#I love how the minimum was like 5000 and just about everyone was like

[god-fucking-dammit-mizutani]

Where We Were

For Oikage Big Bang 2018

Words: ~12,400

Art: @artchiboku made a darling piece to accompany this fic for the event! They’re a huge sweetie so please go look at it and leave some love!!!

Summary: It’s been a little over a year since Tōru left Tobio, presumably, for the last time. Fate has other things in store for them.   

Notes: @deadfreckledboys thank you for stepping in to help me beta this monster!! And for keeping me together when I kept thinking, “This isn’t good enough, I can’t do this!” It was a struggle of a last few months trying to navigate deadlines and work slights, but I’m so glad I did this and finished something (close... to on time). Thank you to @oikagebigbang for hosting this event!!! It was a lot of fun and everyone was very sweet!! I also put together a list of song I used to write this if you wanted to listen~. This fic was heavily inspired by this one though. 

Read it on AO3 here!

~*~

Fog overtakes the city for what feels like eons, and so when Tobio stirs awake to find the sight outside of his window particularly obscured in a dark, white haze he can think of very little else but, Again?

If he squints, Tobio can piece together the fine veins of the once majestic oak where it’s barren branches rest along his windowpane. It might still be impossible to see them, he imagines, if not for the murky halo of light from the street lamps still dutifully glowing down below, casting an ombre halo through the dark.  

Vision still logged with sleep, Tobio tosses away the comfort of his cotton sheets. The first sting of cold races along his skin like an ice bath. It sends a zing throughout his blood, but it seems to lose power before hitting his brain. His eyes droop against the burn of the waking world and it is with immeasurable strength that he hoists himself out of bed, padding across the room to begin his morning routine.

Tobio yawns around the toothbrush in mouth, reaching under his pillow to kill his alarm just as the jingle begins to play it’s first, soft note. He remembers someone telling him, already in the process of switching the settings on his phone, that gradually waking up was a benefit to his health, but Tobio’s never quite gotten used to that process.  He could change it now, Tobio supposes, when they’d never know. But he doesn’t.

(Because, maybe, he’ll have to change it back one day).

He still doesn’t feel quite awake by the time he’s pulling on his shoes in the doorway, just blearily remembering to grab a hoodie from the front closet before locking the door. Taking the long route to his starting point is a new habit. It comes to him naturally now, but it’d taken almost all year before he didn’t have to think it through. He could change the location, probably, but he likes the running path through the local park. It’s quiet in the early hours of the morning, and cleaner than most public places in the city.

And maybe, while he won’t let himself think it, he’ll run into someone there.

Tobio’s surprised when he plops his water bottle in his usual hiding place under the slide, that it is alone. Usually by now Tōru’s thermos is already there, proudly declaring, “Train like a BEAST; Look like a beauty”. It’s the only sign really that he still lives in the same city. It is always gone before he gets back. Tobio wonders if Tōru was deterred by the thickness of the fog today. Around him the park is little more than shadows under opaque clouds.

Or, perhaps, he’s just running late. Unlikely, but possible.

It’s not exactly Tobio’s business. Not anymore.

He progresses his day by taking the first few minutes to stretch, and if he takes a little more care on every movement today, if he checks over his shoulder a beat longer than he should, well, there’s no one there to take notice.

His water bottle is still the only one there after his first round. And on his second lap, there’s no sign of a second soul.

Tobio frowns.

He finishes off the rest of his water, and after a few minutes more of stretching, sets back on his way home.

By the end of the week, Tobio’s certain he’s been running the trails completely by himself.

Maybe Tōru went somewhere on holiday. Or he got sick of that routine, Tobio reasons. Perhaps he abandoned the park altogether, for a better place.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

On Sundays, Tobio’s cool down walk takes him through the city center to pick up his weekly groceries. Always on Sundays. It had been a habit he’d picked up over the last few years, because Tōru had insisted on them doing it together and only once a week.

“It’s like a weekly date,” Tōru would sing, slipping his arm through Tobio’s just until the first throng of people came into view.

Unconsciously, he looks to his empty side and is just a little blindsided when Iwaizumi Hajime blinks back at him from the entrance of the nearby coffee shop, looking just as openly mistified.

“Tobio,” he says, which could be a question—something like is that really you? He isn’t sure, but guilt washes over Tobio with a suddenness that dries his throat.

He hadn’t contacted Hajime since—since then. He never really did before, the few times he and Tōru had taken breaks in their relationship. It felt like a breach somehow—a custody contract Tobio doesn’t remember signing but keeps to anyway.  But those had been short tiffs, practically water breaks, and mostly in the late years of high school to early college. Never a year; never after they’d come to live together.

Hajime stares at him, haggard, and the gnawing sensation turns Tobio’s hands clammy. “You look good,” Hajime says after a beat.

Tobio can’t say the same back without lying. The bags under his eyes seem fresh, haunting, but the grays in his hair are old now and still growing relentlessly. Hajime used to point them out in the middle of his banters with Tōru, detailing exactly how he’d receive each one from his best friend until Tōru had had enough and bought him a tote bag full of black hair dye. Tobio doesn’t think he’s used a single box.

He looks down.

“I was—” Hajime falters for a moment. “Do you want to get coffee?” When Tobio looks up at him, Hajime’s already holding a cup of something with the logo from the store behind him, but he looks vaguely imploring in the way that even Tobio notices and so he nods.

They sit in a booth by a window, even though they can barely see much outside. A waitress comes by and Hajime tells him to order breakfast if he hasn’t eaten yet. Tobio gets a cup of tea instead and Hajime, still nursing his coffee, gets the same.

“It’s been a while,” Hajime starts. Tobio opens his mouth to say something more, but then he notices his old classmate’s eyes, averted just slightly down in something like a wince and that’s when he looks down himself, at the hoodie he’d pulled from the front closet this morning and --

Hajime recognizes it. Of course he does.

Tobio tugs the zipper up higher towards his collar bone, even though it's reached the maximum zenith of teeth to latch onto. The action brings him a moment of relief from the anxiety in his stomach, the shaking in his hands, like he's hiding from the dark eyed stare studying him across the table.

Everything on the hoodie is quintessentially Tōru, as if it were custom fit to his tastes. The little green alien busts would be decent enough of a tell that someone pulled it from Tōru's closet before even the splattering of peace sign silhouettes and little spiral globes spanning across the front and back. Tōru always found delight in pointing at the little spheres and telling him, "They look just like volleyballs!" Tobio hadn't realized they weren't.

"He's been asking about you," Hajime starts, eyes flickering down to his untouched tea cup. He doesn’t say who. Tobio knows, innately. “He wants to, uh, see you…”

Tobio deflects his own gaze out the window and swallows down, hard. Over the rooftops outside the fog has taken on a peachy tinge, the sun just beginning to ascend over the misty city. Everything is still and quiet outside the frantic beating of his heart.

“Does that—” He swallows down on his pulse “—does he want to get back together?”

Hajime looks as if he’s wincing again, eyes zipping down to his hoodie and back up again without answering. “I wouldn’t say—that’s not…” He slides his arm up the table, fingers grabbing and shaking the sugar container for a moment. He dumps a little too much into his tea and stares down at the table with an interest that concerns Tobio. “That’s not exactly the case,” Hajime admits.

Tobio fidgets with the ruined cuffs of the sweater, flexing his thumbs between the stressed holes there. He bunches the fabric into his palms before allowing it to escape just so he may collect it again. Tōru’s brother-in-law had been responsible for one of the thumb holes, had cleared through the fabric with the burning end of a cigarette bud. He’d been skunk-drunk and thought it was funny, but Tōru had never been forgiving. He’d tried sewing the hole up, but after a single wash the stitches had given way to a slightly larger one. Eventually, Tōru had crafted a matching hole for the opposite cuff.

“Look, Tobio-chan! I’m a genius!” He’d been so proud.

Hajime startles him with his stare, a pointed intensity that Tobio hasn’t felt since they been on opposite sides of the courts. His throat burns.

“I have a favor,” Hajime says.

*

Sometime just before lunch, Tobio trudges his way back home. Instead of groceries, a deep, dark tiredness weighs down his arms. He leans down to untie his shoes, but even that is too heavy a task for his body, and so he lets himself slump against the wall. The unsmooth paint peppers his face like little thorns, but it distracts Tobio from the prickling feeling in his chest.

Tobio stomps the door shut with the heel of his running shoes. The slam echoes for a moment, and then leaves him only with with the ring of tinnitus in his ears. They reach for a sound, something lighthearted or haughty, a welcome home, but there is only silence.

There is only ever silence now.

He nuzzles his way under the collar of the hoodie and breathes in.

It had felt like a betrayal the first time he'd taken it out of Tōru's closet, the insistent voice in the back of his head telling him he would notice, that Tōru would come back soon and use this as fodder against him. Months had passed by then, though, and Tobio had reached for it—for something—and it had helped, for a moment, dull the indelible ache of missing him.

The hoodie smells nothing like him now, the unique scent of Tōru obscured under a healthy layer of ocean breeze and the fresh bite of winter air, but he remembers the warm curve of Tōru’s neck, the remnants of day-long cologne clinging to his skin, hibiscus shampoo that Tōru seemed absolutely incapable of washing from his hair. The smell had lingered on his pillow after Tōru left, had lulled Tobio to sleep in his absence for long enough, so he closes his eyes and breathes in again, calling for the scent on the tip of his memory and it is close.

Close enough.

*

Oikawa Tōru exists only to make Tobio's life tumultuous. He absolutely believes this to be a rule imparted by the universe at large, as a punishment for some misdeed it believes he perpetrated.

It is the only explanation that brings Tōru to his doorstep a week from his meeting with Hajime, glaring down at Tobio through the long slope of his nose. He lifts a finger to tap against Tobio's chest, a rough little push he can feel through the fabric of his sweatshirt—he made sure of it, today, that it was his own—and it feels like a pinprick against his heart. Lilac sunlight struggles in through the smog late this evening just to brush highlights into Tōru's hair, all the way down to the wisps that curl around the shell of his ears.

“You're the worst,” Tōru says, his voice quivers and it extends down the length of his arm, a residual tremor from the accident Hajime explains to him. “What kind of person doesn't visit his boyfriend in the hospital.”

The accusation feels like a stab.

“Ok, ok,” Hajime urges. Tobio moves back instinctively as Hajime pushes the taller man inside with a bump of his shoulders. “Stop badgering him already.”

Tōru fumbles through the foyer and frowns. Tobio watches the clench of his jaw, the minute shake in his shoulders. Changes, Tobio thinks, are obscure, but he wonders what Tōru's eyes catch, if a lamp is too far to the left or a bulb burns with a different temperature than he remembers.

Tōru sheds his shoes at the lip of the foyer. Without so much as a glance back, he stomps his way down the hallway as if he lives there.  

Still lives there.

Hajime crosses into his vision, slipping the burden of a large duffel bag from his shoulders. “This should be all his stuff from the hospital,” Hajime informs him. It hits the floorboards with a loud thud, and Tobio winces impulsively. “I grabbed some necessities from his apartment; extra clothes, his glasses. I talked to the landlord and got his mail forwarded to my place, so I'll take care of ‘em when I get back. Just until he's back up on his feet.”

Tobio nods. He wonders if Tōru's condition is communicable because his hands shake where he has yet to relinquish his hold on the doorknob, the metal clattering about where the bolts don’t hold it tight enough.

Hajime scratches the back of his head. “Maybe this…was a mistake,” he relents. “I can still cancel my flight.”

Gaze forward, Tobio pushes, “It’s fine,” and his voice does not belie him this once.

Hajime doesn't seem heavily convinced, but his fingers release their hold on the duffel bag straps. Down the hall, Tōru's voice calls, the contents of his yell muffled by layers of wall.

“He's been dealing with it,“ Hajime says, a little rueful smile tugging the edges of his lips up. “The way he does everything that frustrates him.”

“Ignoring it,” Tobio supplies. Hajime nods, but Tobio knows him well enough to read his exasperated smile for the fondness underneath. It is, likely, a condition for dealing excessively with Tōru.

“It's your birthday soon,“ Hajime mentions offhand. He taps along the lining of his jeans and frowns. “Follow me to my car?” He makes a gesture towards the hallway and a halting motion to Tobio. “Just let me tell Oikawa I’m heading out.”

*

Parking is hard to find so late in the evening on their street and so it is a mild trek out to Hajime’s car. Frost clings to what little green has survived this late into winter. When Tobio strays off the sidewalk, it crunches satisfyingly under his shoes.

“His parents and sister were here until yesterday,” Hajime rubs his hands together, warming them through the friction of his gloves. “When I said you were willing to help out, I think they were pretty relieved. There’s not many people who can put up with Trashykawa for long enough.” Hajime gives him another rueful smile. “The doctors thinks it'll be good for him to be around something familiar.” He drops his hand into his pocket and one of the lights from a silver Honda Civic blinks at them a few cars down the road.

Hajime starts his car first, exhaust fumes almost indistinct among the fog still lingering. He dives around the front seat and pulls out a thin, long package. It's neatly wrapped in unassuming brown paper. Something smaller clatters around inside when Tobio pulls it to his chest.

“Thank you,” he says.

“I think you'll like it,” Hajime beams at him mildly, plopping back into the driver’s seat. He leaves the door open, both feet planted on the pavement and smiles up at him. Numbness seeps in through the thin material of Tobio’s sneakers, but there is a warmth in Hajime’s stare that keeps him rooted there. “Shittykawa helped me find it,” he shifts uncomfortably after the admission, clearing his throat. “Don't worry about mentioning it.”

“How has he been?” Tobio ventures to ask.

“We text,” he says, clicking on the heater, fans whirring to life inside the engine. Hajime's ears look bright and pink. “I make sure he's eating when I can. He's got a studio all the way across the city and it's just… It's been busy,” he admits, Hajime's gruff tone is laced with a hesitant sheepishness.

“I just—” Hajime furrows his brows, visibly contemplating his words before he continues, “I just want you to know that if I thought this wasn't good for Oikawa, I'd have him on the plane with me tonight. You know—” Hajime's stare is heavy, single hand resting on the steering wheel going white knuckled as he adds, “He loved you, Kageyama. He's just… an idiot.”

*

Tobio doesn’t remember leaving the heater on when he had left, but the apartment feels particularly warm when he shuts the door behind him, locking the cold on the other side. It is welcomed, though the sudden change in temperature agitates a small migraine in the space between his eyes. Tobio pushes his thumb up and against the skin there, attempting to relieve it with the icy sting of his fingers, and he almost misses it, the dulcet call of, “Welcome home.”

Tobio follows the voice into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe when he catches the caller standing before his refrigerator with a perplexed stare.

“How come,” Tōru starts, his cadence that high pitch he reserves when he's asking questions that do not have answers, fingers reaching out and unclipping one of the cards Tobio had set up on the fridge, “my mom sent another new year’s card to only you?” He turns the card from back to front several times. Tobio had been surprised, too, when the card came in the mail this year. Parents were always fond of him, and Tōru's mother had in no way been an exception. Tōru looks back to the fridge again, in search of something he cannot find. “Didn’t she send one already?”

Tōru holds the card up, towards his face, and keeps it there. Tobio takes to reading Tōru’s face instead, reacquainting himself with old frown lines and the healing cuts along his lips. His cheekbones look sharper, but Tobio thinks he still looks well and it feels like yet another stab.

“Stop staring, Tobio-chan,” Tōru lilts, the edges of his lips quirked up, a single dimple on display. “It’s creepy~!” He imitates a shiver, wrapping his arms around his body to protect himself from an invisible chill.

Tobio's fingers flex at his side. He is almost afraid to look away, as if Tōru's presence in his kitchen is only fixed there by his stare.

“Say something,” Tōru demands. Tōru raises a finely maintained eyebrow at Tobio, then smiles, “Or did my roguish good looks stun you into silence?”

Tobio watches the pink of Tōru's tongue lick along his lower lip where the stretch of his smile had aggregated one of the cuts.

“You should take the bed,” Tobio decides and Tōru pulls a sour face. “Please sleep well, Oikawa.”

*

Tobio had taken nothing to bed with him save for a small throw blanket already tossed messily over the couch, and the small pit of dread settled tightly in his belly, but it is the first time, since he can remember, that Tobio sleeps past the first set of alarms on his phone. Awareness creeps every so slowly through his mind, but a heaviness lays thickly over his body and—

Oh.

Tucked around him is the comforter from the bedroom. Tobio blinks, squeezes his eyes, and blinks again. Outside is still dark, hazy, and settled against the swell of his hip is a crown of oak brown hair that, when he jostles slightly, only seems to nuzzle in closer. Tobio watches, heart wavering with a mix of emotions, the way Tōru breathes in softly, murmuring incoherently in his sleep, cuddled up against Tobio’s waist on the farther side of the couch.

When his alarm goes off once more, Tobio chooses to disarm it, but he doesn't move any more than resting his head against the couch pillow, relaxing the minor strain in his neck, and lets himself sleep in.

When he next wakes up, the gloom outside his window had been mildly dispersed by the winter sun and Tōru is no longer alongside him. His heart stutters despite his efforts to calm it, and Tobio startles himself, quite gracefully, off the couch.

“Good morning,” Tōru’s voice sings across the apartment. Tobio hears the sizzle of something burning in the frying pan and the smell of bacon reaches his nose and sets off a growl in his stomach. He follows the smell, after a decent tussle with the comforter wrapped around his legs, into the kitchen where Tōru busies his attention between two hissing burners. He shoots Tobio a glance over his shoulder when the younger man shuffles up to sit at one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “Sleep well?”

Tobio grunts, absentmindedly running a finger down the seam in the marble wallpaper lining the countertop. Tōru had been adamant when they decided to move in together, that they needed a breakfast bar. It was quintessential to being a modern adult, he had reasoned.  

Tōru drops a pile of bacon on a plate already lined with paper towels and then flips a single egg on to it’s own plate. He pushes that one towards Tobio. It is mildly disturbing, the way Tōru reaches for a fork without missing a beat and lets it drops it beside the plate.

“Are your parents still coming in on Wednesday?” Tōru asks. He slides up along the breakfast bar and reaches along the counter for the basket of bacon. He stays there, leaning over the counter and dipping the piece into the egg yolk. Tobio watches the yellow liquid spill out and stream down the expanse of his plate.

“Thursday,” he replies. He cuts himself a small piece with the flat side of his fork and takes a bite. It is enough to feel full, fighting against the nerves welling inside him, and Tobio swallows a second time as if there’s something tighter woking itself down his throat. Tōru watches him.

“Your birthday’s on Wednesday,“ he challenges Tobio. When he bites down on his next helping of bacon it crunches loudly.

Tobio glances over at the old calendar across the room clipped to the side of the refrigerator. At the end of the month is a clutter of black sharpie marks, but Tobio spots the one proudly declaring his birthday with tiny little, red marker hearts, sitting in the center of the week. It had been Wednesday, last year.

He clicks on his phone and swipes over to the calendar app and searches quickly for the 22nd. “It's Thursday,” Tobio relays. Then thinks, “Maybe I should have them wait until the new year instead.”

“Why?” Tōru furrows his brows.

Tobio stares. “I'd have to leave you here. Alone.“

“Nonsense,” Tōru scoffs, reaching over again for another bacon slice, “I'll go with you.” He holds a hand delicately up to his heart, “Your parents love me.”

Loved. Tobio swallows the correction down with a glass of milk when Tōru offers him a drink.

Tobio's parents had loved Tōru, had made despairing jabs at their son's expense, that it was a miracle someone like Tōru loved their son, as obsessive and insensitive as he was. And for all that he protested that Tōru wasn't very different, mildly Tobio had wondered himself how much longer Tōru would stay in his orbit.

(Longer than he expected.)

“Don't sleep on the couch tonight,” Tōru tells him, the hook of his mouth pointing downward. “I don't sleep well when,” Tōru mutters the rest inaudibly, the very tips of his ears shading in a nice pink. Alone, Tobio knows.

He wonders if Tōru had learned to sleep without him, or if he fills his bed with bodies that aren't Tobio himself. He wonders if Tōru tells them, “I love you,” just before he curls around them, if he pushes his toes up and under their pajamas bottoms until they shriek from the nipping cold on their skin. He wonders if they ask about him, and if Tōru tells them, “I loved him,” and the thought churns his stomach too much to eat.

“I'll think about it.”

Tōru huffs at his lack of a real answer, running a hand frustratedly up and through his hair.

He has cut it since they last met, Tobio realizes, and such a simple thing aches.  

Because Tōru knows.

*

Hitoka had been furious with him last November.

Her hair had been sheared into a bob that sat higher on her cheek bones and she'd sat by him, smiling expectantly for the entirety of their morning commute. All she'd gotten was a cold shoulder and while her anger had lasted merely a couple minutes, the event had simmered on Tobio's nerves all day.

"I didn't recognize her," he'd muttered to Tōru that same night, scowling at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. Water clung to his face where he'd washed away remnants of toothpaste. It had been a mild winter, but a chill still lingered in the air, invited into their apartment through a crack in the bathroom window and Tobio shuddered, reaching for the face cloth hung up nearby. Tōru at his side had been warm, particularly where their elbows touched. "I don't notice things about people," he'd admitted. "Most of them look the same anyway." Tōru had met his eyes in the mirror at that, fine eyebrow raised high in question. His electric toothbrush hummed in the silence. Even indirectly Tobio could feel, still remember, how heavy his stare had felt. "They do," Tobio had insisted. In the glass he could see the pink rising in his cheeks and it made him all the more frustrated. "It's like I remember the way people look as a package, but when they change something I can't...." "They just look like a different blob?" Tōru had leaned up, brushing further along Tobio, to rinse off his toothbrush. It beeped, acknowledging when Tōru had properly aligned it with the charger. Tobio nodded. "So how do you remember people during games?" "That's different," he grumbled, knitting his eyebrow at mirror-Tōru.  “Everything's more distinct on the court." Tōru had snapped his fingers against his forehead then. "Doesn’t that mean you're just focusing better?" Tobio shrugged. "So if I get a tan next summer," Tōru had joked wryly, only a single corner of his mouth perked up, "I'll have to carry a volleyball around the house so you don't think we're getting robbed?" He leaned over towards the sink and turned on the faucet. He'd cupped his hands and splashed a moderate amount of water along his face. Tobio had handed off the cloth he'd just finished using and Tōru’s fingers brushed his as he accepted it. His reflection sneered, "Good to know." "That's not it." Tōru's eyes had narrowed at him in the mirror and Tobio had looked down to the puddles on the countertop, lingering on the slow path they took towards the ledge. He fumbled to find words, to get his point across, but nothing came to him. Tōru had left him there, after that, in a mild huff and Tobio had felt sick, glaring at his reflection. But Tōru had come back, not too long after, with a fresh cloth. As he had soaked up the remnants of water along the sink’s edge his scowl had dissolved into something tempered. "You're hopeless, Tobio-chan," Tōru had sighed. He swiped the towel along the counter one last time and lingered next to Tobio, taller still after all these years. Tobio looked at him then, unsure, and Tōru hadn't hesitated to steal a short kiss. "I guess it wouldn't be the worst thing if I had to carry a volleyball around for the rest of my life." He'd taped Tobio's cheek with his hand with a quick, “Good night," and left Tobio, red faced and heart singing, alone in the bathroom.   But Tōru needn't had fret over it. To Tobio, he'd glowed just as brightly off the court as he did on it, that Tobio was never able to forget him, even if he tried. (And he had.)

*

The futon gives Tobio little comfort, spurs an ache in the crook of his back by the second night,  but he sets it up beside the bed as a compromise. His sacrifice brings little reward.

Tōru, it seems, is perpetually tired.

He'd been a bubble of energy their last few days together, always on the verge of tipping over some imaginary edge. But the steam that had been pushing him seems spent now, and Tōru barely seems able to lift himself from the bed for more than breakfast before laying out along the chaise of the couch.

It's always where Tobio leaves him, and always where he finds him late in the evenings, huddled under a heavy duvet he'd procured from the couch’s storage space.

It's enough to make Tobio's heart twinge, and yet he always seems to find reasons to run an extra lap in the mornings, to goad Shouyou into practicing with him despite their coach expressly forbidding it over the holiday season. If Tōru sees the intent of his excessive scheduling, he is at least too tired to show it.

“It's like the fog leaked into my brain,” Tōru admits one night.

Tobio can see his laugh, breathy and short, in little puffs of condensation against the glass of the living room window. A whistle cuts in through the silence, that night’s college volleyball match still roaring in the background. Tobio glances at its bleary reflection in the window just over the tallest hairs of Tōru's head. In the dark it looks as if someone has dyed his upper tips in electric blues and yellows.

Tobio says nothing and Tōru laughs again like there's a joke only he is privy to. When he leans back the top of Tōru’s head falls easily into the crook of Tobio's arm and he rests there, as if he belongs.

“I'm going running with you next time,” Tōru tells him authoritatively.

Tobio breathes in. The scent of Hibiscus tickles his nose and he frowns. Tōru must see his expression in the glass, too, for he delivers a swift pinch to the side of his thigh.

“I'm going,” he insists, the same hand now resting on the plump of Tobio's leg, just above his knee. Tōru is still watching the window, the first soft patter of rain beginning to pepper at the pane. His jaw looks set and Tobio knows there's no reasonable argument that will keep Tōru at bay. “Besides,” he continues, lifting his chin in that way that makes him look like a petulant child, “I cleared it with my physical therapist and she thinks it’s a great idea.”

And that's hard to argue with, especially when Tōru looks back up at him directly, warm brown eyes imploring, yet firm. Shadows of his lashes stretch along the expanse of his eyelids, beautiful and dark, and Tobio isn’t sure how he’s ever said no to this man in his whole life.

*

Tobio looks like his mother.

At least it's been said enough that he has no reason to believe otherwise. Quite possibly, they have the same temperament, too. Her eyes on him are as sharp as the wind outside, howling at it cuts by and leaving a chill against Tobio’s cheek where it rests on the window. Even through valiant efforts, the sunlight filtering directly on him barely abates the cold but it is just strong enough to sting his eyes and so Tobio closes them. "How was your trip?" Tōru asks beside him, the hum of his voice as steady and high as it always has been, but the bounce of his leg jostles against Tobio's own. He shuffles it away when the friction of his jeans on his ankle makes his teeth ache. "We got in just fine," Tobio's father says without missing a beat. "I always enjoy taking the train. So scenic." Tōru hums in acknowledgement. "What have you been up to this year?" Tobio cracks an eye open just in time to watch his mother deliver a swift, barely passable smack to his father's arm. He smiles back at her lightly and murmurs a short, "Oh right." "We heard about your accident," his mother says, locking her steely gaze into Tōru. She leans forward onto one arm on the table, her frown lacking any sort of sympathy. "So sorry." "A few weeks in the hospital and some scars, but I'm fine," Tōru says, shrugging. Tobio's father hums as if he's unsure by the answer. "I thought your mother said you'd had some memory loss." Tōru swallows. The thumping at his side increases in tempo and Tobio closes his eyes again. "I'm fine," Tōru says and he sounds fine, as far as Tobio can hear in his timbre, but when Tōru grabs for his water glass it quakes in his grasp, little droplets of water scattering on both his and Tobio’s pant legs. "Lost over a year, she said," his mother adds in. It feels as if half the contents of Tōru's glass is now seeping into Tobio's pant leg. His hand finds Tōru’s bouncing knee and rests on it steadily enough that it calms the tremors, if only mildly. Tōru's hand feels cold when it clenches around his. The smile on his face when Tobio looks up is still unnaturally unperturbed. "Excuse me," Tōru says politely. He squeezes Tobio's fingers a moment tighter and then stands to leave. "I need to use the restroom. " Tobio watches him leave, rolling his head along the window until the back of it rests on the glass, hair cushioning against the still present chill there.   Tobio's mother taps the table, clicking her tongue. Tobio doesn't look back. "You should have come home this year," she insists. Tobio nods. "Not that we mind coming to see you out here, but it'd be nice if you'd come home sometimes." She reaches across the table, her cool soft hands resting on his, fingers twitching lightly. His mother used to trade beauty secrets with Tōru over dinners, discuss volleyball and television programs instead of sharp glares and he wonders if maybe, she was hurt, too. "Your mother was worried," his father puts in, almost hushed. “Is this alright?” His mother's other hand comes down and taps the table cloth with the tip of her nail apprehensively. “Are you okay, Tobio?" He feels more exhausted telling everyone, “It’s fine." Tobio tips his head to look at her, and then averts it to the outside. "What happens if he remembers," she pushes, "and then he leaves you again." Her nails just barely nip him where she holds on tightly. "You were so…. oh, I never want to see you that sad again, sweetie. You've been doing so much better since the break up, I don't —I don't want you to get hurt again like that." "We didn't." His mother blinks at him, both hands now holding his, gripping along his wrist, and this time Tobio meets her sharp stare with his own. Even when his throat burns he manages to say, "We didn't break up." "Tobio—" Tobio's father brings a hand to her arm then and her grip slackens until it finally gives way. "I love you, Tobio," she says softly.

Tobio breathes in, let's his hand skirt along the edge of his mother's knuckles, until she takes hold of his hand again, sending him a weathered smile. "I know," he says, and he does. Tobio may resemble his mother in her sharp features and curt temper, but he thinks that's about where it stops. She is always clear in what she means, how she feels, and Tobio is left wanting.

Tobio says, “I love you, too, mom."

Tōru doesn't come back.

Tobio pats his jean pockets, entertaining the idea of texting him before he remembers Tōru's cellphone is nothing more than a broken screen and exposed wires in the bottom of a mostly forgotten duffel bag.  

But he doesn't have to worry too long. His phone buzzes with a new text alert. This is Tōru, the little bubble tells him before going off again. Borrowed a phone. I'll meet you back home. Tell them I wasn't feeling well.

His mother watches him across the table, her free hand drumming on the cloth again and he can practically feel the nerves leaking in to his own body where their hands connect. Tobio smiles weakly.

He sends his parents off a little later into the evening, waving them down through the train windows as they take their seats. He exchanges weight on either side of his legs while he waits for the initial take off.

Tobio rubs his hands together, berating himself for putting his gloves in the wrong jacket. It had been just brisk enough to ignore when they’d left their apartment earlier on, but now they ache from excessive cold.

Their apartment, he thinks wryly.

He'd been standing here with Tōru last year, huddling in close for warmth and then slinking away to find a nearby cafe for warm drinks. Tōru had bought him a small cake from the glass case, profusely apologetic that he lacked any funds that year for a proper present.

The train makes a sharp, metallic clang as the gears rev to attention and his parents wave frantically, excitedly, as if they might never see him again. Tobio returns their gesture with half the vigor.

His hands fall back into his pockets to hide from the numbing cold and his parents faces slip away into the long, dark night as the train barrages down the tunnel.

Tobio licks at his bottom lip and remembers how much sweeter the chocolate cake had been when he'd tasted it from Tōru's smile under the twinkle of christmas lights and he had thought it was enough back then to have Tōru with him, forever.

*

“Oikawa,” he calls, slamming the door shut behind him and clicking on the foyer lights.

Silence greets him.

The rush of fabric as his jacket slides past his arms is almost deafening. Tobio's eyes flutter to the floor. Two house slippers sit there, untouched since the morning. No other signs of a second occupant greets him, the black duffel bag the only reminder someone had been there. Something heavy plummets from his chest to his gut and twists like angry serpents fighting for a meal.

He doesn't bother to flip on the rest of the lights as he rushes into the living room, fingers skimming the stucco walls on his way. At the mouth of the hallway his feet smack down on a stray windbreaker that seems to jump up and tangle around one of Tobio's legs. The burn of hitting the floor joins him a moment later, stinging his hands and knees, but his body knows these aches from years of diving along laminate floors and so, as he always does, Tobio picks himself back up and rushes towards the bedroom, tugging the windbreaker from his legs as he goes.

There is already a light on in there when he pushes through the doorway. Clothes and belts and shoes flood the little bits of floor space, strewn about with an emergency that tightens Tobio's windpipes. He rushes to the closet doors and stills.

Tōru blinks up at him.

“What are you doing?” They both ask.

“I just got home,” Tobio says, drinking in as much air as his lungs allow him. “And no one answered so I thought—”

“Someone was robbing us?” Tōru titters.

Tobio clenches the windbreaker in his hand and says nothing. In the light he can see now that it is Tōru's, the other having not even shed his shoes before coming to his current position, cross legged before his closet doors, stuffing his hands into a pair of old, abandoned jeans.

Tōru seems to notice his gaze and smiles, almost bashfully. “I was looking for something.”

Tobio manages to drop beside him before his knees buckle in relief. Tōru scoots a short distance away, moving the jeans out of Tobio's reach defensively. Tobio glares. “Let me help.”

Tōru sniffles. “Absolutely not.” His hand wiggles around in the jeans momentarily before he frowns and it emerges, empty. “Besides I've looked everywhere already.”

He pulls his knees up to his chest, looking petulant in every way. Tobio leans forward to grab at the forgotten pair of pants, but Tōru shoos him away. Then he narrows his eyes. “Did you go through my closet?”

“No,” Tobio says, fiddling with a nearby shoestrap.

He looks miserable and puffy eyed, Tobio notices. He swallows, an apology for his mother on the tip of his tongue, an explanation for her behavior, but what comes out instead is, “Were you crying?”

Tōru stares at him. “No,” and he sniffles again.

“Was it important?” Tobio wonders, fingers slipping along the plastic edge of the strap. There's a slight crack along one side that he unconsciously favors.

“Yes,” Tōru whispers, a sleeved hand coming up to wipe at his eyes, aggravating the already swollen flesh into an angrier red. Tobio swallows down his thudding heart when he catches the pattern of alien busts and not volleyballs and peace signs along the sleeves. He’d taken care to bury the hoodie back in Tōru’s closet, hoping that he wouldn’t notice it had ever been moved.

Tobio hopes it stays, even if Tōru doesn’t.

“If you tell me what it is, I can look for it later.”

Tōru snuffles, the tips of his ears burning a bright red and mutters, “Don't worry about it.” Tōru stares forward, rapt and resolute, into the near empty closet and lets out a disheartened huff. “I feel like someone's playing a practical joke and any minute now they'll jump out the closet and everything will pick back up where it was.”

Beside him Tōru's presence is warm and steady, and it pulls him in until their shoulders just barely bump together. Tobio trains his own gaze ahead at the closet and wonders how many times the same thought had run through his mind.

“Hey, hey, Tobio-chan~” Tōru leans the rest of the way in, knees falling along Tobio's lap and his hair tickling the curve of his neck. Tōru wrings his hands, thumbs pulled up and through the little cuff holes and he whispers, “Happy Birthday,” in a way that almost belies his tear stained face. Tōru's laughter skirts along the curve of his neck and Tobio can barely suppress a shiver.  “Sorry I didn't buy you anything this year.”

His hair is soft when Tobio rests against it, smelling sweeter than anything he could conjure in his memories, and breathes it in as deeply as his lungs allow him. Tōru giggles at the sensation and Tobio tries to commit that, too, to memory, hoping it'll nestle into his mind like pop songs on the radio.

“It’s alright.”

(It is the first time, in a long time, that Tobio enjoys the silence when it settles in between them.)

*

He remembers Hajime's gift the next morning, the little brown package still sitting by the spice rack in the kitchen where he had dropped it. In his hands, the contents rattle and shiver audibly and Tobio digs his nails under one of the folds in the wrapping job and rips it open after several tugs.

Tobio barely notices the other presence until the fridge door plops closed and Tōru asks, “What's that?” He pours juice into an older cup still on the counter.

“A present,” Tobio says and it comes out like an awed breath, “from Iwaizumi.”

Tōru's fingers are cold when they slip along the nape of his neck and slide softly up and through the back of his hair. Tobio leans into the touch without thought, enjoying the sensation of nails just barely ghosting along his scalp.

“Nekoma,” Tōru reads, resting his drink back on the counter and pulling the dvd case from Tobio. Tōru's fingers still in his hair. “The battle of the trash heap, huh?” Tōru clicks his tongue playfully and places it back into Tobio's hand, but his eyes linger on the cover.

“Maybe we'll finally get to watch it this time,” Tobio says.  

“Sure…” Tōru's eyes are dark, unreadable, when Tobio glances up at him, eyebrows narrowed as if he's trying to recall something. His fingers give another light scratch against Tobio’s scalp before Tōru retreats into the other room. He steps back a second later, fingers drumming on the doorway trimming for a second and he points one of the fingers that should be holding his glass accusingly at Tobio, “Don't forget to thank Iwa-chan for that! A recording that old isn't easy to come by.”

The images of him and his teammates, his opponents, oddly photoshopped along the cover stare up at Tobio. He and Shouyou are easy to spot, young and energetic even when frozen in time. Half of Shouyo’s face bends around the spine and Tobio almost thinks to send him a picture of it to mock him.

He's not sure if the DVD is authentic, can’t quite remember if there had even been a cover on the original copies. There had been a pre-order, he remembers vaguely, for the televised program. Kiyoko and Hitoka had reminded them for weeks, kept a manila envelope out for the team to leave money and order slips, and still Tobio had forgotten to secure one of his own. He never quite found the patience for online auctions or internet scrounging to find a proper copy after that either. He had tried burning his own from Shouyou’s that last winter. He'd been disappointed when it had turned to static right after the first round when he attempted to show Tōru, Shouyo’s version irreparably scratched.

He'd burrowed a proper copy from Kōshi when he'd seen him on Christmas last year. He'd been excited to show Tōru, had left the recording in the console player for weeks, but by then he'd known, Tōru wasn't coming back.

It's a very nice gift, much nicer than the one’s Iwaizumi usually gives him. Last year’s gift card is still in his wallet, and Tobio has no idea if the funds are even accessible anymore.

“Shittykawa helped me find it,” Iwaizumi had said.

Tobio frowns, turning the disc over in his hand, a thought itching quietly in the back of his head and slowly Tōru's steely expression clicks. Unfamiliar.

Tōru hadn't recognized it.

*

Sleep does not come easily to Tobio that night. More than the burn in his back where the futon refuses him proper support, is the dark pit of anxiety that seems to never bottom out, and never empty. It must be far past midnight. He breathes in, sharp, steady, then let's it back out in a huff.

When he opens his eyes, something flutters in front of his vision, grainy and darker than the ceiling. It is a minute before he recognises it as a hand, Tōru's arm bent slightly around the bed frame. His fingers squeeze together and seem to beckon at him and instinctively Tobio reaches out.

Tōru's face leans over the edge next, and though it is almost too dark to tell Tobio can imagine the soft, sleepy grin half buried in his pillow. Tōru squeezes again, this time the act comforting, loving, his palm turning until he securely fits his digits between each of Tobio's own. His skin burns pleasantly wherever Tōru's fingers touch.

“Come up,” Tōru whispers, tugging lightly as if he can pull Tobio up just like that. Tobio shakes his head and Tōru lets out a haughty little breath, fingers releasing their hold. “Fine. “

Tōru is beside him suddenly, flush and warm at his side. The flat of Tōru's chin rests atop his head, breath tickling his hair and Tobio breathes in, arms wrapping instinctively around the other's torso, pulling him taut, fingers sinking into the fabric of his pajama shirt. Tobio can't quite make out Tōru's soft murmurs, isn't even sure he's saying anything in particular, but it fills in the silence, eases the tight coil in Tobio's gut.

And he thinks, if time could just stop here — now — he'd be perfectly content.

*

His arms are empty when he wakes up. Which, he's used to now.

Should be.   (He isn't quite used to it.) He throws one arm far to the side, turning on his back. One of the tree branches taps gently on the window, barely a foot above him where he lays now just beneath the ledge. Tobio's always been a leaden sleeper, dropping like a stone wherever he lays, but Tōru's always been restless, and somehow even in sleep Tobio's always instinctively found ways to accommodate around his roaming habits, so he is barely surprised to find himself quite a distance from the futon. The bathroom door opens a second later. Tōru's feet tread gently on the carpet, padding his way over toward Tobio. "Good," Tōru says, "you're awake". His voice is soft, as if he's still being cautious to not wake him. Tōru's hair has already been brushed in that almost careless way he likes to pretend is natural. Tobio knows better. He kneels down beside him on the floor, already adorning his joggers and running shorts with the matching, mint jacket. Tobio recognizes the set, the one with the little galactic planet logo on the back with holo glitter, declaring Out of This World in circular print around it. Tobio'd gotten the set for Tōru for their last anniversary. Somewhere behind him, Tobio's phone goes off. "Time to get up," Tōru sings, feathering fingers along the fringe of his bangs. It is cruel, so very cruel, and then Tōru shoots him with a small, sleepy smile, fully visible now and up close, and reminds him again to get up.   Tobio bites down on his bottom lip,  pulling his eyes up and away, willing the tears at the edge of his vision to dry swiftly. "Hey —" Tōru starts, but Tobio flings his arms over his face, smacking the gentle fingers from his hair and hiding effectively from Tōru's stare. "Go away, " Tobio demands—practically croaks—at Tōru. "I'll get dressed.”

*

It is his feet that carry him left when Tōru continues forward, chasing a path he had grown used to.

“The park's this way, “ Tōru tells him. “Dummy,” he adds with a snide little smile, fingers lacing through Tobio's and he tugs him back, beckoning him to follow. Tobio does.

Until a few block down, and Tōru's feet weigh him to the cement. Tobio looks back at him, over the stretch of their arms, halfway in the street already.

Tōru's eyes look vaguely wild, lips pressed together tightly. His hold on Tobio doubles and pains him, but instead of letting go Tobio squeezes back.

“Let's go,” he says, and Tōru nods. But he stays on the sidewalk. “What?”

“Here,“ Tōru says, not looking up. His brows knit together, eyes distant as if there's a memory he cannot quite recall on the tip of his tongue. “It was here —” Tōru swallows audibly. Tobio can barely feel any circulation in his hand now. “—There was fog… I didn’t see them and then the car... it didn’t stop and I—”

His eyes finally meet Tobio’s, but he’s not sure Tōru actually sees him.  

Tobio walks the distance back between them, shoulder bumping carefully against the other. Where their hands connect, Tobio pulls Tōru back along with him, retracing their path back the few blocks over. Tōru eases his hand eventually, pulling up alongside Tobio and slipping their joined hands into his pocket where they sit, protected from the cold.

Over Tōru's head, just before they take the right to the park this time, Tobio sees the edges of his apartment building and wonders, briefly, what business Tōru had on the other side of the city from his own apartment, so early that morning.

*

Shouyo texts him sometime in the late afternoon on Christmas Eve. Several other texts flood in from Shouyo’s phone, their tone implying that at least Ryunosuke and Yuu had taken possession of it to harass Tobio to join them for an evening of drinks and catching up.

Flurries had dotted the sky since the early morning and Tobio's content to watch them flitter and fly from the comfort of his couch. Tōru smiles at him from the far end, legs huddled in what seems uncomfortably close to his chest, adorning the same gaudy alien hoodie he'd procured from the closet the other night. He is vibrant against the gray outdoors.

Tobio declines.

We said it'd be tradition, the next message reads.

You're single this year no excuses!!!, says the last. He kills his phone's power after that.

It startles him when Tōru plops himself right between the couch pillows and Tobio's back.

“Did you know the first recorded UFO sighting was in 1639?” He keeps his far elbow bent on the cushions, holding his head up to stare beyond Tobio’s hairline at the screen. Still, he is close enough that Tobio can feel his breath along the shell of his ear. On screen is an alien documentary, but Tobio doesn't have the mind for it. Tōru continues without waiting for an answer, “Though some people say they've been mentioned as early as the bible.”

Tōru prattles on, his fingers dancing unmindfully along the bend in Tobio's waist. Where Tōru touches him, his skin tenses and tingles. Tōru might as well be planets away, but his presence on earth is still warm and comfortable against Tobio’s back. He leans into it, tilting his head up to watch Tōru’s face instead. Under his chin is a small litter of scars Tobio knows wasn’t there a year ago. He wonders if they are painful and swallows down the urge to kiss each and every single one better.

Tōru blinks at him the moment he notices his stare. “What?”

“It’s boring,” Tobio says. “Aliens are stupid.”

“Oh?” Tōru sings, removing the hand on his waist to tap a single finger to Tobio’s nose. “Maybe it’s because you’re stupid, my dear Tobio-chan.”

“No.” Tobio’s glare fuels Tōru’s laughter. His finger follows up the curve of Tobio’s nose and runs through his hair.

“Well, you know,” Tōru starts, hand curving down Tobio’s cheeks, palm resting upon the full expanse of it and he smiles, wickedly, “you kind of look like an alien.”

Tobio sputters. “I do not,” he protests. But that only seems to amuse Tōru. He takes hold of Tobio’s other cheek and pushes and pulls against the flesh until Tobio’s lips pucker like a fish, then pulls his mouth into a long smile.

Tōru only laughs harder as Tobio tries to shake him, and he can’t quite stop himself from himself from joining in.

Beyond him the sun peaks in the sky, chilly beams clinging about Tōru's face as his head lulls back. Tobio's heart swells. Tōru looks soft, delighted as he is, and Tobio fears that touching him may ruin the moment—that Tōru would slip through his fingers like the falling snow.

And then, Tōru kisses him.

His fingers on Tobio are cool, a vibrant contradiction to the heat pooling in his cheeks, and welcomed. A thumb taps on the plump skin of his cheek bone and then caresses down, curling at the base of his neck. Tōru's mouth is warm, and when he breathes, “Tobio,” between them it is so sweet, tooth achingly saccharine, and Tobio purloins a second taste, a third, and then loses count.

He could lose many things—a year’s worth of things if luck grants him it—to the scent of hibiscus shampoo and a tongue so sweet it might drive out all the bitterness.

But he doesn't.

His fingers remember the measure of every curl in Tōru's hair, his palms the exact plump of Tōru's cheeks. He can feel every nuanced change, and it is enough to make his heart throb.

“Tōru,” he manages to croak. Tōru pauses, sitting back just enough to stare him down and Tobio almost chokes. Liquor had never been one of his vices, but Tōru’s eyes are as fine and dark as a spiced rum as they catch glints of the winter sun, and Tobio thinks he would be perfectly content to drown in them, to stay unendingly intoxicated.

But that he also cannot.

Unsatisfied, Tōru leans back in, the warmth of him so sorely missed that it almost burns, is almost enough to throw away pride and reason, but instead Tobio's finger clutch the pillow under his head and shoves it between them.

“Tobio-chan!” Tōru shouts, equal parts miffed and confused.

“Don't,” Tobio manages. “Don't.”

“Don't what? Kiss you?” Tōru huffs.

Tobio cannot see him, Tōru obscured completely by the cream pillow, but he can feel where the other's hands clench around the couch’s edge, can see the knuckles turning white and pink. Tōru's arms shake mildly and Tobio wonders if he's about to cry, or if it's still the effect of his accident.

“I don't get it, Tobio-chan,” his voice is only a whisper, but there’s a quiet whine under his breath. “I kept asking for you, back in the hospital, you know?”

Oh, definitely near tears Tobio decides.

“Iwa-chan… he said that you'd want nothing to do with me.” Tōru chuckles, joylessly. “But then you did. And I thought, I thought maybe you still loved me after all, and we could just go back.”

“I have to—” Tobio barely manages to breath,” I have to go—”

He pushes Tōru away with the plush of the cushion and storms his way down the hall, trying his best to ignore the prickling sensation in his half asleep legs.

He loses against them at the front hallway, dropping on his back end upon the lip’s edge there that divides the room into the foyer. Tobio slips his shoes on as quickly as he can. Tōru doesn't seem to be following him.

The black duffel bag stares up at him before Tobio can reach for the door. He doesn't know what possesses him to kick it. Perhaps it's the ever insistent reminder in his doorway that things had changed, that even if today Tōru loved him, well, perhaps tomorrow he would not.

He kicks it again.

This time it falls forward and something chimes on the tile as it slips from a carelessly closed front pouch. Tobio leans over to grab for it and his heart simultaneously freezes and breaks. He catches himself on the far wall and turns the object around between his thumb and pointer finger.

It's a ring.

A simple, little band with a single diamond embedded deeply into the gold, but Tobio knows exactly it's intent.

It’s an engagement ring.

He swallows, turning the band around several times. The entryway light catches along the inner curves, beaming back at him brightly.

It doesn't suit Tōru, he thinks, despite it's simple beauty. Tobio would have bought a bevy of diamonds, for someone like him. Something gaudy, yet beautiful. But he didn't.

Someone else had. Someone who didn't know Tōru.

(Someone who wasn't him.)

*

“We should go,” Tobio says, hand slipping into the pouch of his sweater. The duffel bag sits heavy against his waist.

Tōru blinks up at him then and Tobio cannot meet his gaze, and so he turns away. “I think someone’s waiting for you.”

Before Tōru can make any vein protest, Tobio insists, “You need to go.”

The television clicks off.

Tobio gets the address from Hajime and sets the location in his phone. They take the bus all across town. It chirps like a confused bird, grating on Tobio’s nerves until their stop finally comes up, only a short block around the corner from Tōru’s apartment. In his pocket the ring sits heavier than the duffel bag across his shoulders. Tōru’s head is tilted back the whole way over, gaze climbing up and trained on the long faces of the older architecture.

Hajime, always reliable, makes sure to send Tobio the building code with his texts, but it fails to be useful when someone on their way out smiles at Tōru and keeps the door open for them. The key is found easily enough in Tōru’s personal effects.

For one person, the shared living space is comfortable. The windows are wide, almost the length of the far wall, flowing through with natural light from the near-dawn sky. He can see just a peek of the sun, over the top of the adjacent building’s roof. Tobio looks for signs of life around them, but none greet him.

Tōru picks up a book sitting on the dresser that is pushed up against the wall by the door. He lets it plop back down, the smack of it on the glossed over wood sounding like a gunshot in the silence. Tobio glares back at him, but Tōru shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs.

“I don’t see anyone,” he says. The door shuts heavily behind him, and this time they both jump. Tōru places a hand over his heart, and looks at Tobio, wide eyed. “Is it a ghost?”

Tobio frowns in reply.

Barely an hour later, Tōru watches him under droopy eyelids from where he’s strewn himself and the rest of his belongings across the double bed. It must be a gift, Tobio thinks, to appear absurdly bored at all the possibilities the last year has brought him.

But then again, Tōru has never been a standard of normalcy. Point in case: the little poster above his head declaring, “Surround Yourself With People Who Will Lift You Up!” that depicts a tiny stick figure being abducted by an alien spaceship. The rest of the apartment, however, is decorated with a more classy taste, only a few odd trinkets popping out to the eye.

“So,” Tōru drawls, “what makes you think there’s anyone else coming back here?”

Tobio taps one of the figurines closest to him, some anime girl from one of Tōru’s shows he could never really get into. Dust lingers on his finger when he lifts it back up. He wipes it off on his pants with a face.

It is not the only thing in the apartment that looks unloved.

“Well?”

Tobio twirls in the stool seat, eyes sweeping over the apartment again. Even he can see, it hasn’t been very well lived in as of lately.

“C’mon~” Tōru trills, pushing up into a sitting position. “Share with the class, Tobio-chan!”

Tobio dips his hand back into his sweater’s pocket. The ring burns where it slips between his fingers and into his palm, hand clenching unconsciously until the ridges bite into the fatty flesh there. As if there’s a string between them, the feeling mimics in his heart.

He doesn’t see why someone wouldn’t be waiting for Tōru.

Tōru huffs, grabbing for one of the pillows from the head of the bed and pinning it against his chest with his now raised legs. His head rests on it as he continues to glower at Tobio across the small room. Tobio stares back, silent.

After a while, Tōru sighs. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But—” he pats the place next to him with pleading eyes that are unfair “—come sit with me?”

Tobio can’t deny him that, and so he drops off the stool and joins Tōru on the bed. He scoots further back until his back hits the wall, the tip of his hair tapping along the poster’s edge.

Tōru pushes back on the bed, slumping against the wall just a hair's breadth from Tobio. His hand wraps tighter around the band. It is a reminder his heart needs, but doesn’t, necessarily, want.

“We should eat soon,” he says. Tōru, unexpectedly, laughs.  

Tobio watches him, the little lines visible along the edge of his mouth and the vision of Tōru shaking with uncontrolled laughter causes him to ache.

“Of course!” Tōru titters, “The first thing you want to talk about is dinner.”

Tobio breathes in through his nose instinctively, and the sound comes out like a little sniffle. There’s a weight on his chest he cannot ignore any longer and his hand squeezes ever so tightly, he can barely feel the jewelry in his grasp now.

Tōru will probably never laugh with him again.

Tōru will never push him off the bed in his sleep again.

Tōru will never buy his favorite buns from that one shop three bus stops out of his way, pretending he ended up there by accident because he’s actually really sorry for the last argument he started.

Tobio doesn’t recognize the first hiccup as coming from his throat, but Tōru startles. He can feel his face pinch against the sensation of crying, all thoughts on keeping the tears at bay, but it doesn’t work.

“Tobio-chan~” Tōru coos. The fabric of his hoodie feels comforting on Tobio’s skin where Tōru cups his face, the pad of his thumbs peeking through the tattered old holes in the cuffs, and softly wiping his cheeks dry. His fingers feel as if they’ve caught an ever permanent frostbite, nipping where they touch him, but Tobio doesn’t mind.

“Tobio-chan,” he says again. “Breathe for me, okay?”

Tobio breathes in deeply, but it doesn’t seem to help more than give fuel to tears. With no resistance against him, Tōru manages to pull him to his chest. The lean strains Tobio’s back, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t adjust further than latching his fingers together behind Tōru's broad back and squeezing in closer.

When he breathes in again, the scent of expensive laundry soap and too spicy cologne and curry tickle his nose and eases something inside him. Something he’s missed.

Home.  

“I’m sorry I laughed at you about dinner.” Tōru whispers and Tobio can feel the breath of his laugh fan along the fringe of his hair. Blunted nails run cautiously along the curve of his scalp, fingers catching in and untangling threads of hair.

Tobio shakes his head.

He slips the hand still holding the jewelry out from underneath it's hiding spot and holds it up for Tōru to take. Tobio feels him shift to accommodate grabbing the trinket without compromising their position. There is no relief when Tobio relinquishes the ring into Tōru’s awaiting hand.

There's a slight hitch in his breath when Tōru asks, “Where did you find this?”

“In your stuff,” Tobio mutters. “The duffel bag.”

Outside the door, feet shuffle by, and momentarily it feels like his heart has stilled just to listen. The stranger passes on without even a test of the knob.

As if sensing his thoughts, Tōru's fingers return to petting his hair.

“No one else is coming here,” he says finally, certainly. Tōru’s cheek is cold, too, when it comes to rest atop Tobio’s forehead. If the position pains his neck, Tōru gives no tell. “Don’t you think Iwa-chan would have known?”

It's a sob that follows the question, heart wrenching, and it leaves cracks in Tobio's heart, along the already jagged edges. He squeezes, fingers digging into Tōru's back unconsciously, mind chanting, I don't want to let go.

I don't want to let go again.

But despite himself, Tobio pulls back. Tōru smiles at him, the edges wobbly at best, and it should not be an earth shattering realization that for all his bravado, he is scared too, yet somehow it is.

Stars burn in his eyes, a sickly green cast against wine-dark, and Tobio notices them in the lack of sunlight now, latched to the ceiling above them. He remembers owning a set of similar decals in his childhood bedroom, a make-do nightlight against the monsters hiding under his bed, in his closet.

“Sorry,” Tōru murmurs. “I thought we’d finally gotten it right this time. I just—” he wipes at his eyes with the back of his hands “—woke up with this idea of what tomorrow was supposed to be like, but it's already gone and it feels—” he presses his lips together tightly and breathes in. “It feels like some body snatcher froze me in time and took over my life and then dropped me back off without so much as a rundown.”

The poster by his head crinkles where his hair tickles the edge and he looks, so unimaginably small, distant, though it would take barely any effort at all to touch him. Tōru breathes out for a long while, disturbing a tuft of his own bangs. “I don't know what I did Tobio-Chan—”

“You left,” Tobio answers, briskly. He busies himself watching the makeshift sky, imagining the way Tōru would choose to lay out the stars, wondering if he’d hold up a picture on his cellphone to make sure he’d gotten some cluster of galaxies just right, and then plucking them off one by one to try again. Tobio furrows his brow at them, trying to remember from nights stargazing, stretched out along the fields back home in Miyagi, recalling Tōru’s excited prattle, just which one he might have been going for. “Because of me. I think.”

He can hear Tōru when he breathes in, nose absolutely stuffy with snot.

“I'm—not good,” he presses. His voice—his hands—his heart quiver in tandem. He swallows. “I don't get things all the time, so you must have put up with a lot.”

One of the stickers above them sits on its last leg, ready to drop where the binding agent isn't sufficient, a single edge still fighting to keep hold. Tobio wonders if he could make a wish on it, if it were to fall.

I want to go back.

“It was Christmas, I think. We had plans, maybe. I think. We usually don’t so I didn't…I don't think I remembered—some of the guys were in town and I—you were texting me, but I didn't read them until—”

Oh, he's crying again.

“You said—one of the last things you wrote was that I probably didn't love you enough—but I—”

“Did you?”

Tobio nods.

Tōru stares at him a while, considering him quietly. “Did you tell me that, Tobio?”

“No,” Tobio whispers. “I was—I was waiting until—”

“Until what?”

Tobio swallows. “Until you came home.”

“What's with that?” Tōru laughs, a bitter little thing. His eyes shine like dark embers in the limited lighting, moreso from the swell of tears gathering under his eyes. It's a very unattractive face, but it looks well on Tōru regardless. “Hey Tobio-chan,” he implores him softly, “if I didn’t come back, would you have just kept waiting?”

The answer seems obvious to Tobio. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

Tōru looks at him, eyes steely and wondering, and it feels like his mouth has gone dry. Tobio wants to touch him again, to feel the swell of his cheek against the palm of his hand, to kiss the square of his jaw, his forehead, his lips until they both forget.  

But he doesn't.

“I love you,” Tobio says instead. He breathes in, pushes his gaze to stare down at the mattress instead. He can't recall what the globs of color were meant to be even though there had been light not but an hour ago. “Even at your worst,” he swallows, “even if you don’t love me back— for me, it’s just always been you, Oikawa. So I’ll wait. ”

Tōru stares at him and Tobio thinks he can see a galaxy of stars behind it. “You know one of the last things I remember thinking?”

Tobio shakes his head.

“‘I want to be with Tobio-chan forever.’” Tōru snorts. He holds the ring up between the two of them, pinning the band between his thumb and forefinger. Tobio’s eyes follow the path the ring takes as Tōru rolls it along the curve of his thumb, pale lights catching and gleaming in the dark gold surface. Tōru pulls it back a second later, cupping the ring in his palm and away from Tobio's sight. “Seems like I probably never stopped.”

There is an audible thump where Tōru hits his head back against the wall. “I must have kept this the whole time,” he sniffles. “How pathetic.”

Tobio tilts his head, not quite understanding and Tōru slips the ring into his jean pocket with a haughty sniff.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I'll explain it to you later.”

Street lamps flicker to life outside. Tonight they are unobscured by any fog, yet they do little more to help lighten up the studio than Tōru's stickers. But what little does smuggle it's way in sits softly along Tōru's face, catches brightly in his eyes.

Tobio leans back against the wall with him, unsure. Tōru's hand finds his.

“Let's go back,” Tōru says, resolutely. His eyes look back at Tobio and his mouth quirks up along one side. Tobio adds Tōru's dimples to the list of things he'd like to kiss. “I think… that’s what we’ve both wanted. Make things right. Go back to where we were.” He takes a reconsidering pause, wrinkling his nose. “Maybe just a little before that.”

Tobio squints. “The couch?”

“I hate how endearing I find your stupidity,” Tōru scoffs. “I'm asking you out.” He pauses, “Again.”

Tobio stares until the request sinks in and then finds himself nodding. Tōru hikes one of his legs against Tobio's other side, straddling him. His free hand curls around the curve of his jaw, tilting Tobio’s face up to look at him, as if he hadn't been rapt enough.

“You want to know something funny, Tobio-chan~?” From this distance Tobio can read the mirth in Tōru's eyes. “I just realized you were right about something.”

Tobio frowns. “That's not funny. “

“But it is,” Tōru insists. “Because someone was waiting for me.”

The breath of his laughter ghosts over Tobio's lips when he leans forward, only to be replaced a second later by Tōru's own. There's a smile in his kiss, sweeter than chocolate or hibiscus, and Tobio makes sure to press his own smile along the underside of Tōru's jaw, his forehead, his dimples, before returning to his lips.

Above them, unable to keep hold, the little star finally gives out. Tobio barely notices it, until Tōru laughs, brushing the stray decal from his hair before kissing him again.

[softprincesso]

✨ HOW TO BECOME A WEALTHY MIDDLE AGED MAN✨

PT.2: Overview to understanding different saving/retirement methods, investments, and forms of income

Pt. 2.2 Overview of Investments

Welcome lovelies to (what I hope will be) a helpful series on gaining wealth and becoming financially literate and independent!

Disclaimer: Check other posts. It's too long to keep typing out.

Now comes (what I believe) is the fun part of money. Making it grow.

Investments are defined as “an asset or item acquired with the goal of generating income or appreciation.” Essentially, anything you purchase with the belief that in time it will be worth more. This includes the entire stock market, cryptocurrencies, art, real estate, jewelry, vintage coins, designer bags, etc. Of course, some of these take more time and each comes with some amount of risk. These variables change according to your strategy as an investor.

✨THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND✨

Begin as a Beginner

Do not overwhelm yourself during your financial literacy journey by trying to learn everything, all at once, while also trying it all out. The thing that creates the most confusion when learning is believing the lie that you can multitask well. Yes, start with a brief overview of the systems and institutions (what we are currently doing in the series) but literally all you need to start is definitions and a gist so that you can comprehend how they connect later on. Learning an entire world that has never been taught to you is going to take time, and I’m talking years. And then, when you think you have something down your going to mess up or read an article about how the stock you saw yesterday for $6 is now $1000 and you’re going to be frustrated (this happens a lot). But, If you want to learn about the stock market, focus on the stock market. Retirement still scares you, focus on that until you master it and have a plan. And for Christ’s (or whatever deity/person/universe you believe in) if you do not have a steady stream of income do not put your last pennies trying to get into crypto (or any investing truly). This is something to start after you have income, a savings, a retirement, and have paid off at least most debts.

Recommended sources to learn more:

Netflix has a great series called “Explained” where (you guessed it) they explain things. While I recommend every episode because you can never learn too much, there are ones specifically dedicated to the stock market, cryptocurrencies, and billionaires each that helps to uncomplicate the history and purpose of each of these things.

✨Let’s get started✨

The Stock Market

“Stock markets are real and electronic exchanges that enable the buying and selling of securities. The most popular include the NYSE, Nasdaq MarketSite, and Tokyo Stock Exchange.” Let me, let you, in on a little secret-the stock market is essentially fantasy football (sorry, my American is showing) but with companies. When you buy a security, you are betting that (in the long run or short run, depending on your strategy) that a certain company will perform well and gain profits, which in turn will gain you money on what you bet. There are two categories of players in the market which include the assets (the football players) and the investors (the betting public). Of the assets you can categorize further by what position they play on the field…

Stocks

Most well-known, but the riskiest. The “star” player that everyone hypes up and takes all the credit. Stocks are fractional pieces of publicly traded companies, and by buying a stock you own a relative size of that company. They are either “paying you” through growth (when their stock price rises) or through dividends (when they send you a piece of their profits directly).

Mutual Funds

Less known but a safer bet than single stocks. Popular among those in middle age. “Mutual funds are baskets of stocks or bonds. They come in all different shapes and sizes, from covering broad stock market indexes to focusing on specific sectors.” When you buy a mutual fund, you are saying that you believe on average that pile of stocks/bonds are going to do well, instead of betting on a single player. Usually they are actively managed by people who are trying to “beat” the market for you. Statistically good for the short term, long term are less effective than ETFs.

Index Funds: a subset of mutual funds that are passively managed and track indexes like an ETF but trade like a mutual fund (once at the end of the day and without reliance of supply and demand)

ETFs

Exchange traded funds. The up-and-coming underdog that’s gaining popularity. These are passively managed baskets of stocks and bonds that track over a specific index like the S&P 500. They work like stocks, being traded throughout the day, relying on supply and demand, while giving a lot of the advantages that mutual funds do. They also come with their own set of disadvantages but are still a great way to diversify a portfolio inexpensively.

Bonds

The reliable bench players you know you can put in to save a game. Great safe bets that can generate a steady income. Bonds work like a loan for a regular person, except for a company. You can loan your money to a company which will pay you a principal plus a fixed interest back every specified period. There are different types which come with different advantages and strategies, so make sure to read the fine print.

Commodities

Tangible goods that go into manufacturing-Gold, oil, metals, corn, soybeans, etc. A good defensive team to have in the game for a hedge against inflation or economic troubles. They trade in a commodity exchange. You can still access them through most brokers.

Source to look into for deeper understanding and questions: https://www.investopedia.com/terms/i/investment.asp

Easy way to get started quickly:

1. Create a brokerage account: There are lots of accounts to choose from, but I would go for accounts that have zero fees and no minimum, this is starting to become the norm but once upon a time you had to give a minimum investment of $5000 to get started. I personally use Charles Schwab and Robinhood. I love all of the tools and accounts Schwab has and Robinhood is just easy to use.

2. Sign up: this may take a day or two to finalize, especially with banks but it shouldn’t be a big deal

3. Connect a card or account to transfer funds

4. Buy your first security: I would start off with simply looking up beginner investments on google. I recommend either an ETF, index fund, or choose a company that you have an interest in because you will be more likely to keep up on their news

5. Tip: think long term as a beginner. Sure, once you start learning and understanding you can change your strategy to gain more in a shorter time, but this comes with much more risk. Do not be an idiot and sell all of your stock when you see your investment plummet nor sell as soon as you see it go up a little. The best advice for a beginner: Buy a stock and leave it alone (for YEARS)

Property/Real Estate

There are many ways to invest in real estate-you can buy a property, you can invest in a property fund, you can become a landlord,or you can flip a property. Again, depending on the strategy, will change the risk and reward you have taken on. All of these options are usually on the more cash heavy side but can reap a lot of rewards if done right.

Source to look into:

https://www.nerdwallet.com/article/investing/5-ways-to-invest-in-real-estate

Easy way to get started quickly:

1. Buy a real estate ETF or fund, you can just look this up on google or through your brokerage

2. OR you could look into buying a property near you and renting it out if you have that much cash (Make sure to do your research, this can get pretty complicated)

Art

Also considered property but until recently it was incredibly hard to invest in art without significant cash and contacts available. Now, there are platforms like Masterworks where you can buy a fraction of a piece like a stock of Monet and you get the rise in appreciation. However, it still is for those with money already available, I believe you have to invest a minimum of $2500 to get started on MW.

Sources to look into: https://www.investopedia.com/articles/pf/08/fine-art.asp

Crypto

Cryptocurrencies are digital currencies that are not backed by real or tangible assets or goods, but on the trust and value of the people that use them, and supply and demand. They can be traded like stocks on an exchange and are tracked with a digital ledger on the blockchain. The first cryptocurrency was Bitcoin and the rest that have followed are categorized as altcoins (alternative coins).

The stage of cryptocurrencies we are in is likened to the early 90s with the internet. Not a lot people truly understand the blockchain (the vast ledger space which contains every transaction made securely in encrypted “blocks” that are then “chained” together so that if one block is compromised the whole chain shuts it down.) It is decentralized and written simultaneously on thousands of super computers. The beauty of it is that if one ledger on one computer is somehow hacked or wrong the rest of the computers storing the ledger interrupt and either fix it or shut it down. A way to understand it is blockchain is to the internet as bitcoin is to a website, but the internet runs off people trusting the system, blockchain runs off trusting no one.

The currencies that run on blockchain can have a multitude of purposes, but bitcoin was really just the starting solution to fix the problem of trust on the internet. People wanted a secure, anonymous, untraceable way to spend money online, like cash is in the real world. And while for the most part it is just that, it isn’t completely anonymous. Like in the real world if you buy something from Mcd*nalds with cash that transaction is still recorded in their system and through a receipt. Your crypto transactions are recorded in the blockchain, but most people don’t even know how to access the ledger so for now any ill*cit purchases you make are pretty safe.

I HIGHLY recommend looking into a cryptocurrency course or training just because there is so much that goes into it and lots of details that can help you. This investment is incredibly risky and volatile! I only would suggest investing an amount you are completely comfortable to lose ALL of.

Sources to learn more:

https://www.investopedia.com/cryptocurrency-4427699

Easy to get started quickly (Please dear lord do your research first):

1. Sign up on a crypto exchange like Coinbase or Binance, some brokers (like Robinhood) also allow you to trade crypto but it’s a very limited selection

2. Do lots of research!! (I’m going to say it until you get it, and I don’t think you get it yet)

3. Think of it like stocks, if you read up on the coin and its purpose, and think that it’s going to be useful soon or in the future, then invest

4. Tip: the crypto market moves MUCH faster than the stock market and is much more sensitive. In just these last few days (literally hours) bitcoin was trading at $40,000+, the following day, for whatever reason (people got scared, people wanted to sell to get profits, etc.) it will barely hold $33,000. So, invest wisely!

This is very brief list of the main investments. There is still a lot of depth each of these goes into and especially with things like crypto, information changes 24/7. I hope you have learned by now that you should be continually learning as well. Instead of spending your morning looking at your Instagram feed of bum friends, dusty men, and “models” spend it reading the paper and catching up on the market. Follow investors and billionaires like you follow celebrities and see how much smarter you become. At the end of the day winners focus on winning, losers focus on winners.

With love,

O

[gameofdrarry]

Drarropoly 2021: International Edition

Join us for the fourth annual game/fest where your creativity and Draco and Harry are the winning combination! 

📋 SIGNUPS ARE OPEN!!! 📋 

➡  Oct 15 - Jan 01 

🎲 GAMEPLAY 🎲 

➡  Nov 01 - Jan 01 

❓ What is Drarropoly ❓

Drarropoly is a Drarry Game/Fest for creators modeled after the board game Monopoly. Signups open October 15 and the game begins on November 1.

❓ How does it work  ❓

We created a virtual game board inspired by a variety of HP-themed places, items, and people! This year, the theme is the international wizarding world, with over 40 themed spaces on the board that feature tropes and traits inspired by the eight wizarding schools and by wizarding culture at large. Each space has its own unique writing prompt and parameters.

When you sign up to play, the mods roll the dice for you and move you on the board, informing you of your position and assigning you the corresponding prompt. Once you fill the prompt, you can begin the process again, moving on the board and receiving a new prompt. You may sign up at any time after the fest opens and complete any number of prompts, one or thirty! It’s up to you! 

➡ This is a stress-free event with no pressure. ⬅

Buckle up! The Ridiculously Long and Elaborate Rules (But Quite Simple, Really!) & FAQ are below!

❓ What kind of prompts  ❓

Each regular position has a prompt created to fill a Drarry trope or situation we all love. Most prompts offer two or three options the “player” may choose from, like quotes, tropes, or settings that fit that particular spot’s theme.

This year, as with previous iterations of the game/fest, there will be basic parameters that the writer will need to meet to submit their finished prompt. However, there will also be two additional levels. These additional (and completely optional!) levels require extra parameters like a greater word count, change in Point of View, or a very specific trope, but they also can earn more points for the player and their team.

There are also spots like Azka-Damn (with potential sizzling interpretations), Magical Transportation spots, International Newspapers spots, and other bonuses— all of which have multiple prompts and variations based on the player’s roll.

❓ What are the guidelines  ❓

The one hard and fast rule is obvious: IT MUST BE DRARRY.

You can include other background pairings and characters, even OT3, but Draco + Harry must be the main focus.

All ratings are welcome, please just make sure you tag your submission appropriately wherever you choose to post it.

There are no time limits in Game of Drarry events. Writers may move at their own pace with no pressure to submit. The game does, however, end on January 1, 2022, which is the last day to receive a new prompt. All prompts will be needed by January 10 to be counted for points.

❓ What about the different parameters ❓

The spirit of Game of Drarry is to encourage creativity and also challenge and inspire. We set various random word counts like Minimum: 433 - Maximum: 753 to get writers to think critically and make calculated choices about their storytelling.

❓ That sounds nice but what if an idea gets away from me and I write 2000 words for one of the prompts ❓

In previous iterations of the game/fest, we’ve allowed for word counts that exceed the given parameters by providing various types of punchcards for the players to utilise. This time around, players will be given the optional O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s levels for almost every single prompt which will up the possible word counts (and points!) to a maximum of 5000 words.

The punchcard option on this iteration of the game/fest will have (1) opportunity to pass on a prompt and (1) opportunity to change or alter the prompt and still submit it for points.

A bit of friendly competition!

Everyone knows the actual game of Monopoly notoriously ends when someone overturns the board and storms off angry. This game has a set conclusion for January 1, 2022. While it is a prompt-based Game/Fest, there is an added element of competition!

When you sign up, the mods will assign you a team at random to keep the numbers even. There are four teams total.

Our tally of your submissions sends points to your team. There are also options for bonus points and prompts.

Additionally, you’ll have access to the Game of Drarry Discord server where you can chat with other players, lounge around your team’s private channel, sprint, find betas to scream at, and have chat access to the mods.

❓ Where do I post my submissions  ❓

You may post your filled prompt on your chosen public platform. You will be asked to submit the link when you request to move forward on the board. You are encouraged to add your work to our AO3 collection, which is self-posting! The link will be available when the game begins.

❓  What are the prerequisites to participate ❓

The only prerequisite is that you must be 18 years or older. You do not need to have work posted publicly before the game/fest begins. You only need your imagination and a love of Drarry! 

TL;DR — This is a lot to keep track of….

It seems like it is, but the mods have a lovely set of spreadsheets and keep track of it all.

Once you sign up, the email you receive will have all the information you’ll need, including a link to the more detailed player’s handbook and the discord server!

And that’s really all you need to know!

Whether you play once or fifty times, we can’t wait to see your creative work!  

Have more questions? Email us at gameofdrarrymod at gmail dot com or shoot us an ask.

📋 SIGNUPS 📋 Oct 15 - Nov 01 

🎲 GAMEPLAY 🎲 Nov 01 - Jan 01

[thatemotionalbitch]

💕🖋️🗑️🥇

Good morning! Or maybe good afternoon! Or perhaps good evening!

💕 What is the WIP that you are most excited about?

Omg this is a hard one??? Because I just finished this fic that basically snowballed from a long one shot into like 26k in the span of five weeks so I feel like my ability to get excited over WIPs is muted right now ahahah.

Ideally, theoretically, the WIP I am most excited about is this crazy fic I started writing back in September which is basically an unholy combination of Schmigadoon! and Virgin River (aka they're trapped in a Hallmark Channel romance show, basically). I might rewatch Schmigadoon to see if I can spark that excitement again because I basically have this whole fic plotted out...

(I just remembered a fic idea @katya-zamos and I talked about which was like Trixie as a siren and Katya a sailor she lures in accidentally and now I'm actually super excited about this now)

🖊 What is the most recent line you’ve written?

Everyone is trying to get my secrets here ahahahah!!!! Here is the most recent that hasn't been seen yet here or here since I can't give the last line:

“With a minimum order of 5000! What a freaking hack—”

“Trix.”

🗑 What is one fic idea that you loved at first but then scrapped?

Okay so I kind of touched on this one here, which was a Greek mythology fic! I also had an idea for a fic based on tis the damn season by Taylor Swift because like... who doesn't get fic ideas from that? But I couldn't make that funny so it got scrapped. I don't trust myself to write melodrama that's not supposed to be humour.

🏅 What is the fic you’re most proud of?

I ALSO touched on this here with Ruby, and I think it's typically always going to ultimately be Library Card. But bonus mention goes out to the fic that I just finished yesterday, because that was a fic that accidentally kept growing and I'm actually very proud of it and how quickly I was able to get it done.

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 03.04.21 lb

aryan is literalllllllly the fuckin dumbest. zero peripheral vision or gut feels.

lmaoooooooooooo yeah right, i’d like to see you shoot at vansh bhai, aryan. i really wanna see this lololololol.

lo aa bhi gaya vansh. (fuck he looks good in this shirt!!!!!! damn my stupid hormones making me horny for the absolute baaaaaaaaare minimum.)

ANGREEEEEEEEEEEE ZINDA HAIIIIIIIIII BHAGWAAN KA LAAKH LAAKH SHUKAR, MAIN MAHA MRITYUNJAYA JAAP KARWAUNGIIIII ISKE NAAM PAR

vansh [seeing an obviously shot angre]: angre, kya hua???

samosa khaate waqt ketchup kandhe pe gira diya........... DIKH NAHI RAHA HAI KI GOLI LAGI HAI TERE CHUTIYE BHAI KI WAJAAH SE?!?!!?! ANGRE DESERVES SO MUCH MORE THAN A FUCKING RAISE, MY GOD.

plan ke hisaaaaaaaaaab se. god i hate all the men in this show so much. angre honestly, why are you suchhhhhh a chaaatu for vansh’s ootpataaang plans?!?!

anyway long story short, vansh saw aryan spying, went and replaced all of aryan’s bullets with blanks, and sent the sms about riddhima being alive. LMAO DOES THAT MEAN HE ALSO CONNED A COOL 2 CR. OUTTA ARYAN?!?!!?! ASDKSADJLASKDJLKASDJKAS GOOD JOB, VANSHHHHHHHH.

angre like why i had to die for this tho???? oh angre, you sweet summer child. do you know NOTHING about your bhaiyya/bhaabi’s amaaaaaaazing relationship????? you think he’d give up a chance to emotionally manipulate her like this????

how’d the dumbass finalllllllllllllllly figure this is real riddhima tho??? also he has fully made his peace with treating his PREGNANT WIFE this way huh????

ishani/siya having a girly convo about siya’s “date”. ishani’s like “was it sizzling, burning, sensational?”

uhhhhhhhhh siya, if you’re feeling all these things, you should go see a gynaec. sounds like an STI to me.

this is a very creepy convo ishani is leading, about how far siya got with vyom. who wants such specific sexual details from their sister????????

asalkdjlaskjdlaskjdlaskljk ishani is like “men are like goats [....] they’re dumb. and women are powerful.” can’t say i disagree.

anyway this convo is really dumb and cringey and i can’t take it anymore. inke bhaiyya ka chutiyaapa dikhao, instead of this nonsense. 

angre is over the moon ki this is riddhima bhaabi itself, unaware that boss is fuming ki uska chutiya kat raha hai.

6 ghante 6 ghante 6 ghante blah blah blah FUCKING OUT WITH IT ALREADY

the only time i like vansh as a person is when he’s smirky over buddhu banaao-ing aryan. 

idhar aryan ne aake chugli kar di sabke saamne.

yeh anupriya ka kya hi chakkar hai, idgi. is she fr on vansh’s side now??????

riddhima khud entry maaar rahi, to prove aryan right.

everyone except siya’s reactions are like ugh, this bitch again 😒😒😒

LMAO VANSH/ANGREEEEE LOST RIDDHIMA AND SHE REACHED HOME BY THEN

ouff 10 min of dadi’s mafia queen reactions nonsense now.

lo vansh bhi aa gaya.

ASALKJDLASJDLSKAJDLKSAJDLKSAJDLKSALDKJLAS DADI STANDING ON THE STAIRS PULLING THAT KHAANDANI RIFLE ON HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM LEGIT LOSING IT LMAO.

ALSO ISHAANI IS STANDING BEHIND DADI, FULLY FOR IT. BAGAAAWATTTT KII PYAARI BEHENAA NE!

riddhima trying to interfere to save vansh (why???), and dadi’s like STFU B.

lol vansh playing stone cold stupid, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

he’s spinning yarn after yarn ki “YEH riddhima hai, WOH jisko maara woh humshakal thi. MERA PYAAAAAAAR WOULD NEVER GIVE ANY OF US DHOKAAAAAAAAAAAA.” pftttttttt.

vansh breaking it down for the truuuuuuuuuuuuuly stupid, ki he shot a girl who had riddhima’s face, she was dead, aryan confirmed it. now there’s a riddhima standing in front of all of them. thus............???????

bechaara aryan. bachpan mein thode aur badaam khaata toh shaayad itna bewakoof nahi hota.

lollipop girl is nodding appreciatively at all this drama; she’s honestly the most relatable character here. if i was a houseguest here, main bhi roz roz mazze looot rahi hoti in chutiyon ka.

le aryan ne phir bandook taan di riddhima par, to get her to uglofy the truth. ab toh isko pakka maar padne waali hai. remains to be seen by whom. hoping it’s vansh as per usual, but i shall take dadi also.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA RIDDHIMA’S LIKE ARYAN HAD KIDNAPPED ME. OMFG LOLLIPOP LADKI’S EXPRESSION AT THAT. SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE WANTS TO BE ADOPTED BY VANSH/RIDDHIMA’S DEVIOUS ASSES.

anyway riddhima flipped the whole damn game and is like dadi, aryan wanted to make you distrust vansh and that’s why he did all this and lmaoooooooo even vansh is a little stunned for a second or two and then jumps in and starts haan mein haan milaao-ing with wifey’s story.

ARYAN LIKE HEIN HEIN HEIN HO KYA RAHA HAI YEH SAB?!!?!?!? HAAAYE BECHAARA. SO SO STUPID HE IS. 

riddhima rubbing it in reallllllllll good in front of dadi ki aryan tried to killllllllll meeeeeeeee!!!!! and now aryan’s like bitch imma kill you both istg and got the gun on them.

LOLLIPOP LADKI’S AMAZING FACES LIKE GO ONNNNNNNNN, DOOOOOO ITTTTTTT, I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU DO IT, SIR. LMAO MAN I LOVE HER.

ASLKADJLAKSJDLASKJDLKSAJLDKJSLAKDJLAS DADI’S GOT HER GUN SET ON ARYAN NOW!!!!!!!!!!! honestly, this whole family is just so fucking dysfunctional, there needs to be a wholeass team of mental health specialists monitoring them and writing case reports about them at all times.

vansh trying to talk aryan down and got shot in the arm for it. pehli baar aryan ne zindagi mein kuch sahi kiya hai.

LOLLIPOP GIRL IS HORNY AT THAT ALSO. MAN SHE’S SUCH A WHORE FOR DRAMAAAAAAAAA AND I FULLY RELATE TO IT.

oh goddamnit. he didn’t get shot. coz aryan sucks at aiming, just like he does at everything else.

ASLKJFDSLKJFLSDKJFLDSKJFLKDSJ VANSH STALKED UP TO HIM AND WAS LIKE “TUMHARA NISHAANA HAMESHA SE HI KHARAAB THA” AND GAVE HIM ONE SOLID SOCK TO THE JAW FOR THAT HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

someone make rrahul trim his damn beard, that thing is like a foot off his face. there must be whole ass beehives and civilizations inhabiting it.

aryan passing by dadi and is like you’re making a big mistake believing vansh/riddhima and their lying asses. and what did he get for that? one jhaapad from dadi also. lol. just not his dayyyyyyyyyyy, man.

LOLLIPOP GIRL’S SMIRKING AND HAS HER ARMS CROSSED AND I LEGIT ONLY CARE FOR HER REACTION SHOTS IN THIS SHOW NOW, LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE.

oh shit dadi is throwing aryan out the house. does he have anyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy skills to fend for himself outside this place? he’s gonna die in like 15 minutes.

dadi warning vansh ki if aryan’s baat sahi nikli, she gonna murder his and riddhima’s asses too. hey vansh??? now would be a good time to take your 5000 cr. and fuck off outta this crazy house rn.

riddhima can’t stop reliving angre’s death.

vansh’s here and just sooooooooooo cool about it. shouldn’t that tip her off?!?!?!?!

she’s like BITCH WHY ARE YOU SUCH A PSYCHOPATH, YOUR BEST FRIEND IS DEAD AND YOU’RE LIKE MEH????? HE DIED FOR YOU.

ohohohohohohoho ofc, he’s like he didn’t die for ME, he died for YOU. you and your dhoka are why he’s dead. today angre’s dead, tomorrow it’ll be me. waaaaaaaaaaah bhai. amazingggggggggg manipulation only. you should write papers and give TED talks about it, that’s how much of an expert you are at this.

do not tellllllllllllllllllllllllllll me she falls for this shit. pls god do not.

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HER BRAIN FINALLY WORKED!!!!!!!!!!! SHE’S LIKE IF ARYAN’S SUCHHHHHHHHHHH A POOR SHOT THAT HE COULDN’T HIT YOU WHEN YOU WERE LIKE 5 FEET AWAY FROM HIM, HOW TF DID HE GET ANGRE RIGHT IN THE FUCKING HEART FROM SO FAR AWAY?????????? YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SIS, THIS THE KINDA SHIT I’VE BEEN WANTING TO SEE FROM YOU FOR AGES NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

lol vansh is really pushing on the 6 ghante thing and she’s like ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, i get it now.

toh ofc he has to resort to sexy fuckery and pulls her under the shower to seduce it outta her.

riddhima don’t think with her pussy no more. she’s like you want the truth????/ i gotta confirm some shit first. took the gun (which he’d taken from aryan earlier) and left.

yup she went outside and found a blood ka packet. lolllllllllllllllllll vansh ki khairrrrrrrrrrrr nahi ab.

sopping wet saiyyaan is like what youuuuuuuu doing??? and she pulled the gun on him. bwahahahahaha. sis not so much of an idiot anymore.

LMAO SHE SHOT AT HIMMMMMM AND HE CAN’T BELIEVE IT. I LOVE ITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT.

she’s like bitch you and your lies and your dhokasssssssssss.

oh dang she fully called out his game, from sending aryan to manipulating her into being guilty for angre’s death. MANNNNNNNN, WHY DIDN’T WE HAVE THIS RIDDHIMA FROM THE FUCKING START????????????

oh now he’s gaslighting her about the dhoka. he’s got some nerve. i swear to god he’s asking to be shot for reals.

she’s like you know what, i woulda told you, but now, after all this fuckery, imma take it to the grave. bwahahahahahhahaha, i love it. exactly what my petty ass would do.

challenge challenge challenge and tashan waala walk-off. lol, what’s the point, tum dono ko jaana toh ek hi kamre mein hai.

ishani’s freaking the fuck out at angre’s haalat. oh damn. she really does love him!!!!

angre’s all mehhh, it’s part of the job, and OMG YES ISHANI IS LOSING HER SHIT AT VANSH BHAI’S CONSTANT CONTROL OF THEIR LIVES!!!!! FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“tum pehle mere husband ho, phir unke bodyguard!!!!!!!! HE HAS TO UNDERSTAND HIS LIMITS!!!!!!” OMGGG  YESSSSSSSSSSS QUEEEEEEEENNNNNN BURN IT ALL TO THE GROUND. LEAVE THIS HOUSE WITH YOUR BOY AND NEVER LOOK BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

idhar riddhima and vansh seem to have made up???? she’s waking him up cheekily, and he’s all “good morning to youuuuu too, my love. 😏😏😏” they fucked in the night, for sho.

he’s like is this love or repentence for yest? and she’s like bitch tf i got to repent for????

lmao the way she’s staring at him as he drinks his coffee makes me think she’s poisoned it. or spat in it, at the very least.

standard pulling and falling and sexy stuff. lol these two are so dysfunctional. constantly trying to sex the other into submission. at least it’s more equal now, than just him making all the moves.

yeah, she’s doing all this shit to protect him from some shit FOR SURE. ugh yaaaaar. oh well, at least she got some chracter development outta it.

lol he got mad at her for not melting at his do takke ka seduction. son, you thought a bloody forehead kiss was enough? we’re not saying SHIT for less than 3 orgasms.

riddhima cooolyyyy regarding jeeta-jaata chalta-phirta angre, who thankfully has some sharam for his actions.

she’s like don’t worry, i’m not mad at you, i know vansh put you up to it; and he’s like yeah you know i have zero self respect when it comes to vansh bhai. he says jump, i ask how high.

and she’s like you’re your own person dude. and i hope you’ll one day realize that and do what you think is right, not just what vansh tells you to. DUDE I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY DIDN’T GIVE US THIS RIDDHIMA TILL NOW. 

asdkljlaskjdlaskjdlaskjdlaksjdlkasj vansh speaking chinese was really not necessary but....... lol ok.

wtf even is this black box, dude?????? like.............. you know what, idec anymore. nothing in this show is worth wasting brain cells over.

snort, vansh assures his shady business friends that the black box is in safe hands, and instantly riddhima comes and picks it up from the table.

some sultry talk about love and war as they keep taking the box from each other. lol man you’re both so fucking lame.

anyway he put it in the safe and is being patronizing to her, and she’s like be careful at how you play this........ “kahin meri dukhti ragg pe haath na lag jaaye....” OH DAMN. DUDE. I THINK SHE’S LOST THE BABY OR SOMETHING. IT HAS TO BE SOMETHING THAT’S HURT HER MASSIVELY TO BRING ABOUT SUCH A DRASTIC CHANGE (OTHER THAN THE SHOW MOVING FROM TV TO ONLINE)

asldkjsaldjlskadjlksadjlksajd she’s threatening to tell dadi that he played this whole farce in front of her and he’s like U WOT MATEEEE

anyway both of them smilingly fucking each other up about 6 ghante ka raaz and how the other one will lose. man, y’all need SO MUCH THERAPY.

riddhima’s here talking to stupid shunya fucker; and he’s just laughing and talking about his stupid saxophone.

he’s all only the two of us know about this deal we have, no one else in the worldddddddddd knows......

and she’s like actually................................. there’s a third person.

cut to: MY DIL JAAN JIGAR KA TUDKA KABIR, STILL IN CHAINS, SCREAMING RIDDHIMA’S NAME, AND GROWLING ABOUT HOW VANSH WILL KILL HER WHEN HE FINDS OUT HER SECRET.

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh boy. why did she have to tell vyom that kabir knows? now vyom’s gonna try and kill kabir for sure and i want the reverse to happen!!!!!!!! please god gimme some #kava love where vansh saves kabir from vyom to make up for that one time kabir saved his life from chang!!!!!! i just want my two boys together!!!!!!!!!

precap: same old chutiyapa. vansh got her fingerprints off a glass to open her phone; she tries to steal the black box from his secret room and he catches her. abbe yaaaaaaaaaaaaar. 

[broken-clover]

AU-gust Day 8- Superpowers/Superheroes

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

So apparently when I say ‘these are very long, maybe I should make them less long next time’ it apparently means ‘WRITE NEARLY 5000 WORDS AND SUFFER’ I’m having. A day. Not a bad one just. A Day. This more or less feels like a pilot episode for something honestly.

Please do not ask why I keep writing Sin because there is no answer.

Ky had left him in charge of the scanner. Again.

And Sin knew why he had done it, why he always left him sitting in the high-backed chair perched in front of an array of high-tech computers while he and his friends leapt into action. It wasn’t because Sin was any kind of tech genius. It was because it was the best way of keeping him out of the way.

They didn’t even pretend like it was a real task in need of doing. Sol had already rigged the scanner so that it would send notifications to the entire team as soon as it picked up anything suitably peculiar. Ky’s excuse was that they needed him to watch it and make sure the scanner didn’t malfunction, but it never did. It was just a good way to keep him from running around while Ky couldn’t keep an eye on him.

Well, he could have brought him along, but whenever he suggested, Ky just had to get all uppity about it, and say in so many words that he didn’t want his precious baby boy going on dangerous missions, except he’d say it in a way that made him sound completely reasonable and rational, even though he was a teenager now and he was tired of spending time in front of the monitors and doing nothing but sitting on his ass like a useless idiot.

He shifted to prop his chin up on his other arm. The scanner did another rotation around Illyria, but no notification popped up, just like the last thousand or so times. Ugh, he’d been here for hours, when were they going to come back? The distress call had come from the complete opposite side of town, but considering that half of them could fly, and Ky himself could turn into a goddamn lightning bolt, they were awfully slow. So much for ‘just a quick mission’ like he had promised.

Groaning, Sin abandoned the chair and left it to spin behind him. He left the completely empty computer room to head into the equally-empty kitchen, hoping to find something to munch on. In between Sol’s beer bottles, Testament’s vegan snacks and Chipp’s leftover Japanese takeout, there was a plastic-domed pastry box. His excited smile melted off as soon as he pulled it out and peered inside.

“Thank you for keeping our city safe!” Said the fancy frosting letters. Yeah, he knew where it was from. The local orphanage had sent it after Ky and his friends had stopped Judgement from blowing up half the city last week. Because they were a bunch of good-samaritan do-gooders so compassionate and helpful that they got fucking cake from orphans.

He still cut a big piece from it before shoving the thing back into the fridge. Hey, cake was cake. Plus, he could get a kick out of ruining the letters and part of the bright yellow smiley-face under it.

At least being stuck at the base meant nobody raised a stink over him sitting on the meeting table. Sin was careful not to leave any shoe tracks on it, though, after Ky had chewed him out for it the last time. Personally, he thought having a white table was stupid in the first place, but that was the design Ky liked. It was the same reason they had the big sweeping ceilings, elaborate carvings along the walls, and a special designated chair for each of their official members, individualized by their names and insignias (Because his dad really was that fucking cliche)

In between bites of cake, he toed at the fancy lightning bolt carved into Ky’s chair, with ’Thunderseal’ written out above it. Sin remembered when he used to chase his father around the house, pretending to be him with a construction-paper mask and towel cape. He had utterly idolized Thunderseal, and dreamed that someday he would be able to take up the mantle when he became a real hero. It wasn’t a dream he clung onto anymore. Just the shadow of being his son was big enough.

Sin tried to take his mind off things by pulling out his phone. Maybe May would be up for a chat.

‘Anything going on w/ u?’

May always had her phone on her, so it didn’t take long before his pinged with a message. ’Just finished a job! Hbu?’

‘Send pics?’ Just his luck he got her while she was out working. At least maybe he could get a few cool pictures out of it.

Just like last time, it barely took a minute before she responded back with a pile of photos. All of them had May smiling with her teammates in uniform, along with a very irritated-looking (and very wet) tied-up criminal. He’d hoped that the pictures would have cheered him up, but all it did was annoy him further. She was younger and smaller than him by a lot, but she was allowed to go out on dangerous jobs.

Mer-May, the absolute darling of the Jellyfish team of superheroes. Even though they weren’t from Illyria, he still saw stories and photos about them in the paper. They looked like a real team. They probably took all their team members out on missions, and when they didn’t, he bet they had a much better reason than needing someone to watch the scanners.

’Great job! :D’ he messaged back with stiff, trembling fingers, before an errant current made his screen crackle and explode in a burnt cloud.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Why did that always happen when he got frustrated, this was his twelfth phone in the last year! Like he needed one more thing to be annoyed about.

Sin was sick and tired of being inside. He abandoned his half-eaten cake at the table and headed for the entrance, swiping his jacket and a spare mask on the way out.

++++++

Nobody gave him much of a second look as he slid along the wires twenty feet off the ground. Anybody who even noticed the crackle of electricity in the first place regarded him with complete nonchalance. Superpowered individuals had become a lot more commonplace, especially with the formation of publicly-known groups like the Jellyfish and the Guardians of Illyria. It was practically a celebrity subculture. Just a fixture of daily life. People with powers no longer had much of a reason to hide anymore.

In his absentmindedness, he nearly fell off-balance and slipped from the wire he was on. He wondered if Ky ever did that on the job. He might’ve been the team’s shiny poster-boy, but he wasn’t as perfect as everyone always acted like he was. It didn’t stop the newspapers and nighttime TV reports from painting him as some flawless guardian angel. Even when he was little, they were always talking about Ky.’s exploits, how he made Illyria a safe place. For the longest time, all that praise had convinced him his father could do no wrong.

Sin remembered the times when he would hold his father’s hand as they skated across the powerlines, helping him keep his balance. Sin always kept his eyes peeled for trouble, and whenever they spotted a kitten stuck in a tree or someone struggling with groceries, Ky would let him take charge to ‘save’ the civilian in need. He used to love the slightly-exaggerated smiles from grateful people and congratulatory pats on the head from his father, but it all felt so infuriatingly patronizing now. He didn’t want to be stuck helping old ladies cross the street while his father and his friends fought the real villains and saved the day. It never felt like he was helping anyone in the long run, he was just doing errands for people and nothing more than that.

He skidded to a stop on an electronic billboard, slid down the maintenance ladder, and found a place to sit. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a tiny battered book and pen.

‘Sin the Superhero!’ was scrawled across the front in faded, childlike handwriting. He skipped past the scribbled-over and torn pages in the front half, all practically carbon-copies of Ky, until he reached the more complicated doodles and neater handwriting.

‘Hero Name Ideas.’ The list had gotten longer recently, but still none of them seemed to fit him right. He scratched off a couple of older ideas and jot down ‘Livewire’ and ‘Sparx’ at the bottom. Mmm, no, when he wrote them down on paper, that didn’t seem right, either.

“Ughh, why is this so hard!?” Sin groaned to himself, closing the book and smacking himself in the face with it. He wasn’t going to be Thunderseal. No matter what, he was not going to be Thunderseal.

He’d thought of skipping town and joining the Jellyfish, but May’s manager Johnny said that they only accepted female members. There were a few others scattered across the country, like the ones down in Kagutsuchi, Remnant, and Inaba, but they seemed so different from what he was used to, Sin wasn’t sure he’d fit in even if they let him join.

He spotted a convenience store half a block down. Maybe he just needed a snack to help him think. He hadn’t gotten to finish his cake, after all.

Sin slid back up onto the powerline and followed the sidewalk until he found a wall generator to jump into near ground-level. The light burst that followed him when he landed startled an older woman as she headed back to her car, but otherwise nobody paid attention.

The convenience store was awfully quiet for the afternoon, but all it meant was that he could scour the aisles for something to eat. They didn’t have anything meaty, so he settled for red licorice. It almost looked like meat.

“Would you like a bag?” The cashier asked, with the usual feigned-cheer that minimum wage barely afforded.

“Nah, I’m just gonna eat it now.” He replied, digging for a few spare bills in his back pocket.

When he found the money and went to turn back around, he spotted an ominous smear of crimson in his peripheral vision. Out through the front windows, a peculiar-looking girl was stumbling across the parking lot barefoot, stained in what appeared to be blood.

“The hell…?” Sin murmured. He realized he still had money in his hand. “Oh. Shit, uh, keep the change!” All but throwing the money at the poor woman, he grabbed his licorice and bolted out the door, taking a moment to swing his head around to find that girl again before running after her. “Hey! Hold on a second!”

Maybe he was too loud, because she immediately flinched and threw up her arms to cover her head. “I-I’m sorry!”

“You’re...what?” He skidded to a stop right in front of her. Yeah, that was definitely blood. The girl didn’t seem to be in a good condition, if the stumbling hadn’t already given it away. All the bloodstains appeared to be coming from the numerous wounds on her body, mixed together with a handful of ugly violet bruises. “Man, you look in bad shape. Did you get attacked?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” With her arms still covering her, she crouched down and began trembling.

Sin’s features softened. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He crouched down next to her, trying his best to sound harmless. “Okay? Not gonna hurt you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Y-you aren’t?” A single diamond-blue eye peeked between trembling fingers.

“No, I’m not. Are you in danger? Do you need someone to keep you safe?”

She gave him a slow, jerky nod. “Ok! I can do that. My house is really safe, my dad’s a superhero so you don't have to worry about people getting in unless you want them to! Why don’t we go there, and then I can get you some bandaids?”

Another little nod. “Sounds like a plan, then!” He took her hand, helped her back up, and turned in the direction of where he’d come from. “It’s over this way, so we can-”

“No!! No, no, we can’t!” She suddenly shrieked, trying to pull herself from his grip.

“Woah, woah!” Sin let her go in his shock. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t go! I can’t go!” She cried, tugging at her pale pink hair with both hands. “I can’t leave without my sister!”

“Your sister? Where is she?”

Her expression grew haunted. “Oh...oh no...I left her behind...I promised we wouldn’t be separated…”

Sin tried to quell the growing feeling of excitement unfurling in him. Yes, this girl was clearly in need of help. He was finally doing his first real job as a hero, without Ky getting in the way! And he’d found it all by himself! But he needed to keep serious.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get your sister.” He gave the girl a confident grin. “Can you show me where she is?”

Another nod. “Uh-huh. I can show you.”

“Think you can show me from the rooftops? It’ll be faster that way.” She didn’t pull away again when he started leading her towards the generator he had jumped out of.

“Huh? There’s no ladder, how would you- aaaah!”

Sin scooped her up before taking off up the wires to the roof. “I’m a hero, too! I can follow electric currents! So if you can point me in the direction of- oh.”

The sudden movement had apparently freaked her out, and both of her trembling arms were tightly wrapped around him for stability.

“Oops. Um, sorry about that. I forget the vertigo is really bad the first few times.” He tried giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “But I promise I won’t drop you, okay? I just need you to show me what direction you came from.”

It took her a moment to unbury herself from her place in his jacket, but she reached out to point towards the heart of Illyria. “That way. It's by the big building with a cow on the roof.”

His grin came back as Sin felt the sparks fly off his feet. “Say no more!”

++++++

Sin had never been to this part of town before, on the ground or otherwise. It seemed like a perfectly nice neighborhood, but for some reason, there was just something that felt...off.

He tried not to worry about it. “Hey, so you didn’t tell me your name. I’m Sin! What should I call you?”

The girl in his arms seemed to have finally gotten used to the harsh movements, only wincing when the harsh wind blew the hair in her eyes. “E-Elphelt.” She said. “My name is Elphelt.”

Weird name, but he didn’t say anything. Even if he wanted to, he was interrupted by her pointing him left. “R-right there! The big white building!”

“This one?” He asked, sliding up onto the roof of what he could only guess was a large warehouse. A few trucks were parked out in front, but he didn’t see any people, nor were any lights on inside. “Are you sure this is it?”

“Mmhm!” She nodded vigorously, though the fear had come back into her eyes. “Please! I can’t leave her behind!”

We’re gonna save your sister, don’t worry.” Sin put her down on the roof next to him, and began searching for some kind of way in. “How did you get out?”

She walked towards one of the building’s edges and peered down. “Stairs! There’s emergency stairs by the windows!”

“Stairs?” He headed off after her. Sure enough, a set of metal stairs snaked down the building’s side. “We can get in through one of those windows!”

The two of them ran down a few flights, only stopping when Elphelt pointed one out. “This one! I think it’s this one!”

“This one?” Sin repeated back. He crouched down to get a good look at it. “I don’t think it’s latched; it should probably just slide open from the bottom.”

“Okay, then let’s-”

“Wait-” He grabbed her hand a half-second before she could slide the window open. “There’s an alarm. It’ll trigger if you pull it open.”

Elphelt recoiled immediately. “How can you tell?”

“I told you I can ride currents, right? I can sense them, too.” He put a hand on the wall next to the window. “Feels like there’s a whole security system set up and wired to the same main hub.” Elphelt was tearing up again in the corner of his eye, and he raised his free hand to assure her. “Don’t worry. Each window has its own sensor alarm. If I can just overload it…”

Sin pressed his eyes shut and willed a bolt of electricity into existence. He slid it between his hands a few times before feeding it into the sensor. After a moment, he felt the current split off between the window and the rest of the system as the wires melted and the plastic exploded.

“Okay, just hold your breath…” He put his hands on the sill. In one motion, he jerked it open and...no alarm.

“Phew…” Elphelt shook her head in momentary relief, before tensing up again. “We have to hurry! We have to hurry!”

She squeezed herself inside before he could even think of doing it himself. Once she had gotten inside, he wormed in after her. “Yeah, of course. But why do we have to hurry? I don’t think anyone’s here.”

The building was as dark inside as it had looked outside. The room they had been dumped into had a high ceiling and a concrete floor, but was nearly empty aside from some storage crates. At least, they looked like storage crates, he couldn’t really tell. From another pocket, he pulled out a rechargeable flashlight, funneled a bit of electricity into it, and switched it on. A narrow slice of light cut through the empty room.

It fell on Elphelt’s horrified face. “El? What’s wrong?”

“We have to hurry.” She spoke in a trembling whisper. “We have to hurry before mother comes home.”

He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it seemed important to her. “Okay. We’ll go quickly. What room is your sister in? Can you show me?”

The hallway was slightly lighter, but no less empty. Had everyone gone home already? Then again, he had no idea what this building was for in the first place, maybe there never were people at all. He couldn’t see any security cameras on the ceilings, but even if they were there, he doubted they would be able to see much.

He followed Elphelt down a couple sets of stairs. They both kept their backs pressed to the wall, their footsteps light, and their guard up. Sin glanced over his shoulder every few seconds to be absolutely sure they weren’t being followed.

At one point, Elphelt stopped and held a hand out to him. “I think this is it.”

Compared to the rest of the building, he could sense a veritable feast of electricity coursing back and forth beyond the door they were staring at. It seemed logical that if she was anywhere, it would be in there.

The new room was a stark difference in just how blindingly white it was. Sin had to blink and cover his eyes for a minute while he convinced himself that he was not actually going blind. Elphelt seemed unconcerned with the sudden change, and walked deeper in without him.

“Elphelt! Wait!” He hissed, blinking to clear his vision. The blurry edges eventually smoothed out and sharpened. “Woah…”

Just from a wild guess, it had to be some kind of laboratory. All the glass, fancy equipment, and desks looked like something from the sci-fi shows Sol liked to watch. What kind of science exactly, he had no idea. But it didn’t matter. He had to help Elphelt. Where had she gone to?

“El?” He called out, still trying to keep himself from being too loud. It was a bright white room and she had bright pink hair, how could he not find her in two seconds?

Sin felt his stomach growl as he began to search. Absentmindedly, he pulled out his abandoned licorice and peeled a strand off to eat it. “El?”

He thought he had spotted a flash of pink, but when he approached it, he found a strange pile of pink mush in a large clear dish. He didn’t have the slightest idea of what it was, but it unnerved him. Sin put down his licorice on the tabletop and reached for a glass rod that had been left near it.

What did he think would happen if he prodded it? That was another question he couldn’t answer. It made an odd, gooey noise as the tip sank into its surface. It had looked solid, but the more he pushed into it, the more the glass vanished, even when he thought it would have gone all the way through and come out the other end.

“Sin!”

“Elphelt?” He looked up from his impromptu experiment. Why had he let himself get distracted? Sin pulled the stick back out and set it on the table, and reached for his-

“Where’d I put my licorice…?”

“Sin! Please!”

“Coming, El!” That was more important. He ran off towards her voice. The tables gave way to what he could only describe as giant stove burners built into the ground. “Where are you?”

“Over here!” He saw a hand in the air and headed towards it. It was actually Elphelt that time, instead of some weird arm-monster, thankfully.

“There you are. Jeez, you’re fast-” His eyes went wide.

There was...a girl, suspended in some sort of glassy prison. It hovered over one of the weird floor-burner things, spinning around and around as the room’s lights glinted off it. The girl inside didn’t seem especially bothered by the spinning, or the fact that the ball was barely big enough for her to fit inside. If he didn’t know any better, she looked completely unconscious.

“What the hell?” He looked at his companion. “El, is this her? Is this your sister?”

“Ram…” She said, more to the other girl than to him. Her eyes had gone wet with tears again.

There was an electrical current running under the burner. Without thinking, Sin shoved his hand into it and discharged a bolt of electricity.

He was pretty sure he felt the fluid splattering on his face before he even heard the glass break. The overload of energy had not only shut off whatever the burner was doing, but forced the ball to shatter. He heard Elphelt dive to the ground behind him. Any of the glass that exploded onto him was melted by the heat of his lightning. The smell of ozone and the backlash from overusing his powers was making him dizzy, but Sin tried to focus on what was around him.

Once the chaos had died down, Elphelt crawled back out from the table she’d hidden behind. “Sin?”

“El.” He sent her a dopey, tired smile. “I got it.”

“Ram!!” The girl hurried back over to kneel down by the unconscious body. A few glass shards had nicked their skin, but there was nothing especially worrying. Elphelt seemed to be far more concerned with Ram than she was about her own injuries, anyway. She scooped up the other girl and held her close, placing a hand on her chest as she began murmuring something incomprehensible. Sin watched a faint pink glow envelop her hand and flow into the other’s body.

“Elphelt?” He asked in quiet awe. “You have powers?”

Whatever she was trying to do, it seemed to have worked. As soon as the glow faded, Ram began to rouse.

“Mhh...Elphelt?”

“Ram!” El hugged her sister tightly as her shoulder began trembling. “Oh, you’re awake, you’re awake. I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”

“Elphelt…” She put a hand on her sister’s back and smiled gently. “I’m okay.”

“Th-this is Sin!” When she regained some of her composure, Elphelt pointed at him. “He helped me save you!”

“Yeah. But El, you said we had to hurry, right? We should leave.”

“Oh! We need to leave fast, you’re right.” Elphelt stood back up, but she appeared remarkably calm. In fact, she was smiling. “But we can go even faster with Ram!”

The girl nodded in silent agreement. She looped a hand around her sister’s waist, before beckoning Sin over.

“Faster?” He was confused, but he complied, stepping closer so Ram could grab him by the middle. “I’m not sure what you me-EEEEEAN- !”

The question was answered for him very quickly. His feet were off the ground before he could blink. Ram was shooting off towards the nearest wall, and he had absolutely no way of stopping her.

“Are you insane?!” They were going to fly headfirst into a metal wall! Sin absolutely couldn’t handle hitting something that solid that fast, but he didn’t have any electricity left to try and shock her into dropping him. All he could do was watch.

There was a horrific crunch, and everything went black.

And then blue, as they passed through to the other side without a scratch.

Sin hadn’t realized he was screaming in terror until he stopped. He saw a massive gaping hole in the metal when he turned to look back, but he couldn’t see a single scratch on him, or his questionably-deranged pilot.

“It’s okay, Sin!” Elphelt called. “Ram’s really strong!”

‘Strong’ didn’t seem like a very good explanation on how they hadn’t just smashed their collective heads open, but really, after everything he had been through, it seemed stupid to ask questions.

++++++

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU RAN OFF??”

Sin winced, pulling the receiver away from his ear. “I know, I know, dad, I messed up-”

“MESSED UP??” Ky’s voice shouted back. “You ran off without telling anyone! I thought you had been kidnapped!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He said. “But I promise I can explain everything. I need a ride back, do you think you can come pick me up over by Bishop Bakery? The place over at the corner of Hansen and 15th?”

“All the way out there?! Sin, what are you doing in the north district in the first place?”

“Uh, that’s a bit of a long story…” He turned to look at his two new companions. Elphelt kicked her bare feet under the bench as she watched the cars go by, and Ramlethal was sitting cross-legged and bobbing her head back and forth to a song coming out of a nearby radio. “A really long story. Why don’t I tell you all about it over leftover cake?”

++++++

A dark shadow slid along sterile white walls, pacing back and forth and back. Immaculately manicured nails drummed against a pale sleeve, the only giveaway against a perfect porcelain mask of calmness.

“So they both ran away…” A melodic voice echoed off the high walls. “I never would have expected such ingenuity from her.”

The room went quiet for a moment. “Still, nothing I can’t handle. A few steps to shuffle around, but in the end, those girls saved me quite a lot of effort. Brought back to the Guardians on a silver platter! What a stroke of luck.”

She paused. “Oh? The boy? Just another pawn, easy enough to handle. His powers are little more than parlor tricks. I’ll have no trouble disposing of him as soon as he becomes a nuisance."

Another pause. Slowly, the porcelain mask began to crack. “Is that so?

In the blink of an eye, she lashed out to grab one of the trailing tubes. It was squeezed in a white-knuckled grip until the flow was dammed. “Now, you aren’t getting all high and mighty on me, are you?” She asked in a sickly-sweet voice, putting the smiling mask back on. “Don’t forget who gave you all of your shiny new toys. If it weren’t for me, you would still be rotting away in that hospital bed, where nobody could hear you.”

She took a moment longer to grab onto the clear plastic, then let it go. “I’m glad you’ve decided to cooperate. I helped you for a reason, you know. I saw the potential you had...Ah, I ramble so much.” She shook her head. “I’ll leave you to your work. And don’t forget to get plenty of rest. We have so much work to do, and so little time…”

The shadow moved away, melting into all the others with the sound of clicking heels. Once it was far, far away, the faint hum of magic sounded. From another pool of darkness, a half-eaten package of red licorice floated into the faint light. A single braid was pulled out of it, and invisible fingers peeled a stand off to carry it into an awaiting mouth. Artificial strawberry, what a peculiar flavor.

“So…” A silent voice echoed in the darkness. “...Sin?”

[d2kvirus]

Dickheads of the Month: January 2021

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of January 2021 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

Once again, we knew that Donald Trump wasn’t going to take losing well, but when a legion of his most boneheaded supporters storm the Capitol demanding the election result be overturned because a certain thin-skinned orange gobshite had spent several weeks screaming about electoral fraud and, by the way, also set the date of January 6th for some major event, even Mike Pence couldn’t sanction his buffoonery any longer - especially when said buffoonery involved him saying “I love you” to people who were guilty of sedition and, by the way, murder - all of which led to him finally, finally, getting the boot from various social media platforms

...all while Lauren Boebert appeared to be trying to help out the insurrectionists by livetweeting the location of Nancy Pelosi, presumably because Boebert forgot about that Glock she claims to take to work with her every day and was looking for a convenient meat shield, which naturally has nothing to do with her tweeting the day would be like 1776 earlier that morning

...but the real victim in all of this was Melania Trump as it interrupted a photo shoot she was doing, which she somehow thought it was a good idea to mention several days later in a statement riddled with two opinions: “both sides” and “me, me, me” which shows she didn’t realise the optics of rearranging the china as Washington burned around her

...but according to Laura Kuenssberg it was merely a “scuffle” at Congress, as opposed to an organised group attempting to stage an armed insurrection against the government complete with at least one member carrying zip ties

...and finally, we had Ian Austin reminded us that he’s still alive by saying the exact same thing would have happened in the UK with Jeremy Corbyn supporters storming parliament, as if that happened in the four years Corbyn was wishing Austin would go away, then did go away, but sadly didn’t go away

Once again the Tory government think they know better than virologists, epidemiologists and pharmacists with their one-two punch of thinking they can just mix and match the various vaccines available rather than give people two doses of the same vaccine, but they further weaken any chance of vaccination succeeding by ignoring Pfizer’s recommendation the second dose be given within three weeks of the first by adopting a policy of the second dose is given three months later, and it it’s just as likely to be the less effective but cheaper Oxford vaccine they get a dose of

...swiftly followed by the BBC did their bit to encourage people to get vaccinated by reporting a story of a nurse getting a dose of Covid six weeks after her first vaccination jab not by reporting how she was three weeks overdue for the second dose (or, if you prefer, six weeks before her second one) but simply saying that people vaccinated can get Covid, which goes beyond the BBC’s sociopathic inability to criticise Tory fuckups into being downright fucking dangerous - as does their putting sentient testicle Toby Young on Newsnight to say how we’re all overreacting as it's not as bad as all that

Of all the things proven liar Boris Johnson should have said when the UK’s Covid death toll officially passed 100,000 (as opposed to unofficially, which would have been last December), “We have done our best” was not it, because if their best includes not going into lockdown in order to protect landlords, having Dominic Cummings dictate herd immunity in spite the fact that you need vaccinated people for it to work, refusing to have quarantine at airports until July, thinking it would be a bright idea to tell people it’s their patriotic duty to go to the pub, giving them £10 vouchers to go to restaurants, putting children going back to school ahead of any concerns about every single school could become a petri dish and countless other horrifically mismanaged instances, then we should be kept up at night dreading what their worst would be

The fact that Chartwells were given a contract to provide free school dinners with a budget of £30, and the supposed lunches that arrived had £5 worth of food in them which begged the obvious question where the other £25 went, is appalling - but not surprising, as the Tory government gave them the contract and, equally unsurprising, Chartwells was founded by a Tory donor, and equally unsurprising their response to their grift being exposed was to tell all the public school clients they cater to a pack of lies while hoping nobody found out about them doing so...which worked about as well as you can guess

Something possessed the EU to ramp up the row over the AstraZenica vaccine not passing the rigorous tests for over-65s by threatening to trigger Article 16 and limit the number of vaccines that Northern Ireland received, and that something was it was hopelessly misguided as it allowed the Tories to get their hapless response to the pandemic off the front pages for a few days and let the Leave headbangers say this is why we left the EU...in spite this threat would have never been in play if we were still in the EU

There is no way to make jokes about Kellyanne Conway posting what was, in effect, revenge porn photos of her 16-year old daughter, because that sentence is so far out there that it is borderline incomprehensible

In the space of less than twenty seconds proven liar Boris Johnson claimed that there was no prior warning of the new strain of Covid, he had the SAGE paper stating it was coming which was handed to him last September held up in his face, and then said the government acted accordingly.  Yes, you read that right, he claimed the government acted accordingly to something they had no prior warning about, which is literally impossible, all in the space of ten seconds

In the latest hire by the BBC which is cause for both comment and concern, they announced their new chairman would be Tory donor Richard Sharp, whose credentials for the position are being Rishi Sunak’s ex-boss at Goldman Sachs, donating at least £400,000 to the Tory party, and having no background in journalism whatsoever

Smirking bully Priti Patel said that the UK should have closed its borders in March 2020 in order to prevent the spread of Covid.  Presumably she forgot that she was a.) Home Secretary in Marsh 2020 so could have done that, and b.) Home Secretary when she said that the borders should have been closed as that indicates she doesn’t know what’s going on

The terrifying world which Alison Pearson lives in has now started to cross over into our reality due to her responding to one of the four people she hasn’t blocked on Twitter calling her what she is - namely a liar - by siccing the Torygraph’s lawyers on them claiming libel, doing the usual cry bully tactic of learning the person she is harassing works for GlaxoSmithKline so promptly went to their CEO demanding he be fired, and howling about the hate campaign being waged against her - while telling the person, who was saying he was thinking suicidal thoughts after the pile-on that Pearson had instigated even after he had deleted the tweet and apologised , that “You’re finished”

Someday in the future, scholars will study Ted Cruz responding to Biden rejoining the Paris Climate Agreement within hours of getting his feet under the Oval Office desk by pontificating about how terrible it is that Biden is more interested in the citizens of Paris than the jobless of Pittsburgh and wonder just how somebody who doesn't know why the Paris Climate Agreement was named the Paris Climate Agreement ever got to be a senator

...and judging by how Lauren Boebert also latched onto this brainless rhetoric, not only can it be asked how she got to be a senator when she had the opportunity to actually realise Cruz’s mistake, she also begs the question how she can be a senator after her publicly trying to use Nancy Pelosi as a meat shield during the Capitol riots

Unifying force Keir Starmer stated that Labour should be devoting their time to fighting the Tory government rather than fighting court cases, somehow forgetting that by breaking the guidelines of the EHRC report (which he pledged to follow without question months before it was published) is the reason that they’re fighting court cases, and just so happens to be the reason why people are asking how a meeting attended by Starmer, Angela Rayner, Len McCluskey and others either didn't have a single person taking notes, which is David Evans’ entire defence, or they did take notes by quite conveniently lost them

Oh boy, did Wall Street cheerleaders not take it well when r/WallStreetbets exposed to the entire world that the stock market is little more than a game people play with other people’s money - because the teams the Wall Street cheerleaders support started losing, and all it took was a few Redditors investing in Gamestop and Bed Bath & Beyond 

Nice of Shaun Bailey to remind everyone that he’s a Tory by giving his suggestion for how the homeless could get on the property ladder, namely by saving a minimum of £5000

Clearly Marjorie Taylor Greene didn’t get the memo about the Streisand Effect, as the first thing she did after taking her seat in the House of Representatives was go on a mass deleting spree of Facebook posts - which only served to draw attention to her video saying that Nancy Pelosi be executed for treason, her track record of spreading conspiracy theories about the Parkland and Sandy Hook shootings, and her claims that a Jewish space laser is responsible for the 2018 California wildfires

Insufferable self-promoter Jess Phillips got her 2021 off to a good start by tweeting out that, as Britait has happened, we should shut up and accept it.  To the surprise of nobody other than insufferable self-promoter Jess Phillips, this led to a lot of people saying that, no, they will not accept an advisory referendum somehow being bolted onto the Ten Commandments, especially as numerous things that were promised wouldn’t happen such as a border in the Irish Sea, leaving Erasmus, losing freedom of movement, leaving the Common Market have all happened

It is wrong to say that smirking bully Priti Patel has lost 150,000 police files.  The actual figure is closer to 400,000 - which begs the obvious question as to what those files were, for example if those files also happened to fall under the same category as the ones that 55-year old ex-minister Mark Francois might want to have disappear for the sake of convenience

At last CD Projekt Red took some responsibility for Clusterpunk 2077 being such a cyberfuck...if by “taking responsibility” you mean “taking responsibility, dumping it all on the QA testers, and saying that everyone should blame them for everything” - and then with perfect comedic timing CD Projekt Red released an update for Clusterpunk 2077 that was so broken they had to release a hotfix for their broken patch

Expenses-fiddler Robert Jenrick decided that the most important thing to protect in the United Kingdom at this exact moment in time is...statues.  Not key workers, not the vulnerable, not any human life at all.  Statues.

So either Rafael Behr wrote a column for The Guardian where he tried to blame Jeremy Corbyn for his heart attack which saw Guardian higher-ups remove that passage from their print edition but forgot to remove it from the online version of the article, or The Guardian deliberately left the passage in the online version of the column in order to get some form of engagement from rage clicks while allowing Behr to act as if he is suffering some great injustice

Of course it wouldn’t take long for Steve Baker to try and claim some spurious victory for Britait, namely him claiming that tampon tax he spent so long fighting against being abolished is proof of the sunlit uplands of our post-EU nation...which ignores the fact that a.) It had nothing to do with the EU in the first place, and b.) The fact that Baker voted to keep it in place in a 2015 Commons vote

Employer of the year WWE went for an interesting twofer, as one minute they were proudly stating that WrestleMania would go ahead with a prospective 30,000 in attendance without any concerns for social distancing or any other Covid preventative measures, and the next telling the wrestlers on their roster that they would not be supplying them with Covid vaccines at the exact same time the NBA were floating the idea of providing vaccines for all their players

Make no mistake, the criticism that Erik Lamela, Sergio Reguilon, Giovani Lo Celso and Manuel Lanzini have received due to the four of them flouting lockdown regulations to attend a New Year’s party is justified - however, the fact that Duncan Castles tried to chase a headline by claiming that Lo Celso and Lamela had tested positive for Covid in a swiftly-deleted tweet is a new low for the noted barrel scraping rumour monger

Self-awareness sceptic Laurence Fox was entirely predictable in his response to the news that talkRADIO had been booted from Youtube for repeated violations of their ToS, specifically the part about spreading Covid misinformation, screaming the usual things about being “cancelled” - and then, within hours, responded to the BBC announcing a plan of educational programming to help during Lockdown III by saying he will be shielding his children from being “indoctrinated” by the BBC’s “left-wing bias” - which not only means he’s cancelling the BBC, but also had people remember that Billie Piper has custody of his children so it's not like he can even enforce his rules on what his children can and cannot watch

...by the way, Fox said nothing about Lord Sumption appearing on the BBC’s Question Time (the same show where failed actor on the grift Laurence Fox announced his new career as a clueless right wing irritant) where he told a woman with bowel cancer that her life wasn’t valuable, it was merely less valuable as she has less life left.  Yes, that is eugenics getting free airtime on the BBC, thanks for noticing

Somehow the best choice of words the BBC could find when reporting the death of Phil Spector was “talented but flawed” as if murder is some character flaw instead of, oh I don’t know, a criminal activity?

You would have thought that Twitch would have simply retired the PogChamp emote permanently in the wake of Gootecks going all insurrectionist, but no, instead they thought of having a rotating cycle of emotes of various creators, in spite of those creators telling them this would be a bad idea - and those creators were proven right when Critical bard was inundated with racist and homophobic abuse in his chat that led him to close his social media profiles when he was selected for rotation, with Twitch doing fuck all about it

Fashion editor no matter what she claims she is Hadley Freeman had a really clever take about The Sopranos...actually, no she didn’t, she had an absurd belief that it’s the exact same show as Sex in the City but people overlook it Because Misogyny, and when she was lambasted for missing the point so badly she had noted dipshit David Baddiel rushing in to her rescue to mock those getting “triggered” by her insipid take while saying he never liked The Sopranos because, as he isn't an Italian-American mobster, the show did not speak to him - in other words, he made himself a subject of equal mockery

...but there was no sign of Baddiel when Hadley Freeman then jumped on the BidenErasedWomen bandwagon alongside the TERFs of Twitter as soon as Biden got his feet under the desk, which also happened to show hard centrist extremist Freeman say how she thought Trump did far more for women than Biden ever has, which as takes go is so bad that the best explanation is that she briefly forgot the difference between the words “for” and “to”, before she then deleted the tweet and tried to deny ever posting it with increasingly nonsensical explanations that rapidly looked uncannily like gaslighting

...although David Baddiel wasn’t quite done being a bellend, as he was soon yukking it up with professional victim Rachel Riley about his latest book which accuses the entire progressive left of antisemitism

The oppressed underclass known as Manchester United fans really showed their colours, first by responding to a loss to Sheffield United by sending racial abuse to Axel Tuanzebe and Anthony Martial on social media, and a couple of weeks later responded to a draw with Arsenal by sending racial abuse to Marcus Rashford, because apparently when your team drops points the most important thing is to look for which member of your team you can racially abuse

And finally, oh so finally, we have Donald Trump and his discovery of electoral fraud at last - electoral fraud that consisted of Donald Trump calling Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger demanding he change the result and all he needs is Raffensperger to “find” 11,780 votes while also saying that he had proof of vote-counting machines being removed early...and when told they were still in Georgia, changed his lie to say the inner workings had been removed without anyone noticing.  By the way, the only reason anyone knows about this is because Raffensperger told Trump that he wouldn’t release the call to the public if Trump didn't say anything about it - so, of course, the Orange Overlord took to twitter, ran his mouth, and the Washington Post had one hell of an exclusive as a result

[monstersandmaw]

Patreon Tier Reshuffle in February and General 2020 Developments...

I gave my Patrons first look at this post, since some of the changes will affect their tiers (only to add content though!). Now I’m posting most of it to Tumblr for you to look at and perhaps have a think about...

It’s a long post, and I’m sorry for that...

First of all, I’d like to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s supporting me on Patreon, whether you’re a long-time supporter or you just joined. I know it's a big deal to give your heard-earned cash to someone on the internet and am well aware of the responsibility I have and what an honour it is to be on the receiving end of your generosity and support. So, yes. Thank you more than I can probably ever express.

Secondly, a reminder that all tiers have access to our chilled out Discord server forever. We’ve got a channel for sharing photos of pets, for general chat, for monsters, for sharing artwork of all kinds, a library to share your own stories, an nsfw chat, recipes etc., so hopefully there’s something for everyone, but there’s no pressure to be active if you’d rather not be! There’s also an ongoing DnD game with some of the folks on there too, which is fun!

It might be worth joining the server anyway because I have plans for a new perk which will involve Discord (see below), and I also occasionally run ‘Discord Drabbles’ where I ask for prompts on Discord from folks, which you might have seen posted on Patreon from time to time.  

Now, finally, round to the topic of this post!

I’ve been thinking about how to make sure that every tier gets the most that I can give them for their money, so I’m going to do a little reshuffle. It will start in February, and I’ve made sure that I’m pretty much just adding stuff to each tier, so you won’t miss out in the reshuffle.  

Here are the new things I’m running only on Patreon from February 2020 in addition to everything else (see below):  

Sculpt This!

Patrons can submit artwork or detailed descriptions (a creature/monster, a character, an object) to a designated ‘Sculpt This!’ channel on Discord, and I will pick one to sculpt once a month. I will create a post on Patreon with the artwork and the artist’s name (and a link to their page/site if they have one, and photos of my final sculpture based on their design. That will be available to everyone from the $1 tier upwards.  

For those on the $5 tier upwards, a short video will be available, featuring footage of the sculpting process itself.  

If the person whose art I use is on the $20 tier or upwards, I will post them the sculpture if they’d like it. 

Trope Tuesdays!

A poll will go up prior to Tuesday, with a list of common tropes (notably from the world of fanfic – things like ‘coffee shop’, ‘bed-sharing’, ‘enemies to lovers’, ‘5 times +1’ etc. etc.) and the winning trope from that poll will be the theme for a short story to be posted on a Tuesday.  

I’m aiming for these short stories to be a variety of fluffy and steamy, available to everyone from the $1 tier up.  

Character Letters

$10 and up patrons can request a letter once a month from their favourite characters from any of my stories (providing I wasn’t using someone else's OC for a commission or the like). This can be sent as a PDF by email and/or posted publicly to Patreon only (not Tumblr), with the option to remove the name if you’d rather remain anonymous.  

$20 and up patrons can request a hand-written letter once a month from their favourite character, again with the option to have the text posted to Patreon or not, and with their name, or not.  

Commissions 

I'm still in two minds about opening these up on here because I got absolutely exhausted – mentally and physically – at the end of 2019 and I’m only just recharging again. I had said I would open them up to patrons only in January 2020, and I may yet do that. If I do, I will create 5 slots, and a maximum of 5k words per story initially, and see how that goes. I realise that’s a small number of slots, but it’s still a lot of work for me on top of the rest of the Patreon commitments. I hope you understand, but I know a number of you responded in a poll to say you’d be interested in commissions from me again.

$10 patrons receive 5% off the first 5000 words of writing commissions, and $20 receive 10% off the first 5000 words of commissions.  

Continuing rewards:  

Monthly story – the monthly exclusive story will still be available for $5 and up (some of these stories have been known to go up to 10k words and be in multiple parts – think Kieran the satyr’s story from October 2018!)

Early release – I will continue to offer all Tumblr stories (except paid commissions from non-patrons and giveaways/specials) on early release – minimum of 4 days, sometimes longer.  

Polls – help me decide what to write next

Character bios and artwork

Future things I hope to bring in later this year:

Gaming with Ghosti

I hope to do some streaming via Twitch of me playing things either on the PS4 (like Assassin’s Creed Odyssey or we could do a special Dragon Age: Inquisition playthrough together), or from PC which could include a number of games, from Witcher III (I still haven’t played much) to Mass Effect, chilled out Minecraft sessions, and a huge number of other games which you could choose to inflict on me and watch me flail around in.

Hopefully Mr. Ghosti could join in too and laugh along with you and just generally have a chilled out time. This would probably happen at the weekend, but I’d have to look into the logistics of it if there’s enough interest.  

Discount for Patrons on my Etsy shop

It’s actually live right now, but I haven’t got anything listed yet as I’m unsure of the last few things I need to get in place, but once I’ve got things up on there, I’ll make an announcement and give patrons a special discount code to use in case there’s anything you’d like to buy, from jewellery to polymer clay charms/sculptures.  

More Q&A type things and video content

Some of you seemed to enjoy the video I did answering your questions, so I could always do more of this, if there are things you’d like to ask! It could be about anything, not just writing. If there’s interest, I’ll look into it.

More milestone giveaways and mystery ‘lucky dip’ giveaways

I love sharing things with you, so when I hit 200 patrons, I’ll have to think up something special, and in the meantime, maybe I’ll do some more giveaways for you.

If there’s something that you would like to see that you think I could put up on Patreon for you, then please get in touch! I’m always looking for ideas

All tier rewards will be as follows from February 2020:

Brand new items in bold, and slight changes in italics:

(putting in a ‘keep reading’ because it’s getting silly now...)

Shadows:  

access to the Patreon-only Discord

access to the ‘Trope Tuesdays’ poll and story

access to the ‘Sculpt This!’ posts

access to some character profiles, aesthetics, polls, and story ideas

small discount on my etsy store (when it opens)

and my undying gratitude!

Pixies and Goblins – all of the above, plus:

one Patreon-exclusive monster story per month

access to the ‘Sculpt This!’ process video

access to the extra, long-running story, released once a month (Werewolf story - coming soon!)

early access for all Tumblr monster stories (excluding paid commissions)

the ‘what’s next?’ poll to help me decide what monster or reader to write

Elves – all of the above, plus:

you can request a letter once a month from your favourite character of mine! This can be sent as a PDF by email and/or posted publicly to Patreon only, with the option to remove the name if you’d rather remain anonymous.

entry into the monthly 3k word story commission – if you are chosen (at random) from the Elves tier (and above) you can have a 3k word story of your choosing written for you

access to ‘Writer’s Corner’, featuring occasional blog posts about writing and workshop goings-on

small work-in-progress previews from both my monster stories and my original fantasy fiction ‘Weaver of Threads’

5% off the first 5000 words of writing commissions, and priority placement in the commissions queue

Orcs – all of the above, plus:

you can also request a letter once a month from your favourite character, but yours can also be hand-written and posted to you if you’d like! You also have the option of it being posted to Patreon or not. 

One short story (maximum 1500 words) with a monster and reader of your choice per month (by request only), included within your subscription

A PDF version of any monster story I’ve written and published on Patreon or Tumblr (by request, and sent by email)

10% off the first 5000 words of a writing commission

if your design was selected in the ‘Sculpt This!’ feature, I can post the finished sculpture to you, if you’d like to have it.

Dragons – all of the above, plus:

One 5000 word story of your choosing will be written for you per month (no fanfiction) as a thank you for your patronage (by request only)

Entry into the monthly top tiers free story draw but your story is 4k words instead of 3k

20% off the first 5000 words of a writing commission

A character with a name of your choosing (upon approval!) will be added to a monster story

Priority on jewellery and metalwork commissions and a larger discount on my Etsy store (when that opens)

Kaiju – all of the above, plus:

if you win the random free commission, yours is 5k words instead of 3k!

One 7000 word story of your choosing will be written for you per month (no fanfiction) as a thank you for your patronage (by request only)

One hand written letter of thanks (I have nice handwriting, don’t worry!) sent to you by post, including a little short story

25% off the first 5000 words of a writing commission

30% discount on jewellery and metalwork commissions

Dedication by name in any published work (let me know if you wish to remain anonymous)

Hope you’re excited, and don’t forget that you can always get in touch with me on any of my platforms – Patreon, Tumblr, Discord. If you want to share something but also want to remain anonymous, just send an anon to Tumblr and ask me not to post it. 

__

| Masterlist | Patreon | Ko-fi | Writing Commissions |

[girlgrouptrash101]

Dating Poly!MiChaeng

Request: "When your requests are open can I get a dating micheng? Thanks"

A/N: surprise I actually DID post today,, also Mina ily please get better soon :(

- C

The two softest emo kids on the block

the kind of girlfriend's that make you and each other mixtapes as gifts

and you all sit around on your bed and listen to them while making out and telling dumbass stories

Literally a relationship that was taken straight from Tumblr and brought to life, y'all are those guys that everyone who thinks they're wants to be like

Chaeyoung was definitely the one who introduced the idea of adding another person to the relationship

Both girls are equally squishy when they want to be, it just depends on their mood

Chaeyoung always acting like she's older than Mina and Mina just takes it cuz she baby and that's that

You three are always so greasy with each other, trying to make one another blush until you end up bursting out with laughter

hand holding on the daily because y'all are cute like that

Usually, when you go on dates, you get ready together at your place so you're not interfering with 7 other girls who also have busy lives

and that means you get to pick out each others' outfits and do each others' makeup

Plus having a mini fashion show where you model your final looks so you can hype each other up

Dates usually consist of going to artsy cafés, local music festivals or shows, markets, cinemas, anywhere that piques your guys' interest, really.

When it comes to giving each other genuine compliments, Mina always gets so shy because she knows that you and Chaeyoung mean every single word

the thought that you and Chaeng love her as much as she loves you just makes her heartbeat in double time

Chaeyoung likes HUGS and will not stop until she has hugged both of you like x37282 times a day

her favourite hugs are when she gets to wrap her hands around yours or Mina's waist and buries her head into your shoulder, giving little pecks on your neck and cheeks whenever she feels like it

Takeaway and binging TV show nights happen often, just because the girls are so tired from schedules that nothing sounds better than doing the bare minimum with the ones you love

on those nights, usually end up in a big squish of blankets and cuddles, barely paying attention to the television

because you're too busy poking and tickling each other, then cuddling, then getting distracted by kissing each other

and then, finally you start watching the TV only to just realise how terrible the show you picked is, and you just end up making fun of the shit acting and laughing at each others' imitations

Chaeyoung loves painting and designing things, and you and Mina can just sit there for hours, watching your baby be so creative while she works

One time, Chaeyoung tried some body art on you and Mina, and it ended up looking amazing

she painted these beautiful scenes on your backs, taking all the time in the world to perfect both of you

If Mina and Chaeyoung were allowed to, I'd definitely see them those girlfriend's that want you to all get high together

and spend the day laughing your heads off at nothing at eating your body weight in snacks

Summertime is when you get to spend the best nights together on the beach, inviting all their members and having a cookout

often times during summer there are firework displays, and you all sit out and watch the pretty colours in the sky together

Spending time with your girlfriend's and their members is always a crazy time, they always know how to make the best of a bad situation and you always have fun with them

When you can’t find anything to watch on television, you usually resort to board games or video games 

you all get way too competitive though, and there have been way too many games of monopoly ended by one of you yeeting the board across the room in anger

trips to Japan whenever you get the opportunity, Mina loves taking you home and showing you guys off to all her family and friends

plus she gets to show you where she grew up, and she makes you try so many of her favourite foods

Go to their shows and concerts please and thank you!!!!!

they love seeing their baby in the crowd, they always run over and give u finger hearts and blow kisses and all that uwu shit

With your baby penguin and baby lion by your side, your tough days get easier, and your best days are always spent with them by your side 💞

NSFW From Here:

MiChaeng are lowkey the quiet kids that end up being super freaky when you get to see that side of them

100% down for trying new things together

it's all about finding your boundaries and being comfortable with them

Chaeyoung sending like 5000 nudes into your group chat just for 'FuN'

she knows what she's doing though, and she always intends to get what she wants by the end of the day

Mina loves being marked up in places only you and Chae can see, it's like her dirty little secret

and whenever she sees those marks again she can't help but let her mind wander back to that eventful night

That one time where you got your own special performance of move ;)))

Chaeyoung is into hair pulling, change my mind, you won't

The amount of videos and stuff that's locked away on your phones is actually sinful

Especially when your girls are on tour and they have some fun without you

they always send you a little reminder of what you're missing, and what's gonna happen as soon as you get home

you keep a secret box of toys in your closet that seems to keep getting bigger and bigger every time the girls go to their favourite shop and pick out something new to try

sex with Mina and Chaeyoung is always new and exciting, they make sure you're never bored and always satisfied ;)

you all usually end up going for a shower afterwards to cool down, but it always ends up with you just going for an extra round,,, because your girls look so good and you just can't help it

[voodoospeedcult]

A treasure hunt worth chasing

This week’s expedition takes us on a trek to find lost rally cars. The World over, rally cars are unfortunately a bit disposable due to the abuse they see while being used in competition. Rally is devastating to cars and equipment, even if a car never sees a bad crash. After constant use and abuse it’s hard to keep them straight and it’s even harder to keep them up to safety specs. It’s easy to keep a 40+ year old road race car up to specs but with rally, it’s nearly impossible without a large investment. With those factors in play, it is pretty common place to see used, semi-competitive rally cars selling very cheap and it’s very common to find them parked, just wasting away. I put my best Indiana Jones custom on and go searching for the holy grail of junked rally cars. Group B Dumpster/Treasure Chest

A Renault R5 Turbo and this isn’t just a normal R5, it’s an Evo 2 which were the homologation version built to make the R5 eligible for Group B rally racing. There were only 200 of the Evo 2 cars built! Seeing this one sitting there, used as a dumpster is heart breaking.

Skeletal Remains

Alright, I admit it, I have a bit of a fetish for the Lancia Stratos. Growing up in the States we didn’t see much Group B rally back in the day due to the lack of US media caring about international rally racing (and no, there wasn’t internet back then), the only time we saw Group B was in racing magazines, usually from Europe that would end up in the race shop being passed down from another shop or a race team. In 1990 my fetish started after seeing one at Willow Springs during a test day. Most would see this neglected Stratos as an eyesore, it is basically just part of the chassis and doors. It is way to expensive to rebuild but I want to take it home and use it as a lawn ornament.

Forgotten Gems

The 80s Citroen rally cars were never very popular due to the lack of… well everything except weight. The BX line of cars (there were a handful of different versions made/developed) exceeded the minimum weight requirements by almost 450lbs.! While weight was one issue, it was just one of MANY issues, they were slow, they handled horribly, they were unreliable, they were a mess! So why would we feature them here? Because no matter how bad they were, they are still very cool and very rare. And finding three of them, a BX 4TC, a BX 4TC Sport and a BX 4TC Evolution on the same transport truck just wasting away in Southern France is equivalent to finding the missing gold treasure of Billy the Kid.

Hidden in plain sight

Now what we have here is a very cool find, a Peugeot 205 Rallye. The 205 cars were commonplace in Europe for 15 years, you could get a boring one, a loaded/luxury one, a sporty one, a fast one and then one ready to race. Peugeot teamed up with Talbot Sport to make a almost race ready car available right from the dealer. The 205 Rallye came with a tuned engine, a closer ratio gear box, tweaked suspension and absolutely no creature comforts including sound deadening. They expected to sell 5000 over a 4 year time period but the cars were so popular they sold over 30,000 of them!

Like finding Atlantis

The Ford Cosworth, we could write a book about this motor and the cars that Ford has put them in, each and every one of them has been a winner. In rally the Cosworth Fords were the what legends are made of. The Escorts, the Sapphires, the XRs, the RS500 and the RS200 all had Cosworths powering them. The combination led to countless rally and rally championship wins with masters like Carlos Sainz, Ari Vatanen, Didier Auriol and Stig Blomqvist behind the wheel. A mint Ford Cosworth (any model) will fetch big money when sold and thrashed, forgotten cars like the RS500 and the Sapphire shown here will still bring more money than most normal cars sitting at your local used car dealer. Yard Sale

The Lancia Delta has a rally history that most other cars dream that they had. The Italian car maker who had been heavily involved in rally for decades hit it big with the Delta. They finally had a car that won in all conditions and all terrains, they were so capable that they even made mediocre drivers shine bright. The cars become so popular that Lancia produced dozens of versions, each of them very focused on being the ultimate driving machine for it’s targeted buyer. At the top of the line is the Delta HF Intergrale Evoluzione (yes, that is spelled correctly) II which was loaded with high performance features that have just recently started showing up in modern cars.

Fools Gold?

The car responsible for bringing AWD to rally, the Audi Quattro. The Quattro cars made their debut in 1980 but it wasn’t until 1984 when the Quattro S1 versions hit the rally stages that things got serious. The S1 cars were entirely different kind of rally car, as long as they stayed together or weren’t in an accident, they were virtually impossible for competitors to match. The car you see here has to be a replica or does it? The whereabouts of all but a handful of the S1 cars are known and those not accounted for were written off in accidents. So what do we have here? Of course a replica is the obvious answer but there are rumors that have been swirling in the rally community for years that the car pictured here was a car given as a gift to Walter Rohrl (Audi rally driver) by Audi. Though Audi nor Walter have never commented. Even if it is a replica it is worth big money as a replica is currently being sold in the States for $180,000. A find like that of Oak Island

Alright, I admit it, the title on this one is a little bit mean but I am making fun of myself. I love the Curse of Oak Island TV show and I love Triumph TR7 and TR8 cars but both of these things have the same thing in common, is there really treasure? The Triumph TR cars are weird, weird in good and bad ways. They are fun, they are amazing fun to drive, that is when they run. Many will argue that there are more unreliable cars, and I am sure there are but these are absolute shit! I seriously don’t understand how or why I have owned and raced two of them nor do I understand why I am still attracted to them. Did I mention that they are shit? Sure it made sense for Triumph to race them, they had to make the public want them and want them we did. On track and on asphalt/tarmac rallies the Triumphs were damn fast. But seriously finding this, I don’t know if I would be tempted to grab it, even if the immediate risk of being rolled over by a giant rock didn’t exist, I would know that every day after I grabbed it would be cursed. The small finds are the greatest

The Mini is a very important car, it is the car that made it possible for everyone to feel that they could be a rally driver. The first Mini hit the rally stages in 1960 but in 1962 a Mini driven by Paddy Hopkirk won the Monte Carlo rally which at the time was the most prestigious rally in the World. It was so big that even the press in the USA gave it some attention. Over a twelve year time span, Mini won dozens of rallies, it also won dozens of touring car championships and races. The Mini is arguably one of the most important production race cars ever! Finding one with documented rally heritage and being able to rescue it would be equal to finding something as special as finding the treasure of the Knights Templar.

[paperuniverse]

How to Prevent Getting Sick/ Getting Others Sick

I keep mainly seeing posts about washing your hands going around on how to prevent getting sick, and those are all well and good, but there’s other things you can do too.

• Clean your cellphone often

We’re constantly interacting with our phones, and we often don’t consider washing our hands before doing so, because it’s just a quick check of the time, or just sending a quick text. So you end up touching half a dozen doorknobs, check you phone, touch a half a dozen more, wash your hands, and touch your phone again. So, clean it often, and try to avoid touching it before and when you’re eating (or at least use one hand for eating and one for touching your phone if you can’t drop the habit completely).

• Don’t touch your face

I’m bad for this because this is one of my many nervous habits, but it’s a great way to accidentally have germs and viruses enter your body. Try being aware of it, and try to occupy your hands with something else if the urge hits you. Or at least wash your hands before you do so.

• Wash your hands for at least 20 seconds

I know I already mentioned this but this is super important. Make sure you’re not just rubbing your hands together, get between your fingers, get under your nails and for the love of God, make sure you’re using soap. I’ve seen a couple of suggestions on how to make sure you’re washing your hands for twenty seconds, sing the ABC’s twice, count to 20 mississippi. I’ve currently been singing Welcome to the Black Parade starting from ‘When I was a young boy’ to ‘The beaten, and the damned’.

• Carry handsanitizer

Handsanitizer should be a second to hand washing, but if you’re out and about and don’t have access to a washroom, it’s a good alternative. Just make sure to properly wash your hands as soon as you’re able to.

• Eat healthy

I don’t mean ‘throw out all the sugar in your house and eat everything organic’ I mean ‘make sure you’re eating food from all four food groups, or foods that offer all the vitamins and minerals you need’. You can still eat sugar and junk food, just make sure you’re also getting vitamin C, because vitamin C is really important to help you prevent getting sick. Just try eating an orange every once in awhile okay.

• Exercise

Again I’m not saying go to the extreme, just try and get out and move. Take a walk around your neighborhood, play Just Dance, go for a swim, take the stairs instead of the elevator for once. Minimum amount is 30 minutes of moderate exercise (enough to raise your heart beat and sweat a bit) per day. Exercise isn’t just for people who’re trying to lose weight.

• Cover your mouth when you sneeze or cough

If you don’t already do this stay 5000 feet away from me. It is not that hard to put your elbow to your face. Just don’t let your snot spray everywhere, or into your hand. Please I’m begging you.

• Take time to de-stress

People with high stress and anxiety levels are more at risk of getting sick fml. Take time to watch a funny video, or read a book, play a game, hug your dog. Just take a step back from whatever is stressing you and let yourself be chill. I know it’s hard if you have an anxiety disorder, or other type of mental illness, or a high stress job, but just take time for yourself to do something you enjoy. Plus life is too short to always be miserable, you deserve to be happy.

• Clean your doorknobs and other things you touch often

This includes stuff like: your doorknob, light switches (be careful when cleaning it I don’t want you to get an electric shock), faucet taps, counter tops, desk tops, etc. Everyone is touching that and not everyone has the common sense to wash their hands like you now do.

• Get the flu shot and other mandatory shots

Idc if you’ve never gotten the flu, you’re putting others at risk if you don’t.

• Make sure you’re getting enough sleep

Sleep is essential to your health. Please avoid all nighters at all costs. Get your homework done on time, don’t be like me who’s so focused on drawing she doesn’t realize it’s already 1am. Please go to sleep at a reasonable time.

Basically just clean things and practice being healthy and considerate of others.

And don’t feel bad if you forget to excersise, or you accidentally stay up a bit too late once in awhile. I do these things too, it’s just important to try your best and remember not to get too swept up in the panic.

[gameofdrarry]

Drarropoly: Founders Edition Info & FAQ

Join us for the third annual game/fest where your creativity and Draco and Harry are the winning combination! 

📋 SIGNUPS 📋  ➡  Nov 1 - Jan 15 

🎲 GAMEPLAY 🎲  ➡  Nov 15 - Jan 15 

❓ What is Drarropoly ❓

Drarropoly is a Drarry Game/Fest for creators modeled after the board game Monopoly. Signups open November 1 and the game begins on November 15.

❓ How does it work  ❓

We created a virtual game board inspired by a variety of HP-themed places, items, and people! This year, the theme is the Hogwarts Founders, with over 32 themed spaces on the board that feature tropes and traits inspired by Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. Each space has its own unique writing prompt and parameters.

When you sign up to play, the mods roll the dice for you and move you on the board, informing you of your position and assigning you the corresponding prompt. Once you fill the prompt, you can begin the process again, moving on the board and receiving a new prompt. You may sign up at any time after the fest opens and complete any number of prompts, one or thirty! It’s up to you! 

➡ This is a stress-free event with no pressure. ⬅

Buckle up! The Ridiculously Long and Elaborate Rules (But Quite Simple, Really!) & FAQ are below!

❓ What kind of prompts  ❓

Each regular position has a prompt created to fill a Drarry trope or situation we all love. Most prompts offer two or three options the “player” may choose from, like quotes, tropes, or settings that fit that particular spot’s theme.

This year, as with previous iterations of the game/fest, there will be basic parameters that the writer will need to meet to submit their finished prompt. However, there will also be two additional levels. These additional (and completely optional!) levels require extra parameters like a greater word count, change in Point of View, or a very specific trope, but they also can earn more points for the player and their team.

There are also spots like Azka-Damn (with potential sizzling interpretations), Wand Lore spots, History spots, and other bonuses— all of which have multiple prompts and variations based on the player’s roll.

❓ What are the guidelines  ❓

The one hard and fast rule is obvious: IT MUST BE DRARRY.

You can include other background pairings and characters, even OT3, but Draco + Harry must be the main focus.

All ratings are welcome, please just make sure you tag your submission appropriately wherever you choose to post it.

There are no time limits in Game of Drarry events. Writers may move at their own pace with no pressure to submit. The game does, however, end on January 15, 2021, which is the last day to receive a new prompt. All prompts will be needed by January 25 to be counted for points.

❓ What about the different parameters ❓

The spirit of Game of Drarry is to encourage creativity and also challenge and inspire. We set various random word counts like Minimum: 433 - Maximum: 753 to get writers to think critically and make calculated choices about their storytelling.

❓ That sounds nice but what if an idea gets away from me and I write 2000 words for one of the prompts ❓

In previous iterations of the game/fest, we’ve allowed for word counts that exceed the given parameters by providing various types of punchcards for the players to utilise. This time around, players will be given the optional O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s levels for almost every single prompt which will up the possible word counts (and points!) to a maximum of 5000 words.

The punchcard option on this iteration of the game/fest will have (1) opportunity to pass on a prompt and (1) opportunity to change or alter the prompt and still submit it for points.

A bit of friendly competition!

Everyone knows the actual game of Monopoly notoriously ends when someone overturns the board and storms off angry. This game has a set conclusion for January 15, 2021. While it is a prompt-based Game/Fest, there is an added element of competition!

When you sign up, the mods will assign you a team at random to keep the numbers even. There are four teams total.

Our tally of your submissions sends points to your team. There are also options for bonus points and prompts.

Additionally, you’ll have access to the Game of Drarry Discord server where you can chat with other players, lounge around your team’s private channel, sprint, find betas to scream at, and have chat access to the mods.

❓ Where do I post my submissions  ❓

You may post your filled prompt on your chosen public platform. You will be asked to submit the link when you request to move forward on the board. You are encouraged to add your work to our AO3 collection, which is self-posting! The link will be available when the game begins.

❓  What are the prerequisites to participate ❓

The only prerequisite is that you must be 18 years or older. You do not need to have work posted publicly before the game/fest begins. You only need your imagination and a love of Drarry! 

TL;DR — This is a lot to keep track of….

It seems like it is, but the mods have a lovely set of spreadsheets and keep track of it all.

Once you sign up, the email you receive will have all the information you’ll need, including a link to the more detailed player’s handbook and the discord server!

And that’s really all you need to know!

Whether you play once or fifty times, we can’t wait to see your creative work!  

Have more questions? Email us at gameofdrarrymod at gmail dot com or shoot us an ask.

📋 SIGNUPS 📋 Nov 1 - Jan 15 

🎲 GAMEPLAY 🎲 Nov 15 - Jan 15 

[rockhoochie]

This Calls for a Celebration!

Well Chuck has certainly blessed this amateur fanfic girl - over 1000 of you are following me! I really can’t believe it, and I am so grateful. There really aren’t words to express how much this means to me, and I’m thrilled that so many of you have found pleasure and amusement from my little fics.

So to celebrate, I present:

(If you know this logo, you’re my hero!)

I love many things - the smell of summer rain, Red Bull, the fact that they now make unicorn onesie pajamas for adults. But two things in particular top my list of loves: Supernatural and music.

Lately, I’ve been on a 70’s listening streak. Ah, the 70’s! Disco, bell bottoms, and era of some of the most outstanding love songs of all time. You may remember hearing some of these on the radio, the dentist’s office, elevators, and while you’re on hold. Some are classic. Some are so god-awful that they make even the most enthusiastic fluff-lovers among us squirm. But the best thing about these songs is that each of them tells a story.

Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to write a Supernatural story based on the songs on the list. Tell us what was happening with our beloved characters that makes your chosen song the perfect soundtrack! If this isn’t your thing, a signal boost would be much appreciated.

So now for the rules and guidelines:

Must be following me

Minimum 300 words, maximum 5000 words. Please use the Keep Reading function for anything over 500 words.

Feel free to use this for any Bingo squares or other writing challenges. Can also be used for a part or chapter of a WIP.

Only 2 writers per song, 1 fic per writer. If you feel like doing a second, please have your first one finished and then check the sheet to see which songs are available.

Have mercy on me ;)  If you don’t hear from me right away, don’t worry. If it’s been more than 3 days, send me a PM.

No RPF or AU’s

Hard limits: I’m a pretty decent pervert but I do have a few. NO: watersports, scat play, bestiality, or sexy times involving bodily fluids other then spit, cum, and blood. Lactation is okay. 

Absolutley no underage sexual pairings. First kisses, crushes, and falling in love is allowed but please keep it PG if it’s underage.

Any genre is welcome: dark, crack, smut, fluff...whatever your muse commands. But the main theme should love.

Pairings: Go ahead and ship it! Reader insert and all SPN pairings are welcome (this includes Destiel and Wincest).

I’ll welcome any non-con BUT ONLY if it  features a dark variant of the characters (demon!Dean, soulless!Sam, Casifer, reader is possessed, etc.)

The title of your fic must either be the title of the song or a lyric from the song. 

Please send me an ask with your chosen song. I’m a scatterbrain and if requests are coming in on comments or messaging I’ll lose them.

You must tag me and #rockhoochies1K

Deadline is 23:59 US-CST, December 31, 2019. All fics will be compiled into a master list some time in January. I’m the poster child of life getting in the way, so if you need an extension I won’t give you a hard time.

If you’ve signed up and need to drop out, please message me asap so I can open up the prompt.

I will do my best to comment on and reblog all of them. If there’s a ship or kink I just can’t do, I’ll at the very least reblog.

If you have any questions, need more time, or just want to say hi go ahead and message me!

Have fun, and I can’t wait to see what everyone comes up with!

And now for the songs! Please follow the link to the handy-dandy spreadsheet:

 Rock Hoochie’s “Love Supernatural Style 1K Writing Challenge

And now get your groove on!

Love Supernatural Style Playlist (Spotify)

Tags:

@adoptdontshoppets @alangel1895 @amandamdiehl @amaranthinecastiel @andkatiethings  @apeshit7x @atc74 @backbackbackagaynbitch @beachy2014 @becs-bunker @blackcherrywhiskey  @charliesbackbitches @claitynroberts @curliesallovertheplace @dean-winchesters-bacon @deandoesthingstome @deerlululucy @emoryhemsworth @evilskank-inthemegacoven @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @ezauraemmaline @faegal04 @faith-in-dean @ferferelli @gadreelsforbiddenfruit @growleytria-blog @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @hunterpuff @impossible-box @iridianuniverse @itsemmyb @ivvitm1109 @jencharlan @jotink78 @just-another-busy-fangirl @kathaswings  @kittenofdoomage  @maddiepants @mannls @meganwinchester1999 @meganywinchester  @milo-winchester-4ever @mogaruke @mrs-meghan-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis  @notnaturalanahi @ohmychuckitssamanddean  @p3nny4urth0ught5 @pinknerdpanda @pisces-cutie @plaidstiel-wormstache @prompt-and-circumstances @saltandburn67 @samanddeanwinchester67 @samtomydeanwinchester @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @saving-things-hunting-family @sis-tafics  @speakinvain @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @squirrel-moose-winchester @sunriserose1023 @supermoonpanda @the-morning-star-falls @there-must-be-a-lock @thinkwritexpress-official @tia58 @trenchcoats-and-bees  @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @waywardbaby @were-not-the-losechesters @whatareyousearchingfordean @wi-deangirl77 @winchesterfiesta @winchestersmolder @zanthiasplace @thoughtslikeaminefield

[moonloredraws]

How do you make it? I have no idea what I'm doing in terms of networking, promotion, etc and as a result I have a very small follower base and a whopping 3 patrons. I'm feeling hopeless about my art career and was wondering if you could share advice about starting out/getting your shit together? Thanks boo.

Truthfully, I haven’t actually made it...

I am only able to do art full time because my partner supports me and because we live in social housing, in a country where the our health insurance and some other necessities are subsidized. Last year I made less that $5000 for the WHOLE year. I wouldn’t exactly call that “making it” when the minimum wage here is like... 1500 euros a month. 

Also, I didn’t have a big Patreon for a long time either. I had 3 people supporting me for the first half a year, of which one was my best friend, the other was my partner, and the 3rd was a long time fan. After that I got 1 person pledging to my $1 tier that I had at the time. My Patreon ONLY kicked off when I announced that I was gonna start drawing erotic comics. It takes a long time of working, and a long time of waiting. 

The best piece of advice I can give you is to draw things from you heart, things that you yourself are truly invested in. Very few people actually find success doing “Fanart of The Week” kind of drawings, because most people see right through you when you’re not invested. 

I’ve been drawing my OCs for ages. Absolutely ages. It has taken a really long time for ANY of my work to be noticed, and a lot of it has come down to luck. Cultivate friendships with like-minded people, share things from other artists and they may take notice. I admit tumblr may not be the best platform to do social networking, but find artists on Twitter, retweet their content, comment on their stuff, and you’ll eventually build up a peer-network where you help each other but BE SINCERE ABOUT IT. Don’t just use other artists as a stepping stone, because word travels fast in art circles and nobody will want to support you if you’re using everyone for your own gains.

Art is a tough gig to get into because not only do you need to work hard, have great social and communication skills and be good to work with, but you also need to get lucky. I realize that this probably doesn’t inspire any confidence, but just. Keep working. Keep doing what you do, be sincere about your work and love what you create. If you love comics, make a webcomic, if you love drawing snapshots of your OCs in their worlds doing mundane stuff or exploring the world, do that. If you’re over the age of 18 or whatever the legal age is where you can start drawing NSFW stuff, I’ll admit that won’t hurt your chances of getting noticed but it’s not a necessity! (plus you get to practise anatomy because drawing erotic art is HARD) Keep drawing, don’t give up. You may have to split your time between having a day job (try finding stuff that can either relate to art or other hobbies. Work at an art shop, a library, a museum, video game or comic shop, etc) to support you in the meanwhile, unless you have a partner who can financially support you. So many artists I know have only really started finding some level of success in their 30s. I’m going to be turning 25 this year, so while it’s a bit depressing that it’ll probably take me at least 5 years before I TRULY start living comfortably because of my work, but it’s also comforting to know that I don’t need to be wildly successful at 26 to have made it in life. It takes time, and that’s ok. Survive while you can, create while you can, and things will fall into place eventually.

Other Good Tips That I have Learnt Over The Years.

- Get a Graphic Artists Guild Handbook of Ethics and Pricing (Doesn’t have to be the latest edition, I have the 14th one). This will save your skin from getting used and taken advantage of when it comes to commercial work. Price yourself according to those guidelines when someone asks for magazine or book work. Be aware of the laws of copyrights and working. 

- Be aware that Commercial and Private commission work are two different beasts and should be treated completely differently. Always price yourself above minimum wage and never work for exposure. I did my final year of uni’s dissertation on how working for exposure and unpaid apprenticeships NEVER EVER EVER pay off. Ever. It is a fact. I studied this, I got in touch with many people. Nobody has ever benefited from unpaid work.

- For the love of gods please take breaks. Exercise. Make sure you don’t ruin your wrist or back like I did. Don’t pull all-nighters chasing an invisible deadline you put on yourself. Eat and drink regularly, take care of your mental health as best as you can. You only have 1 body.

- Have fun with what you do. If a project starts to feel like a chore, then take a break from it, and if you still don’t want to do it after a couple of months, then just. Drop it. If your own projects start eating at you then you can just leave them. People might be a bit sad but you need to have fun with what you do. You’re in this for a long time, so make sure you can keep going!

[tzifron]

A Canadian Postal Worker’s Comments on the Strike

Hi.  

I am a postal worker and would like to take a moment of your time.  Unless you have been living in a cave in the mountains of West Virginia you will have no doubt heard that Canada Post and its employees are in the middle of contract negotiations and currently engaged in limited strike action.  The limited strike action I speak of is the rotating strikes and a refusal to work overtime.  These are designed to cause a slight delay in the mail stream that impacts management more than our customers, and to our customers, I am sorry for any slight delay you may experience but there is a reason why we are doing this.  

Part of the nature of the current conflict is that not only are our issues complex but so is the workforce itself, and by that I mean it is incredibly diverse.  Not only are we trying to negotiate 2 different contracts at the same time, but these contracts cover both RSMC and city workers which include both inside and outside workers, temporary employees, maintenance workers in addition to people who's job can be a combination of more then one classification.  Of course wages are an issue as they are with anyone and I wont pretend to say we wouldn't like a raise, however it is the working conditions that are much more important to us and something almost no one understands unless they work here.  Everyone can see how hard roofers and nurses work, but when you do the job, you gain a completely different understanding of what they go through.  

 Did you know that Canada Post does NOT receive funding from the government? There is a good chance you didn't.  All of Canada Post's revenue comes from the selling of stamps and shipping fees. We are self sufficient.   Even if you did know this, you might be surprised to know how many people do not know this.  

One of our major issues deals with staffing for both inside and outside workers.  There are many RSMC's in the country that still have to find their own replacements.  That means if you want to take a vacation, or get sick or injured that YOU have to find someone to sort and deliver your route.   Can you think of any other business like that short of being an independent contractor?  Keep in mind these are not contractors but Canada Post employees. If you cant make it to work for what ever reason, does your boss tell you it's your responsibility to find someone to do your work?  Canada Post has also agreed to a minimum staffing ration of permanent employees to temporary employees.  They have been ignoring this ratio for several years now.  

Staffing issues in general are also at the heart of the forced overtime issues.  Although many inside and outside (letter carrier) workers regularly volunteer for overtime it is the outside workers that are also FORCED to do overtime. This means that unless you have medical documentation stating that for health reasons you cannot do the overtime, you are forced to do it or face disciplinary action.  Did you make prior commitments for when you thought you would be off work such as picking up kids from daycare, or school or making a dentist or Dr. appointment?.  To bad, you have to change your life at the last min.  That being said, sometimes things happen that are beyond everyone's control, but I think you can agree that this shouldn't happen on a regular basis and there can be a better way to meet all of our customers delivery commitments.  

When it comes to being a temporary employee, I think most of us have been there, working mostly contract jobs or seasonal work.  The difference at Canada Post is that you just sit at home waiting for a phone call.  Most people will go months without getting that phone call for some work.  You might also work this week, but not the next 3 weeks, or at times, you may work for most of the year full time.  You never know.  You only get a call if and when they want you.  This makes it very difficult to plan out any sort of life.  Will you need a babysitter tomorrow?  You probably wont know until the very last minute of that day.

You may have heard the term “overburdening” mentioned by the union in the news but what does that really mean?  For letter carriers anyways, what that means is the overall work load and how the job is preformed.   Canada Post to their credit were at the forefront of job efficiency measurement at a micro level.  This is a very fancy way to saying every part of a letter carriers job was measured decades ago.  Every foot of distance on our route, every stair, gate, door, etc. is counted and assigned a time value.  Even how many letters per min we are supposed to sort is built into our day.  Part of the problem is sometimes these values go missing and so do not get counted in the making of new routes.  A more significant issue is that this system has not really been updated in decades despite the nature of how we do our job has changed a great deal.  

Nearly everyone will agree the number of letters we write and send each other has been in decline for a long time, but think of how many offers you get from your bank, or the dealership where you bought your car or some other business looking to make you a customer.  We still deliver all of those things yet most are not used in the calculations used to determine the size of our routes.  This has caused the size of a letter carriers route to grow dramatically.  Many routes are 3 times the size they were 20 years ago.   A letter carrier typically walks 20 km a day (5 days a week) and up and down 3000 to 5000 stairs while carrying the mail, flyers and packets/parcels for over 100 houses at a time.  This is a key reason why the injury rate for postal workers is 5 times higher then any other profession.  It is also a reason why letter carriers have more back, knee, hip and foot surgery then anyone else.  One simple fix to this would be to make the amount we deliver at one time less, such as 50 houses as opposed to 100 houses.   The opposition to this is because adding even just 6 extra stops would mean having to make the route shorter by 12 min (we get 2 min per loop stop to load up our satchel with mail).  I sounds like such a simple fix, and it is, but yet Canada Post says no. Part of the reason is that it would require updating and fixing 18,000 routes from coast to coast. An easy fix, but time consuming to implement and it is apparently less expensive to pay out disability cheques then to fix things.  It is also much easier to make someone do more in the same amount of time and reduce jobs.  In the end, it would also require hiring more employees but I guess they think it is such a horrible thing to employ people.  

The subject of the multiple bundle delivery method as a health and safety concern has been an ongoing fight with little change despite several arbitrator rulings in favor of the employees.  In order to fully explain the situation would require an essay unto itself but any letter carrier will gladly take the time to talk to you about it.  All you have to do is ask.

 On top of the mail and flyers, are all the things we deliver to you that you ordered from places like Amazon, or Allied express or Wish.  Delivering those items as well as the use of our scanner have almost no time value associated with them.  Despite every part of our job being measured to the second, the system has not been updated to properly include our new duties.  We are simply required to do them. If we do not get all of the work done, we get questioned as to why with very little concern to things such as the weather conditions and can face disciplinary action.  

This is a very simplistic overview of some of the issues currently being fought at the negotiating table, and I would hope it peeks your interest enough to ask your postal worker for more information.

We are your brothers and sisters, your neighbors and friends and in the end we simply would like to do our job feeling more like a person and less like a machine. 

We want to work and we love our job.  We love to be greeted by that lovable furball that wants to lick us to death when all we seem to have for you is a pizza flyer.  We wear our uniform with pride and in the end only want to be able to go home happy and injury free and not feeling defeated and broken, wondering how we will make it through tomorrow.  

Thank You for your time.

(Copy Pasted from Brother Arlyn Doran)

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S3 Ep 11 pt 2: Seto Discovers Vulture Capitalism

Where were we on this arc that ended up being hella longer than I thought it would be? Oh yeah, Last we left the crew, Tristan’s body, now possessed by Nezbitt, was just racing away with Mokuba. This kid gets abducted so often, it’s never occurred to me that anyone in this show would think this is weird. So, when Noah showed up to intervene with actual common sense it was a good bit of whiplash for me.

It’s like the same whiplash I got back when Noah attempted to forfeit a rigged game (for the first time in this entire series). Like I get that Noah is the villain, but how is the evil kid way better at this common sense thing than...a lot of people who’ve been on this show? Not that Noah’s always smart, of course, he still doesn’t seem totally with it on a lot of things (like interior design, which we will get to in a sec) but wow. Noah actually called out this entire show with “Really? Mokuba? Again?”

And so you know what that means? We get to see Noah’s sweet pad in this VR world where Noah could have created anything. Literally anything. To start, he made himself a fireplace with a tiny tiny stack of wood (pretty sure Noah might not know how fires work) and...some sort of...curse on the mantle.

Maybe the mantle couldn’t read the typeface that Noah wanted to use on the mantle?

The rest of the room is just this. Just this.

You know what this no-walls aesthetic SUPER reminds me of?

Pocket Camp. Like this just looks like a Pocket Camp set up to me. In fact...I’m pretty sure I can make almost this exact room in Pocket Camp.

Noah’s just inviting Mokuba over with the bare minimum of ugly ass furniture he needs to have a person over at his campsite he pretends is a house while he waits patiently for the real version of Animal Crossing to come to Switch.

Leichter has an accent that is very old-fashioned Americana and doesn’t wholly make sense in the context of him living in urban Japan, like there’s a whole story there I’d be curious about. But most likely, they were probably trying to cover up the fact that they were using the same 5 voice actors by having him pull out the Clark Gable impression.

And then Seto did not use a Blue Eyes as his deck Master. Instead he used....this guy.

This is a lot of guy to take in. I...I don’t like it.

During this duel we get a Seto Kaiba flashback--and it’s an honest flashback this time, no clones are going to show up and reenact this performance, this is just a straight up flashback.

We’re transported back to Gozoboro’s long buffet table. He really, really loves this thing. It’s like the only place he and his kids ever seem to hang out. Surprised Mokuba and Seto don’t need glasses after squinting so hard to see their own Father for so many years. Also surprised Mokuba and Seto even know what their Dad looks like up close.

Anyways, he sits down at the table and shouts really loudly so it can reach the other side of the room.

Also, just gonna bring this up, we’ve only seen one other guy obsessed with long tables--let me do some digging to a S1 cap, one sec:

Maybe this is just what evil Dads who wear Salmon do?  They get hella long tables to seat their 0 friends and just sit at one of the ends and monologue until something important happens. I mean y’all know how much I love this storyboarder but boy they have a thing for villains and long tables.

Anyways, back to Season 3.

(bro’s telling me he does not know about Thoroughly Modern Millie and like can you believe neither Hulu or Netflix has that musical? I mean that musical is problematic as hell, as is all Broadway but maybe I want to watch some 1920′s dancing.)

Anyways, cue Gozaboro shuffling in a comedically large pile of money on a very small pushcart. About 1,099,520,000.00 Yen’s worth. But the show will simplify it for the Americans.

This episode of Yugioh was made around 2002, and this just followed the .com bubble bursting in California. (and before that happened, it was preceded by a recession in Japan that affected the .com bubble quite a bit) For those here who were not born yet and do not remember this happening, this was like, pretty horrifying. I grew up in the Bay where 90% of everyone still works in tech, so I remember that after the bubble burst there were kids in our school who’s parents used to have great salaries and a steady income, who suddenly had to pick up shifts at Starbucks to get back on their feet.

So, it’s interesting that we have this kid’s show basically showing us point blank what Vulture Capitalism is and how it works. You’d think this business stuff would normally go over kid’s heads, but at the time, I think a lot of kids wanted to know what happened to their families but maybe didn’t understand it?

So Kaiba is gonna get into investing all of a sudden, which is kind of weird, mostly because it involved no playing cards. Also because this happened:

Yeah, what? He’s apparently not even adopted yet, which means Seto could still turn around and tell the News that he beat Gozaboro in a match but, I guess that old threat has aged out.

It’s inferred that Seto’s been living here like for several years now. You’d think this guy would list some dependents just for the tax cuts, but nah, Gozaboro just shoved these two into the gigantic 5000 sq ft closet under the stairs of his huge mansion and forgot about them for a couple years.

So, armed with money that is printed on single Yen bills and being pushed around Kaiba in a little tiny cart, Seto has to formulate a plan. Problem is, his business skills include a.) beating up other orphans b.) doing math pretty good and c.) playing cards.

When Seto is like “I don’t care what the company sells, just get me a company to buy” that’s like a straight reference to the .com bubble, but minus the complicated stock market stuff.

For the kid’s in the room that don’t know a thing about this era, tech companies were being created en masse, and because the internet was new and exciting, all of their worth was in their stock rather than in their products--if they even had a product. Mostly they just had big overreaching ideas they were pretty sure would make them all millionaires. But the product didn’t really matter since no one ever reads any numbers when all they plan to do is turn around and immediately sell anyway. They just assumed that if they put on the pressure, they would drive up the value, and would sell before anyone figured out it was all worthless.

This actually worked for so many years, up until people at the top all started demanding real money from the people at the bottom, much like how Seto needed 100 million dollars ASAP from an unsuspecting...whatever company this was. Vulture Capitalism at it’s finest, expecting exponential and unrealistic growth from any company, and if, the growth isn’t met, just selling the whole damn thing after driving every employee to the hospital for overwork.

Now, normally Vulture Capitalism is only if an investor buys a struggling company intending to sell directly afterwards, but since Seto made them struggle like immediately after purchasing, I think we can still call this that.

(And we still do this to this day, PS, we’ve learned nothing from the .com crash.)

This really bad child’s outfit is my favorite Mokuba outfit. I mean...it’s so bad. No wonder Mokuba was picked on so often as a child, wow. He’s like a late-80′s news anchor.

Also, I have NO idea how Seto got any money back so quickly. That doesn’t...totally make sense. But, this is a kid’s show and we have to simplify this whole thing into a sensible package. I mean there’s way more to the whole  .com problem but...this show wasn’t literally doing a .com...just a really heavy reference to it.

And much like how people valued stock more than what companies actually were, Seto’s value was a lot of the same. His worth to his Father wasn’t that of a son, it was entirely held up in potential dollar signs. To Gozaboro, Seto's nothing more than a small company he’ll extort straight into...a more emotional type of bankruptcy. Framed alongside the .com crash, this is sort of like, ah, I see what you’re doing, Yugioh. The way Seto was screwing this company was the same way he was already screwed. It’s basically all he knows, and it is a lot of heavy handed foreshadowing.

Anyway, Seto destroyed a company with 10 mill, which is nothing compared to the amount of money vulture capitalists toss around nowadays.

The Big 5 may have honestly done a better job raising Kaiba than Gozoburo since this guy acted as an advisor rather than a boss, but it’s a very, very low bar these boys have set and so far, very few adults have met it. All you have to do is just try and not kill them and you’re already better than all of Kaiba’s father figures.

With the exception of Roland, of course. Youknow, other than Grandpa, Roland is like the only good Dad on this show. Never thought Roland would look like such a shining star. Man, Roland better not screw everyone over or I will be so disappointed in him.

Anyways, the Yugi crew found a fully fueled truck from Soviet Era Russia buried in one of those warehouses.

They censor so much stuff that gives away that Yugioh is from another country, and they kept in the 3-wheeler pickup? As if any North American child would have any idea what they’re looking at right now? Maybe they just assumed we’d think it was sci-fi?

Also, then this happened?

...OK then.

Not sure how Satellite Laser works outside the context of VR. But, at least here in the VR Zone, we can send a Satellite Laser into space because...Space exists here? In VR?

This world is weirdly very small but also very big at the same time. It’s like Katamari.

Anyway, that’s all for this episode, next episode we find out if Kaiba will hack a laser for the second time in this series. Also we find out if Joey can jump a sonic-the-hedgehog broken highway with a 3-wheeled European-as-hell Pickup Truck.

Also...close enough?

Pocket camp really needs more yellow sleeveless puff jackets.

And here’s a link to read the recaps in Chrono order from Ep1 S1