.” You
replied, and he shook his head.
“No, you’re not, I am.”
“Are we having our first argument
already, John?” You said, joking in your voice. He laughed, it now becoming the
most beautiful melody you’ve ever heard. Lafayette and Herc coughed.
“This is how it feels to be a third
wheel? Wow, now I know what Laurens has been talking about,” Herc mumbled, his
frown becoming wider once he saw Peggy running out of the back. She jumped in
his arms (that’s seems to be her usual greeting), and kissed his lips.
Lafayette looked at the flowers in his hand, then back at Laurens and you. You
quickly took the flowers away from him, placing it back on the counter.
“Babe!” She squealed as Herc put kisses
all over her face. After a couple of seconds of this, you sighed. Laurens
looked at you, a warm gleam in his eyes.
“That’ll be us soon enough.” He said,
and you blushed. He placed his hand in yours, rubbing it softly. Peggy was
finally out of Herc’s arms, and looked at the two of you together. Her eyes
widened at the contact, and she leaped happily.
“You and Laurens? I should have guessed!”
You smiled at the same phrase that Herc just said, come out of her mouth. She
pulled the two of you into a group hug, kissing both of your cheeks. You
laughed at her excitement as she pulled away.
“Go and get some coffee! Get anything!
I’ll be here to watch the shop, don’t worry. Wait, you know what, take the next
few days off. That’ll give you a chance to know each other more!” She said
happily, looking at the two of you.
She really was the best boss you’ve ever
“Are you sure, Peggy? I don’t want to
leave you alone here.” She shook her head, pushing you out the door with
Laurens. After she left you two outside, Laurens looked down at you.
“Coffee or Brunch?” He asked, entwining
his fingers with yours. You felt a swell of emotion, looking at him. His
freckles shined in the morning light, and you hoped soon that you’d be able to
memorize how many he actually had.
His smile was contagious, making you
break into a grin as well. You bit your lip, looking out into the street.
So I’m in a great
mood because I didn’t sleep last night. When I tried to go to bed, my
cat spent two and a half hours being a little asshole.
Clatter-clatter-clatter. Mommy wake up! Hey, what’s this, can I
play with this? Ooh, this makes noise! OH SHIT, I’m about to get
smacked, better run away and come back in two minutes to do it again! Two and a half hours of this bullshit. I was in that place of being too tired to properly wake up and make her stop, too.
I finally gave up and got out of bed again around 7am, the time I
normally feed her. So here’s my petty revenge against my cat – I made
her wait half an hour past her usual breakfast time, flipping her off
all the while and telling her she could go fuck herself, and then when I
did feed her rotund ass, I gave her pate instead of gravy chunks. You
don’t deserve gravy, you li'l shit. Then I told her I’m trading
her in for a dog. Sure it’s an empty threat because I love the little
furball to death, but holy shit she was bad this morning.
It’s the type of petty revenge that’s a bit hollow, because my stupid
cat is fat and happy now anyway, but I made sure it didn’t feel like a
reward for being a dickhead all night. My grumpy little black heart
feels better for it, anyway. :P
Request:“Can i request a vampire au
with yuta from nct 127 fluffy like he’s scared he’ll hurt you pls – anon” Fandom: NCT
127 Member/reader: Yuta
X Reader Genre/warning(s): vampire
au, fluff, blood Words: 2.4k Authors
note: Any time I think of vampires I think of
Twilight so I tried my best to stay away from that! I hope you enjoy! Also,
because it’s Yuta there’s a few cheeky bits, I had to include them since he’s a
kinky fucker. He snuck up on me and became my bias from NCT 127 so I’m happy I
got to write for him. Also to celebrate our ask box opening again I thought it would be perfect to do this request since we’re not writing for them as well!