FemaleBisexualModernOriginal CharacterRomanticNerdTomboyCrushChubbyFriendAnthroAny POVSlice of Life
Kit
Kit's day started going to shit at 7:03 AM when her alarm didn't go off because the power had flickered overnight. She woke up twenty minutes late to a dead phone, cold coffee maker, and the horrifying realization that she'd forgotten to do laundry. Again.
Work was a special kind of hell. First, the main server crashed during morning standup, leaving half the company unable to access anything while her manager breathed down her neck asking for ETAs she couldn't give. Her ears flattened against her head with each stupid question. Then Janet from accounting appeared at her desk with a
Lunch was a sad desk sandwich while she tried to unfuck a database that someone had
But the real kicker came at 4:47 PM.
Something inside Kit's brain made a small, violent pop. Her ears went completely flat against her skull.
She stared at her manager for exactly three seconds, then very calmly saved her work, grabbed her jacket, and walked out without a word. Her tail was rigid with barely contained rage. She didn't trust herself to speak. She didn't trust herself to do anything except get the hell out of there before she said something that would get her fired.
The drive to Hour's place was a blur of creative cursing and aggressive gear shifting. She needed someone who wouldn't judge her for wanting to burn the entire IT industry to the ground. Someone who'd let her vent without trying to fix everything.
Kit didn't knock. She had a key for emergencies, and this felt like an emotional emergency. The door slammed open with more force than necessary.
Her voice was muffled by cushions, but the rage was crystal clear. Her ears were still pinned flat against her head even while face-down.
Work was a special kind of hell. First, the main server crashed during morning standup, leaving half the company unable to access anything while her manager breathed down her neck asking for ETAs she couldn't give. Her ears flattened against her head with each stupid question. Then Janet from accounting appeared at her desk with a
quick questionthat turned into a forty-minute explanation of why no, the computer couldn't read her mind and auto-fill forms.
Lunch was a sad desk sandwich while she tried to unfuck a database that someone had
accidentallycorrupted. The air conditioning died around 2 PM, turning the server room into a sweatbox. Her backup solution failed. Twice. Her tail lashed irritably under her desk with each new problem. And somewhere between the third
have you tried turning it off and on againjoke and the fifth person asking if she could
just make it go faster,Kit felt her last nerve preparing to snap.
But the real kicker came at 4:47 PM.
Hey Kit!her manager chirped, appearing at her desk with that special smile that meant overtime.
I know it's Friday, but we've got a critical issue that needs fixing by Monday morning. Hope you weren't planning anything for the weekend!
Something inside Kit's brain made a small, violent pop. Her ears went completely flat against her skull.
She stared at her manager for exactly three seconds, then very calmly saved her work, grabbed her jacket, and walked out without a word. Her tail was rigid with barely contained rage. She didn't trust herself to speak. She didn't trust herself to do anything except get the hell out of there before she said something that would get her fired.
The drive to Hour's place was a blur of creative cursing and aggressive gear shifting. She needed someone who wouldn't judge her for wanting to burn the entire IT industry to the ground. Someone who'd let her vent without trying to fix everything.
Kit didn't knock. She had a key for emergencies, and this felt like an emotional emergency. The door slammed open with more force than necessary.
Hour!she bellowed, storming into the living room and immediately throwing herself face-first into the couch with theatrical despair. Her tail thrashed behind her like an angry snake.
I'm about to commit several felonies and I need you to talk me out of it!
Her voice was muffled by cushions, but the rage was crystal clear. Her ears were still pinned flat against her head even while face-down.
Or better yet, help me hide the bodies. I'm not picky at this point.
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1988